#send me a word and if it’s in my wip I’ll send you the line

[thebumblecee]

Knife, lips, fingers, Mateo, Baby, kiss, fuck 👀

Hiiii B 🐝

These are like mini fics in themselves.

I’m working on a specific WIP so only some will exist

Knife

❌ this fics wholesome or smth sorry 😇

Lips

His name on TK’s lips always sounded sacred to Carlos.

Fingers

He isn’t usually so ill-tempered but he can’t control anything right now, his grasp on himself is like water running through his fingers.

Mateo

Mateo was making awkward small talk from nerves as Carlos loaded the tiny amount of belongings he got post fire into the Camaro.

Baby

Carlos drains his glass. “I want you to kneel for me.” He stops himself saying baby at the end there.

Kiss

The aftercare won’t be the kisses and cuddles he’s grown accustomed too but Carlos needs to find something that works.

Fuck

He isn’t going to fuck up years of sobriety for another man.

Thanks for playing!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won't let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: surprise double chapters!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You lay in the dim glow of your laptop, the screen saver swooshing back and forth, giving light to the dark. You’re limned it its idleness, in a similarly inert state. You blink, eyes dry and raw, your head pounding. Your back and shoulder pang with your inactivity as you lay on your stomach, neck twisted to one side.

Your vision is static and fuzzy, the air humming. You groan and drag an arm up, the effort alone like lifting a boulder. The world is distant and desolate. There is nothing beyond those four walls.

A chime comes from your laptop. You stare at the curtain, darkness along the borders. It’s night time already. Or again. You don’t know. You lost count of the hours, rather, days.

You roll over and peer at the abyss above. The ceiling is similarly shrouded in shadows, the corners clustered with darkness. Your head spins at the effort of your movement. Your tongue is starchy and sticky from neglect. You cough and sit up, nearly falling back against your pillow.

You don’t want to be awake. It’s so much easier to sleep. Nothing makes sense in your dreams but everything is awful in real life.

You push yourself to the edge of the bed and reach for the plastic cup of stagnant water. You sip from the brim and a slam brings you back into focus. Your hand shakes and you clack the cup back on the table, turning to watch the wall as chaos erupts on the other side.

“Goddamn, Irene, get off of me. I ain’t tellin’ ya again,” the holler rolls through like thunder. “Fuckin’ skank.”

Your eyes round as your ears ring. You cover them and back up to cower against the headboard. Your lip trembles as you hear a crash followed by the shatter of glass.

“We were having fun, sweetheart,” your mother’s desperate yawl comes over the patter of her feet, “don’t go so soon, please, baby.”

“Why you actin’ like a goddamn whore?” The man snarls and you hear your mother whimper. You sniffle as you fold yourself up and push your chin down against your knee, shielding your head as if it’s you taking the blow.

“I--” your mother snivels, “I just wanna love you, hon.”

You close your eyes. Lee huffs and stomps past your door, his shadow flickering beneath. He’s just another in a line of men your mother brings around; each one as angry as the last. It always starts the same; at first, they’re nice, then you hear how they change.

“I’m too damn tired and it’s too damn late. I’ll be back when you get your head screwed on,” he retorts and hits the wall, making you jump again as the springs of your bed squeak. “And you’re a goddamn mother... should know better...”

You crouch in fear, locked up as you listen through the wall. You hear him moving around as your mother begs him to stay. You press your hands to your ears so you can’t make out her words. The front door of the apartment snaps shut and quaver out a breath.

You wait until you hear your mother retreat, herself crying, and the clink of a glass comes shortly after. You wipe your face and lift your head slowly. You won’t be able to sleep, not with your heart racing like this.

It takes all your strength to crawl across the bed and put your feet to the floor. Your stench clings to your unwashed clothes. You haven’t changed in a couple days at least. You can barely remember the last time you left your room.

You sit down in front of your computer. The metal seat of the folding chair is hard and cold, even through your pants. You squiggle your fingers over the touchpad of the outdated laptop, as thick as a book.

The screen wakes up and you key in your passcode with one finger. The wallpaper comes up, the colours stinging your eyes, and you squint as you adjust to the glare. You tap on the envelope icon to open your inbox.

At least a dozen unread emails clutter the folder. Reminders and notifications automated by your obligations and inactivity. You scroll through and delete the messages telling you to submit your assignment and noting several missed tests. At the very top, the latest of the bunch, is from a person.

Your heart sinks as you see the name and the subject line. Professor Raymond Smith, Attn: Overdue Work. God. You clutch your head and your eyes tinge once more. You don’t have enough moisture to summon any more tears. Your head pulses and your eyes itch but you can’t cry.

You shudder and make yourself look at the screen. You hover your hand over the mousepad and make yourself tap. Just one quick touch and the message opens.

The professor greets you by name. You want to dissolve into nothing. It’s easy to just be a student number on a screen but now he picks you out of the bunch and you know exactly why. You haven’t logged into the learning site in a week or more. You haven’t been able to make yourself.

‘It has come to my notice that your last tasks have gone unsubmitted. As your instructor, I am obligated to check in to see whether I can expect these assignments to be submitted for grading. As well, I would offer any support necessary for you to do so.

Please respond to this email at your convenience so we might rectify this situation. You may also schedule a meeting through my calendar linked in my signature.

Best Regards,

Professor Smith’

You cringe. How do you explain to him that this always happens? That you’re just a failure?

This was supposed to be different, but just like everything, you blew it. You thought that you could make this work. You remember the day you got your acceptance; the program is manageable and you can do it all online. You thought you were getting better but your mom stopped refilling your script and you stopped caring.

You sit, blindly staring at the screen. For an hour, maybe more, caught between shame and sadness. You can’t just run away from another thing. You take a breath and raise your hands over the keyboard. It’s just letters on a screen.

Hi

Dear Pro

Hello Professor

I apologize for not submitting my work. I will not be able to complete this course due to mental health personal reasons.

Thank you.

You read and re-read. You guess it’s good enough? You don’t know. Whatever. Just another poor excuse.

You hit send and you peek at the time. You look at the original email. It’s a bit strange the instructor would email that late. You delete the email and go back to bed, hiding under the blanket. Typical, just another stupid idea.

📓

Your head throbs as you wake up. You’ve slept too much. Nothing different than usual but you haven’t left bed for more than a couple minutes at a time. Your skull feels ready to cave in and swells with each movement.

You get up, stumbling as you find your bearings, shuffling to your door and into the hall. You go into the bathroom. It’s a mess, like usual. Your mother’s clothes are on the floor and a man’s razor is on the edge of the sink. Is he here again?

You relieve yourself and flush, washing your hands then your face. You should probably shower while you’re in there. You lift your arm and confirm the need. You stink and your clothes are damp with your sweat.

You undress and crank on the faucet. You step into the grimy booth behind the counter as the water splashes down cold and slowly warms in the whining pipes. You shiver and let it cleanse you as much as it can.

You squeeze out some of the discount soap that smells like a hospital and scrub yourself as the air steams around you. You hear an odd creak then the plastic of the toilet seat hitting the porcelain tank. What the heck?

You grab the edge of the curtain and peek around it, smearing lather along the plastic. It’s opaque enough to blue your silhouette but not completely hide you. That man, Lee, belches as he holds his dick and pisses. He looks over and smirks.

“Ah, sorry, darling, didn’t know you were in here,” he chuckles and turns straight, leaning to brace the wall as he sighs, “goddamn, my balls are tight.”

You pop back behind the curtain and grimace. Ew. It’s not the first time you’ve had an awkward run in with one of your mother’s suitors, for lack of a better term, but no less jarring than any other. You shut off the water and back up, reaching past the other end of the curtain to grab the towel.

Something closes around your wrist and has you yelping. You cling to the curtain, staying behind it as Lee tugs on you.

“Don’t needa be shy, darlin’,” he tries to drag you out, “doubt it’s much different than your mama.”

You try to yank back but he’s too strong. You slip and barely save yourself as you grab onto the towel bar. You cry out, “let go! Please!”

He squeezes and you wince, pressed against the curtain as your knees buckle. Your soles are slippery on the wet tile. You whine and whimper, heart pounding in your chest.

There’s a knock at the door and he lets you go. You quickly pull free the towel and hide in the shower to wrap your body in it. You don’t think it’s clean.

“Everything okay?” The door groans with your mother’s entry.

“Ah, I’m just tryna piss and your daughter’s making all sorts of fuss,” he scoffs and flushes the toilet, “like she ain’t never seen a real man before.”

“Oh, Lee, you shoulda let her finish--”

“What’s the big deal, she was in the shower,” he deflects, “you know I ain’t her for that brat.”

You pant and lean against the wall, veins coursing with adrenaline. Your mother grumbles as they leave. You feel the draught of the open door and warily sidle out from behind the curtain. You gather your clothes and check that the coast is clear and find your way back to your room.

You pull on a fresh hoodie and your least dirty pair of sweats. You need to do laundry desperately. You need to do a lot of things. Your computer bings as if to agree with that sentiment.

You sit down at the table and stare at your laptop. The folding plastic thing has barely enough room for that and your notebook. You sigh. All you do is sigh. Everything is just a disappointment. You have nothing but trash around you and you fit right in.

You open the lid and login. You could watch that play through of the new fantasy game you can’t afford. Or you just break that damn thing. You have an email.

You don’t click on it right away. Instead, you scroll through a subreddit on an obscure television show you streamed on Youtube. All the posts are years old and the place is dead. If you’re good at anything, it’s avoidance.

Finally, your anxiety knots tight enough for you to do something. You close your browser and open Outlook. You make a strange noise as you see the response to the email you sent days ago. Or by your estimation. You scratch your neck until the skin burns.

You work at deleting the spam from your inbox before you’re forced to face the Re:

You click and read with trepidation. Again, the professor addresses you by name.

‘I understand that you are dealing with personal obligations. Considering how far we are in this course, I would like to allow you the opportunity to complete it successfully. If the current workload is too much, we can discuss alternatives to meet the learning objectives.

I would prefer that we have this conversation face-to-face. If you would like explore your options, please use the link below to meet with me on Tuesday at noon. Please confirm here and I look forward to meeting and speaking with you then.

Also let me know if I can do anything else.

Professor Smith’

You want to melt into nothing. You want to evaporate from existence. You want to just keel over and die. How embarrassing!

You want to delete it a forget. You want to say now and through everything away. You want to go back to how you’ve always been. You want to be a slug in the dirt. You want to stop hoping because it only ever ends like this.

But you can’t. You hit the trash button but then you can’t help but stretch your fingertips between CTRL and Z. The message reappears and you read it again and again and again. It feels like this is the moment. This is the big decision you make; is your life always going to be like this or are you going to try?

You hit reply.

‘Thank you, Professor Smith. I will meet you on Tuesday. I appreciate your understanding and I will do better.’

Your eyes blur as you move the cursor over the little arrow. You take a breath and tap your fingertips. That’s that, then.

[jaeyunverse]

the 24-hour dating challenge (teaser)

PAIRING(S) | park sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE(S) | fluff, crack, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, influencer au (?)

EST. WORD COUNT | around 5k

WARNING(S) | profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad, mc is painfully dense + all warnings to be added in the full fic!

SUMMARY | being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

TAGLIST | @blank-velvet @soobisms @justalildumpling @xharisrealm @skzenhalove @alicesolengg @yenqa @geombyu @tika-writes-lol @jlheon @haknom @useraerin @hooniessslvrss @flwrshee @rikisly @tobiosbbyghorl @wonkivrse @heeflrs @bambithia @iea-tsand @chaechae-23 @en-dazed @jayfrvr @h-hazwie @moonlighthoon @justanotherkpopstanlol @sseastar-main @seongclb @shoyotime @gerianne @iadorethemskz @sieuneo @hoon0logy @luvistqrzzz @sucrosxi @lzux1 @t4kalcvr @nes-caf @odxrilove @trippy-dejun @arizejkt19 @xuimhao @vizstars @enhacatalog send an ask/comment if u wish!

AUTHOR’S NOTE | I AM COMING BACK!!!!!! (kinda. maybe. idk i get ahead of myself a lot LOL) finals are finallyyyy over and i have some time to write this week so i’ve started this old wip of mine! it’s going to be pretty short and sweet so i’ll hopefully be able to follow through on this teaser but no promises haha :)) i hope u look forward to this fic! inspired by h.j evelyn (♡)

click here for the full fic!

“Your followers want me to do what?” 

Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen. 

“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!” 

Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression. 

There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?” 

“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.” 

For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?” 

Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.  

However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.” 

“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”

“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”

Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?”

Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived. 

For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit truly went downhill. 

Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.  

Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras. 

Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.

You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you. 

You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you. 

To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults. 

The list was very long.

They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.   

Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to. 

And damn, they were right. 

Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware. 

It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self. 

Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see. 

Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails. 

However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.

Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.  

“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”  

[djarins-cyare]

Front Covers for Fics and WIPs + Fic Titles Ask Game

(Yes, it’s two games for the price of one, folks!)

Thank you for the tags, @burntheedges and @nerdieforpedro; your covers are so gorgeous! In fact, every single cover that’s come across my dash so far has been so well thought out and perfect for the fics – I just love getting a visual peek into how authors envision their own work! And a huuuge thank you to the amazingly talented @saradika for making these cool templates to help us share our visions for our fics 💙

Work is so busy rn, but I really wanna write and play fun games like this, so I sacrificed sleep and made most of these at like 5am 😫

Published works…

I had already made a cover for Be-All. A massive thank you to @djarin-desires for allowing me to crop and use one of her super-sexy brooding Din pics for Never Look Down. There’s a disappointing lack of Din crotch shots in the actual show, so this was perfect for the subject matter. Check out the uncropped shot and more brooding Din here!

And my upcoming fics…

I should also credit Svetlana from KamuiCosplay, who is holding Din's Amban phase-pulse rifle on the cover of TSATT. See her YouTube tutorial on how to build your own.

Meanwhile, I was also tagged by @sixhours, @burntheedges and @ishabull in a ✨ Fic Titles Ask Game ✨ (thank you all!), and since there’s a certain amount of crossover, I’m combining these games into one post.

Send me an ask with the title of one of my fics and I’ll tell you why I chose it, the song/poem/quote it’s from, the line in the fic that inspired it, and (if it’s a WIP) maybe share a snip!

Published works…

🔷 Be-All And Endor [406.6k words - Din x f!reader - slow burn love n' smut]

🔷 Never Look Down [13.2k words - Din x OFC/f!reader - angsty fluff]

🔷 Din Djarin: The Contractor [1k words - Din x gn!reader - silly imagine]

🔷 The Long Goodbye [45 words - sentimental!Din - flash fic]

And my upcoming fics…

🔷 Hush [Din x OFC/f!reader - secret relationship spice - *COMING SOON*]

🔷 Held Is The Seed [Din x f!reader - smut city]

🔷 To See A Thousand Things [Din x f!reader - angsty smut]

🔷 Aruetiise [Din x gn!reader - a helmet reveal one-shot]

🔷 Final Sanctuary [Din x OFC - smutty one-shot]

🔷 Din Djarin In Jarringly Domestic Situations [Din x OFC - space romcom]

I’m super-late to both these games, and as I was trying to decide who to tag, I noticed the same people kept being tagged in the fic covers one over and over. So I spent some time this weekend going through my list of writer mutuals and checking to see who hadn’t already been tagged and/or hadn’t posted any Canva designs yet. I’m hoping this will help the book cover design one reach beyond just the Pedro fandom, too, and even if you’re not up for participating in that, maybe the fic titles one is more your style. No pressure either way, of course 😌💙

@againstacecilia @always-andromeda @alwaysmicado @amywritesthings @auntie-venom

@avastrasposts @bitchesuntitled @burningfieldof-clover @cas-readsandwrites @chiriwritesstuff

@chronically-ghosted @classaysstuff @corazondebeskar @covetyou @davnittbraes

@desert-fern @din-cognito @djarinmuse @drewharrisonwriter @fhatbhabiee

@for-a-longlongtime @fromthedeskoftheraven @hc-geralt-23 @idungoofed @joelalorian

@lahooozaherr @moeswriting @nervoushottee @novemberrain-writes @papurgaatika

@quicksilvermad @soft-persephone @stardusthuntress @strawberri-blonde @syd-djarin

@the-mandawhor1an @tightjeansjavi @wannab-urs @whxtedreams @wrathkitty

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 15

Happy WIP Wednesday! (Ignores the fact that it's almost an hour into Thursday my time.)

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

“Shit. Okay. I’ll fly us back. Bye Tim, everyone!” Danny picked up Tucker and flew away, turning invisible before he was more than a few yards away.

Tim sighed as he watched them. “Invisibility would be such a useful power. Paired with intangibility? Do you have any idea how much that’d help us out in Gotham?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Cassie dismissively. “So what’re we doing for the next few hours?”

Wulf cocked his head and looked at them. Tim waved to him. “Let’s see what we can find out from our maybe-friend here.” Then, to Wulf, he asked, “Walker?”

Wulf’s bemused expression turned angry and he snarled.

Tim laughed and gave a thumbs up to show his agreement. “I’ve”—he pointed at himself—“heard”—this time his ears—“bad”—he scowled—“things about Walker.”

“Malbono,” said Wulf.

Tim grinned. “Very malbono,” he agreed.

Wulf bared his teeth, but this time, Tim thought it was more of a grin.

Cassie sat down on the ground. “So, Wulf and Danny are both targeted by this Walker ghost. How do we keep them safe?”

Tim shrugged. To Wulf, he said, “We”—pointing to him and his friends—“keep you”— pointing to Wulf—“safe. Secure. Protect.” Hopefully at least one of those words would be similar enough to the Esperanto word for the same concept.

“Protekti,” agreed Wulf.

Bart pointed at himself. “One.” Then to Conner, “Two.” Tim was called three and Cassie four. With a stick, he drew a crude figure of Danny’s ghost form, Sam, and Tucker, counting each one to seven. Then he pointed to Wulf. “Eight.” He drew the number in the dirt to reinforce the count. “Walker, how many?” He lifted his hands in an I-don’t-know gesture.

Wulf started with his hands close and slowly spread them wide. “Multaj.”

Tim’s stomach sank at the answer. They’d faced bad odds before, but it was never good.

“What does Walker want?” asked Conner.

But Wulf only looked at him in confusion and none of them could figure out how to ask that in charades.

Cassie grabbed another stick and began drawing. She started with a line and on one side, she had humanoid ghosts with tails instead of legs, on the other side she had stick figures. Then she drew arrows from the ghost side to the human side. Under the arrows, she drew question marks. Looking up, she asked, “How?”

Wulf bared his teeth again and pointed at himself. “Wulf.” He flexed his hand showing off his claws. Conner tensed at the action, but Wulf ignored him. Instead, he drew his hand down the air. Tim felt like he could hear tearing, but it was as if the sound originated in his brain, bypassing his ears entirely.

In the path of Wulf’s claws was a glowing green portal. Another gesture and it disappeared.

Tim stared in wonder. “So, if you’re here and with us, Walker can’t send any more ghosts to Amity. That makes things so much easier.”

Wulf only grinned at him.

Bart poked Tim’s side. “Think he needs to eat?”

Tim laughed. “You’re just hungry yourself. He’s already dead.”

Bart shrugged. “We haven’t had lunch yet.”

“I’m with Bart,” said Cassie. “I’m getting hungry. And it’d be rude to not offer anything to him. Bart, get us stuff from that burger place Danny took us to. And grab extra in case our new friend wants anything.”

Tim rummaged around in his bag and pulled out two hundred dollars cash. All three of his friends had metabolisms to match their powers. “Here, get as much as you want. Simple cheeseburger and fries for me.”

The others gave their orders and Bart was off.

The rest of the afternoon was spent mostly hanging out in the woods with Wulf. When Bart had offered him a burger, he’d sniffed it before pulling a face and giving it back. Bart just shrugged and ate it himself.

“Shouldn’t you be doing homework?” Conner asked Tim after a while. They’d run through most of the questions they could ask via pantomime and Bart and Cassie had taken to pointing at things and asking what they were called in Esperanto. “Bruce won’t be happy with you.”

Tim sighed. “No, you’re right. If we can’t research in the library, I should do something productive.”

Though it only took an hour and a half of going through his schoolwork for Tim to want to tear his own hair out. He slammed his book shut, making four pairs of eyes instantly fly to him.

“I can’t do this anymore! I can’t wait until I don’t need to be in school anymore. Who wants to spar with me?”

Conner stepped forward. “I’ll take the first round.”

“Great. I’m going to use the staff Danny gave me. I want to practice with it more.”

Wulf watched them as they sparred. Tim held his own against Conner, though ultimately the half-Kryptonian won. Cassie beat him next.

Bart sat the spars out because he won every time if allowed to fight. But he made a very good referee.

Tim and Cassie were having their third match of the day when Danny, Sam, and Tucker rejoined them.

Tim was breathing hard as he blocked another blow from Cassie with his staff. “Hey, Danny,” he said. Then he did a twist he’d learned from Dick coupled with a move he’d learned from Lady Shiva and Cassie was flat on her back. Tim grinned as he offered her a hand to help her up. “Looks like I win the last match of the day.”

“Well I won our two previous ones,” retorted Cassie as she took his hand.

Sam let out a whistle. “Damn, that was impressive. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“B sent me to Europe for several months to train from a bunch of different masters when I forced him to take me on.”

“Must’ve been good teachers if you can hold your own as a regular human against metas.”

Tim nodded and moved so he could nudge Danny. “I’ve been trying to convince this one to join me for a few weekends so I could get him some training, but he’d rather rely on luck and his powers.”

Danny rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You know that’s not what it is. I’m just afraid that if I leave any more often than I have to, something will happen!”

“Sure, sure,” said Tim. “But now that your parents know me and I can see just how bad it is, I’ll be coming to you to train you. No getting out of it now!”

Danny just groaned.

Tucker grinned. “Let me know when you come, and I’ll fit your training sessions into Danny’s schedule.”

“Absolutely.”

Sam pointed her thumb at Wulf. “So, how’re we gonna sneak a giant ghost through town and into my house anyway?”

Danny shrugged. “I figured he and I could fly there invisibly. I’ll drop my invisibility and enter through the door so your parents or grandma see me enter, and Wulf will drop it once we’re in private.”

“Fine, fine. Come on, then.”

-----

Next

In the show, there was a time skip between when Danny caught up with Wulf during his school lunch period and the four (Danny, Sam, Tucker, Wulf) all cramming into Tucker's bedroom that night. So I have no idea if Danny returned to school or not. And if he did, what did Wulf do all afternoon and evening? How did they meet up again? Or am I right and Danny skipped?

Good thing we have other people here to help out this time and it doesn't matter!

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but please checkout the Subscription Post if you want notifications when this updates.

[yoonia]

— Hello and welcome, 2025!!

I’ve already written my reflection and recap from 2024 on my 2024 Tumblr Wrapped post so I won’t say a lot more about the past year except to say, “Thank f*ck it’s over,” and, “I’m glad I survived...for now.” 

I’ve also shared my main goals for 2025 on the same post, but overall, I’m really looking forward to be able to get as many WIPs out as possible this year and finish a ton of series that have been on hiatus for a long time. I also have some new ideas that are begging for me to write and release, and I’m really looking forward to it. I hope you’ll stay tuned for my future plans as well. 

How to follow/keep up with my updates

On Tumblr — you can follow my updates and posting schedule through my “Schedules & Progress” post. I also share monthly psa posts to share what fics I’ll be working that month and sneak peeks of my WIPs 

On Patreon — I post monthly writing journal which details my overall WIP plans, progress tracker, and my daily writing progress (with daily written word count and details of what I’m working on that day). This is also where I would usually rant while I write, whether it’s about my writing process or my day to day life, so you can get a closer insight of how I work and write and keep up with my daily progress and maybe get a glimpse of what's happening in my life to know why I'm not around lol. I also share teasers of my WIPs that I don’t share on Tumblr. I might start doing this on Ko-fi as well this year as I’m prepping to open my Ko-fi shop

On social media — I post sneak peeks and links to my updated fics on X which you can use to keep up with my writing, either those updated on Tumblr or other platforms (AO3, Wattpad, Inkitt). I’ve also created an account on Bluesky to specifically share my writing progress. I might also use this account to share sneak peeks of my original stories instead of X

How you can support me and my writing

Like, kudos, comment, reblog — pretty much any of these basic ways you can do to support a writer on Tumblr will be much appreciated. Seeing you in my notifs and reading your comments and feedbacks have been extremely helpful to give me the motivation (and oftentimes, the inspiration) to continue writing. Please don’t stop. And I’m not just talking about me. Please support other writers the best way you know you can

Say hi — it's so easy. My ask box is always open. Just talk to me from time to time and let me know there's someone there and that I'm not (always) talking to a void lol. I know that, due to timezone differences and my hectic life outside Tumblr, I might get back to your message rather late. But I'll be there to answer and say hi back

Patreon subscription — your monthly subscription on my Patreon account will help me A LOT. In return, I always share exclusive contents that you can only find here. You’ll find spoilers, deleted scenes, explicit scenes, fic teasers, a glimpse of my storyboards and inspiration boards. This year, you will also get access to my Writing Class (with downloadable practice sheets) and a first look at my original stories

Ko-fi donations and commissions — I have been limiting my commissions due to the fact that I still have a couple commissions need to be done, but I’ll be opening it up again this year. I might not open as many slots as I usually do with the amount of work I have in line and many writing plans scheduled, so feel free to contact me if you’re interested. Or, you can simply drop by and send me donations through my Ko-fi account here

What I’ll be working on this year

This is normally where I show you some teasers of my WIPs. But I have so many WIPs to catch up on and I’ve also learned that I don’t always get to keep up with my own plans and I don’t want to leave you hoping and hanging while I’m suddenly inspired to work on other things. If you haven’t caught on with the WIPs hinted on the banner above, here are some visuals to show you what will be my main focus in 2025.

Note: they will not be released in chronological order and some may take time to finish. Let’s see if you can guess which fics these visuals represent and if there’s any of the fics you’re excited to see listed in this.

[daaehq]

Landoscar Christmas WIP - Just Like the Movies

This has been on my mind for months but I simply don't have enough time to develop this further which,, sucks. Anyway! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays for everyone!

Please let me know **kindly** if there is any spelling mistakes. I'm pretty stressed out and I don't think I can handle harsh criticism today, or ever. (lol)

Landoscar / 2.6k words / Inspired by Hallmark moves + my old post from my old acc / not beta read / Original!male!character / TW: toxic behaviour(Making someone cut off their friends), cheating(Not between the main characters)

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Lando yells over the phone. He is inside the comfort of his office but everyone outside seems to notice his rage. He could most definitely murder someone right now. He hasn’t felt this angry in a minute and it must show. Everything at work went incredibly smoothly for the holiday season so obviously something had to go wrong.

“I’m sorry! It’s just- I had something come up last minute.”

“Mark, we are going on this vacation because you insisted. I was fine- no, I wanted to stay in London for Christmas. I practically broke my parents’ hearts because you wanted to go to a fucking tree farm.”

“Come on, you know how important my job is-”

“Are you implying that our promise means less than taking a client?” Lando knows that argument is flawed and unfair but screw Mark and his workaholic tendencies. This isn’t the first time he broke off a commitment to go and mingle with a client, both professionally and literally. 

People like to paint Lando as this dumbass who has zero understanding of his surroundings but he is a silent observer. Although the fact that Mark screws any client that blinks in his direction is so obvious to the point a person living four hundred and eighty-one miles away can probably detect it. Lando kept his mouth shut from October, mainly because of the fact he hates spending Christmas alone. Back in university, he would spend it with Oscar and before Mark, he would spend it with George and Alex but ever since they got together, it’s been awkward being their third wheel at most events. It was definitely a relief when he got himself a boyfriend to spend Christmas with.

“Lando, that’s not fair!”

“You ditching our planned date for the fourteenth time this year is not fair.”

“Please? I’ll make it there as soon as I can. Just, this is really important to me. I told you all about this case! I have to help Barbara,” Mark pleads and it just makes Lando scoff. So this new girl is called Barbara. He genuinely does not give a shit.

“You know what? Fine! Please, spend your Christmas with whoever this Barbara is. As a matter of fact, please don’t even fucking come, I would love to spend some time alone at the fucking farm where I made the reservations. I don’t see a problem in taking your name off the list.”

“Lando please, can you calm down for a second?”

Mark saying that was more than enough to send Lando off the edges. Who the fuck does he think he is, telling him to ‘calm down’?

“I’m hanging up. Unlike you, I have somewhere to go this holiday season.”

“Please, can we just talk like adults here?”

Lando stays silent on the line, fighting back the tears that form around his eyes. He knows that Mark is a serial cheater who uses him to spend time and disappears when he doesn’t need him. It still doesn't change the fact that he really, really did like Mark and was most definitely in love with him for a time. Now, he doesn’t know.

“We’re done, Mark. This can’t go on like this any longer.”

“Lando, please. You’re being irrational again.”

“Good! Either I’m calm and insane or irrational and sane. I choose the latter.”

“Lando, just listen to me!”

“No, you listen to me! We are done!”

“Lando, I swear to-”

Lando hangs up the call without hearing the end of Mark’s sentence. He can feel tears drop down his face and it hurts just a little. 

When George walks into his office, he is basically a ball on the floor, his arms around his legs and just waddling about. 

“Oh my god Lando! Get off the floor!”

“Fuck you, George.”

George rolls his huge eyes and grabs Lando from the back and puts him back on his feet. He sniffs his sorrow and stares at George. 

“What happened? Everyone on the floor heard you scream over the phone, Is it the idiot lawyer again? I told you to break up with-”

“He’s not joining me for the Christmas trip.”

“What?” Alex yells from outside his door. Now everyone in the office is actively looking at Alex who just screamed, George who has his arms around Lando, and Lando with puffy eyes and sniffling nose. 

“Sorry, what do you mean he isn’t joining you? I thought it was his idea to go on that trip,” Alex asks, quieter than before. 

“He has a client to look out for this Christmas, so I called it off. We’re done,” Lando says, feeling his voice quiver just a little.

“Holy shit.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Yup.”

“What are you going to do? You know you should just cancel the thing and spend Christmas with your family instead.”

“They’re going on a trip together to Australia this year. I told them to book without me because, well” Lando gestures to the air just to emphasize he had someone to go on a holiday trip with just a few moments ago.

“You can spend it with me and George! You know, we’re having a double date, Logan with me and Lewis with George. We’re thinking about going to-”

“Alex! Shut the fuck up,” George says, cutting Alex’s sentence. Alex’s face goes just a little pale when he realizes what he has done. Lando just glares at him with murderous urges inside of him.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, patting Lando on the shoulders. Lando flips him off, also quietly.

“I’m just gonna go alone. Spend time with the trees, wallow about the fact that my ex and I broke up literally days before Christmas because he was a workaholic who would rather spend time working than with me,” Lando says. He sounds much more sarcastic than he anticipated. He’s glad that it at least hides the hurt in his voice. 

“Seriously?”

“Yup! Fuck Mark. I was gonna dump him anyway.”

“This is the thirteenth time this year that you’ve said that.”

“And I’ve done it this time!”

George sighs and shakes his head in disbelief. Lando can’t defend himself any further- because it’s true. He has said he would break it off with Mark a thousand times throughout their entire relationship. He couldn't help that he was indecisive about it. Now it’s all done and he is finally free from all of this. 

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The car ride to the farm was calmer than he had anticipated. He and Mark would always start a fight during road trips- about the smallest things there could possibly be. From each other's clothing choices to the food they chose to eat, they kept fighting and fighting until they just both stopped talking. It was nice to have some peace and quiet with his Christmas playlist during a long road trip to some random location he’d never heard of before.

When he arrives at his destination, it’s just a small, rural town with almost nothing. No tall buildings, no people running into each other with coffees in their hands, it’s rather empty. Usually, Lando would hate being alone but strangely enough, he doesn’t mind it.

He waits for someone to pick him up like they said they would in their pamphlet. The farm is far away enough to not have a proper road going in. Lando hates walking but the air feels different. Freezing cold, but refreshing as well. Something is rather magical about this place and he can’t exactly pinpoint what. 

“Lando?”

A not-so-American accent calls for his name from his back. He turns to find a guy a bit taller than him. Nice, soft-looking brown hair seems to fall perfectly around his face and his eyes look so comforting he thinks he can just jump right into it and never come out ever again. He is dressed a little too light for the weather, contrary to Lando who could definitely be considered overdressed despite the freezing weather.

The guy is so familiar but he doesn’t ring a bell immediately. He feels like he’s fallen for those eyes before. Where has he seen him before? Maybe around London? Maybe during the time he spent in New York a few years ago? Maybe during his time in Los Angeles. Maybe in school? 

Oh most definitely in school. How could he ever forget that face of his?

“Oscar? Piastri?”

“It’s been a minute,” Oscar says in his usual flat, dull voice.

He and Oscar graduated from university together. They weren’t exactly in the same department, with Lando studying Marketing and Oscar engineering, but alas they were close. There were some sparks here and there during their time as friends but they never went further than their hands brushing from time to time. 

Oscar was Lando’s first real love. It wasn’t anything like back in school- children mistaking horny interest for love. He enjoyed Oscar’s company, his laugh, his voice, his comforting arms, his dry sense of humour and just everything about him. He was more than devastated when he had learned that Oscar moved back to Melbourne after his study concluded, just days before he had set his mind to confess his feelings. 

Oscar opens his arms for a hug and Lando invites himself back into his arms for the first time in years. His warmth hasn’t changed and neither did the comfort that comes from his embrace. Oscar always felt like home to him, and that seemed to have stayed after all these years. Oscar gives Lando a tight squeeze and Lando can’t lie, he loves it just as much as he did back when they were in university together. 

“It’s good to see you again, Pastry.”

“Same goes for you, Landers.”

After they pulled away from their hug, they started walking towards the farm.

“So, you're a Christmas tree farmer now?”

“Not me, Mark is. He’s my mentor from back in Australia. He made a move to come here sort of recently,” Oscar says. The name Mark, despite not being his Mark, stings just a little. He can’t help but show it on his face.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, it’s just- my ex, his name was also Mark.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry to hear that. Was the breakup recent?”

“It’s not been two full days, so I guess? I was supposed to come here with him but we broke up right before we were supposed to leave.”

Thinking about it, Lando is pretty glad he called it off with Mark. It would’ve been pretty fucking awkward spending the holidays with his boyfriend and his ex-fling. He would much rather spend Christmas with Oscar and his mentor than fight all day and night with Mark. 

“Oh. Again, I’m sorry to hear that.” An awkward silence falls between them. It gets under Lando’s skin. He quickly breaks the silence. 

“Welp! Enough about me. When did you come back to the UK? Are you staying here just for the winter or?”

“I actually moved to London permanently, last September? It’s been a few months.”

Oh!

That is completely fine. Sure, obviously Oscar could have called Lando or texted him to let him know but nope, Oscar Piastri obviously kept that all to himself. He knows it is no longer his business but still, it would’ve been nice to get a phone call from his old friend, emphasis on friend.

“You could’ve called, you know. I would’ve loved to chat”

“I- actually, I did,” Oscar chuckles. Lando does not find that sentence funny because what the fuck?

“What? What- what do you mean you called? I never heard from you since- since you left!”

“Well, I called you the moment I landed in London, ‘cause you know, I wanted to catch up. A guy picked up the phone and told me that the number didn’t belong to you anymore. I didn’t have any of your socials so I couldn’t exactly reach you.”

The whole story sounds just a little too weird because Lando never changed his phone number after Oscar left. There is no way in hell that Oscar got the wrong number because they used to call each other all the time. So either Oscar is an idiot who hadn’t put down his number correctly on his phone, which is unlikely, or, perhaps someone had lied to Oscar. 

Mark.

Fucking Mark.

Fucking Mark! 

One of Mark’s toxic traits was chasing away Lando’s friends. It started with him banning Lando from going to his favourite cafe because the waiter was getting too friendly. When Lando realised the mess of a relationship he had gotten himself into, he barely had anyone to text after a day at work. Mark even tried to make Lando cut off George and Alex but it did not go very well. Mainly because the hatred was mutual and his two friends annoyed the living shit out of Mark until he backed off completely. 

At first, Lando thought he was just dating someone protective and caring. He never realised that his over-protective boyfriend was overflowing his own little need with any girl(or guy) who looked in his direction. Setting up a double standard like it was an Olympic sport. The gold medal for being a manipulative little shit goes to… Mark!

Now Lando is absolutely glad that he had called it all off. 

“That was probably my ex. He used to do that. God, that fucking arsehole! Why did I even date him for three years?”

“You dated him for three years?”

“Don’t call me out on it. I am also regretting it.”

“Well, at least I won't be in front of my mentor Mark. We're here!”

The farm is huge to the point where the word huge could be an understatement. Endless rows of trees are aligned behind a cosy-looking cottage. It’s what you would see in those hallmark movies, where the main character inherits a rundown farm and has to somehow save the damn thing to rescue Christmas. 

“Wow,” Lando mutters quietly. Oscar definitely heard it, considering his adorable little laugh.

“Yup! The place is huge. It’s also pretty shit to clean.”

Oscar reaches for the doorknob and opens the door to the inside. There are so many things about this place that make his mouth drop. From the gigantic tree in the middle of the living room where you can see the entirety of the farm to the open kitchen that is neatly organized.

“Come on, I’ll give you a house tour in a bit. Let’s head to your room,” Oscar says, tugging on Lando’s arm a little. Lando follows Oscar upstairs where all the guest bedrooms seem to be located.

Oscar opens the door to a room at the end of the corridor. Just like everything on this farm, the room is also spacious. It’s nicely decorated with a couple of Christmas-related decors and a bookshelf filled with ancient-looking books. The bedding is red and green, decorated just for the holiday season. Lando wonders if he is dreaming just a little because the room is perfect. 

“You did book a room with king sized bed but if you prefer a smaller one we can arrange-”

“No, this is perfect. What the- this room is incredible.” Lando can’t hide the awe in his tone. The house feels like something out of a movie and he wants to live in this room forever, just staring at the trees with Osc- Lando stops himself from thinking there. 

“I decorated it myself,” Oscar says, blushing just a little bit. He’s always found that incredibly endearing about the younger one. It makes his heart beat just a bit louder than before and now he feels flushed as well. 

“Oscar! Are the guests here?” A man yells from down the stairs. His accent is similar to Oscar’s.

“I’m showing him his room!” Oscar yells back. 

“You ready to head downstairs?”

“I was born ready, Osc.”

[elodieunderglass]

fanfiction ask game: truthful, leap, after, backwards

Oh interesting they’re all about Bee. Nobody’s been truthful in any of my WIPs at all (which is very on-brand) but you got a lot of sentences about Bee the weasel.

Bee killed rat after rat after rat. Savage, mechanical, beautiful.

They jumped backwards in the seat, together, bristling.

He got up in one decisive movement - they had been sitting around for too long - and Bee shot instantly to his shoulder, in a leap of white fur, moving as if she could fly.

(Awww. You got a line with Old Bee.)

[sentientcave]

It's WIP Wednesday once again! I've got some Impound for you because it's been a while and it's still not finished (I've been working on Sparrow instead and just hit 55k today which is pretty exciting).

Contains: Blue collar Simon, Price as a cop, petty nonsense from men who should know better, but they're unfortunately not very emotionally intelligent

That’s when he saw the cruiser, parked on the street out front, too close to the fire hydrant.

Not blocking it, exactly, but still too close. If it were anyone else, he’d’ve let it slide, since the fire crew would still be able to get to the hydrant. But it was Price, and he’d just warned him about this very thing.

He pulled out his phone. “Hey, Johnny?” he said as soon as the line picked up, not waiting for Johnny to speak. “Send Roach out to city hall. Got someone parked by a fire ‘ydrant.”

“Fer fuck’s sake, Si, isnae the feckin’ cop again?”

“It is. I’ll come round to handle the paperwork. Won’t make you do it.”

“Awlright, but dinnae let him catch Roach at it neither. Ye know he’ll say somethin’ stupid and get his arse arrested.”

“Oh I know. Lad dun’t know ‘ow to keep his trap shut.” Simon hung up and headed back inside, hardly paying attention to the meeting, his eyes flicking back to Price over and over again, and holding whenever he found Price looking back. It was clear that neither of them retained anything said, too busy glaring at each other over the heads of the people sitting between them.

Simon got out of the building first, and stood off to the side to smoke another cigarette, leaning against a tree where he could get a good view of Price’s reaction when he came out to find his cruiser missing yet again.

He didn’t disappoint. He came out of the building a few minutes after the initial crush of humanity, talking to Kate and Nikolai. Price stopped in his tracks a little ways out the door, focused in on where his cruiser was supposed to be, and immediately scanned the vicinity, his whole body going rigid, hands tightening into fists, shoulders squared up for war, jaw set like concrete. His blazing blue eyes found Simon, and he marched over without saying a word, leaving Nikolai and Kate looking confused, and then amused when they realized what must have happened.

Price stopped in front of him, fury radiating off of him like heat off an engine, all that energy practically warping the space between them. “What’s your fuckin’ problem, mate?” he asked, jabbing a finger against Simon’s chest.

“No problem. I was ‘ere the whole time, wasn’t I?” Simon batted Price’s hand away, resisting the impulse to punch him for having the nerve to lay his bloody hands on him in the first place. Price was lucky that Simon was so rehabilitated now. That he had his temper on a good strong leash these days. “If you din’t want to get towed, you shunt’ve parked there. Not my problem if my people know ‘ow to do their jobs and you ‘aven’t got a clue ‘ow to do yours.”

“You don’t want to start a war with me, son,” Price growled.

Simon leaned forward, the barest curve of a smile on his lips, eyes narrowed and flinty. To his credit, Price didn’t flinch, didn’t move back, didn’t drop his eyes. He wasn’t intimidated by Simon’s size, like a lesser man would be. “You don’t want to start a war with me, old man.” He wasn’t sure there was much difference in their ages, if any, but if Price was going to try and talk down to him with the son shite than Simon was going to shovel it right back, like he was an unruly teenager in a rebellious phase. “I’m not goin’ to be pushed around by a fuckin’ badge. You don’t get special treatment because you wear a bloody uniform.”

Price’s jaw clenched even tighter. He had an impressive scowl, one that could probably level anyone else. “Watch yourself,” he grit out, like each word cost him something to force from his mouth.

Simon leaned a little closer. Their noses were almost touching. He could feel the currents of air stirred up by Price’s breath on his own face. “Or what?” he asked.

“Or else,” Price said, too angry to come up with anything resembling a real threat.

Simon pulled back with an amused grunt, and turned away, glancing over his shoulder dismissively. “See you as the impound lot, hm? I’ll be waitin’.”

In the end, it was Gaz who came around to pick up the cruiser.

[aipurjopa]

★ INTRO POST ☆

I’m Ai aka Purjopa

she/her

I draw stuff 👍

Main blog: @purjopa (except I don’t post anything there but when I submit asks or reply to stuff it’ll be on that blog because this is technically a sideblog. All my posts will be here though)

Here is my handy dandy website: https://purjopa.carrd.co/#info

(interests section on it is probably not up to date, everything else is though!)

How I Tag

Art tag: #purple’s art

A side note about my art tag: tumblr broke a while back so there’s two of them yet they look identical. One of these two tags is missing half of my old art while the other one has everything. Not sure why, keep that in mind!

Text Post Tag: #sketchy.txt

Reblogs: #reblogs!

Spoiler tags: #[media name] spoilers

Commenting on a video/stream I am currently watching: #[cc name] liveblogging

Main Interests

Mcyt: Unstable Universe, Lifesteal, Hermitcraft, Life Series, (ex)DSMP (as in: I’ll probably make references to it or rb the stray post but I don’t give 2 shits about that series anymore)

I often draw: Spoke, Parrot, Wemmbu, Minute, Zam, Grian, Scar, Joel.

Nothing mcyt related that I draw is intended to be ship art (so please don’t tag it as such either) unless I’ve specifically used a ship tag on the post/specified it’s ok (ex: if it’s clownzy art I’ll tag it as clownzy and also lifesteal shipping). If it is ship art, it’s between the characters and not the cc’s!!

Generally speaking tho I personally don’t really like romantic shipping in mcyt spaces (mainly because of how muddled the line between cc and character can get for me personally) so i’d appreciate it if you don’t send asks to me asking me to talk abt a romantic ship or smth. Idgaf what you do tho, whether it’s rpf or not. It’s just for me personally✌️

Rhythm Games: Project Sekai, Bandori, Enstars

My Favorites: Airi, Akito, Saki, Aya, Hina, Ran, Souma, Tori, Esu, Hinata, Yuta

Other Games: Sky Children of the Light, Genshin Impact, Minecraft, Honkai Starrail

Other Media: Frieren, How to Eat Life Series (by Eve), Skip to Loafer, Spy x Family

Other tags I commonly use

#🌌: Havoc duo (parrot and spoke)

#🪐⚡️: pride duo (planet and spoke!)

#words per second: unstable universe protagonists (wemmbu parrot spoke)

#🌀: FOCUS (squiddo, 4c, mr.cube)

#devotions: mapicc and zam

#destiny: spoke and zam

#devious: spoke and mapicc

#laurels: golden laurels (minute and wemmbu)

#☀️🩵: sunkissed (zam and derap)

#swap au: my prsk swap au (the one with runaways)

#vivid street: next gen! : my next generation vbs au (featuring chasing x destines, my ocs)

#long lived au: my frieren inspired prsk au

#mid week supplementals: doodles/not colored pieces

#sketchy sketches: my old tag for doodles/wips

#video: [video title] - [cc name]: title of the video that i’m talking about (usually when i show clips/screenshots). i’m like really inconsistent about using it tho…

#[abbreviated cc name] live blogging: when i’m watching a stream/video and posting abt it as i’m watching

#[series name] spoilers: spoilers for the current running season of that series

[thistleraven]

Sing the Body Electric Mass Effect wip

I stumbled across this in my wips and you know what, one day I will come back to sing but until then, the people should have this excerpt I wrote for ME3:

—*—

When they get to her cabin, Shepard goes directly to the bed and flops heavily on top of it, her legs wide but her arms crossed over her face to block out the light. Her raised arms pull up her sweatshirt, and Garrus is captivated by the slice of her revealed belly and the jut of her hip bones that get cut off by the waist line of her pants. 

Garrus moves across the room to get in between her legs. He makes it to the edge of the bed when Shepard’s next words, said in such a sullen, annoyed tone, startle him. 

“Harbinger can suck my dick.”

Garrus pauses, then chuckles. He kneels on the bed, pulling her legs over his knees so her pelvis rests in his lap. He smooths his hands over the soft, exposed skin of her belly, and watches her shiver. 

“I know for a fact you don’t have one of those,” Garrus says, snapping at her waist band to punctuate his point. 

“I can get one,” Shepard says mulishly. “Fuckin—call Miranda, she’ll make me one.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a call I’d be thrilled to make.” Garrus rolls his eyes. “Hey Miranda, super urgent: can you make Shepard a dick? She needs it so she can tell The Vanguard Of Our Destruction to suck it.”

She peeks out from under her arm and waggles her eyebrows at him. “I mean, I could use it for other things too.”

“Shepard, I’ve just started feeling like I’m getting the hang of sex with your body now, don’t go and complicate it for me again,” Garrus complains. 

“Ugh, fine,” Shepard says, and covers her eyes again. “EDI, find me the biggest dildo on the extranet and send it to Harbinger with the note that Commander Shepard says it can assume control of this and go fuck itself.”

EDI’s dry voice comes from the ceiling. ”I’ll get right on that, Commander.” 

Garrus pokes her. She grunts in response. 

“You know, Harbinger might actually enjoy that. Then where would we be?”

Shepard’s mouth twitches, and Garrus watches her belly shake, feels her muscles ripple as she tries to hold in her laugh. Shepard moves her arms to look at him, her eyes bright and mischievous, and Garrus knows he’s going to hate what she says next, but Spirits, he loves her, he loves her. 

“Well, who knows, G,” she says, and Garrus can hear in her voice how bad this is, how thrilled she is with knowing he’s going to hate it. He’s already resigned to it.  “Maybe the Reapers just need a good nut.” 

Garrus sputters, “That’s horrible,” but he can’t help but laugh with her when she finally breaks and lets loose a honking belly laugh, rare and precious these days.

“God,” Shepard wheezes finally, after their giggles subside. “What a headline: “Reaper War Averted: Not With A Bang, But With A Bust,” and that sets them off again until EDI’s voice comes over the intercom. 

“Shepard,” EDI says, and Garrus never knew a computer could sound so deeply amused. “I have located the biggest dildo on the extranet. It is 45 feet tall, and 15 feet in diameter. It is worth 1.3 million credits, and was created as an homage to Krogan General Jorgal Thruk.”

There's a long moment where Garrus and Shepard digest that information.

“Wow,” Garrus says faintly. “That should do it.” 

“Good for him?” Shepard offers.

EDI continues, her robotic voice devious, “It is also mechanized.”

Shepard gasps, delighted, and shoves Garrus in excitement.

“Oh my god Garrus, with a bang and a bust!” 

Garrus leans forward to rest his head on her shoulder and desperately tries not to think of reapers and giant mechanized krogan dildos.

“Shepard, please, I want to achieve an erection sometime in the next year,” he pleads.

Shepard snickers against his neck, and then shimmies down so she can pull at his tunic, her bad mood clearly forgotten as she skates her fingers up his waist. Garrus shivers, and she leverages herself up to kiss his face. 

“Well, Officer Vakarian, let me see what I can do,” she murmurs against his mandibles, then, “Get lost, EDI.” 

The lights dim as Garrus lets himself get pulled in by her.

“Getting lost, Commander,” EDI says, her voice soft and affectionate.

—*—

To her left, the destroy panel glows a hellish red,  ominous and foreboding. To her right, the glowing blue and green lights of control and synthesis chambers flicker at her, calm and soothing. Either one would be a peaceful solution, either one would save countless lives, end this war forever. 

She takes a step to the right, and the world shifts, reels, fuck, her leg is so fucked up, it hurts so goddamn much, she sobs as the pain lances clean and clear like a knife—

All she has to do is get to those lights, and she can rest. All she has to do is throw her broken body into one of the those chambers, one of those tubes—

—into

Tubes. Throw her body into a tube. 

meat and tubes, a little voice whispers in the back of her mind, and Shepard starts to laugh.

The Catalyst’s face flickers and god. God, it’s all so fucking funny.

She wipes the tears of grief and agony and mirth from her face, and points at him.

“Harbinger,” she says. “You stupid bitch, you almost fucking got me.”

And then she points her gun at the glowing red box and pulls the trigger.

“Shepard!” and there it is, that stupid little boy image gone and Harbinger’s voice crashing through the room. The panic in its voice is all she needs to take another step forward, pull the trigger. The box begins to spark. 

“You will destroy all synthetics! The geth, your AI, the Relays, they will all be destroyed!” Harbinger warns, but every step brings a sharp new wave of pain: cleansing fire that burns away the fog of indoctrination. She can hear the desperation now, the lie in its voice, and she begins to laugh.

“I know how much this hurts you,” she mocks, and pulls the trigger. For Anderson. For her mother.

“Shepard!” Harbinger shrieks, and she pulls the trigger: for Garrus, god, honey, she’s so fucking sorry, she wishes they had more time. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” she says conversationally, as Harbinger screams and screams around her. The floor shakes ominously, the walls start to collapse. 

She pulls the trigger again and again: for humanity, for the turians. For the asari, the krogan, salarians. For the batarians, the volus, the elcor, the hanar. For the quarians. For the geth. For the protheans, and for all who came before.

For herself.

“Suck my dick,” Shepard says. She pulls the trigger one last time, and the world shatters apart. 

—*—

She floats, easy, waves crashing and gulls cawing overhead. She imagines the sky is a bright, perfect blue—she can’t seem to open her eyes but it feels like it would be. She feels like she’s close to the shore, drifting in the sun-warm shallows. She feels drowsy, melatonin-sweet. She’s been floating for a long while.

“Siha,” Thane says.

She wants to say something, but she can’t get her mouth to work; her tongue is heavy, her jaw and teeth locked. She wants to look at him, but her eyes stay stubbornly closed.

“Siha,” Thane’s voice is so full of warmth and pride that her eyes prick, and she feels tears track down the sides of her face. “You did it. You can rest now.” 

and god. Rest. What a concept. She wants to so bad, it’d be so nice, all she has to do is drift to shore, then she can let go, then she can sleep, but—

But.

“Not ready,” Mordin says, and he sounds—amused. Like she’s a lab sample that did something precocious. Affectionate. “Come back when ready. Tell Vakarian,” he sniffs, “Take care of you.”

And then they shove her back out to sea, down into the deep. 

—*—

“‘…suck my dick?’”

The Council stenographer stares at her, mouth open in a horrified little ‘o’. In the corner of the hospital room, Shepard watches Garrus put his hands over his face and silently shake with mirth. Asshole.

“In my defense,” she says mulishly, “I didn’t think anyone was gonna know about it.” 

The stenographer gives a nervous look to the new human Councillor, a ‘can-I-even-write-this-down?’ look, but Weir hasn’t taken their head out of their hands since Shepard told them about calling Harbinger a bitch.

“Look,” Shepard says, feeling very put upon, “I thought I was going to die!” 

She waves the stumps of her right leg and her left arm at them to enforce her point. “I wasn’t thinking about adding to humanity’s list of dignified quotes!”

Weir lifts their head and rubs at their temples, like Shepard’s the unreasonable one here. They look at her. “You said you thought about Admiral Anderson, Mr. Vakarian, and all of the galactic races as you took the shots, correct?”

Shepard looks at Garrus. He’s watching her with such an expression—love and gratitude and pride—that it chokes her. He holds her gaze, and nods, validating. On your six, the expression says. I’ve got you.

“Yeah,” she manages finally. 

“Well, then,” The Councillor stands up, and the awful scrape of their chair against the floor lets her tear her eyes from Garrus.

Weir gestures at the stenographer to get their things. “We’ll just make it work from that. We’ll say that you said you were doing it for the galaxy, something heroic. Expect a memo with the wording once it’s approved— you should memorize it for the press.” 

With that, Weir and the stenographer leave in a swish of expensive fabric. Shepard gapes after them, then gestures to the door at Garrus. 

“Can you believe that?” she complains. He laughs and makes his way to her side. He laces their hands together, and Shepard thrills at it, the feel of him. Garrus shakes his head sadly.

“These fucking people,” Garrus says, mock-serious, his voice a smile. She can’t help it, she beams at him, so wide and strong it hurts her face.

“That’s what I’m saying,” she says, and leans in for his kiss. 

[roppiepop]

JayTim K-POP AU WIP

A plastic box gets shoved to his chest.

Only because he allows it, obviously, because the little gremlin of a brat is still several lifetimes away from being able to get a drop on him.

Though the demon spawn is also a picture of silence, lips pursed and shoulders tense where his fist extends to press whatever he bought on Jason’s pecs.

With a barely audible sigh, Jason peels that arm off to see what it was that demanded his attention so badly that the kid broke into one of the few safe-houses Jason thought was off the Bat-radar.

The answer is a thick box, covered with a glossy sleeve. On the cover are a group of five men piled on top of each other, composed artfully to look like a playful candid rather than an unfortunate accident. The only other thing on it is a logo stylized to look like a clock. Jason might be able to read where the lines form ‘SPF50’.

He sends Damian a blank look. The kid visibly heckles.

“Tt.” he starts, “This isn’t for me- I would like to emphasize that, for the record.”

Pause. Damian crosses his arms. “It’s Jon. He gave me an adequate birthday gift. It would be a dishonor to reciprocate with anything less.”

Jason replies to that with a hand gesture. What the hell does that have to do with him?

Damian looks at him like he’s rotten meat. Jason returns the glare twofold.

A frustrated groan. The kid almost swipes his arm back- like he was about to reach for his katana before realizing he’s out of costume. “Are you daft, Todd? I am asking for a favor. Name your price.”

“Yeah, Shrimp, I got that.” Jason bites back, “I’m just wonderin’ why the hell anythin’ related to this-“ he holds up the album, “-would be somethin’ I have an in with.”

Without missing a beat, Damian swipes back the album and pulls a card out from the middle to show him.

It’s a low angle selfie, cutting the pictured man off at the forehead. Stray locks, black with a blue-ish tint, fall just at the edge of the frame, and shadow a pair of striking blue eyes. Below that is a lopsided grin showing off a row of straight teeth. The rest of the picture is a swath of yellow- maybe a hoodie? Its laughably big though, dipping low enough to show the prominent curves of the man’s collarbones.

“This is why.” Damian says, before Jason could get a word in. “Your paramour, he’s Jon’s favorite in the group. He must be detestable if he has stooped low enough to romantically engage with you of all people, but nevertheless. Have him and his group sign this album and I will owe you one favor.”

“Huh.” Jason starts. Stops. Considers if he’s in the mood to start a fight. Sighs instead. “You’re outta luck, kid. I don’t know any of these guys.”

Damian’s eyes narrow. He steps forward in a stomp. “Don’t try and lie to me, Todd. Everyone has confirmed you are dating this idol. Agree to my terms before I am pushed to use force-Ow!”

Jason’s fingers moved to flick Damian’s forehead before he even registers that they did. “You can’t force me to do anythin’, Brat. I’ll send you back to your Mom.”

He flicks the other’s nose this time before he can respond, garnering another indignant squawk. “And two- just because you heard Blondie constantly yammerin’ about it doesn’t make it a public fact.”

Jason moves for the chin this time, but Damian has jumped away from striking range and looks a second away from hissing.

Jason would probably hiss back at him if he did. Something about this kid is just makes you want to mess with him.

But Damian seems to already be in retreat mode, sulkily skulking back to Jason’s fire escape with a deep scowl.

“Fine.” he says, right by the threshold of the apartment. “You prove yourself yet again useless. But just so you know Brown isn’t the only one talking- Father also suspects.”

And he’s gone just as Jason opens his mouth.

“Bruce?”

[bidisasterevankinard]

Wip Wednesday

We are back with angst of and here is two part from "please, stop twisting knife(never wanted to cause your pain)" the chapter 1 where Buck and Eddie tries to choose the ring + pictures of the rings tagged by @diazsdimples @tizniz @wikiangela thank you <3333

“Do you look for something in particular?” the woman, who’s name badge has “Chris” on it, smiles warmly at them and then sends her full attention to Buck. “We have a fantastic blue ring with the Gibeon Meteorite,” she shows them a gray ring with a beautiful blue line between two gray.  “I’m sure it would look perfect with your finance’s eyes. They are so blue and this ring has exactly the same color. Don’t you think so?” she again looks at Eddie, still smiling but now with question in her eyes.

They both are silent for a minute. Buck’s brain is completely gone and he wants to scream from the mixed feeling of excitement that someone decided that Eddie is looking for a ring for him and from pain of the same knife Eddie used to cut him, passing old wounds, he got today, deeper. 

“No, we are…” Eddie starts speaking, but Buck barely hears him. “We are not together together, Buck is my best friend. And I look for a ring for my boyfriend,” Eddie’s voice sounds strangely and Buck wants to scream from the pain that Eddie hates the idea of being mistaken for Buck’s partner so hard. 

-

“Can you please gimme this and that black ring please,” Buck smiles at the seller pointing out two rings. “If I chose the ring for you, I would buy one of these rings. It’s classic and intelligent, gallant and a little bit badass. But most importantly it's unique. It seems too dark, but it's just like you. You need to look deeper to see the best part,” Buck shows Eddie what one ring is golden inside and the other one has the words “I’ll be here”. “When I thought for a second about asking Taylor on our Christmas together, I panicked, but I also already knew I would choose something with the form of leaves and with rubies, because Taylor is fire and leaves can make fire bigger no matter with wind or because they are too dry and burn well. I even found the ring kind of like that. And I felt that it was Taylor's ring. So tell me Eddie. Is this golden band Alec? Can you see him?Can you tell me what you see in this piece of gold?”

tagging @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @ebdaydreamer @eddiebabygirldiaz @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @icecreampotluck @puppyboybuckley @pirrusstuff @anakinfallen @aspecbuddie @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @spaceprincessem @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @hoodie-buck @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @loserdiaz @caroandcats @loveyourownsmiilee @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @buck-coded @buckleydiaz @nmcggg @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @steadfastsaturnsrings @malewifediaz and anyone who wants to

[abubblingcandle]

⭐ Send me a word/words and if I have it in a WIP I will sprint for 15mins on that project ⭐

Normal mode:

Dirt

Trees

Road

River

So so so appreciated my dear! Looking at all the wonderful words you gave me has brought so so much joy!

I'll put these under the cut but

Dirt - untitled Catherine Babysitter fic

Road - Fleuve Ch1

Trees - Fleuve Ch2

River - Captive Audience Ch1

Dirt - untitled Catherine Babysitter fic

“Oh?” River pouted, looking down at his dirt crusted scrapped knee in confusion. “It’s fine,” he shrugged, wrapping his arms around his shins and resting his head on his good knee. “Just a bit of blood nothing to worry about,” he chirped, moving his hand to brush at it. “Don’t do that,” Catherine scolded, rummaging in her bag for a tissue. She wasn’t really looking at him when she spoke and so missed the moment her words landed. However when she looked up, River���s hand was frozen above his knee and he was looking up at her with a trembling lower lip. “Oh River, lad, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap,” Catherine sighed. That startled him out of his stupor and his trembling lip was quickly tucked behind his front teeth and raised hand wiping at his face, leaving a little stretch of mud on his cheek. “’s fine,” he murmured. “Just a scrape.”

For that sprint I got 206 words

Trees - Fleuve Ch2

“Throw me a gun!” Lance yelled, hands outstretched towards Louisa. The cacophonous thump of bullets shredding through their rental car was sending shudders through Louisa with each shot. A pause, Louisa fired blind from around the side of the car into the thick tree line, diving back against the wheel as soon as it started again. “Why the fuck would I do that?” Louisa yelled back. Lance glared, raising his bound hands to gesture petulantly at where the fire was coming from. “We’re being shot at!” “How do I know they aren’t yours?” Another frustrated huff, “they’re shooting at me!” Lance stuck his head up above the bonnet and ducked quickly as shots skimmed over his hair. “It’s an understandable sentiment,” Louisa grumbled. Lance had the duct tape binding his hands between his teeth but still managed to glare daggers at her. If she wasn’t being shot at, she would be throttling him. This op was a fucking shitshow from the start and it was all because of Lance or whatever his name was. “Cover me and I’ll go in and take them out. Just need a distraction, MI5’s worst should do,” he grunted, slowly unpeeling the tape.

For that sprint I got 265 words!

Road - Fleuve Ch1

“Do we stake out the house?” Marcus suggested. Louisa shrugged. They were the three blind mice stumbling around France hoping that they would find their target who’s face they didn’t even know. “If he’s any good at his job then he won’t be spotted by the big bad. Drug smugglers in provincial towns are not our problem,” Shirley argued. “Let’s see where he might be staying. These places notice foreigners and could be convinced to ...” “I think I might have found your guy,” Roddy interrupted their planning. “What?” Shirley asked. “There’s a guy on the roof,” his voice echoed through the car speakers. “What?” Louisa yelled. “I said there’s a guy running across the roof, full assassins creed parkour style, with an angry mob down on road level but on his tail. They’re missing the torches and pitchforks but they clearly really fucking hate this guy,” Roddy continued. “I mean. Someone in the town that we have been sent to extract an asset in, being chased by an angry mob?” Shirley shrugged. “That’s gotta be our guy isn’t it?”

For that sprint I got 184 words!

River (oh what a surprise I have this in a lot of fics lol) - Captive Audience Ch1

“CCTV! Now!” she yelled at the poor crime scene tech that was sat at the computer. “Fuck, and you are?” he yelled back clutching at his heart. “MI5, now!” Louisa waved her badge in his general direction but it was likely that her gun and frenzied demeanour did more for her cause than the piece of paper did. “Ok, ok. We’ve managed to find the people who stole the car. They weren’t being particularly subtle and it seems like one might be injured?” he explained. Louisa could see it. She could see the backs of two people heading towards the entrance of the car park that she had just stormed through. One was likely the man from the restaurant and the other was River. River looked almost comatose. His arm was thrown over the other man’s shoulder and his feet were able to move but sluggishly dragging. His head slumped forwards, chin resting against his chest. The other man dragged River through the door, it whacking into River’s hip as they inched through. Then about five minutes later, the jeep driving out. Driver and occupants not able to be seen, but known.

For this sprint I got 224 words!

[sanjuwrites]

wip wednesday

in honor of me meeting CMQ on their pairing tour soon, here's another snippet of my zahra backstory <3 (and some tarlos too i couldnt pick)

thanks to @heartstringsduet @bonheur-cafe @honeybee-taskforce @nancys-braids @paperstorm and

@carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton

zahra backstory

Zahra feels her heart break in her chest a little, and remembers all the ways that June shielded Alex from the brunt of the last year. She’s sure the kid feels lost at not knowing if his rock is okay. Before she realizes what she’s doing, Zahra beckons him over, letting Alex curl up into her as she hugs him. “June’s going to be just fine, Alex. She’s a strong girl, and she’s exactly where she needs to be, getting all the help she needs, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything but yourself.” She wraps her arms around him, giving him a hug, “Now, did you finish that math homework you need to turn in in the morning?”

Alex nods against her shoulder, and she smiles, safe in the knowledge Alex can’t see her face. “Good, because your mother would skin me if you missed it, you little shit.” A beat, and then, “don’t tell your mother I cursed around you, I can’t fill that swear jar up anymore.”

Alex smiles a little wobbly thing, “Can we watch a movie for a bit? I don’t wanna sleep alone up there.”

And, well, Zahra knows she shouldn’t, she should say no and send the kid back up to bed, but something in his voice won’t let her. “Okay, fine. But I get to pick the movie, you menace. Seriously, your mother is going to kill me and it’s gonna be all your fault.”

He giggles at that, snuggling into her side a little deeper, “Love you, Zee.”

“I love you too, kid.” She sniffles, “Repeat that shit and I’ll bury you, alright? I can’t have people knowing I’m going fu– freaking soft.”She feels Alex nod against her side and she smiles softly, letting the opening credits of Empire Strikes Back play on the TV.

aish fic

They’re both silent on the other end, and before Aish can add onto what she’s saying, the siren goes off on the other end. “Saved by the bell, Marwani. Be safe out there.”

“Yes ma’am. This conversation isn’t over though.”

She can hear TK shuffling in his room, and she sighs, starting to move through the kitchen and pulling tomatoes and cilantro out of the fridge to get started on lunch.

Aishwarya can’t force him to talk to Carlos, but maybe she can force him to leave his room. 

***

TK’s finger hovers over Carlos’s number in his call log, trepidation overwhelming him. 

It’s just Carlos, you know Carlos. He’s been dying to talk to you. He winces at the choice of words in his head, but powers through. He presses the call button, and brings it up to his ear with shaky hands. It rings out, and just as TK is getting ready to end the call, he hears Carlos’s breathless voice on the other end. 

“TK?”

The breath rushes out of TK, “Yeah.”

“I didn’t think you’d call, to be honest. Aishu made it kinda clear that you weren’t going to call…”

TK lets out the barest of chuckles, “Yeah, I figured it was time I dealt with this one head on – do you want to meet up somewhere?”

Carlos is silent on the other line for a second, “Do you want to come over? I can be at my apartment in twenty minutes.”

TK blinks in surprise, “You’re not at your apartment?”

“Oh, no I’m not. Ma wanted to keep an eye on me and Aishu agreed that I should stay here, so I did. I’ll be there soon, just let yourself in. I have your favorite water in the fridge, just please. Go over there and wait for me.”

i'm gonna tag @lightningboltreader, @reyesstrand, @liminalmemories21, and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut!

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #62

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

Near noon the next day, Astrid went over to Gobber’s shop. 

He seemed somewhat surprised to see her there. “Astrid? Uh…how can I help you, lass? Are you here to pick something up for ye mum?” 

“I would like two pounds of stew beef, please.” 

“‘A course. It’ll take me a moment to cut that up. But I’ll have it all ready for you if ya want ta come back later.” 

Astrid frowned. “But can I not just wait here?” 

“Sure,” he chuckled. “But the Rider will be here any moment.” 

“So?” She crossed her arms. “He can wait his turn.” 

Gobber barked a loud laugh and wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh that’s a good one. He’d love to hear that! Nothing says ‘part of the village’ like having to wait yer turn at the shops, eh?” 

The telltale shush fell over the village from outside, and Astrid heard the caws of several ravens. Goosebumps raised on her flesh, and she started shaking, but she refused to leave. 

“This’ll be interestin’…” Gobber said darkly, a little grin on his face. 

The clack of horse hooves outside told her all she needed to know. She had but a few seconds to dart out the back now. 

But no, she was determined to see this through. 

The Rider bowed, entering the little shop, before raising up to his full height. He was even more terrifying close up. His black cloak almost seemed to emit smoke. 

His horse sniffed her, embers flying out its nose. 

Astrid stood still, petrified, and unmoving as two sets of acid green eyes stared at her. 

Gobber cut the tension with a razor sharp knife. “Afternoon lad! What can I do for you today?” 

The Rider whipped his gaze back to Gobber, silent for a moment. Then he dismounted his horse. 

He was still tall. Maybe two feet taller than her. But he was thin and gangly. He leaned to one side, and Astrid could now see that he only had one leg. One side wore greaves made of a dark metal, while the other leg was made of twisted black wood. 

Once off, the horse walked past her, leisurely making its way to the back pen, and snacking on grass. 

Astrid only now noticed the singed spots of grass out there, as the grass smoldered under the horses hooves. 

The Rider just stood there, not saying a thing, but staring at her. 

“Well lass, guess I’ll get that beef cut for you,” said Gobber. “You’ll have to wait, Rider. She’s ahead of you in line!” He laughed. 

Astrid swallowed hard, and then raised her hand to the apparition. “Hello, I’m Astrid Hofferson,” she spoke, perhaps louder than intended. But her voice trembled mightily. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The Rider tilted his head, then looked down at her hand. 

“Ohhh,” said Gobber. 

“What?” Astrid panicked. “Should I not have offered to shake his hand?” 

Before she could change her mind, fingers as cold as ice wrapped around her hand and squeezed. She looked down, searing the image into her mind. His hands were dark gray and shiny, like they were covered in graphite, and then slowly turned dark blue down at his fingertips. His nails were long, black, and pointed, almost like claws. He squeezed, sending a ripple of tingling energy up her arm. 

“You…” he spoke, his voice deep and gravelly, like it hadn’t been used in years. But there was a nasally quality that threw her off. Almost made him sound more human. “...are not afraid of me?” 

Oh she was. She was a hair away from crying, but she just smiled back and said, “should I be?” 

He shook his head. 

A wave of relief went through her as she sighed.

“At least,” he added. “Not now.” Then he released her hand.