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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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HITS DIFFERENT— JACK HUGHES

final part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n and Jack were in a relationship for 4 years before deciding to go separate ways, but everything reminds her of him and y/n realizes she’s made a mistake by letting him go.

specific lyrics: “i washed my hands of us at the club, you made a mess of me. i pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street.” and “they say that if it's right, you know. each bar plays our song, nothing has ever felt so wrong.” and “i find the artifacts, cried over a hat, cursed the space that i needed. i trace the evidence, make it make some sense why the wound is still bleedin'. you were the one that i loved.” and “i heard your key turn in the door down the hallway. is that your key in the door? is it okay? is it you?” and “i never don't cry at the bar. yeah, my sadness is contagious. i slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car.” and “love is a lie; shit my friends say to get me by.”

notes: i don't know how i feel about this one. i feel like i could've potentially done better, but anyways MIDNIGHTS FIC LIST IS OFFICIALLY DONE! it's a month later than i had originally wanted to finish it, but it's finally done!

the reflection staring back at me is a bit of a hot mess. mascara smudged, hair tousled, lipstick fading. i stare in the mirror until i feel the sting of the hot water on my hands, pulling them back with a hiss of pain. the alcohol running through my veins helps me avoid overthinking about this dingy club bathroom, my shoes sticking to the floor with every step. but the buzz does nothing to help with the thoughts that run through my mind when i hear the song that’s blasting from the speakers throughout the club.

“y/n/n, you good?” my head snaps over to Marie, her upper body peeking in through the bathroom door. one look at me makes her sigh. “you’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“it’s our song.” i explain, as though she hasn’t heard the same excuse at every other bar we’ve been to in the past six months.

“i know it is, hun.” she gives me a pitiful smile, fully entering the grimy bathroom in order to grab my hand.

“it just feels so wrong hearing it without him.” tears well up in my eyes, my heart hurting just a little extra.

“let’s go get you another drink.” i give a numb nod in response, letting her lead me to our other friends that sit in a booth by the bar. at the sight of my state, they both give each other an unspoken glance before giving me a look of pity.

“i ordered you another tequila sunrise.” Beth tells me, sliding the drink towards me. i drop into the booth, muttering a short ‘thanks’ before gulping at the drink.

“lay it on us, babe. what’s on your mind tonight?” Lisa pipes up, sipping at her own drink and raising a brow at me.

“i just— they say that if it’s right, you know. and i thought we were right. but, it makes no sense because why didn’t i know until we broke up? i mean, i knew. obviously i knew, i followed him here from Michigan. but, i didn’t know know until we separated, ya know?”

“i’m gonna be honest, i only understood maybe half of what you just said.” Lisa says, making Beth and Marie giggle. “but love is a lie, y/n/n. sure, you can like someone enough to be with them for a long time, but romantic love? complete bullshit. it doesn’t exist. this isn’t the movies.”

“she’s right. and the quicker you realize that, the quicker you’ll get over him.” Marie nods, pointing at Lisa as she speaks while Beth hums in agreement.

“i don’t know if i’ll ever get over him. i love him. i miss him.” i whine. “i want him back. i don’t wanna be here. i want Jack.”

“alright, maybe it’s time we get you back home.” Beth sighs, tapping her thumbs on her phone. ordering an uber, i assume.

“i don’t wanna go home. i wanna see Jack.”

“you can’t see Jack, y/n. you’re drunk, and you guys broke up.” Marie pats my shoulder, helping me out of the booth and out of the club, the other two girls following behind us.

i continue mumbling to myself, my words slurred, and i’m eighty percent sure that the only actual audible word was my ex’s name.

“c’mon, hun. watch your head.” Lisa coos, helping me into the uber. “we’ll see you on tuesday, babe. get some sleep.”

Marie and Beth call out some goodbyes before Lisa shuts the car door, she motions for the guy up front to lower his window, whispering something to him before he starts off towards my house.

“would it be too late to ask to change the drop off location?” i ask him, anxiously playing with the strap of my purse as i speak.

“i’m sorry, ma’am. your friend just told me you might ask that. she said i’m under strict orders to take you straight to the predetermined destination.” i heave out a deep breath, slumping back into the seat of the car.

it doesn’t take too long to get to my apartment complex, muttering a ‘thank you’ to the man before sliding out of the vehicle and making my way up to my apartment. as soon as i make it into the apartment, i bee-line for my bedroom, stripping out of my club outfit and changing into some leggings and a tank top. i wipe off my makeup and throw my hair up before entering my closet. my sights set on the old USA Hockey sweatshirt on my shelf, i hop up, reaching for the article of clothing. however, as soon as i pull it down, something else comes tumbling down with it, falling to the floor in front of me.

slipping the sweatshirt on, i bend down to pick up the fallen item. holding it, tears prick the backs of my eyes as i realize what it is, Jack’s hat. his New York Yankees hat to be exact. my heart aches remembering the times he wore it. our Yankees game, date nights, even just lounging around the house. clutching the hat to my chest, i sink to the floor, sitting criss cross as i cry.

space. why did i think i needed space? i got plenty of space when he was always gone for roadies. fuck space. i just want him. my fingers trace the Yankees symbol, my tears falling down onto the dark blue fabric. why does it still hurt so bad? it’s been six months.

i know it may not help that i’m still in the same apartment we shared. every piece of this home reminds me of him. but it’s been much too hard to move. i tried looking at other apartments, but nothing felt as right as this one. i’m not ready to give up the last piece i have of the one i love.

too busy crying on the closet floor, i barely hear the lock on the front door turning. my head snaps up at the sound, trying to remember which of my friends have spare keys. Marie, Beth, and Lisa are the only ones, but i just left them. that only leaves two other options, Quinn or Jack. but, that i’m aware of, Quinn is still in Vancouver. i know he doesn’t have another game in New Jersey until next month. which only leaves Jack. i try not to get my hopes up, but i can’t help but wonder if it’s him, if he’s come back. the chances are slim. it’s been six months, why would he come back now?

i come to the decision that it’s probably Marie checking up on me. probably worried about the way i was when we parted not that long ago. it wouldn’t be the first time she’s checked on me.

footsteps thump against the wooden floors, getting closer to the bedroom, and i huddle further into the closet, hoping Marie will just leave me alone. tears still stream down my face as i clutch the hat closer to my chest, letting out silent sobs.

“y/n?”

that’s not Marie.

too exhausted, i opt out of leaving the closet, not even able to get myself to speak without being racked with sobs. i sniffle as i hear him pass the closet, the footsteps stop for a moment before i hear them start again, getting closer to the cracked open closet door. i don’t bother looking, fully believing that at this point i’m a mix of drunk and sleep deprived, just hearing things that aren’t there. i wipe at my eyes but the tears keep coming. i shift to bring my knees to my chest, the hat now gripped in my hands in front of me.

“oh, baby.” i hear from behind me before a body drops down beside me on the floor, pulling me into them. his cologne fills my senses, my face buried into his chest. the scent fills me with melancholy, memories of when he used to hold me close and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. comforting me. making me feel at home within his arms.

“it’s okay.” as if i summoned the whispers with my thoughts, his breath fans across my ear. “i’m here. i’ve got you. i’m right here.”

his reassurances calm me just slightly, but the real help is when he splays a hand along my chest, taking deep breaths. muscle memory takes over as i mimic his breathing.

“what are you doing here?” i ask once i’ve finally calmed enough to speak. i wipe at my nose with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, finally looking up into the blue eyes that peer down at me.

“Beth called me.” he whispers.

“she did?”

“yeah. she told me you’re not doing okay.” he confesses. “she didn’t tell me much more than that. just that she’d really appreciate if i checked on you.”

“you came over here in the middle of the night just to check on me?” i question. “you have a game tomorrow. you should be sleeping.”

“you’re a lot more important than a game.” his hand moves from my chest to cup my jaw. “i told you i would always be here for you, y/n. i meant it.”

“but, we broke up. i didn’t think you cared anymore.” a lone tear drops from my right eye as i speak.

“i’ll always care about you. i don’t think i can ever stop. i love you, y/n/n. and i know you said you wanted space, and i respected that, but i told you when we broke up that i would be here when you decided you were ready.” he pauses, his eyes scanning my face before he continues speaking. “and now i really hope you’re ready because these past few months have been hell without you.”

“i made a mistake. i don’t want space. i want you. you’re the only thing i’ve wanted since i was seventeen.” my voice is barely above a whisper, scared for his response.

“you have me. i’m right here.” his eyes jump between my own and my lips three times before he leans down. i meet him halfway, our lips pressing together in a slow kiss. gentle passion and love radiates between us, his hands cupping my face as mine grip the nape of his neck as if he'll disappear from my hold.

pulling away, his forehead leans against mine. my breath catches in my throat at the sight of the smile gracing his lips. a smile of my own spread across my face and i crane my neck to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"i missed you so much." i admit. "moving on from boys in high school was so easy, but the heartbreak hit different this time."

"that's how you know it's real. we're real. there's no moving on from us." he tells me. "at least, not for me."

he pulls me in tighter against him, crashing his lips against mine once more, and i feel content again, my life being fixed with such a simple motion.

#midnights fic list #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #faithlynn’s writings <3 #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl blurb

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swarmishstrangers · 3 months

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i’ll give you my entire left tiddy for some more mspar alien difference fluff. written or drawn, with mallek or marvus or pretty much anyone else. warm blooded/cold blooded cuddles with marvus. mallek purring and being embarrassed abt it. mspar not realizing they’re being flirted with til someone spells it out to them. just any troll/human (??) difference shit or any of your hcs please i’m starving

Starve no more!! I'll feed you AND me cause I honestly fucking live for alien differences between trolls and humans like? Omg...I'll try to sneak some Mallek and Marvus for ya since you seem to mention both of them (and I'll throw in some other ones for more comparisons >:])

So for general troll temperature headcanons, let me tell you, you'd better enjoy being cold/not be too bothered by it cause the higher on the spectrum, the colder the blood you're touching and cuddling. The warmest a troll will ever be is if they're a mutantblood, the closest thing to getting to normal human body temperatures and the ones with any real warmth to them. Rust bloods being the lowest on the hemospectrum that aren't mutants don't have as much warmth but still tend to run warmer than other blood types on the hemospectrum. Not exactly lukewarm, little bit warmer than that. When we hit the goldbloods, that's when it starts getting lukewarm temperatures. Smack dab in the middle of the spectrum, the Jades, aren't very warm or anything, but it's a few hairs away from being able to consider them cold feeling. Anything above the jades is when things start getting cold.

Teals you could say are cold, maybe not unpleasantly so, you could feel such a difference that you would no longer feel any real warmth. Cerulean is when the temperatures could be so stark as opposed to human warmth that coming into direct skin to skin contact with it could definitely shock your skin and make you flinch initially. Purples are. Man. Remember how I said you'd better like being cold? This is where the cold could be the brink of being unpleasant for some who can't handle it very well, it really starts setting in the longer you choose stay in physical contact with them. Violets, I'd argue, would be downright unpleasantly cold to the touch, like, you know how if you go outside in the snow and your body feels numb and face would be stinging? Like that.

With that general stuff of how perceive the coldness of some trolls established. Um. Mallek and Marvus :} I'm going to apologize in advance, Marvus is a character I've always been intimidated by in terms of writing. I feel like I just don't get him enough, and I'd hate to mischaracterize him :(( but I'll do my best!! (Putting a break here cause I type a lot)

Marvus and Mallek I feel like have a tendency to be mischievous little shits sometimes, once becoming aware and acquainted with the warmth Mspar emits and how cold they are in comparison they like to have fun with it. Mallek likes to do that thing some people do, ya know, where people take something fucking cold like a thing of ice cream or an ice cold drink and fucking PRESS it against your skin and it makes you scream? That. But no ice cream, it's his hand touching their bare skin (which still makes them shriek and jolt in surprise). They turn around and playfully smack him on the shoulder in retaliation.

Marvus likes doing the same thing but for him GOD FUCK the cold feels so much worse than Mallek. Bitch IS the ice being pressed against your skin. He doesn't even need to use his whole hand, he could press a finger to them and get a reaction. Punching doesn't do much to Mallek anyways, trolls and their thicker skins, but Marvus doesn't have a lot of squish to begin with. It's weird punching someone who feels so..solid? Not to say he's got absolutely no squish, but he has very little of it.

Cuddling... ahehhehehe cracks knuckles.

Since I'm already talking about Marvus lemme get to him already. Since he is a freezer, it'll take a bit to get fully comfortable laying against him. Warmth can overpower or balance out a trolls temperature, this is something that's very hard to do with bloods higher than indigo. Something like either them or Marvus wearing a good amount of clothing to separate makes it to where they don't feel immediately uncomfortable with the chill of his skin. Marvus I feel like is kinda finicky when it comes to touch or laying for long periods of time?? It's kinda funny, you could hug him, and he'd allow it for just a few seconds before he'd wiggle his way out of it, a playful look to his eyes. Or allowing you to rub his skin for a bit before pulling away. Only when he's tired or is ready to be settled in completely is when you can really, for real, cuddle him without him squirming out of it.

Now Mallek? Umpfh. Touch starved. Mspar too actually, I headcanon that they are a touched starved person themselves. So how about two touched starved people help another out..by cuddling. And everything else that involves touch under the moon really.

For him, he kinda loses it when he's in physical contact with them. It's the warmth! It really gets to him, and it makes his brain go nuts. He used to fight the overwhelming urge to wrap them up really tight in his arms cause ya know. Snake brain, cold, friend/flushcrush is warm, curl around the warmth. He didn't fight it anymore when they actively sought out physical touch from him themselves and was actively encouraging him and letting him know it was okay to search for it back.

It was through being around him that they discovered the most surprising thing they never thought of a troll doing. Purring.

They have never heard of a sound as soft as purring coming from a troll.

Trolls only purr in the presence of those they feel the utmost comfort with. To feel the safest with, to trust them the most, and to be at your most vulnerable with. It's super intimate stuff in troll culture. Hearing that anywhere out in public could make trolls snap their head in that direction and make them flush in the face. Get a room!!

I imagine it was one of those many days where they stayed over at his hive. They had just decided that they were done playing video games and it from leaning against each other in silence while the game systems powered off, then it transitioned into Mspar coaxing Mallek to lay on then while they had their back laid down on his lounge plank. His weight against them was comforting to them.

They were just nuzzling his shoulder and rubbing their hands all up and down his back and sides, all with no patterns to it. He had his face pressed against their chest, his arms pushed underneath them to wrap around them. They could feel his smile against their skin, and they were all smiles and happy, too. Then they, well, they felt it before they heard it.

It was something they didn't even notice at first, the rumbling, the small vibrations emitting from his throat and chest. When it was growing stronger and the purring became audible, they still didn't question it at first. They were just so comfortable, and the cuddling was just so nice, his purring could put them to sleep and...wait. Purring?

When the realization of Mallek purring hit them, they temporarily halted their hand movements. Mallek stayed put for a bit before his purring stuttered a little, and he cracked an eyelid open to gaze at them, wondering why they stopped. He finds them kind of staring at him, their hands still under his tank top just stopped on his back.

"you okay;"

This snaps them out of it and they and they lean in to kiss his forehead, Mallek snorts in response and immediately relaxes against them again.

They kindaaa wanted to point it out at in the moment but ultimately decided against it so that he didn't get embarrassed or shy and stops. They think it's SUPER fucking cute.

As for general differences between troll and human romance? Cracks fingers. Obviously it depends on what quadrant a troll is interested in having you in. I'll go with red romance for now unless someone later wants the other quads too lol.

I talked about purring before and purring is a BIG one. Purring is how trolls communicate that they feel absolutely safe and comfortable in their partners presence along with purring being a form to heal when their partner is hurt or isn't feeling well. It leaves them very open and vulnerable and so it feels very intimate for most trolls. A troll purring in the presence of human they're interested in a human may not pick up the significance of it so they just see it at its simplest until explained. Some trolls may feel a little hurt when their human partners don't pick up on their purring and they don't purr back in response, again, until explained that humans aren't capable of making sounds such as purring. Make no mistake though! Troll purring does not sound like how a cat's would. It's sounds like how you would imagine an insect purring would sound like.

Sleeping in the presence of a person you're interested in or around your partner is another big thing trolls do. Sleeping near other trolls is again, a vulnerability thing. To sleep near someone? To be so open and let your guard down like that? To trust someone that much? Wipes sweat from brow. Humans being able to do this with trolls they're even a little comfortable with is absolutely flabbergasting to most trolls.

Okay there's sleeping when someone is nearby...then there's sleeping WITH someone. No not like that ya nasties. Sleeping with someone, in their recuperacoon, it's a vulnerability thing again woo boy. It's the HIGHEST form of trust a troll could show their partner! The significance of this can really go over a human's head, they truly don't understand the gravity of trust at play here.

Here's something not sleep related. Scent marking. This one is more subtle than just. A partner wearing their sign or typing the way their typing quirk is. This one is when a troll leaves something, take a shirt or their socks or something, at their partners hive. It leaves a bit of them, their scent, there and it's meant for their partners + any other trolls that are over know. Humans tend to also seek their partner's scent/how they smell (think stealing your partners clothes), it's another thing that means more deeply than they originally think about.

#hiveswap #mallek adalov #marvus xoloto #<- juste a leetle bit #homestuck #troll headcanons #swarms-asks #draft saved and being used for Valentines yippee

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moronkombat · 8 months

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Erm could u perhaps do a nsfw fic for havik x gn reader including sadomasochism, knife play, kinda bloody/gory n stuff like that please? Its fine if ur not comfortable with it.

- Let's Get Numb - tw: blood, gore, violence, sadomasochism

They are alone. Alone with everyone. The decay, the rot , it clings to their skin and the air is rich with iron. Both of them so painted by each other, two masterpieces crafted by expert hands. The method of execution not one with soft strokes. Never would they lay a gentle path.

A paint brush becomes a blade, sharp and stinging. The liquid to color the canvass a rich cherry that pools and pools. What is this canvass? They are.

Nails coated in the tissues and blood mark their way down a back most exposed. Further and further they drag, parting the skin that binds their flesh. A groan, a cry, a scream the pain rocks through their body and their bones rattle.

It all such a delight all such a wonderous display. Havik purrs into laugh, stained eyes admiring his work but this merely the beginning. A licentious tongue wraps around his digits and the raw and untarnished taste of crimson has his eyes rolling.

That very same tongue swipes over exposed teeth before a hand grips a chin. He looks at them then and the crazed gaze he has is reflected back at him.

Hands are upon him now, slithering and searching. A distraction. Teeth are now upon the skin of shoulder and oh how they rip and tear. Blood pools in their mouth, a special treat, and teeth press into flesh deeper and deeper.

Havik seethes through his teeth, a breath sucked in while a face contorts wicked. His hand would push the back of their head wanting those teeth to tear again and again. And so they did while sharp nails scratch at his chest.

Hips roll and buck up into them, his cock sheathed in a veil of warmth. Atop his lap his muse sits, twisting and rolling hips that are covered in bruises. His gift to them and Havik had much more to give.

A bloodied tongue laps at his wound not to soothe but to taste and gather his crimson. Wet, it moves up the length of his aching neck. Up and up until a gore covered tongue begins to swipe over teeth exposed between a mangled cutis.

There is that purr again and he laughs low and grumbled as his partner smears his own blood across his face and mouth. They to not stop there, no not even close. Their tongue pries those jaws open and blood and saliva mingle and now Havik tastes iron.

His hands grip at their hips, and purple bruises are bleached white under his pressure before nails press and rip into them. The feeling of you tightening around his length does not go unnoticed and he scratches at your bruises continuously.

It is then he feels the sharp bite on his tongue, their teeth bursting that wet and fleshy muscle and the blood pours. Drip, drip, drop it runs down his chin, his chest and oh how it burns. He grabs their hair, forcing their neck to be that like a crane and still they smirk with lips coated in dripping blood

The reflection of light is caught on the curve of a blade as he fetches it. That neck of theirs exposed and vulnerable. The chill they receive as that knife's edge so lightly traces down the length of their craned neck has eyes fluttering.

Soon those eyes are wide and their lungs are burning. The tip of the blade cutting across the curve of their jaw. Eyes so manic watch as they yell in pain and Havik wants more more and more. The blade his brought from them and then to him and it begins to carve.

It cuts and shreds the skin of chest wide and deep and Havik laughs louder and louder. His own neck now craned back as he writhes in the joyous agony the two of them create. Lips upon his teeth, hands pulling his hair and yet again their tongues meet while he continues to fuck them raw. They will continue this path. They will carve each to pieces.

'Til they don't feel nothing.

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 smut #mortal kombat smut #mk havik #havik #havik x reader #tw: violence #tw: bl00dplay #tw: knifeplay #tw: gore

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aritany · 1 year

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straight on til morning | a.ritany | excerpt - CHAPTER NINE: CLOUDBURST

(image id under the cut!)

Cold wind bit through John’s thin T-shirt and he shivered as Peter lead him by the hand through the air. London stretched out underneath him. They were so far up that even the tallest buildings looked small. The only part of him that was warm at all was where Peter had hold of his fingers.

We’re flying, John thought, looking at the river snaking through the city. We’re really flying.

Tink whipped past his head so close that her wingtips stung John’s ear.

“I’m going to let go now,” Peter said.

“What?” John asked. “No! Peter—”

“Just trust yourself!”

And he released John.

So certain was he that he was about to plummet to his doom, John squeezed his eyes shut. Some part of him had been quite sure that Peter was the only thing keeping him up, and so it took him a minute after the rush of wind on his face stayed the same to be able to open his eyes again.

He wasn’t falling. He really wasn’t. He was flying, all on his own.

Next to him, Peter stretched his arms out to his sides and did a loop-de-loop in the air.

John grinned.

They flew for what felt like hours, until London was long gone from underneath them, replaced by dark countryside, rolling hills, and forests.

“I thought you said something about a star!” John shouted, after he was so cold he could no longer feel his face. They were going so fast it was hard to hear, but not so fast it was quite impossible.

“I did,” Peter responded. He was flying on his back, arms behind his head, as though he were relaxing on a beach towel. “But sometimes I get distracted by all of it. I mean, have you seen how lovely it is?”

It was lovely, John thought, as they raced over a glass-smooth lake, the moon’s reflection skating across its surface. It was just also freezing. His feet had gone numb some time ago.

“I suppose we should go up, though,” Peter said, as though John had raised an excellent point. He flipped onto his front, scanning the horizon, then pointed toward a thick wall of cloud straight ahead. They looked like storm clouds, John thought. Up until that point, they had been weaving between clouds, ducking over or under. But this was an impressive wall, and dark, too.

“Peter,” he shouted, getting only a mouthful of wind in response. “Peter, I don’t think—”

Peter crowed, evidently too far ahead to hear him.

John flailed his arms and legs.

Peter looped back around for him and took hold of his hand again. “Hold on tight!”

They shot forward so quickly John hardly had time to prepare before the cloud swallowed them.

If he had thought they were going fast before, this was nothing. This was so fast it felt like falling, but upward. As soon as they hit the cloud, Peter yanked John up. The clouds soaked John’s clothing straight through in an instant. His face was pelted with thousands of tiny raindrops so that he had to squeeze his eyes shut tight again.

But Peter’s grip was strong on John’s fingers, and strangely, he was not afraid.

“Are you ready?” Peter shouted over the rush of wind.

It could have been moments later, or it could have been days. John couldn’t tell.

“Ready?” he shouted back. “For what?”

“Here we go!” Peter tipped forward quite suddenly, and took John with him, hurtling downward.

John yelled, but the roar of wind obscured the sound even to him.

This was faster than falling. Peter was pulling him through the clouds at such a speed that the vapor felt like stinging nettle; John felt as though his arm might come out of its socket; it hurt to keep his eyes open, he squeezed them shut.

And then Peter stopped at once, so quickly that John crashed into him from behind, unable to control himself enough to slow down, let alone enough to stop.

They went through the last cloud in a tangle of arms and legs, pinwheeling. Peter laughed uproariously.

Already disoriented, the sudden dazzling sunlight nearly blinded John. The second Peter released him, John slapped his hands to his face to cover his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Even with his eyes shut, he could tell he was still turning over and over, but slower, now.

“You alright?” Peter asked, voice coming from directly above John, then below. “The last bit can be a bit of a shock.”

John made a small, high pitched noise.

A hand on his elbow steadied him, and he stopped turning.

He kept his eyes shut for a few seconds, just in case.

“Look,” Peter said. “Here we are.”

Cautiously, John lowered his hands.

Below, the water was a bright, glorious, crystalline blue. The air was warmer here, even up high, sunlight gentle on John’s skin.

And just behind Peter, so close it couldn’t be more than a thousand metres away, John saw it.

Neverland.

#writeblr #writing community #wip #excerpt #sotm #sotm excerpt #alex writes

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dnangelic · 3 months

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" I missed Valentine's ! " He admits in the midst of the hurry of their reunion, voice a little loud with exasperation and frustration and a huffy laugh that masks every other bad thing. Guilt pulls and rips at his heart but it isn't enough to take away the smile on his lips, that giddy, lovestruck dumb thing that hurts where a bandaid covers cracked skin on his cheek, but it refuses to budge ever since he led eyes on Daisuke.

" Here. " Shou returns from rampaging in his bag with a simple white box, one that matches the bandages covering the hand that's holding it. Right, he hasn't explained that, nor anything yet, really. But he has his priorities set, definitely right, and nothing is going to change that. Once unwrapped from the atrocious glittering ribbon that holds it together, the box would reveal a single, smooth, big heart of classical brown chocolate dusted with sugar. Would have been a rather lonely piece. That's what passed along Shou's brainstorming process before deciding to add a couple more pieces, two wings of dark chocolates to either side.

Would the shape and taste even matter when he's gifting them late ? He couldn't get any less lame & unceremonious.

" I made them myself, Kaa-chan helped, not sure about the taste, I'm a bad taste tester, I thought it's only fair that I gift you first this time, and I ... uh ... " He muses out loud, loses track after handing over the box, hands return to his pocket, hiding away what they can. He simply stares for a few seconds, big blue eyes reflecting a mind devoid of answers, excuses, apologies. There is only longing and whole damn lot of it. Shit. He doesn't know how to do this. " I'm a terrible boyfriend. "

( obligatory valentine ask. shou flavored. intrusive thoughts ALWAYS WIN when it's him. )

@espectres

shou missed valentines . it's true , isn't it ? there's nothing daisuke can say , neither to defend himself nor the other . there's no lie that can cover the fact up for either of them ; no laugh of his own that can undo the long absence of the empty space it fills . no bandaid that could be stretched over the niwa's own personal scratch and wound , a small blood-letting gash that left him missing and wanting for shou more than anything else .

--- and how long could an empty heart ever endure ?

darker and darker , duller and duller , the boy had been prodded and needled by all sorts of thorny worries that had managed to take root during the day . one after another , plucked out stinging from his thoughts and what felt like his heart's ventricles : shou hadn't run away from him ? ( he would have never . ) shou hadn't gotten tired , fed up with the likes of a thief and a fallen angel's curse , both monstrous in their own right ? ( he would have said so . ) shou was safe ? ( he had to be . please , don't try to do everything all alone again . )

faith had weighed itself against every dreary anxiety , and it's why at that familiar expression on shou's wrecked face --- bashfulness tender as split knuckles , the lovestruck daze of someone hit by a lead pipe , the scales of daisuke's own thoughts feel to snap and break , and his heart starts to pound . entranced by atmosphere alone , there's a waking relief that pools out even from the numb ache in his limbs , this overwhelming furnace-burning as his hands turned wintry cold . even his most wretched face remains dazzled with wonder like this , reds starved as empty plates and only now dining on every sight , granting a live , thrashing bliss and ecstasy .

shou was here . had come back ; returned to , for him . shou still loved him --- and of course , he still loved shou .

arms wrap about the other and a kiss lands itself on their cleaner cheek with one swift impulse . he can't help but cradle shou closely , tightly , coveting this above all , momentarily ignoring the proffered chocolates to embrace the other for as long as it might take 'til he was satisfied , and his form soundlessly changed again . holidays came and went , and so did excuses to give each other sweets or sugary dates punctuated by laughter . shou was late , but what did it matter ? even late was still a presence , one that the niwa would have done just about anything , anything for .

' --- but you're still mine , shou-kun . ' soft and light even in guarding possessiveness , his usual cherub-chime . speak of terror and he'd confess to the thought of losing the other without as much as a farewell to give above all else , like so many others before . whatever's happened , he doesn't ask , only separating himself to let a hand cup and palm the space below their tended wound , holding them like this : flushed and swept away by one of the world's most incredible creations .

shou should have stayed with him and stayed safe , but they could talk about it later . right now , he had his own longings , after all .

' the chocolate ... um , w-will you feed it to me ? ' anything's good , as long as it's from you --- but i bet you worked on it , didn't you ? ' i really missed you . ' it's not enough to simply receive , to take the other's chocolate heart and leave . ' we can still make up for lost time . ' and i want all that i can get ---

with you .

' happy valentines , shou-kun . thank you . you're the best ! '

#*･ﾟ⊰ ANSWERED. ⊱#espectres #CANON.#😤 DAI WILL ALWAYS EXPLODE RADIATING LITTLE SHOUJO ANIME HEARTS AT HIM #PUTS THE SHOU IN SHOUJO!!!!!!!!!!!! FOR DAI!!!#the 'ohhh maybe he left me 🥺' to 'HE STILL LIKES ME!!! I STILL LIKE HIM SO MUCH IT HURTS!!!' pipeline #GJRGJFKGKJFKGJK

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clairegregoryau · 3 months

Text

First line meme

post the first line from the last 10 fics you posted (and are there any patterns?) - I got tagged by the lovely @spirker! Thank you for thinking of me ❤️

(I cheated a little bit. If the first sentence was five words or less, I grabbed the whole first physical line, through to the end of the second sentence).

Wants To Be Caught (rated E, modern AU, Love Beyond Borders Olympic diving series)

Ed’s got that look on his face when Stede walks into the aquatic centre office—the one that makes him raise his brow immediately.

Handle With Care (rated E, modern AU, sex toy mishap x mailman)

Stede’s had a hard month. It’s been a hard year, honestly, ever since that whole you think our lives are monotonous? argument with Mary had bloomed and burst into a million stinging shards of yes and don’t you? and is this all there is? Seriously?

'Til We See the Sunlight (rated E, modern AU, collab with @ghostalservice and @mossgroves, Olympic figure skating AU (we're aiming to get the last chapter of this one to you all soon!)

The text pops up on Ed’s phone as he’s walking by the river, trying to kick some feeling into his bad knee that isn’t just fuck that hurts.

Parallel Placement (rated E, modern AU, Love Beyond Borders Olympic diving series- first line of the last chapter since it was a long-running fic)

Finally, finally, the last of these seemingly endless days rush past, and all at once it goes from a mind-numbing wait to fucking panic stations.

Naughty Office Guy (rated E, modern AU, Ed gets caught out by IT guy Stede watching spicy videos at work...)

Mondays suck, all right? It’s just a fact, and everyone in Ed’s office has different ways of dealing with it.

The Treasure Trove (rated E, modern AU, reality TV AU)

Ed Teach is a man of good taste and professional cultural brilliance.

These Golden Days (rated E, historical AU, WWII/ London Blitz-set- mind the tags and notes!)

Ed Teach stands at the edge of the Underground platform, freshly shined boots lined up all neat, staring down at the gleaming rails.

Tree Change (rated E, modern AU, ecological mystery x FWB x Kinktober-inspired- by complicated deduction process I decided to post the last line of the second-last chapter, since it was a long-running fic and the last chapter's one is a little spoilery :P)

Ed knows there’s something wrong before his eyes are even open.

Rinse and Repeat (rated E, modern AU, Grindr buddies with Cinderella vibes)

“Yes,” Stede moans, perched on Ed’s lap, that broad freckled back of his shining with sweat, Ed’s fingers tangled in his curls. “Oh god, yes, right there—”

Shadow and Shine (rated E, magical/fantasy canon-alternative AU)

Ed wakes up with solid ground under his back for the first time in years.

(There are definitely patterns and I will continue to ignore them all and write the same five kinds of opening lines to many very different fics 😂)

I never know who to tag for these so throwing it wide open to anyone who'd like to play ❤️

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #ofmd fanfic #ofmd fanfiction #gay pirates #so many different flavours of spice recently

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damien-mlm · 1 year

Text

Dead Man Walking (Angst, Dark!Red)

WARNING: PURE ANGST, BLEAK AND HOPELESS ALMOST ALL THE WAY THROUGH. Alcohol poisoning. Suicide attempt. Hallucinations, or perhaps not.

this happens immediately after Mama, and during Darrell's visit to Scarlet.

Darrell belongs to @bluecoolr, Skulk is @probably-a-plant-thing's, and Scarlet is by @kalid-raven

Once he was sure that Darrell was asleep, he stepped out of the bed once again.

He had managed to push the ideation away for so long, so many years.

He couldn't do it anymore. He was weak again.

She never left his mind, she was always there, calling for him.

Singing sweet lullabies when he felt so, so alone.

She had abandoned him too soon. But she never really left.

She was there, standing beside him as he cried, her casket being lowered into the ground.

She was there, looking from over his father's shoulder as he administered his bi-daily sessions of shock therapy.

She was there, encouraging him to keep stabbing, to burn it all down on the night of the hurricane.

"Come home…"

She was there.

She's still here, and she's calling for him.

Calling him back into her arms.

What about Blue? I can't just leave him… what will he do?

"My boy… he doesn't need you. He's got Skulk, remember? And Skulk's got him. They still have each other…"

They still have each other…

"They don't need you… I do."

They don't need me… Nobody here does…

"Come home, my son."

"Darlin', you alright there?" Darrell's sweet voice brought him back to reality. He had been sitting in the dark cold of his living room 'til the sun started to shine. Darrell wrapped a warm comforter around his shoulders.

What would I do without you?

"Yeah, sorry…" he took Darrell's hand and pressed his lips against it softly.

God, I'm such a fool.

He made a cup of coffee and heated up a cornbread muffin for Darrell in the toaster oven.

"You're not gonna eat?"

"Not hungry, hun" he said as he opened the door and sat on the porch, lighting up a cigarette for himself.

He didn't notice the way Darrell was looking at him.

He looked into nothingness as his cigarette burned. His mind felt foggy and clouded.

"You've changed since the last time I saw you."

I know, mama. I'm more like myself now.

"But you had such pretty hair before..."

I like red...

"Do you, really?"

...

I... I don't know... It just stuck with me, I guess...

Red was all he could see, always. Red, blinding and all-consuming.

I can't forget about it, mama. I can't.

Why did you have to go? Why did you leave me with him?

But there was no answer.

He tried to take a drag of his cig, only to realize it had burned entirely.

His face felt cold and numb.

Darrell's hand on his shoulder startled him more than it should've, he gasped and jumped slightly at the touch.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare ya" he said softly, his chest stinging at the fact he made Red, of all people, jump in fear.

"That's fine, sugar. I was too deep in thought..." Red trailed off as he saw Darrell was already fully dressed and had his keychain in his left hand "You're going to see her?"

"Yes Sir, I know she can help us, we need to hide, lie low for a while... Are you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" Darrell asked, stroking Red's sunken and cold cheek with his free hand.

'Don't worry about me, I'll be okay" he answered as he leaned into Darrell's warm, gentle touch.

He doesn't need more problems, not now.

Once Darrell was gone on his way to Scarlet, Red decided to take a small trip to town.

He didn't bother looking into Germaine's eyes, or even her face, as he waited for her to ring the black hair dye, the pair of scissors and the shaving razor blade spare replacement.

"Ya going back to the natural look?" she asked curiously.

"Huh?"

"Oh, it's just, I can see your roots" she said sheepishly as she pointed at her own scalp.

"Ah... Yeah. Red's worn out, I guess" he answered as he handed her a 100 bill, much to her shock.

"Oh, I don't think-"

"Keep the change for yourself, hun. I won't be needin' it" he said before snatching the items he had bought, throwing them in his backpack and storming out.

The bar was next, Neil's eyes went the size of dinner plates when Red slammed the money on the counter.

"I'm paying my tab off, and I'm taking two bottles of your strongest bourbon" he said without looking up.

"My boy, you know damn well this will cover all that and more, twice over..." the old bar owner trailed off as he grabbed two bottles from the top shelf, then placed them between them, without letting go of them. Red was just about to grab the bottles when Neil pulled them back just a smidge, calling for his attention, "What are you gonna do, Damon?"

Red's eyes shot up and met Neil's at the mention of his true name. The old man's stare was unwavering, yet full of worry.

"I'm fine, Neil. You'll hear of me again soon." he promised, giving the old man a faint smile as he gently placed the pair of bottles inside his backpack.

Neil watched him exit the bar with his head down, hunched over.

Red's last stop around town was the diner, his boss had told him to take the day off, since he was so out of it that almost caused a grease fire the last time he clocked in.

He entered through the front and greeted the server kindly, she smiled at him and he handed her a small note, intended for the owner.

That's the last of them.

He haphazardly chopped the longer parts of his hair off before dying it all black, he was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, anxiously chipping away at his nail polish til his nails were clean, waiting for the dye to do its work.

Red was almost on autopilot, he soon ran out of polish to scrape away at, his sight was blurry and dazed. Almost as if he was looking at his point of view from a screen. Not his own eyes. Everything was out of focus, distant. Fake even, it all felt like plastic, like a big set full of props.

"It looks awfully similar, doesn't it?"

The red chips of polish contrasted with the white tiled floor, and under his unfocused sight they looked liquid.

Liquid red staining the white tiled floors again.

He nearly jumped out of his skin

I can't get the image out of my mind…

"I know, my child. But once you are with me, you won't have to remember it ever again. I promise"

I'm scared, mama. What if dad is there?

A pause.

Mama?

"He can't get to you, my child. Come to me, I'll protect you."

No, mama. I'll protect you.

"Now you look more like the last time I saw you. I missed this look on you"

Once his hair was clean he stared at the mirror, for how long, it's unclear

Last time he had his hair black and this short was back before…

He closed his eyes, thinking of that beautiful night, the night they were back home from Ambrose.

It feels strange to me… I know it's my natural color, but it doesn't feel like me entirely…

Now that I think of it, I don't remember the last time I truly felt like myself.

That was it, that was my peak.

It all seemed to go downhill from there, rolling down violently. Hitting rocks and being scratched by thorny bushes on his way.

At the end of the hill, there wasn't land. There was a chasm. An infinite fall into darkness, and he was rapidly approaching the edge.

He never had the chance to mourn, to let it out, to let himself just be. He had been stuck in survival mode for as long as he could remember, and the moment he let his guard down, the moment he first felt peace, it all came down on him at once.

"Come into my arms, my love. I'll never let you hurt again"

It seemed like the perfect solution. No more pain, no more nightmares, no more…

Darrell…

"He'll be fine. He doesn't need you."

Skulk can take care of him, they can care for each other… I don't want to abandon them, though…

"It'll be a weight off their shoulders."

What?

"Skulk can take care of himself, he's agile and good at hiding. Darrell has enough trouble in his hands right now. None of them have the time for you."

…

"None of them have the energy to care for a deteriorating alcoholic."

And as if to give her reason, he sat down on the toilet again and took a long swing of the bourbon he had bought.

Damn it, Neil. Shouldn't have wasted your best tasting shit on me…

Several gulps per swing, 4 swings and the first bottle was empty. Heat traveled down his esophagus and into his stomach. The first thing that has gone in there since last night's single cornbread muffin.

I can't just leave without a word…

He stood rapidly, and whiplash hit him like a truck. His head spinning, his hands reaching for the sink in order not to fall.

I guess liquor hits faster when you're in a rush to leave.

He stumbled his way out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, opened his bedside table drawer and ripped a page out of his small notepad.

What do I even say?

He felt awful to leave them like this.

Darrell, my fallen angel

Skulk, my sweet guardian

See you on the other side

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…

I had to go

All that was mine is now yours

I love you both

Take care of each other please

He grabbed that old silver letter opener. Used it as a stake to adhere the note on the outside of the bathroom door. A silver nail on a white coffin.

Originally, his plan was to burn it all down, and himself with it. Wipe it all away, just like back then.

He would have to instead drink both bottles and hope that, if blood loss didn't take him, alcohol poisoning would.

But it wouldn't be fair for them.

There is no closure to be found in a pile of ash and a charred corpse.

He was sitting on the bathroom floor and almost entirely through the second bottle when he dug into his wrists with the razor blades. Both of them now have a vertical opening.

Red, warm, slick and slippery.

A little too slippery, perhaps, he was already weak, but now the slick didn't let him hold onto the bottle no more.

He lied back, too tired and drowsy to sit up straight. Red pooling around him, pouring from his wrists.

Mama, I'm on my way.

But mama wasn't there.

He was, looming and towering over him. Looking down with a crooked smile.

Damon's breath got caught in his throat, his eyes burning with hot tears. Pure, unadulterated fear coming over him.

Everything around them was on fire, even Dr. Herring himself.

Damon couldn't move, he could do nothing but watch and silently weep as the sinister burning man grabbed him by the ankles, setting them on fire.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this moment. Now you'll burn with me, forever."

He was being dragged to hell.

And he could do nothing but beg silently.

Help me, please.

He felt his father's nails dig into the flesh of his ankles.

I'm sorry, I take it back! I don't wanna go, please!

He could hear the screaming and wailing of tortured souls, lost to the flames forever.

Help me!

"You're mine"

PLEASE!!!

The door swung open with such force, a being bathed in blinding golden light coming through it.

Everything was white and gold. Suddenly soft and warm.

An angel kneeling over him.

His angel.

He felt tears fall on his cheeks, raining down on him from above.

Even in such pain, he was beautiful.

Peace washed over him, and he let himself go.

Darrell's distant voice and visage fading to black.

A/N: here I go, just pouring a bucket of gasoline on the dumpster fire that is our boys' poor lives

Taglist: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @the-pinstriped-hood @texaschainsawslvt @angxlslasher @allthingsblood @ajarofpickledtears @mr-trick

#i formally apologize for the anguish #this was entirely from Red's perspective #which is why this ended as soon as he lost consciousness #thank all the gods above and below that Darrell appeared #damon ‘red’ herring #darrell todd #skulk #slasher oc #damien mlm writes #tw suicide #tw alcohol #SoundCloud

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marvelcarbonara · 6 months

Text

bucky barnes

icy hot pt. 2!

it’s fall, y’all, just how I’m falling for James B. Barnes!

same warnings as part one, and:

perceived home invasion, ptsd flashbacks, passing out, perceived kidnapping, blood, needles, drugging

both parts have not been proof read, they are older writings of mine, too

first part:

You stood shakily and threw up again at the memory of her bloodied face, almost split in two. Actually split in two at the jaw and fuck, you felt slimy bile on your tongue. Not like you had enough food to throw up a third time, it was all spit and bike and vile things. At least no blood showed up internally, that was good.

Your walk into the trailer was slouched and hazy, like a skeleton shaking on a windy day. You stummbled onto your porcelain throne and reeked in your own miser and stank, burying your head to your knees and sobbing. You cried til numb, reallly a few minutes, and stepped into the hydrophobic shower.

Taking off the clothes was just too much right now, a rinse was all you needed, so you just kept them on under the water. It was colder than you’d expect or enjoy, but it was a shower nonetheless. A sting in your left thigh reminded you of the stab wound adrenaline and panic and been ignoring.

So, you sat on the floor to rinse off the cut. It wasn’t still bleeding enough to worry you despite being a pretty nice stab. Quickly, you rinsed it off under the water and stood up to get a towel. Stood up too fast and had to sit back down, then.

You know in movies where the two lovers are standing in the rain before a sex scene? The clothes all stuck to them, their while t shirts and ripped jeans? Cloth scraps were sticking to your bone-like frame that was noticeable despite the thicker towel wrapped around you.

From the mirror attached to the door you caught the blood stain growing on the towel, prompting you to take it off. The wound must be irritated again, even after a good rinse.

Great, you thought, walking over to a cabinet above the sink. With shaky hands, never a good sign before preforming an act like this, you dug out a needle, dental floss thread, and scotch tape. You also found a full bottle of whiskey, which you snagged vigorously.

Leave it to them to have whiskey hidden in the fucking restroom.

You wrapped some scrapes of thin toilet paper around the cut and wiped your face of new tears. Then, you left that be and took a thick wad of paper and drenched it in whiskey, the liquid running golden down your arm. You could smell the alcohol and it was tempting, but no. It would make tour blood too thin, and you want weed everything to coagulate.

More toilet paper and poured whiskey on it after some maneuvering on the slick shower floor. Your ass was sore from you hunching over to really see your thigh up close, so yeah, you shifted your weight.

You took the towel off your waist and shivered, put it between your teeth, put the drenched paper on your cut, held the whisky toilet paper down on your thigh, held your yells in with sharp teeth.

Once the slow burn was in your blood you sucked the paper soaked in blood and whiskey without knowing why. Just felt like it. The sting of both made your mind race with panic and a familiar, almost comforting sense.

After a few deep breaths, you put the towel back into your mouth, preparing to sew. Slowly, you managed to thread the needle after a few tries and prepared to stitch up yourself, Frankenstein seeing his creation. You drove the old, blunt needle into your skin and yelped from the pain like a prairie dog being shot. Hurriedly, you sewed yourself up and put more toilet paper over the cut, despite your cries. Clean and freshly covered, all you needed to do was tape the paper over quickly, like a homemade bandaid.

Not like you were gonna fucking fall or sniffle as you made your way on your feet and out of the small bathroom. Once you rose and left you aimed for the kitchen before deciding to take the whiskey with you. It was only seven pm, anyway.

You slumped to the living room-slash-kitchen and searched the fridge for literally anything. Yes, you had no appetite, but the blur in you vision knew you should get some food.

Your stomach and brain settled on a water bottle, spray cheese, a packet of ketchup, and a piece of bread. You made a face-up sandwich of sorts and scarfed it down quickly before anyone could stop you. It tasted so bad but at least it looked worse.

“Ew, Jerry. That’s nasty.”

“Well, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do!”

He then put the ketchup-maple sandwich in his mouth whole. You squealed in disgust and looked away, giggling.

“It’s still gee-ross!”

You turned back around and looked at him spitting into the trash, globs of some nasty, red good leaving his little mouth.

“You wasn’t wrong, y/n.” He replied goofily.

A woman walked in with her hands on her hip and a grin.

“He used the ketchup and syrup and made a sandwich then eated it, no- ate it all!”

You yelped in delight. She lowered down to his level and he smiled.

“It wasn’t good at all!” He spoke gleefully. He rubbed her nose with his and took the rest of the sandwich away.

“I bet it wasn’t. How about some real food?”

She reached for the fridge and he cheered with you.

Muscles constricted from swallowing and blinked rapidly, your eyes become misty. You set down your sandwich and lowered your head slowly.

You weren’t going to cry over a fucking sandwich. Not over something that happened years ago. Pathetic.

Despite the sentiment, a few tears slipped anyway. A hand flew to your mouth in an effort to conceal your cries. You sat straighter and swallowed down the last of your emotion. You returned to eating the offensive sandwich.

“I hate you.” You muttered to it under your breath. And yeah, you knew it was stupid, but you really did hate that sandwich. Stupid memory inducing tears. Stupid sandwich. Stupid fucking piece of bread.

You finished eating and drank all your water, then went to bed. Not like you could fall asleep. Instead, you counted spots on your door. Little nicks, splattered of something, or marks when you be thrown against it. After you counted nearly 100 different spots, you started to drift into a tense sleep. 💀💀💀

“What do you think your doing?”

You blinked quickly and wiped at your eyes before he’d see your tears.

“Nothing. Nothing!”

You yelled and tried to back away. You slipped the pack of crackers in your back pocket, but he saw your hand move behind you.

“What the fuck is that?”

He stormed over to you and wrenched your wrist painfully. Despite trying not to, you cried out loudly. He slapped your face. Hard.

“Do you want something to cry about? Huh?”

You shook your head and raised your palms to the roof of the building. The line between his brows lessened when you backed away and threw him the pack of crackers. It was better to just give him the food than to lie.

“No sir.”

You swallowed sharply.

“Sorry, sir.”

He walked up to you and held your chin up. Your head faced him and his eyes poured into yours. His gaze softened for a moment as he spoke.

“You know how tough you’re gonna be? And your brother?”

You nodded slowly with wide eyes. He always did this right before he hit you, talking about how strong he would make you, how he’d build you up from the floor. He raised his hand, aiming for your face.

You squeezed your eyes shut fast, waiting for the slap.

“Wake up.”

He said softly. His voice was different, too. Not his. It was a little deeper and more raspy. His accent was also different; it was softer than before. You looked around and slipped out of his grasp. His eyes followed you as you left the room.

“Wake up.”

He said louder this time. You left the dark room and ran outside, running aimlessly. You stopped after a little and looked around. Hell only knew where you were.

“Wake up, please!”

You gasped and saw him right beside you, shaking your shoulders now despite you running away seconds ago.

“We need to go!”

His voice was still different, but it was better than his old voice. You were still scared and-

Bolted up in bed.

“Steve, she’s not waking up!”

He hissed right before you woke. You shrieked and hit him in the nose, having no clue who this guy was or why he knew where you were. You ran out into your trailer’s living room only to be caught by another large man. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground, trying to carry you away.

“Let go of me!”

You yelled and flailed in his arms. He was clearly stronger than you, but you still tried to squirm out of his grasp. Another man came out of your room and sighed.

“I though we were gonna lose her.” He said to the other man. You paused for a moment when you recognized his voice. He must’ve been the one over your bed, trying to wake you up. You snarled and flailed again, really wanting to leave.

The one holding you nodded his blond head and then fluctuated his attention to you. You narrowed your eyes and kicked him in the knee. He looked away and to the other man.

“Help?” He, the blond, asked the other man, the brunette with the voice. The brunette walked over to you and held your left arm firmly. You noticed he had a metal arm, and he was lifting it towards your forearm. Right before it got too close, you saw the needle he was holding.

Your eyes went wide and you panicked. Without a second thought, you kicked to no avail. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if your piped your stitches. All the adrenaline flowing through your veins made you mind foggy, so with no other good options…Sharply, you bit down on the blond man’s arm.

“Ah!” He gasped.

He recoiled and dropped you swiftly. You took the opportunity and ran to the door, jumping down the stairs and starting to run. You slipped on something slick and fell into it, the gooey substance caking your back. You tried again to stand but the smell alone made you weak in the knees. It hit you like a train; It was a puddle of your own vomit from earlier. You couldn’t help it and puked again right as the brunette got ahold of your arm.

“Sorry.” He muttered before injecting you with the needle. You tried to protest but fell limp into his arms. Slowly, your eyes became heavy and shut despite your need to stay awake.

“What?” You mumbled, clutching his shirt to stay awake.

“Steve, I got them.” He sighed and picked you up. The last thing you remember is being held against the brunette’s chest, walking somewhere. The cool metal of his arm wrapped tightly around your small frame and you blacked out, finally getting sleep.

a/n!

I tried to edit this lightly and make my oc gender neutral, if you see any places I can fix the pronouns please let me know! next part will be out…soon!

#marvel #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #avengers #my fics #fics #fic snippet

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canon-notcanon-warriorcats · 2 years

Note

for the playlist thing, how about uhhhh thornclaw + 69 (nice)

And your friends grew tired of fantasy You're wishing they had stayed?

You don't get to say, "I miss you" You watched your heroes fade Into the rear-view mirror of the villain you portrayed Stop the pity party, listen

You don't get to be dismayed You don't get to be emotional Feel blessed you got it made These the best of years of life

Because you chose to make a trade Recollect the days you hoped And you prayed for this What is there to miss?

Fade in, fade out This hazy dream Without a direction, roaming aimlessly There's nothing left Back there for me Pretend it's the end of a made-up story

I'll fly, no proof Those heights I'll never find another chance to say "Hey, thanks for saving my life" I was hopeless, it was stinging Driving roadless, we were singing At the top of our lungs to the numbness This city never died I'll say goodbye to the soul inside

And yet somehow, there was romance In our self-hate, "We've got no chance" In this light maze, but let's hold hands Through the night haze, we'll run so fast 'Til the school chime, 'til the train runs We know it's time, we're the sane ones Waking up now, to the "Real life" Let me daydream, 'til the next night I'll keep waiting I'll keep waiting for you Oh-woah-oh, oh-oh

Waking up now, to my real life Let me daydream, 'til the next flight Drowning so long, I got older Now the crowd's gone, is it over? Is it over?

end of a life -Calliope Mori

#warrior cats #thornclaw #lionheart #spiderleg #ashfur #blossomfall #stemleaf #those two are represented by the petals falling and fading and the transparent steam and leaves on his tail #i headcanon thornclaw looks the most like his father out of his siblings #and always wanted/thought that he would be deputy some day #he thought he was owed it that's why he waited so much longer to retire #but also because of that he disconnected himself from his siblings and friends #and all his friends are dead #also the petals are fading because i have a feeling blossomfall and him aren't together anymore #since he left her right after their son was killed you know and now he's retired #he desperately clung onto the past and denied times changing and him getting older #and now it's just daydreams and him waiting to be with his friends and kin again

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cxffexngel · 2 years

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༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

@volfinas || is it curiosity? probably not; this is something she is aware of, has always been aware of, since long ago when they had all been in canaan unaware of everything " you miss him greatly, don't you? " she just believes it is something that should be talked about, the absence of lucifer and their hopes of one day seeing him again // from gabriel oaisjdioada

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It’s not something he gets questioned about that often, but it certainly is in his memory from different bonds that the current supreme primarch has memory of enough to easily form an answer in his mind, first. Even when his eyes lower at a freshly brewed cup for the former water primarch. Gabriel being the most concurrent sight between the four of the other elemental archangels that visit sometimes the airship, check on Sandalphon despise he’s assured the others it’s alright and that they shouldn’t - But much like... him; they care, unconditionally in their ways. And he likes to think he’s gotten better at ignoring that bitter sting of guilt that comes with that acknowledgement, it’s as easy as to bite down his tongue and let the numb ache and cooper taste soothe him in a completely wrong way that he’s sure the Singularity or the Girl in blue would nag him about.

And is not really that much of a kept secret, truly. From a pile of unsent letters he was taught that it was a good way to convey what his core wanted to say but unable to deliver when the recipient of those letters laid well beyond these skies and stars, to gazing upon pinkish clouds at sundown, searching for something and someone that has long since left this sky, to the large white plume Lyra had been gifted but she later gave to Sandalphon who keeps it in a delicate crystal display upon his room. Promises and next times, a revenge for a cruel and yet beautiful world that had no mercy for the one Sandalphon still feel greatly has wronged Lucifer. And yet, he swore to see it through everything, ‘til the very end so he can have a lot to talk to once it’s time to visit that faraway place. ‘‘ ...Yes. ‘‘ Finally, he finds his voice. It’s low, a bit distant and with sorrows he hardly shares about. Talking to the primarchs it’s both reassuring as it’s a mystery to him. They have long forgiven him and yet there’s still pieces of his core that don’t understand why they care – but much like how he wonders why the Girl in blue and the Singularity’s own forgiveness, Sandalphon just deals with it. ‘‘ He deserved more than just a legacy. He... deep down, wanted to do what you all have chosen to, and settle. ‘‘ and yet here he is in his place. The very thing Sandalphon didn’t want to happen his own personal nightmare and blessing. The weight of so many wings and promises he feels he can carry, and some days crush his bones bit by bits - all when he wished that he could finally give the former Supreme primarch that little wish he had weakly whispered, when all he could answer was poison and angry bile when meet with the awful reality of his own actions.

He misses him, more than anyone - the selfish part of his says in a low voice within the depths of his mind but goes unsaid, his core cries with the loss as his sleep is riddled in nightmares each time he dares close his eyes by night, he misses him so much sometimes the most the archangel can do is will his white wings away and stare at nowhere in particular until the voices of someone else can finally take his focus somewhere else before letting his mind wander too far. Calloused hands etched with cuts and scars, newer ones from mundane accidents as paper cuts healing to the duller ones from bites, scratches and holding a heavy claymore’s handle too hard cradling the cup Gabriel had asked for to settle it before her with great care, not a sound meeting his ears when it meets the porcelain, golden rimmed plate it matches with, and with the tip of his fingers slides the order towards her. ‘‘ He’d be sad seeing me like this, wouldn’t he? ‘‘ Adds, a little tinge of bitterness there but amusement too, an attempt of a jest where he knows some truth lies. He’s never asked how it was for Lucifer bonding with the others, he hasn’t tried much beyond when they invite themselves over, and there’s enough time between battles he’s called forth to when he opens the kitchen and serves others. ‘‘ I don’t ask for pity though, it’s my fault that all lead to this, after all. It’s my burden to bear and I promised to live this through all - maybe go hours talking about what I’ve seen and experienced from what he couldn’t. That’s... Something I can do. ‘‘

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ]#volfinas #Gabriel; volfinas #[ Sandy is a sad birb but the ore gabriel visits the more he just learns to be doted #[ Gabriel is always so sweet n funny #[ esp in the last event w her just being like that and even invite europa to drink #[ infront a very exhasperated sandalphon dsFÑDSKFDÑFD #[ I need more of sandalphon interacting w the four tbh I wanna see uriel being the big bro or raph also there #[ michael was evil for not coming w gabriel!!!!!#[ like in disasterphon's fate ep uriel being so open to try and help Sandalphon despise he was threatening him and then attacked #[ big heart!!!! and he still has that!!!

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kieralopez · 5 months

Text

𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚛…

𝙊𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮

the crunching of leaves under worn-in dr. martens. aimlessly walking around a seemingly empty art museum. thrifted clothing loitering every corner of your bedroom floor. chipped black nail polish. using your headphones as a way to avoid speaking to people. substituting honest with sarcastic and then hating how mean you were once you walk away. sorrow is like a black cat that purrs as it rubs up against your legs. to you, a friend is always with you; counting the books at the bottom of your tote and the ghosts that plague your head. you're looking for something, but you just can't reach it. i thought when tragedy struck, you weren't supposed to let it change you?

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨

Honey by Halsey || " She stings like she means it, she's mean / ... She's hell in a basket, just making a racket "

Final Girl by Chvrches || " Keeping secrets until everything became a bit too loud / I can wash it down / I could drown it out / ... By writing sentences I used to think were quite profound "

Panic Room by Au/Ra || " The lights spark and flicker / With monsters much bigger / Than what I can control now "

1980's Horror Film by Wallows || " She walked me back / Intro her room / But just to see / A 1980's Horror film / ... She said she's not really into guys "

Seashore by The Regrettes || " You're talking to me like a child / Hey, I've got news, I'm not a little girl / And no I won't give you a little twirl "

Nightmare by Halsey || " C'mon little lady, give us a smile / No, I ain't got nothing to smile about / I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for / A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn thing "

Witches Burn by The Pretty Reckless || " Down on my knees when you call me a dog / 'I go cold like the change in seasons / 'Til I get close enough for a blade / To stick it in, then I'll spit on your grave "

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽 𝙎𝙞𝙙𝙚 ( 𝘢 𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 )

original me by Yungblud feat. Dan Reynolds || " I'm self-critical, tryhard original / Oh, I pride myself on that, such a loser, I'll admit it / And I ask myself / When my time will come / Will I run away? "

Sincerity is Scary by The1975 || " You try and mask your pain in the most postmodern way / You lack substance when you say, something like, "Oh, what a shame" / It's just a self-referential way that stops you having to be human "

Baby, You're a Haunted House by Gerard Way || " And the nights, they last forever / And the days are always making you blue / In the dark we laugh together / Cause the misery's funny to you "

stfu by phem || " shut the fuck up with your self help shit / Roll me a blunt and let me handle it / Sittin' in the dark, in the silence / I cried all night and I feel sick "

madhouse by Nessa Barrett || " Go ahead, take a peek / Maybe let you under the hood / I'll scare the shit out of you more than anything else ever could / I scare myself sometimes "

Icarus by With Confidence || " And I heard / With every emphasis you put, on every word / With every lesson you taught but never learned / ... You think you really tried, did your best "

Numb by Linkin Park || " Can't you see that you're smothering me? / Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control / Cause everything that you thought I would be / Has fallen apart right in front of you "

#cape.task:001 #{ she's hell in a basket just causing a racket || musing. }

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elkenbulwark · 6 months

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@doighnadair cont.

Swiftly, Canta was helping the other into the makeshift dwelling of the barn in the camp that nobody seemed to use. "Birvor!" They exclaimed before settling him on one of the unused hay stacks. " How the hells did this happen?" Canta snapped, as they began cleaning around the wound, making sure to stabilize the arrow. "Here, I'm gonna leave in for a moment. We don't want to yank it out." They shook their head, out of everyone in the camp, it seemed the other half-orc got into the most trouble. "Right-" Canta snapped in a particular rhythm, making the root directly under roll towards them, they dug through their bag to find a neat roll of scalpels and fresh lyre strings. "Ya shouldn't go pickin' so many fights, and before ya start, I know ya probably didn't mean to. Does it ever cross that thick skull of yours that people care about ya?" Canta took a Sichuan berry from their side pouch and began applying it around the arrow. "This'll numb the area, usually mam would use it when we had to get near the gums of our tusks. Good for teethin' babs too." As they continue numbing the would, Canta narrow at him. " It's becomin' a habit of ye havin' to get stitched up, I don't mind playin' nurse but please, stop bein' so reckless. I'll be right cross If Withers has to drag ya back from oblivion."

With a deep grimace, he allowed the other half-orc to guide him onto the hay bed, keeping a firm grip on the arrow all the while. Though it was lodged in fairly well, his palm was soaked through and blood dripped down his wrist and forearm from where he'd been twisting the projectile in place - a petty attempt at keeping his rage alive whilst dealing with a certain someone-...well...someones now. He ground the tips of his tusks into his upper lip at the thought, though Canta's scolding wasn't exactly helping matters either. He almost wished they'd just rip it out without a single numbing attempt as long as they spared him the fussing and the fury.

"Hells if I know..." He grumbled through gritted teeth, grinding them in place while Canta dug about in their bag. "Standard 'I raged' behavior-?" If only that were true and he couldn't actually recall what happened. But the sting of the arrow held nothing over him over that firmly issued elvish word that had dropped him upon his back and rendered him immobile and trapped in a twitching mess of tangled limbs and stunned silence. His eyes dropped low at the recollection and he remained silent by their side until he felt the sting of a berry's guts digging around the arrow's entry point.

"...actually somethin' fer the growin' pains, isit?" He shook his head, eyes slowly rising to meet theirs, spent looking as they were. "Think I dealts with'em by just slammin' a door as long as I wanted- til I was tuckered out to sleep through'em." Perhaps he would have done the same for the arrow as well had he not bumped into Canta on his way to bleed in the barn. Shoulders furrowing forward, he succumbed to the dawning exhaustion of the tiresome ordeal and rested his forehead against their shoulder as they worked. "Wouldja? Well in't that just the sweetest thing I bout heard tonight..."

#doighnadair #//canta keep this man in 1 piece i swear #long post

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donekindonut · 10 months

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I’m going to get sent back I’m going to fall back relapse It’s not tangible it’s not something I can hold onto anymore I can’t hold onto much

a carnival game sit on this chair hold on tight as possible see how long you can last, the stinging the vibration the way my fingers numbed and all that was left was grip what the fuck is between my fists, what’s there what’s fucking there

I’m deteriorating I’m fuxkimf disappearing in the most ungraceful way do you know I think of you do u know I think of him and I think of her and I think of every fucking single person

Did u know I am never at peace in my own mind

Acid, changed the chemical wiring of my brain, acid implanted new rules in my bedroom, acid bile slathered on my teeth acid acid acid acid acid

I bit my lips til I bleed to keep my eyes open, I laid on the ground

Everyone knows and no one is going to step in no one has a say no one can do anything

No one

It’s my brain

my mind

My rancid thoughts

Make believe I’m in love

I’m not in love

He’s not in love

no one gives a single flying fuck

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slut4sway · 1 year

Text

Anywherebound / chapter IX : golden dagger

I wanted to see you naked, I wanted to hear you scream

I wanted to kiss your skin and your everything

I wanted to be your woman, I wanted to be your man

I wanted to be the one that you could understand

•

You give me chills

I've had it with drills.

I am nothing, you are nothing, we are nothing with the pills

what I am empty 'til she fills

•

I walked into your dagger for the last time in a row

It's like trying to start a fire with matches in the snow

Well, you can't seem to hold me here, you can't seem to let me go

So I can't find surrender, can't keep control

You turn me inside out and then you want me outside in

You spin me all around and then you ask me not to spin

You say you want to be alone and then you want children

You wanna be with me, you wanna be with him

🔱•••••••••••••••••••🥃

jamie’s inexplainable thoughts : god damn what have i gotten myself into. i wish i could be able to get my feelings out into words, just like trevor could. there is no label for my emotions. i don’t want to feel. i want to feel him.

notes : catch the be nice to me - the front bottoms and whiskey river - zach bryan references !

tw : alcoholism

6/5/23

1:03pm

Trevor left his tracks in the driveway long before where he'd be parked by nine o'clock at night. He always complained about how he wanted to fix what was broken, but he'd always be gone before the crack of dawn; whether mentally inebriated or physically gone. He sure has a way of shaking Jamie's unstable foundation and leaving him for dead.

They're conflicting. Jamie always wanted to hear the ''I love you's'' come out of Trevor's mouth although he knew it was fake and way too reckless to throw the phrase around. He sure loved him if he switched up on him after Jamie was meant to break him.

When that wide-eyed boy was on his mind, Jamie always drank and smoked a little more. It's always one last time, yet they've been so blinded that they never know when one of them is gonna fall off into the deep end and never come back. This time, Jamie couldn't feel Trevor's constant metaphorical grasp on him.

Maybe this was the last time.

No.

It had to be the last time.

Jamie's engine is up in flames as he's busy burning rubber. He's already been derailed and ever since Trevor cut and ran he's been a goddamn trainwreck. Now he's back at square one; where they fell out.

The regret stings like venom. It stings and stings and stings until the wound is numb and he's on a highway to hell.

Again and again and again, Jamie would repeat it. The world was coated in gold, he'd whine it to anyone who'd listened. It sparkled in the light, even though it was just gold-plated to hide the cheap metal underneath.

Jamie swears that Trevor is gone, but he didn't die. His heart never stopped beating, and he never stopped breathing. He wasn't six feet under with a headstone reading about the good in his days which he might have thought would be carved in with the evil. He can't go to his grave and drop roses over some disturbed dirt. He killed himself. He chose to do drugs. He chose to drink. He chose to stay with the one who fueled his drive for mutilating himself. He died. Trevor died. Whatever he was, it wasn't Trevor.

He was a murderer.

There are some things he asks of Jamie and there are certain things he can't achieve. In the beginning, everything was shining like gold in an untouched mine, but now they've fallen like shooting stars. What does it matter anymore? There's no meaning to Jamie's life. Trevor was everything to him and he managed to stutter and fuck up with him for what was surely the last time. Life is like a ticking time bomb, and he's running out of time. And they ran and ran and ran for miles, just to be running from something they could never escape; which was themselves. Trevor is the Bonnie to Jamie's Clyde. The only ones they were ruining were themselves. The situation will forever be unfair. Someone gets to win and the other has to lose. Trevor is changing but he never had to stay the same, static character he was.

He could change every distinguishing detail about himself, but never the fact that he's driving Jamie fucking insane.

He can only miss when Trevor loved him like he actually did. Jamie could say it time and time again and it wouldn't change a single thing. Letting go is tearing him apart, maybe quicker than it would to his former boyfriend, best friend, and lifeline.

•

After way too long, Jamie comes back to himself. He's got a pounding headache and his body is heavy and light at the same time. He smells like dried sweat and a mix of unidentifiable liquors. His cloudy vision is crowded with the millions of little things someone is supposed to fill their house with. The chemical warmth hits Jamie like a brick followed by a quick sting of acid reflux. Usually, he'd dampen the aftertaste of puking his guts out with even more liquor than what was used to tamp his thoughts the night prior. Now it wouldn't really feel as good. Some fragments of Trevor's presence linger next to Jamie, where his cheek is pressed into the old wood oak floor chilled by the air conditioning cooling his house throughout.

Honest to god, Jamie should get all of his money back. Someone once said firewater kills a memory but it isn't doing shit for him, and quite frankly kicking up more dust. Now there's dust in his eyes, which could explain the salty tears dripping and reforming his eyelashes into looking like ones of a Bratz doll. He's even been buzzing all night like neon signs in Nashville and taking double shooters like it's nothing, but there's nothing strong enough to drive all his problems away. That's the sick reality of getting drunk. Nothing will ever make the cut, and that just adds to the pain of the cold, hard truth.

Hell, he's turned his entire stash inside out looking for something enough to fade the constant reminder that Trevor was going, going, and finally gone like a left-field ball getting lost in the sun. The only one getting faded is quite obvious that sick, son of a bitch, Jamie Drysdale.

He wasn't all booze, though. It was a defense and coping mechanism he turned to when everything got a little too overwhelming. It was drowning in a liquor river forgetting all his worries. It was a liquor-drinking fever he couldn't shake no matter how much he tried. He's a heavy-drinking, hard-hitting, hot-headed boy. Fuck being sober past 10pm, it's much easier to drown someone's worries out in spirits and embodies that liquid courage into doing something dumb as shit and smelling regrets on their own breath again.

Jamie's back to where he fell.

There's sweat and tears in his eyes and dripping down his face to wherever else that gross mixture of body fluids can hide.

Now he was opening Mason's contact, the next guy in line he could fall into and hopefully not bring him crashing down as he falls. Next thing he knows, Mason is picking up the phone.

''James? What's up? You alright?'' Mctavish questioned.

''Mhm.. can y- can you come over?'' Jamie was obviously pretty hammered with the way he was slurring his words.

''Yeah, buddy... sure. You good?''

''Missin' Trevor, ya know? Besides the point. I need you like.. really bad.'' Jamie strung together his phrasing, maybe suggesting something other than what he was letting on.

''I got ya, I'll um.. be over in a second. See you in a bit, love ya.'' Mason definitely knew. He knew when Jamie would get drunk. He knew what would trigger it. He knew Jamie better than he knew himself, and that was what made him runner-up next to Trevor. Maybe he also knew Jamie was gonna end up falling for him to fill the void. Maybe he knew, maybe he didn't. Maybe he was okay with it, maybe he was not and was just trying to be there for Jamie when he needed it the most. Like every other detail, it's all a goddamn blur.

Mason is still supportive of him. But there's some elephant in the room. Something there. He can't tell if it's the tension because Mason is stuck in the middle of him and his relationship problems, or because he doesn't want to rebound off of one of his best friends and his best friend doesn't want him to rebound off him. It's a big confusing mess. Everything is at this point. There's a distance that sticks him with needles and injects his veins with kerosene which was an angry fuel used to burn out everyone.

Somewhere, probably sitting on a barstool, Trevor is writing out the words Jamie could never say let alone find. Something sappy and along the lines of losing a soul he once knew like the back of his hand.

We’ve all been through it, feeling an overwhelming yearning for an old flame, with that familiar tug in our hearts, manifesting an ache that can never really be filled. We open in a dimly lit bar, with a somewhat familiar song playing in the background. We focus in on a younger guy, glancing out the window, a tear rolling down his cheek. We then move to the counter, where he has a shot of whiskey waiting for him. I was sad and I was drunk, one combined feeling of misery, drowning myself in booze and heartache. We cut to a series of flashbacks of the young man and his ex, romantic moments in a park, holding hands while strolling through the city, a laugh shared over dinner, etc. My mind was on a loop, thinking back on all the sweet moments we shared, hoping for a way to make things the way they used to be. But we both know that was never happening. Back in the bar, the man orders one last drink, raising his glass to no one in particular. So here I lifted my glass one last time, in memory of all that had been and what would never be. The longing and emptiness will stay with me, but at least I was still brave enough to admit it to myself. We end where it began, with the man walking out of the bar into the night, his silhouette lost in the dark. And the wise words to herself that no one else need ever hear. I’m going to be alright.

That's how he could imagine Trevor could write it. The thought drove a knife through his heart and twisted it, but the gold and good Trevor coated his dagger with brought out in everything that outshone all the shit they'd said and done. Jamie's a simple man. He wants to see the clean, beautiful side of things he could never find, just like everyone else. Trevor did a good job putting on the blinkers for him until he tripped and fucked up like a racehorse. Not that he's much different.

#SoundCloud #trevorjamie #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale #anywherebound #chapter update #chapter 9 #men's hockey rpf

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