#june challenge

[alicewonderao3]

Jealousy and Pie

Pairing: Dean Winchester and reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, reader, Sam Winchester

Summary: You, Sam, and Dean are at a local street festival in some small town working a case when you notice Dean flirting with a girl. This shouldn't bother you, but it does even if it's just for information purposes. So when the opportunity strikes to show Dean how you felt, you take it and damn the consequences.

Warnings: none, just fluff and some mild angst, my usual things.

word count: 1,420

Author's note: I had such a hard time with this one, as I started three different versions of this challenge for @the-slumberparty's June challenge. This is the one I'm happy with. My choices were: sundress and festival. I tried to write a version that has Bucky in it, but as usual, Dean decided it needed to be about him again. I might finish and post that one too, I'm not sure yet. I have no beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

There was no reason to be jealous. Dean flirted with girls all the time, I told myself, watching him as he spoke to her. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, gazing up at him and I rolled my eyes, turning away. It was too hot to be working cases anyway, I thought, scanning the street festival for Sam's tall frame. 

I spotted him as he walked over with water for me and I smiled as I took it from him. He stood there with me and watched as Dean kept flirting with her. I frowned again and he nudged me, "It's just for information, you know that." I met his gaze, and my eyes narrowed. "What are you implying, Sam?" 

Sam held his hands up in mock surrender. "I know that look. You're jealous." I kept staring at him through narrowed eyes as Dean walked back up. When the girl came running back, slipping her number into Dean's hand, I turned and stalked away, a frustrated growl slipping through my lips. 

I was still frustrated as we tried to follow that lead the girl gave us, muttering under my breath as I sat in the back of the Impala. When we arrived in a residential neighborhood, and I spotted her seated on a porch, Sam and I both groaned. "Dean," I said, frustration leaking into my tone. "She didn't have any information for us. She was just hitting on you." I let my head fall back on the headrest as Sam groaned too, punching his brother on the shoulder. 

We went back to the street festival and I adjusted the pink sundress I wore as we scanned people, asking around when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to face whoever it was, smiling at his blue eyes, asking about the case in a way that was friendly until I felt eyes watching me. I turned, seeing Dean standing there with Sam, watching us. 

Sam had a large smirk on his face, and he raised an eyebrow as my eyes landed on Dean, who looked murderous as he watched us. Remembering how he made me feel earlier, I turned back to the guy, Brad, I think his name was, and upped my game, laughing and placing a hand on his arm as he spoke to me. 

I brushed my curls back, exposing the side of my neck as he told me more about the mysterious disappearances in the area, and when I reached for the gold necklace Dean had given me for my birthday two weeks ago, gently playing with the chain, I could feel Dean's eyes burning a hole into my head as the boy's eyes darted down to the chain in my hands.

I felt his arm reach out, tugging on my waist and before I knew it, Dean was right there, yanking me away with a murderous look sent in his direction. Brad? Bryan? Had stumbled back and walked away as Dean steered me over to a more private section of the festival. Dean had me backed up against a wall, looming over me as he stared down at me, his green eyes full of jealousy. 

I looked up at him and innocently asked, "What's wrong, Dean? I was just getting information from him." I said, watching as his nostrils flared at my choice of words. Dean stared down at me, his voice rough. "You were doing that on purpose." I continued to give him that innocent look as the music from the band playing at the end of the field drifted around us. "I don't know what you're talking about, Dean." 

He continued to stare down at me, shaking his head. "Uh-huh, I was watching you, I know all the signs of flirting." I chuckled, "Of course you do, you are the expert at that, aren't you?" Dean's eyes narrowed, and I could tell he was getting more frustrated by the second. "Don't try and turn this around on me," He growled, "You knew exactly what you were doing." 

I sighed, feeling a sense of frustration, "Oh, and you weren't doing the same thing with that girl earlier in the day? Flirting with her to make me jealous, Dean?" Dean's expression softened as he stared down at me. "I'm sorry," He said, his eyes meeting mine. I sigh, "We've never actually discussed if we are dating or not, Dean." I say, meeting his gaze. "Are we?" I ask, looking at him. "Do you want to date me? Am I going to be the woman who finally gets Dean Winchester to commit?" 

Dean's eyes met mine, and I could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You already have me making commitments, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and husky. "But to answer your question, yes, I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend."

I felt a surge of happiness wash over me as I heard his words. It was something that I had been hoping for, but I wasn't sure if he felt the same way. "Really?" I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.

Dean nodded, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Really," he said. "I know I haven't been the easiest guy to figure out, but I want to make things official with you." I threw my arms around him, feeling a sense of joy and relief wash over me. "Yes," I said, my voice muffled against his chest. "I want that too." 

I felt Dean's hands gently lift my chin, his eyes looking down into mine. He leaned down and kissed me, soft and sweet, his lips gentle on mine. When he pulled away, he said, "I am sorry you know, about before." I nodded, whispering, "Me too." As he pulled away from the kiss, I could see the sincerity in his eyes, and I knew he meant it. The sounds of the street festival went around us, but I only had eyes for Dean. 

Dean smiled at me and I said, "Let's go enjoy this festival before we run off." I said, my eyes meeting his. "I saw a pie stand earlier this morning with Sam." We weaved our way through the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds of the street festival. There were food stands, games, and live music playing in the background. It was a lively and festive atmosphere, and I couldn't help but feel happy as I walked alongside Dean.

Dean ordered a slice of apple pie, while I went for the classic cherry. As we sat down at a nearby table, I took a bite of my pie and closed my eyes in bliss. It was everything I had hoped for and more - sweet, tangy, and perfectly baked."This is amazing," I said, looking over at Dean. "You have to try it." Dean took a bite of his pie, and I could see the look of satisfaction on his face. "You're right," he said. "This is good."

As we walked with Sam back to the Impala, ready to make some headway on the case, I glanced over at him as he held my hand in his. "I love you," Dean said, his eyes meeting mine. "I love you too," I said, feeling a sense of happiness and gratitude for the man in front of me.

Sam pretended to gag, but I could see the smile on his face. "Gross, you guys," he said, rolling his eyes. Dean chuckled, but he didn't let go of my hand. "What can I say? I'm a romantic at heart." I smiled up at him, feeling a sense of warmth and affection for him. "And I wouldn't have it any other way," I said.

As we reached the Impala, I climbed into the backseat while Sam took the passenger seat. Dean got behind the wheel, and soon we were on our way, ready to face whatever challenges came our way. With Dean by my side, I knew that we could face anything that came our way. As we pulled up to the motel, I turned to Dean and gave him a quick kiss. "Thank you," I said, my eyes meeting his. "For what?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. "For everything," I said, smiling up at him. "For being there for me, for loving me, for being my partner in crime."Dean grinned at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Anytime, sweetheart," he said. "Anytime."

#Dean winchester x reader #navy and roo sleepover #june challenge

[bymossypine]

Only 4 more days until #MossyMonth starts! 🌲🍄

#Mossymonth #monthly challenge #art challenge #artists on tumblr #game jam #creative jam #cottagecore #writing challenge #June challenge #prompt challenge #drawing prompt #art #Forest #illustration

[cecilebutcher]

Day 1: Treasure

Ruggie x gender neutral reader

Fluff. Pirate AU.

This is so fucking cheesy I know😭 but somehow the best thing I’ve wrote in a while.

Anyways enjoys!!

For his entire life Ruggie has been working hard just to get by. From pickpocketing to theft. Anything that’ll help him get by he did. He didn’t care one bit what people thought of him, only that he and his family got by.

So when he foolishly stole from a rich guy and had been caught, the penalty was his arm, for that was the law. But just before the male chopped off his arm he heard a voice telling the man to stop it, and he did.

The voice belonged to a teenager draped in pirate wear, and when he saw the logo on their hat he froze. A raven. The raven captain themselves yuu. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He was scared of what would happen to him now, that he stole from them.

He was not prepared when yuu held out their hand and asked if he was ok. And he 100% was not ready when you offered him to join your crew. And he was not ready for the adventures that he would go on.

He met countless people on those adventures. Some rich some poor. From the sweet and kind Sultan of the Scandaling sands, to the cold and distant second prince of the land of beastmen, and even the mysterious Fae crowned prince himself!

He managed to get tons of treasure like that. The captain was fair after all, everyone would get their cut. And whenever they docked the ship at his lands he left to check on his family first, give them what he’s earned and check up on them.

What he didn’t expect however, is what happened on a star filled night on the ship.

It was quiet and dark with only sound of waves hitting their boat and each other to be heard, and the moonlight and stars plus some distance lanterns giving the ship some light.

He was standing on the deck of the raven ship, gazing up at the star filled sky. A breath escaped his lips, wondering here oh where the next destination would lead this ship and his feet to.

“Hello Ruggie” he jumped lightly as his peace was disturbed by a familiar voice calling out to him. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” He turned to his left to see the captain, his captain, looking at him, awaiting an answer.

“Apologies Captain, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to gaze at the stars” you hummed and looked at them, Ruggie following your gaze. “They are lovely this time around, aren’t they?” You asked, a calm expression painted on their face.

“Yes they are. The moon and stars have been with me ever since I was a child. I find comfort in them” The male replied, his gaze softening. They stayed quiet like that for a while, not a single word to be said, not a single word needed to be said.

They both knew that. So they stayed in silence for a bit. It was nice, comforting, and calm. They could talk about anything and everything but they didn’t, instead they chose to be in each others company in pure silence.

“Do you see that constellation?” The captain said, pointing at a bunch of stars that were forming a drawing “that’s the Big Dipper” Ruggie took his eyes off the star and looked at the person standing next to him.

“It’s said that in 50,000 years it’ll turn and face the other way, isn’t that fascinating? How even something as far and bright away, as big as those seven stars, is still prone to change?” They looked at the stars with love and respect, like they were old friends of theirs.

But Ruggie couldn’t keep his eyes off the captain. In his eyes, they were far more gorgeous than any other star constellation and moon. “I suppose everything changes, doesn’t it captain”

They looked back at him, that warm smile that always melted his heart planted on their face. “I suppose so. Tell me, do you think it’s going to be a good or bad change?” Ruggie thought for a minute before answering “I’m not sure Captain”

“Well. I’m sure of one thing” They turned placed a hand over Ruggies and spoke “when the time comes. If you and I are reborn as humans, beastmen, Fae or merfoke. Let us watch the stars again”

Ruggie nodded and held onto their hand “Of course my captain, anything for you”

This is what Ruggie enjoyed most on these trips. Not the adventure. Not the treasure. But them. The Captain of the ravens. They were everything to him.

And to him, they were the real treasure.

Is you read this far congrats!! You managed to read whatever the fuck this was, and I hoped you like it!

If you wanna be tagged in future twst related content please let me know! Likes and comments are more than appreciated. but reblogs help the content reach more people so please reblog if you want to like<3 ^^ and requests are open!!

#twisted wonderland #writing #30 day challenge #ruggie bucchi #ruggie fluff #ruggie bucci x reader #June Challenge

[ladysternchen]

Betrayal-Again part 2

Lúthien whirled around, but her thoughts whirled faster. Daeron had betrayed her. He had truly betrayed her trust a second time, something so painful that she could not allow herself to think about it just now. All her hatred was instead focused on the elf before her, her own father. Fleetingly, she thought of the knife that hung by her side. He would not expect that, and would not defend himself if that meant harming her, either. One quick stab, almost painless, and then, you see, I am the one to make the rules, and can do as I please. The next moment had her stumble back, appalled by her own thoughts. Had she truly come so far as to think of murdering her closest kin? She, who had grieved for cousins she had never known, and whole-heartedly shared her father’s and uncle’s hatred towards the kinslayers? Had she just now truly considered killing her sire? Daeron, clearly seeking to steady her, placed his hands on her back, and she snarled at him. “Don’t touch me! You… I loved you, ever! Since we were elflings, you were my very best friend. I were ever dear to me as a brother. I trusted you. I forgave you. I thought you cared for me, truly cared for me.” “I do, Lúthien, I care for you more than I care for my own life…” he pleaded, but Lúthien wouldn’t even let him finish, drowning his words in a derisive laugh.  “Sure. Just as much as my dear father, ey?”  Once more, she turned to the King, who stood still as a statue, his expression impossible to read even for Lúthien.  “I know you are angry, and also how unjust this must feel to you, but you need to see sense. I don’t know what this human did to you to make you act…” Again, Lúthien’s hand longed for the hilt of the knife. “What he did to me? Did to me? You…”  But words failed her, indignation striking her momentarily dumb. Again, her father spoke, just as evenly as before. “You will not go after Beren. He knows the task. If he indeed is the man he believes himself to be, than he will be true to his oath.” “And you think you will hinder me? The daughter of Melian the Maia?” Lúthien thought she saw her father wince ever so slightly at her words, but if so, he swiftly recovered. “You will not leave my realm. Ai Lúthien, do not make me lead you back to Menegroth like a prisoner…” She laughed mirthlessly. “Like the prisoner I am, you mean?” “If there is no other way in which I can keep my only child safe, then yes.” Silence spiralled horribly between them, until finally, Lúthien broke it. “Fine then.” she said, tears of anger and despair falling from her eyes. “I shall bow to the law of the King. Put me in chains, if you will, and watch me bleed to death from the hurt you have inflicted upon me. But make no mistake, lord, you will bleed with me, for I am your daughter no longer!” She meant to wound as much as she possibly could, and it pleased her greatly that she knew her words to find their mark. As for Daeron… she turned once more, surveying the minstrel haughtily. “Get yourself gone from under my eyes, Daeron. Once and for all.” And with that, she followed the king back to Menegroth in silence, her heart aching as never before. She had finally lost them all.

#part 2 #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion writers' guild #june challenge #secret gate #matryoshka #the tale of beren and lúthien #lúthien tinúviel #daeron #elu thingol #doriath #betrayal #again #chapter five part 2 #final chapter

[topsyturvy-turtely]

june challenge - day 2

[based on this prompt list. check out my contribution for day 1]

2. pet names

john was cooking. lasagna along with some salad. everything was almost done. the only thing left, was a bit of seasoning for the salad.

"sherlock, could you hand me salt and pepper, please?"

sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table, looking into his microscope. his equipment was spread all over the table, but the salt and pepper was out of reach. well, out of reach for john - sherlock would just need to stretch out his arm and could hand him salt and pepper.

but of course he didn't.

"sherlock? could you hand me salt and pepper please?", this time he put more stress into his request.

still nothing from sherlock.

"hellooo? earth to sherlock?! could you please just stretch your arm out so i can finish dinner?", john's voice now had an annoyed undertone and he waved his hand next to sherlock's face. of course john could just walk around the table and get it himself, but by now this was a matter of principle. he had cooked lasagna, damnit! it is not like asking your boyfriend to stretch out his arm once would be a too difficult task to request.

"oh come on sherlock, love, could you just hand me the goddamn salt?"

with a jerky movement sherlock whipped his head around. his eyes were big, his face blank and his mouth was slightly open. this made john feel a bit worried.

"wha- what is it, sherl-? are you okay?"

the detective looked utterly shocked. the eye contact was making john feel almost uncomfortable. was sherlock mad? john had no idea and didn't know how to react so he pointed across the table. "uh, the salt please, love?"

sherlock blinked.

and blinked again.

and then ten times more.

"yeah, this is getting a bit scary now.", john said, trying to ease the atmosphere that was suddenly ten degrees hotter.

sherlock continued staring at him. god, he loved his eyes. but sometimes having eye contact was a real challenge for john. why was he staring at him like that?!

sherlock inhaled sharply. Then he gulped. Then he opened his lips and there was a click of his tongue to hear. this was really weird...

"sooo, in fact- yo-you mean...", sherlock stumbled over his words.

john was confused. why was sherlock suddenly stuttering? he smiled at him anyways: "hm, yes?"

"i'm your..."

john didn't know where this was going but nodded encouragingly.

"i'm your... i'm your love?", sherlock finally managed to say.

john was surprised. so this was about the pet name?

"sherlock...", john said hesitantly. he stepped closer to his still sitting boyfriend and wrapped his arms around his neck.

"yeah, of course you are. 'course. you are my love.", he said and to emphasize he pecked sherlock's lips once. sherlock was still a beautiful statue of shock and john chuckled.

"can you hand me the salt now, love?", he asked again. this time using the pet name purposefully.

the detective blinked again but finally reached out to grab the seasonings.

"thank you, my heart.", the doctors said with a smirk in his voice. john simply couldn't resist making this utterly brilliant man absolutely speechless with these sweet little words of affection.

to top it off john kissed sherlock's cheek, then - with an enamored smile - turned around and finally finished dinner.

---

yay, fluff! ✨ thanks for reading! 💚 do you see what i did there? *whispers* rEfeReNceS 🤭 i thought these two kinda weren't the typical couple calling each other by pet names. but this scenario seemed likely to me. lmk what you think! i will try to write the part for day 3 today sorry for being already a day late... 🙃

you should check out @timberva's post for day one, which is also based on that prompt list i found up there.

tagging!!! (please tell me if you wanna be added/removed): @catlock-holmes @helloliriels @justanobsessedpan @boredsushi @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78

#june challenge #turtely's june challenge #building in some references #hehehehe #oh and btw #who gives a shit about capital letters right? #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock x john #johnlock fanfic #happy pride month #happy pride 🌈 #🏳️‍🌈 #johnlock fic #johnlock ficlet #topsyturvy turtely #turtely #turtely writes #my writing #hope you enjoy #love you #thanks for reading

[elizababie]

J-J-J-J-June Day 01: Treasure

Collab with the beautiful and endlessly talented @just-get-fucking-lost

Jade Manath. Maeve Blackwood. Fluffy F x F.

Special thanks to @cecilebutcher for the prompt list that we shamelessly appropriated-slash-appreciated. So sorry, so much love.

Jade Manath buries bird bones.

She buries bird bones and a sachet of small, round river stones and a bundle of sweet-smelling twigs. She's digging a hole at the fourth corner of her property, the most important corner, the last corner, the one that will offer the most protection, when it becomes apparent that she was not fast enough.

A shadow falls across her path.

She has a guest.

Jade breathes in and in and in through her nose then out, once, sharply through her mouth.

"What can I do for you?" Jade asks. Her words are icily polite even while every syllable of her tone screams, 'what the fuck do you want?'

"What does anyone want these days?" A female voice responds, pedantic and falsely inquisitive. "Money, wealth, fame, someone to spend forever with." Maeve. She whispers into Jade's ear. Even though Maeve isn't in view, her curls are; fiery red and orange strands, curled and sticking what seems to be every which way. The scent of charcoal and birch trees floats forward and wraps itself around Jade's head, a gentle pressure with a slight warning of suffocation. "Trying to hide, little bird?" she asks softly, the smile on her lips audible in her voice.

"Some people," Jade says very slowly, very carefully. "Only want solitude."

She sits back on her heels and puts an imperceptible distance between Maeve and herself. It's not enough. It's not enough by far.

Maeve stands out starkly against the landscape around her. Jade is a product of her environment, dusty brown skin and hair and eyes that match the pale earth, the newly sprouting stalks of wheat, the livestock Jade surrounds herself with. Maeve is a fire blazing in the center of Jade's carefully planted, grown, and protected oasis.

Jade wants to hate her for that. Jade also wants to hate herself for her all-too-human desire to keep warm.

She holds her spade in one hand and the leather bound journal she came here to bury in the other. She's going to have to do something dramatic after this. She's going to have to bury her mother's gleaming gold grandfather clock in the creek. She might even have to find some other, more powerful, treasure and some other, more powerful, spot to bury it in.

If Jade litters the earth with trinkets, they will grow into a force that is equal parts magnificent and impenetrable. They will keep her safe. Jade will sow the earth until she is the only thing that could possibly sprout up out of it.

First, though, Jade has to purge her land of the intruder imposing upon it.

"Why are you here?" Jade asks. She stands and brushes dirt off on her pants. She asks one thing and means another, what she wants to know is how she was found.

What she really wants to know is how she can be lost again.

She doesn't get her answer before muscle memory kicks in. Jade starts back towards her cottage and waves Maeve along after her. "Tea?"

Maeve never stops smiling but follows after Jade. The world around them is painted in dusty, neutral tones and, as always, Maeve makes sure to shine bright right in the middle of it. Maybe one day Jade will see that even plants need to burn every once in a while to start off fresh.

"Why wouldn't I be here? It's not like you're hiding or anything," Maeve says. They cross the threshold into the kitchen together. Jade keeps going, deeper into the guts of the room. "You offered me tea, people who hide from me don't offer me tea." Maeve leans across the doorway and watches Jade work. "Why are you here?"

Jade sets the kettle out to boil and collects herbs. She gathers teacups and thinks about strychnine. A corpse would be a powerful talisman to bury.

Jade has done it before.

"Hiding," Jade says. "Not from you, don't flatter yourself. Just in general. I'm tired. Tired of everything, of all of it." Jade waves her hand vaguely through the air.

ALL OF IT: the Manath druids, her clan starving for leadership, her brother sitting at the helm.

ALL OF IT: Jasper's endless needs. His endless demands. “Sister, we're moving camp! Where should we go?” and “Sister, I ruined everything again! Clean up after me!” and “Sister, mother is dead! Bury her while I fuck around!” and-and-fucking-and

ALL OF IT: eyes and ears, always on her. So many fingers, always pointing.

Jade got sick of it, of taking all of the blame for none of the credit. She never wanted that life anyway. She has never wanted to be a leader. Jade Manath just wants to watch her crops grow.

"Here." Jade sets Maeve's tea down at the table. She left of the strychnine. If Jade is remembering correctly, Maeve is too smart for her own good, she's most definitely told someone where she was going. If she doesn't come back there will be more visitors. Corpses take a long time to bury, Jade can only give them so much of her time without neglecting her other trinkets.

Maeve glances down at the cup and picks it up with both hands, She maintains eye contact and drinks the entire glass.

"Hide away with all your treasures, here at the end of the earth," Maeve says, setting her empty cup down and finally seating herself. Her presence alone makes the room feel warmer, brighter. Doesn't Jade know you need a little sunlight to grow? "Sit on your porch at the end of the day and admire your work, not anyone else's." She smirks, brushing some of her curls back. "I guess deep down we all just want a simple life, solid rewards for the effort put in." Maeve rests her hands on the table, her nails are painted a deep, olive green—But why should that matter?

Maeve pushes her cup towards Jade and nods slightly. "Delicious as always. May I have some more?"

Jade looks at Maeve. She looks back at Maeve's nails. They don't match Maeve's eyes the way they always used to. They don't accent her hair. They're the color of Jade's tea cups. They're the color of the ivy that climbs the walls. They're the color of all the things Jade suspects might be buried down deep inside of her.

HER: Jade.

HER: Maeve?

Jade tucks her hair behind her ears. She is not the person she was the last time they sat across a table from each other like this.

SHE: Jade.

SHE: Maeve?

“No,” Jade says. She tucks her spade into her back pocket and heads for the door. “Come with me. Bring that.” She doesn’t specify what that is. Maeve’s choice is her own. They all have their own secrets to hide from and their own protections to build. Maeve grabs the porcelain cup in front of her and stands, following after Jade without question.

Jade doesn’t mean to smile but it sprouts up anyway: dandelions growing between cracks in the sidewalk. Determined. Improbable. She's silent as she leads Maeve to the most powerful spot in the farm, the beginning, it’s heart.

ONCE UPON A TIME Jade Manath ran away. She ran away from her home, her family, the responsibilities that were not hers but ended up in her lap anyway. She ran away right to the end of the world and then she sat down, she built a fire, she decided that this was far enough.

Everything else sprouted up after that, veins connected to a still-beating heart. That’s where she leads Maeve. They walk to the memory of that first fire. It’s been years-years-years but Jade thinks the ashes might still be warm. The sacred and the holy have that effect sometimes, they live forever. 

Jade passes Maeve her spade and keeps her silence. If she says anything the spell will break. If Maeve needs to be told what to do then maybe she does not belong here after all.

Maeve kneels and she digs. She digs and she gently places the teacup into the hole and, using her well-manicured hands, she scoops the dirt back in, gently patting the surface down before she stands and dusts her pants off.

Jade takes her spade back and digs a second hole directly beside the teacup. She sets the spade into its bed and gently tucks it in. She thinks that she's not going to be needing it after all. Maybe nothing needs to be buried in the creek. Maybe her new life is perfectly protected after all.

Jade's mind is made up. She nods resolutely at a job well done and stands shoulder to shoulder with Maeve.

"Come on," Jade says. "Let's go home."

#writing #J-J-J-J-June 2023 #June challenge #Surprising everybody: Jowan was not my first pull for this #Wild I know #saved writing

[just-get-fucking-lost]

J-J-J-J-June Day 02: Coffee

Collab with @elizababie for our June writing pompts :P Thank you to @cecilebutcher for a new obsession <3 

Jet Manath. Bronywn Kahl. Non romantic, talk of Fratricide 

02: Coffee.

Jet Manath doesn’t care for coffee shops. She does not care for trains or buses. She despises any and every restaurant, especially the kind with booth-style seating. She can tolerate movie theaters but she has to be ready to grit her teeth through the discomfort the entire time.

Even after so many years, it’s still hard to accommodate for her wings. Even after so many years, she still can’t stand the eyes turning towards her as question after question after question is hurled at her.

She is a spectacle. So few people end up cursed these days.

Jet Manath doesn’t care for coffee shops but she shows up anyway, she’s used to living in a world that was not made for her. The invite didn’t leave her much of a choice. She stops just inside the door and scans the crowd. She wonders if it’s a friendly face that she’ll be met with this time. Bronywn glances up from a loose table tucked away in the corner, Jet’s back would be to the wall, Bronywn had made sure of that no doubt. She gives a glance back and then a little wave when she spots Jet.

“Hello, Bronywn,” Jet says, because she does her research. She is not Jasper, who was cured and can afford to be impulsive. She is not Jade, who cured Jasper and left Jet forever incomplete.

(Do not blame her, it was not Jade’s fault, she spent a year spinning thread from nettles—Jade tried her best, is it fair to ask for more than that?)

Jet slips carefully into her seat, her duffle bag still slung across her shoulders. The slit cut in it and Jet’s voluminous rose-finch wings are tucked neatly inside. It’s not comfortable, but it’s effective. When she’s sitting or standing still, she hardly looks cursed at all. “So.” Jet stacks sugar packets, then stops. She forces herself to look Bronywn in the eyes. “Is this the part where you try to kill me?”

TRY: because Jet may have hollow bird bones these days, but she will go down swinging.

TRY: because, even after all these years, Jet has not gone down yet. 

“Only if you have confessions to make.” Bronywn replies, raising an eyebrow slightly. It seemed no matter where she went she still held onto her character. What kind of dumbass makes a bounty hunter represent as some sort of priest or priestess? Maybe there’s a sense of irony to it. “That was not my intent regardless.” She continues, smile falling away as she cradles her tea. “Whatever you’d like I will cover.” She adds on softer, gesturing vaguely to the menu with her hand.

“Courteous,” Jet says, relieved to have something in her hands to focus on. She orders exactly what she needs, nothing more and nothing less. Jet is not Jasper, who takes and takes and takes until the excess seems like it will drown him. Jet is not Jade, who hides her hands and will not take anything at all. “If I hear no evil, and speak no evil, and allow you to see no evil, then is this the part where we do pleasantries? My life is still in stasis, sorry, so you’ll be stuck with most of the talking.” Brown chuckles, nodding slightly as she leans back in her seat. Her back is to the doorway and it makes every single nerve in her body feel like it’s on fire but Bronywn invited Jet, Bronywn chose the location, the least she can do is make sure Jet can be even close to comfortable. 

“I came to talk to you about said stasis actually.” Bronywn says, adjusting her hold on her cup as a worker comes over and drops off Jet’s order. “I have a contract I want to run, I’m sure you’re well aware which contract I am talking about.” She says softly as the worker walks away.

Jet gets very cold. She needs something to do with her hands but if she picks up her coffee she knows they’ll shake. Jet is not Jasper, he has never feared for his own life. Jet is not Jade, she cannot run away. “I…” Jet takes her coffee in hand anyway. It’s not the first time Bronywn has seen her shake, what does Jet have left to hide? “I am excruciatingly aware.” Jet sighs and sighs and sighs. “You need my help.” She puts her coffee down. She rests her head in her hands. “You’re asking for too much.” Jet is not Jasper. Jet is not Jade. She meets Bronywn’s eyes. “I’ll do whatever I can. Tell me what you need from me.” There’s a pause where Bronywn contemplates her response, Jet is willing, doesn’t mean she’s eager. 

“Your help is appreciated, but never necessary.” She says slowly, looking up to Jet and ignoring some glances she received from concerned patrons. 

What is the Priestess doing here?

She must be scouting out her next victim.

I’d make my confessions to her (Followed by rowdy laughter and whistles naturally) 

“You’re welcome to join me, but there’s no shame in pulling away either… I did this more as a heads up, in case you have any loose ends in those regards to wrap up.” Bronywn leans in, she’s not dressed in her traditional garb, her hair is down around her waist and free, her shirt looks well loved and cared for, broken in, her jeans are faded with use and dried mud is stuck to the sides of her boots. 

What does the top bounty hunter do in her free time? 

“I won’t lie, the help is appreciated- makes my job easier.” She shrugs, watching Jet. “But I figured I’d give you a cup of coffee to think it over.” She shrugs again- looking unaffected despite the sadness that seemed to burrow deep into her eyes, not directed at Jet, never directed at Jet but there’s a sense of familiarity in the guarded gaze. History truly did love to repeat itself. 

“I don’t want to do this.” Jet shakes her head. She meets Bronywn’s eyes. The Manath siblings take care of their own. “But that which is wanted is rarely what is necessary.”

Jet is not Jasper, she is not going to watch the world burn.

Jet is not Jade, she will not be consumed by the shame of saving something with teeth and claws and intentions that are too sharp for this world.

The Manath siblings take care of their own. Jade deserves a chance to live. Jasper deserves a friendly face there with him when his life wraps around his throat.

Jet says, “I’m with you, Bronywn. Whatever comes next.”

#writing #j-j-j-j-june writing #prompts #june challenge #bird

[edrake]

JuneToon Day 2: Smoke

JuneToon Day 2: Smoke

View On WordPress

#art inspiration #cartoon fan art #Composition Book Chronicles #con queso publishing #cq comics #daily art challenge #draw toons #drawing cartoons #homer simpson #june art challenge #june challenge #junetoon #junetoon 2022 #junetoon day 2 #make time for art #prompt list #promptosaurus #smoke #smoking #the Simpsons

[shotbyshe]

Re-read this recently and thought of a way to keep myself accountable was to put my thoughts -- no matter how random, unique or rude -- on this, my dearest Tumblr blog. I also rewatched this series and thought perhaps I'd do that again this August. I don't have the free time that I had two years ago but…..I haven't been taking enough constructive breaks: actually forcing myself to sit silently with no distractions. I always find something to do. I need to stop that.

Or maybe there needs to stop being things to do.

#collection of stills #youtube #stills #my face #me #shotbyshe #yola #writing #writings #series #b sides #june challenge #natural girl #natural hair #black girl #beautiful #fashion #jamaican

[jannekebooister]

Vissen / Pisces by Janneke Booister Via Flickr: Watercolour on Arches Grain Fin 300 g/m2. 

Colours used are Winsor Green (Yellow Shade), Permanent Alizarine Crimson, Winsor Violet (dioxazine), Neutral Tint, Titanium White; all Winsor&Newton Professional and Lunar Blue; Daniel Smith Extra Fine Watercolours. 

Paper size 21 x 30 cm (A4), available (Contact me). 

For a challenge 

My own reference 

Het verhaal van deze aquarel is beschreven in mijn blog / The story of this watercolour is written in my blog jannekesatelier.blogspot.com/

#Aquarel #Janneke Booister #Goed Gezien - Goed Bekeken #juni challenge #kleurrijk #vissen #Watercolour #June Challenge #colourful #Pisces #Zodiac #flickr

[juneofdoom]

What up, whump fam?!

June of Doom 2024 Prompts!

We've brought back some old favorites/ popular prompts from last year with a healthy dash of new!

Please feel free to participate with original or fan works of any kind (writing, photos, gifs, mood boards, videos, songs, whatever creative medium your heart desires!). You can do one or all of the prompts on any given day, and if none are to your liking, check out the alternate prompts!

Two rules this year!

As with last year, tag your stuff with appropriate warnings, plzkthnx.

AI-created content is highly discouraged and frowned upon. I have no way of "checking", but I respect the time and effort people put into their crafts and encourage everyone to do the same. This isn't a contest for best written or prettiest art — it's a challenge, so challenge yourself.

Text list below the cut for easier crossings-off. And don't forget to tag @juneofdoom so I can reblog your awesome here! Have fun!

“Help me.”                                        | Failed Escape | On the Run | Fetal Position |

“It didn’t have to be this way.”             | Scream | Double Cross | Made to Watch |

“Well, well, well…”                            | Hiding | Ambushed | Stalking |

“Does that hurt?”                               | Impalement | Fracture | Punishment |

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”                 | Bite | Swelling | Disfiguration |

“They don’t care about you.”               | Flinch | Broken Promise | Abandoned |

“What happened?”                            | Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

“This is your last chance.”                    | Drowning | Chair | Prisoner Trade |

“I made a mistake.”                            | Accident | Acceptance | Blame |

“Can you hear me?”                           | Fear | Smoke | Phone Call |

“We’re out of time.”                           | Bleeding Out | Collapse | Flatline |

“I can’t stand seeing you like this.”        | Dehydration | Grief | Coma |

“Wait!”                                             | Sacrifice | Adrenaline | Cornered |

“What were you thinking?”                  | Surrender | Human Shield | Outmatched |

“Get me out of here!”                         | Rescue | Chainsaw | Presumed Dead |

“At least it can’t get any worse.”           | Secret | Stranded | Setback |

“You don’t want to do that.”                | Struggle | Blackmail | Desperate Measures |

“I’m fine.”                                         | Self-defense | Allergies | Headache |

“This can’t be happening!”                  | Sobbing | Straitjacket | Dissociation |

“I can handle it.”                                | Scrape | Panic Attack | Neglect |

“Let’s play a game. “                           | Stairs | Pressure Points | Trap Door |

“What’s the bad news?”                      | Poison | Bedridden | Cauterization |

“You’re doing great.”                         | Trembling | Gaslighting | Rules |

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”                  | Blankets | Stitches | Bandages |

“I should have listened to you.”           | Guilt | Backseat | Failure |

“Don’t lie to me.”                               | Rage | Choke | Paranoia |

“Or what?”                                       | Defiance | Display | Last Resort |

“Say something.”                               | Numb | Cold Shoulder | Gag |

“I’m so cold.”                                    | Delirium | Fever | Exposure |

“Breathe, damn you!”                         | Shock | Asphyxiation | Emergency Room |

ALTERNATE PROMPTS

“Who did this to you?”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not okay.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You poor thing.”

Attending Your Own Funeral

Broken Glass

Mask

Whip

Obedience

#june of doom 2024 #june of doom #juneofdoom #masterlist #whump writing #whump stuff #summer of whump #whump things #whump prompts #writing prompts #whump #masterpost #writing challenge #events #whump event #whump community #whumblr

[rileylou99]

Hey guys! I found a month long writing prompt challenge and just finished my first one! I hope you like it!

This Ones a short story.

Saturday, July 10, 1976. 

I had a normal day yesterday. Jim had left the air on in the tower through the night so when I came in at 9 am to start the day shift, It was so frigid that I had to keep my coat on. Fridays are about as busy as any weekday lately, with kids out of school we don’t get much action during the early hours of the morning. A few hikers and some bears waltzing down to the stream, but all in all, quite calm. 

I can’t say I hate the view. Honestly, maybe only the devil himself would hate it. The valley walls are tall, lined with a bright soft green with bits for amber throughout as the lower vegetation dries out from the California heat. 93 degrees isn’t bad weather for a hike I guess, though I truthfully prefer the winters out here. Some snow, plenty of rain, and the dark mist that sets in over the river that carved the high walls of dark velvet green evergreens that flourish when there is more moisture in the air. But summer gets a very different view. The river is about half the size it is in the winter, the ground is golden, and the summer heat leaves soft dust patches on the outside of the windows of the tower. 

At about noon was when I first heard the family. Setting down my book, I peered over the table to look out, and saw nothing but an quite ordinary family. The parents couldn’t have been much older than me, maybe 30’s to early 40’s. Their oldest son, nearly two inches taller than his father, held a circular tube and some rope, clearly ready to sit in the sun for hours. They had a golden retriever with them, and had it not been for the sheen of its fur, the fluffy pup would have blended in with the forest floor nearly perfectly. Actually, nearly perfect would have been exactly how I would have described this family. They seemed happy, the whispers of their private conversation barely reaching the open window of the tower looming overhead, however, about four paces back, was a little girl with a bright red wagon. She had a light blue hat covering her face, accompanied by a soft green dress that seemed just her size. She looked like a doll, and I probably would have mistaken her for one had she not been caring one in her red wagon. The small, nearly identical doll sat upright in her wagon as she trudged along behind her seeming ignorant family. 

Then, also as if she could sense me, the little girl's head snapped up and she locked eyes with me.Stopping dead in her tracks, she tilted her head slightly. Chills slid down my spine and I knew I couldn’t look away. Lifting her hand to her month she placed one finger on her lips. A smile crept on her face and she turned towards her family, skipping to the tree line and off to the river. Blinking back to reality, I sat back down in my chair and thought back on what I just saw. Something about her seemed so familiar, but I didn’t want to focus on that. I looked out to see if I could see any flags on the neighboring tower, but nothing was there. I ran through my normal reports. Testing wind, recording the temperature, seeing if there was any humidity and everything seemed normal as can be. 

A loud screech came over the radio, “ I’m taking my lunch and heading into town, need anything over there?” Bob, the officer in tower 7 announced. Running over and flipping on my microphone, I answered, 

“Nope, I got a great sale on good ham last week from Sal. I'll be making sandwiches for a while. “ 

“ One day you have got to let me come over and try your cooking. You know what they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” He laughed

Going along with his joke Ireplied” Well, I’ll be sure to let your wife know when there is a good sale next time, yeah?” The radio when silent telling me Bob, got the hint. Slipping back into the book I had on hand, I got lost in a world of fantasy.

As my head was filled with mystical creatures and rings made of gold, I heard the screams. The pitches echoing against the walls of the valley, alerting whomever they could find. I dropped my book and grabbed my gun, perching directly at the open window, aiming at the brush that led to the river's edge. Looking down my sight, waiting for movement, that's when I saw him. The young man, no older than sixteen, emerged from the bushes crawling away from whatever had attacked him. 

“ HELP ME, PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP” he screamed. Pulling his body weight on the one arm seemingly not broken. He looked up at the tower and I saw his eyes pleading. “ MA’AM PLEASE HELP ME SHE COMING!” pulling himself inch by inch. I lifted my head and set my rifle on the table as I watched. Then, there she was, Rope in hand. The little girl, stomping up to the young man, walked on his back, sat down and wrapped the rope around his neck. She pulled back, holding his head down with her small foot in black saddle shoes. He weathered and wiggled but there was no use, within seconds his life was gone. Satisfied with her efforts the girl got up, looked up at me, and gave me that sick smile again. She grabbed him by the foot and dragged him back to the riverside. 

You see, Rebecca and I have an agreement. One month, each season, she gets to pick her family. She follows them closely. Sometimes she will play with the children, sometimes they don’t even see her till it’s already too late. But, she doesn't allow anyone else into the forest. If there is anything, a kidnapping,  a serial killer, or some teens having too much fun in the bush, she will alert me. She gets to have her fun, and I keep a clean forest, besides the few that appear in other sections. 

After all, what are sisters for? 

#horror #writing #june challenge #suspense #children #nature core #short fiction #short story #thriller

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

Took me five million years, but I finished it!

#i started this back in June OTL #the vampire dies in no time #kyuuketsuki sugu shinu #kyuushi #tvdint #vampdies #draluc #ronaldo tvdint #ronaldo kyuushi #hinaichi #tou handa #hiyoshi #ydan ojisan #northdin #draus #tinydraws #color wheel challenge #I've really been entering my 'i'm gonna take a whole year to finish this one wip' era lately #:) wonder what that's about #sorry i didn't upload the last few characters individually #i feel like i'm losing the thread on some things and uhhhhh i don't know what to do about that !

[ladysternchen]

Betrayed-Again part 1

Prompt #5: Red Herrings. Something a character assumed was true … isn’t.

Panic was still clouding Lúthien’s every thought, even after two days of knowing, and weeks of careful preparation. The thought of Beren, her Beren, captured by that abomination that called himself Sauron and held captive was very neigh unbearable, as was the fear of coming too late to safe him. At least, Lúthien thought, she would not have to do it alone. Daeron would be with her, and that was a tremendous relief. It paid off now that she had not had the heart to tell him that she had long since forgiven him, for he had been so eager to get back into her favours that he had agreed to come despite his misgivings. Part of her felt guilty for that, knowing how much Daeron was loathe to leave Doriath to go on some adventure, an adventure, moreover, with the mission of rescuing the man she loved, inevitably changing their relationship forever, and be sure to earn him his king’s wrath. It was selfish to use Daeron’s love for her for her own ends, she was well aware of it, yet it could not be helped if Beren was to be saved. And if he wasn’t, Lúthien reasoned, Daeron would lose her anyway, for she knew with absolute certainty that she could not survive losing Beren. Her mother’s words still rang through her mind, nothing should seem good nor fair… That was precisely how she herself felt, too. The very idea of life without Beren seemed to take all the warmth from the sun. Funnily enough though, that thought had something very reassuring, for if she felt for Beren the same way her mother felt for her father, then her feelings were beyond any doubt true and not, as her father still was convinced, fleeting as summer in the north. Yes, one day, Beren would die, her mind knew that, but her heart refused to believe it or indeed think about it ere it was inevitable. She would tackle the problem then, in many, many years. Her feet made no sound as she hastened to the little glade where she would meet Daeron, moving swiftly through the woods that had so long been her home and that she now was to leave. Already she saw him standing there, hooded, his head bowed as if in grief, and when she drew nearer, she saw that his shoulders shook in a way that told her only too clearly that he was indeed crying. Pity gripped her heart, but she could not release him from this predicament, she needed him too badly. “Let’s go.” She breathed once she reached him. Slowly he looked up at her, his fair face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, Lúthien. So sorry.” Daeron sobbed. “But I could not let you walk to your death!” “And neither can I.” said a voice behind her. 

#silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion writers' guild #june challenge #secret gate #matryoshka #the tale of beren and lúthien #lúthien tinúviel #daeron #elu thingol #doriath #betrayal #again #chapter five part 1

[topsyturvy-turtely]

june challenge - day 3

[see also: day 1, day 2]

3. patching each other up

"sherlock, will you hold still now?!", john told him for what was the fifth time now.

"i can't work if you keep fidgeting like that!"

and it was true. he was fidgeting. because he had a cut at his throat and now john needed to take care of it. he was very close...

but let's get to the start of this: they were, as they do, chasing after a suspect. this suspect was apparently very skilled because even though sherlock does know some martial arts this person had him under their control in less than ten seconds. one moment sherlock had punched them in the face and before he knew what was happening they held a knife against his throat. sherlock remembered the surprise he felt. not shock or fear (come on! this is sherlock holmes we are talking about!) just genuine surprise.

and john was standing opposite of them, his gun pointing at the suspect, but they just smirked. sherlock had FELT them smirk - their whole body language was telling tales. "you shoot, i cut." they had simply said. and sherlock had seen john clench his jaw. his sweet, good john. there he was completely in a quandary. could he risk it? shooting them? getting sherlock cut? but then he saw john smile. oh, and at the sight of it sherlock felt his heart beating hard. maybe it was the adrenaline running through his veins, as someone was literally holding a knife against his throat, maybe it was the excitement over a oh!-it's-christmas! case, but if he was honest it was probably neither this nor that. it was simply john. because that smile on that ex-army-doctor's face right there? it was the most dangerous thing to see. when captain john watson looks at you like that you better run. and that idiot of a suspect of course didn't know...

there - the slightest nod towards sherlock and the detective stomped at the suspect's foot. at the same time john shot - the bullet missing the suspect's head only by millimeters. they were so shocked they stumbled back. still they cut sherlock's throat slightly.

then they heard the police sirens. and the panicked suspect jumped at john. "woah, where do you think you're goi-"

a quick movement - sherlock hated he hadn't foreseen it - and they had stabbed at john. the doctor gasped and grunted at the pain.

"john! are you alright?"

"yeah, yeah i'm all good", john said clutching his side. when he looked up though, his eyes went big and sherlock could see the worry in them. "jesus, sherlock. your- you are bleeding!"

and now this man, who most likely just casually saved his life yet again today, was standing incredibly close. in fact, he was too close. the detective could feel the warmth that john's body radiated, he could smell the sweat, rain and aftershave that was so much just john. he could see john's neck, chest, the stubbles on his chin. he would give so much to taste him too... he cringed , what a stupid thought. john was straight. and yet... john's right hand was placed on his shoulder and sherlock was painfully aware of john's thumb touching his bare skin. earlier john had unbuttoned sherlock's shirt just a tad and sherlock had wished he could just send all his blood into his feet, but it fought its way where it definitely shouldn't have been. after all john was just being his personal doctor. nothing more. but john's breath on his bare neck, his cold fingers gently touching his chin, to grand him better access... sherlock couldn't HELP but fidgeting. he tried his very best to not look at john, to breathe in flatly through his mouth so he couldn't smell him, to ignore his body's whishes. to hide this horrific, painful, but somewhat way too fascinating attraction towards his flat mate. but it was really hard. so he tapped his leg, knead his hands, tried to pull out of john's grasp when he held his chin. IT WAS TOO MU-

"there." john interrupted sherlock's infinite spiraling thoughts. "all done. wasn't that bad now, was it?", john said - all doctor. and he finally stepped back. sherlock was floated with relief - finally some space to breathe - and the urge to pull john back in and down. to make their lips- no. he needed to stop. things are getting out of hand here.

the detective was just about to get up and escape into the living room - or even better his bedroom - when he saw john taking off his jumper and started unbuttoning his shirt. sherlock was suddenly incapable of moving. and then john was naked from the waist up. just like that. sherlock swallowed. stop, staring! he told himself. he quickly reversed his gaze at the floor. had it always been there? was he flying? he wasn't even on drugs... but he sure as hell didn't feel sober.

"right, i'll leave you at your..."

"actually", john interrupted him. "could you..." the doctor held out sanitizer and cotton rounds. he smiled at him. it was a sweet smile, maybe even a bit shy..?

"you- you want me to..."

john chuckled and scratched the back of his head with the sanitizer. "if you don't mind... you know i just can't really see the wound..."

"oh. right. yes." sherlock said but didn't move. oh, this foolish sentiment!

"well?", john asked again and held out the utensils for sherlock.

sherlock swallowed and stepped closer to john. he took the sanitizer and cotton rounds, knelt down to john's side and started carefully sterilizing john's shallow but long wound. it was in the middle of john's torso, on the side, just high enough for him to not see all of it. to distract himself, sherlock started analyzing everything about the wound. "the wound isn't deep, about 2 millimeters. 12cm long. you've lost some blood, but not to a concerning level. the risk of fatigue is here but improbable, since you're doing pretty well up until..."

he kept talking like this with john humming and nodding every once in a while. when he was finally done and had patched john up, he sat there a bit too long facing john's side. he let out a shaky breath. and could watch goosebumps wander inch by inch up john's body. fascinating.

"done now?", john asked. his voice sounded kind, almost soft. sherlock hated loving every little detail about this man. quickly he stood. "yeah all done now. looking as good as ever."

looking hot. damnit, john. put a shirt on now!

john raised his eyebrows and grabbed his shirt. he slowly buttoned it up and looked straight at sherlock while doing so. sherlock followed john's hand movements with his eyes. then saw john staring at him and stared right back.

the taller man cleared his throat. "right, uh... dinner?"

john looked him up and down, locked eyes with him once again and said: "starving".

john fastened his last button, winked, and finally walked out of the bathroom.

and sherlock weakly sat down on the edge of the bathtub. he exhaled deeply and tried to get his shaking body under control before he went back out to face this force of a man once again. john would be the death of him.

---

is it 3:30 am? yes it is. am i slowly realizing doing this challenge with the horrible time management of mine is probably a bit not good? yes i am. am i gonna stop? definitely not! (am i hungry? yes i am. are 3:33 am questions kind of unnecessary? yes they absolutely are. turtely will you shut up now? fine i will.)

tagging!!! (please tell me if you wanna be added/removed): @catlock-holmes @helloliriels @justanobsessedpan @boredsushi @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown thank you for reading y'all! 💚💚💚

#june challenge #turtely's june challenge #what am i doing #i need to get up in 4 hours #yes the suspect is non-binary #cheeses and bananas #look at this poor man #PiNiNg #over john #and john is such a #fucking tease! #cheeses crispies #(yes i do make up this silly exclamations myself) #i almost feel bad for him #almost #mostly i'm like #😈 #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock x john #johnlock fanfic #johnlock fic #johnlock ficlet #topsyturvy turtely #turtely #turtely writes #my writing

[elizababie]

J-J-J-J-June Day 02: Coffee

Hitting this prompt a second time bc I have zero self control and got in my feelings lmao

Jowan Vahara. Jowan (dragon age). I gently angst myself into oblivion.

This one got a playlist bc I have zero self control

Thank you so much to @cecilebutcher for the prompts!

A day in Jowan's half-life: Morning.

Eyes open. Do not think about the dreams. Do not think about the days left behind. Do not think about the day to come.

Jowan takes a breath (one-two-three). He listens to the early morning breathing that chokes the dormitory around him (three-two one). He doesn't want to be awake—Right now? In general? Don't think about it don't think about it don't think—but no more sleep is going to come.

Jowan closes his eyes tight. Jowan opens them again, resigned. He has to learn when to cut his losses before he is taught. Tranquility would, will—

Do not think about that.

Jowan doesn't think about it. He rolls over and greets his reflection.

"Another sleepless night, Jowan?" Jowan asks.

The mage in the cot beside Jowan's shows his teeth. Jowan knows him well enough by now to recognize the gesture: a smile. It's a crude approximation, it is cruel and wild and cold and all he was ever taught to give. The Vahara Dalish, from the stories that Jowan's it-is-a-mistake-to-consider-me-a-friend has shared with him, are all like this. They are teeth and claws. Bark and bite.

Jowan Vahara does not speak of the clan he left behind often, but he doesn't need to. He is living proof of the keen-edged kindness grown in the Vahara clan, after all he's here. fed to the wolves by his own.

Vahara sighs. It's a sharp sound because everything about him is sharp. "Speak for yourself, Jowan," he says.

It's a tired game, one that the two of them have been playing for far too long, but the two of them share a name and a cage and years upon years of history. The classics are all they have left, but that's fine. Nothing much will matter for—

Don't think about that.

"So, Vahara—"

Vahara says, "Do not call me that."

"Apologies. So, Keeper—"

"Far be it from me to correct you, but if you'll remember I never quite attained that particular accolade before being left to a fate akin to death but twice as demeaning." Vahara sits up straight. He meets Jowan's eyes. "But I cut you off. What's on your mind, abomination?"

Jowan flinches. He hears Vahara's words in his mother's voice and it makes him think about the dreams—

Do not think about the dreams.

Vahara leans his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. He's not going to apologize at all elsewise Jowan would apologize first. It's a relief that neither of them bother. Apologies have never had any space between the two of them, why start wasting breath now?

Jowan says, "Fair play."

Vahara runs his hands through his hair. He looks like all of them: his pale skin is drained of color and starving for the sun, his eyes are shadowed, his long, dark curls are tangled from fitful sleep. He looks like none of them: Vahara is healthy and whole, even freshly sprouted from his Harrowing he smolders with quiet ambition.

"Little about life is fair," Vahara says. "You should be angry."

"Angry?"

"Angry. You should be furious. To watch apprentice after apprentice conquer their Harrowing all while remaining stagnant yourself... You should have strangled me in my sleep. That's what I'd have done, in your position."

"Doubt I'd have gotten very far," Jowan mutters. Vahara looks lanky and frail and likely to break under the pressures the Circle places on their shoulders, but Jowan sees Vahara for what he truly is.

Teeth. Claws. Bark. Bite, bite, bite.

"Always underestimating yourself. Weakness will not be tolerated, Jowan." A shadow crosses Vahara's face. Those words belong to old stories that Jowan has heard, they haunt old scars that Jowan has seen. Vahara smiles. That expression is never more of a weapon than when it is wrapped around words that belonged to his clan. "You could have whatever you want, all you have to do is take it."

"That's easy for you to say." Jowan sits up now too. Their knees nearly touch. The knowledge of Vahara's Harrowing hangs thick in the air around them. Jowan does not think about that or tranquility or the sharp scent of blood.

Vahara shakes his head, another sharp movement from a razor-sharp man. "Do you think so?"

Jowan thinks about his mother's eyes, about the hatred and fear in them. Jowan thinks about his father's hands, about the bruises they left on Jowan's small wrists the day he was dragged off to this mausoleum. Jowan thinks about the blood on Vahara's mouth and under his nails and soaked into that long, long hair of his the day he was fitted for his chains.

They were younger then, both so tiny and so fragile. Vahara came after Jowan and now he, too, has seen his Harrowing before him. Vahara came after Jowan and will see many more days and days and days after Jowan is—

Don't think about that.

"It's not a question of easy or difficult," Vahara says. After that first day he learned the system and worked it. He got himself into Irving's good graces. He endeared himself to the Templars he could and picked at thread after thread until he'd thoroughly unnerved the ones that he couldn't. After he cleaned the blood off of himself way back at the beginning of their half-lives Vahara kept himself that way. Healthy. Whole. Untouched and untouchable. "It's a question of will and won't. Will you survive, Jowan?"

Vahara leans close, close, close.

Jowan knows what decision Vahara made. It's written in the blood that the Templars do not spill and the bloodthirst that boils deep in his eyes.

Vahara stands. He stretches. He turns to leave. "You should think on that, Jowan. The time to decide is long past, and when the Knight-Commander comes knocking, you'd do well not to be left wanting.

A day in Jowan's half-life: afternoon.

Eyes open. Think about what you want. Think about what you will do to get it. Do you want to survive, Jowan? Think about blood and blood and blood.

Think about it.

One day, Jowan could wake up after eight hours of sleep. They'll be blissful and unburdened, they'll come easily and dissipate restfully. He'll wake up beside Lily in a room of their own, a life of thier own. He'll boil coffee on the stove and let Lily sleep late. He'll wake her when it's done and They'll drink together on the floor of their bedroom. They'll laugh loudly with no fear for watching eyes or listening ears.

They will be unafraid.

Jowan is never going to be afraid again.

Eyes open. Face the day ahead.

Jowan takes Lily's hand. He looks Vahara in the eyes. "I am going to survive," Jowan says. He tastes fresh coffee. He feels the fire in Vahara's eyes spark up in his own. "Will you help us, Vahara?"

Vahara smiles. It unfurls like a razorblade. It's all teeth. Bite-bite-bite. "Good choice, Jowan."

A day in Jowan's half-life: night.

Jowan's phylactery is destroyed, he bought his future with blood and now it belongs to him. He is free. He is safe. He thanks Vahara with every beat of his heart, he can taste the coffee and lazy summer days he'll share with Lily.

Heavy boots fall on the stone. Greagoir. Irving. Templars and Templars and Templars. Their path is blocked and the coffee is burning and Vahara—

Vahara does not look surprised. Templars and Templars and Templars. Bite and bite and bite.

Knight-Commander Greagoir's eyes glint. His words wrap themselves around Jowan's neck as surely as the hangman's noose; they condemn Jowan to every fate he scratched, clawed, and fought so hard to escape.

Jowan asks, "You won't lose a single night of sleep over this will you, Jowan?"

Vahara smiles. It is a smile. "No, Jowan, I will not."

"We were friends."

"We are friends." Jowan lounges. Catlike. Sanguine. "You know more about me than anyone in this new life of mine."

It's true. It's exactly as true as the fact that Vahara is not a creature that is willing to be known. Any vessel that holds his secrets will one day become disposable. Jowan's foundations are shattered and cracked. He should have known. He should have guessed.

Jowan Vahara is going to survive. No matter the cost, he will save his own skin. He will feed his own to the wolves.

He will always be exactly what he is, nothing more, nothing less.

Jowan looks at his maybe-this-is-what-friendship-is and shows him exactly how much he taught him. Jowan slices open his own palm: blood and blood and blood.

He is going to survive.

The last day in Jowan's half-life: goodbye.

#J-J-J-J-June 2023 #june challenge #Writing #jowan dragon age #dragon age #saved writing