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#I legit wanna write a fic about this

sleepyconfusedpotato · 7 months

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🌹💀 That Time Ghost Almost Risked His Career 💀🌹

On the way to their date, Jade got mugged by three people. They obviously chose the really wrong target. When Ghost got the text message from her, he ran to the hospital to find her.

Masked Version (alternative storyline where he forgot to open the mask maybe? He caught a lot of people's eyes.) 👇

Love me some Protective!Ghost (❁´◡`❁) (and yes that's also his worried face).

I miss drawing Ghost's unmasked face, so I kinda want to draw an expression, and it just pops out of my mind! (Might make a fic out of this 👀 who knows).

Hope you love this sketch! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Support me on Ko-Fi!

#i miss drawing Sam lol #and I miss drawing GhostJade in general omg #I legit wanna write a fic about this #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #charlotte jade le jardin #call of duty oc #original character #ghost x jade #ghost x oc

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lover-of-mine · 6 months

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I keep thinking about another wip (I keep telling myself to not start elaborate stories but they won't stop appearing in my head) that I'm blaming an anon who sent me an ask a while back about Eddie blowing up at Buck for putting himself in danger and my brain is mixing this idea up with another to create a divorced era Buddie thing and they are fighting but there's a call to Chris' school (no children will be harmed in this idea) and shit gets real and I don't wanna start another fic, but I cannot stop thinking about it.

#i just wanna write a scene where people are trying to get Buck to stay back #and he just screams fuck no my kid is in there #like legit i can see this particular scene so clearly #and my brain decided to add that to buddie having a fight the previous shift and eddie switching shifts with someone on b shift #so the call on Chris' school would only have Buck #and yeah #will i write it? probably not #but i am thinking about it #thoughts thoughts thoughts #divorced era? fic

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neirmetes · 1 year

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Alright LMK fandom I have a possibly crack (and niche) fic idea for a reader insert. Specifically sun wukong x reader but I'm a slow burn bitch so it's not gonna seem like that for the better half of it

Here's the pitch:

Wukong finds an old and possibly very dangerous artifact, what it does isn't important since it's literally just a Mcguffin. Funnily enough though, it's also doing part-time as a trophy to a local e-sports event. Mk and the gang have to get the artifact before it falls into the wrong hands. And also because Wukong just might want it a little bit, y'know just to have. For whatever reason they can't just steal it, so they actually have to try and win it.

Not only do they suck at this particular video game (It's probably Valorant or some other fps games) but they also just don't have enough members. (I imagine Tang, Pigsy and Sandy are actually just hopeless, while MK and Mei have at least played some shooters. Wukong really wants that artifact. Red Son can optional be dragged in too) In addition, you have to be a certain rank in-game to even enter the competition.

Finally entering from left stage: the reader, who is a pro gamer

Acquaintances with Mei, Reader does that thing where you pay them to carry you to higher ranked lobbies and get more RR. So Mei calls them up for that exact thing.

This is where we get a proper look into just how bad they are at the game.

MK chose the coolest looking character and stuck to them despite not knowing shit about how to play the character

Red Son can't aim for his life, and can't seem to get a hang of any of the characters

Wukong stuck with the healer character but uses all the heals for himself, completely ignoring the rest of the character's abilities

Mei is admittedly the best out of all of them, going in and killing at least two enemies. However she rushes in without teammates and dies pretty quickly after

Finally, none of them know the callouts because let's be honest videogame callouts is its own language.

All this is admittedly pretty frustrating for the Reader who threatens to leave them. 'I don't care how much you pay me at this point, it isn't worth it'

So while the others frantically explain that 'it's to save the world' and 'it might be dangerous if we don't'. But all the Monkey King has to do is piss them off and out of spite, Reader is gonna coach the hell out of them.

Smash cut to montage time where they slowly work on their skills and figure out how to work as a team (If I stick with Valorant, I could honestly go into detail on what playstyle they would have and how it works as an actual comp) As well as grinding the game to get the needed ranks

Whatever the video game, Reader fills in for support as much as necessary. They seem disgruntled by it the whole time and needs plenty of breathers between games to calm down. because hOW CAN I HEAL YOU WHEN YOU'RE ACTIVELY BEING SHOT

Now, we pause the epic gamer montage for some team bonding. The gang takes a break to do more physical activities! MK and Wukong convince (Mostly MK but Wukong never goes against it) the Reader to try out training with them, Mei thinks it'd be cathartic to let the Reader race. Reader gets to meet the Two dads and Sandy. All around fun stuff outside the godforsaken video-game. We also learn a little bit more about the Reader. (This would be a good time to amp up the romantic shenanigans as well) As much as she can be very mean during the game, they're honest to god very thoughtful and considerate. Though one could note that it technically follows over to their role as the healer/support. Why are they so rude and angry in-game then?

Well I'd tell you but at this point I might as well write the fic as I've went overboard with this post already

#lmk #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #lmk mk #lmk mei #lmk fic #lmk red son #I legit have had this simmering for too long now #I didn't wanna go too in detail about the video game #since I'm not sure just how much overlap Valorant and LMK would have fandomwise #Also as much as would have preferred a gender-neutral reader character #there's a specific plot line that requires them to be fem #reader would be she/they then to reconcile that #The fish writes

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adozentothedawn · 3 months

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Six Sentence Someday

Tagged by @orime-stories thank you!

Despite what it looks like, I am in fact ocasionally still writing, I just tend to word vomit about my current obsession and then never finish it.^^° So yeah, my last game that I finished was Fire Emblem Fates: Conquest and it made me go insane, so have a part of my 1k monologue that I wrote for a potential time travel fix it. It is only 5 sentences because 6 would have been awkward, but if I ever get to it again you'll get a lot more.

"They ordered me to kill you but I couldn't do it. I would have ruined everything because I looked at you and remembered cherry blossoms and warm nights. I remembered off key lullabies and larger hands than mine on my back. I couldn't do it. And I think when you looked at me you knew that."

Gonna tag @adraveins and @stylishanachronism if you have anything you'd like to share.^^

#thanks for tagging me!#i know I don't respond to a lot of tags these days but i promise i see and appreciate all of them #i'm just writing my bachelor's thesis and that takes a lot of my brain power #i am in fact currently procrastinating on that #anyway wanna guess what that scene is?#it's not hard for anyone who's played the game probably tbh most of that monologue right now is just recounting what happened #with a bit of personal perspective #that game is wild in how it fluctuates between legit punching me in the teeth with emotion and being absolute garbage #the idea of that potential fic is that the corrin of all paths is the same #kinda like how some 3h fics work #time travel back to the crux and try again #my excuse is magic dragon bullshit cause no one can stop me #i am ironically also somewhat itching to write an Odin and Camilla ship #cause i have opinions about that #might write a separate post for that some time if anyone's interested #would be another opportunity to procrastinate xD #anyway orime don't be confused about my follow message for some damn reason tumblr unfollowed me a while back and i didn't notice #tumblr shenanigans

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zackmartin · 10 days

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Z THE CONCEPT OF YOU REBOOTING VALIANT KNIGHT LITERALLY HAS ME FROTHING AT THE MOUTH. it literally never left my head i am always thinking about it at least a little bit. literally recently i came up with a concept for how some of my original characters for my spinoff would fit into valiant knight fnsnskdj and so i technically have like a rewrite/sequel concept that includes zenry and jasper/[redacted] fnsmdnkxnsn which included me rereading the chapters i beta'd for you to remember some details and i was like UGH THIS WAS SO GOOD I MISS IT

LASKDJOSKJVMODKMVLDSKJFSOKJFSLDKFJ HELLO?????????? ARE YOU AWARE THAT I'D LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU???? CAUSE I SERIOUSLY WOULD LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU!!!!! BUT AHHHHHHHHHHH

SERIOUSLY THOUGH, THIS IS ONE OF THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENTS I'VE EVER RECEIVED, I'M LEGIT GONNA CRY (affectionate), I'VE BEEN STARING AT THIS ASK FOR LIKE SIX HOURS, LIKE THERE AREN'T ENOUGH WORDS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE TO ARTICULATE HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME

but seriously, like I'm not trying to rag on my writing or anything, but I also know like. I'm not writing anything that's gonna be winning awards anytime soon or anything ground-breaking or anything, but that's never been my goal; and I just say all of that to say that the fact that you're still thinking about something of mine years later and it stuck with you so much that you want to put your own characters into it??????? That's literally so wild to me in the best way, I can't get over it. I'm so serious when I say again that this legit one of the best compliments I've ever received. (Also, if you're willing, I'd very much like to hear about this rewrite/sequel of sorts)

You have me legit thinking about it now. Like I told Pearl in the replies, I feel like my writing is leagues better (i reread stuff from that time period and just cringe now; but to be fair to my past self, she was a novice who was coming back to writing after a 10+ year break so it stands to reason) so I feel like I could do a lot more with it. There's soooo much of that world I want to flesh out that I wasn't skilled enough to do when I first started it. lsakdjf idk man, I might actually do it

#asks #casey tag #i've been wanting to write something fantasy related for SO LONG. I tried to do it with zenry but I could never work it out :/#honestly if you wanna find a way to collab on it I'm 10000% down with that (no pressure ofc)#but I legit feel like the VK is just as much yours as it is mine #like I know I've told you before but you seriously spoiled me when it comes to beta readers #you provided me with such valuable notes and insight that the VK wouldn't have been even *half* of what it is without you #if I do decide to reboot it though. l I decided a long time ago that I'm not posting anymore fics until I have the majority of them done #hence why there hasn't been anything new from me in four years alskdjf #but I just don't want to run into the same problem I did originally with the VK #and now with DoD #where I start it. get stuck or don't have the drive to finish it. and then it gets abandoned #so at least we won't have to worry about me posting 3 chapters and then either not finishing it or going 'fuck it I'm starting over' aslkdj #sorry if this is messy it's late and my brain is fried

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thetomorrowshow · 2 years

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poisoned rats in a pot of grain - ch. 11

Masterlist - Previous - Next

i'm stan and i was wrong

ok so i KNOW i said that last chapter would be the penultimate one but alas. here we are at ch 11/12. I SWEAR NEXT ONE WILL BE THE LAST ONE IF NOT YOU CAN HUNT ME FOR SPORT

cw: food, flashbacks, panic attacks, injury

Jimmy’s not sure what to think when he’s sitting in Major’s car once again, this time without a mask (and Major took his off as well as soon as they got into the car, pulling his hair up into a beanie to hide the blue, but Jimmy tries not to stare too much). It’s been over a year, he realizes, since they were last in these places.

Like last time, the clothes he wears aren’t his—but at this point, they might as well be. An oversized grey hoodie with the drawstrings removed. Blue sweatpants. Socks with the little grippies. A trash bag of similar clothing is in the backseat.

When he met with Major three days ago, he hadn’t expected this. He’d expected yelling, a jail cell with his name on it, thirty-to-life in prison.

Not a home. And a . . . a friend? Can he call Major a friend?

His head hurts. He’ll take a headache any day over that early, sluggish phase of his anxiety medication, though. The phase had left him feeling disconnected from his body, as if he was merely an observer from above. He didn’t like that. At least he can fully process everything going on right now.

Major turns on the radio and Jimmy practically jumps out of his skin when some country-pop song starts blaring from the speakers. Major turns it down with a muttered apology, then the car jolts back and they’re moving.

Jimmy runs his hands along the seatbelt, grounding himself bit by bit. The car starting to move had felt a little too much like a van pulling out of a garage, but not so similar that Jimmy felt anything more than a deep sense of dread. He breathes in, holds it for a moment, then lets it out. He’s safe. He’s with Major, and Major took care of him that one time so long ago when he’d tried to escape and had been such a bad pet—

In. Hold. Out. He’s safe. His fingers tap along the seatbelt. In his lap is a nice, new journal, and a pack of unopened markers. Josh had given them to him this morning after their last session. If his thoughts get too loud, he can crack open the journal and put some of them out of his head.

Major might think he’s weird. Barely ten minutes out of the mental hospital, and he already can’t handle himself. But Josh would tell him he’s had a very traumatic past year (and life), and that it’s okay to use coping mechanisms in public.

“Still want to stop at McDonald’s?” Major asks over the low music, and Jimmy can’t help that his eyes jump to his face.

Not that Jimmy’s seen very many unmasked heroes, but those he has seen he’s always been slightly disappointed with. Major is entirely different. Major is. . . .

Well.

Without even looking in the side mirror, Jimmy knows he’s turning a bit red. He hasn’t had any viable romantic candidates in a year, who can blame him? Major’s pretty, that’s it. It’s just—it’s a natural reaction to get flustered in the presence of a hot person. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I was gonna stop and get myself a chicken sandwich anyway, so it’s not like it’s out of the way. Anything you’ve been craving?”

He’s not sure how he can repay Major. His apartment and all of his belongings are likely gone, along with his money. But Major’s offering, and it seems safe to accept. . . .

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He wants to tell Major that just a hamburger is fine, that he is hungry, that he’s been craving fast food, but he can’t. He stares determinedly at the dashboard, willing his voice to work. His entire body is run through with tension, waiting . . . waiting for some undefinable other shoe to drop.

He hates it.

Major doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of response, just whistles a little to himself as he pulls into a McDonald’s drivethru. He grimaces at the line. It’s early afternoon, Jimmy realizes with a glance at the clock display. Lunch rush.

Lunch rushes are things. He forgot about that. There’s so many cars and people here. Jimmy shifts uncomfortably, slumps down a bit in his seat. That’s a lot of people seeing his face. He doesn’t like that. He really doesn’t like that. And he’s in the passenger seat, which means that he’s on the outside of the drivethru line and the front windows of a car are never tinted as darkly as the back ones and just anyone could look in and see him—

What can you do to fix this? Josh seems to ask in his head. What’s a simple thing that will help calm you down?

He can cover his face. His shirt? It’ll look a little silly, but not too bad. He glances over at Major, sees him idly looking out the window while tapping his hands on the steering wheel. Jimmy pulls the collar of his hoodie up until it covers his nose, hoping to quell the jitters in his stomach.

It helps tremendously and he lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Major does happen to look over, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“I’ll order me a chicken sandwich, and you a burger, and both of us fries. Sound good?”

That’s . . . oddly considerate, isn’t it? Jimmy nods, looks over to meet Major’s eyes, sending him what he hopes is a sufficient smile with his mouth covered. Major apparently understands and smiles back.

“Right. That’ll come with ketchup, onions, and pickles, I think. Is that all good?”

It sounds fine, so Jimmy nods again, and soon enough there’s a burger and fries in his lap and a cup of water in his hand and he’s not entirely sure where to put it or whether he can eat in Major’s car. Major has pulled back onto the road, his own sandwich unwrapped and held in one hand, so Jimmy assumes it’s okay and sets the water between his knees before unwrapping his burger.

“My name’s Scott, by the way,” Major says between bites, and Jimmy, burger halfway to his mouth, freezes. Does Major expect him to say his own name, now? Because words aren’t exactly his strong suit right now.

As if he can read Jimmy’s mind, Major continues, “And I know that at the hospital, they were calling you TJ for some reason? But I . . . I know your real name, I think. Do you want me to call you your real name?”

He’s not sure why Major—or, Scott—would know his real name, but after taking stock of himself, he realizes that he actually wouldn’t mind being Jimmy. No secret identities, nothing misconstrued about his role. Just Jimmy.

It’s dangerous, he knows. But his name is his and his to give out where he wants to, and he wants to be called his name for once. Before his nerves can get the better of him, he nods.

Scott’s smiling a little when he speaks. “Okay. Hi, Jimmy. It’s nice to properly meet you.”

Jimmy makes it about thirty minutes in Major’s house before having a panic attack.

Josh had told him that even with his medication, the sudden change of environments would probably trigger emotional distress. So Jimmy’s sort of expecting something to go down—and down it goes, while he’s sitting in the middle of a bedroom that is so familiar it almost hurts to look at. It’s the same room he’d woken in that one time so long ago. He hadn’t thought he would remember it very well. Now that he’s here, though, he remembers everything about it, down to the color of the carpet, and it’s far too much to cope with.

His clothes are still in the trash bag, his new journal on the bed. There’s a desk in the corner, chair pushed up into it. He’s not sure what to do with that. One side of the room has both a closet and a set of drawers, which is somehow both thoughtful and utterly overwhelming because Jimmy only has three shirts and two pairs of sweatpants, one of which is reserved for sleep.

But what really sends him spiraling is the brand new phone in his hand, already unlocked and set up with Major—labeled Scott—as the only contact.

He doesn’t know what to do. There’s an app on the phone that leads to the internet, and Jimmy hasn’t been connected to this form of the outside world in months.

There’s a new phone in his hand. There’s a charging cable already plugged into the wall.

There’s an outlet in the wall that’s never going to blow out when he plugs his phone in. A phone that won’t spontaneously catch fire. A messaging app that won’t glitch out and send highly inappropriate texts to his contacts.

His tears aren’t of joy, like he’d expected. He’s not happy. He cries because everything is wrong, everything’s changed and it’s so very hard to cope with change after days—after years—of maintaining a routine.

So once Jimmy’s done hyperventilating over all the things that are new, once he’s done bawling about how nothing makes sense, he curls up in the corner of the room against the bedframe and stares at the wall until Major—Scott—calls his name. Then he rises, shoves the phone into his hoodie pocket, and leaves to join the superhero for dinner.

Scott really wants Jimmy to leave his room more often, and he’s not even subtle about it.

And sure, maybe lying on the floor staring at the wall for hours at a time isn’t the best thing, especially when he occasionally misses his medication because of just how deep he’s sunken into that mindset. Scott had laid down a ground rule of eating at least one meal a day together, and some days that’s the only time Jimmy can manage to drag himself up to face the world outside his bedroom.

It’s not that he’s not eating—he’s certainly not very good at eating, but whenever he has the strength to to slip out of his room and fix himself some lunch or breakfast, he grabs a couple of non-perishables and stocks them away in the set of drawers. If Major notices, he doesn’t say anything. And when Jimmy’s stuck in the recesses of his own mind, he’s always got a sleeve of crackers or a can of soup to keep his strength up. It’s certainly more than he’d eaten before.

About two weeks in, he has his first therapy session with Nora, who is a very nice woman but frowns when he mentions that staying in his room just feels safer. He knows what’s going to happen while he’s there. He knows that everything there, while new and disconcerting, is more familiar than anywhere else (including this downtown office, so far away, with the stiff sofa and the sequined pillows) and therefore more tolerable.

He doesn’t mention that while he’s in his room, his mind slips into a deadened state where all he can do is stare at the wall and hope that no one will come to hurt him.

He does mention that every time Scott knocks on the door, he immediately shoots to his knees and bows his head, months of conditioning refusing to relinquish its grasp.

Nora suggests two things: one, leave the room more often. Spend time in other parts of the house, engage in leaving the house maybe once a week. Jimmy doesn’t like that suggestion at all—it sounds terrifying and like a recipe for disaster.

Her second suggestion is to leave the door to his bedroom open, and really, why hadn’t Jimmy thought of that?

It makes perfect sense. He can’t be taken by surprise when Major knocks if there’s no need to knock. So even though it’s nerve-wracking and possibly one of the hardest things he’s ever done (anyone could see him, anyone could come in and hurt him), Jimmy starts leaving the door wide open.

And then he’s embarrassed about the way he occupies himself in his room, so he starts holding on to his phone while he stares at the wall, a video pulled up and ready to play in case Scott passes the doorway.

And then he just starts actually watching the video pulled up.

He still doesn’t have a reason to regularly leave the room, but he starts watching a long series of videos purely by accident and ends up getting sucked into the series, taking more and more time out of his staring-at-the-wall time and redistributing it to other things. It’s almost like just engaging with the content of the series gives him energy to do more.

And by some happenstance, Scott mentions that he has a home gym over dinner one night.

Jimmy’s never been able to properly work out. He used to go running, and he picked up more than a few hand-to-hand fight tricks in his time both as a hero and a villain, but an actual gym he’d deemed too dangerous for his spontaneous volatility. And suddenly, with his powers no longer as random as they had once been, he has the freedom to do whatever he wants. Somehow, he hadn’t already put that together.

It’s a little overwhelming, if he’s honest. When he mentions it in passing to Scott (as casually as he can, though he spent days building up to it and he’s inwardly shaking in terror), Scott only looks sad for a moment before offering to start small—use the home gym for as much physical activity as he’s cleared for, try to spend more time out of his room each week. It’s just like what Nora recommended, and while Scott isn't a certified counselor, he is probably the smartest person Jimmy knows.

He’s also the kindest person Jimmy knows—he doesn’t know too many people, to be fair (his social circle consists of his conservator and his therapist and that’s it), but that doesn’t mean that Scott isn’t the first person to seem to genuinely like him in . . . well, forever. Jimmy knows, after several weeks of nothing but patience and encouragement and reassurances that there isn’t another shoe about to drop, that Scott only has his best interests in mind. He trusts him on this.

So he starts working out. He starts joining Scott for movie nights. He starts helping out with chores here and there, and that’s perhaps the most surprising thing—Jimmy finds he likes doing chores. He feels like he’s actually helping out, repaying Scott’s hospitality in little ways—and it reminds him of the time Before, when he and Lizzie would clean the bathroom together or switch out the laundry. It ain’t much, but it’s honest work, and he hasn’t had the opportunity to do anything like it in years.

He has panic attacks, of course. He has flashbacks. One morning he lies in bed, too terrified to move because he’s back on that table and faceless scientists are operating on him and Xornoth has a gloved hand in his hair.

He can feel Scott’s touch on his arm, he can hear what he’s saying, but all he can do is whimper when Xornoth demands, “Eyes on me, little bird.”

“Jimmy, can you look at me?”

He can’t, he really can’t, because Xornoth just told him where to look and he can’t disobey his master’s orders.

Scott’s thumb is making circles on his wrist, and Scott himself is saying things like “Wake up, please” and “It’s just a nightmare, you’re okay, you’re safe”.

Scott’s never lied to him before.

So despite the threat of Xornoth right in front of him, the next time Scott asks Jimmy to look at him, Jimmy opens his eyes and sees Scott and not Xornoth.

And though he can still feel the IV in his arm, the touch of too many rubber gloves and a too-familiar hand carding through his hair, Jimmy knows it’s not real.

Scott holds out his hand, and with a herculean effort, Jimmy takes it.

Scott smiles, and it’s enough to break the flashback’s hold completely.

Jimmy, haltingly, smiles back.

It’s after that flashback that Jimmy knows he can trust Scott. That had been one he wouldn’t have been able to break out of by himself, one that would have swallowed his voice for days. Scott had interrupted it before it had really ascertained its hold on him.

Sure, he’d trusted Scott before. He’s trusted Scott for a long time—ever since he first put his life into Scott’s hands. But this is different. It’s like an entirely different type of trust, because Jimmy now trusts Scott as not just a caretaker, but as . . . as a friend.

He knows for certain now that Scott isn’t taking care of him out of some moral obligation. Scott genuinely cares about him. He’d suspected, of course, but he hadn’t been able to know for sure.

Jimmy finds himself shy for the rest of the day, avoiding eye contact and speaking nary a word. The dynamic has changed, somehow, and he’s pretty sure it’s in a good way.

Even good change, however, is change, and he’s exhausted and anxious about anything that might go wrong. He goes to bed early, finds comfort in the security of laying on the floor and staring at the wall until he drifts off.

Jimmy ventures out into the world again for the first time five weeks into his stay with Scott.

It’s not a long trip, nor a dangerous one, but Scott drives him down to a city park and they walk together, Jimmy with a medical-style face mask on and Scott with his bright blue hair tucked into a beanie.

They bring vegetable peelings and scraps to throw at ducks—which is confusing to Jimmy, but Scott had said something about bread being unhealthy for them which is whatever—and on a bridge, over the duck pond, they talk.

Scott starts. Scott talks about college, about his friends, about how he became a superhero—and with that, his misadventures in dating.

“Wait, you dated a villain?” Jimmy asks incredulously. “And you almost joined him?”

“I was a stupid college kid,” Scott defends, though he’s laughing. “I made dumb choices back then.”

“Oh, and you never make any these days.”

“Exactly,” Scott declares pompously. “I’m known for my impeccable decision-making skills.”

Jimmy chucks a potato peel into the water, watches the ducks and turtles fight over it. “Was it a good decision when you let me into your house last year?”

Scott goes silent, looks down. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, fiddling with the railing. “One of my best ones.”

Jimmy blushes. Not quite what he’d been expecting, but he’s not going to say no to a bit of a confidence boost. “Really?” he asks quietly.

Scott doesn’t answer, though. “Was that really where you lived?” he changes the subject. “Where I dropped you off that one time? Because . . . well, after you went missing . . . again . . . I—I kind of went looking for you. And the landlord of the building I dropped you off at didn’t recognize the description I gave.”

“Oh, no. I had you drop me off a few streets away, I think,” Jimmy replies, casting his mind back. A lot of his memories from then—the brief period between captivities—are fairly blurred and unstable. “But yeah. I lived in that neighborhood. Nothing special, I know.”

It hadn’t been anything special. It never had been, not as long as he’d lived on his own.

“I sort of thought you had a decent bit of money,” admits Scott, tossing a scrap to the ducks. “I mean, you were always robbing banks and rich citizens.”

Jimmy scoffs. “Okay, firstly, I have zero credit score. There was no way I could get anywhere nicer than the shadiest of apartments without getting arrested for having suspicious amounts of physical money. Secondly, I lost a lot of that money. And third of all, most of the time stealing from actual people was an accident—I usually just shoplifted from Walmart or whatever.”

It’s quiet between them, then, and Jimmy stares out over the pond, sees turtles lined up on a log a little ways out. He turns to ask Scott if he thinks he can throw far enough to get food to those turtles, only to find Scott staring at him, slackjawed.

“Wh-what is it?” Jimmy asks nervously. Scott blinks several times, straightens.

“I—lost how? And what do you mean, stealing on accident? That was—that was an insane amount of money that you took, what happened to it all?”

Before Jimmy can answer, Scott continues. “Lost, like—like you blew it all at a casino? Or—”

“Gosh, no!” Jimmy bursts out incredulously. “Me? In a casino? Are you joking?”

Scott has the decency to look embarrassed, at least, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I—all right, then, how?”

“I . . . I just lost it.” Jimmy shrugs, flicks a piece of carrot into the water. “Depends, really. Once on the pier my wallet fell out of my pocket and rolled into the ocean, where a fish swallowed it. Once I dropped it all down a drain. One time a roll of bills caught fire in my hands.”

“No way.”

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, fingers rolling over the scar there. “Yeah. It never worked out for me. I think I mostly just kept doing it because . . . I guess I wanted someone to stop me.”

Scott doesn’t respond for a long while. When he does, his voice is quiet. “I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed.”

“That wasn’t your responsibility. We were enemies, Scott.”

They stand there in silence a minute more, then Scott hands Jimmy what’s left of the bag of scraps, and Jimmy upends it, shaking about half a bag’s worth of vegetable peelings into the water. Ignoring the frenzy below, he and Scott set off for home—which Jimmy is privately grateful for. He didn’t want to say anything, but he’s been growing more and more anxious that even with the medical mask, someone would recognize him.

“So,” Scott says once they’re back on the proper trail, heading in the direction of the parking lot. “Stealing from rich people on accident?”

Jimmy groans, but he’s smiling. He really, really likes this. He likes the way Scott talks to him, like an equal, not like something delicate that could break at any moment. He likes the way he teases. He likes hanging out with him.

“Look, what you have to understand first is that most of the time, I had no clue what I was doing, I was just trying to not hurt anyone. Got that?”

“You disabled the alarms on Joey Graceffa’s house before sneaking in, Jimmy. We have camera footage of it. You’re telling me that was an accident?”

“Entirely.”

Scott had asked him, back in his first week here, when he would be feeling up to meeting with Lizzie.

Apparently that day is today, around two months into his stay at Scott’s house. He’s anxious—too anxious to be in his room all morning, instead sitting around in the kitchen or the living room and just generally getting in Scott’s way. The man has become his main source of comfort and is probably the only person he truly trusts in the world—even Nora doesn’t see him at his worst, those moments only for Scott.

Scott had taken the day off without even asking Jimmy if he wanted that, which warms his heart every time he remembers it. Scott curls up on the couch and puts on a commentary video to watch, which Jimmy can’t help but become absorbed in. He doesn’t even know the movie the commentator is reviewing, but it seems terrible and the commentator is witty. It doesn’t put his anxiety to rest, but he manages to become distracted right up until Scott checks his phone and lets him know that Lizzie is on her way.

Then he runs, bolting from the couch to his room in a matter of seconds. He hides behind his bed, trying to breathe. In, hold, out. His hands are shaking. His entire body is shaking. This isn’t good. He doesn’t feel good.

Long minutes pass. His ribs hurt. His ribs burn. One of them is broken, it’s surely broken, it was kicked in and snapped he can feel it—

His scrabbling hands pull up his new blue sweater (he’d tried to dress nice for seeing his sister again) and he prods at his side. Nothing. It’s normal.

Flashback. Okay. He’s fine. Somehow, over his panicked not-breathing, he hears the front door open. That was—okay. Perfect. He loves that for himself. He’d expected maybe twenty minutes of time to calm himself in his room, maybe longer, but apparently his bad luck was still in effect even when it literally couldn’t be.

Another few minutes before there’s a soft knock on his door.

“Jimmy? Can I come in?”

Jimmy can’t quite make his voice work (please not today, not when he actually has to talk), so he shifts around until he can extract his phone from his back pocket and texts Scott an answer in the affirmative.

A moment later, his door creaks open. “Jimmy? Are you—hey, there.”

Jimmy looks up through watery eyes (when did he start crying?) to see Scott kneeling beside him. Scott doesn’t say anything at first, just settles in against the bed and holds out a hand.

Jimmy takes it.

Despite himself, he feels his heart jump.

Scott sits there with him for a few moments, then says quietly, “It’s okay if you can’t meet with her today. Do you want me to tell her to come by a different time?”

And Jimmy feels a wave of gratitude and affection for Scott utterly overwhelm him, because in the past decade, nobody has ever shown this level of kindness toward him. Few people have seen him as anything good or deserving of love, and here Scott is, holding his hand and offering to change everything out of nothing but the kindness of his heart.

Just knowing that Scott is here, and that Scott is Scott, Jimmy feels okay with what he has to do. Not great, but at least capable.

After all, how bad can it be compared to living as a pet for literal months, abused at every turn to the point of barely even knowing his own name? Talking to his long-lost sister about how he killed their loving parents is going to be a walk in the park.

“My life sucks,” Jimmy realizes aloud. He lets out a bark of laughter. “Gosh, it really just has sucked, hasn’t it?”

“I . . . Jimmy, I’m. . . .”

“It’s fine. Really,” Jimmy adds, when Scott raises a brow. “I just can’t think of anything good that’s happened to me in the past decade, up until—” he cuts himself off, heat spreading to his cheeks. “Anyways. Don’t—don’t send Lizzie away. I can talk to her. I just . . . freaked out.”

With Scott’s help he stands, and with Scott’s hand still in his he finds the strength to walk (his bad hip twinges, but he’s not sure if it’s actually acting up or if the pain lingers from the brief flashback) into the nice living room.

Lizzie’s sitting there. Maskless. Street clothes.

Her fingers tap-tap-tap against her knee. Jimmy knows that feeling. That anxiety, but nowhere to run. Holding it in because there’s no other option. Staying quiet and complacent because if your master thinks for even a second that you’re moving without permission, they’ll punish you terribly and brutally.

He’s working on that.

Lizzie looks up when he enters, smiles cautiously.

Jimmy doesn’t think he can be blamed when all of his words of apology die in his throat and all he can think about is how much he missed her.

Something tips her off. He’s not sure what. But she stands, spreads her arms, asks the question quietly.

“Is it all right if I hug you?”

Jimmy throws himself into his sister’s arms and sobs.

Jimmy’s been living in Scott’s house for nine weeks and two days (not that he’s counting) when the man hugs him.

It’s a shock, one that sends him reeling and grasping for any reference on how to work with this. He hasn’t been hugged since . . . he hasn’t been hugged . . . in years, probably, because even before everything he’d been a fairly solitary individual. He doesn’t think he’s been hugged on a regular basis since childhood.

If Scott is a hugger, that’s probably going to change relatively shortly.

Scott pulls away quickly, likely put off by the way Jimmy freezes (because of course he can’t respond to things like a normal person, he’s a pet he acts like a pet), and holds him at arm’s length, face cycling through all sorts of feelings.

“Sorry, I really—I should’ve asked, we ought to make a list of—”

Jimmy gently deattaches his arms from Scott’s loose grip, then tries for a hug of his own. It’s awkward, and stiff, and he thinks he put his arms in the wrong place but Scott—

Scott doesn’t mind, just gasps slightly and relaxes into Jimmy’s hold, hums softly. And even though he knows he’s doing it wrong, he can’t help but feel this is unequivocally right.

Uh-oh.

Very suddenly, Jimmy’s life is shifting from a depressing series of torturous events to a romcom. Because out of nowhere, he has a crush on—on Major.

It’s so sudden that his vision seems to tilt, from this way to that, in a dizzying sequence that leaves him feeling rather ill. He barely has to wonder why Scott’s become an object of his attraction. It’s barely been more than two months and he’s already done a million incredible things.

Three days in, he’d gone over Jimmy’s medications with him and asked about allergies and favorite foods and the like, obviously trying to make Jimmy’s time here as pleasant as possible.

Whenever Jimmy expresses that he likes a food, Scott writes it down. There’s now a list in Scott’s list notebook (he makes lists so often that’s all Jimmy can think to refer to it as) with all of Jimmy’s favorite meals.

Jimmy had mentioned offhand that he went to a trampoline park once as a kid and had missed it ever since, and Scott had gone out of his way to look one up and offer to go, eyes bright.

Scott leaves the doors open ever since he noticed Jimmy doing it.

He never complains about Jimmy’s frequent panic attacks.

He’s seen Jimmy at his lowest, and continues to care about him.

Not to mention, his cyan hair is gelled up into the loveliest little curls, his eyes are a prettier blue than the noon sky, the dimple in his left cheek is placed just perfectly to offset his brilliant smile. His arms are strong and chiseled, as Jimmy’s noticed on one or two sleeveless occasions, and the one time he’d seen Scott with just a towel wrapped around his waist his mouth had actually gone dry.

How had he not noticed before now? It’s fairly obvious, in hindsight.

“We should make a list of what physical touch we’re okay with,” Scott tells him as he pulls away, and Jimmy only closes his mouth and nods and tries furiously not to blush.

He can’t have a romantic relationship right now. He’s not even interested in one. He’s trying his best every day to remember that he can even be a human, let alone a boyfriend.

He shouldn’t. But gods above, he wants to try.

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plaidpyjamas · 1 year

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you know how sometimes on tumblr you'll just be minding your own business, blogging like a little gremlin, and then out of nowhere a celebrity will reblog your thirst post and basically jumpscare you?

ok so imagine you've made a thirst post about one of the Avengers bucky, only for that specific avenger to reblog your post with a tag like nice or thanks or something idk I just feel like that would be a fun fic idea so I'm throwing it out into the world somebody write it PLEASE

#bucky x reader #mcu x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #mcu x you #this came about because I realized Steve and Bucky would probably have very similar humor to tumblr #and I was imagining what it would be like to have one of them randomly interact with you on here #like when I stumbled across Doug Jones on here #got jumpscared cause I legit forgot celebrities are just...here...sometimes #anyway anyone can write whatever they want with this idea #i just wanna be tagged!!!!#I wanna read it!!!!#fic ideas #fic request

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touyaz · 1 year

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I feel like if you're gonna request a fic from someone then like the least you could do is give the writer a little compliment too. Even a simple 'i like your writing'/'i just read (fic) and it was amazing!' is better than nothing. It truly isn't that hard.

#like i dont think writers are owed anything but if you're gonna ask them for something the least you could do is be nice to them about it #bc legit if someone came to me like 'hey winter i loveddd that fic u just posted. would you ever wanna write xyz👀' i would genuinely #consider it/try writing it if i had the time #like mannn kiss my ass a little 😭 make it worth my time or leaveee😭😭#winplain

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the-kipsabian · 11 months

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ive actually been thinking about writing and my wips today

i think im gonna focus on immortal fears next. its been a month since the last chapter, so i gotta get it back on track. especially now that i got a few new ideas, with kris being back and all, i cant wait to officially write her into things as well for yet another different perspective of things ~

also im gonna start working on the requests next week. im finally confident about one of them (i have an idea and i think im ready to try to write some new characters) so hopefully that'll open me up to working on more. planning on reopening requests at 25 followers (@ @underratedandoverit), so hopefully by then i have finished the few i have so far and can start afresh with new ones if ppl wanna send anything in

so yeah. writing 💜

#writing is just legit the one thing keeping me happy and somewhat sane right now. its a good outlet for me and my emotions #oh and i also have an ace!oc fic i need to heavily edit and post so that'll probably be a project for next week #and no i havent forgotten about the chris/drew caretaking fic either. again #when i have time. i dont wanna overwhelm myself with the one thing keeping me afloat rn #but yeah thats about that just thought i'd barf these thoughts out now that i have them before i go to bed #night is an absolute mess on main

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joshs-big-toe · 4 months

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I triple dog dare you to write Josh futterman getting caught jerking off to a pic of y/n!!!!

Heyyy bbg I am SOOOO sorry this took me so long to get to this request, I have been dealing with final exams and tbh mental health? Down the drain lmao. I do have a fic similar to this, so if you want to read that one it is linked HERE!! I am still going to write a similar concept, however, I will change it up a little bit! I hope that you still enjoy it!

cw: smut, male masturbation, female masturbation, fluff

word count: 1,445

Being around Josh Futturman is this strange mix of contradictions that you can't quite wrap your head around. On one hand, he's this total loser, but you can't help but be infatuated with him. It's like he's the king of awkward, yet there's this undeniable charisma that draws you in. And then there's the whole "Biotic Wars" thing – he's legit addicted to that game. You can't help but roll your eyes when he starts rambling about how close he was to beating the game, but there's something oddly cute about his enthusiasm. Lately, though, there's this other layer to your friendship that you can't shake off – a subtle flutter in your chest when he laughs or those lingering looks that neither of you acknowledges. You knew you were far gone when it came to Josh, but you also knew you refused to risk your friendship with him, so you kept silent.

-------------------

Your shift came to a close and you started gathering your things when the buzzing of your phone made you jump. You looked down, seeing Josh’s name on the screen, making you smile. You pick up, greeted by the distant sounds of explosions ad gunfire – the unmistakable sounds of “Biotic Wars.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, y/n, what are you doing?” There was a tiredness in his voice.

“I just got off of work, I’m about to head home. What’s up with you?” You responded, realizing that it was kind of a stupid question.

“Ah, you know, same old. Just killing these biotics left and right. You should join me sometime.” You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Maybe someday, but probably not,” he groans in a mocking way. “You wanna hang out today? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says, clearly distracted. “You can um – ah fuck you! Sorry, not you, I just died.” He laughed. “You can come to my place, that sound alright?” The frantic clicking of buttons started up in the background, accompanied by gunshots and occasional explosions.

“Yeah your place works,” you remark. “What time?” There was a silence from Josh, leaving the sounds of the game in the background. “Josh?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. “How does 6 sound? It gives you a chance to get out of your work clothes and me a chance to go through a few more levels.” Clearly, he was more focused on the game.

“That works, I’ll grab pizza for us. Usual?” He ‘mhmm’s’ in response your question. “Cool, I’ll see you then.” He says a quick goodbye, hanging up quickly after. You sigh, grabbing your bag and keys, making your way to your car to head home.

---------

You looked at your watch, the time reading 5:42. You were typically early. Josh always left his door unlocked whenever he knew you were coming over, so you were able to walk right in. You set your bag and the pizza box on the dining table, looking up the stairs. You couldn’t hear his game playing, however you did hear noises from up the stairs. You walk up the stairs quietly, wanting to sneak up on him. Noticing his door was cracked, you took a peak in. Your breath caught in your through, letting out a soft gasp at what you were greeted with. On his computer monitor, your Instagram was pulled up, a photo of you at the beach on the screen. A heat started pooling in your core with the sight in front of you: Josh was in his gaming chair, jeans around his ankles, quickly stroking his dick. His head was lulled back, eyes half closed and tongue poking out of his mouth slightly. You stayed silent, watching his hand moved up in down in a needy pace, whimpers escaping his throat as he continued. He switched hands, shaking the one he was previously using, making you think he had been at this for a while. You bit your lower lip, your arousal becoming overwhelming. You start to think, there's no harm in touching myself too, right? With that, you quietly sit down on the floor, leaning against his doorframe. You took a look over your shoulder, making sure you did not alert Josh that you were there. You were in the clear. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Carefully, you dip your hand down into your sweatpants, past your underwear and down to your heat. You leaned your head back against the door frame as you grazed your clit, biting on your lip to stifle any noise threatening your lips. Your eyes closed, taking in the whimpers and words coming from Josh as he continued stroking his cock. Your fingers dipped down into your heat, making you sigh. Your mind was completely clouded with the thought of your fingers being replaced by Josh’s, making a heat pool in your lower belly.

“F-fuck, y/n,” you heard Josh whimper out, making you that much closer to your own release. You circled your clit, letting out your own soft moans at this point, unable to contain them with the pleasure you were feeling. You heard Josh’s moans get more erratic as kept going, insinuating that he was close. You sped up your movements, rubbing and fingering your wet heat, finally bringing yourself to your release. You cover your mouth with your free hand, doing your best to stifle your moans, leaning your head back against the door frame and screwing your eyes shut. You sit there for a moment, catching your breath before glancing inside Josh’s room, not seeing him on his gaming chair anymore. You stand up on wobbly legs, composing yourself. You knock on his door, pushing it open.

“Hey Josh, I’m here,” you call out with a shaky voice. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. You looked at his computer, your picture no longer up. Josh was standing at his shelf, now wearing sweatpants. He turned to look at you, a smile making its way onto his face. His cheeks were a light flush of red.

“Hey!” His voice was cheerful as he made his way over to his bed. You go in, sitting next to you. He leaned in to hug you, you immediately hugging back. He moved his head to where his lips were next to your ear. “Did you like what you saw?” His voice was low and gravely. Your eyes widened, quickly pulling away from the hug to look at him. He looked nervous, his face a darker red than before. This honestly probably took a lot of confidence to say, especially for him.

“W-what?” You stutter out.

“You heard me,” he grinned.

“I um, you saw?” He just nodded. “How much?”

“Most of it, watching you is what actually made me,” he paused. “You know,” he looked away, clearly nervous now. You guess his confidence wore off.

“I-I’m sorry if I made things weird I just-” he cut you off, connecting his lips to yours gently. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him more into the kiss. You pull away, looking into his eyes.

“Y/n, I’ve been into you for years. You just never showed me any signs of anything, so I stayed quiet about it.” You smiled.

“honestly, josh? I have too. I was just scared.”

“You sure didn’t seem scared five minutes ago,” he smirked. You grumbled, flicking the back of his head. “You were also early, you were never supposed to see or know anything.” You shrugged.

“Well, I do now.” He looked down.

“So what now?” He said, joy and curiosity in his voice. You thought for a moment.

“well, theres pizza downstairs-“

“no, not right now, dumbass. In general. Us. What now.”

“oh,” you blushed. “You could be a gentleman and ask me on a real date, you know.” You teased him. He rolled his eyes, hiding the smile that crept onto his face.

“Sorry, sorry. Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me?” A smile lingered on his lips. You pretend to think for a moment.

“I guess, but lets just eat pizza and watch a movie tonight, how does that sound?” He nodded.

“I’ll go get the pizza,” he planted a kiss on your cheek before he left the room. You laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t believe what just happened, and frankly you were embarrassed. But you’re secrets out now and it feels good, especially knowing that he had feelings for you too. You let your eyes flutter shut, taking a deep breath, anticipating what may come within this newfound relationship that may be forming.

OMG thank you for being patient with me. I hope this is good, I honestly struggled with this one a lot for some reason, but if you enjoyed it, im glad. Have a beautiful day everyone :)

#josh hutcherson #josh futterman #michael schmidt #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson smut #josh futturman fluff #josh futturman #josh futturman smut #josh futturman x reader #peeta mellark #peeta

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sazuka57 · 11 months

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No actually I’m mad enough about it to speak up.

This new trend of judging ppl for making AUs upon AUs for their blorbos instead of making ocs or filing the serial numbers off is annoying af.

I wrote for ocs for 6 years (probably closer to 8, but I digress). Do you know how lonely it is writing for ocs? No one wants to read it. No one cares about it. I had exactly one person who consistently liked or even interacted with my posts and they’d do it as support, without actually reading any of my work. I wrote over a thousand pages of “original fic” and only one 90 page story got any attention and that was only because I promoted the heck out of it. The rest? Nothing. So much nothing that I just stopped posting. Kept writing, but stopped posting—because no one was reading it!

Not to mention—fanfics have a lot of sites to post on. You’ve got wattpad you’ve got ao3 you’ve got ffn you’ve got tumblr etc etc. But for original work? Uhhhh maybe tumblr. Maybe some obscure site that has probably a hundred users trying to make their story pay to read. That’s it. There’s no easily accessible platform for these things.

And also! LET PEOPLE HAVE THEIR FUN. Like this is legit the new kind of cringe culture? “Wow thinking about the blorbos in another au, so cringe. Make your own ocs loser.” Like. Stop it. Some people don’t wanna make ocs. Some people don’t wanna file off the serials. They just wanna create for the love and fun of their blorbos.

So just. Stop it. Just stop. Stop judging people about having harmless fun. If you wanna do ocs, good for you. Have fun with your ocs! Create! Spark that joy!!

And if you wanna keep using your blorbos, then good for you! Make that 36478162 AU. Let it spark joy!!! Real life works hard to suck joy out of all of us, so do what makes YOU happy.

#and if I see one more damn post about this #about making fun of ppl #I’m blocking your ass #i don’t care if we’ve been mutuals for all of my tumblr life #you can bugger off with your judgmental nonsense

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