the world is quiet here .

i'm not the one you want, babe...

[s4turns-st4rs]

welcome to mars’ library !

mars . side blog . minor . 17 . they/them . bisexual . intp . aspiring director . shoegaze . silver . dvds and digital cameras . bassist . dean girl . weird chick with no drivers license .

free palestine, fuck ai and fuck jk rowling ‼️

ON BRIEF HIATUS FOR EXAM SEASON.

borrow a book !

visit the archive !

meet the author !

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SPIDERMAN!RIVER CARTWRIGHT’S NEIGHBOUR !

visit spiderman!river cartwright’s masterlist here !

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SPIDERMAN!RIVER CARTWRIGHT !

visit spiderman!river cartwright’s masterlist here !

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MEET … SPIDERMAN!RIVER CARTWRIGHT !

SPIDERMAN!RIVER CARTWRIGHT ! who got bitten when he was 28. too old for a spiderman, if you asked him. he lacked the teenage charm of the comic book heroes, instead a loner who took too long to construct the witty one liners of a superhero, complained about the pain in his back after a fight, and got wasted in his empty apartment watching himself on the news.

SPIDERMAN!RIVER CARTWRIGHT ! who made his own suit. he’s not an artist in any sense of the word, evident in the peeling blue paint and wonky black lines, drawn with shaky hands and drying markers. he wouldn’t’ve done it himself if he didn’t have to, but desperate times call for desperate, pathetic and retrospectively stupid measures.

SPIDERMAN!RIVER CARTWRIGHT ! who is his own mentor. silently trying to convince himself whatever he’s doing is the right thing, even when lamb, his grandfather, and the news reports disagree, even when every criticism, accusation, and baseless theory feels like a twist to the knife he has to pretend isn’t wedged in his heart.

works !

…

blurbs !

his moodboard

neighbour’s moodboard

listen to his playlist !

…

[s4turns-st4rs]

hello beautiful people !! with my disappointment post-world cup and some personal factors i’ve found myself with a bit of dreaded writers block. i’m doing my best to get over it, and my first trinity santos fic should be out in the next couple of days.

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watching the world cup is sucking me back into the world of sport rpf…. i am not god’s strongest soldier…..

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thinking about pathetic!jamie tartt with ex!reader.

you still work at richmond, so it’s impossible to avoid you, even though he’d like to. you’re everywhere. when he arrives at the ground in the morning, when he’s training, when he’s refilling his water bottle, when he leaves at the end of the day. ted chides him from being distracted, and roy tells him to “fuckin’ gettin’ over it!” but he’s tried in vain.

when he talks to you, he shoves his hands into his pockets to stop them fidgeting, but instead finds himself rocking back and forth on his heels. and he stutters. he’s never stuttered in front a woman before. maybe if he gets down and begs for it you’ll stop haunting him.

you’re so composed, and every time he feels a surge of panic about composed he’s not. you’re somehow everything he wants to be. focused, successful, and not at all distracted by his stupid ex.

except maybe you’re more distracted than he realises.

[s4turns-st4rs]

GUYS….

[aniresrene]

Calling all Supernatural fanfiction readers and writers!

Supernatural Fan-Fiction Recommendations

Hello all! I'm currently working on a big project to create a Supernatural fanfiction archive. This would be a digital library of sorts tha

Heyyyyyyyyyyy

(now that i've lurred you in with a lil flirty Sam and Dean)

Its been a little over a year since I joined this cool-ass corner of the Supernatural fandom and in that time I've discovered and consumed alot of fanfiction on this site (and a03 when I can sorta figure how to work it).

And I mean like ALOT (healthy? debatable).

But somewhere along the way of diving deep into this rich well of creativity came this idea to create a SPN Fanfiction Archive.

This is a HUGE passion project for me and i'm so excited to share just a little about it and how you can be apart of it!

Essentially this will be a digital library dedicated to preserving, celebrating and sharing the stories, authors, fandom lore that have made this community so special.

I also want to celebrate and highlight the incredible 'fanon' that has been built within these writing spaces. Things like the headcanons, tropes, lore that was never considered canon but feels like such a huge part of the fandom now. The ideas that have been passed from writer to writer, inspiring stories to become woven into this community.

My goal for this project is to create a place where readers can discover stories, recconect with old favorites, discover 'fanon' they've never come across before. I also want this to become a source of inspiration for writers, a place to browse these tropes and fanfon when that creative spark needs a little help.

Sooooo with that being said (and if you made it this far in the post ) if you'd like to contribute and be apart of this project I've put together a short google form you can fill out where you can recommend one of your fics or someones elses!

MUCHAS GRACIAS

[s4turns-st4rs]

tweets from the spn boys !

a/n: oh cursed spn smaus i love you

characters: dean winchester, sam winchester, castiel

warnings: none!

dean!

sam!

castiel!

[s4turns-st4rs]

thinking about joe liebgott x weird!reader.

you zone out in the middle of conversations, and although joe may complain, he has no qualms about using a knee or a shoulder to give you a gentle nudge back into reality.

you wear loud jewellery that joe can hear across the room, although it may be because he hopes to hear it wherever he goes.

he love the way you’re always near him. he’s undeniably clingy, and you’re somehow more so. holding his hand, wearing his jacket, patching his wounds, lips peppering kisses along his jaw, dog tag with his name hanging from your neck.

there’s something so unpredictable about you that simultaneously disturbs and fascinates him.

inspired by beautiful isa’s joe liebgott fic here because i firmly believe joe would love a girl he doesn’t quite understand.

join the joe taglist ! @sacr1ficialang3l

[confusingadreamwithlife]

writing band of brothers fanfic but shaking my head as i do it so that it’s known that i do not condone the u.s. military or western imperialism

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officially announcing that my main acc is @partygatorresurrection ! the blog is largely reblogs about nonsense, but it is where i like/follow from !

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thinking about sam winchester picking you up just to prove he can… bridal style cuz he’s a gentleman….

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intertwined, sewn together !

──── ୨୧ joseph liebgott x reader headcannons ୨୧ ────

a/n: more liebgott bc my fic lwk flopped but #idc. he’s cool and sexy to me and three other people.

requests are always open <3

warnings: none !

now playing: god only knows - the beach boys

disclaimer ! this fic is based on the characters of hbo’s band of brothers and not the figures they portray !

𖦹 his voice gets squeaky when he’s nervous :(

𖦹 he uses nicknames all the time. all the nicknames, ever. angel, sweetcheeks, doll, baby, princess, and ma’am, if he’s trying to make you blush. only uses your real name when he’s serious (so, very rarely.)

𖦹 sweet tooth ! there’s always at least one bar of chocolate in your house just in case he gets a craving.

𖦹 hates sharing with anyone except you. need a cigarette? he’ll let you take the whole pack. need a light? take his lighter. hungry? he’ll give up his whole dinner if you’re a bit peckish.

𖦹 he def calls you ‘my woman’ #sorrynotsorry. he’s just so possessive, he can’t help it.

𖦹 speaking of possessive, he loves when you wear his dog tag. the sight of the harsh metal contrasting against your pretty summer dresses makes him weak in the knees.

𖦹 wants three mini liebgotts. he won’t tell you them, but he’s already got a secret list of names. beware, he will call you mama.

𖦹 i just know he has the most chapped lips ever. he may have never heard of lip balm, but it doesn’t stop his kisses from being heavenly.

𖦹 pettiest bitch of all time btw. but tries makes sure you never go to bed angry with him, because his mum told him when he was a boy it was the key to long-lasting relationships.

𖦹 always keeps his promises.

[s4turns-st4rs]

your camera roll with buffy summers as your girlfriend !

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ i could have been wild and i could have been free, but nature played this trick on me

[s4turns-st4rs]

i know this love of mine !

──── ୨୧ joseph liebgott x nurse!reader ୨୧ ────

a/n: here it is ! first liebgott fic. there shall be more.

requests are always open <3

in which: a visit from his friends makes joe realise how attached he’s become to his nurse.

words: 1,192

warnings: descriptions of a war wound, reader described using she/her.

now playing: and i love her - the beatles

disclaimer ! this fic is based on the characters of hbo’s band of brothers and not the figures they portray !

joe replays the moment in his head, a moment of foolish weakness. he’d left the foxhole without checking, too brash and reckless, and the bullet went straight through him. it was cliché, the way time slowed as he fell backwards into the mud, mind working overtime to comprehend the mistake that could prove to be fatal.

the hospital is little more than a tent, but joe, as injured as he is, will take any shelter over none. the pain in his side is piercing, and racks through his body with a shudder every time he attempts to move. his dog tag is cold against his burning skin, and his uniform is torn and bloody, revealing the wound underneath. the medics’ overlapping voices are the only noise keeping his weary eyes open, staring blankly as the sky blurs above him, clouds blending into one.

“can you tell me your name, sir?”

when he hears your voice, he attempts to lift his head, but falls back onto the stretcher in vain. “liebgott. joe.” he chokes out, and when you repeat it back to him, he swears his panicked heartbeat slows to a near stop.

the medics heap his body from the stretcher into the closest empty bed, and he shudders with every movement.

you hold his hand, gently explaining the process. the doctor’s going to clean the wound, remove any debris still wedged in his skin, sew him back up. it didn’t sound as bad coming from your lips.

you stay with him until the anaesthesia takes hold, when his tired eyes finally shut, his sore limbs relax, and his weary mind put to rest.

when he comes around, you’re still beside his bed, your warm hand resting upon his, a few degrees colder than comfortable. the ache in his side is still present, though more of a dull throb that he tries and fails to ignore.

“you got a name, ma’am?” he drawls. he may be too sore to stand, but he is never too sore to flirt with a pretty woman.

you tell him, and he repeats it in kind, feeling it in his mouth. it suits you, pretty.

“how are you feeling now, mr liebgott?”

“joe is fine. and m’alright, now that you’re here.” he says, unable to keep with the smirk from curling his lip.

you flush a little, and it makes him cheer internally.

his grin is sly, like a man who knows what he wants. which he does, because he wants you.

carefully, you reach out. your fingers graze the warm skin of the side of his face, and grasp the cigarette he has tucked behind his ear.

“it’s not healthy.” you say, your voice traitorously quiet, lacking in your usual teasing tone as you toss the cigarette into the nearby bin, unable to look away from joe’s captivating gaze.

“it’s “not healthy” the way ya make my heart beat, ma’am.” he says, eyes looking up at you through his lashes, and the sight leaves you speechless.

it’s been a week since the surgery, and while joe’s back to his usual sarcastic retorts, he’s still bedridden. he feel useless, torn and bloody uniform hanging beside his bed like a reminder of where he should be.

he manages to push the worry to the back of his mind when you appear, however, radiant look on your face and bedsheets piled in your arms.

“morning, joe.”

his grin widens, eyes wrinkling as he looks up at you. “don't you look angelic today?”    

“you say that every day.” you say, but there’s a smile on your face. you find yourself enjoying it more than you should. wearing the lipstick he likes, unable to stop yourself laughing at his unfunny jokes, unable to stop yourself blushing at his blatant flirting that somehow still makes your stomach erupt in butterflies.

“and it ain’t never been a lie.”

when luz, malarkey and perconte swan in, you’re still standing beside his bed, bedsheets piled in your arms, listening intently as joe rambles on. he doesn’t notice them, or chooses not to, big brown eyes looking up at you, simultaneously comforting and exposing in the way he seems to see right through you. the boys take their seats beside his bed, and joe knows you can’t linger any longer.

you say, “i’ll leave you to your guests, joe.” and he can only nod before you’ve vanished elsewhere.

the moment you’re out of earshot, the three snicker in unison, glancing at each other.

“what?” joe frowns, patience already short with them.

luz lets out a snort, too late attempting to cover it up with a cough. “she’s callin’ you joe now, liebgott? what’s next? white picket fence? 3 mini liebgotts and a golden retriever?”

malarkey adds with an exaggerated wink, “yeah, make sure to invite us to the wedding.”

perconte, now adopting the voice of what is supposed to a priest, says with a barely concealed smirk, “we are gathered here today for the wedding of mrs liebgott and joe.” and the boys struggle to contain their increasing laughter.

joe just sours, helpless in his hospital bed. “shut yer trap. it’s her job.”

malarkey scofffs. “it ain’t her job to dote on you like some sexy mother hen. i ain’t seen her visit a single other bed.”

his brows furrow when he calls you sexy, a stab of irrational jealousy piercing through him. “it ain’t like that.”

“ain’t it though? she’s callin’ ya joe, for christ’s sake.” luz nudges joe’s bed with his knee.

“right.” he sulks, crossing his arms dismissively. it’s irrational, he knows, but he’s already grown attached to you, and the thought of the other soldiers even looking at you makes his stomach curl.

malarkey notices, as joe makes no attempt to disguise his irritation. “c’mon, lieb, don’t be like that, m’just sayin’—”

“like what?”

“yer gettin’ all surly on us man. you can ‘ave the dame, it ain’t a big thing.”

“it is a big thing. she ain’t just a dame, ya numbskulls. she’s a real woman, none of them other broads. she ain’t one of them plastic pin ups, she’s got a real brain behind those pretty eyes, a voice she ain’t afraid to use, and a heart beneath those—”

“okay! okay, we get it.”

it’s not long before you return, cutting joe’s confessions short. at the sight of you, the others’ fade into a monotonous background drone, and his eyes can’t look away from you. something must be in the air today, or something different with his medication, because you look more divine than he thought possible.

when you approach his bed, it bursts out of his mouth before he can consider the consequences.

“say, angel? d’ya think if i get myself outta here, you’d go to dinner with me?” once his mouth is moving, he tries to convince his face to look like he meant to say it.

your cheeks turn a bit pink despite yourself, and you shift on the hospital’s dirty floor. “when you’ve stopped limping, i’ll think about it.” you finally respond with a grin curling at edge of your mouth.

“you’ve got yourself a deal, angel.”