we're not kids anymore.
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Peter Solarz
RMH
⁂
Xuebing Du
will byers stan first human second
Kiana Khansmith
cherry valley forever
Kaledo Art
One Nice Bug Per Day
todays bird
almost home
Cosimo Galluzzi
titsay
ojovivo
Product Placement
izzy's playlists!
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sheepfilms
seen from Ghana
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from Canada
seen from Philippines
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
@swlbarnes
pretty sure everyone that once followed me is gone, but i just logged in for the first time in years, and found some really really kind and generous asks. it’s making me really wanna get back into writing. so, if you’ve ever left me i kind ask, or a reblog, or a reply, i thank you so much. you’re wonderful and lovely. and if anybody ever decides they still wanna see my writing, i’d love to get back into it.
Hi
hi there!
Do you rp?
I haven’t done it in a long time, but I’m 100% open to starting up again!
Writing Tip
because I see this everywhere and most people don’t know about it. The hyphen(-), the en-dash(–) and the em-dash(—) are three completely different things with completely different uses. If you write fanfiction, it’s likely that your readers won’t care, but if you want to submit a manuscript for publishing, you need to know the difference.
The hyphen (-) is the basic symbol you find on your keyboard, and it’s meant to only be used for hyphenated words (well-being, two-thirds).
The en-dash (–) is a slightly longer dash. It’s usually the width of an uppercase N, hence the name. You can find it by looking through the ‘insert symbol’ option in MS word or many word processors, and it is meant to be used to show a particular distance, or for intervals (May–August, 1900–1916, pages 12–22)
The em-dash (—) is what people most commonly use, but they refer to it as a hyphen. It’s the longest dash, about the size of an uppercase letter M, and you can either find it through the list of symbols in your word processor, or some word processors actually automatically transform two hyphens (–) into an em-dash (—). It is meant to be used as a break in the sentence, in a place where a comma, semicolon or colon would normally be used or as a break in dialogue. (Her niece—the daughter of her oldest sister—is the one over there.)
*All three types of dashes are normally meant to be used without any spaces on either side of the dash.
hi! i just wanna say that i absolutely LIVE for your jack fics, thank you for taking the time to write them! you write him (and even sam and dean) so accurately it's unbelievable! whenever you get the time or inspiration PLEASE write more!
Oh my gosh!! Thank you so much, this is so sweet. This means so much to hear, inspiration has been dull lately, so this is absolutely wonderful and so nice to see. Thank you thank you thank you!! You’re the best!!! 💞💞
Abraham Lincoln’s death can be described as bittersweet. As he died his breathing grew quieter, his face more calm. According to some accounts, at his last drawn breath, on the morning after the assassination, he smiled broadly and then expired.
Yeah! I always found it interesting how much he seemed to be at peace with his death. Here’s to hoping we can all go out that pleased with our lives, yeah? :)
August 21st is fanfic writer appreciation day!! Send some love to your favorite authors today y’all.
happy fic writer appreciation day to the lovely writers i’ve met through this blog!! (its technically the 22nd for me now but shhh)
@justagirlinafandomworld @demonsofhunting @brokencasbutt67-writer @insomniac-with-a-juice-pouch @swlbarnes
oh my godddd leahhhhh I cant believe I was inactive and missed this omfg thank you!! you’re too sweet!!
AAAA OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY GUYS HOLYNDJDJDNJD
OKAY EXPLANATION TIME so I started college a few weeks ago and it’s kicking! my! ass! emotionally!!! BUT!!! I’m back hello hi thank you guys so much for following me even tho I disappeared??? I gained like 50 followers by being inactive?? maybe this is a Sign
okay but really, I’m so sorry for ghosting, I’ll be posting some content soon!! Next up SHOULD be a second part to Kindred Spirits that someone requested on AO3!!
Soulmate AU
Reposted because I accidentally deleted it.
Title: Traveled the Universe Just to Meet You.
Tenth Doctor x Gender Neutral Reader, featuring Donna Noble
A/N: This fic took three weeks in total to write; the first 3,600 words took two days to write and the last 700 words took two of the three weeks. hahahaha…….why?
Also, I wanted to add more like include adventures and develop the readers and the Doctors relationship but it was already too long. Thinking about writing a part 2 but I also have a few other fics I wanna write soo…
Word count: 5070
Soulmate. Someone who understands, believes in, and inspires you. Someone once a stranger becomes a person you can’t imagine live without.
As children, a soulmate’s presence isn’t all there. A numbness resides in the Soullux, the organ that handles feeling one’s soulmate. In childhood, it isn’t mature enough to project one’s soulmate emotions. But, every so often a child would feel something like a light breeze on a hot summer day. The phenomenal sensation of stretching after waking up. The feeling one gets after cleaning out their room.
You were a bit different from other children. See, you were born with Lonely Soul syndrome, a disease that affects one out of 14,530,000 people. Now, this syndrome doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate. You were born with your Soullux fully formed, meaning you constantly felt your soulmate. Doctors gave it such a saddening name because of the effects. Children suffering from this often are forced to mature earlier, they struggle with emotions, and experience periods of desolation. Doctors recommend therapy and if needed, medicine.
You were five when you went to your first soul therapy session. Your family didn’t think you needed it, seeing as you were a typical child. Happy some days, moody others, but they promised you a present after the appointment, so you went.
The therapist’s room was bright. There were small toys on small shelves, posters with words you couldn’t quite read, but knew you’ve seen before. On the ground was a rug with houses and roads on it, you thought it was cool.
The therapist walks into the room and smiles at you, “Did you find a toy you like, Y/n?” She asks, she only just told you her name, yet you forgot it and didn’t want to make her feel sad, so you didn’t ask. Instead, you nod and point at the Lego box sitting on the rug.
You were building a house when she speaks again, “how are you, Y/N?”
“I’m sad.” The therapist said earlier that you could talk to her about anything that was on your mind, so you did.
“Do you know why?” She’s sitting on the rug with you. It’s odd, adults don’t sit on the ground and they certainly don’t play with Legos. You decide she wasn’t an adult, just a big kid.
You’re not sure what to say so you let your mouth run, “My soulmate,” you begin. With the blue house finished, you start to reach for the Lego people, “isn’t an animal.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she does hand you the last Lego person. With the perfect amount of people around the house, you start to work on a car. Cars have always been difficult for you to build.
“It sucks. I heard that some people have animals as their soulmates and I was hoping I would too. But I don’t.” You huffed.
“Why would you want an animal as a soulmate?”
Shocked with disbelief you dropped a Lego piece. Maybe she really was an adult? “Because animals are cool. At first, I wanted them to be a horse, ‘cause that would be awesome, but then I realized that if they were a cat or dog then I could cuddle with them every night.” Excitement washes over you. Yet, when reality hits, you feel like the car you stopped building, unfinished and misshaped.
“Well, who says you can’t cuddle with your soulmate?”
“Pets have fur. That means they’re always warm and soft. People don’t have fur.”
“Y/n,” She says softly, you like the sound of her voice. It’s not wheezy like your neighbor, Ms. Henson’s nor is it high-pitched like your babysitter. “Do you like to cuddle with from your family members?”
“Yeah,”
“So, why do you think it’s different from your soulmate?”
Well, you think, my family always acts weird when I talk about them. You’re not sure why though, your soulmate feels like blowing dandelions and eating your favorite fruit. What could be so wrong about that? You don’t tell your therapist that though. “Maybe,” you start hesitantly, when she nods her head, you’re back to being excited, “maybe we could get a pet too? Then I could cuddle with both at the same time.”
“Maybe,” She agrees with you, “Y/n, that’s a lot of people at the blue house. Do you think we should build them another house?” Looking at the blue house you see the eight people surrounding it.
“No.”
It happened after dinner. At first, you didn’t know what it was, you only knew it was something coming from your soulmate. Lately, your soulmate has been like an ocean, waves of strong emotions crash down on you. It leaves you wanting to crawl into bed and stay there all day. Every time it happens you could hear your family whispering through the door. You knew it wasn’t normal, but you couldn’t control it.
You head to your room and shut the door. Everyone always found out when you have an ‘episode’, but sometimes you could hide how long it went on. You expected it to be the same as the other times. This, however, was nothing like you ever experienced before.
It starts with a spicy taste in your mouth. A ringing in your ears. Underneath your skin, something wants liberation. You try to hold it in, but it burns.
You blink and the next thing you know your bedroom is a wreck.
On the floor near your desk was a torn paper with a smiley face. Bending down you picked up the paper to see that it was your math test. You had practice from the moment you came home until dinnertime for it. You didn’t ace it, but it was the highest grade you got so far, and you were so proud you put a smiley face on it. It was ripped up into three pieces. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. You were only seven years old and you would have many other tests this year alone, let alone for the rest of your academic life. It isn’t a big deal. So, why were you kneeling on the ground with tears blurring your vision? Why were your hands wrapped around yourself, silent snivels escaping you? Why were you pressing your face to the floor in hopes that your family wouldn’t hear? If it wasn’t a big deal, why does it hurt so much?
Someone opens up your door and gasps. They hold you as you try to remember how to breathe.
(Afterward, they help you tape up your test and you wonder if taping your heart back together will be as easy.)
They hand you a broom along with trash bags and tell you to face the consequences of your actions.
Bed overturned, clothes ripped apart, posters and old homework assignments shredded up.
The burning sensation lessens to a simmer and you’re left all alone.
With a look, around the room you think, Anger. This is what anger looks like.
Months pass by, and you grew an inch. The sun brings heat and with it comes water balloon fights and laughter. With a group of classmates, you compare birthmarks and scars. With the sun shining down on you, you think, happiness is bright.
You had finished brushing your teeth and were pulling silly faces and grinning at the mirror. That’s when you felt it. This new emotion is bitter and cold.
The you in the mirror starts to glare at you, baring their teeth like a wild animal. They mouth words that feel like ice water. “Stop it,” you say, “go away.” You glare back and mirror you smiles. “You’re my reflection. If I leave, you’ll be nothing.”
Mirror you silently laughs at you and you punch them. “I hate you.” You shout. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate-” You punch at the mirror repeatedly and mirror you starts to bleed. The glass shatters. A piece of the mirror slightly larger than your hand sits in the sink with drops of blood resting on it and you smirk. Only then do you see your fists. Bruised and bleeding, your blood stains the bathroom floor. You close your eyes in hopes that you don’t see your reflection.
When someone comes to check on the noise and see you there, they carefully drag you out and scold you. They clean your fist and check for glass, then they bandaged your hands and sigh. As they clean up, you sit in your room.
(“why are you so broken?” Mirror you shouts. “Why can’t you be normal?”)
Staring at your bandaged fists, you think, hatred is a violent emotion.
Nearly a year passes by when the next wave hits. Unlike anger, this emotion does not burn you. Instead, it lingers in everything you do, every day, every moment. It waits. It makes you silent at the moments you want to speak, and it makes you cry when you want to laugh. It waits. You can’t explain it to anyone, they don’t understand. This emotion waits until you are truly alone when it strikes.
At eight years old, you learn a hard fact.
(If anger burns, happiness shines, hatred bruises, and love heals. Then sadness takes it all, swallows it whole, leaving you to wonder if anything was there in the first place.)
The increased therapy sessions and nervous glances from family members lets you know something is up. With a little snooping around, you find out what. Hurrying back to your room you lean against your door and stare at the pamphlet. “Why choose Soullux removal?” The pamphlet shows happy people doing everyday things. You read the pamphlet three times. Each time deepens the sick feeling you have.
Soullux removal.
Doctors found out that humans don’t need a Soullux to survive. “The organ is not like the Heart,” the pamphlet reads, “one could live a healthy and even happy life without a soulmate.” It goes on and on talking about how many famous and successful people have removed their Soullux so that they can “focus on more important things.”
Seconds later, you realize your family wants you to get the surgery.
No, you think. Never.
Angry you make your way to the living room and seeing as everyone is there, you erupt.
“No. It’s not right. I won’t do it. You can’t take them away from me.,” You shout. “I won’t do it. You all have your soulmates. If you want Soullux removal, get it yourselves!” By the end of your speech, you’re panting, your vision is blurry, sniffs do nothing to help with the snot dripping out of your nose.
“Soullux removal?” One of them says, “Y/n, we would never.”
You throw the pamphlet on the table. “Yeah, right.”
“That was in my room. Y/n, you know you not allowed in there.”
“And you not allowed to steal my soulmate from me, but that’s exactly what you were planning.”
“Y/n, you-”
“-Even though it was wrong of you to sneak into their room,” a different family member interrupts, “Y/n, it’s important for you to know we would never do that without talking to you.”
After all the emotions cooled down you all talked. They handed you a different pamphlet. This one talks about pills you could take to “lessen the intense feelings your broken soulmate forces on you.”
“Broken” soulmates are soulmates with such mental and/or physical “problems” that causes their soulmates to feel the pain of their disorder. These pills eventually block you from feeling your soulmate entirely.
As you read the pamphlet, you note all the times it says broken. Three.
Broken. Like that time, you accidentally dropped a bowl and it shattered. Broken. Like when your classmate broke their arm, and everyone wanted to sign it. Broken.
They think your soulmate is broken. They want you to abandon them.
You want to throw up.
No. You think, you can’t take them from me. I won’t abandon them so please don’t take them from me. Please. Please. Don’t. They’re not broken. Please don’t take them from me. I’ll do anything, please.
“Please,” you say, “Please. Don’t. Please.” And you repeat those words over and over.
At the age of thirteen, you give up on your soulmate. You tried, honestly. You read every book, watched every video, and even posted on all kinds of forums online in hopes of finding a way to help, but nothing was working. You were useless.
Really, it was your soulmates’ fault. No one could constantly be sad, angry, and full of self-hate, right?
It makes you wonder though. What was it about your soulmate that they only felt those three emotions? Was someone doing terrible things to them? Or were they terrible people?
You didn’t know. What you did know however was that you couldn’t help them. You wanted to continue listening to music on your bed thinking sad thoughts, but you needed to clean out your room. You’ve been putting it off for weeks. And that’s what you did, for about the first fifteen minutes, but then you found an old shoebox in your closet. You couldn’t leave it, could you?
In the shoebox were tiny trinkets and a stack of letters all addressed to someone you’ve never met.
You remember when you started going on little adventures after your soulmate started to feel down. You were only seven then.
The idea was you would go on fun adventures like those happy kids on TV. You figured that your soulmate had Lonely Soul syndrome too, then they would feel your happiness. If they couldn’t be happy themselves, you would share yours. Then you thought that if you saved tiny gifts and letters when you finally meet them you could give it to them. If they knew you cared for them, maybe, just maybe, a bit of their sadness would go away.
You didn’t think about the shoebox in months. You wonder what younger you would say if they knew you gave up on your soulmate just like everyone else.
You open one of the letters.
Dear Soul Mate,
Hello, it’s me.
I’m seven now, but my birtday is in a few weeks. You’ve been sad lately and I’m here to tell you that won’t do.
That won’t do.
See ya, Y/n.
That was all the letter read. No adventure no nothing. You shoved the letter back in the envelope and grab another one.
Dear Soul Mate,
My family thinks you’re broken. I don’t know if your family thinks that about you too, and maybe that’s why you are sad all the time. But you should know that I don’t think you are. I don’t think people can break. Sometimes it might feel like it though. Sometimes it might feel like shards of who you used to be are missing and no matter how many times you try to piece yourself together again you don’t fit. You might feel defeated and completely alone. But you are not an object. You are not glass that can be shattered. Broken means that you’ve given up, and you haven’t. You’re still, living, breathing, feeling. As long as you are still alive, you are still fighting. You’re not what people define you as, you’re just you and that’s all you need to be.
I wish I could promise that I would always be there for you, but I can’t. I wish I could tell you that I believe in you, but I’m not sure you care about what a stranger thinks. I can promise you that I’m telling the truth when I say that you are the strongest person I know. Everything you feel is whole and true. Your anger, your hate, and your sadness feels like it consumes you, but underneath it all, you have pure wonder, unconditional love, and constant kindness. You amaze me. Despite never meeting you, I know you. And I am proud to have you as my soulmate.
See ya soon, Y/n.”
You don’t remember writing that. You didn’t even know you could write like that. Honestly, you were expecting all the letters to be like the first one.
It was harder these days to feel the emotions younger you talked about. These days all your soulmate felt was sadness and hate.
Maybe writing one more letter couldn’t hurt, right? Beats cleaning your room.
Why the heck were you in the park? You have an essay that’s due soon and yet here you were sitting on a park bench.
A quick look around shows an average park. Trees, benches, grass, and a playground with a group of teenagers.
They had to be older than you by a good three years.The way they were standing was weird.Four of the five teens were facing the last one, a girl. You didn’t like the smug looks on their faces.
The girl was shouting. Her back rigid and arms crossed.“We’re soulmates.” She practically shouts. “What do you mean you don’t need me?”
You should leave.
“It means I would rather get that surgery everyone talks about than have you as a soulmate. Look at you, you’re worthless.” He says. You could see his hideous smirk from where you stood. His friends holding onto one another as they laugh.
Her shoulders shake and-
“Hey,” You don’t even register the fact that you’ve spoken until everyone’s looking at you. “Don’t you think this is a private conversation between the two of you, you know, in private?”
“Who the hell are you?” Of all things, you didn’t expect the girl to shout at you full force.
“I’m just your common citizen trying to run away from my responsibilities, so if you could quiet down that would be great.”
“Kid, why don’t you mind your own business?” Jerk face asks.
By now you are standing face to face with Jerk face and his groupies. You turn to the girl who looks like she’s in complete shock. Her face is red and eyes puffy. “Normally I would. But I think you should leave.”
“Or what?”
“Run.” You tell her.
“What?” She whispers.
Jerk face is still smirking. You want nothing more than to punch him in the face, but you can’t. Instead, you kick him where it hurts and with the girl in tow you dash out of there.
After a while, you two reach a neighborhood. You didn’t recognize it, but it seemed like a good enough place to rest.
“Why did you do that?” The girl asks.
“I know, I should have punched him, but,” you hold up your dominant hand, “I need this hand to write my letters, they’re important.”
“Letters? how old are you?”
“I’m Fourteen.”
“And you write letters?”
“Yeah,”
That’s all it takes to set her off. She starts to laugh and can’t stop. Bent over, hugging herself, she laughs until she can’t breathe.
You don’t mean to ruin the moment, but you do. “Your soulmate is a jerk.”
“Lance,”
“What?”
“His name is Lance.”
“Yeah, well, Lance is a jerk, and as your friend, I suggest slapping him the next time you see him.”
“Friend?” Her laugh turns a little hollower, “you don’t even know me.”
“Well then, let’s get to know each other. Name’s Y/n.”
She looks at you, stares as if trying to decide whether or not you’re screwing with her.
She nods then, “I’m Donna,” she says, “Donna Noble.”
You decided to walk Donna home. She’s quiet; a direct contradiction to earlier. You understood what it was like to have a lot on your mind, so you tried to stay quiet as well. It was Donna who ended the silence.
“I always thought that I would find my soulmate and we would fall in love. That I would get what my parents have. My mom always told me ‘your soulmate is exactly what you deserve and everything you’ll ever need.’” Tears fall from her eyes, but with a deep breath she continues, “He is exactly what I deserve. My one and only soulmate.” She laughs bitterly.
You wish you knew what to say. You wish you could pluck the right words out of the air and weave sentences so beautiful Donna would stop laughing and start smiling.
Over the years as you watched friends and family find their soulmates you learned that just because people can feel their soulmate doesn’t mean they truly understand them or their life experiences. That takes work and commitment. It is odd to think about however; knowing someone deeply, yet at the same time not at all.
“Maybe, soul- people,” you correct yourself after Donna flinches at the s word. Yeah, there were some days where that word burned you as well, “maybe, people aren’t supposed to fill a missing hole in you. Maybe they’re just the cherry on top.”
You reach her house and she points you towards her kitchen when you ask for a glass of water.
In the kitchen, are who you assume are Donna’s parents. Music and laughter fill the air and the two of them are eating. With such soft smiles and tender touches, you could tell they were deeply in love. It was as if they were the only ones in the room.
“Here.” Donna hands you a glass of water.
You were so captivated by her parents you didn’t notice Donna slip pass you. A glance at the two eating shows they haven’t even noticed two people in the room with them.
“Thank you, Donna.” You practically shout. Everyone looks at you oddly, but at least your plan works.
The day you turned thirty, your life took an odd turn.
Technically it started six months before that.
See, Donna started a temp job at the same place Lance the Jerk works. Apparently, as Lance claimed, he was a changed man. He said he wanted to start fresh with Donna. Donna was all for forgiving him. (“Y/n, he brings me coffee every day. Me. Coffee!”)
You felt there was something odd about the whole thing though.
It wasn’t the fact that the best friend rulebook states that you have to hate him for how he hurt your best friend.
It also wasn’t because he never once apologized to Donna. (Saying “I was only a kid at the time,” is not an apology.)
The problem is you didn’t think Lance was the right person for Donna, ironically enough. Donna is full of life, she’s loud, kind, and slightly ignorant, Donna is passionate. Lance is indifferent, he’s judgmental and arrogant.
Seeing the two of them together puts a sour taste in your mouth. Aside from a few subtle comments, you haven’t really talked to Donna about it. How could you tell her you thought her soulmate wasn’t right for her? Maybe you were reading too much into it? You hope Donna sees something in him that you are overlooking, you hope Lance has a better side of him that he shows Donna.
You wanted nothing more than for Donna to be happy. If it means holding your tongue around Lance, you would duct tape your mouth shut.
Donna tells you she wants to marry him, and you play the role of the excited best friend.
It happens on the day of your thirtieth birthday, two weeks before Donna’s wedding. Donna throws you a big surprise party, but halfway through she disappears. Nerys-why is she here? You don’t even know her, and Donna hates her- tells you that she vanished into golden dust, but you figured she was wasted. You ask around, but no one’s seen Donna.
Soon, the party is over, and you still don’t know where Donna is.
When you get home, you find Donna sitting in your kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands. Her hair is a mess, clothes tore and she was soaking wet. How in the world?
“Donna? I was looking everywhere for you. I almost punched like three people when they said you were-”
Donna rushes into your arms. She’s shaking, holding you as if you are the only thing in life that makes sense.
“Donna?” Sighing, you hug her back. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”
After Donna is clean and in dry clothes she talks.
She tells you that Lance was lying. That he was in love? With a spider? And there was a doctor trying to help. The spiders died. Lance died. Thames flooded? Or was it drained? Honestly, you couldn’t really make out much of what she was saying with her face buried in your shoulder, tears staining your clothes. All that matter was that your best friend needed you. You held her until her sobs turned to snores.
Donna spends the next year traveling, learning, and looking for trouble.
You spend the year working, paying bills, and wishing you could do the same as Donna.
When Donna calls you to excitedly tell you that she’s speaking Latin of all things, you decided enough was enough.
Three hours later, you meet up at a small café.
You see Donna the moment you walk in the café. She’s sitting at a table for four with a man beside her. Both of them seem to be having an interesting conversation because both of them can’t seem to stop laughing.
The sight brings a smile to your face.
When someone walks into the café, Donna glances up and meets your eye. She stands, waves her hands in the air, practically shouts your name.
Before the temptation to act like you don’t know her kicks in; you rush to her. The hug she pulls you in is unexpected but nice.
“Oh, I haven’t seen you in months!”
You don’t say anything. Instead, you run your eyes over Donna. Taking a step back you notice that the Donna before you is different from the one you saw a few days ago. There’s something about this Donna that makes her shine. Maybe a new haircut?
“Did you get a tan?” You notice it then; Donna definitely got a tan but… a quick look at the window shows you that it is still pouring out just like it has for the last week.
Donna laughs and drags you to the table. She introduces you to the man whose name is the Doctor and you say hello. It’s as he’s about to reply that you feel it. A wave of happiness hits you like a smack upside the head and spins your world around. Colors are brighter and what once was gloomy rain is now the water that brings life to mother nature. Too busy looking around you miss everything the man, the Doctor, was saying.
“Sorry about that.” You give a sheepish smile. The Doctor grins. With one hand ruffling his hair, he leans towards you from across the table.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
“Nothing, I think it’s just my soulmate.” The last bit of the sentence comes out as a question.
“Them again? Listen Y/n the second I meet this bloke, I tell you what, I’m gon- ”
“Donna you are not going to assault my soulmate.” Donna ‘offers’ to slap your soulmate every time they feel something other than happiness. You can’t help your smile grow though; before Donna you never really had someone who was ready to fight anyone who hurts you.
“What’s wrong with your soulmate?” The Doctor raises an eyebrow. “I think your soulmate is perfectly fine. In fact, I’d go so far as to say this is one of the greatest days of their life.”
“And why is that?” You don’t notice that you are leaning towards him.
“Well,” he drags the word out, “I think he just met his soulmate.”
It takes a moment for your brain to process what he said. When you do, you jump from your seat spinning around to search for him. “What? Where is he?” Your heart is pounding.
From a distance, you hear Donna whisper an “Oh my God.”
“If my soulmate is here why doesn’t he come up to me?”
You turn to Donna after she calls your name, “your soulmate is right in front of you.”
Looking from Donna to the Doctor to Donna again you open your mouth and- “Donna,” you sigh, “you are not my soulmate.”
Slumping down into the chair, you rest your elbow on the table with your chin in your hand.“You guys really got me excited for nothing.” You pout. Your other hand plays with the teacup in the center of the table.
“Um, if your soulmate was right in front of you what would you want him to do?” The Doctor asks.
“Anything really. A simple ‘Hello’ and their name is good enough.”
“Hello. I’m the Doctor.”
“Yeah, I know. You’ve already introduced yourself.”
“You spend all this time waiting for your soulmate and now that he’s in front of you, you can’t see him? Y/n you are an idiot.”
“What are you talking about? The only people in front of me is you tw-ooh.” Looking at the Doctor, you don’t know how you feel. The best way to describe it would be dancing. It’s like back when you were a teenager listening to music in your room. The music turned on loud, your door closed, and you start to dance. Jumping around, singing, and having fun, the joy you feel from hearing your favorite song runs through your veins; nothing could ruin the moment. As you spin around, in the midst of singing your favorite verse, someone opens the door. The two of you stare at one another as you wait for them to decide if they want to embarrass you by walking away or join in on the dancing. That is the best way you can describe how you feel. That happiness with a side of embarrassment.
The Doctor and Donna spend the next few hours explaining who the Doctor is, what they do, and all the places they visited. They told you about the chaos, the fun, and the universe. If you were anybody else, you would have gone into shock and cancel the whole day. However, you are you and so the only thing you can do after discovering that aliens exist is laugh. Because your soulmate is an alien who travels all of time and space in a phone box and your best friend, Donna Noble-
“My best friend traveled across the universe and brought me back my soulmate.”
#donna noble#x reader#doctor x reader#gender neutral reader#gender neutral pronouns#soulmate#soulmate au#male reader#female reader#doctor who fanfic#doctor who x reader#10 doctor x reader#ten x reader#dw
THIS IS SO CUTE!!! I love it so much!!! This is so well written and well thought out, thank you so much for sharing this! 😍
do u ever wonder how many of ur followers live near u
okay kinda on the same line, in middle school I wrote this really cringy fanfic on Wattpad but it kinda blew up in the fandom and someone in my grade was asking my friend for fic recs and being a good friend, she recommended my fic, and this other person... absolutely WILDS out and says it’s her fave fanfic and that’s the story of how I figured out this girl from my algebra has a group of friends at lunch that talked abt my fanfic and didn’t even know I wrote it
A Good Change - Jack Kline x Reader
Summary: When Jack asks reader to join him during a TV marathon, reader gets worried that the nephilim isn’t taking care of himself. They decide to help him as best as they can.
Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader
Word count: 2,601
Warnings
A/N: I disappeared from here for a while but I’m hoping to get some writing done over the winter break! So if anyone wants to request anything (especially SPN related, I’m in a big Supernatural mood rn) just let me know! Here’s some sleepy Jack fluff :)
If someone had asked you a few months ago what Lucifer’s son would be like, you would have had a few choice words for him. If someone had told you that you would have to be living with the son of the Devil, you would have called them insane. And if they had told you that you would wind up curled up on the couch with Satan’s literal spawn at every possible opportunity, you would have shot them then and there.
You were wrong.
Jack began living with you and the Winchesters a few months ago, helping out here and there with various cases while he worked on honing his powers. Things had a rocky start for sure, but as soon as Castiel returned things began looking up. Dean’s mood lifted exponentially, Jack had his rightful father back, and one of your best friends defied death once again. Dean seemed to trust Jack more and more with each day, and you could tell he felt grateful to the boy for bringing his closest friend back to him.
Life with the young nephilim wasn’t exactly what you would have expected. Where you thought there would be constant fights and bloodshed, there was shared candy and Netflix marathons, because Jack has a sweet tooth and a soft spot for Ashoka. What you thought would be venomous threats against you turned out to be random unprompted compliments, because Jack always tends to say exactly what’s on his mind. And where you expected there to be violence and mayhem spinning the Bunker into disarray, you got sudden hugs and regular quiet nights in, because Jack realized physical comfort is one of his favorite things about humanity.
“(Y/N)?” His soft voice called from the hallway outside your room in the Bunker. You shuffled out of your bed at the sound, quickly scurrying over to the door and opening it to meet the boy with a smile.
“Hey Jack!” You greeted in a pleasant tone. “What’s up?”
He offered you a grin. The nephilim shifted his weight from one foot to the other from his place in front of your doorway before he replied. “There’s a Scooby Doo marathon on TV right now,” he stated simply. Silence fell over the pair of you as he gazed at you with an expectant expression.
You realized moments later that this was all he wanted to say, and your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “That’s great, Jack. But why did you come tell me?”
Jack’s expression soon mirrored your own, along with an added head tilt. “You do like Scooby Doo, don’t you?” You nodded, assuring him that yes, of course you like Scooby Doo. A bright smile spread across his face at this, and his posture straightened instantaneously. “Great! Then come on!” With that being said, he reached out and grabbed your hand to tug you along with him into the hallway. You had barely enough time to close your door before he pulled you into his room and got himself settled on the bed. He pressed his back against the headboard, crossing his legs criss cross.
You now took the time to close Jack’s door before turning and following his lead to sit on the bed next to him. You made sure to sit a good distance away from the boy in case he wanted space. Spoiler alert: he doesn’t usually want space. Instantly you saw him scooting closer to you out of the corner of your eye until his shoulder was brushing against yours.
Jack tugged the comforter over the pair of you before snatching the remote off of the mattress and flicking the television back to life. The sounds of the cartoon filled the otherwise silent room. This show was a bit of a joke between your little family, both for obvious reasons and reasons totally unknown to you. You also knew that it had been the first show Jack had any contact with, so it always remained close to his heart.
A couple of episodes passed in complete silence between yourself and the boy by your side, save for the shared chuckles each of you let out with each punchline. You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but at some point all of the space between you was a distant memory. Jack was soon sat almost entirely in your lap at that point. His body leaned closer and closer into yours with each passing second. His shoulders slumped and slowly but surely his weight against your body grew heavier and heavier. His head bobbed every few seconds and his eyelids drooped as he fought to keep his glazed over eyes on the screen.
“Jack?” You addressed him, your tone soft as to not break the quiet atmosphere of the space. He turned his head to you. You could tell quite clearly that his eyes struggled to focus on your face, and he reached a frustrated hand up in an attempt to rub the exhaustion out of his vision.
“Mhmmm?” He hummed as the heels of his hands scrubbed furiously at his eyes. You were quick to reach out and grab his wrists, tugging them away from his face.
You leaned down to look into his eyes. It was then that you realized how small he had made himself in his exhaustion. He was usually a couple of inches taller than you at least, but with his form as slouched as it was, the top of his head just reached your chin. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?” You asked him in what you hoped was an authoritative tone. You weren’t usually the one that had to get onto Jack for things like this. Usually Sam or Castiel were able to make sure he was taking care of himself and you were more there as a friend than a teacher in self care, but with the state of the boy next to you, you couldn’t just let this go.
Jack let out another hum, and his eyes drifted off to fixate on a space just beside you. “I think… Five days?” He paused for a moment before shaking his head and correcting himself. “No, no. Six.”
Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at his admission. “Jack, you can’t do that to yourself,” you scolded. “We’ve been on a whole hunt since then! You’re telling me you didn’t sleep before, during, or after this past hunt?” He shook his head, confirming your words. A long sigh passed through your lips, and you brought a hand up rub at the bridge of your nose.
A beat of silence passed between you two, until suddenly Jack spoke up. “I’m sorry…” He whispered. His words slurred in his tired state, but you could make them out just fine all the same. His arms wrapped around your waist and tugged you closer to him so he could rest his head in the crook of your neck as he often seemed to do when he needed comfort or grounding. You simply shook your head and brought a hand up to rest against the back of his head. The other sat comfortably over top of the arm wrapped around the front of your body.
“It’s okay, Jack. I’m just… I’m worried about you, you know? I don’t want you to hurt yourself by pushing the limits like this. You might be half angel, but that other half of you is still human. You still need sleep, alright?”
He nodded against your shoulder, only to pull away moments later to look you in the eyes. Uncertainty danced behind his blue gaze before he even began to speak. The light of the TV cast a colorful glow over half of his face, the harsh shadows it created reminding you how sharp his features really were beyond the soft expressions he usually wore. A soft brown curl of hair dropped lazily over one of his eyes, and with the feeling of his breath fanning over your face, you suddenly became acutely aware of just how close he was to you. “Can you…” he began slowly, his brows pulling together as if being tugged by an invisible needle and thread. “Could you, maybe, stay with me? I was thinking that it… It might help?” His words came out as more of a question than a statement, and the unsure look on his face gave the same feeling.
Much to his delight, a small smile formed on your face as you gave him a nod. “Of course I can stay with you,” you insisted, as though the answer should have been obvious. It was anything but obvious to the young nephilim, but he wasn’t going to argue. “In fact…” You paused a moment to situate the blanket over your lap to your liking, ensuring that it was as soft as you could possibly make it before looking back up at the man by your side with a smile. “Lay your head right here.” You patted your lap to punctuate your sentence.
A grateful smile tugged at Jack’s lips at the offer, and he was quick to burrow underneath the covers and settle himself into a comfortable position. In the end, he found that he was most pleased with his head in your lap facing the TV, one hand tucked underneath your legs like they were a pillow and another resting on your knee above his head. This position alone and its proximity to you was enough to help him calm down to the point of a peaceful sleep, but as soon as he felt you playing with his hair, he knew that he would never want to sleep away from you ever again.
You hummed a soft tune, hardly noticeable over the sounds of the cartoon marathon still going on the television in front of the bed. Your eyes weren’t focused on the screen, though. Instead your gaze drifted downwards to rest on the man’s head in your lap. Your fingers continued to brush leisurely through his messy head of soft brown hair. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a hum of appreciation when your fingernails scratched carefully across his scalp. You went on like this for a few minutes, you carding your hands through his hair and enjoying how soft his locks felt between your fingers, and him sighing in contentment every so often to ensure you didn’t stop.
You didn’t plan on stopping, though. At least, not until Jack reached up and grabbed ahold of your wrist. His grip was loose, clearly knowing you would trust him enough to keep your hand where he wanted it without tugging it away. You watched in a mixture of confusion and wonder as the nephilim brought your hand over to his face to press a soft kiss against the inner part of your wrist. The touch of his lips against your skin was so feather light that you wouldn’t have known what he had done if you weren’t watching his actions the whole time. He trailed his thumb slowly over the back of your hand before planting another careful kiss onto your wrist and releasing you as though nothing had happened.
You, however, weren’t able to recover as easily as Jack was. You felt frozen in place. It wasn’t out of fear or disgust, that was one thing you were sure of. It was just… shock. Your eyes burned with would-be tears at the sight of this man you adored treating you with such care and affection. His touches were as soft and careful as could be. His gaze held what one could only describe as adoration. Everything about this interaction felt so foreign. It was the exact antithesis of what you felt in your day to day life. You were a hunter. You didn’t get the quiet nights, or the soft touches, or the gentle kisses. You got the monsters, the blood, and the tears that came with your job. But then along came Jack Kline, with his boyish smile and charismatic charm, and suddenly your life felt different. For the longest time you weren’t sure whether or not the change was a good one or a bad one, but in that one moment, with Jack’s nose brushing sleepily against your knee, you knew. It was a good change.
You realized then that you must have phased out just long enough for Jack to sense your shift in demeanor, as he began to speak. “Dean told me that if I find someone that I like, that I should kiss them. He said it’s a way to show that I care about the person, and I wanted to show you that I care about you,” he informed you, his words slurring together as he teetered on the verge of sleep.
You found yourself grateful for not only the dim light, but also for Jack’s unfocused state so you were able to hide the fact that your cheeks were burning enough for you to press the back of your hand against the to cool them down. “Dean told you that, did he?” You managed to force out through your shocked state. Jack nodded from his place in your lap.
“Mmmmmmhmm!” He hummed. He took a moment to shift around so he was able to hold even tighter onto your legs before continuing. “Said if I like s’m’body, I gotta kiss ‘em b’fore ‘nyone else gets ‘em. Don’t want anyone else gettin’ you…” Jack muttered. As the last few words left his mouth, he turned his face to press into your lap, brushing his nose over the blanket as if trying to fix it to his liking.
A soft smile formed on your lips, and you finally reached up and placed your hand back on his head. He let out a satisfied hum and leaned up into your hand before settling back down and allowing you to go back to your ministrations. “Is that all he told you about kissing?”
“No. ‘e said I should kiss ‘em on the lips, but I can’t reach your lips right now. ‘M comfortable here, but I promise I’ll kiss you for real later.” Even in his exhausted state, he managed to sound quite insistent on the matter. His grip on your knee even tightened slightly before loosening fully again.
“I’ll hold you to that promise then, Jack.” And with that, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. His lips quirked upwards in a smile at the feeling, and you both settled into a comfortable silence. You continued to run your hands through his hair until you heard him snoring softly, at which point you maneuvered your bodies so you could both be lying beneath the covers.
You slept late into the next morning curled up with the nephilim. You found yourself confused as to how you had managed to sleep for so long without Sam or Dean waking you up, but all of your confusion evaporated when your eyes landed on the note on your bedside table.
I know we always say no attachments, the note began in Sam’s neat scrawl. But I have a feeling this one is for the better. Dean and I caught a hunt a few cities over. Sleep in. You two deserve a break. -Sam
That was all the encouragement you needed to shift back around and tuck yourself snug against Jack once again, allowing yourself to bask in just one happy moment, because that was really all you needed in the end.
This was a good change.
I’m gonna cry that was so cute
thank you so much! I’m so glad you liked it!!!
Okay imma ask another- Create a character on the spot.
Oh wow okay! That’s a tricky one. I’m just gonna start writing and hope it works out lmao this might get a little weird or mary sue-ish sorry!
Alright, so the first thing that came to mind is to make a character for this novel idea I’d had. It’s a dumb novel idea that’s very fantasy based and follows these kids around as they try to save this other world and stop this prophecy from becoming true because the main boy believes that the prophecy (in which the entire “other world” is destroyed) is about him, as do the other people living in this world) it’s a dumb idea but I needed a place for the oc to be from so!
OKAY! so the character. Her name is Ava, and she has light brown hair that’s cut short very sloppily, clearly having been done with a knife of some sort in the reflection of a nearby river. She lives in this other world, and she has for a good several years. About 13-14 years total, she believes, but time passes differently in this world, so it’s hard to keep track. She grew up in a military family, always moving from place to place with her family, and thus she also grew up to go into the army like her parents did. It was on one of these missions that she discovered one of the opened rifts into the other world and had to work to survive with the items she had on her at the time of her disappearance. Luckily, she had her guns,ammo, and a pack full of necessary survival equipment when she fell through, and her survival instincts were enough to keep her alive until she could be brought in by someone and shown the way around the world.
Her mentor was a frail looking old man who lived by the Padmapani River, as he called it, in the other world. Most of the places in this world are named by local families after their religious deities, the names showing whether or not the structures are safe. In this case, Padmapani is a form of the Buddhist compassion, showing that the river brings to those around it the necessary items for life, such as fresh food and water, without bringing about disease or harm. Ava learned about this world under this man’s guidance, and he tried his best to teach her the compassion he found through this river, and for a time, she did learn this quite well. She helped those around her and they both did as much as they could for anyone they came across.
Once the man died, this became a different story. He was killed in front of her by one of the “relentless souls” that live in this world, which are the souls of all who have died in that world and are stuck in limbo. Once he was killed, Ava felt all of her compassion and kindness drain away with each passing day she spent alone. She became hardened by her surroundings until little more remained than a skilled hunter and a kill-or-be-killed attitude. That’s why, when a frustrated Jonathan (the main protag) comes around asking if she could help find his friends, she refuses. Jonathan stays at her camp anyways, pushing her to explain the world to him, and while she continues to give him the cold shoulder, she still finds herself offering him some of the fish she’d caught earlier in the day and allowing him to sit and warm himself at her campfire.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll write the story some day and let her have a bit of a redemption. I’m starting to really like her.. hm. Sorry that was so long, got a bit carried away, haha!
1. out of all the fics you’ve written, which are you most proud of ? :)
oh my gosh, okay... hmmm, honestly I would have to probably say Soul? I feel like it wasn’t people’s favorite,and it was just one of those stories that might not flow really well to everyone, but it felt really personal to write. It felt nice to show so many different versions of Jack and to explain what he means to me and idk, descriptions are just so fun for me to write!
Thank u so much for asking!! <3
i'm a good writer, seriously! meme
just a simple little thing for you guys to do with me. put a number in my askbox and i’ll answer accordingly.
the mission, should you accept it, is to stay positive about your writing and yourself, but to also be fair about your shortcomings.
of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?
favorite tense (past/present/future)
favorite POV (first/second/third/etc)
what are some themes you love writing about?
what inspires you to write?
thoughts on critique
create a character on the spot…. NOW!
is there a character you love writing for the most? the least? why?
a passage from a WIP
what are your strengths wrt writing?
what are your weaknesses wrt writing?
what’s your favorite place for writing resources?
who are your favorite writers?
Beautiful
You’re insecure about your stretch marks. Sam insists that you have nothing to worry about (definitely no smut, but it does get kinda sensual).
hope u guys like this, i was feelin super insecure and wrote this mostly just to make myself feel better and decided to share in case anyone else needed it :)
Title: Beautiful
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Word Count: 740
Masterlist
You looked in the mirror and sighed.
The stretch marks crisscrossed over your stomach, your hips, your thighs, your arms - some were fresh, still tinged red and purple, but others had faded into faint silvery lines that caught the light and taunted you with their unfaltering permanence. You tore away your gaze, sighing as you dressed into your pyjamas, towel drying your damp hair as you left the bathroom and trudged to yours and Sam’s shared room.
Sam could tell you were down the moment he saw your face.
Keep reading
oh my god, leah, this is so soft and sappy and wonderful :,))))) your writing always amazes me and idk how you constantly find ways to wow me??? your writing style is so good aaaaa I love it so much
are you a “mark for later”, bookmarking unread fics on ao3, bookmarking unread fics on ur browser, 25 fic tabs open, or a “i’ll just find this later in my history” gay
More Like Home - Jack Kline x Reader
Summary/Request: @previouslyforgotten requested: Hi! It’s me again. I was wondering if you could do a someone x reader fluff where the reader is decorating her room in the bunker because she thinks it’s too bland and the man of men of your choice help? Preferably Dean or Jack? But you can pick whoever:)
Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader
Word Count: ~3.6k
Warnings: none!! fluffy fluff with jack and the brothers!!
A/N: okay so when given a choice i tend to choose jack, and im sorry, so i tried to put a smidge of dean in there as well! i hope this is okay, thank you so so much for the request!! i love your ideas so much, they’re so soft :)
BUY JACK’S SCENT HERE!
It didn’t feel right. No matter what you did, or how you moved the existing items around, it just didn’t feel right. Going on two years of living at the bunker with what Dean had deemed Team Free Will 2.0, you began to realize just how drab you seemed to feel in your given room. While the golden numbers adoring the door, addressing it as room 17, were always a welcoming sight after a long hunt, you couldn’t help but want… more from the interior.
Sure, you had your fair share of sentimental objects. Your guns and knives were displayed proudly on one wall, always well within reach and easy to dismount if the need to use them arose, which it so often seemed to do. A few pictures cataloging your travels with the boys littered the space, along with your notebooks and other hunting materials scattered about. This was nice, and offered a great reminder that this place was where you slept, but it still didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like home.
You lay on your back, arms and legs spread out like a starfish pondering this exact idea the day that the bunker’s resident Nephilim, Jack Kline, decided to pay you a visit. Your door was already open, but he made a point to stop at the threshold and tap his knuckles against the wooden slab to alert you of his presence. “(Y/N)?” He called to you in question. You made no move to get up, and simply let out a low hum in response. The sound of shuffling footsteps grew ever closer. “Are you alright?”
Keep reading
this is so so cute i love it!!! also the bit abt dean having a “vision” for the room made me chuckle and felt so in character !!! and you have such a great way of describing the boys and making them feel so accurate in just the little things in your description, like how you describe jacks smile !!!! loved the fic!!!
oh my gosh!! thank you thank you thank you thank you!!! this comment makes me so happy!!!!! I really really genuinely appreciate this so much, I try to keep everyone as close to canon characteristics as I can so I’m so glad you felt it was accurate. Thank you again!
