#But in the end it wasn't looking like i pictured it

[broke-on-books]

*sigh.* okay I know this post has a lot of notes so this has likely been said many times before (so sorry) but from what I can see from the picture, this is actually NOT a Spanish (Christian kingdoms of Spain) fortress! Kind of. At least not in the way described in the post. Let me explain.

Now I'm not Spanish myself, I just study this stuff, but I've spent a decent amount of time visiting places like the one in this photo (twice. I've been there.) and studying history and architecture from this period so this claim immediately threw up a bunch of red flags for me. Because uhhhh. Muslims clearly built this fortress.

And when I say "this fortress" I'm referring to the Alhambra. Yeah, this Alhambra.

Ok so basically while I can't confirm 100% this is the Alhambra because none of the angles on the digital tour or in my own photos show that specific angle (notably, the broken wall) I can say with near certainty that he's at the Alhambra. Look at the photo again:

You can see similar features in the 2nd photo (an image I captured of the Alhambra this summer!) The strange point [location 1] in the background of our picture (NOT typical of Moorish architecture) would then be part of the Palace of Carlos V (King of Spain), where we can see the architecture style is markedly different.

& don't play the fortress vs. palace game with me! While our guy above is clearly standing somewhere in the Alcazaba (fortress portion, on the right), the oldest portion of the site, we can see similar buildings below Carlos V's palace, those being the palaces of the Nasrid dynasty, the series of Muslim rulers who were defeated when Ferdinand and Isabel took Grenada in 1492, ending the reconquista and taking the Alhambra as their own seat of power.

Basically the joke here (while funny!!) Isn't accurate because his claim that the Spanish built this fortress is incorrect bc even if it wasn't the Alhambra (which it totally is) it means that the Spanish would had to have built a fortress specifically following the styles and architecture of their enemy sometime during the centuries of reconquista instead of just. taking over a muslim-built fortress and adding a few of their own bits and pieces (maybe). Which like they're known for doing.

Like there are some historically Christian-built buildings that exist in imitation of Muslim architectural styles that do exist in Spain - aka the Mudéjar art style (ex: Pedro I's Palace in the Alcázar of Sevilla for one) but you wouldn't see that with a fortress??? Idk this got long but it's a strange claim that any Christian king would have built this, especially if it is (it is) the Alhambra which is like very famously and very clearly Islamic site. Like in the palaces they have Quran verses engraved into the walls and everything. Like that's literally what it's known for?? Also the founding purpose wouldnt be to "keep the Muslims out" it would just be to keep other ppl out. Bc thats what a fortress is for. Also Muslims built it.

TLDR; the joke is funny but does not work historically with the location pictured (where it makes no sense), which was used for essentially the exact opposite purpose described in the post. So anyways love the spirit but he would have made more sense going for a "reverse reconquista" joke instead

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 cabin confessions : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

y/n loves gushing about Percy to her siblings, Percy accidentally finds out about this and he's absolutely obsessed with it.

author: i'll never get tired of cabin ten reader x percy, probs will write more abt them because ugh i just love them, also mentions of marriage!!

She sits on her bed, a brush in her hand as she gently runs it through the little girl's hair, her touch tender and soothing, pouring care into each stroke through the knots.

Her siblings sit in a circle around her on the floor, listening to her and hanging onto her every word as she recalls the time she was just friends with Percy.

"How come you two started dating?" Lacy asks, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

They already know how the story goes, they have heard about it at least twice now, but every time they look as interested on it as if it was their first time hearing about it.

"We were friends for a long time. I always thought that's all we would ever be." She starts, settling down the brush. "Percy was just... you know, Percy. All charming and brave and, well— completely clueless about my crush on him."

One of them giggles. "You had a crush on him first? wasn't he the one that asked you out?"

"Yes, he was, but it took him long enough to do it." she replies, smiling fondly at the memory as she starts to braid her sister's hair. "We kissed first, can you believe it? and even after that, Percy was still a nervous wreck when he asked me out. It was like he had forgotten how to talk and kept stumbling over his words, I honestly thought he was choking at some point."

The group erupts into laughter.

"And did you say yes right away?" Another sister pipes up, leaning forward with anticipation.

"I don't think he would've survived if I didn’t." She grins, her fingers working on the braid. "He was so sweet, he took me out for a picnic by the lake and he was honestly... just so perfect. I couldn't say no to him."

One of her brothers smirks, leaning back. "I would've made him work harder for it."

"He's worth it. He's always worth it." a chorus of 'awws' fill the room just as she's finished with her Lily's braid. "Okay, who's next?"

Lily grins at her and goes to sit down with the rest of the siblings, happy with her new braid, and the next sister in line takes her place on the bed while y/n grabs the brush again.

She knows they're not done with their questions. "And how did you two kiss for the first time?"

Beaming at the question, she tells the whole story again and again, going through the details while keeping everyone's hair knotless and braided.

Percy has always been amused by y/n's relationship with her siblings. Besides Tyson, he doesn't have anyone else to share a cabin with, so he doesn’t really get too many bonding opportunities as she does. She always tells him about the endless afternoons of talking, the movie nights, the blanket forts, and he can't help but feel just the tiniest bit of envy as he listens.

Right now, Tyson isn't even around because he's too busy to come back to camp this summer. So even if Percy's trying hard to respect his girlfriend's quality time with her siblings this afternoon, he ends up missing her too much.

Which leads him here, finally giving up on spending time by himself, he heads towards cabin 10, hoping y/n will let him crash her sleepover because he just needs to see her.

However, just when he's about to knock on the wooden door, he notices it's slightly cracked open. Laughter spills out, and he can even pick up her laugh among the others.

He doesn’t mean to pry, really, but it's not his fault that just when he's about to announce himself, he hears one of her little sisters asking. "And do you think you'll marry him?"

Percy stops right on his track, something just tells him they're talking about him. His suspicions only get confirmed when y/n is the one replying to the question. "Well, we're still young. But I can't picture myself marrying anyone else, you know?"

Gasps and excited chatter fill the room. Some of them beg for her to be flower girls at the wedding, while she tries, and fails, to get them to quiet down.

Percy's frozen in his spot. His heart skips a beat or two at her words. He leans against the doorframe, unable to stop the smile creeping across his face.

"Do you think he wants to marry you, too?" another one asks when the room finally falls silent again.

He does. Percy wants to make his presence known just to answer the question himself.

y/n chuckles softly "Well that's something that you'd have to ask him. But I sure hope so."

"You should propose to him instead." one suggests, they all break into a fit of giggles.

"Maybe I should. Do you reckon he'd like that?" She asks playfully.

Another sibling chimes in "He'd probably faint right on the spot."

Percy can't help himself anymore. Before he can think it through, his knuckles softly knock on the door. Everyone immediately falls silent, turning to look at the doorway, where he's shyly standing.

y/n's smile grows bigger once she looks up and finds him there. "Percy!"

"hope i'm not interrupting anything." he steps in, trying to keep his cool even though his heart is racing.

The Aphrodite kids exchange mischievous looks, some covering their mouths to hide their giggles. Lacy's the one to pipe up. "We were just talking about you!"

"Oh, really?" Percy has to act as if he didn’t know that already, raising his eyebrows as he glances at y/n, her cheeks are already tinted a pretty shade of pink. "Good things, I hope?"

"Of course" she recovers quickly, making some space for him to sit beside her on the bed. "What are you doing here?"

Percy carefully steps around the circle of Aphrodite kids on the floor and plops down beside her. "Just missed you." He replies simply, already reaching for her hand.

Her siblings immediately protest. "Don't distract her! it's her turn to braid."

She laughs, setting the brush down and instead taking Percy's hand, her delicate fingers lacing with his. "Don't worry, I'll still braid everyone's hair. Percy's just here to join the fun."

He chuckles, playfully shrugging. "I've always wanted to learn how to braid, I guess"

Her siblings break into laughter, and y/n rolls her eyes affectionately. That's how Percy ends up being instructed by a bunch of Aphrodite children on how to make a perfect braid while he listens to their chatter, laughing as they share stories with him.

Every now and then, y/n sneaks a glance at him, her eyes soft with affection and he remembers what he overheard. He will never forget it. But everytime she looks at him, he knows she wasn't lying just by the love he's able to see in her eyes.

Later, when everyone is happy with their braids and every story they could think about has been told, they start to drift away to their different sides of the cabin and Percy finds his perfect opportunity to mention what he overheard. He can't keep it to himself any longer.

"For the record." He starts, tugging her closer to him. "I can't picture myself marrying anyone else either."

Her breath catches and her face turns crimson. She immediately hides her face against his chest. "You weren't supposed to hear that!"

Percy laughs, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a soft kiss against her temple. "Just let me take care of the proposal, yeah?"

She's utterly embarrased, but she finally laughs, swatting his chest lightly as she mumbles. "Deal"

They settle back into each other’s arms, the warmth of the moment lingering between them as they think about how lucky they are to have each other. Next time, when her siblings gather around her bed asking questions, she’ll have some news to share with them.

[poguehearted77]

Tap Out

Just thinking about Rafe's super gorgeous, beautifully breathtaking girlfriend who is notorious for giving people a hard time. Especially him.

She got that million dollar Million dollar oow, oow And all I want to do is touch it Make her tapout, tapout, tapout, tapout,

Rafe stands tall and brooding in front of the bed where you sat while he hits replay on the overbearing series of voicemails you'd left him while he was out.

"Hi Rafe, I know you said you and Barry had to go take care of whatever it was that you said—I don't know; I wasn't really listening, but I just saw this new coach bag online, and I need you to send me a picture of your credit card front and back so I can get it. Thanks in advance baby."

You stay silent and unbothered by the replay.

He plays the next one, "It's almost midnight, Rafe. When are you coming home? I miss you. The bed is so big and empty without you in it. You remember that night we came back from the Blue Diamond charity gala and we barely made it up the stairs? The way you fucked me so good, left me aching for you for days--mmmm, wanna feel you like that again, come home Rafeyy."

Your boyfriend huffs as he moves to play the last one except this one is silent for the first few moments until some lewd sounds can be picked up. It's wet and sticky. It sounds like Thanksgiving mac and cheese being stirred in the pot. Soon, the faintest string of moans can be heard.

Most wouldn't be able to pick up on it, but not Rafe. His ears are trained to the sound of your voice. He's accustomed to every pitch, tone and frequency your pleasure can take on.

You stand, ready to plead your case, "You were gone for hours, what was I supposed to do?" Your arms cross defensively and they suddenly drop when Rafe's big hand is holding you by the throat, squeezing tight enough to have you gasping.

"You think this shit is funny?" His voice is strict, unwavering and serious. "What if Barry heard this? Huh?" Your eyes roll, defences refusing to crumble even with a limited supply of air, "It's Barry, he'd probably thank me-"

You need to learn when to shut up at the end of a rhetorical question because now Rafe had you bent up like a pretzel. One hand is still around your neck while the other holds you at the waist.

Your legs are shaking as he brings you to what you thought was your third orgasm but is actually the fourth (you'd blacked out during the second one). "Rafe- no- s'too much," You murmur, voice broken and weak from all your screams.

"Nothin's too much for you." He groans, punctuating his sentences with a sharp snap of his hips. It sends you reeling and your eyes roll back as you feel that familiar heat begin to unfurl in your core.

You shake your head repeatedly, "I can't--Rafe! Please." You beg, so incredibly turned on by the sight of your hot boyfriend who looked down to where your bodies connected. The way your slick covered his cock down to his balls. It pulls a groan out of him from his core.

You admired the sweat that gathered over the thin hairs on his chest and that piercing blue gaze that would glance up at you from time to time to taunt you like now. "You know what to do if you can't take it sweet thing." You do know what to do, but you refuse to back down, you're so close.

"O-oh shit I'm-" The words escape and your climax is stolen from you when Rafe stops completely and pulls out, his hands move down to your hips, shamelessly displaying his physical dominance over you and flipping you onto your stomach effortlessly.

He grips the flesh of your waist and manhandles you until you're being pulled back against him, the beautiful sight of your plump and juicy ass in his hands is enough to send him to the heavens above or maybe the firey pits below.

You're already too weak to hold yourself up on your arms, so you let yourself fall into the sheets. Your cries muffled into the pillows as Rafe slowly presses back into you, stretching you back open. His rhythm picks up with nothing but urgency and mercilessness.

Your back arches, and you cry out his name when you're blinded by your own orgasm. Coming undone once more and he comes soon after with a breathy chuckle. His hips are still rolling into yours lethargicly when he whispers, "You got one more in you, baby?"

"Fuck no. I'm done." You whine, your fists tapping out on the pillow and his pace slows until he finally stops, slowly pulling out.

"That'll teach you to fuck with my voicemails when I'm not here." He lays himself down beside you, carefully moving the stray strands of hair out of your face to admire you.

Your lips were swollen from all the sucking and biting he'd done to them earlier, your cheeks flushed and your body is spent. You grin, "You know you liked it, especially that last one." Rafe exhaled, even in your drained state you can still find time to be bratty.

"I did, I did. You sounded so fucking pretty playing with that perfect pussy of yours. Had to go rub one out in Barry's bathroom because of you." You smile a little bigger at that. "Good." Is all you say and Rafe can only roll his eyes as he moves to hold you in his arms.

You both lay there, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies until Rafe speaks up softly, "Tuesday." He says, and your head looks up at him with a confused tilt. Without having to ask him, he explains, "The purse you want. I ordered it. It'll be here on Tuesday."

Just when your smile couldn't get any bigger, it does, and Rafe can't help but to be in awe because god you're so fucking gorgeous but you're such a pain in the ass.

His prettiest headache.

[concretejunglefm]

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 1).

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me dead And said that I did everythin' wrong And you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies 

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: none really. Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst.

WC: 3.2k.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Had Noah cheated, you believe that you could've handled everything a lot better, but somehow what he did had been worse.

It wasn't cheating, even if you couldn't ignore the pit in your stomach when you thought about him and her together.

Noah's ex had joined the last leg of his tour as an opening act, and while under any other circumstances it wouldn't have bothered you, his nonchalant attitude about it did. 

This had been a man who spent time after time cursing her out to you, pushing aside any doubts or worries you had felt when it came to her, and now he didn't care if she was joining him in the most important aspect of his life.

Even worse was how he’d knocked back your own suggestion of joining him.

"It's only for a few days. I'll get to watch you play, and we can see it as a vacation." "You can see it as that. For me, it's work, babe. You know that, and you know how important it is to me." "I know I just thought." "Well, don't. Not this time. Maybe next time."

You did your best to brush off the hurt at the time, and now again as the memory resurfaces.

Noah didn't cheat, but what he did was close enough to make you feel heartbroken and forgotten about.

Messages and calls came less and less during this leg, and now you were sitting up early Saturday morning going through the posts on your Twitter feed like a fool, allowing yourself to be more hurt with each one that you came across.

@badoxmens: Did you see Noah and his ex on stage last night?

@ieatconcreeete: I hope this means they're finally getting back together !!

@artitficalsuicide: If I were his girlfriend, I would hate myself right now.

@deduckingthrone: Noah has a girlfriend? Are you sure? Him and his ex looked pretty cozy if he does.

The videos and pictures which accompanied the tweets did nothing to ease the rising bile in your throat, and every attempt to reach Noah was left unanswered.

Noah ignored every single text and call you made to him, not bothering to even make it obvious that he was ignoring you, the delivered and read notifications driving you mad until you had to stop yourself altogether.

Instead of breaking up with you, he ghosted you, your only proof of this coming a week later when another set of videos and photos showed up on your feed of him attending the album launch party of his ex.

There was no ignoring the closeness between them, the way he lingered by her in the one video, the way they were caught slipping off together and hovering a little too closely in another.

You almost went to write out a long-winded text, one full of all your feelings for everything that had transpired over the past week, but instead settled for a simple 'fuck you'. Even going as far as to block and delete his number to not allow for any temptation in reaching out to him.

You deserved better than this, that whatever had transpired for Noah to play with your feelings in this manner and you decided then that you'd do whatever it took to move on.

"What you need is a girls’ trip." The suggestion from your best friend came as no surprise, Sloan would always choose a spa day or a girls’ trip whenever she felt a need to unwind, which was practically every week according to her.

"Huh?" You snap back from your own thoughts, mindlessly stirring a spoon in your latte.

"Babe, please tell me that you are not still hung up on that guy." You hear both the pity and disdain in her tone.

To Sloan boys were nothing more than toys to be played with, to be thrown down and picked back up whenever she wanted. That was her trick to not being hurt.

"It's been two years."

"I know." You don't even need to give her a real answer for her to know, but it still doesn't stop your mind from wandering and from the pang in your chest each time you think about him.

“Girls’ trip, this weekend and I'm not taking no for an answer."

You wish that she had taken no for an answer.

A girl’s trip sounded delightful until she suggested Vegas and you were squeezing yourself onto a last-minute flight there. You wouldn't have minded had it not been for the fact that your seats were apart from one another and you had been given a middle seat, which meant you were now stuck in between two strangers.

Moving along the aisle towards your seat, you slide your weekend bag from your shoulder and toss it into the overhead bin. Looking down at your ticket, you confirm the seat number and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you tap on the shoulder of the man sitting on the end seat, covered up with a black hoodie.

"Excuse me. I'm 33B." You gesture to the empty space beside him, and the minute you catch a familiar pair of brown eyes gaze back at you, you feel your heart plummet into your stomach and bile rising up your throat.

Noah.

You're ready to make a dash towards the back of the plane, either to throw up in the bathroom or attempt to throw yourself out of the emergency exit.

"Sor—."

He cuts himself off on the sight of you, and you huff as he moves himself and allows for you to squeeze past.

When you fall into the middle seat, you find Jolly sitting on the other side of you and realize that they must be on their way to a show. 

In Vegas? 

You almost turn and ask him but decide not to. You spent the last two years ignoring his and his band's existence; you can do that for another hour on this flight.

When you dare a glance in Jolly's direction, he's already sliding his headphones on and looking out of the window, completely disengaging himself. You're almost jealous. You'd do anything to disappear from this moment's event, even exchange seats with the Swede so as not to be sat next to Noah.

As the flight pulls out to taxi, you feel Noah's leg bouncing against your own. You know it's his nerves. He's always been a nervous flyer, and it makes you wonder why he's choosing to fly instead of driving to Vegas.

You mentally smack yourself because it's not your place to wonder these things or even care about them anymore.

"Will you stop that?" You finally voice your annoyance as the plane begins its descent down the runway.

"You know I'm a nervous flyer!" He retorts, and yes, you do know, but he's not supposed to highlight that fact.

“Yeah, but it's annoying." You snipe beneath your breath.

"I can't help it!"

You sound like a couple of squabbling kids, and you hit your knee against his as if to prove a point for him to stop, but he only bounces his leg harder.

It's as if he's purposely trying to piss you off, and unfortunately for you, it's working.

"Just—" You reach over and press your hand down on his thigh, forcing his leg still. "There. Stop."

He does stop, but then you feel his larger tattooed hand atop yours, and his fingers slip beneath and around your own as if choosing to accept this as you giving him some form of comfort.

You're not, but you can hardly pull your hand away as the plane begins to take off and you feel his fingers tightening around yours, signifying his general fear and discomfort over flying.

That is until you're hit with the reminder that this guy ghosted you, and you owe him nothing.

You snatch your hand back, glaring at him as he looks down at you.

"What was that for?"

“Oh, please, you're a big boy. Hold your own damn hand if you're that scared." You don't hold back on the mockery in your tone, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was always there for you, and this is how you repay me?"

“Oh, please, you were there for your own ego."

You feel Noah lean in closer to you and you edge yourself away as best as you can without causing too much disruption to Jolly tucked in the window seat.

"You could at least try to make this work."

You hear him whisper, and your mouth drops open due to the utter audacity this man has to even suggest such a thing.

"Why would I do that when you did such a great job proving you're not worth the effort?" You snipe back, keeping your voice low.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're really choosing now to play dumb? God, you really are all muscle and no brains now, aren't you?"

You couldn't ignore the fact that over the past two years he had buffed out even more than you can remember.

Noah had always been physically fit during the time you were together, with muscles coming in, but there was something more toned and larger about him now. 

It was a noticeable enough sight that could have any girl drooling over him.

But not you. 

You refused to engage with the thought.

"So what you're saying is you think I look hot?"

You don't need to look at him to see it; you can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you shake with anger at how unfazed he appears by all of this. 

You can't resist jabbing your elbow into his side, resulting in him letting out a whine which draws the attention of passengers around you to look over.

"What was that for?" Noah grumbles, bringing a hand to his side as he rubs the spot you’d caught. 

"Because you're a dumbass." You spit out between gritted teeth.

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" You haven't even noticed the seatbelt signs turn off, and when you look up, you spot a young air hostess peering in at you both. The moment her eyes catch sight of Noah, you spot that sudden flash of recognition in her own.

"Here we go," You mumble under your breath, rolling your own eyes as you direct your head forward and press back against the headrest. 

You wait to hear it, his charm that he always uses whenever there's a fan who recognizes him in a place he doesn't want to be noticed.

He's suave with it, and it always made you swoon in the beginning because you believed that he was merely trying to seek out his privacy for you both, but now you realize it was just one of his many tactics for keeping up some reputation he felt the need to uphold.

"Well, well... It looks like someone has good taste in music. You just made my day… but if you don't mind keeping it between us?"

You scoff and press your lips together when feeling the heat of a stare on you, but the air hostesses' quiet giggling is enough to prove that his little charm worked.

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. "Real smooth." You remark once she leaves down the plane aisle to attend to another passenger.

"It worked on you, didn't it?"

"Don't flatter yourself. That was after five drinks, and I'd been eyeing up Folio all night."

"Oh—"

"Will you both quit it before I bang your heads together!" Jolly cuts Noah off, interrupting your squabbling.

"She started it." Noah argues, and your head turns back to him as you shoot him a glare. 

If looks could kill, you'd have done it multiple times by now.

The rest of the flight wasn't any easier, between playing elbow hockey with Noah over the armrest and more snide remarks, you were thankful the moment the plane came into land, unbuckling your belt and attempting to move the moment the seatbelt sign turned off.

"The plane hasn't even come to a stop." Noah points out as you attempt to stand, ushering him to move out of your way.

"I don't care, just move." You huff and glare down at him as he remains still, his tattooed hands sitting and tapping on his thighs, barely giving you a brief glance.

"Not even a please? You're so rude."

You know that you shouldn’t, but you begin to attempt climbing over him, holding onto the seat in front as you try to drag yourself past him and over his lap, muttering as you go. "And you are absolutely incorrigible."

"Wow, that's a new one. Is it your word of the day?"

You glance behind him and see him attempting to push back into his seat more, as if that's helping you in any way, and when you see his hand raise, you instinctively swat at it with the assumption he's going to touch you. 

"Ow?! There was no need for that."

Finally free from your row, you huff and pull yourself together, reaching for the overhead bin and pulling out your bag. 

“Well, this was fun. I really hope we never have to do it again." You glare at him and begin making your way down the aisle with the rest of the passengers towards the exit door.

You've never been happier to see the back of a plane in your life, moving as fast as your legs will let you through the crowd of people, almost missing the sound of Sloan's voice as she calls after you.

"Wait up, speedy!" She laughs as she finally catches up, and you come to a slow down, shaking your head free of all the thoughts which had been swirling around in there due to the unexpected reunion you just briefly had with your ex.

"Sorry. I just had to get out of there."

"That wasn't who I think it was, was it?" You spare a glance over at Sloan, and your irritated expression gives that answer away. "It was? What was he doing on a plane to Vegas?"

"I can't say I really cared to ask him, Sloan." Your tone has a bite still left over from the sniping that you and Noah had done. "Sorry, he just really gets under my skin."

"I can see that."

"The sooner we're at the hotel, the better. Then I can wash this whole thing off me, and we can finally start enjoying our girls' weekend."

"Yes! Girls’ weekend. No talk about stupid boys." Sloan slips her arm around yours, linking you together as she lets out an excited 'woohoo'. It makes you laugh, and you finally feel the tension that being sat next to Noah for the last hour had caused, slipping away.

It's a feeling which is short-lived, however.

After making your way through the airport and standard checks, you reach the taxi rank outside, and as you open the door, you turn back to call for Sloan, only to be met with the 6'3 asshole who's covered in tattoos.

“Oh, thanks, you shouldn't have." He flashes you a grin as he slides into your taxi, followed by Jolly, who offers you a brief apologetic look. Maybe you should've been giving him a harder time if he was enabling this stupid behavior.

You stand speechless as they pull the door close, tossing daggers at the cab as it drives away and a scream rumbles in your throat. 

"Where's the taxi?" Sloan asks as she chooses now to join you. You grumble something incoherent under your breath as you turn to wave down the next incoming taxi.

She's now joining Noah and Jolly on your shit list.

"It's going to be perfect! There's a spa, three pool areas. One of them is an infinity pool off the balcony upstairs." Sloan continues to drone on about the hotel and everything it includes. You only have a weekend here, but she's already planning multiple ways for you to take advantage of everything.

Currently, your mind is back on Noah and his stupid, smug ass face as he stole your taxi. You try to distract yourself from it, shaking him from your thoughts and coming back into the present, to this weekend.

Seeing him was a blip, but you refused to allow him to derail your plans or excitement.

Counting the room numbers down the hallway, you look up as you come closer to yours, room number: 308. 

Sloan has the room opposite you, disappearing inside after making plans to knock on after shower and changing. A shower sounds perfect right about now, not only to wash off the plane smell but also with being in such proximity to Noah in general.

As you fiddle with the room key, you hear a familiar voice, which causes your back to raise. Turning your head, you peer down the hallway, watching a group of familiar faces grow nearer to you. Noah is the one trailing behind, while Folio and Matt's voices are the ones you hear echoing down the hall.

You hastily attempt to open your hotel room door, being met with the red light before trying again.

You huff and close your eyes to calm yourself from growing irrationally angry.

Hearing the voices past you, you open your eyes and look back to find Noah standing at the door next to yours, room number: 310.

"Hey, neighbor." Noah flashes you a grin, and you shake your head in protest.

"No."

"No?" He repeats back at you in a question, his brows knitting together. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no, we are not neighbors, and you cannot be here. Not in this room, not in this hotel. Hell, not even in this state." You're being irrational, but you never did quite have much rationality when it came to him. You always found yourself diving in headfirst to whatever thought crossed your mind.

"And who said this? You?" Noah raises a brow at you, taking a step closer as he leans a hand against the wall.

He easily towers over you, and under any other circumstance before now, that would have you weak at the knees and buckling for him, but right now it has you infuriated that he's somehow here, ruining your weekend and attempting to charm you.

"Yes."

"Still as bossy as ever, I see."

"And you're still an asshole." You snipe back, your eyes narrowing, still attempting to get your keycard in your door and slip away from this conversation.

"Ouch, that hurt." Noah raises his free hand, bringing it to his chest, feigning a tone of disbelief and hurt while you roll your eyes in response.

“Oh, please, that would insinuate you had any feelings to begin with."

"I have a lot of feelings, actually. Such as feeling sorry for you while watching you struggle with something so easy. Here, let me."

Before you have a chance to protest, he's reaching out to take your hotel room key and slips it into the swipe, drawing it out to a flashing green light.

You huff as you open the door, pushing forward, and the last thing you hear before the door slams is another final snarky remark from him; "Not even a thank you?"

Once in the safety of your room, you let out a loud scream of frustration, only to hear Noah's chuckle from the other side of the door, and you gently bang the back of your head against the door as you lean back on it.

Great, now you really can't escape him this weekend.

[venus-haze]

Your Name in Lights - Chapter 1 (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Nothing could have prepared you for your big break, co-starring in one of Soldier Boy's movies and the undeniable chemistry the two of you have on- and off-set. [AO3 Link | Masterlist]

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. I left the time period intentionally ambiguous, but it has some '50s/'60s classic Hollywood vibes. The actress you're replacing and the director are made up for this fic.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Period-typical misogyny. Implied age gap. Power imbalance. Soldier Boy is his own warning.

Sweat gathered at your brow under the bright studio lights, and you hoped it wouldn't show in the costume test photos being taken. You turned to the side at the photographer's direction, wondering what the hell you were even testing for in the first place. Your manager had called you at nearly five in the morning, telling you to come to the studio right away, because if you didn't, some other starlet would get the part. Practically everyone in the room looked stressed, from the costume designer with her furrowed brow to her assistant, hovering near the clothing rack.

"I'm sorry," you began, taking the dress that was handed to you once your navy blue sweater-skirt combo was adequately documented. Sleek, black, with a slit up the side. Obviously for a nightclub scene. You hadn't done many of those. "What movie is this for, again?"

"The latest Soldier Boy picture," your manager Frank said, following you behind the privacy screen toward the back of the room to help you into the dress. You'd long since foregone any sense of modesty around him, the only person looking out for you in Tinseltown.

"In what role?" You wiggled into the dress and peeked around the screen. "This is gonna have to be taken in around the bust."

"Are you kidding? You're the leading lady," he said, zipping up the dress for you.

Your eyes widened. "What happened to Olivia Yearly? I heard months ago that she was cast in Soldier Boy's latest picture."

"Stormed off set and quit. She's a real diva."

"But she's Olivia Yearly, and I'm—"

"You're gonna be a hundred Olivia Yearlys if you play your cards right with this one."

"I haven't even auditioned or done a screen test. How did they find me?"

"Audiences liked you in your last few pictures. It was the people over at Vought who wanted to take a chance on you," Frank said, letting you steady yourself on his shoulder as you slipped on the heels that accompanied the dress. Of course Vought had the muscle to get just about any studio to lend out their stars to them, who could pass up being in a movie with a superhero? "Besides, this way Soldier Boy won't have to share top billing, and obviously you won't be getting an Olivia Yearly salary, so it's a win-win for them."

"Frank—"

"Don't worry, kid, you're not getting stiffed."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"They only filmed two scenes, small ones, from what I've heard, so it's not a big reshoot. You'll get the script this afternoon, the writers are changing a few things, a little less femme fatale, you know? I told them that's not your image."

You sighed. That wasn't your worry either, but Frank already had his mind made up. You'd only recently gotten fourth or fifth billing in your movies. Soldier Boy had been America's favorite leading man and a guaranteed box office draw for as long as he'd been on screen. It'd be a big break for you, the kind you always dreamed of. "Okay, let's give it a shot."

"Attagirl."

The script you received wasn't the most imaginative or groundbreaking, but it was good, a solid film noir that softened its femme fatale lead, the sultry Laura becoming the ingenue Laurie to accommodate introducing you to a wider audience next to Soldier Boy of all people. A sweet girl who'd become his partner and confidant as the plot progressed, eventually his lover by the end of the film. After all, Soldier Boy always got the girl.

From the moment he stepped into your powder pink dressing room, any notions you may have had about your co-star's clean-cut persona went out the window. The smell of marijuana took you aback. You recognized it, knew to stay the hell away from it unless you wanted a scandal that ended your career before it even began.

Still, you tried to be gracious and courteous, thanked him for taking a chance on you, let yourself giggle at the compliment he threw your way about how the makeup artist wasn't going to have a thing to do as long as you were in the picture. Except he steered the conversation clear off course. You supposed he expected you to be more naive than you let on, but you'd been around the industry to know better, tried to stay as professional as possible even though he kept pushing it.

"You know, if you ever wanna run lines, just you and me, I got a suite up at the Chateau Marmont," he said. "All the privacy you could want, get to know each other better."

"That won't be necessary," you said as politely as you could. "Thank you for the offer, though."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it's either that, or you're frigid as hell. I can relieve whatever your issue is, sweetheart. You just say the word."

Your face heated up, and you turned away from him. "I'd like you to go now, please."

"Suit yourself," he said. "See you on set."

As soon as you heard the door shut, you reached for the glass of ice water on your vanity with a shaky hand and brought it to your forehead, staring at your bewildered expression in the brightly lit mirror in front of you.

No wonder Olivia Yearly quit, though you didn't dare imagine what he could've possibly said to her. But you had to try, if not for your own career, then for Frank's sake. He believed in you, even when you were just starting out in an industry that you'd seen cannibalize so many others. He must have pulled some impossible strings just to get you this role. You weren't going to let an unpleasant co-star ruin the opportunity of a lifetime.

Except he almost did, as you faltered ad fumbled your way through your scenes with him that first day. Frustration radiated off of the crew, and every time award-winning director Julian Garrett yelled 'cut', he sounded tired, as if he wondered if the movie were ever going to be made. They were all doing you a favor, especially the people at Vought, giving you a chance, and you had yet to prove you earned it. You knew if you didn't get it together, you wouldn't have another chance to.

Standing next to Soldier Boy by the facade of a made-up bar, you pushed your hair out of your face as a giant fan just out of frame kicked on to fabricate a windy night. The chill, the uncertainty, the tension, all set up perfectly for the scene.

"Haven't you ever had that feeling? Where you know something's not right, but you can't explain why?"

He nodded. "Sure I have, it's what's gotten me this far."

"Then you have to trust me, Soldier Boy," you implored. "Something about Everhart's plan doesn't seem right—seem on the level—"

"Cut!" Julian yelled.

Soldier Boy turned to the representative from Vought, hovering on set, probably a lawyer to cover any liabilities after the Olivia Yearly situation. "This is what you get for hiring some fresh piece of ass who doesn't know what she's doing."

Your hands balled into fists at your side. He said what everyone was surely thinking after having to start the scene over for the dozenth time, but it still hurt to hear. "I'll have you know my ass and I know exactly what we're doing!" you snapped. "Let's start from the top, Mr. Garrett. I'll get it this time."

The director sighed. "Alright, one more time."

When you turned back to face Soldier Boy, you caught a glimpse of his smile before it fell from his face in preparation for the scene.

The tension between you and everyone else on set fizzled out as you spoke, finally finding the sweet spot where you could match Soldier Boy's energy, your determination to succeed and prove him wrong far exceeding how intimidating you found your co-star until then.

"I really hope it won't take so long to get a performance like that out of you tomorrow," Julian said, looking relaxed for the first time all day.

"It won't. I promise."

"Better not," Soldier Boy muttered.

You kept your word, ran through your lines every night until you could hardly keep your eyes open, showed up on set early, even when Soldier Boy was an hour or two late, started getting on people's good sides, or maybe they were finally recognizing your potential now that you were only having to do two or three takes of each scene.

Despite your rocky start and the trepidation you felt about him, there was no denying Soldier Boy's charisma, how easy it was for you to play off of it. Then, between takes, he was more amicable, though you doubted his intentions were as mundane as wanting to get along with his coworker. But you found yourself flirting back when he did, telling yourself it was to keep up the chemistry between your characters rolling, even when the cameras weren't. Frank even told you over dinner one evening that industry chatter had already begun talking you up as the find of the year, whispers of your chemistry with Soldier Boy already drowning out the drama with his previous co-star.

During the second week of filming, the lawyer from Vought had pulled you aside to let you know someone from one of the big Hollywood gossip columns was going to be on set that week. You figured someone from Hedda Hopper's outfit, as she sung Soldier Boy's praises in her articles, though you read both her and Louella Parsons' columns religiously, especially after you were cast in the current picture, and public interest in you piqued. He didn't tell you about it to keep you informed, but rather to warn you to keep your mouth shut if you wanted your career to stay on the upward trajectory it was going.

You tried not to look at the unfamiliar woman too much, cigarette dangling from her lips, notepad and pen in hand, writing a sentence or two every so often. Her face was unreadable, but you tried not to let it get to you, not when the next scene was so important.

Outside of the same bar facade where you finally found your place in the film, you stood as Laurie in the black and white houndstooth coat you'd come to love, preparing to distract the two-faced Everhart so Soldier Boy could gather intel, the first big step in foiling his enemy's plan. Laurie was being thrown to the wolves.

"Soldier Boy," you simpered, "I don't know if I can do this without you."

"Laurie—"

Your eyes glistened with tears, voice breaking ever so softly as you placed a manicured hand on his chest. "No, I don't want to do this without you."

He took you in his arms and kissed you, deeply enough that you had to steady yourself on his biceps, that certainly wasn't in the script, but no one seemed to mind. "Be brave for me, honey," he husked against your lips.

"I'll try."

Again, his lips on yours, and you nearly lost yourself in his embrace until a loud "Cut!" tore through the scene.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from Soldier Boy. Your heart was racing. You could hardly gather the courage to look at him. It almost felt…real.

"Goddamn, I think that was it," Julian said.

"Should we do another take?" the assistant director asked.

"I don't know if we'll get anything better than that. Yeah, let's go through it one more time."

Out of the corner of your eye, the columnist scribbled frantically in her notepad.

The rest of the day, it seemed like you and Soldier Boy were on fire, requiring fewer takes as scenes grew tenser, more intimate—close-ups on yearning faces, the subtle brushing of hands, worried glances across the room. More than once, you felt your heart actually skip a beat when you made eye contact with him.

The movie magic dissolved by night, and a well-deserved day-off of filming awaited you in the morning—as did headlines that screamed of the latest Hollywood romance, spurred on by a photo the columnist had taken the day before, Soldier Boy and Starlet Sizzle on Set!

Starlet. You frowned. They couldn't have even bothered to use your name?

Small potatoes, Frank assured you over the phone when you called him about the papers, soon enough, your name would be in lights.

Vought was certainly pleased with the way you stole the focus from Soldier Boy's beef with his former co-star, all eyes on the two of you with just murmurs of undeniable chemistry.

"So, how does dinner sound? Anywhere you want," Frank said.

"Anywhere?"

"Sure, you're the talk of the town. Long as Soldier Boy's with you."

"Tell him it's his choice," you said. You'd make the most of the good press as you could, play his game within reason if it meant finally getting somewhere in your career.

"Alright, well, he'll probably pick you up around eight."

"Here?" You glanced around your modest apartment. Decently furnished for when you had a few friends over for drinks, though the striped wallpaper was peeling, and you were more than used to the smell of mothballs that permeated the air. "No, Frank, that won't do. Have him pick me up at your office downtown."

"You got it," your manager said before hanging up the phone.

By the time Soldier Boy picked you up, you'd already helped yourself to some of the bourbon you knew Frank kept in his office to settle your nerves. The drive wasn't too bad, he wasn't as handsy as you were anticipating, a bit disappointing, if you were being honest with yourself.

Somehow, word of your and Soldier Boy's date was leaked ahead of time, a crowd of fans and reporters waiting outside of the nightclub for your arrival. Its simple, sleek white facade would've been classy if not for the giant neon palm tree sign next to the actual palm trees.

You offered your best smile for the cameras, played up your relationship with Soldier Boy, giving him a kiss on the cheek and practically clinging to his side.

"It's been such a dream working with him," you told one reporter. "I couldn't ask for a better leading man."

As for whether or not the rumors of romance were true, "A lady doesn't kiss and tell," Soldier Boy said, his arm around your waist as he finally ushered you inside. The gaudy, tropical-inspired decor throughout the club was almost tacky, but you supposed it had a certain charm to it.

Sitting down in the booth reserved for the two of you, you felt like you just finished running a marathon as you settled into the plush red upholstery.

Soldier Boy looked at you, amused, "Just wait 'til the movie actually comes out, sweetheart."

A waiter arrived, asking if you'd like to start with drinks or hear the specials first.

"What're you drinking?" Soldier Boy asked.

"Bourbon, neat," you said.

"Make that two." He turned to you, his green eyes giving you a once-over, as if regarding you differently than he had before. "I wouldn't peg you as a bourbon girl."

"It's what was in my manager's office earlier," you said, quickly adding, "I don't make it a habit."

He nodded. "Good girl."

You didn't know whether or not to be grateful when the waiter arrived with your drinks, giving you an excuse to look away from him for a moment, flustered by the simple praise.

Soldier Boy waved him off after the glasses were set down, claiming you needed more time to look at the menu.

"Look, I know we didn't start on the best foot," he began, almost reluctantly, "but you're not half bad. And you kiss like you mean it. I can't tell you the number of times I've had to kiss a broad for a scene and might as well have been kissing cardboard."

"So I'm not frigid?"

He chuckled. "Hell no."

The two of you so engrossed in conversation, you'd forgotten to even look at the menu when the waiter returned, and Soldier Boy ended up ordering for you—as soon as the two of you were alone again, he muttered something about the drinks being the only thing worth going to the place for. The dry baked potato and rubbery steak presented to you on an otherwise gorgeous plate proved him right, and you tried your best to pick at your food without too much of a puss on your face.

Drinks kept flowing, and you switched from bourbon to your usual order, though Soldier Boy was outpacing you by a mile.

"How are you not plastered?" you asked.

"Takes about three times as much alcohol to get me drunk than a normal person."

"What's it like, being a superhero? I mean, I've met plenty of other actors, but no one like you," you said.

"It's a lot of responsibility," he began, his canned answer disappointing you a bit, "from the day I was born I had these powers, I don't know why it was me over anyone else, but I have to use them to help people, to do good."

"But what does it feel like? Some kind of adrenaline rush coursing through your veins? Is it something that just happens?"

"You asking if being a supe gets me hard?"

Your face heated up, "No, not like that, I mean—"

"I don't get whisky dick, I can promise you that, sweetheart."

"Have you ever heard of subtlety?"

He shook his head. "That's the limit of my powers. I can do everything but fly and be subtle."

Despite yourself, you laughed. Maybe it was the drinks, or finally having a chance to talk to Soldier Boy outside of a professional setting let you scratch just beneath the surface of the world's first superhero. Since his debut, when the country was in desperate need of a superhero like him, there had been other supes, each with unique powers, but none inspired the awe that he did.

Over the course of the conversation, he moved in closer to you, your space becoming his until you finished your drink, and he managed to talk you into just one more, his hand squeezing your thigh.

"The table service takes too long, I don't mind going up to the bar," you said.

He shrugged, and you took that as permission to go ahead as you slid out of the booth. Not quite steady on your feet, you made it to the bar in one piece, feeling light as you told the bartender your orders.

The bar's polished surface allowed you to see your reflection—and Olivia Yearly's, right next to you. Striking black hair with hardly a strand out of place, green eyes practically made for technicolor, and her signature pouty red lips, you tried not to swoon at the sight of her. She didn't pay any attention to you, of course she wouldn't, she had no real reason to, until you forced yourself to speak up and say something to one of your idols.

"Miss Yearly? I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm such a big fan," you said.

"Thank you. It's always nice to—" She raised a neatly plucked eyebrow. "Hold on, you're that new girl, the one in the Soldier Boy picture, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"He hasn't scared you off yet? You can't be that desperate for a job."

"Soldier Boy's been a wonderful co-star," you said.

She scoffed, her upper lip curling in a sneer. "How much is Vought paying you to say that? He's the most shameless, unprofessional man I've ever had the displeasure of sharing a sound stage with, and I've been on a lot."

"I know, I've seen almost all of your movies," you confessed quietly.

"Then take my advice, stay the hell away from him, and that company, too."

"What did he even do—"

"Olivia," Soldier Boy said coldly, appearing at your side unexpectedly. "Surprised the place made an exception to its 'no hag' policy for you."

You nearly gasped. Olivia Yearly was a star. A goddess. An institution. Definitely not a—

"Hag? Who the hell do you think you're talking to you fucking—"

"Just shove it, Liv."

"You're digging your damn grave if you stick around the sorry likes of him," she shot at you before storming off.

He scowled, moving so he blocked her retreating figure from your line of sight. "Whatever that bitch told you about me—she's gonna be old news as soon as they see you on that screen. That’s why she's trying to scare you."

"Do you really think so?" you asked, trying to ignore the doubt that crept up on you.

"She sure as hell couldn't kiss like you can."

As if to prove it, he leaned in, his plush lips pressed against yours, the same sparks you felt on set flying between you. His hands on your hips, soft and strong as he pulled you closer, something like that couldn't be faked, not so naturally as the two of you seemed to do. Almost couldn't help but lose yourself in his embrace—until a camera flashed in your peripheral vision, tearing you from the intimacy of the kiss and reminding you that you were only there with him for publicity. You wondered if it could ever be anything more.

Taglist: @waynes-multiverse @youdontknowe @sl33pylilbunny @ladykitana90 @urmomissuperhotsworld @riah1606

[hauntedhokage]

Leaving anonymous love notes for you to find + Sae Itoshi from Silver's prompt list

You left the door to your office unlocked, since as the team's social media manager you didn't really have anything confidential to lock up, but you think that was about to change. For the last week you'd come in to find some note left somewhere on your desk for you to find, each one containing a sweet message - but not knowing who they came from made you a bit uncomfortable.

The first just telling you that you looked beautiful the day before.

The second a note that you always looked beautiful, but he loved how you looked in the team's jersey.

The third a reminder to stay hydrated, left with a couple bottles of your favorite brand of water (you didn't even know how anyone knew something like that)

The fourth, fifth, and sixth also came with gifts. A couple small boxes of snacks and a little plaque that said 'best instagram photographer', both making you a bit emotional at how much this guy thought about you.

Today's message was left on a sticky note stuck to your monitor, wishing that they could ask you out on a date but fearing that their reputation would have you declining to protect yourself from that reputation. The handwriting is neat, font small to ensure it would fit on the sticky note, and you tuck it away in a folder that had the other seven. The handwriting was consistent, and the words felt much too genuine for it to be the team messing with you because they thought they were funny.

But you do watch them all closely throughout the day, getting to mess with them during their practices and team meetings giving you the opportunity for closer interactions that you used to gauge whether they were acting differently towards you. Unfortunately the only thing out of place was the fact that Sae actually stopped to entertain the meme you were recording content for.

"Why do you have this picture?"

"I'm trying to get your autograph." Your response gets a snort from the midfielder, but he accepts your sharpie and takes the picture from your hands. It's old, Sae had to have been around five or six kicking around a soccer ball. "Your mom was excited to send it to me. Think I might frame it."

His reaction wasn't as outwardly amused or embarrassed as the other guys you'd ambushed that day, but the fact that you'd gotten any reaction from him at all made your day. He was cute when he smiled, you wished you could see more of that from him.

"I'll see you later, I'm sure," he states, handing the picture back to you before adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Yeah," you murmur, watching in surprise as he walks away from you to get to the locker room.

You end up working late, usually being out of the stadium before the team finished their practice, but you wanted to get your next few videos edited so you could relax and respond to funny comments for the rest of the week. It takes you some deliberation, but you do decide to lock your office to see what your admirer would do next without being able to steal your stationery.

Sae is coming down the hall when you leave, something that wasn't surprising since he was notorious for practicing later than the rest of the team. Most of the team had popped in to say goodnight, a couple asking if you needed someone to hang out and make sure you made it home, and you happily wave them off with a promise to see them in the morning. But not Sae, and that was because he was leaving now. There's a paper in his hand, and he looks surprised to see you leaving as he approached.

"You're still here?"

"Yeah," you say with a shrug, turning the key to lock the door and meeting his gaze to see the obvious question. "Someone is using my papers and stuff to leave me love notes, I don't hate it but I'm trying to get them to reveal themselves."

You just aren't ready to get your answer when Sae takes the paper in his hand and slides it under your door. He doesn't say anything, just tilts his head in a silent invitation that you can't help but accept. He was so weird, but you were into it.

"Does this mean I can get you on a livestream?"

"Don't push it."

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ৎ୭. . . SORORAL ─── Platonic! Harley Quinn

⊹ ٬  Headcanon. Harley showed up at your door after years, broken by the Joker, and you, with more patience than common sense, took care of her. At the end of the day, no matter the fights or crimes, you were two inseparable souls, always ending up on the couch, reminding each other that sisterly love heals all.

⊹ ٬  Word Count. 2.14k

⊹ ٬  Content. MDNI. Violence, Blood, fights, drugs, toxic relationships, mental health, criminal behavior, past traumas, normalization of the self-destructive component.

「 (Adj.) Like a sister 」

You met Harley in college. The first time you talked was because you shared the same team project… and also a hatred for the same professor. It was all downhill from there. For everyone else, that is. You were at your best.

You were the Watson to her Sherlock, the Robin to her Batman, the salt on the edge of her daisy. Harley talked and you nodded, but not because you were quiet, but because no one had the energy to keep up. You tried to interrupt her once and ended up going on a two-hour monologue about why bats are adorable, all without taking a breath.

You were there for everything. Her first cry over a boyfriend who wasn’t worth it (and whose social media you hacked with brotherly love). Her yelling in the cafeteria about how her parents were the worst dynamic duo ever. Her fights with other students, where you just picked up her stuff and said, “You’re still alive, right? So let’s go.”

You were inseparable. You were her rock and she was your... earthquake. An explosive friendship, literally at one point. But then he came along. The guy with the green hair.

You heard about it on the news. "The Clown Prince of Crime Has a New Partner." At first you didn't believe it. Harley wasn't that kind of girl. But when you saw her picture with her makeup smeared and that crooked smile, you knew. Your Harley was there, buried under tons of chaos.

That day, at the medical center where you worked, you broke a cup. Not because you were being dramatic, but because it was the only way to make the pain feel real.

And then you understood: Harley wasn't anyone's Watson. She was always her own Sherlock, and now she was solving a case that was tearing her apart.

The reunion was a coincidence. Well, coincidence for her. You were leaving work, a long and boring shift, when the sound of a loud laugh made your blood run cold. You saw her leaning against your car, wearing a red leather jacket, torn tights, and a baseball bat that she was spinning between her fingers as if she was deciding whether to use it on you or not.

“Friend!” she shouted, as if it hadn’t been years since you last spoke and as if she wasn’t on the country’s most wanted list.

You didn’t know what to say. Harley threw herself at you before you could react, the smell of gunpowder and something sweet permeating the air. It was as if nothing had changed… but everything had changed.

You tried to pretend it was like before. You chatted for a while, forcing a smile while she talked non-stop, as always. She told you how she had “deconstructed” a bank last week, how Joker had said something “so romantic” that she almost cried, and how Commissioner Gordon “needed to relax, because, hey, a little dynamite never killed anyone… well, not many people.”

The Harley you knew was still there, but she was buried under layers of insane laughter and chaos. Her world was no longer yours.

“Why so quiet?” she asked at last, tilting her head like a curious child.

“Harls… I can’t do this.”

The silence that followed was strange. She looked at you as if you had spoken in another language.

“Oh… that’s why, isn’t it? …Because I’m a “criminal” now.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

She smiled, but not in the way you remembered. This smile was broken, crooked, as if she was trying to convince herself that she didn’t care.

—It’s okay, you know. I don’t need everyone to understand me. I have Mr. J. And he understands me better than anyone.

That hurt more than you wanted to admit. But not more than watching her turn around, the bat resting on her shoulder as she walked away, humming a song you didn’t recognize.

Harley didn’t look back again. Not because she didn’t care about you, but because she didn’t have room in her mind for you anymore. She had filled every corner with it, and you knew there was no way to compete with that.

And you, as much as it hurt, didn’t look back either.

Years had passed. A monotonous routine was your life. The medical center, the long hours, the patients who needed an ear more than a prescription. It didn't bother you, not at all. Listening was something you were always good at, and the idea of ​​a partner seemed far away. Between double shifts and sleepless nights, where was there room for romance?

It was a night like any other. Your apartment was silent, except for the sound of the rain hitting the window. You had left a forgotten tea on the table and were about to pick it up when you heard a knock on the door. Not a polite knock, but something desperate, insistent.

When you opened it, you saw her. Soaked, shaking, her makeup running from tears mixed with the rain. Harley. Your Harley.

"He left me," was the first thing she said, her voice broken and trembling.

You didn't know what to do at first. It was like time had gone backwards, but this time you weren’t in college and it wasn’t a fight with some campus jerk. Everything was darker now, more broken. Without saying anything, you let her in.

She plopped down on your couch, clutching a pillow like it was a lifeline. Between sobs and curses, she ranted about Joker. How he’d used her, how he’d betrayed her, how this time it was final.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she suddenly muttered, looking at you with swollen eyes. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? After everything that happened between us…”

You stayed silent for a moment. You knew she was right. Harley had disappeared from your life without looking back, but now she was there, broken, seeking comfort from the only person who ever truly understood her.

“I didn’t think of anyone else,” she whispered, hugging the pillow tighter. “Because… because you’re my sister, you know?” The one person who was always there, even...when I didn't deserve it.

That was enough to make something inside you melt. You sat next to her, gave her a blanket, and let her talk. Because that was your specialty: listening.

Harley talked until she was speechless. Until her voice faded away and only the sound of the rain remained. You offered no advice or judgment, just your presence. Because you knew that, as much as it hurt, she needed you now more than ever. And, even though time had separated you, there was one thing that had never changed: she was still your Harley. And you, as strange as it seemed, were still her sister.

Harley didn't leave after that night. At first, it was like having a permanent storm in the apartment. One day she'd come home drunk, staggering around and singing off-key songs about what was (or wasn't) worth it in life. Another day she'd show up with a black eye and a cut eyebrow, muttering under her breath that "being the clown's ex isn't exactly a queen's title."

You couldn't say you were surprised. Harley was always a controlled mess… until she wasn't. What you didn't expect was how much that mess would absorb you. You became her nurse, her therapist, her babysitter, and, on the worst days, her bodyguard.

"Why do you put up with me?" she asked you one night, half drunk, with an ice pack in her hand and a split lip that you'd cleaned yourself.

"I don't know, Harls. Maybe because I'm dumb. But someone has to take care of you."

She laughed, that cracked laugh that always made something inside you clench.

You couldn't help but be upset. Because, come on, Harley had gotten herself into this mess. She'd decided to dive headfirst into a world of chaos and crime, knowing full well there was no net to catch her. But it wasn't hate you felt, or even resentment. It was frustration. Harley had always been a big girl, someone who saw the world as an amusement park, ignoring the warnings to "stay off the grass" and "be careful, wet floor."

Sometimes you wanted to yell at her. You wanted her to understand that you couldn't rebuild her every time the world broke her into pieces. But then you remembered who she was. Harley had never needed someone to yell at her. What she needed was someone to show her the mirror, to remind her that beneath all that paint and mess she was still her.

So you took care of her. You cleaned her wounds, you put up with her cries and her unhinged laughter. Because even though it wasn't fair, you knew Harley was learning. Maybe not fast, and maybe in the worst way, but at least she was learning. And if that meant being her anchor in the middle of the storm, then you were willing to hold on a little longer.

One day, everything changed. It wasn’t a dramatic moment, or a revelatory speech. It just happened. You woke up one morning to find Harley in the kitchen, her hair in two uneven pigtails, humming a song as she made pancakes that smelled like they were burning.

“Morning, Doc!” she greeted you like they were in a 1950s sitcom.

It took you a few minutes to realize what was different: she was smiling. Not the broken, I’m-going-to-do-something-illegal-in-less-than-five-minutes smile, but a genuine smile. Harley was Harley again.

Sure, she was still a criminal. She wasn’t going to change overnight, and you didn’t expect her to, either. But now she was a criminal with… what did she call it?

“Scruples!” she said, holding up a half-charred pancake like it was a trophy. “No more punching the bird boy in the face. No more blowing up police stations!” Well, maybe one, but only if it's empty.

You found it hard to believe, but you saw it. Harley was different. She was still chaos, but a contained one. And even though she didn't tell you, you knew some of that change had to do with you.

Then the invitations came.

"Come on, doc! You need to get out of this hole," she'd say, tugging on your arm with the same energy as a tornado. "I'm going to introduce you to the girls."

"Ivy" and "Selina" turned out to be Ivy the Poison Ivy and Selina Kyle, Gotham's famous thief. You spent a surreal night in their company, sitting in a speakeasy where laughter was more dangerous than guns. Selina taught you how to pick a lock with a paper clip, Ivy talked to you about the importance of caring for plants, and Harley was still acting like you were the guest star on her own variety show.

But the height of absurdity came when Harley showed up one Friday night and announced,

“Black Canary is coming to party with us! You know how many people can say that? Nobody, because we’re exclusive.”

The night was legendary. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard or danced with such little sense of the ridiculous. Between Harley trying to do karaoke in a bar where no one had asked for karaoke and Dinah watching her next to you in amusement, you almost forgot that you were with a group of women capable of knocking down a building if they put their minds to it.

Harley looked at you at the end of the night, with a knowing smile.

“See? I told you you were one of us, doc. You can’t escape.”

And deep down, you knew she was right. Harley was still Harley: chaotic, unpredictable, impossible to ignore. But now, she was also someone who was trying to be better, in her own way. And you, without realizing it, had gone from being his anchor to being part of his storm... and it wasn't so bad.

The invitations never stopped. Harley was determined to drag you into every corner of her new life, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was like she was making up for the years she’d missed with you.

Roller Derby was one of the first things she forced you to witness.

“Doc, you have to come. I’m a legend on wheels!” she told you one day as she pulled out a t-shirt with her number printed on the back.

And she wasn’t lying. Harley was a storm on the track, charging at her opponents with a mix of skill and sheer madness. From the stands, you found yourself yelling things like “Don’t break that poor girl’s jaw!” and “That’s got to be a foul, Harley!” But she only responded with laughter, making a victory gesture as a rival player tried to regain her dignity after falling on her back.

“What did you think?” she asked you at the end, with a swollen eye and a half-dented helmet.

“I’ll tell you when my nerves are back on track.”

Burrito mornings became a tradition.

One day she showed up at your door at six in the morning, a greasy bag in one hand and two coffees in the other.

“Burritos and eggs, doc! The best hangovers are cured with food for champions.”

That became a recurring thing. Every week, Harley would wake you up early with the excuse that burritos “taste better at dawn.” You never had the heart to turn her down, though sometimes you silently cursed her when the caffeine wasn’t enough to keep you functional.

Other times, she’d take you on her “normal adventures.”

Like the time she decided you both needed a “spa day.” Her definition of a spa included going to a speakeasy with Ivy and Selina, playing poker with handmade cards, and ending up with nails painted impossible colors.

“Are you relaxing or not?” —Harley asked you while trying to dry your hair with a hairdryer she had clearly stolen from some hotel.

—I don’t know if “relaxed” is the right word…

And then there was her obsession with movies.

One random Tuesday, she burst into your living room with a stack of DVDs.

—Bad movie marathon. Time to educate yourself, doc!

You spent the night watching B-movies while Harley laughed more at your sarcastic comments than at the absurd dialogues in the movies.

—You’re a terrible critic, but I love you anyway —she said while throwing popcorn in your face.

But, of course, Harley wouldn’t be Harley without her chaotic touches.

One day she took you to a costume store because they “needed outfits for friends.” You came out dressed as a pirate clown, while she wore a unicorn costume. They passed through an ice cream shop, a park, and of course, a karaoke bar where she forced the entire bar to sing along to "I Will Survive."

It was exhausting, unpredictable, and honestly, the best few weeks you'd had in years. Because even though Harley was still a whirlwind of madness, there was something different about her. She was more herself. A criminal with a heart, a loyal friend, and someone who, after all this time, finally seemed happy.

And you, even though you never would have imagined it, were happy too.

Always, no matter how chaotic or exhausting the day had been, it all ended the same: the two of you lying on the couch in your apartment, too tired to continue talking but too comfortable to move.

Harley always took the larger end, curled up in a blanket she had declared hers. You settled on the other end, legs dangling because Harley managed to take up more space than she physically could.

At first you tried to watch something on TV, but Harley always ended up changing the channel every five minutes, claiming that “everything is boring.” So, in the end, you just stayed silent, enjoying each other’s company.

That night was no different. Harley was half asleep, her head resting on the arm of the couch and her eyes half-closed. She looked at you, somewhat sleepy, but with that mischievous spark that never seemed to completely go out.

“You know something, doc?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“What’s wrong, Harls?”

She paused, as if she was gathering the courage to say it, even though you knew Harley rarely had filters.

“I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time Harley had said it, but this time it sounded different. Softer. More sincere.

“I love you too, Harls.”

She smiled, small and genuine, and closed her eyes.

“In the end, we are sisters, aren’t we? We always were. Even if we don’t have the same last name.”

“We always were,” you confirmed, settling into the couch, letting the calm of that moment envelop you.

And so they stayed, Harley breathing calmly beside you, and you wondering how something so chaotic had ended up being the most stable and comforting thing in your life. Because in the end, no matter what happened outside, how much trouble they got into, or how many egg burritos they shared, you would always be her sister, and Harley would always be your Harley.

[mcyt-jukebox-bonanza]

Mcyt Jukebox Bonanza: Valentines Edition

We had so much fun the first time that we're doing a sequel!

Jukebox Bonanza: Valentines Edition is an MCYT multi-fandom event held January 21st-February 21st where artists will take songs of their choice and create illustrations based on these songs. This is called a Jukebox Night, and it was popular in the hermitcraft fandom circa 2019. This event seeks to revitalize the tradition and create some fun art.

Every participant who makes at least one Jukebox Night will get their named added to the Jukebox Bonanza hall of fame, and artists who make more can reach higher tiers of victory! This event is more casual than the last one, but participants can make as many jukebox nights as they desire. (Sign-ups will be open for the duration of the event, so feel free to drop in even if it's halfway through!)

Timeline:

January 21: Song claims open! Each song behind a jukebox night for jukebox bonanza must be unique, so artists will claim a song before they begin drawing.

January 23: All first claims should be assigned. Once you receive confirmation of your claim, you can begin drawing. Additional claims continue throughout the event as individuals finish one jukebox night and request another song as desired.

February 14: Creation period ends. You can't start any new drawings after this, but it's okay to finish one during the posting period.

February 14-February 21: Posting period! Post all your jukebox nights and tag this blog so we can reblog the posts here. At the end, the mods will count up all the jukebox nights to declare the final illustration count and award victory tiers.

Sign up for the event by filling out THIS form! The link to the discord server is at the end.

FAQ and song claim information under the cut.

Who are the mods here?

There are two mods on this blog and on the discord server: Mod Idea (@paradoxlemonade) and Mod Ghost (@gay-ghosts).

Who can participate in this event?

Participation is open to all fans of MCYT ages 13+.

What's a jukebox night?

A jukebox night is a single completed illustration based on a song. They were usually square back in the day so they looked like the could fit on an album cover, but that wasn't a hard rule. Some had lyrics in the picture itself, and others had them below the drawing. For this event, a drawing is considered complete when it is fully colored and/or shaded.

What fandoms can Imake a jukebox night for?

Although this tradition originated in the Hermitcraft fandom, all MCYT fandoms are eligible for this event. Small MCYT, old MCYT, new MCYT, popular MCYT, and anything else are all fair game. If it's minecraft and it's videos, you can make a Jukebox Night for it.

What songs can I claim?

Most songs are fair game, but there are a few stipulations: Songs must not be graphically about sex or contain graphically sexual content, as this event is open to artists age 13-17. Additionally, no songs made by Wilbur Soot/Lovejoy are eligible for this event.

How do song claims work?

If you participated in mcytblr AU fest, then you might be familiar with this process. A google form will be posted at a determined time and all participants will fill it out. You must list at least one song, but you can name up to five. The first person to claim a particular song will be the one to receive it, so it's advised that you list a few in case your first choice is unavailable.

Once you finish your first Jukebox Night, you can fill out another form to claim another song and receive a second assignment. You can do this as many times are you want, but you can only get a new claim once the drawing for your previous one is completed.

How much do I need to do for a Jukebox Night to be completed?

For this event, a completed illustration has at least color or shading, to whatever standard the artist considers done. An uncolored sketch or plain lineart would not be considered complete.

What can I depict in a jukebox night?

Pretty much anything, within reason. Canon events, canon divergence, AUs, headcanons, you name it! This is a shipping event so the main focus is on relationships. That said, we ask that art made for this event be about the characters, not real people. Additionally, art made for this event cannot contain sexual content of any kind or anything that would warrant an E rating on Ao3, as the event is open to artists age 13-17. If you're uncertain about an idea, please reach out to a mod for clarification.

Do I have to make *romantic* ship art?

Not exclusively, no; queerplatonic and ambiguous relationships are also welcome. That said, that there is a high likelihood that art made for this event will be interpreted as romantic by viewers due to its nature as a valentines day event, unless your post specifically states otherwise. (As such, art depicting familial relationships is highly discouraged for this event; you can always make a jukebox night separate from Jukebox Bonanza: Valentines Edition.) Please keep this in mind when making your art.

I have another question you didn't answer here!

Send an ask in and one of the event mods will get back to you! Alternatively for those already in the discord, there is a channel for asking the mods questions.

[crowsofdarkness]

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Nineteen

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066 @nameless-ken @minami97

I walked into the building, smiling bright as the morning sun, ready to finish this work day already. After he left last night, Bucky promised that when he would come by tonight, he would stay the night. He had planned on telling Natasha that he had to go out of town for something mob related. 

There was already a list of things I had planned; dinner at home, a movie cuddled together on my couch, and a warm bath to end the night. It was something that we had yet to do, a proper at home date. 

My body jumped with excitement every time I thought about it. 

A frown pulled at my lips when I noticed that Bucky’s door had been closed. He didn’t have any meetings planned so there was no need for it to be shut. Bucky also always took his phone calls with the door opened. 

I placed my things on my desk and softly knocked on the door, only to be met with silence. The thought of if he was coming in today or not crossed my mind so I sent him a quick text. 

Are you not coming in today? 

Some time would pass before I would even get a response. Three hours to be exact. 

By the time Bucky had decided to text back, it was nearing lunch hour and I was busying myself to run to the deli across the road to pick us all up something. Steve and Sam were playing a card game on the couch that sat across from my desk and Steve noticed the worried look on my face. 

“Everything alright?” 

By the mere tone in his voice, I could tell that the relationship we shared was not the same anymore. 

“Yeah,” I mumbled, not bothering to take my eyes away from the text on my phone. 

I’m held up in my office all day, sorry.

It was short, to the point. No sweet names or cringey emojis that Bucky had just found out of. This wasn’t like him, something being different; off. 

Steve stood to walk over to me. “Bucky?” 

I peered over his shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't paying attention and nodded. 

“Have you talked to him at all? I feel as if he’s avoiding me,” I said. 

He hesitated, unsure if he should even say anything. I could see it in the way he avoided my gaze, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

Steve was hiding something from me. 

“What do you know?” I asked. 

“I can’t be the one to tell you, Y/N. Bucky has too.” 

With a gentle squeeze on my shoulder, he went back to his previous spot on the couch. 

I gnawed on my bottom lip while gazing at the still shut door to Bucky’s office and decided to give it one more try, seeing if he would talk to me. 

“Bucky, can I come in?” I asked after my knuckles tapped against the door. 

There was quite a bit of shuffling behind it and my heart hammered when the door opened, revealing a very stressed Bucky. 

My voice lowered. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded. “I’m going to skip lunch today.”

The door shut just as fast as it opened and I was left staring at it, tears brimming in my eyes. 

“Y/N,” Steve’s soft voice called from behind me. 

I blinked a few times, tears splattering over my cheeks, and quickly grabbed my things to head to lunch.

I don’t know what I did to make you so upset with me but I don’t appreciate the cold shoulder all day. I’m about to leave for the day and you’ve barely come out of your office.

I hit send on the text while walking back to my desk from the bathroom. The day went on at a slow pace, my eyes darting from my computer to Bucky’s still shut door, not once seeing him come out of his office. That was the third text I sent him all day and with yet no response, I decided that tonight was officially off the table. He would not be rewarded with spending the night with me after ghosting me all day. 

As I returned back to my desk, I noticed that the door was wide open, and my feet practically dragged me across the threshold. Until I stopped myself when I saw that he made no effort to look away from his phone when he heard me walk up. Not even a quick glance my way. 

“Asshole,” I grumbled, plopping into my chair. 

Six minutes. That’s all I had left of my work day and I could go home to wallow in self pity in private. 

I used that time to scroll through Instagram, not having the chance to be on it all day. My thumb froze over one post, almost unsure to like it or not, because everything around me faded to black. Ears rang loudly with white noise and my heart dropped to the depths of my stomach as it shattered. The pain caused a sob to leave my lips. 

Cannot wait to meet you baby Barnes. Coming in six months. 

My vision blurred from the tears that spilled everywhere but I still could see the picture Natasha had posted announcing her pregnancy. It was a picture of a positive pregnancy test with her and Bucky’s vibranium hand holding it. 

With a broken gaze, I looked over to him and was shocked that Bucky was already watching me. His own eyes were broken, tears pooling in the corners of them. 

“I’m so sorry, doll,” he mouthed. 

No words were able to form, my mouth had run dry. I didn’t know what to say, to be honest. All I could do was gather my things and storm out of the office, the door slamming behind me shaking the walls. 

The persistent knocking on my front door was becoming too hard to ignore, it going on for the last five minutes. In tangent with my phone ringing, not stopping for a second. I did my best to tune it all out, staring off into the void of my living room wall, wishing it would stop; wishing everything would stop. 

“Doll, please open up.” 

“Go away,” I yelled, the anger suddenly bubbling to life. 

“Please let me explain!” 

I scoffed while shaking my head, even if Bucky couldn’t see. “Explain?!” 

Everything I had been avoiding came rushing to the forefront when I heard him begging me to let him in, to explain his actions. 

My feet dragged me to the door and I opened it with such force, it created a small wind tunnel. Bucky didn’t bother waiting for me to let him in, he pushed himself past me. 

“I’m so sorr-.” 

His apology was cut off by a hard slap to his face, my palm already stung with redness. 

Bucky rubbed at the raw spot where I had hit him and his jaw tensed. “You hit me.” 

“Trust me, I want to do a lot more!” I seethed. 

“Can you calm down so I can explain?” He begged. 

“Calm down?!” My voice bellowed. “You get your wife pregnant, hide it from me, then come here to explain yourself? How the fuck can I calm down?!” 

My shoulder rammed into his as I walked past him and down the hall towards my bedroom. His footsteps that echoed down the hall told me that he was following me close behind. 

“I wanted to tell you, Y/N. All day I tried to come up with the best way,” Bucky said. 

I spun on my heels and pushed him hard in his chest, my actions doing nothing to deter him. 

“Fuck you, Barnes! You’re such a liar!” 

I began beating his chest with my fist, pure hatred fueling my momentum. And he stood there, taking every hit. 

Out of breath, I let my fists fall to my side, and felt my chest rise and fall each time I swallowed a large amount of air. 

“Feel better?” Bucky asked. 

My eyes narrowed. “Go fuck yourself. I never want to see you again.” 

His shoulders dropped. “You don’t mean that.” 

I nodded, even if I didn’t believe it myself. “Get out.” 

Bucky didn’t move so I pushed him harder in his chest. “Leave. Now!” 

“Doll-.” 

I smacked him yet again, this time with so much force he stumbled back onto my bed. 

“You lost the right to call me that, Bucky! I can’t believe I fell for your lies again.” 

I ran a shaking hand through my hair. “I allowed myself to ignore the red flags because I cared that much for you. I believed that you wanted me, wanted a future with me. I bet the divorce was a lie too.” 

Bucky vigorously shook his head. “I promise you. That was all true. Matt finished the papers this afternoon.” 

“When did it happen?” I abruptly asked. 

He hesitated, unsure how to answer. “A few months ago. It was the night I drove you home from work and we had sex in the back seat.” 

If my heart wasn’t in a million pieces before, it for sure was now. 

“You’re such a dick!” I screamed while pushing him down on my bed. “I knew you were still screwing her.” 

Bucky leaned his elbows onto his knees and held his head in his hands. “You don’t understand how terrible I feel, Y/N. I wish I could take it back.” 

I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. “Are you still leaving her?” 

He gazed up at me, lips parting and eyes welling with tears. “I can’t. She’s having my child.” 

My eyes shut, his words giving me exactly what I needed to end this. 

I pointed towards the door. “We’re finished, Bucky. You need to leave.” 

He was fast on his feet to reach for me. “No, this doesn’t have to end.” 

“Yes it does!” I wailed. “It’s one thing to break up a marriage but I refuse to break up a family.” 

Both of us were crying, not bothering to stop or hide the tears, and Bucky wanted to reach for me, fight for me, but knew that there was no changing my mind. 

“What about work?” He asked with a glimmer of hope. 

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. “I can’t afford to quit. So I’ll see you next week. I need to take some time off.” 

Bucky nodded. “I didn’t want to hurt you, doll.” 

I grabbed my elbows, bringing my arms closer to my chest and avoiding his gaze, keeping my eyes trained to my feet. The only thing I could hear over his footsteps walking away from me was my broken cries, my body collapsing to the ground. 

[groovygianniart]

All by yourself, sittin' alone. I hope we're still friends, yeah, I hope you don't mind.

At some point in B.B's isolation, within the darkness, a hand reached out.

I figured I was eventually gonna have to post about how my previous friendship and the impact it left on me.

It was good.....and then bad....and then great again but then took a nosedive into concrete.

We became friends when I was stuck in that pit of a relationship and I attached to them like glue. But as time went on it was abundantly clear how mentally ill I was (that's not a joke.).

It's easy for me now when I'm in a spiral to blame everything on them or when I'm in a self loathing kick, I blame everything on myself. I realize now it is mostly my fault and in the end, I'm surprised the friendship didn't end sooner.

I did a lot of self sabotage on top of my very unhealthy attachment to them. I cherished them as a friend but I would also get wildly upset for something they'd do or enjoy that I crossed their boundary to even find out.

I'm not really sure what caused me to be like that, that's what I'm trying to discover in therapy, might be from all the damage my ex bf left on me, my previous unhealthy friendships from back when I was in school, or my mother instilling borderline puritanical ideals in me despite us not even being religious....gotta be some of those things.

Since the friendship broke, my world got a lot smaller and I feel pretty lost and I'm afraid of letting people too close cause I don't know of I'll do all that again or become a total doormat and let people hurt me just to feel a connection that's deep to me.

I'm in therapy and taking meds and also told my therapist I'm interested in starting a specific type of therapy that helps process trauma. I've also taken the time to let myself "get worse to get better" in a sense that made me discover do not get the right to judge people for what they're into cause it turns out....I like some pretty messed up things.

Sometimes I want closure, to tell them I'm so sorry for causing them so much pain but I also know we can probably never be friends again because of said pain. It wasn't healthy for me either because I'd be glued to my phone making myself sick from them taking a long time to reply and then as soon as they did, I'd be an anxious wreck and replying to them within a few seconds. Like I said: I was very clingy.

By the way the inspiration for this picture was TV Girl's song "Not Allowed". Not the full song, just the chorus cause the way it repeats and it really reminded me how it became such a pattern that even others saw it.

Also didn't mean to make the text look bisexual lol. Like I said I was inspired by TV Girl so I had to throw in the pink and blue. The pink represents them, the blue represents me and the purple is both of us.

[rosewoodcafe]

Wildest Dreams

Years after your death, Ominis still remembers you.

[Fluff, Angst, and Smut]

[MDNI]

Ominis x Reader

I still remember the feel of you under my palms; every curve, every line.

Also on A03 and Wattpad !!

My wine glass sat empty on the table as I stood against the window. My wife is long gone, staying somewhere in the manor that wasn’t our bed. Not like I cared much anyway where she was. This marriage was a legal binding, nothing more.

I didn’t feel drunk enough, my mind was still not able to picture you, the last sensations of your skin under my fingertips.

~

When you came to Hogwarts, I felt nothing different, another girl who would swoon for Sebastian. Nothing more. In some aspects I was correct, with Sebastian even taking an immediate interest in you as well, but at the end of the day you always stood on my side. You told Sebastian to inform me of what he was doing, you aided me in telling him how the dark arts were wrong. I was beyond grateful when you saved Sebastian in that catacomb, without succumbing to darkness yourself.

~

That following year, when we returned to school, I had a new found love for you. Something in me clicked, and you were the only thing that felt right.

Sebastian asked you out first, pulling your attention away. When I heard of his feelings I gave up, knowing I had no chance to win your affections over him, but when you denied him a spark of hope lit within me.

“Why did you tell him no?” I asked on the way to class, eager to know why the man that most girls would kill to go out with was rejected by you.

“I- well I have someone else in mind.” You laughed, and merlin did it make my heart beat faster than it ever had. “I’m just waiting for him to ask.”

I felt a smile grow across my face in disbelief. She was waiting for someone else, and I hoped it was me.

~

That week Sebastian had gotten me to work up the courage to ask you out, a simple date to Hogsmeade, but I was beyond worried for your answer.

“Even if she doesn’t like you like that she’ll still go to Hogsmeade with you.” Sebastian grumbled. “Stop worrying so much about it.”

“I can’t!” I said as I paced our dorm room. “How do you expect me to stop worrying when this could change the whole trajectory of our friendship.”

“I know because it wasn't with mine, she still talks to me as if we are perfectly normal.”

“Ugh! You are different!”

“You’re impossible Ominis,” Sebastian said, “let's head to dinner so you can ask her.”

That walk was the worst, the panic was sitting in my throat and at any moment threatened to come out. We had gotten there before you, sitting at the normal spot at the Slytherin table. You came in with Poppy, and Sebastian told me you seemed excited. I hoped I wasn’t about to spoil your mood. The weight of the bench shifted slightly as you sat next to me.

“Hello boys!” You said gleefully.

“Hey.” Sebastian responded.

“Hello…” I spoke, cautious to not say too much. 

“You seem a bit quiet Ominis, everything okay?” You asked, touching your hand to my arm. I felt like fire was being shot through my body.

“I- uh- ahem,” I choked back. Sebastian chuckled and kicked my leg slightly under the table. “I do have something to ask you.”

“What might that be?”

“Would you- um.” I paused, taking a breath in. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me after dinner?”

I listened to any sort of queue from you, something to tell me what your reaction was.

“I would love to!” You said  happily, and went back to eating as if my heart wasn’t exploding.

~

That night I waited for you by the front doors, our date beginning as soon as we both got dressed. The hall was nearly silent, and it racked my head into oblivion. I could hear you enter, and the quiet footsteps leading up to me.

“You look so handsome Ominis.” You had said as you got closer. I was wearing normal slacks with a white button down, something simple yet formal, to fit whatever you wanted this to be.

“Thank you…” I paused my heart thumping in my ears. “I bet you look beautiful as well.”

“Hm, well here.” You said as you grabbed my hand. Your own hand was soft and slender, and when you touched my hand to a comforting fabric I ran my fingers up along the stitch. “You can feel the dress, so that way you can actually mean it when you say I look beautiful.” You laughed and I swear you sound just like an angel.

“I do mean when I say you are beautiful.” I said to you, my hand resting on your waist, taking in the fabric under my palm. “I mean it regardless if I can see you or not.”

The walk to The Three Broomsticks was filled with your laughter, the sound of your voice lifting every worry I’ve ever had in my life. My hand rested on your lower back, you guiding us both there, my wand tucked away. It felt so freeing to just be. No expectations, all you wanted was my company, and that was all I asked from you as well.

That night you danced freely with me in that tavern, the music swaying your hips and spinning your footsteps. I wished I could’ve seen your smile. When we eventually left, the stumble back to the castle left us breathless, as the sun began to rise we watched it.

“Ominis…” You said, your voice laced with the sweetest sugars mankind has ever known. “I think I love you.”

“I-” Everything in me had frozen, my heart beating out of my chest, my fingertips on fire as I held you up. It took everything in me to swallow and speak, instead of standing in shock. “I- I love you too, more than you know.” 

You wrapped your arms around my neck, tugging lightly at the back of my hair. Your warm breath brushed my ear as you whispered; 

“Show me how much.”

I remember taking your face in my hands, pressing your lips against mine, the sweet lingering taste of butterbeer making everything seem unreal. My hands tangled in your hair as you pressed closer to me, it was intoxicating.

From that day on you were mine, and I held you every day and night, loving you loudly. I knew I would love you till the earth crumbled and the sun went dark.

~

Your scream woke me from the deep sleep I was in, and I desperately searched for you. Curled on the floor you were gripping at anything you could, which meant me when you found me next to her. I cried as I held you, your body withering in itself. Eventually your muscles tired themselves out, falling asleep in my arms that cradled you. That morning you awoke, tired from the near sleepless night you had just had.

“Why are you treating me like this?” You asked at breakfast. 

“I- do you not remember last night?” I asked in return.

“What happened? I know I didn’t sleep well, but that isn’t abnormal for me.”

“You… you were screaming,” I whispered, I tried to keep my voice steady. “It was as if you were in immense pain, as if you were being tortured.”

You didn’t speak, instead opting for silence between us. I didn’t push you for further answers, as I knew you would come to me when you were ready.

~

“I can’t do anything about it!” I cried out. A letter from my family came in during our seventh year, stating that I was to be married off after graduation. “I am forced by my family, love! There's nothing I can change!”

“Ominis you can! Tell them that you love someone else! Tell them that you do not love her!” You yelled back, frustration was bleeding through. The emotions were high between us both. “Tell them that you love… me.”

“I- you know I can’t.” I said, letting tears fall. “You know that they will want to kill you.”

You didn’t respond, and I wondered if perhaps you had left, given up on me and you, as if I was a hopeless case.

“I want to be yours Ominis.” You said finally.

“What-”

“I want you to take me,” you spoke again, cutting me off. “If I can’t marry you, then I want to be your first, and you, mine.”

“Are you-”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You placed a hand on my cheek. “It’s not like I’ll love anyone like I love you anyways. I want it to be you that ruins me.” 

I placed my hands on your cheek, pulling you in, just like that night. You were desperate, pulling at my tie, undoing it with haste.

“My love…” I said against your lips.

“Yes?”

“Let me take your time with you, please.”

You melted to my touch, and I took that as my yes. I picked you up, wrapping your legs around me, our lips never parting. I placed you softly onto the bed that you conjured the first night we were too tired to leave the Room of Requirement. It was our bed, one that I had held you in the dead of winter, where we cried, where we kissed. 

I kissed down your jaw, your neck, feeling my way around your clothes body with my fingers. You responded eagerly to my touch, soft breaths escaping your sweet lips. If I had no self control I could’ve taken you easily, the sounds you made fueling every part of me. I unbuttoned your shirt, slowly revealing the skin beneath, soft and warm. Wet kisses were placed, and you shivered. I was fast to end your torture, pulling your shirt off completely as I ravished the upper part of your body, the body that would forever be mine to cherish.  You pulled at my own shirt, tugging it off to reveal my own bare chest.

“You have constellations…” You said sweetly, kissing spots of my skin.

“Constellations? What do you mean by that love?”

“Beauty marks- they form patterns, like the stars,” you replied, “like you are your own universe.”

Something in me clicked, I pulled your skirt down, kissing your stomach down to your thighs. The taste of you still sits on my tongue, and I would give anything to taste something as sweet as you again. You squirmed under my touch, the feeling of your warmth against my mouth nearly sending me over the edge. I could feel the heat radiating off your skin, your impatience as I undid my own shirt and pants, the quiet excitement between us. I had thoughts of how it would feel, to be buried in you, to feel the warmth that is so often described as heaven, and in all truth, it was pure blissful heaven. Being close to you, while hearing you gasp my name out, it was the closest thing to an angel's voice I could imagine. You wrapped tightly around me, your fingers tangled into the back of my hair.

“I love you Ominis.” You moaned out, as I pushed deeper in you.

“I love you more my angel.”

~

I was sitting in my room when I heard it. Screams.

I ran out to the main hall, where your voice carried.

“YOU WILL GIVE HIM TO ME!” You screamed out. Gaunt Manor echoing your voice. We planned to run away together two days ago, but my father had caught on, keeping me trapped in this loveless home.

My father screamed, and then went silent. The pain afterward burned in my eyes, the once black world turned colorful, dropping me to my knees as everything came into view. I blinked, trying to take in what I was looking at, trying to keep myself from being sick. You stood at the bottom of the steps, my fathers bloodied body mere feet away.

“Ominis?” 

I looked at you more intently, and my god were you the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. A true angel from the heavens. But I didn’t even get to say goodbye before you were ripped away from me.

“AVADA KEDAVRA” Marvolo yelled, entering the house from the doors that stood tall behind you. The spell hit you in the back, your face in horror as you fell to the floor. A blood curdling scream left me as I watched your lifeless body drop, pathetically crawling to you, holding you one last time. 

You spoke, but I could barely focus. My father had cursed me, how you knew I didn't know. Everything was spinning, out of focus, except for you. My angel.

“You’re sad for this pathetic use of a witch.” Marvolo snarled, walking past my fallen love and I. “You will marry that girl that father said you would, since it was his last orders, but I am head of the Gaunt family now.”

I couldn’t think straight, nothing went the way it was supposed too, you were never supposed to die. I held you closer to me, trying to remember how you looked before you died.

~

I have lived many years without you, but I still remember the sun setting, the beautiful dress you wore before your untimely death. My wife does not know it, but our child is named after you, the name of the woman I loved. You will never be forgotten, and I will always hold you close, even if it is only in my dreams.

[royalpicaro]

So, to go off of the Fast Food AU, I got an idea from a comment by @livmightlive about a headcanon. What car does each Link drive and what state are they in? So, this is that post.

Photos included of each car.

|Time|

A Crisp 2014 Chevy Silverado 1500

Color: Blue Granite Metallic

- This truck is his baby

- It's been reliable for many years, and he's always fixed it himself.

- His knowledge of cars is standard Dad™ knowledge so he calls up Four when he doesn't know something

- He keeps it clean most of the time.

- He'll sometimes have trash in the passenger seat or on the floor of the passenger seat, but he'll grab it when he's getting out of the car to go into the store to throw in the outside trash cans.

- The bed of the truck has seen better days, but it's not in terrible shape.

- Some of the paint on the bed door is chipping off, but you can only see it if you get close enough.

- Loves taking it through the car wash

- He has those little dice that hang off of the rear view mirror.

- There's occasionally dirt caked on the bottom, but it doesn't stay there long

- The smell is nice because its from the Black Ice air freshener Malon buys and reminds Time to put in there.

- He likes it and has tried to buy other air fresheners but he likes the Black Ice one the best.

|Twilight|

A muddy 2019 Ram 1500

Color: White

- Loves this truck

- Jfc clean this poor thing(on the outside)

- The picture looks clean but in reality, the truck is muddy and it's because he always forgets to take it through the car wash or goddesses forbid he takes the hose to it.

- On the inside, it's a little dirty on the floorboards, but nothing too bad. A little shake should do them some good.

- He keeps it pretty free of trash because he likes to make sure it looks nice despite his baffling logic for the exterior.

- He definitely has a carabiner keychain that he clips to his pants everywhere he goes.

- It's no longer a thought, he just clicks that hoe on the second he takes them keys out.

- He's that shift lead that you can identify right as he comes through the door. *keychain clicking together* Bro has a precussion anthem each time he decides to move

- Carries gum with him wherever he goes.

- Perfers 5 gum but will get whatever he can grab

- Definitely sits in his trucks on his breaks

- He'd rather people not have feet on his dash

- Can parallel park as easily as a chicken can fly

- His car smells like a mix of mint and lawn clippings.

|Sky|

2019 Subaru Crosstrek

Color: Maroon Red

- This is the family car that he got as a hand me down

- It's reliable

- Sometimes, it makes a funny sound, but Sky likes to ignore it

- The aux cord is always Sky's

- It's a little dirty

- Some candy wrappers here and there

- The back seat has some books in a box that will move between the back seat and the truck back and forth

- It smells like bird feathers and some mysteriously vague cologne

- He loves bird imagery so its literally all over his car with ornaments, stickers, etc.

- Will sometimes bring his bird in the car with him(It's an african grey named Chloe who likes to sing September. He also hadls a cockatiel named Issac)

- The car's seats are ripped in places by his birds picking at them

- There's a mark on the driver side dash from when Legend let Sky smoke for the first time and he ended up wiping some of the ash off on the dash and now its just there

- Legend thinks it's hilarious

- Sky finds it embarrassing

- "Do NOT put your feet up on the dash!"

- Has slept in his car on break and will do it again

- Very comfy

|Wars|

A very well cared for 2016 Dodge Challenger 2D

Color: Baby Blue

- The love of his life

- He found this car in a used car lot and HAD to get it

- Wasn't cheap

- Likes to remind the others that it wasn't cheap when they make fun of him for it.

- He is BIG on decorating his car

- Not as much as Legend is, but he likes his car to feel nice

- Smells DIVINE(Like a really high end cologne, but just enough to not be too much)

- Has a work backpack that stays in the car

- Likes funny little things like the cupholder coasters

- Please be nice to the car

- He does drive like a maniac if he's given the chance to.

- Has constantly asked Wild to race him.

- Doesn't hang out in it on breaks

- Keeps it clean and tidy

- I'm talking he wipes down the car twice a week on the interior and takes it through a car wash once a week, two if needed

- is really proud of his car

- There's some chips and a small dent in the back bumper, but its barely noticable

- he might cry if you call it ugly

- Rarely eats in his car

- The main reason why he likes it so much is because of how the exterior looks. Its satisfying.

|Wild|

Venom x22GT 250cc

Color: Midnight Black

- Motorcycle homie 🤙

- Someone always asks who's motorcycle it is

- He's proud of it

- He loves how fast it goes and how free he feels

- He gets pulled over pretty often, but is usually apologetic

- Gets scared around bigger vehicles

- Hates being beside 18 wheelers

- Parks it where he can see it from the back door

- Is paranoid about it being stolen

- doesn't race people

- Has a bit of an ego about it

- Loves finding stickers he can put on it

- the little keychains that fit on the little bits and don't get in the way? OH! Loves em

- Overall, pretty chill about it but will try to impress someone and likely fail if they show interest in him or wanting a ride on it

|Legend|

1985 Coachman Camper(Modified)

Color: Beige and Brown

- Van lifer

- He loves being on the road, freely going where he wants, and doing what he wants

- He will camp out in the back area of his work since it's mostly a dirt area no one is using

- Will walk around to nearby areas if its a nice day because he loves exploring

- Finding new things is a hobby

- He will hang out at Warriors or Time's place if he really needs people around him.

- Loves to decorate seasonally

- Hoarder

- No literally, dude hoards so much shit that he has to give it to Ravio to keep at his place cause he doesn't want to get rid of it but has no place in the van

- I originally thought he'd have a concrete place, but I felt like it would be better this way because it fits his vibe.

- I imagine he was really closed off and stayed in the van for a long time after he lost Marin, but Warriors really helped him out by letting him crash at his place

- He decided he was going to go to van life as a change of pace after losing Marin and Ravio happened to show up just as he was about to end his lease.

- He lost Marin early in the year that he bought the van, hoping for a van life because they talked about how fun it could. He crashed with Warriors later that year.

- Ravio stayed in the place and signed the lease and now Legend is living his best life

- Will only ever invite people in if he trusts them

- Spotify 24/7

- Somehow, everyone is surprised when they find out.

|Hyrule|

A dying 2010 Honda Accord LX-P

Color: Auburn Brown

- Has been in the family since 2010

- Ol' Reliable

- Shudders when he starts it up

- Loves it anyway

- Comfortable asf

- Him decorating it in fairy aesthetic just makes so much sense to me

- It fits and he loves it and he's not ashamed

- He makes a lot of friends off of his decorating choices

- Has a satchel that he carries that has everything anyone could need.

- Pain meds? Got em. Allergy meds? He's a walking pharmacy.

- Want some acid?

- Experimental

- Hippie coded

- Like Legend is on one end of the hippie spectrum and Hyrule is on the complete opposite side

- Bro will sleep in his car and come back as if he had a moment with Hylia

- Scares him to hell and back when it starts making funny sounds

- Will go to Four as soon as he knows something is wrong.

- It's his baby 🥹 He likes the vibes he has with the car

- "I'll give up on her when she gives up on me."

- Ride or die fr

|Four|

2016 Volkswagen Jetta

Color: Pure White(the site said it and I have doubts)

- A gift

- The mechanic of the group

- He's fixed his car multiple times so he usually fixes the others cars or tells them whats wrong and how to fix it/where to go to get the best price

- Helps Time with stuff he doesn't know.

- He doesn't really decorate it cause he can never decide HOW to

- He keeps it clean though and likes to go to those car wash vaccum places

- Is a safe driver

- Not 100% of the time

- Does not like being in his car more than he has to.

- He'll eat in his car if he's really hungry

- Overall, not too crazy about his car to really do much to it.

- Is usually a good person to call if you need a last minute pick up

- The Sane One™

- Aux cord is an option

- He's a radio kind of guy

- Will hang out with Legend in his van if he just wants to destress

- HATES driving in the snow

- HATES other drivers

That's pretty much it :3

I TOTALLY didn't forget to put the name on each one like I did with Time's :D

BAAAAHHHHYYYYEEEEE!♡

[losergender]

chapter 17 ig

see in chapter 14 she ends with this paragraph about how she has decided to be more hopeful because of whatever and it lasted literally that one paragraph and hope was never brought up ever again

of course she is arguing with the pet snake about how her hair looks bad. of course. of course.

her one friend thinks she's talking to a tree now lmao deserved

STOP THINKING THAT BIRDS SPY ON YOU

pack it up everyone no one wants to be her animal companion

she has found a puppy okay

"kicking him in the crace (crotch, then the face)"

"without windows, time didn't exist. only misery did." now that's some relatable content

i think next chapter they are. going on an orgy.

NO DONT YOU DARE HAVE A CLOSE WITH YOUR TEACHER AFTER CLASS GIRL THIS IS WHAT MAISIE PETERS WROTE RUN ABOUT

if this girl wasn't the narrator she would be the most boring character ever. she never speaks or does anything and her whole survival has been because of the damn snake istg

this is completely on me but the way she described the evil but allegedly hot teacher has had me picturing him as like an old grumpy ugly version of that one musician guy from pokemon sword and shield and i cannot take it seriously

so zeus has suggested to meet her before and also for some reason women are not usually allowed at the ""symposia"" (which so far sounds like orgy banquets) for some reason?

"why does everyone assume i know things" i've been thinking the same the whole book my friend

oh she can go to the orgy bc she already has 0 honor to lose that's so ridiculous

crowd would you too imagine this twink if you had to imagine a guy with a long black and white ponytail and a raccoon pet

she finally talked back and took a decision after 17 chapters

oh and he's torturing her

oh she's getting mind controlled away from the orgy. great

oh she can fight mind control. you go girl

alexis if you dare have one more single wet dream with this fucker i will kick both of you in the balls

"you write run-on sentences" SIR THATS NO REASON FOR TORTURE

"you're a woman in a man's world. your math skills will only carry you so far" sir you teach classic lit and as a lit major i think we both know what skill usually carries the average person further

this guy's whole thing is that he hates women how does anyone write that and go "yeah round character"

GUYS WE'RE AT 50% !!

welcome to sunny reacting to stuff in which sunny reacts to stuff. in this tumblr post, we're dealing with blood of hercules (the i'm a girl and as it turns out i'm hercules book) because i'm doing So Bad Mentally that i am in dire need of something that will make me laugh.

chapter 1 reaction below

montana?? out of all states?? okay go off

"kids at school called it apocalytic core. i called it hell" already laughing. i love my life decisions.

SUPERSEED I'M SORRY WHAT?

"if you wanted to live (i didn't)" you and me both bestie

does the author know verb tenses

i'm saying so little bc otherwise the post would be huge. every single sentence is hilariously bad this is so silly

summary if anyone is interested -> pretty unclear dystopian setting, 10-yo befriends an echidna named nyx and then gets a foster brother delivered to her room the next day. the titans are like superhumans killing normal people and the "spartans" are 12 protector families (8 are olympian, 4 are cthonic and those are dangerous murderers or something).

[galactaknightyaoi]

🏳️‍⚧️ DOUBLE HEADCANON ATTACK!!! 🏳️‍⚧️

Family HCs are already fun on their own but with transness added on they're even better. It's actual comedy gold. Also I've always wanted to draw some kind of Meta Knight VS Galacta Knight type thing, but I can't take anything seriously like that. So you get This.

What This is, is a way too high effort shitpost. It took a combined 2 and a half? Days, though most of it was just sketching. I'm proud of it! Anything for the bit.

Textless version + unfinished doodle under the cut

[hibernating-stag]

One thing I'd like to mention about X Plus is I do like Dizzy joining The Jellyfish Pirates. I think the endings where she joins them really stood out, so I'm glad to see the developers kept it canon.

... However, it wasn't my personal favourite ending for Dizzy.

These two just had such a sweet dynamic and friendship going on! I wish we got to see more of it!!

[dirkxcaliborn]

wdym it takes effort to fix things. Can't they just not be bad