#all that happened was i saw One Thing on my dash. made a post. and that was it

[mm-lurking]

Malfunction: Heart Mode - Boothill

Based on this post. fem reader. Praying this is not ooc. Writing is kinda choppy, I tried my best. 1.6k words. tag: @nvuy hope you like it -- Boothill is one strong muddle-fudger. He does not give a rat's behind when it comes to romantic love, affection, and all that fudging nonsense. Even if it has crossed his mind, he's too busy dealing with the forking problems of the cosmos and most importantly trying to find that son of a nice lady who is responsible for killing his sweet angel and destroying his planet.

Yet here he is, standing in front of you at the bar with a drink in his hand as he hears his machine heart starting to whir. You both were regulars at the bar and often ran into each other from time to time. Your encounters were akin to something like being seatmates; there was enough information exchanged to know about each other yet it was nothing personal. While you didn't quite understand why he would disappear for long periods before returning like nothing happened, you never questioned it and were simply happy to see him again.

He too liked meeting up with you. He couldn't help but flash his razor-sharp teeth whenever he saw you; calling you “partner!” out loud before greeting you and asking how you had been. The little interactions you both had were always a pleasure and as time passed, he seemed to grow more attached to seeing you.

Today was a little different. Compared to your usual outfit, you were dressed up all fancy and the more he looked at you, the louder the whirring of his heart got.

"Fudge."

He mutters under his breath. You look at him inquisitively as he turns his head sideways and sighs.

"Something the matter Boothill?" "It's nothing partner."

You watch as he chugs down his glass and sets the empty vessel down on the bar counter before ordering more.

"I haven't even finished my first drink yet and you're already done?"

You laugh a little as you take a sip of your drink. The dim lights of the bar made your jewellery glow and alongside the reflections of other shiny things, you looked heavenly in his eyes. He doesn’t answer so you look over and find him dazed.

"Boothill...? Um, do you need some space?" "Fudge!"

He can't help but say it out loud this time, covering his face as he scrunches his eyebrows and frowns. This was not how he normally behaved. What in the hot diggity fudge was going on with him?

"Yes- I mean no, ugh fork me!"

You stand there confused (and slightly amused) at how he seems to be fighting himself like a madman. He almost looked possessed from how he kept going back and forth with himself as if he was surprised at what he was saying. Like his tongue wasn't his own.

"I'll give you some space."

The last thing you wanted was for him to hurt himself or those around him. You finally decide to leave just to make sure everything's alright only for him to grab your arm and then quickly let go in shock.

"Sorry 'bout that partner.”

Boothill awkwardly apologises for his unusual behaviour. Before you can reply, a drunk accidentally pushes you from behind and you lose your balance causing you to fall straight into his arms.

“I-!?” “Um…?!”

Both of you are speechless. He swiftly holds your waist with one hand while the other firmly holds onto malt juice. Your hands are tightly gripping his shoulders from the fear of falling. No coherent thought is spoken but the flustered look on your faces has got some of the bar regulars around you giggling.

You don’t even hear the apology of the one who accidentally pushed you. It's as if time has slowed down and nothing exists outside you both. Strangely, he doesn’t let you go and you don’t move either making things even more awkward.

The strong alcohol you were sipping on makes you tipsy and somehow gives you the courage to lift your head and gaze into Boothill's unique eyes. You've always admired how dashing he looks; from his physique to his dressing style and even his interesting way of speaking. And now here you were up close, staring disrespectfully at his face and how handsome he looked.

Boothill is no different either, he's gazing at you hesitantly as he tries to find something to say but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is-

“Fudge me…” “I'm sure the ladies at the ranch think about that regularly.”

You mumble without thinking and he tenses up.

“I- what?!”

He stutters as his cheeks turn slightly red and his eyes widen.

“Uh?! Nothing!”

You mentally slap yourself for blurting that out loud. Even if it was true, why did you have to say it and make things awkward? Come on! You both were having a somewhat endearingly awkward time together! 

You attempt to conjure up something to smooth things over but your thinking is disrupted by a strangely loud machine sound that seems to be coming from nearby. The whoosh is accompanied by irregular beeping sounds, almost like one of those technology things Boothill had told you about. 

You glance around to see if you can find the source only to realise-

It’s coming from Boothill.

“Oh.” You whisper under your breath but the cyborg (who still doesn't let you go nor drinks his beverage and is as still as a statue for some reason) hears you loud and clear.

“Something the matter, pretty lady?” “Yes. Do you plan on us staying in this position until the bar closes?”

Instead of answering his question, you deflect it with another. He turns red again and stammers badly which makes you giggle and further confirms your theory.

“Gotcha.”

Before Boothill can ask what you’re doing, you slowly drag your hands down his shoulders until they rest on his chest. You feel the rapid whirring of his heart through the vibrations it emits through your fingertips. A tiny smirk spreads on your face and you look back at him.

“You’re pretty cute.”

You flirtatiously speak. The look of confusion and embarrassment on his face makes you laugh harder.

“What- hey what- I-”

Boothill’s stammering only gets worse alongside the overheating of his heart. He tries to reply with a snarky comment but the only thing he’s capable of doing is squeezing your waist harder and propping himself up with the bar counter to avoid falling. You, being the woman you are, do not stop the teasing.

“You can’t handle affection, can you? Look at you sweet thing, your heart is overworking and your synesthesia beacon has already overheated.” “Shut…” “I barely said anything and you’re malfunctioning already? How amusing.” “Son of a nice lady…” “I am indeed the daughter of a nice lady.”

“You-!”

He is bewildered at your unexpected behaviour but that painfully obvious blush on his cheek tells you he's not mad about it.

“Oh dear,” you chuckle and pry yourself off his metal chest, “I should stop or else your…eccentric friends…will hold me responsible for any severe malfunctions.”

This was enough teasing from you today. If it were up to you, you would go on and on but you feared any dire consequences that would affect Boothill. You lift and steady yourself up nonchalantly as if you just didn't cause the ranger to nearly pass out from your shenanigans.

Despite the cold metal exterior, he feels the loss of warmth from you moving your body away. His hand slowly retracts from your waist but lingers as if he hesitates to let go. The overheating of his system rapidly starts to decrease, however, he is unable to calm his emotions down completely. He turns his attention away from his mechanical heart and gazes at you curiously while you fix your wrinkled dress.

“You are one hell of a woman.”

A long sigh leaves his mouth as he speaks as if still processing your chaos. A sly smile appears on your face when you (finally) hear him speak properly.

“Took you a while to get talking didn't it mister?”

That grin on your face screams ‘this wasn’t even my best attempt’ but he shrugs it off. He unknowingly takes a step closer to you as if wanting your presence as close to him as possible. The (welcomed) intrusion into your personal space causes you to sharply inhale. He simply places his hand over the rim of your filled glass and whispers gently.

“You think I'd let any lady come close like that?”

Your mouth practically foams as you try to formulate a response. Eventhough you're not looking him, you can feel his gaze on you which makes you nervous.

“I'll tell you something sweetheart. I've got some fudging business to attend to in a bit but the next time we meet, I'll finish what you started.”

His voice is low and rumbly as he subtly warns you of the consequences of your actions. He follows it with a tight squeeze of your hand and then steps away from you. Your mind protests his leave but you're too stunned to speak; had you put yourself on his wanted list now? 

There is a devilish smile on his face as he checks his gun and locks it before walking away with it casually. Next time, he'd show you what a cowboy is capable of.

Hey, at least you were living out the dreams of those ranch ladies. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[friendlyneighbourhoodelf]

do you see my vision

[saviorpilled]

deleted the post. whatever. feeling bad over personal boundaries and my own take on things. whatevr

[galedekarios]

plagiarism in the bg3 fandom

disclaimer: this post should not be taken as a springboard to harrass anyone involved.

-

as i've stated previously, i didn't want to make this post because i have a lot going on in real life, but i have been watching this being done to others and myself for months now and i can't not speak about my experience anymore.

laiostoudenn (prev urls: lathanderr/spellbooking/wizardblood) is a plagiarist and he has a history of stealing from other creators like @minthara, @mercymaker, @onewingedangels and others.

in this post, i, finally and after much and long deliberation, want to add my voice to theirs.

i'll try to give a chronological overview of what happened as i have come to experience it, through others and myself, and as condensed as possible and to make it easier for myself to tell:

the story

i became aware of this new blog after he @ me and he messaged me. he's been following me. i was slow to engage because i have a lot of things going on in my real life that cost me a lot of energy during the day. i have also grown cautious of too quickly becoming close to strangers online. i became aware, however, that he had been doing this with multiple bigger creators in this space, like my friend @hawke, who is also a creator in the bg3 space, and who has experienced the same behaviour. they asked me if i knew him and i replied that i did not.

that was it for me at that point and i didn't engage much beyond that because i didn't know him and i thought nothing of it - until later.

during that time, whenever i saw his creations pop up increasingly, either in the tags or on my dash, i noticed more and more that they looked familiar to the works of others, from @minthara, to @mercymaker, to @onewingedangels and other creators, including myself.

it was then confirmed that i wasn't simply imagining things when, months ago, two creators were brave enough to speak up about the fact that he has been plagiarising gifsets and edits from them:

@minthara and @mercymaker:

@onewingedangels original set posted on 31st december 2023:

his set posted on 29th january 2024 (now deleted):

this was done without consent, and after he had already copied prior sets from @onewingedangels.

i would greatly recommend reading the posts shared above, and looking at the examples provided in it, so that you get a clear picture of what's happening here. it's not one isolated incident.

if you take a look at the notes in the post, you can also see other creators speaking about their experiences.

@minthara has recently also uploaded a google docs with the screenshots of the sets stolen from them because they either have been deleted, or lead to nothing due to now multiple url changes.

i was made aware today that he, following the first posts detailing @minthara and @mercymaker's experiences, apologised at first and admitted to what he's been doing on 31st march 2024:

but sadly, this wasn't to last, and the opportunity to learn and grow wasn't taken.

instead what happened was now painted as "bullying" from other creators, as "clique" behaviour and as "gatekeeping", despite many of us operating independently from each other. i, myself, have only started speaking to one other creator involved now that i have noticed the stealing and copying still ongoing.

i have in my time on this website never gatekept anything. i have shared metas, gifsets, creations, mods, art, tutorials, and many other things freely.

but back to the matter at hand: after he has been trying to ingratiate himself to me for some time now, following me, unfollowing me, and refollowing me again until i blocked him for my own mental health, i tried to remain civil before this point, engaging rarely if at all, hoping everything would go away on its own - which was a mistake in hindsight, i realise - i noticed that once again he's been lifting entire concepts and frame-by-frame gifs and sets from me.

things that he now claims - likely after he has been made aware of my prior personal posts and @minthara and @mercymaker's post circulating again by being reblogged by other people who have been affected) - were simply "remade" or "expanded" upon, that he may have been "subconsciously" influenced, while simultaneously claiming that he didn't know these sets existed in the first place, that he came up with the ideas independently, and that it's simply inevitable to use the same scenes because it's a limited game.

this doesn't hold up under scrutiny, however.

i want to make clear that i very much understand and that i am acutely aware that i do not own scenes and i do not own mods or outfits. however, what i do like to pride myself on is coming up with concepts and scene choices and captions accompanying these concepts that are unique, inspired by my metas, headcanons pertaining to gale and my own ocs altonaufein and karl, all of which i have seen copied by him several times now.

this is not as simple as simply gifing the same lines of dialogue from a scene as he and others supporting him are now postulating and i want to make that very, very clear.

another reason why this statement doesn't hold up under any scrutiny and, what ultimately confirmed my suspicion that he has been copying me, was when he - after the first post exposing his behaviour by @minthara and @mercymaker was made - reached out to me, asking if it it's ok to copy a gifset i made (note: again, this happened after he was called out for plagiarising the first time):

i didn't respond quickly enough, so he went ahead and posted it without waiting for my response (the response i gave him is pictured above and for transparancy, i responded about a day later bc of work and irl obligations).

below you can see the stolen post and what i managed to save from it:

the set was a 1:1 copy. he wanted a version for his oc so bad that he went ahead and stole my concept anyhow, without even waiting for the permission he asked for.

he went to take it down after my reply, made cautious most likely by his still fresh callout done in march 2024 by @minthara and @mercymaker, and i thought the issue was resolved and it wouldn't happen again, that he wouldn't take again without asking, despite having been told not only by myself, but by other creators as well, no. we are not comfortable.

but no. he "remade" the set, switching out gifs while complaining about how he "had to make it original":

my set in question was made on 1st february 2024, he reached out to me on 22nd april 2024 to "remake" the set. he is well aware of the existence of these ideas and concepts and sets he wants to copy, underlined by the need to ask for permission when it's simply too obvious to otherwise deny.

it's no coincidence.

like others have had the experience, i too noticed that he often would not engage with content he planned on stealing or did go through with stealing. he would sometimes present it as his own "remake" of a set he did, of another he was "inspired" or wanted to "expand upon", sometimes crediting, sometimes crediting someone largely unrelated, sometimes and, more often, not crediting.

as i mentioned above, this was not the first and not the only set/concept, which he copied from me - whether that was before asking or after asking, or not asking at all, if it was ok to copy.

i use this example mainly to show a clear pattern of behaviour that exists across the board: he takes concepts from other creators and inserts his own oc and/or favourite character into it because he wants a version of it so very badly. it does not matter if said creator might be hurt, if they told him no, or if they exposed his behaviour before. it doesn't matter how old the set is or how recent.

it is still going on today, the only difference is that he has stopped asking at all once again.

my story completely echoes that of @minthara and @mercymaker's.

concrete examples

i will now go into more detail about the concept sets he's been copying, include the caption or quote attached to it. i'm sorry that these will not be in chronological fashion. i will add at a later point, just like @minthara has done, a google document to better do side by side comparisons, highlight the similarities visually even more, and preserve some of the sets, which have now been deleted by him as recently as today:

the theme of hands in gale's romance

-> mine posted on 23rd september 2023

versus

-> his 1 posted on 24th february 2024

-> his 2 posted on 17th june 2024

i want to preface this by saying that the theme of hands was and still is incredibly important to story of my oc altonaufein and has concept of romance with gale. again, while i do not own these scenes, i wished to highlight a theme that i identified as poignant and profound within the relationship context. it's also why i added the poetry and quotes accompanying the set.

notice how even the caption format matches. the only thing lacking are my quotes / poems.

the format matches almost entirely: gifs from the same scenes (pulling gale out of the portal, the bench scene in an illusionary waterdeep, the astral sea scene, the boat scene, and more of the boat scene). the only thing that was added in this gifset are scenes that weren't available to me back then, namely the updated proposal scene, the kisses patches, and the epilogue as they came out well after i made my original gifset.

the second re-make even contains a gif that's not only the same minute detail of a larger scene - one that anyone who played gale's romance knows contains a multitude of other parts that could have been used - but also the same frames:

mine vs his:

i suppose adding that one to the original post with the same format i had chosen for mine would have made it too obvious, but that is only speculation.

gale + missing waterdeep/home

-> mine posted on 30th september 2023

versus

-> his (deleted on 18th july 2024) so i will have to include screenshots so you may compare:

same caption format, overlapping scenes chosen, only new additions are of content that wasn't available to me back when i first made my original set (the epilogue, kiss patches and proposal scene).

an attempt at "credit" even though he is only referencing my tags on an entirely separate set of a different creator, not the concept i came up with in my original set months prior.

and even though i have told him no before, just like others have told him no before.

i think it speaks volumes that this set is now, like some others, have been suddenly and coincidentally deleted.

gale of waterdeep vs gale dekarios

-> mine posted on 20th november 2023

versus

-> his posted on 13th may 2024

the concept is entirely the same, the scenes are largely overlapping, again, the caption format is almost entirely identical, with the sole difference of me including the full quote and devnotes as i'm wont to do.

gale + i love you

-> mine posted 16th september 2023

versus

-> his 2 (a "remake" of an "older" set of "his") posted on 13th may 2024

again, the concept is entirely the same, it's same caption format, the scenes largely overlap, some of the gifs added that were not available to me when i made my set (which, again, would include the epilogue, kisses patches, and the updated proposal scene).

mermay gale

-> mine posted on 13th may 2024

versus

-> his posted on 21st may 2024

it's the same concept again, the caption format is similar, it's the same setting (camp at baldur's gate), the same armour, the same armour tint, the same 3/4 pose except mirrored, and, this time, his tags were inspired too:

my tag: #i have the worst art block still and virtually no time but i still wanted to do smth for mermay so have this

his tag: #i can't do art so heres my mermay contribution i guess

copied oc post

-> mine posted on (likely) 30th september 2021

versus

-> his originally posted on may 7th 2024, which has also now been deleted on 18th july 2024:

the only thing different was the font. sadly, i deleted my oc post since i have redesigned some of them and wanted to make an updated version of it in the future.

thankfully i found the link on my friends blog, @ayrennaranaaldmeri.

as you can see, all of these happened after the first cases of plagiarism and after i personally told him that i'm not comfortable with him "remaking" my concept sets as his.

conclusion

there are many other sets that i suspect have been copied or plagiarised, i want to remain objective, however, and include the ones i feel are the most damning examples, supported by the fact that he has been deleting some of them today while again, trying to set up his narrative to his audience.

again, i want to highlight the pattern is here with him. my post is not the first, my suspicious are the first.

he knows what he is doing wrong, highlighted by the fact of trying to ask for permission, by deleting sets in question, by, at first, apologising, whilst now talking about "gatekeeping", "bullying", "inevitable repeats of scenes", "taking inspiration", "scrolling by", being "subconsciously" influenced, etc.

as a conclusion, i can say nothing more on this topic other than that i'm very sad. it doesn't give me joy. it stressed me immensely then and it still does now. i wish he'd have taken the already admitted wrong-doing to heart and grown from it, instead of attempting to change the narrative and doubling down on his past behaviour, not examining what he has done and is doing several times over by now.

i have blocked him now, as have done many others, and will not engage further with him. we have been through this before and at this point, i don't think he will change.

what i do very much hope, however, is that this is the last i hear of this happening.

edit:

updated the links to lead to his "archive" so you can access the stolen sets that he still hasn't deleted and seems to have no intentions of doing so.

[breadbrobin]

Hi idk if you’re taking reqs but I’ve been reading your posts about Luke Castellan a lot and I think I’m getting obsessed- So could you make a fic/shot about a Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo reader where they’ve known each other since childhood and they’re kind of like frenemies (friends and/or enemies) and one day he ends up getting badly injured after a quest so she has to take care of him in the infirmary for a week, but ever since that happened he’s been trying to get injured just to go and see reader at the infirmary again?

Sorry if that wasn’t clear, and this is kinda inspired from another fic you made about Luke and daughter of Apollo:)

But if you ever make something like this I would really appreciate it if you tagged me!

two hearts

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: (as above)

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, kissing, flirting, a couple of swear words, blood, idiots to lovers a lil bit too (can you tell it’s my favourite thing)

word count: 3.5k

(hiiii hello hi!! sorry this took me so long to get out, but here it is!! thank you so much for the request i had a lot of fun with this one (3.5k words of fun apparently). hope you enjoy it!)

———————————————

if someone had told you luke castellan was going to be gone on a quest when you arrived at camp for the summer, you wouldn’t have spent the whole drive to camp preparing to deal with his annoying ass.

you hiked up half-blood hill and over the boundary, noticing the distinct tension in the atmosphere. something was off.

when luke hadn’t come to see you as you dropped your bags off in the apollo cabin, or when you stopped into the infirmary, or even when you walked past the hermes cabin, you were clued in that something was up.

“where’s luke?” you asked chiron curiously.

“he is on a quest, child. sent by his father,” he smiled down at you warmly. “do not worry about him.”

“i’m not worried,” you bit your lip. “just curious. that’s all.”

and that was that.

it was weirdly boring being at camp without luke’s constant snarky comments. ever since you’d both gotten to camp when you were younger, he’d been a persistent thorn in your side. maybe it was because you both were new around the same time, or because you didn’t like it when he hovered around the infirmary, poking his quick fingers into buckets of bandages and medications. whatever it was, he seemed to enjoy irritating you. and you apparently enjoyed it more than you thought.

monotonous days: breakfast, archery, infirmary, training, activities, dinner, bed.

sleepless nights: nightmares of quests and dragons and a bright white scar.

you sighed one night, waking up from yet another dream of flashes and brief images. your siblings were sleeping around you, a couple of them snoring, and you sat up.

the air on the porch was cooler that night, especially for summer time. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself and leaned on the porch railing, peering out into the darkness. you just needed a minute, really. you sat down on a chair and relaxed.

you woke up abruptly.

at first, you were confused as to why.

then you saw the figure on the hill.

it was a camper. the hint of orange in the full-moon light told you that much. they were stumbling down—no, they were rolling now.

you stood up and dashed back into your cabin, grabbing your to-go first aid kit. you then turned and ran towards the obviously injured figure. there were only three people it could be. and where were the other two?

you reached them quickly, dropping to your knees beside them and rolling them over.

luke.

it was luke.

the air rushed from your lungs. he was here. he was back. he was alive. you’d never felt such an overwhelming emotion before. it drew slight stinging tears to your eyes.

his eyes were barely open but he gripped your arm with a strength you didn’t think his weak body could still possess. “y/n?”

“just hold on, luke,” you whispered. there were injuries all over his body. you hardly knew where to start. “just hold on.”

“they’re gone,” he said absently.

you looked at him, but didn’t stop trying to help. “who’s gone?”

“everyone,” he stared up at the moon.

you bit your cheek and looked over your shoulder. one of your brothers had gone on that quest with him. “wake up!” you shouted. “someone come help!” you turned back to luke. “okay, luke. you’re gonna be okay.”

his cheeks were hollow. it was then that you noticed the way his eye was swollen closed and a dark red angry cut traced its way down the side of his face. you gasped and turned his head gently to see it better.

“not looking good, huh?” he murmured bitterly. “guess i won’t be getting any modelling contracts soon.”

“we’ll see about that,” you muttered. “stay awake, yeah?”

“you’re not the boss of me,” he grumbled, but kept his eyes open as help finally arrived to get him to the infirmary.

he’d had more injuries than you’d originally thought. it was like he’d been attacked by half of the monsters in greek mythology, honestly, based on the peppered burn holes in his shirt, the cuts and scrapes on his arms and knees and the gashes littering his abdomen. oh, and not to mention the gaping spear wound in his right shoulder.

after working all night with some of your siblings and chiron in the infirmary, he was finally stable. finally, he’d be okay.

you volunteered to stay with him to keep an eye on him for the first few hours, though your eyelids were drooping with sleep.

you held his hand. it felt like the right thing to do.

he didn’t stir.

it was strange, being around him without him talking. since you were fourteen, he’d rarely managed to shut up around you. incessant talking and waving his hands around, explaining some new thing he learned in sword fighting or some joke one of his brothers made. it was both infuriating and entertaining. you loved and hated it, just like you loved and hated him.

sitting in silence with luke castellan felt like the world was turning on its head.

a couple of hours passed. you didn’t let go of his hand. not even as you slipped into a dream—a memory, really.

you were fifteen, and it was raining. it had only been a few months since you got to camp. things were still fresh and somewhat unknown. what you did know, though, was you could never get a moments peace anymore.

“y/n?”

you rolled your eyes. of course it was luke. “what?”

“where are you?”

you supposed you were hidden pretty well. sitting among the reeds at the bottom of the lake was one of your favourite places to be. it was cooler there, but even in winter it wasn’t cold. your feet could sit in the water if you wanted them to and the reeds blocked you from the wind and outside attention.

when you didn’t respond, you could hear him coming closer anyway.

“that’s fine, don’t tell me. i’ll find you anyway.”

and he did. he always did.

there was some theory about that, you realised as he sat beside you, the tiny space between the reeds barely big enough to hold both of you. some theory about a string of fate tying people together. some greek myth about people originally having four arms, four legs and two hearts, and when zeus split them down the middle, those people spent the rest of their lives searching for their other halves. drawn together by fate and reconnected always. you arm was pressed against his arm and your leg against his leg, and maybe it felt so right because you were cold and he was warm. not because of some silly soulmate theory that didn’t even make sense. because there was also the idea that maybe he’d put a tracker on you, but you had no idea where he would have gotten that. or maybe you were just bad at hiding.

“i’ve been looking for you,” he said.

you tilted your head in confusion. “what? why?”

“well,” were you mistaken, or were his cheeks kind of red? “i kinda hurt myself at training today. and the people in the infirmary told me to grow up and get over it. but honestly, it really hurts and i just wanted to know if you could heal it.”

you rolled your eyes. “always needing something, huh, castellan? is it so much to ask for you to just want to see me?” you hold your hand out and he extends his sword arm, revealing the cross-muscle cut on his forearm.

“i do want to see you,” he protested. “honestly. it’s not my fault that i’m also coincidentally injured whenever i want to see you.”

you couldn’t stay mad at that smile. “coincidentally, huh?” you handed him a small section of ambrosia from your pocket as your fingers ran over the cut, whispering a prayer to your father. you watched as the skin knit itself closed again, leaving not even a scar on his arm. you pulled back with a smile. “there. done. good as new.”

“thanks, doctor. don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“die a horrible death and be left permanently disfigured? to the point where we’d do a closed casket funeral just so we don’t have to look at your ugly face?” you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

he elbowed you. “shut up, loser. you know you love my face.”

and as you woke up, feeling his hand tighten around yours, you realised you kind of did. there was gauze over the cut on his eye and cheek, covering half of his face. and yet, he was still annoyingly beautiful.

“something on my face?” he mumbled as he saw looking, finally awake. “except for this thing, of course.” he gestured to the gauze.

you smiled wanly. “i’m glad you’re awake.”

“missed me?” he half-grinned.

you snort and drop his hand, patting the back of it and standing up to check his bandages. “you wish.”

he was silent as you checked his bandages and reapplied the few that were loosening. then, as you left to go and get the next person to keep an eye on him, he spoke up. “i missed you.”

you paused in the doorway, a small smile growing on your face. you looked back at him. his eyes were earnest and soft. he looked younger like this. “i’ll be back a few hours. we’ll have dinner together.”

you did have dinner together. in fact, you had almost every meal together for the first few days.

it was quiet, mostly. you didn’t ask him what happened and he didn’t tell you. you knew he’d already been interrogated by everyone else. he didn’t need that from you.

annabeth came and joined you a couple of times, chatting about some new architectural design she’d learned about or a new move she’d learned in training.

you realised how alike they were. family in every way that mattered, regardless of blood.

it didn’t take long for luke to start getting annoying again though.

once he’d been in the infirmary for four days, he regained most of his usual personality. and that meant bad jokes, incessant talking and poorly-timed, half-hearted flirting.

“the sun makes your eyes glow,” he said one day. he’d never had much of a filter, so it wasn’t too out of the blue, but it still caught you a little of guard.

you fumbled the supplies in your hand. “sorry, what?”

he was sitting up on his bed now. his wounds were almost healed. two more days and he’d be out of the infirmary. you didn’t know if you were one hundred per cent happy about that.

“your eyes. they glow in the sun.” he repeated.

you paused, glancing over at him. “thank you…?”

he nodded and leaned back, his eyes staying on you.

that was only the beginning.

within five hours he’d complimented your eyes, your skills, your smile and your kindness. multiple times. it got the point where the other two patients in the infirmary had stopped taking you seriously, just complimenting you instead. that’s where you drew the line.

“okay, luke, you need to stop. this is too much,” you said. you were checking his remaining wounds and nodding happily at them.

“what, am i flustering you? are you blushing?” he teased.

you were not blushing at all, you decided. whether it was strictly true or not was between your brain and your cheeks, not your honesty. “you’re annoying me,” you grumbled. “like, a lot.”

“you know you’ll miss me when i go back to my cabin,” he leaned back on his pillows, a smirk on his lips. it warped the scar on his cheek more than you expected, and it made your heart clench every time.

“if i miss you, you have permission to annoy me for the rest of my life,” you grumbled. you definitely wouldn’t miss this.

finally, he was out of the infirmary.

finally, you could work in peace.

finally, you could— oh, what the hell?

“good morning!” luke said as he waltzed into the infirmary. “i’ve injured myself.”

you looked him up and down as you walked closer. “you look fine to me. what did you do?”

“i fell of the rock climbing wall and hit my head.” he turned his head to show you the small trickle of blood above his ear.

you sighed and led him to a bed. you handed him ambrosia as you used a wet cloth to clean his head. “you were meant to take things easy for the first few days.”

“i did!” he protested. “i was only like, twelve feet up!”

you pursed your lips and shook your head. your hand was under his chin now, stopping him from turning his head to look at you. “taking it easy means no rock climbing at all, dumbass. you’ve been out of here for half a day and you’re already back!”

“maybe i like it in here.” he shrugged, pouting slightly, looking up at you.

“maybe i find you really annoying and ban you from coming in here,” you countered.

“you can’t do that,” he gasped.

“watch me, castellan.” you prodded his cheek mockingly. “don’t mess with me.”

his smile wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but you found that you didn’t mind it all too much.

luke came into the infirmary almost every two days for the next two weeks.

there was always some new injury that he couldn’t ignore, that he needed to have you heal. he only came in when you were there though, like he knew your schedule off by heart.

he probably did.

his sheepish smile was becoming a fixture of your days and you couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when you saw it. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating a little faster either, and it was annoying.

in the years that you’d been at camp, luke castellan had driven you up the wall. did you hate him? did you love him? how did you love him? how a friend loves a friend? how a doctor loves a patient? how a lover loves a lover? how did you hate him? why? why anything? why nothing? the questions only got worse.

“another minor injury?” you sighed, hearing his footsteps entering the infirmary. you didn’t know when you memorised the sound of his footsteps, or the rise and fall of his breathing while he slept, but you did.

“uh, not exactly…” the weakness in his voice made your stomach drop.

you turned around to see him clutching a bright red wound on his inner arm. he looked pale. that wasn’t a good sign. the blood was still seeping past his fingers. also not a good sign.

you gasped and pulled him to a bed immediately, pushing him to lie down and placing hard pressure on the wound. you could feel him reaching into your pocket and fishing around for ambrosia. once he found some, he ate it quickly and sighed in relief.

“what the hell happened?” you exclaimed.

he shrugged with one shoulder. “sword training.”

“were you training against the fucking terminator?” you took in the other minor cuts and bruises. your voice was unfairly shaky. you didn’t want to get close to losing him again. even just the thought made you feel sick.

his eyes were soft when they looked up at you. you almost dropped all of your anger right there. “i got sloppy,” he said nonchalantly. “i’ll be fine once i get back to normal.”

“this is an artery,” you said. “you could die.”

he didn’t look all that upset or shocked. “i won’t die, baby. i won’t.”

your stomach gave a pitiful lurch at the nickname. “save your energy.”

“is that your doctorly way of telling me to shut up?” he teased.

“yes, it is,” you nodded. “now, shut up while i help you.”

he looked at you like you were hanging the stars in the sky, not tending to him with hands red from his blood.

no one had stopped talking about luke since he got back. the first failed quest in years, with two of the three members dying and the third one permanently scarred by a dragon. not a good ratio.

you often saw luke sitting alone now, and when he was nowhere to be found, you knew where he was.

maybe there was something to the strings of fate theory, you thought as you found him and sat down beside him among the reeds. they were taller now and more dense, but the two of you had carved out a little spot for yourselves over time. your limbs were still pressed against each other though. that was one thing that would never change.

he was turning something over in his hands. a repetitive motion.

you tried to make sense of what it was, but couldn’t.

“it’s a dragon claw,” he spoke up. “the one that did this.” he pointed at the still-red scar on his face. that was why you couldn’t get rid of that one. magic scars never really went away.

you stayed quiet.

“peter distracted the dragon just in time for me to get my sword back. i got the cut, but when i turned back he was getting thrown against the mountainside.” he shook his head bitterly. “he didn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at a dragonfly on a reed in front of you. “knowing my brother, he just would have been happy to be there. and happy that you’re alive.”

he smiled, but it looked forced and bitter. “yeah. he spent the whole time talking about how lucky we were for this opportunity, and how he was so excited to explore beyond camp… and gianna was the same. they were just…” he was fiddling with his camp beads now.

you watched his movements slowly. it was like he’d never been gone, but also like everything had changed. there was a new tension in the air around him. you weren’t sure if it was you or him.

“don’t be resentful,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“what?” his eyes turned to you. “what do you mean?”

“don’t resent yourself and the gods for this,” you said, leaning a little closer to him and looking away. the dragonfly hadn’t moved—like it was listening. watching. “peter and gianna made their choices. they’re in elysium now. that’s about as good as it gets.”

he pressed his lips together and nodded. “i know.”

maybe there was something to the two hearts theory too, because you could tell he didn’t. he didn’t agree. he didn’t want to. you slipped your hand into his. “you know i’m always here for you, right, luke? i mean, you annoy me—a lot—but you’re still, well, you. and you’re important to me. i’ll always be there for you. if you want to hold hate in your heart, then be my guest. i’ll just have to hold more love in mine to balance you out.”

he was watching your connected fingers as you spoke. his hands were calloused and hard, but yours were softer. less time spent training and more time spent healing. “love for who?”

you, you thought. you didn’t speak.

he turned to look at you. you were already looking at him. “love for me?”

you swallowed tightly. “luke…”

he leaned in closer, until his lips were moments away from touching yours. one wrong move and you’d touch. or was that the right move? was the wrong move pulling away? leaving him alone—again? that didn’t feel fair. but nor did your pounding heart and your flushing cheeks, and maybe you were blushing now, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

then you gave in. that string that connected your souls was pulling you too tight. your lips brushed against his softly at first, and before you could think to move any further, his hand was gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer, and his lips were pressing against yours with the passion of years of built up tension. you’d never hated him at all, you realised. you loved him the whole time. sure, he was irritating. he was chatty. he was pushy and annoying and never stopped bothering you. but you’d missed his bothering, and you’d missed his smile, and when he pulled away to take a breath, you missed his lips with a fiery need that bubbled up from deep down inside you.

“guess i’ll be annoying you for the rest of our lives then, huh?” he said softly, chest rising and falling against yours.

your eyes were still closed, reeling from the kiss. “wasn’t that a given anyway? i wouldn’t want it any other way, personally.”

when he kissed you again, you decided that the theory about two hearts was, in fact, correct. you met as two, seperate halves in a fucked up world that had you grow up far too fast. you grew as two, finding your places at camp, finding your people, but always finding each other first. you met now as one. four arms, four legs, two hearts, meeting in a tumultuous display of love and desire. and that’s how you wanted to stay. your limbs locked with his, your hearts pounding in sync, your every feeling, every emotion, every sensation making your very soul hum with joy. you’d found him, finally, after years of your hearts waiting for this moment. finally, your two hearts were one again.

[miuszn]

i’m actually so obsessed with your bouncer!ellie.. we need a fic immediately 🤭 -🪐

taste of lust

SETTING : modern au

WC : 5011

WARNINGS : sexual harassment ( nothing graphic ) ( but reader is sort of implied to have trauma related to it , nothing stated explicitly tho ) , bouncer!ellie x bottlegirl!reader , idk shit about clubs so like some stuff might be insanely inaccurate but i did my best to research ( sorry in advance ) , dash of dealer!ellie bc who doesn’t love her , dom!ellie , sub!reader , teasing , overstimulation if u squint , ellie calls u pretty girl & princess , readers first time with a strap , ellie refers to her strap as her cock , i’m not fluent in english yet so there might be mistakes , not beta read

A / N : hello everyoneeee !!! i know this took FOREVER to finish and i’m so sorry about that .. i’ve been super super busy and this fic was so long omg T_T there was a point i started over completely bc i didn’t like the direction it was heading to .. this fanfic shit gets serious truly . in case u missed the warning there is sexual harassment in this fic and reader is implied to have trauma related to it . putting this here again to make sure u guys see it . anyway , i took so long to post this and so much stuff happened !! but alas , it is here , the bottlegirl!reader and bouncer!ellie fic !! this is my fav fic of mine so far so i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i liked writing it <3 ( and yes there will be a part two !! )

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

being a bottle girl wasn’t exactly the job of your dreams. having to deal with creepy rich men every friday and saturday night was definitely not something you enjoyed doing, but that was what paid the bills and allowed you to live a rather comfy lifestyle for a college student. the bad part no one tells you about going to a top college on a full-ride scholarship is that a lot of the students are rich kids who most definitely cheated their way through high school, who live in nice apartments paid for by their mommy and daddy, who use birkins and other designer brand bags as their school bags, who would never be caught dead eating at the cafeteria. of course, you felt out of place. you weren’t exactly poor, but your family definitely could never afford that kind of lifestyle.

you’re pretty. extremely pretty. and you knew you could use that to your advantage. so when you saw a new club in the city that was looking for bottle girls you immediately knew you had to apply. sure, you had to deal with a couple creepy customers every night and sometimes even had to remind them they’re not allowed to touch you, which was annoying. you also hated being seen as an object, and you knew that’s exactly how these men saw you, and what was even worse was those very unsettling “you remind me of my daughter” comments from older men since you were so young. but the money was the main thing you needed, and you were able to put up with all this because of the pay. although the salary itself is just enough to survive, most of your earnings were in tips, and you made good tips. with a little bit of flirting and pretending you were really into customers, you scored lots of tips in the hundreds and sometimes even thousands. that wasn’t really enough for you to be able to afford luxury items whenever you wanted, but you were able to treat yourself every once in a while and that was enough for you.

you and your coworker ellie are the only college students that worked at that club. she wasn’t a bottle girl, however, she was a bouncer. during busy nights the bouncers typically took turns being at the door, and the rest would be inside the club making sure everything was fine. she didn’t mind being inside, it meant she could steal glances at you. truth was, she was into you, and it was obvious. but you took it as her just wanting to get a reaction out of you. that’s what it seemed like. but you can’t lie, whenever she wasn’t looking, you’d stare back as discreetly as you could.

she was a little possessive over you, which you weren’t really aware of. whenever she saw you flirting with customers, she couldn’t deny she felt a little jealous. she of course knew you were just trying to get more tips. regardless, she still couldn’t stand seeing the way you twirled your hair, spoke in that sweet and flirty tone, and even sometimes gave them compliments, and the fact it wasn’t towards her. she wanted it to be her, and her only. she wanted you to be hers. but she never did anything aside from flirt with you a little every once in a while, because she was scared she’d make you uncomfortable.

ellie. where does one even begin to describe her? her strong arms, her short auburn hair she styled as a mullet or put in a half bun when she felt a little lazier, her mesmerizing green eyes. from the moment you laid eyes on her you found her extremely attractive, but you were too shy and didn’t know how to approach her. what’s funny is this is the total opposite of the character you put up for your customers, an extroverted, flirty girl. the thing with you is, you can flirt with people, but only when you’re not attracted to them. when you are, such as in cases like these, the main thing you do is avoid avoid avoid. you rarely had the opportunity to interact with each other, but when you did, you always felt she was trying to subtly flirt with you. it was the kind of flirting where it was hard to tell wether she was flirting with you or just being nice, so you simply took it as being nice because you didn’t think there was any possibility she could be into you. she was just out of your league. even if it was flirting, you didn’t know if she had any other intentions. so you decided to play it safe.

that night was different from the others. your boss informed you that there’d be a bachelor party tonight and surprise surprise, you’d be serving them. the thing about bachelor parties is they’re very demanding and their tips can vary a lot. and demanding in your vocabulary is basically a synonym for entitled. they’ll insist you sit down, have a drink with them, maybe even try to grope you or something. you were not happy about having to deal with them tonight, but your boss told you they were short-staffed tonight, so you’d simply have to suck it up.

the moment the group of about 15 men came in, ellie sensed something was wrong. she rejected about half of them at the entrance before being informed by her supervisor that it was a bachelor party. she didn’t really care. she knew they were up to no good.

“i really don’t think we should let ‘em in.” she crossed her arms.

“any good reason?” he asked, annoyed.

“something just feels.. off,” she whispered, “i dunno. feel like they’re up to no good.”

“i don’t pay you to do ‘vibe checks’ on people.”

“i still don’t think we should let ‘em in. feels like they have bad intentions. have you seen how they’ve been eyeing the rest of the female staff?”

“big deal, this is a night club,” he brushed her off. “that’s how men look at women in nightclubs, williams. suck it up.”

“that still doesn’t-“

“do you want to keep your job or not?” he snapped.

she sighed and rolled her eyes, defeated, and hesitantly let the group in. her eyes were glued on them until they sat down at a table, the feeling in her stomach worsening when she realized you’d be dealing with them. it was one thing for any of the other girls to have to deal with them, but for some reason, she found herself way more worried about you. you were newer to the job and a little younger than the other girls. she couldn’t bear the thought of someone possibly harming you, or taking advantage of you, or anything like that. she felt this strange desire to protect you, something she hadn’t really felt towards anyone before. she felt this way toward you, yet she barely knew anything about you.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

tonight was going to be a long night. the moment those men sat down, you could immediately tell. you could tell by their piercing gazes, which you swore you could physically feel even though you weren’t looking at them, that you’d have to remind them several times they can look but not touch. you heard them whispering stuff to each other while looking at you and then laughing and hitting each other as if they were a group of teenagers. you took a deep breath, put on a smile, and finally went over to their table.

“hey boys,” you greeted with a flirty tone, “anything i can get you guys today?”

“yeah, a piece of that ass.” one of them said, while the rest laughed.

you faked a giggle, trying to do your best to handle this professionally, as you would with all the other annoying customers.

“anyway,” you continued, “do you guys have anything in mind? if not, you can take a look at the stuff we have over there at the bar.” you said, while pointing at the bar.

“we’ll need a moment, babygirl.” one of them replied, holding out his credit card.

you nodded, took the card, and quickly walked away. you absolutely hated that nickname. before you took this job, you didn’t really mind it. but when you started getting called it by basically every single customer you eventually grew to hate it. if you hadn’t been working, you at the very least would’ve given them a death stare or contemplated telling them off (even though you knew you’d never have the balls to do anything of the sort.)

after a couple of minutes, one of them whistled at you to get your attention. strike two. another thing you very much hated. now you were even being treated like an animal. who the hell do they think they are?

you walked over to them and plastered a fake smile on your face and asked if they were ready.

“we just wanted to know what you recommend. i’m sure you drink lots since, you know, you work here.”

some of them chuckled, and you didn’t really get what was funny. but you decided to not start anything and just answered the question.

“well, we have lots of options,” you responded, “we have many of the classics you can find anywhere else, and we also have some that are less common. we just got the louis xiii cognac which is very hard to find, so i’d recommend that one.”

“yeah? are you just saying that ‘cause it’s the most expensive?”

“if you want less pricey options, we have those too.” you replied, avoiding the question. of course you were suggesting it because it was the most expensive. that’s kinda your job. you’re supposed to make money.

“we can afford it.” one of them said.

“yeah, bring us that one.” another chimed in.

you smiled and nodded, walking away. gosh, you felt them draining any energy you had every second you spent near them. you carefully took the bottle and put it on your tray, and grabbed a few glasses and put them with the bottle. you made your way over to their table, placing their glasses in front of them one by one, and although you weren’t looking at any of them, you knew they all had their eyes glued on you. you tried your hardest to pour their drinks quickly enough so you could just get out of there, but not too quickly that they’ll notice. unfortunately for you, they caught onto what you were doing.

“why’re you pouring so fast, babygirl? you in a hurry?”

tonight was going to be a long night.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

ellie couldn’t wait for her turn at the door to be over. she made sure to peek inside every chance she had, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t eyeing you. she couldn’t help it. she couldn’t stop looking at how the black shorts and black baby tee you wore hugged your body and showed off your figure, and she had never been more grateful for the existence of the uniform. but above looking at you because of how attractive you were, she wanted to make sure you were safe. she had dealt with lots of men like them before, and she wouldn’t hesitate to kick them out if things escalated even the slightest bit.

after a while, her supervisor dismissed her and told her to stay inside to make sure nobody was causing any trouble. of course, she went over to the area you were, since there was no one watching over that area and because you were there.

“why’re you pouring so fast, babygirl? you in a rush?” she overheard one of the men speaking to you, with a sort of entitled tone. if she hadn’t been paying attention before, she definitely was now. with the way they were acting, it seemed like they didn’t notice she was there. you were clearly uncomfortable, but tried to play it off, you didn’t want to cause trouble or provoke them. she watched closely as they kept offering you to sit down and drink with them, not listening to you no matter how many times you politely told them you’re not allowed. telling you to “just have one drink, it’s fine” and “no one will know” and they “won't tell your boss.” but your boss was not the only concern. the concern was you. you didn’t know these men, you didn’t know what they could do.

but suddenly, one of the guys sitting on the edge of the seat pulled you in by the hip and forcibly sat you down. in that moment, ellie immediately went over to the table and knew she had to step in.

“sir, you’re not allowed to put your hands on the employees. i’m gonna have to ask you and the rest of your party to step outside.” she said in a stern tone.

“she willingly sat down with us,” one of them lied, “she just wanted to have a drink. nothin’ wrong with tha-“

“i saw what happened. no point in lying. now please step outside before i have you forcibly removed from the premises.”

“yeah?” he stood up to face her. “you’re just a woman. what’re you gonna do? you can’t get all of us out of here.”

“sir, back down.” she warned.

“or what?”

she didn’t respond. instead, she punched him in the face, breaking his nose. a few of his friends stood up, but before they could do anything, some of the security had already gone over to the scene and stopped them, escorting them out as ellie went with you to the break room.

“you alright?” she asked, seeing how shaken up you were.

“i’m, uh, i’m fine. don’t worry.” you responded, sitting down on the couch, still uneasy from the experience. you hated people touching you without your consent, even something that was sort of minor like this. you were already uncomfortable, and this just made it even worse. you didn’t notice ellie had sat down next to you until she wrapped her arm around you and you melted in her embrace. you felt a little embarrassed at how comfortable you felt with a girl you’ve only had small talk with prior, but you were able to push that feeling away because in that moment, you didn’t care. the fact she hadn’t judged you and said “it’s part of the job” or something along those lines, let alone saying you were overreacting was enough to tell you that you could trust her.

“do you, uh, want me to drive you home?” she broke the silence.

“i can’t. i have to finish this shift.” you mumbled. “plus, my roommate has someone over tonight. i can’t go home right now.”

“then, if you want, we can go to my place,” she suggested, quickly adding on “but just so you don’t have to stay in this environment, i’m not trying to be creepy i promise,” because the last thing she wanted was for you to take it the wrong way and be uncomfortable.

“thanks, but, i still have to go back out there and finish my shift.”

she was a little sad. if it was up to her, she’d make you quit and happily support you. she made a lot of money for a college student, between working as a bouncer and dealing weed on the side. she had more than enough to support the both of you, but she’d never talk about anything of the sort out loud.

“i can speak to management for you,” she said, “i’m sure they’ll understand.”

you accepted hesitantly, the voice in the back of your mind telling you you’d just end up fired. but that didn’t matter to you in the moment. you had to get out of there. you couldn’t stand it anymore.

ellie guided you through the back door, making sure you wouldn’t have to face those men again, holding you by the wrist with just enough strength to make sure she wouldn’t let you go easily but not too hard so she wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. she opened her car door for you, waiting a couple seconds for you to get settled in in case you needed her help for whatever reason.

the car ride was short and silent. it wasn’t the awkward kind of silence, more so the kind of silence when there’s nothing to say. it was a comforting silence, a drastic contrast from the loud music in the club that had been blasting in your ears for the past 2 or so hours. you were looking out the window, watching the city lights and buildings as you passed them. ellie would be lying if she said she didn’t steal a few glances at you when you were looking away. she couldn’t help it, you were just so mesmerizingly beautiful she couldn’t help but look at you any chance she could.

when you finally arrived at her place, you were surprised to see she had a house and not an apartment. it wasn’t a big house, but it seemed like it could house about 3 people. you were about to ask about her roommates, but almost as if she read your mind, she said;

“sorry about the mess, i uh, i live alone, so. don’t usually have people over either.”

“it’s fine,” you shook your head, “i’m just grateful you let me come here.”

she noticed you sounded like you were in a better mood. “you feeling a little better now?”

you nodded. “yeah. i guess i just needed to get out of there.” you bit your lip in worry. “but now i don’t know what to do. i’m pretty sure i’ll end up getting fired after leaving like that.”

“after what happened to you? nah. it’s understandable,”

“are you sure? i-i mean, am i not supposed to let them know beforehand-“

“you’ll be fine, don’t worry.” she reassured you. “you’re sort of new, aren’t you?”

“not really. i’ve been working there for a couple months.”

“so you’re new. got it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes. “sure, let’s say that.”

she smiled. “anyway, you wanna do anything? or do you just wanna rest?”

“i guess we could watch a movie or something,” you suggested, “if you want, of course.” you were surprised at how bold you were. it wasn’t anything too bold, sure, but that’s only true for everyone else. for you, something like that, which others might think is minor, is sort of a big deal. not only were you at this girl’s house, but suggesting to watch a movie as well. you were a bit scared that might’ve been too much.

“yeah, sure,” she replied, “you into horror?”

“uhh.. not really..” you admitted.

“it’s fine, we can just watch something else.”

“no, no, it’s fine!” you insisted. it was, in fact, not fine. especially at this time, horror was not your thing. it wasn’t a huge fear of yours or anything, but you were a little embarrassed of the fact you still got scared while watching them, sometimes even got nightmares. but no way you’d admit that to her right there. you felt you were already being too much of a burden on her, so you’d just suck it up to not bother her any further.

a few moments later, you were both on her couch watching some random horror movie she had picked out. you didn’t even know what was going on in the plot, you were way too scared. you’d argue this was one of the scariest movies, scratch that, media in general you’ve ever seen. where did she even find this sort of stuff? ellie was full of surprises indeed.

you didn’t notice you had snuggled up to her, your head laying on her chest, from the fear. once you realized, your face turned red as you pulled away in embarrassment and mumbled some apologies as you moved away. to your surprise, she lightly tightened her grip of her arm she had wrapped around you (which you only now noticed as well), telling you with no need for words that it was fine, and you could stay that way. you didn’t really know how to react to that, but you stayed. something about her was so comforting. you barely knew her, yet you trusted her as if you’d known her all your life. it was a strange feeling. you’d been on multiple dates with the same person many times before yet you still felt more of a connection with your coworker who you had only spoken to a handful of times beforehand. you weren’t even paying attention to the movie anymore. your mind was too busy paying attention to the thoughts racing in your head to process what was going on in the screen about a meter in front of you. you had lots of questions, and the more that popped up in your head, the more your heartbeat sped up.

ellie could feel something was wrong. she lightly lifted up your chin to make you face her, locking eyes with you. she asked if it was because of what happened earlier. you felt like you should look away, but you couldn’t. something about her was just so mesmerizing. you lightly nodded, not wanting to admit all the thoughts in your mind at that moment. you looked into each other's eyes for a couple seconds, before she planted a soft kiss on your lips. it was the type of kiss that happened almost as a reflex, the type that you have almost no control over. you could feel her try to pull away after realizing what she did, but before she fully pulled away you pressed your lips against hers, pulling her in this time in a deeper kiss.

before you knew it, you were straddling her lap as she placed kisses on your neck, occasionally sucking on it softly and leaving light purple marks on your skin. you hadn’t realized how much it was turning you on until you started lightly rocking your hips back and forth, desperate to get any sort of friction. ellie realized what you were doing, and placed her hands on your waist, almost guiding your movement, causing you to let out a few soft moans and whimpers.

“ellie..” you whined.

“i know, baby, i know.”

she carefully lifted you off her lap and laid you down on the couch, hovering over you. she tugged on the hem of your shorts.

“let’s get these off.” she said, as she undid the button and slipped them off you with ease, revealing your soaked cotton panties. “cute,” she thought to herself.

“i’ve barely touched you n’ you’re already so wet,” she teased, rubbing your clit through the thin cloth causing you to moan softly.

after a moment, you started to whine, tired of her teasing.

“desperate, huh?”

you broke eye contact as you looked away in embarrassment. in the back of your mind, you couldn’t believe everything that was going on. you found it a little embarassing, hooking up with a coworker you had barely spoken to prior. but as you had been doing the whole night, you tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the moment.

“don’t feel ashamed, pretty girl.” she said, noticing you felt a little off. something about her caring but almost demanding tone was turning you on even more.

she carefully pulled your panties to the side, sliding two fingers in, thrusting them at a slower but steady pace. this was better, but it still wasn’t enough. you bucked your hips ever so slightly, to tell her you wanted more.

“you’re gonna have to try a little harder than that, baby,” she said. she knew exactly what you meant, but she wanted to hear you say it. you whined in complaint, hoping she wouldn’t make you say it out loud.

“use your words, princess,” she smirked while locking eyes with you.

“please, ellie..” you begged.

“please what?”

“please, more..”

“good girl,” she said under her breath, speeding up her pace and thrusting her fingers inside you twice as fast as she was before, causing you to moan and whimper louder. soon you started feeling a knot forming in your stomach, making you attempt to grip the couch.

“ellie.. fuck..” you moaned.

“i know, pretty. but you don’t get to cum yet.” she smirked, suddenly pulling her fingers out.

you whined at her words and the sudden emptiness inside you, as ellie softly chuckled at your reaction. she found it so cute. she found pretty much everything about you to be cute.

she stood up, and went to grab something from her closet. it was a bright purple strap, and it was quite big. you weren’t sure it would even fit inside you. you watched as she effortlessly took off her pants and put the harness on, walking back to the couch and positioning herself, the tip right in front of your entrance.

“i want you to cum from my cock.”

she started sliding it along your slit, coating it in your slick, causing you to whine a little, before positioning it once again in front of your entrance and slowly sliding the tip inside you easily.

you were still a little scared since you had never done anything like this before. you’ve gotten fingered before, sure, but this was the first time someone used a strap on you. especially one this big.

“ellie..”

“hm?”

“i’ve never, uh,” you stuttered, “done something like this.”

“never gotten fucked with a strap before, huh?” she said, “i could tell. you seem kinda nervous. but relax, princess, i’ll take care of you.”

the nickname only turned you on more. you didn’t get why you loved it so much. it had never crossed your mind, yet you were now sure it was your favorite pet name ever.

with that, she started slowly sliding it in, looking at your facial expressions to make sure she wasn’t hurting you. surprisingly, you were able to take it all. she started thrusting it at a slow pace, gradually speeding up, but not quite fast yet. she definitely wanted to fuck you way harder and faster, but she wanted you to get used to the feeling first.

after a few thrusts you started to get used to the feeling, and it was amazing. she sped up her pace a little more, gripping your thighs, and this time she was able to locate your sweet spot, and boy was she about to abuse it. she hit it with every thrust, making you twitch and moan at every wave of pleasure.

“good fuckin’ girl,” she praised, “already taking my cock so well.”

“ellie.. please..” you begged, between moans, “faster..”

“yeah? you sure you can handle it, tough girl?”

you nodded, and she immediately sped up. she fucked you a little faster than you expected, and it was a little too much, but the overwhelming pleasure was, at the same time, addicting. the sounds of your moans and whimpers, her groans, and your wet cunt filled the room. soon, that familiar knot in your stomach started forming again, except this time it was much more intense, causing you to try and grip the couch once again. she realized what was going on, and started using her thumb to rub circles on your clit. you started tearing up from the overstimulation which was the littlest bit painful but also overwhelmingly pleasurable.

“i wanna hear you say my name, baby,” she demanded, “i know you’re close.”

and almost on cue, you came all over her cock as you moaned her name, just as she demanded, as she fucked you through your orgasm and finally pulling out with a slight pop.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

it had been about an hour since you finished your.. activity. she insisted on getting a bath started for you, and now there you were on her bed, in one of her t-shirts that was a little big on you, freshly out of the bath. you texted your roommate before getting in the bath to tell her you wouldn’t be coming home tonight, and of course, she didn’t mind that at all.

not only were you on ellie’s bed, but you were cuddling her, trying to sleep. she told you you didn’t have to, and that she just enjoys sleeping with body warmth, but you knew better. maybe it was true, but it sure as hell was not the only reason. but you didn’t mind. you acted stupid and like you bought her story, because truth is, you really wanted to cuddle with her, and you were even thinking of similar excuses if she hadn’t brought it up first.

“you awake?” ellie whispered.

“mhm, sort of.” you replied, in a sleepy voice.

“i just, uh,” she paused for a moment, “i just wanted to know. when will i see you again?”

“on our next shift together.” you joked.

“no, dummy, i mean like this.”

you thought about it for a moment.

“i guess we’ll see,” you responded softly, “i’m pretty sleepy. i think we should talk about this later.”

she seemed satisfied with your response, but she still had the fear you were only saying that to be polite, and you didn’t want anything more or didn’t want this to repeat. of course, she’d respect you if that was the case, although she’d be a little disappointed. but she felt there was something more there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. you weren’t like any of the other girls she’s hooked up with before. she wasn’t exactly sure what set you apart from them, but she knew there had to be something.

maybe it was just feelings.

but even if it didn’t seem like that was the case because of your shy personality, you wanted something more. just like her.

[superkirbylover]

saw a post talking about ableism in cartoons. overall i agree with the message of the post, but the points made and said feel really infantilizing.

for context, i am disabled and many members of my family are as well. this is all drawn from experiences.

there is something to be said about exclusively designing characters who are insane and crazy with a form of lazy eye. there is something to be said about portraying disabled characters as incapable and stupid. there is something to be said about how these tropes continue to push the idea that disabled folk are "other" and are treated poorly. however, the post and OP made a few comparisons i really didn't sit well with.

they claimed the design of old man mcgucket from gravity falls is ableist for giving him wall-eyes as a way to portray how crazy he is. however, the post failed to mention that he's also a mechanic. he's a genuinely smart character with real accomplishments that happens to be crazy and disabled via his eye condition. he has depth. i don't associate his craziness with his disability, and it feels ableist to me to exclusively focus on the eyes and ignore how he isn't just "the crazy guy." i understand wanting to avoid stereotypes, especially harmful ones. however there are real people who sometimes fall under these stereotypes. as a kid, i fell under the stereotype of flapping my hands when i was happy or excited. and yes, there are people who condemn and discourage autistic folk from doing this because it's "stereotypical." that feels insanely ableist to me.

there is something to be said about trying to avoid harmful stereotypes of disabled folk, but i feel like people tend to overcorrect. derpy hooves is an excellent example; rainbow dash gets very frustrated with her in season 2 and is a bit rude. her voice was silly and she was oblivious. because some parents called and found this offensive, there was a redub and re-animated version of the scene featuring her. however, this version is infinitely more ableist to me. it's no secret derpy is disabled, and i personally resonate with her. to me, she is autistic. on top of missing social queues and having a hard time understanding things occasionally, her lazy eye can impare her visually. it is an undeniable fact that sometimes, disabilities will frustrate other people. my autism frustrates my friends and family sometimes. this isnt rooted in ableism. to me, its much like how non-disabled folk will get frustrated with each other. people should treat others, including disabled folk well and avoid getting mad at things they cannot control. however, erasing the fact people do get frustrated with autistic folk feels infantilizing. people will get frustrated with me. sometimes i do things that are objectively irritating. i don't want this erased. it's a part of being human. what i don't want is the irritation being used as a justification to treat disabled folk as sub-human. this isn't what happens at all in the scene. now, in a later season with derpy and rarity, i have many issues with the scene and how derpy and rarity are portrayed, so i do think there is something to be said there.

as long as the character has depth and is portrayed with respect, much like a person, then personally i don't find issues. i am personally tired of people overcorrecting for ableism in media. there is some correcting to do, don't get me wrong. but i don't want my disabilities washed down to the point where negative experiences with my disabilities are erased. they are important to my and many other folks identities as disabled folk. i don't want my experiences to be sanitized.

[yvesdot]

How To Get Roughly 50 Notes On An Original Writing Post And Possibly Net A Single Reader

I had someone ask today how I get people to click through and read my writing, and I'm realizing that I've never actually made a post all in one place of everything I do to get a new piece of short fiction off the ground... so here you go! How to get (some) eyes on your work, even if it is not published anywhere of interest and you don't have a marketing team behind you.

The #1 thing is presentation. You want to get people's attention, and once you have it, convince them to keep paying attention. Fortunately, people tend to be both reasonable and predictable, which means all you have to do is follow The Formula.

(original post link)

Here's the formula from the above post broken down:

[giant horizontal title card, preferably animated to catch the eye] OR [a few tasteful parallels, if you're good at parallel posts]

TITLE (linked to where you can read the piece) / wordcount

a quote that is representative of the tone, themes, prose style, and/or the "promise of the premise"

A longer pitch, featuring the overall subject of the piece (transsexual reality TV drama), any comp titles (Detransition, Baby), the main draw (in this case, watching trans people be awful to clueless cis people), major themes (performance), and any other promises you'd like to make (food romance and tigers). You can see that the quote I chose delivers on the promise of trans people intellectually outperforming cis people-- if I were a reader, I would be more likely to trust that the rest of the pitch was accurate based on that assurance.

If you have any positive reviews on your piece, say so. If it has won any awards or contests, say so. If your work has made people cry, Doja Cat - Say So. Always. Generally speaking, more personal and more detailed is better, but keep it to one or two people-- e.g. "when I gave this to my S/O to read he shot milk out of his nose so far I had to go clean under the couch" or "my favorite review of this piece is the reader who said they read it chapter-by-chapter under their covers because they wanted it all to themself." This should be one sentence.

Depending on where the story is published, what you usually promote, etc., it may be worthwhile saying the story is free. Use your judgment on whether the reader can tell.

I also like putting my links at the bottom so someone seeing this on a friend's dash can easily track me around the 'Net. They make me look more professional (I now include a link to my website) and they visually balance the post, in my opinion. This post also happened to have some additional links for bonus content.

This is not as high stakes as it seems. I'm not 100% happy with the pitch here, and I'm not 100% happy with the graphics I've used in other cases. These are some bones that help to sell the piece even when the details aren't as sharp.

REBLOGGING

When is the last time you read something the first time you saw it on your dash? I schedule reblogs of all important posts at least twice over the next 2-3 days, often three times so I can get the morning/afternoon/evening reblog. If your followers tend to be more active at certain times, go ahead and use those. In the past I've intentionally scheduled posts for times I knew more popular mutuals were active, and it has paid off!

I also schedule a reblog for a week and a month and sometimes even a full calendar year out, because I know there is going to be that person who tags the piece '#to read' and instantly forgets about it, only to get excited when they see it weeks later. I am very often that reader. The goal is to catch people when they're ready to read immediately, and this is a game of chance.

Every so often, I go through my entire #writing or #important writing updates or even just #popular tag(s) and queue two dozen posts before shuffling my queue to redistribute matters. This keeps my older work circulating, ensuring new readers get a chance to see older pieces and giving those older pieces another shot at dashboard space. (More on #popular later.) This sounds like a lot, which is why you have to space everything pretty far apart. Fortunately, this is the world's best site for cool things to reblog. I guarantee you that you can find something new you love to post in the meanwhile.

COPING WITH FAME

The post above is what I, a published author, consider "doing well" for a post about my writing on Tumblr. As of October 10th, 2024, over two years after its initial posting and over five years into my posting doggedly about my original fiction, it has 77 notes. More than half (43) are likes. Around half of the reblogs are me promoting my own work or the same very sweet person dutifully reblogging me every time I do so. Glancing through the reblogs now, I know of four people whom I can confirm have read it. Presumably, there are more who are completely silent and have never interacted with the post whatsoever. Genuinely: wahoo!! I am so grateful and happy for the attention and reception of my work.

This is the number one thing I suggest: focus on what you have, and not what you lack. Imagine your post from the perspective of an outsider: even one reblog means you convinced that one person to spread your art! How cool is that! This is also good advice because moping is simply not helpful; it will not get you more reads. (And no, neither will guilting others. Kill that vent post in your head!)

GETTING FOLLOWERS

I don't have that many followers. Of the followers I do have, people are very unpredictably active. When I hear about other people's follower counts I am consistently surprised, because people with half of mine will have fans and haters the likes of which I could not possibly dream of. I follow 500-follower folk who post "I ate a strawberry today" and get 6 asks ranging from "Wow I respect you so much for eating that strawberry" to "I'm going to come to your address at [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED] and shove bananas down your throat for hating on my favorite fruit."

I point this out to establish three important things. 1) Be grateful for what you have (in my case, 0 anonymous hate asks about fruitpinions), 2) followers have far less impact on interaction than one might think, and 3) followers don't engage with the things you might like them to.

Think about yourself. Are you more likely to reblog a photo of a cat in a pumpkin (alright, here) or something advertising fifteen minutes' worth of writing, which could be, for all you know, bad? Or, for that matter, by a person you should not like to support? Reblogs on generically interesting things are 'safer' (unfortunately) than reblogs on art, and it makes perfect sense that people are skittish around the latter. People don't often reblog things they haven't read, and nobody can reblog every artpost on their dash. Having someone else put it there, however, is incredibly powerful—someone's vetted this post as Worth a Reblog, after all. Having more followers allows for much more of this.

(Followers don't guarantee any one sort of interaction, but having more of them is rarely bad. Rarely.)

Across my most popular posts, one theme becomes very obvious: people like things that apply to them or their blog. I try to post writing advice/opinions/memes every so often, because I know I have a loyal base of writerfolk who like to see that from me, and it's "easier" to reblog than my writing. This is simply the nature of the universe. I used to pretty frequently go into the #writeblr tag and check out what was recently popular so I could figure out how to serve the same base, and from time to time it worked.

You're welcome to examine the list of #writing posts that made it to 100 notes, because each tends to have a notable reason behind its success: a reblog with an exceptionally good review, a contest win, a wordcount that lends itself to pasting the whole thing in one go.

(Posts about my book's release are a notable exception, in part due to Blaze and in part due to my absolutely relentless flogging of their reblog buttons during the ~year of promotion. Also in large part to a dedicated circle of friends who passed the post around nonstop! Thank you so much!!)

A lot of people will tell you to attempt covert reciprocal promotion. You know—reblog a lot of stuff, in the hopes that people will reblog yours. If I could change one thing on Tumblr, it would be this: the culture that quietly encourages disingenously interacting with other people with a secret True Goal in mind. (On the autism website.)

Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, do not do this. If you comment on other people's work, do it because you're happy to do so. When I released Paper Tigress, I went through everybody else who responded to the same prompt and read their work, because I had the day off and I was curious. This has led to Paper Tigress having more comments on Reedsy than one of my contest winners, and even outranking the shortlisted story in the same prompt category. However, this would have been a waste of my time if I did not genuinely enjoy reading the other stories. I read 80+ stories, taking several hours, and gained 30 comments from the venture (half my comments are my responses).

Crucially, I do not promote other writers' work on Tumblr in the hopes of them reading or boosting mine. This is the #1 tip I see thrown around that I viscerally disagree with. While, again, I am grateful for engagement with my work regardless of the context, I do not want people suffering through my work in the hopes that I will promote them. I work a full-time job, and my reading calendar is perpetually overbooked, including with work by my absolute best of friends. Even if it wasn't, I think it would be quite insulting if I were posting works in the hopes that someone would choke it down like medicine. I post what I think is good so that people can read and enjoy it. If you are not enjoying it, I do not want you to feel as though you have to read it. My aim is to give to others what my favorite authors have given me, which is most certainly not A Bad Time Spent Being Dishonest In The Hopes Of Getting Something Back. You have better things to do with your time. Please be honest.

CONCLUSION

Realistically, the readers I have, I gained through being a published author for five years promoting my behind off on Tumblr, the least forgiving social media for promotion. People like it when you have a book they can buy, especially if it has Goodreads reviews that make it look like you have been vetted for them. Many people who follow me have read only Something's Not Right and nothing else. (Many people who follow me have read everything but Something's Not Right.) I have posted dozens of pieces on Tumblr and Wattpad (and AO3). I gained a small number of readers writing and posting fanfiction for the Locked Tomb Tri(?)logy, even though I marketed it absolutely terribly.

Just keep writing. Keep writing, keep posting, and keep making sure everyone who follows you knows you write. And keep writing because you want to. There's no better advice than that.

[redactedrem]

You know what? Fuck you. *Ponifies Batman*

Guys I'm so excited to share my newest project of ponifying the Batfam, it started out small with the hypothetical "I wonder what Batman would be like in a mlp universe." And then the project kept getting bigger and bigger.

If anyones interested in my world building/ headcanons surrounding this project, you can see it under the cut. (I didn't want to make the post too long.)

Incase anybody couldn't read my bad handwriting, I gotchuuu.

-(First pic) Bruce Wayne: Bruce had got his cutiemark the night of his parents death, after the grief had broken his spirit and he realized that he never wanted anypony else to feel the same pain as he does. (He has a fake cutiemark to cover up his obvious destiny)

- The first pic is pretty self explanatory, but I want to make it clear that Bruce's destiny isn't "My parents are dead so now I dress up as a bat and beat up mentally ill folk". Because I've seen people on here give hot takes on cutiemarks that directly link them to a ponies destiny.

This goes for specifically in the mlp fandom but (for the sake of being on topic) I'll use the the example of that one post where someone gave the hot take that Jason would get his cutiemark in the warehouse right before he dies (or after he dies? smthing like that) because "It would be really fucked up to know that you were always destined to die." And listen, I can appreciate some good Jason Todd whump as the next guy but knowing that this would be based in a mlp universe . . . just doesn't sit right with me.

It sounds less magical that way. Its like saying that Rainbow Dash was always meant to be the fastest flyer, so theres no point in trying to compete with her. So uhm, trying to stay on topic here. My personal hot take is that a pony's cutiemark is symbol of something that they do/ a skill or talent that they have that makes them happy. And whats a more magical and fulfilling destiny than doing something that makes you happy for the rest of your life?

Looping back to Bruce, he didn't get his cutiemark the moment his parents died, but I like to think that he got it sometime later on in the night. After hours of being checked on by the police, getting looked at by the paramedics, and after Alfred took him home. Its 1:40ish in the morning and tiny foal-Bruce is just staring at his bedroom wall feeling numb and dissociated to hell. And sometime after processing everything that night- he just decides that this is the worst thing that has ever happened to him and that he will do anything to make sure that nopony will ever feel the same pain that he has felt. And then-- Ta da!! Cutiemark!! Too bad neither he or Alfred got to experience the excitement when they both saw it the next day :')

(Edit: I didn't know where to put this detail, but Bruce's fake cutiemark is based off of the "Make It Wayne" TV logo from this fanfic here )

-(Second pic) The Bat: This is heavily inspired by Flutterbat, I know theres canonically already a race of bat ponies made from Lunas stunt as Nightmare Moon. But I chose to go through with the Flutterbat route because batponies are a race, and have bat-like features 24/7. In comparison Fluttershy maintains her pegasus appearance by day and transforms into Flutterbat at night (ALSO with there being implications that there are "Triggers" for her transformations in the day too!!) Which adds the "Vampire." right in front of her batpony title.

I might do a lil comparison chart between vampire batponies and regular batponies in the future or something. But for now I'm focusing on my batpony Bruce Wayne headcanons so yea. My point is that I felt like making Bruce a "vampire" batpony would give him a more solid secret identity with also the bonus of a really metal origin story.

Now we all know that the canonical origin story of batman is that a few months after the tragedy of his parents death, Bruce had fallen into a cave? a well? a pit? of bats and triggered a fear of bats since then. Later on he decides to become Batman so he can invoke the fear of bats he once had into the criminals of Gotham. Yadda yadda yadda.

Now canonically, we don't know the exact science on how Fluttershy turned into Flutterbat. What we do know is that at the time, pony magic is not researched enough for Twilight to be aware that Fluttershys "Stare" is her own form of pony magic and that it would interfere with Twilights spell.

Do you see where I'm getting at here? Uhmm don't ask me what exactly happened in the cave, I'm doing this for fun and thinking about it too hard makes me spiral. But uhmm something something- Bruce looked at a bat in the eye and decided to embrace his biggest fear to fuel his cause, and his already traumatized and fucked up pony magic had transformed his body- something something. (Edit: I didn't think about this until now but maybe Fluttershys "Stare" and Bruces "Bat Glare" could be a usage of the same form of magic? Just a thought)

I'll probably come up with a more suitable explanation in the future, but like I said. All of this is just for fun.

[highlandwhackamole]

A Grand(ish) Theory of What the Heck

I love the utterly unhinged, super detailed theories about what's going on in Good Omens, especially in season 2. I hope one or more of them turn out to be true, as some kind of glorious puzzle-box-hidden-code monstrosity. And also I think that there has to be a simpler explanation for things, for the people who are at least Somewhat Normal (tm) about this show. (... I assume such people do exist somewhere...) This is what I have been pondering recently.

The thing that started me thinking about this was this post, containing some promotional materials for season 2 that feature main characters with scenes in their heads. Like this:

Seeing this created a very similar situation in my own head, but with a nice shiny lightbulb.

All the weirdness: the car, the sideburns, the clock, the behavior of the folks of Soho, the vanishing storefront signs. The absence of God. I think this is all because everything we see is in their heads.

I don't mean it's made up. At least not entirely. Memory is already a plot point. Why not explore it on a deeper level? I've read theories emphasizing the minisodes' stories being retold by Aziraphale and Crowley. I think the whole season is like that.

You know that sort of conventional-wisdom-fact-concept that you can only dream faces of people you've seen before (or variations therein), because your brain can't make new faces up? So it just fills in what it thinks is close enough? I think that idea, applied to remembering or recollecting things, could explain so many things that are wonky in this show.

Wonky Things

Crowley parking in an impossible London location? He definitely remembers it was in London, so his brain just stuck some obvious London landmarks in there.

Awkward clattering happening when Crowley throws the stacks of books he's inexplicably carrying around the bookshop? He wouldn't actually throw Aziraphale's books! But he'd like to think he's cool and nonchalant enough to do that, and if he did it would definitely make Some Kind of Noise.

Jim walking toward the bookshop from somewhere mysterious? Maggie and Nina saw him first, and he came from that direction, so he must've walked all that way. They don't know about the elevator in the Donkey.

Aziraphale remembers tartan hills and the Loch Ness monster because he was having a jolly time driving through Scotland, so obviously the scenery must've been whimsical Scottish things.

Nina put the Honolulu roast sign up, so she remembers its presence, but perhaps the occult/ethereal visitors to her shop do not.

Maggie really did text Aziraphale about the rent, but a note through the mail slot is a much more dignified way for a scholarly angel to imagine he received a message.

On the Fallibility of Recall

This season is loaded with unrealistic inclusions. The colors are turned up to 11. Some of the scenes are more caricature than believable interaction. Remembering things never copies or reproduces them with what one might call high fidelity.

Scenes recalled by separate memories will inherently vary. One person's hefty jigger might be another person's dash. Who knows for sure where the sun was that day? You and I might recall an event having different lighting or a different color palette, sort of like viewing something with different lens filters.

According to Neil, Crowley is an unreliable narrator of the story of his Fall. He labels the variations in clock times as a continuity error in a show where Everything Is Meant, but he doesn't say whose continuity error it is. He insists that the Bentley is the same through the whole season; maybe it was the same, but remembered differently. Maybe this is part of why there's more CGI but it's harder to spot.

So What?

Is this all there is to it? I sure hope not. I like my Good Omens with enough layers to put to shame an onion wrapped in a cake and covered in a parfait.

Is this possibly the fancy footwork that's distracting from the real magic trick? I wouldn't put it past Our Gaiman. There are a lot of things one could hide in the narrative of unreliable memory.

Is this going to stop me from rewatching and repondering and remaking theories for the next couple years? Not even at gunpoint.

[lavender-nerd]

Before Her

Summery: Azriel having a nightmare about life before meeting Rhysand, Cassian and Reader

Pairing: Azriel X Reader

Warnings: A bit agnsty and abuse

Word Count: 1.7K

(A/N: this is my very first post on Tumblr, so any feedback is appreciated!!)

(not 100% cannon)

Azriel age 11 pov:

Cold, so very cold.

Coldness, that was the only thing I felt, and darkness surrounded me like a blanket.

Drip, drip, drip.

The only sound besides my breathing could be heard in the stone-cold bricked room I'm in. At this point, I don't even remember where I am. The cracks in the wall let in the harsh wind from outside. I could hardly move my wings, or any of my limbs due to the cage I was stuffed in. They were the first to betray me, the ones I called family, my father, my brothers.

Hands and laughter woke me up as I was thrown from the cage onto the snow from outside. Snow, how cold and cruel it was. My two brothers came at me, one with a bottle in hand and the other with flint.

"Give me your hands" Radin commanded.

"What?" Fear slowly rised in me as Thoman held my shoulders to the ground. Snow and rocks pinched my stomach when I started to fight back.

"Give me your hands now!" Radin commanded once again, but with more anger.

"Hahaha come on you bastard, give him your hands" Thoman now sat on my back grabbing at my elbow, raising them up.

"Now be a good bastard boy and keep your hands still". Radin now popping the cork from the bottle and oil invading my nose.

"No stop, please stop no no no NO" Fear now taking full control as oil now coated my hands. Bottle dropping to the ground below.

"Give me the flint now" Thoman now handing the flint to Radin I start to wiggle and thrash around not wanting my horrors to become true.

Clink. clink, clink, WOOSH.

"AHHHHH" I scream in pain as fire now engulfs both of my hands, Thoman now off my back I hunch over trying to put the flames out with the snow, but nothing works. Laughter fills my ear as now the once beautifully white snow has been tainted with my bastard born red blood. My screams reach my father's warriors as they rushed over with a dripping wet rag. Skidding to a stop in front of me both warriors kneel down and roughly drapes the rag over my hands. Tears stream down my face as they desperately try to kill the flames.

"Hahaha, now look at yourself, you think your 'Illyrain healing gift' can help you now?" Radin and Thoman both laughed at me, looked at me as if I was a piece of gum on the bottom of their shoe. Once the flames were out, I laid on my back, tears still coating my face, looking up at the sky thinking how cruel the mother above could be. Picked up by the two warriors, I was hauled back into my cold metal cage.

Blood slowly dripped from the many gashes and burns on my hands. My brothers- no, they were no longer my brothers, not when they did this to me. Those vile creatures. I was left to rot in this cage for what I presume, for the rest of my life. Darkness took over me as I succumb to the pain.

After a long and cruel beating from those vile creatures, I laid quietly trying to regain a steady breathing pattern, relaxing my limbs and my wings. I roll to my side blinking slowly, trying to clear my blurry vision. I realised that they left the door open. I hastily got up and try to open the cage door by lifting, pushing and pulling, hoping it will open.

My freedom is right in front of me, if only I could get this stupid cage to open. I could see the blue sky, even taste it at this point. The snow from outside has never looked so white. I need to get out, I NEED TO GET OUT. I lift and push with all my might, sweat coats my brow. Please, mother above, hear me, please. I fall to my knees and give one last push of every strength left in me. The hinges fall off and the gate swings wide open as I fall onto the bricks below. I pull myself up and made a dash for the door, only to stop a foot away. What if my father and my brothers saw me or or if the warriors saw me? What would happen to me then? Should I just go back into the cag- NO NO I'm never going back into that cage again!!

I step into the doorway and look left then right, all clear. I made a mad dash into the woods in front, snow nipping at my bear feet.

"Stop right there". I hear behind me but I'm not stopping now, not when I'm finally out. The crunch of snow behinds me let me know that the warriors are behind me. I duck left and right, dodging the trees ahead. It's cold, so very cold. My breathing rough and ragged as large cloud of mist comes from my mouth, again and again. My feet snagging on rocks and roots, staggering I keep myself up. I look behind me and the estate has never looked so small, but I don't stop running. Looking forward, I keep running, even though my legs and feet feeling stone cold. The shouting behind me getting quieter and quieter, then nothing, but that didn't mean I would stop running.

I kept running till the sun went over the horizon and the moon rose. I slowed to a walk finding my breath and finally looked at my surroundings. Nothing but snow and trees for miles and miles. As my adrenaline faded, I finally realised just how cold and sore I am. I found a stump to sit on and have a look at my legs and feet. My feet and legs were blue and starting to turn a dark purple in some spots. I needed help and fast. I started to look for higher ground to see if I could see any fires or any signs of life. But there was nothing, nothing at all, no fires and no signs of life. Frustrated tears filled my eyes as I realised that death may just come for me.

I started aimlessly walking but the cold was harsher than I thought. There was no place in sight and had no destination in thought, all I knew is that there had to be someone out there. Sleep started to creep up on me as I fought my lids to stay up. Black dots evaded my vision, then everything went black as I collapse to the snowy ground.

I don't know how long I was out for, but I could hear voices ahead of me. I tried to get up but had no strength left in me. I tried and tried again, over and over again. There's voices and they're close!

"Please" my voice too soft. I was desperate at this point, nothing around me could aid me to get their attention. If I couldn't walk, I'll crawl, and that I did. I clawed at the snow beneath me, longing to see them. to see life. I crawled and crawled, their voices growing louder and louder. I came to an opening and finally see two other Illyirans flying without a care in the world and laughing, then I see the most beautiful being in the world. It was as if the mother above touched her at birth and gifted her the beauty of a thousand. It was as if I was lost in a trance as warmth filled me, but that warmth didn't exist. Then she looked at me.

"Hey are you alright?" She came rushing over to me amd knelt down.

"Oh my god, you're freezing! Cassian, Rhys, come down here!" She called. The two Illyrians dove down and rushed over once they were on land. The snow stirred for a moment before settling down.

"Hey are you okay?" The taller one asks, voice uncertain. I could hardly even answer him, voice trembling as I replied a quiet "help".

"We need to get him to my mother, Cass, give me a hand". And thus, I was lifted between the two and off we walked to who knows where. I could hardly keep my eyes open as winter fought tooth and nail to bring me down.

"It's okay, you can rest now, we're going to my mother. She can help you" and with that, I was out like a light.

I woke with a cold sweat, chest heaving, sweat coating my brow and chest.

"Azriel?"

A soft-spoken voice invaded my ears as I tried to come to sense.

"My love? Are you okay?"

I looked to my side and see the mother touched women sitting up in bed next to me. Her soft skin was kissed by the moonlight that swept through the curtains. I came to sense about where I am. I'm home in our cabin near Velaris, in bed with my amazing mate, y/n. She softly touched my shoulder as I collapsed in her embrace.

"Was it that nightmare again? About your past my love?"

I slightly nodded in her shoulder, and she kissed my head softly and said nothing but reassuring words into my ear and all felt better after those kind words.

"After 500 years you would think I would stop having these nightmares." I said with a breathy laugh.

"My love, there is no shame with having nightmares, it's a part of us, it makes us who we are today. I will always love you, nightmares and all".

"And this is how I know I have the perfect mate in all of the world". I raise my head and look deeply into her eyes before capturing her lips to mine.

"Come on my love, let's go back to sleep". She says through the soft kisses. I nod and I pull the covers over us and pull her onto my chest. She draws lazy lines over my chest that soon stops as she falls back to asleep.

"I will always love you too, to the moon and back I will always be here for you, thank you my love for showing me that kindness still exists to this day". I soft speak to her, kissing her temple before closing my eyes and letting sleep takeover.

[ultralightpoe]

Power- Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: The last and final part to the avoidance series, I dragged this series out of my drafts and tbh have always hated how it ended which is why I never posted it.

Word Count: 3496

Warnings: Shitty writing, like I hated how I wrote this part.

Main Masterlist Here

Part One - - Part Two - - Part Three

(Thank you for the gif @unearthlydust )

Enjoy!

You weren’t you.

It was something Bucky had to remind himself everytime he saw you, the voice that eased himself down everytime you dashed to hide by Steve.

You looked like you, your hair a bit longer and your eyes green from the amount of power the main difference, but the physique was all yours, the very same once he had memorized after countless sleepovers with you.

But there was something unexpected about you now, that graceful stillness he had never seen you have.

Since the moment he met you it had been a whirlwind of clumsiness. Tripping, falling, dropping things and hitting your head on just about everything. At some point in the friendship he had learned how to move with you, reaching a hand over you to block you from hitting a cabinet as you stood straight or just catching you with his metal arm around your hip when you slipped on an ice sheet.

But now, you moved with an unnatural grace, keeping a hand on Steve at all times as he lead you around the kitchen to make breakfast and Bucky could do nothing but watch from his spot on the counter top, Sam seated next to him. No one said a word, and the room held a tense atmosphere as Bucky noted every single movement you made.

The graceful ease of you backing up so Steve could grab the flour, and the sheer warmth in your smile as Steve smiles down at you, his eyes gleaming. Bucky was going to kill him, what a piece of-

“I love pancakes.” You laugh, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts as he realized Sam had asked you a question.

Steve watches you carefully as he starts pouring the pancake batter, watching how you interact with Sam in this moment.

“I don’t doubt you do. You know, Buck right here showed me this really cool diner that his friend showed him. They have pancake night every Tuesday.” Sam smiles, and Bucky notes the way Steve tenses up but he can’t tear his eyes from you.

“Buck….” It’s like you’re testing the name on your tongue, something dimming in your eyes as your head tilts, like you were trying to picture something. Like the memories were struggling to surface.

Panic lunges at him as he realizes he might be able to make you remember, that chord tied to his ribs and chest tugging a bit. “Actually you showed me! We go there every week for pancake night and rate the flavor of the week, Doll.”

“Doll.” You repeat, nothing more than a breathy whisper that has Steve tensing.

Nothing happens at first, and Bucky waits with a baited breath, until the plant on the fridge lunges out and all hell breaks loose.

The pot the plant was held in shatters once all the roots burst from it and Bucky moves to block you but Steve is already there, wrapping his body around you as the vines cover every surface of the room. They bend and snap at anything in their way, and though Bucky reaches for you once more Sam pulls him back with a newfound strength, making sure he didn’t get in the vines path.

Steve murmurs something, and Bucky has to tilt his head to hear the next few words, chest tightening. “I just need you to breathe, okay doll?”

Doll. That fucking called you doll. He watches as you mouth the word, your eyebrows pinching for a moment before your face goes into one of ease and you close your eyes, breathing in and the vines stop their path of destruction.

“I’m tired.” You mumble, a small dot of red coming from your nose that’s got Bucky all but snarling when Steve reaches to wipe the blood away and kiss your forehead.

“Let’s get you to your room then? Okay?” He whispers, leading you away softly as Bucky struggles against Sams hold.

When has Sam ever been able to hold him?

As if realizing the change too Sam let’s go quickly, eyes traveling his arms while Bucky blinks too.

“What the fuck?!” Tony snaps, looking at the mess of the kitchen. “Alright. Team meeting now. Everyone but her!”

-

The room was filled with that same quiet tension, everyone sat around the table as Tony prepped for the meeting, the second everyone was ready the table lit up with footage.

“Starting from the top, we found plant princess a week ago and I’m sure you’ve all already noticed that something is off.” Tony starts, making Bruce snort. “Over the past week we have had her come in for some testing to see what might be going on,”

The footage on the screen shows you sitting in a chair with Wanda talking to you, hooked up to tons of different devices.

“You ran testing on her?” Bucky snaps, whirling to Steve. “You let them test on her?”

“I was in the room the whole time.” Steve sighs back, eyes not leaving the footage.

“What we can figure out is that she’s gone on a full mental block, the amount of energy that her powers are taking up has wrapped her in a blanket of sorts.” Bruce explains. “The last time we found her it was the same, it’s like the power beneath her skin is a moving breathing creature that needs to protect them.”

“She’s never said that before….” Nat mumbles, eyes showing nothing but shock.

“Well she’s almost always been able to control it. Her and the power working together at her will. But when we originally found her things weren’t the same.”

Bucky had talked to you a bit about life back then, but neither of you got into gruesome details. There was always a line that you both had drawn to keep from heading back to the dark place.

“She never told you about anything regarding this?” Nat asks him.

“We talked about most things, but there were things we didn’t talk about. There were boundaries for both of us.” Bucky shrugged, not liking the way Nat was looking at him. “We had boundaries, believe it or not.”

She merely blinked at him before whipping her head away.

“I hadn’t known that Stevie was the one to find her.” Bucky snips, enjoying the way Steves jaw tenses as his fists clench.

“We found that Cornell, one of the scientists left from the war- or well his son- had taken up his fathers assignment and had been experimenting on people. When we breached the compound we found….. her. Wrapped up in vines just to keep warm, looking wild and hiding from us. She was terrified,” steve explains. “I was the first person to talk to her. She kind of clung to me after that.”

“Clung?” Nat asks.

Steve shrugs. “We became best friends. Until….”

He doesn’t have to say it, no one in the room has to say it. Until Bucky.

Bucky never realized that he had stolen you from Steve. Had never cared..,… and he doesn’t care now. “So what can I do to help her.”

“Right now? Don’t push the process. That might have been what triggered her outbreak today, she dug for the memories and the power leeched.” Tony sighs.

“So…”

“So, Tin Man, you need to keep your distance for a bit.” Tony snaps.

“What?! No!”

“Oh come on Buck. I figure this would be the easiest task for you.” Steve snipes and Bucky all but lunges across the table.

Bullshit. He would not. Everyone nods, agreeing that Bucky will stay away. He. Does. Not.

-

Is it a shock that the very next day Bucky goes out of his way to find you? No.

He finds you sitting in a window seat, letting the sunlight hit your skin as you keep your eyes closed from the warmth. There is no one near you, surprising since Nat and Steve had been hovering around you since they brought you back, and he takes his chance while he can.

Even if you don’t remember him he just wants to hear your voice.

“Hey.” He whispers, moving closer but not enough to crowd you as you open your eyes. “Mind if I…..”

He points with his flesh hand to the spot across from you and you pull your legs in to give him room so that he may sit, a smile gracing his features as the sun warms him up instantly.

“You like this spot?”

“It’s the only quiet place here.” You mumble, shrugging.

“Quiet?”

“I can hear pain.”

“I’m sorry?” He blurts, head tilting as he stares at you, heart thundering.

“It’s…. Right here.” You bring your finger up and press it lightly in the center of his forehead. “Beating against everything, whispering where everyone is hurt.”

“It tells you where everyone is hurt?” He whispers, his voice not strong enough to speak any louder.

You don’t answer him at first, but you slide your finger down the side of this face to his neck and once you get to his chest you add more fingers until your full hand is pressing against his chest, right over his heart.

“You hurt here.” You murmur, your eyes glowing a bright green. “But I can’t fix it….”

“It’s not your job to fix it.” He smiles lightly. “But I can promise ya that you being here helps.”

“You talk like I know you.”

“Don’t you?” And there it is again, that unnatural grace as you quirk your head to the side and your eyebrows pinch together.

You get that foggy look, like you can almost see him, before you’re snapping your hand back. “You were mad.”

“No.” He croaks, pain flooding his chest. He didn’t want you to remember him that way, didn’t want you to think he was mad those last couple days. “I was never-“

“Hey.” Nat snaps, and you sit ramrod straight, backing away from Bucky. “Bucky you’re wanted in the training rooms.”

“Not right now Nat.”

“Bucky-“

“Not. Right. Now.” He snaps, but it’s too late, Steve is coming around the corner with wide eyes until they land on you.

“I was looking for you, you said you wanted to tour the med center.” And just like that you are gone, following Steve down to the med area that you had made for the general public.

-

It isn’t long until the blue eyed brunette finds you again, the pull on your rib cage drawing your attention to the door where he slowly enters.

You had spent 4 hours in the med bay, Steve having to leave you a little while ago to help with an issue, and you had taken to helping out people who came in. There was something natural about this, like you had done it every day. But you had no recollection of it.

Just like the man with the metal arm, you felt like you knew him, every inch and emotion of him. But he was still nowhere in your memory.

When he spots you his eyes widen a bit before he is making his way over, something clutched in his hand as the girl in front of you prays under her breath before hopping down and rushing to tell her mother what you did.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asks, flesh hand reaching out to touch your cheek as you try to blink away some of the light in your eyes.

The girls mother sobs loudly, and both of them are rushing back to thank you, but you had no clue why. Where had they come from?

The stranger keeps a hand on your shoulder as you blink at them, your body set aflame as they both begin praying again.

“Where am I?” Where am I? Where am I? Where am I. “Is Cornell coming?”

“Okay. I think that’s enough for today.” The stranger mumbles, his tone filled with panic and fear as his hand slides down to grab your arm, pulling it back with a hiss of pain as just the touch burns him. “Wait. No. Focus.”

Who is he talking to?

Where were you?

“Hey. Can you hear me?” A voice sounds out and you try to find it. Who was talking? What was that feeling?

It hurt, something was hurting you. Burning. You were burning from the inside out.

“Clear everyone out!” A new voice calls as something wraps around you tightly, crushing you tightly to pick you up.

There was so much light and so much pain.

You couldn’t see anything, and soon enough the ringing in your ears started.

-

“GET THE SHOWER STARTED!” Bucky yells, keeping you clutched to his chest as you burn through his tactical suit, eyes glowing brightly while blood pours from your nose.

“That doesn’t look good man.” Sam grunts, helping lead the way to the locker rooms as Bucky carries you in his arms, breathing out as he tries not to focus on the burning.

“Just get the shower started.” He grunts in pain, panic coating his body and his mouth going dry.

The second Sam has the water running he is reaching for the next nozzle, going around the shower section until every single shower was running with cold water, Bucky kneeling in the center with cradled in his arms.

Within seconds you’re both drenched, and the water hits your skin with a hiss before it begins steaming around you, but slowly your body begins to cool down.

He doesn’t know how long he sits with you under all the showers, laying you across his thighs so he can cradle your head closer and wipe away some of the blood that had poured from your nose.

“Buck.” Someone calls, but he can’t drag his eyes away from you, right as you’re cracking your eyes open.

“It hurts.” You whimper, and his heart all but shatters.

“I’m sorry Doll.” He whispers back, leaning to press his forehead against yours. He feels your hand reach up, shaking from exhaustion as you press it to his chest, right over his heart.

“I can feel your pai-“

“Don’t focus on that right now.” He orders gently. “Focus on something else.”

“They’re all in pain-“

“No no no. Think about pancakes, yeah? Or maybe that book that’s coming out? You remember? You all but dragged me to the book signing the last time one came out.” He tries to smile down at you, keeping you lifted enough so your foreheads stay pressed together. “Think about ice skating or ornaments on a tree.”

“It’s raining.” You blurt, body coiling closer to his. He is confused at first, then realizes that you must be confusing the heavy water falling on you as rain. “I don’t like the rain.”

“I know. I know.” He murmurs, holding you closer. “I’ve got ya Doll. Ain’t gonna let anything happen to ya,”

“Buck.” You sob, eyes closing. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know.” His chest felt so tight, and tears were beginning to fall from his eyes onto your cheeks. “I’m sorry. You want Steve?”

“Bucky.” You sob again, the hand that was covering his heart clenching into what was left of his leather jacket from his tactical gear.

“I’m here. I’m here. What do you need?” God just help her. Find a way to help her please. Anything anything anything.

“I can’t stop it.” Your eyes open again, once again glowing brightly, so much so that he has to close his own from how bright they are. But he keeps his arms wrapped around you, tight. “Buck, it’s-“

There a feeling in his own chest, expanding and expanding and expanding, he feels like his lungs are constricting and every molecule in his body is about to burst. He’s sure it’s what you’re feeling right now I’m tenfold so he merely pulls you as tight as he can.

“Let go. You gotta let go doll.” He breathes out, eyes still slammed shut as he grunts out as your skin starts heating again.

“Not with you-“ you sob. “Go!”

“No. I can take it doll. I’m not leaving.” He murmurs, pressing his forehead to your cheek, no matter how much it burns. “I swore to never leave you again.”

It’s then he realizes that you had been speaking to him, you had remembered him and it all makes sense. That blanket of protection you had formed for yourself wasn’t a cocoon from memories. It was keeping this power trapped in tight, your emotions connected to it.

“I can take it. Just let go.”

You scream, pure pain and torture sounding as your body heats even more. There’s a loud shout of both your names, the flash of red white and blue nearby and a dash of red hair lunging to the man holding the shield.

Buckys body freezes up and he keeps you held tight as you unleash that power, finally letting everything you had bottled up go.

He feels nothing but pain, heat and burning the main source. All his bones felt like they were breaking and his heart squeezed in his chest, but he kept his hold on you. Even as he succumbed to the pain and the darkness consumed him.

-

You wake up in your own bed, tucked tightly into a roll of blankets like a worm, body aching. When you struggle to sit up a hand reaches out to help you, sturdy on your side as you blink in the afternoon sunlight.

“Hey there.” The voice is calm, but there is a small hint of panic laced into it. And you already know that Bucky was doing his best to play cool.

“I hurt.” You mumble, closing your eyes and trying to relax your body once more since the pain was just a little too much.

It’s silent for a moment and you’re close to passing back out before there is something pressed to your lips, and immediately your drinking water as Bucky helps you gulp it down.

“Easy.” He mumbles, hissing in pain at the movement on his ribs. You stop drinking finally, gasping for air as he takes the cup away and means to put it on the nightstand, you lay flat, pain in your back splintering.

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk about it all later.” He sighs, flesh hand sliding to find your own as you both succumb to the darkness once more.

-

He awakes with you wrapped in his arms, and he already knows he’s still tense, serum or not your power had done a number on him.

You were still sleeping, curled tight in his arms and your fists clenched in his shirt as everything began focusing in his head.

He had originally woken up in the hospital, body immediately jolting and searching for you as Steve and Sam tried holding him down.

It had taken all but 30 minutes for him to get to where they were keeping you, hanging from Steve and Sam’s arms as they dragged him through the halls.

Your temps were normal, and you were going in and out of consciousness, it was decided that once Bucky was released you would be too. Only you would be taken to your room so you could sleep off some of the powers shock to your system.

Bucky himself had carried you to your room, pain or not, and when he had tried to leave you merely kept ahold of him. He had been with you since.

There is clanking in the kitchen beyond your door and he already knows the team is probably about to bombard you both like mother hens.

“I can hear your heart.” You mumble, voice cracking as you’re just waking up, keeping your ear pressed to his chest l. “It’s really slow.”

“I’m relaxed.” He mumbles back, trying to blink back some of the grogginess. “What was that?”

“A breakdown.”

“Obviously.” He laughs, his sides aching as he does so. “Have you been holding onto all that power this entire time?”

“Yeah. It’s easier to control without stress.” You explain, struggling to sit up. “And lately I’ve been-“

“Cause of me.”

“No…..” you lie, blinking. “Well yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” He sighs, trying to sit up with you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder. “I just….”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I….. I could feel everyone’s pain, and yours was right there.”

“So you know I was avoiding you because-“

“Yes.”

“And you know I -“

“Yes. James.” You smile. “And just for the record, I love you too.”

A smile breaks out on his own face, leaning closer to you as he inhales. “We need to find a better outlet for your power. Because that was terrifying.”

He missed your shoulder then, before leaning to kiss your lips passionately. He would find a way to keep you with him, forever.

-

That outlet became a garden….. more like your very own rainforest.

Any time you felt that power rush up you went there, and just released it to the earth.

(I never posted this series when I originally wrote it awhile ago because I hated the ending. Still do hate it)

TAGLIST:::

@m00n5t0n3 @hizzielover @ozwriterchick @ordelixx @millercontracting @aboobie @sandyruston @paankhaleyaar @bisexualnikkisixx @kaitlin013106 @mich1551-blog @fandomsfeminismandme @kandis-mom @sadieurlady @aesthetic0cherryblossom @louxbloom @casa-boiardi @scorpiosaintt @mrsbarnes-avenger @sapphirebarnes @cjand10 @officialnighttime @violetwinterwidow01 @redbloodedgurl @wasalreadyhere @hereforfun-31 @scott-loki-barnes @lexi-anastasia @just-henny @traderjoesmints @buggy14 @stoner420things69 @mereptt @differenttyphoonwerewolf @abcdestinyyyy @lokislady82 @spookyparadisesheep @minaxcarter @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @whatishappeninghere81 @vicmc624 @elite4cekalyma @unaxv @scott-loki-barnes @zephyrmonkey @classyunknownlover @luciaexcorvus @littlewhiterose @cyberficlya @m00n5t0n3 @donttalktosposts @magnificentsvn @jenniferpendragon @ozwriterchick @calwitch

[these-posts-arent-real]

(masterpost link)

Aaand we have returned to the madness on a larger scale! What are these cats up to...

#sighh #i know i've been away from dash sim posting for a while #was dealing with my last few days of school #but #that is Over Now #i can return to fulfilling everyone's need for Warrior Cats But Tumblr

57 notes

🐦 s3afow1s--sc0wl Follow

PLEASE stop talking about the most recent TTDV slates without spoilers, it hasn't made its rounds to ShadowClan yet and I don't want to know what's going to happen before I read it!!!!

#ttdv discussion #ttdv:rp #through the desert vast #ttdv: rattlesnake path #ttdv #through the desert vast: rattlesnake path #especially since i heard the newest slates have seafowl in them a lot #he's my specialest guy...

9 notes

🔁 🛤 carnation-stem-02 reblogged

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

I think the worst thing about no longer being a Clan cat is that a lot of the time I have no idea what y'all over there are talking about. What is TTDV?

🦁 lionsight-x3 Follow

TTDV stands for Through the Desert Vast. It's a new slate series everyone's going bee-brained over... I haven't read it yet because I prefer for a series to be finished before reading, but I've heard good things. Queer rep within the first couple chapters of the first slate-set, a non-traditional setting and cast (a rogue group living in the desert), and complex characters... needless to say I'm excited for when it finishes and I can read it!

#it's been on my to-read list for a while #maybe this is a sign #it seems pretty cool #ttdv

2,070 notes

🔁 🐦 s3afow1s--sc0wl reblogged

⛰️ fc-rockpaint Follow

In honor of Through the Desert Vast becoming popular, I've decided to make a rock-dye project on all of the main characters. Today's character is... Seafowl!

Unfortunately I don't have the right paints to portray him accurately (I haven't been able to find any white herbs for his patches, but I'm still on the lookout!) but this is mostly accurate to how he is described in the slates.

🌠 nightshade-tast3s-yummy Follow

Pssst... @s3afow1s--sc0wl

#eeeek! seafowl! #i looove him so much... my precious boy... #art #ttdv #ttdv seafowl #thanks for the tag!

162 notes

🔁 🌻 l1llyst3m reblogged

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

Aahhhh I've finally gotten into TTDV and... NOBODY was gonna tellme that one of the characters is heavily implied to be transfem? Nobody thought I'd find this interesting????

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

SCRATCH THAT. IT'S CANON. PIT VIPER IS CANONICALLY TRANS.

🐚 hermitcrabfriend Follow

I had wondered if you were talking about Pit Viper when I saw this post a cople days ago! Apparently so ^w^ yeah, it's canon, gets confirmed in the second slate set.

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

This makes me wonder. Why is everyone on this site talking about Seafowl saying he gives "egg vibes" when we have. An actual confirmed trans character. Right here.

Nothing against Seafowl but the only vibe he gives off to me is traumatized.

🏞 trouttail-prefers-bass Follow

He's your typical prettyboy cishet protagonist type and everyone is pissed off that he's a side character rather than ttdv's ✨️specialest boy✨️. So they're trying to make him special by claiming he gives off trans vibes when he clearly does not and is happy as a tom.

�� l1llyst3m Follow

#wait till op reads rattlesnake path

What do you mean by that-

#what do you MEAN by that— #im gonna need context #is this /pos or /neg #does something bad happen in rattlesnake path?? #help someone pls #through the desert vast #ttdv

103 notes

🔁 🥬 rxttencatmint reblogged

🥬 rxttencatmint

Im so fucking irritated... my mom wont let me read TTDV because it's "inApPrOpRiAtE." Which. Of course. Is because it has lgbtqia+ characters.

🥬 rxttencatmint

WONDEDFUL NEWS. MY MENTOR LET ME BORROW HIS COPY OF THE FIRST SET. AHHHHH!!!!! I GET TO READ IT!!

#YIPPEEEEE #òwó im so exCITED!!! #ive been wanting to read ttdv for a whileee #i love my mentor sm

5 notes

🪵 i-eat-moss Follow

My unpopular opinion (TTDV:RP SPOILERS INCOMING)

Keep reading

#ttdv:rp #ttdv #rattlesnake path spoilers #ttdv spoilers #ttdv:rp spoilers #nothing against pit viper!!! #i like her as a character #i just dont get why we got a whole book explaining her backstory

203 notes

🐚 hermitcrabfriend Follow

I LOOOOVE RATTLESNAKE PATH SO MUCH. IVE JUST GOTTEN TO READ IT AND IM SO EXCITED. OMG.

Not only is it a whole set dedicated to my favorite character !!! like a dream come true!!! It ALSO contains good intersex rep (Ball Python my beloved!!!). Over all just a FANTASTIC set in a fantastic series.

12 notes

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

I'm... back?? I'M BACK ON CLANBLR!!!! WOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO

#i thought i'd never get back #stuck on Tumblr...

0 notes

🍽 the-post-maker

I hope y'all enjoyed this insight into what the cats do when they get fandom-y... and if you want to discuss TtDV further... well, there's a server for that ;) now back to your regular dash

[alexanderwales]

Epistolary Novels and the Modern Age

"Epistolary" is one of those words that I always feel awkward about, because it's a rare word describing a rare thing, which means that I have to say "an epistolary novel, one composed mostly of letters between characters", but then I feel as though this might be redundant and insulting, like the person I'm talking to just wants me to get on with it, because of course they know what an epistolary novel is, and the fact that I have clarified it for them is insulting.

Anyway, I have a particular love of writing letters, and so have a particular love of epistolary novels. I think it would be great if they made a comeback.

We talk to people online, and they have a profile picture, and maybe the occasional photo that reveals their physical form, but text is mostly how you get to know them. You get to understand their grammar, the clusters of concepts they're drawn to, their affection for the em-dash and parentheticals of all kinds, the way they'll resurrect a conversation from days before, which shows that it was on their mind. You read the pauses in their discord messages for meaning. You somehow divine their tone from whether a sentence has a period or not.

And then there's something magical that happens if you meet them in person: you get to learn them all over again. Their mind is the same, that hasn't changed, but all the grammar is suddenly different. They talk with their hands, or have long pauses looking up at the ceiling while they think about things, or are quick with a joke in a way that you would not at all have expected. Maybe you had some sense that they were always stoically typing away at their computer with a cup of tea beside them when you read their responses, but in person they smile and nod a lot, grinning as they listen to whatever you're saying.

I think the thing that I've read that comes closest to interrogating this is @nostalgebraist's The Northen Caves, which holds a place in my heart for the way it talks about this weird divide, and the way it nails differences in how people talk online.

Of course I want to write an epistolary novel, and secondarily, a modern epistolary novel that's about email and discords and tumblr and whatever. I want to write All the Novels. It feels like there's something to say about how we relate to each other. But unlike a letter, which comes in and is read all at once, the online stuff is pervasive, and I don't think that a simple transcript would be enough — wouldn't catch all of the anxiety of waiting on the three little dots to resolve into words, or the feeling of typing something in and deleting it.

I'm at a convention right now, and have met a bunch of people whose stuff I've read, and people who have read my stuff, and sometimes, people I've interacted with online. Sometimes I know them well enough to know their textual quirks and tics, the energy that they bring to a blog post, and it's set my mind whirling with ideas about how I can harness this dissonance for novel-writing purposes. And sometimes it goes the other way, meeting a person at a campfire, wondering vaguely what their deal is, and then reading through a dozen of their most insightful blog posts, which give a very different view of who they are.

I don't know form either of these novels will take, whether the idea of people being different in different environments has something to say about anything. There's meat here though: I can smell it.

(There's a tumblr post going around about wet drip narrators who were only in novels of the 18th century because of a demand that there be a diegetic reason for the text to exist, and this is one of the reasons that epistolary novels saw a rise in readership — the letters exist, so it's easy for the reader to suspend their disbelief of how they could come to be holding this text.)

[goldenbuckyyy]

HOLD ON

Summary: The aftermath of Harry finding you.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader (cheating together) Main characters x original characters.

Word Count: 4.1kish

Warnings: Cheating (Harry and Reader together), mentions of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AGAINST PARTNER, mentions of blood, bruising, and cuts.

A/N: IM BACK!! I am so so sorry it’s take me over a month to post this part! I can’t even believe it’s been that long. I got into a bad writing funk after my last post and spend the last two weeks just reading and not even writing truthfully. But, thank you everyone for your patience. I hope you all enjoy. REMEMBER TO READ THE FIRST TWO PARTS!! Song inspo: “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet. 

Um, I’ve also reached 1.2k of you lovely people following me. 🥹 ily all. Thank you!!

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts!!! It fuels me!

Series Masterlist || Masterlist

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt more afraid. 

He’s been afraid plenty of times in his life. More than he can count. He’s not ashamed to admit it. 

He’s not ashamed to admit he’s felt fear before. 

Off the top of his head, he was afraid for his judges response on the x factor stage, he was afraid for what was going to happen after they had lost, he was afraid when they went on hiatus, he was afraid when he went solo, he was afraid before he put out his first album, his second album, and most recently his third. He was afraid of many things. 

But you were there for every single one. 

And you calmed him down. You were his rock. His grounding statue when he most needed it. 

Every single time he had been afraid in the past, you were his voice of reason, and it didn’t matter who was his partner at the time. 

He knew you were going to be his wife one day. 

He just knew it. 

He was just too stupid to think you guys could ever be with anybody else. But you were happy with Asher and he was happy with Vivian. 

Or he let himself believe he was happy with her. 

Because you were happy. 

But at the end of the day, when he laid in bed and held her. Smelling her expensive shampoo in her hair when they cuddled…

It always reminded him she wasn’t you. 

But he toughed it out. Because you were happy. He loved seeing you happy. He could handle settling for second best if he still had you in his life and thankfully that was never an issue between you two. 

Now, Harry feels like a complete fucking idiot. 

Because if he had only made you his wife like he had wanted too, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

He wouldn’t be going over the speed limit in the London streets if he had. He wouldn’t be holding back his tears as he thinks of what you had just told him on the phone. 

But who’s he kidding? 

His eyes were full of tears, threatening to fall down his cheeks, swerving through cars, not caring if he got stopped right now, knowing he wouldn’t pull over, and his entire body was shaking. 

His hands were gripping onto the steering wheel. So hard that it was almost painful, one hand was maneuvering the steering wheel, while his other hand was gripping onto his cross necklace on his chest. The same necklace that you had gifted him years ago. 

You had told him you saw it at a jewelers shop one day and decided to get a matching pair. He’s worn it ever since. 

His eyes dash to his cell phone that’s on the console, your name taunting him on the screen, and he keeps the call connected. Just in case you woke up. 

Once Harry turned into your secluded street, his tires screeching at his fast movement, but he stepped on the gas pedal to go faster. 

His heart was racing as he pulled into your stone driveway. He quickly parked his SUV, taking notice that only your car was in the driveway, and he felt his body fill with nerves as to what was going to await him inside. 

With shaky hands and stumbling feet, he ran towards your front door. He instantly stilled at the front door, gulping down the lump in his throat as he reached for the handle, and pushed the door wide open. It was unlocked. 

The house was earily quiet and it made his skin break out into goosebumps. Harry’s body was shaking in fear of seeing you, he quickened his pace, running down your long entrance hallway, and not knowing entirely where you were, he shouted your name. 

Peering into the open rooms, trying to see if you were in the first opening of the living room, and he was getting anxious when he didn’t see you. 

He ran down towards the second opening of the hallway which was your kitchen and instantly his feet skidded to a halt. His feet screeching against your marbled floor. 

Harry gasped loudly at the scene in front of him, a wrenching surprising sob wrecked through his body as his eyes scanned the kitchen layout, and he felt pale. 

It looked like a bloody crime scene here. 

Bright red liquid splattered over the white marble floors and cabinets. He could see it all over on the countertops, against the wall, and on the kitchen stove. Glass was everywhere that his eyes could see. 

And then he saw you. 

Another loud uncontrollable sob wrecked through his body as he ran towards you, falling down to the floor next to your unconscious body, not caring about the glass breaking his skin, his hands immediately reaching for you, pulling you into his body, and he tried to shake you awake. 

Rapid tears fall down his cheeks immediately, his entire body is shaking with his sobs, his vision is cloudy, and he pulls you into his lap. He wraps one of his arms around your body and uses his free hand to move your hair away from your face. 

He keeps repeating sun and baby over and over again. Hoping you’d hear him somehow. Hoping you’d open your pretty eyes for him. 

His eyes take in your bloody nose, busted lip, your favorite lavender sweater is coated with blood in different spots, and same as your apron. He notices your limp hands have glass in different places, your leggings are black but he can see different areas with small shards of glass on them. And your feet. Your poor blue fuzzy socks are drenched in red. He’s not sure if it’s wine or blood. 

His eyes move back to your face and he stills when he sees the hand marks on your neck. The fresh ugly bruises that are showing up. He looks up into the air, releasing a shaky breath, gritting his teeth as tears flow down his face, and he curses underneath his breath. 

Harry is physically shaking with anger and guilt. He’s so upset at what Asher did to you. He feels like he can kill him, but he shoves that feeling away and focuses on you. 

He doesn’t care that he’s getting himself covered in wine and blood right now. His free hand has specs of your blood on it now, but he keeps wiping away the hair and blood from your face. 

Repeating “baby” to your face and kissing your face to wake you up. The metallic taste on his tongue makes him whimper. 

“Hold on, baby. Just hold on.”

His voice is shaky, weak, and desperate.

So fucking desperate. 

He doesn’t know what to do. You’re not reacting to anything he does, but thankfully you’re breathing. He has no idea what Asher did to you, but whatever he did. He’s going to pay for what he did. 

Harry notices your phone next to you. He takes a shaky breath in and wraps his arms around you to pick you up. He reaches for your phone as he lifts you, tucks your limp body into his arms, sniffs hard to try and hold in the rest of his tears, and hastily makes his way towards his SUV. 

He manages to open his back door and gently sets you down on the seats. He kisses your forehead with shaky lips and whispers, “It’s going to be okay. I-I’m here, sun.” 

He drives towards the nearest hospital and prays to god that he hasn’t been followed by paps. 

The entire drive to the hospital is rapid with his eyes constantly moving to the rear view mirror to look at you. To make sure you’re still there. To make sure you’re breathing. 

Harry doesn’t hesitate to park in the “no parking” zone at the emergency entrance, he immediately starts honking to try and catch someone’s attention from inside. He sees a security guard immediately come toward him and Harry knows he must look crazy. 

He jumps out of his driver seat, reaching for the back door to pull it open. 

“I need you to get me some help!” The security officer is trying to flag someone from the inside to come and help him. 

The officer looks at him in confusion, “Are you hurt, sir?” The office raises his eyebrows at his appearance. 

Harry shakes his head, quickly pulling you into him once more, he hitches you up in his arms, and starts walking towards the entrance. 

“It’s for her,” he says as he continues to walk into the ER entrance and immediately he can feel all eyes on him. 

He ignores the stares, yells at the officer to help him, and starts feeling anxious. And he follows the officer when he opens a back door that leads him to where he assumes all the nurses and doctors are. 

He can see different people running around, helping patients, and it’s incredibly loud. Loud beeping noises and chatter fills his ears. His mouth feels dry and he feels sick. 

He looks at you in his arms, a soft whimper escapes his lips, and the officer brings him towards a ground of huddles nurses that are chatting about something. 

One of them is smiling at another nurse and when her blue eyes met Harry’s, she instantly stops, mouth drops, and Harry can see her lips whisper his name in shock. 

But then she suddenly reacts and rushes towards him. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” She asks, her hands immediately reaching out to touch you, and Harry’s reflex is to curl you into his arms. Away from her touch. He’s terrified to let anybody touch you, but he knows you need it. 

“I…” Harry starts, throat raspy, and he holds eye contact with the nurse, “I need your utmost discretion,” he states in a plea, but tries to keep his voice steady. 

Harry sees from the corner of his eyes more nurses rushing towards him and one of them is holding a stretcher. 

A male nurse tries to reach for you as well, but the nurse in front of you- Harry quickly reads her name tag- Lily. 

Lily holds her hand up to stop the male nurse and she then sets her hand on Harry’s forearm, giving him a squeeze, her eyes not leaving his, and she says, “I promise you. We will be discreet.” 

Harry nods, tears welling up in his eyes, and his hands are gripping onto your skin. 

“But… you need to put her down on the stretcher.. so we can help her. Okay? Can you do that, sir?“ 

Lily moves her body to angle the stretcher and Harry quickly nods. He walks towards the stretcher, he gently sets you down, and squeezes your hands in his quickly. His shaking fingers move the sticky hair out of your face as you fall limp into the stretcher. He steps back. 

Harry stands there, frozen in his spot, and watches them rush you away to an empty room. 

“I’ll take you to a private room where you can wait for the doctor. Or myself for an update, okay?” 

Harry nods as he follows her down a hallway, he starts messing with the skin around his fingernails, and Lily opens the door to a private room. 

“You can wait here. Somebody will come speak to you soon about what happened, okay? Do you need any medical attention yourself?” Her voice is steady and calm. It’s what Harry needs right now. Her eyes look him up and down for any injuries. 

“I’m okay, maybe… maybe just a wet rag, please.” Harry says, dry tears on his cheeks making his face feel stiff, and he keeps eye contact with Lily. 

“Okay,” she says. She’s standing by the door, gives him a small smile, and then reaches out for Harry’s arm. She squeezes him.

“It's going to be okay, Mr. Styles. We got her now.” Her eyes are sincere and Harry’s face crumbles in anguish. 

“Thank you,” he croaks out, covering his face, and turning away from her view. 

He hears the door shut behind him and the only thing he can hear in the room is his soft cries. 

•••

Harry must have fallen asleep after he had gotten himself cleaned up because he almost jumps out of the chair he was slumped into when he feels someone touch his shoulder. 

“Sir! I’m so sorry!” He hears someone exclaim above him. He adjusts himself into the chair, uncrossing his arms, and is confused about his surroundings for just a second before he sees your face in his mind. 

He stands quickly, “How is she?” He quickly runs his hands over his eyes to wake himself up. 

He recognizes the same nurse as earlier, Lily, and she gives him an easy smile. 

“She’s okay right now. A slight brain bleed, but nothing major. Don’t panic. It’ll heal on its own, but we’re going to keep her overnight to monitor it. Thankfully no broken bones. She does have a couple fractured ribs, but…” she trails off, her eyes looking to the side, and she looks nervous. 

“What’s going on?” His body fills with worry instantly. 

“She woke up, Mr. Styles.” 

Relief washes throughout his body and he silently says a thank you. 

“Oh, thank god. That’s good… that’s good, right?” Eyebrows furr when Lily nods, but doesn’t follow Harry’s breath of happiness. For a split second, he feels happy that she's awake and okay. But then Lily is rolling her lips in and biting the bottom one. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asks. His voice shakes. The anticipation of what she’s about to say fills him with dread once more. 

“Mr. Styles, we asked her what happened and she doesn’t remember. She might have a concussion or she might be blocking out the memory because of the trauma. She simply might not want to remember. It’s a way trauma victims protect themselves in these types of scenarios. It’s not uncommon.” 

“O-okay?” 

Lily puts her hand on Harry’s shoulder as if to comfort him for what she’s about to say. Harry feels confused as the comforting touch. He fumbles with the skin around his fingers in anticipation. 

“She states that her boyfriend would never have done this.” 

“W-what? She— wait— she said that?” Harry feels even more confused. He wasn’t imagining the phone call. He distinctly remembers what you had said. 

Lily nods as he continues, “S-she told me. She told me that he hit her. That he—-“ he stops himself from continuing. Gulping down the forming lump in his throat. He bites his tongue because he doesn’t need anybody knowing about his personal business. 

Harry slightly looks up to keep his tears at bay, sniffling slightly, and his eyes start to burn. He looks back down at Lily. 

“He found out about something… something she didn’t want him knowing and that’s when he did that to her. I-I swear.” 

“Mr. Styles, I’m sorry. But… If the patient says that’s not what happened.. then we have to believe the patient.” She almost looks guilty. 

“Even if she doesn’t remember it happening?” Harry asks in desperation, not believing what she’s saying. 

Lily nods with a small frown on her lips. 

“I can take you to see her, if you’d like.” 

Harry immediately nods and follows her down to your room. Lily knocks when they stand in front of the room and when Harry walks in, his lips quiver and his heart feels heavy. 

“Oh, baby.” He whimpers out as he takes in your appearance. He manages to grasp onto the door to ground himself from the way his knees buckle at the sight of you. They’ve cleaned you up, but all the bruising from your face and neck makes him wish it was him in the bed instead of you. 

You're laying down against the hospital bed, covered in a white blanket, with your head tilted back, but it only showcased the ugly, raw, and red marks on your neck. It made Harry internally weep at the sight. You have a machine on your right side connected to your IV and Harry can only imagine its fluids. Or maybe pain medication. He doesn’t dwell on it too long. 

Your arms are laying over the blankets and resting on your stomach. Your hands are delicately covered in white gauze, but only your palms. And he knows it’s because of all the tiny glass cuts you had. 

When his eyes land in your face, he wishes he could erase this picture from his brain. He pleads to the gods above that this is the last time he will ever see you hurt. He doesn’t think he can survive seeing you like this again. 

Your bottom lip has a big cut on it which is making your lip a little swollen. Your entire right cheek is bright red with undertones of purples and you have one big bruise forming on your left cheekbone. Your nose has a small splint on it, but he can see the swelling underneath and the bruising on the sides. 

Harry doesn’t even want to think about what you went through. 

It’s almost as if you felt his presence because you slowly tilt your head down and your eyes search the room. When you meet his gaze, your entire body relaxes with relief and his name falls out of your lips like butter. 

Harry is immediately at your side, wanting to hold you and touch you, but he stops himself.  He hesitates in front of you and your covered hand reaches for him. His hand immediately covers yours, warm with gauze but cold fingers, and he starts crying. 

“I-I,” Harry tries to form words, but his voice is muffled because of his sobs. He falls into the chair next to you and covers his face with his arms on top of the bed. 

Your hand is immediately intertwined with his curls and you're rubbing his scalp to try to calm him down. 

“They told me you found me?” You question and he cries harder at your voice. It’s raspy and hoarse. You don’t sound like yourself, you sound like you’re in pain, and he knows you are. It makes him cry even harder. 

Harry can only nod at your question. He lifts his head to look at you and you try to give him a small smile. He’s looking into your eyes, your beautiful eyes, and he sniffles. 

He ghosts one of his hands over your face and you almost want to melt into it, but you don’t. Because you know how bad you look and how every single part of your body hurts right now. 

Instead, you grab his hand in yours once again. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper with tears in your own eyes as you watch his red eyes. His green eyes are bright against the red, his nose is red too, cheeks are flushed, lips bright pink, and he looks beautiful. 

“Do you remember anything?” Harry asks between his sniffles. 

You roll your lips inside your mouth for a second and bite down on your unaffected side, eyebrows furred down, and you shake your head. 

“I… I don’t. I’m… I’m assuming someone broke in? Maybe someone tried to steal from me and did this?” Your voice sounds as if you’re trying to convince yourself this is what happened. Instead of the reality that Harry knows about. 

“Baby,” Harry whimpers out. “You called me… and told me Asher had found out about us.” 

“Asher?” You question in a low tone, feeling confused once again. 

“You… you said he hit you.” Harry gulps down the lump in his throat after he speaks those words and takes in your reaction. 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. Frowning, you exclaim, “Hit me?! Asher would never, Harry.” 

Suddenly, you’re pulling your hand out of his hold and Harry feels like you’re retracting from him. 

“Baby, I wouldn’t lie—-“ 

“Stop it!” You cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest, ignoring the sharp pain that runs through your body as you touch your aching ribs. 

His eyes dart to your stomach and back to you. 

“Are you—“ 

“Stop.” You spat at him, feeling furious at him for even suggesting that Asher would do this to you. Asher would never do this. Never. 

“Asher would never do this to me, Harry. Are you—- what are you— are you lying to me? Is this a joke? Is this some sick fucking joke? Maybe I did this to myself!! I’m fucking clumsy. I’m sure I just fell on my own. Maybe I dropped the wine bottle myself and tripped and hurt myself!” You cry out to him as fast tears start running down your cheeks. Your mouth speaks faster than your own brain. Spilling anything that would make more sense than what Harry is telling you. 

“Baby. Baby. Baby.. what are you.. what are you saying? Baby, stop. He caused your head to bleed. He caused you a brain bleed, baby. You.. you didn’t do this to yourself. How could.. how could you have done this to yourself?” Harry cries as he stumbles over his words quickly at you. 

“Asher didn’t do this to me,” you state confidently even though you feel confused about the whole thing. “Why would he do this to me, H?” More tears filling your eyes at Harry’s accusations. 

Asher didn’t do this to you. He couldn’t have. Could he? 

“He did this to you! He hit you!” His voice goes higher as his frustrations rise, his lips in a frown. 

“You’re lying!! Stop lying to me. Why would Asher do this to me, Harry?! He loves me. And I know you love me. You’re my best fucking friend, but you’re crossing a line. He would never do this to me. You need to leave. You’re lying to me. I don’t want you here.” 

“W-what?” Harry’s gaping at you, mouth dropped in shock, and a sob escapes his lips once more. 

“Go. Now! I don’t want to look at you!” You turn away from him, sniffling, and wiping your tears away. 

“You can’t be serious, Y/N. Listen to yourself,” he tries to plead with you as he tries to reach for your hand, but you turn your body to move. Ignoring the pain it causes you. You don’t look at him. 

“Leave,” you demand once more. Ignoring his cries and his words. 

“O-okay, baby. I’m going to leave. But… but… please. Please try to remember my love. Please,” he begs you. 

You don’t say anything. You just stare out the window until you hear him get up and leave. You sit in silence for a couple minutes. Trying to think about everything he said. You wipe away your tears and reach for the call light to call for your nurse. 

You press the red button and adjust yourself to relax against the mattress, trying to inhale a deep breath, and Lily comes into the room. 

“Hi, love. Did you call? Need some help?” 

“Yes, Lily. I did. Harry gave you my phone, right?” 

“He did.”

“Okay,” you make eye contact with her. “Can you please call the person under the name of Asher? Can you let him know what’s happened and where I am? The code is 0509.”

A look of uncertainty flashes over Lily’s face, but she quickly controls her reaction. You don’t question it because she nods quickly right after. 

“Of course, Mrs. Y/L/N.” She smiles at you, “I’ll be right back.” 

Lily leaves the room and you close your eyes for a second. 

You try to unclear your mind, trying to remember what happened, and flashes of what happened play out. 

You see the wine bottle falling down onto the floor loudly.

You see yourself crawling into the corner and the feeling of true terror fills your body at the memory. 

You can see yourself begging the person to stop, but you can’t see their face. 

Your face crumbles in frustration at not being able to remember the one most important detail. 

You sigh, opening your eyes, and you decide to wait for Asher to walk through the door. 

Maybe he can help you remember. Maybe he’s spoken to the police and maybe they’ve already found the person who did this. 

But there’s also a part of you wondering why he isn’t here right now. Wouldn’t he have found you after coming home from work? Maybe he had to work late. 

You shake your head at the intrusive thoughts. 

You try to relax once again, trying not to feel bad for kicking Harry out, but you know Asher would have never done this to you. 

He would have never. 

[yoruio]

Post!Hour of Joy Catnap x Reader HCs:

Genre: Fluff!!!!!!

AN: really short thingy I did, cant get the catnap brainrot outta my head, based him off a house cat a tad bit too much

☾ Catnap took some time to get used to you. And a lot of sweets— but in the end it all seemed to work out!

☾ The first few days, Catnap would stalk around the playroom to avoid the kids running about just so he could see what you were up to!

☾ Kickin and Hoppy would always spot him and pull him back into the play area every time he got caught.

☾ Catnap is not the one to give up easily and would sneak out during recess time and leave little trinkets on your desk

☾ Ever since you taught him how to be more social, he and the kids that would go to Playcare grew to become very close and would help him do tasks that require smaller hands, like folding paper or coloring with crayons.

☾ It's a miracle how he was able to find your quarters in this massive establishment.

☾ The first time it happened you saw a little purple paper cat with a tiny moon charm on it's chest. Hmm, you wonder who this came from.

☾ The next time you saw Catnap you didn't forget to give him a head scritch and a cheery "Thank you!"

☾ Catnap then on would find ways to sneak handcrafted toys into your office.

☾ Congrats, you're now his favorite person in the whole world!!! Till this day the little paper cat still stands on your desk.

☾ Catnap would always draw you every time there were arts and crafts activities in the playcare.

☾ Catnap doesn't know how Craftycorn works her magic with those hooves of hers, but the least he could do is draw a messy stickman of you. And what do you know, you adored his drawing! And now it's hung on a little frame in your room!

☾ Catnap, after you'd visit him around working hours his mood would noticeably get more lively... So lively in fact that he dashes all over the room like those house cats getting the zoomies. Dogday's in awe at how fast his sleepy buddy was. Hey, if the kids are having fun then he guesses it's fine!

☾ Despite Catnap's distorted voice box you never really minded how brief his answers were.

"You want to eat?" you chuckled. Lowering the box you were carrying to meet his gaze.

"No." he spoke, staring at you with his dotted white pupils.

"Uhm... Need something from me?" you asked curiously. You wondered what he wanted.

"...No..." He spoke again.

"You're just here to bug me, are you?" you huffed, a small smile etched on your face as you stared up the purple cat.

"..." His long tail twirled deviously.

You raise your brow at him with your arms crossed over your chest.

"Yes."

☾ The other smiling critters seem to like this side of the purple cat too! But what they don't enjoy is how loud his purring gets whenever he naps.

☾ Catnap likes to laze in your office at night. He often curls himself around your desk chair as you work. His soft purple fur a great insulator against the cold room.

☾ Catnap tends to be more active at night, hence the reason he's always scratching your bedpost. On some occasions, he'd even stretch like a cat.

☾ You made sure that after you'd finished all your paperwork you would snuggle up with him on the floor since he was a tad too big for the bed Play Co. provided for you.

☾ He hoped things would never change.

Ik ik its boring but I've been wanting a bit of sweet stuff yknow

This the thing Catnap made for u btw :>

Peper kat!!!!!!!