#idk why shes holding a shovel...

[s-4pphics]

click!: in frame. 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, loss and unhealthy grieving, papa issues, verbally abusive parent(PLEASE TREAD LIGHTLY), depictions of therapy and counseling, light discussion of anger management, brief mention of alcohol, bullying, a lil fluff, SMUT!! YIPPEE MDNI, bondage, squirting, bathroom sex, eating out no taqueria, ellie getting sloppy from a hot milf that’s it 

You look like your mom. 

Your father’s admiring whisper yanks you out of the hazy turbulence in your mind. You shovel a handful of caramel popcorn in your mouth. You don’t dare look at him. 

Daughter things, I guess. Your dad simply hums. Silence simmers between the two of you. It’s not comforting. Not like it should be. A bomb is coming. 

Honey, I… I love you. Your father sounds like he's crying and it pauses your aggressive chewing. You finally turn to face him and your fingers twitch when you see his globby tears. They’re heavy as he releases his regrets in silence, just like he always does during this time of year. 

Me, too, dad. 

You’re not sure if you’re lying or not. Some things are impossible to forget, you suppose. 

You eat more popcorn with a permanently damaged heart. 

FOUR YEARS LATER

FIRST DAY WITH DOCTOR BROWN. 

“Some people believe that any form of assistance is… insulting. Whether it be to them as people or… specific traits that they hold that others may find unfamiliar or unsettling. I’m not here to judge or anything of that nature. Just here to help you figure out why specific aspects of your life affect you the way they do.” 

Your arms cross over your chest. Dr. Brown realizes you’re not taking the bait, so she attempts to get you more comfortable. “I think icebreakers could help ease some of the tension. So… What’s your favorit— “

“My dad died last year.” 

Your statement makes her freeze, her smile melting off her face, eyes shifting across her face. She adjusts some papers on her clipboard and clicks her pen. “Alright, hun,” Her gentle tone makes your stomach twist. “Let’s talk about it. What was the relationship with your dad like?” You simply shrug. 

Dr. Brown nods and tries again. “Were you and him close? Your notes say you and your mother were inseparable, just like me and mine.” 

Your nails sink into your cuticles and tears burn in your eyes, “I… I wanted to be. Close.” You whisper. “He wasn’t around like that, though.” 

She scribbles and solemnly nods, “Did he work often?” Your head bobs and droplets stream down your cheeks. 

“I didn’t think I’d care that he died… He was never around growing up, so… like, whatever.” You grumble lamely.

“What did losing him feel like?” 

The end of your mouth curls downward, the familiar searing you’ve grown to loathe, “Like… the world was burnin’.” 

“Elaborate.” She pries softly. 

Another bounce from your shoulders. You readjust in your seat. “I wasn’t even sad. Just…” You trail off, fingers twitching under your arm. 

“Angry. I was angry all the time.” You rush out quietly, face burning with shame. “Just like he was.” You pause when your breath shakes, “I wish I got some of my mom’s traits. My dad’n I are just alike.” You fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater. 

“… You’re not like him— “

“I am— “

“You’re not. You’re trying to put in effort to be better for the future. Could he have said the same?” She’s stern when she speaks.

You’re stumped. You wipe your tears harshly. For the first time, you're at a loss for words. 

WEEK TWO WITH DOCTOR BROWN. 

“Think about the first time you saw your dad lash out. You can elaborate on how you felt, how you reacted, how your environment changed… Anything you feel comfortable sharing.” Your eyes stay glued to your therapist’s couch as you recall the day. Every detail and foul verbiage he directed towards your mother resurfaces and falls at your sock-covered feet. 

It was the morning of your first day of second grade. Your mother spent the entire morning hot-combing your hair, bumping your ends, littering your locks that were bound to recoil in seconds in bobbles and clips. She could tell by your expression that you didn’t like it, but she completed your bright pink outfit with it’s not for you, it’s for me! Sit still!  She never failed to live vicariously through you; Every childhood moment she couldn’t live out was now yours. 

Your father wasn’t around much. He was a truck-driver, on a constant voyage to wherever he was instructed to go, hundreds to thousands of miles away from solace for months — sometimes years at a time. He missed birthdays, holidays, family reunions; There was always a missing space for him somewhere in your childhood home, whether it be his customized keychain that he forgot, shoes he didn’t pack, a hug he didn’t give. Proof of him was always scattered around somewhere, but he was a shadow. A blank memory. 

So, why were your cartoons interrupted by his booming voice in the kitchen? 

You remember turning the television down, only by a couple digits, your ears honing in on every word he screamed at your mother. You were so confused. Half of those words you’d never heard before. Why was he so mad this early in the morning? 

You knew it was serious when your mother retaliated just as loudly, the cracks and shrieks from her belts sounding alarms in your brain. Your mom’s in trouble! Help her! But how could you? You were defenseless against him. It felt like the day flew by as their aggression intensified, curses nearly shattering the glass of your backyard door before everything went quiet. 

But still, your feet carried you to peek behind the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. Your attempts at being discreet were pointless, though. When you saw your mother pinned up against the counter by your father, tears streaming down her face as he spat with every whisper onto her cheek, you gasped. Your memory is washy after that, but you remember your mother wiping her tears and slapping that comforting grin on her face. You wish you didn’t remember how broken she sounded when she said alright, baby! Ready for school? Don’t wanna be late! 

You suffered through social studies, language arts, and math. Your mind wasn’t where it should’ve been; You couldn’t shake the fact that your mother could be hurt and she had no one to tell. You just prayed to yourself as your teacher spoke, hoping that your mom would be on time to pick you up at the end of the day. 

Your eyes travel over the teal incisions of thread on your therapist’s seat. You’re still not used to the sound of your own voice. “It’s… it’s a funny story…” You sound so weak. You retell what you can, all while following the tip of your therapist’s scribbling pen. 

Why did it have to be green? Why are the clicks deafening? 

“Ellie, holy fucking — shit, these look fucking incredible!” Yuki whispers, expression impressed as she snoops over the auburn-haired girl’s shoulder, inspecting the aerial shots she’d taken a few hours ago. Editing is a bitch. “I don’t know how you do it. You’re…” 

“A genius, I know,” Ellie says dryly, a soft grin hidden behind the hand that holds her head up. It’s almost eleven. “M’almost done— “

“Nope! Not happening!” Another voice exclaims from the black lounge chair on the opposite side of the room. “You’re not the one that has to lock up every goddamn night! I ain’t stayin’ here ‘til two again! You got two seconds to finish up before I drag you up outta here.” 

Yuki giggles at Saliyah’s scolding, and Ellie sighs. The pictures look almost perfect. Almost. They’re not there yet! All she needs is an hour… or three—

“What did I say! —“

“Alright, alright, fuck.” Ellie shakes her head before closing all her tabs, pulling her flash drive out of the PC before shutting it down. She stands from her rolling chair and snags her blazer from over the back of it, throwing it over her shoulders and grabbing her work bag, camera already securely inside. She shoves the drive in a random pocket before stretching. 

The two girls already have all of their belongings in hand, more than ready to clock the fuck out. Yuki eyes her slyly, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “Oh, wooow, she’s actually taking orders, now? Listening to instructions for the first time? —“

“Can you stop.” Ellie mutters as she follows the girls descending the stairs. “No!” They both say in unison. Ellie smiles. Does she really stay out that often? There’s no way she’s that stubborn. 

All three girls crack jokes as they vacant the building, ensuring all the lights and equipment are shut off and prepped for tomorrow. It’s an early day. 

“Alright, bitches!” Yuki screams into the darkness, bag swinging as her heels click-clack on the pavement. “I want you bright and bushy-tailed tomorrow! Busy day! No time to fuck arou— “ 

Saliyah yawns, eyes droopy, “Girl… fuck you.” Ellie cackles and rubs her tired eyes. She can’t wait to get these six hours in. And see her baby. Saliyah wraps her arms around Ellie’s neck, muttering see you tomorrow, stinker into her neck. Ellie hums and holds her before watching her get into her vehicle. 

Ellie does the same after both girls leave the parking lot, her head falling back onto the headrest, eyes shutting in exhaustion. Today was insane… Fuck, it was incredible. She's always accepted opportunities to take photos in nature. Landscapes are her prestige, but when she got the offer to take aerial shots of the ocean, she couldn’t say no. Just when she thought she’d never get on an aircraft out of fear…  

The shots were mystical, the monsoon winds carrying the waves in all directions as the foams ripple, a scene straight out of her dreams. The second she got off the helicopter, she got to editing. Staying in late to perfect her captures has become a terrible habit, but what can she say? She loves her job. Thank God her coworkers are as sweet as cherry pie and support her bad habit. Besides tonight, apparently. 

Days like this keep Ellie humbled… Most times. She deserves to boast every once in a while. She often thinks back on her college days, how out of touch chances like these seemed. The number of times she was brushed off by respected professionals because she lacked “necessary resources” was astronomical. But look at her now. She had everything she could ever want: a career she’s passionate about, healthy friendships, and the means to take care of her father. 

Well… she has most things. 

She sighs and starts her vehicle, the diamonds in her Rolex sparkling under the street lights beaming in from the window. The streets are calm. Not normally bustling like they would on a regular day. The clouds are coming in; Rain is due. She’s so excited. 

It’s a calm drive back to her small home. She pulls into the driveway and exits with all her supplies, unlocking and entering her place of peace. 

Meow! Meow! 

Ellie clicks her tongue at Pickle, “Hiii, mama. I’m home.” She drops her bag on the small couch near the front door, bending down to pick her up. “You’re heavy, fuck.” The baby purrs and nuzzles into her neck as they enter the kitchen. She sets her down on the counter and opens the fridge for water. There’s soft scuffling from behind her as she sips. 

Ellie turns to see Pickle playing with a pen, rolling it across granite. She swallows her last gulp before sighing, picking up the utensil, the one memory she kept of you. Your colorful fucking custom ballpoint pen. Pickle nibbles her fingers, trying to snatch it back to play with, but Ellie clicks it over and over. 

“Miss her? Yeah?” She whispers. Pickle licks her index. Ellie will never admit it, but she thinks about you whenever she sees her baby. Yours, too.

She hopes you’re alright.

“You said that going to his funeral was different from your mom’s. Do you mind elaborating?” 

You shrug and scoff. “Shouldn’t everybody feel sad when they parents die?” Dr. Brown mimics you, “Not at all. Every reaction to loss is different and not all reactions are symmetrical.” 

“I was angry.” Your statement is blunt and abrasive. 

“Expound.” 

“I wanted to dig him up and spit on him my damn self.” You say, sharp as razor blades. Brown hums, unfazed by your sudden aggression; What the hell do therapists write on those clipboards? “I just… Seein’ all these fuckers I didn’t know talk about how fuckin’… great he was and how missed he’ll be was fuckin’ infuriating. They don’t know shit about that man or the shit he’s done.” 

Sympathy washes over Dr. Brown’s pupils. “See, your temper is the reason you’re here. You’re not obligated to forgive anybody that wronged you, but…” She’s simultaneously stern and empathic, “You do not get to use those emotions to inflict negativity onto the people around you. You’re perpetuating the same harm you wanted to avoid in the first place.”  

You instantly know what she’s referring to and guilt radiates all the way down to your toes. Amaya… Oh, you miss her. Another good person caught in your violent crossfire. Your last conversation was vile, and you hate yourself every day for the things you said to the only person who unconditionally cared about your wellbeing. Tears brew in your ducts, but you blink them away. 

“I didn’t… know what to do…” You didn’t, so you screamed and shouted and told her to never call your fucking phone again. The last thing you berated was the final nail in the coffin for your relationship. You left me, you’d said over and over until the line went dead. You left me alone! I fucking needed you! 

“No one has the answers for these types of situations. Why we react the way that we do to traumatic events will always be a mystery.” She adjusts in her chair, leg crossing over the other. “What I do know is that… you’re fighting grief. You’re choosing not to experience it, and it’s making you lash out on people who don’t deserve it.” 

But how does one grieve the person that made their life… unlivable? Through rage. Rage in its purest form: unfiltered, erratic, sizzling. It’s unrelenting and unforgiving and holds no bounds, prepared to be released at any moment, no matter who’s present. Your father’s home has seen it all at this point: glass shattering on walls, screaming into the closet where all his clothes hang, punching the pillow he slept on every night. 

Everything was exactly where your father left it, and instead of crying, you relinquished hell on the home he left in your name. You’re still surprised it wasn’t engulfed in flames after his funeral. 

“I just…” Harsh sniffles from you, desperately wiping your tears with damp hoodie sleeves, “I don’t know what to do. Nothing feels… real anymore.” 

“You’re real, baby.” This is the most delicate Dr. Brown has ever sounded, tone hushed. “Your feelings are real, your pain is real, but so is everyone else’s. You have to remember that.” 

You’re listening so intently, “What I'd suggest…” You already know what she’s going to say, and you’re petrified. You sag into your seat. 

You owe those two girls an apology.

Flashes of green race across your memory. The meadows are back, and they’re haunting. 

“Three.” You whisper. 

“Hm?” 

“I owe…” A heavy exhale. “Three girls an apology.” 

OCTOBER, 2013 

Ellie’s officially fifteen. She’d give anything to be home right now. 

She was so happy before she left that morning. Her dad woke her up with a heaping stack of iced chocolate chip pancakes that were the size of her head and happy birthday candles. Laughter echoed through their household, following as they cascaded down the stairs to blast music. Neighbors be damned. Everything was perfect. Up until she was dressed and ready and in the car. 

Ellie’s dad held her hand the entire drive. He didn’t comment on her white knuckles as she gripped his digits when he kissed the back of her hand. It took her a second to exit the car when they arrived, so he said the usual. You got this, kiddo. The extra encouragement provided a boost, for sure. She was able to get to class on time. 

Every time a wad of paper or a sharpened pencil hits the back of her head, she regrets not begging her dad to let her stay home. She’s grown used to the snickers, the shoulder chucks in the hallway, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

English concludes and she’s silently packing when her bag gets yanked out of her hand. 

Missed you, stalker, A kid who Ellie doesn’t fucking remember snarks with a dark grin. Where’s that book you always have—

Tyler! The teacher’s voice booms, the class filling with oooh’s, That's enough. Give her stuff back now. 

C’mooon, I can’t talk to my girlfriend? The remaining students burst into laughter and Ellie’s face burns, swallowing the lump that’s forming in her throat. 

How about I call home? Tyler sucks his teeth at the threat while his friends laugh, dropping Ellie’s things on her desk with little care. She wastes no time to flee, shoving her earpods in and synching each trembling breath with the heavy percussion. 

Her dad comes to pick her up an hour later. 

-

-

A light tap on your shoulder tears your attention away from the lengthy equations on the board. Numbers and letters? Your fucking ass; Absolutely not!

You turn to Amaya, who’s smiling wide, shoving a folded note in your hand, rushing you to open it. Your brows crease as you face forward, unraveling the nest crevices and met with… hearts? Glitter? Pretty penmanship? No man wrote this, thank God. 

Hi. You’re really pretty and nice. Would you like to sit with me during lunch? 

Ceniyah 

… Ceniyah? … Thee Cece? The person you’ve been obsessed with since middle school? What the fuck is going on! 

You turn back to Amaya who’s giggling into her palm, catching glimpses of a shy Ceniyah, who keeps her head down, her beaded braids shielding her face. Your face burns and you jerk back forward. It’s not a fucking prank, what the fuck, what the fuck—

Class drags like a bitch, but the bell finally rings, and everyone hustles, shoving books in their bags, running to the cafeteria. You refuse to move, though. Your iron is low and the person you’re in love with asked you to crunch on celery sticks with her. Alone. You're bound to pass out the second you breathe wrong. 

Hi.

You nearly fly out of your seat at her soft tone. She sounds like an angel. You’re going to die. You jump out of your chair and… take in the beauty that she is. She smells like heaven and her skin is perfect, not a blemish in sight. You hope she can’t see your acne scars… and she’s shorter than you. Are minors allowed to get married? 

H-Hey, You hold up the pink piece of construction paper, I, uh, got your note… It’s beautiful. Her smile shines brighter than the sun. She shakes her head and the chains locked on her clips tinker like fairies. 

Are you kiddin’ me! That mural you helped create was crazy. That was beautiful. 

I love you. 

Your eyes go wide. Did you say that? You don’t think you said that… Her smile turns confused and you realize you said that. You almost stab yourself with your pencil. I mean, like, I love how you appreciate art! Like, not m-many people… do that, and stuff…

She smirks and your heart squeezes with delight, And stuff? She inquires with an arched brow. 

I’d appreciate it if you ladies headed to lunch so I can enjoy mine. Your teacher interrupts, And the next note that gets passed earns a detention. 

A soft, floral-scented hand closes around your wrist, over your beaded bracelets and charms. You grab your bag with your last remaining strength and follow her like a puppy, her flowy skirt brushing against the bottoms of your jean-clad legs. 

Best… day… ever. 

PRESENT 

Ellie needs to start doing finger stretches. Her hands are starting to hurt every time she clocks out. 

She’s sitting at her desk, re-editing the infant photos she took earlier today. The twin girls from earlier were absolute angels, smiling and cooing up at the camera behind their matching pink pacifiers. She's never thought about having children… ever, but it might not be so bad—

Meow! Meow, meow! MeowMEOW—

… Nevermind. Kids are not for her. She can barely get this one to act right. The pictures are cute, though. 

“What’s the matter, mama?” She coos down at a doe-eyed kit-kat. “Hungies?” Pickle jumps up and into her lap, staring at the bright screen that displays Ellie’s editing software. Ellie smirks down at her, “What, you wanna try?” 

Pickle blinks up at her. No thoughts, just kibble. 

She decides to save her progress on the photos and give her munchkin some love. The few minutes of head pats and runs are cut short when she gets a pop-up from her email. She pays it no mind at first, but she zeroes in on the subject with furrowed brows. It simply reads hi… an overdue apology. Ellie blinks a couple times before suspecting spam… But who the fuck names a spam email something that cryptic? What the fuck? 

Ellie opens it… and her body goes numb as her eyes follow each word. 

hi, ellie. i’m not sure how to start this off, but i hope it’s decent enough to sit through. i apologize in advance. 

you probably don’t remember me, but we had statistics and used to live together in college. it was only for two months (i think, kind of a blur) but… yeah. i hope it semi-kinda rings a bell. hi again.

this is a very random time to reach out, and i understand any confusion, but i just wanted to apologize for everything. i was terrible to you. i'd never thought i'd become a judgmental person, but i did. i mocked you, i spoke behind your back, and probably ruined your last year of school, and i carry that regret with me everywhere i go. i’m not sure if i'll ever be able to express my remorse properly. 

i’m trying to do better. i want to do better, but i can’t unless i express it. 

you never have to talk to me again, and i understand if you don’t, but if you ever want to have a conversation with me, i’d be more than willing to come wherever you are to do so. or we can exchange numbers if it’s less of a hassle. i see how busy you are. 

thank you if you took out any time to read this jumbled mess of thoughts. i’m very nervous. i hope you continue to live beautifully. 

sincerely, someone trying to start fresh. 

(p.s. i swear i'm not a stalker. you’re really popping on instagram. congratulations on everything.) 

Ellie wastes no time and unplugs her entire PC, the screen going black. Her heart is racing and water surfaces above her pupils. Pickle purrs in her arms as she backs her rolling chair from under the desk and scurries into her bedroom. She sets the kitty down on her bed and clutches her chest. She forgets to count, forgets to breathe as detailed images of you scatter in her head. 

You… what the fuck.

Ellie feels her hands start to shake, so she squeezes them in a fist as she paces. Her gasps are choked and she’s spiraling into panic; She can’t unsee your teary, brown eyes, how you tried to mask your sadness when she stated she was leaving. She was able to convince herself that she’d never see you again, and it took her so long to be okay with that. She’s grown to be okay without your presence.

The burnt trail she left behind has reignited again. She's sinking, drowning, just like she did years ago. 

WEEK FIVE WITH DR. BROWN

“How do you feel now? Be honest.” 

“… Still shitty… but alright, I guess.” You’re hoarse when you speak. 

“Elaborate. What does alright mean for you?” 

You pick at your fingers, “I’m not… I don’t wanna, like, kill myself… if that’s what you’re asking. The ball’s in their court now, I guess. I’m… I’m just alright.” Your shoulders bounce in a shrug. 

“Has anyone answered?” Your head shakes in denial. “Don’t let that jeopardize your progress. However they react to you contacting them is not on you anymore. They either accept it or they don’t, and they’re valid in both options.” 

Dr. Brown pauses and eyes you skeptically, “What?” You ask. 

She shrugs, “One person isn’t on your making amends list.” 

Your reply is immediate, “Probably for a reason.” 

“Do you remember what you told me during our first meeting?” 

Irritation boils under your skin. “I see where you’re taking this conversation and I’m not messin’ wit’ it… Respectfully. Next topic, please.” 

Her hands raise in surrender, “Ay’, I’m not here to make you do diddly-squat. Merely providing perspective.” 

“Right.” 

“You did beat that girl to a pulp, though. I will say— “

“It’s what she deserved.” You say flatly. “She… humiliated me, and when her bitch left, she tried to come back to me. Get me pregnant— “

“Chile, I’m not tryna hear all that— “

You scoff and fall back in your seat, cushions and pillows molding with the curve of your spine. Dina bringing her happy ass to your father’s home after his death was one of the most infuriating experiences of your entire goddamn life. The second you opened the door, you were met with wildfire and permanently scarred. The least you could do is give her a fucking black eye. 

What you did after that… you’ll never regret. Ever. She can blast you on Twitter all she wants; She’s dead to you. 

Dr. Brown sips on her black tea with a pointed stare, “Yes, ma’am?” You say sarcastically. 

“Watch that tone,” That look in her eye… she meant that. You’ll be quiet. “She was wrong for what she did, but you ain’t innocent.” 

“I’m sorry, but I disagree. That one… she can choke. I don’t care.” Dr. Brown is disappointed by your answer, but frankly, you don’t care. That ship sailed and sank like the goddamn Titanic. 

She seems disappointed in your answer, but she lets it go. “… Alright, then.” 

On the brink of a heart attack perfectly explains how Ellie’s been feeling for the past week. The number of times she’s reread your fucking email is genuinely embarrassing, but she’s weighing her options: she either blocks you or accepts your offer. She's never been so conflicted in her life. She desperately needs a fucking break. 

She never takes Saliyah and Yuki up on their offers to turn up on Friday nights, but her rampant emotions backed her into a corner… and now she’s tipsy on the dancefloor of some rinky-dink club. One night of release wouldn’t hurt. 

Ellie really wishes she had a grilled cheese. They’re quite delicious… Probably not the thoughts she should be having with a hot older woman pushing back on her to fucking T-Pain, but she’s hungry! Liquor gives her the appetite of a fucking rhinosaurous, what can she say! 

Saliyah and Yuki are handling business for her, though, giving the lady’s ass very encouraging slaps every time their hips connect. Ellie probably looks like a fucking dumbass as she pumps her fist in the air like an old man, but she can’t remember the last time she partied. Sue her! 

It’s not until the woman stands upright, her sweaty, nearly bare back pressed against Ellie’s button-up, an arm coming up to loop around her neck, slightly shifting her bow tie that Ellie freezes, her fists clenching even tighter in the air. Her core gives a sharp squeeze when she feels sticky, glossed lips imprint on her throat. Her eyes bulge as she frantically searches for guidance from her friends, but they’re no fucking help, as usual! What the hell is miming sex and eating pussy going to do for her? She can barely breathe. 

Her friends shoot her finger guns in encouragement before heading back to the bar. A tongue darts out to lap up her anxiety-induced sweat, and her body tremors, her hands untwisting to land on the girl’s jean covered hips for leverage. She feels teeth beam on her neck and her entire body flushes. 

“You’re adorable!” Ellie hears her scream over the blasting music. Her tongue jumbles as she searches for a reply, but nothing leaves. She just drops her head onto the woman’s shoulder… and nearly flat lines when she eyes the cleavage sitting taut in her halter top. Her heart’s pulses synch with the ones from her clit when the woman giggles. Ellie’s ninety-five-point six percent sure that her nipples are poking through her shirt. 

Her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek when the woman spins to face her, chest to chest, noses almost touching. The woman’s gaze drops to her neck, cunning as a fox as she undoes the first button of her shirt before unraveling the loop of her bow tie. She leans in, wafts of cinnamon flooding Ellie’s nostrils. 

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Ellie’s nodding before the lady can conclude the purr in her ear. Her hand gets snagged and she’s being dragged through the hot crowd, all the way to the back of the club and shoved into the giant restroom. She finally takes in the goddess in front of her: dark hair, plump lips, pretty lashes. The wrinkles by her eyes and laugh lines are sending dopamine alarms in her brain. 

Ellie receives one gentle kiss that makes her hips

grind forward before she hears, “You ever been tied up?” The raven-haired woman mumbles against her mouth. She whines, cheeks burning, “N-No,” she whispers. 

Her perfect teeth shine, “You wanna be?” 

Does she? “I — yeah, I guess?” 

“Put your wrists together,” she hums and Ellie does. Her own bow tie gets looped and twisted around her nimble hands. The woman drops to her knees in front of the trembling girl, massaging her thighs over her jeans, planting kisses all over them, “You gotta name, honey?” 

“Ellie… M’Ellie…” The woman’s hands creep up to unbutton her jeans, the soft hiss of the zipper, “What’s yours?” She only receives a shrug. “Whatever you want it to be.” Her jeans are yanked down seconds later, her… fucking Cartoon Network boxers drenched all the way through. The woman giggles and calls Ellie a cutie pie and her clit jumps. 

Her manicured nails hook under the band of Ellie’s boxers, slowly inching them down until her soft, sticky hairs are on display and her boxers are around her knees, “Gonna let me eat this pussy out, angel?” 

Ellie’s vision whites out. Only for a second, “Y-Yes, ma’am…”

Ellie’s sopping lips and pulled apart, her red, throbbing clit on display for the fucking witch in front of her. “You’re so fuckin’ cute. Anybody ever play with this pretty cunt?” Reality crashes down on her like a boulder as images of you touching her, kissing her flash before her eyes. Her jaw slacks as her words flurry. 

“Just — fuck, just one time.” 

“Yeah?” She coos, massaging gentle circles on her clit, “I'm your lucky second?” Ellie nods frantically. Her knees buckle when a sharp slap lands on her pussy, “Ffuck—“ The strokes on her clit are punishing, fast and non-stopping, the woman’s teeth gritted when she asks, “Steppin’ out on your girl, huh?” 

Ellie moans around her denial while her cheeks glow, “N— agh, s-shit, wasn’t m’girl—“

“Yeah? She touch you like me?” The woman snickers, and Ellie burns red. She’s already so close and she can’t fucking think, “Think m’cummin’—“ Ellie slurs, her tongue thick in her mouth as her walls squeeze down, desperately trying to pull something, anything in as deep as possible. 

“Can feel it. Tell me when.” But Ellie couldn’t. Her orgasm crashes into her like a fucking truck and her body falls forward, legs trembling as it wracks through her in harsh waves. The thighs that try to close are forced open, sharp stings radiating off her skin from the nails that pierce them. Strong suctions attack Ellie’s clit and she sobs, practically riding the woman’s face. Vibrations from satisfied hums stimulate her further, and she swears she’s going to pass out. 

The pleasure builds all over again and her eyes squeeze shut, her hips thrusting forward and into the woman’s mouth. Her optics cycle into her skull when the space right below her clit gets stimulated just right and she rides that edge all over again, but this time, it’s stronger. The woman’s groaning in her pussy like she’s starving, and Ellie can barely garble her warning of another orgasm. 

She squeaks when a gentle finger slides between her walls and she wishes it felt like yours did. Ellie’s bound hands entangle in the soft locks and pull, pushing her head any which way to guide her where she needs. She doesn’t register that she’s whining your name until the woman asks, “Tha’s your girl?” Right on her pussy, and Ellie tips.

She’s so loud when she explodes all over this stranger’s face, wetness coating her inner thighs, dripping all the way down to the bottoms locked around her ankles. You take refuge in the nasty side of her brain as she envisions you between her legs, you making her feel this good. Something about the way you touch her… She thinks it's impossible to replicate till this day. 

When Ellie comes down, she falls against the door, relishing in the steady kitten licks on her twitching bud. One last gentle kiss, and the woman separates from the mess between Ellie’s thighs, chest wet with her juices. 

“Good, honey?” 

Ellie blinks like she’s risen from the dead, short hair clinging to her forehead. She shoots the woman two thumbs up and she chuckles, untying Ellie’s hands and helping her back onto her feet. The woman helps her redress after she cleans herself up, and Ellie’s nose twitches when her own stickiness latches onto her clothes. Her arms fall back to her sides when her belt gets secured. 

She’s winded when she finally speaks, “Um… thanks…” How the fuck does Ellie say goodbye to someone who sucked her soul out?

“No problem…” The woman’s warm hands are soft as they push away damp strands from Ellie’s forehead. The freckled girl nearly purrs. Call her Pickle at this point. 

Ellie steps away from the door so that the fucking seductress can exit. The woman backs away and unlocks the door with a gentle smile. “You should text her.” 

Ellie’s stomach churns. “… What.” 

“The girl that’s not your girl.” That’s the last thing she says before stepping out. Ellie’s heart plummets when her eyes lock with Saliyah’s, then Yuki’s. Her friends gawk at her disheveled appearance, lipstick stains littered all over her button up. Ellie’s not nearly as embarrassed as she should be; All she can think about is you. 

“I think I’m in trouble.” Ellie states mindlessly.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Yuki snickers and pulls Ellie out of the bathroom. She hides her face when she’s met with the long line of people desperately needing to piss. 

WEEK SEVEN WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“You look bright.” 

You feel brighter. Just a little bit. You’ve finally gotten your locs retwisted. 

“Amaya texted me back.” Dr. Brown seems impressed at your statement, happy for you. A small smile makes its way onto your face. 

“Yeah? What’d Ms. Producer say?” 

“She, um… She wants to have dinner.” 

“Oh? And what’d you say?” 

“I said of course and then sobbed until I got here.” Dr. Brown chuckles, “When’s the big meal?” 

“In two days. I got a hotel near where she’s at, so… Yeah. Probably won’t see me for a little.” 

“Good for you, honey.” She says proudly, “Heard from any others?” Your head shakes. It’s not surprising that Abby and Ellie haven’t reached out to you. They don’t owe you any closure, even though it took you a while to accept your karma. 

“Progress is progress, nonetheless.” Her tone reverts back to stern, “Remember… when you see that girl, don’t expect anything to come from it. She’s going out of her way to speak with you, not the other way around.” 

Your head bows shamefully. You're incredibly nervous to see your best friend… if you deserve to call her that anymore. Anxiety isn’t foreign to you, but you’re anticipating the worst for your meeting. You’d give anything to mend your relationship with Amaya, but how’re you going to be able to overcome the guilt of abandoning her?

You can’t remember the last time you went to the campus coffee shop. 

When Amaya sent you her new address in the middle of your old college city, you sobbed for half an hour. You’re not sure why considering the entirety of your graduating class is gone (hopefully in hell); It’s a mix of emotions coming back here. The baristas that used to work here have been replaced with new bushy-tailed freshmen with under eye bags. The coffee isn’t the best, but it’s oddly nostalgic. You feel fucking old just looking at their bright customer service smiles.

Your attention gets snagged away from your steaming cup when a sharp gasp echoes from behind you, nearly spilling your drink all over your flannel when someone calls your name. Anxiety spikes in your gut when you see… 

Who is that? 

“Oh my goodness! Sweetheart!” An older woman with gray hair and a cardigan places her hand on your shoulder and your eyes bulge out of your skull. “It’s so good to see you!”

What the fuck is going on? “You... You, too, uh… ma’am!” You put on the most believable smile you can. Is your memory really this fucking bad?

“Students don’t usually stick around after this long! Our major was pretty small, you know how it is.” Major… Students… Graphic design… Professor! Your memory clicks but her name doesn’t. What the fuck is this woman’s name! You feel like a cunt all over again! 

“I’d love to catch up if you’re sticking around!” 

“Um… yeah, of course.” Her smile is bright when she enters the line. Relief floods through you when she gets to the service counter and one of the baristas says good morning, Professor Meyers! 

You silently thank the Lord. 

-

-

“What brings you back to town, honey!” Professor Meyers asks excitedly. 

“Um… just missin’ school, I guess.” You lie. Fuck this school. 

She swallows her sip of tea before pausing, “Wow. First time I heard that. I didn’t see you at graduation!” 

Your chest concaves and your face burns, “I, uh. I didn’t graduate. I dropped out.” Professor Meyers' expression drops, pity written all over her face. 

“Wh— Why?” 

You shut down her interrogation, “I just… stuff happened. I couldn’t handle everything all at once.” Her eyes sadden and she places a comforting hand on top of yours. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. Whatever it was… I hope it’s okay, now.” 

“Getting through it.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance. The air is suddenly suffocating. 

“Y’know… if you’re interested…” Professor Meyers’ tone is suggesting. Your brow quirks at the woman plotting in front of you. 

“Some of the art profs are always looking for some extra help for the introductory courses. Your rough drafts were always pretty spectacular.” 

Your body burns. “Thank you.” 

She smiles and reaches into her bag in the other chair, pulling out a small card and handing it to you. “This is my contact information. I can set you an interview with Professor Ronson if you’d wanna join the little alumni support team.” 

You accept her card, “But I’m not… I didn’t graduate— “

“Oh, hush now! If you go to college, you’re an alumni! These exclusive rules are outdated!” Professor Meyers stands with her bag and tea. “I gotta run, but please consider it! It could be a great marketing opportunity for you!” 

You're left to simmer in your thoughts as she rushes out of the cafe. You didn’t even have the chance to tell her that you haven’t touched a canvas since your father’s funeral. 

You waltz into the upscale restaurant with tied lungs. Prepping an outfit for tonight was a hassle; You were forced to rummage through your father’s closet for suitable attire. You can’t remember the last time you made a purchase for yourself. 

You feel out of place standing here with the… upper class. They’re dressed to the nines and it’s incredibly intimidating. Your eyes cast downward to your wrinkly shirt and blazer; Why didn’t you bring a fucking iron? 

“How can I help you, miss?”

Your eyes bulge when they lock with the host’s and gut churns with discomfort. Your legs wobble closer to the counter, “I— there’s… reservation…”

The host stares at you with utter confusion, “Oh, sure! What’s the name?” 

“Um… Amaya— “

“Ms. Robinson?” The host’s eyes fill with glitter, “Oh my gosh, when I saw her walk in earlier, I was like, no way she’s actually here. This is crazy! But it was really her! I couldn’t believe— “

Another host interjects, “My apologies, ma’am! She’s a bit, uh, excited. Your table is right this way.” The host begins walking, and your feet move on autopilot, “Would you like a menu?” 

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You won’t be able to keep anything down anyway. 

You move through bustling walkways, ears filled with bouts of obnoxious laughter and corny jokes with each table you pass. 

Your heart stutters in your chest when you see the isolated leather and rosewood booth where Amaya sits, her back to you. There’s two glasses and a bottle of… something on the table. 

“Ms. Robinson! Your guest is here!” 

Amaya, filled glass in hand, cranes her neck and meets your flitting gaze. Her eyes are stagnant, unmoving, and your nerves wrack. She looks fucking immaculate with the slit in her black dress, smokey makeup, heeled

shoes. She’s dressed down for a fucking funeral. Yours. 

You’re actually not ready to see her. You’re not ready at all. 

-

-

“You want a glass?” 

Amaya’s tone is cold. Colder than the dripping neck of the bottle right in front of you. “N-No thank you.” 

She scoffs laughter around the rim, “Shocking.” You scramble for a reply, anything to say to the woman oozing impatience in front of you. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. She sets her glass down with an unsteady clink. 

“You said that already.” She states, brown eyes sharp. “Why are you?” 

You scratch at your ear, trying to mask the tremors in your fingertips, “Because… I — I wasn’t…” 

“I don’t hear from you for months,” She spits, “And then I get a phone call from my drunk best friend screamin’ at me, tellin’ me that I fucking left her to grieve by herself… because I’m selfish and money hungry… Right?”

Angry tears sizzle in Amaya’s eyes as she continues, “And I still come and visit you… only to get a door slammed in my fuckin’ face.” 

You’re completely frozen; You can barely look her in the eye. Your hands are clenched together under the table, nausea creeping up your throat. “I… there’s no excuse for what I did— “

Amaya’s eyes are void, “Why did you do it.” 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you rush out, desperate. You’re losing her, “He — I was just — I couldn’t control myself and I screamed and yelled and blamed everyone for what happened. I was just so mad and I couldn’t stop— “

“Abby called me two days ago.” 

You gasp, “S-She did—?” 

“She told me she hated you.” Amaya says plainly. The remaining shards of your heart dissipate like dust, leaving your mouth when you whimper, “O-Okay.” Tears stream down your cheeks and neck, harsh sniffles filling the small corner of the restaurant. “She hasn’t, um… never mind.” That’s why she hasn’t reached out, you suppose. Well deserved. 

“I don't… hate you, you know that, right?” 

You sob, palms in your eyes, “S’okay if you do. I deserve it.” 

She shrugs, “I don’t. I’m just very disappointed in you.” You nod in agreement, in understanding. You accept that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see someone you considered a sister. 

“I’m so sorry, May— “

“M’gonna head out. I’m,” She wipes a tear and grabs her bag, throwing a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “I… I don’t hate you.” You cry as you watch Amaya gather herself, stand, and leave without another word. You heave and attempt to dry your face with the fresh napkin but they won’t stop flowing. 

It’s difficult, accepting that you’re undeserving. That you’ve dug yourself into a hole that you can’t escape. It’s dark and cold and you’re desperate for comfort but it never comes because you chased it all away. You eye the tall bottle that sweats; Very tempting, but you leave it where it stands. The blame for your downfall is yours to take; The only reward you can receive now is from your upkeep. To dig yourself out from beneath the maggot-infested dirt. To resurface and recover what you can. 

You’re unsure how long you sit here crying. Devastation sets hard in your tummy when you stand to leave the restaurant, ignoring the judgmental stares from the annoying, old fuckers that wouldn’t stop glaring at you. 

The air outside is fresh and soothing as you walk, right past your parked car. Past the young people mingling and taking pictures. Past the girl doing graffiti on the old building across the street. Something beats in your chest when you eye her spray paint cans, brushes in her hand, the bright colors all over her bare arms. Her passion is evident, even from a distance, and you miss that. That feeling that takes over when you create something that no one else can replicate. Her style is unique to her just like yours is to you. 

Color sparks in your soul for the first time in a year, and you know what you have to do tomorrow morning. 

taggiesss yasss n slayyyy @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl

#in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ #ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams au #ellie williams angst #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #black!reader #black!oc #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

[cameronspecial]

hiii!!🤍 idk if you are taking requests at the moment but yesterday i had this idea of fem!reader and rafe fic inspired on the song maniac by conan gray lmaoo

in my head this sounds like a good idea but idk lol

love uuuuu<333

Maniac

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Accusations of Being a Stalker

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

Rafe sets eyes on the one person he doesn’t really want to see. The one person he loves, but who is too good for him. So he let her go. By the time he notices her in the crowd, he is on his sixth cup of whiskey and the alcohol is getting to his head. He shouldn’t do it, yet he does. He stumbles through the crowd to get close to her and his finger points at her in accusation. “I wish you were dead. Maybe then you’d stop popping up everywhere I go like a stalker,” he slurs, his finger wavering a little. She chuckles, “You wish I cared enough about you to stalk you. Except I know you need this so can go tell all your friends that I’m a stalker, a watcher or that I drive you mad. I really don’t care.” She flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns to go back to her friends. Their break-up was anything but friendly. Rafe had to resort to cruelty to get it to set into her mind that there was no salvation for them by talking through their problems. She was too good for him and he was just going to bring her down with him. That’s why he had to do it. As she goes to her friends, he catches a whiff of her perfume and he is dying to be able to properly take the scent in before she leaves again.

Later in the night, Y/N hears rustling in the backyard. She gets up from her bed to spot a familiar figure on the grass through her window. She groans; the irony of him calling her a stalker when he is the one at the back of her house late into the night. She goes downstairs and swings the backdoor open to get rid of him before her parents can wake up. She has to laugh at the sight of him stumbling through with a rose and a shovel in his hand. He holds both items up in his hands like he is balancing out the weight between the two. He comes to a decision and throws the shovel to the side. “Take me back,” he pleas. She chuckles, slamming the door in his face. “You are such a maniac.”

———

A few weeks later, her phone rings from her nightstand in the middle of the night. She presses the phone to her ear and rolls her eyes at who is on the other side. She puts some clothes on, heading to her car to make another mistake. She swears up a storm at the sight of the car smashed against the tree. She sets her car in park and runs over to the driver’s side to make sure he is okay. “You came,” he mumbles, looking at her with a dopey look. He reaches out to pet her hair. She jerks out of his touch. “What do you want me to do about this Rafe? You wrecked your car,” she states in frustration. His lips pout, “You always know how to fix my problems. Because you are perfect. That’s why I had to break up with you because you are too perfect.” His eyes start to pool with tears and she wipes the salty water away. “I’m going to call the police and they are going to take care of it,” she informs, pulling out her phone.

“No, please, don’t. I need you. I need you to stay.”

“It’s all I can do, Rafe. Look what we had was magic, but you turned it tragic. So I really don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“I want you to say that you are going to take me back.”

She lets out a low laugh, “You are a maniac.” Y/N leaves his side, listening to him whine as she goes to call the police. She couldn’t take any more of his bullshit. It breaks her heart that all he ever wants to do is use her for help and pretend like he really wants her to stay. He doesn’t love her. He made that clear when they broke up.

———

The next time he calls is during the day. He had just snorted a shit ton of coke and he was feeling his regret at a tenfold. “Come on, Y/N. Pick up. Pick up, Beautiful,” he begs into the phone at the continual sound of the call dialling. One ring. Two rings. After the third ring, he is sent to voice mail. 

She looks down at the phone, pressing the red button with a shake of her head. “He’s a maniac if he thinks I’m going to come back.”

 Rafe throws the phone against the wall, screaming as this is sinking in. He lost her and he was never going to get her back. This thought is enough to turn him into a maniac. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fic #rafe #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe fluff #outerbanks #outer banks rafe #outer banks x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #obx fic #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #obx x reader #obx x you #obx x y/n

[mikkokomori]

IDK why, but I just had an idea for a sort of Frankenstein AU- Sunny dies, and Mari goes full mad scientist to revive him.

Imagine: Sunny dies in a horrible accident. The friend group is devastated, and Mari blames herself. She tears herself up about what could have been done, how she could have saved him. And then she gets the idea to bring him back.

From the friends' perspective, Mari's been growing more and more secretive for years. No one can get her to open the front door anymore, and the only times she's seen, she's out late at night, sneaking off with a shovel. Everyone's worried she'll do something to hurt herself or someone else, but they can't get a hold of her to check on her.

Then, one day, she just walks out of the house with Sunny right behind her. He's paler than ever, very clearly unsettled and confused, and if you look too close he has stitches everywhere, but he's undoubtably alive. Sure, he needs to have things replaced now and again, but its definitely Sunny!

("Mari... What did you do?" "Hmm? What do you mean? Everything's fine!")

("oh. uhm, no one look, please. My hand fell off.")

Normal big sister behavior.....! You just wouldn't understand......... Get back to her once you've spiralled far enough to revive your dead little brother, okay?

#omori #omori sunny #sunny omori #omori mari #mari omori #omori fanart #omori au #Frankenstein AU #anon asks #sunnys art #sunny doodles #sunny talks

[guess-my-next-obsession]

i am so excited for the new chapter you don’t even know!!! everything you write is incredible and i’m so in love with your fics! 🖤

and idk about this idea and how it would play into your headcanons for breakingupslowly!joel and reader, but lately i’ve been thinking about reader being in upset for whatever reason and lowkey taking it out on joel, snapping at him when he tries to ask her why she’s in a mood, and then he just claps right back at her with the same energy, but she breaks down and starts to cry and joel feels awful. but reader apologizes right away and just tells him she’s feeling down about something and hes like “why didn’t you just tell me, darlin, yknow i’m here for ya” and then she gives into his cuddles!🥺

Breaking Up Slowly: Drabble #1

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: M (relationship issues, mentions of sex, brief violence, arguments, brief talk of Sarah, soft ending)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: anon, i loveeeeeeedddddd this ask!! this is gonna be set at the beginning of their relationship when they were back in Boston.

series masterlist

It had been about a month since you and Joel took the leap from friends to something more, and although you were more than content with the physical aspect of your relationship, it was beginning to frustrate you how little he allowed you into his mind and heart. No matter how hard you tried to provide him with a safe place to open up, he seemed dead set against it. It was beginning to eat away at your confidence. Why didn’t he trust you?

Even without taking into account your relationship troubles, the day had been a grueling one. A trade with a group of hunters that Joel and Bill used to be a part of had gone about as south as it could go without someone dying.

You, Joel, Tess, and Bill had gathered for the meeting, the four of you now running with the smugglers rather than the violent hunters. The trade was supposed to be a relatively simple one: ammunition for med supplies. You can take a guess at who wanted what. But nothing was ever so simple in this nightmare of a world.

After a long shouting match with threats of murder and all sorts of other nasty, nasty things, one of the hunters took it upon himself to lunge at you, landing a blow across your cheek. The ring he was wearing sliced a cut onto your cheekbone, but the wound was nothing life-threatening. Regardless, Joel rectified the situation by swinging a crowbar at the man’s kneecap, shattering it and breaking his leg.

“Go!” he shouted, looking only at you. Your brows furrowed as you looked to the other two in your group, gesturing at them. “I said go.”

With a huff, you ran off back to your apartment, frustrated by his chivalrous act and protective nature when you probably should have been grateful. All you could gather from his order was that he saw you as a weak link, a liability.

He didn’t think you could hold your own out there.

Hours later, you found yourself back in your apartment, nursing the wound on your cheek while eating the pack of shitty ramen you’d picked up at the ration supply. The sound of pouring rain outside your window filled the darkened apartment as you sat on your sofa, staring blankly at the water droplets racing each other down the glass, your frustration turning to anger the longer he took to come home to you.

Not only did he not trust you with his heart and mind, he apparently didn’t even trust you to do your job. The job you’d been doing long before he ever came along. The job you’d been hard at work perfecting while he was off running with the hunters.

The door swinging open pulled your eyes from the windowpane, your stare full of irritation as his wet, muddy boots squelched along the hardwood of your apartment.

“Couldn’t wipe your feet at the door?” you snapped before shoveling some of the noodles into your mouth, turning your eyes back to the window. Joel sighed as he hung up his jacket and took his boots off, his lack of response only fueling the anger that festered inside of you.

When he walked into the kitchen, he seemed to not give a damn about your obviously upset state, his heavy hands opening and closing cabinets and drawers driving you half-mad as you sat there trying to tune him out with your jaw clenched.

“You want a beer?” His voice was just as snappy as yours when he finally spoke, causing you to whip your head around with furrowed brows and a pointed stare.

“Do I want a fucking beer?” you snapped, Joel’s deadpan forcing all of the words you’d been swallowing to surface in your throat. “What I want is for you to tell me why you don’t fucking trust me to do my job.”

Joel rolled his eyes and popped the cap on his beer, swallowing half of it in one chug. You stood up and walked to the kitchen, your shoulder hitting his as you breezes past him, tossing your food into the garbage as your appetite disappeared.

“God damn, you’re in a mood today,” he sighed and walked to the sofa. You fought the urge to throw your bowl across the room at him. “Most people would be thankful—“

“Thankful? For fucking what, Joel? For you sending me home after a little fucking punch? I’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten, and you think a little punch is too much for me?” You stomped over at him and stood in front of him as he sat on the sofa, giving you that famous scowl of his. “You don’t fucking trust me out there, you don’t trust me in here—“

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout? If I didn’t trust you out there, why would I willingly join a team with you on it? If I didn’t trust you in here, why would I be sat here with a damn beer, my gun left back at my own damn place?” He watched you carefully as you tried to stop yourself from crying, from letting him know the real reason you felt so insulted today. “You want to enlighten me on what’s really goin’ on, darlin? Or you just gonna keep on starin’ at me in hopes I figure it out?”

“You’re—“ you stopped yourself from speaking, your tone too harsh for the vulnerability you were about to show. Taking a deep breath, you groaned at the tears that had started to spill despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. Joel sighed too, setting his beer down and standing up, his hands resting on both sides of your face, avoiding the swollen cut on your cheek.

“C’mon,” he attempted to guide you into your bedroom, the only place the two of you knew how to give yourselves over to one another, but you stopped him with a frustrated click of your tongue.

“No, Joel,” you shined in protest, nearly stomping your foot like a child. Joel looked at your with a furrowed stare, confused by your display of frustration. You gestures towards your bedroom and sighed. “You only ever want me like that. You only trust me enough to fuck me.”

“What?” He guffawed at your accusation, his hands perching on his hips.

“You don’t open up to me, you don’t talk to me, you don’t…you just want to fuck me,” you spoke in a small voice, your eyes unable to meet his as you uttered the last few words. Joel sighed, his hand raking over his face as he looked down at the floor and shook his head.

“Ain’t true.” That was all he said for a while, the two of you standing there unable to meet each other’s eyes as you tried to work out something to say that wouldn’t turn into a fight.

“I don’t know anything about you,” you finally spoke, sitting down on the sofa and letting your head fall into your hands. “I try to earn your trust, to give you the space to open up to me, but…nothing I do is good enough—“

“That ain’t it,” he snapped, sitting down beside you. “I just ain’t…an open book like that. It ain’t you, baby.”

You let out a huff, turning to look at him with softer eyes. It was hard to remain upset at him when he used that pet name, which was probably why he saved it for special occasions. Reaching over, you laid the back of your hand on his thigh, offering it up for him to hold. Joel looked down at it for a moment before intertwining his fingers with yours, lifting your knuckles to his lips to kiss them.

“I’ll try…just…be patient with me,” he whispered, turning his hazel eyes to yours. You flickered a smile and nodded, resting your head on his shoulder as the two of you sat staring out of the window. “I…had a daughter. Before all this.”

You tried not to show your shock, not wanting to come off too strong and scare him away from telling you anything in the future.

“Where is she now?” You asked and immediately regretted it. You should’ve known by now that this world was a cruel one, and Joel Miller didn’t seem the type to abandon his child. “Sorry…stupid question.”

“It’s alright,” he kissed the top of your head. “I don’t like talkin’ about it. Don’t like thinkin’ about it.”

“You don’t have to say anything more,” you assured, turning your face to kiss his clothed shoulder. “You telling me anything is a start. I just wanted to know that this was just…sex.”

“It’s more than that, baby. No matter how hard I try to fight it. You’re more than that.” He let go of your hand, repositioning himself on the sofa so that he was laying on his back, guiding you to lay on top of him. You nuzzled into his chest and hummed at his warmth beneath you, the two of you having yet to have such a tender moment like this without sex being involved. “I trust ya. In every aspect. Alright?”

You nodded, nearing sleep. “Good. I trust you too.”

taglist: @uselsshuman @joelmillerscoffee @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @harriedandharassed @trickstersp8 @trinkets01 @jlmaddinson @laureliciousdefinition @oh-no-a-whovian @buoyfriend @chorraich @extraneous-trip @oliviajdjarin @wumpsquill @love-affair-with-fandoms @graciexmarvel @amb11 @t0fudaddy @reigndropss @wondeerfull @multifand0m-gal0re @bfences @hypnoash @chronic-aly @wheresarizona @pedropascalsx @xocalliexo @myswficlist @untitledarea @lexloon @bbyanarchist @alwayslurkinginthebackground @rocketrhap3000 (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed! and if your name is crossed out, it just means your tag wasn’t working!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #breaking up slowly #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x y/n #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou fic #tlou joel

[most-canon-non-canon-ship-poll]

they're toxic + mike is gay and in denial

Why Mileven is shit - a submission-based essay, part 1/3

Mileven - a currently canon het ship from the Stranger Things fandom between Michael (Mike) Wheeler and Jane (Eleven) Ives/Hopper/Byers/IDK

12 years old girl raised in a lab is thrown in a relationship with the first boy she ever meets. They constantly fight, lie to each other and develop a unhealthy co-dependent bond. The boy has a close ambiguous relationship with his male best friend which leads a good part of the fandom thinking that he is actually gay. People who stan this ship constantly throw homophobic slurs to this male best friend and some even argue that they hope he dies of AIDS next season

Where do I even begin. I do not care what anyone says the chemistry is not there. Another cog in the Should Have Never Been Written As A Couple machine. What made them cute in earlier seasons was their platonic dynamic and Mike's kindhearted nature to help her. It is hilarious this is apparently their "flagship" and "main" couple when they have the least amount of chemistry and the poorest written out of the others. They are not their best selves together, not only hurting themselves, but the people around them. Mostly Will, which is clear as day in Season 4. At the end of Season 4 I am so to the nth tired of the same shit different shovel with them. I am probably too gay to see The Vision fans of them see, but I do have eyes and it looks to me like they've been slowly crumbling. There is no foundation for their relationship they were barley friends a week before Mike kissed her and then she vanished for a year. They maybe had a little bit of interaction between closing the Gate and Snow Ball. Kissed again. Then spent all summer making out and ditching their friends until El comically broke up with him. Their relationship is exhausting to watch. The drama eats up too much screen time. I am tired of watching them hurting themselves staying together. There is no meaningful conversations since maybe Season 2. In Season 4 what could have been one ended poorly and the other interrupted comically. They've dragged out the Mike saying "I love you" story line, seemingly concluding it while El was being strangled in a Mind Scape trying to save Max who was also in said Mind Scape being slowly to tortured to death. Said confession prompted by using Will's own veiled confession disguised as El's an episode earlier. Plus Will using his own words to encourage Mike to help her. He did to help her, but that was painful to watch there was so much going on! Then they expect me to believe they're better than ever afterwards when there is nothing to indicate that? I need them to break up please free them. Free me. I am over it bro.

My propaganda is *drum roll*. Season 4. That's it. I am putting faith in the other haters to submit something coherent. I do not have the energy unfortunately. It is shit now, but would be even more shit if they finish the show endgame. I do not care about them. I want focus on the supernatural plot!! I want focus on characters and conversations that don't revolve around or circle to their relationship! I don't want to see another character to become a mouth peice for Opening Their Eyes and What Really Matters and they'll "Work out." I am exhausted of third parties putting more effort into Mileven than Mike and El themselves. I want them to be their own people because they come off miserable together. They both vocalize their pain and no one that ships them cares! I have never in my years of watching shows have seen such a terrible,boring and annoying couple championed as much as Mileven. Every other canon couple in the show is miles better, yet are over shadowed. They are holding together by Elmer's glue and popsicle sticks. Them being boyfriend and girlfriend means nothing to me when the chemistry is not there. Final propaganda- Most of the more vocal fans are homophobic and go out of their way to harass others.

Two incredibly written characters that have so much potential outside of a relationship. seriously their relationship is absolutely erasing all and any personality that the show gave them separately. That and they're just incredibly toxic, el literally met mike almost first thing after living in a lab her entire life, she has no reason to start a romantic relationship, especially at that age. mike is also super insecure, and using el's love towards him to ease said insecurities. incredibly unhealthy on both sides how this became the main ship of the show absolutely BAFFLES the fuck out of me

#propaganda #why [ship name] is shit #the (s)hit list #not a poll #anti milkvan #anti mileven #byler #kinda? #idk y'all will like it

[ofmermaidstories]

ok lemme tell you about the dream i had last night, with the end of the world, and bakugou, and his little classmates.

I’m on a beach. It’s overcast; the sea is white and gray and violent. this is the culmination of an earlier part of my dream, but i don’t remember it. all i know is that i’m standing on this beach with my graduating class except my graduating class is made up of BNHA characters and also, everyone else beyond the beach is dead.

the beach is split into two halves; our half, and then this massive, yellow sandstone structure in the middle, built like a fortress, and then the second half of the beach on the other side. The fortress blocks out most of our view of the other half of the beach—Class B, from my hero, are over there, getting ready in the same way we are. i’m worried because we have no way of communicating with them without physically going through the fortress but there’s bigger fish to fry—we’re getting ready to hold of an attack of zombies.

it’s stupid. they play by dream-rules. we just have to hold them off through the night, in the dark, until the morning when the sun makes them useless. but also being by the sea is stupid too, because they can come through the water. we’re basically left open for attack and we just have to do the best we can. no one’s expecting to survive this last wave, i think; everyone’s lost family or friends, we’re literally the last dredges left. it doesn’t matter: the zombies come. through the water, behind us from the dark green embankment. i’m trying to fight them off with small things—screwdrivers, ice picks, whatever is pointy but i’m getting too close to them, one grabs me and i yelp as i try to wrestle a kitchen knife into it’s eye (i win). i stumble away from it when it drops, and there’s a red wheelbarrow with a shovel and i grab it, ready to drive it into the soft decaying gaps of their necks but it’s daybreak and everyone else is cheering—the zombies are gone, we’ve survived. i’m relieved, but now i’m like, oh, fuck, i have to pack for the evacuation.

(i dunno what evacuation, but just bare with me)

but there’s a problem. everyone on our side of the beach is dropping in gratitude, or pushing the bodies out sea, cleaning up and as i’m picking up things around the fortress, the back pathway behind it that leads to the other side and the other half the beach, i realise something: i can’t hear any noises, any sounds of similar celebration, from the other side. the other class.

my stomach drops. the fortress is very tall, and very silent and is like, a warren of hallways and rooms and blind corners. i think, no, surely not—

but Bakugou’s behind me, silent and suspicious. maybe he’s noticed the same thing, idk, idc, but there’s a few others now and we’re paused, on our side of the pathway behind the fortress, when kendo and tetsutetsu shuffle out.

they’re grinning at us. kendo’s wearing tetsutetsu’s jacket. he’s shirtless. it makes it easier to see the gouging in his stomach, the way his innards are spilling out, loose and too few. she’s covered in blood and her mouth is covered in blood and i’m going to be sick, and they lurch at us and it’s Bakugou that incinerates them.

“they’re all gone,” i say in horror. “there’s no way—”

bakugou’s mouth just thins grimly, and eventually our cleanup party extends to taking out the rest of the walking dead that was their year mates.

(the dream starts to trail off here, like the world and the in-dream logic is beginning to crumble. i’m in the fortress, edging around corners, wary of zombies: instead i find a bedroom with a huddle of my old toys on the bed, all sentient and all very mad with me, because i am leaving them behind to evacuate. i don’t know what to say. i’m a little scared of them—why the fuck are they talking?—but also i’m trying to explain to them that i can’t take them, i don’t have the space or luxury to, i can’t fit them and what i need into my bag. Bakugou’s there, still frowning, keeping the floor swept of zombies. as i explain to them they can’t come, he’s trying to clear a space in his bag so i can bring one, or two. but then it’s a matter of choosing who leave behind, and despite how much they freak me out, i feel bad.

we have to leave soon. i wake up and it’s an overcast day.)

#mermie’s dream diary

[desceros]

Long time reader but unfortunately not always consistent in commenting 😅

Just wanted to yell and scream at you/p

I KNEW IT! I mother fudging knew it! Like the fact this is told from Reader’s perspective, he never called her girlfriend or anything like that. Plus, I what really confirmed it for me before you updated was when you recently answered that question I think about the title of the fic, you said there were four arcs. FOUR ARCS! And if I’m understanding correctly, we’re only in the second so I knew you were going to break us in the best worst way 😫

The only thing I’m trying to figure out is if Leo knew. Like, don’t get me wrong, I love me some blurple but what if Leo knew but wasn’t sure how to break it to her because he saw all the positive she was doing for Donnie. Though Leo is a sweet guy, I honestly wouldn’t put it pass him to be like, “I wanna hug my brother and yeah, this sucks, she must know what this is and though I don’t understand why someone would settle for a mockery of a relationship, if that’s what makes her happy and if that’s what helps my brother…why not see what else she can fix?” Okay, maybe not that last part but like, what if it wasn’t romantic longing (even though I LOVE “Both? Both? Both,” relationships in fics) but he was looking at her with idk, maybe guilt or trying to calculate how he could balance an equal transaction of care (from him and the others) to make up for the inevitable shitstorm. THAT’S why he was mad at the party because he thought Donnie was using/forcing you/allowing you to think your relationship was more than just an experiment.

Sorry, that was a ramble. I hope that made sense. I had been holding in for a bit. Your writing is amazing. You genuinely make my day, even when you shovel feed us angst. Thank you for sharing your wonderful work! ❤️

oh don't apologize, i love hearing people's theories and comments!!! even the ones that are just like. keyboard smashes are really funny to me hehehehe.

especially now that we know that violist-chan is not a perfectly reliable narrator, man, that opens the door for all KINDS of stuff!!! who KNOWS what could happen?! (<- knows what's gonna happen)

as for leo... well. i'd keep an eye on him. you never know what that little goober is up to with that 4d chess brain of his. :)

#ask tag #symphony tag

[sixrealmsbeneaththesea]

Ugh this site makes me feel like a psychopath (not affectionate). Anyways. while i continue to work on shit and talk at myself like said psycho, i made some sloppy sketches to figure out halvah's translation from totk to ocarina of time. because why am i all over a ghost girl right now?? i also want to be a ghost and shed this mortal coil. right, here i go~

nix the floppy ears, and take elements from dampe, finally giving her that shovel staff. origin story? well holding over elements from her totk torture, I would place her as a relative of dampe (when making the bargainer lore, i had the idea of naming him as the tribe’s great ancestor who first spoke to the bargainers), so here’s that connection again. her and her fam are still forest hippies that commune with spirits but dampe was like nah im good, imma jus handle undertaking in kakariko. but her parents and siblings get ganked by hylian/gerudo crossfire once again and she’s orphaned. the mom knew just enough ghost magic to bind herself to halvah and be able to linger with consciousness intact. dampe takes his estranged niece in, but he’s not good at it so she grows up weird. weirder.

this is off the top of my head. but im feeling it~

i figured if i wrote another story, probably unsmutty, but about as dark... it would now be delightful tomfoolery! i have to kill her again, but that's about the only way you get bona fide ghosts, but... just the idea of her tryna haunt oot!ganondorf gives me a personal chuckle. just, fics that fuck, fuck with, fuck over villains (gimped wesker lol) tickled a fancy i didnt know i had. hylia forbid if she made it into the shadow temple though. she’s not an especially malicious spirit after death (good nature will always be her undoing) but as a spiritmage/ghostmancer, she gets a ghost mob boost when also a ghost. so for all the dps she doesn’t do, her buffing actual angry ghosts would be a bad time.

for now, she can just be a poe nuisance with her poe mom (couldn’t hold on to the poes of her dad and brothers this time around).

twice i’ve drawn oot!doof with his shoulders drawn in, like ew ghosts. ew ectoplasm. ectoplasmic coochie haunting him. deleting that pic, though, i’ll draw another that’s better. but halvah flipping him off THROUGH the back of his head briefly gave me life. next will be uselessly kicking him through the stomach or groin lol, idk. instead of making halvah a victim of cruel and unusual carnal punishment, i want to be like a fucking monkey on a dork’s back.

that’s about it.

#sketch #loz oc #totk oc #oot oc #ghost girl #i realized that maybe i am making her like klaus from umbrella academy #is anybody still interested in that series i ask as if anybody will reply lol #but i still need to see the last season #someday i guess

[capybaraonabicycle]

Dragon's teeth🦷 and fire🔥

Thank you so much!! I will send you one, too, if that's alright <3

Still gonna talk about the cat fic because that's on my mind like every day right now.

Teeth: share a snippet that was difficult for you to nail down/required a lot of revisions.

Since I have not really done any proper editing yet, I can give you something I am not happy with yet? I might completely cut it from the work, actually, but it has changed already and probably will again. The main points are

I need to do a lot more research on dyspraxia because I want River to be a little supportive at least and not completely out of her depths like I am feeling

I should maybe not have Ryan talk about Yaz's love life behind her back? I know he's bound to be curious but I think he'd let her have her privacy and try not to get involved unless she asks him to. Idk I might keep it but make River bring her up instead? But like, I also don't think River would talk about Yaz to him behind her back and it could very quickly come off as objectifying - which she definitely isn't above but not with someone like Yaz who she genuinely cares about and who does not know her very well. Teasingly to her face? Maybe. But not behind her back.

"Mate, I'm just not sure I should be shooting a weapon" Ryan admitted. "Not that I don't want to, but - real life isn't GTA and I have not had proper weapons training - not like you or Yaz. And if you're actually going to shoot these aliens - I am not sure I can do that." There was a small pause, then River said: "The Doctor would be proud of you." "Yeah" Ryan said and Yaz could tell her was uncomfortable with the subject but secretly pleased. "Whatever." "I'll just fetch you some defensive weapons then" River decided. "To be safe. And you can be the one to apply the memory stick while Yaz and I distract them." "That means creeping around their station unseen" Ryan figured. "There were a bunch of ledges and ladders there." "I know" River's voice was more gentle than Yaz had heard it before. "But you can do this. You'll take it slow and if you stumble, you get up again. We'll give you plenty of time. Yaz is good in a fight, I can tell." "Thanks" Ryan said. He didn't sound completely convinced, but a tad reassured. For a while they were silent, the only sound their rummaging around, then he asked something that made Yaz's heart stop. "Do you fancy her? Yaz?" "Obviously" River answered. "I have not been subtle, darling." "Sorry if I originally assumed your taste in romantic partners was strange, being married to the Doctor and all" he deadpanned and she laughed loudly. "Be careful, kid, don't disrespect your dad." Ryan spluttered. "I don't think of the Doctor as my dad!" he insisted. "Oh, you do!" River said and Yaz had to bite her hand to muffle her snickering. "I've seen you two together. It's adorable!" "Whatever" Ryan huffed. "Why are you asking about Yaz?" River asked. "Want to give me the shovel talk? You should remember that you're talking to the most dangerous assassin of the 52nd century. I don't think you could threaten me if you tried." "I could hide the whiskey?" he offered. "And I was wrong" River claimed good-naturedly. "See? I know all your weaknesses" Ryan said. "No, but seriously, I'm not giving any shovel talks. I know that Yaz can look out for herself. I guess I was just curious, her being my best friend and all. Don't want her to get hurt. But like, she can make her own decisions, of course. I'm merely ready to hold you still so she can punch you when push comes to shove." "Noted" River said. "You're a good friend to her." "I try."

Mmmhya, Idk. I think there is ample reason for Yaz to eavesdrop on them and I like the opportunity to show them together a little. I like to think that they would be best friends immediately, seeing as how they spent so much time together when River was a cat. So to generally HAVE this scene is a good idea imo. But I'm really unsure about the execution.

Fire: share a snippet with some dialogue you’d like to show off.

To be fair, I am not entirely sure, Yaz would say 'no biggie'. So I might have to look for an alternative there. But I had so much fun writing that bit of dialogue:

"Great" Yaz muttered. "The Doctor's wife has kissed me. No biggie." "And she would do it again if you asked her to" River winked, pushing herself off the clothing rack and past Yaz, closer than would have been necessary. "Come on, darling, let's go save our wife, then!" "She isn't my wife" Yaz called, hurrying after her. River threw a glance over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling. "-yet." "Stop it" Yaz huffed. This was all giving her way more hope than was good for her. "Hah" River tipped her head back again, grinning at the ceiling. "Make me!" Yaz shook her head to herself. "And here I thought you were insufferable as a cat." "Oh, honey, you haven't seen the half of it yet!"

Just to clarify : Yaz loves Siren very much. The 'insufferable' refers to her aggressively shipping thasmin. Also, they haven't actually kissed. I mean, not like that. Really, for a shipping fic there have been precious few kisses so far. (but loads of platonic handholding and platonic (?) cuddling ❤️)

Hope you liked the snippets! Despite one of them being - let's say unfinished. But I am kinda thriving, having sent the Doctor away and giving Yaz and Ryan some time to get to know River before seeing them together. I think that was a good decision, for me personally mostly :)

#thank you so much for the ask!! #marvellouspinecone #Ryan x River is a great platonic ship and you can't convince me otherwise #I have actually written for them before once #They both immediately think the other is so cool <3 #At least that's what's happening in my mind #Plus River sees Ryan interacting with the Doctor and goes 'note to self: we've got a son now' #I'm still not that happy with the low ratio of Graham in this fic #I fear Graham fans will be disappointed 😕 #But there's 5 main characters AND a TARDIS (who's also so much in the background I am so sorry TARDIS my love) it's hard to juggle

[quietwingsinthesky]

More titles!! (no pressure)

- AITA for """"being insane"""" about My Little Pony

- ah yes. me, my partner, and their 1000 dollar four foot tall blahaj

- Goin' faster than a roller coaster >:)

- googly eyes and other things your stomach can't digest

- that awkward moment when you realize you've been dead for days

- r/relationship_advice: my (cute) neighbor keeps trying to kill me but I'm immortal

- Report: Average Male 4,000% Less Effective In Fight Than He Imagined

- ball handler https://youtu.be/bh9KvSDxU5w

- jailbreak

- I love you but we need to talk about the goat

LIGHTNING ROUND PT 2

terrible early 2010s creepypasta involving hyperrealistic ponies with knives

2. this is about raphael. we all know this is about raphael. it's their blahaj and they love it and it WILL be sleeping in the bed with them and gabriel thank you very much

3. crack reinvention of lucifer's s5 approach towards sam, in which he is trying his very best to get angel-married to a guy he just met, after being stuck in a cage for centuries, and every other archangel is going D: because this is not actually the normal way to approach a vessel. sam gets many shovel talks and has no idea why.

4. mass effect fic about baby krogan. 'nuff said.

5. godstiel doesn't manage to kill raphael! it's a miracle. except. no one can see them. or hear them. and as the world continues to collapse in on themselves, they are forced to watch as their brothers are destroyed and heaven falls and there is nothing they can do about it (raphael whump yippee <3)

6. samwena stanford au where. idk. rowena is around and doing witch shit and sam goes 'oh shit i better take care of that'. he is so out of his league it isn't even funny, but also he's very cute and a milf magnet and so she's taking him as her new boytoy (and then along the way acquires far more feelings than she expected. so does sam.) this all makes the 'dean coming to get him in the pilot' plot a lot more complicated.

7. Michean fic where michael goes to fetch his true vessel himself instead of sending zachariah. dean keeps stabbing him. he won't even let michael get started on his speech about how this is all god's will and inevitable and the right thing to do as good sons, he just goes straight for the stabbing. and like. it doesn't actually hurt michael. but still. it's rude.

8. (ajslajdklasjdlk that clip) anyway in honor of this. sastiel blow job fic. with. ball handling :) sam is getting those balls in his mouth and no one can stop him

9. correct me if im wrong but wasn't crowley stuck in the dungeon in s9 when gadreel killed kevin? been forever since i watched s9 i do not like it lmao BUT. my point is. kevin & crowley team up. they hate each other. unfortunately if they do not do this one or both of them will die. plus at this point kevin is so fed up with sam & dean that he's like. Fuck it! At least Crowley would pay me for this shit! because crowley actually values his assets <3 actually hold on is this evolving into like a crowley sugar daddy au what is happeni-

10. castiel gets turned into a goat. sam knows this but he has also been cursed and cannot tell anyone that castiel is, currently, a goat. dean does not know about either of these things and shenanigans ensue as sam is really, really insistent that they need to get goat!castiel into the impala. (goat!castiel is not helping because he has discovered the vinyl impala seats are very yummy.)

#ask

[bard-llama]

I’m 9 fics away from having 400 fics on AO3!!! So I am trying to come up with titles for some of my WiPs that can begin to be published. Why are titles so hard???

Some fics that might be ready to post:

I’m just going through my docs to make a list, so there’s more than 9 here lol

Iorveth gets captured by the Throne3 and they head towards Temeria to deliver him to Roche. Maybe calling it Bound for Temeria? The main plot is that Gascon and Iorveth are shackled together (as a security measure; Gascon’s idea) and end up separated from the others. So they continue the journey and get to know each other lol

Post-W3 with Ciri getting ready to become Empress and Geralt is summoned before Emhyr bc he killed the Ofieri Prince in Hearts of Stone and that’s kind of a problem. Especially because Ofier is Nilfgaard’s only ally. Might not sound like it, but this is actually a Ciri/Cerys fic lol. Because the political solution to the mess is for Ciri to be arranged in marriage to the Malliq. And also to Morvran, bc she needs to consolidate power in the capital. But she’s with Cerys and scared of losing her. Meanwhile Cerys just wants Ciri to be able to feel like she has some control over her life.

Two fics in the same series:

One where Iorveth and Saskia approached Roche to try to recruit him to their side (both because it would be highly advantageous, but also because they wanna bone him)

One where Roche introduces Iorveth and Saskia to his mom, because when the plan goes into effect, everything will change and he wants them to know where to find him. Because they haven’t asked him to come with them when they leave for the Pontar Valley.

Hmm, I have a few Throne3 Meve/Gascon-centric shorts but idk if I wanna make a new shorts collection or just add to an existing one. On the other hand, I don’t think I have a TB-specific one yet.

Reynard and Roche share a few words about Gascon at a diplomatic party. Not actually sure if this is a standalone or something that’s part of a series of like, conversations between different duos. 

Okay, I’ve been calling this one the Northern Realms’ Party Favor, but that is not necessarily a good title lol. The tone is more serious than that implies. Kinda connected to the previous one in that the initial idea was pairing random duos up and seeing what conversations happened. But then it kinda turned into... porn with plot??? So the premise is that historically, when the Northern Kings meet, the host provides a “party favor” for them all to enjoy when negotiations are complete. Roche has served as the party favor in the past and ends up telling Gascon about it. Gascon decides it sounds fun and might be his only chance to ever be with Meve, so... This turns into Gascon gathering intel while getting fucked and somehow eventually leads to some confrontations about the Lodge of Sorceresses and also the throne3 get together.... somehow???

A Thronebreaker fic about Meve and Reynard discovering just what Caldwell promised the Strays and very much not understanding why Gascon would want Spalla and Scala.

I think I’ve shared snips of this one, but it starts with Meve and Gascon’s first clash when she has him captured and he refuses to be cowed. Then we get the power reversal where Gascon holds the key to letting Meve out of prison. And... tbh no idea what happens after that.

One where someone takes offense at a former criminal pretending at being respectable hanging around the queen and decides to do something about it. Gascon ends up a captive of an old ‘ally’ while the court thinks he got cold feet and ran and Meve tried very hard not to think that, especially because the alst thing he’d done was dance with her at a ball.

The Strays giving Meve and Reynard the shovel talk

A short fic that might be a 5+1 where people make armor/clothes for Knickers

A longfic about Dijkstra & Roche slowly developing respect for each other as they face off while Roche is Redania’s captive in the past interspersed with Roche being held captive somewhere in the present.

An isendain fic about their first meeting and how they get together

A fic where Iorveth is suspicious about what Roche has been up to in his forest. Meanwhile, Roche builds a cabin for Iorveth.

Okay, I haven’t gone through my rorveth WiP docs yet, but I gotta go to work, so for now, this is the list of options that need titles so I can publish them.

#rorveth #throne3 #isendain #ciri x cerys #iorveth x roche #meve x reynard x gascon #isengrim x eldain #the witcher #WiPs

[namimikan]

alright, finished the main story of the monstrous duke's adopted daughter. cute!

actually surprised that i did actually enjoy watching the salvator fam notice leslie and conrad holding hands. those narrowed eyes were great!

not a fan of what happens immediately afterwards, tbh? bc like. i just don't vibe with overprotectiveness re: daughters dating, and so i got a little annoyed at cy/beth/ruenti's immediate -- well, it's not quite shovel talk or peacocking, but it's annoying!

the duke's reaction was good, tho, and her going well, i don't think anyone's good enough for leslie, but! if leslie's happy, then so be it. immediately followed up by leslie saying you said if i should ever want to marry, i should find a cute boy, and azela agreeing he is cute!

idk, the salvator fam were consistently protective, which i think is... fair, i get why they'd act this way? (not to mention, leslie's original upbringing, then i'm v. much charmed at the effort they go to look after her, and they do learn to be like she's family, and i respect her decisions once the timeskip happens, but, it's just. overprotective fam when it comes to daughters dating bugs me) but i'm just curious to know if cy would also be like. searching for a sword. if beth or ruenti found a wife. 'cause like. cy at least, wasn't looking for one when leslie mentions she has a new friend, but was until the moment leslie clarifies that her newfound friend isn't a boy.

i guess i'm also kind of annoyed bc conrad was a friend of the family from the start, and i suppose i'd be more understanding of the whole 'no boy is good enough for my daughter' if the salvator fam hadn't met the bf before? so he was a stranger and they were uncertain and wary bc they don't know what he's like or if they'll even get on? but i guess, friend or not, conrad is... a boy like any other, and just. idk. i don't like it.

i'm glad ellie's not dead tho! i kind of pitied her throughout, but her being sent away and never meeting leslie again is for the best. hopefully she meets kind people for the first time in her life and learns from that!

#manhwa blogging #currently: the monstrous duke's adopted daughter

[chrliebot]

just took two melatonin then i realized i had to put on thw duvet cover. i would rather be high in front of my grandparents. but then it wasnt so bad and i start work again tmrw and my dads college friend is visiting and idk if she accepts trans or not and i cant work it up to ask my dad if he told her abt me because it feels self centered and i dont want to bring up trans too much yknow one of the first things i remember my mom saying after i came out was that i should try not to talk about trans all the time and be annoying about it to my friends and so i try to bring it up minimally but given how large of a part of me it is i do talk abt it a lot. and so then when it comes to things like this i really think about it whether or not its worth asking even knowing i have the support there from my dad and from everyone in my life. i do think i would probably be bringing it up an annoying amount if i wasnt holding myself back a little but with how few people i talk to its hard keeping all my feelings about trans inside or writing it out on a tumblr post instead of talking about things with a real live person. which is why i really hope i can find a long term psychotherapist rn

idk man. thinking about mortality tonight. the individuality of my experience doesnt feel right or real. i want to be part of a hive mind or join the plants in annihilation. its overwhelming, the amount of choice in my life. and then past that how quickly and easily it can end.

and yknow the internet is a horrible place life is a horrible thing theres rot and brutality and people violently dying everyday. and that reality makes me feel so disconnected with everything around me. its like in this advertiser friendly hell theres no room for real life or people. theres no room for the harsh realities of life or the people around me or my feelings or my loud transness. and i dont know what to do with these feelings. theres not an answer there never is. life isn't a puzzle, it's a sandbox and i'm getting bogged down like always. i could be making pirate ships and playing like i'm in a battle with my brother but instead i'm poking at a small patch with a flimsy bright plastic shovel jabbing it an inch in pulling it out and revisiting the same cut thinking something might happen differently.! i wish i could express myself more openly and i wish i knew what exactly is it i want to express but i barely know who i am or where to start

#🤖 #diary

[abouquetofdaylillies]

Whenever my mother gets mad at me I get mad at her for having the audacity of not being happy with me. My first panic attacke were because of her. My first anxiety attacks were because of her. I was 8 9 and 10. I didn't ask for that yet she made me deal with it anyways. She purposefully carried me to term and raised me and screamed at me and hurt my soft little brain or maybe I was born hurt and she was just reacting to whay she saw in me I don't know. I feel bad for feel this way she never molested me or hit me with a shovel or locked me in z closet just made me feel scared and unwanted and fat and wrong I wanted her to hold me so much when I was q kid and sometimes I can't stand to have her touch me now as an adult Zhe disgusts me occasionally I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate me for not being loveable I hate her for not making me feel loved I feel she'd for feeling thus way I am 22 I should be more grown up but I'm not I'm trying the best I can to be grown up but I'm tireecand sore and aching all the time my heart hurts like it literally hurts I can feel it aching in my chest I don't want tovkill myself but I don't want to be here anymore I don't want all of this to be my problem still I don't know why to do I hate her she hates me we are bound together 2 things that couldn't be loved and did not get enough. She used to be so exhausted at the sight of my tears when I wasxkid so angry qbd disappointed I was exhausted of having them all the time something is wrong with me really wrong with me for crying so much. Maybe when I am old qnd I'm homeless or in prison or in my own place or maybe in a nice little home with someone I love I doubt it I'll feel less confused about what I feel now and it'll feel so far away and I can love her without conditions or fear and love with the purity I had as a kid. I'm trying to stand up for little me. Be someone who would keep her safe. But I'm scares too she's scared and I'm scared idk if we'll outgrow it. I need to get high. I think my brain was built wrong I wasn't meant to be I was meant to be aborted thats why the world doesn't fit around me right I'm the wrong shape.

[homeschoolrecords]

Raylyn was so impressed/inspired by Jack's earning money shoveling snow, she's been asking what equivalent she could do around here. I said idk it's tough bc it has to be something like that- something everyone has to drudgingly do, lucky MO gets snow, but Will nor I nor her could think of anything.. she's been pondering and pondering since. She asked again today, Mom have you thought of anything yet? Will goes, Raylyn have YOU come up with anything yet? No, that's why I asked mom. So first/it's kind of always been pet sitter/dog walker. So said then advertise and make known to people that's what you do, but then comes the issue of trusting you enough to have the keys to their house, trusting that you'll take proper care of their pets, and not let their dogs get away from you on a walk. She said well I can hold Chesney so.. I was like yeah but the trust thing, you might still be too young. Then after she planted these lilly bulbs she found by the creek in our garden, Will asked her to take out the trash. She comes back running with big smile on her face, Mom, I can take out people's trash!!! I was like wow! Yes, that's it!! Then goes in to tell Will. Wow! that's a good one Raylyn! Something that everyone has to do, but may not want to. So she's been writing out her sales pitch 😂 Thanks Jack!! ❣️

[tvheadfalls]

pls dont hurt them toby

#deltarune #deltarune kris #deltarune susie #draws #idk why shes holding a shovel...