#the down side though is the books Im reading dont have active fandoms or if they do they are small | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shattered-catalyst · 5 years

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So this isnt for anything other than just to say what happened just so I feel heard and I can explain why I cant be as energetic and socially active on here. Its not a callout post or to be reblogged/shared by people. Its not to get anyone in trouble or to cause any reaction. It’s just for me to let it out and reclaim this space again. Its been a year since it happened and I guess I’m just still noticing how badly it has impacted my PTSD. How much its changed me as a person both online and off, and this isnt a woe as me thing either this is just me feeling a need to be heard and explain my own behavior over the year and also to make one simple request of you guys: no matter what you do, always treat your rp partners as people first and writers second.

Because I feel myself becoming bitter and that isnt who I am and I dont want to be someone like that. Or like this. I want to be me again

The person who did this wont be named mainly because they dont deserve it and yall dont need to know. Their behavior when I confronted them more than cements the impression that they dont see any harm in what they said and how they reacted. And again this isnt about them though In A Way I suppose it is? it takes two to tango but it takes one to encourage someone to kill themselves.

This is going to be long because I need to inform on the activity that lead up to this because it didnt just happen over night- though in a way it did. But you need a better picture of this person because apparently they present a really great face that only a few of us see the manipulative and toxic side of.

This person was always very judgemental and hyper critical. I witnessed a lot of very negative and toxic behavior from them but I was naive and just hoped they would mature as they grew older and gained more independence. I thought it was just a toxic friend group and that perhaps she would recognize her self destructive and immature behavior and grow from it.

My first red flag should have been when they accused me of being their ex girlfriend SOLELY because I was living in PA. I hate to break it to yall, but PA is a big ass state and has a lot of comic book loving ladies. Thankfully I have never met this person IRL and I hope I never do.

They tried to pull me into making fun of other muns on discord, including mocking sensitive pictures from a mun’s personal blog. I blatantly said it wasnt okay and made me uncomfortable and she continued laughing and making jokes about it with her friend group on discord. She kept trying to pull me into it no matter how often I tried to change the subject.

Her group of friends also did this thing where one of them would go interact with a mun an they would take screenshots of the convo and share it with the group and mock the mun they were interacting with. Whether it be their presentation of character/grahics/writing style/ etc.

The other red flags I ignored? How much she complained and mocked other muns and compared them to me; if anyone did anything or said anything she disagreed with it was an instant blow up. She took EVERYTHING personally including other people writing the same characters she did, having differing headcanons, not knowng obscure details about canon, etc.

She once tried to make fun of a new writing partner I had who was writing the same character, and I had to break it to her that this new person could write in her first language if she wanted to; im being very vague but let me just say if you and your character have the same first language and you want to write in it then its completely WRONG for a white mun to try and make fun of you for it.

She once suggested I had stolen pictures off her pinterest when she sent me a moodboard request for my character. Jokes on her I didnt even know she HAD a pinterest and I had gotten all my pictures from the ‘green aesthetic’ tag on tumblr. Which I told her but she kept pushing the idea on me I had stolen them. I of course dismissed this and put it on the back burner despite the alarm bells going off.

This hyper critical and paranoid behavior continues with everything from other canon blogs making similar head canons/ vaguely similar graphics/ to fanfiction authors having similar head canons/plot ideas.

My penname Citrus? I didnt want one. I didnt want it. She demanded I have a pen name and if not she was going to call me Cat. Now as yall know I dont like being enmeshed with my muse so I keep myself separate from them. I didnt like being called Cat and I told her that explicitly. She kept doing it. So I had to make a pen name because she refused to respect my boundaries.

When the Deadpool movie came out she DEMANDED I change my FC to reflect the movie Despite Not Changing Hers to reflect her own characters new look - which might i add is fat erasure. It was clear then that the rules and standards she held other people to didnt apply to herself. I was labeled problematic for not giving into her demands to change FCs (which I have a literal logical reason for not changing and im not explaining that here)

So I shouldve left. Long story short I didnt because every friendship I’d been in until around this time had been abusive and toxic. I thought this was all normal behavior for people to have and I was convinced I was just being critical of someone elses opinions/ insensitive etc. Thanks to my colleagues in graduate school and to several of you on here I learned that ‘hey dumbass friends dont treat your ass like this’.

Im leaving a lot out about the shit she did/said to me but those snippets give you an idea of things.

Leading up she decided to leave fandom and asked we didnt talk about marvel I said cool okay and didnt talk about marvel with her. If I did I would ask first if she was okay if we talked about one small aspect I thought might excite her/ she would like to know about but it wasnt often that happened because she began ghosting me. Hard. She stopped replying to me at all over discord when I would try and talk to her how we used to about our lives. She didnt answer any asks for munday or character development, in fact she blatantly ignored me.

I checked in a couple times with her to make sure I hadnt done anything to make her uncomfortable and she said no. May I emphasize she said no here. Im emphasizing it right now. She said no. She said everything was fine. So when I was like hey dude this is super triggering for me can you send me like a hi every once in awhile just so I can know we’re okay because its super triggering for me. Yall know what she did? She ‘lmao’-ed. she thought that was hecka funny. Yeah triggering ‘Citrus’ is hilarious isnt it? No it isnt and I shouldve cut her ass off right then and there.

Heres where shit gets confusing: she kept fucking talking about marvel to me. Id get messages at random times about marvel and then silence for weeks. I vividly remember during this period I was cleaning the museum vault and she kept messaging me about her marvel fc’s and how she wouldnt get a plotline and how characters were wrong etc.

I remember being REALLY confused because she had said NO MARVEL. But here she was bitching at me about marvel. In fact thats all she did when she did talk to me. Which was only like three or four times during the ghosting time period. She’d bitch about marvel and then vanish.

Shed make claims about not watching her dash and thats why she never responded to me/ interacted with me. She’d say she wasnt talkng to anyone while I see her on the dash TALKING TO PEOPLE and Id like to point out Ive told her I would be fine ending anything as long as she let me know.

but she followed me on every blog and throughout this time period she made and followed me on numerous ones. She kept reaching out sporadically to bitch about her fcs/how horrible marvel was/ and thats it.

It was extremely confusing because if someone doesnt want to talk to me I assume they will; 1. unfollow 2. block 3. say goodbye 4. ghost and stay ghosted.

Not cycle through behavior rapidly. I asked her a few times if we were good and that I was confused and I got another ‘lmao’ reaction so I assumed we were good. At this point I still have no idea what was going on/ what message I was supposed to be receiving other than confusion.

So following this is heavily suicide tw and I encourage you not to read this part and to scroll down until the suicide tw is over which is highlighted in bold- if you’re triggered by that because I care about those who follow my blog.

So thats when this shit happened. I had tried reaching out to her on a different fandom platform to try and maintain the friendship. Because she said numerous times that we were friends. So like I reached out thinking maybe she just didnt want a marvel blog period. It wasnt too long after that that she suicide baited me.

I was in a really bad place and had been for awhile and when I posted about how the only thing holding me on was the new comic coming out and specifically said “im seriously suicidal and this comic is the only thing giving me hope #idk what to do anymore ”. I was surprised when she liked the post.

I was three steps into a four step plan. I had everything but the method planned out and was just waffling along with that. Because yknow its complicated and you do it you make it count amiright. Right. I was in a fucked up place. I had just realized I was gay, I was horrendously depressed, I was in considerable physical pain, I was working 70 hours a week, my OCD was at an all time high and the only thing that kept me on this earth was a fucking comic book. You hold onto what you need to yknow?

WELL APPARENTLY NOT

Because this person who doesnt read her dash? This person who doesnt want to talk about anything? Liked that post where I specifically stated I was suicidal and sent me a discord message saying “dont have hope”.

Thats all it said “dont have hope”

Now I know what youre thinking but hold on because it gets worse.

I said something about being confused I dont really remember because I was pretty out of it. I do remember she kept going on about how horrible the comic would be and that it would be a piece of trash. I remember telling her I was really numb and in a bad place and couldnt feel anything. I remember her sending me screencaps and continuing to go ON AND ON about how it wasn’t worth reading.

I remember with gross intensity how someone who said they were my friend was taking away the only thing that was keeping me alive.

I dont remember how the conversation ends. I called out of work for the next three days. I was catatonically depressed and unable to really move. I didnt eat either. I went to internship, work, and school in a state of dissociation.

I took screencaps of everything and set them aside for later. IDK what I was going to use them for but I set them in a folder on my desktop, looking back I regret what I did next; because I deleted them. I deleted them because I thought maybe she had been manic or drunk and hadn’t realized the scope of what was happening. I wanted to talk to her about it and clear things up because I believed in her. I believed there was no way she would be so callous as to do that on purpose. No way would someone try and get someone they called a friend to kill themselves. So I deleted the screencaps and my post on tumblr. I deleted all evidence to protect her and I encourage you all never to fucking do that even if you think that person misunderstood the gravity of your situation. Because if you’re wrong no ones going to believe you.

I remember shifting between intense depression and total denial.

I spent the rest of that month in and out of intense dissociative states when I wasnt in class or working with my clients. During the middle of October my sister sent me pictures of a litter of puppies and I was like ‘well, i really need to either kill myself or make sure i dont’. I spent a few days continuing to waffle with that decision but then i remembered my mom cosigned my loans and I cant leave her with that debt because fuck we cant even afford my funeral to begin with. So I adopted a dog, I named him Julio to remind me to keep living and he finally came to me on halloween.

He was the only reason I left bed on my days off. I tried not to think about it but I did.

I continued to spiral with heavier dissociative episodes and vivid nightmares about it.

SUICIDE TW OVER

I waited until Christmas to ask her to clarify the situation and let her know I no longer felt comfortable writing with her. I reminded her what happened and told her to check her discord if she wanted to see for herself etc.

She sent two long asks of combative, emotionally abusive, and gaslighting accusations. The first thing she did was say I needed to provide evidence if I went around making accusations like that. Then she cascaded into how I always talked about marvel *points up to where i explained what happened earlier*. She tried gaslighting me like a champion and tried turning me into a horrible person the only problem is everything she was accusing me of doing was the shit she was doing to me. Everything.

Even if I was bad at any time I had given her numerous chances to tell me I was overstepping a boundary- she always said no. I gave her numerous times to unfollow me if she wasnt interested in interacting with me- she never did. In fact I had unfollowed her that month because of her behavior towards me and she hadnt even noticed.

I let her know I could tell she was angry, and that I didnt take receipts of private conversations because I believed in settling things like adults, and that if she ever wanted any proof it was all in her discord anyway. I let her know she could contact me to apologize but otherwise I didnt want her on any of my blogs and I told her the first thing she should have done wasnt demand receipts but she should have asked if I was okay. Its a real reflection of where her priorities were when she demands evidence rather than checks to see if a writing partner is okay.

Even if I did something horrible it doesnt warrant someone trying to get me to end my life.

I was notified she put a post on her blog apologizing to her followers for being a bad friend and that she was a horrible person and ofc everyone was like ‘noooo youre perfect’ and its like ya thats not for me who hasnt followed her in months- thats to save face.

Her friends blogs kept visiting my profile and going through the month where this happened.

Everything she did and said was to save face. Her blog and her reputation are the only thing she cared about. She has never approached me to apologize or anything of the sort and I doubt she ever will. I would hope she would never do this again and I hope she has grown as a person since. That her life is better and her mother is okay, that shes happy and learning.

I know by posting this I will never receive an apology- then again i never expected one to begin with. I could go through all the trouble of restoring the deleted files but to be honest it isnt worth it because theres no room in my life for that type of toxicity.

Since this happened I:

I have stronger episodes of depression and dissociation since.

My PTSD has increased and I have week long spikes in anxiety attacks, depression and decreased self worth if I even see her around the rpc despite being blocked, blacklisted on xkit etc.

Have more difficulty completing basic self care tasks due to an increase in depression and a decrease in self worth.

I have nightmares about this event and her to this day a year later.

I cannot interact with the RPC how I once did as I fear seeing her on my dash or any sort of information getting back to her about me.

It took me half a year to see the character she wrote as as safe again and for awhile I couldnt even look at him without experiencing an anxiety attack.

I keep having nightmares. Its been a year and I still have nightmares about this.

I find myself having more difficulties connecting with people online especially on this blog. I’m constantly on edge when interacting with people and I feel spikes of anxiety at the merest thought of someone talking about me to her.

I find myself unable to have confidence as a writer or creator online because I have been reminder of the cement wall between oc characters and their canon counterparts.

I cannot go out and just follow anyone and be friendly and trusting with them anymore, even with people I already know. In the back of my mind is a constant reminder of how she and her friends used to check up on people and pretend to write with them/ interact with them just to take screenshots of conversations to share with the group. I have become a paranoid little bitch in the past year is what Im saying. like theres 0 need for that shit.

I blocked most of the people she interacted with simply to save myself from being triggered by her blogs/ mentions of her and that isnt fair to those people.

I remember the photo incident and how people derived such joy from mocking someones body. I can think of so many incidents of them making fun of others and I remember how that could be happening about me rn, and I wonder if anyone would stick up for me like I did for the other mun.

I hope by posting this I can try and return to the person I was before this happened. I can try and not be so bitter and reach out again to others. That somehow I can continue working on making tumblr a safe place for me again and not a PTSD laced minefield.

I would like to remind this isnt a callout and I request if you know who this is about you dont say anything to them. This isnt for them. They have NEVER reached out to apologize for their actions. They have NEVER checked to see if I was okay after that. They have NEVER shown any remorse for encouraging me to kill myself and while I hope they’ve grown from the situation and will never do it again I doubt I will ever get closure from such an event. But i DO hope by writing this I can take this place back.

Consider this my first step towards bringing this up to a therapist.

Consider this another step to me taking this blog back and feeling safer here; and maybe just maybe Ill make up a cool pen name for myself and own that shit.

If you’ve read this far thank you for your patience with me, and I request you always treat your writing partners like the people that they are.

This post is not intended or written to leave this blog and therefore I request you not reblog it or share segments of it with ANYONE. If I find you have shared anything on here without my explicit permission I will block you.

‘Citrus’

#suicide tw #gaslighting tw #emotional abuse tw

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oswald-privileges · 5 years

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Loudmouth

(I wrote some statement fic. It’s been a heck of a while since I wrote anything for fandom.)

Statement of Ulla Ness, regarding, um... a peculiar transformation. Original statement given March 14th, 1999. Audio recording by Christopher Peake, in an… unprofessional capacity. Statement begins.

I still don’t see why I had to come to you. I know you have an email address, so wouldn’t it have been easier to just scan the form and send it to me? Hell, I would have taken a physical copy sent to me in the post. It would have been slower, but it would have meant I could have stayed at home. But no. I asked, and you just gave me a lot of waffle about how you have ‘strict acquisition policies’, alongside directions that had been copied from google maps. Which I know, because I checked.

It’s not that I’m lazy, you understand, far from it. I used to have what I regarded as quite the active social life. But recently that’s become impossible for me to maintain, for a number of reasons. Which are also the reasons that I’ve come to talk to you.

I used to be quite a religious person. Still am, I suppose. I’m not entirely sure. I was a member of the congregation of Saint Mary’s, a small anglican church in a small, anglican village up in Lincolnshire. Not everybody there was particularly devout, but it wasn’t one of those places where it especially mattered. It was more about the sense of community we had. Catching up with each other after communion on Thursdays, singing in the choir, arranging cake sales or coffee mornings as fundraisers for whatever bit of the building had fallen off now. I’ve been attending since I was little, and more or less grew up with the congregation.

I miss it quite badly, if I’m being honest. I’ve always been the sort to need other people, but I didn’t realise quite how much losing them would affect me. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone and all that, I suppose.

It started with another fundraiser, a jumble sale this time. I had volunteered to help manage the event, so I was in charge of sorting through the items that people had brought in for us to sell. Like I said, not everyone there was strictly devout, and didn’t always take care with what they decided to donate. Some people seemed to use it as more of an excuse to toss legitimate junk in our direction and call it a good deed.

This was definitely the case with Mister Ashley. He attended purely because his mother was too old to walk by herself, and I rather think that she insisted that he stay with her throughout the service. It was definitely at her behest that he took part in any communal activities. She would always announce that he would be happy to run stalls or make tea or some other menial duty, while he sat by her side, stony-faced, and saying nothing at all.

The only time I remember him giving any sort of reaction was when when his mother announced that her Jamie would be happy to donate some of his shop’s excess stock for the jumble sale. I remember, he turned to her with the strangest look on his face. At the time, I thought it was one of badly suppressed outrage. I assumed that she had simply gone a bit too far in volunteering his services; Mister Ashley was a second hand book seller, and owned the Jabberwock Bookshop just off from Memorial Square. It can’t have been all that easy to turn a profit. Thinking back on it now, though, and I wonder if his expression was something sharper than just anger. If it could have been alarmed, almost panicked. But I believe that is likely be nothing more than hindsight colouring my memories. If he had had some way of knowing, had been frightened of something like that which came to pass, then… well. I cannot honestly say I ever truly liked James Ashley, but neither can I believe that he would be as cruel or as cowardly as to not have said or done anything.

As it was, he brought the books to the side room the next day, where I was going through the donations and sorting the sellable items from those things too broken, torn, stained, or just plain unusable. I had just set aside yet another jigsaw- this one with almost two thirds of the pieces obviously missing- when he knocked on the outer door. In spite of the heavy rain, he wasn’t wearing a coat, hat, or boots. He didn’t say a word to me when I opened it, just shouldered his way in, dropped a heavy cardboard box on the floor by the unsorted donations, and walked out again. He did this three more times, leaving the door swinging behind him, letting in strong gusts of wind and rain, and reinscribing a damp trail of rainwater on the carpeted floor. Then he was gone as abruptly as he had arrived.

Ashley had taken better care to protect the books from the rain than himself. The cardboard was soaked through, but the books inside had been wrapped in several layers of plastic sheeting. They were stacked upright, and had been fitted in without any attempt to force too many into a single space. They were all, without exception, worn, faded, and almost completely without interest. Paperback romances long since out of print, old text books, children’s encyclopedias. It was rather a relief, if I’m honest. I could just reach into the boxes, grab a book, give it a flick through, and place it on the “for sale” pile.

I was about halfway through the last box when my fingers brushed something that did not feel at all like paper. It was dense and yielding, and ever so slightly damp. I recoiled, shock and disgust crawling their prickling way up my arm. My fingers looked clean, but the ghost feeling of something sticky still clung to them.

My first thought that it was some nasty practical joke. That Ashley, stung by his mother’s willingness to give away his stock, had put something disgusting in there by way of relieving his feelings. But that would have been ridiculous- he was a grown man, for goodness sakes, not a slighted child. It was more likely that the plastic keeping the books wrapped up had slipped, and allowed the rain to seep in through the sides. That was the more likely explanation.

It seemed as though I was right when I looked into the box properly, and saw nothing there but more books. But when I reached in again, all I felt was rough, dry paper. Confused, I went through the contents more slowly, looking where I placed my hand and at the books I chose.

I didn’t feel it again until the fifth book I picked up, that same almost-damp feeling. It was broad and set in landscape, almost like a sketchbook. It was dense with pages all jammed together- dense and heavy. It flopped bonelessly in my hand, and I needed to support it from underneath before I could read the title.

Hymnal, it read. The gold letters gleamed wetly on the slick cover.

It appeared to be full of sheet music. No titles or lyrics, just scratched staves and notes that meandered up and down the lines as though drunk. The smell that rose from the pages as I turned them was odd and unpleasant. I wondered if the leather binding them hadn’t been properly cured. Those areas of page that weren’t covered in music were full of sketches, but so dense and overlapping that I couldn’t tell what they were supposed to be. And, I realised with an unpleasant start, the cover beneath my hands was warm, as though I was touching a live thing.

Suddenly, I’d had enough. I was sitting here, working myself up over an old, graffitied book for no good reason. I shut the thing hurriedly, and it snapped closed with a heavy slithering of pages. I caught the soft part of my forefinger on one of them, and a tiny bead of scarlet began to well from the wound. The stinging was welcome- it gave me something to focus on, mundane annoyance drowning out the confusion that had been threatening to become fear.

I dropped the book onto the discard pile. I couldn’t sell something like that, that much was obvious. Then I picked it up again, and dashed through the rain to the rubbish bins outside. I tossed it in, and followed it up with as much of the discard pile as I could bag up in one go, burying the thing underneath threadbare scarves, broken plastic dolls, and half used art supplies.

I felt a little better when it was done, but not much. Whatever those hymns were praising, I don’t think it was Our Lord.

The cut on my finger didn’t heal like it should. It stopped bleeding without any trouble, but the edges became raised, reddened and sensitive to the touch. I dabbed at it with antiseptic and did my best to put it out of my mind. I succeeded at first. I had plenty to keep me busy, both at church and at my workplace, and for a day or two, I completely forgot about it.

At least until it opened up again.

I don’t remember what caused it, or if anything caused it at all. Just that I was reaching for something, and there was the feeling of… unpeeling, almost, the cold feeling of fresh air on wet skin. I checked to see if the cut was bleeding again.

Instead of a cut, I found myself looking at a tiny, fully formed mouth.

The raised, reddened edges I had thought were a sign of infection had become minute lips. They were slightly parted, and behind them I could see the tiniest slivers of white. And behind that, a dark space where something wet shifted.

I didn’t look at it for long. Already I was reaching for the first aid kit, hastily covering the cut- the mouth- with a plaster. I was already convincing myself that what I’d just seen was some kind of infection I was too squeamish to look at, and that since I couldn’t feel any pain, I should probably go to the doctors, in case it was nerve damage or something. The impression of having seen a mouth rather than a cut was an unpleasant trick my mind had played on me, and one I didn’t feel like closely examining. I told myself I had imagined it.

I hadn’t, though. I could taste the soft fabric patch on the plaster.

I really did mean to go to the doctors. Mouth or no mouth, whatever was happening to the cut on my finger worried me. I even got as far as making an appointment. But the next day I went into work, and there was an accident involving a slippery patch of floor and a very, very sharp knife that I was carrying at the time. I ended up with a nasty slice parallel with the underside of my ribcage.

This time, it was obvious how quickly it stopped bleeding, how it was practically dry before I even changed the gauze once. How the scabs began to flake before I even touched them, leaving nothing but those raised, reddening edges around the cut itself.

I didn’t go to that doctor’s appointment. I don’t think it would have helped me if I had.

It took longer for the second cut to open, but when it did, I could stand in front of the mirror to properly see the flat, white, human teeth, and the tongue that moved behind them.

It didn’t feel alien. That’s what surprised me most. I was scared, of course I was scared, I was growing new bits, opening up in places that I shouldn’t- but that was just it. It was my body doing this, not some… weird infection or surgery. Whatever was happening, it felt like an extension of myself.

I could move them, I found. Not as consciously as I could my original mouth, the one in its proper position on my face, but sort of like moving a limb after it’s fallen asleep. It took concentration, like I was working through partial numbness. Like I needed to focus to wake them up.

I didn’t spend very long doing that, though. I would realise with a start that what I was doing wasn’t normal, it wasn’t sane. I would pull my shirt back down or re-plaster my finger with a feeling almost like shame. I wasn’t as scared as I should have been, and that in itself was somehow a lot more frightening.

I’m not clumsy. I can’t be, considering the sharp tools I have to handle at work. But I started to accumulate injuries. Innocuous things at first. Paper cuts from the prayer books during mass, scrapes from the edges of the metal benches at work. And then other things. Pushing down a door-handle would lay my palm open as though I’d been struck with a metal ruler. The pressure of my jacket across my shoulders would tear the skin. I woke in bed one morning to discover that the folded sheets around me had left cuts going from my hip to my collar bone.

Every single one of them bled, reddened, and opened.

The mouths started to become restless as their number grew. They tried to chew on the clothes I wore to cover them, and if I didn’t focus, they would let out soft, but audible moans or sighs. I tried to quiet them. I even tried feeding them, though I only did that once. It seemed to help, but the mangled sensation of swallowing with a throat that seemed to be lodged under my right kidney was so disorienting I couldn’t bring myself to do it again.

I hadn’t stopped going out altogether. I left the house less, certainly, but as uncertain and uncomfortable as my changing existence was, I didn’t want to give up the company of other people altogether. I get lonely easily.

So, one Friday, when when there was so little skin left under my clothes and gloves that no new mouths could easily form, I patched my face and neck with gauze, and went to take my place in the choir again.

Nobody really seemed to notice anything different about me. I had all the right stories lined up for when I was asked about what had happened to my face, but almost nobody did. A few condolences, a few jokes, and that was it. People apparently preferred to gossip about the death of Mrs Ashley, and how her James had stopped coming to church now, and how they had known his heart wasn’t in it all along.

It felt awful. There I was, standing in the middle of them, skin to skin almost, with the most fragile disguise imaginable hiding a secret that would ruin their perception of the world for good- and they were too wrapped up in their own smug assurance of their own piety to notice. I offered up a brief prayer for patience, but like all my prayers lately, I don’t think I was offering it to the God whose praises we’d all gathered to sing.

And when we raised our voices together for All Things Bright And Beautiful, and I opened my mouth to join in, and then opened my mouth again, and opened my mouth again, and opened my mouth again- I wasn’t singing praises to that God either.

I didn’t realise that the others had stopped at first. It wasn’t until I glanced to one side, and saw Julie Wright staring at me with her powerless mouth open and unmoving, that I realised I was singing in harmony with myself.

I broke off, suddenly embarrassed and frightened by the way that they were all looking at me. There was something like awe in their expressions, but there was something else there too. Something that shuddered and recoiled. I desperately tried to remember the words I’d been singing, if I had gotten them right. I had the horrible sense that I might have subverted something holy.

Adam Bromley was the one to break the silence.

“Well now. You never told us you were getting private training!”

And just like that, the spell was broken. The unexpressed disgust sank back beneath their faces, and the others took up the idea almost with relief. A beautiful voice, they told me, what trick did they teach me to make it resonate like that? I forced a smile and said something non-committal and when we took up the tune again, I was careful to sing only the words that were on the page in front of me.

My own relief was short-lived. When I got home, I found the skin I had left was being pulled apart by the restless movements of the mouths. Blood stained the underside of my shirt, and I couldn’t stop the moans and hissings any more than I could have controlled a spasm or a muscular tic.

I didn’t sleep that night, and called in sick to work the next day. I lay on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling, trying very hard not to move.

It wasn’t any use. My skin had become so fragile that even getting up and walking to the kitchen caused it to split, the blood barely having time to dry before the wound began to twitch and whisper. All my fascination was gone now, as were all my attempts to ignore what was happening. All I did was lie on the bed, and let myself slowly drown in my own body. I lived like that for a week.

When next Friday evening came, my entire body burst into song.

I writhed and moaned and hummed without will, without choice, throwing out snatches of hymn before discarding them as not what I wanted, not right. And for the first time, the indistinct murmurs and whispers grew louder, began to form words. Prayers that had been chewed out of shape, pleas for more, more mouths, more brothers and sisters, to come out of hiding and join the great curdling of flesh.

This went on for the entire night.

That was when I decided that I needed to do something. I’d let… whatever this was go on for too long, long beyond the point of saving myself. But I wanted to tell someone first. So I dragged myself to my computer, and searched as best I could. It’s difficult to type with only a confusion of tongues.

And that’s where you came in. You aren’t special. You were just the closest place that didn’t either ignore my emails, or reply with not so gentle suggestions that I see a psychologist.

I don’t think I’ll be leaving my home again, once I get back. I doubt I’ll even bother uncovering, although there’s no-one there to see me. For all that I wanted to let someone know, I don’t want to be seen.

The cupboard below the stairs locks from the inside. I can push the key out from underneath the crack in the door.

Whatever is happening to me, I won’t allow it come to fruition.

Post-statement follow-up: There wasn’t anyone under the stairs when I went to check. The lock on cupboard door was broken, and so was the one on the back door. Either Ms Ness was, um… successful in her attempts to… halt her transformation, and a housebreaker with some seriously questionable motives took what was- what was left of her. Or she wasn’t. And her resolve either waned or the situation was, um. Taken out of her hands. Or. Whatever she had instead of hands.

I wasn’t… going to record this. It’s not my job, strictly speaking, but I was reading some of the old statements, and this one just… sort of caught my eye. And I’ve seen the Archivist and some of the others do recordings, and it just looked so… I wanted to try it out. I’ll be taking the tape with me, though. None of the others need to know about this.

#The Magnus Archives #tma #the magnus institute #whoops its all OCs

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arachnrd · 6 years

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ABOUT :

- My interpretation is primarily based on the first Insomniac Spider-Man game and its DLCs, along with the prequel book Hostile Takeover and heavily featuring my own headcanons. Personally, I don't agree with the takes in the Insomniac verse based comics, nor what they've done to Peter's character in the Miles Morales game ( including the change they made to his appearance they can completely miss me on that ), so we're just not gonna touch that here. No judgment or hate at all if you like any of that, or any of the other interpretations to Peter's character, this is just my personal preference and my portrayal. If you don't agree, feel free to move along.

- I wont accept hate over my takes on Peter's / Spider-Mans character, or theft of my headcanons, graphics, or anything I definitively create myself. And while I dont condone cancel culture or anything of the sort, I will not hesitate to bring that behavior to light if it's consistent. Im here to have fun, not deal with nonsense over a fictional character.

- Im not a huge fan of the MCU. Im fine with interactions with other MCU based muses, but may be selective about it and will want to talk things out before hand.

- I dont associate with the Marvel fandom, particularly here on tumblr. The original reason I left this blog back in 2019 was due to the community being heavily toxic and drama mongering, and as a result will not only not tolerate any drama or toxicity, but will be a bit selective and cautious on who I interact with from that side of the rpc.

- Unless it's established in the source material, or plotted out with me, your muse will not know Peter is Spider-Man. Im not touching giving muses ex - machina knowledge of others without it being discussed or signed off on by both parties, period.

- I will NOT interact with blogs that use youtubers, social media influencers, or anime / drawn characters for their Fcs [ Comic centered blogs I'll be selective about ] . Nothing against you, it’s just not my thing.

- I will NOT follow OC's with no bios or abouts up; Hard to know if our character's can interact if there's no info.

- I will block personal blogs that reblog or follow, as I like to keep interactions here between fellow rp mutuals.

- I may want to explore more adult aspects to Peter's character, so that, along with being an adult myself, means Im simply more comfortable interacting with those of age and will not follow or interact with minors, please respect this.

- Unless it's something applicable to our muses collectively, Please reblog memes or posts in general from the source. I'm not a resource blog and if treated as one, especially by blogs who never interact, I will soft block.

- As stated this blog is MUTUALS ONLY, meaning i will only write with mutuals. if i dont follow back there’s genuinely no hard feelings, I just get very overwhelmed with an overly busy dash and need to be a bit selective to prevent my anxiety from going nuts. you’re more than welcome to unfollow. though its very much a mutual thing; if you want to interact but dont follow me, chances are I’ll say no as I take following as a sign of interest. I may take a while to follow back as my notifications on here are the worst. If I don’t follow back within a weeks time, feel free to unfollow.

- This blog is multi-verse. Despite being set within the narrative of the game, I can incorporate elements from the movies and comics ( Mostly from the Ultimate comics since thats what I'm most familiar with and have actually read), such as dynamics between characters, etc if your muse isnt in the game. Not to mention love creating verses with writing partners. BUT, my Peter will still be played as the ps4 version of his character.

- I dont pretend to know every Marvel character. Or even ALL the characters from the Spider-man comics to their finest detail. For that my knowledge is going to be straight from whatever info you give and wikis.

SHIPPING / RELATIONSHIPS

- I ship based on chemistry between muses, but Im also very okay with pre established dynamics (whether that be romantic, enemies, platonic, familial ( though this Ill be a bit selective about ), whatever!) Considering that can be a bit easier thread wise for some people instead of starting from the very beginning. As with most things, I like to talk through it beforehand. If you have anything in mind, you're more than welcome to approach me! But I also reserve the right to respectfully turn things down or offer alternate options if things dont mesh.

SMUT

- I will not write smut on tumblr. So for the most part any if it all suggestive scenes will lead to a fade to black or time skip.

M U N

- i am a-okay with questions, especially about my muse! if you have any about anything at all i will be more than happy to answer them the best i can! Also totally fine with random IMs even if we havent talked before so hmu.

- I write under the alias Nox! ( She/Her ) and I am of age.

R U L E S / O T H E R

THREADS / PLOTTING:

- I love plotting. If given my way I'd be plot exclusive but I know that's not everyone's cup of tea. If you're ever interested in plotting, know I am already onboard.

- If you want to turn a meme or ask into a thread, I’d prefer to be asked before hand. Simply because sometimes its nice to have memes just be stand alone things or for fun.

- Additionally I take the memes I send in to others as just memes for memes sake as well, so if you want a thread to continue off one you'll have to let me know , otherwise I'm clueless.

RESPONSE TIME/ ACTIVITY:

- My activity may be a bit sparse. As it is I have a hard time keeping muse, just the way I am sadly. i know this is something a lot of people, myself included, can find frustrating (especially when you’re really into a thread) but a fair amount of the time i may take a while to respond. As much as I love this, aside from being a hobby, and having a very unreliable laptop, I have a chronic illness that makes me exhausted most days or just not in the mood to write and not in any kind of state to type out a response you lovely people would deserve. though i will always try to quickly reply when i can. Please be patient. If you ttry to harass or guilt me into a response, I wont hesitate to soft block for my own sanity. Im here to have fun and write when the mood strikes.

MEMES:

- Yes. please. send as many as you want, as often as you want. Even if we haven’t interacted, you’re free to send one my way; They can be a great place to start things off.

POST LENGTH:

- You don’t have to match my length in posts! sometimes i can write far too much when i get really into writing (and alternatively not write enough), so don’t feel obligated or pressured to follow suit by any means! whatever you are comfortable with is totally okay! it’s not a contest, this is all for fun.

GRAPHICS:

- ALL icons will be from the game/ with the exception of live icons of Peter's first ingame face model that I managed to scrape together. Comic icons will not be used.

- all icons and graphics are created by me unless stated otherwise

- PSD by plutocomissions

#pgs

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crossnecklace · 7 years

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hi hi hi! so i feel like a lot of my most favorite fics dont get talked about much, therefore i wanted to create a proper fic rec masterpost to spread the love!! this is going to be a looooong list, so hopefully theres something for everyone (though i do firmly believe u should read every single one of these before u die)

in no particular order, but a * indicates my absolute faves that i reread monthly:

hats off to my distant hope by navigator (21k) *

Harry is in White Eskimo. Louis is in London.

AU loosely inspired by the song “505” by Arctic Monkeys.

-kicking this off with one of my very favorites. i think my favorite trope is when hl have this angsty “we’re not dating but definitely fucking and also doing everything couples do also i’m irrevocably in love with you why aren’t we dating?” sort of moment. its painful in the sweetest way, and this fic captures that perfectly. there will be quite a few of those on this list, i’ll bet

up the long delirious burning blue by orphan_account (6k)

harry is a swimmer & louis is the writer who somehow manages to make him come up for air.

-this one is quite sad. so poetic and painful and lovely and unf (warning for mentions of suicide and depression, and the ending is quite ambiguous but there is no MCD)

we wreak havoc with out hearts by flimsy (9k)

Harry finds that he can’t keep things separate; neither can Louis.

Harry tousles his hair, smoothes it back, shrugging.

“Alright,” he says. “I’m, you know, outside if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” Louis replies. “Sure.”

He doesn’t look like he’ll be needing Harry, and Harry tells himself that that’s okay. They’ve both got their moods sometimes or maybe the timing isn’t good, and if it’s not then that’s alright as well. Harry can respect that. And it’s not like this is their first tour; Harry knows that Louis will come around. He always does.

-another one of those w that trope i talked about. im gonna call it the RFWB trope (romantic friends w benefits). this one is so hot and good

rather this than live without you by mediaville (10k) *

Harry decides to give it all up. Louis refuses to be left behind.

-RFWB pt. 3. i ADORE this fic. just the setting and the angst and the smut ugh it all has me on the floor

one day to believe in you by mediaville (7k)

A mysterious force compels Louis to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Even when it’s really inconvenient.

Harry blinks and has the nerve to look surprised.

“You think about me when you get off?”

“Yes,” Louis says. He wonders how hard he’d need to punch himself in the face to knock himself out.

“Often?”

“Yes, Christ, Harry,” Louis groans. “Probably eight times a week for going on six years now. On average, you know. More when we were touring, less when I’ve been visiting family. Anything else you’d like to know?”

- :-)))))))

all my love was down in a frozen ground by navigator (16k)

Louis goes to the woods.

AU very loosely inspired by the creation of Bon Iver’s first record.

-i’ll be honest i dont even remember what this fic is about but its in my bookmarks and its by navigator so i know that its good

boys of summer by sharktoothedfawnskinned (49k) *

What he wants is for this to be a forever thing, not someplace Harry spent the summer once. What he wants is for this to be more than a memory.

(New Jersey beach town AU.)

- I SCREAM EVERY TIME READ THIS RIGHT NOW

we should get jerseys by orphan_account (12k) *

There’s a lot surrounding Harry, and Louis knows, in his heart of hearts, that there always will be. He just doesn’t know if he’ll manage to equate into the ‘always’ of it.

(Harry is a hockey player, and Louis is his slightly melodramatic boyfriend.)

- another old favorite!!! pretty much anything that involves harry being good at sports has me on my knees bc it paves way for automatic angst, louis being jealous of a puck/ball/net/what have you, and uhhh various other *athletic* activities

the finish line (is a good place for us to start) by @loaded-gunn (122k)

Louis Tomlinson, one-time Formula 1 World Champion, is looking forward to the 2013 season. He’s got Zayn in his garage and Liam in his ear, he’s got Cowell Racing backing him despite former indiscretions, he’s got experience and the best race car out there. Not to mention he’s the only racer they have, after Oliver dropped out late last year.

It hasn’t occurred to him that Oliver would have to be replaced by February. That is, until he finds himself at a party celebrating Harry Styles leaving Ferrari for Cowell. Harry hotshot Styles, who broke a record last year and is probably looking to make a big splash. Harry Styles, who is talented and somewhat intimidating. Harry Styles, who left Ferrari for reasons unknown and seems kind of lonely and harmless in person. Lonely, harmless, hot as fuck. Whatever.

The first thing Louis does is take him under his wing. From there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is OT5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.

-one of the first 1d fics i remember reading. i havent touched it in a long time but it used to be my #1 fave and it has a special place in my heart. so much pining, only not really in a frustrating way bc theres abundant flirting and they kiss in like, the second scene. its basically louis trying to keep his shit together and failing miserably. AND its stuffed with fandom meta which is quite entertaining if youve been here for awhile. anyway give this a read, i truly love it so much

so keep my candle bright by whisperdlullaby (78k) *

louis returns to his hometown after four years to find that the reverend’s son has done some growing up of his own.

-god. the characterization in this one is just gorgeous. the way louis helps harry accept/explore his sexuality is so beautiful and i think about it every day. a must read!!! (warning for homophobia and religious themes)

no one like you by @myownsparknow (20k)

Dear Niall,

I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

-this is one of the only recent fics on this list bc i like to stew in the past and pretend all my favorite writers havent left the fandom. i read it when it first came out and man oh man, its like poetry. so gorgeously written, and hl’s relationship is so deeply rooted and beautiful. i love

our little corner of the world by brownheadedstranger (30k)

AU. Louis is stuck in his mom’s diner for the summer. Harry is the line cook with a pickup truck.

-so good!! i’d die for americanized fics which doesnt even make sense bc i hate america but. what can u do

i could dream all night by @fondleeds (73k) *

As the sun kisses the horizon, one last flash of light before the stars and the moon take over, his phone will brighten in his grasp, Louis’ name appearing on screen, come over or wanna see you or miss your mouth. Harry always lingers on those messages, elbows bruising on the cool metal of the railing by the lookout, watching the water as he thumbs at the side of his phone, lips bitten into his mouth, trying to will away the bubbling in his stomach, the heat that flushes to his neck at the thought of being thought of.

At the thought of Louis thinking of him.

AU. Harry spends his summer away from the city.

-lordt. where the fuck do i begin. first of all, lysha, if ur reading this, i’d die for u even tho u already killed me with this fic. second, what the fuck???? this is so good??? the imagery is exquisite, everything is so soft and hazy and warm, but just be warned that its a tRick. this fics wraps u in like a warm hug and then stabs u 7 times in the back so be prepared :-))) (warning for ambiguous ending)

another hazy may by deLILAh (41k) *

louis is a terrible poet and harry lives in the now and they have six weeks to fall in love but, really, it only takes six seconds. bookshop meets military meets summer romance au ft. marlboros, the backstreet boys, and underrated literary devices.

-i dnot even wanna talk about it. i swear to god the first time i read this i stayed up all night and cried through literally like the last three quarters of it. its so poetic and gorgeous and now every time i think or hear about the literary present i wanna die so thanks for scarring me forever

like a bastard on the burning sea by vashtaneradas (22k) *

au; harry breaks louis, louis breaks everything.

- listen i know im not supposed to like this but yknow what?? iconic. its absolutely a guilty pleasure and the only cheating fic ill ever give the time of day bc it just hurts so good

take me to the church (series) by @kingsoftheimpossible (14k/6k/4k)

Harry and Louis are Horsemen of the Apocalypse- War and Conquest- but that’s not really important. They just like to fuck things up.

these r freaky but so so good. theres nothin i love more than boyfriends wreaking havoc on..everything. (the main warnings i’d say are for slight gore/violence and blasphemy. other than that i’d read the tags before you dive in)

if you love me, come clean by @victoryjacket (121k) *

AU in which Louis works at a recording studio where Harry’s ‘up and coming’ and ‘exciting’, soon-to-be famous indie band has just signed a deal to record their debut album at, and Louis’ never even heard of them for Christ’s sakes, but that doesn’t stop him from repeatedly catching the eye of the raven-haired, eyeliner-wearing and slightly dangerous-looking frontman (but he’s not interested, he isn’t.)

-everyone read my love’s fic right now. she writes tortured rockstar!harry beautifully and its just so good :-))))) ft. the slowest, sweetest burn

a runaway american dream by dangerbears (15k)

AU. they take route 66 with only each other and their secrets.

-iconic. plus the whole thing is just hl trying and failing to be just bro pals and platonically share a bed

from the love to the lightning by orphan_account (22k) *

“i didn’t realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. because it’s the halves that halve you in half.”

a like crazy au where harry and louis fall in america, but have to try to make it work when problems arise that force louis to stay in london.

-definitely in my top 10. first things first, the line that fucked me up forever: “Three thousand, four hundred and seventy one. There are 3471 miles and an entire ocean between them, but Harry doesn’t even have to get out of bed to find bone-crushing heartache.” AH. i think this might actually be the only long distance au ive ever read and its angsty as fuck but oh so worth it. like literally idek what to say except read this right now (warning for harry/ofc relationship that is pretty detailed, but i grew kinda fond of her? and anyway its mainly just a plot point to emphasize harrys pining for his tru love,,,,yk who)

we can take the long way home by @eleadore (27k) *

“Fertile,” Louis says, and then laughs because it sounds stupid to say out loud. He hasn’t ever really thought of himself in those terms. Baby-making terms. It’s just one of those things his body can do, like exercise, or go without tea. Doesn’t mean he will.

or, The band takes a break. Harry and Louis come together.

-listen, i REALLY REALLY love this fic. its probably literally my favorite one shot, like, its really just so sweet and hot and its again one of those good ol RFWB tropes. loveeee

red brick heart by hazmesentir (99k) *

Harry has only had his room for thirty-two minutes when it stops being his.

Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted.

-this is one of the few fandom faves i can get behind. i know its got that early era cliche of commitment phobe!louis but i really love hl’s relationship in this, and how harry comes to terms w his sexuality via making out w louis tomlinson like 500 times. plus the scene in the club where louis, uh, helps harry out just…GETS me, yknow?

some things take root by navigator/quitter (50k) *

AU. Louis’ ex doesn’t get jealous of anyone besides Harry. Harry helps Louis use that to his advantage.

-pleasepleplalspelplseease. literally navigator can end me. this is THE fake relationship au yall, like, any fanart of hl making out near a bar gives me flashbacks to this fic. read it

keep yourself warm by navigator (20k)

AU. Harry sleeps around.

-this fic is really nice and oddly comforting, like, i just love the pining and the angst. its so !!!!

with love comes strange currencies by mediaville (16k) *

One day One Direction will be over and Louis won’t be around Harry every waking moment. He’ll be able to finally get some space, let their bond dissipate as it’s bound to do, if they don’t mess up again. He can move to Costa Rica and forget that Harry Styles popped his first knot inside him. Until then, he’s going to have to deal with this.

or, They’re Accidentally Mated and Dealing With It Rather Badly.

-i con ic. listen, i have nothing against abo but im just .. not rly into it. however, THIS is the first abo fic i read and the only one i ever loved. like just the whole accidental mating and how it draws them to each other even tho its quite inconvenient, and how h takes cares of l when hes sick, i just..gotta go

covered in lines (series) by mentalistecbm (24k)

He likes to imagine that he’s always aware of Harry’s eyes on him, but the spark that flashes across his body at how often Harry licks his lips while looking at his throat doesn’t feel like something he’s explicitly and consciously acknowledged before, but it feels familiar. Usual. Right.

(Louis is human, and Harry is lucky enough to be his vampire boyfriend.)

-noah fence but this is,,,, essentially twilight in au form, minus love triangles and werewolves. actually its completely different lmao, who am i, but the overall atmosphere and the vampire dynamics rly reminded me of it. i mean it in the best way!!! its so good, and anything involving dr*nking has me on the floor

weird honey by orphan_account (5k)

~staying up all night, talking blasphemous ash, weird honey~

(PWP where Harry is not 100% at home in his body and he and Louis use a sex toy to help work through the problem)

-this fic is soft and nice and makes me feel warm inside so highly recommend

who painted the moon black by throughthedark (95k) *

“People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t know. It just does.”

Hunger Games AU where Louis Tomlinson is district six’s victor from the 69th Hunger Games and Harry Styles is district seven’s victor from the 72nd Hunger Games.

-listen. i do NOT want to talk about it. (ps harry throwing axes on the bbc literally took me out by the knees bc of this fic)

one more for the stars by imsosorry (16k)

It’s different, and Louis knows that, because Harry’s got so much riding on this - a career and a future and his whole life. There’s talk of him going first overall in the draft, of entering the NFL after only two years in college, of going to New York or Seattle or Green Bay, and Louis wants to be there for him, wants to support him and help him make decisions, but he also kind of wants to pin him to the bed and cry and scream, What about me what about me what about me?

(au. Harry’s the star quarterback and Louis is about to graduate. It’s a heartbreak waiting to happen.)

-i think i mentioned before that sports au have me on the floor and this is no excpetion

you and me were kings by ithacas (28k) *

harry plays football in a small town in west texas. louis might be the only person that doesn’t give a damn. au.

-another football au, this one with the added beauty of being set in southern us. im such a sucker for southern aus, mannnn, and this one is so soft and beautiful

hold onto your stars by vashtaneradas (16k) *

au; harry’s in the army, louis’ back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.

-are u srs????? this is another hazy may except…….Worse. like, im still working out the science of it but im pretty sure this killed me and brought me back to life just so i could suffer the pain of it forever. (nobody dies tho)

makes perfect by checkthemargins (8k)

“What if you practiced on like, a mannequin?” Louis presses. “Or one of those blow up sex dolls? Or even just like, I don’t know, a pillow or something. Whatever it’d fit around.”

Harry tilts his head thoughtfully, curls catching the light so entrancingly that Louis finds himself reaching up to push his fingers through them. “It’s different, though, innit? When it’s a real person. A pillow won’t snog me.”

“Why should it?” says Louis. “You can’t even take its bra off.”

hmmmm. hmmmmmmmm. im jus gonna leave this here,,,,,,,,,

all the diamonds you have here by vashtaneradas (21k)

it hits louis now, how fucking close to the precipice they’re standing.

or, an au feat. investment banking and children.

-its #confirmed that anything by vashtaneradas is guaranteed to be painful as hell. who said there cant be soul crushing angst in marriage/kid fics too !

wild and unruly by @100percentsassy/gloria_andrews (123k) *

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

-ending this with a classic. i trust that everyone has read this masterpiece already and that i dont have to say anything about it other than w o w

______________________________________________________________

tis all for now! happy reading and pleaseee feel free to yell @ me about these fics if you liked them as much as i did!!

#this TRULY took me for fucking ever lmao #pls ignore my sorry attempt at a banner #anyway pls read all of these i love them so much #im so picky about fics so theyre all amazing its confirmed #fic rec #fics #hl #larry fic #my fic rec

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