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wonderlandrry · 1 month

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hi, this is my first ever attempt at writing on tumblr!! the story could be more than one part if you like it (maybe three or four parts). this is also my first time not writing in first person pov so hopefully it doesn’t suck complete ass. (not really edited and idk how to format either so GREAT first impression, friends.)

pov: best friend! harry x you (aka i tried my best lmao)

blurb: you and harry have been best friends your whole life and one night changes everything.

contains: friends to lovers, bad girl x good boy if you squint, smoking green 🍃, smut, cussing, oral (giving and receiving for both characters), praise kink, and size kink if you squint really hard again and read between the lines lmao.

word count: 5k

• NOT RAMADAN FRIENDLY •

just friends

“You sure you don’t want me to come up?” Rylan’s honey eyes flick from your dorm bulging back to yours. The tension from tonight’s argument is fresh in those crinkles next to his eyes that you used to love. Fucking adore.

Parting your lips, you sigh, “See you around.”

“Don’t be like that,” A ringless hand runs through his dark hair. You’re not exactly sure why you’re focusing on that but here we are. “It was a joke, come on.”

Your hand rests on the door handle, silently contemplating on freaking the fuck out again. This isn’t the first time he’s made jokes, very public jokes about your best friend. The very first time you let it slide with a warning because some people don’t understand that you can be just friends with the opposite gender. They can’t wrap their heads around that not every relationship revolves around sex. You understood but tonight? He went too far.

“Saying Harry follows me like a stray dog,” You have to take a deep breath because Rylan doesn’t know what Harry’s been through. That only pisses you off more. “Was too far.”

“He doesn’t have any friends, Lil, just you.”

“Because he’s smart, he doesn’t have friends because he’s fucking brilliant.” It was true, Harry focused more on school and baseball than friendships. He got a full ride to Calloway University reliant on grades and his pure, raw talent. Some would stop there but he took it a step further by studying physics. Now it’s your turn to run a hand through your hair because this is the fourth fight over your best friend. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Do you not see how fucked that is?” He hisses, making your head snap in his direction. “You’re supposed to be dating me, not him.”

You scoff, “So that’s what this is?”

Rylan’s hold tightened on the steering wheel, so tight that his knuckles were almost white. “Look, I don’t care that you’re friends with him but you spend too much time-”

That confirmed everything for you. Your long friendship with Harry wasn’t the problem. Rylan knew how much Harry meant to you and how your friendship was all you had sometimes. He knew yet the fact that he didn’t have your full attention every waking moment of the day was the source of cruel jokes.

“You’re threatened, huh?” His knuckles blanched even more as the words left your mouth. “Listen to the words coming out of my mouth, Ry. Harry’s been my best friend since I was seven. Nothing has and will never happen between us. I would never sleep with him and ruin our friendship.”

“I see how you guys look at each other.”

Your whole face heats, it’s literally on fire. “You’re seeing things because we’re just friends.”

“You’re in denial.” Fuck. This.

Those three words were enough to push you. Push you to fling open the car door and launch yourself onto the pavement. They were enough to heat your whole body to the point that chilly winter air wasn’t enough to simmer down your anger. You don’t even bother slamming the door shut because that asshole can get out and shut it himself. That’s what he gets for constantly trying to pry a confession out of you. A confession that doesn’t exist but he still won’t accept it. The security guard gives a weary smile as you pass him, an obvious witness of the whole shit show. You look over your shoulder just in time to watch Rylan peel out.

He doesn’t follow you, shocker. Not that you wanted him to but you also didn’t expect him to. He acts like he cares but when push comes to shove, actions don’t match the words constantly flying out of that stupid mouth.

Unlocking and relocking the door with a soft click, your dorm is oddly dark and quiet. It looks like no one has been here all day. This is a possibility since Ellie spends most nights with her boyfriend. You slide off your black vans and place your bag on the hooks by the door. Seniors get a common room and separate bedrooms in student housing and you love the privacy. Honestly? It’s hard as fuck to hook up sharing a room with someone. El never cared who you brought home but felt weird as hell, yano?

From: ball boy (11:35 pm)

you home?

To: ball boy (11:36 pm)

yeah

You loosen your claw clip and honey-blond waves tumble. Walking into your room, you slip out of the cute-ass outfit you spent an hour perfecting and into some random band shirt with no bra and spandex shorts. Such a shame because you looked hot, too bad the night didn’t end with Ry ripping this lacy, black corset off you. Sucks for him.

From: ball boy (11:42 pm)

open the window before Mack catches my ass.

Your eyes snap toward the only windows in your room. The sheer, black curtains were closed but they did a shit job keeping the sunlight out so, honestly, how good were they for privacy? Your heart hammers thinking about Harry seeing you. How he could’ve seen all of you, not just what you choose to show off. The thought made your heart hammer.

From: ball boy (12:46 am)

don’t tell me you’re fucking someone right now

From: ball boy (12:47 am)

fuckin’ sick, lil

Annoyed, you rip open the curtains to find Harry’s cocky expression staring straight at you. It’s too dark to make out his full face but you can tell by the smirk tipping the left side that he’s amused. Making your favorite dimple dent even deeper. In one swift motion, the latch unlocks letting him in. He’s done this a million times, yano? Sneaking in your room for late-night study sessions, movie nights, or sleepovers. You’ve shared a bed countless times but never crossed that line, he’s your best friend. There are rules in place to save your friendship. He means more to you than one night of pleasure. Always has.

“Nice shirt, been looking for that everywhere.” Evergreen eyes bounce across your face, “Thought you had a date.”

You blow out a breath, “Not anymore.”

He smirks, dimple popping, “Obviously.”

“Thought you had plans.” You counter because Harry may not have many friends but that didn’t mean anything when it came to his sex life. He had trouble talking to girls but that didn’t seem to matter because they flocked to him. There was just something about him that drew people in, you included especially you. Maybe it was his ability to make anyone in the room feel special; wanted by having his undivided attention.

His lips purse, “Nah, not tonight.”

“Why?”

He gives you a pointed look giving away that he knows, “You know why.”

Guilt settles into your stomach, that stupid sinking feeling of being caught hit full force. He had the same argument with Grace that you did with Rylan tonight. They seem to argue more though and it kills you seeing him upset. You know he cares about her but he loves you. Maybe not romantically but definitely platonically and that means something to him. Every time they have this conversation, you know you should walk away. It's always your first instinct to protect people you love and you love your best friend. But, you’d rather die than let him go and that’s selfish as fuck but true. You sigh, “Harry-”

“I’m good,” He closes the distance and wraps you into a hug and it feels like home. Your favorite type of hug. “Worried about you.”

You smile against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart hitting your cheek, “Nothing a Star Wars marathon won’t cure, Stud.”

His face lights up, “God, I could kiss you, Lil.”

“Whatever you say, ball boy.” Your heart flutters violently but you ignore the feeling. He always jokes like this in secret and maybe that’s the reason no one believes you’re just friends. But, they’re just jokes, yano.

“Ball boy?” He scoffs, making you tilt your chin to meet his gaze. When your eyes finally focus, Harry’s staring at you with his stupid, dimpled smile. Just because he’s your best friend doesn’t mean you’re completely immune. He’s handsome and you’d be dumb to deny that because, well, you have eyes. Currently, he looks even better from this angle. His hair’s tousled as neat as those chestnut curls will allow and dimples seem more prominent. Deep, inviting indents. The black, backwards hat only adds to the contrast of those evergreen eyes. Your favorite shade of green. A sliver of metal trapped between perfect teeth as he cocks his head. He chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “That’s fucked up.”

Pulling back, you shrug, “You’re the one who plays with them all day.”

His tongue clicks, cheeks hollowing, “Baseball, I play baseball.”

You dismiss him with a wave, walking into the common room. “Whatever helps you hit balls with your bat, Ball boy.”

“Better watch that pretty mouth of yours,” He warns in a low tone, so low that everything tingles. Reaching into his hoodie, he pulls out a bag of weed before plopping on the couch, “because I don’t share with bad girls.”

“Watching Star Wars high?” You grin as he nods. “Man of my dreams.”

Harry smirks, all boyish and full dimples, “Don’t tease.”

After pressing play and settling into the couch, you glance over at him just as the credits begin to roll. He’s lighting a joint, brows set in concentration, pink lips puckered around the paper inhaling slowly before passing it to you.

The next forty minutes fly by in the best, blissfully buzzed way. Time doesn’t have an exact science. We’re happy and having a good time. All the anger from earlier dissipated from you and Harry just being together. His nose found its way under your jaw, right next to your pulse point, some time after fifteen or so minutes. He’s always been affectionate when buzzed but holy fuck, was he toning it down before. You don’t know what changed but his hands haven’t left your waist and he keeps hugging closer to your chest with little sighs and hums of contentment. He smells so fucking good like peppermint, fresh laundry, and smoke.

Your breathing is slow and steady. Completely wrapped in him. Fingers twisting the curls at the nape of his neck until your fingertips tingle to touch him elsewhere. You don’t allow them to go lower than his throat, feeling how harsh each swallow was each time you’d get below the hinge of his jaw. He hums against your neck, nuzzling deeper into the column dangerously like he can’t get enough, “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” You breathe as he hugs tighter, not stopping your feather-like movement through his soft curls. “You?”

“Yeah, that feels good.” His words come out sleepy and deep and gravelly. “Your t-touch always feels good.” Warm evergreen holds all your attention as he kisses your cheek, “Thank you for being here with me. You make everything better, always have.”

Your face tilts, noses inches apart, and whisper. “You make everything better for me too.”

Harry’s the type of man that goes from beautiful to devastating with a change of facial expression. Your hazy brain can’t stop taking him in for some reason. It’s involuntary. That beautiful, sculpted face is hidden at nightfall but you allow yourself to appreciate how much time someone put into crafting him. It’s like you spent the last fifteen years with blinders on and can finally see.

Sage burns into evergreen as his lips roll a few times like he’s trying to come up with a safe response. The irrational part of my brain wants to feel his mouth on you again so bad that you almost crave him. Your lips part at the same time waiting for the other to make a move or do something drastic. Three heartbeats of your mouths seconds apart. Three heartbeats in your own hazy, happy world. His nose nudges yours once before dropping back to your throat. His arms wrapped around you tighter and your breathing synced again. Instead of calm and steady, now it’s erratic and fast.

Fuck, you have to be high, right? Best friends don’t look at each other like this. Especially you guys.

He leans closer, left hand planted on your thigh as we just stare at each other. Almost like he feels it too. Your fingertips ache to touch the stubble dusting his jawline so bad they tingle but you can’t seem to move. Completely lost in the hypnotic desire clouding the calm green of his irises.

Not wanting to put pressure on Harry to make the first move, you close the distance. Not sure why you did that but your mouths part at the same time. His in surprise and yours in want, yet in perfect sync. Pressing your lips to his, he immediately kisses back, cupping your jaw. One second everything’s moving slowly and the next, he’s lifting his shirt over your head. Touching every inch of exposed skin like he can’t get enough. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts as yours find his jeans. The kiss breaks as he leans back just enough to look at you. You’re looking at each other in silence but it’s so fucking loud.

“We should-” He swallows harshly, columns of his throat tense, “Don’t wanna finally have you if you’ll regret-”

“Won’t ever regret you, H,” Your voice is hushed yet full of so much want and sincerity. “Don’t stop, we’re okay.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out in relief pressing another kiss to your lips that sends trace currents through your body full force. Finally giving into the sweetest temptation you’ve ever tasted. Forbidden and delicious. This was like an avalanche of feelings and lust in motion, couldn’t stop the cascade if you tried. The aftermath would eventually come but everything would be okay. It had to be.

“Yeah, just friends,” Your lips move with his again but lazier, a slow pace that makes everything come to life. “This doesn’t change anything.”

You lied because this meant everything but you can’t stop.

He blinks like he can see right through your bullshit.

You blink back hoping he doesn’t.

“Just friends.” He repeats only the first half of your lie between kisses, pressing your body further into the couch with his hips.

The words come out breathless.

The words come out easily.

The words come out in cool peppermint.

He starts to drag your shorts off at the same pace the kiss and you lift a little to help. Being this vulnerable, letting the other fully see the other is something you can’t put into words. Your eyes rake his body as his lustful, dark gaze mirrors yours. There aren’t enough fucking words to describe how beautiful he is. Taking in every single detail from his tattoos to his cock pressed between your open thighs. The desperation; everything fucking aches for him. He leans forward, lips parting, eyes darkening by the minute, leaving open-mouth kisses along your jaw until they meet your mouth. The warm metal of his tongue ring claiming every inch of your mouth. He tasted like charged temptation in the best way, like something you didn’t know you craved until now.

Harry whimpers as your legs wrap around his waist. His cock throbs between your thighs and he groans against your lips. The sound vibrating with need; so fucking desperate. Strong hands grip your ass as the kiss deepens. He’s kissing you like you’re oxygen and he’s hungry for air. Almost like he can’t breathe without tasting you. Without having you like this. Staggered, harsh breaths hit the left side of your as his lips descended. Sucking and biting gently at your throat until they reach your chest and wrap around your nipple piercings. Metal clanking salaciously as his tongue swirls, toying with each little bar. His cock throbs again and your head falls back into the throw pillows with a loud moan. The arrogant smirk against your already heated skin only sends fire dancing.

Crackling and humming with each touch. They say fire needs oxygen to grow and Harry was yours. Always has been, he ignites all your fires.

Pulling back slightly, salacious evergreen meets thunderous oceans as he speaks, “So fucking pretty.” His words come out as a rasp, full of raw desperation. “Wanna taste you so fucking bad.” Kisses pepper your face, “Wanna make you feel so good, please? ”

“Y-yes,” You breathe, unable to finish the sentence as his kiss-bruised lips meet yours again and again, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin of your already open thighs, while yours run through his soft curls. Tangling and twisting as your lips move hungrily, desperately. Your teeth trap his tongue ring gently tasting and the sound that escapes his throat is feral. His body pushes against yours as you devour each other. Urgent, hungry, and like you might run out of time or change your mind. Hot, open-mouth kisses descend from your lips to your jaw then stop at the base of your throat.

“Fuck,” The word’s rushed, nearly a pant, as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The view of his gorgeous, toned body sends a shiver down your spine. The butterfly on his chest fluttered with each rapid breath. His abs jutting and rippling like it took everything in him not to lose it right then and there. Rough yet gentle hands feather your ribs, gliding effortlessly until they pause at your hips, leaving trace currents branding me with each tortuous touch. The rings on his fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your hips despite how gentle he’s being. A surprised gasp leaves my lips in a whimper as his grip tightens holding you into place. Your hips tilt, wanting to feel him and he groans, nostrils flaring like he’s in pain, “Want you so bad,” His nose runs against your jaw, “Not gonna last if you keep moving, Lil.”

“Sorry,” You breathe letting your head fall back as it swims with every effortless emotion you feel for him.

“Shh, you’re perfect, so fucking perfect, look at you.” He whispers, the gravelly tone of his voice sending vibrations between your thighs making you ache. A completely desperate ache for him that would be embarrassing if it was anyone but your Harry. Suddenly, he’s kissing you but lazily this time. His lips moved so painfully slow and tender against yours. Kissing like you have all the time in the world. As soon as you match his pace, he breaks the kiss sighing deeply against your parted lips. He studies your face, evergreen locked on blue, as he slowly drifts between your thighs. His hands follow him, traveling down your inked body with ease, until they lock around your upper legs.

“What’re you doing?” You ask breathlessly, trying to keep up with his pace. He ignores you, placing drawn-out kisses trailing from your left hip to inner thigh. Soft moans leave your parted lips each and every time his mouth touches your skin. His kisses are getting closer and closer, nipping and sucking, teasing and torturing. It’s too fucking much. “Harry-”

“Need something, Lil?” He sucks harder on your hip, leaving a purplish bruise on porcelain skin, tilting his head up to meet your gaze with a lazy smirk. So effortlessly sexy.

“Please-” Desperateness clings to the word as your head falls back, unable to handle seeing him between your legs.

“Please what?” Harry smirks against heated skin as your hips move forward, “Use your words, pretty girl.”

“I want-” The sentence pauses at the tip of your tongue. No one’s ever asked what you wanted before. “I’ve never-” Your brows push together trying to find the right word but he reaches up, fingers smoothing the line between them like he understands.

“It’s okay,” He runs the flat of his tongue against your clit and your knees almost push together from pleasure, the round of his tongue ring hitting perfectly. Like he knows exactly what you need. Burning evergreen disappears into the back of his head as he moans against you, fingernails digging into your skin. “Taste so fucking good, Lil. Knew you would, so fucking sweet.”

“Fuck,” The whimper that comes out of you is pathetic as he lifts your leg, draping your right knee over his shoulder, tongue circling with no mercy. Flicking and sucking and teasing as he changes pace. Your head falls back feeling his piercing tease your entrance with each flick of his perfect tongue. Your fingers laced into his wet curls, tugging as he pulled back, eyes meeting yours. Bringing his left middle and ring fingers to your lips, manually parts them until his fingers push past your bottom teeth. The cold metal of his rings hits your warm mouth. Evergreen dances darkly as they glide across your tongue until you gag around them. He exhales roughly, head cocking, “Mmm, suck. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

Your lips wrap around his fingers as your eyes lock. He moves them in and out a few times before withdrawing. Never breaking eye contact, pink lips puckering around my clit as his fingers tease your entrance. He watches you intensely, so fucking intensely as his fingers match the pace of his tongue. Your eyes flutter in pure fucking bliss as your grip on his hair returns. Pulling and tugging, making him groan so deeply, “Lil.”

Your name came out of his mouth with the same electricity that courses through your veins whenever he’s around. Hot, entrancing, unfuckingdeniable, and your undoing. White, hot pleasure hits so hard that you try to close your legs but his hands wrap around your thighs, keeping them open, easing you through it. Your breathing evens out as Harry watches you between your open thighs. His head tilted upward, lips parted in amazement, evergreen bouncing around your face like he’s committing every muscle movement to memory.

“For fucks sake.” He exhales, blinking in complete astonishment.

“Hmm?” The word comes out lazily, so fucking easy like your smile.

He hovers, face inches from yours, hazy eyes blazing with lust. The end of his cross necklace bounces off your bottom lip a few times. “So pretty when you cum, Angel.”

Fuck, in one swift movement, you push his chest backward completely straddling him as his back hits the couch. Long, ring-clad fingers grip your jaw as he presses his lips to yours, kissing slowly, tongues tangling lazily. He tastes like you and it makes your head spin. His fingers tangle into your hair, blond waves fall, as he collects them wrapping the strands around his wrist. Breaking the kiss, your hands glide across his skin, feeling every harsh breath and ridge before settling between his legs. Every flutter of his butterfly as he breathes, how his abs constrict with each breath like he wants you so badly that it’s painful, and the vein resting next to the perfect v-line of his left hip. Taking a deep breath, your head tilts, meeting his hungry, beautiful gaze as your lips wrap around his head.

He lets out a loud moan, abs jutting, as your tongue twirls and teases. His head lolls back, lips parting while the moans come out so fucking feral; desperate. The grip on your hair loosens as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks with each suck. Honey curls fall you around like a curtain as he cups the back of your head, pushing you to take him deeper, never breaking eye contact. You almost wanna shut yours seeing how much adoration and attention and lust swims in his pretty irises. He starts moving his hips slowly, testing, and relaxing your jaw. His jaw tightens with each thrust, moaning so fucking loud, lips puckering around a needy exhale, “I-fuck-I’m not gonna last.”

Flattening your tongue, a hum in appreciation and that makes him break. The soft green of his eyes darkened as control slips with each thrust. “God, look at how pretty you look wrapped around my cock.” He groans even louder and you gag around him. His hips slow, “You can take it, just like that, so fucking good.”

Your cheeks hollow as his movements grow more frantic. More fucking desperate. Twirling your tongue, he pulls out, cupping your jaw again as he cums. Painting your chest in the most filthy way. Head tilted back, eyes shut, pumping his cock as he whimpers. Blush spreads up his throat, neck vein popping in the sexiest way, and perfect lips parted in pure ecstasy; pure bliss. He’s the most devastating man you’ve ever seen. The minute your gazes meet, your breathing halts. So many emotions battle to come to the surface as lush forests meet raging oceans. The push and pull that is us. This is a moment where you just stare at each other in understanding. Letting your eyes say what you’re afraid to admit out loud.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Harry’s voice is gentle and soothing while his fingers trace your jaw before disappearing. You count his footsteps but don’t respond. The weight of what happened crashed into you like a freight train. Your breathing accelerates instead of steading as everything plays out. You don’t want to lose him when this doesn’t work out. The thought comes quickly and like a bucket of ice water. Panic setting in because you can’t lose him. You can’t lose him over one night of weakness. Shit, the uncertainty feels heavy on your chest, heavier than it should because there’s no one you trust more. He’s your best friend.

“Lil?” Hesitantly, your eyes snap to your favorite shade of green. Allowing them to travel his peaceful features, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Everything about him is relaxed and unguarded as he starts cleaning you up with a warm washcloth. The light stubble on his sharp jaw to pink parted lips to the freckles on the bridge of his nose that you wouldn’t see unless you were close enough. Your fingertips ache to trace the path, feel each little freckle and plane of his face, until they’re touching his pink lips. Sometimes, you wish memories worked like photographs or something so you could accurately remember how being in his arms feels. How finally being his feels until unrelenting reality hits. You’re not his, Grace is, and that hurts worse than you thought. His lips tip into a left-sided smile, “There she is.”

“Here I am,” You smile back, cheekbone gently compressed by his long fingers.

Dark curls sticking up in different directions, evergreen eyes following every detail of your face, a red hue dusting across his cheeks, and his once parted lips tugging into a sleepy smirk, “You still with me, Lil?”

“Always.” The word came out fast because you were with him. Maybe too with him. “Gonna get dressed real quick.” A giggle escapes your lips, “Don’t have the money for Ellie’s therapy bill if she walks in.”

“Fuck,” He chuckles, running a hand through long curls, “She’d probably ask to join.”

Your phone buzzes two times and something inside you freezes. You know it’s Rylan, no one else but him and Harry text you this late. The playful expression on Harry’s face slowly drains into something that resembles pain as he hands it to me. The sudden change makes your stomach turn in the worst way.

From: Ry (2:30 am)

Sorry about tonight.

From: Ry (2:31 am)

Can’t lose you over a stupid argument, Lil. I know you and Styles are just friends and you wouldn’t touch him. Sorry for being a jealous prick.

That stomach-sinking guilt comes back full force and causes your mouth to flood with saliva. You pull the Nirvana shirt over your head and turn to explain but he’s already looking at the wall. His jaw tense, so tense that the hinges are bulging, but expression is stoic. He swallows, the columns in his throat tense then relax showing just how hard the salvia was to get down. You linger on his side profile for a second, appreciating the beautiful yet masculine planes of his face, before clearing your throat. He blinks a few times before turning slowly to meet your eyes. The words rush out of your mouth, “Harry-”

Playful evergreen darkened to forest green, “I better go.”

You jump to your feet, following behind him quickly, desperate to explain. His back to you, broad shoulders sagging, as he works to unlatch your window. The glass opens with a thud and you expect him to leave but he doesn’t. Ring-clad fingers grasp the ledge, knuckles blanch, as he just breathes. You count to fifteen waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t. 240 long, excruciating seconds pass. Exhaling harshly, his voice is hoarse, “We need to tal-“

“Friends?” You blurt, not letting him finish. Needing to know you’re okay, eyes volleying between him and the notification on your phone.

He pauses, hand resting on the windowsill, so much pain in those evergreen eyes you love so much. There he was, always taking care of you. Even if it means hurting him.

“Yeah, Lil.”

Your attention stays on the window as he slips out without giving you a chance to respond. Everything smells like him, a mouthwatering mixture of fresh laundry, peppermint, and something earthy like the wind. Even your skin has traces of him that you don’t think you’d be able to wash off. The memory of tonight permanently embedded into you and there is no denying it. How his mouth felt, his hands on you, the sound of his raspy voice slowly ruining you for anyone else.

What the fuck did you just do?

674 notes · View notes

tmgstudios · 2 years

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[long post, sorry, theres a tldr at the end but i really recommend reading the full thing if you can]

i really wish there was more like. narcolepsy awareness stuff in the world. that teaches people the actual symptoms and not just the stereotype. the amount of people i have talked to both online and in person about my experiences with narcolepsy who have been shocked at how much they related to my experiences is staggering.

narcolepsy is so under-diagnosed and also very often misdiagnosed as something else because so many people, even within the medical field, don’t know the actual symptoms of narcolepsy (i am not pulling this out of my ass, my sleep specialist has told me this several times. its a real issue that sleep specialists continue to battle to this day). up until relatively recently, the past 5-10 years or so, narcolepsy and other similar sleep disorders weren’t even considered real by a lot of the medical field!!

narcolepsy is not “falls asleep at random” disorder. narcolepsy is a disorder of sleep cycles, causing the brain to enter rem sleep much quicker and more frequently then it should.

this causes things like excessive daytime tiredness/chronic fatigue, extremely vivid dreams, sleep paralysis, hallucinations while waking up/falling asleep, and in the case of those with narcolepsy type-1, cataplexy (aka, while feeling intense emotions the brain will enter rem sleep while awake, causing muscles to lock up. this is where the “falls asleep at random” stereotype comes from, but the person experiencing it is not actually asleep, just unable to move their muscles. i can’t really speak more on this specific part of narcolepsy, since i have type-2, aka narcolepsy without cataplexy, this is just the basics i was told by my sleep doctors. EDIT: someone who experiences cataplexy has added their experiences in a reblog, if youd like to learn more please go take a look!!) [note: these are not the only symptoms of narcolepsy. not all people with narcolepsy will experience all of these symptoms, and everyone will experience them at different frequencies. for example, i only get sleep paralysis once every month or so, and my hallucinations tend to be limited to auditory] according to my sleep doctor, narcolepsy also has links to both adhd and chronic strep throat as a child (i have no idea how that last one works. but. thats what my doctor said and hey. she was right. i had chronic strep throat as a child and look at me now.) EDIT because i forgot to add: narcolepsy can not only co-exist with insomnia, but cause insomnia as well! excessive daytime tiredness --> more naps during the day --> harder time falling asleep at night

so yeah. i guess this is me doing awareness. if you relate to any of these symptoms, please talk to a sleep specialist if you’re able to. it might not be narcolepsy, but chances are it’s something, since none of these things are normal (to repeat, excessive daytime tiredness is not normal. that means there is something wrong). theres nothing wrong with asking a sleep specialist about narcolepsy and getting tested for it, even if you come back negative.

my dms and askbox are open anytime for any kind of questions about narcolepsy, the diagnostic process, treatments, etc. while i am not a doctor, i have learned a lot through my own experiences, talking with my sleep specialist, and also my own research, since i’m currently studying to hopefully make narcolepsy research my career! whether you are questioning having narcolepsy or not, you are not bothering me with questions, i promise, you asking will probably make my day

TLDR; narcolepsy is a very misunderstood and underdiagnosed sleep disorder, and i highly recommend everyone learn about what it actually is and what the symptoms actually are, and if you relate to any of them, talk to a sleep specialist

[other narcoleptics feel free to add on to this post with your own experiences(and also to message me i always want to talk to other narcoleptics ASJDKHJ), and non-narcoleptics please please feel free to reblog! i really want to start spreading awareness for this disorder, since again, severally under/misdiagnosed and most of the world is still under the impression that the narcolepsy stereotype is true]

#GIRL HELP I KEEP FINDING TYPOS/GRAMMER ERRORS AFTER IT ALREADY HAS SO MANY REBLOGS #narcolepsy #narcoleptic #sleep disorder #chronic fatigue #disabilty awareness #narcolepsy awareness #disability #disabled #please reblog. i really dont want this to flop lol i am So Passionate about this stuff

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your-local-hoemie · 11 months

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ꕥ Genshin Impact ꕥ boyfriend headcanons, Inazuma edition~ part one.

This is a two part one cuz there’s a lot of characters and my brain only lets me write so many in one go >_<

I’m currently in the process of preparing to move in the next few months and hopefully starting a mortician apprenticeship so I’m exciteeddddd

Summary: Just head-canons about the Inazuma hotties :p

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, maybe a tiny bit suggestive, Gn!Reader, established relationship, not proof-read.

Characters: Heizou, Kazuha, Thoma.

Heizou~

Oh no. Suddenly I’m a criminal.

I sure hope no hot, flirty, pretty detectives come looking for me >:)

We all know how, um, Suggestive this man is.

He’s absolutely not subtle about his feelings towards you.

Always giving you little compliments followed by a wink.

He somehow manages to know exactly how to turn you into a giggling puddle within the first 20 minutes of hanging out.

Takes you on surprisingly? Very romantic dates!

His favourite is to bring you on a picnic under the Sakura’s or a quiet night with you both wrapped up in a blanket reading crime novels or cases he wants to share with you!

He doesn’t get jealous often.

Man has a EGO.

But on the rare occasion that he does, you can bet your ass that he’s going to be snarky as all fuck.

Not to you of course.

No no-

He’ll probably be overly clingy and flirty with you!

More than usual-

But the offending person will quickly get the idea that they’re on the receiving side of his wrath.

Might outright call them stupid hfkvjfod.

He’s into fishnets.

I’m sorry (I’m not) but he wears them too much for me to not believe this man would break the second he see’s you wearing them~

Also handcuffs ;)

I don’t think he’s the type to be overly protective of you.

Don’t get him wrong, he does worry!

He just know you’re capable of handling yourself in fights!

If you come back hurt, it’ll depend on the severity of how much he’ll worry.

If it’s just a few scrapes a bruises, he’ll likely patch you up while scolding you to be more careful!

“Man alive Y/N? *sigh* my occupation is ‘detective’ you know. Not doctor. Let’s try and keep it that way, hmm?”

But if it’s more serious then prepared to be babied hdhsjd

You won’t be allowed to do anything until he’s satisfied that you’ve recovered!

He’ll bring you the best food he can get his hands on in Inazuma along with cute plushies and will even work from your teapot instead of the office which makes him surprisingly more efficient-

If you ever get insecure about yourself then buckle up-

He’s prepared to give you his entire analysis on how he thinks you’re better than Celestia herself.

My guy has facts, evidence and probably a bulletin board to prove that to you!

He might be a little scared to say the special three words (aka “I love you”) at first but it doesn’t stay that way for long!

All it took was him seeing you, face first in a case file looking all disgruntled and frustrated with your nose scrunched up and his mouth spoke faster than what his brain could think.

He won’t say it all the time but he tells you at least once a day <333

He can’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to him, no matter how stubborn he is!

Kazuha~

I think I’ve made it obvious in my previous posts how pretty I think this boy is.

Like??????? Hello?????

God he would cHERISH YOU!!!

Definitely a little awkward at first but I head-canon that he’s actually really flirty!

He’s just super good at keeping it subtle enough that no one else notices shdufufuejjrifkAAAAAA

When he first started getting feelings for you Beidou referred to him as a literal love sick puppy.

He’s often sit on the end of the Crux (idk what ship parts are called) and write poems and haikus while looking up at the stars and blushing violently while thinking about you.

He definitely didn’t escape the crew’s teasing whenever he’d follow you around and seemed more giggly than usual!

Beidou was actually the one who got kinda tired of watching him run in circles so she set ya’ll up on a date without telling either of you-

Definitely said some cute poem when confessing!

“Like captured water, You hold me in your cupped hands. I flow on your palm.”

Haikus are confusing man wtf.

He definitely isn’t one for being kept in one place but it’s impossible not to notice how much longer he seems to stay around you!

And when feels the time is right for travelling again, he’ll often ask you to accompany him!

He’ll always bring you back a souvenir if you’re too busy to go with him!

Always tells you how it reminds him of you too!

Like he’ll bring back a red/pink sea shell and explain how the colour reminds him of when you blush or laugh so much your cheeks turn red.

He is protective of you but not overly.

He’ll voice his concerns about any dangerous commissions or quests you take on but if you’re insistent then instead of stopping you, he’ll accompany you!

He’s such a sweet, quiet boy so it comes to a big surprise the first time he protects you.

Actually raises his voice and shouts for you to get to safety (like when he shouted for that one dude to stop hiding)

Obviously he apologises after and explains he just wanted you to move so you didn’t get hurt :(

Completely random but I head-canon that he’s close to Yoimiya and every year for your birthday, he’ll bring you to Inazuma and take you to a really beautiful spot then set off fireworks that he planned with her!

And if you don’t like fireworks then he’ll still take you to a beautiful spot with a picnic and just watch the sunset with you~

Thoma~

Pretty boy, good boy.

House wife, even.

He doesn’t believe he deserves you :(

Reassure this boyo.

He fell head over heels from the very first moment!

Every time you talked he’d get so flustered and stutter on every other word hdjjddjd!

Ayaka obviously knew what was going on and you did as well!

The both of you made out a plan on how you would confess to him and when you did-

Oh boy-

He almost started crying ududieifjck

Hugged you so tight for like a solid 3 minutes!

Ever since then, he always picks a flower from the tea house where you both made it official and brings it home to you!!

He’s a good cook so you can bet your lucky ass that you’ll have breakfast in bed on his days off!!

He’d also help fix your clothes if they get ripped during fights!

Ayato would definitely find the situation amusing so don’t be surprised when thoma suddenly gets the day off~

He does get very easily flustered so pda would probably be kept to the minimum unless you want the poor boy melting into a blushing puddle.

He’s not overly protective of you but he does worry himself into a stupor!

Like he won’t stop you going out on commissions but the second he see’s a scratch or a bruise, it’s out with the first aid and a stern lesson on how to patch yourself up!

He’s even made a personal travel first aid bag for you!!

At night when you’re laying in bed, there’s absolutely nothing he loves more than telling you about his day or listen to your stories while you play with his hair!

You’ve both become somewhat unintentionally popular!

Not to mention the people who are just a tiiiiny bit jealous that you’re the lucky one and not them.

Which you totally don’t relish in, just a little~

He can’t help it!!

He just loves talking about you and how happy you make him! Obviously people are gonna talk about how cute y’all are :p

He’s banned you from playing the pot game.

No one really knows how but you managed to give everyone who played it a stomach ache for a solid week.

Boy also insisted on teaching you how to play chess!!

He totally hasn’t let you win a handful of times just because he couldn’t bare to see how sad you looked when you lost

he also just wanted the table to stay in one piece-

This man refuses to go to work or to bed without giving you a good morning or goodnight kiss!

He adores how cute you are when he reminds you that he loves you even if it’s in a simple gesture!!

Ya’ll, I haven’t slept for three days and the hat man is starting to morph into cyno.

Yes I’m totally fine :3

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rebouks · 1 year

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Okay! Time to spill the tea, except it's not really tea, it's more like lukewarm juice aka my future plans and some more ramblings.. ahem ⚆_⚆

First of all, I wanna say just how much I enjoyed creating Somnium. It all started during lockdown... I found myself working from home full-time, I had the perfect excuse to be the homebody I was born to be, I had a lot of time on my hands, and once I found simblr I couldn't resist joining in. It didn't take too long before I decided to hop on the storytelling train and before I knew it, I had a new hobby! Except.. that hobby kinda consumed me. I didn't even know where it was going to begin with, but the more involved I got, the more obsessed I became. Hyperfixations amirite?

The point being.. I think I spent a little too much time on Somnium, which left me little time for much else and I don't want to fall down that hole again. In the future I'd like to challenge my perfectionism! What does that mean? Well, it means not making poses for every scene, it means not being restricted by a complicated overarching plot that requires forced filler scenes and timelines and needs to make sense, it means less dialogue, or gasp! no dialogue at all, it means not getting hung up on continuity with editing and g-shade and font style and blah blah etc etc. I'd even like to incorporate some gameplay too, since I miss just.. playing now n' then.

I want the freedom to think of something silly, or weird, or completely off topic and to be able to run with it instead of being bound by a plot that needs to progress. Am I making sense? I hope I'm making sense. Basically, I'm calling this next venture a "story not story" because rather than it having one large plot, it's going to be more like clusters of subplots with some gameplay, weirdness or silliness in between...

Forever In Between will kick off around about two years after the events of Somnium. Mostly focused on Oscar and his family, we'll join them on the journey of life as Robin and his siblings grow up in the Bay.

We'll also spend some time with other favourites too like Noah n' co. Salton, Ivan & Bruno, Suzie, Miya & [redacted] and Matilda, among others! Maybe we'll even see what Wyatt's up to at some point 👀 As we all know, life isn't always sunshine and rainbows, but Forever In Between (or fib for short) will be a lot less heavy, though hopefully no less interesting!

Obviously, I don't have any set plans but I have a few specific scenes and ideas in mind already, as well as some vague subplots planned for most, if not all of the main characters from Somnium.

Also! Although Oscar is very much still a main character, he'll be sharing the spotlight with Robin too, as I have a lot in mind for that special lil' guy.. tehe!

So, what's next?! I want to make a lil promo before I start and then I've gotta.. y'know, actually start working on it. I have the first few scenes in mind but then we're wingin' it baby! The best plan is no plan and all that... I'm being kind to myself though, so idk when we'll start, real soon though!

I've already given everyone makeovers and gotten a few of the main builds out of the way, enough for me to get started at least, and I'd like to make a new navigation/pinned post too.

I wanna be more organised as well, so story posts will be tagged as "forever in between" & "fib" and bloopers, extras, builds, cas pics etc etc. will be tagged as "fib" & "fib extras"!

Okay.. I think that's it. See you soon! 👋

#ramblings #ts4 #fib extras #??#KINDA #i'm so looking forward to my new unrestricted venture into everyone's life ahhhhkdjskdj #oh.. i also wrote a poem for my lil promo and it's the first poem i think i've ever written and i rlly like it ;-;#and it has so many meanings for what we'll see in the future!#omg #i'm excited #i hope you are too!!#<333333333 #ily

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annlillyjose · 10 months

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Rock Salt – WIP Intro

hello again! on today’s news, your girl has a new wip aka something to fixate on and mould her life around for the next couple of months (or years). and because i cannot keep any exciting news to myself, here’s a wip intro.

but before we head into that, here’s a little backstory to how it happened. i finished writing dairy whiskey, i worried about my brain being incapable of forming new book ideas, two to three days after i get this new book idea that i’m totally hooked on, struggles to find a name, names it, decides to go forward with it, so again, here it is – rock salt!

here are the specifics:

disclaimer: this is an original work of fiction. plagiarism of any kind will not be tolerated. don’t be a pathetic loser.

genre: literary fiction

pov: first person retrospective

structure: probably going to be just full-length chapters

projected word count: 50k

concept: identical twins rain and norah move out of their family home for college where they purse two different degrees, live with different people in separate homes, and fall in troubles of their own. these begin to affect each other and they grow apart, being forced to navigate the the most confusing part of their lives – their shared existence as twins.

aesthetics/vibes: indigo skies, the beach, moths, seawater, salty breeze, chopping off one’s hair because existential crisis and queerness, lesbian relationships, house parties, fire, gloomy days where you feel like it’s going to rain but it doesn’t, cheap housing, bad grades, rotten food in the fridge, the moon, hanging plants, weed and local flowers

CHARACTERS

if you’ve heard these names before, no you haven’t, but again, they’re from twinepathy – the short story i wrote nearly three years back and scrapped afterwards. i tried to create new characters for this book but they feel like the perfect fit, so here they are.

norah

lesbian, she/they

her real name is eleanor

the protagonist and the narrator

studies political science

shoulder-length black hair, dark brown eyes, 5'3, skinny, wheat-coloured skin

always wears basic t-shirts or sweatshirts with a pair of mom jeans

distant, secretive, in constant disapproval of everything

strives on academic validation (and is being too hard on herself to bring in good grades)

rain

also 18

aroace, she/her

her real name is lorraine

studies painting and the applied arts

long black hair, dark brown eyes, 5'3, skinny, wheat-coloured skin

is a goofball, sunshine and rainbows, has a lot of friends, is extremely talented in her art, golden retriever energy with some drama to be unleashed

cannot keep her mouth shut so ends up in trouble with norah

don’t want to introduce them officially, because they’re not key characters, but here’s a little info on their older sisters –

harper

is called harp

is a high school geography teacher

engaged to her college boyfriend

oldest child in an asian household (i guess that’s saying enough)

violet

is called viv

the neglected middle child

in her last year of a nursing degree

wanted to study music but was too scared to bring it up to her parents and ended up being stuck at a hospital

plans to go abroad and marry a rich guy

well, that’s all i’ve got for you today. i haven’t started writing this book yet and i think i won’t until i finish editing dairy whiskey in august. i think i’ll start in september and then hopefully do nanowrimo for it in november. i’m super excited to work on it because it’s so different from dairy whiskey in a lot of aspects. but i’m discovery writing (as always) and we’ll just have to see where it goes. but until i come back with an update for this book, you take care, stay hydrated, water your plants, and eat a second dessert tonight.

– ann

general taglist (ask to be added or removed)

@shaonsim @heartfullkings @vnsmiles @dallonwrites @wannabeauthorclive @sienna-writes @violetpeso @flip-phones @silassghost @ambidextrousarcher @zoe-louvre @writing-with-l @magic-is-something-we-create @femmeniism @frozenstillicide @wizardfromthesea @rose-bookblood @coffeeandcalligraphy @rodentwrites @saltwaterbells @snehithiye @at-thezenith

#rock salt #rock salt intro #rock salt update #wip intro #wip tag #new wip #new book #writeblr #my writing #wip update

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anexperimentallife · 1 year

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Help a Filipino family with a newborn to avoid homelessness

EDIT: PLEASE SEE UPDATED POST!

Some of you remember Jhane (aka @geniussheepworld), who moved in a while back to help Zoey (aka @thesurestthing) take care of the baby and me when I was hooked up to an oxygen machine. (I'm posting this to my blog instead of her posting it to hers because she's fairly new to Tumblr, and we didn't want her to get mistaken for part of the bot/scammer infestation.)

Jhane's family needs help to keep their house!

Jhane's father works as a taxi driver, earning less than 10,000 pesos (about 200 USD) per month. But even so, twenty years ago, the Tolentinos managed to build a house on land that the title-holder promised they could occupy forever, as long as they took care of the land--which they've done.

That title-holder passed away, though, and his heir is demanding they pay him 19,000 pesos (about 380 USD) immediately, and 19,000 more every six month, or he will throw them out of the house they built. (They've already been through the courts trying to fight it; the previous owner hadn't taken steps to ensure his heir would honor his promise.)

The Tolentinos have a newborn baby, a five-year-old, a fourteen-year-old, and a sixteen-year-old living at home. As I said, Jhane is living with us now, but we can't afford (and don't have room) to take in the entire family.

380 USD now and 380 more in six months might not sound like much to a lot of Westerners, but 380 dollars is two month's salary for the Tolentinos. 380 now would buy them time for six more months, and double that (about 760 USD) would give them a year to find another source of income.

As I said, Jhane has already moved back in with us, which will hopefully make things easier financially for the rest of the family. We'd like to do more to help, but we're still swimming in debt from the whole drama with our daughter's paperwork snafu and all our medical bills from the past couple of years. (We appreciate everyone's help with that, too!) And while we can eventually pay that off, we don't have any extra money right now to give Jhane's family.

So if you can help them, please do. Jhane's link is below. And thank you.

Paypal Donation Link

And here's a picture of a grateful Jhane:

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dawns-beauty · 2 years

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Calling for TES community screenshots!

Hello! I’m dawns-beauty, aka allonsywisegirl on the Nexus.

I am working on a community-driven modder’s resource for Skyrim and I’m looking for screenshots taken across the franchise (Morrowind, Oblivion, Skyrim, and Elder Scrolls Online) in order to make them into lore-friendly paintings that can be used in-game.

Here are a few in-game examples I’ve already made from both Skyrim and ESO screenshots, as seen in Khajiit Has Wares:

Stipulations on Types of Screenshots I’m looking for:

Pictures of scenery, both natural and cityscapes ✅

Still lifes, architecture, flora and fauna ✅

Pictures of TES historical figures ✅ ✅(you will also receive my unending devotion and we shall be wed in the spring)

No visible HUD (please hide it or crop it out)

No Skyrim spoilers (ie, nothing with Alduin in it, or shots from key moments of various quests. Mostly so the paintings can be used at any point in the game without timeline divergence.)

Modded screenshots are absolutely allowed and welcomed, with the requirement that it can’t be unbelievable as a place in the TES franchise, or look too ‘gamey’ (like ESO’s fire wolves or etc). ENBs/ReShades are also welcome!

Edited screenshots are totally okay too

Character portraits might be accepted, with a few extra stipulations:

Edit: Canon characters, OCs, in-game historical figures, and modded followers are all welcome

No horny, anime, or joke mods, please

No too-obvious references to characters outside of the franchise (stuff like your character having a DA Vallaslin or etc is fine as long as it’s subtle.)

Lore-friendly races only (different Khajiit furstocks and extinct races like Lilmothiit and Kothringi, etc are welcome, as are non-Tamrielic races like Ka po’tun, Maormer, Tsaesci, etc.)

Please take extra care to make it believable pose/angle/location for a painted portraits (look up old school portraits for an idea of good composition.) Props/pose mods are good for this.

If you have the know-how and want to, feel free to edit your own screenshot to look painted! Otherwise, I will use filters to give them a more painterly look. Please don’t apply a canvas texture: I’ll take care of that part, so it will match up with the normal maps I’m planning on using.

Crediting and Permissions

This resource mod would be posted on the Nexus and free to use for anyone who wants it (as long as their mod is 100% free.) Anyone who provides a screenshot will be credited and, if they want to, have a link to their blog/profile/etc posted as well (no direct links to donation sites, however.)

If, for any reason, you want your screenshot removed from the mod at any time, I will do my best to comply for as long as I maintain the mod. Please message me on here directly, though.

Please, reblog > likes, I’m not a large blog and have very little reach in the community, and I would really like this to get to enough people to make this a reality :)

I don’t really have a timescale on release, my plan is to work on this as a side project while hopefully people keeps submitting things. It’s one of those things that I’ll continue to add files to as I get them.

Feel free to submit screenshots to my blog, DM me, send me an ask, reply to this post, or send me links to posts etc!

#skyrim #oblivion #elder scrolls #morrowind #eso #tes #tesblr #I’m really excited for this I hope people participate!

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ctrl-alt-bucky · 7 months

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If The Winter Soldier was in Task force 141 — Headcannons

(Aka: can somebody teach these dramatic bitches some communication skills)

Be warned, this has a lot more words than I was aiming for (around ~739). Feel free to send me an ask if you want me to expand on certain scenarios, or send a prompt with these two and I might make a oneshot/drabble!

Contains a brief mention of SoapGhost. This version of Bucky is post Endgame. SFW.

♡ Headcannons below the cut ♡

Nicky Fury, the therapist— and most importantly, the government— come to an agreement with the former Winter Soldier: with the Avengers fizzled out, the world needs heroes now more than ever. And so, finding an excuse to use Bucky's highly trained skills, they stick him in with Task 141, hoping the structure and team bonding will help aid his fractured mind, and hopefully dampen his grief in the process.

Ghost isn't keen on a new recruit. He doesn't like extra men to babysit, and he especially doesn't like being unsure of the rookie's capabilities. It doesn't take long for a silent feud to form between him and the newbie, who refers to himself as "Winter" for a call sign or just "Bucky" if he favors you.

Bucky, on the other hand, admires the leadership and protectiveness Ghost shows to his team. But despite that, he's just as cautious of his abilities— and more specifically: where his trust lies, between Bucky, who hasn't entirely yet merged himself with the team, and between the rest of 141, who share a rich history with the Sergeant.

In the first couple missions, Bucky finds himself frustrated with Ghost's orders. He's held the Sergeant title too, once— Hell, climbing the ranks practically required acting on command without any question. That is, until he was able to make his own decisions again. But Bucky had become accustomed to leading himself, or often following behind Steve (who knew more than anybody that telling him what to do didn't guarantee anything), not to mention the mess of Hydra and everything he did to detach himself from that life— So, he struggles with Ghost's authority, and begins to learn very quickly that challenging the non-red, skull-faced fucker is a bad idea.

On one particular morning, just a few days after their last big mission, Bucky wakes up with no arm. Fortunately for him, it's a familiar feeling of emptiness on one side. He later finds it on a shelf in the common room, displayed like a mantelpiece alongside various weapons, with a little skull etched into the bicep with black grease paint. The worst part? Ghost is the first person to sneak past him in decades. Dramatic motherfucker.

After that, Bucky finds a balance of respect and displeasure for Ghost, and works alongside him in unison. The rest of the team doesn't question his sudden change in attitude: some of them, too, had to get over that barrier, after all.

They bond over a share of books. Bucky spent a lot of his downtime before and after the army reading, and likewise with Ghost. Bucky owned a first edition of The Hobbit before he became a pawn for the Soviets, and Ghost is secretly jealous of it, having lost himself in fictional stories all the time growing up.

They also bond over their shared magnet for idiots. Specifically, idiot teammates with a tendency for causing trouble. Bucky ribs him for not making any moves on Soap, whereas Ghost defends himself with a quiet grunt and often changes the subject to something else.

The biggest thing they oppose on, however, is the subject of masks. Ghost is never seen without his, but Bucky almost never has it on unless they're on a mission, and even then, he occasionally opts out, mostly to blend in when necessary (and to help keep his memories at bay, not that he'd ever say it).

Typically, their favorite past time is sparring. Bucky has never found a non-human that can almost match him strength for strength, and Ghost likes knowing he can throw his all at Bucky without having to worry about the damage it could cause. It's the best training for the both of them; allowing their energy to drain, their skills to improve, and their banter to escalate until one of them is on top of the other, holding them down until a forfeit is called.

More than once, Bucky has been the one on the ground with his arms pinned. He claims he only admitted defeat to, "boost Ghost's ego so the miserable bastard can smile for once," but they both know it's not quite the truth.

They work as a good team and even better rivals. And though Bucky would never admit it out loud, after everything he's lost, he enjoys having an equal again. And Ghost, well... Ghost wouldn't mind keeping him around for a while, that's for sure.

That's all I've got for now! I have a NSFW headcannons draft for these two soldiers' x reader. Lemme know if that's something I should post ;D

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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

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Nightshade

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15

Chapter 14: Umami

An update!!! 🥳🥳🥳 Sorry for the long wait y'all. I am back! So hopefully the updates will get back to normal now. Thank you all for being patient 🥰 I hope you enjoy the chapter!

TW: More Jennifer horribleness, mentions of cancer and minor suicidal thoughts/implications, spicy dreams and very inappropriate thoughts, some wholesome Harrow fam content, Jake boxing 🥵, Lena being a bit of a tease, as always language, mentions of alcohol and drugs, the idiots are idioting, phone sex? Lena vs. Jennifer, Ozzy vs. Jennifer aka protective dad Oz, memories of blood and violence, Lena receives some unwanted attention, straight-up violence (mentions of knives & lots of punching) My editing site is on the fritz and I sped edited this so please take any mistakes with a grain of salt!

Moments of true freedom - from life and even from one's own thoughts - were rare, especially in this city. The noise and the strong smells and the bright lights all demanded immediate attention and, at times, made settling impossible. That was why walking through the old gym, surrounded by the steady sounds of fists striking the sandbags and Patrick's loud voice practically shouting encouragement at those he worked with, was peaceful. That, above all familial ties, was why The Ring was special.

Boxing had always been a passion for Peter. There was a time when he'd practically lived and breathed it. He'd been so strong then, so agile in and out of the ring. So how was it he now stood, panting in front of the lightest punching bag they had? Cancer. Right, he thought, forcing his thin, sore body to take a stance in front of the bag and punch. Just one more. He'd tell himself, though one often turned into ten which then turned into too many.

Patrick watched him; no matter what part of the gym he was in or what task he was doing, Peter could feel his brother's eyes. It both made him feel comfortable and irritated. He was the big brother. It was his job to be watching them, but he couldn't even do that. The image of Lena's worn down, fearful expression she'd shown him a few days ago after her encounter with Jennifer flashed in his mind. He ground his teeth together, punching as hard as he could. She didn't deserve to feel that way, not after what she lived through, and he'd sworn… He'd promised to protect her. Peter believed himself in many things, but now chief among those was one word. One damning title he knew he'd never be rid of. Liar.

Anger had never fueled him before, he'd never needed it to, but now that seemed to be the only thing he had left. The only thing the damn leukemia hadn't stripped him of. Peter missed his hair and his muscle and the way he could eat and drink whatever he wanted without worrying about throwing it all up immediately after. He missed the days when he'd dance with his father in the ring and get to listen to the older man's stories. He missed the peace that boxing had once brought him.

"The Harrow's got their demons, boy," his father always said. "Demons you ain't been touched by. It's bout the only thing I'll give the Glovers credit for."

Lena had always been haunted by Dad's fabled Harrow Demons. She'd been brash and angry and hurt for years after she'd come to live with them permanently. Peter remembered those days so clearly. Patrick and Lena fought until they were both bloody and bruised - Pat, the wary stray dog that saw Lena's trauma and anger as a threat to the life he'd somehow stumbled into, and Lena, the stray cat that saw Patrick's size and temper and was incapable of separating him from the others that had abused her - Ozzy and Dad arguing over what to do about the fighting and drugs and discontent. Boxing was the one thing that took all their noise and chaos and demons and turned it into something better.

Better was when his sister didn't flinch at his every move, and Patrick stopped sneaking food from the table to hoard in that hideous old backpack full of essentials he kept under his bed for years. Better was Dad and Ozzy sharing long looks as they all sat around the table at Nana's eating dinner together. It was watching his siblings playfully bicker as they turned on Ghostbusters - Dad's favorite movie - before they passed out on the floor of their tiny living room. He closed his eyes, clinging to the faint feeling of warmth the memories brought him as he imagined his Dad's warm embrace as he and Ozzy smashed him between them on the old couch.

Passion, love, warmth. That's what he should have felt as his fists hit their target, but it wasn't. The comforting warmth turned cold as a bitter, frustrated, and angry shout escaped his throat, and he nearly fell to the floor. Patrick was at his side in an instant, his brother's coarse hands settling onto his shoulder, discreetly holding him steady. "Easy there, hot shot. Don't wanna break the bag or any bones."

Peter knew his words were teasing, but the tight cold anger that squeezed his throat didn't seem to care. He shrugged off Patrick's hands and glared at him. "I'm fine."

"Pete," his brother started.

"Fuck off, Patrick." He didn't sound like himself but rather some hollow shell of what he used to be.

Thank god Patrick knew when to leave well enough alone. "Holler if you need me, big brother," he patted his shoulder with no look of pity or anger at Peter's harshness but rather a soft smile. "I'll be here."

He'd never admit it to those closest to him, but Peter was afraid. Leukemia wasn't a simple thing. It was a death sentence for so many, and part of him couldn't help but scoff at the idea that he would be any different. Nestled comfortably beside that dark thought was another, equally ugly. Maybe death would be better.

Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, he felt the disconnect cut through him like he was made of butter. The face staring back wasn't him. It was too old, too thin, and too… Dead to be him. He remembered what his face was supposed to look like - full cheeks and a wide smile, shaggy brown hair, and life inside his eyes. Peter didn't know the person that stared back at him. Had the cancer taken that too? Had it taken all he was as well as all he could have been?

Behind him, someone cleared their throat, and Peter bit the inside of his cheek. "I said I'm fine, Pat. Just leave it."

"That's hardly a tone a son should have with his mother." Everything inside him stilled. He didn't want to look, didn't want to face the woman that had hurt him more than the cancer ever could. After the initial shock, his father's stubbornness and Ozzy's pride filled his lungs, forcing him to turn and glare at the old wrinkled face of Jennifer Glover.

She looked different than he remembered, though his memory of her was limited to his early childhood, where her skin had been smooth, and her blonde hair hadn't been speckled with strands of gray. It was the smile that made him angry again. Soft and smug, condescending even when coming to grovel. "It's a good thing I'm not your son then, isn't it?"

"Come now, darling." She dared a step forward and extended her hand to his cheek. For a moment, it almost looked like she was hurt, seeing him so sickly. For a moment, Peter could have fooled himself into believing she cared. "You look so-"

He brushed her hand off him. "I don't need you to tell me how sick I look."

"Older. I was going to say you looked so much older than I imagined." Jennifer chuckled, shaking her head. "I was sorry to hear about your diagnosis."

"Sorry?" He spat. "Spare me the pity and just tell me what you want."

She recoiled slightly with a disappointed hum. "I want to spend time with my son."

Peter laughed then, bitter and cold. "Ahh, of course. I'm only worth your time when I'm dying, right?"

"There's no need to be cruel, Peter." Jennifer sighed. "I'm trying to show you I care."

"Too little too late." He sucked in a hot breath, putting a fire in his lungs. "You could have reached out years ago… You could have never left, but you did. What was it you said that day?" The look on her face told him she remembered, but the way she pulled her lips tightly together told him she wasn't going to admit it.

She knelt down and took his hands in hers, smiling at him while Dad held onto Lena as if his life depended on it. "Your sister and I are going away."

"Will you be back soon?" He asked the child-like innocence in his voice hopeful.

"No." His mother fixed his hair with a look of disinterest.

His brows knit together. "Can I come to visit you?"

She sighed. "Lena and I will be very busy, and we likely won't be in one place long enough for visits."

"I'm not going to see you again?" He asked. "But… You're my mom." His eyes drifted to Lena. "She's my sister. We're a family."

"You have too much of your father in you," was her bitter reply. "He is your family. Lena is mine."

Peter felt his heart shatter at her words. "I don't understand."

Jennifer squeezed his hands and stood. "Goodbye, Peter."

He could only stand in shock and watch her glare at Dad as he whispered to Lena. "I promise I'll see you again, slugger."

She practically ripped Lena away and shoved the small child into the back of the cab, turning over her shoulder. "Remember my promise, Jack."

Dad shook his head and spit on the sidewalk. "Remember mine too, Jen."

"I had too much of my father in me." Peter laughed. "That was your reasoning for leaving me behind and never even bothering to visit or call."

She pursed her lips to cover up her disdain. "I made mistakes-"

"Abusing my sister wasn't a mistake." He ground his teeth together. "And abandoning me sure as hell wasn't one either."

Jennifer opened her mouth to speak again but was overshadowed by the booming voice of his brother as he returned from the back room. "Oi! We don't have a sign or nothing but no neglectful wannabe mothers allowed in the gym!"

Disgust filled her features instantly as she looked at the copper head of hair that shoved beside her. "And here I thought Jack showed some sense and got rid of you before dying."

"The old man was sensible enough." Patrick grinned. "He died with everything you ever wanted."

"Leave me and my son to our conversation, you worthless stray."

"I'm not your son." Peter straightened his back and stepped between the two of them. "Get out, Jennifer. My brother and I have a gym to run."

To his surprise, she didn't argue as she turned and made her way to the door, pausing to look back at him. "I was wrong, you know. Lena turned out to be just like your father, but you…" She smiled. "You're mine, Peter."

Patrick was quick to scoff and flip her off as she left the building. "What a bitch." He looked at Peter with a sigh. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he replied, shaking off the question. "I'm fine."

"What's it we always tell Lena?" Patrick asked. "It's okay not to be okay."

"That's different."

"No, it isn't."

"Lena has lived through some of the worst things in this world-"

Pat nodded along for a moment before interrupting. "So have you. Leukemia isn't a walk in the park, Pete. It's taken a toll on ya and I… We all want you to know it's okay if you're not fine."

Peter could feel the sting of tears building in his eyes as Jennifer's words burrowed into his mind and Patrick's genuine heartfelt concern swirled around him. All of it was warring. Anger and peace. Jennifer's calculus manipulation and Patrick's warm support. He didn't know what to feel, so he settled, exhaling a long breath. "I know. I'm… Sorry, I've been so short with you lately."

"Don't apologize," Pat insisted. "God knows I've been a real dick to you sometimes."

Laughing at the truth of his words, Peter set a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Thanks for putting up with me."

Patrick smiled. "That's what family does. Now stop worrying, big brother, and give me ten more solid punches."

For the first time in weeks, he felt the anger shift, turning into the passion he once held in abundance. With each new punch, Peter slowly accepted the fact that things had changed, he had changed, and that was okay. Sure, he didn't look or feel like himself, but with time that wouldn't last forever. He was angry and bitter, but he'd earned that right, and emotions like that didn't last long when smothered by the love and support of a family. And Peter had one hell of a family.

Sweat glistened on her skin as the warm morning light poured in through his window. Her red hair clung to her as she moved on top of him, face soft and twisted in pleasure. Jake couldn’t stop touching her, his palms taking hold of her thighs, squeezing the soft flesh and helping her bounce on his dick. His scalp burned at the pressure of her long fingers digging into his hair, pulling at him until their lips touched.

Kissing her was like kissing an open flame. It consumed him entirely, making his face burn with heat and desire and everything in between. Lena made him feel alive, a thing he’d never really thought he lacked until her. The sensations of her hips rising and falling atop him were hazy and undefined, he didn’t really feel it if he focused on it, but he hardly needed to feel anything when he could hear the lewd noises she made.

“Jake,” she breathed his name, desperate and wanton, a sound that sent shivers down his spine and made his hands grab her harder.

“Don’t stop,” he urged her, forcing her back down onto his aching cock. Beneath his palms, he could feel her shaking, and it only made him want to ruin her more.

A whine echoed from her throat as she threw her head back. “I can’t…”

“Come on, princess,” he replied, kissing her neck. “Just one more. Just give me one more.”

“Jake.”

His teeth wrapped around her throat, sucking an angry mark there as she dragged her nails down his back and arched into him. Lathering the red area with his tongue for a moment, he smiled against her. “Scream my name as loud as you need to. It’s just you and me.”

She laughed, a sound that, while not even remotely sexual, made his dick pulse and his control over his own orgasm waver. “God, your ego is unbelievable.”

“Stop acting like you don’t love it.” Jake moved a hand from her thigh to pull her chin down. “You like my ego.”

With a soft hum, she pulled her fingers up his neck, stroking his cheeks before she settled on cupping his jaw. Her hips slowed against his into long and languid strokes that made him shudder and her breath hitch. “I just like you.”

Flashes of that night walking to her apartment after the movie flooded his mind. Her eyes were darker as he looked into them, mirroring the night she’d spoken the words to him. “I don’t want to lose this.” The admission was one he wanted to say then… one he’d wanted to promise wasn’t even a possibility but just couldn’t bring himself to. Jake had a habit of fucking up every good thing he found, and this… Lena was something special. He couldn’t live with himself if he fucked this up.

Her soft, genuine smile made his heart stutter. “You won’t.” Goosebumps flared along his skin, and her smile turned smug. “Now, fuck me. If you think can handle it, pretty boy.”

With a smirk, his hand slid down her back, pushing her down even further on him, earning a sharp gasp and a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I’m the one that needs to worry about handling it.”

“I…” she gasped as he began to move his hips up into her. “I… Can… fuck-” Her eyes closed tightly, brows knitting together as he quickened the pace. “Do… this… all… day…”

His eyes glued to her chest as her breasts bounced with the quick movements. “That’s good 'cause I’ve got no intentions of stopping. Not when you look this good while I’m fucking you.”

Jake could feel her tighten around him. He could feel her body grow stiff as she reached her peak. “Jake!”

“JAKE!” Another voice practically shouted in his ear as pressure slammed atop his chest and shook him until his eyes shot open. Simone shook her head at him and sighed. “It’s a wonder you manage to show up to work at all.”

“Simone…” he shook his head, wiping the sleep from his eyes and quickly trying to rid himself of the disappointment of Lena’s absence. "What are you doing here?"

The blonde moved around his small apartment, picking clothes up off the ground and throwing away any stray garbage she found. "I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast, but your place is a disaster. Guess we'll have to just go out."

"What time is it?" He asked, vision still blurry.

"Eight-thirty."

That made him jump out of bed. "Fuck!"

Simone gave him a curious look as he began throwing clothes on. With a laugh, she asked, "Are you late for something?"

"I'm about to be," Jake offered freely.

Her face fell into disbelief. "What would you have to do this early? You never get up before ten."

He froze, throat going dry as he weighed his options. Lying wasn't a habit Jake ever really had when it came to Simone, but telling her the truth would practically be inviting a fight. Was there a safe middle ground to telling her that he'd been spending every morning at The Ring, boxing with Lena's brothers? Both brothers often spoke about running the business; that could be enough.

Moving once again, he shrugged. "I've been taking a few morning business classes."

"Business classes?" She questioned with narrow eyes. "When did this start?"

Practically two months ago. "Only a few weeks ago."

Simone didn't bother hiding her displeased look as she crossed her arms. "This isn't another of your hair-brained bar plans with Scott, is it?"

Jake knew what Simone thought about his desire to open his own place. She'd told him more times than he could count once she found out his plans with Scott. But, despite all the times he'd heard her call his dream stupid, it still stung. "No. That's…" He was going to tell her it was dead, done, over, but then he remembered the meeting he agreed to think about attending. Was it really over? "That's behind me."

"Good." She sighed. "Now, I suppose, what I don't understand is why you're wasting time with business classes."

"You're the one always telling me I need to apply myself more."

"I meant applying yourself at the job you already have, Jake. Not some… Random useless class."

With another nod, he shrugged on his jacket. "Yeah, well, I'll probably drop it. I'm not exactly good at all that business stuff."

If Simone had bothered to look at his bookshelf, she'd see through his lie. Multiple books on business sat on his shelves, another thing to remind him of his supposed forgotten venture with Scott. Instead, she just smiled. "So, breakfast?"

"Not today," he answered, heading toward the door. "I'm gonna give it one last shot. Maybe today I'll finally start getting it."

"Unlikely," she replied, following him out with a flat tone of mild annoyance and disappointment. "We both know you have a hard time paying attention while you're hung over."

Jake didn't bother telling her he wasn't hung over. Simone wouldn't have believed him anyway. On the sidewalk, she pulled him into a tight hug, an intimate gesture that once filled him with elation but now just felt… less. He smiled at her. “I won’t be late today, I promise.”

Simone pursed her lips. “We’ll see.”

He hurried to The Ring, where Dom stood outside smoking next to his bike. The drug dealer nodded to Jake, a simple gesture that was somehow filled with more respect than he’d expected. Patrick turned and sent him a glare the second he walked in the doors. “You’re late.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Pat,” Jake replied sarcastically, shrugging his jacket off and heading toward the locker room with Patrick following close behind. “I…” Had an intense sex dream about your little sister. “I slept through my alarm.”

The redhead scoffed, standing in the doorway of the locker room, reaching up to tap the set of old gloves, his father's gloves, that hung over the door. “Well, sleepy, meet me in the ring if you think you can handle it.” If you think can handle it, pretty boy. Jake swallowed hard. “If not, we can reschedule for tomorrow.”

“I'm wide awake,” he replied hoarsely, pulling the gym tank top over his head and shoving everything else into the locker he’d been frequenting for the past two months. Jake sat on a small bench, quietly greeting the other gym goers that frequented the morning hours. Usually, he'd spend his time clearing his mind as he wrapped his hands, but today that proved difficult. He just couldn't shake that dream. Couldn't shake how real it felt or how badly he wanted it.

Loud purring at his feet pulled him from those thoughts as the hairless cat from the alley, the one he'd been seeing almost every morning, pounced on the bench beside him. The thin slits of its rich brown eyes widened as it stared up at him, gently kneading the side of his leg as it purred. Jake smiled, lifting a hand to scratch behind its large ears just where the little thing seemed to enjoy it. "Hey there," he greeted, chuckling as the cat sprained across his lap. "Can't sit around today, little guy. I've got to get in some practice before work."

The cat looked displeased by his answer and let out an angry hiss when he stood up, placing the cat back on the ground. "Relax, Hemingway. I'll let you sit on the couch with me while I smoke later."

Hemingway, a name Jake gave to the fickle creature because of the proud way it stood, as well as its rich brown eyes that reminded him of the old book that sat on Lena's bookshelf by the well-known author, rubbed against his leg and walked out through the locker room door as another person entered. Jake followed him out, watching as the cat stalked the gym, head high and chest puffed out as if he towered over everything and everyone. The attitude was another contributor to his famous namesake.

Patrick was waiting for him in the larger ring while Peter appeared to be occupying the small one with a sandbag in one of the corners. With an impatient wave, the larger man ushered him into the ring with a smile as he looked over Jake’s wraps. “You’re getting better at that. Which is good, considering I’m gonna beat your ass today.”

“You know, I’m starting to question your teaching methods,” Jake replied with a smirk.

A bellowing laugh echoed through the whole gym as Patrick laughed, tossing him a pair of gloves. “Get your gloves on, Jerky Jake, and say it to me again.”

He groaned at how quickly the stupid name Lena had given him spread through the gym. Everyone was calling him Jerky Jake, even people he’d never sparred with before. It was like the restaurant. No, Jake thought admiring the close community of people helping one another out with wrappings or sharing their music and equipment. It’s better than the restaurant.

People actually gave a shit here. They put their all into the sport and they were damn nice when newcomers joined without any clue what they were doing. Jake couldn’t count the number of times Patrick had stepped away and some stranger had offered advice on his footing or position. The Ring was like a giant family one that wasn’t riddled with toxic gossip and pay gaps and a manager like Howard. The Ring was Lena, her stubborn determination and her strategic mind, and her powerful body. It was alive and, just like she did, it made him feel alive too. Getting to punch people helped too.

Jake danced around the ring with Patrick for a while before the back door swung open and Lena’s soft voice sent a chill up his spine. He turned to look, earning a swift punch to the gut as Patrick exploited the distraction. “Ow,” Jake complained, glaring at his instructor.

“Never take your eyes off your opponent,” Patrick chastised with a smile. “Even for pretty girls.”

Rolling his eyes he turned back to watch Lena bend over and adorn Hemingway with attention. She scratched beneath his chin and whispered to him with a wide smile. Fucking beautiful. Too beautiful. Everyone greeted her as she walked deeper into the space, but she didn’t notice him until Patrick yelled for her to grab him water. When she turned back, water bottle in hand, their eyes locked and his dream came rushing back like a dam bursting. Fuck.

Her head tilted to the side as she smirked at him, smug and sexy and distracting. She tossed Patrick his bottle and stepped up on the side of the ring, resting her arms along the ropes. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early let alone in a ring with my brother.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he countered. “What are you doin’ here so early?”

“I decided to get in a good workout before work.”

Patrick chuckled. “Lord knows you’ve got some anger to burn off.”

Lena flipped him off, never once taking her eyes off him. “Well, how’s Jerky Jake doing?”

“He’s got some power in him, a bit slow and clumsy with his footing still.”

She clicked her tongue. “Sounds like you’ve got some work to do.”

“Maybe you can help me later.”

“Oh you’re not ready to go toe to toe with Leanin’ Lena,” Patrick replied laughing harder. “She’d kill you.”

Her wink sent his heart into pathetic stutters and he watched her leave, eyes instantly focusing on her hips and her thighs, remembering how they’d felt to hold in his dream. Patrick’s fist collided with his shoulder. “OW!”

“Focus!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You can stare at my sister later.”

For a few minutes, Jake was able to focus and land a few solid hits on the more experienced boxer, but then Lena emerged from the locker room in a skin-tight crop top and shorts that made her thighs look even more amazing than they already did. As she worked out at a personal punching bag he found his eyes wandering to her, taking hits every time they did because Patrick refused to allow him even one minute of distraction. Eventually, they switched to some workout machine to help him work on his stamina while Lena moved into the ring with one of the other regulars.

It’d been a while since he saw her fight, and while this wasn’t nearly as brutal it was just as distracting. Her skin was glossed with sweat, her whole body was alive and flexed and her eyes were focused on her opponent. It was in moments like this that made Jake fully realize just how powerful and strong she physically was. A goddess of fire and passion encased in mortal flesh. Her emerald eyes flashed to his, those lips quirking up into a smile as she easily dodged a hit from her opponent. God fucking damn it.

After my workout was over and Jake had been released from Patrick’s teachings we met up at the front counter, both grabbing a bottle of water before we opened our mouths to speak. Whisky jumped in between us, nearly spilling my water all over the counter to hop into Jake’s arms. “Chill out Hemingway.”

"Hemingway?" I asked with a laugh, reaching over to scratch beneath his chin. "This is Whisky."

"Whisky?" Jake chuckled, lifting the cat to examine it. "Nah, Hemingway fits better."

I tilted my head and arched my brow. "Since when did you become the authority on stray cat names?"

"Since you think this clearly distinguished cat's name should be Whisky."

Rolling my eyes, I asked, "Why Hemingway?"

Jake shrugged, readjusting the cat. "It's a classic."

I pulled one of the cat treats out from behind the counter and smirked when Whisky leaped out of Jake's arms to try and snatch it from me. "He's too feisty to be some old author. He's clearly a Whisky."

We both watched the cat devour the small treat, purring between us. “You wanna walk with me to work today?”

“No biker escort?” Jake asked, looking out the front windows.

“No,” I replied. “Things have calmed down since the whole rock incident so hopefully that will be over soon.”

He nodded. “I’ll make sure to keep the walk entertaining for you, princess.”

I rolled my eyes and headed toward the stairs to the apartment. “See you in a minute Jerky Jake.”

Work was oddly normal. Simone and Olive kept to themselves, keeping whatever hushed whispers about how amazing my mother was quiet as I worked beside them. Jake’s gaze, however, seemed more heated than usual. He watched me as I waited on the tables with this look of pure lust smoldering in his blue eyes. His watching me had become a normal thing, but this… this made me blush on the spot.

After the shift had ended and everyone was out of the locker room I tried to return Jake’s jacket by quickly shoving it in his locker while he was standing there. With a chuckle, he pulled it out. “Seriously?”

I shoved it back in, pressing my chest further into his back. “Oh come on just let this one be easy!”

“Fine,” he replied. “Just this once because you asked so nicely.”

“Thank you!” I replied pressing a kiss to his neck. “See you tomorrow?”

He turned, looking disappointed and surprised that I wasn’t planning on heading to the bar. “Not going out tonight?”

I shrugged. “I kind of promised Ryker and the bikers that have been standing outside my house dinner. Raincheck though?”

“Raincheck,” he said quietly with a shake of his head. “See you tomorrow.”

The city lights cast a thin ray, a halo of bright colors, through my new window. I kept my distance, opting to keep the darker curtains drawn as Dom had told me, but the little I could see of the city outside made me want to forego caution. Leaning against the counter, I watched the lights silently, trying to keep the feelings of being trapped at bay. I wasn't trapped here. Here was home, one of the places I specifically kept to keep from ever feeling that way again.

My phone buzzing against the counter made me jump with a far too startled sound. Jake's now familiar number flashed along my screen as I flipped it open with a smile. "It's a bit late for friendly conversation." I over-exaggerated a gasp. "Is this a booty call?"

I could practically feel him roll his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know, just sitting around in lingerie thinking about you," I teased.

He chuckled. "That's quite a pretty picture. But seriously, what are you doing?"

"I just finished cleaning up after my hungry biker guests." I glanced back at the now clean dishes stacked away on my shelves. "You just get home?"

"No," he replied with a deep sigh. "I've been home for a while."

Making my way to my bedroom, I tossed the unfolded laundry into an open chair and plopped down onto my clean poofy blanket. "You sound so thrilled about it."

He scoffed. "I'd much rather be anywhere else right now."

My brows furrowed. "Not a fan of your apartment?"

"Not a fan of an empty bed," he replied with that signature flirtatious tone.

"Mmm," I hummed with a grin. "Well, I'm sure you know plenty of women that'd be willing to come entertain you."

"Yet I called the singular one that won't." Jake scoffed. "Kind of pathetic, right?"

Warmth blazed in my chest at the admission I knew held more depth than Jake would ever admit. "I think it's sweet."

He made a gagging noise. "Sweet is a word people use to describe Will."

"And you can't share a description word with Will?"

"Fuck no."

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

"I'll hang up on you."

"You called me," I reminded.

With another sigh, I could make out vague sounds on his end as he seemingly tried to settle into one spot. "I did."

There was a quiet pause between us as I enthusiastically asked, "You okay, tough guy?"

The sound of his laugh was almost bitter as he replied, "It's nothing I can't handle."

"What's up?"

"Lena-”

"Oh, come on, don't make me get annoying."

Jake contemplated his response. "I'm just going through a bit of a… Sensitive phase."

"Did something happen?" I asked, suddenly worried he'd been going through some kind of emotional turmoil and I'd not noticed.

"No… It's… It's more of a physical problem." He sighed, deep and almost pained. "If you catch my meaning."

"Ahh," I bit back a chuckle. "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

"You did," he admitted. "What are you wearing?"

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?"

"Oh, come on. You're the one making things so hard for me with those fuckin eyes and that pretty smile and…" He groaned. "That body."

Heat rose to my cheeks, a chill rushing through my body at the sound of his voice cracking. "Should I give you some privacy?"

He laughed, a sound that shouldn't have made me want more but did. "I was thinking you could lend me a hand, actually. You know, help a friend out?"

"Most friends don't help each other get off."

"Come on," he whispered. "Please?"

My eyes fluttered shut, and I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. Fuck… "Fine, but only because you sound so sweet when you ask nicely."

Jake ignored my response almost completely. "What are you wearing?"

"How do you want to play this?" I pondered, toying with my simple T-shirt. "You want the truth, or should I just bullshit you til you come?"

"The truth," he replied.

"It's nothing as scandalous as you're hoping for," I warned him.

"Everything's scandalous when it comes to you." Jake let out a long breath before he added, “Come on, paint me a picture, princess.”

I laid back, head resting in a cradle of pillows. “I’m wearing a T-shirt probably a few sizes too big and the ugliest underwear I own.”

Jake chuckled. “How ugly?”

“Beige with a hole on the left asscheek.” When he didn’t answer, I kept talking. “The T-shirt isn’t anything special either, just black with some abstract orange logo for a sports team, I think.”

“How low does it hang on you?”

“Mid-thigh,” I answered with a smirk. “Quinn cut a pretty deep V into the neckline, though. So now my tits fall out every time I bend over or lay down.” There was that groan I wanted. His breath sounded like static over the phone as he practically panted. “You alright, Sweetie?” I teased.

Jake moaned and answered with a breathless, absolutely wrecked voice, “Just keep talking.”

This was too much fun. “And what would you like me to talk about, Jake?”

“Anything.”

“Taxes?” I asked, voice silky and sultry. “Or I could talk about how to make one of Scott's favorite dishes.”

He sighed. “Do you have to be so annoying about this?”

Giggling I nodded to myself. “Absolutely.”

“God,” he groaned again, the faint sound of him desperately working his, assumingly, aching cock echoed through the phone, sending a wave of heated pleasure down my spine.

“You sound pretty,” I whispered.

“Come over then,” he taunted, sounding far more wrecked than I think he thought he would.

With a hum, I actually considered it. I wanted nothing more than to grab my coat and take a cab to his apartment so he could rip my stupid shirt in half and fuck me. Eventually, I sighed. “Raincheck?”

Jake sounded far more frustrated than he should have as he replied, “You’re worse than Sasha.”

“Goodnight, Jake,” I said with a smirk. “Try not to dream of me too much.”

“Wait!” Click.

He was going to be pissed about that tomorrow.

As expected Jake was even more moody than usual when I arrived at work. It was a more lighthearted kind of moody, with little looks and discrete middle fingers throughout family meal, but it was worth it when I restocked the bar and asked, “So, how’d it feel jerking off to the thought of my voice?”

He stumbled over his words as he spoke to the guest in front of him, turned to grab a bottle of whatever they’d ordered, and whispered, “Why don’t you come over and watch? Find out for yourself just how it was.”

The night descended into Hell from there when my mother and Olive came into the restaurant and demanded a table. Howard, the loyal lapdog, bumped the guests at table ten and found them a seat. Lucky for me I was able to hide in the kitchen, but even then my mother found ways to let me know she wasn’t going anywhere. Like sending back food, five times.

Heather set the plate down with a sigh. "I've got a refire on ten."

"Again?" Scott tossed his utensils down and examined the dish with curious eyes. "What'd she say was wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Heather replied tentatively. "She just said she wanted it redone."

I threw down my own cooking tools and grabbed the plate. "Fuck this."

The kitchen door swung open as I charged through, holding the plate of food she'd sent back. My mother sat at table ten with a smile as she lazily swirled the wine in her glass, watching me approach. I didn’t care about the other guests or about anything but finally teaching her a lesson as I threw the plate onto the table. “Eat it or fucking starve.”

“That’s hardly the way an employee should talk to a customer.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not just a customer then, isn’t it?”

Mother smiled wider as Howard approached. “Oh, how far the quality of this establishment has fallen.”

His hands came to grasp my shoulders. “My apologies, Ms. Glover. Lena ple-”

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” I shook his hands off, turning to glare at him as I walked away.

Jake nodded to me from the bar, a smile on his face as he proudly regarded my actions. For a moment, the anger burned softer, more manageable as everyone else, Nicky, Sasha and Ari, and Heather, quietly cheered me on as I slipped back into the kitchen. Service went well after that. No more plates being sent back or requests for eight different wines to taste, just normal everyday service. While it felt nice being able to breathe again, I knew it wasn’t over.

The locker room was rowdy as everyone complained about my mother's behavior, each in their own way trying to show me it didn’t matter to them that they wouldn’t hold it against me. Jake was the only one that was quiet as he stood next to his locker and waited for me. Sasha eyed the two of us. “Do I need to stay as well? Or are you two going to keep your filthy hands to yourselves?”

He smirked at the Russian. “Hard to tell.”

“Go ahead, Sasha,” I replied with a laugh. “I’m not really in a handsy mood tonight.”

With narrow eyes, he pointed at both of us. “I’m watching you two.”

Once he was gone, Jake shook his head. “He’s more determined than I expected.”

“Oh?” I teased. “Was him literally butting into our little makeout session not enough proof for you?”

“He’s always like that.”

“Fair point.”

Once I was fully dressed to go, he nodded to the stairs. “You hanging out for a bit, or are we sneaking out the back?”

With a deep sigh, I started for the stairs. “Sadly, I think I’ll have to stay so my mother will actually leave everyone else alone.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I’ll make your drink extra strong.”

“My hero,” I replied with a smile.

As expected, my mother sat at the bar waiting for me with a blank expression. Once I took the seat next to her, it was quiet, horrifyingly so. Jake kept his promise and slid me my usual drink with an extra shot, and as I drank, my mother sighed. "This isn't you.”

"What would you know about me?" I asked coldly.

“I raised you to be better than some… drunk,” she replied. "And above that, I am your mother."

I chuckled. "That means less than you think it does, and it certainly doesn't mean you know me."

She sighed. "How many times do we have to do this, Lena?"

"What was the book I always read when we spent our summers in Cape Cod?" I asked. "What's my favorite book?"

Mother's face drained of the thin mask, shifting into annoyance at my question, and further beneath that, hidden so deep inside her that even she wouldn't see it was a hint of realization. The reality that she was wrong. "This is ridiculous."

"You think you know me? Then answer me," I demanded. "What book did I read over and over and over again until the pages started falling out?" My mother rolled her eyes. "Too hard? I'll ask something easier then. What's my favorite color?"

"This hardly proves any-"

"When's my birthday?" I continued. She didn't answer, couldn't answer. "You can't answer a single question about me, and yet you have the fucking audacity to stand here and pretend that you know me at all." I shook my head and scoffed. "You're not my mother."

Clapping echoed from the front door as Ozzy entered. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, darling.”

“Oswald,” Mother sneered, turning to look at him as he made his way to my side. “How lovely to see you.”

“Jen. It’s always so unfortunate when we cross paths.”

Her smile was tense. “I see you haven’t lost your juvenile sense of humor.”

"Never. Now, my daughter and I will be going," Ozzy replied, gently pulling me away from my mother.

"She is my daughter Oswald." Her hand snapped out and took hold of my wrist. "I am the one that birthed her and gave her every advantage!"

Ozzy placed himself between us, staring my mother down with rage swimming in his eyes. "You were the one that almost let that monster kill her. Hell, you almost killed her yourself a few times. You will never be anything more than an old, sad, washed-up ballerina Jen."

"How dare-"

"Jack might not be here to fulfill his promise, but I sure as hell am. Now, take your hands off my daughter and fuck off."

They stared each other down for a long moment before she finally loosened her grip on me. When my arm was free, her eyes met mine. "When you finally come to your senses, you know where to find me."

I shook my head, forcing the hurt down beneath my anger. "I don't think that's something I'm capable of. After all, I am my father's daughter."

Ozzy wrapped an arm around my shoulder, carefully leading me away toward the door. He raised his hand, waving back at the crowd of my coworkers. "Goodbye, Jen. We look forward to reading your name in the obituary!"

We walked in the cool city air, arm in arm, for a long time before I spoke. “Thanks for coming.”

“I would never leave you to suffer that woman alone,” Oz replied, bumping my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Surprisingly, yeah, I am.” I sighed. “It felt kind of good to confront her.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “Just like your father would be.”

The thought was one that brought me some comfort, that my dad would have stood over my shoulder and encouraged me to lay into her deeper. Maybe he was… “How did he ever deal with her?”

Ozzy’s wide smile changed then, suddenly sad and in pain. “She wasn’t always a shrew, you know. When your dad brought her into the bar for the first time, she was actually quite lovely.”

“She was?”

“Of course. How’d you think we ended up with you two?”

“What changed?”

He considered the question before he shook his head. “She got tired of keeping up the act. By that time, the damage had been done.”

I held onto him tighter. “It all worked out in the end. I mean, as well as it could have.”

“That it did, my girl,” Ozzy said softly. “That it did.”

Back at the bar and significantly more drunk the group unwound from the long night, and everyone slowly began to shed the weight of my mother’s visit. Everyone but Peter. He drank his water, staring off into empty space until Patrick or I would grab his attention again, but I knew the weight of whatever words she’d managed to have with him carried. He left early, heading upstairs with the simple excuse of being tired. I was worried about him, after everything he had going on my mother should have been the least of it.

Quinn and Prue were determined to help me unwind with drinks and an abundance of shitty jokes and games. It helped, in a way only they could pull off. The night was slowly turning around as I hopped in to help get drinks to the tables and my friends carried on having fun together. I leaned over a table, grabbing the now empty glasses, when an unfamiliar body slid behind me. “How’s it goin, baby girl?”

The nickname made my blood run cold. It wasn’t him. I told myself over and over again that it wasn’t Tony, but there was always that lingering doubt that plagued me until I turned around. The rich asshole that had dined at the restaurant and that had tried to force himself on me in Tony’s penthouse stood too close to me, smiling down at me with leering eyes. I shook my head and tried to shove past him. “Fuck off.”

His hand grabbed my arm. “Not this time. I want that kiss you robbed me of.”

“Let go.” My voice carried, and in my peripheral, I saw Dom rise to his feet.

With a frustrated sigh, the man pulled something from his pocket. A metallic sound echoed in my ears as I pulled on my arm, stilling only when the familiar chill of steel on my neck made me freeze. "I said, not this time bitch."

I had no idea what came over me as I tore my arm from his grasp and moved quickly, the blade just barely cutting the side of my neck as he reached trying to regain his hold on me. As I stumbled to the floor Dom's solid body moved, punching the man in the face once. Twice.

Everything around me slowed as I pressed my fingers to the blood that now trailed down my neck. The sting of the cut had faded, but memories of the all too familiar sensation replayed in my mind longer as I watched Dom’s fists beat down on the face of my attacker. The sound of bones breaking brought a wave of nausea to my gut, and for a moment, reality seemed to shift. For a moment, I wasn’t on the floor of Ozzy’s but back in the penthouse, watching Tony beat down anyone foolish enough to question him.

My ears started to ring, filling with static. I knew, realistically, that only a minute or two had passed, but it felt longer. My eyes focused on the blood that now flew off Dom’s fists as I brought my hands up to cover my ears, attempting to drown out the voice Dom never used anymore… The voice that reminded me too much of Tony. Jake pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered and dropped down to the ground beside me so quickly that I couldn’t control the way I flinched.

His mouth moved with words I couldn’t hear as his eyes fixed on my neck, on the blood that now soaked into my top. He quickly reached up and grabbed a rag from the table and pressed it to the cut, only then turning his eyes to the bloody sight in front of us. The static began to fade from my ears, slowly bringing the noise back. Ozzy’s voice bellowed from behind the bar. “Dominic! That’s enough!”

Patrick shoved through the crowd, followed by a few of the bikers. “Oi! Come on, Dom. Not here, man.”

Dom couldn’t hear them, or he simply chose not to, as his fists kept bearing down through multiple hands, trying to pull him back. With a shaking voice, I called out, weak and half-spoken, “Dom…” His movements stopped, and his head turned dark… violent consumed eyes met mine. The hardened mask he wore, the mask of some brutal drug dealer, fell as he saw how scared I was… how scared I was of him. “Please.”

He stood then, towering over me with shaking, bloody hands. Jake shifted, putting himself between me and the drug dealer, an action I didn't think even he realized he'd done. Dom regarded him with a far-off look before he turned, brushing past Patrick and Ozzy and heading toward the door. The bikes followed, two of them picking up the now unconscious asshole and carrying him out. Ozzy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry for the mess. The bars closing now."

"You heard the man!" Patrick reinforced. "Get the fuck out!"

Ozzy turned and carefully reached toward Jake and me. “Keep pressure on the cut, son. Pat and I will get her up.”

Patrick appeared on the opposite side of me, making himself look as small as he could as he reached toward me with a grin. “Just breathe. We’ve got ya, little sister.”

With the help of the two older men, Jake was able to keep a steady hold on the rag pressed to my neck as they helped me to my feet and led me to the back office in Ozzy’s comfortable chair. Jake knelt in front of me, eyes glued to the side of my neck where the blood had begun soaking through the rag. Ozzy’s large hand settled on his shoulder, and with the kind smile he was known for, he said, “Breathe, lad.”

“Ya did good,” Patrick complimented. “Any other idiot woulda freaked out.”

Ozzy placed a hand over Jake’s. “I’ve gotta see how deep the cut is.” Without a word, Jake slowly let go, but his eyes never left me as Ozzy pulled the rag back and breathed out a sigh of relief. “It’s just a little knick. Nothin' a bit of gauze and a bandage won’t fix.”

Patrick held his fingers to my pulse point and held my hand. “She seems to have calmed down a bit. Can ya hear me, sis?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“That’s good,” Ozzy replied, cupping my cheek. “How's the pain?”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Not compared to the other one.

Sensing the unspoken words, Patrick sighed. “I’ll go get Pete. He’ll wanna know what’s goin' on.”

“Keep him as calm as you can.”

After Patrick was gone, Jake settled into the spot he vacated, hands trembling at his sides as he scanned the new area, unsure of where to look or what to do. I carefully brushed my fingers against his and smiled up at him. “You don’t have to stay. Ozzy’s good at patching me up.”

He considered my words for a minute, finally focusing on my eyes before he shook his head. “I’ll stay. Somebody’s gotta hold your hand.”

As his fingers wrapped around mine, I laughed, soft and weak and entirely too vulnerable. “I appreciate it, tough guy.”

Ozzy quietly bandaged the cut on my neck, though I caught his smirking glances at Jake as he held my hand and made small talk. It was only once Peter came rushing into the bar that Jake said goodnight and excused himself to make way for my very worried older brother. It took some convincing, but eventually, my little family had calmed down. Ozzy closed the bar down while Prue and Quinn fussed over me for a while before they, too, filtered out. Patrick and Peter led me out of the alleyway, pausing tensely as they came face to face with Dom.

They both waited for me to tell them how to react. “You two head upstairs.”

“You sure?” Peter asked, glancing back at me.

I nodded. “I’ll be right up.”

We both stood, waiting until my brothers were out of earshot before Dom cleared his throat and sighed. “I ain’t gonna apologize for beatin' the fucker. But I’m sorry about making you relive that shit. I… I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“It… It’s okay.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad this time.”

Dom knew what I was referring to, an old incident in a drug den I used to frequent. I could hardly look at him after that, and it took months to get back to where we were. “I don’t ever want you to be scared of me again.” I could see tears building in his eyes. “I would never hurt you, Lena.”

I stepped forward, carefully reaching out to grab his hands. “I know. Will you stay tonight? Just in case?”

“Of course,” he replied, slowly pulling me into a hug.

Upstairs my brothers had gotten everything ready for a sleepover in my room. Dom settled on the couch, insisting on being in the main area by the door while my brothers and I cuddled together in my bed. Any other instance of an attack like that would have shaken me to my core… would have made it impossible for me to even talk for days after. Tonight had been scary, too familiar, but ultimately different. I wasn’t afraid like I had been in the past. I wasn’t panicked and flighty. I knew I was safe. And with that knowledge nestled in my mind, I easily drifted off to sleep.

Maybe I was getting better. And maybe I liked the idea of no longer living my life in fear.

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orcelito · 8 months

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ok ITNL chapter 8 edits are posted now. im gonna try my best to hurry along with the rest of these edits so i can finally officially start writing ITNL 15...............

for now. i go to work lol

#speculation nation #itnl shit #i did not mean for this to take this long but that's how the cookie crumbles i guess #i'll get there eventually. just 6 more chapters and Hopefully they won't require any heavy edits #aka. faster lol #chapter 7 there were some things i was deliberating on a Lot so it took me longer. comparatively i did all of chapter 8 just today #started off with 9 but ran out of time. oh well.#gonna try to get more done tomorrow. we'll see.

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sometimesraven · 8 months

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any writing advice for someone writing their first novel? (*cough, cough, aka me*)

Disclaimer: what works for me might not work for you, so feel free to take, twist and scrap whatever you need. I recommend asking/shopping around for ideas and other authors' processes, and it'll take some trial and error before you find what works best for you. But here's how I personally write.

Disclaimer disclaimer: this got real long while I was writing it and I realised how terrifying it must look to a first time writer. Take it step by step, at your own pace. It's not as scary as it looks xx

BEFORE YOU WRITE

(I'm going to be focusing on the story itself, but I'm sure it goes without saying that you should have your characters planned out first)

First things first: have a basic idea of the story beats. It doesn't have to be a Big Old Detailed Outline, just a basic compass to keep you going in the right direction so you're less likely to hit a roadblock. Personally I use the Plot Embryo! Here's my favourite video explaining it:

youtube

It's a nice simplified, easy to use tool for plotting. Here's a page from one of my journals breaking it down in a way I can personally come back to and understand:

hopefully you can read my shitty handwriting but I've put a little breakdown in the image description.

I then use these prompts to scribble down the basic idea of what journey I want my main character/s to go through, and use that as my blueprint for when I write.

WHILE WRITING

First things first: if you're like me, and seeing errors or plot holes in the stuff you've already written will bug you forever, do what I do and NEVER READ BACK OVER YOUR WORK WHILE IT'S STILL IN PROGRESS. Sometimes I have to skim back to remember where I am but as a rule, once something is written it's no longer my problem until the whole thing is done.

Don't worry about chapters and other such structure. I use the plot embryo to split things up so I know where I am, but otherwise chapters and scenes Do Not Exist until the editing process. Here's the "chapters" of a WIP as an example (this is a slightly different embryo adapted for romance but you get the idea)

Then just keep going until you're done. You don't even have to do it in order. If I'm stuck on a scene, I'll just put a big word in all caps that I can ctrl+f easily (usually either ELEPHANT or PENIS sklfsgskjf) and move on to the next bit I have ideas for, then come back to it later.

This first finished story will be bad. It'll be rough, patchy, full of holes. THAT'S OKAY. This is what we sometimes call the "Zero Draft". The draft that literally exists just to get the story out of your head to make the whole thing easier.

EDITING

Warning: editing is the longest, hardest part of writing a novel. Your book will go through several different versions, be scrapped and torn apart and put back together again. This is what makes the story great.

This is where every author differs, and there's a whole bunch of ways this can go. Personally, the first thing I do once the zero/first draft is done is put it down. Don't look at it, don't touch it, don't think about it. For at least a month. This allows you to come back to it with fresh eyes that haven't been staring at the same words for so long they just hate the whole thing regardless (and you WILL HATE IT. This is normal).

Then, the first thing I do is read back over the whole thing, adding notes and reactions as if I am a reader. If a part of what I've written makes me go 🥺🥺🥺, I'll write that down. If something could be worded better, I write that down. If you think a certain thing that you would put in the tags of a tumblr post, write it down. Treat it like you're someone else's beta reader, note down every negative, every positive, every ???? part. This will give you an idea of what is and isn't working. Here's some of my funniest notes from my zero draft of book 2 just to prove how literal I'm being here:

Then, and this is a controversial move that doesn't work for everyone but it works for my autistic adhd self-loathing brain: WRITE THE WHOLE THING AGAIN. FROM SCRATCH.

This sounds daunting and it is, but you've already written it once, so the second time is easier. Usually I don't worry about making this perfect because again, this is just another draft. I'll copy from my zero draft anything that I think is fine and write new bits or scrap bits as I go.

Sometimes, the story is fine. Sometimes this is an easy refining process. However, if you're anything like me, sometimes the whole thing is messy and you'll realise halfway through rewriting that the whole thing needs restructuring. Do not despair. This is normal.

I'm using book 2 of the Truth Saga as an example for this. I got 40k words into rewriting it before I realised that the reason it felt so 'off' was because the whole thing was sagging in the middle, characters were being left behind, and the whole thing needed restructuring.

It was a rough realisation, as Reckless Truth (book 1) was such a comparatively easy process. I only did three drafts and didn't have to restructure much. Book 2 is giving me so much grief and I'm gonna slap it when it's done.

If you hit this roadblock, it might be time to do what all mood writers hate. Detailed plotting. Go right back to basics. Write down every plot point in detail this time. Act like you're spoiling the whole entire story for someone. Have you ever watched a movie or book review where the reviewer does a full breakdown of the plot? Do that. In this you'll find out exactly where you're going wrong and be able to tweak and fix it. If you have more than one main character, I recommend doing a separate plot thing for each of them and one for the book as a whole so that you can make sure their emotional arc is getting the attention it deserves.

Then, when you're happy with the new plot you've written based on the draft of your story, go back and try to rewrite it again. If this sounds like a nightmare, it is. But it's worth the work, I promise.

From there it's a case of rinse and repeat, reread, rewrite, re-edit until you're mostly happy with what you've got. Then send it to beta readers and editors to tear apart even more and put it back together until you think it's ready! I also recommend joining some writing discords, watching streams or videos about writing, just research research research basically

Happy writing!

#writing advice #author advice #writeblr #authorblr #novel planning #writing process #authors of tumblr #answered #mine #writing #sagetheenbymage

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regrowal-the-game · 5 days

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Update Log #1

Following up on Log #0, this is our first proper update log showcasing our most recent and current works-in-progress for our indie game, presented by yours' truly, @recusantalchemist and @andeditor7! Starting off with some of our recent technical changes, @andeditor7 has been hard at work getting our water mechanics implemented, arguably the most important aspect a game set in the ocean. Although for the moment on my end of the repo, it's looking like a desert:

Ah well, soon enough I'll get to go swimming again. Also, we've started working on the weather and seasons system as well as planning out various weather types, ranging everywhere from radioactive rainstorms, snow, and sunny days.

Speaking of sun, AndEditor7 has also improved the lighting system drastically, allowing us to use a much wider variety of colors as well as allowing for proper blending between light sources!

Next up for lighting will be ambient occlusion and shadows.

On my end of things I've been working on updating and polishing textures and block models as well as making more new ones, such as those seen above and below. Along with that I've been adding a variety of new creatures to the game, ranging from darners (aka dragonflies), purple shrimp, crabs, rollerspike crabs, plankton, and giant bloodsucking.... things, to name a few!

Quite a few new tools and weapons have been made as well, although I forgot to update the copper texture before making this display (Sorry, I'll show that and some tweaks to the models in Log #2!). Some ui's have been polished as well, namely the hotbar and the backpack inventories. I'm also working on some new more visually interesting uis for the world generation, namely within the spaceship before the game takes place. Here's two working drafts:

I was working on my garden with my partner L the other day and noticed the dirt in game didn't feel quite right, so after touching plenty of grass irl I decided to recolor the one in ReGrowal a bit:

We've also got a starting space uniform and backpack model now as well, as you might have noticed here and there in the screenshots above. Next up will be implementing them along with the player model. Fun.

And for now, that's everything in Log #1, we look forward to showing you more in Log #2, on 5/24/24. In the meanwhile I've got a mile long to-do list of to complete and about 30+ lore fragments to edit and fix. Until then, everyone! Oh right, P.S. - We'll be setting up a proper website here in the future too. Hopefully some news within the next update log or three. P.P.S. - In Log #2 i'll show ya'll the new skybox elements such as the sun, moons, orbiting spaceship ruins, and the thankfully-not-too-distant black hole. (it's totally fine there just don't think about it too much.)

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golbrocklovely · 21 days

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I fucking need to get it off my chest , because if I don’t i might kll someone :

Sam posted an ask , simply something like “what was your least fav video/thing from our recent videos?” And i saw some people reacting to it like : “EVerything? You guys are all empty promises about nee videos on Sunday , but you barely even post” or some shit like this. And when i tell you my blood BOILED ! First of all , Snc never or at least nothing I remember made empty promises. They always tells us on which sunday the vid is gonna drop and it alzways does ( and when there are some complications , they tell us as well and inform us about unfortunate delay of a vid… but that happens… rarely) and second of all!!!!!!! ————-> SAM AND COLBY ARE NOT FUCKING MACHINES AND YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASSES ON TWITTER NEEDS TO CALM DOWN! They do basicallly everything on their O w N ! They film , they montage it and then upload it … It takes time ffs. Like when did they filmed the vid with Boys ? Two moths ago? And we will probably get it this Sunday ( almost Fcking May! ) . Sam and Colby put a good amount of work for their every video. The videos are so well done and so entertaining to watch that even non believers admitted to watch it for pure entertainment, because those videos are just genuinely good and interesting. But guess what? To create something great you need a lot of timeee and a lot of worrk. Snc are humans too and i am so pissed that some of their “fans” do not seem to get that and treat them almost like ma chines. “Omg boohoo poor me , it’s another sunday and no Snc video” . You guys are so annoying. Find a life! Ok? Then maybe you would stop crying about ridiculous things like people being people and not machines that post every Sunday , 1h+ long videos with great montage that includes sound effects, cuts , extra images etc. Sam and Colby at least have life and do some work yk? Maybe if you could find yourself one then you wouldn’t care that much and reduce your time spent on Twitter and Internet and realize that there is a life outside of it in which people do not cry over some YouTube videos omfg.

what a timely ask (from yesterday) for what came out today from xplrclub lol

i agree with you. any fan that expected every sunday to get a vid from them just hasn’t listened to snc, who literally gives us a couple days notice of when they plan to post.

the issue with the videos taking so long, and thus only having one a month, will hopefully be solved soon since they hired on more editors. bc that was their main issue since colby has been the only one editing while sam gives notes to the other editor about the (basically) finished video.

i can understand why fans are upset for the very slow build up of videos this past year, but that frustration doesn’t mean you get to go balls to the wall crazy, saying whatever you want about snc in the hopes that things will changed.

not to mention they have been posting once a month for years now (maybe twice if they get lucky) minus hell weeks, so…. why is anyone acting surprised by this? not to mention they have a whole ass other channel where they post weekly/biweekly - the react one.

and if anyone brings up the old days, aka xplr era, those videos were only 20 minutes long max most times and were all filmed in succession in one state with JUST snc. the times have changed. move on and accept it or leave 🤷🏻‍♀️

#ask #personal #snc bs

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lavendelhummel · 6 months

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20 Questions about writing - another tag-game!

Now that I spend my Sunday doing the music game, why not do it again? Because as I said before but want to say again: thank you for *all* the tags @lilolilyr ! I appreciate all of them a whole lot! But especially the ones about writing!! Because I love writing and talking about it and because I still struggle a bit to call myself writer with my cute little 125k words on ao3 and especially with so rarely finding the time to write recently :( Aaand looks like I just answered one of the questions:

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

It’s 125418 at the moment (hoping that I’ll finally come around editing the 10k chapter next weekend, that sits on my computer for months now, that would change it quite drastically but we’ll see).

But back to the beginning:

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

Not that many, 7. Most of my ideas still live in my head, mostly out of lack of time to write. It's a very varied mix of length though, my first work are 15 chapters of single one shots, that I posted as one story because I didn't want to take up to much space. Then I have the WiP, that is almost 80k now and not at all finished, I have most of the next chapter finished and it's again quite long. But in between being able to finish that I suddenly started posting shorter works too, one two-shot and one one-shot. And now there is also two new one shots that are a different fandom and the first thing I was able to write since I had to stop for real life stress reasons for a few months, one of them was written together with @lilolilyr, another first experience, writing together, such fun! And then there is also another oneshot collection about pregnancy, that I almost forgot, that I have plans for but tbh they are not very high on the priority list.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly The Wheel of Time (well, Siuaraine aka the fishwives) so far, but those two newer ones are Warehouse 13 (Bering&Wells) and so are many of my unwritten ideas. And I wrote about Marla and Fran from I care a lot.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Well, since there aren't that many, it's all of them expect for those two Warehouse ones.

But to be more precise: for some reason, by far, very far that one-shot collection for I care a lot with 176 kudos. I don't understand this at all, because I wouldn't rec them nor do them this way again, they are quite weird and my first fanfic steps. I definitely see that I have gotten better since then, even though it hasn't been terribly long! Still, I am very happy if people had fun reading this!! Second is the long fic with so far 7 chapters and I think, this can be explained by it having more chapters than the others but also I put a lot of work in it, so it's nice. And then the 4 chapter one shot collection with 48 kudos, then the one shot I wrote as a birthday present for @ginnyjyng and fifth the short mermaid two shot - still planning on writing a longer Mermaid AU! - with 18 kudos.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, every single one, always so far. Even this one, though it confused me a lot:

And why? Because if someone says something to me, I answer, I react? Because comments make me over the moon happy and I want to show it? Because I love to talk to people and when someone comes to me to talk, yes I will talk! And I think I would feel impolite not to as well, if someone goes out of their way to tell me something about my writing, then I can answer that. And also! I am unfortunately still working on overcoming my shyness in commenting other peoples fics and if I do that and get a reply it makes me a) happy and b) makes it so much easier to comment again because it means I hopefully didn't annoy the person (rationally I know that other people are as happy about comments as I am but... it's not fully rational).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't think I have any fic with an angsty ending! Life is hard enough, I want happy endings and also happy beginnings and middle parts! So no angsty endings at all, but you could call the fix-it chapter/one shot of the I care a lot- collection angsty because it deals with the not-so-happy ending of the otherwise great movie (I don't like it anymore, if anyone wants to read about it, better try the follow up chapter, that one is better). And maybe also my new warehouse13 fic, because it deals with Helenas grief and pain, but it's about healing through poetry and both have happy endings!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Well, all of them then? Happ-iest though... I mean both of the above mentioned because they have a happy resolve? Or rather the ones that are pure fluff, like the birthday one? Or the mermaid one, because sapphic mermaids are the happy ending I am still waiting for for my own life? Btw., even every chapter of the long WiP has its own happy ending. Oh, and I guess chapter7 was a bit angstier too and has a very happy ending! And so chapter8 starts very happy, but unfortunately still unedited in a word document...

8. Do you get hate on fic?

I wouldn't say "hate". But the very first comment I ever got wasn't very positive and I have to admit, it stung for a good while. I am mostly over it now. Well, and the one from above from "weird ass" (why?) calling me "tea snob" (weird ass is right on this one, so I guess its just truth and no hate).

9. Do you write smut?

No, but not because I don't want to or think it's bad. I enjoy reading it from other writers! But I can't do it (yet). I will allude to it though and feel more confident in that the longer I write fic in general, so maybe one day, I will. Right now, I can't.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, it's not something that interests me. Not even in the little head-scenarios, it just doesn't happen.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so. But again, my fics aren't very plentiful or popular and most very specific, so I don't think they'd be first choice to steal.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, and I can repeat it here again, my fics aren't very plentiful or popular and most very specific, so I don't think they'd be first choice to x (steal, translate, anything).

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Woooohpppp, yes, as I mentioned already, now I have! @lilolilyr and I had fun mentally teasing poor Helena here! It was definitely very different from writing alone, different mindset, atmosphere and feeling afterwards but fun! Different kind of fun than sitting alone at my desk ;) (which is also fun if it's for fanfic). And it was quite spontaneous, we were both actually working on other fics and then interrupted those to do this. Aaand now maybe this new thing that we just thought of? What is going on?

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I have to say Moiraine and Siuan here! I can't say yet Bering&Wells because I have only been obsessed with them for months, but it feels like an obsession that is going to stick.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

I only have one WIP that is more than an outline and a few sentences but actual posted chapters, it's Yellow. I do still plan on finishing that, the reason it hasn't been updated is that I couldn't write anything at all for a few months and am easing back into writing slowly (still dont have huge amounts of time). But I am thinking about cutting it a bit shorter than originally planned. It would still fully work in the plot and as I said each chapter has a happy end, so it would just not follow their lives as long but have a finished ending. I have 85% of the new chapter written but haven't touched it since mid-july. It is coming!

In my head I have so many and the thought of giving some of them up hurts but realistically I won't write them all. I'll have to see which ones I'll be able to pursue.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I can bring a flow into the emotions I try to describe, that they feel kind of natural? And I can't be too trope-y or fake, same as I can't lie in real life, so I'd think my writing should be rather authentic? This is a difficult question, but what I can definitely say is that writing makes me feel very good. It's a very special mindset and calmness that it brings, like a little candle that gets lit inside of me.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue, I'd say. Not that my dialogue is particularly bad, but initiating it instead of describing the protagonists inner world is sometimes a problem. But I am working on it and I feel like my writing is only getting better. I mean after the involuntary break I am a bit rigid and have to get back into practice but in general there is progress.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

The thing is that there are some things I am used to saying in one language and others in another. Before I committed to fanfic I mostly wrote melodramatic poems in Frallemand (because let’s be honest, Freutsch klingt scheiße), maybe 80% French (because that’s what I mostly use in my head for some reason) and 20% German (because that is after all what I grew up with and spent the bigger part of my life with). So, yes, I love using that! But it had to fit the character and the story, have a reason. And I often find it doesn‘t go very naturally in some fics. In my head it makes sense to use multiple languages but in my head lots of things make sense that could be hard to follow on page. The question is what is the character‘s relationship with this language and words in general? Who are they talking to, do they understand? What about the POV is it in the mixed languages too?

Are it words or whole sections? I don’t like just using cliché words in that language and the whole rest in English, no one (me?) talks like that.

So far when I have used another language than English, it was in a way that it got explained during the next few sentences by the characters anyway, so it felt like a flow and not interrupted by translation.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was I care a lot. I had been trough a bad few months mentally and was starting to do better, and when I watched that film (and loved it) suddendly I started having ideas and it felt like a fog had finally be lifted. I hadn’t been able to access my creative side for a few years at that point because of stress, and it felt so good. So I tried to never give it up again (obviously I had to take breaks again but I didn’t forget about it like before).

And when I read more interviews with Rosamund Pike because of I care a lot I found out about The Wheel of Time and read the books and got into that.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

My favorite is the least popular. It is a bit of nonsense but so fun and I like the ambiance. Dreaming of waves. The first chapter is serious and actually canon compliant and the second a bit cracky. A bit of siuaraine mermaid fic when I couldn’t write a whole long AU (which I still want to do but we will see when). And now I also like the most recent one I posted, it’s about Helena discovering my favorite poet and so probably as self indulgent as the mermaid one. I got very little feedback on both, especially the last one, so if someone has thoughts, I’d love to discuss them!

Thank you again, so much for tagging me @lilolilyr! I am tagging @lakeofsilverpike and @trollocks-in-my-bollocks. Sorry to both of you, if this feels spammy, I think it is kind of fun and you said you didn't mind spamming. I am curious to know about your feelings on writing, but only do it if you want to! I will stop doing these again now, this took me three days and will spent my time rather on actual fic writing and not writing about writing ;)

#tag game #fanfic #writing #still feel like an imposter in the fanfic world but doing this helped #writing is fun #ao3 #moiraine damodred #siuan sanche #wheel of time #myka bering #warehouse13 #helena g wells

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