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vrsin · 4 months ago

Text

~The Embrace Beyond the Veil of Time~

Linked Universe x Reader

Story by @vrsin

Linked Universe by @linkeduniverse

Pervious

Fan Art : 1

~~~

✧ 1 ✧

You launch up from bed, throwing your blanket off and running to your bathroom. Slamming your knees against the hard ground you throw up in the toilet.

You cough until your lungs hurt, tears streaming down your face. Knuckles white from holding on to the bathtub and cabinet nearby. Your throat burns as you cough, slowly the coughing fit fades. Flushing the mess, you grab a prepared water bottle to your right. Drinking down the whole thing.

You knew this would happen, these nightmares have been getting more consistent. More detailed.

More real.

You sigh and lean back on the wall, your bathroom is pitch black and the floor cold to the touch. You feel as if your skin is infested with something crawling inside. You're uncomfortable beyond measure, waking up from a nightmare. Throwing up your guts, surrounded by pure darkness which reminds you of…

Your turn on the lights.

The nightmares have been a nuisance. It has been going on for a long while now, as least a couple of months.

Though this one was different from the rest, you actually saw the person the haunting voice belongs to.

In previous dreams you always heard him saying the same thing over and over. That small sly smirk on his face as if he won, as if he knew something you didn't. Knew that you were nothing compared to him, that you were wrong.

Once when you were on a red ship. Traveling to crashing waves with a small figure, you still remember his large smile.

Flying on a bright red bird throughout the clouds. Clinging onto the back of someone, his light brown hair blowing in the breeze.

At a little ranch the sun kissing your skin. A muscular man in the distance laughing as you were playing with kids.

A lush flower field. Surrounded by glowing floating dots, as the person beside you made light within his hands.

On a lonely island. Where you sat side by side a still figure on the sandy beach, him staring at the clouds.

Inside a smith’s workshop. Listening to the clanging of metal, watching someone hard at work.

A wasted battlefield of war. Zipping through the fighting of soldiers, looking at someone with a navy blue scarf.

Lastly, a hill in a lonely field with a singular tree. Sitting next to a young man playing a lovely tune with his instrument.

Each dream was blurry but as more and more dreams occurred the clearer it would become, but the haunting voice would stay the same repeating each word in every dream. Taunting you, belittling you, every single time.

Each time he would begin to speak is when the mysterious figure in your dreams would ask if you would always stay by their side, and your reply the same every time.

The events that followed never changed once: that awful grey being with the bloody red eyes, the dark place that consumes the land and that monster lurking in the water.

It always ends the same… that beast opening its mouth, you falling in… and…

You swallow, best not to think about for now.

Getting up from the cold floor you make it back to your bedroom looking at your phone. It's time to get ready anyways, your first class starts soon. Glancing outside your window, the clouds are starting to turn grey. WIth a quick flash of light it starts to pour down, just great. A storm, what a joke.

Finishing getting ready and picking up your backpack you look at your desktop where your Nintendo Switch is lying, you recently beat Breath of the Wild. Collecting all those korok seeds has been nothing but a pain, though exploring places you haven't been before in your first run has been fun…but

Your face scrunches up, now thinking about it. The trail you were taking in your dream was very similar to the path going to Hateno Village.

If you really thought about it. Each area in your nightmares including that person and that abyss, all of it seemed too familiar.

You sigh and swing your backpack over your shoulder, maybe you're just playing too many video games.

~~~

Students run as fast as they could to make it in the campus and avoid the down pour, you one of those students. Making it inside the campus and shaking off a bit of the water, you check to make sure the damage to your backpack isn't too severe. Satisfied with it’s state, you start to head to your first class of the day, history.

The class is dimmed down a bit as the lights in the back have yet to be replaced, just were you're sitting. Taking your seat and getting everything ready for today’s lecture you wait for it to begin, pen in hand.

“Right class, glad most didn't decide they were suddenly sick today and call out because of this weather!”

That got a few tired laughs from a few students in the front, a small smile making it to your face. Maybe you should have actually called sick, having gone through that mess this morning. Well, you're here now anyways.

“Right, so for today we will be going over World War I, the involvement of the United Sates, and The League of Nations. Now! To begin-”

Your head is starting to fall, harshly placing it in your opposite hand, the other desperately trying to write down the lecture. You feel exhaustion creeping up behind you like awaiting a jump scare in a horror movie.

Shit, you're falling asleep!

Involuntarily, you feel your eyelids start to droop. You try to will them to stay open, but you feel yourself losing.Your eyelids shut. The professor's voice in the background, nothing but a few murmurs.

“ …- World War I...”

You're in a battleground, dead bodies and blood cover the grass. Swords and shields scattered about in the mess of corpses. You step forward just to stop when hear a crunch, looking down you see you stepped on the mangled finger of a soldier.

“...Just how many…”

You look up from the dead, standing right in front of you is a blonde in armor. His back turned to you, dressed in green garps and wielding a lightly glowing sword, covered in blood.

“....How many that I trained beside…”

His head facing upwards to the now clearing sky. God rays begin to peek through, revealing the countless bodies scattered. The ocean of blood which covers the lush green field.

It goes on for miles…

His shoulders begin to shake, from fear, from grief, you dont know.

You noticed his navy blue scarf blowing in the wind, the bottom dripping blood.

“HOW MANY MORE WILL BETRAY ME IN THIS WAR!!”

Your eyes burst open, you're starting to sweat. A fever creeping from your neck spreading through your body. An intense weight is placed on your chest, you feel like your lungs will collapse.

“... -When American soldiers-...”

Your eyes shut once again.

You hear the sound a pacing feet, opening your eyes you see a man in green walking back and forth. Tugging at his light brown hair which looked rather painful. His white short cape with blue design following behind him.

“I have to be perfect…”

You're in a closed off area with a few trees, stone underneath your feet. The wind is blowing harshly as if you're high in the sky. There's something large just a few feets way.

“They rely on me as a knight.”

You don't like that large figure, it feels looming, powerful, ancient. You cant see the details, just the slight color of cold grey stone and the outline of pressed together hands in front of it’s chest. You trail your eyes analyzing it as you get closer to its face, just to freeze and your breath halting.

…Its staring at you

“WHY AM I ALWAYS LATE!!”

Your body jolts forward, fuck you can’t see well. You try to make a sound but your throat feels like someone is choking you. Trying to get someone’s attention you try to reach out, but your body is too heavy.

Your eyes drift close.

“...-The League of Nations organization-...”

Your cheek is pressed against a cold floor, fighting against gravity you lift your head to see you're in a cave. A small fire is burning in front of you. A person in a bright blue shirt with a navy cloak and the hood on is sitting on a log in front of you.

“A whole group of people…”

His knee is bouncing with his hands gripping the fabric of his thighs. You can see just a bit of his lower face to see him biting his lip. A shaky chuckle passing through his lips.

“All of them with a life goal to kill me…”

You gasp and fall back as he rushes up from his seat. Kicking the log out of the cave, the hood falling off his head.

Blonde hair in a half ponytail is revealed to you, only for him to pull off the ponytail and tug at his hair from the back, again, it looks like it really hurts.

“IM NOT EVEN THE SAME PERSON AS BEFORE!!”

The fire begins to burn bright in front of you, your breathing is coming out as short and wheezy. Your head falls as you try to regain your breath. You hear footsteps making their way towards you. Lifting your head with as much force as you can, you see the three of them. Though their faces are blurry, you see them stop just in front of you.

You squint and try to remember. You've seen them before. You know them.

Why can't you remember.

Why can't you see his face?

You feel it though, deep inside your soul and gut. A feeling of familiarity with the feeling of Deja vu, like you've seen them before in a dream or they’re hidden away in a distant memory. Someone that you spent so much time with, shared so much memories with, that even after so many years pass and you don't communicate. Once you rekindle that connection, it's like you've never left each other. That relationship that can surpass any time and distance

YOU KNOW THEM!

…A Captain.

…A Knight.

…A Champion.

Your wheezing has gotten worse. At this point, you're not even sure if you're breathing air in. You hear their steps as they get closer, right in front of your quivering body. The world is closing in, getting darker, but a hand reaches under your chin to move it up.

Suddenly it’s warm, its calm.

Your fever has gone down and you take a deep breath in, gasping as you finally get air in your lungs.

Someone is stroking your cheek, a hand pushing the hair behind your ear, and another rubbing your back.

Looking up you see them three are crouched down, smiling and comforting you.

“Breathe.”

The blonde with the navy scarf is wiping your tears, his voice a low rumble. His gloves are rough, but you dont mind the feeling of the texture.

“Breathe…”

He slams your face in the ground, it’s turned to water. The other two are gone. You gasp and fight back, you feel the water entering your lungs. The burning pain of water going through your nose. Your head is pulled back by your hair.

…It’s him

The hideous grey skin differing from the dark abyss you now find yourself in. His dark clothes splattered with the only hints of color bearing red, blood. Though that can't even compare to his eyes.

His unblinking bright scarlet eyes stare into your very soul. The brightest red that you have ever seen the glow lighting the dark abyss and murky water. His face this motionless mask, not even a twitch of a muscle. He brings up his hand with his rough large palm covering your nose and mouth.

“Breathe.”

You cant…

The water is rising. Drowning you and him in the dark, as the water consumes his very being, his hand still covering your nose and mouth. You try to fight him, to go back to the surface and breathe. But he's stronger.

He's always stronger.

You see a scaled body swimming behind him in the murky water. It's swimming around. Just out of your view, only allowing its black body to appear for a mere second. It's waiting.

The scarlet eyed man finally smiles.

“Breathe.”

Someone is desperately shaking your shoulders yelling for someone else to go and get help. You see your professor standing above you. Slowly, the worry on his face begins to fade away, you're on the floor.

“Breathe, breathe. You passed out.”

Your body is shaking as you're frantically taking in each and every breath as if the next will suddenly be cut off, drowning you again in that dark abyss where that monster is waiting for you. The class bells rings.

~~~

You make it home and set your backpack on the couch.

After visiting the class nurse, she had come to the conclusion that you had passed out due to the lack of oxygen. The most concerning thing, however, is when the nurse left, you suddenly had a coughing fit. Running to the bathroom, you kept coughing.

Until murky water started dripping from your mouth.

The same water that you were drowning in.

You have decided to skip the rest of the day and go home after that. Leaning against your kitchen counter, you decide to drink slowly a clean glass of water to help with the aching pain in your throat. The storm outside had only gotten worse after your… episode and you're currently dripping on your kitchen floor.

After finishing the glass slowly, you put it in your kitchen sink. You'll deal with it tomorrow. Going to the bathroom, you grab some towels. Preparing to take a shower. The moment you turn it on, watching the water drip.

You feel the water in your lungs.

You rushed over and turned it off. Falling backwards and back slamming against the wall. You look at the towels and decide to just dry off. No shower today.

Putting on the most comfortable pj's you own, you go to bed and bundle up. Smiling softly at the smell of freshly clean sheets and warm extra blankets. A great comfort after today's events.

Though a irritated sigh does escape your lips. First it was the nightmares, now it was this weird episode you had during class. Seeing those three figures that you know for a fact you either met or seen before.

Turning to the side. You see your desk, your Nintendo Switch laying just on top. You know those three outfits, you've seen those outfits. And that grey man with the dark clothes and scarlet red eyes, you know for a fact who he is. But it doesn't make any sense. He's from a game.

Nothing about this makes any sense. Why are suddenly video game characters from your favorite childhood game attacking you in dreams? In nightmares? Even still, he's not even in the latest game that you're playing.

The most that you have is a skin of him, Dark Link.

Nothing about this makes any sense, you thought they were just nightmares. Your subconscious playing tricks on you, twisting your favorite game into something horrendous.

But after today….

After the drowning. Feeling your lungs collapsing, water being forced through your nose and mouth as you hiccup. Feeling it entered through your throat, the burning in your nose. And coughing up that water later.

You've never had very vivid dreams before, nothing that's ever felt real. But this passes beyond just feeling that it was real.

You coughed up evidence that it happened.

You feel your eyes begin to sting and hiccups force out of your throat. A few tears dripped down your eyes. All the stress and worry of these nightmares that now don't seem to be just nightmares. The exhaustion getting to you.

You fall asleep crying.

~~~

It's calm, it's quiet.

It's peaceful, it's warm.

Just like him.

Laughter wakes you up, slowly opening your eyes, you're in a bright green field. Soft laughter makes you turn to the right, there's a kid. With bright messy blonde hair and a bright blue shirt a white design on it.

“Hey sleepyhead!”

You stare at him, you… can't see him well. His face is blurry. But his smile shines through the blurs. You smile back at him as he takes your hand to stand up.

“We got to start heading out.”

“Why?”

He caresses your hand. You feel his calluses on his palm. You shouldn't feel that in a dream should you?

“Time to head back!”

“Head… back?”

He says nothing, just smiles and takes your hand starting to walk on a trail made of gold. You look only at him, trying to make sense of him. Trying to remember his face, why can't you see his face?

Music starts to play at the very end of the path, it's cheerful melody making you want to dance. You hear people laughing, you hear children yelling in joy. He smiles and starts to rush.

He begins to run as you hold on tight to his hand. The music and laughter gets louder and more inviting, but he's only getting faster. Your hand is starting to be slipping through. You look down at your hands in worry, but you spot something on his hand.

Was that…is that the Triforce…

Your hand finally slips through.

“Slow down!”

You hurry after the running figure. The wind blowing through your hair. You hear his laugh, you always loved his laugh.

“Come on! It's this way!”

He's running faster, his laughter is echoing through the trees. Since when were you in a forest?

“Please! Slow down!”

He's going faster, you can barely see him, the light that follows him is dimming. It's getting dark. You lose sight of the gold path.

“Please! I can't!”

It's getting cold, the trees make no noise. The wind has stopped blowing.

You hear water.

You hear what's moving in the water.

You can't see him

You freeze, it's pitch black. You hear nothing but your panic breathing. You remember his name, why now?

“... Link…?”

No answer.

You look around and see nothing,

The rippling in the water is getting louder, it's getting closer, it's right behind you.

You look behind to see the back of the scaly creature barely protruding out of water. It's not moving, it's just waiting, taunting.

You don't dare to move, don't dare to make a sound. Wondering if your silent breathing is enough to alert the monster.

"... ️S̴̨̛͇̺͇͕̟̘͎̗͖̙͍̭̞͇̒͆̀͝.... Ḩ̶̳̣̮̻̪̜͍̹̭͓͍̳̼̈́̅́̄̍̀͐́̊̽͌̊̂͂͠͝͝.... I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍.... M̴̨̦͓̰̌͆̉̃̄͆͜ͅ.....?"

His voice! You hear him!

Although you can't see him you can clearly hear his soft voice, though it sounds…different. As if he's the same person but a different version. He's calling for you, but not by your name. Although the name that he's calling you seems so familiar, so comforting. You know that name.

“... Link…”

The beast under the waves begins to move. The slight whisper alerting it. It now knows it's not just the two of you alone, it knows you can hear him.

It begins to circle you, taunting. As it goes in and out of the water slowly getting closer.

“️S̴̨̛͇̺͇͕̟̘͎̗͖̙͍̭̞͇̒͆̀͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜..... I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍.m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠...... M̴̨̦͓̰̌͆̉̃̄͆͜ͅ... Ě̵̢̧̛̦̼̜̲͕͕͍̤̙͉͓́̅͒̽̍̐͋͜͝.. ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️....?"

His voice is getting clearer. It's getting closer and you look behind to see a slight faint golden light.

You pause and look at the patrolling beast under the water. It's waiting, wondering, daring you.

You have nowhere to go only to that warm golden light and to him. You now accepted the fact that this, this isn't a dream anymore. What can you do to run away from this monster? What choice do you have besides calling out to him?

You take a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

And scream

"LINK!!"

The monster under the waves charges up, grabs you with its jaws making sure not to puncture your delicate body and swallows you whole.

The shadow with piercing red eyes stares at the scene before him. A small chuckle leaving his lips as he slowly turns to the left of him, to a silent observer.

“They're still waiting. You failed, hero.”

~~~

Legend gasps awake launching from his bedroll; the others waking up around him. He runs to the nearby lake and proceeds to throw up the Champion's latest meal. The dark forest is silent as he coughs and shakes, the moon shining above witnessing the hero in his weakened state.

His throat burns as he coughs and cries. A comforting hand rubs his back and another helps to hold back his now faded pink hair. He finally stops and thanks Warrior for handing him over some water. He stands back up and takes a deep breath. Turning to the group of his fellow heroes.

Each of them stare in worry, Hyrule already with a healing potion in hand. The wind blows softly cooling down his heated cheeks.

Even after being forced to give up his latest meal by the group's designated chef, his eyes hold no discomfort nor does his body.

In fact, he appears more confident than ever. His eyes burned with determination.

“I know where they are now.”

Finally, after all these years, they finally have a clue on where to find you.

~~~

Tags: @pinkittwice @luimagines @twilightpoison @cafecourage @phlying-squirrel @smartiepants217 @eyeless-kun @stardropz-oo @athanasia-day @silver-the-pendejo @krys0210 @justanotherweeb666 @lunadepan120699 @specter-solaire @honest0215 @internet-stuff @lunarobyn22

Fun fact! While reviewing this I had to write an essay for my history class about the League of Nations, which inspired the classroom scene. I hope you all enjoyed the first official chapter!! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months ago

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AI art has no anti-cooption immune system

TONIGHT (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

One thing Myspace had going for it: it was exuberantly ugly. The decision to let users with no design training loose on a highly customizable user-interface led to a proliferation of Myspace pages that vibrated with personality.

The ugliness of Myspace wasn't just exciting in a kind of outsider/folk-art way (though it was that). Myspace's ugliness was an anti-cooption force-field, because corporate designers and art-directors would, by and large, rather break their fingers and gouge out their eyes than produce pages that looked like that.

In this regard, Myspace was the heir to successive generations of "design democratization" that gave amateur communities, especially countercultural ones, a space to operate in where authentic community members could be easily distinguished between parasitic commercializers.

The immediate predecessors to Myspace's ugliness-as-a-feature were the web, and desktop publishing. Between the img tag, imagemaps, the blink tag, animated GIFs, and the million ways that you could weird a page with tables and padding, the early web was positively bursting with individual personality. The early web balanced in an equilibrium between the plunder-friendliness of "view source" and the topsy-turvy design imperatives of web-based layout, which confounded both print designers (no fixed fonts! RGB colorspaces! dithering!) and even multimedia designers who'd cut their teeth on Hypercard and CD ROMs (no fixed layout!).

Before the web came desktop publishing, the million tractor-feed ransom notes combining Broderbund Print Shop fonts, joystick-edited pixel-art, and a cohort of enthusiasts ranging from punk zinesters to community newsletter publishers. As this work proliferated on coffee-shop counters and telephone poles, it was visibly, obviously distinct from the work produced by "real" designers – that is, designers who'd been a) trained and b) paid by a corporation to employ that training.

All of this matters, and not just for aesthetic reasons. Communities – especially countercultural ones – are where our society's creative ferment starts. Getting your start in the trenches of the counterculture wars is no proof against being co-opted later (indeed, many of the designers who cut their teeth desktop publishing weird zines went on to pull their hair and roll their eyes at the incredible fuggliness of the web). But without that zone of noncommercial, antiestablishment, communitarian low weirdness, design and culture would stagnate.

I started thinking about this 25 years ago, the first time I met William Gibson. I'd been assigned by the Globe and Mail to interview him for the launch of All Tomorrow's Parties:

https://craphound.com/nonfic/transcript.html

One of the questions I asked was about his famous aphorism, "The street finds its own use for things." Given how quickly each post-punk tendency had been absorbed by commercial culture, couldn't we say that "Madison Avenue finds its own use for the street"? His answer started me down a quarter-century of thinking and writing about this subject:

I worry about what we'll do in the future, [about the instantaneous co-opting of pop culture]. Where is our new stuff going to come from? What we're doing pop culturally is like burning the rain forest. The biodiversity of pop culture is really, really in danger. I didn't see it coming until a few years ago, but looking back it's very apparent.

I watch a sort of primitive form of the recommodification machine around my friends and myself in sixties, and it took about two years for this clumsy mechanism to get and try to sell us The Monkees.

In 1977, it took about eight months for a slightly faster more refined mechanism to put punk in the window of Holt Renfrew. It's gotten faster ever since. The scene in Seattle that Nirvana came from: as soon as it had a label, it was on the runways of Paris.

Ugliness, transgressiveness and shock all represent an incoherent, grasping attempt to keep the world out of your demimonde – not just normies and squares, but also and especially enthusiastic marketers who want to figure out how to sell stuff to you, and use you to sell stuff to normies and squares.

I think this is what drove a lot of people to 4chan (remember, before 4chan was famous for incubating neofascism, it was the birthplace of Anonymous): its shock culture, combined with a strong cultural norm of anonymity, made for a difficult-to-digest, thoroughly spiky morsel that resisted recommodification (for a while).

All of this brings me to AI art (or AI "art"). In his essay on the "eerieness" of AI art, Henry Farrell quotes Mark Fisher's "The Weird and the Eerie":

https://www.programmablemutter.com/p/large-language-models-are-uncanny

"Eeriness" here is defined as "when there is something present where there should be nothing, or is there is nothing present when there should be something." AI is eerie because it produces the seeming of intent, without any intender:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

When we contemplate "authentic" countercultural work – ransom-note DTP, the weird old web, seizure-inducing Myspace GIFs – it is arresting because the personality of the human entity responsible for it shines through. We might be able to recognize where that person ganked their source-viewed HTML or pixel-optimized GIF, but we can also make inferences about the emotional meaning of those choices. To see that work is to connect to a mind. That mind might not necessarily belong to someone you want to be friends with or ever meet in person, but it is unmistakably another person, and you can't help but learn something about yourself from the way that their work makes you feel.

This is why corporate work is so often called "soulless." The point of corporate art is to dress the artificial person of the corporation in the stolen skins of the humans it uses as its substrate. Corporations are potentially immortal, artificial colony organisms. They maintain the pretense of personality, but they have no mind, only action that is the crescendo of an orchestra of improvised instruments played by hundreds or thousands of employees and a handful of executives who are often working directly against one another:

https://locusmag.com/2022/03/cory-doctorow-vertically-challenged/

The corporation is – as Charlie Stross has it – the "slow AI" that is slowly converting our planet to the long-prophesied grey goo (or, more prosaically, wildfire ashes and boiled oceans). The real thing that is signified by CEOs' professed fears of runaway AI is runaway corporations. As Ted Chiang says, the experience of being nominally in charge of a corporation that refuses to do what you tell it to is the kind of thing that will give you nightmares about autonomous AI turning on its masters:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

The job of corporate designers is to find the signifiers of authenticity and dress up the corporate entity's robotic imperatives in this stolen flesh. Everything about AI is done in service to this goal: the chatbots that replace customer service reps are meant to both perfectly mimic a real, competent corporate representative while also hewing perfectly to corporate policy, without ever betraying the real human frailties that none of us can escape.

In the same way, the shillbots that pretend to be corporate superfans online are supposed to perfectly amplify the corporate message, the slow AI's conception of its own virtues, without injecting their own off-script, potentially cringey enthusiasms.

The Hollywood writers' strike was, at root, about the studio execs' dream that they could convert the "insights" of focus groups and audience research into a perfect script, without having to go through a phalanx of lippy screenwriters who insisted on explaining why they think your idea is stupid. "Hey, nerd, make me another ET, except make the hero a dog, and set it on Mars" is exactly how you prompt an AI:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

Corporate design's job is to produce the seeming of intention without any intender. The "personality" we're meant to sense when we encounter corporate design isn't the designer's, nor the art director's, nor even the CEO's. The "personality" is meant to be the slow AI's, but a corporation doesn't have a personality.

In his 2018 short story "Noon in the antilibrary," Karl Schroeder describes an "antilibrary" as an endlessly deep anaerobic lagoon of generative botshit:

https://www.technologyreview.com/2018/08/18/104097/noon-in-the-antilibrary/

The antilibrary is a generative AI system that can produce entire librarys’-worth of fake books with fake authors, fake citations by other fake experts with their own fake books and biographies and fake social media accounts, on-demand and instantly. It was speculation in 2018; it’s possible now. Creating an antilibrary is just a matter of investing in a sufficient number of graphics cards and electricity.

https://kschroeder.substack.com/p/after-the-internet

Reading Karl's reflections on the antilibrary crystallized something for me that I've been thinking about for a quarter-century, since I interviewed Gibson at the Penguin offices in north Toronto. It snapped something into place that I've trying to fit since encountering Henry's thoughts on the "eeriness" of AI work and the intent without an intender.

It made me realize why I dislike AI art so much, on a deep, aesthetic level. The point of an image generator is to buffer the intention of the prompter (which might be genuinely creative and bursting with personality) in layers of automated decision-making that flense the final product of any hint of the mind that caused its creation.

The most febrile, deeply weird and authentic prompts of the most excluded outsiders produce images that feel the same as the corporate AI illustrations that project the illusion of personality from the immortal, transhuman colony organism that is the limited liability corporation.

AI art is born coopted. Even the 4chan equivalent of AI – the deeply transgressive and immoral nonconsensual pornography – feels no different from the "official" AI porn churned out by "real" pornographers. "Shrimp Jesus" and other SEO-optimized Facebook slop is so uncanny because it is simultaneously "weird" ("that which does not belong") and yet it belongs in the same aesthetic bucket of the most anodyne Corporate Memphis ephemera:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corporate_Memphis

We call it "generative" but AI art can't generate the kind of turnover that aerates the aesthetic soil. An artform that can't be transgressive is sterile, stillborn, a dead end.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/20/ransom-note-force-field/#antilibraries

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

Jake (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1970s_fanzines_(21224199545).jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic

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changes · 9 months ago

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Thursday, September 26th, 2024

🌟 New

We’ve launched new search operators that work on all platforms so you can find the exact post you’re looking for.

You can now mute the unread count from a joined community via the meatballs menu at the top-right of the community.

Community admins can now allow moderators to invite new members too. Check out your community’s settings!

The ability to search for communities on web is rolled out to everyone. There’s a new dropdown option on search that lets you browse communities related to your search term on the web (this will be in the apps with the next update), and there’s a new “Related Communities” section in the sidebar on the web.

We’re recommending communities for folks who have already joined communities in more places, including a new carousel in For You.

Backdating posts has always had the potential to act in unexpected ways, so we’ve added new warnings about this.

🛠 Fixed

Ads in the iOS app no longer interrupt your background audio. Please update to version 36.4 for the fix.

When leaving a longer reply on desktop web in certain cases or mobile web on Android devices, the cursor will no longer jump up unexpectedly in the text area.

Custom domain verification emails were briefly not being sent September 18th. This was fixed and all pending verification emails were re-sent.

🚧 Ongoing

No ongoing incidents to speak of right now.

🌱 Upcoming

No upcoming launches to announce today.

Experiencing an issue? Check for Known Issues and file a Support Request if you have something new. We’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with other users.

Wanna support Tumblr directly with some money? Check out Premium and the Supporter badge in TumblrMart!

#tumblr update

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bfleuter · 1 year ago

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The Sword Interval - Prologue Continue reading.

Hey folks! I've just launched my comic on its own account, in its originally intended comic book page format. Otherwise, these pages have undergone minimal revisions from their 2015 debut.

About 10-15 reformatted pages will go up every Friday - wrapping up the entire 700ish page series over about a year. You can still read the whole series on Webtoon! That said, please consider supporting my Patreon. Depending on your tier, you can get early access to reformatted Sword Interval pages (currently up to page 70), plus stickers, prints, dozens of desktops and process images, and hundreds of sketches. Supporting the Patreon is also just the best way to help me make more comics or other personal projects in the future. The better it does, the less time I need to spend on freelance artwork.

#the sword interval #comic #webcomic #sword interval

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itsnevercasual · 1 year ago

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I Wanna Be Yours

pairing: boss!ceo!harry styles x reader

request: Omg, can I request a boss!harry fic where he’s mean to everyone except from her??

summary: harry is the notoriously mean owner of pleasing, and he might have a slight soft spot for the new girl in the marketing department.

warnings: cursing, not edited

you were extremely new to pleasing, a very famous brand known for their nail polishes and perfumes. ever since you started (about three months ago), you’d hear literal horror stories about the founder and ceo.

rachel, the girl who trained you, told you that he was just plain rude. it was safe to say you feared the day he came in. thankfully, he wasn’t around much. not at your location, anyway. you were at the los angeles location, but he preferred to stay at the new york one.

tuesday morning, you got ready like every day. put on your usual outfit (a skirt, white button-up, a blazer, and heels), along with some black fleece-lined tights and a headband to push your hair back. it was getting cold out, and you couldn’t get away with just a skirt much longer.

with your iced coffee in one hand, your macbook and a few files you’d taken home in the other, you walked quickly into the building.

“good morning, miss townes,” the concierge greeted you.

“morning, nancy!” you greeted back as you ran to the elevator and pressed the button.

“late?” nancy asked.

“almost! this stupid elevator—“ said elevator dinged, and you let out a sigh of relief. “speak of the devil. see you, nance!”

—

by the time you made it up to the marketing floor (the twentieth floor out of fifty), you were exactly on time.

you moved as quickly as your heels would allow, dropping your car keys, computer, and files onto the desk.

“right on time, y/n,” rachel teased as you sat down. the two of you had cubicles right next to each other.

“long line at the coffee shop.”

“lucky you weren’t any later,” she commented as you sat down and took a generous sip of the iced coffee that had almost made you late, “mr. styles is said to be coming in today.”

you nearly choked on your drink.

“you finished those edits, right?”

“.. uh.. yeah. yeah, finished them last night,” you lied with a nod.

“y/n! he’s ruthless— he will literally fire you! that’s the new launch, and it’s overdue!”

“i know! i know, but i’ve been so busy, and fucking josh keeps making me do his shit—“

“oh shit, shut up. he’s here.”

“what?” you squeaked, quickly cleaning up your desk and opening the new launch photos on both the desktop and your personal computer.

out of the corner of your eye, you watched as what had to be mr. styles strolled through with an assistant who was talking about what you assumed was his schedule.

“you’ll have a meeting with the investors at three, and we have some papers to sign—“

you tuned her out as you tried to speed up the editing— brightening colors and adjusting the text so it fit better.

and suddenly, the footsteps of mr. styles and his assistant stopped. directly in front of your desk.

“you,” a voice spoke, and oh my god, he was british, “i don’t know you. who are you?”

your eyes snapped up to meet his, “oh. uh.. i’m y/n.. y/n townes. i’m.. um.. i’m new.”

he mouthed your name as if thinking it over.

“you’re the one doing the edits for the new launch?” he asked.

“yes, sir.”

he nodded before continuing his stroll. because, of fucking course, his office had to be on the marketing floor.

you let out a breath, sinking into your chair. rachel grabbed your arm with a comforting smile, “it’s okay, babes. he could’ve been rude.”

“he’s gonna see i’m not done and fire me!”

“it’s fine, just don’t think about it.”

—

right as you were about to head out on a quick lunch break, mr. styles’ assistant popped up at your desk.

“ms. townes, mr. styles requested your presence in his office. you, as well, ms. evans,” she said, glancing at you and rachel.

“uh— me? for.. for what?” you questioned.

“you’ll find out. i have to find a.. josh richardson. go on.”

you and rachel shared uneasy looks as the two of you stood and made your way to mr. styles’ office.

“if i get fired, i’m jumping out of a window,” you muttered as rachel pulled the door open.

“ah, ms. evans. ms. townes…. where is mr. richardson?” mr. styles spoke.

“your assistant went to grab him,” rachel answered. “what are we needed for?”

“you’ll see… ah, mr. richardson. so kind of you to join us.”

even you could tell he did not mean that.

“what is this?” josh asked, looking to you and rachel.

“you three were all put in charge of the new launch. correct?”

you all chorused variations of yes.

“and yet… nothing is done. why is that?”

you glanced to your shoes. you knew rachel was done. the whole project was all three of you were to make 300 campaigns and promo photos for the new nail polish launch. you'd devided it to be 100 each, and you all picked however many billboard designs, posters, social media posts, and so-ons that you'd do for the project. however, josh had slowly but surely pushed all of his work onto you.. until you had to do 200, and you only had around 130 done.

“i expect an answer.”

“i.. i finished all my photos and campaigns,” rachel finally said.

“i'm nearly done with.. my things. i was just helping josh before i--“

“so.. what i’m hearing so far, and correct me if i’m wrong, is that mr. richardson hasn’t been doing his job?”

josh cleared his throat, and you could feel the daggers he was glaring at you burning into your skull, “yes, mr. styles.”

mr. styles nodded, and you understood the horror stories now. he wasn’t even trying and he was terrifying. “do you like your job, mr. richardson?”

“yes, mr—“

“so why aren’t you doing it?”

“i— i’ve been.. busy.”

“busy.. right. well, i’ll make you less busy. you’re fired. get out.”

“wh— what? you can’t fire me!”

“i believe i can. and i just did. so get. out.”

“i have worked at this company for eight years! i make one mistake, and—“

“i will not ask you again!” mr. styles shouted, standing up from his chair. you flinched. “because i am not asking you, i am telling you. you are fired, and you will leave this building. and don’t even think about puttin’ this place on your resume, i won’t say a single good word about your ass.”

josh scoffed and stormed out of the room, you and rachel followed.

you turned the corner, yelping when someone grabbed your wrist and yanked it.

“what the hell, y/n? you said you’d do my—“

“i didn’t say that. you just assumed i would. i am not just apart of the valentines launch, josh, and i have fifty other things to do, and i can’t drop that just because you’re lazy.”

“you better watch what you say to me—“

a voice spoke from behind. mr. styles’ assisant, “uh.. miss townes? mr. styles requests he speak with you.. privately.”

you yanked your arm back, rubbing your wrist, “yes. of— of course. sorry.”

you walked back towards his office with your head down, glancing up at him once you entered the room.

you were surprised to see a... calm look on his face.

"miss townes, correct?" he asked.

"ye-.. uh.. yes, sir."

he smiled, which was very odd from what you'd seen of him so far, "you can relax, darling. you aren't in trouble. have a seat."

you hesitantly wandered towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

"what did you mean by.. helping mr. richardson with his work?"

"oh, well... he just.. he kept saying he was busy and asking if i could do.. certain parts of his work. and i--.. well, sometimes i'm a bit of a pushover, so i said yes."

"i see... and how much of his work, in total, did he push onto you?"

"uhm... all of it, mr. styles."

his eyes widened, "all of it? and you didn't tell a supervisor he wasn't planning on doing any of his work?"

"i.. i felt bad," you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

"yes. well... mrs. maruska, can you please bring mr. richardson back in here for a moment, please?"

you jumped when his assistant spoke behind you, not realizing she was even in the room.

"yes, mr. styles."

it was silent for a minute after the door shut, maybe two minutes, until the door re-opened and two pairs of footsteps entered.

"mr. richardson, before you leave, you are going to do something for me," mr. styles spoke. "you are going to apologize to y/n--"

you nearly choke on your own spit at his use of your first name.

"for making her do all of your work. and.. you will also apologize for whatever the hell that was i heard outside. that is no way to speak to any colleague."

josh scoffed, "i'm not apologiz--"

"i'm not asking."

mr. styles gaze switched to you as josh begrudgingly sighed, "i'm sorry, y/n."

"it's okay," you murmured, glancing at him.

"no, it isn't," mr. styles quickly interjected, keeping his eyes on you. you much preferred them on you than on josh. they were a lot kinder when they focused on you. softer. "but.. if ms. townes says it is alright... you may leave now."

you aren't quite sure what happens afterwards, because you keep your gaze away from mr. styles, because you're afraid he'll notice how nervous he makes you.

"how many did you have left?" mr. styles asked quietly. softly.

"i have 130 done. so.. seventy left. but i-- i can get them done soon, i promise. i can just stay late, or.. or--"

"no. none of that. you'll submit the ones you have.. and we'll figure out something for the rest."

"really? i mean.. are you sure?"

"i wouldn't have offered if i wasn't. you can go, now."

"thank you, mr. styles," you mumbled, standing and walking to the door.

right as you grabbed the handle, he called out.

"oh, and y/n?"

you turned around with a furrow in your brows.

"let me know if you have any other problems."

you can't even help the foolish smile on your lips as you nod and leave the room.

a/n: part 1!! i really love this request

#harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry #harry styles #boss!harry styles x reader #boss!harry styles #ceorry #ceo!harry styles #ceo!harry styles x reader

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jesuistrestriste · 20 days ago

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tashi duncan reading blog articles on her chunky computer written by athletes who have experienced similar injuries. two and a half months post-accident. she can still hear, feel, envision the snap and twist of her flesh.

clicking and scrolling mindlessly through the bits of text, her bad knee bouncing under her desk as her deep brown eyes pour over the words on the screen. she chews at her bottom lip, tasting the chapstick there from an hour earlier, and winces when her skin catches on her teeth a bit too much for her liking. the pixels start to prickle in her vision, and soon she can no longer comprehend what she’s looking at—only seeing specks of blue and red and green that somehow come together to make an image. it’s like she’s on some sort of hallucinogenic substance, seeing things where there is nothing and nothing where there is something. she thinks about the tournaments she's won in the past. then she thinks about patrick. then art. then back to the memory of her hands on a racket, her body being able to move without pause.

tashi thought that reading about the lives of other sports-focused, unfairly maimed individuals would make her feel better about her deeply-rooted fear that she will never play tennis again, but she starts to feel sick enough to pass out when she reads the same rhetoric being spewed across five different posts.

“i’m accepting where my life is going from here.”

“maybe this is where my story as a — player ends, and i’m okay with that.”

“i’ve begun trying to love the evidence of my injury. i can’t change what’s happened, so i have no choice but to tend to my wound and move on.”

her eyes sting, her throat clutched by an unseen force. she finds her jaw flexing, tightening, and then her fists are banging against the surface in front of her—pounding with an egregious amount of sadness and rage that she’s bridled until now. her sobs feel like defeat, her tears like hot acid rain on her cheeks. they come and they come and they come until she catches sight of the scar-fading cream sat at the corner of her desktop. bought with her own money; incredibly expensive. her feet push down against the ground faster than she can process, her frame launching up from her chair, her open hands flying out to grab the small container and throw it across the room. as she pivots to do so though, the plastic pot of nourishing denial hitting the wall and denting it, her lower limb turns in nearly the exact same way it had on march 2nd. she squeals, falling to her carpeted floor, and holds her leg as it instinctively curls in against her chest for protection. she squeezes it beneath her trembling palms the same way she had back then, cradling it like every part of herself that she once found admirable is spilling out from the sensitive, puffy blemish and she just can’t bear it. she gasps desperately, fighting every urge to lie down and writhe until she finds a good reason to get up.

“please,” she begs through whimpered cries, not even knowing if she believes in a god anymore if they could be this cruel, “please, please, please, please.. i’ll do anything..”

and she would.

anything it would take to make the hurt stop.

#angst #i just felt like writing about tash i love her so dearly #i hate to think about the mental health struggles that she undoubtedly endured post-injury #so i wrote about it and now anyone who reads this has to think about it with me #youre welcome #tashi duncan fic #tashi duncan angst #challengers fic #challengers angst

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fiamat12 · 29 days ago

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Re: Likes and Luke's head!

A few things: I'm getting your Asks about likes on A's post (i.e. from Mama Newts) disappearing and about L's head in the crowd at N's events and I hear you! The 1st thing was debunked long ago and the 2nd I find improbable/ irrelevant. Do let me explain...

1) The Likes disappearing from A's post(s)

• I wish it were an indicator of someone like Mama Newts liking it for show then taking the like away lol but the friends & fam likes we've seen on A's post are likely staying. They do get pushed down (and therefore appear to disappear), if they aren't in the last 100 likes on the post, viewing it from the app. Indeed, on the mobile app, you can’t see all likes, only the last 100; apparently you can see them all on a computer but few people are using a desktop for IG.

• What IS significant is N not liking A's post and L's very very late like (will address in another post)

2) Locating L's head in a crowd at N's events like Where's Waldo? 😏

• I don't think L would be so careless as to appear in the GA crowd front & center unless it's intentional (and I think it would only be intentional as a launch). There are back rooms where he can congregate and side stages from which he can view an event.

Quick anecdote: I dated a drummer in a jam band for years and I hardly ever watched him play from the GA unless I had friends w/ me who wanted to venture out into the crowd.

• Even at screenings we *think* he may have attended, there was likely a decoy situation or he made sure to be out camera sight lines - i.e. SNL Long Legs decoy, Glamour back of venue, Big Boys decoy/ out of sight lines.

• L doesn't need to watch every appearance N makes. She appears alot and repeats alot of the same talking points. He's probably heard her rehearse her speeches at home. 🤭 Plus sometimes he may skip the event if he's working or busy.

• If Sorrento was any indication, L may choose to stay off site, esp. if BN is along for the ride. SHFH is vast so they could easily have been in a remote cabin and only appeared in the main spaces for closed, celeb events. And the Schull hotel in Cork is a beaute but only has 30 rooms; instead of wandering around a small venue decoyless, accomodations off the beaten path may be preferred - then again, if there are private entrances/ elevators nothing is off limits.

youtube

• Again, if L feels compelled to watch or participate in an event, there are back rooms, side stages and VIP sections. Look at the 1975 & Beyonce concerts - he wasn't even famous famous yet and he was in private sections/ boxes.

• Lastly and most importantly, the Easter eggs were cute in the beginning when we were building toward a launch. Everything has become so convoluted now, and so much time has passed that if it's not a clear, I don't want it. I don't want a loose connection, a reflection in an inanimate object, or such a vague clue that the Lukola FBI has to intervene...

Discord comment of the weekend ⬇️

#if it's not a launch I don’t want it #i'll take it soft or hard #lukola in #adjacents out #all in time time will reveal #literally mom and dad

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mindblowingscience · 10 months ago

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Want to hunt for black holes, but lack access to a mountaintop observatory or deep-space telescope? There’s an app for that—and you can help out astronomers by using it. Developed by the Dutch Black Hole Consortium, an interdisciplinary research project based in the Netherlands, Black Hole Finder is a free program available both on smartphones and as a desktop website. After reviewing a quick tutorial, all you need to do is study images taken by BlackGEM, a telescope array in Northern Chile tasked with searching the skies for cosmic events called kilonovas. Although launched in March 2024, as Space.com noted on August 19, the project’s recently expanded from just English and Dutch to support Spanish, German, Chinese, Bengali, Polish, and Italian.

#Science #Space #Astronomy #Black Holes #Citizen Science #Dutch Black Hole Consortium #Volunteering

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versegm · 1 year ago

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The Castoria Ukagaka is OUT!

Artoria Caster (Castoria for short) from popular video game Fate/Grand Order is here and ready to mingle on your desktop! Written by @versegm, coded & drawn by @characteroulette, she can do many things such as

Nothing

Chill

Relax

Look pretty

Make conversation

Get pet

Change into no less than three (3!) different shells, each of which featuring a removable hat

Empty your bin and check your calendar, if you really want her to do something useful.

You can download her here!

CONTENT WARNINGS:

Chronologically, Castoria hails from the aftermath of her adventure. Meaning she is dead. She does occasionally mentions her death and its circumstances, albeit in vague terms.

While Castoria mostly acts kind and helpful, she does occasionally get really bitter and vitriolic. This will never be targeted towards you as a user, but I figure this warrants a warning regardless.

She has one whole line about petplay.

What's an Ukagaka/How do I get the desktop Castoria?

An Ukagaka/Ghost is a computer widget that hangs around desktop. It can do a variety of things (empty your bin, check your calendar, set you reminders, ect) though in Castoria's specific case this is really just "what if blorbo could hang around with you and randomly chat you up." It's a bit like a shimeji, if you've heard of those.

Follow this very simple tutorial and you, too, will get to have the funny Castoria on your desktop! (And perhaps, many other ghosts! We did a Herlock Sholmes a few years back :)

Step 1: Get SSP

SSP is the software that allows ukagakas to run. You can get it here. Yes, the website is in full japanese, but fearen't! I screenshotted the download button you need.

Step 2: Get the .nar file of the ukagaka you want

Some ukagakas have multiple .nar files (Castoria has two for instance), just get all of these bad bitches :]

Step 3: Launch SSP

You should get good ol Emily popped on your desktop!

Step 4:

Drag your .nar files on emily! A pop-up will ask you if you want to install the ghost, and you shall say yes!

Step 4.5:

If the previous doesn't work, you can unzip the .nar files in the ghost folder in SSP, next to Emily's folder.

Step 5:

Right click + change ghost + Artoria Caster

And you should be good!

If you are still having issues, I will redirect you to the Ukagaka wiki and to Zi's blog.

#castoria #artoria caster #fgo #fate grand order #fate #ukagaka #ghost jam 2024 #my writing

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partycatty · 1 year ago

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I have this idea:

Johnny Cage x tomboy (can be gender neutral reader), I see the reader as a introvert, gamer, a bit of a nerd that prefers to wear comfy pants than elegant, tight dresses/skirts. Johnny likes to talk to them cause they can play games together (I believe that johnny being a bit of a gamer is a fact stated in mk1, when we have a Cage's Mansion tutorial?) and so he decided to invite reader to a red carpet event created because of the launch of his new movie. It's first time in their life to attend such thing and they really don't know what to do... (the rest is up to you, they can either fuck before the event while reader is trying to pick a good outfit or just go there and have fun or whatever<3)

johnny cage > zip me up

johnny's not used to seeing his best friend in anything but a hoodie and sweats. what happens when they have to dress outside of their comfort zone?

warnings: nsfw... :3, exhibitionism?, hardcore praising LOL, awkward reader (no rizz ...), reader is written as curvy? LONG POST LOL

notes: i physically cant write dom johnny without it sounding super ooc LOL ALSO!! im so sorry if the formatting is iffy, ive been forced to use desktop and the formatting is completely different than my usual mobile writing

masterlist

honestly, it's hard to gauge what games he'd actually play, so a part of me believes he mainly plays... mortal kombat. and yes, since he is canonically responsible for the franchise existing, he would main himself. or maybe he'd play fortnite, lord knows he'd have his own skin.

"come on, man! you can't keep picking general shao! you can just say you hate me," johnny groans, staring at the character select screen. his favorite thing was to drop tidbits about the characters and compare them to the real life counterparts. "i'm still mentally recovering from witnessing his ugly mug."

you chuckle and lean back in your chair, pulling your headset mic closer to your lips. "would you rather i picked one of your buddies? kenshi, or as you called him, sexy face two?"

"and now you're asking me to beat up my best friend," johnny sighs dramatically. you giggle, and it makes his heart flutter and cheeks redden. thankfully, today was a day your webcams were turned off so you were none the wiser. you make a comment that he's the one that wanted to play a game that features his real friends and actual enemies which earns yet another groan from him.

"if you're gonna be annoying, we could switch to something else?" you offer teasingly. "not my fault you choose to stare at yourself every game instead of learning combos."

"oh hush, you love me," johnny replies, earning a little peep from you out of surprise. he loved to push your buttons and flirt with you. it was in his personality, sure, but because of it you did have a massive crush on him. it was innocent and purehearted, but you just couldn't see yourself risking your great friendship over some silly feelings. "you love it when i'm difficult, don't lie to yourself."

"...shut up," you pathetically try to retort, sinking into your seat and fighting the flush on your face. "are we gonna run another round or what?"

"actually, i had something to ask of you," johnny says, tone suddenly serious and almost unreadable. you feel a pit in your stomach at his tone, wondering if maybe you're in trouble. your mind spirals as you nervously fidget in anticipation. "well, two things actually. could you turn your camera on so i can properly ask you?"

you shakily turn your camera on in discord, anxiously glancing between your monitors and camera lens. johnny smiles to himself, leaning forward get a closer look at you as if you were sitting across the table from him.

"good girl, there we go," he says encouragingly, making your thighs clench as you use your sleeves to hide your face. "no, come on, don't hide. here, let me-" he clicks on his own camera button and his webcam blinks to life. he smiles directly into the camera, and for a moment you're winded at the reminder that you're best friends with a celebrity. "-there. now it doesn't feel like i'm talking to my computer."

"well, you are-" you speak up, ready to go on one of your famous tech tangents. johnny holds up a single finger, shushing you instantly. as much as he'd love to hear your voice for hours on end, he wanted to squeeze out what he was going to say first.

"-hold your tongue, my dearest nerd," johnny quips with a wink. "my favor first." you tense up before he speaks up again. "i've got a movie coming out. finally, right? point is, cris is an absolute no-go, and my assistant couldn't find a damsel to hang off my arm in time for the red carpet. so, next best thing, i was wondering if... you'd be my plus one."

"i-i don't dress up, johnny," you protest, looking away. "all those cameras, all the shouting... not for me."

"it's not all bad," he insists with a smirk. "you'll have me. all you have to do is stay close to me and smile."

you stammer, trying to spill out more excuses for him to give in and stop asking.

"i don't have a dress-"

"i'll buy you twenty."

"nobody knows who i am-"

"eyes'll be on me."

"what if someone laughs at me?"

"doll, have you seen some of these hollywood clowns? you'll look just fine."

you tug at your hair, exasperated. he came prepared with every response, had every reason to bring you to the carpet. you wanted to say no, but truth be told, you missed johnny dearly. you don't get to see him in person often, given your medium distance and his constant work. a meek "fine" escapes your lips and johnny cheers to himself, his excitement painted all over his face. it made you warm how well he was at showing his appreciation at times.

"i knew i could count on you, sweetheart. this means the world to me. i'm getting you tomorrow at three, okay? we're gonna get you a nice dress, i'll get a matching suit tailored... oh, it'll be like prom all over again!" he's gesturing wildly as he hypes himself up over the plan.

"i never went to prom, johnny," you chuckle to yourself, eyes on your keyboard. "i wouldn't know the experience."

"well that's ridiculous," johnny looks surprised at this fact, for a reason you can't pinpoint. "i would have asked you if we knew each other then."

"i'm sure," you agree shyly, turning away to try and hide your blush. "i'll see you tomorrow, johnny."

"see you tomorrow, doll," he smiles at the camera again, and you catch a glimpse of it as you weakly return the expression. then, johnny leaves the call, leaving you huffing and blushing. he just asked you to be his plus one on the red carpet, for his movie, for his fans... all eyes will be on you. the thought terrifies you, but maybe you could push through for your friend. you were a software developer, mostly confined to your dimly lit bedroom. this was a whole new realm!

you roll around on your bed and kick your feet, wondering why you're always so awkward around him. if you fumble at all in public, your world might just fall apart. sleep doesn't come easy for you, but it eventually overpowers your anxiety.

sunlight creeps through your windows. despite your usual tendency to sleep in, your nerves shot you awake slightly earlier than that, and you tried your best to negate your shakiness through games and squeezing in any work projects you could make up - before a firm knock was at your apartment door.

you fly to the door and swing it open, excited to see the only man that gets your heart pumping. he's matching your energy with a cheesy grin, immediately charging at you to embrace you in a bear hug. his cologne makes you tingle as you breathe in his shirt fabric. when he pulls back, he chuckles to admire your attire. you're wearing your usual sweatpants, hoodie, and slippers.

"you clean up nice," he compliments you sarcastically. "it's nice to finally see you, honey." you shrug with a shy smile at his endless pet names. "let's get you into something more flattering, yeah?"

he encourages you to his car, it's one of his nice sports cars with his name printed across the seats. you always felt out of place in his luxurious lifestyle. however, even through the two hour car ride back to malibu, you found yourself familiar and comfortable alongside johnny.

"you didn't have to drive four hours just to see me," you insist quietly, voice muffled against the window as you admire the waters. "it's a lot of trouble for one night."

johnny seems to genuinely seem taken aback by your deprecating comment. he leans over and slides one hand on your knee, patting it gently.

"you know i'd do anything for you," he speaks in that dangerously low tone, stealing quick glances as he desperately tries to focus on the road. "i want you with me."

even after his comforting pat, his hand lingers for a moment, sliding up your thigh with feather touches. you cover your lips with your finger to muffle any whimpers that threatened to escape. you always hated how touchy he was, and by hated, you mean it turned you on embarrassingly easily. as the road straightens out, you realize he's staring directly at you with suspiciously blown out pupils, but snaps back into reality as quickly as you noticed. he clears his throat and removes his hand, settling them both back on the steering wheel.

perhaps he just missed me and wants to be closer, you thought. he's always clingy, he probably just... you're having a hard time justifying his needy glances. they looked off. it's been a stupidly long time since someone eyed you down like that.

after what felt like a thousand years, the city comes into view and johnny parks at a luxury outfit boutique. it's small, but the window mannequins alone make you swallow nervously.

it takes quite some time to decide on a dress, because you internally decide that every possible option is unflattering. each time johnny pulls a dress from the selection, you cringe and shake your head. the sleeves were either too long or too short, the skirt was too flowy or too loose, or the color wasn't quite right.

"how about i pick one for you?" johnny offers, a little exhausted at how difficult you were being. "you just go sit in the dressing room, i'll slide you a couple dresses and don't think too hard about this. you'll look great in anything, my dear."

you agreed with his idea. maybe it'd be best for the celebrity that's known to dress nice to put you in something that'll definitely turn heads and keep you confident. it was unfamiliar territory for you, after all, since the last flattering thing you wore was a one-piece swimsuit on a beach trip with your family.

after some time of fidgeting in the dressing room, johnny slides the curtain aside and greets you with a smile, his veiny arm holding about a dozen dresses. he's got his iconic shit-eating grin as it seems he has something devious in mind for you.

"don't look so afraid," johnny shrugs, nudging you playfully. "i'll treat you right, pinky promise." he holds up the first dress, a flowy one with off-the-shoulder sheer sleeves. it looks like something out of a fairytale, and you're reluctant to deny his suggestion when he's cheesing so damn hard. you smile back and shove him back behind the curtain, giving yourself space to change.

you slide into the dress, catching it on your hips momentarily but pulling it past without tearing it thankfully. when you pull it up to your chest, it takes quite a bit of tugging, seeing as the fabric isn't as stretchy compared to what you're used to. when you fall silent as you try to pull the dress up, johnny assumes you're ready and slides the curtain aside, stepping in eagerly.

"how's it-" he cuts himself off when he gets a good look at you. you're flushed from trying to squeeze into the fabric, and your breasts (that he didn't even know you had) were spilling out of the front. his lips get sucked inward as you witness the gears come to a screeching halt in his head. his eyes may have been hidden from his sunglasses, but you know for a fact he's checking you out. "i like that one." his voice is too monotonous for him to truly be emotionless. it's like it's taking every ounce of his being to be normal.

"i don't," you mumble, continuing your fruitless attempts much to johnny's delight as your boobs ripple with each pull. "i can't get the stupid zipper up in the back, either."

eager hands shoot out to you as johnny takes quick strides to stand behind you. your front is facing the mirror, your hands resting atop your breasts and eyes focused on the man behind you. when his head tilts town to get a good look at the zipper, you notice his eyes are far darker than the typical warm brown.

his hands fumble tremendously as he tries to keep his shit together. he uses one hand to keep the parts together and the other to get the zipper sliding.

the sudden jerk catches you off guard and you're far from balanced. thankfully, your palms press against the mirror to keep yourself upright, and johnny lurches forward as his grip is pulled with you. his hands fly to your waist to ensure he doesn't topple you over.

you would have gotten up like nothing happened, and maybe apologized, but during the scuffle you felt something hard and warm through your skirt. johnny's nose is tucked in the nape of your neck when you fully realize your predicament.

as you sputter out his name to call him out, you feel his lips smile against your back. his hands loosen momentarily, but don't pull away.

"uh, sorry, doll," he mumbles into your skin, not sounding all too apologetic. "pretty girls in dresses just... gets me goin'."

"i'm not pretty," you mutter, averting your gaze. johnny lifts his head and looks at your reflection incredulously.

"you're joking, right?" johnny replies, brows furrowed. "babe, look at yourself." he grabs your jaw from behind and angles your vision on your body. "i didn't know you were carrying all this. i almost want t'take you out and get you a whole new wardrobe just to get you out of those garbage bags you're always in. pardon my french doll, but you're fuckin' hot." as he speaks, his hand snakes down your throat, your shoulder, and then settling firmly on your hip, not even hiding the brief sweep he made against the flesh of your chest.

you're left staring in awe. he was always charming around you, but never outright flirting. you glance toward the curtain; what if someone heard all this? you swallow thickly, moving back to look at johnny apprehensively. he's biting his lower lip, suddenly thrusting more against your body, letting a shaky breath as his face is now buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to hold it together.

"you got me all riled up seeing you in that, you know," he warns you in a husky voice that dampens your panties. "so you can't say you aren't pretty. feel what you did to me." the air feels intensely different than it was when you guys were just friends. he's confessing something he'd implied to feel for quite some time, but you never envisioned the day it'd come to fruition. you can't really say you were complaining when he pulls your hips toward him, letting him use your ass to grind down on ever so slightly. your stillness throws him off for a moment, and he looks up at you through the mirror with concerned eyes. "you don't seem into this. i can stop."

"n-no!" you yelp out, sounding a little more desperate that you'd like to admit. "this is okay."

"just okay?"

"well, no, but - i'm sorry, i don't know what to say."

"do you want me to stop?"

"...no."

"good girl."

he presses a little harder against you, keeping you upright and stopping your knees from buckling with his rough hands. abruptly filled with a primal hunger, johnny tugs the long flowing skirt up in bunches, gripping it tightly to get a glorious view of your ass. this interaction was not prepared for, so you couldn't help but feel flustered when your boyshort panties are fully on display. johnny just chuckles to himself as he grabs a shameless handful of one of your asscheeks anyway, squeezing hard enough to leave red prints behind. you bite down on your lips to stop any noise from coming out, but a moan of surprise slips through.

johnny wraps one arm around your midsection for stability, and the other flies up to your lips to hold his palm over your mouth.

"if you want this, you're gonna stay quiet, is that clear?" he growls into your ear, head tilted toward you but eyes fixated on your reflection's eyes. all you can do is nod. "i'll show you how fuckin' pretty you are."

he slides your panties down with ease, expelling a shaky groan when he watches a trail of your wetness follow the fabric. his cock is swiftly freed from his dress pants and he slides his throbbing tip against your folds, creating a sopping sound to the trained ear. if the store was quiet enough, the entire building would know how soaked you were for your best friend. all you can do is whimper and gasp as your noises are muffled by his hand. johnny leans forward and gently shushes you, lips brushing against your ear.

"you can do it, princess," he assures you in that husky voice before holding intense eye contact in the mirror. "you look so good like this, don't you think?"

your pupils were blown out and your cheeks were stained a deep red as you're bent over for the actor. you didn't feel pretty, still. you felt... needy.

you pressed back against his cock, and it slips between your folds before catching on your aching hole, making you twitch. the sloppy friction makes johnny moan against your skin as he hungrily matches your movements. he slides his hand down and toys with your clit, wetting the area with your own juices which seems to be plentiful. he sticks two fingers inside, not bothering to ease you into the process at all. he needs you now, and if "now" is in a clothing store, then so be it. your pussy burns from the sudden stretching, but you take it because it makes him happy to see how eager you are for him.

"i should've put you in a dress sooner," he mutters, hazy eyes staring right through you as he relishes in the way your walls embrace his fingers. "you look beautiful, my dear. angelic. i wanna ruin you so bad, baby, but i can't. not here." his words already bring you closer, but as you feel the tension building inside he leaves you empty and sopping... but not for long.

his tip slides in with ease, and he has to bite down on your bare shoulder to stop himself from losing it entirely. it's the first time in a long time a pussy has been too good for him. he's stuck his dick anywhere and everywhere, but you take the cake. his bite deepens when he slowly but surely bottoms out, his own knees buckling at your gorgeous insides.

"mmf, so fucking good," he groans into your flesh, eyes clenching shut. "my pretty girl. all mine, yeah?" you nod lazily, too entranced in the fact that his cock is buried inside of you. you'd had sex before, but it had been quite some time. years. and his dick just felt impossibly big.

"i could stay like this forever," he mumbles, almost forgetting to thrust. you remind him quickly when you shake your ass needily. "ah, but i shouldn't. you deserve to feel good."

he pulls out slowly, admiring the thin coat of juice painting his shaft before thrusting back in. he's careful to move just enough to hit deep, but not enough to make the slapping sound too obvious.

"there you go," johnny encourages you as he starts to slowly pump into you. "you take me so well, so pretty with my dick buried in you."

you almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. just yesterday, he was your duo in your favorite game. and now, he was fucking into you in public. the thought makes you dizzy and you have a hard time keeping your head upright, that is, until johnny pulls your face up to the mirror again, still muffling you with his palm. you want to say you're the one enjoying it most, but that might be johnny. his once cocky demeanor is now down the drain as he fights for his life to not cum with every second of friction. you were just so good, he's already pussydrunk. he seems to be living in his own heaven when he lazily peppers kisses and licks all around your back, neck, and shoulders, breathy whimpers and moans warming your skin up nicely.

his thrusts grow increasingly sloppy as he completely loses himself against you. his eyes are swapping between you and him in the mirror as he admires your wetness dripping down your thighs and splattering against his own front. he would be mad you were ruining his nice clothes, but he's just going to buy another suit with you anyway.

"you wanna cum on me, doll?" he huffs into your ear, letting go of his fear of the slapping noise and now progressively slamming into you harder and harder. "let me feel it, baby, i'm real close."

johnny's arms readjust, one snaking under your armpit and over your shoulder, and the other rhythmically swirling circles against your clit. what once was hungry groans is now turning into needy whimpers from the both of you as you cum simultaneously. your lower half feels warm as he cums deep inside of you, watching it drip and splatter out with every finishing thrust. your vision becomes tunneled as you see stars, head thrown back as each throb from the orgasm makes you forget you're in public entirely.

he holds you both there for a moment, breathing in your damp skin. you both feel dazed, but incredibly satisfied. johnny kisses your cheek from behind, dancing his way to the corner of your mouth and then captures your lips in a messy, brief kiss.

"you know i didn't need a dress to want you that bad, right?" johnny asks against your lips, his fingers brushing against your bare thighs. "i really do think you're beautiful. always have."

you nod, taking in a quick inhale of breath to gather yourself. "i wasn't sure before."

"well, i hope you are now," johnny chuckles, and kisses you again. "at least, i hope so - hey, hey -" the embrace stops as he steps back and notices his semen dripping down your leg. "don't get that on the carpet. and definitely don't get that on the dress. we're buying that one for the red carpet-" he checks his watch. "-that we're late to. shit."

he doesn't really regret it.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #marley writes ☆

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 13: You’re Not What I Would Call Nurturing

Anna gives birth and caring for a newborn is even harder than you expected. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 12, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Mild near smut, non-graphic depiction of childbirth, childcare struggles. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 8.7k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

April, 2018

Gale had been holed up in his home office since you got home and your excitement was starting to exhaust your patience.

He liked to have his space when he was writing. Then, so did you, and he respected it. Well, usually respected it. You did your best to do the same. But it had been hours now. You’d resigned yourself to having dinner alone, setting aside a plate for him, and waited for Gale to emerge so you could talk to him. It hadn’t happened, not even to use the bathroom or get a glass of water.

You set your book on your legs, rapping your fingers along the cover of it and worrying at your lip. You really didn’t want to sit here, holding everything in, any longer.

You put in your bookmark and set the novel you’d barely been able to pay attention to aside, going to the kitchen for a bottle of sparkling water and a protein bar to bring your husband.

“Hey you,” you smiled, peeking into his office after knocking once on the door. He glanced up from his desk, brows raised, head bent so low you could see where his hair was thinning.You came all the way into his office, walls lined with bookshelves and surfaces stacked high with paper. You held up the water and protein bar like an offering. “I haven’t heard you come out in a while and it’s getting late. Thought you should eat at least something tonight.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking back down at the pages in front of him. You took it as permission to come closer, so you did, setting the food down next to his computer before perching on the edge of his desk. You crossed your ankles in front of you and held onto the desktop, rapping the underside of it with your fingernails in a sharp rhythm.

Gale sighed, setting the page he was reading down and crossing his arms on his desktop, leaning on it before giving you a small smile as he looked up at you.

“Something on your mind, baby doll?” He asked, brows raised, looking like he was trying his best to restrain his amusement.

“Maybe,” you teased a little, not able to stop the smile on your face. “Remember how I had that doctor’s appointment earlier today?”

“Think so,” he frowned. “Why? Did everything go well?”

“It went great,” you smiled. “I actually… well, instead of it just being a check up, I asked her to check for a few things…”

Gale frowned further before he took the bait.

“Check for what?” He asked.

“Check and see if I’m in a good place to have a baby,” you tried to keep from acting too excited about it but you were. You were practically giddy. “She said everything looked good. Great, in fact. And… well, I was thinking… you have that sabbatical coming up in, what, two years? Wouldn’t it be great if we could spend it together? I can take some time off, my book should be well and launched by then, you can work on your next book and we can spend a lot of time just you, me and… and a baby.”

He watched you for a moment, an almost amused look on his face before he laughed a little.

“Are you being serious?” He asked.

“Yeah,” your smile faltered a bit. “Yeah, I figured that… you know, we’re not getting any younger, we’re at a good spot career wise, my body is apparently in prime baby making territory…”

“Sure, the timing is great if we were going to do it but,” he laughed once and shook his head, turning his face to his lap for a moment before looking back to you, a serious expression on his face. He took your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but… Do you really think having children is a good idea for you?”

You couldn’t stop your smile from falling this time, eyes searching his.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“Honey, just…” He sat back a little and sighed. “Look. You’re… I love you. That’s why I married you and you’re an extraordinary woman in so many ways. You make me the best possible version of myself and I’m grateful for that every day but… You’re not what I would call nurturing.”

You frowned.

“But…”

“It’s not a bad thing, necessarily,” he said, as though you hadn’t spoken at all. “You’re just far more concerned with what’s in your head or on the page than about something like children. Do you really think you’d do a good job with a child? Be honest with yourself. Do you think you’d be able to make the sacrifices necessary and put them first? Or would you fail and make them pay the price? And then there’s everything with your mental health - we both know how you can get sometimes and you clearly got it from your mother - I doubt you want to pass that on to a child or burden one with it when you’re having a rough patch…”

“But,” you said again, feeling the pinch of tears in your eyes. “I thought… don’t you want kids?”

“Of course I do,” he shrugged. “But I decided I wanted you more. I went into this marriage with eyes wide open, I knew I wouldn’t be having children with you and I decided that you were worth the sacrifice.”

You tried to keep from crying but felt a tear slip down your cheek, anyway, as you stared down toward your feet.

“Hey,” he said, getting up and putting his hand to your nape, pulling your head up to look him in the eye. “It’s alright. I don’t hold it against you. I made my peace with it a long time ago. And it’s better if we just don’t have them instead of ruining them, right?”

“Right,” you sniffed and he kissed you on the forehead before stepping back from you.

“I’m going to try to finish this chapter research before bed,” he said. “I’m getting close but it’ll still be a bit, I’ll see you upstairs. Thank you for bringing me something to eat, I lost track of time.”

“Sure,” you said, going to the door like you were on autopilot. You paused, your fingers on the knob before looking back at him. “I love you.”

He was silent, looking over his papers, lost in his work again.

“Gale?”

“Hm?” He looked up, brows raised.

“I love you.”

“Oh,” he said absently, looking back down at the page. “I love you, too.”

You looked at your husband for another second, trying to accept that he would not, in fact, be the father of your children before you left him to his writing and went to bed alone.

April, 2023

You buried your face in his shoulder, straining to keep your nails from digging into his back, the cotton of his shirt bunching between your fingers as your hips canted up to grind against him. He licked and sucked at your neck, arms wrapped around your back, pressing your front tightly to his and he moaned as he worked his hard cock still trapped in his jeans down against your mound.

“Fuck,” he panted, his mouth working his way over your neck to your jaw, wet on your tender skin and you tried to let yourself get in lost in him.

It was hard, though. For one, you knew you should hold back. It wasn’t the right time to start sleeping with someone, life was too complicated without adding that into a relationship. For another, you hadn’t had sex since Gale and the thought of taking your clothes off in front of someone new made your heart race - and not in a good way. And, finally, there was something not quite right about him.

Maybe it was his cologne, maybe it was the timbre of his voice, maybe it was the fact that he just didn’t feel right in your arms or between your legs but you just couldn’t make yourself want Stephen.

At least, not in the way you wanted Joel.

Not that you were proud of that. The opposite, in fact. You tried your damndest to bury that feeling deep and low inside yourself after the incident in Dallas. You didn’t WANT to want Joel. It hurt to want Joel. It always had and that didn’t change after that morning.

You were still half entwined with Joel and trying not to panic when Sarah started knocking on the bedroom door, saying she was hungry and that she wanted to go somewhere that would have chocolate milk for breakfast and also could she try a coffee if you went to Starbucks since she was now basically a teenager and was tired after being out so late the night before at the concert.

The two of you scrambled away from each other, your panties sticky and wet and you could feel the heat rising in your face. How could you have done this? Dry humped yourself to orgasm on your best friend?

“It’s OK,” Joel said again, eyes wide and voice quiet. “Let’s just… we get back home and…”

“Hey guys?” Sarah called through the door for the second time in as many minutes. “Is my Ears Tour shirt in there? I want to wear it.”

“I got it baby girl,” Joel said, grabbing the bag and going for the door and then it was the three of you again. You weren’t alone with Joel until you stopped for gas in West, Sarah running inside to use the bathroom and start picking out kolache from the bakery case while Joel filled up the truck.

His eyes darted over to you, like you were something volatile and unknown, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

“Look,” he said eventually, decidedly not looking at you. “What… what happened… Goldie, I… You should know…”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off quickly. You didn’t think you could bear hearing him say what a mistake you were for the umpteenth time in your life. “Like you said, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Right?”

He looked at you then - actually looked at you, his brown eyes warm and deep and soft - something almost sad on his face that passed so quickly you weren’t sure it happened at all.

“Right,” he said after a moment. “You’re right.”

“I’d rather this didn’t…” you tried to find the words. “I really don’t want this to blow things up with you this time. I don’t want to go no contact or… whatever it is that happens with us when… when we…”

“It’s alright,” he cut you off, turning to watch the numbers tick up on the gas pump. “We just… pretend it never happened.”

“Right,” you said.

“Right,” he said back and you headed inside to find Sarah.

When you made it back to Austin, you hugged Sarah goodbye, picked up Puck and gathered your stuff from the back of the truck, Joel carrying your bag to your car for you.

“I know we said pretend it never happened,” he said after he’d put your duffle in the back seat. “But… I think it might be good if we had some space.”

“Space?” You asked, your heart sinking.

“Just… just a few days,” he said. “I think… I think I need it. Just a few days, though.”

“A few days,” you said, hesitant.

“Yeah,” he said. “I just… I gotta get my shit right.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that so you just nodded. Joel looked relieved.

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. “I… I really don’t want to lose you again, Goldie.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” you said.

“Good,” he said, turning and going toward his house before turning to face you, walking backwards as he did. “See you soon.”

You smiled a little.

“Sure, Joel.”

“Like… Like two days,” he said.

You laughed.

“OK.”

“Three, tops.”

“Three tops,” you repeated.

You went home and tried to distract yourself. You unpacked right away, put a grocery order in on Instacart and sat on the floor, shining a laser pointer on your legs and watching Puck try to pounce on it. Joel needed space. What the fuck did that mean? Why would he need space if it didn’t matter?

It did matter to you. That’s why space was probably a good idea for you. You didn’t want it but it was a good idea. You clearly couldn’t be trusted within a few feet of Joel without losing your fucking mind so space was smart. But why did Joel need it?

He wasn’t into you, at least not in the way you were into him. He’d made that plenty clear over the years. Every time something had happened, it was a mistake. You were a mistake. But… it kept happening. Did he want to fuck you against his better judgement? He’d always been a physical guy, with you and anyone else he cared about. He’d jumped from girl to girl in high school and, judging from the fact that Sarah existed but her mom was long gone, you figured he’d done the same after you’d gone away until responsibility came knocking.

Maybe everything between the two of you had just been a carry over from that. You knew he loved you as a friend and you were happy with that, you really were. Maybe it was just his affection for you and the fact that he wasn’t getting laid anywhere else that made him keep doing things he regretted with you and you were so, so tired of being something he regretted.

“Hey,” you said, scooping your cat up so his head was level with yours, a look of indignity on his small orange face. “Why am I like this? Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

He just pressed one pink-padded paw to your nose and you sighed.

“Well if you don’t have an answer…” you trailed off before kissing his little cat head and setting him back down.

You gave Joel the space he wanted. You didn’t call, you didn’t text, you didn’t even send him the stupid video you saw on TikTok that made you think of him.

In the mean time, you tried to write your book even though seemed to delete everything not long after it was down on the page. You saw Stephen. You tried not to text Gale. And, when Joel did text a few days later - just a picture of the Whataburger menu with a question mark - it made you feel better than you had in days.

Things went back to business as usual after that. You never talked about what happened in the hotel room with Joel. You certainly didn’t mention it to Stephen. You just tried your best to ignore the fact that the best orgasm you’d had in years happened as you fucked yourself against your best friend’s dick when you were half asleep.

But as much as you tried to pretend like that hadn’t happened, your body knew that it had. Joel had smelled so good and felt so good and Stephen just didn’t compare. No matter how much you wanted him to.

“We should stop,” you panted, voice drawn tight, hands moving to brace against Stephen’s chest. He groaned and went limp on top of you and you laughed.

“You’re killin’ me woman,” he said, sitting up from you enough to kiss you softly on the lips before moving to the other end of the couch and awkwardly adjusting his jeans.

“I know,” you winced as you sat up, too, pulling your knees into your chest. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m basically moving in with my sister tomorrow and I’ll be there for who knows how long while she gets settled with the baby and it’s just… it’s not the right time and…”

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching out and giving your foot a squeeze. “You don’t have to explain it. You said you needed to go slow, I’m OK with that. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel ready for.”

You smiled a little, willing your heart to at least try and flutter at this kind, smart, handsome man who was saying and doing all the right things.

“Thank you,” you said. “That really does mean a lot.”

“Hope things go well for your sister,” he said. “And not just because, selfishly, I know I get you back sooner if it does.”

“Good to know you care about the welfare of infants outside your personal gain,” you said wryly, smirking a little.

He laughed.

“I know, it’s what makes me such a good guy,” he said. “When’s Anna due again?”

“Two weeks from tomorrow,” you sighed.

“Isn’t you basically moving in tomorrow then a bit early?” He frowned.

“Well, she might come early,” you said. “It sounds like she’s going to be a big baby. Trust me, I’m not exactly eager to go stay with my sister but…”

“You might like it more than you think,” he said. You looked at him, skeptical. He laughed. “Family’s weird that way.”

“One can hope,” you said.

You walked him out, kissing him goodbye at the door and wishing you felt something more as you did. Before you went to bed, you looked through your bags to make sure you had everything you needed and, eventually, settled in with your phone in hand, Puck curling up next to you. He nuzzled into the crook of your elbow, tucking his tail into his body before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“What do you have to sigh about?” You asked. He adjusted, spreading his little toes out before settling again. “A likely story.”

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone when you got a text from Joel with a photo attached. You opened it. He was in bed, too, with the TV on, the first Curtis and Viper on the screen.

The TV edit is bullshit.

You laughed a little.

You can just put on the copy you own, you know.

Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? And then I’d have to get up… much rather watch Curtis say “get plucked” 50 times than do that.

You snorted.

Lazy ass.

Lazy ass? I’m getting old, respect your elders.

“Jesus,” you said to yourself, shaking your head.

You hesitated for a second, debating about what to say next. Eventually, you just bit the bullet.

I miss you.

There was a pause before he texted back, long enough that you wondered if you should try to take it back, maybe make a joke of it. And then, he responded.

I miss you too, Goldie.

You were trying to figure out how to respond when he called you.

“It’s pushing midnight,” you said by way of greeting.

“Way past my old man bedtime,” he agreed. “Channel 62.”

You sighed but turned on the TV all the same, finding the station just in time to hear Curtis say “get plucked” to some henchman before gunning him down.

“Oh that’s bad,” you laughed.

“Told you.”

You watched the movie with Joel that way for a while, laughing and joking and providing commentary on the stupider parts until the love scene came on. You fidgeted in your bed, the campy sequence somehow still arousing because you knew Joel was listening.

“You’re going to tell me when she has the baby, right?” He said as the couple on screen undressed each other.

“I can tell you,” you smiled a little. “Assuming Anna doesn’t change her mind about that.”

“Good,” Joel said. “Haven’t held a baby in a while, I miss it.”

“Awww big bad Joel Miller secretly loves babies,” you teased, trying not to picture Joel holding a tiny Sarah because you thought your heart might explode if you did. “Who knew?”

“Hey, babies are cute as hell,” he said, mockingly defensive. “And they smell good. And they make these adorable little noises. Am I supposed to not love babies? What am I, a monster?”

“I will let you abuse your connection to me to snuggle my niece,” you smiled a little.

“Yeah, you better,” you could hear him smiling, too.

You switched off your lamp but let the TV on and laid down, Puck looking at you indignantly before adjusting so he was curled against your chest.

“You know if Anna or, you know if… if you need help with her,” Joel said, almost hesitantly. “You can always call me. It took a while to know what to do but I like to think I got pretty good at the single parent thing.”

You smiled a little, feeling overly tired.

“You’re very good at it.”

“Got the world’s greatest dad mug and everything to prove it,” he said. “I know it seems like a lot right now, Goldie, but it will be OK. Promise it will.”

Your eyes got heavy during the climax of the movie, laughing sleepily with Joel and nodding off before the credits. It was a few hours later when an unnaturally loud commercial jerked you awake, your phone still sitting next to your head on the pillow.

You groaned and sat up, turning off the TV. Puck had moved, probably bounding through the house somewhere at some imagined prey, and you got up to use the bathroom, bringing your phone with you. Out of curiosity, you checked the time the call with Joel had ended but frowned. Judging from the length, it seemed like it went on for a while after you’d fallen asleep. You went to text him but, instead, found a series of texts from Anna.

Hey, are you still up?

Guess not… FYI, feeling weird.

There was a break and then another text had come through just half an hour earlier.

OK these are either those fake contraction things or I’m in labor

“Oh fuck,” you said to yourself, quickly going to wash your hands before calling her but she beat you to it, your phone springing to life on your vanity, the vibration making it jump across the marble. You wiped your hand quickly on your pajamas and answered.

“Not the fake contractions!” Anna said quickly instead of a hello. “Sorry, I know 4 a.m. isn’t a great time but…”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” you said, walking quickly to your bedroom and taking off your pajama pants as best as you could with one hand. “How far apart are they?”

“Eight minutes?” She said more like a question. “I think? But they’re strong enough that I can’t talk or walk during…”

“OK we have a little time,” you said, breathing a little easier as you grabbed a clean pair of underwear and leggings from your drawer. “I’m just throwing my clothes on, my bags are already packed, I’ll be there so soon. Just… unlock your front door and lie down on the couch and I’ll be right there.”

“I can do that,” she said, sounding a little panicked. “Thank you. For everything, I couldn’t do this on my own, I know I couldn’t and just… thank you.”

You smiled a little.

“Of course,” you said. “OK, I’m going to let you go but I’ll see you soon. You’ve got this, Anna. You do.”

You got dressed as quickly as you could before checking that Puck’s food and water bowl would be at least set for the day and jogging to your car, bags in hand.

Anna had done as you’d asked, unlocking her door so you didn’t need to fumble with keys in the dark and you found her in the middle of a contraction on her couch when you came in, grimacing and moaning in pain with her hands around the bottom of her stomach as she did.

“Hey, you’re OK,” you said, running to the couch and kneeling at her side. “Want my hand?”

She nodded frantically and you held it out. She squeezed it so tight you thought your knuckles might crack. As the contraction lessened, she took a deep breath, her face already shiny with sweat. “Think we can get you sat up and moved to the car?”

“Yeah,” she said. “But watch out, my water broke when I was unlocking the door, it’s wet over there.”

You almost laughed at that.

“That’s alright,” you said, helping her sit up. “It’s tile, think it will live. We’ll get you to the car and I’ll mop when we’re home with you and baby girl. You ever going to tell me her name?”

“I want to meet her first,” she said. “Think it’s weird for someone else to know her name before she does.”

“Makes sense,” you nodded, looping her arm around your shoulders and notching yourself into her underarm. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s go have a baby.”

Her contractions were seven minutes apart when you reached the hospital and they got her back to a labor and delivery room quickly, hooking her up to what seemed like countless machines as you sat there and watched, feeling more helpless than you had since you watched your marriage fall to pieces at your feet.

You realized, as Anna labored and nurses walked her through it, just how much you’d grown accustomed to being able to take things on for her. When she had an issue with her phone bill couldn’t figure it out? You called and handled it. When she wanted an NA meeting closer to her office? You tracked one down. When she was shopping for everything for the nursery? You looked up the safety ratings and handed over your credit card at Buy Buy Baby. It had always been that way. When her grades tanked, you tutored her. When she had a bully at school, you stepped in. When she wanted a snack while your mom was at work, you made it. If you could do it for Anna, you did. This was different. This, you couldn’t do for her.

But you did everything you could. You did everything they taught you in lamaze classes and gave her ice chips and got the nurse when she needed help you couldn’t provide. Still, you felt decidedly useless when, more than 12 hours after you got to the hospital, her daughter came into the world with sharp, angry little cries. She was slick and red and wailing, tufts of dark hair on her tiny head, her small limbs flung out from her little body and she was beautiful.

“Congratulations, Mama,” the doctor smiled, putting the baby on Anna’s chest. “It’s a girl.”

Anna sobbed and smiled as she held her daughter, cradling her close.

“Hi there little one,” she whispered down to her. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

The baby cried even louder, the sound sharp and cracking, and Anna laughed wetly.

“Yeah,” she said. “You tell ‘em, Ellie.”

“Ellie?” You asked, trying to keep from fully crying but failing miserably.

“Yeah,” she said, still looking down at the tiny figure in her arms. “Ellie.”

The three of you got to know each other, Ellie rarely resting anywhere but in either of your arms. A few friends of Anna’s came by to meet her and Joel and Sarah did, too, Joel texting to ask what Anna was craving after spending the day in labor.

“Fried chicken!” She said. “With everything. And Dr. Pepper. Maybe a milkshake? Oh, and a burger if it’s not too much trouble.”

The two of them came with bags of food so comically large you couldn’t help but laugh as they brought them in, Sarah trailing balloons along behind her.

“Someone saw these in the gift shop so we had to stop for them,” Joel said, nodding to the balloons as he set down the heaping piles of food. “Here, baby girl, gimme those…”

He tied them off on the rail of Anna’s bed while Sarah fawned over the sleeping newborn.

“She’s so small,” she gaped down at her. “That’s insane.”

Joel came and stood behind her, putting a large hand on her shoulder.

“You were that size once, baby girl,” he said, sounding a little choked up. “You were a tiny thing, seemed like you fit in the palm of my hand.”

“That’s just because you have freakishly large hands,” you said.

“Shut it,” he gave you a look and you smiled.

While you and Anna ate, Joel showed carefully showed Sarah how to hold a baby, how to support her tiny head and how babies liked when you moved with them.

“See?” He said, sitting next to you on the little couch beneath the window as Sarah delicately cradled little Ellie. “You got it.”

“That’s just because she’s perfect,” she said, staring down at the baby before her eyes went wide with excitement and she looked between her dad and Ellie’s mom. “Can I babysit? I promise, I’ll take such good care of her and…”

“We can talk about that when both of you are a little older,” Joel laughed. “Glad to know you’re ready to start contributing to the household though. Have to start charging you rent…”

“Ha ha,” she rolled her eyes before looking back to the baby.

Joel held her next and you couldn’t help but stare at him as he did. He seemed so impossibly large compared to her, able to hold the tiny bundle that was your niece easily in his large hands, a look of awe and total adoration on his face as he did. But he was so beautiful, too. The gentle way he held her, the way he looked at her, the way he just seemed to be so happy to be caring for something so vulnerable, it made your heart ache with a want you’d long ago tried to set aside.

“He’s such a sucker for babies,” Sarah said, perching on the couch next to you and helping herself to a french fry. “He’s so weird.”

“Must be because you were a perfect kid from birth,” you teased and Sarah smiled, smug, as Joel scoffed.

“Please, if anything it’s in spite of her,” he said, still staring down at Ellie. “She had colic, seemed to love to pee right as I was changin’ her…”

“Hey!” Sarah said.

“But you were still the most amazing thing I’d ever seen,” he said, looking at his daughter before looking back to Ellie. “This one might be a close second, though. Good job, Mama.”

“Thank you,” Anna said proudly, sitting up a little straighter. “Actually, would you mind giving her to me? I’m going to try and nurse…”

“Alright, I’ll hand her over and I won’t make you fight me for her but only because you just gave birth,” he said. “Next time though…”

Anna laughed good naturedly as Joel gently laid the baby in her arms.

“Alright, kiddo,” he said. “Let’s get out of their hair, give them some time to relax.”

He and Sarah gathered up the trash from dinner and you walked them to the elevator, Sarah pressing her face against the nursery window to look at the babies as you went.

“And how are you doing?” He asked as he waited for the elevator.

“Me?” You asked, brows raised. “I’m fine, I didn’t just push a human being out of my body.”

Joel laughed a little.

“I know but still. It’s a lot. You OK?”

You thought for a moment about how powerless you’d felt as Anna brought Ellie into the world, how you wished your mother had been here because she was better equipped than you’d ever be, how you didn’t know how to help raise her without finding some way to ruin her.

“I’m alright,” you said instead of saying any of that. “I’ll get them home and settled and then we’ll just… see how it goes, I guess?”

“That’s all you can do,” he said, watching you with an almost soft look in his eyes. “Meant what I said before. Don’t matter what time it is, don’t matter what you need, we’ll figure it out. Did it before, I can do it again. And so can you.”

“Thank you,” you said, letting yourself almost fall into him. He hesitated for a moment but wrapped himself around you, his arms almost swallowing you.

“You’ve got this, Goldie girl,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Know you do.”

He had to practically drag Sarah away from looking at all the babies and as you watched the elevator doors close, you wondered what you’d ever done without him.

Anna and Ellie were released the next day and you drove them to Anna’s house at a snail’s pace, trying to press the break as gently as possible when approaching a light so you wouldn’t jostle the precious cargo in the back seat.

At first, things went well. Or as well as it could when there were two people with basically no experience with children trying to care for an infant. Ellie didn’t need much, after all. She mostly slept, ate and pooped.

And cried. She definitely, definitely cried.

By day three, you were starting to get worried about the lack of sleep for both you and for Anna. You knew how exhausted you felt, how delayed your movements seemed as you tried to go through your routine on just two or three hours of sleep for the third day in a row. Anna, you knew, had to have it worse. She’d just given birth, after all, and was still recovering. On top of that, she was nursing Ellie.

Or she was trying to, at least.

After you’d left the hospital, Ellie had been reluctant to latch. She’d been doing an OK job of it before but now she seemed to do nothing but reject her mother’s breast or pull away quickly while wailing, her small face scrunching and getting red as she screamed.

“I know, I know, I know,” Anna said in the afternoon on the fourth day, bouncing Ellie on her shoulder and sounding on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, I’m trying! I know you’re hungry, I know!”

“Maybe we can do formula?” You said, anxiously picking at a ragged cuticle as you watched your sister pace. “It’s better if she eats at all…”

“I should be able to fucking do this!” Anna snapped. “I’m her goddamn mother, I should be able to feed her!”

“You can,” you said, trying to soothe her. “Just… do the formula, I’ll make up a bottle, at least until we can get in to see the lactation specialist. That’s what it’s for. It’s OK, then you’re feeding her…”

“No, you’re feeding her,” she spat. “You bought the formula! You bought the formula and her crib and her goddamn onesie! Because I fucking failed at that, too!”

“You didn’t fail at anything!” You said. Anna had stopped bouncing Ellie and her cries got louder. “I know it’s hard right now but it’s going to get better, it is.”

“I need a break,” she stalked over to you, passing the baby off and all but storming out of the room. You bounced Ellie, who kept wailing, and you resisted the urge to cry yourself before going to make her a bottle.

It was that afternoon, one of the few hours a day that Ellie wasn’t crying and was instead sleeping - but not content to do it anywhere but on your chest - that you checked your phone. You had some general messages from Joel, check ins and funny pictures and offers to bring by dinner, and an update from Alyssa with information about the classes she was covering for you. There was also a text from Gale, one that sounded almost ominous.

I think I’ll always regret how things played out with you.

You frowned and considered texting back. You’d sent him basically nothing in months, only responding when he had a question about something related to the divorce - even though you knew that should really be going through your attorneys, but it was so hard to resist talking to him when you had the excuse. This text, however, seemed different.

You opened Facebook, hoping to go to his page and find some kind of hint but you didn’t even need to go that far. Sitting at the top of your newsfeed was a picture he’d been tagged in just a few hours ago, his arm around your younger, prettier replacement except, in this picture, her stomach was round, a blue dress tight over the swell near her hips as he looked at her, a tranquil smile on his face.

“Our soon to be party of three!” She had written on the post. “Baby boy Newton, coming this July!”

You just stared at your phone, heart racing as your stomach felt hollowed out. Gale was having a baby. Something you’d always wanted but he said was a bad idea, had really only been a bad idea because it was with you. You’d always secretly hoped that it was just an excuse, that he didn’t really want children but that wasn’t it. It was you. You were the problem.

Ellie stirred from her place against your chest, starting to squirm and you could feel her start getting herself worked up.

“It’s OK baby girl,” you said, your voice thick and wet. “Let’s see how you’re doing, see if you need a diaper and if we can let your mom sleep a little while longer, OK?”

As you tried to calm her down, you couldn’t help but remember what Gale had told you. How you weren’t nurturing, how you couldn’t be selfless enough, how you’d ruin a child. How could you pretend like he was wrong? As you clutched tight to your screaming, squirming niece and tried to get her to settle or eat, how could you say that you would do anything but fail her?

“Are you OK?” Anna asked a little while later when she emerged, groggy, from her room to find you with red eyes and a tear-streaked face and her daughter in your arms.

“Fine,” you said, bouncing Ellie. “I’m fine.”

You couldn’t tell her what Gale had said - Gale had known - about you. Not right now, not when Anna was already stressed and worried enough. You’d just have to deal with it and with the crying baby who was in your care.

And Ellie basically never stopped crying. You’d get a few hours of blessed quiet in a day but it seemed like, if she was conscious, she was screaming. You were coming up on the end of the first two weeks of her life with little understanding as to why she wasn’t able to settle and you needed to get back to work for a few days to finish out the semester.

“You’re seriously going to leave me here with her?” Anna asked, her eyes wide.

“Just for a week,” you said. “I have to do exam review, final project presentations and office hours before exam week. I have to, Anna, I’m sorry. I can see if I can find a nanny for a few days…”

“No,” she shook her head. “Don’t. I can do this. I need to be able to do this.”

“If you start feeling overwhelmed,” you frowned but she cut you off.

“She’s my daughter,” she said. “I can take care of my own damn daughter.”

Anna insisted you go home for the work week, wanting to try things on her own since you were going to be gone all day, anyway. You brought your bags so you could do laundry and pack a fresh round of clothes and you found yourself reveling in the silence of your home when you walked into it, closing your eyes and soaking it in.

Joel had picked up Puck while you were at Anna’s and he said he was down to keep him for a while but, after a few hours, it was strange, rattling around your house without another soul in it. No crying baby, no frustrated sister, no playful cat. Just you and your exhaustion as you collapsed into bed.

You checked in on Anna in the afternoons after work and, on Wednesday, went to Joel’s for dinner, Sarah begging you to sneak her more Sprite when Joel got up to use the bathroom halfway through.

“Don’t tell your dad,” you said, filling up her cup from the two liter in the fridge.

“Your secret is safe with me,” she smiled before chugging the first half of the soda before Joel made it back to the table.

You sat on the couch with Joel after dinner, Puck purring furiously on your lap after giving you the silent treatment for the first hour you were there.

“If my kid can’t sleep tonight, that’s on you,” he said as he settled in.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re the one who let her have more sugar,” he said as Swiftie jumped on his lap and he started absently petting her. You gaped at him. “Don’t look so shocked. I’ve learned to watch the levels in the Coke bottles around this house with that kid.”

“She could be doing actual coke, you know,” you said.

“At 11?”

You nodded.

“You’ve got it easy,” you said.

He laughed.

“Suppose I do,” he said. “How’s it going with Ellie?”

“She’s still crying like crazy,” you sighed. “It’s constant…”

“I told you I can come help!” He said, incredulous.

“I know!” You replied. “But Anna doesn’t WANT help, she’s insisting she can do it. I’m worried about her, I don’t know how clearly she’s thinking right now…”

“Given how sleep deprived she is?” Joel raised his brows. “Probably not very.”

“I’m this close to just having you come over anyway, whether she likes it or not,” you said. “I don’t want her completely losing herself to this.”

“Bring the kid here for a bit and give her a break,” Joel said. “I can watch ‘er, or I can come there…”

“I appreciate it,” you sighed. “I’ll bring that up to her tomorrow. We have Ellie’s next check up in the afternoon, we’ll see how she’s doing. Maybe the doctor will have a good suggestion, who knows.”

“Hope so,” Joel said. “It’ll be OK. Promise you, it will.”

You almost told Joel about Gale then. About him having a baby with another woman because one of the only people who had ever been able to see you - really, truly see you - saw how bad you would be at this. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Despite Joel’s promise, it didn’t feel like it was going to be OK. Especially not at Ellie’s check up the next afternoon. She had lost a few ounces, moving down the track for weight percentile, and Anna looked like she was about to cry.

“She won’t nurse,” she said, her voice thick. “She doesn’t like the formula, what do I do?”

The doctor gave her some advice that you wrote down, a glassy look on Anna’s face, and drove home, worried that the doctor needed to see Ellie back in less than a week.

“I’m going to ruin my kid,” Anna said when you got her home, Ellie blessedly asleep in her carseat, the only time you could reliably get her to pass out in the back of the car. “I can’t even feed her right, I’m going to destroy her when all I want to do is do the right thing for her.”

“It’ll be OK,” you said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “I can stay over tonight…”

“No,” she shook her head. “May as well finish the week out, right?”

“Sure,” you said uncertainly, “If you change your mind, just call me. I’ll be over in like 10 minutes, just call.”

“Right,” she said, giving you a tight smile before walking you out. “I’m sure it will all work out.”

You felt off all evening as you reviewed the final, frantic emails from students as the semester wound down. You should never have come home like this, you should have just gone to work and gone to Anna’s after whether she liked it or not. You seriously considered packing up and heading over that second but just chewed on the inside of your cheek instead. It was late. You’d be back the next night. Less than 24 hours. Closer to 18 hours, actually. What could really go wrong in 18 hours?

You went back to work but only lasted another few minutes when Anna texted you.

Are you at home?

You frowned at the phone.

Yeah, what’s up? Need me to come over?

She didn’t respond. You drummed your pen against the edge of your desk and tried to hold yourself back from replying. She had an infant at home, after all. She wasn’t staring at her phone.

But after five minutes, you texted again.

Is everything OK? Is Ellie OK? Are you OK?

You stared at the screen, willing her to respond. Another few minutes passed when you saw the bubble pop up, saying she was typing.

Check your front porch.

You frowned, picking up your phone and going to respond when another message appeared.

I’m so sorry.

“Anna?” You said, even though she wasn’t there to hear you. Your heart raced as you frantically called her. It rang once and then went to voicemail. “Fuck!”

You sprinted for your front door, grabbing your keys from the bowl in your entryway and ripping the door open and you stopped in your tracks.

Sitting there, on your front stoop and in her carseat and next to a diaper bag, was Ellie.

“Hey sweetheart,” you said softly, picking up the carrier and folding the handle back, carrying her gently inside and setting the carseat on the kitchen table. “Just going to make sure you’re all OK…”

You pulled back the blanket that had been tucked around her. She was all strapped into the carrier, her little legs and arms pulled in tight to her torso. You almost cried in relief when you saw her tiny chest rising and falling.

“So where’s your mama baby girl?” You asked, watching her as you pulled up Anna’s number and dialed again. This time it rang out. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You tried to keep calm as you texted her.

If you don’t answer I’m calling 911.

You gave her a few seconds to see the message before you called her and she picked up on the first ring this time.

“I told you, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice wet.

“Sorry for what?” You asked. “Anna, just… just come here, we can talk about this…”

“Talk about what?” She cut you off. “About the fact that I can’t do anything right by my own kid? I can’t even fucking feed her right, you heard the doctor today…”

“We can figure it out,” you said quickly. “Doing… whatever it is you’re doing is not the answer. Just come here, we’ll take care of it together, we always do and…”

“No, no there is no we,” she said. “You always fix it, you always handle it, not me. I’m just ruining her, I’m bad for her, I’m not capable of this. She should be yours not mine, she’s… she deserves better than me and…”

“No,” you said, trying not to panic. “No, you’re her mother, what she needs is you! Anna, don’t do this, don’t…”

“It’s not forever,” she said. “I’m just… I’m going away for a little while. I need to be better for her. I’ll come back when I can. Take care of her for me, OK?”

“Anna, no, Anna don’t-“

You didn’t get a chance to finish. She hung up and you frantically tried to call her back but it just went straight to voicemail.

“Fuck,” you teared up, looking down at your infant niece in her carrier. She was so small, she needed so much, so much you weren’t capable of giving her.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this afraid of anything, all the hope and potential carried in Ellie’s tiny body now resting on your shoulders. What were you supposed to do with all of that? When all you were capable of was failing?

You were about to do the only thing he could think to do - call Joel - when Ellie made one of her small noises, one that came just before she started crying and, sure enough, half a second later, she was wailing, her little legs kicking out as she did.

“Hey now,” you said, desperate to soothe her. “You’re OK baby girl. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

Anna had, at least, left the base to the carseat and a container of formula with the diaper bag on your porch. That, plus the things you’d stocked your house with so you could take Ellie for a few hours or even a day if Anna needed, made it so you could look after her without needing to make a store run for a day or two. You tried to focus on looking after her as best you could even though you had never felt so lost before in your life.

You moved all your office hours for Friday to virtual and did your best to take them with Ellie there, but it was hard. She was inconsolable all day. Every now and then, she would settle against you but then she seemed to realize that you were wrong. You didn’t feel like her mother or smell like her mother and you weren’t who was supposed to be taking care of her. It was like she could sense the thing about yourself that scared you most.

Things got worse as the day wore on. You’d been up with her all night and you’d had to take advantage of her brief periods of sleep to work that day and it seemed like she was getting more and more upset as the night wore on. She shoved her bottle away, her tiny face scrunched tight as she screamed.

“Come on,” you said, crying right alongside her. “You… you have to eat something, I know I’m not your mom but you can’t just… you have to eat, please just eat something I promise you’ll feel better if you do.”

She didn’t listen. She just cried in your arms and all you could think about was what Gale had told you. He’d been right about so many things, of course he was right about this, too.

“Maybe you’re just too worked up,” you said, carrying her to her car seat and setting her gently inside it. “Just… going to try to calm you down, maybe then it’ll be OK.”

You didn’t know if that would work but you were desperate. You carried her to the car and triple checked that she was secure before just driving. She liked the car, she always quieted down in the car. This had to help. It had to.

Something had to.

But it didn’t. You weren’t sure just how long you’d been driving aimlessly, Ellie wailing in the back seat, but you couldn’t keep doing this. Not to her.

You weren’t sure how but you found yourself outside Joel’s house. It was dark outside, the glow of light from inside the houses on his street warm and welcoming and you wished, desperately, that you belonged with that light. That you could be somewhere soft and nurturing and where Ellie would be cared for the way she deserved, not the way you managed to ruin everything you touched.

You gave up on stopping your own tears. Instead, you got out of the car and unhooked Ellie’s carseat from the base, looping your arm through the handle and carrying it to Joel’s front door. You knocked, even though you were sure he could hear the baby crying, and it was only a few seconds before he opened it.

“Goldie?” He asked, looking you up and down, his eyes soft and wide. “What’s going on? What…”

“Please, Joel,” you said, holding the carrier tightly against yourself. “I need your help.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Poor Goldie, Ellie and Anna! Stuff is ROUGH for them right now but don't worry, Joel is now on the scene.

We'll just have to see what a lot of stress and desperation from Goldie while Joel is being hot and paternal makes happen 👀

OK LOVE YOU BYEEEEEE!

Also thank you for reading because you're the best. Truly.

OK now love you bye ❤️

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

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