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nonhumanhermitheadcanons · 2 years

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I posted 173 times in 2022

That's 128 more posts than 2021!

153 posts created (88%)

20 posts reblogged (12%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nonhumanhermitheadcanons

@just-illegal

@cryptidstares

@cursedthing

I tagged 170 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#hermitcraft - 145 posts

#hermitcraft headcanon - 84 posts

#hermitcraft headcanons - 36 posts

#nhhpromptober - 33 posts

#grian - 27 posts

#pearlescentmoon - 15 posts

#tango tek - 11 posts

#nhh 2022 promptober reblog - 11 posts

#tangotek - 9 posts

#watcher grian - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#if there are any artist out there and you want to draw this please do because i love this idea and have no drawing capabilities

My Top Posts in 2022:

The 1.19 update was great for everyone, except Zedaph.

Apparently, goat horns and sheep horns were similar enough in code because the sudden existence of them caused Zedaph's horns to become recognized as an object by themselves.

"'Zedaph's horn'," Tango read the entry off his communicator. He looked up at Zedaph who had his back facing Tango. "Huh. I didn't know it was a thing."

"It's not a thing," Zedaph emphasized, turning his head around to look at Tango. He would have simply glanced over his shoulder but he couldn't; his fully-grown curled horns obstructed his view. "My horns don't just break like the goats' do because they hit something. My horns are much stronger than that."

"Indestructible," Impulse added, and the other two turned to him. Tango made a sceptical scrunch of his face and Zedaph nodded furiously in agreement.

"Do you think your horns would survive if you were TNT-canon-launched into like a wall?" Tango asked.

"I'm not TNT-canon-launching myself across my base!" Zedaph retorted, though the thought of it made him chuckle.

"Oh? Sounds like someone is scared!" Tango taunted.

"Scared? Who said anything about scared?" Zedaph scorned with a grin. "Impulse!" Zedaph called, and Impulse nodded in attention. "Make me the furthest TNT canon launcher ever!"

"Zed, that's quite dangerous," Impulse warned. "Even if your horns do not break, it would hurt-"

"The furthest TNT canon launcher EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!" Zedaph hollered.

"EVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Tango echoed.

---

Facepalming right into the side of a mountain was never fun. Neither was the sharp pain of his horns cracking in two.

"Zedaph's horn!" Tango shouted, delighted as he ran towards the broken horn and picked it up.

"Zed!" Impulse ran to him, helping him up and offering him a healing potion. Zedaph rubbed his nose painfully, then winced as he raised his hand to touch the jagged edge of his now broken horn. "Does it hurt?!" Impulse asked, alarmed.

"No," Zedaph sighed, "just bruised my image and my ego."

Impulse offered Zedaph sandpaper and Zedaph began the tedious process of sanding and smoothening out what was left of his horn.

"It'll grow back," Impulse tried to cheer him up. "They'll look the same again."

"Yeah," Zedaph shrugged, "in a few years."

"Do you think a song plays if I blow through Zedaph's horn?" Tango asked, holding the horn with both hands like it was the most precious item ever. It could very well be; there was only one Zedaph, and no more Zedaph horns for a few years.

"Try it," Zedaph shrugged.

Tango blew into one end of Zedaph's horn and all that came out of the other end was a splatter of saliva.

"Disappointing," Zedaph commented.

"Your horn doesn't make music!" Tango exclaimed.

"You don't know how to play a horn!" Impulse cried, seeming horrified at Tango's attempt.

"You try!" Tango offered him the horn.

"Ew!" Impulse backed away, waving a 'get-it-away-from-me' hand at Tango. "I'm not touching that!"

"How are you going to prove that it's me and not the horn then?" Tango asked.

"I have another horn," Zedaph offered, and gestured at his one intact horn.

See the full post

241 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

robot tango has to do that little "are you a robot" captcha test. i dont have anything more than that on that topic but i think he would probably fail and be Very irritated about it

Fans buzzing in frustration, Tango glares at the tiny box on his communicator’s screen. [I’m Not A Robot] the text proclaims. “But I am a robot,” He whispers drawing Impulse’s attention.

“What’s up?”

Tango shows him the communicator, “I could click it, but… I don't want to lie.”

With a sound mixed between a sigh and a snort, Impulse clicks the button and grants Tango access to the website

“Thanks,” Tango shoots his friend a grin. It’s not like the robot wouldn't pass the test; he's pretty good at mimicking human arm movements. Looking back at the communicator he finishes his shopping. He needs spare parts, and you can't just craft them most of the time.

Clicking the next button, Tango’s head hits the table with a thunk.

“Another one?” Impulse grins.

“Yeah…” Tango rubs the back of his neck, “It’s a different kind… could you?”

Taking the comm, Impulse frowns at the string of squiggly letters and numbers, the psychedelic background not helping the readability of the text, “Ok, you’re in.” He passes the communicator back, having successfully deciphered the nonsensical phrase.

“You make it sound like I'm hacking them,” Tango laughs.

“I mean, you are a robot on a website made to keep bots out.”

“Yeah but those are computer bots, not RObots with bodies and free will like myself!” Tango gives himself a dramatic gesture. Impulse just shakes his head, smiling fondly.

256 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

‘Watchers’

Nobody in Hermitcraft knows what the Watchers are. There’s a good reason for that: Grian and his friends from EVO made them up. Now Grian is pretending to be one of these all-powerful ancient beings who ‘see everything’ just to fool the other hermits because he thinks it’s fun.

When 3rd Life rolls around and Martyn hears of this, he’s confused at first, but quickly gets in on the joke: “Grian, why are you pretending to be the godly beings we made up for our LARP?” “Because they don't know that!”

Jimmy, upon catching wind of this, says, “But I’m not a Watcher?!” Grian gives him a look of ‘please play along don’t blow this for me please’, and thankfully Jimmy gets it. He puffs up his chest, looking as confident as he can manage. “...Because I am a... uh... I'm a Listener! Yes!” he says.

“No, yeah, it's totally a thing.” “BigB, you too?” Etho sobs.

588 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

Grian is, in fanon, often known for his many, many eyes, and his feathery bird wings, right?

So what if...

Grian raises his long, elegant tail, and sees.

1,093 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Because I rarely see anybody talk about them, a look at Gem & Pearl's camera accounts because they are super cool and very underappreciated.

AriesEva, the cam account of one GeminiTay. And initially the cause of much confusion when she started logging in and people didn't know who she was.

Her skin follows the nature theming of her counterpart to the nether. The colour scheme closely resembles that of a fungus, with its bright greens and oranges. She keeps her trademarked floral headdress and antlers (despite this being based off her non-HC skin) and on the back of her shirt has her crescent moon ensigna seen in Season Eight!

See the full post

2,813 notes - Posted May 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

We had a great year with all of you liking and rebloging our posts. Here's to another year!

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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spewagepipe · 5 months

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#Dungeon24: Or Not.

So, apart from my normal incredibly infrequent posts and the Shocktober horror movie flood, spewagepipe has basically been a #Dungeon23 blog for the last year. And while I did manage to complete some deeply compromised version of the challenge, I am left, at the start of this new year, with no actual dungeon maps or keys to play with – just a set of write-ups of the rooms scattered across this blog and an assortment of notebooks. So what comes next?

What comes immediately next is just a goddamn break. I'm going to do myself a favour and not even look at anything dungeon-related until at least February. Thinking of dungeon room ideas has been my constant companion for the last 12 months, so expunging that from the recesses from my mind is going to be a weird change of pace to say the least. A number of real-life-type goals and even other game projects that have fallen by the wayside while I was working on the dungeon, and I think those deserve to have some attention now.

Whenever I do come back to the dungeon project, it's going to look a little bit like this:

Play-testing. Now that I have this deluge of dungeon content to work with, I need to polish up the smallest viable chunk of it (which is to say, the tutorial "Sacred Shrines" floor, which is the only one that is already mapped) and actually put it in front of some players to see if my rules function or not. I hope that the work that went into the dungeon over the year will be worth it regardless, but I need to find out if Determined actually works as intended or not. The results of playtesting will affect all the other steps going forward, and I'll probably end up doing even more play-testing between each of the other stages.

Add MVP rooms. That's not "most valuable player" but rather "minimum viable product". I have a variety of magic items and puzzles that I consider "necessary" for the finished dungeon, but that were never actually placed into any of the 365 rooms that I created (for one reason or another). I'm going to take however-long-it-takes to hammer those into a working form and add them.

Map the superstructure. While many of my floors have included explicit points of connection with their neighbours, I'm going to have a much easier time with polishing rooms and mapping floors if I know how they're all supposed to connect up. There are a number of considerations here for pacing, difficulty, and diegetic consistency.

Mapping & Keying. This is actually more like 22 little sub-steps. I need to draw each floor, and then I need to actually describe each one with enough detail to meet Determined's fairly stringent rules. I hope that the maps will be easy, or at least fun – but the keying promises to be a really prodigious task. Ideally, I'll keep aiming for minimum-viable-product by running play-tests as I finish each floor.

Revamp the "Embattled Keep". I have to break this one out in particular because it's so exceptional compared to the others. The "Embattled Keep" floor is an experiment to see how (and indeed, if) Determined can handle the "faction play", and while I hope I can keep most of what I planned for, I'll inevitably end up having to adjust the architecture as I actually complete the rules that govern it.

So I'm absolutely NOT going to call this a "Dungeon24 Challenge", because there's no way that it will actually involve finishing a single discrete room in each day. But! I'll probably still tag my shit with Dungeon24 as I go because, to be fair, it's sort of an extension of the thing, and I'd love to stay in the loop as others attempt the challenge proper.

#dungeon23 #dungeon24 #osr #tabletop #rpgs #my games

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thekinkyleopard · 10 months

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A lot of people don’t make any money off of their art, and just spend their free time pouring into it. That doesn’t make it okay. I also disagree that people rightfully being upset about their work being used and stolen without permission isn’t “hate.” It’s simply criticism of a very valid emotion.

I’ll address this to clarify my previous statement made because it seems some of you are twisting my words and opinion on this particular subject.

My friend made a mistake, it was indeed a bad mistake. We ALL agree what she did, wasn’t excusable. The point of my post wasn’t to excuse or minimize what she did. The point of my post was THE FACT my friend made a mistake, one that hadn’t inflicted any real damages upon the original artist (if they’d like to come forth and express it did, now there I couldn’t speak, but I don’t think all of snzblr wants to contact two artists that are most likely vanillas and would find this whole thing fucking weird in the first place and bring attention to a small community just tryna vibe.) garnished so much hate in her inbox, and amongst the tags, I found it absolutely REPULSIVE. People were attacking her PERSONALLY. Not just gently expressing what she did wrong. You can be mad, upset, disappointed, cheated, whatever big feeling you have, you are entitled to it. But you’re not entitled to lash out and attack someone personally who is WILLING to fix their mistakes, because you’re unhealed. My point was also to state that ANYONE who has ISSUES with Geez, is NOT welcome to bully, harass or be an all around cock-sandwich to me or my friend because of your own feelings. Did you know suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death amongst people 10-34? Did you know that cyber bullying increases attempts by 8%? Or Sewerslidal thoughts by 15%? No one considers those things when they’re up in arms over something so small compared to an entire life in their hands. There’s a way to approach situations like these where everyone can properly learn from their mistakes and move forward.

That’s my FRIEND. I do not CARE how mad you are at her she doesn’t deserve to have people bash her and pick at her mental health. She also doesn’t need a bunch of chronically online people telling her to “get help” as if we all aren’t aware of how shitty not only the insurance system is but the mental health system in general. It’s classist and ableist.

As for the crime discussed;

Intentionally stealing or copying someone’s work without credit and source is illegal and downright gross. However, IN MY OPINION, if someone makes a post and clearly points out “hey this is just a remake of my OCs of this OG person’s post, please go show them love and follow them and support their original piece it’s awesome! Here’s my redesign!” Posts it, I don’t see anything wrong with that. That’s the risk you run when you share your content online. You can be mad, but it’s still Fair Use and was properly credited and sourced. I DO NOT DRAW. I CAN NOT DRAW. I can vote. And I will always vote to protect people’s rights to their original ideas and concepts. My opinion on this general example, can be taken with a grain of salt because I’m not a visual artist or apart of the drawing/painting communities. I can not even point out a traced piece unless I’ve already seen the original. But as the example given previously, I do not see it as theft if you do credit and source the original and bring attention to the original piece that you’re tracing in the first place. Especially if the post does wind up bringing them more traffic.

If you still don’t understand, idk what to tell you except maybe read it until you do. Or unfollow me and call it a day. I do not hold my own personal value in myself or my craft, based off how many people interact with my fics or followers I have. It doesn’t hurt my feelings if you no longer wish to support my blog or my writings, or even my friend Geez. Do what you need to, and I will do the same.

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jeweledfrogcreations · 2 years

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Life just got a whole lot easier

So for a year, I have struggled with posting not just on a blog but on socialmedia post. Did that just get typed on my keyboard? For as long as I can remember I have struggled. I have always looked at other blogs and thought, “I can do that”. But I never did. Oh I would start a post and then think who cares. It would just stay in the draft folder and never see the light of day much less someone else’s eyes. But as looked deeper and more often, pining away at the beautiful fonts and the imagery, I started to see a trend. They had wonderful images that all seemed to go together. Like a flow. I started to see colors that seemed to change with the seasons. Now of course I thought who the hell has time to do this and create and post and tag it and do it at the proper time? It just seemed like a job within itself. But intrigued me non the less. And I thought again. I can make really nice post. I can create that little thing that makes me unique but, and here is the but, I can do it in a real nondiscript way as well. Or a way that is complimentary of a style that a person may want to reflect themselves. Like if you like Jane Austin then perhaps you would like some cottages or peonies or roses. Maybe some green gardens, or little pin and ink drawings of Jane in a garden just plucking a flower and bringing it to her nose.

I worked with a Marketing Firm

Perhaps I should say they worked with me but what a half-assed attempt at helping me market my art. I was supposed to have someone work with me and post images I believe 4 times per week or maybe it was a month. All I know is it was 4 posts too many. Each time they would post something I would come along and delete it as soon as it hit my feed. The colors were all wrong, and the way it was created looked like it came out of the 1980s. They just took screenshots of my website and then put it on my feed with some shout-out in some font that should have been put out of usage. It embarrassed me. I was like shit that is not me guys! I can do better. That’s when I started paying attention to it all.

Knowing your tools

As I was looking over these creators and appreciating their hard work, I wondered if I could do this for myself and perhaps others who would need something like this. Curated content that gave a spotlight to what was going on in the creator’s business or life or employees’ life at work. How could I showcase that? Everyone wants to have that bit of shine so to speak. You want your place of creation or business to be professional but in the same instance, you want it to speak to the customer or the follower. You want it to be the place that they want to be. Even if it’s at a dentist's office or the OBGYN’s office you want people to come in and feel they know and trust your staff and what you have to offer. I’m no different. I want you all to think of me as a trusted friend that helps out in a creative way.

What do I have that makes it easier?

Well, I have an arsenal of equipment not just an iPhone or a laptop but literally an arsenal of equipment and programming that I have spent years mastering. That’s right, years of mastering. Working with these programs has inspired me and humbled me. The creators that work on these applications are heroes to me. They have made my life much easier and I am just now moving into another phase of digital art.

Digital Media Manager supplier

Digital media is the largest key to online success.

Knowing how and when to post is an art and a job that is a half-mad scientist when it comes to algorithms and getting those clicks. I don’t have it all figured out but I will tell you what I do have figured out and that is the digital media that you post has to be engaging and eye-catching. I have lived on this computer and watched and learned. Top that off with a good eye for art and current trends, well that’s even better. I can tell you that having someone create those little square images and story formats with fresh stories and informative tidbits is worth its weight in gold And that is not just a figure of speech. It can put money in your pocket and your name in some pretty interesting places.

I wanted to do something for those who follow me. For those who have always been there to see what I was up to and who hope for the best for me. So here is what I’m going to do I’m going to give out some free digital art. Some little things that you can have fun with. Post them, print them, and create with them. Tag me and let me see what you do with them. I want to know what you like and what you want more of. So let’s kick it off with some little Halloween cuties!

Now if you are reading this and you wonder do I have to subscribe to another email from you to get the digital spooks? No, you do not. I will include them in the emails that go out with new blog posts. All I ask is that you don’t pass them around but if someone wants them, please direct them over to my website. The more views the more clicks is yet another way to support your favorite artist. It helps.

Well until next time take care.

#social media packages #digital #content #services #curated images

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haeroniel-doliet · 2 years

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a bonus thought post for the night!!

on that nostalgia raising feelings train but it derails so it got long so its under a readmore :*

scrolling my old art made me a bit sad and nostalgic (who doesnt get those feelings though doing the same) specifically i really have my heart going out to kid me who got basically no notes on anything. (im not saying i shouldve, art was definitely kid art and questionably tagged etc!) but some i put effort into and it made me so happy to get those 10 likes or whatever. it made me post post and post even what i was working on and unfinished bits (Sure, being me? many of those never got finished bc posting gave the hit of reward chemicals, no response meant no motivation to finish to get more yknow?)

its weird thinking ive now as an adult got a handful of posts with -hundreds- of notes. one over a thousand!! (sure, the really good and popular artists may have thousands but hey they deserve it!!) its weird that i sort of maybe now know what to do to get a reaction out of my prefered niche of the internet. that if i tried w some more consistently, who knows?

im proud of everything in my current art tag. (mostly. no. i am proud shut up brain) i feel slightly like posting more wips. bc i have a ton. surprisingly? ive been drawing way more in the past year than ive been posting (new for me). of course, there is no obligation to post it. why post stuff im not happy with? only to get anxious abt it? sure posting that one teaser when i was actively working on making it better was kinda fun. sure maybe posting some wips would make me go back and finish them bc some of them are good ideas?? but also some are just. theyd make sense to nobody but myself. and why should i share every crevice of my creativity like i used to as an attention craving kid?

my blog is my blog its me, its not a nice art blog its got all my vents and whatever i like to reblog on a given day on it all together. i could make a new tag that feels less like a portfolio to post wips i abandoned or doodles that never went further. it might be nice having them out here. but somehow i feel like id be too embarassed to post them, for my few followers to actually see them. what if i actually tagged them and ppl in tags saw my nonsense doodles? is it worth it? right now my art tag feels like its: dinluke and finished at that ONLY. things that people who come on my blog would like to see perhaps...

hahahhahahha i just crashed my Krita trying to with brash abandon look at all the unposted wips i have at once

turns out i have like. a handful of original works that never got past a rough doodle stage which is fair yknow they were just ideas that could be fleshed out but dont need to. some of them are very personal vent art

ive got a few sketch to tiny doodle to questionable attempt at painting etc bits of the star wars ladies. reminds me that i should branch out in my star wars posting and that drawing women is just way easier and more natural to me why dont i do it more?

ive got a good few fic inspired sketches that never got legs and tbf? theyre olddd now.

ive got like 12 frames of the inktober challenge from last year... in the style of posting 5 at a time, theyve all been sketched out and like half are i think finished. obviously october went long and at some point it just felt weird to post them even if i finished them. i sort of decided if i finish them up early autumn i could get away w posting them for beginning of october while i had a try at the new inktober? idk why i like a challenge to force me to draw more than i do in a year. and then it takes me a year lol. i have a set of 5 that are all inspired by fic, and like. i still like the idea of them. unfortunately? some of the references were old.. A YEAR AGO. sure theres like, the appreciation for vintage and telling ppl we like their work ages on. but i worry the authors no longer are in the fandom or want to be reminded of their work? etc etc. some of them are meh, some i like.

ngl i am especailly happy w my oct 31 post, which i really wish id finished on time for last year. heres to seeing if i post it this year? maybe i’ll finish what i want to finish of them (theres like. 2 im just really not inspired for and never was) and then have a wee collage of them to post, w the oct 31 prompt seperate, as a sort of. hey wip clear out! these are the stragglers from last year :))

maybe ill post original art one day when i get drawn enough to finish one.

ok ok hi welcome indepth to my thought process, bonus thoughts for every thought included. this doesnt need to be on the internet SURE but its a small time capsule for myself ok?

i dont think right now making a doodle tag to post wips is gonna bring me anything but anxiety and feelings of inadequacy i know too well from posting art as a teen. maybe at some point itll help break the barrier and ill just. post shit but it doesnt have to be on my ““portfolio tag”“

i could pick up an wip to finish now, ive got a good few candidates. but i think i should best just, shake off the cobwebs on smth new so i dont feel like im ruining it. it might be a rey or a leia or other star wars heroine portrait. it might be grogu bc hes an already ugly gremlin. it might be something else. i might be talking a high load of shit bc its 3 am again and i should go sleep rather than push myself in delirium. odds are tomorrow im exhausted again, feel like i should do things that actually benefit me in my life and address responsibilites, and shut down under the weight of the thought of it and not do anything until i go crazy at night again? time will tell but rn im stuck in that loop.

perhaps i should never have posted this bc its very long and personal but also? i kinda doubt anyone will read it and thats ok :)) if you are here, hi sorry that you know me better now! uhhh thoughts on the above?

#haeroniel talks #this ramble ran away from me!! it got long sorry #basically im wondering if posting wips as they are would be fun bc i used to do that but concluded itd probably give more anxiety than fun #had a look at said wips in the process and have some thoughts on them #kiss kiss goodnight i should try sleep but the brain is a fun little organ and i process thoughts best verbally (or over text #same thing)

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mwolf0epsilon · 2 years

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Been meaning to ask why you reblog in chains and why the stuff you reblog is super inconsistent you don't have a set aesthetic and some of the art is really ugly or from dead blogs won't that make it harder to find your content

You're actually one of the few people to ask about my reblogging method, and that took me a bit to understand. Apologies, it's 3am and I've been doing things in preparation for moving house this Saturday (it's been a long two weeks thus far).

It's kinda embarrassing... The way I reblog stuff is tied in to a bit of a trauma of mine.

As a kid I was conditioned to believe all of my childhood drawings were worthless. That stuff I made wasn't worth saving. That when I drew things, inevitably the time I poured into making it was ending up in a trash bin. I only recently realized other artists saved their older art to look back on fondly (and cringe a bit because of past inexperience).

That in mind, I have this thing I like to do that I call "Rabbit Holing"... It's probably not the best way to find content on Tumblr, but it's the method that works for me due to my short attention span and terrible memory.

It involves a couple of steps:

Go into a random tag of whatever fandom I'm currently into.

Find a piece of art I like.

Click the Like button on that piece.

Proceed along to the next art and or fic. Like that one as well.

Rinse and repeat until you got a couple of nice different art pieces stored in my likes page.

After collecting enough of those, open new tabs with each OP's Tumblr blog.

Open each blog's archives and begin navigating their fandom/art/fic/misc tags. There might be slight variations of those so be as through as you want.

Look through their collection of things they've seen and reblogged into their own blogs, plus their own posts as well. Congratulations you've just opened several new rabbit holes to older/more obscure/newer artists that like the same stuff as you.

Reblog the accumulation of content in whatever order you prefer.

I see a variety of things through the eyes of other people.

I see artists who were clearly experimenting with new styles, new brushes, new colors, new methods. Drawing nothing and everything just to see what they could accomplish.

I see writers who wrote to their heart's delight, either making up lighthearted stories or trying to touch on more serious subjects that some would rather ignore or sugar-coat.

Sometimes I find the most beautiful drawings that come from long dead blogs, or that exist only through reblogs because the OP felt like they couldn't indulge in an old guilty pleasure anymore.

Or, I find a series of fics that have me at the edge of my seat wondering what comes next. The chapters lost to time, but the words leaving an impact that I'll cherish for as long as I can hold that story in my own archives.

Other times I find drawings that are wobbly, inexperienced or aesthetically ugly to some, but that people clearly put love and dedication into making. Little gateways into better more consistent pieces that then lead to a bold variety of shapes and colors.

Overall, I find a lot of old things that mark the beginning or end of an era in a content creator's life. And I'm led on a mini journey of seeing someone flourish into a better artist/writer.

It's... Kinda humbling. Not being able to remember where I started myself, but being able to see where someone picked up a craft.

Sometimes people don't learn past certain steps, and sometimes people give up halfway through... But I find that encouraging in its own way.

I learn from these people. I learn from their mistakes. From their attempts to be better, and from the way others tried to remember them too.

It's why I'm so eager to share ideas and spread the thoughts of others I guess. I just like the idea that maybe someone will look into my own blog's archive and maybe see all the good things the past and present of certain communities accomplished. Even when Tumblr inevitably crashes and burns, I like to think about the positive impact a lot of people try to leave.

So nah, doesn't bother me if my stuff doesn't get seen over the things I reblog.

#eps talks about:#The Art of Rabbit Holing #or Archive Hopping if you'd prefer

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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How to grow your blog - For Beginners!

Since I receive quite a few messages about how I grew my blog and how others could improve theirs, I decided to do this post to help you with whatever knowledge I gathered throughout my time on here.

Disclaimer: These are only my personal observations, there's no proven success if used and they may differ in other people's case.

Things I will discuss below will include;

Interactions

Masterlists / Navigations

Tags

Although I mentioned that tags can be unreliable, they're still a necessity. Search for relevant tags and use them when you post your art. Meanwhile reblogging is the easiest way to get your creations out there, people do regularly search for tags when they wish to see something and the only way they will find you is if your post appears in tags.

If you're not sure whether your tags are working, you can always head to your dashboard, click on the 👤 in the right upper corner, go down to the posts menu and look for the post you want to check on. Once you found it, click on the tag that you would like to search for. If it shows up in the recent tab of the search results, it means the tag is working, but if after 5 minutes of posting it's still not there, you might need to reupload your work. Unfortunately Tumblr has some issues with the tags and it takes two or even three attempts at times to upload something correctly, whilst other times it might work immediately.

On a side note, if you reblog nsfw content or triggering content, you might want to tag those appropriately. Tw food, tw blood, tw. etc. Depends on the content of the triggering post.

You can also create your own tags. Such as "XY's inbox" for your asks or "XY shares" for anything that you reblog from others. This way people can block those tags and see only those posts on your blog that they might find interesting.

Taglists

Taglists aren't a necessity, especially because there are many different ways to notify your followers of new creations, but it's certainly useful. The reason I think taglists are important is because tumblr won't always show your posts on everyone's dashboard, especially if they follow loads of people. However, when you use a taglist, and mention people on your newest posts, they will be able to get a notification of your update.

Of course, if you feel like tagging people might be bothersome, you might create a side-blog where you reblog your posts and people can turn on notifications to be notified of your updates. This option has been rather popular recently, because usually we reblog and post many things on our main blogs and people don't want to get notified about every trivial post, so a side-blog with the most important posts might just be it for you.

Simplicity

This might be confusing so let me be less vague. As I said, we can be rather lazy and that doesn't mean we're bad people, we might just had a difficult day or too much to study or work and we just want easy access to content. Being simple is a necessity. Though it's good to be creative and unique, such as creating a Masterlist that's called "Where the stars shine", it's not obvious for many what is hidden behind those words and they might not be curious enough to check it out. By being simple and obvious, as I said before, you're offering your content on a silver platter. Simple and neat. Sometimes people just need things to be easy to find.

I have been told many times before that my blog is very organised and I feel very proud about that because it means people can find things easily. Of course, it's not proven, but I think that could be a factor in growing your blog. But as I've said, these are only my personal observations.

I hope this helps. Have a nice day :) Heloise Daphne Brightmore

#writing #content creation #writing advice #creator advice #blogging tips #blog writing #content writing #heloise rambles #grow your blog

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variant-archive · 2 years

Note

do you, perhaps, have any tips for running an archival blog?

I'm surprised you're asking me when I'm so bad at it lmao /lh /j

I'll tell you what I'd do if my brain wasn't super nerfed and I had the energy/motivation. It's a good idea to tag identities to find easily and include category tags. If you look at my oldest posts you'll see that I... made an attempt at this. It did not stick. If y'all can't tell I'm a very sporadic person when it comes to energy and motivation. I would like to have everything tagged but I'm not doing that shit rn while I'm struggling to do much easier things already. Hopefully when I get out of my toxic "home" I'll be more active though (irl and in my projects!) I've probably got adjustment disorder on this bs holding me back from my true potential.

The only other tip I've had is not to involve discourse beyond whatever you need to have in a DNI for your own personal comfort, should you need that like I do. You'll be able to archive more terms and be more consistent that way without dropping your hot takes (on the archive blog). It can create unnecessary problems by drawing attention from people who disagree with you and making it more difficult to work, and it may deter people who don't disagree with you but simply don't want to see discourse while looking for their identity. Don't be inauthentic though, I strongly disagree with that and with any blogs that have done that in order to appear to be "better" or "cleaner" to others, and it's kind of a pet peeve of mine. Have basic decency and consideration for others, and block blogs when you don't fit their DNI instead of just going along with it. Just keep any discourse you're involved in separate from the actual blog to make it easier to go through notifications and posts and taking asks and messages that are on topic for your archival project. Ignore that I've posted random off-topic pseudo-tweets before about my boyfriend and stuff here /lh /j.

I hope this helps at all even though I have no idea what I'm doing myself. I just made the blog because I couldn't find a thorough archive that I could use so I just made my own and people started using it too lmao.

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griimhilde-a · 3 years

Text

if you know, you know.

——— a response to those who refuse to move on.

EDIT: after some encouragement and realizing that, while i tried to be respectful and private about this situation, i was not given the same treatment, i’ve decided to be upfront and filterless. here is a link to my page of receipts that i did not provide in this post.

i would like to point out that when i made the DNI, it was buried and sandwiched in my super long rules purposely so that it wasn’t explicitly visible and drawing attention. it was specifically put there for mutuals to understand my boundaries for the new blog, and as soon as i moved blogs, my guidelines underwent heavy reconstruction and the DNI section was removed overall ( i don’t like DNIs for myself ), as well as on this blog. all statements made in the DNI were what i felt to be true and based off of not only my experiences, but others’ as well, backed up with evidence i have saved that i didn’t feel the need to provide because it wasn’t meant to be a big deal, but i also felt i needed to explain why this person was on a DNI and that it wasn’t done out of malicious intent. again, if something sounds bad it is because “bad” things were done and i can’t control that.

reading the call-out had me ( and others ) confused on where it was i had bullied her, when i had her blocked since november, where it was i had manipulated her, and so forth. i’m always wanting to be a better person, so i was extremely confused on where i had done anything wrong. i also didn’t appreciate my new blog url being attached to it as it had nothing to do with it and i was trying to move forward, and it read very much like an attempt to blacklist. despite everything, i never wanted it to be a spectacle. the pinned, public call-out by this person doesn’t read to me as someone wanting to move on, but wanting to drag things further. this is not a call-out post, this is me defending myself. i will not name drop. if you know who this is about, i ask you just read this to understand the full story.

this is going to be a long boi ( i really tried to keep it short but alkfjdklfksldf nope ). i would also like to apologize for any dryness here, but i am aiming to just state facts as they are. it feels ---- ridiculous writing this all out because it’s something that could and should have been handled privately. but, here we go !!

everything on the DNI is true. i will not post or reveal the sources because one, they are not my stories to tell, and two, i am not going to give her the excuse to bother them. they deserve to be safe, and i am walking proof of what happens when you speak out against someone like her. if i have to bear that burden, then so be it.

it stopped being about “just a url” a long time ago. it became more about how i was treated in that interaction, and how i was continued to be treated afterwards. not to mention the increasing tension within the rpc and having to second-guess whether or not i was truly wanted. it was about how it was affecting those around me, my time in a hobby i love, and my mental health. the amount of times a mutual has tagged me by accident when they meant to tag her is insane. it most definitely did not feel good !!! if that kept happening, it was a problem. i also had to shut off the anon feature because of the amount of anons i was receiving. some had good intentions, but others had resorted to hate.

regarding the messages on discord --- i stand by them. i thought if you were friends with someone on discord and have previously talked over time, it was okay to message, otherwise what was the point of discord? i didn't realize it would make her uncomfortable to do so, and i’m more careful about how i approach people now !!!

regarding the messages: there was no change in tone other than that i grew exhausted and extremely anxious ( shaking !!! palms sweaty !!! knees weak !!!! mom’s spaghetti !!! ) and wasn’t in the proper mindset to sound happy while i was being invalidated to my face. i have even apologized there if i came off as mean. i don’t “present myself” in a way. that’s just how i talk, i prefer communicating one-on-one and i try to alleviate tension that arises no matter what because these types of conversations aren’t always a walk in the park. i wanted things to be good and not stressful for all parties involved. i’m sorry my tone came off as insincere. after being in desc rpc for a year, i was a little surprised seeing a near-identical url so i think it was fair for me to message her about it. she made the decision use it, and i was allowed to react. it was said misspellings in urls made her anxious so i wanted to help and i was shot down and vilified, essentially told i made her feel unsafe and shouldn’t have messaged. if it wasn’t okay to claim i felt “unsafe” and “paranoid”, why was it okay for her to claim the same based on a choice she made herself, but not me to feel anxious about those choices?

i have never told a blog to block her. i have never initiated conversation about her, nor have i spoken negatively about her as a person. ever. i have, in fact, even stated that i didn’t want anyone blocking and that it would be okay to interact. here’s one example after i was approached about her. i cannot control what other people do.

hardblocking her on my end was to avoid seeing her on dash as much as possible.

i am allowed to softblock / unfollow people who interact with her after months of trying to be okay with it. what kickstarted this process was someone i thought was a close friend had dropped me and suddenly i realized i didn’t need to sacrifice my comfort for the sake of keeping a mutual. if they could do it, so could i. while i adore the descendants rpc, the rpc is not a family, we’re not obligated to interact IC or be mutuals with every single person in the rpc. it’s not causing a rift when we don’t interact on dash. i have even emphasized that i would love to stay in contact via discord and write there if possible !! why am i being vilified for trying to make my blog a safe space for me?

regarding the “vagues”: they were all responses. a mutual wrote the post, i reblogged it, my tags were in response to the post ( said mutual’s url wasn’t even blocked out so ... ). if it felt like a vague, i can’t control that. the meaning behind the url post was circulating on dash, i didn’t see any vaguing in it other than me recounting my process of choosing this url, which was true ( was i not allowed to participate?? ). the shrek meme was in response to a public dash event ( which i originally thought was a joke ) that had received copious amounts of criticism for. it wasn’t a vague and it was explicit on what it was referring to, it was meant to be silly dash commentary, nothing deep.

this is in my rules but i have explicitly stated that my headcanons about my characters are not a vague if they differ from yours. the talk about hair styles was actually initiated in a conversation with my friends in private. it had absolutely nothing to do with her. if it sounded like a drag, i encourage everyone to look at how i’ve “dragged” many other things including the original outfits for descendants, evie thinking mermaid dresses are ugly, evie not liking wine, and so forth. my portrayal of evie =/= other portrayals of evie. while she may never do so-and-so, it doesn’t make it wrong for another portrayal to do it. ( why was my blog being kept tabs on and compared with, in the first place? that’s not duplicate friendly ).

regarding sex week: i've stated it was an inappropriate event because the descendants rpc had been heavily criticized for smutting and felt it wasn't the best response, nor was it the best way to promote sex positivity. it was insanely uncomfortable to witness, as someone in this rpc. it doesn’t matter if the people or the muses involved were adults, i would still call it inappropriate had it happened in any other rpc. it wasn’t a “block and move on” situation. i’m also allowed to defend myself because i didn’t want to be associated with something she posted. i didn’t want it tied to my url. i would like to clarify that when i said "embarrassing" in the responses under that anon, it was directed at the anon for misreading the url, nobody else. ostracizing occurred when the descendants rpc was being added to DNIs because of sex week / smutting, which was posted by this person ( if you post it, you start it. simple ). i had been blocked simply because i am a descendants blog and that had never happened before.

i was also notified that people uninvolved with this have been namedropping me on dash in an attempt to have me “written off” ( their words, not mine ) because my rules stated that i was open to exploring evie’s sexuality. below is a screenshot of my rule regarding smut. i deleted the rules page from this blog when i moved so i snatched it from my other canon descendants blog that i reuse on all blogs. the second is my elaboration on sexual content in my new evie rules. the third is what’s on my google doc, a condensed version of my rules. there is a major difference between smutting and posting a public dash event dedicated to sex versus being open to explore sexuality as a topic. they are not the same. also, me not choosing to smut does not dictate my opinion on smut, so do not make assumptions about that either. if you want to move on, why are you still talking about me on dash, especially when unprompted? if you just want to move on, why are you upset that i’m not “written off”?

this person has vagued me multiple times ( which they conveniently did not show in the call-out ), this person has been shown to talk badly of me in private ( and now, publicly as well ) ---- all of which i have not done. i have screenshots sent by others to show for it, but do not feel it’s relevant to share because this is not about her. this is just about defending myself.

i have spent three months apologizing for feeling things, apologizing for reacting, apologizing for things i should not have been apologizing for. i have spent so long accepting blame because i felt it would help. i’m done doing that. i know what i did and what i didn’t do. people know what i did and didn’t do.

all in all, i am confused on why a call-out was made when the content provides nothing other than catty remarks meant to air out personal drama. the messages exchanged only show how i tried to remedy things. the screenshots of my “vagues” were just responses, and most of which had nothing to do with this person. my initial silly dash commentary and later discomfort over a sexual dash event posted by this person is not a vague.

if you ( referring to maker of the call-out and others who partook ) are upset about people not talking about me in regards to the “rest of the call-out”, maybe consider the fact that there was nothing about me in it that warranted a call-out in the first place. people saw that i did nothing wrong. the only thing of substance in the call-out was something the maker themselves did : the public, sexual dash event. people are allowed to identify that as a more prominent issue as opposed to how my messages or public posts could be perceived through basic, biased narrative manipulation.

me deciding to unfollow / softblock blogs that interact with this person =/= involving the descendants rpc or making it public. i am allowed to softblock whoever i want to cultivate my dash experience. most people i know have it in their rules that they are okay with people softblocking for their comfort and that it won’t be taken personally. you know what IS making it public and involving the entire descendants rpc? this person messaging a descendants server and name dropping me in the server, reducing the situation to just being about a “url” and publicly announcing it in the server. here are the facts to consider: her message was sent jan. 21. my DNI went up feb 2.

so, regarding the call-out: there was no bullying, no manipulation, no harassment, no gaslighting, nothing from my end, and the call-out shows precisely that the claims are just that: claims. whatever was felt is valid, but feelings =/= gravity of the actual action itself - the most common thing pointed out in therapy: feelings are valid, but are they justified? call-outs should be reserved for people who cause actual harm, not because someone wants an excuse to blacklist. if i am a “bully” for unfollowing blogs for my own comfort, then i think the rpc really needs to reevaluate what these terms mean because the misuse is harmful.

here are the things i did do: treated everyone i talked to with respect. approached things civilly. communicated. tried to accommodate for others. attempted to make a safe space for myself. did not involve the entire rpc by announcing it in a server. did not make a call-out post nor pin it. did not continue to name drop afterwards despite claiming to want to move on.

this entire situation is absurd and should have never been public, much less made a call-out for !! while this was meant to defend myself and state facts, i understand it may not change minds. a friend has told me that people will hate me because they want to hate me, no matter what. and i can’t do anything about that !! all i have to say is that holding hate in your heart never ends well. i hope everyone can find peace at some point.

so please, let me move on. let me write with my friends. let me unfollow / softblock people to keep my dash comfortable. let me take a break from descendants while also having the choice to return at anytime. please stop talking about me when i’m not even giving this another thought and haven’t since i moved blogs. please stop name dropping. stop keeping tabs on me, stop stalking my new blog. please leave me alone. i hold absolutely nothing against anyone i may have softblocked / unfollowed or am not currently interacting with on my new blog. my IMS / discord is always available, you will not be violating my safety by messaging me, everyone is welcome, but i also understand if you feel the need to separate yourself !!! as for those of you who have interacted with the call-out post, i wish you the best but i hope you understand why i do not want to interact with you by any means in the future.

i’m hoping this post lays everything to rest, seeing as my first one did not. honestly, what are you trying to prove if you still have to post about this? it helps nobody. this back-and-forth is exhausting and unneeded. no more. let’s be better people, yeah?

i hope everyone takes care of themselves, i hope you all have a great day / night !!! thank you for reading this long boi !!

#this is a long boi.#thank u to everyone who's offered their support these past few days!#i refuse to let people push me out with baseless claims !!!#so here are all the facts #i really don't want to talk about this anymore but if u need proof of the things this person has done u can msg me #otherwise. this ends here.#pls don't reblog!

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world-of-aus · 4 years

Text

Behind the Screen - (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5,412

Warnings: smut 18+

Author’s Note: First chapter guys, i had a lot of fun writing this, and i hope you all enjoy this first chapter. Smut is also not my forte, but i like to try new things so i hope i did it justice lol. If y’all would like to be added to the tag-list for future chapters, or taken off please send me a message! Feedback is always appreciated in anyway, so let me know what you think, let me know your thoughts what your expecting! Thank you for reading!

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Hey Wilson, you seen y/n?” Bucky questioned from his spot on the couch.

Sam shook his head, “Yeah earlier, she said she had something to do real quick before she was going to join us, shouldn’t be long.”

“Wasn’t that like 30 minutes ago?” Steve spoke up.

Sam shrugged his shoulder his eyes not leaving the TV screen, “I don’t know man, if y’all are so worried why don’t you send Tin Man to go find her.”

Bucky mulled it over before he was pushing up from the lounger, “where you going Buck?” Steve called out over his shoulder as Bucky retreated from the room.

Bucky didn’t bother with a reply, they all knew he was going to get you.

You were perched on your bed laptop in hand, your fingers working over your latest post the white glare from the computer illuminating your features. You couldn’t wait to get this new post out; your newest work had your readers begging for more, there just wasn’t enough time in your day to crunch out the words that bounced around in your mind. Recently your readers had begun to get antsy with you especially behind “anon”, there was many coming after you for not writing Bucky to the best of your ability. How did they expect you to give them your best work when you didn’t know how the man was in bed? It’s not like you could confront your teammate and ask him to help you write fanfiction about him and how he pleases women in bed.

I mean imagine the conversation,

“Hey Buck so you might not know this about me, but I write fanfiction,” awkward pause, “about you, and well do you think you could maybe guide me through it?”

You scoffed rolling your eyes at your inner dialogue, you stared at the blank white screen the cursor blinking at you, waiting. Your fingers hovered over the board, but your mind was drawing blanks, the words were there not even a minute ago, how did you lose them so quickly. You groaned pushing the laptop to the side, maybe it was time to go join the others, it had been a little over thirty minutes since you had told them you would return. Deciding you needed the break from the screen you pushed yourself from the bed making your way to your bathroom to freshen up.

Bucky walked the quiet hallways passing the other team's quarters before he finally came across yours. Bucky never bothered knocking, if he reached for the door handle and it wasn’t locked, he would just let himself in. Entering your room, he saw no sign of you except for your lone laptop that he had recently seen you glued to. He wasn’t sure what had you so entranced to the screen, but at the same time he understood it could possibly be a hobby that you were working on, especially during down time from missions or training. He looked around your quarters and noticed the sliver of light peeking from the bottom of your bathroom. Deciding to wait for you, he walked over to your bed plopping himself on the cushioned comforter. He reached for you laptop to see if he could get a peek at what had you glued to the device, and a peek he got. His cheeks were flamed rosy, his pants suddenly feeling a little tighter, while he wasn’t sure what to think, he was tickled pink at the words he read. So, this is what you did on your past time. He looked over the browser, his brows scrunched in confusion, what was Tumblr?

“Barnes what are you doing with my laptop?!”

Bucky looked up from the screen eyes blown wide matching yours, “Uh, I could ask you the same.” he murmured turning your screen to you.

Your heart dropped into the depths of your stomach, face going deathly pale, oh god, oh god, he knew, gathering your bearings you lurched forward lunging for the laptop in his hands. Bucky ducked out of your way falling back into your pillows laptop still clutched in his grip. You crawled half on top of him, “Goddamnit Barnes, give me my laptop back!” you growled.

He continued to dodge your attempts at grabbing your possession, “not until you explain what this is.” he grunted, his metal appendage pushing at your head.

“There is nothing to explain,” you hissed, “now give me the damn thing!”

You continued to claw your way up his body, though for every inch you climbed you were quickly scooted down by the cool metal pushing at your head.

“Nothing to explain?” he questioned, “I think there’s a lot to explain, like what the hell is Tumblr, and why are there people writing about me and some person named “y/n” he grunted “did you just bite my finger?” he questioned eyes glaring at you.

Your movements stalled, “Oh I'm sorry, I didn’t realize your vibranium hand had any feeling.” you deadpanned.

Your eyes caught the moment Bucky’s form began to fall, being a trained assassin had come in handy, taking your chance you lunged forward getting a grip on the laptop. Bucky grunted at the awkward position, “Jesus Christ,” he grunted, “what the fuck, ow!” he growled, “fucking hell y/n!” Bucky being stronger than you pulled the laptop from your measly grip flinging It to the side as he pushed you onto your bed, his frame covering yours, “would you stop fucking squirming, if it was nothing why are you putting up such a fight,” he grunted catching your swinging hands in his, pushing them down into the bed.

“I'm putting up a fight because you were going through my personal things, ever heard of the word privacy nosey ass” you hissed glaring at him.

Bucky rolled his eyes at you continuing to push your frame down into the bed, maybe you could use this as a future reference.

“Now that you’ve stopped squirming maybe we could actually have a conversation.” he murmured looking down at you.

Dread filled you again, “There’s nothing to talk about Bucky, at least nothing I want to talk about with you,” you groaned, “will you please just leave it alone.”

“I won’t leave it alone, I think I deserve an explanation,” he voiced, “you either tell me what I want to know or we can be like this all night.” he grunted applying more weight onto yours. Jesus, you could really use this as a reference but you weren't sure how to describe “Dead weight” would that even be considered sexy, you weren’t sure it would have your readers on the edge of their seats thighs clenched, cheeks rosy, giggling behind their phones, as they read your latest post.

“y/n, doll!” he muttered snapping his fingers in front of your dazed face.

You knew there was no getting out of this, there was definitely no denying what he had seen, possibly read. God what had you even written, how much had he seen. You knew this wasn’t going to end good, “what do you want to know?” you murmured, eyes not meeting his.

“what’s Tumblr?”

You sighed, you were really going to do this, you’re already in the rabbit hole, might as well keeping digging yourself further. “Tumblr is a blog site, users can post different types of media on it, they post videos, pictures, written posts - ”

“is that what you do?” he questioned cutting you off.

You groaned cheeks turning pink in embarrassment, “Yes buck, can you please get off me, please,” you murmured.

“who’s x reader, also who’s y/n, do I know them, because I don’t recall doing any of what i read with them.”

Your eyes slipped shut, oh god you couldn’t breathe, you prayed that a hole would open up beneath you and swallow you whole, “Barnes please get off me, I don’t want to do this!” you grunted trying to buck the man off you, you were on the verge of a panic attack.

“No, not until you explain it to me, then I'll get off,” he grunted applying more of his weight down onto you. This man was a damn wall of muscle, it was useless, there was no getting out of this, a growl left your lips, “Fuck okay, I’m not sure what you saw, but you more than likely saw my blog, and I write on my blog as I answered earlier,” you groaned, you didn’t want to say it, “I also,” a pause, another moan of embarrassment, “I also,” deep breath, “ I also write fanfiction about you,” oh god you cringed, this sounds much worse coming out of your mouth than it did when the words had been in your head. “the reader is anyone who also like me sits behind the screen of a computer reading the posts, and y/n is the reader, its abbreviated for your name, and no you didn’t do any of those things but it’s what writers like myself imagine you would do.” a sigh left your lips, eyes clenched undeniably tight, god you wanted this nightmare to be over, “can you please get off now.” you whispered feeling utterly ashamed.

You felt his hands leave yours, the weight and heat of his body a distant memory as he shifted off of you. Your eyes remained screwed shut, god you had really done it now, you should have never started the blog, what were you expecting. He was probably getting ready to go tell the others what you were up to, tell them everything he had seen, tell them about you embarrassing past time.

“Can you show me some more?”

Your eyes shot open, head turning to the side to see Bucky staring at you intently, your mouth parted slightly, “excuse me?” you choked out, he couldn’t be serious. “You can’t be serious,” you murmured.

“oh, I’m serious,” he murmured grabbing a hold of your laptop and pushing it towards you, “here.”

You glanced from him to the laptop, then back, “you’re actually serious?” you questioned brow raised.

“wouldn’t still be here if I wasn’t,” he murmured sliding closer to you, “now come on, show me, I'm curious.”

You cautiously flipped onto your stomach, you weren’t sure he was ready for what exactly was out there, but he had asked, and if it kept the attention off of you, anything would be better.

Bucky was glued to the screen, his eyes roaming the vast words and posts written about him, your eyes stayed trained on him looking, watching, waiting for a reaction, there was none. He was stiff as stone.

“this is all wrong” he muttered turning to you, “i wouldn’t do this.”

You raised a brow at him, “its fanfiction Bucky, it’s not supposed to be real,” you explained, “the writers are doing just that, they’re writing they’re perspective of you, some of them are really talented.” You added.

“Well yeah I can see that, but still I wouldn’t do it like this, they didn’t capture me right I wouldn’t get straight into it like this.”

A laugh slipped past your lips, “Bucky the writers on the other side of the screen can only imagine these things about you, they won’t always get you down to a T, they can only imagine how you’d be, how they would want you to be.”

“so, then you do it,” he voiced perking up, “write me and this y/n character, there's no one that knows me better than you, well aside from Steve, I could guide you through it.”

Your eyes went wide slightly, “buck I don’t think that’s a good idea, I never wanted you to find out about this and now your offering to help me write, you can’t be serious.” you murmured.

“it could be fun,” he exclaimed, “who better to help write about me, than me.” he deadpanned.

You groaned your hands coming up to cover your face, “bucky you honestly don’t know what you’re saying, you shouldn’t even be this calm about all of this, for fucks sake you just found out I write about you and now you want me to let you help me write,” you paused, “about you, you sure your arm didn’t short circuit and mess with your head?”

Bucky chuckled deeply his hands reaching up to pull yours away from your face, “Look I'm not saying that I'm not freaked out by all of this, but if I can be honest its kind of flattering to know so many people write about me like this, not that I can understand why” he murmured, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing a more accurate description, and who better to give that to the readers than someone that can be guided by me?” he questioned.

“bucky,” you groaned.

“come on doll, indulge an old man,” he teased, “help me, to help you.”

You couldn’t really be thinking this would be a good idea, but then maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Bucky could guide you through some parts of your stories that just wouldn’t flow through your finger’s right, maybe the grouchy anons would back off, you bit your lip in thought.

Your groaned your body flailing a bit as you really mulled it over, “fine,” you muttered, “but the second you get all weird I’m kicking you out, understood?” you questioned.? t.”

He grinned at you his hands rubbing together, “deal.” You really were beginning to think his arm had short circuited.

“One more thing, you can’t tell the team about this at all, it’s weird enough you knowing, I don’t need the others knowing what I do.” You voiced.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Bucky was speaking up, “do they write about the others?”

“Bucky would you stop squirming, you’re not letting me think,” you muttered turning your head away from the screen to glare at him.

He stopped moving eyes going from yours back to the white screen, you sighed rubbing your temples, you were really beginning to regret ever agreeing to this. It had been about thirty minutes since Bucky had taken a look at your most recent post you were working on, you were currently trying to rub out a steamy oral scene between Bucky and the reader and let’s just say it wasn’t happening. If it wasn’t happening before the whole ordeal with Bucky, it surely wasn’t coming to you now. You had tried time and time again for the past thirty minutes to find the right words but between the squirming super solider next to you, and your mind replaying the events of this evening it just wasn’t going to happen.

“alright that’s it, I can’t do this,” you sighed reaching to shut the laptop.

Bucky reached out for your hand stopping your movements before you could shut it completely, your head turned towards his, brow raised, “you're not capturing the scene right doll, you’re not capturing the moment right.”

Your head tilted back slightly in disbelief, “well excuse me,” you muttered pulling your hand from his, “if you know so much, why don’t you write It?” you questioned sarcastically shoving the laptop in his direction.

He sighed, “I'm not the one that has a way with words doll, that’s you,” he pointed out, “besides I'm better with actions.” he added eyes twinkling.

“so, what are you implying buck, are you going to show me how you please a woman orally?” you questioned jokingly.

He perked up, “I could do that,” he agreed, “that way you could really get into the right mindset, you could really be in the moment.”

You choked on your saliva looking at Bucky in disbelief, “Barnes I was joking!” you coughed, “I wasn’t being serious.”

“oh come on now sweetheart,” he grinned, “you would be knocking out two birds with one stone.”

“look at you learning,” you deadpanned, “and the answer is no Buck, now stop before I make you leave.” you muttered.

He turned on his side facing you, sliding closer laptop forgotten, “I’m being serious y/n,” he started, “you could get real life inspiration for the next part of your post, and also get some pleasure from it, it’ll be a win win .”

“okay that’s it,” you muttered sitting up, “out buck, I don’t have time for these games.”

He sat up with you, “who said I'm playing games?” he questioned.

You looked up at your ceiling a sigh leaving your lips before you were meeting Bucky’s gaze again, “Bucky, seriously, stop, this isn’t funny.” you murmured shaking your head.

Bucky’s hand reached out taking yours In his, “who said this is a game?” he questioned staring at you in earnest.

“You can’t actually want to do this Buck, I get that you discovered my secret, what I do on my down time, but you don’t need to help me with this, we’re best friends Buck, this could make things weirder than it probably already is.” you muttered pulling your hand from his, eyes looking away.

“Us being best friends should make this that much easier, you can tell me when you’re feeling uncomfortable and I'll stop, this wouldn’t make things weird between us, besides you’d be helping me too, we’d be helping each other.” he said his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers hooked under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him, stormy grey eyes staring back at you intently.

“Buck,” you sighed, your resolve was really failing you, you couldn’t lie to yourself by saying you didn’t want this, hell you had fantasized a moment like this for god knows how long, there’s only so much writers can offer you, but now that you were being given the opportunity to experience the real thing, were you really about to let this slip you by?

“this really isn’t a good idea Buck, it just doesn’t feel right,” you sighed body slouching.

He chuckled lowly, his body leaning in towards yours, breath fanning across your face, “it sounds like a great idea,” he murmured, “we’d both be getting something out of it, and that way, next time you write me giving our reader oral, you’ll know exactly what it feels like.”

You sucked in a breath at his words, your voice caught in your throat as he leaned even closer, his forehead pressing against yours, “come on doll, what do you say?” he questioned softly lips brushing against yours.

You nodded your head shakily, “okay,” you breathed.

Bucky surged forward his lips pressing against yours, your eyes slipping shut at the sensation of his lips gliding against your own. His flesh hand trailed its way up your body, around your neck where it tangled through your hair, his metal one finding its way onto your hip, squeezing.

Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, a breathy gasp falling from your lips. He seizes this opportunity to push his tongue in, he licks at you coaxing your tongue to dance with his. Your lungs burn from the intensity of the kiss, you pull away gasping for air, eyes dazed as you stare at Bucky his lips swollen and glistening in the dim light of your room.

Your hands reach out to touch him, fingers sliding up his torso, only to gravitate back down, his hands reach for yours stopping your movements before you can reach for the button of his jeans. He shakes his head a soft smile on his lips, “this isn’t about me sweetheart,” he murmurs leaning forward to nip at your lip, “this is about you,” he breaths.

The air around you is tense, your body thrumming with want. You don’t move though as Bucky’s eyes watch you, you wait with baited breath as Bucky’s hand untangles from your hair reaching down to get a grip on the hem of your shirt. He lifts up slowly, pulling the shirt off of you before tossing it off to the side. His eyes darken as he watches your ample breasts rise and fall. Your breath catches in your throat, you had never had a man look at you like this. The anticipation for what was to come next was building.

Unsuspecting, Bucky has you on your back in seconds, his frame hovering over yours, he leans down, his nose brushing against your chin, lips lowering till they’re meeting the skin of your neck. He kisses along the expanse of your neck drawing out breathy moans from your lips, a soft gasp follows when his teeth nip at your collarbone. You feel the coolness of his left hand trail up your stomach your body arching with it, it stops along the swell of your breast. His thumb reaches out sliding into the fabric of your bra, gliding over a now hardened nipple, the heat pools between your legs. A breathy moan falls from your lips at the sensation, Bucky chuckles lowly, warmth breath fanning across your dampened skin.

You whine as he pulls his hand from your breast, his hand trailing lower, you suck in a breath as his hand hovers over the top of your jeans, metal fingers popping open the button. His hand flattens against your body dipping into your jeans, fingers cupping you through your dampened underwear, a moan falls from your lips as he presses a single digit into your folds, wetting the fabric of your panties more.

“Mmm Buck,” you moan.

Bucky grins against your neck, his lips gliding up till they’re right by your ear, “I’m a giving person sweetheart,” he whispers, “i don’t just get right into the action, I like to play a little,” he husks, “i want to have you begging, I want to have you a moaning mess under me.” he breathes teeth nipping at your ear.

“Fuck,” you groan back arching off of the bed, Bucky presses his hand down harder against you stilling your hips. He pulls his face away from your neck his eyes holding yours, “keep your eyes on me.” He whispers, you swallow. You suck in a breath as his fingers push your panties to the side, his index finger finding it’s way into your dampened folds. The sensation alone has a breathy “Bucky” falling from your lips followed by a broken moan as his finger grazes your clit.

His fingers work over your clit your body writhing under his hand, broken desperate moans falling from your lips. A whine leaves your lips as Bucky tears his hand from your underwear, “Bucky please,” you moan.

He chuckles “patience sweetheart, let me make you feel good.” He whispers ducking down to press his lips to yours. Your lips chase his as they find their way back to your neck. He licks, sucks, and nips at your skin as he trails down your body. From your neck, down the valley of your breast till he’s reaching the top of your jeans. You watch him pull away from you leaning back on his feet as his hands reach down pulling on your jeans till your able to kick them off the rest of the way for him.

He’s slipping from the bed, his hands pulling on your thighs as he drags you down the edge of the bed. He sinks to his knee his head lowering, his warm breath fans across your mound, a shiver rolling through you. He doesn’t move, you begin to worry, maybe he had changed his mind, “Buck, we don’t have to- ” a loud moan breaks through your words, his mouth presses harshly against your cotton covered pussy, tongue pressing into you, the fabric rubbing against your aching clit.

“Jesus Buck,” you gasp body arching off of the bed.

He laughs lowly, tongue still running over your covered mound, he gazes up at you from between your legs, “ I told you sweetheart, patience.” You would definitely be adding this to your story you thought as another moan ripped through you Bucky’s head having moved from your aching core to nip at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your hands reach down to tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your sensitive thighs. His thumb presses into you, rubbing against your aching clit, the fabric of your panties dragging deliciously against it. Your feet dig into his back, your body writhing on the bed. He glances up at you from where he’s perched between your legs, his eyes darkening, “ you think you could cum like this, you think you could cum for me.” He questions his breath ghosting over you.

A breathy “yes” falls from your lips, your body is buzzing with the need for release the teasing too much. Bucky continues to nip and suck at your sensitive skin, thumb working faster against your clit. “Fuck,” you gasp , “please Bucky,” you plead, “please,” you beg. Your desperate for him, for the need of release. His thumb pushes into you harder, working over you faster, his lips latching onto you skin sucking. A chant of his name falls from your lips as your orgasm takes you by surprise, your head pushing back into the sheets your back arching off the bed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Bucky barley gives you a second to catch your breath before he’s moving, his hands gripping the middle of your panties, ripping them down the middle.

“Bucky did you just -”

Your words fall short as he’s pressing against you again, his face presses in close, his tongue peeking out to press against your folds. His tongue dips in dragging across your entrance till he’s flicking up against your clit, the tip of his tongue circling it. Your chest heaves as breathy moans fall from your lips, your thighs clenching around his head from the pleasure surging through you. Bucky grips your thighs pushing them open, spreading you out for him, your back arches, breast pushing into the cooled air as his tongue flicks teasingly in and out of your soaked folds.

Your fingers grasp the sheets beneath you, twisting them in your hold. His mouth works over you, taking you higher, he’s alternating between your clit and your dripping entrance. His tongue will drag over your clit before it’s dipping down to bury into your entrance his tongue fucking into you till your screaming his name.

“Bucky fuck,” you moan, “please,” you whine.

He continues to work you over, moans of pleasure falling from his lips, the vibrations leaving you quaking in his hold. Your fingers find their way into his hair, your eyes glancing down at him the sight alone leaving you a breathless mess. He glances up his ocean grey eyes connecting with yours, you weren’t sure it was possible but they seemingly darkened more as he pushed you closer to release. His arms wrap around your spread thighs pulling you into him more, his lips work faster, tongue gliding quicker as he works you over. A loud moan falls from your lips as he quickens the pace, his name falling from your lips in a silent prayer as your grind up against his mouth. A moan catches in your throat, his lips finding your clit as he sucks harshly, his tongue working over it with quick strokes. Your pussy clenches, body heaving as the intense pleasure washes over you. Bucky doesn’t stop as he works you through your orgasm his tongue continuously flicking over you, dipping into you to suck up your juices. Your vision goes white as you clench around him fingers pulling at his hair.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out thighs trembling as you wind down, Bucky chuckles as he moves up your body kissing up your sweat slicked skin. He looms over you eyes hooded with lust, a small smile on his glistening lips. Your hands come up wrapping themselves around the back of his neck pulling him down to you. Your lips press against his, a groan falling from your lips as you taste yourself on his sinful tongue. You lean up slightly your arms moving from Bucky’s neck to his shoulders as you move him around till he’s flat on his back on your bed. You straddle him, his hands finding a spot on your waist as he squeezes you,

“I thought this was about you doll,” he husks grinning up at you.

You roll your hips over his slightly, leaning your body over his, “it was, but I’d like to return the favor,” you whispered lips ghosting over his, your tongue peeking out to run over his plush lips. Sliding yourself down his firm body you stop once your seated on his thick thighs. Running your hands down his torso, your fingers work at popping the buttons of his jeans open, helping him shimmy them off, your tongue running over your lips as his cock springs free. You scoot down the bed settling yourself between his spread legs, leaning down as you run the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock. A low grunt falls from his lips as you take the base of his cock into your hands, your tongue swirling around the tip. You continue to work your mouth over him indulging in the sinful noises that drip from his lips. “Fuck y/n,” he grunts, “fuck you gotta stop if you want me to finish this the right way.”

You grin up at him, you lips spit slicked, “fuck doll, come here.” He whispers gripping your arms as he hauls you up. He kisses your roughly, his tongue running over yours before he’s flipping the two of you, your back meeting the cool sheets.

Pushing your thighs apart he settles between them, gripping his cock in hand he runs it through your folds teasingly before he’s pressing in, a slow delicious burn that’s rolls a shiver through your spine. Bucky leans down his forehead pressing down onto yours, breathing each other in as he rolls his hips into you. His cock drags in and out of you, at a slow toe curling pace. Your body writhes against him, your heels digging into his ass to press him to you closer, you need to feel him, you want to feel him.

Bucky changes the angle; unwrapping your legs, he hauls one over his shoulder the other gripped tightly in his hand as he spreads you out, the angle driving him impossibly deeper, a gasp catches on your throat, “fuck,” you moan, “fuck right there,” you gasp.

“Come on sweetheart, let me feel you, cum for me.” He grunts his thrust jarring you.

A few more hard thrusts and his thumb sweeping over your clit has you shouting out his name in a breathy moan. Your back arches, thighs trembling as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Bucky continues to push into you, dragging out your orgasm as his takes over, your name tumbling from his lips as he crashes into you.

Bucky slumps forward his face falling into your neck as he takes in a shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he grunts, “that’s going to be a hell of a fic,” he murmurs pressing his lips to your skin.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, right the fic, you think, that’s why this had happened, Bucky was helping you out, and help he did. Bucky rolls off to his side propping himself up on his elbow as he smiles down at you, your body lax against the sheets.

“When are you going to finish writing it?” He grins

“Not right now, m’ too tired, hopefully sometime in the morning” you murmured.

“So In these fics do like me and the reader cuddle?” He questions a teasing twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t know Barnes, it depends,” you reply, “are you a post sex cuddler?”

“for the right girl,” he grins opening his arms, “c’mere doll,” He murmurs wrapping you in his arms a sloppy wet kiss placed to your heated cheeks.

Your readers are in for a hell of a surprise,” he murmurs into your hair.

“That they are,” you whisper, “that they are.”

Part 2

Behind The Scenes Tag-list: @ladifreakingda @georgialeighc13 @racewife2004 @multy-fandom-lover @otvlanga @sailorstupidsblog

#behind the scenes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au series #marvel au #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #au series

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genevievemd · 4 years

Text

Touch

A/N: Takes place in chapter 20, a couple hours after Ethan goes to Leland’s office. I really hate that we never got any sort of reaction from MC or Ethan with the Blooms situation and I really needed it. So I wrote my own lol

This is basically just MC having a sort of ptsd/anxiety attack and going to Ethan for help and comfort. I used myself as my guide to how MC deals with it. So basically what I do and how I deal when I’m having an anxiety attack is what I did for MC.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Genevieve McClure)

It started out slow, just a droplet of dread settling at the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was that brought it on. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of what the hospital would be like under Leland Bloom or it could have been the moment she saw Leland reach for his wife only to remember that they could no longer touch.

Whatever the trigger was, by midday it had completely taken over. Genevieve’s entire body buzzing with anxiety and fear. Gnawing at her insides like a rabid dog. She did her best to conceal it from her patients, to not let them see her struggling to stay focused.

But by her fifth patient of the day, it became too much to hide. Genevieve left the room as quickly as she could, marching to the nurses station to find some sort of solid ground.

“Dr. McClure, are you alright?”

She can barely make out the voice calling her from behind the desk. Genevieve’s heart beat pounding in her ears like a drum, drowning out everything but the voices of distress in her head.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It was a lie, and a terrible one at that. There was no way the nurse didn’t see how badly her hands where shaking, how unfocused Genevieve’s gaze had become. “Do you know where Dr. Ramsey is?”

“In the diagnostics office, if I’m not mistaken.”

She felt a quick burst of relief. Ethan was the only thing that seemed to ease her in moments like this, when her mind rushes back to the assassination attempt and she can’t settle the rush of pure fear. Knowing he was mostly likely alone and able to help her right the ship was like seeing the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Mhm.” It’s all she dares to say, the lump in her throat feeling more constricting by the second.

Genevieve quickly drops the chart in her hand, turning on her heels and making her way to the elevator. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, trying her best to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

It still felt like everyone looked at her like she was a porcelain doll. Fragile and weak and only one mishap away from shattering.

Genevieve makes it to the glass office in record time, quietly opening and closing the door. She had been right before, Ethan is alone. He’s sitting at the desk surrounded by papers and files. She keeps her steps slow and measured, making her way across the room until she’s standing at his side.

He doesn’t look up right away, choosing instead to take off his glasses and get up from the chair before fully acknowledging her. “I was just about to come look for you, we have a - what happened?”

It's clear he can see the fear in her eyes, the tears that sit just a blink away, by the sudden change in his demeanor. Genevieve doesn’t waste another moment, tucking herself against him, giving up the fight and letting the anxiety take over. His response is quick, wrapping his arms tightly around her, hand running up and down her back.

She’s almost certain he can feel the rapid beat of her heart, the tremors under her skin.

“Genevieve, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head slightly, pressing herself further into his embrace, trying to focus only on his heartbeat like she had that night. It was muted through plastic then, but it’s clear now. Steady and unwavering.

Ethan tightens his arms around her even more, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “How bad is it?” His tone is gentle, but laced with worry. There’s a small comfort in knowing she doesn’t have to say anything for Ethan to recognize what’s going on. He’s been quick to pick up on the signs, the little things she does right before the dam breaks and she’s right back to that night.

“I’m - I’m fine.”

“I can feel you shaking. You’re not fine.” Ethan leans back just the slightest bit, eyes roaming over her face. “How bad is it, Gen?”

“Not as bad as last time. I don’t feel tingly or anything, just…”

He strokes her cheek with his thumb, the softness of his touch making her eyes close with relief. “Do you want to go outside? Take a walk?”

“No.”

“What do you need?”

“You.” Her eyes start to well with tears again and she tries her best to swallow them back. “Just hold me for a minute. Please?”

Ethan responds with a nod, pulling Genevieve back into the shelter of his arms. She rests her head against his chest, her hands grabbing the back of his white coat like a life line . One of his hands travels up her back, slowly pulling her hair out of the elastic band. Her breath is ragged, letting out a deep sigh as she closes her eyes. The pressure of his fingers combing through her hair is gentle and methodical, sending a wave of relief over her.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles quietly, more to herself than to him. The nagging thought of being an absolute burden and annoyance to him creeping its way back into her head.

“Don’t apologize. I’ve told you countless times, whatever it is you need to feel safe and grounded, we’ll do it. Regardless of how frivolous or bothersome you may think it is.”

He’s right, over the past six months, Ethan has been nothing short of supportive. Doing whatever she needs, without complaint, to make her feel safe. Even if it was something as simple as making her dinner, or holding her hand or letting her wake him in the middle of the night so she doesn’t cry alone. His presence and touch were her saving grace, her north star. And as their relationship progressed, Genevieve knew she never wanted to lose him.

“Ethan, could you really go your whole life without being able to touch the person you love?”

“What?”

“After we discharged Caroline, you said people can adapt to anything if they have to. Did you mean that?”

He sighs, loudly, taking a step back and guiding her towards the couch on the back wall. “Yes and no. From a professional and medical standpoint, yes a person can adapt when necessary.” They sit slowly, Ethan pulling her against him. “But, personally? No. I couldn’t handle suddenly not being able to touch you in any sort of capacity. One night of that was more than enough proof.”

“Yeah, neither could I.”

“Is that what triggered it, seeing Leland and Caroline?”

“I think so, but I can’t remember exactly what started it this time.”

She can feel her breathing steady, her heart no longer beating out of her chest. Finally feeling safe enough to leave the security of Ethan’s space, she sits up. Genevieve looks down to fix her coat when she feels Ethan’s hand on her cheek. He has that look on his face, as he wipes the smudged mascara from under eyes, the one that makes her feel so incredibly loved. Cherished.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Always.”

She leans forward, pressing her lips to his. It’s soft and sweet, another gentle reminder that with him she is safe and protected. That no matter what, he is on her side and ready to fight whatever should come her way.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: Hope you guys liked this little bit of comfort. I really hate that we never got to see MC really dealing with the attack. Like it happened and we talked about it for, what, like two chapter after that? And then never again.

Anyway, love you guys so much! -Sara

tag list:

@queencarb, @overwhelminglyaquarius, @me-and-my-choices, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @crazy-loca-blog, @a-crepusculo, @drakewalkerfantasy, @ohchoices, @adrex04, @udishaman, @drariellevalentine, @custaroonie, @archxxronrookie, @terrm9, @maurine07, @openheartthot, @gryffindordaughterofathena, @aworldoffandoms

LMK if you want to be added or taken off the list :)

#ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #open heart second year #ethan x gen

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 4 years

Text

Already Gone (SOA x Mayans Crossover)

A/N: Deep diving back into my roots. SOA will forever be near and dear to my angsty heart! This chapter primarily focuses on Y/N and Jax but following parts will include my Mayans. As always, feedback is GOLD!

SIDE NOTE: Huge shout out to @creativepromptsforwriting for motivating this story into fruition. Your blog is beyond inspirational!

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or you’d like to be tagged; please let me know!

MASTERLIST

Jax Teller x Reader (then we’re in Mayans territory :D )

Word Count: 2375k

Warnings: language, mention of biker gangs, slight female degradation, angst, sprinkles of heartbreak.

*********************************

Daylight vanished drifting into another starless evening. Nightfall succumbed to a starless evening. Y/N wished to be anywhere else in the universe than where she currently found herself; the Sons clubhouse. In childish hopes, she stilled all movement adjusting her jacket nervously fidgeting with the hem. The door swung back under her touch; light reflected back harshly in the demurely lit bar. Smoke descended throughout the congested area; clouds of hazy fog engulfed her lungs. Here goes nothin.

The air wreaked of putrid obscenity and cheap tequila. First and foremost, Y/N met Chucky’s charismatic stare. She sent him an anxious grin impulsively pleading for uneasiness in her stomach to subdue. The one-handed man remained surrounded by countless liquor bottles engrossed in order after order shifting gears from her.

Every man and member leeched on to the closest thing in a short skirt, tits overflowing from too small blouses, and topped off in four-inch platforms. Any girl within proximity of the Sons all had a similar motto; barely-there skirts and perky tits. There was no doubt sex was the main attraction tonight.

And to this very day, she played nice with them so long as they abided by one rule in particular; Jax was untouchable. She was their queen bee. Glancing down at her outfit; she preferred a more comfortable approach. She paired tonight’s look with her favorite pair of worn out high-waisted jeans styled with a Ramones crop top finalized with suede black booties. Her body was a sacred temple and only those granted permission were able to worship her. She made sure of that. Loud conversations vibrated from table to table, voices lost in the chaos increasing with every passing decibel.

Y/n scanned the room peering for one particular member; Jax fucking Teller. In childhood, Mr. President and Y/N friendship blossomed as close friends before ultimately admitting their feelings five years ago. The wildest five years of her entire life. Her thoughts quickly darkened, if only someone would’ve warned her those three years ago. If only Y/N hadn’t welcomed him with welcoming, open arms. But sometimes life’s a bitch, and the hardest way is merely the only route.

Her clandestine orbs voraciously whipped back and forth jumping from person to person. In her search, Opie sat alone at a corner table secluding himself willing her his direction. The pitiful look in his eyes was enough to make her stomach flip. Long ago, she grew weary with the amount of messes that befell on Opie. Their relationship bordered along best friend status, always seeking the other out. Ranging from moments of clarity to cruelty, Opie Winston never once betrayed the trust instilled upon him.

She already knew what bullshit lay ahead; it was his shitty way of apologizing for Jax’s past, present, and future fuck-ups. In the back of her mind, Y/N convinced herself she was different to him, that she was his one. But nowadays, doubt replaced confidence as Y/N drifted farther out of reach/touch. Her feet clumped heavy against the wood suddenly weighing her down. Making her way through the crowd, Y/N plopped herself closest to Op.

Her palms dampened in sweat wishing the fall beneath her to open up swallowing her whole. “So, this was the big meeting Jax was in a rush to get to?”

His eyes bounced from side to side searching for any way out of the conversation; “Shit Y/N...”

Y/N collapsed next to the burly man nuzzling deeper into the warmth of his neck, quietly leaning in closer so he could hear her clearly; “I know it’s not your fault, Op. I just wish he respected me enough to be honest with me. I can’t keep living like this anymore, he’s breaking me… I’m sure going to miss you, big bear.”

Y/N waited patiently for the wheels to turn in his brain. “You’re a smart man. Connect the clues, buddy.”

“You—You’re leaving?”

Her heart plummeted into uncharted territory; her head bobbled too quickly, too excitedly almost as if she’d been rifling for a way out of this life, out of their lives. She glanced sadly at him, really appreciating his handsome appearance while trying to memorize the man who’d kept her insanely calm since middle school. There was no hiding the bemudding frown etching her lips. His lengthy, luscious hair and accompanying brawny beard was enough to make any woman swoon.

If only she’d chosen him to protect her heart but what ifs were a dangerous path to question. Add in his admirable qualities and he was the gleaming winner. The man Y/N should’ve pursued but she was a fool and fell for the Teller trick over and over again. Long ago, Opie came to the conclusion that Y/N would never leave his side, not even if the devil bribed her himself. Her departure was agitating, possibly selfish, but absolutely necessary. Jax breaks everything he touches…eventually.

“Some bitch is grinding against his junk and you expect me to be alright with it? Boy’s got another thing comin if he thinks I’ll always be waitin to greet him at the front door.”

Words jumbled on the tip of her palate; ‘I just wanted to talk to you first before shit goes down. I’m so thankful for you, always know that.”

Op stared down at his dirty boots unable to meet her dejected orbs.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You deserve more than his half ass shit. Ya know, I was afraid Jax had sucked out all that rad awesomeness you possessed before you decided to get together. He’s my brother, don’t get me wrong. But, he’s kinda the biggest dick on the planet and not the good kind. I’m proud you found your backbone. Here I thought you’d softened up…”

“Haha, glad to see you think so highly of me still! Please take care of yourself.”

“I’m a phone call away if you need me. Any time, any day, I’ll be there.”

His arms draped around her exposed waist rubbing soothing circles on her lower back. Her chin rested atop of broad shoulder before she reluctantly pulled away from his embrace.

A few tables over Jax’s arms seductively draped his arm around the croweater’s exposed waist. Every few minutes the chick gyrated submissively against him cock arousal his member. Jax closed his eyes inhaling a puff of his cigarette thinking of the girl waiting at home for him. All he had to do was find the courage to get up and leave. But this was the life, his life and Y/N understood him better than anyone else. So, he accepted the Yaeger bomb from girl with the rose tattoo and smiled widely. Fuck ‘em. He leaned incredibly closer connecting his lips to her plump ones.

Her sultry tone echoed into his ear; “Mmm, you taste like sin…”

Jax chuckled in retort; Darling, you ain’t even taste the best part yet…”

Disgust and fury ran uncontrollable through her body radiating to an explosively dangerous level. She quietly whispered; “This fucking asshole…” as she compelled herself to clear the lump in her throat noisily.

Her annoyance was beginning to peak into seething eruption; “You’ve got some damn nerve, Jax. That I can give ya. Such a lady’s man.”

A shudder ran through his vertebrates forcing the hairs along his neck to stand painfully on the edge. Her words were impudently brash bouncing off her rosy plump lips.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn ya, doll.” His arched brow sprouted newfound madness as Y/N daydreamed of punching that shit grin off his idiotic face. But his eyes told another tale, his sapphire irises brimmed with tacit concern and uncertainty.

Her life with Jax was a never-ending roller coaster. Exhilaration awaited them at every corner until it didn’t. No matter how many wrongdoings Jax committed, Y/N dutifully stayed by his side never daring to question his authority. Gemma taught her of loyalty, of the importance of family eternally sticking together, and to never turn her back when the going gets rough because it was bound to cross a line if you survived long enough. The Sons checked their moral ambiguities when they patched in, sacrificing their soul for the benefit of the club.

So, Y/N’s skin thickened as time meandered on, and as Jax shacked up with Wendy, and again every time she watched some slut leave his dorm every night. Honestly, she should thank Jax for her turned her into the dominantly powerful woman she became that awakened Jax’s feelings. But now, now he was the reason her heart was breaking.

She cleared her throat attempting to draw his attention; “Wow, seems like you’ve got your hands full tonight. Didn’t realize I needed to make a reservation.” Her eyes penetrated his, he looked like a deer in blinding headlights at the recognizable voice in front of him.

The girl seating in Jax’s lap had the audacity to open her bright fuchsia painted lips; “He’s busy tonight. Shoo, buh-bye.” Motioning her hand in Y/N’s direction.

Y/N eyed the broad up judging her every spectacle of the way. She bit the corner of her lips in attempt to register what her mind couldn’t.

She clicked on tongue in vast disapproval at the idiot before her; “Listen here, bitch. I’m Y/N, his old lady and you’re going to get the fuck up and listen to the words leaving my mouth and find another lap to occupy, NOW.” She put on her fakest high pitched voice just to prove a point; “Got it? Good, now if you make me repeat myself, I’d love the opportunity to fuck up that plastic face of yours. Now, Shoo.”

The random girl gulped unwillingly to challenge the alpha female and meekly wagged her head in agreeance. Jax noticed the slight tremor as she removed herself from his grasp trudging in defeat. He sighed in extreme exasperation; “Congratulations, you’ve got my attention…now talk.”

“Ugh, I’m seriously starting to question what the hell I’ve been doing with an asshat like you for so long? Seriously Jax, what the shit?”

He remained irrationally irritated Y/N had chosen a party to air out their dirty laundry. She was undermining him in front of his brothers, nobody challenged him. This was yet another lesson he’d teach Y/N the difficult way.

“You’re makin a scene! Let’s talk this outside?” He seized her arm dragging Y/N behind him. Her heels dug into the surface fighting his weight with her own. Jax glanced back at her stubbornness on display and/snickered sinfully.

“No, I’m fine where I am.”

Jax invaded her space, his breath jostled against her peach fuzz. He hovered dangerously close to her, fury seeping from his freckled skin.

“Ah, the mighty heroine here to save herself. Classic, real good Y/N.”

Y/N huffed venting her building frustrations; “I can’t do this anymore, Jax.” Her voice wavered in confidence before erupted in sadness; I fucking won’t do this anymore.”

Jax Teller rolled his eyes before sighing annoyingly loud; “You always say this shit, Y/N. And you always keep comin back for more. This is a dance we memorized baby girl, our dance.”

Her fists ignited into internal rage; her breathing skyrocketed to unbridled anger. Typical biker to neglect the actual words leaving a woman’s mouth in this hell hole.

“So, I guess that makes me the fool and you the asshole, hmm? Yes, I might be a fucking glutton for punishment but at least I have a heart, some decency of a moral compass to abide by. But you, Jax? You would burn the world simply because you were bored. And right now, this is me telling you I quit. Go fuck one of your many other mindless wannabes. I bet they’re beggin for Jax Teller’s cock as we speak.”

His cockiness was beginning to push her past the point of no return as he growled his words from his venomous mouth; “I don’t doubt that darling. The question of the hour is if you’re really sure you wanna throw in the towel?”

Y/N’s head whipped around fast; her eyes blazed in pure hatred; “The biggest mistake you ever made was letting love come into your life. You fuck up everything you touch. Have a nice life, Teller.”

Heavy footsteps clonked against the wooden slats swiftly rushing towards the front doors of the clubhouse. She approached the entrance grazing her knuckles along the worn material. In the upper right-hand corner, the smallest of carvings adorned the walk away years later; their initials carved for the world to bear witness. Digging through her purse, Y/N located her car keys and stood on her tiptoes scratching at the etchings now nothing but mere wood indentions. Fuck happy endings. No wait, fuck this ending.

Finally, anger breached its imminent tipping point as his temper imploded. His arms gripped hers excruciatingly firm slamming her against the wall aligned of mugshots. A frame or two randomly dropped closer by. Jax was the Kurt Cobain to her Courtney Love; both destined and simultaneously cursed. Glass pierced the ground piece by piece. Her eyes fully dilated as fear crept into her smug demeanor. Her breath came out in short, timid, huffs as quaked in anxiousness.

“You’re my girl, Y/N. Don’t do this shit. You know I love you.”

Confliction cowered in her bones. His ragged and pathetic tone drew her in wrapping itself snugly around her. She knew that if she would have heard these words any other day, she would have declared it the best day of her life and would have started to call everyone to let them know that he finally said the words! But today was not that day and all she wanted to do right now was putting her hands over her ears and stop listening.

She spewed her virulent words once and for all; “You’re not the person I thought you were.”

Her body went rigid in his arms as sorrow clung to her like forgotten hope. She was losing him, sacrificing a piece of her heart for her own freedom. She loathed the man Jax evolved into but somewhere under his façade lived the gentle poet who stole her soul. Jax snickered obnoxiously before a murderous grin took ahold; “No. I’m just not the person you wanted me to be.”

Tags: @twistnet @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @penny4yourthot @breanime @whyisgmora @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife

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whumpywhumper · 4 years

Text

Consequences

There is a section before this that I’m finding impossible to finish, but there’s nothing that would make this impossible to understand. It’s a lot of world building/story building, but hopefully you guys like it? I literally live on feedback so drop me a note :)

It’s set in the Investigation section of the timeline, following New York Part 2.

Masterpost

Tagging: @misspelledwitch @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @voidwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @captivity-whump @liliability @muumimafia @fanastywhump @elisabethrosewrites @unsure-but-alive-752 @jeverest00 @texdoeshalo @quirkykayleetam

I legitimately would not write without the hype of these three ladies: @0idril0 @rosesareviolentlyread @walkingchemicalfire

TW: Some medical talk but let me know if I need to add a warning

V***V

“This is my least favorite part of this job,” Clint sighed as he looked over the amount of paperwork that was still waiting for review in the impromptu command station.

“Yeah, I find myself missing my TAC suit and a stand off when I’m facing a mountain of paperwork,” Ben mumbled around the pen between his teeth.

Clint chuckled, looking up as the door to the conference room opened.

From the corner of his eye, Clint caught Ben’s frown as Kincaid entered the room, immediately catching something in his partner’s demeanor that concerned him. Kinciad’s normally genial face was solemn, and Clint got a bad feeling himself as he caught the concentrated smell of antiseptic and multiple sick persons over something warmer, softer.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Ben asked, straightening from the folder he had bowed over, nodding at the doctor that followed, the flap of air from the man’s white coat explaining the smells that had concerned Clint. “What happened?”

Kincaid swallowed, walking robotically as he moved to sit next to his lover, who only became more concerned, dropping his pen and reaching for his hands. “You guys need to hear this. Go ahead, doc?”

Raising an eyebrow at the doctor, who was shooting him a quizzical look, he nodded his greeting and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Clint.”

“Right, sorry Clint,” Kincaid huffed, rubbing his hand through his hair. “This is Dr. Decker, Dr. David Decker, he’s the head of the team on our John Doe. David, this is Clint Erickson, a consultant we’ve brought in on the case. He’s been read in, and we've already been given carte blanche by the social worker, so you’re free to give him any information like you would us.”

Dr. Decker took his hand in a firm grip, the tall, willowy man giving him a tight smile. “Good to meet you, you guys mind?” he asked, motioning toward the table.

“Not at all,” Ben murmured, his arm tight around Kincaid’s shoulders. “What’s going on, David?”

Setting the chart he’d been carrying under one arm on the table, the doctor sighed as he took the weight off of his feet, hissing as he stretched his legs. “Nothing good,” he answered, looking at Clint, “as Kincaid just informed you, I’m the lead intensivist treating the John Doe that was brought in. We are treating him for critical injuries, chronic sickness, and long term abuse. He’s been in one-on-one ICU care.”

He turned his gaze back to Ben and Kincaid. “I’m going to be blunt now, and I’m sorry cause I know how you’re taking this, Kincaid. He’s not getting better. He’s getting worse, a lot worse.

“When he was admitted, he was unconscious and in rapid decline. He was incubated in the field—“ he nodded to Kincaid and Ben, “—because he wasn’t able to maintain his airway. He was rushed to emergency surgery as soon as he arrived.

“Apparently, some fucking amateur of a surgeon attempted to make repairs following penetrating and blunt force trauma, but, with his lack of healing, those repairs didn’t hold up to the transport. Since the emergency surgery, we think he’s begun bleeding internally and has required transfusions to try and keep ahead of it—he’s just too weak right now for a follow up surgery so we’re trying to maintain without more invasive measures.”

David sighed, flipping open the chart and staring at the information there. His eyes didn’t move like he was reading, just looking through the information like he could find answers. “His labs are looking worse with each draw, he’s having unexplained seizures, and he’s just not healing the way that he should be. He’s going into organ failure, and he’s septic.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, David swallowed, not as unaffected as he wanted to project. “There’s only so much stress and pain that a body can take, and we don’t know how long this guy was held in that place. Nothing we’re doing is helping, and I don’t know how long he’s going to hang on like this.”

The doctor’s words rang in the following silence of the little room, both of the detectives leaning heavily on each other. Clint felt like he’d swallowed ice, the cold sitting heavily in his stomach.

“Fuck...” he muttered, hand rasping over his beard. He’d been doing this a long time, but it never got easier to rescue someone that wasn’t going to be able to enjoy their freedom again. That he couldn’t help.

“Look. . . I know I’m not supposed to know what’s going on here, what you guys are investigating. But there’s only so many fangmarks I can look at before I draw a whole hell of a lot of conclusions.” He huffed, re-crossing his arms, and glared at the chart in front of him. “None of the others brought in had this many, and—” he grimaced out the next words, “—you only work in this field for so long before you hear some rumors about ‘vamps and witches.’

“I can feel it, there’s something—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—supernatural going on, and I don’t know how to treat it. I’m fumbling around in the dark here trying to treat symptoms without the knowledge base to help, without even the knowledge base to know how what he went through affected him, and he is too sick for this.” He pressed his lips together, flicking his eyes up to catch Ben’s.

“Can you help me?”

Clint sighed as the two detectives turned to him, the doctor’s gaze following with barely a blink of surprise.

Of course, just when I would call Markus.

“The witch that I would normally contact about this has. . . passed away,” he said, rubbing his hand through his hair, “but let me call someone who might be able to help. Do you mind talking to someone else?”

David shook his head after a confirmatory nod from the two detectives. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Clint thumbed it open and pulled up Evan’s contact.

Putting the call on speaker, he left it to ring on the table, hoping the vet wasn’t too busy to take his call. After a few interminable rings, he answered.

“Hello?” Loud rustling accompanied the greeting, and Clint could hear the yips and barks of the clinic.

“Evan, it’s me.”

“Clint? What’s up? You okay?” A door slammed in the background, and the animal noises cut off.

“Yeah, man, I’m fine. In New York working a vamp ring, I could use your know-how.”

“I mean, sure, but I’m not sure what I could tell you about vamps that you don’t already know...?” The beastmaster trailed off, confusion plain in his tone.

Clint grimaced, avoiding the other’s concerned gazes. Evan wasn’t going to like this next part.

“It’s not really the vamps I need your help with, man. There’s a witch here that got caught up in the ring, he’s not doing well, and I need—“

Evan cut him off before he could even finish, anger making his voice snap over the line.

“No, Clint, damnit, I’ve told you. I’m not trained for people, I’m a damn vet—“

“Evan, listen—” he tried to break in, but the other man wasn’t to be deterred.

“—I don’t need that responsibility, and I don’t want it. Did you even listen to what Deanna or Illyn had to say?”

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really didn’t want to get into this in front of three practical strangers, but the beastmaster was adamant about not treating people unless absolutely necessary. “Deanna won’t take my calls anymore after Markus—none of his coven will—and Illyn isn’t educated enough or in a place to be of any use in this situation. If anyone else would get back to me right away, I would be calling them, not you.”

His friend was silent on the other end of the line, and Clint suppressed a strangled growl. “This guy is literally dying, Evan, please.”

A huff answered his plea, and Clint could practically see the other man’s face creasing into a pained frown. “Goddamnit,” he muttered, “fine, but you owe me.”

Something released in Clint’s chest, and he let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, man.”

He turned to the other men in the room, trying to give a hopeful smile that was probably more pained than anything. “You’re on speaker phone; I got two detectives here with me and the lead doctor on the case. Hopefully they can answer any questions you got.”

David introduced himself without any more preamble, repeating what he’d just told Clint but including more technical jargon than he had with him or the detectives as laymen. He listened with half an ear as Evan asked questions of the doctor, Ben and Kincaid filling in what they’d deduced about the witch’s captivity and treatment, the majority of the wolf’s attention set on what kind of hell the guy had gone through.

Evan’s voice pulled him back from imagining the guy’s broken body and the reactions of his family if they were ever found.

“So, let me set this out: this witch was fed on vociferously by a vamp; held above ground, away from the earth, in a concrete box with no sunlight for who knows how long; critically injured and ill; and, now, he’s not healing.”

“That about sums it up, yeah,” Kincaid deadpanned, a dark look on his face.

“Was there any evidence of iron use?”

Clint felt a cold hand grab hold of his sternum, and he dropped his head down, scratching his nails down the back of his neck. “Oh shit,” he hissed, a growing realization dawning, “I should’ve thought of that.”

Evan hummed in acknowledgement. “Probably, but there’s a reason you always called me or Markus after you’ve found someone. Treatment isn’t your area of expertise.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Ben cut in, the three men leaning forward with identical looks of agitation.

“It sounds like, on top of everything else, he’s going through something commonly called magical exhaustion.” The vet had his educator’s hat on, his calm voice rumbling through the speaker in tinny waves. “It doesn’t always happen, but a part of a witch’s physical make up is magic. If they use too much without the opportunity to recharge then they can get really sick. Depending on the severity, it can be fatal.”

Clint continued for him when Evan hesitated over a sigh. “In a case like this one, where the witch is being given the opportunity to recover without interference, then you have to be on the lookout for something that’s blocked that ability to do so.

“Iron, cold wrought iron, is like poison to a large number of supernaturals. It’s in all of the fairy tales: for example, it can burn a Fae like a motherfucker and makes controlling a were’s shift or were-state...let’s just say, problematic.”

Clint suppressed a snarl at a decidedly unpleasant memory, his eyes flashing a very brief yellow. He felt a stab of contrition when David flinched backward in alarm, his eyes widening, and pulled himself back with some difficulty before continuing.

“For witches, it interferes with their ability to naturally produce or access their magic, and with such a critically injured witch, one who was trying to cope with long term trauma and magic drainage, shrugging that block off would’ve been an astronomical impossibility.”

If he’d even wanted to, Clint thought darkly.

“So it’s like he’s not producing the chemicals his body needs,” David interjected, still giving Clint a wide side-eye after seeing his eyes change, his fingers drumming on the table. “How do I fix it?”

And that was the real question, wasn’t it? God, what he wouldn’t do to have Markus or his coven’s help.

Evan’s sigh was like static over the line. “It would be too much to ask if you found his grahm anywhere, wouldn’t it?”

Catching the twin looks of dejection from the detectives, Clint shook his head as he answered. “You’d be right about that, Evan.”

“Damnit,” the vet cursed. “The only thing I can think of is something I would recommend for one of my patients—get him in nature, bury him in dirt and sunshine and hope that it would break the block down.”

Like he could sense David’s horrified expression, Evan cut off the doctor’s objections. “I know that’s not possible in this case, so I’m going to recommend the next best thing. Get a house plant, one of those that has a really strong root system, and bury his hand in it. I bet you his magic will latch onto it, maybe it’ll help. If his room has windows, give him as much natural light as possible.”

Clint heard Evan shifting in his seat, a small, sad laugh coloring the line. “I guess you guys don’t let animals into your ICU wards, right?”

“I’ll authorize whatever you think might help,” David corrected, “I already told these guys, but we’re out of our league here, and we all know it. These nurses are protective as hell, and this guy has no one but our boys in blue here and an overworked social worker. If I don’t do something to try and help cause I’m scared of administration then I’ll face a damn mutiny.”

“In that case, get a therapy animal in there. Familiars are a real thing and witches use them for a reason—it won’t be as effective as if it was this guy’s actual familiar, but it won’t hurt.”

Ben and Kincaid shared a look before the latter opened his mouth. “I’ll give Justin a call, and have him bring in Delta. She’s well trained enough, and he seemed to positively respond to her when he was conscious.”

David nodded his assent. “Olivia’s a hard-ass about her being on the floor, but she’ll feel better about Delta than any other animal.”

“What about getting him a grahm?” Ben asked. “You mentioned finding his, surely we could get one for him.”

Clint and Kincaid were already shaking their heads.

“Too personal to each individual witch,” Clint answered, “A healthy witch can channel through someone else’s grahm, but I doubt it would do more than muddle the waters for someone in this guy’s position.”

Humming in affirmation, Evan explained. “I mentioned this guy’s grahm because it might have acted like a jump start, but anything this witch wasn’t involved in making or wasn’t made specifically for his magical pattern might hurt him, and you can’t get a read on his magical pattern if he’s not producing magic.”

Silence reigned at this information, the catch-22 of their situation not settling well with any of the people in the room.

“That’s all I can think to do right now,” Evan stated after a moment, frustration evident in his voice. “I’ll give Deanna a call, see if she’ll give me any more insight.” He didn’t pause before continuing, not giving Clint the opportunity to cut him off, even if the other men heard it. “She’s hurting, Clint, but she doesn’t actually blame you for Markus. She won’t refuse to help this guy just cause you’re working the case.”

Evan knew him too well, but even his words didn’t do anything to soothe the pang of hurt in his chest, his guilt resurfacing. “Thanks, Evan,” he said, voice rough, “let us know if you find anything out, okay?”

“Yeah, man, I’ll let you know.”

David didn’t stick around for much more discussion after the line went dead, walking out of the command station with a mission in his step.

Ben and Kincaid were silent for a few minutes though, leaning into each other’s spaces. A string of envy wrapped itself around Clint’s ribs, pulling tight. What wouldn’t I do to give Nico a hug right now?

Clint sighed, ruffing up the back of his hair as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll send Holland a text updating him on John Doe’s condition and what Evan recommended. Kincaid, you update Justin, I think the faster we get Delta in here the better.”

Nodding, the younger man pulled his phone out and started typing. “He and Delta should be on their way back in, I’ll let him know to hurry.” His face twisted on his next words. “Man, I can’t get the image out of my head-“ he looked at Ben, eyes sorrowful, “-when he was petting Delta. . . “

“Yeah. . .fuck, this case sucks.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Clint cocked his head. “You said that he was conscious at one point, you weren’t able to get a name out of him?“

They both shook their heads, starting to pull more files over to work on. “No, he was too sick,” Ben answered. “Tried to talk, started coughing, and his vitals just tanked. It couldn’t have been ten minutes later, when we were getting him in the ambulance, that he stopped breathing on his own and we had to intubate.”

All three of them sighed, shaking their heads as they tried to shake the depressed atmosphere. It would be a good time for a dark joke, the life blood of career law enforcement, but he couldn’t find the energy.

Turning back to the transcript he’d been reading when David came in, his phone buzzed as Holland texted him back. He cracked a grin as he read the message. Trust Holland to not disappoint. “You old bastard,” he chuckled.

Ben made a quizzical noise, glancing up from a morbid photograph of blood streaked concrete.

Clint held out the phone, grinning wildly at the man’s snark. “Holland asks if he needs to pick up any essential oils on his way back. Apparently his wife really likes Blue Chamomile before bedtime.”

Ben grinned as he took the proffered phone, reading the text from Holland before shaking his head and dismissing the notification. “He just likes to be contrary, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Clint leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching. Closing his eyes blissfully as the tension released in his shoulders. “Stubborn old bastard will be doing this from the grave.”

“This looks like a fun crowd, these your friends?”

Releasing the stretch, Clint blinked his eyes open in confusion, and saw Ben examining his home screen. An uncomfortable curl of sadness turned over in his stomach, but he smiled and nodded. “That’s the group back in Louisiana. We got Markus’s coven and the rest of the pack together for a going away party. It was a good time.”

Ben paused as he examined the photo closer, turning the screen away from Kincaid’s curious gaze and shaking his head. The edges of his perpetual smile formed into a frown on his next question.

“. . . Clint, didn’t you say your witch friend, Markus, was . . . gone?”

“Yeah, uh. . . yeah he is.” Heart sinking in his chest at the unexpected question, Clint swallowed past a sudden lump, words coming carefully. “He. . .uh, he went missing several months ago in Massachusetts.”

Hands shaking, he took the phone back from Ben and doused the screen, placing it face down on the table. He felt his shoulders try to hitch up around his ears, but he forced them to relax as he curled his hands around themselves. “We knew, uh. . . fuck,” he muttered, already feeling some tears forming on his eyelashes, “we knew that he was taken—violently taken. He called Illyn, said that he’d been shot. That he was scared.”

Kincaid frowned with him, a sympathetic hand tapping the table between them. It made the wolf smile, sure as anything that he’d been welcomed into these men’s pack; that knowledge was a comforting weight fitting snugly around his heart.

Clint cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, and breathed out slowly. His talk with Holland was too fresh for this conversation, but it didn’t help anything to pretend it didn’t happen. Plus, he felt like these guys deserved to know after the discussion with Evan. They’d pull him out of it if he got too low or distracted to help with the case.

So, he forced himself to continue.

“We could never pin down who took him. It’s an unusual M.O. for a supernatural to use a gun like that but. . . there just weren’t any other leads.“

Fuck. . . fuck, it’s such an unusual M.O., and I still can’t find a goddamn suspect. Still haven’t found him. What kind of fucking investigator am I?

What kinda friend?

I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Markus.

“Did it have to be a supernatural?” Ben drew Clint back from his spiral with the question, putting a stilling hand on a confused Kincaid’s shoulder as he gave him a warning look.

Clint huffed a strangled laugh, looking down at the table with a humorless smile. “Yeah, yeah, it woulda had to have been. One ‘a the few things Markus told Illyn was that he had to use a lot of magic to get some distance. Markus is. . .” he sucked in a pained breath through his teeth, “was, a very powerful witch. Even though he didn’t have his grahm on him, it woulda been hard, damn hard, for some supernatural to take him if he had the opportunity to use his magic. No way a human could have.”

Ben nodded in the corner of Clint’s vision. “That makes sense, no idea what kind of supernatural did it?”

Clenching his jaw around the residual anger at Illyn and himself, Clint shook his head. “By the time I was called in, the scene was 40 plus hours cold. I couldn’t even be there for the first week, I was in Montana wrapping up the investigation on a child-trafficking ring. Roxanne, the friend I called in to investigate, suspected a vamp, but she couldn’t get much of a read on the scene with that much decay and the foot traffic that came through it. All of her leads eventually ran cold.”

Both officers grimaced, knowing intimately how difficult it was to investigate a scene like that, putting together the pieces of his guilt. Clint shared a commiserating smile with both of them before studiously examining his thumb nail, continuing the story.

“Illyn,” he sighed, the gust of air shimmying the papers on the table, “Illyn was able to get a brief limited-telepathic link within the two days after he was taken. All she got was that he was in pain and that he was being kept in a concrete room with fluorescent lights. She stated that he couldn’t have been 50 miles from where he was taken at the time of contact, so that’s where we concentrated our search. There wasn’t any further contact.

“We never found a body, but with the violence of the attack, the amount of pain that he was in. . . “ He felt a shudder crawl down his back, his esophagus trying to curl up into a knot before he could clear his throat. He kept his gaze locked on his hands, not wanting to see the looks on their faces. “Statistically speaking, even in a normal case, it’s unlikely that he would have survived this long, but a witch of his caliber. . .”

“They don’t tend to last very long when they’ve been taken within the supernatural community,” Ben finished for him. Clint nodded, biting his lip, fighting the urge to rub at his face. “Clint. . . Do you mind if I have a second look at that picture?”

“Nah, ‘course not.” He slid his phone back over, not quite feeling the bewilderment growing in his stomach at the request.

He watched Ben pick the phone back up like it was a bomb, taking a deep breath before tapping the screen. He nodded to himself, biting at his cheek before turning the screen toward Kincaid. “Tell me what you see, Kin’,” he all but whispered.

Clint froze as he watched all of the blood drain from Kincaid’s face.

“Oh, fuck. . .”

#Markus/Lucien Series #medical whump #hurt/comfort #aftermath of captivity

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