#Brian “Box” Brown

[smashpages]

Out this week: The He-Man Effect (First Second, $26.99):

Brian “Box” Brown, creator of the Tetris graphic novel, tackles another subject from my childhood –the advent of how “corporate manipulation brought muscular, accessory-stuffed action figures to dizzying heights.” Find out how all those He-Man, Transformers and My Little Pony cartoons warped your fragile mind.

See what else you can find at your local comic shop this week.

[thoughtportal]

Brian Box Brown

[graphicpolicy]

Legalization Nation is an interesting graphic novel on the haphazard legalization of cannabis

Spend your #420 with Legalization Nation, an interesting graphic novel on the haphazard legalization of cannabis #comics #comicbooks #graphicnovel

New York Times-bestseller and Eisner Award-winner Brian Box Brown returns with a collection of his weekly comic strip which focuses on the ins and outs of cannabis legalization. Legalization Nation collects the last 3 years worth of strips and is considered by many in cannabis circles to be the true conscience of the cannabis world. Story: Brian Box BrownArt: Brian Box Brown Get your copy now!…

[redgoldsparks]

I wrote a 12 page epilogue to my 2019 comic "Harry Potter and The Problematic Author" because I found, in 2023, that I had more to say. You can also find this comic on my website, and I have PDF copies available on etsy. I may sell print copies at some point in the future.

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

Full transcript below the cut.

PAGE 1

Part one: Ruddy Owls!

I was in fourth grade when the first Harry Potter Book was released in the US.

Panel 1: Sometimes our teacher would read it aloud in class. “Mr and Mrs Dursley of number 4 Privat Drive were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

Panel 2: I was 11 years old when Harry Potter finally broke through my dyslexia and turned me into a reader.

Panel 3: Every night in the summer before sixth grade I waited for the owl carrying my Hogwarts Letter. I cried when it didn’t come. “I have to go to Muggle school!”

PAGE 2

Part Two: Hats

I dedicated myself to being a fan.

Panel 1: I began collecting Harry Potter News article.

Panel 2: I asked my relatives to mail me ones from their local papers. I filled a thick binder with clippings.

Panel 3: I wrote my own trivia quiz

Panel 4: and participated in the one held annually at the county fair. “Next contestant!”

Panel 5: I usually got into one of. the top five spots. I won boxes of candy, posters, stationary, and once a baseball cap. (Hat reads: I survived the battle of Hogwarts).

Panel 6: In high school I sewed a black velvet cape and knitted many stripped scarves.

PAGE 3

Part Three: Double Trouble

Watching the last film in 2011 felt like the final note of my childhood. 

Panel 1: I remember driving home from the midnight showing thinking about the end of 13 years of waiting; wondering what would define the next chapter of my life. 

Panel 2: That same month I heard of something called Pottermore. ���Okay, so there’s a sorting quiz… I already know my house! Patronus assignment? Mine’s a barn owl. Duh!" 

Panel 3: You can read the books again but with GIFs? Why? 

Panel 4: I lived in a place with very slow and limited internet at the time. Pottermore sounded inaccessible, but also boring. I never joined. 

Panel 5: "I’ll just read the actual books again, thanks." 

PAGE 4

Part Four: Sweets

In 2016, a series of short stories titled "History of Magic in North America” were released on Pottermore to pave the way for the first Fantastic Beasts Film. These stories display an extreme ignorance of American history, culture, and geography, but the worst parts are the casual misuse of indigenous beliefs and stories. Fans and critics immediately spoke up against this appropriation. Some of the most quoted voices included Nambe Pueblo scholar Dr. Debbie Reese who runs the site “American Indians In Children’s Literature”; Navajo writer Brian Young; Johnnie Jae (Otoe-Missouria and Choctaw), founder of A Tribe Called Geek; Dr Adrienne Keene (Cherokee Nation), a Professor at Brown University who runs the blog “Native Appropriations”, and writers N.K. Jemison and Paula Young Lee.

PAGE 5

Rowling is famous for responding to fans directly on twitter, yet she did not respond to anyone calling out the damaging aspects of “Magic in North America.” Her representatives refused to comment for March 9 2016 article in the Guardian. She has never apologized. All of this, plus the casting of Johnny Depp and the specific declarations of support by JKR, Warner Brothers, and director David Yates left a sour taste in my mouth.

For further thoughts on the new films read The Crimes of Grindelwald is a Mess by Alanna Bennett for Buzzfeed News, November 16, 2018.

PAGE 6

Excerpt from Colonialism in Wizarding American: JK Rowling’s History of Magic in North America Through an Indigenous Lens by Allison Mills, MFA, MAS/MLIS (Cree and Settler French Canadian)

Although Rowling is certainly not the first white author to misstep in her treatment of Indigenous cultures, she has an unprecedented level of visibility and fame, […] One of the most glaring problems with Rowling’s story is her treatment of the many Indigenous nations in North America as one monolithic group. […It] flattens out the diversity of languages, belief systems, and cultures that exist in Indigenous communities, allowing stereotyping to persist. […] It continues a long history of colonial texts which ignore that Indigenous peoples still exist. […] In the Wizarding world, as in the real world, Indigenous histories have been over-written and our cultures erased.

from The Looking Glass: New Perspectives in Children’s Literature Volumn 19, Issue 1

PAGE 7

Part 5: Music

Panel 1: Also in 2016 I discovered two podcasts which radically altered my experience of being an HP fan. The first was Witch Please created by two Canadian feminist literary scholars Hannah McGregor and Marcelle Kosman.

Panel 2: “If it’s not in the text it doesn’t count!” “Close reading ONLY!”

Panel 3: They talk about Harry Potter at the level you’d expect in a college class with particular focus on gender, race, class, and the troubling fatphobia, fear of othered and queer coded bodies, violence against women, white feminism, gaslighting and failed pedagogy in the books. They bring up these issues not because they hate the series, but because they LOVE it.

PAGE 8

These passionate, joyful conversations went off like fireworks in my mind. I had never taken a feminist class before. I gained a whole new vocabulary to talk about the books- and the world.

PAGE 9

Panel 1: The second podcast I started that year was Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, created by two graduates of the Harvard Divinity School, Vanessa Zoltan and Casper Ter Kuile.

Panel 2: They read one chapter per episode through a theme such as love, control, curiosity, shame, responsibility, hospitality, destruction, or mystery. Like Witch Please, they are interested only in the information on the page, not thoughts from the author. The delights and failures of the text are examined in the context of the present day, and new meanings constantly arise.

PAGE 10

What does it mean to treat a text as sacred?

Trusting that the more time we give to it, the more blessings it has to give us.

Reading the text repeatedly with concentrated attention. Our effort is part of what makes it sacred. The text is not in and of itself sacred, but is made so by rigorously engaging in the ritual of reading.

Experiencing it in community.

“To me, the goal of treating the text as sacred is that we learn to treat each other as sacred.” -Vanessa Zoltan

PAGE 11

Part 6: Tooth and Claw

In October 2017, Rowling liked a tweet linking to an article arguing that trans women should be kept out of women’s bathrooms because of cisgender women’s fears. In March 2018, she liked a tweet about the problem of misogyny in the UK Labour Party which included the line “Men in dresses get brosocialist solidarity I never had.” The author of the tweet had previously posted many blatantly anti-trans statements.

Rowlings publicist claimed she had liked the posted by accident in a “clumsy and middle-aged moment.” Yet, in September 2018 she liked a link posted by Janice Turner to her column in the Times UK titled “Trans Rapists Are A Danger In Women’s Jails.”

Screencaps of these tweets can be found in the article “The Mysterious Case of JK Rowling and her Transphobic Twitter History”, January 10 2019 by Gwendolyn Smith (a trans journalist), LGBTQNation.com

PAGE 12

Excerpt from: Is JK Rowling Transphobic? A Trans Woman Investigates by Katelyn Burns

Ultimately, the answer is yes, she is transphobic […] I think it’s fair that she receives criticism from trans people, especially given her advocacy on behalf of queer people in general, but also because she has a huge platform. Many people look up to her for creating a singular piece of popular culture that holds deep meaning for fans from different walks of life, and she has a responsibility to handle that platform wisely. (Published on them.us March 28, 2018)

PAGE 13

Part 7: Home

At age 30, I’m still not over Harry Potter.

Panel 1: I’ve recently found a local bar that does HP trivia nights. “Poppy or Pomona?” “Poppy!”

Panel 2: I currently own an annual pass to Universal Studios so I can visit Hogsmeade.

Panel 3: I love talking to kids who are reading the books for the first time. “Who’s your favorite character?” “Ginny!”

Panel 4: And I’m planning a relisten to the audio books to next year to help me get through the election cycle. “Jim Dale, I’m going to need you more than ever…”

Spoiler from 2023: I did not do this. By mid-2020 JKR had posted her transphobic essay; we were in covid; I never visited Universal Studios again.

PAGE 14

But I do want to learn from her mistakes. I never want to repeat “Magic in North America.” As I write, I will do my research. I will consult experts and compensate them. If a reader from a different culture/background than me speaks up about my work, I will listen and apologize. I KNOW I WILL MAKE MISTAKES. But I will own up to them and I will do better.

PAGE 15

Excerpt from Diversity Is Not Enough: Race, Power and Publishing by Daniel José Older

We can love a thing and still critique it. In fact, that’s the only way to really love a thing. Let’s be critical lovers and loving critics and open ourselves to the truth about where we are and where we’ve been. Instead of holding tight to the same old, failed patriarchies, let’s walk a new road, speak new languages. Today, let’s imagine a literature, a literary world, that carries this struggle for equity in its very essence, so that tomorrow it can cease to be necessary, and disappear. (Buzzfeed, April 14, 2017) 

PAGE 16

Harry Potter is flawed, & JK Rowling is problematic. But the books helped me learn a lot: 

*One of the greatest dangers facing the modern world is the rise of fascism 

*The government cannot be trusted 

*Read and think critically

*Question the news: who paid the journalist? Who owns the paper? 

*Trust and support your friends through good times and bad

*Organize for resistance

*Educate and share resources with peers

*The revolution must be diverse and intersectional

* We are only as strong as we are united

*The weapon we have is love 

MK 2019

PAGE 17

PART 8: EPILOGUE

In 2021 I removed a Harry Potter patch I sewed to my book bag over a decade ago. I took 15 pieces of Harry Potter fanart off my walls. I got rid of my paperback book set, 2 board games, and 8 t-shirt. [images: a Hogwarts a patch with loose threads, a pair of scissors and a seam ripper]

Panel 1: Maia holding up a shirt with the Deathly Hallows logo on it. Maia thinks: “Damn, this really used to be my entire personality.”

Panel 2: The t-shirt gets thrown into the Goodwill box.

PAGE 18

I wrote my zine wrestling with JKR’s legacy in 2019, after her dismissive and racist reaction to indigenous fans and critics of “Magic in North America” and after she had liked a couple transphobic tweets. Since then, she has gotten so much worse.

A Brief Timeline (mostly from this Vox article)

June 2020- JKR posts a 3600 word essay making her anti-trans position clear

August 2020- The Robert F Kennedy Human Rights Org issues a statement about her transphobia, JKR doubles down on her position and returns an award they gave her

December 2020- JKR claims 90% of HP fans secretly agree with her anti-trans views

December 2021- JKR mocks Scottish Police for recognizing transgender identities

March 2022- JKR criticizes gender-inclusive language and legislation

December 2022- JKR retweets trans youtuber Jessie Earl’s critical review of Hogwarts Legacy, starting an onslaught of transphobic harassment towards Earl

December 2022- JKR removes her support from an Edinburgh center for survivors of sexual violence with a trans-inclusive policy and funds her own center which explicitly excludes trans sexual assault survivors

January 2023- JKR tweets “Deeply amused by those telling me I’ve lost their admiration due to disrespect I show violent, duplicitous rapists.” It got nearly 300K likes

March 2023- One the podcast “The Witch Trials of JK Rowling”, hosted by a former Westboro Baptist Church Member, JKR compares the trans rights movement to Death Eaters.

PAGE 19

What are The Witch Trials of JK Rowling?

Panel 1: Maia speaking. “It’s a 7 episode documentary style podcast hosted by Megan Phelps-Roper. Nearly every episode contains interviews with JKR as well as critics, journalists, historians, protestors and fans.

Panel 2: Maia speaking. “In episode 1, JKR speaks more candidly than she has previously about being in an abusive marriage. Her ex-husband hit her, stalked her, broke into her house overlapping with the time she was writing the first three HP books.”

Panel 3: Maia speaking. “What she went through genuinely sounds horrific. I have a lot of sympathy for the kind of life-long traumas those experiences leave.”

PAGE 20

HOWEVER.

It is clear from reading the June 2020 essay on her blog and listening to the podcast, that JKR still to this day feels unsafe. Despite her wealth and privilege she moves through the world with the mindset of a victim. And the group of people she finds most threatening are trans women.

Or rather, she is afraid that allowing trans women in women’s spaces invites the possibility of male predators entering those spaces.

Here’s a direct quote: The problem is male violence. All a predator wants is access and to open the doors of changing rooms, rape centers, domestic violence centers [...] to any male who says “I’m a woman and I have a right to be here” will constitute a risk to women and girls. - from The Witch Trials episode 4 as transcribed by therowlinglibrary.com, March 2023

Image: A stem of Belladonna with flowers and berries.

PAGE 21

Let me introduce here the term: TRANSMISOGYNY. The intersection of transphobia and misogyny, this term was coined by Julia Serano in 2007. Scout Tran, on tiktok as Queersneverdie said: “Transmisogyny occurs in people who have been previously hurt by traditional misogyny. Who have been driven to hate men or at the very least to be scared of men. They will sometimes take out that rage on trans women. (March 2023)

JKR claims to care for trans women and understand they are extremely vulnerable to assault and violence. In her 2020 Essay she wrote: “I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe.”

So she cares about trans women… just less than cis women, and she’s willing to throw all trans women under the bus because of her unfounded, prejudice fears.

PAGE 22

Panel 1: Maia speaking. “JKR claims to have seen data that proves trans women have presented physical threats to other women in intimate spaces, but never cites sources. She also uses “producer of the large gametes” as a definition of “woman”.

What about transmen and nonbinary folks?

Panel 2: Maia leaning on a stack of all seven HP books, the first four Cormorant Strike books and The Casual Vacancy, gesturing to a series of quotes with a tired and disgusted expression.

I’m concerned about the huge explosion of young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning. * [...] If I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. -June 10 2020 essay

I don’t believe a 14 year old can truly understand what the loss of their fertility is.

-Witch Trials episode 4

I haven’t yet found a study that hasn’t found that the majority of young people experiencing gender dysphoria grow out of it*. -Witch Trials episode 7

*No sources cited

PAGE 23

It’s hard to over emphasize how fixated JKR has become on these topics. As of the date I’m writing this, 14 out of her 20 most recent tweets (70%) are in some way anti-trans. She tweets against Mermaids (a UK based trans youth charity), against trans athletes, against gender neutral bathrooms, and in support of LBG Alliance- a UK org that denies trans rights while upholding gay rights. Here are some gems from her archive:

“People who menstruate.” I’m sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud? -June 2020

War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is Strength. The Penised Individual Who Raped You Is a Woman. - December 2021

And in response to someone asking “How do you sleep at night knowing you lost a whole audience?”

I read my most recent royalty cheques and find the pain goes away pretty quickly. -October 2022

PAGE 24

Hashtag Ruthless Productions a queer nerd podcast company created a great guide on ethical engagement with HP. Image: the two hosts of Hashtag Ruthless productions, Jessie (They/she) and Lark (he/him).

Stop buying all official HP Products: books, movies, games, toys, etc, Universal Studios tickets, food, merch.* Boycott any new TV series or movies. Instead: buy the books and DVDs used. If you still want to wear HP merch, buy fan-made. Engage only with fan content: fic, podcasts, fanart, wizard rock, etc. Show transphobia is bad for business. None of this will change JKR’s mind. But the Fantastic Beast series was canceled and after record Pottermore sales in 2020, they fell in 2022 by 40%.

*She gets a portion of ALL tickets. In 2019, this was her largest income source. Read the full guide: hashtagruthless.com/resourceguide

PAGE 25

As late as 2019, I was still reading JKR’s murder mystery series. But by the fourth book my experience began to sour.

Panel 1: Maia holding a copy of Lethal White. “The only gay character in this book is a government official who gropes his staff?”

Panel 2: “The only genderqueer character is misgendered and portrayed as a whiny faker?”

Panel 3: “The only Muslim character is disowned by his family over gay rumors?”

Panel 4: “Even the women aren’t portrayed very well…”

Panel 5: “Why is the main female character defined by the rape in her past?”

Panel 6: “Wait, what happens in the rest of this series…?” Maia scrolls on eir phone.

Panel 7: “Is the series heading towards an employee/boss relationship?”

Panel 8: “And has a man wearing women’s clothes to commit assault?”

Panel 9: “Yeah, I’m done. I’m never reading a new JKR book ever again.”

PAGE 26

And as for JKR herself?

As tempting as it might be to tweet your frustrations at her, I don’t recommend it. In 2021, she tweeted, “Hundreds of trans activists have threatened to beat, rape, assassinate and bomb me.” Getting hate online feeds her sense of victimhood and she waves it as proof of her moral high ground. Instead I suggest you block her on twitter, then delete twitter, go to the library and try to find a new book that feels magical.

Stack of books: In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan, The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, Gifts by Ursula K Le Guin, Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane, A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik and Gideon the Ninth by Tamsin Muir.

PAGE 27

In “Emergent Strategy” adrienne maree brown writes: You do not have the right to traumatize abusive people, to attack them, personally or publicly, or to sabotage anyone else’s health. The behaviors of abuse are also survival-based, learned behaviors rooted in pain. If you can look through the lens of compassion, you will find hurt and trauma there. If you are the abused party, healing that hurt is not your responsibility and exacerbating that pain is not your justified right.

PAGE 28

Seeing anyone over age 12 wearing HP merch now makes me uncomfortable. Are they ignorant or actively a TERF? I hate wondering how much money JKR has probably poured into anti-trans legislation… This zine is a culmination of my slow breakup with a story that once brought me joy. Now it just makes me angry, tired and sad.

Image: Candle in a fancy holder burned down to less than an inch.

Maia Kobabe, 2023

[mechanisedbrainrot]

MECHANISMS REF IMAGE MASTERPOST

Okay, so I put together refs for each of the mechs as best I can. I tried to avoid anything in a show lighting, but sometimes it can't be helped. Notes will be underneath each section

Whole cast

Ivy is the only character leaning on the wall in the second image, but is roughly as tall as Ashes

Jonny D'Ville

Jonny in earlier shows like TTBT wears a black shirt underneath instead of the white. He occasionally has red or black painted nails and his goggles are either black or bronze. He has a black 7 of diamonds. He often holds a mic - which is a Shure Super 55

Drumbot Brian

He usually has just the flower in his hat, but sometimes it's replaced with RAM or his drumsticks. His goggle has a very small crack at the base. The rings seem to be a bit of a motherboard and screws? The visible heart is something I can only find in one picture, but it's cool

Gunpowder Tim

Sometimes wears jeans instead of dark brown trousers. His eye scars are more geometric than Jonny's, and he has dark eye shadow around the eyes where Jonny uses just eyeliner

Raphaella la Cognizi

The top is three layers: a white/cream shirt, a brown puffy shirt and a a top layer which has a halter neck. Occasionally one or both of the undershirts won't be worn (see HNOC liveshow). Tights can be blue or black. Light up wings from DTTM

The leggings/tights are sometimes black and sometimes deep blue

Ivy Alexandria

A few different outfits, in liveshows they're also wearing some outfits not shown here - but always black and red with a waistcoat of some kind.

Nastya Rasputina

The necklace is a little cat :3

Marius von Raum

Kneepads in DTTM. The cards are a jack and ace of hearts. Necktie either has a white or gold pattern on it, but they don't always wear it. The green jacket has a tailcoat

The Toy Soldier

Hair varies a lot. Sometimes it's worn down, in a ponytail or hidden under the hat. Sometimes nails are painted red or black

Ashes O'Reilly

In live shows they often wear this eyeliner which has thick bars that go behind the ears - but I couldn't find any clear pictures of this. Though their outfits changes, always mostly black with some red in the hair

Dr Carmilla post can be found here

I hope this was in some way helpful to anyone who wants to draw the mechanisms. If you have questions feel free to ask me in the ask box and I will do my best to answer them and provide some photos <3 have a great day

[lizardinkart]

Happy US Thanksgiving, here’s what I think Parahumans characters would bring to a friendsgiving:

Taylor- She’s a dry stuffing/dressing type person. It’s not bad, but it IS bland.

Lisa- Mashed potatoes that aren’t bad tastewise, but she did have to be talked down from something with oysters in it. Because she’s a psychological terrorist

Brian- This man has experienced true thanksgiving even with all the shit he’s been through. He would cook the whole meal if they let him. His mac n cheese will make you believe in god.

Aisha- She forgot, so Brian also made some slow cooker green beans for her to show up with. (She didn’t forget. She knew Brian would make it anyway because he’s picky)

Rachel- Turkey. It’s really fucking good. No one knows where she got it. No one asks.

Alec- His Canadian ass didn’t bring shit. He complains about not celebrating his thanksgiving. He shoplifts some skittles. Charlie Brown type items

Victoria- Fruit tray she bought on the way over and some box mix cornbread muffins (really good).

Amy- Something with jello, cool whip, and fruit pieces in it. That might actually be ham pieces. Someone take the Cold War era cook book away from her

Sveta- Cupcakes and other dessert items that she has decorated to the nines. They all taste immaculate.

Kenzie- Your grandmother’s homemade casserole that you distinctly don’t remember giving her the recipe for

Chris- Chris was banned from contributing meal items to friendsgivings after the “Mystery Meat” incident.

Tristan/Byron- It’s debated whether they should bring one or two dishes. They settle on a half-and-half corn salad, half the way Byron likes it, half the way Tristan likes it. One has considerably more chiles in it than the other.

Ashley- Cranberry sauce out of a can. Straightforward. Iconic. Beloved.

Rain- Rain O’Fire Frazier’s insular cult upbringing raised him to know how to cook for a crowd and leave them desperate for more. He makes 2 sweet potato casseroles, one with marshmallows, one with brown sugar and pecans. Both are gone before you go back for seconds. He makes cream corn so devastating it makes you forget all your parahumanity-related trauma for a bit. You ask him for the recipe. He cannot not tell you. He says you just kinda have to “feel it.” You weep. Some things in this world you can never know.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Passing Autumn Nights

[Proxies (Toby, Masky, Hoodie) X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: also known as the 'fuck me i just miss autumn' fic and LOVE writing slice of life things.]

[1356 words <3]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Moments like these never last forever. Fleeting, careless, and bittersweet, they remind you of a time long, long passed. The moon is rising and a chill runs through the air. It oddly warms you and reminds you of friends that pass in and out of your life just as freely, though in your past life it might have caused you minor concern. 

You sit on the hood of this stupid car Toby stole. It’s sporting a giant dent in the side, and some of the paint near the tires is rusting but it’s taken care of the four of you so far. In your hand is a pack of cigarettes. You don’t smoke. You tried it once and hated it, coughing up like a crude imitation of a dragon lighting up your first attempt, and never tried again after that. They’re actually Tim’s; he wants you to hold them to help kick his habit. 

Brian says it’s a sign he’s trusting you more and more. After all, no one knows Tim like him, and you trust your right hand’s judgment. 

Laying in the back seat is Brian himself. His forearm is over his eyes to shield them from the harsh overhead lights in the parking lot. He smells like pine, the woods, a bit of whiskey but not too much. He’s got his back windows rolled down as he waits with you for Toby and Tim to finish whatever the hell they’re doing inside the grocery store. You all needed some cash, and Tim has ways of getting it without any suspicion raised. Whole registers, wallets, purses, things lifted without so much as a smile on his face and an oddly friendly, ‘have a nice day’ in response. 

In your hands, you play with the lighter Tim also left with you. You flick it a few times before finally hearing your right hand’s voice. 

“Leave it,” he hums tiredly, not bothering to move his forearm from his closed eyes. “Thing’s low enough.”

You smile softly and cap it before resting it back in your jacket pocket. For a mid October day, it’s only a little cold, which is surprising. You expected it to be chillier. Or maybe that’s just your proxy blood telling you to not register cold the way a human might. There’s scrapes all over your body, some from missions, others from training, only one from The Operator himself. You trace over the heated mark on your clothed thigh and internally wince, remembering when you upset him. “Sorry,” you apologize half heartedly as you run your thumb in slow circles over the smooth box of cigarettes. “Just get antsy waiting.” 

Brian hums again in response as if to ask ‘why’, but makes no further move to press. He just smiles slightly in response to your presence. “You can always ask them how they’re doing,” he says. When you glance over your shoulder to peer at him through the windshield, he tapes at his temple. Head talk, of course. 

You squint a bit across the parking lot and feel a small bout of relief wash through your system as Tim and Toby step out of the store, bags in hand from legitimate purchases, and well, you can feel the things they acquired outside of legal bounds. “No need to,” you say in response to Brian. 

“Get off the hood,” Tim chides you slightly, but he makes no further move to disturb you. It’s said much like an older brother would to a pesky younger sibling. 

In solidarity, and out of a love for annoying his leader, Toby haphazardly opens the trunk of the car, tosses the bags inside which earns a scowl from Tim, and then bounds over to sit on the hood with you. He leans back a bit, resting his tired body alongside yours. “Kinda crowded in there,” he says to you, knowing you’re curious about how it all went. “Bit too crowded for a Thursday at 8pm,” he muses further. He runs his fingers through his chopped brown hair, gazing at the night sky. The moon has always captivated him. Reminds him of simpler times. He likes autumn just as much as you do, and this feels like the best it’s going to get. 

“What took you guys so long, then?” You inquire as you and Toby listen with half attention to Brian and Tim’s conversation. Something about future work, run of the mill proxy lifestyle things. 

Toby rummages around in his pockets and pulls out a handful of dum dum lollipops he lifted. He gives you a toothy grin and nods for you to pick a flavor before he settles on blue raspberry after you’ve chosen. He crinkles the wrapper, shoves it in his pocket and then holds his hand out for you to give him your wrapper as well. He pops the sweet thing in his mouth and savors the taste before shrugging a bit, “you know Tim. That’s how it always is.” He smiles when Tim taps the windshield in slight annoyance. 

“C’mon, get back in the car. We got somewhere to go,” Tim says as he starts the car up. Either you two get in, or he’s driving with you two strapped to the top of the car. 

“Shotgun-!”

“Sh-oh come on,” Toby sighs in defeat as you snicker in triumph and slide off the hood of the car. You pat his shoulder and then round your way to the passenger seat, settling in and feeling oddly warmer despite not registering you were cold to begin with. You watch as Toby slouches his way to the backseat with Brian, who at first, does not want to move for the former runt. When Toby shoves him, Brian only laughs and tells him to ‘not get your panties in a bunch’. 

“So, where are we going?” You ask as Tim puts the car in drive and smoothly leaves the parking lot. You’re always surprised at the places proxies end up. Right now, you’re in southern Illinois right around Ruth’s hometown. You wouldn’t tell her, but you visited her family’s farm and left a small gift. She would say it’s far too much, and even dangerous for proxy influence to be near her folks and younger siblings but The Operator’s always been fond of her. He wouldn’t hurt them. Not while she performs beautifully for him. 

Tim props his left arm up on the sill of the car window, resting his head there as he drives with one hand. He’s very relaxed, preferring driving at night as opposed to dealing with everyone else when the sun is out shining. He won’t admit it either, but he loves autumn nights like these too. He watches the lights of the town start to fade as you head further south. “Stopping in a small proxy town, meeting with EJ, then Jeff is gonna tag along. Something about… a farm? Lotta farms lately,” he chuckles tiredly. “It’s kinda perfect for Halloween - I’ve never seen The Operator so fascinated with a witch before. So, that. He said he wanted us with those two, and we’ll get further directions once we’re at said farm.” 

Brian clears his throat and adjusts his posture so he’s sitting up. “That farm gonna have pumpkins?” He asks. It’s surprisingly out of character for your right hand, arguably one of the most brutal proxies in your team. 

Tim shrugs. “Fuck if I know.” 

You laugh softly, “why? You wanna carve some?”

Some part of Brian’s old world personality shines through. His smile, the crinkle in his eyes despite him being older and no longer a college student but a weathered, jaded proxy is visible as he nods slightly. “Yeah,” he sniffs slightly, gaze now falling out the window at the orange, red and yellow trees visible from the car’s headlights as you pass, only to see them disappear as the four of you roll through. “Always liked autumn,” he says. 

There’s that warm, gentle feeling again. You focus on your lollipop, feeling the presence of something mulled and sweet. This is as good as it’s gonna get. 

“Yeah,” a pause, “me too.” 

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

Ticci Toby/Tobias Rogers

Sorry this took so long!! I’ve been contemplating writing one shots, but I feel like I should get the head canons out first. If any of you have any ideas for one shots (x readers, char x char, nsfw), my request box is open! I’ll get around to them as soon as possible. :)

- 5’11! Sleeper build and scrawny, but extremely strong upper arms. He’s not as fast as Kate and Brian, but he makes up for it with how long he can run. He never gets tired and can chase victims for hours. Lots of freckles, too!

- White with mostly German heritage. He doesn’t know very much German, just baseline stuff he learned from his mom. (Connie grew up in Germany until she was 15.)

- Medium brown hair and dark brown eyes. He’s pretty pale, but being outside most of the time he does have a slight tan, lots of freckles too.

- His dad was extremely abusive and would beat him, his mom, and his sister, it was rare for him to not be drunk. Toby killed him only a few hours after his father beat his mom to the point she was unconscious. He’d rather his mom lose both of her children and her abusive husband than endure so much pain, he cared about her more than anything. He didn’t want to sit idly by as he loses his sister and mother.

- His fingers are TORN up. Bites and picks at his nails, cuticles, dry knuckles, all of it. His fingertips and palms are also super calloused.

- Hangs out with Jeff and Ben most of the time. He’s closer to Ben and thinks Jeff’s a douche, but he puts up with him since sometimes the three of them have fun.

- He can be a jerk, but if you’re able to break past his shell he’s super sweet. He’s still sarcastic and snarky, but not necessarily mean. VERY smug.

- Had Jeff do a tattoo of Lyra’s birthday on his shoulder. It turned out surprisingly good. He was originally going to do her death date, but he felt like it was better to honor the time she was alive.

- Halloween junkie. He has a massive sweet tooth and loves autumn, so it’s the perfect day ever in his eyes.

- This guy DESTROYS in poker and blackjack. The few times his dad would spend time with him they’d play together. Even though he hated him, it meant a lot to him when he was little. Has the teeny tiniest gambling addiction, makes a bunch of bets with other residents of the mansion and usually wins.

- MIDWESTERN EMO BOY!!!! I will die on this hill. Music taste, clothing, all of it.

- His tics are pretty rare now that he’s older, but when he’s anxious they get bad.

- Exclusively wears comfortable clothes. Not because he gets uncomfortable, he could (and does) sleep in jeans and not be bothered. When he was younger he would always be forced to wear slacks, dress shoes, button ups, and ties for church or family gatherings. He HATED it.

- Him, Tim, and Brian are usually put on missions together. They’re all pretty compatible, and it’s nice to talk to just some regular ass dudes. Sometimes all three of them will go to run down diner’s if they finished their mission early, it’s the most normality any of them have in their lives.

- He and Tim bicker a LOT, but he secretly find comfort in it. He sees Tim as a protective older brother, rather than someone who just hates him. With how his dad treated him growing up, he thought all arguing was yelling and being aggressive, but Tim’s is more disagreement or annoyance.

- Almost knows how to play the acoustic guitar. He’s a quick learner, but he doesn’t have a crazy strong desire to get better at it.

- Pretty much always wears a big bandaid over his cheek gash. He’s not necessarily insecure about it unless he has a crush on someone, but it’s hard to eat or drink when it’s just open.

- He’s actually not to bad at soccer! Sometimes when it’s nice out him and Cody find a ball and play.

- Anywho, I’m in love with him.

Feedback and requests are welcome! Thank you for reading. :)

✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩

[sw-33-ts-stuff]

She Don’t Wanna Marry Me

Lorraine Day X Reader

A/N: I would like to apologize and thank everyone for the likes comments and reblogs. You guys are awesome and I suck 😭 having some writers block but I’ll try to get to those requests and finish what I started for now here’s a random one shot I wrote in the middle of the night

3rd Person POV

7 years old

You watched as a snot nosed boy pushed a pretty little girl with a pony tail, overalls and freckles into the sand.

It wasn't until teary big brown eyes met yours that you stepped into action. You cocked your fist back and let it fly smiling as it made contact with the boys face. His cry catching the attention of your teacher who grabbed you by the arm dragging you to her office.

The brunette in the sand box sniffled as she sent you a small smile and wave.

It was after school as you sat waiting for your mom (who you knew wasn't coming anytime soon) when she came next to you.

You both sat on a bench you still as her feet swung from one after the other.

"My names Lorraine." You glanced to see her not looking at you but rather her shoes.

"Y/n." You mumbled.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble."

"S'ok. Brian's a dick." The girl looked at you wide eyed.

"Daddy says I shouldn't say words like that." You shrug.

"He's not here." You smile cheekily at her. The girl stares at you for a beat before she continues.

"He said my voice was weird and my freckles were ugly."

"I like your voice and I think your freckles are pretty." The girl smiled as her feet kept kicking her eyes watching as her shoe laces would bounce with her.

"Lorraine!" An older woman stepped out of her car walking up to the two of you. The girl jumped up from the bench hugging the woman around her legs making her laugh. "Hey baby. How was your day?"

The sound in her voice was thicker than her daughters and she was very pretty. You looked back to the girl seeing the similarities between the two.

"I made a friend today!" She smiled up at the older woman before bringing her to you.

The woman looked down at you smiling slightly concerned as she noticed the quickly emptying parking lot.

"Well any friend of Lorraine's is a friend of mine! What's your name sweetie?"

"Y/n L/n, ma'am." She laughed.

"Don't call me ma'am it just makes me feel old." You nod not meeting her gaze. "Where's your parents sweetheart?"

You shrug. "Sometimes mom forgets to get me."

Her eyebrows furrow.

"And what about your dad?" You shrug again.

"I don't know him." Mrs.Day softly placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Do you know how to get home?" You nod. "Come on then I'll give you a ride."

You stand up slinging your back pack on your shoulder, grabbing Lorraine's as well. Her mom smiles at the action helping you in the car as her daughter bounced excitedly in the back seatbelt already on.

You tell her mother how to get to your house and she pulls up to see a car in the driveway house lights on. She notices besides the directions you were quiet as her daughter retold your meeting today. As you go to leave you thank her quietly almost reluctant to leave the car.

Mrs.Day waits until you get inside seeing a shadow greet you before you wave politely and shut the door.

"Rainey baby?"

"Yes mama?"

"I want you to keep an eye out for your new friend alright? Y'all stick together." The small girl nodded bouncing in her seat.

13 years old

"Say it again asshole." You grit your teeth pulling the boy closer to you. The boy in front of you trembling in your hold on his shitty t-shirt.

"Y/N!" A small hand grabs your shoulder

forcing you to loosen your grip. "Let him go. You can't get in anymore trouble."

You look into deep brown eyes sighing, pushing him away from you. "Beat it."

He doesn't hesitate to run from you quickly grabbing his bag as he flips you off. You scowl before turning back to his savior.

"C'Mon Raine." You whined. She crossed her arms over her chest raising one eyebrow at you. You huff grabbing her bag as the bell rings. "Alright." Your shoulders slump slightly. "Lemme walk you to class." She smiles linking her arm through yours as she laughs.

"Mama always said underneath that tough exterior is a giant teddy bear." Your scowl deepens but you say nothing as you keep walking next to her preparing for an hour of monotone voices and bullshit. "Remember the day I made you marry me?"

You glance at her lips almost turning up into a smile.

"I also remember a very demanding doll yelling at us to kiss." Olive cheeks bloom red as she pushed some of her hair behind her ear.

"Well I remember someone promising to love me forever and ever and never marrying anyone else." Mischief swirled in her eyes and she dug her fingers into your side: it was your turn to flush embarrassed as you thought back to the day you two had been "married". Her father and mother had a field day helping the two of you make Lorraine's dream wedding.

The backyard full of flowers a few chairs and her father even walked her down the isle to you.

You cough shrugging her off. "Whatever, I'll see you after class?" She nods smirking and taking the bag from you. Her smirk falls as she points a finger to scold you.

"I expect you to go to class after this Y/N you know how upset mama and daddy will get if they hear you're ditching...again." You nod, the girl always knew how to get to you. She smiled knowing she'd won leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You turn quickly so she can't see your smile as you run down the hall. Your pace getting even faster as you hear the warning bell.

18 years old

"So everyone I would like us all to raise our glass to Lorraine who's going to university."

You raised your cup before bringing it to your lips, Mrs.Day's sweet tea tasting bitter as you watched everyone celebrate Lorraine's soon to be departure.

The girl in question saddled up next to you. "You know it's not too late right?"

You looked down at her wanting to tell her. It is too late, you tried applying to the same school as her but your scores weren't as high and you refused to take advantage of her parents. It was enough they took you in and cared for you since you'd met them. You'd never be able to repay them if they covered your college tuition.

You shrug. "You know I'm not meant for college."

Her eyes softened as she looked at you. "I know that's what your mom told you, but that doesn't mean she was right."

"So miss big shot...maybe I should get your autograph now before you become a big time author." Her smile grew wide as you said this but she shrugged.

"I doubt it." You shook your head.

"You're gonna forget about us small town folk once you get to the big city."

"I would never." She looked up at you, a comforting silence fell between the two of you and you felt the tension growing as her gaze went from your eyes to your lips. You leaned in pausing to see her reaction, and for a moment you swore she was leaning in too.

"RAINEY! COME GIVE YOUR GRANDPA A HUG!" You sighed licking your lips as you leaned back, the girl quickly regaining her composure before she went to greet her other family members.

"Love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that they themselves commit." Mrs.Day appeared next to you.

"Shakespeare." She looked to you not surprised that you'd known where the quote came from, he was her daughters favorite author.

"It's not too late." You almost laugh at the irony. Like mother like daughter.

"She doesn't know but I tried." You turned to her mother. "I spent hours, nights, days studying but I just kept falling short." The older woman's eyes softened as your confession pulled at her heart strings.

"We can-"

You shook your head. "You all have given me so much I refuse to be more of a burden to you."

"Now stop right there." You straightened up as the usual soft tone in her voice grew harsh. "Mr. Day and I love you like our own and we never-"

"I know but.." you sighed. "You guys should focus on Raine and her needs, I made sure I got a job so I at least wouldn't be mooching off you too much by staying here."

You looked to see the girl smiling and laughing with those around her. Mrs.Day looking to you and then back to her daughter who'd always seemed to keep a close eye on you without you knowing. When one wasn't looking the other was. She shook her head after the day you two had met you revolved around one another like magnets the further anyone tried to hold you apart, the stronger the connection would pull you back together.

21 Years Old

Your foot bounced as you sat at the table with Mr. and Mrs. Day awaiting the guest of honor, their daughter. Over the years she'd visit home here and there but you'd always seemed to just miss her whenever she'd come by. At first you two would talk every day and night but the calls came less frequent, you'd be lucky to get a text on your birthday or if she'd heard good news through the grapevine.

Your breath caught at the sight of her walking through the front door and you felt a smile work it's way up, you went to stand but quickly fell back as a tall scrawny boy followed behind her. His nice attire and constant eye twitching telling you all you needed to know.

"Mama, Daddy I want you to meet RJ my boyfriend." She hasn't noticed you were there yet her parents insisted they'd surprise her with your presence. Mr. Day looked to the boy sizing him up as Mrs.Day just stared. You cleared your throat.

"Hey Raine I hope you don't mind me joining." The small girl looked up wide eyed and incredulous.

She threw her arms around your neck almost choking you in the process. Her mother still staring with a look of confusion as her father said nothing. Deciding to play nice you shake the boys hand.

"Nice to meet you RJ." He gulped smiling gratefully to you as he shook your hand wincing at the grip.

"You too uhh...."

"Y/n. I'm guessing Lorraine hasn't really mentioned me huh?" The realization stung as you'd gone to sit back down you'd happen to glance at the girls finger seeing a diamond catch the light.

"Umm baby is there something you want to tell us?" Mrs.Day had caught sight of it before you did and planted one hand on yours hoping to comfort you.

"We're getting married!" She squealed. Mr.Days mustache twitched as he stared in silence. You cleared your throat.

"This feels like a family thing so I'll just excuse myself. Nice to meet you Reggie." Mr.Day finally cracked a smile as Mrs.Day held back a laugh.

"It's RJ." He murmured. You nodded.

"Right, good to see you Lorraine." You nodded at her. Her eyebrows furrowed it was rare you called her by her name when addressing her.

"But Y/n-" Her mother cut her off to help you.

"So tell us how did you two meet?"the sounds of the restaurant faded as you quickly drive to the closest bar you could find.

Once you pulled into the parking lot you sat for a moment fists pounding the wheel.

"FUCK!"

22 Years Old

You read the same invitation over and over until the words were permanently etched into your brain. Their wedding was set just a few months from today, you felt numb as you thought back to the countless drinks and the one night stands you tried to have to erase the girls hold on you. Unfortunately for you it never left, not when you'd met girls who were the exact opposite of everything she was. Not when you'd move out of her parents house insisting it was time for you to stand on your own two feet, and especially not now when her wedding invitation stared back at you, taunting you.

Your phone buzzed as you'd received a text from Mrs.Day

Come to the house I know you haven't had a decent meal in months and Lorraine's here

Sorry Mrs.Day gotta catch up

On work

You put the phone down quickly immersing yourself in meaningless tasks.

"Hello?" The timid voice accompanied by the soft southern accent was unmistakable and you silently cursed to yourself when you bumped your head shooting up in surprise.

You grabbed a towel wiping your hands before following her voice.

"Hey Lorraine." You cleared your throat as you rubbed the back of your neck. The woman smiled softly at you as two girls next to her came closer.

"Ooooh Mouse you didn't tell me your childhood best friend was such a cutie. Hi baby I'm Bobby." Pearly whites shined at you as the next girl came closer eyeing you like a piece of meat.

"I'm Maxine." She purred holding her hand out, you shook it being polite before looking back to Lorraine.

"They're my bridesmaids and roommates. They wanted to meet you but mama said you were busy so she gave me the address." She looked around a proud grin on her lips. "You always had a thing for cars." You nod again a slight smirk to follow.

Bobby eyed the both of you nudging Maxine as she did so, the former already catching drift of what was going on. The two shared a glance before turning to the scene in front of them. Lorraine stepped closer looking at you up and down a mixture of interest and concern.

"You look good, mama said she's worried about you eating though." You shrug laughing.

"It's a physical job and you know how your mom is."

"We'll she's worried about you." A pause. "I am too." You look into soft brown eyes and feel your shoulders slump. You sigh beginning to slide your overalls off your shoulders displaying a greasy tank top.

"Ok, I'll go to the house to get dinner when I finish." The same look that made you cave in high school gets you again. You groan. "Alright Raine I'll go now and close up shop sound good?"

She smiles victorious as the girls behind her begin giggling. You follow them out as Lorraine makes sure you're right behind them. You climb the bike you've spilt blood sweat and tears on making Maxine whistle.

Lorraine feels odd watching her friend walk up to you and place her hand on your shoulder fingertips dragging slowly down before making their way up the path again.

"Hey girl you ok?" Bobby gets her out of her own head as she nods.

"YOU GUYS GO AHEAD IMMA CATCH A RIDE WITH GREASE LIGHTNING!" Lorraine hears you huff out a soft laugh. Your rev the bike twice before you pull up next to her.

"We'll meet you at the house Raine." She watches as you race to her house.

"Let's go." She says harshly to Bobby marching to her car.

She finds you standing in her driveway waiting patiently as Maxine lays across your bike trying to get to your attention. You straighten up as she gets out the car smiling slightly confused as to why she’s pouting. The only other times she’s done this was when you were younger and wouldn’t follow her plans. The door swings open warmth and familiarity wrapping around you.

Her mother greets you with a hug and kisses all over your face and it occurs to her maybe she wasn’t exaggerating, you haven't been home a lot either.

Mrs.Day smacks your shoulder. "You've had me worried sick."

The girls melt as they watch you soften up and hug the woman. "Sorry."

Mr.Day laughs seeing you get scolded by his wife. "I told ya she'd be coming for your hide. Now come here and give your old man a hug too."

You smile as you both try to crush each others spines.

"Now you..." Mrs.Day pulled you away. "Need to get ready, go shower that gunk off and be sure to wear something nice."

When you came back down Maxine let's out a slow whistle. "And I thought you looked good before."

You rubbed the back of your neck clearing your throat. "Thank you."

Lorraine stares hard at Maxine slowly getting more and more agitated by her behavior around you. This doesn't escape her mom or Bobby's attention. It also doesn't slip past Bobby that displayed proudly by the stairs is a picture of you and Lorraine in what seems to be a wedding as kids. She already felt Lorraine was out of RJ's league but to know she had someone waiting for her just solidified her predictions. She watched Lorraine walk up to you quiet as always. Church mouse was her nickname for a reason but at the moment she was anything but. Lorraine lays a hand on your shoulder effectively taking your attention away from anything that isn't her.

She watched as she used that hand to pull you into the kitchen and prepare you a plate of food. She cocked her head to the side as she gauged your reactions, she knew Lorraine well enough but you were another story entirely and yet she felt as if she may have already figured you out. The way you moved with her, gave in, and followed her she would've thought you were her fiancé. Especially with how attentive she was as you sat to eat, you going as far to give her some bites as you saw her eyeing certain foods on your plate.

"Rainey baby where are you?"

And just like that your bubble is broken, Bobby watches as you suddenly grow stiff and lose your appetite. The minute Lorraine leaves the seat next to you, she fills it.

"I got a question for you honey…”You look up surprised before nodding at her to continue.

"How long you've been in love with Lorraine?" She pulls out the picture of your first wedding. You smirk sadly chuckling a bit as you stroke the picture.

"I don't think there was a time when I wasn't in love with Lorraine."

"What happened?" You shrug.

"She don't wanna marry me."

Taglist: @alexkolax @wol-fica @natasha25052 @pdione11 @dksjskx @the-camilucha

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of february

avery r. young peestain

claudine toutoungi future perfect

david rivard bewitched playground: "not guilty"

brian kim stefans the future is one of place

lisa gill post-traumatic rainstorm

clare pollard pinocchios

rebecca lindenberg love, an index: "catalogue of ephemera"

etel adnan the arab apocalypse: "xxxvi"

stanley moss god breaketh not all men's hearts alike: "a blind fisherman"

robert browning an epistle containing the strange medical experience of karshish, the arab physician

tom sleigh beirut tank

khaled mattawa ismailia eclipse: "date palm trinity"

mark levine unemployment (3)

lucia cherciu butter, olive oil, flour

reginald shepherd fata morgana: "you, therefore"

john updike claremont hotel, southwest harbour, maine

bruce smith the other lover: "february sky"

johnny cash forever words: the unknown poems: "don't make a movie about me"

eamon grennan what light there is & other poems: "jewel box"

eduardo c. corral in colorado my father scoured and stacked dishes

thomas mccarthy the beginning of colour

divya victor curb: "blood / soil"

henneh kyereh kwaku in praise

joanna fuhrman to a new era: "lavender"

rosemary catacalos sight unseen

sam willetts digging

megan fernandes winter

jaswinder bolina the plague on tv

juan felipe herrera notes on the assemblage: "almost livin' almost dyin'"

kofi

[huntress-the-wolf]

i made a small drumbot brian plush for my friends birthday

his hair isnt the right colour because i had to needle felt his beard and that was the only brown wool so i had and i had to use matching felt

i also made a tiny banjo and a cool box thats meant to look like the aurora

[spook-inoue]

Sweet.

Hoodie x F Reader ~ (Short)

The worn out old garage with low yellow lit lights that would flicker every few minutes gave me a headache while wiping the old build up of blood that has now hardened on the many different tools owned by my neighbours. But In this very moment, the only thought I could think about was how my fingers would feel going through his hair. Would it easily slip through- Or would it get tangled up?

“ Y/N. “

“ Yes? ”

His commanding tone just made me more tense, if he could hear my thoughts it would be humiliating. But a part of me wishes he knew what I was thinking.

I’ve been working with Brian, or well ‘Hoodie’ for 2 years now. Ever since I’ve been recruited into the shit show. The operator found me in a vulnerable moment and took advantage of it. Made me another one of his minions, we all are aware that that’s what we are. But what els do we have to live for?

“ could you hand me a new cloth? “

His faded worn out yellow hoodie was tied around his waist while his mask remained on. His light brown hair was sticking out from the bottom back of his mask that would lift up whenever he moved too fast due to it not being put on properly.

“ Yeah. “

I reached down to grab a new cloth for him from underneath the bench I was cleaning tools on. As much as I hate cleaning duty, I never mind spending it with him. I held out the cloth for him to take.

“Thank’s Doll. “

Doll. Little pet names and nicknames he would throw around when talking, did he just do it to me? I’m not sure. I’ve over heard him talking to our other female Co workers. He would give them little pet names too when thanking them, I surely wasn’t special? And it angered me. But god, the affect those little names had on me. I bit my tongue when his fingers brushed against my hand as he took the cloth from my hand, I only returned a simple nod before continuing to clean.

He was a quiet man, only spoke when needing something or answering someone. He rarely made small talk, only people I’ve seen him have full conversations with were Tim and occasionally Toby and Jack. But mostly Tim. They both worked in pairs mostly, a perfect duo to pick for big assignments that needed to be done right.

A strong taste of Copper went over my taste buds, the edge of my tongue ruff and hot from the friction of my teeth. Unconsciously I kept biting my tongue without realising, I coughed out into my hand bothered by the unpleasant taste of my own blood in the moment.

Blood from my tongue was sprinkled onto my hand before I wiped it off on another cloth annoyed that I allowed that to happen.

“ Coughing blood? “

He questioned tossing a newly cleaned knife into a worn out box, reaching for the next bloodied up weapon to disinfect. His voice was monotone, but had a slight hint of curiosity in it. I cleared my throat from the copper taste.

“ Just bit my tongue. “

He chuckled, his voice low and deep. It made my heart rise suddenly, it made me nervous.

“ That hard? How? “

Now turning his head towards me, waiting for my response. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to get a kick out of it; or was actually genuinely curious. I couldn’t read him at all.

“ accident. I’m okay, got too focused and didn’t realise- haha “

A moment of silence passed between us as he took his time to respond.

“ Focused on cleaning? That’s the first. “

Just as I thought the topic was dropped I heard the sound of tools being thumbed down as foot steps approached me. His arm rested onto my bench as he leaned towards me.

“ You sure you’re okay? “

No I wasn’t.

“ You’re always so quiet around me, why’s that? “

Me being quiet? No it’s you. He leaned closer, I felt the tickle of the warm taste of copper in my mouth leaked from my tongue as a drop escapes on my lips.

“ I’m not sure what you mean? “

I know what he means. Im a very chatty person, but when it comes to him. My words get caught in my throat. He lifts up his mask only revealing his mouth and nose, my eyes widen a bit surprised. This is the closest I’ve ever seen him without his mask on, it almost felt disrespectful to look- unconsciously I moved my head to the side avoiding to look at him.

His hand grips my chin forcing it towards him, his thumb moves over my bottom lip slowly smearing the blood all over his thumb before bringing up to his face. my blood on it. He sticks his tounge out and licks the blood clean off before smirking at me, all I could do was stare. The lower part of my body screaming while I gawked up to him like a god.

“ it’s sweet. “

He said before pulling his mask back down.

“ I see what you do. “ he moved away walking to the door

“ You’re not sneaky, Y/N. “

Looks like that wished came true, and now I’m not sure if I peed myself or if it was something else.

[graphicpolicy]

Legalization Nation is an interesting graphic novel on the haphazard legalization of cannabis

Legalization Nation is an interesting graphic novel on the haphazard legalization of cannabis #comics #comicbooks #graphicnovel #ncbd

New York Times-bestseller and Eisner Award-winner Brian Box Brown returns with a collection of his weekly comic strip which focuses on the ins and outs of cannabis legalization. Legalization Nation collects the last 3 years worth of strips and is considered by many in cannabis circles to be the true conscience of the cannabis world. Story: Brian Box BrownArt: Brian Box Brown Get your copy now!…

[clown-paws]

> heart emoji

> ID below and in alt text-

[Image Description: A four-panel cartoon comic titled "celebrities shop too," by "my silly comics" which is all one word. It is uncoloured, with black line art on a white background.

Panel 1: In the top left corner there is a rectangular box with the text "at the store," inside. A person is standing beside a small, round table with a yellow can of peaches on top of it. They are smiling down at it, eyelids drooped. The text above them reads "peach time [ellipsis]"

Panel 2: A close up of the person's hand, reaching to grab the peach can. Another person's hand is doing the same, and they slightly brush fingers.

Panel 3: A photo of Ben Below as Drumbot Brian has been edited onto the panel. He is sitting down on stage, looking upwards with a big smile. He is wearing a white shirt and light brown vest, and his black top hat with goggles and a rose. The text above him reads,"ah [exclamation point] so sorry."

Panel 4: A bust close up of the first person, still smiling and eyelids drooped. The text above them reads, "dr [ellipsis] drumbot brian [ellipses]"

End ID.]

[avalentina]

The Kindest Team Guy (TKTG)

IT'S HERE! PART 1 TO THE KINDEST TEAM GUY, my Navy Sealrry AU! ENJOY!

-Ava

TKTG Masterlist

(image not mine, the white suit was giving me Navy dress white vibes tho)

One

Growing up, you were always around the same people, your mom had up and left shortly after you turned two, after that it was you and your dad. At the time, your father's call sign was 7 alpha 3, the demo guy, but that was when he was deployed and you were staying with Raina and her mom.

By the time you were 8, your dad was 7 Alpha 1, Master Chief Brian Fraiser. Your dad's team was your family. Heck to you they were your uncles. There was uncle Mitch-7 alpha 2 and Raina's dad. Uncle Jensen-7 alpha 3 (he was always the fun one, snuck you extra dessert), Uncle Craig-7 alpha 4 (he was gruff, but also a softie), Uncle Andy-7 alpha 5 (he was your favorite, because whenever he was there, so was Cheddar), Cheddar was uncle Andy's dog and the team K-9, Uncle Derrick-7 alpha 6, Uncle Dante-7 alpha 7, and Uncle Shane-7 alpha-8.

During a highly classified mission gone wrong shortly before your 16th birthday, your dad lost his life getting the rest of his team out safely. When the team returned to Coronado his body was in a pine wood box, a flag draped over the top. Now this easily could've been the traumatic life event that sent you spiraling into the world of drugs, alcohol, and all of that other horrible stuff, but it wasn't, at least not immediately. You graduated high school top of your class, you attended MIT and graduated with honors. And then you moved back home to Coronado, California. Uncle Mitch was now 7 Alpha 1 and you begged and pleaded with him to give you answers about what happened to your dad. You got the same hero speech from him and everyone else on Alpha team, including the new demo guy Harry who had just finished green team. Your formal request to the base and up the chain of command went absolutely nowhere. And finally after a year of begging for answers the right way, you turned to what you knew best, hacking.

You started small just to make sure your skills were still as sharp as could be. You chased down lead after lead after lead. Every single last tiny breadcrumb, until finally it clicked for you, all you'd need to really break open the system was access, and what better way to get it than by exploiting your connection to Seal Team 7 Alpha.

Harry was definitely the easiest mark, he knew of you but he didn't know you the way the rest of the team did, plus he was still a single male in his late twenties who enjoyed getting his dick wet. You took your time setting the trap, making it foolproof, all the way down to the strappy red top, denim miniskirt, white converse low tops and the perfect red lipstick. You walked into the cookout looking like straight fire and Harry ate it up, plus the other guys knew that Harry was one of the good ones and thus actually kind of encouraged the two of you, after all a six year age gap was nothing compared to Derrick and his new wife's 16 year age difference.

Harry asked you out on a date the very next day. To your surprise he set the bar quite high, after all he took you to Il Fornaio. He also didn't try to hide where you were going, he knew that wasn't the place you show up to in jeans and an old Coronado Amphibious Base t-shirt. Honestly, had you not been playing him, you could've seen yourself falling for him then and there. Harry was a gentleman at dinner and he insisted on holding your heels for you while the two of you just walked along the beach. He had gorgeous soft green eyes, currently trimmed dark brown curls, tattoos littered across his body like most other SEALs, and a smooth deep British accent that you found out came from his mother, his parents were divorced and he always enjoyed visiting his green beret father in the US, he had held dual citizenship almost his entire life. He told you how his father's line went back to the very first class of green berets and his decision to become a SEAL was hard on their relationship. His father was proud of course, him choosing to serve the US, but always made comments on how being a green beret wasn't good enough for Harry. In all truth, Harry just wanted to forge his own path. He was not his father and though he admired his service and bravery, Harry just wanted to carve his own way, leave the Styles name out of things.

Harry was also a very bright person as you found out, you knew he had to be in order to be a demolitions and explosives expert, but he wasn't just that kind of bright, Harry was quite the colorful person. He wore a black button up with lavender colored shorts, black gazelles, and had pink rimmed aviators folded on his not even half buttoned shirt, having undone another three since the two of you started your walk.

A chaste goodnight kiss outside your apartment building led to a deep, heated one and an invitation upstairs that he gladly accepted. Harry was strong enough to just toss you and your mildly curvy self around with ease, as was evidenced by how he quite literally just lifted your feet up off the elevator floor and threw you over his shoulder nonchalantly asking which way to your door. You kept your eyes on the way all the muscles in his back flexed as he walked and the firm ass hiding behind those shorts. You could honestly just tell that you were about to be ruined for other men, which sucked because you knew you wouldn't be able to see this one again. When he stopped in front of your door you gave his ass a quick smack just to confirm your suspicions.

"Heaven help me, even his ass is all muscle." You whispered to yourself, apparently not quiet enough though because a deep chuckle emerged from Harry.

"I'm a SEAL, and underwater explosives are one of my favorite things to handle, of course my ass is muscle." He continued, setting you upright so you could unlock your door.

"And not even a little bit cocky about it either." You commented back.

"You haven't seen me anywhere close to cocky yet love." He answered, pulling your back flush against his front. You moaned at the feeling of his well endowed package against the fleshy curves of your ass.

“I’m looking forward to it.” you said while opening your door.

Immediately after stepping over the threshold, harry had your door closed, locked, and your front pressed against it. He gave you a quick swat on the rear and moaned at the sight.

“Fuck,” he cursed before kissing you again. Harry’s mouth demanded access and you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to(which you didn't).

“Har, touch me, please.” You practically begged, having had enough of your teasing banter for one night.

“So desperate you can’t even say both syllables of m'name anymore.” He taunted you before quite literally ripping your dress off your body, the black lace set you wore underneath was stunning on you but it didn’t stand a chance when set between the man and achieving complete mission success. It was like watching a singular piece of paper go through an industrial grade shredding machine, or ripping a flimsy receipt in half, there one second, completely gone the next. The sting from the snap of the thong sent tingles to all the right places. A quick glance up showed Harry still fully clothed as your fingers rushed to even the score.

“Well, go on then, get rid of it, know you wanna touch them, I saw you eyeing my ink.”

“It’s just… they’re just so… i just want to lick them all.” you stuttered at first before just letting it out. Harry’s eyes darkened even more as you shoved the shirt off his broad shoulders and pushed him onto your bed. You immediately climbed over him and lazily traced the ‘17 Black’ tat with your tongue before moving inwards to the swallows and down to the butterfly. Harry rid himself of his shorts while you took your sweet time on the butterfly loving the way his muscles tensed and relaxed as you swept your tongue over the lines of ink. You heard his breath catch as you reached the laurels and wet them before jumping straight to the tiger. You took a bold chance and scraped your teeth along the tiger as you made your return to his brief covered cock that is definitely leaking if the wet patch on said briefs is anything to go by. You take a hot second to feel him up over the cloth restraint before taking his cock out and looking up at him.

You bat your eyes innocently and descend, wrapping your lips around him. Up, down, hold. That’s the pattern you use, after a bit you take him further, brushing your nose against the littered hairs and running your tongue along his sac.

“FUCK.” you hear him curse and you smile before popping off for a breath. Harry pulls you up and smothers your lips with his, one hand wound in your hair and the other kneading your ass. With a quick smack he rolls so you’re pinned under him. “My turn for a taste.”

With that he lowers his face to your tits, licking and suckling until they both stand at attention for him. Leaving his hands to play, he continues south until he is right over your dripping cunt. Harry is not the jump right in and get it done kind of guy. Well, that's not true because he can be if he wants to be, or if his companion for the night begs him enough. But tonight is not one of those nights. He starts slow, completely avoiding the spots he knows you want him most. Instead going for your plush thigh, trailing his tongue down further still he presses quick kisses from the back of your knee all the way down to your ankle before repeating his movements going up the other leg.

By the time he reaches your mound again, you're a panting, whimpering, moaning mess and he loves it. Would bottle up those sounds and replay them over and over again when he needs to get himself off.

Harry continues to tease you, pressing the softest barely there kisses all over your soaked pussy.

"More, Harry, please, I need more, FUCK!" You cry out until at long last he sucks your clit right into his mouth, pops off after just a second and dives head first into your dripping heat.

"Oh, GOD! Harry, I'm about to come."

"Let it go y/n. I want every last drop." Harry replies, his voice sending vibrations through you, and just like that you're flying over the edge into the best, longest, most intense orgasm you've ever experienced.

Harry doesn't let up until he's sure he cleaned it all up.

"Fucking delicious." He says before kissing you again. The lingering bit is passed back and forth as you continue to twirl your tongue with Harry's. After a moment he pulls away and grabs a condom out of a side pocket in his shorts.

"Up to you love." He says, completely genuine, but also with a full smirk.

"Yes please, Petty Officer Styles." You teasingly sass back.

"And for full points?" He teases, slowly ripping the condom packet and rolling it on.

"Petty Officer Second Class Harry Styles." You reply, using his full rank.

"Good girl." He answers and slowly sinks into your cunt until he bottoms out.

"Fuck, you're so fucking deep Harry. Feels so fucking good."

"This fucking pussy was made for me, damnit, taking me so well darling, the perfect squeeze.

"Oh God, go, GO HARRY!" you command and like an obedient soldier he follows orders, pulling out halfway and thrusting back in. Further and further he pulls back until only his tip remains. Fucking you so thoroughly, you're glad you have a corner apartment and no shared walls in your bedroom. There would be no mistaking the moans of pleasure, the thorough banging of a headboard, and the slick sounds of Harry gliding in and out of you at a ruthless pace and consistency only a SEAL could.

You screw your eyes shut as he plunges impossibly deeper, so deep your sure he'll split you in half. He's relentless, not slowing down, not letting up. Harry plunges into you, again and again and again, you can feel the bubble rising ready to pop when he stills inside you, effectively removing you from the edge.

"Not…yet… want…to…see…if…i can…get…a…good…gush…from…you." He says in between deep, quick thrusts.

"Harry, I haven't squirted since college.

"Don't need you to squirt, just a good gush, I want you to drench my fucking cock. Makes me come harder, and I'm barely holding it back now you're so fucking perfect. Can you do that f'me? Be a good girl and gush all over m'cock?"

"FUCK!" You let out as his dirty words wash over you and make you want nothing more than just to please this hot as fuck man. Whatever he wants, you will give. Your vision goes fuzzy as you feel yourself tip over.

"Atta girl!" Harry praises you and flicks your clit just right, you can't help but continue to gush. A pleasured cry of, "Shit, yes baby," leaves his mouth as he spills into the condom.

After just a moment, he carefully pulls out and heads into your ensuite to dispose of the rubber. He returns with a warm rag and ever so gently cleans you up before tossing the rag in your towel bin. After which he climbs back into your bed behind you for a warm cuddle.

"Do you want me to stay, or would you prefer I head out?" He asks you quietly.

"Stay." You whisper just before falling asleep.

The next morning you awake to the sound of your shower running and realize that now is your chance. His wallet is still in his shorts and you quickly nab his military id before cloning it and returning the original.

When Harry exits your ensuite you're back in bed, eyes wide open as he steps out, towel drying his trimmed curls.

"Oh, you're awake. Hope you don't mind that I took a quick shower. If the guys catch me smelling like sex this morning they probably won't be happy."

"Instead you can smell like citrus and lavender?" They'll still know it's mine, I've used that stuff most of my life, helps me stay calm and it's not overbearing. Hell it's been in Mitch's house. From my sleepovers with Raina." You reply.

"Oh well, too late now. But I was thinking I could pick up a few things after my day and cook you dinner?" He asks, not being shy about wanting to see you again.

"Not tonight, I've got a full day of coding ahead of me. Won't be out of my office until late, like early morning late." You say as you walk him out. "Call me tomorrow?" You add with a wink. Harry smiles and then heads towards base.

*Harry's POV*

After a nice ride to base, on top of everything last night, I'm on fucking cloud nine. Y/N was just so fucking perfect, she's beautiful, intelligent, witty, and being in her presence is like rays of sunshine peeking through the clouds. She definitely has the spirit to be a category five hurricane, but she also just doesn't give a damn if she doesn't want to. The perfect switch, that complements mine real well. I'm practically daydreaming as I walk through the halls duffle in hand and badge at the ready. When I hit the cages, I change quickly before slapping on my tracking bracelet and slipping in my earbuds for a nice long run.

After a good hour, I swap my shorts and tank for the dive gear in my backpack. A waterproof earpiece from base command tells me where I'm headed and outlines a few details about my 'mission'. When the timer starts running down I'm quick to dive under and head towards the sonar signal. I diffuse fake bomb after fake bomb, inspect entrance hatches and disarm explosive after explosive meant to kill me and the rest of my team with tripwire traps and riggings. I go until my oxygen tank gets too low to continue at which point I head for dry land and a quick briefing with Mitch.

"The fuck are you doing looking into that op Harry?" Mitch hollers, glaring daggers at me.

"What op? I haven't looked at a digital screen other than my tracker and cell all day. I've been underwater for the last four hours, sir." I reply, having no clue what the fuck he's going on about.

"Prove it, pull up the tracker," he commands and I follow my orders without hesitation.

"Who was your acting command officer?" He asks, now clearly pissed about something else. "And give me your damn badge."

"Lieutenant Commander Danielson was my ACO sir." I reply and hand him my badge.

"With me," is all he says before leaving the room and I don't hesitate to follow.

When we reach Danielson's sector Mitch calls out, "Danny, were you Styles' ACO today?"

"Yes, Master Chief." Is the reply but Mitch is already turning to head somewhere else.

"Rai (pronounced Ray) tell me who hacked it." Mitch says to his Lieutenant daughter. She works mainly in command and is the youngest on her team of 5 highly trained data software mechanical engineers. Rai earned the respect of each and every person under her command with her impressive talent and knack for leadership she shows.

"Whoever hacked it, knows what they're doing, that's for sure, but it also wasn't actually hacked. It was cloned, meaning there's a duplicate of his id running around, but since they aren't the same composite I can't track the clone like I can the original." Rai explained.

"Just shut down his old one and get him a new one Rai, now." Mitch added before going back towards the cages. "Styles, go home and do some soul searching, see if you can figure out which of your little girlfriends or hookups or whatever you call them would've done this."

*3rd Person POV*

That is precisely what he does. He has some random movie on just for the noise, but he sits at his table making a list of all the people he’s hooked up with in the past 6 weeks. There was Britt, Katya, Grace, Brad, Liz, and you. Britt was a friends who sometimes hook up kind of thing. Grace was a really cute waitress at a diner on the pier. Brad is an intelligence officer for Seal Team 3 Delta, and Liz was on a layover to tokyo from New York that got grounded due to mechanical failures. You were obviously well, you. But something in the back of his head remembered Mitch saying ‘that op’ which could only mean your father’s op. However Katya was an American born to Russian parents who fled shortly before Putin took office. Her father was an officer in the Russian military, but not a fan of Putin. Which could make Katya seem unlikely to flip. With that he was down to two options, you and Katya. For your sake he hoped it wasn’t you, Mitch would take that personally, but Katya would be an international spy and Harry trusted his sense of someone’s character and Katya was very nice, Harry felt like she had a good head on her shoulders.

-The next morning-

Harry had an early briefing with Mitch to reveal where his soul searching led him. Walking into that briefing with unease swirling in his gut.

“Well?” Mitch asked him.

“I’m down to two, but I did bring all six names with me for you to look at as well.” Harry said to Mitch.

“Brad’s clean, we both know that, but I’ll have Rai look at the rest of these, wait, seriously?” Mitch trailed off towards the end having finally spotted your name. “No way she’s capable of that Harry.”

“With respect sir, her background is in computer science and analytics, she is extremely proficient in statistics and probability, and an eval was never done on her after that incident, as much as I hate to say it because I really do like her, we’ve no idea how losing her father affected her. She was raised by soldiers, she knows how to brush things off and make it appear like she’s coping well, she knows all of you and could easily manipulate how her emotions come off in front of all of you, which is why I consider her the prime suspect.” He states although his shoulders drop with the last part of his statement.

Mitch steps out for a few minutes and comes back with Raina. “Ask her, Rai knows Y/N better than anyone, and Rai this doesn’t prove anything.”

Harry explains his thoughts one more time and after a few seconds of deliberation and a deep breath Raina turns to Mitch and responds, “You want to know if Y/N has the skills required to pull off cloning a military id, my answer without a doubt is yes, she absolutely has the required skills, and I agree with Harry, she is excellent at masking her emotions, i’ve seen it, it hurts me to say this, but we do need to look into her. My best suggestion would be to send Harry in unannounced.” She finishes speaking, her voice conveying the warring emotions she’s currently feeling.

“Fine. Harry, any objections?” Mitch answers.

“None, Sir.” Harry responds.

“Then its on, I want you recording, it won’t transmit, we don’t want anything going up the chain yet, I still want to shield her from the worst of this if I can, right now I have to believe that she’s just a kid looking for answers. If only i’d tried harder to get them for her.”

*Y/N’s POV*

I wrap up an intense line of code before I start my 30 seconds of this hour in the military’s system. It’ll take approximately 4 days to complete that year’s worth of files doing 30 seconds each hour, but I designed this program myself and I know it will work. My VPN is completely untraceable during those 30 seconds and the same engineer would have to be watching the computer for 48 hours straight in order to see the pattern (the same 30 seconds of each hour, with 24 different combinations so that they only repeat the same 30 seconds on a military clock), because it looks like Harry is just scrolling through old files without opening any of them when they are actually being backed up to an untraceable cloud drive, where I can flip through them.

“Y/N? Are you home? I brought lunch.” Harry's voice sounds from outside my front door. I exit and lock my office quickly knowing the program will shut off and exit the navy’s systems by itself.

“Hey, I thought we said you weren't going to swing by today. Luckily you caught me while I had a few minutes of downtime from my project for work.” I say to him after opening the door.

“Yeah, sorry about that, they didn't need me on base anymore today, so I thought maybe I'd surprise you. I brought tacos.” He smiles sheepishly.

“You're lucky you're cute Styles.” I say with a smile.

After we finish eating, I go to make a move on him, sitting myself on his lap, but he surprises me by flipping us so that I'm in the chair, and being a kinky fucker he slips a pair of handcuffs around my wrists.

“I know you cloned my military ID and used it to hack into the navy's system, care to explain, something about a certain op.”

“I have no idea…”

“Please don't make this difficult Y/N, Mitch already knows. The system records who logs in and the exact time stamp, as soon as I used my badge and access code on base this morning before going for training, which I was dark for, they knew it had been hacked.”

“Harry I never meant to hurt you, that's not how this started, ok fine, hurting the navy is exactly how this started.”

“You are going to have to tell me everything, or Mitch and I can't protect you. Because for some reason, I have this need to protect you even after you hacked my military ID.”

“I haven't been the same person since before my father got killed Harry. His death is the reason I went into tech. After his death I threw myself into my degree, hoping that with time the details would be declassified, after five years they still weren't, so I tried making an official request, I just wanted to know how my father died, and not the bullshit hero excuse they use when trying to cover something up. Plus the team's story was too perfect, it was word for word, even I know that means they're hiding something. So I decided I was going to exploit my connection to 7 Alpha. You were hot, the guys were encouraging you to get with me, and frankly the sex was the best I've ever had. I hesitated that morning while you were in the shower, mainly because part of me wanted to see you again and I knew we couldn't once I actually cloned your ID. I've been chasing answers for so long Harry, and I am finally about to get them. I can't let it go, I won't let it go.”

“I know you won't, nor would I expect you to. Now I have to ask if you were planning on selling any of the information you retrieved to other nations, or putting it online anywhere?”

“No, honestly the thought had crossed my mind at one point, but I wouldn't be my father's daughter if I did. And he taught me to always get justice for those that can't get it for themselves. That was the whole point of being a SEAL. Truth, justice, and protecting those that can't from the people who mean us harm.” I wrap up and Harry pulls a device out of his back pocket and switches it off.

“A recorder, it's private don't worry, Mitch just wants to make sure we don't have to get command involved. He was blaming himself earlier. My hope is that we can forgive each other, because whatever this is between us, that's been going on for months, even though our first official date was three days ago, I don't want it to end either.”

“You… you can really forgive me for hacking the navy? Command isn't going to arrest me?”

“The teams are a family, one you were born into, they aren't going to turn on you. Especially when they all wanted to tell you in the first place. And someday, our kids will be a part of that family too.”

There was an awkward bit of silence for about a minute before the laughter broke out.

“Yeah, I can't believe I just said that.” Harry said, though the smile on his face told me he was seeing it too. This was just the beginning for us.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what your thoughts are!

-Ava

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 9

Part 9: Bite My Tongue

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: typical twd content. mentions of death. A/N: im done exams! (and I aced them all, yay!) but then I got sick lol. anyway-- I missed you guys. finally finished this. enjoy<3

“We’re gonna win.”

Brian was confident of that. He spoke with an authority bigger than Pete or Martinez ever had, and it spread through the camp like wildfire. After that quick speech, it didn’t take the others any longer than a half hour to get their gear packed. Knives, guns, more bullets than you’d ever seen before. Mitch even started up his tank, taking the last few drops of gas from the reserve. 

If this didn’t work out, if the prison wasn’t the place Brian promised it would be, you weren’t sure if there would be anything to come back to. The camp had been uprooted in those short thirty minutes, a sudden shift into hostility. And it left the small clearing, once untouched by the brutality of the dead, stripped bare. The soft grass trampled as the cars rolled through and the fire pits nothing but ash. You had a feeling that this would be the last time you saw this place; not quite dread, but not the hope and determination that the others seemed to carry, either. 

You watched as they all loaded their guns, brows furrowed and posture firm. A group of survivors, brought together by happenstance, now soldiers. At least, they pretended to be. 

Across the clearing, a pile of ammo boxes sat on a flimsy fold-out table. Emily packed them one by one into a bag, dark hair pulled into a ponytail and a rifle slung across her back. A small smirk snuck across her face as Mitch quipped something for only her to hear. His eyes flickered from his favourite gun to you, and he didn’t dare flinch when he realized you were already staring their way. Emily’s eyes followed not long after, but that cocky—and threatening— expression she faced you with finally made you look away. 

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way your skin itched under their devoted attention. That blue tent you were packing wasn't quite distracting enough, so your eyes kept wandering. It didn't take long for you to find the curious Tara sitting on the bench near you. She’d been packing a bag of her own. It was mostly clothes and food. Provisions. The prison was meant to be your new home, after all. 

Tara glanced between them and you, throwing back a mean glare of her own. Their uncomfortable stares slipped away after that, so you gave her a small but grateful smile. She was new— came with Brian’s crew— but a kind face amongst a group that otherwise felt like strangers. People mostly kept to themselves. Prepping for this fight was the highest camaraderie they’d had. Tara wasn’t exactly immune to it— she had been one of the first to volunteer, after all— but, there still seemed to be a hint of hesitation in her eyes. 

While loading her gun, it seemed to hit her the hardest. She sighed, “We do this, maybe we don’t need to fight anymore.” 

You paused from packing up the last of your tent. Maybe she meant the others, maybe she meant the dead. You weren't sure, and you weren't convinced either. 

“Do you really think that?” 

Her brown eyes widened. 

“You don’t?” 

Whatever small bit of defiance you had slipped away then. You practically crawled back into your shell and tucked your tail.

“I dunno,” you mumbled with a weak shrug. 

“Brian said they were bad people. They don’t even deserve that place,” she said with a waver in her voice. 

“I heard what he said.” You continued packing. “I just…” you trailed off when you noticed Lee walking toward the bench— toward you. Behind his figure, Brian had joined Emily and Mitch, barking some instructions that they happily followed. You met Tara’s unconvinced look again, unable to speak toward her subconscious plea; you couldn’t convince her to retreat. This thing was too far gone. 

Lee had a stern look when he finally made it. He stood firm, a rifle of his own in one hand and one for Tara in the other. He dropped it on the table, then looked you up and down. 

“Where’s your gun?” 

“I, uh—” 

He sighed, and you lost your voice again. The raised tensions had shrunk you; that fear meant to mould you into an obedient soldier only made you feel smaller. 

“No more dancing around this shit. If we don’t fight, we die.” 

Lee held out a pistol. 

“So fight.” 

— 

The last few weeks had been filled with a sinking urge to go back and scream that little doubt to the world. Sleepless nights of wishing you’d just said something. Wondering what the hell made you so meek and afraid that you couldn't even question it— him. Not even to a person as reasonable as Tara seemed.

When the time came, you bit your tongue and complied. Nothing would change that. Nothing could.

And now there were no words left. Just a stinging silence of guilt and hurt burning up the air between you and Daryl, until there was almost nothing left. 

After the bus, he kept driving. You had no clue where. Didn’t have the breath to ask, anyway. 

Every inch of you was heavy, discomfort settling in tense muscles. You held your hands in your lap, controlled the rise and fall of your chest to a slow rhythm, and watched the everlasting stretch of road ahead. It all felt forced. Loud. The seconds between blinks, the slow exhales, and your eyes watching anything but him. 

You weren’t sure how to just be next to the man of stone beside you. 

That stiff tension hadn’t let go of him since it first clouded, and that bottle he was stuffing every bit of grief into hadn’t exploded— yet. You could sense it coming. Could feel the cracks splitter as anger festered inside that heavy chest of his, beating like a drum against his ribs, his lungs, his shut mouth. Begging to get out.

God forbid he let that stubborn, stoic facade fall. 

There hadn’t been a single word since. Only a silent agreement to pile back in the car and then… whatever this was. The bridge of trust between you, padded with fresh bandages and unwavering loyalty, was catching flame. And you could feel Daryl slipping. Feel his grip around your hand loosen as he inched closer to that edge. 

Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him, after all.

The sun dipped behind the horizon. Those last golden rays reminded you how sweet the day had started. A brief escape. Dusk stole that kindness and the casual cruelty of this new world weaved its way back in. By the time Daryl finally pressed on the break, the sky had tinted a dark blue. But it wasn't dark enough to stop yet.

You glanced up, eyes still foggy, and tried to settle your vision on the issue ahead. It was like breaking out of a daze— an uncomfortable, suffocating daze that dragged on with every beat of silence. But you couldn’t come up for air just yet. There was another problem to solve first, like always. 

This time it wasn’t a bus, but a large branch blocking your way. The bark was rotted and smaller sticks scattered around. The leaves were dead and dry as bone, and the bigger tree to the left had a stark revelation of lighter wood. The branch must’ve snapped off when the weight got too heavy to carry, some time ago.

Pulled from that daze, you finally had the strength to look at Daryl and with that single glance, you could feel how close he was to snapping, too. White knuckle grip around the steering wheel, lips sewn shut, and narrowed eyes surrounded by tired rings of purple. He looked like a different version of himself. Like Daryl, but muted. Without that slight smile to match it, the curious look in his eye felt cold.

And you swore there was a hint of animosity, too.

He quickly got out of the car and approached the blockage without a word, his crossbow, or you. Only the knife on his hip. 

Not everything had changed; you slowly followed, like usual, and Daryl didn’t waste time. He stomped down on a thicker branch, throwing the broken debris toward the tree line. Again and again. You helped move a couple, but there was a fierce force, built of fury and sorrow, in his work that you simply couldn’t keep up with. He was much faster— angrier— and he’d already moved on to the heavier branches. 

Too heavy. And for the first time since the bus, he let a hint of emotion show: pain. Physical, you’d bet, from the wince that slipped past his tight jaw. His shoulder was still tender, and moving the bodies earlier had already made it swell. 

“Hold up.” 

He ignored those small first words. Ignored the care that rooted them, too. 

Halfway between the rest of the blockage and the forest, you dropped the branch you were moving when he picked up another heavy one. Daryl was plenty stubborn as it was, but the heartbreak from the bus’ loss made him reckless, too. 

“You’ll hurt yourself,” you insisted.

“‘M fine.” 

Ironically, his grip slipped from the branch then. The wood dropped, thumping against the cracking concrete below. That short moment of relief invited your hand to softly land on his good shoulder, a gentle reassurance that you were there to help. 

You barely got out his name before he yanked back. 

“Get your hands off’a me.” 

His rough bark forced you a step back, eyes blown wide with shock and glued on that angry blue in his. Maybe you seemed composed, with that firm stance and even breaths, but it felt like your blood had gone cold in an instant. You had no choice but to stand there and wait for the dust of his outburst to settle. All while your heart was slamming against your ribcage so hard you wondered if it could bruise.

And Daryl seemed to notice it; in that split second, he let his eyes flicker from your shocked and hurt expression to your fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking. After that, he wouldn’t meet your stare.

You watched those angel wings, frayed at the seams, as he picked up the log again. 

There could be virtue in silence. You knew that— but the last few weeks had instilled an urgency in you. A type of anxiety you’d never felt before, second-guessing every moment you let pass. And against perhaps better judgment, you whispered.

“Please. Don’t do this.” 

Daryl knew you didn’t mean the branch anymore. 

He stilled. Shoulders stiff and rigid. At first, you weren’t sure if that meant it had been the right thing or not, but then he dropped the log and turned around, and you certainly knew. 

That look was back again. Mean and abrasive. Only that time, you swore you could see through it— see the pain that manifested into anger just beyond those narrow blue eyes. 

“You don’t ever let up, do ya?” He stepped closer, face reddening and tone cutting. “Told ya ‘m fine.” 

“You don’t seem it.”

“The hell you know ‘bout it?” he snapped.

You swallowed. A painful burn caught in your chest, right where that soothing trust and care had made its home. 

“Rick and that woman,” you practically pleaded, “I told you I saw them, they could’ve—” 

“Right,” he scoffed. 

Whatever anger was stoking that fire inside of him seemed to double at your words. Maybe you didn’t know Daryl as well as you thought because you certainly weren’t saying or doing the right things. 

“And how the hell we gonna find ‘em?” 

“I— I don’t know but there has to be something left—” 

“They’re dead,” he sneered. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I know your people were huntin’ ‘em down.”

Your face fell.

“Finishin’ what y’all started, huh?” 

Maybe you didn’t know his anger. You’d never been good with that, anyway. People seemed to be set off by you; Mitch, Emily. But Daryl knew you. He proved it, right then, as the aftermath of his words burned worse than any cut could.

He always saw you right down to the damn bone. Could pick you apart with his bare hands if he wanted. Even if you had tried to hide the anguish of the knife he stuck in your gut— “your people”— he would’ve seen through it. So you let the confusion, the shock, and the regret, all surface.

Of course, he saw it. Your reaction— your pain. The way you didn’t even try to mask it. Silence stretched, only Daryl’s heavy breaths and a soft breeze of the wind. And as the seconds passed, without a retort to fill the tense air between you, the intensity of that mean stare flickered out like the candles you once warmed the cabin with. But that hint of regret was nothing more than a bandaid over a stab wound; it didn’t soothe the gut-wrenching ache that was reaching up around your throat or prickling your eyes with tears. 

Screw saying the right thing. 

“We have no idea if they ever even came across one of your friends.” You stepped forward, but you couldn’t stop the shake in your voice or hands. “And they are not my people. I killed them, or did you forget?” 

Fire was still burning the tip of his tongue, cruel words threatening to rip free, and if it’d been a year ago, they would’ve. But now, glaring at your thin expression and the glimmer of pain in your eye, he hesitated. 

You took that time to make another point, even firmer than the last. 

“You’re wrong.” 

He didn't curse you out, but his exhausted scoffed was almost as insulting.

“You just saw your people dead, Daryl. You’re scared and—“ 

“I ain't scared’a nothin’,” he growled. 

You bit your lip. God, he was stubborn. 

Stubborn, fiery, and hurt. 

You peeled back, drowning out the throbbing pain of that wound in your own chest with a heavy dose of empathy, and reiterated slowly, “You’re wrong.” 

Another breeze of wind rushed past the two of you, drifting through that shrinking space between his heaving chest and your assertive stare. 

It carried a rustle in the trees too, one that localized on a spot of shifting branches and fluttering leaves to your left.

Daryl looked first.

The break of his glare welcomed a slight ease to that thick air. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself as a walker broke through the woods. Its yellow eyes were already targeted at the fleshy, warm body of the man who’d lead it there, with those lively lungs and sharp tongue. 

He approached the walker with that same heaviness about him. Perhaps it was the weight of your lingering stare across his back. His arm raised with the knife, then stabbed. Just as the body did, his shoulders slumped. Head bowed as he stared at the crumpled corpse a second too long.

In that same second, your throat tightened, and the tears threatened to spill again. A devastating ache formed in your chest because you could practically see Daryl's resolve crumble. From the bus’ discovery to the roadblock to this— losing every last bit of hope, slowly but surely, until even that trust and care, built over nights by candlelight and soft promises to fix your wrongdoings, to fix his shoulder, to fix him, felt dull.

You thought of the forgiveness he’d once spared, only to be pulled right back down into that festering pit of ugly guilt and regret. 

Blame. 

Daryl took his time to clean the blade of dark blood before sheathing it. And as the moment stretched, staring at the broad shoulders you’d patched up over and over, your thoughts began to pick up speed. Worries drumming your heart against your ribs, again. 

You swallowed, shook your head as if it might clear, and climbed into the driver’s seat. But the unease followed— it always did. 

What if this was it? 

In the rearview mirror, you caught sight of the dead walker lying on the road. Daryl’s hunched figure missing. And the race of your heart came to a lurching stop, then. 

Would he really—?

The passenger door opened. Without a word, he sat, and your heart started again. 

No. 

He wouldn't. 

You steered through the new opening, tires crunching the remnants of branches, and continued down the clear road ahead.

It was quiet again. This time, though, you weren't fidgeting in your seat or dying to get a glance at the man beside you. No. You just drove until the stars came out.

The side of the road was as good a spot as any, you thought. Daryl didn’t seem to have an objection, either; his mouth was still in that same pensive line when you finally turned toward him. His elbow rested on the edge of the window as he chewed on his thumb, heavy eyes fallen. There was no doubt he could feel your stare burn into his side, that he heard you turn, or could feel the tension heighten as you waited for him to meet your look. But he wouldn’t, for whatever reason. 

Would your tired expression, dwindled from weeks of guilt, trauma, and physical exhaustion, set him off again? Or would it break him down, deeper? 

With nothing more than a heavy sigh, you fell against the headrest. You stared into the dark world ahead, only visible by the short reach of the car’s interior light. It burned your eyes, shining down at the nasty, ugly tension that had settled between you and the man you trusted so fiercely.

You turned off the light.

“It's my turn for first watch.” 

Even in the dark, you could see his hand finally drop from his chin. His arm stretched, resting across the window ridge. 

“Ain’t tired.” 

He finally spoke. Two little words that made you tighten your grip around the steering wheel in a split second of frustration. You finally had the voice to speak, after years of biting your tongue, and yet… you had no idea what you needed to say. 

Want was another story. Because even after everything, good and bad, there was no reason you deserved that jab about the gas station. Not when it’d been you that pulled him, bloody and half dead, from that mess. That nursed him back to health and never said a word about his loose lips, spilling regrets about his own (failed) search for the Governor. Never asked him that dreaded thought that’d been lingering in the back of your head— if he’d only forgiven you for the prison because he was too busy blaming himself. 

You wanted a lot. Wanted to go back and change the way things played out. To save more people, to find Daryl and the prison before it fell, to— 

But you were tired. Too tired for wants, tonight. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “Wake me up when you are.” 

-> part 10

A/N: so uh. this part was oddly hard to finish, even if I knew exactly what I wanted to happen. but its done! and I hope y'all liked it. its def sad to see them fighting again, after everything :'(

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3