#PUTTING ANYONE IN THIS IS A WAR CRIME

[beastwars-transformers]

FUCKING NO ONE

[ratatatastic]

he is quite literally every techie's worst nightmare girl please stop touching the mic STOP TOUCHING IT. YOU DONT NEED TO CONTINUOUSLY BRING IT CLOSER TO YOU AND MOVING IT BACK THATS THE PERSON ON SOUND'S JOB. STOP IT.

post practise interview | 6.23.24 (x)

[genericpuff]

And with that, 2000 years of history and 10+ years of an animated adaption later, Attack on Titan is over.

I wasn't planning on making an essay post about this but like all of my essay posts, it got crazy out of hand, so here we are. I have a lot to say on it and the more I wrote, the more I realized exactly what the Attack on Titan finale was about. It's cathartic. It's also kind of a big shitpost but not for the reasons you might think.

Spoilers for the Attack on Titan finale ahead! CW: DISCUSSION OF WAR AND GENOCIDE AHEAD!

Now for anyone who knows what I'm about to talk about (and anyone who follows my stuff here), I'm sure you're wondering , what side do I fall on in regards to Attack on Titan's ending? Am I about to talk shit about it? It's very divisive and somewhat inconclusive. It followed the exact ending in the manga which, while expected, was still disappointing to many who had hoped the anime would take some other path.

But I have to ask, could there have been any other way?

Eren committed mass genocide, bordering on extinction of the entire human race. There was no way that he was gonna come out of it redeemed or as a hero, and he knew it. He went straight up Walter White core here and like Walter White, he is not a hero.

The fact that the Marlayans have been constantly going to war with other countries using Eldians as their personal soldiers goes to show that for countries that seek out conquest, there's no target too small or insignificant that can't be marked as an "enemy", and we see that reflected in Eren as well, in his pursuing of "freedom", an ever-moving goalpost that can never truly be satisfied.

The Jaegerists were hellbent on creating a new empire on the bloodshed of Marley - 'an eye for an eye', so to speak.

Nothing was ever going to truly satisfy either 'side' in the conflict of humanity vs. Eldians because such conflicts' origins have been obfuscated in hundreds of years of history, propaganda, and generational trauma that has repeated itself for so long that many don't even know what they're fighting for anymore, aside from one thing - that they don't want to suffer, that they shouldn't have to suffer for the actions of their ancestors, that they want peace and happiness but don't know where to start with taking the first step.

I think people are disappointed in this ending because, let's face it, it's anime, and it's an anime adaption that took years to finish. We always want to see some kind of vindication from stories like these, but I think in having vindication, it ultimately removes the point altogether of what's being said.

As much as we may try to fight it, try to deny it, the course of human history travels in a circle. Conflict will always arise. History is written by the victors, and those victors will be seen as heroes by whichever side they're fighting for regardless of what heinous acts they may have committed to justify their salvation. And after all of that conflict, regardless of the result - time goes on, and new conflicts arise.

But I don't think that means we have to succumb to grief and suffering and that's a point that I'm seeing missed in a lot of the discussion around the finale. There's a very powerful scene between Armin and Zeke, in which Armin talks about how he was born to run up the hill with Mikasa and Eren. He recognizes fully that if his life isn't meant to be long, he can still cherish those small moments that he thinks back on fondly, the moments that defined his life with the people he cared about.

And that's really all life is. Small moments and experiences that stick with us until the end. The very act of being born in and of itself is a cosmic miracle that gives us the chance to experience things that bring us joy and stay with us forever - however short or long that 'forever' may be. We take these small moments for granted when we're comfortable, but we look for them the most when we're suffering.

If I can relate all this to another piece of media that says the same thing - albeit with a much brighter ending - FF XIV: Endwalker also asks a similar question to Attack on Titan - is the only meaning in life to suffer and die? Of course, by its end, we learn that while death and suffering is an inevitable part of life - not something that should be avoided - it shouldn't persuade us to give in to fear and despair as a constant state of being. And I think Attack on Titan goes for a very similar approach, albeit slightly more as a cautionary tale - a nihilistic reminder that ultimately, the losses and victories we find in our current point of history are still just that, a single point, a blip that will be forgotten until it's ultimately repeated, and there's no escaping that.

It cautions us that freedom cannot exist without constant vigilance for war and conflict. It cautions us that our values and core beliefs for attaining freedom, love and happiness can be twisted into a weapon to cause harm, vindication gained at the cost of another. It cautions us that when left in the wrong hands, power can and will be abused by the ignorant while propagandizing itself as "the greater good".

So why not just find the joy that we can? The friendships, the little moments, the things that bring us happiness even if only temporary. Conflict is inevitable, suffering is inevitable, but that doesn't mean life isn't worth living. "Happiness" is not a tangible end point - it's the side effect of living a meaningful life that's true to yourself.

Attack on Titan is over. Some will argue the ending was the only way, others will argue that there could have been another way and that the anime adaption had the chance to change it but still didn't for reasons beyond their comprehension.

But isn't that the whole point? We'll argue. We'll bargain. Many of the arguments made will reinforce our own beliefs further rather than sway us. Many of us will insist there had to be another way, just as Armin insisted that this couldn't have been the only way, that humanity must have had another option. Meanwhile, many of us will acknowledge that at the end of the day, this is the story Isayama wanted to tell, and regardless of whether or not it makes him an idiot toying with his audience and admitting defeat by lampshading it in the penultimate scene of Eren admitting to his own idiocy, this was the power given to him and he used it in the best way he knew how.

Much like in any conflict, there's one thing that unites both sides - the human need for joy, connection, and freedom.

We might not agree on how Attack on Titan ended, but we can agree that it was a hell of a ride, and I hope we can all agree that it was worth riding, even if it wasn't satisfying for everyone in the end. It brought many people together regardless of their backgrounds, experiences, and differences, and connected them through something they all loved for over ten years. And despite how big a part of our lives it was, life will still go on, and we'll move on to other things to watch, enjoy, and argue over. Isayama will move on to whatever awaits him next, knowing fully well that his choice was his own, that he created the series he wanted to create regardless of how people feel about it. We'll all look for our own forms of joy and happiness as life moves on around us, as conflicts come and go.

Isn't that really what freedom is at the end of the day?

[elderflowergin]

A little rant about MBC My Dearest, purity and men who weaponise it:

(Trigger warning: sexual assault, rape as a war crime)

Fusion sageuk or not, this world has some set rules around purity, even in the relatively loosey-goosey Neuggeunri, where women and men can and do commingle, chat and meet in groups. The last barbarian invasion hangs over them; the old ladies in Gil-chae’s hometown tell the girls that death is better than allowing the barbarians to touch you and that if they do, you should kill yourself for the sake of said purity. Death is preferable to lost purity in this time/place; that’s firmly established from the beginning of the show. (It’s reinforced midway when Injo’s court reports of women who jumped off cliffs into the sea at Ganghwa rather than be taken by barbarians, no doubt perceived not as an avoidance of pain and torture, but a praiseworthy act designed to retain and restore purity).

Gil-chae and Eun-ae have to grapple with this when Eun-ae is attacked by a barbarian. Eun-ae was violated and felt violated by what happened. They know what they are supposed to do, what the old ladies told them to do; and yet Gil-chae holds Eun-ae close and says, nothing happened. We were hurt and our clothes were torn because we rolled down a mountain. Nothing happened to us. She rewrote that story, in the face of everything that said Eun-ae didn’t deserve to live anymore. Consummate survival requires rewriting stories, even the ones that are the hardest to paper over.

Because it appears again in Hanyang, in relative peacetime, when Eun-ae feels she cannot accept Yeon-jun’s proposal, because even if Gil-chae rewrote that story, it’s harder to reconfigure shame when it’s under the skin, when it’s attached to the thing that makes you valuable as a woman. Yeon-jun may never know what it took for his future wife to survive, and that ignorance too, is a privilege. But Eun-ae knows, and perceives her value differently now than before. It’s Gil-chae who persuades her again, who reminds her that they rewrote this story together, two women who survived against all odds.

In this postwar, still somewhat vulnerable time, the possibility is high that there are assault survivors around, just as there are women who may have had to sell their bodies to feed their families, or broken any number of rules around purity for survival. It’s foreseeable that women survivors have been through or seen unimaginable things happen to other women, to their friends and have experienced it themselves. I’m not saying this to undersell the general trauma of war on men - just to say that war crimes hurt women in a very different, very intensely long-lasting way* as compared to theatres of war and fighting.

All of this to say: it didn’t take Jang Hyeon very long to go from “you’re not as pure as you think you are for loving a taken man” a few episodes ago to “you couldn’t live without a man for a day? If you were going to give it away you might as well come to me at least once.” I am truly horrified that he pretty much gets away with it; Gil-chae moves with the punch and gets in a hit of her own, but that’s a bone-chilling thing to tell a woman, any woman. It would be a terrible thing to say to a woman now, let alone in a time when that mattered so much to women, let alone in a time and place where it was forcibly taken from so many women, many of whom died so it wouldn’t be.

This callous attitude continues later when she’s run away with him and they’re in a room for the night. She tentatively asks about marriage, saying that it would be hard for her, since she’s almost a married woman, and people would consider her “used”. (Her fiancé later tells Yeon-jun that he is permitted to kill his partner and the adulterous lover, so this isn’t a gossip without consequence.) In essence, Gil-chae put her life on the line for a man who still says “Husband, no. I am your servant and my body is yours”, a promise that carries little substantive meaning in their world. Marriage isn’t a luxury good that she’s asking for as a whim. It’s what protects Gil-chae and her family from harm; it’s what will allow her sister to find a suitable match later on.)

Jang Hyeon is shown from the start as a man of his own ideas, someone who who doesn’t truck with traditional Joseon morality. He can and does reinvent rules for himself, and clearly doesn’t think that much of notions of purity, but he’s fine using them against Gil-chae.

Yes, Jang Hyeon saved her life during the war, but Jang Hyeon also had the choice of participating or not, the luxury of stepping back if he so chose. Gil-chae had no such luxury, no such choice, an open target on the run. He no doubt understands that the barbarians are raping women, that to survive as a woman is fraught, that sex has become fraught. To use purity to attack a woman he claims to love, to reduce her momentarily the way those old women did - to express his anger by lashing out in this way, in a way calculated to hurt, to violently pierce at the foundation of what it means to be a woman in this time and place is a cruelty that is hard to countenance. It’s telling that his anger at her leads him there, that it escalated with all that time, because he knows that’s what hurts. He knows it’s valuable, knows it hurts when he strikes at it, and yet will do little to protect it for her. I don’t know if there’s any amount of growth that will change this, whether it’s something he can change at all.

There are many upsetting things about this episode, but Gil-chae’s choice to stay at the end is the least upsetting part of it, and the most conceivable, intelligent choice she could have made in the face of a man who - in her perspective - can only offer her fervent words and a feverish gaze, things that will not feed her family or protect her reputation, her business or her heart.

[trainingdummyrabbit]

woe

Hod

thanks

SHES JUST A LITTLE THANG....

the first character to kick my ass when going through lobcorp for th first time... idk WHAT they put in her t . joke cancelled. They Wrote Her In A Way that utterly fucking destroyed me in such a strangely specific and uncomfortably well timed way that that was just IT for me after that. if im being honest.

theres something so painfully resonant about that deep-running guilt that drove her, trying desperately to reach the idea of "being a good person." its the type of character i dont really see written often, not in that way, and they hit it out of the fucking park with her. i adore how they set her up as a Token Nice One and then flesh it out so thoroughly with what happens in her past, and how she reacts to it in her present.

though, i dont think i could do much with that thread without simply reiterating whats already been said for her. but something i especially love, looking back, is how utterly strained she seems the entire time during lobcorp. drawing thin like a wire ready to break. that scene in part 5 of her segment, where she keeps trying to push forward with her usual upbeat attitude before suddenly snapping back, almost as if she were surprised to be doing it herself.. i think about it a lot.

in fact, that Entire scene was fantastically written. how hard it is to tell the difference between different voices-- even her own. its deeply, deeply compelling. and how they dont shy away from confronting the selfish source of her intentions, yet still dont close off the way forward.... head in hands.

and then seeing the difference in how she carries herself between lobcorp and ruina... still nervous and kind of uncertain, but she feels so much calmer there. icant really describe it in any way other than I Am So So Proud Of Her.

[cyndrastic]

hey remember when i said i was drawing Vic Chaos as a milf?

alternates with different lighting (with and without words) and a time lapse under the cut! (btw the words on the cover all have to do with lore in my post covid au so send asks if you’re interested <3)

tw for nudity (without genitalia) in the time lapse cause i shaded the whole body before drawing the dress

[alpinelogy]

f1twt is saying gpda should send fernando to defenestrate ben sulayem in response to that one shitpost from f1blr about gpda sending fernando to negotiate like medieval kings did with their soldiers. they have a point i fear

[essektheylyss]

the war mage

they escaped their self-imposed cage

yes

YES

the bastard is out

[bosooka]

sincerely if i start regularly receiving hate for bosoka's age gap and sabezra's incest when i fully ship obikin and kryzecest i am giving up

[littledeadling]

I can’t watch the new mandalorian trailer I’m still so burned by the shitshow ending of TBOBF 💀💀💀 long rant in the tags sorry please don’t mind me

[priafey]

“Yes, it would be worthwhile to study clinically, in detail, the steps taken by Hitler and Hitlerism and to reveal to the very distinguished, very humanistic, very Christian bourgeois of the twentieth century that without his being aware of it, he has a Hitler inside him, that Hitler inhabits him, that Hitler is his demon, that if he rails against him, he is being inconsistent and that, at bottom, what he cannot forgive Hitler for is not crime in itself, the crime against man, it is not the humiliation of man as such, it is the crime against the white man, the humiliation of the white man, and the fact that he applied to Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved exclusively for the Arabs of Algeria, the coolies of India, and the blacks of Africa.”

– Aimé Césaire, Discourse on Colonialism

[gender-euphowrya]

i really don't think all those sanctimonious posts about how people should just suck it up and vote for kamala anyway are being very convincing when they keep diminishing the US's complicity in the Gaza genocide by referring to it with phrases like "you should vote for her even if you disagree on ~some issues~"

[stuckinapril]

it actually hurt reading this update. civilians claim they found a minimum of 30 bodies near the hamad school in northern gaza, with both of their legs and hands tied, their eyes blindfolded. they were already in a state of decomposition. presumably they were tortured and killed, then dumped into a mass grave with no one the wiser. this cannot be any more blatant of a war crime, but still no authority—be it the ICJ or otherwise—is truly stepping it to put an end to israel’s relentless genocide of palestinians. to top it off, if israeli officers do release palestinian detainees, they do so in the most humiliating way possible. the same al jazeera article mentions that any palestinian detainees released were released in underwear. literally just underwear. no other clothes on. it’s insane how committed they are to ensuring that every act is an act of dehumanization. i am genuinely sick to the bone of anyone who has the gal to see all these atrocities and still have the nerve to say that this is not a genocide in live time.

[shotmrmiller]

tw: mentions of roofies, murder, then smut:)

cbf!simon would absolutely kill for you.

cbf!simon has always been your partner in crime.

even in your youth, back when he was built like a daffodil, he was always by your side. kept you safe from the mean girls at school, always got in trouble for throwing hands at boys who made crass comments at you and the like. then he'd left his butcher job to join the military. "I gotta learn how to keep you safe, love. i'll always come back to ya."

and he had. he returned to you almost four times his size; he left a boy and came back a man. down to your very bones, you knew that he would always keep you safe.

which is why he was the first person you called when the guy next to you at the bar roofied your drink. the beer fizzed irregularly and had an almost milky colour even though it was an ipa.

the idiot had dared to smile at you, an oily, crooked grin with yellow teeth, and lifted his own glass to toast with you.

you bolted out of your seat in seconds, heading straight to the ladies' room, and dialed.

he answered on the second ring.

"please come get me." you hadn't meant to sound as terrified as you felt.

"be there in 5," then hung up.

he lived 15 minutes away from the dingy bar.

true to his word, he was there in 5, texting where you were at.

inside the ladies bathroom.

he let himself in, put his jacket around your quivering shoulders, and with a strong, comforting arm, guided you toward the exit and into his truck. simon remained silent as he sat you in the passenger seat, gently pulling the seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place.

he stood next to you, his hands resting on your jean-clad thighs, waiting patiently for you to explain.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you sort out your thoughts. you no longer felt afraid, that much was certain. simon has always been your pillar of strength. there was nothing to fear with him at your side.

so why do your hands continue to tremble? digging deeper, you realize that you're angry. no.

furious.

some imbecile thought he'd take advantage of you. if you'd been any more drunk, you would have been a victim— wound up lifeless in a dirty ditch.

you burned with fury, your blood boiling under your skin. how dare he? how dare he?

simon softly touches your tightly clenched hands, coaxing your fingers to unfurl.

everything pulls hard to port when your eyes land on his disfigured knuckles— scarred by battle. you've never liked what simon did for a living. he just fought and killed people that some higher-up told him were the bad guys.

in war, there is no good or bad side. the field is too soaked in blood for anyone to recognize where the line is if there even was one to begin with.

until now. just this once, you couldn't be more grateful that simon possesses the skills he does.

you make your decision. "there was a guy in there. green hat, ugly brown jacket with yellow, crooked teeth. he drugged my beer, then toasted me so i would drink it."

his hands tighten around yours marginally. "and now i'm here, safe, with you. but he's still in there, with potentially a pocket full of pills, on the lookout for his next victim. how am i supposed to sleep tonight, knowing that if someone goes missing tonight, the blood will be on my hands?"

you cut your eyes to his dark, hardened ones, and the words tumble out of your mouth with surprising ease.

"there's trash in there that needs throwing out, simon."

nothing but a wretched mongrel that needs to be put down.

simon's nod is subtle, but it's there. you exhale a shuddering breath, heart slamming against your ribcage.

he's a gun in your hand, and you've just pulled the trigger.

simon hands you the keys to the truck. "are you sober enough to drive home?" he quietly asks.

hard to keep a buzz when you almost became a victim of—

"yes."

he's opening the glove compartment, taking out his skeleton gloves, and a tac knife that he tucks inside the waistband of his jeans.

"go home. i'll see ya in a bit." his voice is flat, lifeless.

simon closes the door and raps his knuckles on the hood of the truck before heading inside.

and so the elephant marches to war.

-

it's well past midnight when he crawls in through your window. one moment his boots are on the windowsill, the next he's pinning you onto your mattress, hips flush against yours.

his chilly, clean hands lift the hem of your loose shirt, dimpling the soft skin that his fingers dig into— his bare lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"he is no longer a problem."

he grinds his clothed erection against the flimsy fabric of your sleeping shorts.

"you did the right thing by telling me what he did."

simon trails a path of open-mouthed kisses from your ear down to your mouth, licking your bottom lip.

"nothing gets me harder than when my girl looks at me to keep her safe."

your breath hitches when a hand begins to move south, lifting the waistband of your bottoms and sliding his fingers over your slick pussy. "it seems you like it too. does it turn you on, ordering me around like a dog? i bark at your command, pet."

one finger sinks into your wet heat, his groan drowning out your own.

"you like having this much power over me? how easily i bend to your will?" he croons.

there are two fingers in you now, so much thicker than your own, and the way they curl and drag along your nerves has your toes tingling. he takes you to the precipice at frightening speed— the expert hands that kill without remorse are the same ones that are bringing you your pleasure.

he thrusts his fingers into you with an obscene squelch and a thumb circles your slippery clit.

"i'd burn the world to ashes if you asked it of me."

the coil in your stomach is tight, your body tense in anticipation.

"so... would you? would you ask me to bring the world to its very knees?"

the answer sits on the tip of your tongue when you climax around his fingers, walls pulsing rhythmically, arousal dripping from his knuckles.

later will be a good time to reflect on how you don't feel even remotely guilty for what's been done.

for now, you focus on how good simon feels as he slowly sinks into you, splitting you wide open with his heavy cock.

-

simon finds no pills in the guy's pockets. no baggie, no bottle.

nothing.

shame that his little love has declared the guy's life forfeit.

your wish is his command.

[generallyunskilled]

Obviously Velma sucks but if we do ever make a more adult Scooby Doo I want a semi realistic period piece from the late 60s where the Scooby Gang are draft dodgers and hippies that just happen to stumble into the crime fighting business because there is just a fresh stream of con artists when you’re drifting town to town in a van.

Freddie and Daphne start it all. Instead of showing up at boot camp when drafted, Fred Jones got the van he bought with his summer job and ran off. Daphne, his girlfriend (who frankly has the least strong feelings about Vietnam but for gods sake are they not taking Freddie there) runs along to be supportive and to get away from her strict, stuffy family.

Velma catches wind of Fred and Daphne’s plan a few days before it happens. They invite her along but she has to consider it. A staunch feminist and the brightest girl in school, she has the most to lose if she leaves. However, she grows embittered by the fact she’s never gonna get into her dream college since it doesn’t admit women, and decides to go along. Besides, if Fred and Daphne leave without her, there won’t be anyone like minded in their hometown for Velma to be friends with.

Shaggy wasn’t originally part of the group, but they find him and Scooby hitchhiking and pick him up. The gang learn he has similar circumstances to Fred for running away from home, being a conscientious objector who ran off when they tried to put him in a non combative position instead. He opposed even this as it still meant he would be part of the war machine. He comes bearing plenty of 8 track tapes and some real good pot, so he’s welcomed along happily.

Along the way they become friends and use their combined skills to solve cases of supposed hauntings. Every single one is shown to be some kind of capitalist fraud.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

“I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.