#and i think that the more people just help out strangers the more frequently others will do the same

[cluescorner]

I doubt they would survive a day in their own communities. Like, have y’all ever interacted with LGBTQ+ people IRL?? It’s really cool. Genuinely was a wonderful experience for me. Met someone who went by it/its pronouns because it saw that as the only way to distance itself from the demand to fit into boxes implanted on it by humanity. Met someone who goes by any pronouns and faer does that for the exact same reason as the person above. He and it were besties, hearing their discussions on gender was really fucking cool. Made me question my gender, I found out I’m cis but it was still a good experience. More relevant to this post, you’ve also got a pack of wild lesbians who congregated once while I was volunteering: me the young’un (cis, she/her, femme lesbian, has sensory issues with penetration of any kind but isn’t ace), an elder lesbian (bacla, she/he/siya (no preference but one of those) likes penetrative and non-penetrative sex), and a lesbian roughly between our ages (trans, she/her, about 4 months into socially transitioning, asexual). We’re just...talking about being lesbians and our differing experiences. It’s great, we taught each other a lot in the day we knew each other! Siya helped teach me about ways to explore myself and my preferences without triggering any averse reactions, I helped the trans lesbian vibe with wanting to be more gender conforming and traditionally ‘feminine’ (teaching trans femmes the joys of spinning around in frilly dresses is so nice), and she helped our elder get caught up with modern gay news. We left our stations and I’ve never seen either of them again, but this shit is so fun and so much better than arguing with randos about whether or not they ‘count’ as a lesbian. Imagine if I did what tiktok does and spent that whole time saying that our elder couldn’t be a lesbian because siya doesn’t strictly identify as a femme-aligned person or that the trans lesbian was teaching him about the ‘wrong’ gay news because most of it involved ‘bad rep’. Say what you want about cheesy cishet friendly romcom fodder, but seeing my elder beam at the idea that non-LGBTQ+ people cared about our stories on a large scale made that mediocre movie worth existing. IDK, people need to get involved in their communities (online or offline) and meet gay people outside of their immediate bubble. 

TLDR; I’m 90% sure people involved in gay discourse have never actually spent time around gay people outside of their immediate bubble and that makes me sad. Talk to people y’all, it’s great. 10/10, would recommend. 

people on tiktok would never survive a day on tumblr

[a-shade-of-blue]

Honestly, we are out of ideas on how to make you care about the palestinians being killed and those struggling to survive. Ahmed’s (@ahmedpalestine) cousin was recently killed by a missile while fetching water for his wife and 3 children, including a 2-month-old baby girl. In addition, His home in Jabalia is being annihilated. UN envoy says a 'genocide with a genocide' is happening in Jabalia right now. His relatives, neighbours, and friends are beseiged by Israel forces, bombed and starved. No food has entered into Jabalia for 12 days now. He is sad, he is mourning, but immediately he has to think about how to word his grief and write this personal tragedy to us just so he can beg for the sympathies of complete strangers, just so he can try to save his other family members.

If you loved one has been killed, if you home has just been destroyed, would you not let yourself have some time off to grieve? Even the right to grieve privately has been withheld from palestinians. Instead, they have to bare their suffering and grief to thousands of strangers in order to help their remaining family members survive. That is in addition to the frequent bombings, malnutrition and diseases that Palestinians in Gaza have to face. That is in addition to them having to worry every day about how they can keep their remaining family members alive. 

Ahmed is mourning for his cousin, for the destruction of his city, but his campaign does not even have enough funds to evacuate the rest of his family out of Gaza. Ahmed’s grief, his cousin’s death, this whole genocide, should not be entertainment for you to read about and then forget. Ahmed has 12 family members, including 6 children trapped in Gaza right now. They need the funds to survive. Please help.

€8,101 raised of €55,000 goal

Ahmed’s campaign has been promoted and vetted by @/gaza-evacuation-funds! Also promoted by Bilal-Salah0 and vetted by association!

If you need even more incentive to donate, I'm hosting a freshwater pearl phone strap raffle for people in the UK. Click here to enter after you donated.

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[eldritch-spouse]

Thought of a Meet cute with Vorago. We are walking and reading a human x demon romance book. We almost walk into traffic and Vorago pulls us out of harm's way. We look up at him and thank him for saving us with all the adoration in our heart. He's going to write a fic of this 100% guaranteed.

[50/50 chance you knock into each other and swap interspecies smut books.]

[Fem reader.]

Vorago wishes he liked going to the surface more.

Really, he should. It's where a lot of his future business will be conducted, and he won't always be summoned to his target locations. Therefore, it's integral to his status that the prince not only find his way around without help but also maintain his air of infernal royal descent. This task is easy enough to achieve, and he certainly doesn't mind the change in scenery, being surrounded by so many humans even.

The problem lies in his conservative conduct. Vorago isn't allowed to interact with strangers more than he must, he shouldn't approach things outside his defined goals, so as to reduce the possibility of scandals and failure. Not only that, his standard appearance already puts off a lot of people from speaking to him, the attitude he must uphold pretty much ensures he's given a wide berth wherever he goes. Much too wide. It's an isolating experience.

He remembers when he was a clumsy hatchling, clinging to his mother's tail when the two of them ventured into the surface buzz. Sure, Queen Vorticia would have to eventually hold him by a horn, but before such, he was free to march his way to any human and ask them to play games with him. The memories alone put a smile on his face.

This is precisely why Vorago's favorite moments on the surface are when he's surrounded by busy people. People who are simply too distracted, too in their own bubble, to even register his presence, much less distance themselves.

He's been behind you for a few minutes.

Not because he chose to, you just happen to be walking the same paths.

So engrossed in your little book, you're hardly looking where you're going. Vorago knows the feeling, many times have the hours slipped past him while he bent over a desk and devoured endless pages. He had to be shaken off it by his siblings frequently, disoriented and embarrassed.

All three eyes strain to get a better view of the words on those two pages.

What are you reading? Is it fiction? Educational content? Maybe you're a student. History? Crime thriller? Drama? Sci-fi? Romance...? He can't even get a glimpse of the cover, at least not without encroaching upon your personal bubble.

Mild disappointment flashes on the prince's face.

He's just close enough to be politely curious, to catch a whiff of your scent, but that's about it.

You may not be attentive to the environment around you, but other people certainly are. The crowd slightly ahead of you hastens to catch the last few seconds of a soundless pedestrian green light. Predictably, you don't.

Right as green becomes red, impatient vehicles have already began picking up speed, your body about to resemble that of an impact dummy in a matter of seconds.

Vorago acts on reflex mostly.

Many times has he had to be the one yanking younger baby sisters and brothers from certain injury, so the prince hardly thinks before wrapping his claws around the collar of your shirt and pulling.

It was a harsh pull, definitely. Measuring strength was the last thing on the glutton's mind when he acted. The force of it doesn't just launch you back, away from the zooming cars now passing by, it also causes you to lose balance, scream, and land right on your ass.

Your personal belongings fly just about everywhere, and Vorago's focus breaks enough that he feels somewhat guilty now.

" I'm incredibly sorry. " He blurts out, a hand reaching out towards your panicked self.

You seem frantic, quickly trying to crouch and pick up your phone, keys, wallet. " N- No no, I just- " Finally, you look up.

And the look on your face says you expected quite literally anyone, except him.

He can't even interpret it at first. Is it a good kind of shock? A bad one? He understands he's rather large compared to a human, and plenty of monsters out there, but you're giving him nothing to work with. Your cheeks look warm, a much too long second passes.

You're quite beautiful up close.

" I'm okay! "

The volume of your sudden input makes his head flinch back, ears flicking. Vorago watches you drop your phone a couple of times before shaky hands finally manage to collect everything and you're standing, awkwardly.

" I uhm- " Your head veers to the traffic, then back. Beneath all the nerves, there's something like naked admiration in your expression, as if Vorago were some fantastical entity. " Thank you so much, you probably saved my life there. "

Probably?

The prince smiles, nodding, trying to make the situation as natural as it can be. " Don't mention it, ma'am, I'm just pleased you're safe. "

Something about that made your eyes widen, you look even more frantic now. He barely gets a word in when the light turns green once more, with you preparing to nearly sprint away.

" R-Right. Thanks. "

Vorago is about to walk as well, not all that eager to stop the conversation, when his foot brushes an object, causing him to reflexively glance at what he identifies as your book.

He picks it up fast. " Ma'am, your... "

When he straightens, you're already quite a distance ahead, walking decidedly fast and harshly tapping away at your screen.

" ... Book. "

Something about the cover feels weird. The glutton strolls forward with the thing in hand, indulging his curiosity while he flips it around.

'Unlocking The Quiet Mind, Exercises to find clarity and mindfulness within yourself'

Ah, self-help books. He's read a few. Lord knows today's world could use the time to reflect and find balance.

When he prepares to flip open the first few pages, the cover crinkles, making him frown. That's not natural. He moves it around some, eventually making it slip down.

Oh.

Vorago removes the fake plastic protection.

Oh.

'The Eclipse Pact, Tethered by blood and soul'

He nearly chokes.

This, is the real book. The actual cover consists of a woman in what seems to be a forested area, below a solar eclipse. She kneels before an inaccurate summoning circle in nothing more than a flowing nightgown, ritual utensils beside her, shocked and flustered by the presence of a demon confidently emerging from said circle.

He can feel his claws tightening onto the book, a rabid wave of excitement making the glutton's body become furnace-like, hair standing. He finds the back.

'Soon after moving out, Eliza Winters inherits a summoning book from her recently departed distant grandmother, detailing a ritual that, when performed during a solar eclipse, brings forth an infernal companion devoted entirely to her service. She never expected it to work, much less that she would now have to house a charming yet secretive demon who claims he will do anything to gain her favor for seemingly no reason. As she attempts to navigate her newfound reality, tensions and nosy family members highlight curious similarities between them. Can Eliza believe this infatuated summon? Are they meant to be, or are they now stuck together until the next few eclipses?'

The prince starts laughing to himself, trying to control his volume when a grin as wide and toothy as a lion's paints his complexion.

It's not that this is a particularly original story premise, it's that you were reading it.

No wonder you were panicking.

Wildly overjoyed, Vorago bolts his head every direction he can, desperate to find you again.

It's unsightly for a royal to be sprinting in public, but when the high-ranker recognizes the top of your head in a crowd, he doesn't hold back, nearly shoving past people.

He doesn't even know what he'll say when he catches up, he just knows he has to find you.

It's too perfect.

[harveybwabbit92]

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x Reader pt. 4

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon….

Part 1, Part 2,Part3

==============================

The thing about being new parents is they go into it not thinking how much it'll change their life. as they build a routine around the baby's care that they often forget that they're still people, and need to take of themselves and each other wise over time the stress will start to boil over. And Ken had reached that boiling point as he came home from the game furious cos he got chewed out by the coach and he took his frustrations out on R/n as soon as he walked through the door.

The aftermath of the argument that ensued left Kenji with a sore cheek and even more bruised ego as R/n stormed out of the house in tears her parting words being "You have no right coming at me like, Sato! I'm not who took in giant baby and forced a stranger to uproot her life, because he's too proud admit that he bit off more than he could chew." Kenji made his way downstairs and felt his legs shake as he made his way towards the baby's containment chamber feeling even more frustrated.

He finally breaks down crying grieving over the stress and trials that came with parenting and driving off the only person that had been trying to help him and what was worst...even if he did go after R/n, he wouldn't know where she would go! in the month that they've lived together; never once had they ever sat down and just have a real conversation that didn't involve the baby. That, and he hadn't exactly been the nicest guy since she moved in with him either.

Mina asked if Ken would like to hit some balls as that usually helps him feel better and started up a simulation of the dodger stadium. Unfortunately Ken's frustrations seem to grow as he missed every pitch thrown his way, Baby watched him curiously and started giggling thinking he was being silly; He eventually got sick of everything and retreated to his room.

He kicked the mini fridge in his couch open finding a single can of coconut water. Ken snorted tried to kick the drawer shut but it was being stubborn after the fourth kick it finally locked and Ken buried his head into his hands. Mina approached him concerned, she explained that Kenji was experiencing a breakdown due to stress, no surprises there. She asked if he would like to participate in a counseling session simulation. Ken didn't want that.

"I need to talk to someone, not something...offense Mina."

"Then perhaps you should call someone, a friend? "

"A friend...Well I just chased out the closest person I could call a...."

"Ken?"

Ken had an idea who to call he ended up calling Ami Wakita for help hopefully she can help him sort his head out and maybe help fix things with R/n, but first he had to come off as subtle as possible so the reporter doesn't suspect his current living situation. Ken waited a rings for Ami answer. "Miss Wakita,. It's Ken, Ken Sato, I need to talk to you." Ami panicked a little thinking Ken calling to complain about her most recent article she'd done on him. "Oh, Mr. Sato. If this is about what I wrote, I'm sorry but I solely write based on what I see-" Ken interrupted her assuring that the reason for him calling had nothing to do with her article, he just needed a minute to talk.

Ami cut him a deal; five minutes of talking and he gives her an exclusive interview, Ken reluctantly agreed her her terms and began talking. He wanted to know how she does make it work? How does she juggle her job while also caring for her family at the same time? "I mean, how did you did not lose it on your partner or resist the urge to throw your kid out a window?" There was a slight pause on the other end and Ken was worried he said too much before Ami spoke. "Ken, do you have a secret wife and child? cos that would make one heck of a story.~" Ken felt his cheeks burn as he firmly denied it Ami snickered assuring him that she was joking.

She told him that parenting was difficult even with two people but it's a rewarding journey and though it can seem bleak and stressful at times, but there's always that awe that comes with these little lives are relying on imperfect you to guide them through it all, even teaching you a few things along the way the feeling you get from experiencing it is... "Incredible..." Ken said in awe as he watched the baby trying to copy him from watching some of his old games.

He asked Mina to lower the kaiju's containment field and managed to get a hold of a giant baseball bat he just randomly had lying around and handed it off to the baby. "...And your five minutes are up!" Amy stated Ken hadn't heard her right away as he was trying to Baby how to swing her bat. "Ken, are you still there?" The baseball players eyes widened as remembered her was on call with her. "Oh, yeah. thanks!" Ami said his thanks can be the exclusive interview he promised. "Ah, right. Let's meet tomorrow at Tonkatsu Tonki in Meguro, around 7?" He hung up before Ami agreed and Ken returned to teaching Baby how to play baseball he had Mina bring up a simulation a baseball field from his childhood complete with his mom cheering him on front the stands.

Ken showed the baby how to hold her bat and went to pitchers mound the first try didn't go so well as Ken had accidentally nailed her in the forehead causing baby to started crying; Ken went to calm her down and reassure her. "It's okay, it happens. We'll try again. this time keep your eye on the ball." Ken went to pitch again and this time baby hit a homerun! Ken and Mina cheered and ran up to the kaiju. "C'mon girl, time to run your bases!" the the baby laughed and chirped giddily as she followed her daddy.

Cut to an hour later the baby has fallen asleep though with some difficulty, Ken learned that R/n would sing to the infant kaiju; which was news to him(he was usually K.O.'d or fighting Kaiju while R/n was on duty.) According to Mina R/n has lovely singing voice. Lucky the teddy bear R/n got Baby combined some Music box melodies playing on the speakers was enough to calm the infant dragon down. Now Ken had different matter to attend to: Apologizing to R/n. it's been an hour or so and she still hasn't come back...

He did relax a little knowing they were on an island so she couldn't have gone far, she would've had to borrow one of his cars to leave (There was a Baby incident with R/n's car.)..."Mina did you give R/n a watch?" he asked in an anxious tone Mina confirmed that she had. "Bring her location up." Ken brows furrowed in concern as R/n location showed her off the shore in the ocean. "She probably walked onto a shoal path and got trapped on on a rock something when the tide came in." Mina theorized that didn't calm Ken's nerves as he told Mina to keep an eye on baby while he went to look for R/n he turned into Ultraman left for a swim out the airlock.

Meanwhile

R/n was cold, sore, wet and pissed off and worst off trapped on this rusty-ass buoy that she managed to grabbed onto as the current pulled her away from the shore, R/n scratched her arms and legs up from climbing onto to it as the ocean came more restless with each passing minute, and all she could do was sit there and berate herself. "Because you let it get to you, You let the stress and Ken get to you and that's you how you drowned in the sea...." R/n eyes widened horror as the realization dawns on her "Holy crap, I'm going to drown in the sea" Her complexion turned ashen as she last out a small gasp. "..Just like Meimei's card reading said." R/n said thinking back to her last shift.

*R/n was sitting in the DN6 break room eating lunch while Meimei sat across from her giving her a Tarot card reading with Digimon cards??? R/n looks at cards then at the teen skeptically. "...And how exactly would I drown in tea?" she asked while taking a bite of her sandwich.*

R/n thought it over for moment then shrugged "Eh, close enough..." And this was All be cause she just wanted a few minutes to herself and to be far away from Ken as possible! But being stuck out here made R/n realize she couldn't really blame him for lashing like that. He was stressed out they both were, neither of them haven't had a moment of peace in what seemed like forever! Hell they've barely spoke to each other since R/n moved in...One of them was bound to snap from the pressure eventually!

R/n looked across the pitch dark bay at the distance of the Ultrabase and wondered if she should risk it and try to swim back? The delivery girl looked down at her scrapped hand and legs then snorted. She'd never make it, R/n was by no means a profession swimmer and even if she was there was a risk of riptides; that with all the blood she was leaking she'd be inviting every predator in a near mile to a free dinner! 

While was stressing over her current predicament she failed to noticed the two blue lights under the waters surface searching around until they looked up, they seem brightened up when they noticed her sitting at the water's edge, R/n let out a panicked yelp as tried to hang on to the buoy for dear life as the waves caused by the unknown entity crashed against it threatening to send R/n tumbling out to sea! *Oh, Great...now I'm gonna get eaten by a kaiju!* The delivery girl thought as the unknown creature broke the waters surface but what greeted R/n wasn't some aquatic monster wanting to eat her but instead the towering figure of Ultraman standing over her.

"R/n." He said with a relieved sigh as he leaned down to get better look at her. "Are you okay?" The delivery girl hugged the buoy tight as his movements caused the water to shift around. "I'd be happier if I was on land!" the delivery girl whined as the buoy shifted violently Ken reached out and held the buoy still while he held out his free hand out for R/n to climb on to. The tiny woman reluctantly hopped on and expected Ken to just walk them back to the base but instead he suddenly cupped his other hand over her. "Hey, take a deep breath for me, ok?" R/n looked up confused at what Ken was doing. "Hold my breath? what for-" her voiced echoed of into the distance as Ultraman suddenly flew off into the sky.

R/n felt like her stomach was yanked into her feet as Ultraman flew them somewhere when he finally stopped and set her down R/n needed a minute to get her bearings before looking around her eyes widened in awe as she took in the white sandy beach and untamed jungle in the distance. "Where is this?" she asked looking up at the silver giant who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's just a random island my dad used for training, it's small enough not show up on any maps and completely uninhabited." he explained as the [y/hc] woman looked out into surroundings she could see some parts of the the island were all kinds of torn up and in the pale moonlight she could see areas of the beach were glassed over like it had been hit by a lighting strike or say an alien energy beam...

"Why did you bring me here-....Are you going kill me?!" Ultraman looked at her startled "What the hell makes you think that?!" R/n goes on a rant on how she knows and seen too much, she could go to the press! Which she wouldn't actually... but still she's a liability to his life! "Would you calm down? I'm not gonna kill you...I brought you here to talk." Ken reassured as he sat down, it was kinda funny seeing Ultraman sitting so casually in that sand as R/n reluctantly joined him...

the two of them relaxed to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and crickets chirping in distant the jungle as Ken finally spoke up. "I'm sorry freaked out at you like that, It's just this whole thing with the baby and my jobs-" His timer started blinking R/n put her hand on his thigh. "Hey, It's okay. I get it..." Ken didn't seemed too convinced.

"No, what you said earlier; about uprooting your life... I never thanked you once for that did I?" The giant asked looking down the human his eyes dimmed somberly as R/n removed her hand from his thigh and looked down at her lap. "It wouldn't hurt to hear it every now and then...." The giant moved his hand so it was rested behind R/n who leaned back against it. "Well thanks, for everything." he said as the two sat in silence for a few moments enjoying the silence before R/n spoke up.

"I'm curious why haven't you switched back to human, don't you have 3 minutes or something?" Ultraman looked down at her oddly. "Uh...What? I don't have time limit, why would you think that?" he asked with sight laugh R/n's mouth opened but closed again when she couldn't come up with an answer. "I'm not sure...maybe I read it somewhere?" Ken was curious now and went to press where she had read that from? but was interrupted by Mina calling informing that the baby was waking up soon and she won't be happy seeing both her parents gone.

 "Welp, looks like break time over, let's go home" He held his hand out for R/n to hop onto this time delivery girl was ready for take off as Ultraman jumped up into the sky, when they got back to base Mina chewed Ken out for not bringing straight home to have her scrapes treated before the deciding to run away for an hour.

========================

{Ultraman didn't turn back into Ken cos he knew they weren't going to be staying on the island long.]

{Also: Did you catch the Archer reference?}

=========================

@mf-rockstar,@pattycakes2024,

@the-unhinged-raccoon,@karebears-klub,

@oh-kurva, @mashiromochi,

@boogiemansbitch, @ok-boke

@dap11

[hiraya-rawr]

think of flirty alhaitham and how it could work with his personality

The thing about alhaitham is that he knows what he wants. It isn't to say that he flirts with anyone, only with people he genuinely likes and could be in a relationship with. So if he ever finds out that he has feelings for you, he won't hesitate to test if he can develop something between you two.

It starts off casually. If you were just strangers/acquaintances, he'd start to pay more attention to you. Don't be surprised if he suddenly helps you carry a stack of books in the library, or sits on your table when there are other nearby tables available.

He introduces himself,

"Alhaitham. I don't believe we've officially met before, but I've seen you around."

He knows how to make small talk– a language scholar like him is all too familiar with conversation cues and how to use them to his favor. It helps that he has a basic idea of you; maybe your latest thesis, or what he heard you do for work, or the places you frequent.

In my opinion, Alhaitham is straightforward.

"Would you like to go to Puspa Café after this? I'd like to continue the conversation. Consider it my treat."

"What, like as a date?" You joke. After all, how could the stoic scribe suddenly ask you out? He probably found your thesis interesting, or he wanted to be well-acquainted for networking.

"If you don't mind." He says and your mouth falls open, momentarily stunned.

"M-me?" You stutter.

"Yes."

"You're asking me out on a. . . date date?" You emphasize twice, trying to make sure he doesn't mean a study date or a business meeting.

"Is it so surprising that I'm hitting on you? I wouldn't have sat on your table or start a conversation if I didn't like you."

"Ah." You say, speechless.

"So. . . Puspa Café? Or would you rather we set a time for tomorrow, somewhere nicer."

~

Alternatively, think of an early, casual confession. The kind where you're both just hanging around and he suddenly goes;

"You do know I like you, right? More than just a friend."

And he's not waiting for you to respond or anything, he just wants to get it off his chest because he's not the type to hesitate on his feelings. You don't have to outright reject him or confess your own feelings, he just continues doing whatever.

[ohraicodoll]

Territorial

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.6k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Warning: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Violence. Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI

She didn’t care when Jackson got new people. She wasn’t one of the regulars that crowded around the entrance, watching patrol bring them through, so similar to how they joined. No, she didn’t care because the rest of Jackson didn’t matter, just the two people she currently lived with. If it didn’t have to do with Joel and Ellie, she didn’t care. So it was at least a month before she met Harper, when she was added to their patrol duty. 

The other women in town, the ones that frequently fawned over Joel Miller, were different from his companion and she knew that. Her insecurity frequently reminded her that she didn’t belong in Jackson with these women that still took the time to dress up and do their hair. But she had seen Joel downright ignore their flirting enough times, had heard him reassure her that wasn’t the type he was interested in. Someone to watch his back. With teeth, he had said. Harper had teeth. She was a good shot, wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and never complained about the work. She got along well with Maria, with everyone really, able to get them to talk about their interests and lives easily and seemed like an open book. Harper helped with the horses and in the food hall and knew how to cook and how to clean a rifle properly. And to her dismay, as she watched the patrol party enter the gates where she definitely wasn’t waiting for the man she lived with, Harper could make Joel smile. Not a smirk or a condescending tilt of the lips, but an actual smile. She watched them dismount from the horses and the woman laughed at something Joel said, his lips curving into a grin, and her heart dropped in her stomach. Because she wasn’t sure the man had ever smiled like that around her. Easy and charming, relaxed. Suddenly she was the old version of herself, anxious and unsure, insecure in her own skin and embarrassed. All her faults and problems blared in her head alongside the echo of the threat hanging over her head. Assimilate or get kicked out of Jackson. She was on her last strike after three rough months of living there while this woman had shown up and fit in better than she ever could after only a month. Her nails dug into her thigh sharply, the small hints of pain trying to keep her grounded. She’d almost convinced herself to turn around and walk home, leave before Joel could see her standing there with all her defects, but then his eyes met hers. And if she didn’t feel awful enough, his smile dimmed a bit, became unsure and almost bashful. Like he didn’t want her to see it. She wondered if Harper had noticed his eyes were more hazel than brown when he was in a good mood. They both walked over to her and she stood there, stiff and stabbing into her own skin, wanting to bolt. Harper turned to her, light hair catching the sun and blue eyes glistening. Perfect and still pretty even after the world went to shit while she was very aware she hadn’t brushed her hair in three days. “Oh hi, I don’t think we’ve officially met,” she smiled sweetly, adjusting the rifle on her back and the bandana around her neck. Joel cleared his throat, nodding towards her and ignoring the furrowed brow that was permanently on her face around strangers, “Harper, this is Red. Red, Harper.” “I’ve heard so much about you. Red’s such an interesting name,” she smiled with a light chuckle though it wasn’t as wide as the one that had been aimed at Joel, her eyes roaming over her. Taking her measure. She only frowned and ignored her eye contact, staring at Joel’s shoulder instead. “It’s not my name,” the words were quiet but raspy, a growl. Harper’s smile tightened in the corner of her eye. The silence weighed between them, stifling, and Joel cleared his throat, “Harper happens to be from Austin. We frequented some of the same spots surprisingly.” The words were almost an explanation or an apology, or an excuse. She didn’t reply, eyes still solely focused on his shoulder and avoiding looking at either of them. Small talk was hard on most occasions but this seemed impossible. She wasn’t sure how she should reply to that. Congrats? Good job finding another person you could easily talk to besides me? She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling uncomfortable and desperately wanting to run, words stuck until she nodded and spit out, “I’ll see you at the house later.” His brow had furrowed when she swiveled on her heel and started walking down the street, rigid and feeling the small welts of blood seeping into her jeans from her nails. ___________________ It wasn’t long before she started seeing Harper everywhere and she grit her teeth every time. 

When she walked into the bar, the location on her list of places to search for Ellie, she found Joel and Tommy chatting with the woman at the bar top. She was talking rapidly, a smile on her face and hands waving as she told some story. A hand talker. Tommy was behind the bar, leaning on it and seeming enraptured by the conversation while Joel was standing with his elbow resting on the counter, body fully turned to face Harper. All three chuckled at something and she watched as her hand landed on Joel’s arm, staying there a few seconds too long before sliding off. Too lingering to be innocent. She wanted to snap her teeth at her, go up to them and put her hand on his back or in his belt loops, a move he’d done so often to her. Push him against the countertop and take his mouth with hers or even straight grab Harper’s perfect hair and slam her face against the table. A million images flashed through her head only to come to a halt at remembering her predicament. Joel’s urges to try to join the community or risk getting kicked out. She knew she was a fine thread away from getting booted. One wrong step out the door and probably bashing in perfect new girl Harper’s face would do the trick faster than she could blink. So instead she pivoted, snarl in her throat, and walked out the bar. Harper became a regular on Joel’s shift. She only worked with the newcomer a couple times. She was good and that irritated her. The woman was a survivor and knew how to handle herself and watch out for others. All the things she usually found lacking in the townspeople and hated, Harper had that and more. She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge and the growing list of the woman’s skills. They’d been scouting out a small location, a couple of cabins a few hours away from Jackson. She’d rode to the far side of them and gotten off, checking the houses for anyone hiding out or seeing if there was anything good to scavenge. When she heard the sound of glass shattering and heavy thumps a few houses down, voices crying out, her heart almost pounded out of her chest. That’s where Joel had been checking. She’d ran fast, bow out, feet carrying her quicker than she’d ever run before on the muddy Spring ground. Previous moments flashed in her mind. Too many close calls. Joel’s blood on her hands from a stab wound. Joel hurt. But the action was already over as she barreled into the room. A Clicker lay bleeding out on the floor, a large hatchet stuck in the fungi petals of its face, mouth in a grotesque scream. Joel was panting on the floor with his back against the corner, pistol in hand unfired, while Harper stood over the infected triumphant. With a grin, she ripped the hatchet from its head and walked over to Joel, offering him a hand. She felt useless. Harper had his back. Teeth. _____________________________ Tommy had finally found her a job she was actually fairly decent at, after being taken off both kitchen and farming duty, but noticing she seemed calmest with animals. People didn’t want to work with her and in her mind that was fine, but in Maria’s it made her a problem. But she liked the dog kennels. They weren’t unlike her. She could understand their wants and needs, their habits and what they deemed their territory. Training them wasn’t easy but it was rewarding and it came with the added benefit that she was around the animals more often than people. She didn’t have to be talkative or put on a mask. They knew hand signs, could read her feelings and what she wanted. It felt comfortable to be with them. Often in the morning she would go and feed the dogs, go over their exercises, walk them in the outside yard they had set aside behind the kennels. Ellie had fallen in love with them as well and sometimes would tag along, was even there when one of the dogs gave birth. She’d been grossed out initially but once the blood and the goo and all the disgusting parts of birth was over and done with she held the small puppies in her hands and helped them find spots to feed. Joel had come a few times, watched them with arms resting on the pen door as they sat in the hay and held the tiny jelly bean puppies. Ellie had grinned, taking over naming duty, and had even held one up forcing Joel to name one. He’d frowned, shrugging at the little brown squirming blob, scratching at his beard, “I don’t know, Brownie?” “Really?” Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “So original. Naming it after its color.” “You named me after my shirt,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. Those first few days when she hadn’t known how to interact but knew she had to make sure the girl was safe. Unwilling to give any piece of herself, especially her name. So Ellie had formed a piece from the rubble and taken it for herself. Ellie huffed with a sniff, nose turning up, and ignored the dig, “Whatever, Red suited you.” She held the squirming puppies in her lap, watching them seek warmth while holding a small container of sugared ice for the mama to lick and enjoy after pushing out ten little bodies, “Good thing I wasn’t wearing a different colored shirt.” Joel’s eyes were on her and she looked up at him, finding him watching her with the slightest tilt of his lips. She knew he was worried about her, had already been fighting tooth and nail with his brother and his pregnant wife over her position. He was working harder to help her than Ellie who had adjusted quickly. This was the one job inside of Jackson’s walls she was relaxed in and she could feel him taking in the way she seemed at ease. The smile grew, warming. “Did Maggie have the pups?” a familiar voice rang out. The smile vanished and she stiffened.

The kennels had been converted from one of the old stables, the dogs held in old horse stalls on either side of the room. She couldn’t see the woman from her position on the floor, the walls of the stall blocking the view, but she knew it was Harper that had walked in. She came up to Joel’s side, almost touching shoulders, and looked down at her and Ellie with the pups and Maggie. “Oh, hi Red,” Harper’s smile became a bit tighter, head tilting, “I didn’t realize you were the one taking care of her.” She didn’t answer, averting her gaze to Maggie and adjusting the bowl for her to lick. Ellie answered instead, enthusiastically holding the puppy up in her hand, “She takes care of the dogs now! Joel named this one.” The man frowned almost bashfully, shrugging, “It’s Brownie.” Harper laughed and her dimples showed, head quirking as she looked at him, “That’s adorable.” She couldn’t get up and leave with the puppies all around her and both Joel and Harper leaning on the pen door. She was trapped, listening to them chat and laugh and Ellie showing off all the dogs while she sat there and tried to be invisible. She wanted to scream, rage, do something other than be meek and small. It was like every time the woman showed up, the version of her from two decades before took over her skin. The girl who had been shy and timid and didn’t know how to fight back. She wanted to scream at her to do something, say something, snarl at Harper that if she touched Joel one more fucking time she’d break her wrist and shove it down her throat. Instead, she sat there, listening to Ellie talk to her easily and Joel’s soft musings, the three of them getting along better than she ever did. Try. Try. Joel’s pleas haunted her constantly. She was trying. God, was she fucking trying so hard. But this wasn’t an instance like with Grant who had touched her and paid the price or his fucking brother who had sneered in her face and called her a bitch. She could argue those were justified. She could have done worse to them and didn’t. But the problem was Harper hadn’t done anything wrong to her. She hadn’t been mean, she hadn’t touched her, hadn’t done anything but make her feel small in comparison to her presence. There was no reason to fight her, to twist her pretty locks in her fingers and smash her face in until the strands turned red and she was nothing but a cavernous hole. She hated settlement life. She hated the fucking politics of it all, the dance to be respectable. Before, there was no time to worry about feelings or what her and Joel were, how he felt towards her, what her role was in their complicated mess of a relationship. It had moved beyond just sex, but she wasn’t sure what exactly. They’d gone through hell together. Maybe it was that she happened to be there, a place holder to fulfill all he needed while taking care of Ellie, but now he had options. There were other women that could fill that place. Could be a better guardian to Ellie, could take care of Joel, could watch both of their backs. One that didn’t cause problems or that he had to jump to defend or cause Ellie to yell at gawking strangers on her behalf. She tried not to focus on it. Swallowed it down deep in the pit of her stomach and refocused back on the things that mattered, which were caring for Joel and Ellie. 

She tried not to think about it when later that evening when they’d gone to bed he pulled her into his body, hands roaming over her soft belly before gripping her tightly and pushing his hard length against her backside. She tried not to think when his fingers slipped inside of her, pumping in and out as his other hand squeezed her tit and pinched her nipped. Tried not to think if he was pushing into her from behind because he was imagining someone else’s face. The confusion turned to a twisted sort of pain and hurt and rage that needed an outlet. Defiance against her situation. She couldn’t do anything outside the walls of their house and her frustration was tearing her up. She was a fox with its foot caught in a trap, snapping and snarling at whatever she could but unable to do anything. She pulled away, feeling him slip out of her, and shoved him onto his back. Joel let out a small grunt at the hard push, but she didn’t care as she climbed on top of him, watching the small bit of confusion in his eyes. He knew something was off, but didn’t stop her. Let her take what she needed. She had to feel some ounce of control. So she rode him hard, nothing gentle to the way she rose and fell on him, sweat coating her skin and panting. There was no rhythm to it, only primal need and hurt carrying her movements. He sat up, brows furrowed and not keen on the distance of laying back, the angle changing enough she groaned. His hand caressed her neck softly in contrast to her harsh movements and the small tattooed stars on her collarbone he was always infatuated with. Almost as if he was trying to bring that version of her back to herself. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to give him an ounce of control over her, show him he could affect her at all. Because that meant someone else had the power to hurt her. Twisting her fingers in his curls tightly, she crushed her lips to his to avoid his searching eyes, swallowing every sound he made from the pleasure of their jutting hips. Her nails scraped along his scalp and into his shoulder hard enough she knew there would be red lines in the morning. He was letting himself be distracted, giving in, snapping his hips into hers equally rough with arms a tight band around her middle and holding her to his chest. They were wrapped around each other. For once there wasn’t the coaxing sound of his urgings as he drew her moans from her usually quiet throat, his praise at how good she was for him and how she felt. He was silent in the face of her aggression and she wasn’t sure how to feel, trying desperately to chase that control and release of her emotions. Her lips left his swollen and bruised and she pressed open mouth kisses onto the hard muscle of his shoulder as the pace became a mess. It wasn’t about her orgasm at that moment. She wanted to make him come, drag it from him like a trophy. Show him exactly what she could do to him. And when he did find his release, the hot spend of his arousal filling her, she bit down hard into the skin of his neck making him groan harder and dig his fingers into her skin. He tasted like sweat and salt and the earthy air from working outside. She didn’t come, didn’t mention it or even want it, only held him tightly as he came down from the high and slid his hand over her naked back. His grip was a little harder and she kept her face tucked into his neck when he tried to meet her eyes. They went to bed without any discussion, him holding her to his chest while her eyes stared into the darkness longer, listening to his breaths. The sound of knocking in the early morning woke them up. She heard Joel curse and throw on pants and a flannel, not bothering to button it up before lumbering down the stairs. Sleep beckoned to pull her back under, breasts pressed into the cool sheets and covers slid down from Joel leaving. It was usually Tommy, up early and taking care of things or letting him know of any problems. But she paused at the distinctly female voice she heard. A few minutes later Joel came back into the room and began to dress fully. She bit her lip, watching him from where her face was shoved into the pillow, brows furrowed. Boots, jacket, holster, gun. Everything signs he was leaving the walls. He looked at her after snapping in his gun and paused when he noticed she was awake and staring, two large unblinking eyes watching him from behind her arms. Joel hesitated in the darkness, contemplating, almost guilty. It was supposed to be his day off. Yet here he was, racing off. “Harper said one of the guys is sick and they’re short one so I’m gonna go help out with morning patrol,” he explained and nodded to himself, thumbs in his belt. A reasonable excuse. She wondered if he hadn’t noticed she was awake would he have left without telling her? But still, she said nothing and tucked her face back into the pillow, exhausted and a little sad and drowning in her own deteriorating self-esteem and doubt. A few moments later, she ignored the trail of his fingers on her naked back, soft and apologetic, before he left the room. Most of the time it was Tommy asking him to fill in. He didn’t say yes often and would tell him to shove it before going back to their bed. But Harper had asked this time and she felt her hackles raise at the fact she’d come to their house. To ask him specifically. And he’s been quick to say yes. 

These feelings weren’t something she knew how to process or handle. Who the fuck handled being jealous of all things in the apocalypse? It was ridiculous, but settling in Jackson had allowed those things to creep in. She became aware of all she lacked and all she couldn’t handle and how other people didn’t have the same issues as her. She let her instincts guide her. The kennels became her home. She knew when Joel was home and avoided him, knowing that if she didn’t see him with Harper then it wouldn’t hurt as much versus death by a thousand cuts. She knew better than to try and sleep in the downstairs room, he’d only find her and yell at her to go upstairs, so she went to bed early or late. Asleep before he would show up or waiting until he was sleeping himself. Ellie followed her around when she wasn’t going to classes or helping out where she could. The girl never asked directly what was wrong, but she knew something was up. There was worry in her eyes and she would ask for help with inane tasks, trying to lure her home like luring a frightened dog home with a treat. She didn’t want to worry or hurt her, but the feelings were choking her and she didn’t know how to cope. Some nights, she missed her sister and having someone to walk her through it all. Annie had been so much smarter than her despite her young age. She understood the world better, was sassy like Ellie, and could read people so well. Unlike her who was gullible back then and immensely naive, unsure and anxious constantly. Book smart, but not much else. But Annie was gone along with that version of her. 

Sometimes she’d feel Joel inching closer to her in the bed, hands ghosting over her shoulder or brushing through her hair when he thought she was asleep. His lips brushing her skin. Never pushing, far too patient. 

When he left for morning patrol, she pretended to stay asleep. Harper would be in his group and when that happened, she liked to wait outside the house for him. The kennels welcomed her and she spent time with each dog, shoving her face into their necks and running her hands over their fluffy coats. She checked on the puppies and weighed them all, walking Maggie so she could get a break from the squirming things. She even spent time with the older dogs, taken off duty, making sure they got attention and massaged their joints and hugged them in her lap. Her brain made backup plans. If Joel asked her to leave the house, she could set up a cot in the kennels and stay there. There was even a small converted garage she could live in if she needed to. If they asked her to leave, she could go north and stay within distance enough she could visit Ellie often enough. Maybe set up a radio code similar to what Joel had told her about their friends Bill and Frank so she could set meet up spots. The latter was more likely. People only put up with her because of Joel and if he chose Harper then there wasn’t any reason to keep her in Jackson to them. Ellie would have guardians, she wasn’t necessary.

Hours passed while she cared for the dogs. She skipped breakfast and lunch, choosing instead to spend time training them or napping with the senior dogs in their pens.

It was mid-day when the doors opened and she heard footsteps enter. They weren’t familiar and her body stiffened instantly, shutting the pen door behind her as she exited Maggie’s enclosure. Sometimes it was one of the patrols, coming to switch out the dogs, but they didn’t always take them out unless someone was spotted and none had been taken that day. Her heart thudded even louder when she saw who it was, Harper’s smile a little too tight as she made eye contact. In all the times since the newcomer had joined Jackson, she’d never been alone with the woman. Now she didn’t like the lack of a buffer, the way her focus took in every inch of her. But in the same way, the cracks in her mask were showing. What had seemed gentle in the lines of her face were now condescending, mocking, ingenuine. Her lips were stretched thin in almost a sneer and those blue eyes were hard. Oh. She could see the game then, the cunning analyzing way this woman looked at her. She was right. Harper was a survivor, was so very smart, and was also willing to do whatever to get her way. You don’t survive this long by being sweet and kind and caring. You had to be ugly sometimes, but Harper had gotten good at hiding that ugliness from the right people. There was no reason to hide it from her though. 

The woman stepped further in and walked towards her languidly, trailing her hands along the stable doors. Her exit was cut off, having to move around the woman to leave, and she began to see the situation for what it was. A standoff. A fight. Her teeth were grinding, nails sinking into her palm if only to inflict some kind of violence to keep herself in check. 

Harper smiled, faux kindness painted on her lips, “They told me about you, warned me to be careful around you, and all the problems you’ve been having. They told me how you’re on your last leg here.” She paused and the smile widened, “You should just go and save everyone the trouble. Ellie’s doing great here and from what Joel has told me, he’s enjoying having his brother back and this new settlement life. If you really care about them, you’d realize you’re holding them back.”

Her blood was boiling, rage roaring through her head at Harper’s gall to mention her people, and she growled, “And you’re so worried about them, right? Concerned citizen?”

“Joel has been through a lot,” Harper spat out and she wanted to snap her teeth as if she didn’t fucking know, “He shouldn’t have to worry about some woman messing things up and getting them kicked out.” Some woman, as if that was all she was. The words were spit out of her mouth like they were covered in grime and blood. She didn’t even bother to hide what she meant. The words were all there, the implication that the man had opened up to her, told her about his life and what they’d been through, and his feelings regarding this new chapter. Things he hadn’t told her yet, too busy trying to douse fires and help her get settled. 

Cleaning up her messes.

With a clenched jaw, holding in the hurt and the anger to keep from showing the damage, she bent down and grabbed her bag to try and leave. There was no winning in this sense because she was right and she’d never been good with words. Better to get out of there, go somewhere else before the damage took hold and would start to fester, “Your concern is noted.” Moving to go around her and leave, Harper stepped in her path, shoulders straight and spine rigid with her chest puffed out, “It’s not just for them. This is a civilized place.” And you’re not that went unsaid, “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and go? They’ll be fine and happy. No one has to worry if you’re gonna freak out and kill someone and you can finally roam the forests and be back home.”

She was so close she could smell the trees and wind on her, the slight hint of sweat from the horse. Too close. Close enough she could wrap her teeth into her flesh and bite and rip. Too tempting.

“Or you can get the fuck out of my face?” she hissed with her teeth bared. It was all rising, the urge to hurt her. She’d hurt so many people for less and it would feel so good to break her knuckles open on her mouth, to hear the cartilage in her nose crack. But her smile turned smug and she only pressed in, almost chest to chest, and using her few inches of height to look down at her, “Or what? What can you do? They’ll kick you out and do you really think Joel would be on your side if you hurt me?” That made her hesitate. Because she wasn’t sure. With the other women, the men and their obvious disdain for her, yes he would defend her. But this new person who was like a merging of all he liked? Tough but good with people and pretty and able to hold her own, someone he trusted at his back. Would he defend her? Harper sensed that hesitation and, before she could blink, took advantage and shoved her back. She stumbled, losing ground, so aware she was trapped. The fox with its leg in a noose, all over again. Fighting would give her exactly what she wanted. Not fighting back made her weak, someone to trample on. Someone too weak to live. 

“Come on. Settlement life make you lose your bite or are the rumors hot air?” Harper hissed and shoved her again. Her instincts were screaming to fight, to shove her back, grab her knife, or use her fists. Beat her teeth in and make her swallow each one to the point she could only eat soup until she choked on it. But that hanging threat was there like a guillotine, Tommy’s voice saying Maria was considering kicking her out.

Joel asking her to try.

So she did nothing. She clenched her fists and bit her tongue until blood coated it. And when Harper threw a punch, snapping her head to the side, she still did nothing. 

Shame and anger and resentment bloomed in her chest and the small taste of blood grew until she could feel a steady trickle down her throat as her nose took the brunt of the damage. She’d killed so many people for simply touching something of hers, looking at her, had done awful things to protect herself and her two people, and yet she would take this if it meant keeping them safe and happy. But it felt so much like losing to just let it happen.

“Can’t do anything, can you?” Harper chuckled, “They don’t need you, ya know that? You’re baggage. Joel and Ellie’s lives would be so much easier without you dragging them down-” “The fuck you just say to her?” The moment the deep voice snarled through the kennel, she saw Harper freeze. It came from the open doorway and she watched as the sneer on her face morphed into surprise and then tried to turn soft, apologetic. Fake. They both turned and watched as Joel entered the kennel, lips twisted into a hard frown and brow shading his eyes. He was looking at the woman differently now. Like an outsider or a threat. She could see the subtle fear and discomfort swim to the surface under that gaze. The game was up. Mask invisible. “Joel-” “Not another word. You shut your fucking mouth,” he snarled and Harper shrunk in response. She watched it all with a disconnect, feeling the blood slide down her lips and into her mouth. There was no relief at his appearance. Shame was still a heavy blanket on her shoulders at him finding her cowed.

With a gulp, Harper’s gaze swung between the two and she slid away, scurrying around him and towards the exit. But not before he called out, “If you say a goddamn word to her ever again, I’ll let her finish what you started and swear before the whole town that you deserved every bit of what she does to you. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get punished for a single fucking thing.” The threat was there but not from him. No, even catching them with her own blood smeared across her face, he knew she could do the damage herself unrestrained and untethered. That this moment was a special circumstance because what she could do was far worse than what he would. Harper ran and didn’t look back. Silence took over between them, tension thick enough the dogs whined and pawed at their pen doors. She stood stiff and unmoving, eyes not meeting his but looking off into the darkness. He was the first to break the silence. “Why didn’t you fight back?” Joel asked, a growl still in his voice but not towards her. She smiled humorlessly, hands on her hips and staring down at the door floor. Her blood was speckled on the ground, “Because I’m trying.”

Joel scoffed and stepped more into the room, grabbing her chin until she looked up at him. From his back pocket, he pulled out a rag and gently began to wipe the blood from her face, “Trying to do what? Be a punching bag?” Blood was in her throat when she swallowed, heart beating a little louder at his touch, but she continued to avoid his gaze, “Integrate.” He paused at the word, his thumb rubbing the edge of her jaw compulsively. Then his grip tightened and he turned her forcefully to meet his gaze. Joel’s eyes were hard and lips pressed thin with anger but also regret and frustration, “I don’t give a shit if we’re integrating or whatever. Someone gives you shit, lays a hand on you, fuck even makes you feel like you don’t belong with us then you knock their fucking teeth in.” She swallowed as he all but snarled the words at her, his fingers so tight on her skin, but he continued, “Settling down here doesn’t mean I want you to become a doormat and I’ll argue with Maria until I’m fucking blue over that. They start shit? Then you sure as fuck finish it.” Her teeth clenched and she felt the sharp coppery tang of the blood still in her mouth, “They’ll kick me out-” “No, they won’t,” he hissed angrily, “I fucking mean it, Red. I don’t want you softening for our sake if it means people try to make you feel like shit. Your place is here with us. No one is going to get between us, I can assure you that.” “She wasn’t wrong,” she replied softly as if saying it out loud was exposing an open nerve, exposing her insecurity to him, “I’m baggage. She could take care of herself and you and Ellie. She can cook and watch your back and gets along with people. I can’t do that-” “Stop,” he ground out, “I’m not that easy. Jesus, I’m not going to chase after the first woman that can hold a gun and make me a fucking pie.” Despite his hard words, he still gently wiped her face clean, taking such care in checking her over and making sure she was okay. It was almost too much, “Give yourself some credit, Starshine-” “You spent a lot of time with her,” the words were like ripping open her skin, bitter and stupid and raw as they spilled out of the wound, “She’s…from Austin and…you laughed and smiled with her. You just seemed happier around her.” Joel paused and pulled back a little to fully take in her expression and what was at play. She could see the moment he saw her, really saw her no matter how hard she was trying to hide her feelings. The insecurity. The jealousy. Everything she had struggled with. He chewed his lip and nodded, brow furrowing a bit harder, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what she wanted or how she was making you feel. But you’re fucking stupid if you think I wouldn’t turn her ass down in a second.” The words weren’t gentle or soft, but they were said as a fact. The simplest fact that Joel would never choose Harper. That he wasn’t actively pursuing that. And it worked. She felt the tightness in her shoulders ease a bit as he pulled her forward into his embrace, pressing a kiss against her forehead. Her fingers dug into his back, gripping the worn denim fabric of his shirt tightly and she couldn’t help but sigh into his embrace. Home. It felt like home and comfort and everything she had felt she was missing. Breathing him in, she mumbled against his chest, “She’s probably going to complain next time you have patrol with her.” “She’s not going to be on patrol with me,” he murmured into her ear, pulling back to sweep her messy hair behind her ears, “I’m gonna make sure she works exactly where she belongs. On shit duty.” “You don’t have to. You don’t have to come to my rescue,” she argued albeit weakly. “Oh I’m not,” Joel chuckled, lips turning up into a smirk, “This is all for me. No one insults what’s mine.” She looked at him, brow furrowed at the words, mind trying to process them. But she didn’t get very far before his lips were on hers, kissing her hard and tugging her back flush against his body so she could feel exactly how much he wanted her. Her nails dug into his skin, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, while his hands kneaded the soft curves of her ass, pressing the hard front of his jeans into her stomach. He groaned into her mouth and pulled away enough to speak against her lips, grip on her still tight, “Let’s get back home so I can fuck you so hard you’ll stop doubting yourself.” She chuckled, wanting to argue that that was a hard promise to keep, but he was already dragging her out of the kennels and into the darkening streets as the sun began to lower. True to his word, Harper found herself with a brand new post going forward. Tommy didn’t mention the reason why to her, didn’t pull her aside and question her over what happened. Ellie didn’t even mention her bruised nose. Whatever Joel had told them was enough. The woman went out of her way to avoid going anywhere near any of them going forward, even straight turning in the opposite direction when she saw them and eventually coming off patrol duty all together. She tried not to feel satisfied at that. Tried not to feel more at ease or proud of herself when Maria told her she was doing a damn good job with the kennels and asked if she wanted to take on more duties, almost cementing that she wasn’t going to be asked to leave. Joel and Ellie did that for her, celebrating every small win and reminding her exactly where she belonged. With them.  _________________________________________ Taglist:  @alouise20 @faceache111​​ @hawsx3​​ @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover​ @emlovesya  @agent007knight​ @spaacerabbit​ @namgification @wonwoosthetic​  @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8

[sadhours]

the diner - part two

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

part one

read on ao3

Billy is his name. It’s embroidered on his coveralls. He’s caught your attention but there’s something very off about him. You’ve grown up here. People don’t move here but he did. And you can’t figure out why. But there has to be a reason. He’s trying not to be found, he’s got to be escaping something. The guy looks like he’s hiding. No one can offer much information about him. The folks who have talked to him can’t pull any from him.

It seems as if he keeps to himself. He shows up at places you go but he’s always alone and doesn’t really talk to anyone. Like, okay, the bar. There’s one bar in this town and you’ve seen him there several times. While you’re chitchatting with locals, he’s sat at the bar. Smokes and smokes and downs beers and shots but he doesn’t fucking talk. You try hard not to watch him but you look. And he’s always staring at the bar, mess of blonde curls hiding his face. His hair is long, choppy layers but it’s past his shoulders and kind of big. It’s confusing because… the dudes handsome. Has a real pretty face though he always looks exhausted— like he’s seen horrific things. You’ve begged the bartender, Lacey, to tell you the conversations they’ve had but she insists he doesn’t talk much. She has told you that he comes in a lot. And even those nights when it’s just been him and her alone in the bar, he’s quiet. But he plays music on the jukebox. You asked what he plays and it tells you something but nothing of substance. The guy likes his hair metal and Hendrix.

And one time she asked him to kill a spider. But he didn’t. He laid out his hand, let the spider crawl onto his fingers and carried it outside. You like that story because you think it gives you insight into the stranger. Tells you something he or no one else can’t.

The owner of Route One Garage is a close friend. Your dad’s buddy, named Pete. He comes into the diner daily but he can’t give you anymore information. Tells you only the things everyone knows. That he’s from California and he’s really good with cars. Pete says he’s quiet, keeps to himself and that he doesn’t talk about himself— ever. Offers opinions about superficial stuff. He likes Marlboro Reds and Ole’ Colonial beer. Says he used to have a Camaro but it was wrecked in an accident. Won’t give any details of the accident.

Other than that, Manuel Gomez says he frequents his restaurant— that he loves Mexican food, and asks for the extra spicy stuff. Manuel says he even knows some Spanish, but if he’s from Southern California, that makes sense and isn’t really helpful in getting to know the stranger. And you’re really trying not to obsess over it, but he just has you so incredibly curious. You wonder if he’s lonely. You are and this own town is like family.

He comes in kind of early. 10 pm instead of after midnight. Something tells you to dig deep. So when he sits, lights his cigarette and stares down at the table, you slip into the booth across from him. You grab the menu and open it, purse your lips as you look through it and as you glance up at him, he looks uncomfortable.

Billy asks you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what you’re gonna eat today,” you answer with a shrug but you’re determined to learn more about him. Even if it’s through food. “You like sandwiches?”

“Does anyone not like sandwiches?” he replies, but he’s fidgeting— like he’s uncomfortable.

You nod and meet his eyeline, “Yeah. Some dudes get offended when I suggest sandwiches.”

“How is that possible? It’s like, the least offensive food.”

“I don’t like eggs,” you shrug, “Everyone has preferences.”

Billy’s face looks cute. Looking at you with his brows knit, bright blue eyes all confused. “You don’t like eggs? Why?”

“They’re bouncy and they stink,” you offer easily. You’ve despised them your whole life.

“Your job must be real difficult if you don’t like the smell of eggs,” he responds and he still doesn’t exactly meet your eyes.

You make a face as you flip the page of the menu, “You’ve got no idea. If they’re not drowned in cheese, I have to try really hard not to gag.”

“My dad— I can’t eat them scrabbled because that’s the only thing he knew how to cook.”

Aha. Information. He has a family. But he said knew not knows. Maybe his dad is dead.

“Noted, I don’t know if over easy is any better though,” you tell him as you scan the menu. “Our pot roast is pretty good.”

“It’s the morning. Do people usually eat pot roast for breakfast?”

That’s a good point.

“Do you like pancakes?” you ask, then.

Billy shrugs, “Yeah, I mean they’re fine but they’re not healthy.”

“Okay, so you’re health conscious but you chain smoke cigarettes,” you laugh softly. “Maybe some oatmeal and yogurt?”

He sighs, snatches the menu from you and closes it. “How about you get me the breakfast I always get? And how about you don’t fucking question it?”

The shift is brutal and you’re suddenly really embarrassed about sliding into the booth and trying to get to know him. You slide out without another word and put in his order. Fill his coffee cup without a word. Serve him his breakfast and don’t say a single thing to him. You’ve learned from this— learned his a fucking asshole.

You’re relieved when he leaves. Recount the story to your coworkers but they excuse him.

“Yeah,” Becky scoffs, “The guy’s a fucking weirdo. Why are you trying to talk to him?”

“He comes in literally every time I work,” you argue, “Why wouldn’t I try to like, talk to him?”

Becky’s face grimaces, “You don’t think he’s a weirdo? He’s dirty and he doesn’t make eye contact. Besides… I think he’s pretty creepy.”

Creepy isn’t a way you’d describe him. And based off what Becky says next, you think she could read your face.

“He’s moved here suddenly, doesn’t have any friends— like seriously, he doesn’t talk to anyone. He works in that place and then what? He’s probably a serial killer or something,” Becky’s face is contorted in disgust.

You chew on your bottom lip, “I think he’s kind of cute…”

“They thought Ted Bundy was hot,” Becky argues, “Seriously. He’s not hideous but he’s a weirdo. He’s definitely got skeletons in his closet— literally.”

—

That night, you go to the bar. You have tomorrow off so it’s routine. You meet your friends there. And like clockwork, Billy walks in about thirty minutes after you get there. You can feel his eyes on you and you think maybe he’s still upset about earlier today. So after a round of shots, you approach him.

“I’m sorry about earlier. That was weird,” you rush out, feeling the heat from the tequila, “I don’t usually sit with patrons and pry like that— but, like, this is a small ass town and we don’t have people move here. I know everyone here, so I was just trying to get to know you.”

His response is cold, “You don’t wanna know me.”

And it’s so far from reality. But it feels like a warning. You look down and see how his wrists have these deep scars. Purple and red rough skin, wrapped around the limbs. He notices, pulls down the sleeves of his denim jacket to hide them.

Snarls his teeth and tells you, “Get lost.”

You wanna push him off the barstool, tell him he’s the one who needs to get lost. But you don’t. You swallow the lump in your throat and retreat. Get back to your friends and try to the into the pretty, blonde stranger with a bad fucking additude but you feel his eyes on you. And you do your best to ignore the dreadful feeling that sits in your stomach, try not to recognize it as fear. It feels charged suddenly and you’re scared. So you drink, down another shot or two until it fizzles out. Play some pool with your friends.

As the night goes on, one by one your friends leave until it’s just you and Billy and Lacey. But he doesn’t talk to you. You converse with Lacey for a while until you get sleepy. After saying goodbye, you stumble to your car and can’t help but feeling like you’re being followed. Ignoring it, you make your way home. Lock your doors when you get inside and bypass the bathroom, too tired and go to your bedroom. You lay down for a beat, eyes glued to your window. That feeling— being watched is heavy on you. And you get up, rush to the window and pull up the blinds. Cup your hands on the glass as you peer through. See the eyes watching you, then the person runs. The harder you look, the more you can make out the blonde curls.

—

Billy doesn’t come into the diner. Which you’re glad. The day after you were certain you’d seen him peeking into your window, you’d sat on the couch. Unable to sleep. Held yourself in fear, panicked as you kept checking all the windows. And you know you should tell someone but for some reason, you don’t.

As you work, you keep looking towards the rundown mechanic shop next door. Some part of you expects him to be standing at the big window, staring back at you. But he doesn’t.

You’re confused and scared. You decide it’s best to stay at your parents house for the next two weeks. But you lie to them, just say there’s an issue with your plumbing. And when Billy doesn’t come into the dinner for those two weeks, you figure it’s fine to return home.

[mercurygguk]

head over skates · jjk ; part iii.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,255

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, a teeny tiny little tension but also, jk is being very sweet :(

a/n; part 3!!! i love doing this little series bc it's so easy to write when the chapters aren't so long <3 i hope all of you enjoy it too despite the fact that it's not a very long read! lmk what you think! ty for reading xx

You didn’t text Jungkook back.

No matter how tempted you were when he tried to bribe you with iced americano – your favorite (which he remembered).

Instead you took it upon yourself and started working on the project without him. Your gut is telling you that he won’t be adding much to the group work nor will he invest the time and energy in it. There’s no reason to wait around for him to actually care about the project when you know that ‘caring’ isn’t one of his primary traits. It used to be but not anymore – if he still cared, he wouldn’t have abandoned your friendship the way he did.

Besides, it’s not like you mind. 

You’ll gladly put his name on the finished product if it means you’ll be rid of him and his flirty, cocky behavior. It’ll only make the process easier and you’ll be able to do it just the way you want. If anything, Jungkook should be grateful that you’re willing to do this on your own and just add his name. Normally you wouldn’t do something like this but you just can’t stand being stuck doing group work with him for three weeks.

Jihyo is right though – it is time to move past it but you can’t. Not yet.

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 5 years – that’s sixty months of spite and aggravation that has affected you way more than you would’ve liked. Like you said, you’re not one to hold grudges against people but this particular grudge has been sitting in the back of your mind for half a decade and while you’d love to be able to just let it go, you can’t.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when your phone buzzes due to an incoming text. You reach for it to take a look, your face instantly twisting in annoyance when you realize who’s texting you.

[11:07 AM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: whatcha doing? ;)

You swipe it, removing it from your lock screen before returning your focus to your laptop and the project at hand. You let out a soft sigh and rest your chin in your palm as you play around with the font of the text – Times New Roman suddenly has a whole other meaning after Jungkook’s name was written next to yours the other day.

"It’s good to know your phone works.”

“Oh my god!”

Startled by the low and deep voice right next to your ear, you jump in your seat and turn around with widened eyes. Dark brown eyes with a mischievous glint in them are staring back at you, an amused grin on pink lips as well. You take notice of the two iced americanos in his hand before you’re scowling at your former friend turned stranger.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to do the project,” Jungkook tells you and holds up the beverages. “I brought drinks.”

“How did you know I was here?” You can’t help but ask, wondering how he managed to locate you. The library isn’t exactly one of the places on campus Jeon Jungkook frequents the most. You’d know since you spent a lot of time here. 

He shrugs, “I saw you when I walked by, went and got these,” he places the iced americanos onto the table, “and came back to join you.”

You gape at him for a moment as he pulls a chair out and takes a seat next to you, not a word of protest leaving you because you’re simply speechless once again. He actually got you iced americano and he genuinely wants to do the project. 

Something doesn’t seem right.

Jungkook glances at you with a smirk when he’s met by silence, “what? Surprised that I actually do my school work?”

You shake yourself off your speechlessness and shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “something like that.”

“I see you took a head start,” he nods to your laptop with a chuckle as he pulls his own out of his backpack. That fucking chunky, black backpack he’s had since high school. Back then you wondered what he carried around in it and every time you asked him, he would only shrug and grin. 

Teen boys and their mysterious behavior.

And just for a brief moment, you see your best friend from high school in front of you, sitting here next to you like back in the day – boyish grin and that same glint in his eye. He looks the same and it’s messing with your head because back then you were crushing hard on him. Jungkook has always dominated that casual, boyish charm and look and today is no different. He’s wearing an oversized white Nike t-shirt and black track pants from the same brand. There’s a yellow beanie on top of his head to tame his messy hair. For all you know, he could’ve gotten straight out of bed and gone to campus after throwing on the first outfit he could find – simple, casual, flattering.

The only difference is the two lip rings and the full sleeve of tattoos.

“Yeah, about that,” you start, shooting him a fake, over-friendly smile. “Don't worry about it – I’ll do the project and just add your name before handing it in.”

Jungkook blinks at you for a moment before recovering, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why? You're scared I’ll fuck it up or some shit?”

You shake your head, “no, I just prefer working alone.”

“You always do projects with Jihyo though,” he points out, squinting his eyes at you.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Or are you just saying that because I’m your partner?” He challenges.

How do you tell a guy who’s so used to getting his way and having people go out of their way to make sure he’s happy that you don’t want him as your project partner? That you’d rather do an important project that’s meant to be done in pairs by yourself and risk the possibility of getting stressed out just because you got paired up with him? 

“If I’m being honest, yes,” you tell him, not taking a moment to rethink your choice to confront him but just blurting it out instead. “I would rather work myself into the ground than do group work with you. So if you don’t mind…”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow as you do a gesture with your hands as if to shoo him away. He looks rather unbothered though, not moving an inch either. He stares at you for a second and if you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume he’s silently challenging you to try again, to tell him off and ‘shoo’ him away like a fucking bird. 

You don’t.

You stare back at him, your face not showing an ounce of anything as you patiently wait for him to get up and leave.

He doesn’t.

Instead the corners of his mouth curls into a faint smirk as he reaches for one of the iced americanos and slides it towards you. He then grabs the other one and turns to his laptop, silently sipping on his beverage while getting to work on the project.

You feel your blood starting to boil a little but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you pointedly snatch up the iced americano, once again turning your focus to the project at hand. You feel his eyes on you but you keep your eyes on your laptop screen, acting as if his presence isn’t affecting you or bothering you in any way.

You then give in and take a sip of the coffee.

Damn it… 

It’s a really good iced americano.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

can i have a headcanon about yandere espio? like what kind of yandere he would be or something like that

A/n: first time writing for espio

Yandere!Espio x reader

Espio is the type of yandere who thrives in silence and shadows.

You would really never have a clue how fixated he was on you, after all he’s a ninja. A true master of blending into the background, watching you from a distance, and ensuring you’re "safe" without your knowledge.

He believes that protecting you is his duty, even if you’ve never spoken a word to him.

It starts subtly, as most obsessions do. He notices you in passing, maybe you smiled at him once or helped someone in a way that caught his eye.

Whatever the moment was, it seared itself into his mind like a brand. He doesn’t act on it immediately, that’s not his style. Instead, he gathers information. He follows you home, following close behind unnoticed, noting the streets you take, the people you talk to, and the places you frequent.

Espio prides himself on precision, and when it comes to you, he’s no different. He knows the exact time you leave for work or school, the way your pace quickens when you’re running late, and how your shoulders relax when you think you’re finally alone. He memorizes your routine, down to the smallest details.

What you don’t know is how many dangers he’s silently averted for you. That car that swerved too close on the crosswalk? Espio was there, throwing a perfectly timed shuriken at the tire to send it veering away. The stranger who was a little too eager to strike up a conversation? Espio’s chilling glare from the shadows sent them scurrying. You think you’re lucky, oblivious to the fact that your "guardian" is never more than a few feet away, cloaked in invisibility.

Espio doesn’t just watch you, he studies you. He’s fascinated by the way your mind works, the expressions that flicker across your face, and the way you interact with others. It’s not love in the traditional sense, it’s an obsession, a need to have you exist in a world where nothing can hurt you. And to Espio, the only way to ensure that is to keep you in his sight at all times.

There are times when he longs to speak to you, to step out of the shadows and let you know how deeply he cares. But he resists. Espio believes his role is not to be your partner but your protector. He convinces himself that you’re safer this way, that his presence in your life would only complicate things. Still, that doesn’t stop him from intervening when he deems it necessary.

Your friends might notice strange things happening around you. They’ll comment on how that shady person who followed you for a block disappeared without explanation, or how the creepy coworker who wouldn’t leave you alone suddenly transferred to another branch. You laugh it off, clueless to the quiet storm of Espio’s wrath that rages whenever someone gets too close to you.

But Espio’s obsession isn’t entirely benign. His protectiveness can border on suffocating, even if you don’t realize it. He sabotages opportunities that might take you out of his reach, like that job offer in another city or the merging relationship with someone who genuinely seems to care about you. Espio tells himself it’s for your own good, that the world is too dangerous for you to navigate without him.

And yet, there’s a part of him that knows this can’t last forever. He’s torn between his desire to keep you safe and his fear of being discovered. The idea of you hating him, fearing him, is almost unbearable. So he doubles down, refining his techniques, ensuring that his presence in your life remains an invisible force.

But even the most meticulous plans can unravel. One day, you might catch a glimpse of something, an out-of-place shadow, the faint shimmer of his invisibility fading in the sunlight. You might feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, sensing a presence you can’t place. Espio would freeze in that moment, torn between staying hidden and stepping forward to explain himself.

If you ever confronted him, Espio’s calm facade would crack. He’d struggle to explain his actions, torn between his guilt and his unwavering belief that he’s done everything out of love. And if you rejected him, if you told him to leave you alone? It wouldn’t be that simple. Espio might retreat, but he would never truly let go.

In his mind, he’s your silent protector, your shadow, your unseen guardian. And even if you never know the extent of his devotion, Espio will continue to watch over you, ensuring that nothing, and no one, can ever harm you.

[puppetwoman17]

I’ve been wanting to talk about this but I thought it would sound weird and kinda Mary Sue like! Glad to hear that I’m not the only one.

I’m very adamant on Cap being a pillar in not only the magic community(cause of his Champion role obviously) but the hero community as well. He’s well-known for his heroics and impossible stories about battling sentient worms and being diplomatic with alien dinosaurs.

He’s also loved for the advice he gives. All Billy wants to do is bring smiles to these peoples’ days. He dishes out advice like it’s candy and always sees the good in people. He’s great at looking at situations through multiple viewpoints and understanding everyone’s thought processes. This in particular helps with the Superman and Superboy problem. He tells both of them individually that both of their hardships are valid. Clark is allowed to feel violated because his DNA was stolen and mutated in a way that was against his consent. Connor never asked to be created, always wanting Superman’s love but never receiving it.

They reconcile, and Billy doesn’t think much of it, because it’s what anyone would do, right? No biggie. He even does something similar with Red Arrow, convincing him that he’s not just a clone. He’s his own person. He built his own life. He has his own achievements. He shouldn’t feel bad for any of this because none of it was in his control. And Roy is so damn grateful because it feels like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

Marvel just shrugs. No biggie.

He talks Leaguers through both personal and professional problems and guides them onto a simple, honest path because adults make everything so damn complicated so why can’t you just sit THE FUCK DOWN—

Ahem.

So he helps with that too. No biggie, right? Just another good deed.

He expands his one-way business to other teams too, like the JSA, the YJ team, the Teen Titans, etc. Spends time with each of them, helps them solve their own problems whether they’re big or small.

No biggie, right?

Fucking. Wrong.

The world of heroes absolutely adores him! The other hero teams look to him like he’s the cool uncle. Despite no one knowing jackshit about his personal life, they trust him wholeheartedly. They know he’s got their back.

That’s actually what hurts, tho. Whenever anyone asks him about his life outside the cape, he gets tongue-tied. Panicked. Silent. Doesn’t say a word until a new topic is brought up and then changes wheels like it’s nothing. It hurts, knowing he doesn’t trust them. They know it’s stupid, he never had obligations to tell them anything about the real him, but it stings. Where does he go when he isn’t Cap? Does he have family? A lover? Hobbies? Pets? Why is he like a brick wall with them? Did they do something wrong?

Things get especially annoying when characters like Booster Gold(from the future) and Doctor Fate(Lord of Order, basically on the same pedestal as the Champion) know his identity and don’t even bother to hide that fact. Leaguers will frequently catch Booster making knowing jabs at the Captain, winking and saying strange things that get the Captain riled up and shaking his head profusely. Nabu is no help either, with Leaguers catching him and Marvel quietly conversing. When someone, say, Barry, shows up, Marvel stops talking.

It fucking hurts. A lot. And Billy doesn’t even notice the looks of jealousy cast at his future teammate and fellow Lord by his coworkers. The YJ team is not taking that shit because that is their den dad. Diana doesn’t appreciate that these strangers know more about her brother than she does. Flash is all confused and slightly annoyed because when are they gonna play another prank on Hal? Is he just gonna keep talking to those weirdos all day? And the next?

Billy’s honestly just happy to be here. He never thought he’d get past the age of ten, so doing all of this, helping these heroes while learning more about himself, is just great. He’s speedrunning his way through every moody, self-righteous, hurt, traumatized hero with no sweat on his back.

So yeah, he is beloved and he doesn’t even know it. You betcha that when Cap’s identity is revealed, everyone goes full mama bear/papa bear/protective older brother or sister on him. No way is he leaving without supervision.

Nabu and Booster are rolling their eyes cause hello? That’s the Champion of Magic. If anything, he’s the one they should be worried about.

Yeah, they are politely asked to leave after that. Anyhow Billy, wanna go get some hot chocolate 😘😍

Excuse the word vomit.

[f1ghtsoftly]

my head is scrambled but in Kate Manne’s “The Logic Of Misogyny” she put to words something I always, always knew was true.

Most of the time Men don’t hurt women for no reason, they punish women who assert themselves/their personhood. Misogynistic violence is a punishment, it’s a form of conditioning to get women to behave submissively towards men. To punish women for existing in public without male protection. To punish women for daring to think her intellect, athletic or artistic achievement could come before her sex.

I don’t present super femme anymore or hang around men outside my family basically ever-but when I did I was frequently targeted for sexual assault, usually by men who were frustrated they were attracted to me but couldn’t have me. They felt like I was taunting them-but asserting my right to exist as someone they were attracted to/without any sort of male protection or a male protection that didn’t involve sexual favors/submission. That wasn’t an accident, I’m sure if I meekly cowered behind a big boyfriend, I’m sure if I stayed inside, I’m sure if I didn’t assert myself as extraverted, intelligent, funny or charismatic those men would have left me alone-but that would have meant hiding myself from the world, hiding myself from other women and to me that was a bigger loss than a ‘lil danger. I made choices as a young person that I knew with certainty would bring me in closer proximity to men who wanted to hurt me, I decided that living a freer life was better than living a safe one. I don’t necessarily regret my assessment of patriarchy, I am sad that the price you pay for being an independent woman (in a social sense) in public is assault. I don’t blame women who think their safety is more important than making a statement. I’m sad for us both. I’m grateful I was able to find feminist communities because victimization isn’t just something casual you can shake off, even if it feels like men constantly target you/women in general.

Assault doesn’t just roll of your back either. It hurts. In the moment and for years afterwards it hurts. It’s always senseless. Always dehumanizing to the extreme. Always enraging. Always profoundly violating. Always a shock. I struggle to reconcile what I know about rape with what I know about people. I know people can be cruel, unthinking, insecure. I don’t know how someone can plot the rape of a friend or a stranger who has done nothing to deserve it. I don’t know how men can secretly tape their lovers, manipulate a young woman into sex she doesn’t want or do any of the things men do consistently or routinely. I don’t know how a boy could look at the face of his too drunk friend and go “this is my opportunity to have my way with her” instead of putting her to bed. Carelessness, thoughtless is easy to imagine. Conscious cruelty is not. Men know what they do and they either don’t care or like it.

I’m crying in a park in my Dad’s pickup truck. “There are worse things than this, you didn’t die-you’re alive” He says “this wasn’t your fault, I just want to keep you safe and what happened to you isn’t something I can control even though I wish I could”. “I’d feel better if you lived in Austin, because their self defense laws are better, there are lots of gay people there too”

He makes me laugh. I won’t move to Texas. He’s right, it’s not my fault, and helping me get better at self defense helps him feel like he can do something and while self defense does help-it’s not a perfect strategy. The misogynist’s prerogative is to snuff out the life force of the woman he interacts with, the only way to stop him from trying to do that is to become apart of the living dead. Even then, he’ll get your corpse.

There are worse things than rape in this life. A woman alive is better than a woman dead. I guess, but what life is it when constantly forced to battle for your right to live? When at a moments notice you can be filled from the inside out with death. Rotted from your insides out. I wish New York would let me have a gun. I wish I could make men afraid and polite in my presence the way I feel afraid and polite in theirs. I’m so tired of this.

[razorblade180]

9 days of Lancaster Day 5: Hidden Relationship

Ruby:*washing plates*

Jaune:*dirty* Hey there stranger. Hard at work I see.

Ruby:I lost a bet with Nora and this is my punishment. What’s with the smudges?

Jaune:Yang wanted to help me “improve my combat abilities.”

Ruby:Ooof, I’m sorry.

Jaune:I’m not immediately sore like last time so that’s something.

Ruby grabs a glass and fills it with water for him.

Jaune:Awww, my heart. *grabs it*

Ruby:Hush you goober. I know Yang’s training all too well. I’m surprised you’re walking.

Jaune:Well y’know, recently I’ve been getting in good stamina training.

Ruby:*red*…Is that so? Hadn’t noticed. My training is always pretty vigorous.

Jaune:Oh I’ve noticed. Guess I still have a long way to go. Although…I’m sure you’d have a little more trouble with my “training”

Ruby:Pfft, oh really? I think I’m pretty fit in case you haven’t noticed!

Jaune:Oh I’ve noticed.

Ruby:…..*flicks water on him*

Jaune:Ah!

Ruby:I couldn’t think of a comeback. You’re filthy anyways. I’m just washing you up a bit.

Jaune:If that’s the case…I think there’s a smudge around my chin I can’t quite get off.

Ruby didn’t know if it was herself, Nora, or Yang that has influenced Jaune, but it was a diabolical blessing. The young knight approached her innocently with a smile. Ruby double checked their surroundings then preceded to gently rub her thumb across his chin. Of course, Jaune took the opportunity to pull her in by her lower back. Ruby gladly became ensnared in his trap, going as far to stand up on her toes and give a sweet, mischievous kiss.

The two of them giggled as they continued peppered each other with growing affection. If only more of these moments could come by frequently. Unfortunately, privacy is hard in a group of nine, and the both of them wished to revel in this growing relationship away from others. Not forever of course, but long enough to make it feel personal and intimate. Although if the others knew, they’d probably tell them intimacy is far from a problem.

Ruby felt her body hold him closer as their kiss became…less innocent. Jaune was seconds away from putting her on the countertop when the click of a doorknob snapped them back to reality. An instant petal burst brought Ruby back to washing dishes while Jaune focused on his water as Yang walked in.

Yang:Hey party people! Ruby, you should’ve seen Jaune during our match. Gotta admit, he’s getting some moves. Almost pinned me a few times.

Ruby:Wow, that’s high praise. Practice must be paying off.

Jaune:*refilling water*

Yang:Someone’s thirsty.

Ruby:Pfft, I’ll say. He’s all red too.

Jaune:W-What can I say? Things got pretty heated, literally.

Ruby:Please don’t singe him. We can’t explain that to Nora.

Yang:He will be fine. All he needs is a little rest and a well deserved bath. Also isn’t Nora supposed to be on dish duty?

Ruby:I lost a bet, which sucks because I wanted to look around Mistral a bit.

Yang:I’ll take over for ya. You suck at drying anyways.

Ruby:Hey!

Yang:I’m gonna put my things away first. Jaune, hit the showers. You smell like smoke. *walks off*

Jaune:Gee, I wonder why!

He waves goodbye at Ruby and heads to the bathroom. Honestly it was a miracle he didn’t singe anything. As he walked in a closed the door, a sudden gust went by him. Jaune turned around and was greeted with a swift hand over his mouth from Ruby while the other quickly locked the door behind him. She slowly moved her hand and smiled.

Ruby: I lied about Mistral

Jaune: You are gonna get me killed.

Ruby tried not to laugh. She ran the sink and turned on the bath for more noise.

Ruby:Gotta make opportunities where you can. Besides…*red* You got me a little riled up.

Jaune:I mean…fair but- my life.

Ruby:You’ll be fine. I’ll sneak out after I learn about this so called “training” so let’s just focus on us. I can also help you wash up, like any good partner would do. Unless… you don’t want to?

She didn’t even let him respond before taking off her cap and sitting on the sink counter with a wide grin. Ruby held her arms out, inviting him. Despite his protests, Jaune easily walked into the embrace and found his hands back where they were before they were interrupted.

Jaune:Prepare for your workout.

Ruby:Hehe, lead on. I’m happily in your care~

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I'm. crying. I didn't realize the Leona parallels... I'm so leonapilled I accidentally alude to him in random places (/jjjjj) 😭😭😭😭😭 but now that you say it... Yeah that's exactly how savanaclaw students see him, huh... I hadn't thought about it that way... I mean I don't think you're as intimidating as he could be but I guess it does fit in a way.... PARALLELS EVERYWHERE 😭😭😭

thank you for stating your boundaries clearly too !! now I'll try to keep them even more in mind 🙂‍↕️ from the things u listed I think I may have sent an ask once asking smth that could've possibly made u uncomfy but I kind of realized just after I had hit send 😭 I was like "wait maybe she wouldn't be comfortable answering this"... And ever since I always read my asks 73829193 times before sending them 😭😭😭 I deeply apologize for that... I think I've never asked smth like that again tho so I hope I can keep our interactions (on anon and outside anonymity) as comfortable as possible for you ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ I'll try my best for it not to happen again !!

Ew 💀 You see Him everywhere now… My condolences… YElxnsksbwjGaxxaga But yeah, I’m not a muscular tattooed cat boy, not by a long shot 😂 Best I can hope for to intimidate people is to make my best whimpering bird noise.

I don’t think I’ve ever been compared to… Him before, so that’s an interesting observation. I believe the characters I most frequently get compared to are Lilia (by the public/readers) and Jamil (by my friends). I guess Lilia because I’ve been told it’s hard to discern my age because of how I bounce between serious analysis/advice and half legible brain rot?? And Jamil because I tend to be pragmatic and dry in private but still end up playing the part of older sibling to others.

To the comment about the income thing, it was in the context of fandom and not asking for actual financial advice. I believe the gist of the (now deleted) ask was that someone was under the impression I was frequently commissioning artwork and wondered how I afforded it. This happened a while ago so I don't remember exactly why they might have come to that conclusion. The ask wasn't phrased rudely or anything, I just found it uncomfortable because I'm not okay with telling online strangers about money, finances, my spending, etc. I think most people would be uncomfortable with that, honestly.

While I do have a tag for advice, it's reserved for like... gameplay tips and reminders on fandom etiquette. It's NOT meant to encourage people to actually come to me actively seeking counsel. (In hindsight, perhaps a poor choice of word on my part 💦) If those advice posts ended up helping you out in some way, that's great! I'm happy for you. Please just remember to not impose on me too much. (Not sure if it's the turn of season or recent fandom news, but I've been getting a lot of spam or really lengthy asks lately.) I'm not here to be the unpaid therapist that the Twst fandom so often jokes that Yuu is. I'm not here to change the world and teach everyone to get along (which Yuu is voluntold to do www), either. I'm here to do my own thing, and that's it.

I appreciate that most people that interact with me are mindful about my boundaries 😅 Sometimes I do feel like I need to remind my audience of what those are, but thankfully I haven't really gotten flack for it.

[oceanblvdst13]

"SLUT!"

mentor finnick odair x victor fem!reader

summary : capitol's darling has gotten quite the reputation after snow's menaces, finnick comforts her through her frequent crisis.

warnings : FLUFF , mentions of finnick' trauma and whatever comes with it

"in a world of boys , he's a gentleman"

. ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Beautiful is what your surroundings called you. Not hot or sexy, but breathtaking. Spending sunrises and afternoons on the beach with your friends shaped your days. They all spoke about their experiences but you were far too ignorant to try anything with anyone. Too sweet, too innocent.

Until the reaping, where you met Finnick. He had tried his best to help you win the games and was now beating himself up for it every night . Deep down , the second he met you , Finnick knew that your death was imminent. Either physically in that arena , or either mentally where you would have your body and soul stolen in the bed of Panem's elite at your return.

To his great disgust and to Snow's pleasure, you had won the games and became their jewel. Not only were you extremely desired one to one, but Panem loved your overly sexualized exhibits. The people were loving it and the traction was stronger than ever. New skimpy outfits every week, dirty jokes anytime you were interviewed, your soft soul had been muttered into a so said slut while your heart was shattering, not being able to let go fully of its innocence.

Finnick blamed himself. He wished you stayed eighteen forever, that you didn't celebrate your nineteenth birthday in a strangers bed, that you didn't have to spend your life the way he did, which is why he came to you every few nights. To hold you to sleep and attempt to wipe the horrors he's also lived a few years prior out of your head atleast for the time you slept. To seek comfort in your presence and kindness that still stayed nonetheless. But he didn't allow himself to think so selfishly. No, it was only for you.

That evening, routine catched up. Reminiscing about the days before all of it , and tears falling slowly on your cheeks in the dark, until you heard the familiar knock.

"How are you doing tonight love?"

"Okay." You responded, your tone of voice completely betraying your awnser.

Finnick knew. Words are hard and no one liked voicing their pain out loud. With him there was no talking about it, besides the sweet nothings he whispered into your ears.

His hands ran along your hips, lightly pressing on your shoulders, only to finish softly rubbing your back to sleep. Occasionally, he'd bring a hand up to your cheek to wipe a tear out of the way.

"I know baby, I know."

"You're not a slut, this isn't your fault."

"Give it time , time will heal everything."

Often , he'd kiss your forehead, in a protective mentor way and other times he'd kiss your neck in a much more personal way. Those times were the days you could actually get some rest. You didn't have an idea of love , since you never got to experience it before your dignity was stolen from you, but you'd imagined this is how it felt like. Dreaming of a world where you would be Finnick Odair's girl and not Panem's sex symbol.

Finnick did not have to imagine, he knew he was far inlove with you, the attraction he felt for you on the first days had sealed into total obsession after the dark bond you too shared. By saving you , he was also saving himself in a way. Finnick did not stay dreaming though , and actively worked against Snow for a day you could safely and slowly fall for him. He'd wait years , for you to learn love all over again and know the shivers and butterflies. For you to get to live , to leave him if you felt the need too. He would've given anything to see his girl happy.

And eventually, he did. Capitol had left its scars all over you and moved to the next one but Finnick was more then happy to heal each and every single one of them when he found out about the perfect thing, you fell just as hard as he did <3.

[coulsonlives]

Unpopular opinion time.

I've never liked these things, but someone sent me this and I finally gotta rant.

The writer who got these comments thought this commenter (and let's be honest, it was probably a kid) was calling them a "piece of shit". Multiple times.

And they were so confused.

Y'all. Please say what you mean. Spell it out. This isn't twitter, you don't have to shorten every single word.

Tone indicators are niche. If not niche, they're a generational thing that people in their 10s and early 20s somehow assume everyone else is gonna know. But there are so many tone indicators to commit to memory. Most people aren't going to have the time, want to make the effort, or could have memory issues that keep them from memorizing all these things, and it gets even harder because the rules are so inconsistent in the first place.

What do I mean? Well:

"/hj" is an abbreviation of two words. And it means "half joking". So this means all tone indicators are abbreviations, right? Nope. "/pos" is just a single word, "positive". It's not, in fact, an abbreviation that means "piece of shit".

Or "point of sale". Or any other abbreviation you would think.

In other words: just because you know a few tone indicators, that doesn't mean you can infer what another one means. Is it an abbreviation? Just the beginning of a single word? You don't know. You gotta go out of your way to look it up online. It kinda defeats the purpose of tone indicators, which is to streamline things and prevent confusion.

Neurodivergent? Find it helpful or fun to label your sentences? Has your social circle learned them all? Okay. But please, please reconsider doing this with random strangers online. You don't know their age, you don't know what spaces they frequent, you don't know anything about them. More often than not, it's just gonna lead to confusion. And the big one:

It's not as popular outside your friend groups or demographic as you think.

We throw around shibboleths, specific insults and phrases and jokes, with our friends all the time. If a person jokingly tells their best friend they're going to smack them, the context is pretty different from telling their sister. You gotta understand that your context =/= everyone else's context. You're not the first group to invent "pos" as a shorthand. It's used for a lot of stuff. People are going to contextualize it differently because it's not clear enough to break through that contextual barrier as-is. Especially if, when you remove the tone indicator, the sentence alone sounds almost hostile, or even just ambiguous. Adding /pos onto an ambiguous sentence, to someone unfamiliar with tone indicators, can easily tip it into "this person sounds like they're insulting me" territory.

And it's different from slang. Even my parents know what "based" means. That's because that stuff comes up in everyday conversation, and it can be used verbally (making use of expression and body language and tone of voice to cement the intention), and in writing. It's not an internet-only shorthand like tone indicators are.

I'm not saying this to discourage people from commenting. But I am trying to make a point about how avoidable the situation in the screenshot is. My friends and I see so many posts about these "odd letter things" on fanfiction and AO3 forums because authors don't understand what they had received. They opened up their comments and felt uneasy instead of excited. I've been there too, the person didn't even use a / in front of them.

And it's really frustrating. A little situational awareness would go a long way.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m in the early stages of character development and am thinking of making a character in my story use crutches or some type of mobility aid (I have not decided a specific disability yet, or the specifics of their mobility aids, but one disability I am considering is EDS).

There is going to be action in the story that will require characters to be moving a lot, and running, and fighting, etc.

I wanted to ask if you have any tips for writing physically disabled characters in these types of situations? What are ways to make them be able to participate in the action but also be mindful of their disability?

Also, if the character fully consents to it, would it be ok for another character to pick them up and run in a dangerous situation where they need to get away fast?

Thank you!

Hello!

It would really depend on the character's disability and what mobility aids they use.

Depending on how severe theirs is, somebody with EDS may be able to run and fight with the right accommodations on their end (Braces can help with stabilizing their joints and preventing hyperextension, pain medication can help control pain/discomfort, proper first aid and care afterwards can help manage swelling/pain/further damage, etc.).

If your character isn't able to participate in the fighting at all, give them something else to do that uses their other talents! Give them an important mission or task while the others are fighting. Maybe they need to retrieve an important piece of evidence while their opponents are distracted by the fighting. Maybe there's an important code to break or a puzzle to solve in the meantime. Just don't have them be standing off to the side awkwardly -- make them as important as everyone else is.

Something I find enjoyable, especially in books, is a character using their cane in a fight in a small way. This is usually something like the character using it to trip an opponent or using it to smack somebody's shin. Depending on the type of cane they use, it may not be the most realistic, but I do enjoy it and it makes me cackle :). That being said, you do need to be careful with showing mobility aids being used as weapons.

In terms of being carried, it's really hit or miss. I've seen it done well a few times and -- more frequently -- I've seen it done in ways that still makes me physically cringe when I think about it.

If it's used to further an underlying plot such as a developing romance or friendship between the two characters, I think it can be a sweet way to show the development of trust between them and -- if it's part of a romance -- can lead to a cute scene later on.

My personal issue with it is when it comes out of the blue and is out of character for one or both parties. Most people wouldn't be comfortable with a stranger or an acquaintance picking them up and carrying them. Hell, a lot of people would even be uncomfortable with a good friend doing it. I certainly would be.

There's also the fact that carrying another human being is a hard thing to do, especially if you're running and (Caps) ESPECIALLY (End Caps) if you're running for a while. If the disabled character is rather light or small and the other character is very physically fit, maybe it can work on a physical scale but there's other things to consider here.

This is also a bit of a loaded trope for physically disabled characters. A lot of us are used to people -- particularly strangers -- violating our body autonomy. There are people that will push wheelchair users or attempt to "guide" blind people to where they want to go, reach directly over the heads of little people, touch or take mobility aids, etc. This isn't necessarily what's happening in your story, but it is something to be aware of.

If you do decide to go with this, make sure to see it through and address anything that may come from it. How does your disabled character feel about it? How has the dynamic between your characters changed -- if at all? If it hasn't changed at all, why is that? Do the characters feelings towards each other change?

I'd also consider what other options they may have. Is there another way to escape the dangerous situation? Is there somewhere they can hide? Is there a way to face the threat head-on? Is there another way they can escape without the disabled character being carried? If not, why?

The biggest thing I can say it to keep your disabled audience in mind. Who are you writing this scene for? What's the purpose of the scene? If the scene's purpose has anything to do with making the non-disabled character look good, show them to be strong/heroic/brave/etc., don't do it. Find another way.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus