#but somehow nobody has ever sexually harassed me (that i know of)

[cursed--alien]

It just occurred to me that I've actually never been catcalled, even when I had bahongaroos. I guess I have Ugly Privilege :3

[secretgamergirl]

Does anyone actually like the whole "this total loser is the chosen one" thing?

You start playing some new game. Immediately, you are introduced to the protagonist. He's a total deadbeat loser idiot who has no greater ambition in life beyond playing games/becoming a cool rock star somehow without learning to play an instrument or form a band/watching some TV show. But through just the absolute sheer dumb luck of being in the right place at the right time, he gets The Thing, that lets him do main character in a video game stuff. Much to the frustration of this cool competent badass woman who's actively invested in saving the world and has a concrete plan to do it. Our accidental hero can't be bothered to care about any of that, and any time she's talking he either tunes out completely or sexually harasses her. Then once she eventually gives up trying to explain him he says something like "now here's the part where I do my thing!" and you jump into the action of doing 3 hit combos to enemies or whatever.

I hate that character. I can't stand him. His presence makes me not even want to touch a game, which is a real shame because I swear the paragraph above describes like... half of them. Also most shonen anime come to think, the bulk of superhero media, and a surprising amount of fantasy stuff.

Now, I understand why we have that guy. The thinking is, he's "relatable." We're making a not particularly challenging piece of escapist media, we're assuming most people who are going to be interested are losers who just sit on their couch all day, and we're also assuming they're at-least-mildly-creepy dudes even when demographic info suggests a given genre/medium appeals primarily to women.

Does anyone actually want that, though? I'm not some pathetic dude on a couch, so I probably wouldn't get the "he's just like me!" factor regardless, but like, I remember being a small child and having media constantly cram some annoying piece of garbage kid into everything for me to "relate to" and I was never able to stand any of them either.

Like if I'm watching Transformers the Movie as a kid, I am just rolling my eyes every time we have the dorky little kid going fishing or trying to use power armor, and for that matter as an adult I'm not too big on the pink girly one playing babysitter and being flirty. I'd be cool just giving all that screen time over to Kupp and Grimlock thanks.

And really, it always seems like a huge insult to whoever you're trying to give a relatable stand-in to. Some deadbeat loser who'd just be sitting on the couch watching TV if he didn't get a magic yo-yo or whatever isn't exactly an aspirational sort of character. Even if that's where you'd picture yourself at the start of the cool action narrative, if it were you, you'd want to get your act together and live up to the heroic role you fell into, right?

Like, recently I've been marathoning through Farscape for like the 5th time because a friend had never seen it, and there's a show where the protagonist is just a big fish out of water nerd in a crazy setting constantly making obscure pop culture references that absolutely nobody else is possibly going to have the context for, and I can sure as hell personally relate to that! But the key difference is, he doesn't suck. He does his best to adapt to situations and show compassion and actually learn how stuff he doesn't get works, so he's, you know, likeable. He's not some complete loser who only gets by because he has the spoon of destiny or whatever.

Actually come to think of it, I'm really combining two separate media trends I can't stand here. Loser protagonists get on my nerves even when they aren't the chosen one, and even when they aren't a total loser, I kinda hate chosen one narratives too.

Like... have you ever played a Bethesda game? They always want to do this whole bit where you come from the humblest of roots and go on to save the world or whatever, but they just cannot for the life of them wait until you've actually started accomplishing cool stuff before everyone starts in with the totally over the top hero worship. Just, "behold! This stranger to our lands has picked up the empty soda can and tossed it in the recycling bin! Truly such a feat of heroics means this is no mere mortal before us, but the great one foretold in legend!"

Like, can we please just have narratives where the protagonist is a decent person, who accomplishes things by virtue of actual competence and/or determination, and any respect or admiration they might receive is actually properly earned? Is that too much to ask? And if that IS too much to ask from a protagonist, can we at least stop treating members of the supporting cast who pick the slack up like total garbage?

And speaking of getting treated like garbage/the concept of supporting, I still don't know how I'm going to get through the winter with a roof over my head.

[fairy25]

I'm not joking how am I supposed to continue living as a woman who has suffered serious trauma? I dont know what to do anymore.

I do not want to live (not a threat, just a fact. I am not in danger.) I don't know how I can go about my life when I am scared of men. Half of the people on the planet. I have been jobless for 3 years living with parents because I'm scared to be trapped in a confined space with male strangers again. In my last job, I was sexually harassed, touched, stared at, grabbed, threatened, and followed by male coworkers. It was a minimum wage BAKERY job. You'd think that would be an innocent place to work. I wore a hairnet, had hairy legs, and talked about my boyfriend at the time. and I still got harassed and they wouldn't stop even when i would talk to HR. When I told my ex-boyfriend I was raped he said I deserved it. I'm thinking maybe it's me who is wrong and maybe I just should somehow turn off my brain and let it all happen since I feel like I'm screaming and nobody even notices???

I genuinely don't want to live in the world anymore I'm just tired I wish I was a little girl again and I just want to play with my toys but i can't because im trapped in a 26 year old woman.

Sorry for ranting on christmas. I'm just having a bad day. I hope you had a good Christmas.

baby i would seriously recommend you find a female trauma therapist you feel comfortable with and commit to therapy once a week for at least a year. i would also recommend talking to a psychiatrist or even your primary care doctor if you feel comfortable to discuss getting on some anti-anxiety medication. i personally take propranolol & mirtazapine for anxiety (and migraines).

i know it feels endless right now (i have been there and i’m so so sorry you’re stuck in this dark place rn) but it is possible for things to get better, and for you to lead a “normal” life. i am rooting for you and i want to say your feelings are completely valid. i’m so sorry this is the state of the world. i’m so sorry that you’re unable to ignore the fear you feel, which is very real and very challenging to overcome. but you can overcome it. that doesn’t mean you have to be around men—i work fully remotely and the only men i talk to regularly are gay, old friends, or married to my friends/relatives.

merry xmas to you angel. i hope 2024 brings you more peace than this year. even if you don’t feel like it’s going to get better, please just keep going. sometimes progress is so gradual we don’t even realize it’s happening. sometimes it’s ok to distract yourself and take breaks from the real world. but keep going. if not for you, for other women. we need each other if we’re ever going to create a world where women don’t feel terrified just existing.

[empathetic]

Honestly I don’t think people in leftist communities are talking nearly enough about cis women’s issues anymore. And I don’t mean cis as in relation to trans women, I’m saying cis women in reference to the fact that misogyny and patriarchy are very real things that do affect cis woman on the basis of their sex. And this shouldn’t be a controversial or TERF-y thing to say because it’s literally true.

From a personal experience as an Indian woman raised Muslim: a few years ago, two of my female cousins my age who live in India had to get married as soon as their dad passed unexpectedly because their mom was unable to get her own education to provide for the family, and they needed the support of potential husbands. My cousins were 19 and 20 when they got married. The 19 year old has barely turned 22 and already has 2 children. She had to stop going to school and her entire life is about her marriage, kids, and family. And another cousin said that her husband doesn’t let her watch TV so she has to watch when he’s not home. And when I went to india I’ve had every single woman I’ve met and talked to for more than a minute in passing ask me when I’m getting married. For fucks sakes my grandma even tried to arrange marriages for me without my permission and I’m barely turning 22 this month, and wants me to try to marry my fucking COUSIN so that i can be further controlled.

I had a convo w my mom about how rampant misogyny is in her home city in india. How she was asked what her husbands name was so she could pick up her own medicine from the pharmacy, and she asked “why do you need that information?” so the guy at the counter then asked her (a 50 year old woman) for her FATHERS name. About the women she and I know.. women who had to quit their jobs because their husbands don’t want them working, even if it means that there is less income to provide for their families because the husbands a deadbeat and still expects his wife to do all the domestic labor for him too while he literally does nothing. Women who are forced to lose their entire lives for their families and husbands’ patriarchal expectations and have children they didn’t truly want or stop going to school. Women who can’t get a divorce from abusive men because it will deem them worthless and damaged so nobody will want to marry them or even their daughters.

Women who can’t go out alone or without a man because they’ll get harassed or assaulted by men. Women who wear niqab or burqa because they get harassed and assaulted by men, but it not mattering because the men already know what their body shape looks like and what their eyes look like and what shoes they wear. Women who get assaulted anyways. Women who are made to believe that they need to cover up and be ashamed of themselves because men are perverted monsters that can’t help but rape every woman he could get his hands on. Women who don’t know what marital rape is because it’s completely normalized and that’s just what sex is, right? Women who are abused by their husbands when they don’t meet their demands, sexual or not, and comply because they don’t want to keep getting beaten or berated. Women who are deemed impure when they’re on their periods. Women who are constantly treated like second class citizens, born as property of their fathers and then passed on as property of their husbands, because they are just seen as baby-making machines and sex dolls.

And there is obviously so much more than this.. this is purely what I’ve seen and dealt with personally. And it’s infuriating that it seems like nobody ever really wants to talk about this because it’s somehow controversial to even acknowledge that cis women are treated as inferior to men under patriarchy due to their biological sex. They are treated as inferior because they have vaginas that can be penetrated and uteri that can carry a fetus. This is how patriarchy operates in the first place, whether we like it or not. In an ideal world, patriarchy wouldn’t exist and we wouldn’t have to think of cis women’s oppression on the basis of their genitalia and reproductive organs because.. well.. that oppression wouldn’t exist. But it does! And so we might as well fucking talk about it and find ways to empower women who are unable to do so. There’s more we can do besides online discourse that such women can’t even participate in because they aren’t even allowed to!!!

[ahnsael]

So the relationship ended. She will be going to Minnesota to return her little sister (9 years old, but the person I was seeing has been raising her).It was an amicable breakup. I understand that she didn’t want to keep being boyfriend and girlfriend knowing that it would have to end. It’s also probably the best thing for my feelings that she it before I got more romantically attached.

She may come back, but I have a feeling she won’t want to be a couple then either. My gut says she won’t be back. If she does come back, it will be a few months after she leaves (she doesn’t know when she will be going yet).

But this has been the BEST BREAKUP EVER. Nothing has changed between us. We still talk and make each other laugh. I drove her home this morning and she held my hand the whole way. I let her be the DJ on the way home over YouTube (the audio was playing through the car speakers) and one of the songs she chose was Whitney Houston singing “I Will Always Love You.” During the musical interlude she turned to me and said “I still love you, Kenny.” I responded that I still love her. It’s just no longer a romantic love. When the song ended she told me “When you miss me, I want you to think of this song.”

Every song she chose related to our friendship/love somehow. The cool part is when a lyric hit home for me, we both squeezed each other’s hand at the exact same time. It wasn’t one person squeezing and the other responding. We were being hit by the same lyrics.

But seriously, NOTHING has changed between us other than the fact that we’re not a couple, just really really good friends.I have never experienced a breakup like this. It’s actually a really good feeling that things didn’t get awkward, there was never any anger. Sure, I shed a few tears in private (I didn’t want her to see that) because that part of our relationship ended, but I have to respect the reason. It wasn’t because I did anything wrong, it wasn’t that she had found someone else, it was just “life happens.” She came back to my shift last night and while the other manager is jealous of her and I spending time talking and laughing while we do our jobs and was very distant -- he has apparently told her that he is going to steer clear of both of us when the three of us work together (I would feel bad leaving him out but he has acted inappropriate to her -- we’re talking photos of a certain body part -- HR is aware and I don’t know whether it will be swept under the rug or acted on; I am aware of three employees he has done this to).He barely spoke to me all night long. He doesn’t even know I’m aware of the multiple claims of sexual harassment. My best friend (that’s what I call her now) didn’t want to involve HR but before she told me about it she confided with a no-nonsense female manager (who sadly moved away recently -- she was a better manager than me, and I’m pretty good). This manager said “Oh HELL no” and went to HR. Which IS our policy. Oh, and this guy is married with children. I will give him that when it comes to doing the job, he is very good at it. But this s*** don’t fly with me. That’s the reason he’s so jealous that she and I spend so much time having fun at work. He wanted her. He couldn’t get her. He doesn’t know that for about a month and a half, I did.

Another employee mentioned having had played played pool the night before and she said “I’ve never even played pool, and don’t know how.” I told her I could teach her. So we went and played pool, and things developed from there. We played seven games. She won four of them. Sometimes I refer to her (to her face, of course, since nobody else would get the reference) as “Pool Shark RayRay (Ray is her nickname; when I called her RayRay she said “It’s been a LONG time since anyone has called me that”).

I actually took a cue chalk (there were a lot of them so I don’t feel too bad that I stole it), and it is in my cubby hole at work to remind me of her. But she and I don’t call it chalk. When I first used it, I described it as “the thing that I don’t know what it does but that people always use it.” We both call it “the thing that I don’t know what it does” now. But based on that, I’m thinking that our last hangout before she leaves should be pool.

She took me to a hot spring that I am not allowed to be at unless I am with a tribe member (she is native American) and there were gates to unchain and re-chain as we went. It was REALLY hot but I handled it. Then we went to what she called the “cold spring” but I saw a small waterfall from the hot spring pouring into the “cold spring” and after being in it, I now call it the “just slightly less-hot spring.” But she says in the winter there is a HUGE difference. I hope we get to go there again before she leaves. It was beautiful. She asked early this morning when the next trip should be and I was willing to go this morning after work but she is re-adjusting to graveyard hours and was having trouble staying awake so we agreed today was not the day. But if I were to go there alone (not that I even know how to get there) alone, I could go to jail. It is sacred tribal land and she had to tell a guy who looked at me weird that I was with her so he didn’t call Tribal Police (I was on their land; they have jurisdiction)..

I cannot claim to know all about her culture. She has taught me some. For example, the manager I mentioned earlier was pestering her with a fake owl one night. At least in her tribe, owls are harbingers of death. Even after I told him that, he kept putting it where he knew she would suddenly see it (like, not from a distance, but where she would open a door and it would be there). That same night, she and I were out getting fresh air and she heard an owl hoot (we do have owls in this area and she wasn’t just hearing things; I heard it too) and she immediately called her mom to tell her to check on everyone in the family and ran inside. He thought the whole thing was funny. I’m not saying I believe that owls are harbingers of death, but SHE does and that should be respected. I hope this jerk gets fired. Good at his job, yes. Us being short-handed, yes. But I’d rather be shorthanded than to work with a jerk who cannot respect other cultures (and is jealous that she and I get along because I treat her with respect and he does not).

I am happy and honored that she still loves me, but also TOTALLY get why she ended romance. But literally NOTHING has changed except her title. She is no longer “girlfriend,” she is now “best friend.” She is good with that. I did ask her to keep in touch when she is gone. Her answer was “Duh, why wouldn’t I keep in touch with you?” Like, she literally showed up at my house last week, unannounced, to check on me because I had missed a bit of work due to sickness and losing five friends in a week (they died). She still cares about me. She has PROVEN that. I am lucky to have her in my life in any capacity. Even if romance didn’t work out, I am SO glad I know her.

[glowinthedarkz0mbie]

Genuinely hilarious to put my last "relationship" into perspective.

1. We get 2gether, idgaf if he sexts anyone, anytime, idgaf if he finds someone better (I literally implored him...)

2. I spend about five years feeling immense guilt for even thinking about how cute anyone else is because bf didn't really communicate how he felt about that. (Until the very end ???)

3. I fall in love with someone who understands me like nobody I've met before, someone who's showed me that i don't actually know what it's like to be respected and loved, somebody who is the kindest most hard working person I've ever met, our personalities are a million times more compatible, they don't make me feel pressured to do things I really don't want to, they don't make me insecure about my body and then say I did that to them(he's a fucking twig calling himself fat. How tf u think that makes ME feel you stupid ugly bitch I WEIGH MORE THAN YOU!!!!�� kys.)

4. I decide to be honest and tell him straight up when we start feeling sexual tension between us.

5. He becomes possessive, starts showing the same signs he literally watched me break up with people for ???

6. Becomes incredibly hostile towards my best friend, someone who has more life experience, wisdom, intelligence and genuine skill that he will legit ever have. I also knew from the beginning that he would be attracted to them too but whatever bozo LMAOO, we break up after he goes through my phone as I'm sleeping.(and yeah, RLLY shoulda done that sooner but the way he was acting was really scaring me. NOW I KNOW WHY 🙂)

7. He reveals his true personality bit by bit (cyberbullying my best friend, brainwashing them into hating themself, continuously violated their privacy, manipulated tf out of us.) and the more I get to know him the more I remember how much he legitimately didn't know the first things about me during the relationship. He literally faked so much...lied SO MUCH. five years wasted on somebody I didn't fucking know. Someone who absolutely would have fucking made fun of me in school. Someone who will never have the life experience to even understand me or anything about me.

8. I find out about him harassing my bestie, I set the record straight and tell him EXACTLY what the fuck is up. He apologizes and says he was wrong and stupid blah blah blah.

9. Never really changes...ends up kinda just proving his apology meant nothing but then still tries to be friends with my bestie.

10. Starts being really fuckin weird with bestie, makes them uncomfortable a lot.

11. Ends up "falling in love" with them 💀

12. He gets pissed off and reveals himself as a true stereotypical male and feels like my bestie somehow OWES HIM for that little "friendship" he attempted with them ???? Yeah you can slit your throat and post it you ugly cunt. The fact that I really had the capacity to love THAT, and disregard so fucking much because I LOVED HIM. For him to say "you never loved me."

Pal, ONE of us loved the other enough to say "if you find someone who makes you happy I want you to be with them." And BITCH! IT WASNT YOU!

[mirceakitsune]

Banned from Furaffinity for drawing jokes / caricature / satire 7 years ago

Furaffinity always had serious issues and strange behavior toward its community. What happened over the past two days however is beyond what I think any of us would have ever imagined seeing someday. I'm not really sure how I can even translate the situation without people thinking I'm biased and exaggerating because it happened to me, it's one of those things you have to experience for yourself to fully grasp it.

They have now banned me and another artist I followed for 15 years and admire. Our only crime was making satire art… 7 years ago (in both our cases) plus my latest render in my case. All pieces were SFW and in no way sexual, literally intended as jokes and nothing more. After two thirds of a decade, during which the pieces were up and nobody once complained, a coordinated ban was conducted over what our past selves did at a time when there were probably no rules against it to begin with; In my case I had even forgotten that old sketch, initially I thought they mistook the age of a character in my recent works since I didn't even remember doing child characters (only did that one time and another joke I think).

https://inkbunny.net/s/886450

From what I remember, this was essentially a joke about a similar artist who got harassed: I believe Subwoofer made a parody about animals eating babies and everyone started yelling at him because of it, I found the situation hilarious and made that drawing to honor it. Initially FA suspended me for one week over that sketch, citing how it was somehow cub porn… I'll let others deal with the mental gymnastics as they're far beyond me. Then they needed a reason to get rid of me for good, and so…

Yes: A parody with cartoon bunnies poking fun at the capitol insurrection on January 6th. The accusation, I kid you not, is that this image was promoting COVID misinformation along with QAnon… it also says they deleted some journals which I'm not even aware of. That render… is COVID… misinformation…

And to be absolutely clear, it legitimately wasn't even intended to support anything in any serious manner. As I said it was strictly parody with a silly story attached, mostly to poke fun at what went on. I did NOT claim the elections were stolen, that Trump was right, and in fact I legitimately believe QAnon is 90% crazy from the little I even bothered looking into that group.

This is a screencap for anyone who thinks I must be blowing this out of proportion and it couldn't have been like that. See for yourself: This is the reason they gave, the image they reference is the one with the same title. Let me know how in the heck I even said anything about COVID-19 in that 3D render.

The real motive they came after me is because I took Foshu's defense in that journal, against the people harassing them also for making a cartoon joke those same 7 years ago. I wasn't suspended for anything I said there however: The FA mods instead decided to look through my gallery and pick two jokes I made seven years apart. It was because of my stance there however, we both got banned at the same time and it was clear it came from the arguments we just had with the angry mob.

Though I figure worse is possible, I imagine this is one of the biggest abuses in FA's history. Both in what they try to interpret as being against their extremely vague TOS, as well as how they handled it. I'll see if anyone in the appeals will contact me after I explain the situation, but even if I get unbanned I'm unlikely to post there again: FA has gone completely nuts, everyone including the mods are acting like a cult on anything that is a social issue… not everyone as far as users go of course, but the platform at large has clearly become a nest for the most violent and delusional circles (just like Twitter).

I'm posting this to let everyone know it happened and I'll likely leave the place whatever happens next. But also to expose the extent of the abuse, in case anyone feels they can look into it and do some investigation; FA is of course its own private site and can do any insanity it wants, but for a community of its size I really wish someone out there could hold it up to a minimal standard. Inkbunny is the only one I trust any more, it's made some mistakes too but never anything like this… may it live longer than me and stay free no matter what the world's insanity throws our way.

[fbdo1986]

yo just for kicks do you think there’s ever like. a ferris bueller is gay/bi rumor that circulates their school (ofc ferris is bi but no one’s gonna flat out only have a bisexual rumor)

[banannabethchase]

I'm back again, and somehow this book got even stupider.

The main character knows that she left her phone recording after her presentation. She knows it recorded for hours after said presentation. Which means she should realize that her phone also recorded her future boss sexually harassing and mocking her directly after her presentation.

It takes her like 2 HOURS WORTH OF AUDIOBOOK before she realizes the event was recorded, which is even worse because she only finds it out by accident and then still tries to ignore it. She still won't say anything because apparently communication is illegal in a romance novel, and her theory is that even though there's a literal recording, nobody will believe her, and the guy that is also clearly in love with her based on her own narration and his wittle fee-fees matters more than her own safety. Meaningless, senseless, poorly written nonsense.

This book falls into all the embarrassing tropes about romance novels and has nothing unique or positive or new to make it better. All the problems surround a lack of meaningful communication and a character who is supposed to be brilliant acting like an absolute fool the whole time.

Also, you can't have a character be so unbearably obtuse and not genre savvy, and then make jokes in the last act of the book about how the main character is so romcom or that her story is so dumb it's like a young adult novel that wouldn't even sell well. You can't try to entertain genre savvy trope jokes at the same time as presenting a character as painfully not genre savvy without it sounding completely unbelievable. I keep having to pause the audiobook because moments that happen are so stupid and unreasonable that I have to yell about it. This book had potential and it was all wasted.

Whoever recommended this book for me, and it might be my fault because I do love a good fake dating trope, you suck. This is one of the worst narratives I've ever had the encounter of listening to, and I'm an elementary school teacher. I would rather read my kids versions of fairy tales a hundred times then read this again. But again sunk cost fallacy. I'm going to finish it out of spite.

[malewifemammon]

oh yeah baby kam's peter post made me want to share some of my own thoughts abt him (but also i didn't wanna tack em on in a reblog bc my thoughts r very related to Personal Stuff About Me and i didn't want to make their post my storytime i guess haha)

cw for mentions of sexual harassment/assault under the cut, as well as discussion of germophobia and ocd! also uh maybe some peter hate so if u don't wanna read that don't open the post! and have a nice day ^_^

so like i'm definitely not the type of person to say that nobody should ever like characters who do bad things, or that unhealthy relationships should Never be portrayed in art. so if you like peter or his dynamic with alice, please don't take this as me saying you shouldn't do that.

but like i've been into this series since i was about twelve or maybe even eleven? (long hours largely unsupervised with my best friend at the local library waiting for my mom to finish work) and while i definitely didn't understand healthy relationship dynamics all that much, i still took issue with peter forcing a kiss on alice from the get-go. i'll be honest, that along with his attitude towards her made me hate him right off the bat. these days i definitely think he has interesting and/or comedic potential in some situations, but that particular side of him still freaks me out. obviously. he was my least favorite of alice's potential interests (besides the twins).

BUT something kam brought up in their post kind of clicked with me.

around middle school, i started developing symptoms of ocd (i think triggered by a lot of stressful life events happening in quick and intense succession on top of the usual chaos of middle school). eventually it got on to be actual ocd, which i still deal with to this day. and my biggest trigger has been germs/uncleanliness. i didn't used to have this obsession with contamination, so i'm pretty sure i didn't have it when i first got into nkna. but as time went on i saw more and more of myself in that aspect of peter.

i really didn't want to, since i disliked him so much (not to mention how often ocd or similar traits are either played for jokes in most media or given to eccentric villain types to make them seem more Weird™). but over time it got harder to ignore.

kam brings up that bc of his germophobia, peter doesn't really have much experience in the way of romantic/sexual interactions. and it made me think of myself.

because aside from my tendency to not be able to interact with others all that well, my cleanliness ocd is a big stumbling block in the way of physical intimacy, of ANY kind, but especially romantic/sexual since that tends to be more... involved. and there's the screenshot of peter telling alice smth about how he doesn't mind Her Germs specifically, which is probably something i've said almost word for word to my own partner. they were my first for a lot of things, both because of my anxiety but also because of the germ thing. (side note i love them very much they're so cool and good about My Tendencies lol) and it can be really weird to be in a relationship with someone who has a lot more experience than you sometimes, because it can be easy to worry that you're somehow letting them down (not that i get the sense alice gets out all that much either, but still). but i also know the overwhelming joy and relief that comes with finding someone whose germs you don't mind.

AND IT DRIVES ME CRAZY haha because i still don't really like peter! i think it's funny to bully him but also sometimes he does genuinely anger me. and it's been an odd experience to feel myself become more like him in this very specific way over the years, to relate to some of his fears and such. not to mention, i don't remember his germophobia being played as a joke all that much?

i mean there probably are moments where it is, i wouldn't be surprised, but comparing the way he's treated as opposed to, say, death the kid from soul eater... it feels different. [i could make a whole other post about my feelings on kid but i digress]

he's just a character that i personally have a lot of really complex feelings about, because on the one hand he can be a total scumbag who i hate, but on the other hand he seems to encapsulate certain struggles i've dealt with that i don't see illustrated in media very often. he's really important to me but also i want to kick the shit out of him ^_^

anyway. i don't think i really had A Point to all of this, just wanted to jot down some of my own ideas on him ig

[vintageseawitch]

severus snape was not just a bully he was a literal racist and that did not change over the years unlike other characters' attitudes 🙏🙏🙏 what the fuck how are you pro-snape

hmmm. i feel there's an extremely back-handed compliment here. are you a lurker? are we mutuals? do i follow you or do you follow me? whatever the capacity, it feels silly to ask, but: are you new here? my bio, though novella in length because keeping things in a tiny, succinct packages is not my forte, clearly states at some point that Severus Snape is important enough to me to be mentioned a considerable amount. i'll be very sad if i follow you & enjoy the content you post because tbh this anon is super disappointing. the most common types i tend to receive are snaters who are too cowardly to tell me to my face they have nothing better to do than judge people doing the least harmful thing imaginable: loving/liking/appreciating a controversial, FICTIONAL FUCKING CHARACTER.

"he was a literal racist and that did not change over the years unlike the other characters' attitudes" ummm fucking WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. what canon evidence do you have for this except your own warped headcanons?? Snape said the word "mudblood" fucking ONCE, as a teenage boy, while getting sexually assaulted by more than one person, in public, with no one there attempting to stop them. then Snape's one friend tries to defend him & Snape snaps something stupid because he was afraid & pissed off & ashamed. don't tell me YOU'VE never said something you're later ashamed of while in a temper or feeling cornered. don't tell me YOU'RE not allowed to make mistakes. that's right, it was a mistake, & he realized immediately so he tried to fix it & in the end his friendship wasn't worth it to her so he was alone, surrounded by people who won't help him, who let some other teenage boys get away with attempted murder, & adults who don't give a shit about him making him ripe for plucking. Snape fucking CRINGES then yells at Phineas Nigellus for calling Hermione that while the trio's on the run & Snape is an unwilling headmaster!!! have you forgotten this???? if anyone is racist it's Molly Weasley for her treatment of Fleur which was never given a legit reason why she behaved the way she did. i don't even want to try to count how many times Draco Malfoy calls Hermione a mudblood; are you harassing people with hateful anons for liking Draco? is he somehow more deserving of a redemption than Severus? if you think that, go fuck yourself.

Severus Snape made a mistake when he was very young. he was alone, traumatized, full of bitterness & anger. he first came over to the side of the light for selfish reasons but then so did Regulus & Narcissa & i never see people attacking THEM. Snape made a mistake & worked to atone for this & for 17 years most take for granted he was the puppet for two megalomaniacal masters, neither of whom gave a damn about his life (Dumbledore was worse in SO many ways). in the end, it seems like snaters feel like no matter what you do, no matter what is in your heart & everything you do to try to make it right, your mistake will always define you & death is all you deserve soduspsjapxjosn FUCK THIS SHIT. FUCK ANYONE WHO BELIEVES THIS.

"Severus Snape was not just a bully" yeah you're right he was also honorable, good-at-heart, brave as fuck, fucking brilliant, & while sharp-edged, was dryly hilarious. also, don't you get tired of this same fucking "argument"?? because Snape wasn't the only bully in canon. Molly Weasley is one. so is Dumbledore. so is Hermione. so is Draco, Crabbe, & Goyle. SO WERE THE MARAUDERS. Peter Pettigrew turned out to be one of the worst; do you ever anonymously bully anyone for liking them if they do? while not counting for taste, if anyone DOES like his character, IT'S NOT. MY FUCKING. BUSINESS. nobody is hurting me for liking that character. i am not hurting YOU for liking a character. it's just easier for you to pull this fucking performative, fake-woke, absolutely repulsive purity-culture enabling bullshit than to speak up about things that fucking ACTUALLY MATTER.

do you want to know some characters i like that are ACTUALLY disturbing/toxic/any negative thing you can think of?? i like Acton from the Doyle & Acton New Scotland Yard book series by Anne Cleeland & he is a LITERAL FUCKING STALKER who plays vigilante & takes advantage of his privilege to get away with his crimes lmao. i like Father Konstantin from the Winternight Trilogy even though (or maybe because of is more accurate) he's a younger, prettier, blonder Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame with his behavior towards Vasya who is very much an Esmeralda parallel. it drew me in immediately, their dynamic in that trilogy; so poisonous & twisted & depraved was his obsession with her but it was so PASSIONATE i couldn't look away. i like Krennic from Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. if you've seen it, he's the smol, angry man who thinks seeing a planet with historical Jedi sites get destroyed by a previously unknown super weapon is BEAUTIFUL. he has no qualms against forcing someone against his will back to helping to build this weapon, even if it meant killing his family.

so there are just a few that i can think of at the moment who are considerably darker than mere shades of grey; do you send hateful anons to people who like Darth Vader? what about Sauron? Morgoth? what if someone likes VOLDEMORT?????? omg (spoiler alert: they exist, & some have created some of the best hp fanart i've seen, but that's not the point right now). do you attack people for liking other morally grey characters like Kylo Ren/Ben Solo or Lestat? snaters are pathetic. if you don't like Snape, that's perfectly fine; it would just be really cool if you can take your toxic, purity culture mentality & if unable to shove it up your ass at least go haunt the places dedicated to bland, rich white boy bully-loving spaces. go on with your horrid belief that all people who are enduring trauma are only allowed to process/handle it in a set way otherwise they are the Worst Person To Exist (or... not, in this instance, seeing as Severus Snape is a FICTIONAL. FUCKING. CHARACTER). do you not realize this says so much to people in your own life who may see some similarities between themselves & a character you believe makes you a superior entity for hating & judging?? do you not give people you care about another chance after making a mistake???

i'd rather continue loving this prickly, snarky asshole than attempt to "earn your good opinion" or some fucking similar codswallop thank you VERY much. cheerio & all that, & i hope you're able to find something to do you enjoy that doesn't involve judging people for things that really don't matter. if you have an issue with what i post you can always unfollow/block me. complicated controversial comfort characters make for better things to think about than fake wokeness. toodles~

[tenkoscumslut]

Alpha Bakugou x Reader

- So Bakugou is 18+, he has is own agency and he’s currently the number 1 hero, he does have injuries from the recent chapters, and i’m assuming Izuku probably either retired bc his arms are never going to be fixed, or he’s lying in the lower ranks for the rest of his life purposefully.

So how does alpha Bakugou court you?!?!!

- He doesn’t like omegas

- or betas

- or alphas

- he hates everyone

- so one day he just stopped at his favorite book store

- bc mans likes to read

- the reason why he loves the library

- is bc 

- he will never admit this

- he thinks your adorable

- he doesn’t want a mate

- and then you exist

- like he wants to be around you 24/7

- at first he didn’t care about you

- he thought you were hot

- and that was it

- but when a man thought he could rub you through your panties

- then you caught his eye

- you roundhoused his face

- he fell to the ground

- like rly he knew he wanted to be around you

- so he started buying 2 books

- and would give you the other book

- it was him courting you behind his own back

- he didn’t realize his alpha was trying to court you

- but you accepted it

- “Thank you Mr. Dynamite”, you would thank him every day(i can't with his hero name)

- your voice would send his mind into a frenzy

- then he went to a cafe

- and he saw you working as a bartender there

- he stared at you secretly the entire time

- he thought about approaching you

- know he wanted to protect you

- someone was looking up your skirt

- you didn’t notice

- so you kept on working

- then he grabbed your clothed sex roughly

- your head snapped around

- that look in your eyes

- he could sense his rut coming in early

- you literally punched him and knocked at least 5 teeth out

- that’s how he knew you were the one

- but he had to run home bc he was going in a rut

- he kept jerking off to you

- your lips

- your smile

- your voice

- what would you look like underneath him

- what would your lips look like wrapped around his cock

- what your moans would sound

- he was obsessed with you

- and not even in a sexual way

- everywhere he went he could only see you

- it was starting to tick him off

- so he was in front of you

- “Hey, idiot, do you want to go get a coffee with me later?”, he asked

- you tilted your head

- your cheeks were flared up in embarrassment

- he could smell it

- it was just to intoxicating

- “u-um sure, I get out at 5″, you replied sweetly

- inside you were just screaming out in joy

- you always had a small crush on the pro hero

- and know he was inviting you out to talk

- he left

- then at 5 you met him outside the library

- he wore something a bit more formal the the usual sweatpants and sweatshirt

- he had a nice shirt and some jeans

- you both walked to a different coffee shop

- bc he was worried you would know that he knows that you work at that coffee shop

- you guys talk for a few hours

- your surprised he hasn’t shouted once

- in fact

- (he wasn't smiling) but you could sense he was very happy

- he ended up walking you home

- “it’s part of my job you get home safe”, he did not phrase that correctly

- you scowled

- “Your job has nothing to do with me”, you snapped

- he was sad that you snapped at him

- so he did the one thing nobody would ever expect him to

- he apologized

- “Ah, sorry I phrased that wrong, I meant it’s my duty as a hero to make sure you are safe and comfortable”

- on the inside he was screaming

- though he hid that

- the next day he got you a muffin and a book

- now it was regular for you two to go get a coffee at the coffee shop

- he was ecstatic 24/7

- he would go through ruts 1 a month now that he was closer to you

- and one night you 2 were walking to the coffee shop (it’s like 2 miles away btw)

- you guys stumbled past a drunk alpha

- when he saw you

- he was all over you

- groping you

- his knee was grinding against your pussy

- his stanky breath fanning over your marking spot

- Bakugou tried to stop him

- but you already had him pinned to the floor with blood seeping out of his mouth, and you were growling ferally

- and that was the first time he heard you growl

- he was in heaven

- like rly

- he loved ur growl

- it was so dominating and just TURNED HIM ON

- he arrested the man

- and made sure he was locked up for harassing his mate

- but you don’t know that yet

- and one day

- you let him in his house

- he was excited

- you lived alone

- and he got to see your nest

- when he came inside

- he was confined to the living room

- like every time he tried to explore

- you bared your teeth softly in a warning for him to stay

- you weren’t use to people being in your house

- and to be honest you kinda liked the power you had over the top pro hero in Japan

- he was wrapped around your finger

- he was slightly disappointed he could explore

- but he respected your boundaries

- so he sat at the couch and just took everything in

- you appeared with 2 cups of tea

- you continued to talk

- he was happy that he was engulfed in your scent

- but he wanted to make it smell like him

- but he knew you’d probably kick him in the balls and kick him out forever

- he sat in the same spot for hours

- but you were wrestles

- constantly fidgeting

- you were slightly distressed an alpha was in your house at 2 in the morning

- he noticed you were beginning to become overwhelmed with his presence.

- but he was happy no less

- “I’ll so you tomorrow L/N-san”, he purred before excusing himself of your house

- you locked the door behind him

- you didn’t notice but your heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour

- your cheeks were flushed red

- you picked yourself off and walked to the couch

- his scent lingered on the pillow he was resting beside

- a smile creeped to your lips

- you picked the pillow up and snuggled with it all night

- somehow it made you feel like he was sleeping beside you

- the actual thought of sleeping next to him had her squirming uncomfortably

- so the next day you were working at the library again

- you were on a ladder sorting out the books

- “Nice view”, someone underneath you commented

- you scowled and hit the man in the face with your foot

- “Get out”, you hissed

- he left

- then the front door opened

- you climbed down from the ladder and peered around the corner

- Bakugou was there

- he had dark circles under his eyes

- but he was still happy to see u

- he won’t tell u but he jacked off to you again

- again

- as in this is at least the 10th time he’s jacked off just to you

- you smiled softly

- “Helly Mr. Dynamite”, you greeted him

- “Hello L/N-san”

- today he invited you to the park with him

- you agreed hesitently

- you were socially awkward

- I mean yesterday was the first time someone was in your house

- so when you were at the park

- like you were in awe

- you especially likes the lake

- it was closed off to the public for cleaning

- you couldn’t stop gazing into the clear water

- it was so pretty

- just gorgeus

- and then the tree’s

- you had never really admired their beauty

- but here

- the pink blossoms fell from the trees

- and a single one landed on your palm

- it was amazing

- “Can we come to the park tomorrow?”, you asked turning your head around to slightly look at him

- he was smirking

- “Whatever you want L/N-san”.

- you turned around 

- “you call me F/N if you want you know”, you pointed out

- he was flustered at how direct you were

- “i-in that case, whatever you want F/N-chan”.

- you smiled brightly

- he took you to a pond

- baby ducks were swimming in the water

- a little one came swimming over to you

- you reached out

- it clambered onto your hand

- water dripped onto your hand

- you cupped the baby duck perfectly

- a purr emitting from deep into your chest

- you looked so beautiful like this

- Bakugou couldn’t help but smile and sneak a quick photo of you

- Bakugou got you an ice cream

- then you invited him back inside you house to warm up from the cold

- this time you didn’t bare your teeth when he peered around the corner to the kitchen

- you didn’t bare your teeth when he walked in the kitchen

- he turned the corner to try and enter your room

- then he could hear a soft growl come from you

- he then passed your door and the growl stopped

- you started to cook dinner

- just a simple recipe your mother taught you

- it was just rice and chicken

- like it was really simple

- but it made anyone’s mouth water with the taste and smell

- he started to explore every inch except for your room

- his nose knuding into your coat

- he could smell your scent

- this was the strongest he’s ever smelt it

- his eyes rolled back into his head

- you smelled so sweet

- he quickly moved on so he wouldn’t appear suspicious

- he looked to see another room

- you couldn’t see him

- you had a beautiful house

- your house was big

- there was a patie in the middle of your house

- a huge shrine was in the middle of it

- there were lit candles

- he opened the door

- and saw a picture of a little boy with black hair and green eyes

- it looked like he had passed away

- he kept exploring 

- there wasn’t much after that

- just a few extra rooms

- an office

- really not much

- he went back into the living room

- you had finished making dinner

- “Do you want to eat here?”, you asked him

- “That would be amazing”, he replied

- you smiled and prepared 2 plates

- you both ate at the kitchen table

- he loved it

- like it was the first time he's had a home made meal

- since his mom just got pre made shit

- and he doesn’t know how to cook well

- so this was amazing

- in just a few seconds his plate was empty

- so him eating at your house became a thing

- he would walk you home

- you would cook dinner

- he’d probably sniff at everything

- he’d growl at your cat

- bc he doesn’t like you cat at all

- he has been trying to take you out on a date tho

- like he came up to you and asked if you wanted to spend an evening with him

- you declined

- he’s been trying for at least a month now

- you keep saying no

- he wasn’t even asking you directly

- like youd didn’t want to spend any time with him at all

- so he got angry

- stormed up to you in the library

- “You. me. dinner tonight, and you can’t say no”, then he stormed off

- you were in shock

- like he asked you out to dinner

- you were worried at first he would have an extravagant evening planned if you said yes

- and tbh you just wanted to go eat dinner at a restaurant with him

- you wore a red dress and black heels

- like you *italian kisses the air*

- that night he took you to a fancy restaurant

- and you two had a great time

- it was amazing

- he walked you home

- and when you walked inside

- he followed you

- and you didn’t know that

- so when someone spun you around

- and kissed your lips softly

- you were completely shocked.

- he left after that

- you were up all night thinking about him

- the next day you saw him at the library again

- and you were beyond flustered

 - you were a blushing mess

- he smirked and walked up to you

- “WHat did you think of last night?”, he asked cooly

- you could face him like thats how embarrassed you were

- “I-I l-like t-the food, i-it was very n-nice”, you stuttered and looked away

- “Thats not what i was asking about”, he purred

- “What did you think of the kiss?”

- you could’ve died right there

- you just froze

- y/n.exe has stopped working

- He chuckled and shook his head

- “I think you liked it, so know that I know you did, I wanted to ask you something”, he chuckled and grabbed your hand and led you to the storage room

WARNING NSFW UP AHEAD

- he brought you to the storage room

- locked the door

- and pressed himself flush against you

- so you could feel his hot breath on your neck

- “Ever since I saw you”, he mumbled softly

- “I knew you were my omega”

- he started to kiss your neck softly 

- “You looked so hot when you beat those men up”

- he kissed your collar bone softly

- you knew he intended to go lower

- and you were OK with it

- it might seem rushed in others eyes

- but to you and him, it didn’t

- I mean, it took him 3 months to get you on a date with him, and it took 1 month of convincing 

- he looked up at you

- “Can i?”, he asked softly

- you were to shy to actually form an answer

- you just nodded your head

- he quickly took your shirt off leaving you in a skirt and bra

- he stared at your body with love

- you were so beautiful

- he kissed your cleavage before going behind your bra and just ripping it off

- your breasts bounced when they were released from their condiments

- you naturally covered up your chest from his eyes

- the audacity

- he was mad

- why would you be shy of him?

- Why wouldn’t you show him your body?

- like he was legit pissed

- he grabbed your hands and pressed them to your sides

- and he quickly latched onto your hardened nub and started to suckle harshly

- you bit your lip to hold back moans

- his other hand massaged the other breast

- he loved your taste

- and how your body slightly jerked everytime he rolled his fingers over the sensitive flesh

- he started to kiss your breast

- and slowly made his was down your stomach

- kissing at your flesh softly

- his fingers hooked around your skirt

- he slowly took it off 

- and know you were only in your panties

- which were soaked btw

- he slowly took your panties off and stared at your exposed heat

- you looked away shyly

- he started to kiss your lower lips

- he discarded his pants and boxers so he was only in a loose shirt

- he quickly picked you up and pressed you gently against the wall

- your wrapped your legs around his waist

- he faqed u in a storage room

- then he marked you

- and you two bonded for life

[softbiker]

Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: language, attempted sexual assault and harassment, mentions of past sexual assault and harassment - do not read if these situations are triggering for you.

Word count: 6.1k - am I capable of writing anything short anymore???

A/N: HI I’M FINALLY BACK AND POSTING SOMETHING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ALMOST 3 MONTHS WOW. This story continues the Agent 14 series (so definitely check that out in my masterlist if you’re not familiar!) and...it’s something I’ve had on my mind for a while. I just needed to get it out. I hope that you like it and please share what you think! Feedback is appreciated!

When her phone starts buzzing, she’s mid-swing at the faded sandbag hanging from the ceiling. 

She’s glad to have the place to herself - the dusty air and stale silence more of a comfort. A bead of sweat slides down her temple, itching past her ear, and her finger scratches at the spot absently, coming away salty wet. There’s sweat slicking her scalp, too; she feels it under the tight twist of her braids, heat trapped beneath the strands. Her dirty little basement gym - faded posters lining the walls, advertising fights long finished, flickering bulbs hanging from the ceiling, stained linoleum - is quiet in the mornings. A kind of quiet that is all too rare in the city, in her life. 

Sure, it was nice of Sam to continue inviting her on their morning runs - she has every intention of taking him up on his offer, when she finally gets off the opening shift at work. She sees his 4 a.m. offers a couple times a week, shooting back a quick response that she’s already up, heading in to open the cafe. He finds it all so funny; calls her “Agent Barista”, and endearingly teases her about her rigorous coffee training at the SHIELD Academy. 

Okay but real talk, 14 - what’s your top secret mission down at Starbucks? Pinged her phone as she brushed her teeth and concealed undereye circles with strategic swipes of makeup. 

Key word in your question is “top secret”, Wilson. As in, tell you but I’d have to kill you. You know the drill. 

Another ping. Yeah, yeah. Y’all agents talk a good game, but I know for a fact 41 can be bought with a box of See’s candies. Just gotta figure out your weakness. 

Good luck. 

No luck needed. I’ll bring a couple sweaty super soldiers your way around 8:30, you’re welcome. 

With a wrapped hand, she flicks one swinging braid back over her shoulder, turning to her duffel bag for her phone. It’s buried under a spare pair of socks and a sports bra she forgot to wash, still buzzing as she grasps it and flips the screen upwards in her hand. 

Unknown caller. 

She’d bet every cent to her name that she could guess who was on the other end of the line. Tongue pressed against her teeth, she dismisses the call and drops her phone back in her bag. Fury can wait. 

Turning back to the sandbag, she sucks a quick breath through her nose, curling power in her lean shoulders, and then unleashes a furious combination of jabs and kicks on the beaten plastic. Grunts and harsh pants slip past her lips, fists slinging blow after punishing blow, her weight held bouncing on the balls of her feet. The sandbag is a stoic opponent, taking her fists and feet without so much as a groan of protest, swinging back only a few inches on the chain even as she whips around high for a roundhouse kick. Growling, she rocks her weight back on her heels, before leaping forward off one leg to drive her knee into the bag with bruising force. More to herself than the bag, she thinks, glancing down at the tender skin on her bare knee, stinging from the impact. She leans an elbow against the bag and drops her head, swiping at the baby hairs along her forehead. 

The phone buzzes again, insistent and muffled, and she lets her head drop back with a heavy sigh, eyes closed. 

“Shut up,” she mutters, eyes narrowing in a nasty glare at the offending noise. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

She whirls at the sound, fists raised - she hadn’t even heard him enter. 

Steve has the good grace to look sheepish as he approaches from a shadowed staircase in the corner of the room, his hands raised in surrender. Not many people have had the sheer dumb luck - and misfortune - of sneaking up on her, and the part of her brain not whiplashed by adrenaline grudgingly admires him for it. 

“Morning, Captain,” 14 sighs, her hands falling to her hips, rolling her neck against the tension in her shoulders. 

“Morning,” he smiles. He’s trimmed back the beard, she notices, closer to the sharp line of his jaw. Dust motes swirl around his golden head like fairy dust as he passes through the puddles of light cast from the weak overhead bulbs. It strikes her then, the unassuming slope of his shoulders, a little shuffle in his gait, not quite lifting his feet from the ground. Not a strut, no stalking or preening like the SHIELD boys she came up at the Academy with, eager to throw their weight around. Somehow, despite his height, he manages to duck his head, to look up at her under a fringe of enviable dark lashes. Disarming and soft, a wayward blond strand falling over his forehead, he tucks his hands into his pockets, standing just a few feet away from her. He nods at the hanging sandbag behind her. 

“Gave that thing quite a beating,” he says, tilting a dark eyebrow. She shrugs one shoulder. 

“Looked at me funny,” she quips back, still catching her breath from the last bout. Her tongue swipes at a drop of sweat on her upper lip. Sniffing, she turns her gaze down to the wrapping on her hands. “I don’t recall inviting you, Rogers - I thought this was a private session.” 

“Sorry for intruding,” he says, scrunching his nose and swiping at the errant lock of hair hanging before his eyes. With a jerk of his chin, he gestures towards her gym bag, where her phone has gone blessedly silent. “Fury had a feeling you would, um, how does Sam say it…’shady button’ him?” 

She snorts in spite of herself, just managing to slap a hand over her mouth before her laugh becomes obnoxious. Even in the dim light of the fluorescents, she can see the high flush creeping up those scruffy cheeks. Steve rubs the back of his neck, a familiar embarrassment curling in his belly; it’s a joke the team plays sometimes, and he gets it, he really does. Gotta laugh at your CO sometimes - it brings the team together; so he drops little phrases here and there, incongruous slang with his pleated slacks and old-fashioned manners. Even things that Sam says - the word “fam”, or adding “ass” as a suffix to virtually any word - from Steve’s mouth, they’re suddenly enough to have the team rolling with laughter, Tony red-faced, Wanda close to tears. The tips of his ears burn, and he always acts put out, lowers his stern father brows, but if there’s one thing he learned as a Brooklyn-born punk, it’s how to take his punches.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I’m sorry,” 14 says, hand still half-covering the silly grin tugging at her mouth. “It just sounded so funny coming from you. It was like-”

“Kinda like if your dad were saying it?” Steve purses his lips, tilts his head to the side.

“Oh god…yes, that’s exactly it.” It ignites a fresh burst of giggles, though she scrunches her nose and shakes her head at the image. “Uh, just do us both a favor and don’t say that again.” 

“I don’t think you can restrict Captain America’s freedom of speech.” He lifts his eyebrows, playful, considering. The slope of his nose casts a long shadow across his cheek, skin like Irish cream. She rolls her eyes, turning away to her duffel bag, using her teeth to tug at the wrappings on her hands. 

“So. You’re Nick’s new personal assistant or something?” Dropping to the bench, she rummages through her gym bag and takes a long gulp from her water bottle. She swipes at her phone screen - 3 missed calls now. 

Steve shrugs. 

“I volunteered,” he says simply, large knuckles still visible where they stay curled in his pockets. “Thought…hoped I might have better luck.”

She licks her lower lip, chasing a coveted drop of water. It’s not as though she’s tired of the job - it varies so much, from one day to the next, that it makes boredom impossible. No, it’s not the job, she’s just…tired. Of what, or why, she can’t really say. Steve is patient. He doesn’t say anymore, just waits, standing a few feet away and shifting his weight from one leg to the other, his soft eyes watchful. Her fingers go to her shoulders, massaging the oncoming ache in her muscles. 

“What’s the mission?” 

  **********                                                                                      

“You need some help there, punk?” Bucky leans a hip against the doorframe, arms crossed over his beloved NASA hoodie, an amused twitch tugging at the corner of his mouth. Across the room, Steve frowns at him in the mirror. 

“Never really got the hang of these damned things,” Steve huffs, fingers losing the knot on his bowtie and sighing again as the cloth falls loose from the crisp collar of his shirt. Hands falling to his narrow hips, he turns to Bucky, wearing a look of defeat rarely seen on Steve Rogers. 

Wordlessly, Bucky shuffles across the carpet and begins to knot the offending fabric, fingers of metal and flesh looping one strand over the other and back again. Chin lifted, brows furrowed, a marble bust of martyrdom, Steve is ever stoic while he works. 

“Thought you were gonna shave for this,” Bucky comments, his voice quiet, not lifting his eyes from the tie. Steve makes a dissenting noise from his throat. 

“Yeah, well, the beard makes it easier to keep a low profile,” he says, a hand reaching up to rub his whiskers absentmindedly. “And besides, I’m sort of attached to it now.” 

Bucky chuckles, a smile dimpling his own scruffy cheeks. 

“Know what you mean - God, but nobody looked like this when we were kids, ya know?” He steps back, finished with the tie, and gives Steve an appraising nod, pursing his lips. “Not too bad, Rogers, not too bad.” 

Raising a dubious brow, Steve turns back to the mirror, tugging at the sleeves and adjusting his shoulders in the tux. Strictly white tie - totally out of his element, but sometimes duty comes with a dress code. He wedges a thick finger between the starched white collar and his own tender skin. 

“In this get up?” Steve shakes his head. “Never did get used to wearing a monkey suit.” 

Tongue in his cheek, Bucky grins. 

“Have you seen yourself in your uniform?” 

Steve flings a fist back behind him, grinning triumphantly when his hit lands in Bucky’s gut; a metal fist swings in retaliation, but Steve manages to sidestep, his hands raised in quick surrender. 

“Hey, not too rough,” he says, tamping down a mischievous smile. “Tony will have my head if I ruin another one of these.” 

“Tony could buy you one for every day of the week,” Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

A knock on the doorframe makes them both turn. 

It’s been years now, since he met Natasha - wind whipping up familiar curls on the deck of the helicarrier, a watchful smile, wolves’ teeth hidden under a lamb-soft face. Even later, when he learned to trust her, he always found himself surprised at her startling contrasts, the ease with which she managed to be two things at once; ally and spy, friend then enemy then family. In truth, she was testing him. They both knew. Years of probing, disguised as teasing and sarcasm and near-insubordination - assessing his strength, his weakness, the man behind the shield. And after all this time, it was his steadiness at each of her own turns that pacified her, let her learn to lean on him in return. 

She smiles in the doorway now, her bright hair swept sleek behind her ears, revealing diamond teardrop earrings, probably on loan from Tony’s collection. The tips of her hair just brush her pale, bare shoulders, revealed by the strapless neckline of her jumpsuit. Black was always her signature color - never dull, though, because with Nat black is a spectrum, a rainbow refracted through her prism: intimidating, alluring, powerful, subtle. 

“You clean up good, Rogers,” she smirks, her hands tucked into her pockets as she gives him a look of approval. “Keeping the beard, though?” 

Steve’s hand idly brushes against his trimmed whiskers.

“It’s grown on me,” he admits. “And besides, I’ve got too much of a baby face without it.” 

“Some girls like that.” 

“Some guys like that,” Bucky adds, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, willing down the flush that crept up at his friends’ praise. “I’m not supposed to be the bait tonight.” 

“No, I guess that’s my job.” Another voice appears behind Nat, her head peaking around Nat’s shoulder as she steps forward to share the space in the doorway. 

Unbidden, Steve feels his mouth fall open. He always thought she was beautiful, from the first time he saw her, no makeup and the sleeves of her sweater splashed with coffee and mocha sauce; this morning, in the dusty half-light of the basement gym, sweat gleaming on her forehead and arms. But he wasn’t prepared to see her like this, glowing in his doorway, draped in a pink silk slip that exposed one of her thighs. She’d let her hair loose from it’s tight braids, her makeup bringing a dewy sheen to her cheeks - she looked…fresh, blooming like a rose. A clean swipe of red across her lips, almost an afterthought, as if she couldn’t be bothered to make more effort than that. Steve swipes his suddenly sweaty palms against his thighs and clears his throat. 

“Um, wow,” he says, wincing at his own voice, which nearly gave an embarrassingly pubescent crack. “I mean, you…uh, you look great.”

“Better than great,” Bucky pipes up, the amused tilt to his mouth the only hint that he enjoys Steve’s embarrassment. “She looks beautiful.” 

Nat nods in agreement. 

“The dress is perfect for you - is it one of Stark’s?” she asks. 14 shakes her head, modestly gesturing to the gown with her hand. 

“I’ve had it for a little while actually, I just couldn’t pass it up,” she sighs. “Just haven’t had the chance to wear it.” 

“Well, we’re finally gonna put some miles on it,” Natasha smiles, her eyes cutting to Steve, who has clamped his jaw shut to prevent himself from saying more. “We all ready? Happy’s pulling the car around.” 

14 nods, a shy smile tilting her mouth as she spares a glance at Steve before moving to follow Nat down the hall. She turns, and he sees that the cut of her dress falls low against the small of her back - almost low enough to glimpse the sweet dimples at the base of her spine. When they’re out of the doorway, he feels Bucky’s eyes on him - he’s perched on the edge of the bed, chewing his lip, one eyebrow lifted in an all-knowing look. He opens his mouth to speak but Steve lifts a hand. 

“Don’t,” Steve cuts him off. “I know what you’re gonna say Buck, but just- don’t.”

Bucky lifts his hands in surrender, standing from the bed and walking over to where Steve still stands in the middle of his room. 

“Fine, I won’t say a damn word,” Bucky sighs, shuffling across the thick carpet. He slaps his friend on the shoulder, gripping Steve with a firm hand. “Except you better move your ass instead of standing there like a dud - didn’t I tell you not to keep a lady waiting, Rogers?” 

 **********                                                                                         

Sam had whistled playfully as she glided out of the elevator on Steve’s arm, his eyebrows lifting halfway up his forehead. 

“Damn, girl - almost didn’t recognize you without your apron,” he winked, his gap-toothed grin charming as ever. 

“Didn’t match my shoes,” she winked back, flicking her hair over her shoulder. It sent a wave of her perfume drifting upwards; something bright and sweet, neroli, he thought, or orange blossom - maybe a hint of coconut. He had licked his lips without thinking; he’d like to smell it again, just to be sure. 

Here, in this stuffy ballroom across town, with eager officials and bourgeois brats trying to rub elbows with Captain America, he finds the smell much less appealing. Sweat and ambition, excess and greed, all covered in layers of atelier cologne (eau de aristocratie) and - well, Bucky heard enough of his socialist soapbox speeches back in the day, and his views certainly haven’t changed much. 

Still, he makes polite small talk with his admirers, rubs elbows, accepts drinks, all the while keeping one eye on the far corner of the room. It’s quiet, secluded, an overstuffed chaise with a soft cover tucked away from the buzz of the main dance floor. She’s perched there, ankles coquettishly crossed, the side slit of her dress revealing one leg and her glittering open-toed shoes; she leans on one arm, tilting her head towards the target, charming smile drawing up her lips as she hangs on his every word. Or pretends to, anyway. The target seems not to know the difference: Robbie Sinclair, a middle-aged man with the tanned smile of a Kennedy, salt and pepper hair slicked back from his face with a boyish cowlick escaping near the front, grins confidently as he talks to her. Steve watches him preen and puff his chest, spreading his legs to take up far more space than he needs. He stretches one arm along the back of the couch, leaning closer than appropriate, but she doesn’t move away. 

He doesn’t like this, any of it. To be fair, he’d never been a big fan of the espionage facet of his job; much to Nat’s chagrin, subtlety and subterfuge were not Steve’s strong suits. If he had his way, they’d come in swinging and arrest this creep (and his insider-trading Wall Street buddies, too). But shooting from the hip wouldn’t work here, not when they still needed hard evidence on this guy, something more substantial than rumors - heavy as those rumors might be, words like “human trafficking” and “slavery” coming up in his SHIELD files. He understood the necessity, and so did 14. 

Still, bringing her here and dangling her like a worm on a hook, hoping this asshole would take the bait…his stomach churned, whiskey bubbling unpleasantly at the thought. Steve angles his body around a chatty senator, trying to maintain his view on the corner. Sinclair looks about ready to take a bite, his head bent close to 14’s, sly smirk plastered on his face as he whispers something in her ear. Did her fist tighten around her glass? He can’t quite tell from this distance; he knows his own fingers are white-knuckled on his third whiskey. Or was it the fourth? 

In a blink, a stumble, a minute trapped in choked small talk with Miss New York (during which he wondered if her real teeth were filed down like a shark’s underneath that crown-winning smile like Sam told him), he’s lost her. 

A snowy static of panic whites out his brain, and his heart picks up against his ribcage as he all but shoves the beauty queen out of his way, his vision tunneling on the now-empty chaise in the corner. Where did she go? Where would she go? Barely managing subtlety know, he ducks his head, speaking to the comm device in his ear. 

“Natasha. Do you have eyes on them?” 

“…no, I was doing a sweep of the terrace outside,” she answers a moment later. “Did you lose them?”

Steve turns a circle where he stands, sharp eyes scanning each face and failing to find the one he wants to see. 

“They’re gone, I’ve lost visual.” He tries to keep his voice down, his tone tight and clipped. Through a break in the crowd, he thinks he catches a glimpse of her dress, but when he looks again it’s the wrong color, the wrong dress, the wrong woman-

“Alright, I’m heading back inside - I’ll go up the stairs to the next floor, see if they went up that way.” 

“Okay, I’ll take this floor,” Steve says, already making a beeline for the open doors of the ballroom, his tight-laced dress shoes clicking a solitary echo in the cavernous hallway just outside. Past the doors, and the gazes of nosy party-goers, he doubles his pace - the stiff starched tux protesting against the movement. 

They’re not tucked into the alcoves along this hallway, and he deliberates a moment where the hall forks in opposite directions, before darting to the left and continuing his clipped jog. In a small part of his brain, he knows he shouldn’t be this concerned about her. 14 was an agent - a highly trained, highly skilled agent; he’d worked with her enough by now to know firsthand how well she could handle herself. But the other part of him couldn’t shake the way Sinclair had looked at her - the way every man in the room had looked at her when she walked in, circling and waiting for their chance to close in. Not to mention the less-than-sterling reputation of Robbie Sinclair, who, aside from the trafficking conspiracy that put SHIELD on his scent, had a handful of secretaries threaten him with harassment suits, before they were quietly paid to keep their mouths shut. 

He comes to a dead end, a dancing nymph statue (far too baroque for his taste) mocking him with her tambourine against her hip. Doubling back, he curses under his breath and runs through the building schematics in his head, wondering where they could have slipped away to so quickly. 

“Natasha? Any luck?” 

“Negative. You?”

“No.” Steve clenches his fists and tries to force his heart back down from where it’s climbed up into his throat. His teeth grind together, jaw locked tight, holding in a frustrated growl. Unprompted, a wave of worst-case scenarios floods his mind - 14 dragged away by thugs, knocked unconscious, bleeding and gagged, unable to call for help. She’s a good agent. A good soldier. She can handle this. Try as he might to force them away, the tide of panic swells over and over inside him, the voice of his intuition telling him something must have gone wrong-

Behind him, an elevator dings. 

Steve turns to see the ancient metalwork door rattle open, Agent 14 stumbling out half a moment later. 

He blinks. She’s lost her shoes - no, she’s carrying them, the straps dangling from one hand. The side slit of her dress looks higher, and he notices the frayed edges along the top where the fabric has ripped. Her lipstick is smudged, her hair mussed, and she takes labored, panting breaths as she leans against the wall. 

It takes him a while to understand what he’s looking at. As his panic starts to ebb, something different, something wounded and green threatens to perch in its place, at the sight of her so disheveled, with swollen lips and rumpled clothes. He says nothing; he has nothing to say, shocked as he is by the bitter taste of his own thoughts, wondering if a rendezvous with Sinclair was worth the information she might have gained. 

It’s not until she starts sniffling that he notices the tears running down her cheeks.

The realization stops him cold, strangles the dark seed of doubt just starting to sprout in his heart, and fills him with shame and guilt. He takes a step forward. She’s not looking at him. 

“…14? Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hushed. “Are you hurt?” There were no visible wounds that he could see, though she had limped a little when coming out of the elevator. 

She nods, sniffing again.

“I’m-I’m fine,” she says, her voice scraping in her throat, barely holding back a sob. Squeezing her eyes shut, she presses a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent tears. 

In two steps he’s at her side, though unsure of what to do, what would be appropriate, what she wants or needs. Were they…friends? Acquaintances? Colleagues? Do work friends hug, comfort each other? 

“Can you tell me what happened?” he ventures softly, still not touching her, not crowding. He holds back a few inches, waiting, his hands feeling empty and heavy at his sides. “Do you want to?”

She nods, but it takes a few moments before she has regained her composure enough to lower her hand from her mouth and take a few rattling breaths, preparing to speak. 

“He…h-he,” she stutters over a sob, like a child who’s cried too hard for too long. “He grabbed me and-and was kissing me, and then he tried,” she’s interrupted by a hiccup and a shaky sigh. “He tried to…to…” 

She raises her eyes to his, tears welling up again, and shakes her head. She can’t say it, won’t say it - it is too much. It will make it real. 

For his part, Steve barely restrains himself from blacking out with rage. His jaw is so tight he can feel his teeth nearly crack from the strain, fists curled but unsatisfied with not being wrapped around Sinclair’s neck. How dare he? How dare anyone? When he gets his hands on this goddamned son of a bitch, he’ll-

His vengeful train of thought is interrupted when she collapses against his chest with a sob, gripping the lapels of his jacket for support. On instinct he wraps his arms around her, caging her in, his chin resting on top of her head. 

“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he hushes her and holds her, wishing there was more he could do, more he could say. He holds himself back from other platitudes, from it’s okay, and everything’s alright - he knows it’s not true. 

She shakes and cries and rides out the storm in his arms, full of anger and fear and shame and helplessness; all the while, he stands silent and solid, murmuring soothing words his mother might have said - in another life, when someone held him, protected him. 

Neither of them knows how much time has passed when her sobs become less violent, when her breathing calms, but she doesn’t step away. Her head doesn’t move from its place on his chest, and he makes no sign of wanting it to. Gently, slowly, he rocks her in his embrace, one hand smoothing over her back. 

After a while, she speaks. 

“I’m so tired,” she whispers. From this angle, he can see her blink slowly, tear tracks drying on her cheeks. He nods.

“You’re coming down from the adrenaline - that’s normal,” he murmurs, letting her weight sag against him, wondering if he’ll need to carry her.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Not like that…that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?” 

She doesn’t answer, not right away; her breathing has settled into an easier rhythm, less frenzied and panting. Her fingers slide from their place at his chest to rest around his waist. 

“When I was in high school, there was this guy.” Her voice startles him when she finally speaks again, she’s been silent for so long. He makes a noise to let her know he’s listening before she goes on. “He was…I don’t know. Popular, I guess. Cute. Football player. Advanced classes. All the girls liked him.” She takes a shuddering breath before forging ahead. “And-and I guess he liked me because he couldn’t leave alone for a single fucking minute.

“God, it was constant. He’d grab my ass, or say dirty things about me to other guys…sometimes it wasn’t even sexual, it was like…he’d squeeze my waist or pinch the fat on the back of my arms and comment about my weight.” She sniffs, and Steve tightens his arms around her, not speaking. “One time, between classes, he grabbed me by the hips and bent me backwards over a desk - he wouldn’t let go, and he was just laughing…and no one said anything, none of the guys or my friends or anybody.” 

Steve frowns, feeling impotent and frustrated. “I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head again. 

“The worst thing is I just put up with it. I didn’t say anything…I didn’t think, I didn’t know-” she huffs a bitter laugh. “I guess I just thought it was flirting. Like I should’ve been flattered by it.” 

“You shouldn’t - you don’t have to take that,” Steve says, fighting to control his tone. “Not from anyone.” 

“I know that now,” she says. “But I was just a kid…nobody told me. Nobody helped me.”

He opens his mouth, tries to think of something to say, but she goes on.

“And nobody told me that it never gets better, it never changes.” He can feel how tightly her fists are clenched at his sides. “No one told me that this would be the rest of my fucking life. First it was him, and old men at the gas station where I got snacks after school, and truck loads of frat boys following me home. Jesus even the damn milk guy at the café calls me ’sexy’ and won’t leave me alone.” She sniffles again, voice tightening with anguish. “I’m tired, I’m so tired - I’m so fucking sick of all of it…of-of just being a thing, I’m tired of being looked at, and-” She tries to swallow back her sob, but it crests and stutters in her lungs, taking over her voice once again as she presses her face impossibly closer. 

It breaks his heart and stokes his rage, the helpless, hopeless weight of her bitter words. Here he is, over a century old, and still watching people fight the same battles; battles to be heard, to be seen, to be treated like humans. He’d seen it all his life, women like his mother, like Peggy, spines of steel and hearts made of diamonds, resisting a world that would grind them down and make them small. He wishes his shield were wider, stronger. He wishes he could protect them from this. 

“I can’t tell you it’s okay,” he murmurs. “Because it’s not. It’s not okay, I’m so sorry.” She squeezes his waist gratefully and nods her head a little. “But you…you don’t ever have to feel alone in this, okay?” He leans back a little, prompting her to lift her head, to meet her tear-bright eyes. “You’re not alone. I promise.” 

It’s not enough. It’s not over. But today, for now, it feels like something. 

 **********                                                                                             

Natasha pages Happy, who pulls the car around to the front of the building. She says nothing as 14 limps down the front steps, shoes in hand, one arm linked with Steve’s and wearing his jacket, the too-long sleeves covering her hands. Nat’s eyes slide up to his - their silent exchange lasts moments, microseconds; her lips pinch tightly and her elegant white fists curl tight. 

Happy holds the door, offering a hand as 14 drops inside, folding her legs and wrapping her torn skirt as tight as she can around the exposed length of her legs. Nat glances at the open door of the car and steps away, angling her back to the patient Happy. She juts her chin at Steve. 

“You need a hand, Rogers?” He knows the look in her eyes is mirrored in his own - the look of a boxer stepping in the ring, of a lion sighting prey, a shark scenting blood.

Steve shakes his head, a hand reaching up to loosen his tie. 

“No, it’s alright. You go on with 14.”

Happy peaks his head around. 

“You don’t want me to wait for you, Cap?” he frowns. “I can keep the car running.”

Steve glances over Nat’s shoulder at the town car, where 14 has curled up in the backseat, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. 

“Nah. I need to have a word with Mr. Sinclair.”

  **********                                                                                        

The arrest doesn’t make the front page. Or any page of the papers, in fact. Robbie Sinclair wakes in a hospital bed, in SHIELD custody, and ready to make deals with anyone who will bargain - provided his security detail keeps him well away from the Avengers and their Captain. 

When the file crosses his desk, courtesy of Natasha, he notices the long list of names Sinclair has provided them with - powerful men, Wall Street and Capitol Hill’s finest, who found their positions one dirty handshake at a time. It would take some time to build a case against them all, find sufficient evidence for arrests, but SHIELD was up for the task. There’s a note in the back of the file, a small article someone has attached with a paperclip. 

‘Executive’s Secretaries Speak Out’ reads the headline, with the subtext ‘Sinclair accused of sexual harassment, assault’. It appears a few women who had crossed his path were tired of being silenced; they had banded together, sharing pain and courage, to finally see him brought to justice. And combined with the charges SHIELD was bringing against him, it was unlikely he’d step foot outside of a prison for the next couple of decades. 

It’s a start. 

A few days later, Steve rises before the sun, a creature of habit. He takes his run alone, listening to a podcast that Sam had recommended. By 5:30, he’s stretching at the bench in front of the tower, before making his way down the street to the coffee shop. 

She does a double take when she sees him, surprise and (he hopes) excitement creeping up in her smile. There’s only a couple of baristas in the store at this time - they haven’t hit their peak yet - and she’s wiping down the bar in front of the espresso machines by herself. 

“Morning, Cap,” she smiles. There are tired little circles under her eyes. She looks beautiful. “You want your usual?” 

“Hmmm,” he pretends to think, narrowing his eyes at the menu. “Actually…how about you surprise me.” 

She raises her brows, a little impressed. “You sure? Anything goes?”

“Anything - I promise I’ll try it.” 

“Alright,” she smirks, mischievous and much too eager, and she turns away from the espresso machines to the blenders behind her. 

Milk, syrup, ice - other ingredients he can’t see or identify, all thrown into the pitcher and blended. She leans against the counter as the machine whirs loudly, a cheeky smile dimpling her cheeks. Just as the machine stops, the bell above the door chimes, both of them turning to look. 

A small, wiry, white-haired man backs his way into the store, pulling a dolly stacked high with milk crates. He looks around, making sure he’s not backing into anyone, and catches sight of her behind the counter. Steve doesn’t like the look of his smile, or the way 14 ducks back down to her blender, her shoulders inching upwards.  

“Morning, sweetheart,” the man says, a bit too loud, rattling the crates on his dolly as he wheels around tables, towards the back of house. 

“Morning,” 14 replies coolly, not looking up from where she’s carefully lining Steve’s cup with mocha sauce. She doesn’t say anything more, keeping her head down as she pours out the drink and reaches for a canister of whipped cream. Steve’s eyes cut between them, his hands in the pockets of his shorts. 

The milk man hustles back through the store with an empty dolly, on his way to collect the next load of crates, and 14 sighs a little when the bell chimes on his way out. She’s just turning around to hand Steve his drink, when she notices that the café is empty - he must have slipped out as well. 

“Hey, pal,” Steve claps a hand on the man’s shoulder, consciously withholding his full force. “I was wondering - you usually deliver the milk here?”

“Yeah,” the man huffs, a little confused, and in a hurry to unload his crates. He squints, the rising sun in his eyes. “Why?” 

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to you for a second, that’s all,” Steve smiles. His hand doesn’t move from it’s place on the man’s shoulder. 

When he comes back inside, his towering, chocolate-swirled beverage is waiting at the end of the bar. 14 is waiting, too, arms crossed, one hip propped up against the counter. She tilts her head to one side. 

“Do I wanna know?” she asks. Steve shrugs. 

“Nothing to know,” he says, shuffling up to the bar to claim his drink and stare at it, incredulous and amused. “Now what on earth is this thing, a milkshake?” 

She rolls her eyes.

“It’s called a frappucino, old man,” she grins. “Drink up - you promised.”

[hypmic-writings]

Congrats on your 2nd year! So glad I came across your account. Your fics truly inspire me to write again. I’m the one who asked for the father-daughter bits but that could defo wait. For now, a 73 for Doppo, pretty please with a female colleague who’s slightly his opposite. Thank you so much! 🥰

73. “How did they…how are they doing that?”

Thank you, and I’m glad I was able to inspire you a bit! Yes, once the askbox is open again, definitely send in that request, it was super cute!

I’m so sorry, I don’t know what this is. You don’t know what this is. Your cat doesn’t know what this is. I know this was a suggestive prompt, but I just had this idea and decided to run with it. There’s definitely more suggestive Doppo in the inbox though, so don’t worry, you’ll get some NSFW with him, I promise! Hope this is okay and that you enjoy this regardless~

Word Count: 1,867

Genre: NSFW (PG-13); Fluff

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You walked through the empty hall of the art museum, tapping your pen against the clipboard and going over the itinerary once more. This was the 10th anniversary for the annual gala that your company put on and you were easily chosen to be on the planning committee due to your friendly demeanor. You had taken on the duties with a smile and grace only you possessed.

“Should this go here?” Doppo asked, pulling you attention away from your clipboard of action items and towards a box of party favors.

“Yea, that’s perfect, you can leave them right there. The others will be back tomorrow morning so they can finish up before the evening,” you said, shooting him a smile. You watched him closely as he nodded and shuffled off to grab the rest of the boxes before sighing to yourself.

How could a grown man be so…cute?

You had been working with Doppo for over a year now and you still weren’t sure if he considered you a friend, although if you had it your way, you would be much more than friends. What had started as admiration for your colleague’s work ethic quickly into a small crush which then quickly turned into wanting more.

But you had only ever had conversations in passing with Doppo before this. Maybe that was why you had chosen him to be a part of the planning committee for the gala. You remembered back to when you had first asked him to join you and how stressed and flustered, he had reacted. You had immediately retracted your invitation, but for some reason or another he insisted that he had time for it.

Unbeknownst to you, Doppo felt quite the same way.

Whenever he was constantly under the stress and pressures of work, you were his saving grace. If coworkers were trying to chat him up in the break room and he was becoming anxious, you were always there to turn the attention elsewhere. Whenever he didn’t know how to respond to his boss or a client, you were somehow there with a solution or answer.

Your happy-go-lucky personality mixed with your hard-work and determination made you someone that Doppo admired. Well…he admired you in other ways too. Your eyes were always sparkling with happiness or excitement and it made him feel comfortable around you. Along with thinking you were absolutely stunning, he would always watch the way that you smiled and laughed around other colleagues, and would feel a little jealous.

There was no way someone as perfect as you could ever love a useless nobody like him…right?

“Okay, that should be it,” you said, marking off the last box on your To-Do list. “Thanks for all your help, Doppo!” you exclaimed enthusiastically. Doppo nodded and walked over to you.

“It’s kind of late…were you going to take the bus back? We can get a cab if you want. That might be safer…” he offered, his voice small, but echoing in the large room. You hummed a little as you looked around.

“Actually, I wanted to take a look at some of the paintings before heading home,” you mentioned, glancing around the room. “Do you want to look at them with me?” you offered sweetly.

Doppo felt his heart race in his chest at the prospect of spending more time alone with you as he nodded slowly.

“Yes, I wouldn’t mind that at all,” he said, rather quickly, feeling the heat rise to his ears as he turned his gaze away from you. Your smile faltered a bit at his reaction and you wondered if he was feeling burdened by your ask. Was he only staying because he felt obligated?

“O-okay! Let’s start here then!” you said, pushing away your doubts and walking over to the closest wall.

The paintings lining the walls were all complex, abstract pieces. This was the modern wing of the museum and most had been donated by wealthy individuals. You gazed over each one, taking your time to look at them, fascinated by what you thought you could see and what the artist was trying to portray.

Doppo was silently watching your intensely focused face from beside you and noted the way that you mindlessly bit into your lip when you were concentrating hard. It was something he had noticed when you were working on projects together and something he had found extremely adorable.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, preparing to ask you the question he had been preparing all night.

“Y/N – ”

“Hey Doppo – ”

You both glanced at each other in surprise as you spoke simultaneously. You smiled a bit and offered him to speak first but he insisted that you continue.

“I was just going to ask what you think this painting is,” you said, turning towards the painting and tilting your head slightly. “It’s called Lovebug but I can’t really make out anything,” you added, bringing a finger to your chin.

Doppo followed your gaze to the painting and took a step closer to you as he looked into the bright, vibrant red hues that covered a white canvas. He followed your lead and tilted his head, trying to make out any shapes.

“Oh wait…that kind of looks like a man,” you said, pointing towards the left side of the canvas. Doppo imagined the outline of a man and squinted ever so slightly.

“Ah, yes…it kind of does,” he said, nodding a bit. He was still nervous from moments before, but the painting was a good distraction and he was now interested to figure out what it was.

“Oh, that also kind of looks like…” you mentioned, trailing off a bit. Doppo raised eyebrows as he looked over at you. To his surprise your face was flushed and your eyes had widened a bit.

“What?” he asked, suddenly confused as he looked back at the painting.

“Nothing…uh…,” you began. You feared having to explain exactly what it was you saw, but by the look in his eyes you knew he was concerned.

“Y/N, are you okay? W-what did you see in the painting?” he asked, hurriedly, his voice filled with worry. You shook your head, feeling the heat rise to your face as you pointed back to it slowly. The picture that was blurry was now clear as day and you found yourself embarrassed when looking at it.

Especially when the man you were interested in was standing right next to you.

“Nothing…just…” you began before sighing a bit. “It’s…um…it also has an outline of a woman in the middle,” you explained, trying to get Doppo to see what you were seeing. Now it was Doppo who was intensely staring at the canvas as you watched him closely.

“I don’t…” Doppo began, before the imagine in front of him suddenly became clear. There was a moment of silence as he stared at the painting before he tilted his head slightly. “Oh…how did they…how are they doing that?” he mumbled, his face also flushing a bit.

His mind was screaming at him to say something, anything, to make the situation less awkward. But the idea of commenting on such a sexual, lewd painting when the current center of his affections was right next to him seemed cruel and impossible.

You glanced back at the painting, clearing your throat quickly. This was ridiculous, there was not reason to be this nervous in front of a colleague. It was a painting in a museum, not some picture on a shady internet website.

“I’m…not sure…” you stated, plainly. “But, I’m sure the artist meant to convey strong meanings of lust and passion or something like that…red as a color is used that way a lot,” you explained, trying to lighten the tension of the room. Doppo nodded along in agreement.

“Yes, I’ve heard that as well,” he added, actively avoiding glancing back at the painting.

“Like this one!” you exclaimed, quickly pointing to the next painting. “Look at how the red is used to convey passion, but as anger instead of lust,” you explained, already feeling less awkward.

You and Doppo finished looking at the paintings rather quickly and before you knew it you were back where you started.

“That was nice!” you exclaimed, you usual exuberance returned. “Thanks for looking at them with me. I think tomorrow is going to be a complete success,” you added, giving Doppo a thumbs up.

“Yes, I agree. Thank you for letting me join you…” he said, his voice a bit softer than usual. “Ah, and yes! The gala tomorrow is going to be good. You worked really hard on it, so I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” he added, more strongly.

You were about to mention that you were going to take a cab home when you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh hey,” you began, turning to face Doppo. “What were you going to tell me before? I cut you off and you never told me,” you said, smiling kindly at him, trying not to think of the awkward moment with the painting that had taken place after that conversation.

Doppo felt his heart skip a beat at your words. He knew exactly what he was going to ask you, he just needed to do it.

‘What if she says no? What if I ask her and she shoots me down? Will she hate me forever? Would she laugh at me? There’s no way, right? What if she thinks it’s harassment? Will she tell my boss and everyone at work? Oh god, am I going to get fired? But I need this job for the money for rent! Am I going to get kicked out of the apartment if I don’t have it in time? And what if I get put on a list and then I can never have another job and I won’t have any money and I won’t – ’

“Doppo?” you asked, as the man in front of you seemed to snap back to reality. You frowned a bit and looked at him was worry. “Are you okay? You were kind of mumbling something but it sounded like you were in pain,” you explained, reaching out, but stopping before you put a hand on his arm.

“Ah, no, it’s nothing like that!” he exclaimed quickly. He took a deep breath and tried to remember what Jakurai had told him to do whenever he felt a mild panic attack.

You waited patiently for Doppo to compose himself and once he did, you were surprised to see an unusual look of resolve and confidence in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice strong. “Will you accompany me to the gala tomorrow night?”

As soon as his words left his lips you felt your heart rate speed up. You were surprised, of course, but you were also beginning to feel ecstatic. You bit back a grin as you discovered that Doppo in fact did return your feelings and you quickly nodded at him.

“Yes, I would really like that,” you said, nodding happily.

You watched as a smile of relief covered Doppo’s lips as he excitedly asked you what time you wanted to meet and where.

[donnerpartyofone]

reasons my i am probably too sensitive to have anything to do with other people

including other people’s drama that has absolutely nothing to do with me

i started reading this person’s new webcomic on instagram a month or two ago, and what started out as a fun little time killer that i looked forward to every day has started making me so uncomfortable that i wish i’d never heard of it. it takes place right now, in an especially embattled US city, and it’s about the dysfunctional lives of a bunch of shallow millennials, set against the backdrop of an increasingly dangerous country in an unpredictable state of revolt. it’s solidly engaging, convincingly characterized, and rendered in a unique funny animal style; i wasn’t surprised to discover that it’s going to be published soon by the most reputable publisher of this sort of thing. at first, i was impressed by it because i thought the behavior and dialog of its insecure young people was so well observed. it felt like one of the only things of its kind that i’ve read, more or less about real people living right now, that was neither a broad ugly satire, nor a pretentious drama exaggerating the specialness of its characters. the other thing i liked about it was that while it was largely about their sex lives, it didn’t seem at all sexy to me. the artist has a kind of distorted, rough-hewn visual style that i thought put some emotional distance between the overheated state of the characters, and the real consequences of their decisions. then it all got weird.

the artist stuck a really long, graphic sex scene in the middle of story that made me think...oh, maybe i AM supposed to be getting off to this? that’s weird, this all seems really bad to me, like every character is just mindlessly, selfishly bent on destruction and not doing much to make me like them, and i’d been reading along thinking “god i’m SO GLAD i’m not in my 20s anymore and i don’t have to deal with people like this--or with the pressure to act like this, as if using sex to create drama and being ‘crazy’ is the ultimate thing a person can do with their life”--and then suddenly it felt like maybe the comic was actually some kind of celebration of this lifestyle, or at the very least it’s an intensely sentimental portrait of a time of life, and of types of people, that i cannot imagine feeling sentimental about. then something else happened that made the comic even MORE uncomfortable to read, somehow: it had been gaining traction at an amazing pace, with tons of people leaving comments to the tune of “noooo don’t do it!”, the way you would yell at someone in a horror movie not to go back for the cat, as each character made the worst possible personal choice in every daily installment. the “don’t go in there!” response seemed pretty natural to me, but then the artist stepped in and made this announcement threatening to stop doing the comic altogether if the readers wouldn’t stop criticizing the characters. pretty much everyone in the comments was like “???”. many apologized if their comments were offensive, although they had no idea what they could have said that was wrong; other people, who seemed more sure that they were the ones being accused, said that they thought you were SUPPOSED to feel critical of the characters’ obviously bad decisions. that was how i felt, and at that point i was just enormously glad that i never comment on shit online or get involved in any type of community shit, especially when the artist started explaining laboriously that all of the characters represent some facet of the artist themselves and so therefore none of them are meant to be seen in a bad light at all and they’re all meant to be loved unconditionally and if you find yourself thinking mean things about the characters then you are effectively shitting all over the artist as a person. a lot of readers fell all over themselves to be supportive, and i just thought...this isn’t something you should support, though. it sucks that the artist is feeling so sensitive, but they’re about to have a book out in the world where they won’t have any ability to threaten readers who are “reading it wrong” or having incorrect thoughts about it. i mean...life is full of uncomfortable experiences and people you can’t relate to, i really don’t think we should be promoting this hopeless sanitization of all experiences in which trigger warnings used to be something that protected traumatized people from being randomly confronted with traumatic material, and now they’re used to just make sure nobody ever has to hear anything they don’t like, ever. anyone who cares about this artist should be helping them understand that they cannot control how people read their book or how they feel about each character and story in it. or failing that, they should be encouraged to just turn off instagram comments. but because of all this drama, i found myself reading all the comments obsessively--something i did when the blowup first happened, because i couldn’t find anything in there that i thought was mean or offensive, which added to my uncomfortable fascination with the whole thing--and that’s when i spotted a comment where somebody asked the artist is this was a furry comic. i wish this didn’t blow my mind, but it kind of did. i mean, it’s a book where almost all the characters are animals, and they occasionally have a bunch of raunchy sex. i think that if you’re a furry, meaning you’re interested in that sort of thing, this book is completely available for you to enjoy however you want. but this person needed the artist to FORMALLY CATEGORIZE IT as a furry comic. what the fuck is the meaning of that? it struck me as something that people in fandoms do, where they need every single thing to be labeled to death in an intensive and intractable way like it was science, the Final Word on everything in the universe, and they like *argue with each other* about whether they’re *allowed* to ship certain characters together or imagine them doing specific things, which is something you would only worry about if you thought the topic represented a literal material reality that could be adversely affected by people’s improper thoughts. i mean imagine if you felt that way about your jerkoff fantasies about fictional characters? that your horny thoughts are up for debate by hundreds of people you don’t even know? imagine feeling like that about OTHER PEOPLE’S jerkoff fantasies, like it’s worth fighting over and trying to CONTROL? like holy fucking shit you guys, STOP IT. it would even be one thing to ask the artist if THEY were a furry, which may or may not be anybody’s business, but to ask whether interpreting the comic through a furry lens is ALLOWED is like...well, actually, maybe it’s exactly in line with the artist’s recently expressed attitude, that you’re forced to think of the book in exactly the way that they personally think about it, or else you should have your reading privileges revoked. so now i’m still reading the comic, sort of compulsively, because i’m a little addicted to the soap opera of it and i’m ALSO a little addicted to the soap opera of the artist battling the readers over finding the correct orthodoxy for reading the comic--there’s a particular guy i’ve become aware of in the comics community because he is always harassing people with this mix of really caustic sarcasm and really bitter political self-righteousness, and he was surely the main person who was being “mean” to the characters, and HE’S STILL DOING IT IN EXACTLY THE SAME WAY, because i guess the artist would rather have problems with people than simply block them and eliminate them from the equation? but the whole entire thing is making me so uncomfortable i can hardly stand it. reading about like, dumb hot chicks with no self-control, and smug young shitheads who use the veil of progressiveness to hide or justify their predatory sexual behavior, and grownass adults who start drama with 20 year olds in order to feel relevant, AND being forced to know that the artist intends for me to embrace and adore all of this bad shit--like, people and things i left behind in real life, because it was all bad!--with ultimate love and compassion, or else they reserve the right to claim that they’re being personally attacked, has just become too much to take. it’s starting to make me feel sick. i really need to take the reigns on this thing. as much as the artist needs to forget about this control fantasy and stop being so precious about what they’re doing, i need to stop subjecting myself to something i find painful, embarrassing, and frankly creepy, if i ever wanna get back to a state where i have less to complain about.

tl;dr: stupid hipster is too sensitive to read a webcomic by a stupid hipster who is too sensitive for anyone to read their webcomic.

[lisadreaming01]

Abuse is hellish.

I have never written anything on Tumblr. I am not part of the usual Tumblr demographic but  I dont want to post this on Facebook for reasons that will become obvious.  I have complex PTSD because of a childhood that could be a Stephen King novel due to the fact that I am a trans female who grew up in a time and in a religious semi-rural conservative household where it wasn't acceptable to be other than hetero and CIS.

 I was abused by a parent who used my body like a rag doll. Holding me against the wall while I was hit with anything that she would swing and then hit again when I was curled up in a ball screaming for her to stop. She said that I wasn't given permission to cry so I was hit more because of my refusal to stop crying and stand there while she hit me. I was hit with her open hand, leather belts, including the buckle. her shoes, my fathers shoes, yardstick  broken until they could not be swing, wooden spoons and small pieces of lumber on occasion. My siblings ran up and hid in their room instead of defending me.

 I had to pick up free yardsticks at the county fair and pick out the wooden spoons that she bought knowing full fell how they would be used. I was 10-12 and this was normal to me because I didn't know any different. I learned to wedge myself under my bed to try to escape her. When she came home from work in a bad mood I knew full well that I was going to be hit because it always seemed to be my body that got the brunt of her anger.

 She claims that her father did it to her so she earned the right to do it to me. She a has also claimed that my pediatrician told me to do it or the teachers told her to do it. She has told me that I am stupid because I never learned to play her game. Se said that it wouldn't be as much fun to hurt me if I would learn not to cry or react when she does it, so its my fault and I need to stop reacting and learn how to play the game.

 Please dont hit children or hurt them because not child should have to spend the rest of their life trying to recover from their childhood. Please stop because you only teach the child that love hurts and violence is acceptable.

 She  was a nurse so she knows what she did was wrong because she would have to report bruises of a child came in to the ER but somehow she got a pass when it was my body and my life. A teacher in grade school saw the bruises and I was sent to the principals office but nothing was done about them and she didn't stop. Nobody even told me what she was doing was wrong. Its all I ever knew and it hurt.

 I was a straight A student in school for elementary and middle school and still it wasn't good enough for m her. My teachers wanted to move me ahead a grade or more in 3rd grade because I wasn't being challenged but my parents refused because it would have put me in the same grade as as older sibling and she was more important than me.

 I was bullied at school and then hot when I got home because my clothes were torn and dirty because of the bullies hitting and chasing me. She said it my fault that they were doing it so I was the problem and not those who were hitting or chasing me home from school because I was different.

I was beaten because I wanted to play with dolls instead of the trucks and cars they bought for me. I still dont know what love it because love to me was the days that I wasn't being hit, screamed at or threatened. I loved the library because I was safe and there were books to read.  She called me FREAK or FAGGOT. I was often told that she brought me into this world, she could take me out of it and could make another one just like me.

 I am still living with that person because I am on disability and I dont have any other place other then the streets or a shelter where I am not safe and dont get the trauma care that I need to even survive, so I am forced to care for my elderly abuser while she gets even more angry. People look the other way and blame me for the problem while my health deteriorates. I’m not even safe from my own family who have attacked me in the hospital, HIPPA violations, and harassed and assaulted my Drs.

 The police know about the abuse and the local adult services know about  the abuse. I thought that people with mental health had to the right to be safe from harm and abuse, but the abuse still goes on with threats of harm,  threats of physical abuse, calling me names, intentional loud noise and other abuse.  I was threatened with sexual assault by a caseworker and nothing was done about it, even after I reported it.