#i've decided to compromise

[merge-conflict]

indicators of compromise

Alex has a glass waiting for Reed when he returns, and she catches a glimpse of a smile when he slides across the booth from her. Check: favorite drink is gin. He pulls the glass a little closer but doesn’t pick it up, hunching slightly as he settles. Check: chronic pain from old wounds. His thumb rubs against the rim, and he sighs.

“Any blank spots?” he asks, without preamble. Check: gets down to business.

“A few,” Alex says. “Three, maybe four, depending on how you slice it. Longest was about five minutes.”

“When?”

“After your conversation with Hansen and So Mi.” Alex slides the laptop a little closer. In the darkened interior of the Moth, the screen is painfully bright. “Did you see the way she reacted when So Mi touched her?”

“Mhm.” Reed finally lifts the glass, takes a drink. “Bit of a jolt. That what you want to show me?” Check: an eye for detail.

“In a manner of speaking– something showed up on her interface. Not sure what it was, since she had me sandboxed. Supposed to filter out everything but the raw feed– of course not all soft plays nice with that kind of thing. So you get these ugly boxes instead.”

Reed is quiet as she pulls up the recordings, scrubbing through the timeline. Check: patience of a saint. She’d been double-checking her work before he’d walked in, trying in vain to glean certainty from obfuscation. Coincidence is not correlation, and correlation is not cause, but it is always worth a little investigation. Sometimes it really is the small things.

“Here,” she says, on the paused video, her finger hovering over the top left of V’s vision. In this frame, it’s clear, showing the far wall over So Mi’s shoulder. “You can see top right, where there’s a bit of a smudge– she’s got something on her interface there, which also doesn’t play nice with the sandbox. We can’t read it, obviously, but we know it’s there. Now watch when So Mi brushes past her–“

She advances it, a few frames at a time, as V turns her head to watch So Mi pass by. After a few moments she stops, hearing Reed’s muttered little huh under his breath. She taps on the screen, where there’s a discolored rectangular smudge of pixels in the top left. (Figure Two)

“Okay, I see it,” he says. “Coincidence isn’t correlation though–“

“It happens twice more,” Alex interrupts, panning forward to the next one. She’d been working her way backwards once she’d noticed it. “Once, when she sees you at the bar. And one final time, when she took that little detour on the way out. Each time, it coincides with a specific event: So Mi’s touch (Figure Two), her seeing you, (Figure Three) her deciding to wander down a dark path after Hansen threw you out. (Figure Four)”

“That’s three,” Reed says. Check: good recall. “What’s the fourth?”

“Happens on her first sweep of the floor,” Alex tells him, scrubbing back quickly, the entire party turning into little more than a smear of light and color. “She doesn’t react the same as the other times, though– just pauses for a moment and then continues on. Hold on, here it is.”

“Huh. Looks a little familiar, but I can’t place the name.”

“Hideshi Hino,” Alex says. “At least I think so– she looks like she recognizes him, whoever he is, but she doesn’t get any closer.”

“Not really a blank spot,” Reed says. “You sure they’re all related?”

“I don’t think it’s the same thing as So Mi’s blank spots,” Alex says. “If I had to be honest, it seems like she’s having a conversation with someone. You’ve seen people take silent calls before. Attention starts to drift, they fidget– except for Hino it all fits the bill.”

“Like someone else was watching her too,” Reed muses, leaning back in the booth with a heavy sigh. “Some sort of handler, maybe?”

“But who?” Alex asks, frustrated. “Is Myers keeping a close eye? You said she seemed unusually interested in V.”

“Not really her style. I’ll see what I can find out, but we’ve got another problem.” Reed plays with his glass, avoiding Alex’s eye. Check: keeps important info annoyingly close to the chest. “Handler or not that brush with Hansen seemed to spook her. We left things a little… up in the air. Was hoping you might reach out, talk her down from the ledge.”

“She backed out?” Alex asks, surprised. Spooked is not how she’d read V’s body language in that elevator. “What’d she say?”

“Nothing specific,” Reed says, and he must be tired because he’s finally let the annoyance seep into his voice. “She was angry, but I don’t know why. You ever wonder how So Mi communicates with her, while Hansen’s got her locked up?”

“Not exactly my area of expertise,” Alex reminds him, as though he needs reminding. So Mi’s presence is in her absence: one of the empty seats in what had once been a crowded booth.

“Mm.” Reed takes a long drink, letting his eyes drift close for a moment. “Will you do it?”

“Thought you were the recruiter,” she says, pettily.

“She’s Myers’ recruit, not mine,” he says, unperturbed. “Less interested in an oath to the NUSA than a promise to the president. Think she could use a personal appeal.”

“And you’re not her type?”

His eyes flick open, frowning. Check: not a pushover. “Just talk with her Alex. So Mi trusts her, and we’re not going to be able to replace her this late in the game. See if you can figure out why’s she upset, and if anyone’s pulling her strings. Don’t push too hard.”

Alex leans back with a sarcastic two-finger salute. “Yes, sir.”

[shaolinhunks]

On Ashrah/Reptile and Kuai Liang/Harumi

I've noticed that most people feel like these two pairings need more backstory to make sense. As much as I enjoy the story overall... I agree. I feel like if they were fleshed out a bit more (What drew Reptile to Ashrah so soon after his family's death? We know how Kuai Liang felt, but what did Harumi find attractive about him?), more people would be open to them. The potential is there, but maybe the NRS writers weren't given the opportunity to spend much time developing these ships.

I actually have a Kuai Liang/Harumi fic that I've been working on, and eventually I'd like to write one for Ashrah/Reptile, too. Again, the potential is there. I feel like imagining the scope of what their motives could be will help me accept NRS's decisions more.

Anyways, I hope to start posting the first fanfic on here soon!

[rubberduckyrye]

Getting my playlists sorted for the big Move to....... my iphone......

Ick!!!

[pondscummy]

so me and roommate L talked on Sunday and I finally like aired some of my grievances and was like hey you really hurt me w how you treated me during my recovery and I realized I actually really don't feel like I can safely communicate with you and I haven't felt like I could for a very long time. and they did apologize and we decided to just be polite roommates and not friends at all and that's a big relief honestly bc now I'm not carrying around this tension the way I was before bc I know there's not expectation from either side but like. it's also freed me up mentally where I'm not thinking about all the immediate stuff anymore and instead I'm like remembering various random things that pissed me off but weren't big enough to focus on before lmao

the one I'm stuck on rn is how insistent they are that I'm on the spectrum. idk they do a lot of explaining myself to me that makes me like. bro shut Up you don't know what my lived experience is like lol you have no concept of anything. which. for context I have a dx and I thought I was on the spectrum for years and years but weirdly enough going to therapy and working through my ptsd made a lot of those symptoms just.... start vanishing. and one of my friends had been undiagnosed for the same reason so it got me thinking about it and talking to my therapist at the time and like. ptsd can present rly similarly. like I was neglected and abused as a child and I literally did not learn social skills, and I was very fearful of other people. as I like worked through the stuff that had instilled that in me and found my stride w stepping out of my comfort zone and getting comfortable being uncomfortable I really don't find it particularly hard to talk to people. I retook the RAADS and I got that I have tendencies but am not anywhere near diagnostic level. I'm literally moving states bc I find the idea of being in a new place and starting from scratch socially rly exciting and I want to like go out to events on my own and meet people both through apps and more organically and I want to get to be in the office with my coworkers like. obv there's more to a dx than just social anxiety but the things that my dx was primarily based in (social anxiety, need for stability/routine, aversion to connection, even sensory issues) are so easily linked back to trauma for me and like. being on the spectrum doesn't go away w therapy?? also I've found it harder and harder to befriend other people on the spectrum; I find I have less in common as time goes on and that my communication style is more focused on like small talk and less directness etc. and I don't tend to get special interests at all anymore like I find it a little difficult to discuss interests w people for long periods of time.

anyway idk my experiences just make me think that it was an incorrect dx but a rly understandable one. I'll probably always have tendencies and get along pretty well w others who do or who are on the spectrum but like I just don't think that I am. and whenever I tried to talk about this with them they'd shut it down and be like um I'm pretty sure you are lmao. and when we talked Sunday I made a comment about making some assumptions about their facial expressions at one point and they were like well we're both on the spectrum so. and I was like my guy I can read facial expressions just fine. if you're saying I can't read yours accurately bc You're on the spectrum then fine. sure. I actually think it's bc you're always so fucking stoned that every muscle in your face is dangling from the frame, personally, but like. i don't have this probably of misreading anyone else dude. like ffs stop armchair diagnosing me and acting like bc you said it then it's law. UGHHHHHHHHHGGGHHHH. it would be one thing if I thought they were saying this stuff bc they think I'm distancing myself out of internalized ableism or something. but it really seems more like they bring it up only to tell me how bad I am at things. which like I'm sorry lmao but. if I'm not giving this vibe to anyone else and I'm not displaying symptoms predominantly in my day to day life and if they're rly seeming to be correlated to my ptsd, maybe you're literally just triggering for me to be around. asshat

[teal-fiend]

kind of have an idea about how instead of reformation, you do like a 2009 av/ata/r style transportation of the mind into another body, that can then be eaten.

that way you get to have digestion without reformation, but at the same time it's not permanent.

the only problem is that it's very scifi strange

[everyitachi]

[pink-pony-luv]

mm gonna work my ass of perfecting my henna designs during spring break & then start doing it as a summer job & make enough money to buy a touchscreen laptop w/ a stylus so that I survive thr next few years

[amplexadversary]

.

[welcometogrouchland]

We're so fucking back guys

[morningmightbekinder]

realizing my s/o might be a covert narcissist 🙃

[jeyaar]

... ok

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 2

I wanted to post once a month and had this chapter ready to go when I posted the first. Then I suddenly decided to add a bunch more a few days along and almost didn't post on time... It's 12:10 but, close enough. Also, I fought for my life trying to figure out how to tag people for some reason..

Anyway! Founding your family time with the slay girls. My knowledge in the MCU is as vast as in DCU so, quite small.

I hope you like it!

Reader ages 10 - 12

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It starts to feel less disappointing to see that they never show up. Of course, Alfred always tries to make the time; he's your number one support.

You didn't ask for everyone's attention, you didn't want it, only theirs. Not looked up to on a pedestal, watched over from afar, like A doll on the shelf. All you asked for is a connection, real and human.

Yet, you could never achieve it, so you stopped trying. You stopped reaching out to hands that were never extended to you. If you're not wanted, then you won't bother. You won't waste your time. You had Alfred when you could, another observer in their lives. In this, you find your own kind of family, away from the manor, forming connections and bonds that follow you through your school years. One girl in particular was a catalyst for accepting others into your life.

“Hey! Can you give your opinion on the after-school club uniforms?” You're halted in the halls by a redhead gripping your shoulders.

You blink at her owlishly, “Uh, wha-?”

Noting your confusion, she introduces herself, “Ah, name’s Mary, Mary Jane Watson. You can call me MJ.” Her arm slips around your shoulder as she guides you along.

“Um, hi, Mj.” You relax ever so slightly when you give her your first name and she doesn't immediately pounce on you for a surname.

Wiping out a notepad, she finally explains, “So, I write the school paper’s fashion articles and I've noticed you join, like, a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah..” Tilting your head at her, you’re still very lost as to why you were the one singled out.

But she just smiles, “Come with me. I need to know about everything they make you wear.” She says as if she plans to drag you away.

She wanted you to show her every blazer, letterman, vest, and so forth. Not ready to bring a stranger to the mansion she compromises. Choosing to meet after your clubs. It's nice to have someone waiting for you, other than Alfred. You don't wish to be her model, to her disappointment. Instead, opting to go behind the camera. Mj squeals in delight as you give her free range on the available gear. Styling and posing a hundred times for each uniform.

You've come to know her as a kind-hearted, fairly popular, carefree girl. One who often weaponized these traits to her advantage, especially when it comes to getting a good story. After her article on club fashion is released, a big hit around school, she doesn't let you go. Insisting she needs someone to help her with photos for her real passion, modeling. That's how you found yourself snapping shots of MJ throughout the school day and between clubs. You would feel like a creeper if it wasn't for the fact that she practically demands it.

On occasion, this has left you at odds with those who thought themselves better company for your friend to keep. She wouldn’t put up with such nonsense, not that you minded it all that much. You didn't have anyone, throwing themselves at your feet, over the wealth and fame over a name. One you didn't even feel the right to associate yourself with. Instead, you were just another middle schooler who was strangely acquainted with someone who others saw as highly desirable

It cemented your friend when she asked you to pick her up for a weekend shoot on a small bridge at the park. The modest one-floor house was surrounded by an unkempt yard and a rusted link chain fence. A rather loud argument pictures the walls as you watch every bit of movement you can see behind the crumpled curtains. Your fingers are anxiously twisting the strap slung over your shoulder, bag packed generously by Alfred with two lunches. Finally, hurling one last shout over her shoulder, Mj emerged. Her arm links with yours and before you can speak she’s all but dragging you down the street.

She didn't say anything until you two were in the middle of setting up your first shot. stumbling over her words, she tries to tell you that what you heard wasn’t really that bad, that her dad just had a few drinks, that really they weren’t even yelling, and actually it wasn’t something to worry about if you are worried. There was an abnormal casualty of which she spouts anything to pacify whatever she thinks your reaction will be. Only the deep sorrow in her eyes told you the truth of the pain and strife she was pushing down.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You peer from behind the camera,

“Can I just.. complain about it?”

An appreciative smile pulls at her lips as you continue to capture her image. You didn’t expect an explanation, didn’t need one. She stopped trying to reason. Instead, she spoke, and you listened. Then, everything came almost at once, from her sister leaving to her father drinking and even her mother's illness. For a moment, you wonder if your father could do anything for her. You just as quickly push the naive thought away, why would such a man do something like that for a friend of yours?

Her lips curl into a satisfied smile as she clicks through the camera. “You know, you have a knack for catching my good side.” She tucks it away before tossing you a juice box from the bag.

“All your sides are good sides.” You hum, poking your straw through it.

This earns you an unstifled giggle, “Good answer, tiger.” Mj winks at you before tucking the camera back into its carry case, “Seriously, you've mastered the cam. Not that I want to lose my personal photographer, but have you considered joining the paper?”

You suck the last of the juice from the box with a raised brow, “I dunno, ‘might have to drop a few other things..” Swishing the contents as if contemplating. Really thought, it was an easy answer and you already decided to drop most of the clubs you only joined to fill time. Not to mention you were already familiar with helping and it was fun to work with your friend.

“Come on, me and you, together. I’ll do the writing and posing for pictures while you do the editing and taking pictures.” She clutches your hands in hers, fingers intertwined, “We’ll literally be the hottest journalist team.” Her emerald eyes are wide and pleading as she gazes up at you.

“Don't let her trick you into doing her work for her.” The scoff of another girl comes from behind you.

You recognized her as Gwen Stacy, another girl from your grade. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder as she makes her way onto the small bridge. The two of you had been using the foliage-obscured spot for your photo shoot. Coming to stand before them, blue eyes scanning Mj up and down. Mary Jane crosses her arms giving the scrutinizing look back.

She scoffs at the blond, “How do you know they don't want to?”

Gwen raises a brow at her, “Who would?” She offers back with a scoff of her own.

You jump in before proverbial knives can meet throats. “Actually, I like taking pictures for MJ.”

Gwen cocks her head at you, “Then join the photography club.”

Mj huffs, “Not if you want to actually, ya know, do something with your life.”

You step in again as the two wind up to take more jabs at each other. “Hey, um, ‘think I'll stick to what I've got..” Lifting the camera to Gwen she furrows her brows looking closer at your picture, “I've never even owned a camera before, but I'm having fun with Mj and I think doing the paper could be nice.”

She slips the device from your grasp, clicking through each picture. “You're actually really good..” Peeking up at you, she smiles sheepishly, “Can you take pictures of me too?”

While the two have their differences every now and then, you were always together. You left most of your clubs, having only picked them up for that void made by your family. Now you have people to fill the holes that they left behind.

While you'd never met, you’re familiar with the GCPD Captain, through your family's close ties with the commissioner. Who would have guessed that you would find yourself in his living room as Gwen dragged you along? Shaking his head with amusement as he watches he shut the two of you away in her room. Gwen had offered a hangout to help you with your scheduling if you helped her with her own. It was interesting to see all the things she was balancing. A focus in stem with an emphasis in chemistry but, with a blossoming interest in modeling.

Something she admits sheepishly, revealing the offer to do a small shoot she's been recruited for, “I sent in a headshot you did, and well I didn’t think I'd actually get it. Who knows..” She shrugged nonchalantly despite the turbulence on her face, “Maybe it'll help me with college too.” Legs stretching out across her bed, she nudges your shared piles of junk aside, her feet resting at your side.

You mirror her positing from the opposite end of her bed, “Collage? already?? I don't think we have to take it so seriously yet.” Collecting the pile of disheveled papers in your hands, you shuffle them off to the side to be put away later. “Not that getting in would be hard for you. I guess you already know what you want to be but, it's okay to have other interests.”

Smiling at her with reassurance infects her with a pull at her own, “I have a pretty good idea, yeah, and that's what I'm gonna shape myself into. Starting now.” Cerulean eyes scan over your current disastrous schedule of overbooking and under-appreciation, “Stretching yourself so thin isn’t going to make you.. well, whatever you’re trying to become.”

“I just want to be somebody.” It’s your turn to poorly shrug your worries off as if they never really sat all that heavily, to begin with.

“You of all people wanna be famous?” Gwen misinterprets, raising a golden brow at you.

Your face scrunches at the mere suggestion, “God no!” Busying yourself with sifting out your less favorable activities. Handing over everything you planned to keep up with, to the bewildered yet, inturged blond across from you.

Martial arts, Gymnastics, journalism, photography, coding, knitting, and you're still handing her more.. Looking them all over, she shakes her head with a chuckle, “You know what they say. Jack of all trades, they’re master of none.”

A hand slips over your head, rubbing at the back of your neck, “I just wanna be.. Worthwhile, I guess? I’ve just never felt like I was enough.” She set you with a concerned look that paints heat over the tops of your ears, “But I actually like these!”

She shuffles through your handful of flyers, sign-ups, papers, and the like for each, “Well, there’s more to that saying about a jack of all trades, right?” Scooting over to sit beside you, she bumps your shoulder with a soft smile. “They’re often better than a master of one.”

“Thanks.. I think?” Laughing, you bump her shoulder back. You get the sentiment at least, you think..

“Still might be good to cut some of these out. Don’t push yourself so hard.” Lifting flyers for both photography and the school paper, “I thought you were gonna pick one?”

Days spent without Alfred or the girls were the hardest. Roaming long halls, hearing your father and brother, who've been arguing more and more. Robin's role in leading his own team had left the house feeling emptier than usual. Hardly ever crossing paths with one another. Lately, it's even been putting a strain on the dynamic duo's relationship. You wonder if they noticed when you stopped reaching out. Not likely when they are falling apart themselves. Your little band of miscreants always softened the blow of coming home to the lonely Manor, you'd always see them tomorrow...

You spot your blond just outside the lunchroom doors. Nose stuck in her book before you settle in next to her, “Where's MJ?” You ask, pulling your bag from your shoulder.

“Ugh, late as always.” Snapping her book shut, she sighs, leaning into your side. “Are we supposed to hold up everything for her all the time?”

The two of you sit chatting as children flood to and from the cafeteria. You talk long enough for Gwen to get over Mj being late again, just in time for her to show.

“Heyyyy! Sorry, sorry!” The redhead plops between them and hooks an arm over each of her friends' shoulders. She pokes Gwen's puffed cheeks as she huffs, “Oh, don't look so grumpy!”

“We've got to wait for you, like, every day!”

Mary Jane shrugs, “So?”

You roll your eyes, “So, can't you ever get here on time?”

“It's called fashionably late for a reason.” Gwen gives you a look that you return, and the two of you walk away. Mj gasps, hurrying to catch up, “Wait!!”

They may be a bit dysfunctional but they were yours. Before you know it, they're closer to your heart than your so-called family. Alfred even tells you he's delighted to see you making these connections. Happy to host you and your friends when you finally decide to bring them around. Your little room on the far end of the manor is cleaned from top to bottom. An array of treats is accompanied by frequent check-ins, which led to many, many questions each time around.

“You've really had to spend so much time alone here?” Gwen makes herself comfortable in your desk chair.

“Oh, well, I have Alfred.” You scoot back on your bed, back pressed against the headboard. With a sigh your head bumps the wall, “... most of the time anyway.”

“This place is crazy..” MJ pulls open your closet, fuming and ready to tear apart your meager wardrobe. “I can't believe you're actually a Wayne. Your dad is Bruce freaking Wayne, why is he the worst?”

Grimacing as her chair spins slowly the blond grumbles, “Not that surprising from some fancy stuck-up rich boy.”

Green eyes flicker through each quick swish of a hanger, “Why doesn't everyone know? Don't people like that usually have a big announcement or whatever?” Mj turns those critical emeralds to you.

Slouching into yourself to escape the gaze, “I did not want that.”

Unimpressed with the answer, she huffs, “Still there have to be people who know about you, right? Your family is, like, super famous.”

“Wait!” Gwen perks up, feet hitting the ground to halt her cycle, “I think I have heard people talk about you.”

Heat claws its way up the back of your neck, catching onto your ears. “Wh- huh? Really??”

“Yeah, they call you- uh..” Her sudden realization seems to die in her throat, “Well, they call you, um..” Gwen combs a hand through her hair, aquamarines darting away from you, “Wayne unwanted... cause the Wayne's have never acknowledged you publicly.”

Mary Jane scoffs, “Or personally, apparently.”

You've only lived through this your whole life yet hear that you're known for your misfortune, to be watched but never seen...

The two of them were across the room before you even realized you were crying. They cuddled up on either side of you, squeezing you between them as they apologized. “No, no, it's okay..” You giggle through the sting in your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

Gwen gives you an almost offended look. “It is not okay.”

“You deserve so much better!” Mj tights her grip until you're begging for air.

They didn't make you feel othered like your family name or the intimidating manor. You knew they saw you, not a name, statue, money, power. Just you.

“Hey, would you..” Swallowing the nerves catching in your throat, you slide the paper across your lunch table. “Would you guys like to come to my competition?”

Mj snatches the paper up from the table, “Of course!”

The other scans the sheet with intrigue, “We'll be there, promise.” Gwen takes the paper from the redhead's hands, smoothing out her crinkles.

It always felt better to have someone there to root for you. Tonight, Alfred would be busy handling things for Bruce's ‘business trip’. Not that it matters because now, you have friends.

After the winners are called and you can part, Mary Jane is the first at your side. “You were great!”

“Really? Thanks..” Your face burns. You always felt Alfred was just being biased in his praises.

She swoops you up into a hug, “Absolutely, way to go, tiger!” Yet, it feels more real coming from your friends.

“Though, I don't really get it.” Gwen muses from the side, “You're such a wallflower. You hate the spotlight.”

The warmth in your cheeks raises again, “Yeah, well, so?”

Gwen's lips quirked into a frown, “So, why do these?”

“Seriously, like, no one's making you..” Mj raises a brow at you, “right?”

“No, I just.. I wish someone would come.” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “Just one of them. Even once.” No matter how they push you away, there's always that part of you that still wants them to come around.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder, “Well, you're great so, so... Fuck those guys!” The curse slips from Gwen in a half whisper of juvenile rebellion.

Another arm joins the first around your shoulders, “Exactly, Fuck them!” Mj giggles, grading on the use of profanity.

“Heh, yeah.. Fuck ‘em.” You smile despite the way your ears burn in superfluous fear of being scolded by Alfred for your language.

Nights were more exciting with your newfound love of photography. You collected pictures of the best and worst of Gotham. From sparkling main streets to eerily dark alleyways. Especially the growing stock of your star muses, Batman and Robin. You started putting together profiles from them, juxtaposing their day and night personas. Filing in the scraps of knowledge you've gathered from chasing after them. You kept the folders stuffed in your closet; embarrassed by your almost obsessive habit over people who disregard your existence.

Despite how he may treat you, when Dick came home with a bullet in his shoulder from the Joker, you cried. It felt silly when you realized they were falling. What was there to mourn if.. Alfred had been teaching you to take care of bigger wounds. You pleaded to assist his tending of your brother. Promising to feign cluelessness on your knowledge of the.. happenstance.

It wasn't until after his wound was cleared of debris and disinfected, that he noticed you. Trembling little fingers press the gause to his broad shoulder as Alfred prepares the bandage. His hand comes up to rest over yours, steadying it. Head snapping up to meet his gaze, there's something lurking in those sapphires of his.

A smile cracks its way deliberately across his weary face. It's too endearing of a look for him to give you. This was the first time it felt so sincere. The warmth of it burned at your frayed nerves. Sparked at cool embers of hope that he'd come around to you. Only when he's nearly died. It couldn't be real, but it hurt too much to be a dream.

“Thanks, Birdie. You didn't have to.” Dick's praise burns at your ears. It must be blood loss, a near-death experience, or something.

It feels too unnatural. You mumble out quietly, “Of course I did.”

Alfred relieves you of the tension, wrapping the bandage around and across. You’re left to stand off to the side before eventually being shuffled out of the room. The weight of his gaze is unrelenting until you finally step out of the room. You immediately miss it, realizing you've let such a rare moment of connection slip away. The sudden tender moment only made it harder to hear he'd left shortly after. He moved two states away to New York, leaving Robin behind for good.

He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.

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Tag List?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us

[redflagshipwriter]

ANOTHER UNDEAD FENTON

Inspiration came from this post by @stars-obsession-pit !

Word count: 1479

Masterpost of Archive Down Fics here.

(I wrote three dp x dc fics based off of prompts I've seen in the last day for reading while the site is getting maintenance. )

There was a high, shrill scream in the Fenton lab.

Maddie bolted for the stairs, abandoning her coffee without a thought. She flung herself down to see Jack bent over a body in front of the portal.

“Is this person a threat?” Maddie prepared to defend her husband, but the body didn't move.

Jack looked up at her. “No, I was just surprised! I think he's hurt, Mads.”

Her bleeding heart husband. She crossed the room and rolled their intruder over to see it was a kid, maybe Danny's age. In his sleep, he had a sweet, soft face. His face and throat were covered in faint scars.

Well. That was one of hers, now. No getting around it. That was a teenage boy on her floor who has obviously been the victim of violence.

“Well, shit,” Maddie said companionably. She blew out air between her teeth. “Dear, would you put clean sheets on in Jazz's room?”

They were running out of space, between the clones and the past evil alternate future children.

Jack saluted her, shouted an affirmation , and bounded away.

Maddie took a moment to wonder if her children would be an infinitely expanding collection and if so, if it would be better to move into Vlad's castle than to build the home addition they had planned for.

She gathered the teenager up in her arms despite him being her size, and laid him out on an exam table. She started checking his vitals.

A hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Maddie said. She redirected her hand to smooth hair behind his ear. He blearily followed the movement, just as obviously intelligent as he was obviously compromised. She didn't know if it was a concussion or drugs or what, but this boy was not well. “It's Friday June 29th, and you're in Amity Park, Illinois. I'm Madeleine Fenton and you're at my house because you fell through a portal. Is there someone I should call for you?”

He stared at her. She could see the moment he decided not to speak to her.

That situation didn't change much all day. The kid walked himself up to bed and peered around at Jazz's old posters. He seemed to want to be alone, but Maddie caught him watching Dani and Dan playing catch in the yard. She made eye contact with him over her book and then looked back at her shrieking kids. Dan was doing flips on the trampoline and launching his sister in the air, catching and tossing her back up in the nick of time between flips.

Their new boy closed his curtains.

“I was thinking about Dante,” Jack said, bringing out a pitcher of iced tea. “Or, how about Jasper! Eh? Eh? You know, like Jazz-per?” Jack belly laughed.

“He probably has his own name,” Maddie said calmly. She'd estimated him at 16 or so, anyway. But whatever. If he wasn't going to give them a name, they did eventually need something to call him. And they needed to sort out accommodation fast, before Jazz got back from her college tour trip.

“Let's go with Jasper until he gives us his real name.” There were enough Ds in her home, honestly.

She lured Jasper out of his room for lunch. He sat at the kitchen table and watched them all warily. He only ate what they ate.

Danny arrived mid-meal. “Mom! Dad!” There was a whumpf as he probably threw himself onto the sofa. “We wanna go to Elmerton, that ok?”

“You should take your brother with you,” Maddie called back. “He needs clothes.”

“What?” Danny clearly pried himself up and came into the kitchen. Maddie silently offered to make him a plate. “No, I ate at Tuck's. Dan, what'd you do to your clothes?”

“Nothing, you pathetic worm,” said Dan, who really was a sensitive boy. “I am not the topic of discussion, you blithering fool.” He jerked a finger at Jasper. “New one.”

Danny stared.

Jasper looked uncomfortable. He gave a sort of hello nod.

“He's, uh, he's not-”

“Not a clone or alternate future version of you, nope,” Maddie agreed. “Though he did come out of the portal. We wondered if he might be a ghost, but it didn't seem necessary to ask.”

Jasper full body flinched at the word “ghost”, but he looked confused.

Danny squinted at his new bother who, it must be said, did look a bit like a Fenton already. “Not a ghost,” he said after a long pause. “But a little undead. Not sure what kind. But yeah, you're walking dead, buddy.” He clapped Jasper on the shoulder.

“You'll fit right in!” Jack cheered. “Dan is half dead! So is Danno! And so is Dani here! And-”

“Thank you, Jack,” Maddie cut him off. “It might be a sensitive subject, don't you think?”

“Nah,” said Danny, stealing food out of the pan despite saying he wasn't hungry. “We aren't that sensitive. Like-” he looked at Jasper and explained: “I got electrocuted to death in the lab two years ago. Dan is from an alternate future where everyone he loved died, so then he killed everyone else on earth. And Dani is a science experiment baby.”

“It's true,” Dani said solemnly. “I'm a work of science.”

“You make me sound so uncool,” Dan complained, stabbing at his spaghetti.

Jasper laughed for the first time. He himself seemed surprised by the sound. It was hoarse but there was promise there.

When the boys were off at the mall in Elmerton with Sam and Tucker, Maddie called up Vlad.

“You want to come here?”

“I’ve got more kids than I have rooms in my house,” she said wryly. “So if the offer is still open…”

“Yes, of course it is,” he assured her. “But- most of the little ones are still in the Ghost Zone, correct?”

“They're not big enough to leave yet,” Maddie agreed. “Which is why I need to be near a portal.” The ghostlings were staying with the LunchLady and Box Ghost, but they needed to be able to be in touch. “But no, I've got another one.”

Glass shattered in the background. “Another- what happened to Daniel this time?”

Maddie laughed at how flustered her old college friend got. “Nothing to do with Danny, actually, this one fell out of the portal. He's some level of partly dead, but we don't think he's a ghost at all.”

Left unsaid was that they needed to do a lot of research to figure out what other possibilities there were. If they could get into contact with Danny's GP, he might be able to get them on the right track.

“Well.” Vlad took a moment to rally. “When will the family be arriving?”

Two months later, all the kids were pretty settled in.

Jasper had never shared a name, but he was happy to let them call him Jay. He was a phenomenal big brother to Dani. He wrestled with Dan. He bullied Danny into doing his homework. It had been something of an administrative nightmare to get Jaspen enrolled in school, but Vlad had pulled off whatever magic trick he'd done for Dani (applied a lot of money to the problem, Maddie supposed) and Jay had settled in very well.

“Your debut in society,” Maddie hummed, making a point of straightening Jay’s tie. He was growing already, she was sure of it! He was going to wind up as tall as Jack.

“I've been to parties before, Mom,” Jay drawled, and then flushed a dark red that meant he didn't want to be asked questions. Maddie tweaked his nose instead of answering.

“But this is the first one where Vlad's introducing you to his business friends!” She said, already dressed up for a fun night. Vlad had flown them all in on his private jet for the day.

“Queen is a family man as well,” Vlad had said the night before, aiming for calculating and coming off soft. “It will put him off his guard or perhaps make him sick with envy that I have brought a higher quality child than he could ever manage to produce.”

They arrived together, Maddie on Jack's arm, keeping her flock of kids within eyesight as Vlad led the pack. She had a perfect view of Oliver Queen seeing them arrive, the smile dropping off his face, and him choking on his drink. He did look very silly, Maddie had to admit.

“Inept,” Vlad hissed, very pleased. “The fool can't even drink. His company will be mine-” he looked at Danny for some reason. Vlad faltered at whatever be saw. “....Through legitimate business practices, such as buying a majority of stocks,” Vlad weakly finished.

Maddie slapped him on the back. “Go get him, tiger.”

[unintentionalseductress]

May I request a situation where Kento suddenly turns corrupt in a way that he loses all respect and simply wants to sexually take advantage of fem!reader? Just fucking her rough like a rag doll. Whether it be a curse or aphrodisiac (that can be up to your amazing imagination) But of course, there’s consent and miss reader has a ball with it.

Ohhhh! This is what I needed to break back into writing JJK. But I feel like there's defiinitely some work out there where Kento rough fucks his s/o thanks to a curse or aphrodisiac and I was struggling to write something that felt fresh. This might be a little softer than what was asked because while I'm ok with writing degradation, I think Kento would struggle quite a bit with this.

I hope I've done this justice!

Warnings: MDNI, degradation, derogatory name calling, CNC, objectification, dacryphilia, free use, rough sex, S&M

Use Me

It's a quiet evening as your husband brings you a warm cup of coffee, pressing a kiss to you head as he sits next to you. He stretches and lets out a breath, relishing the peace, and puts an arm around you, drawing you closer for comfort. You sip quietly and appear lost in thought. Ever observant, Kento quirks an eyebrow at you.

"Something on your mind?" To his surprise, your eyes flick up to his over the coffee cup and a blush starts to dust over your cheeks and nose. "What's with that face?" Kento smiles, flattered at the sight and puts a hand on your wrist to lower the coffee cup. Your lips twist into an embarrassed smile and you shake your head, looking away.

"It's nothing I was just thinking about something." You sip and put the mug down on the table. Kento notices the way you hold yourself, the slight tension in your shoulders and the way your eyes look like you want to divulge a secret but were unsure if you should do so. The hand on your wrist slides and he lays his large, warm, hand over yours.

"What is it sweetheart?" He brushes away some stray strands of hair from your face. You bite your lip doubtfully, then decide to spill the beans. "Kento, there's something I want us to...try." You say in a strange tone, like you're still weighing the cons. Kento nods, encouraging you to go on.

"It's...related to sex."

This catches his interest. "Oh?"

"Yeah. It might not be something you're into."

"Try me." He reassuringly pulls you against him, allowing you a grateful moment of privacy as you hide your face in his neck. You clear your throat and continue.

"I want you to take advantage of me. Sexually."

"Am I not already doing that?" Kento jokes but you shake your head, your hair tickling his skin.

"I mean...I want to be used. Objectified. Degraded. Made to feel like I'm just a toy for your entertainment." You pause and he feels you take in a deep breath before continuing. "I basically want you to reduce me to being holes that you use for your pleasure and nothing more."

Kento's heart pounds in his chest as you word your request. "You want me to use you like that?"

"Yeah. And like, I don't want you to be gentle either. I want you to be rough. Like leave bite marks all over me. Don't have sex with me. Fuck me. Roughly. Hard." The blood in his veins grows hot and he pets your hair.

"Are you sure?"

"It's something I always wanted to try. Not that I don't like how it is now. But. I didn't know how to ask." You feel his lips nuzzle your ear and his hands reassuringly stroke your back.

"Sweetheart you know I'm willing to try a lot of things. But I never want to compromise your safety or well-being. I can be rough if you want. But you need to tell me if it's too much. I can't stand the thought of doing something that'll hurt you."

"You won't hurt me. And we have our safe word. I promise to use it." There's a moment of silence as Kento imagines how this would go. You're his favorite person in the whole world, whom he loves and respects. But at the same time, this idea has him incredibly aroused, the thought of using you to his will and forcing you to submit to debauched acts that he's never allowed himself to think about.

He presses another soft kiss to your forehead.

"If it'll make you happy then all right."

--------

You whimper as Kento bites your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, wiping away the blotch with his thumb. He's unrecognizable to you. You've only seen him like before for a specific scenario; when he's hunting down a curse. It sends a skitter of fear through you but also brings forth a strong rush of arousal that makes your cunt clench in need.

"Now remember slut, you're mine to be used. And I'm only letting you rest after I've fucked and filled you to my satisfaction. And if I hear you complaining, know that I have better uses for that mouth. Now on your knees."

You kneel, keeping your eyes trained on the floor, feeling your heart pounding at what was about to happen. Kento roughly yanks your head up by your hair. "Open."

You part your lips then gasp as he shoves his cock without warning, sliding the hard flesh down your throat. You try to relax your muscles, choking in relief as he comes up then repeats the action. You're on the verge of gagging before he gives you reprieve. Saliva drips from your mouth as he gathers your hair and pushes back in, holding you firmly in place until your nose hits his pubes before thursting forcefully, grunting at the slickness of your wet, willing mouth.

You feel your breathless from the effort of keeping him in your mouth, feeling him nearly touching the entrance to your throat, tears streaming from your eyes as you struggle to accomodate all of him. When he finally pulls out you take in a thankful breath of air, spluttering from the freedom.

"Pathetic. Can't even deepthroat cock. What good are you?" His hands wrap around your throat just hard enough to give you that dizzying light-headed feeling as your brain is deprived of air before letting go. He pauses, watching you writhe on the floor to catch your breath. Once it steadies, he commands you.

"Crawl."

Turned on and feeling debased, you get on your hands and knees and start crawling on the floor, your ass jiggling with each movement that you make. You hear footsteps then squeal as Kento's hand slaps the soft flesh. You freeze as the sting ripples through you before Kento jerks your head back by your hair.

"I didn't say to stop crawling. Stupid whore. Who said you can stop just because you felt a little pain?" He brings his hand down repeatedly as you pathetically begin to crawl again, sniffing as you go.

"Crying when you know this all you're good for? Stop acting like you're above this." He leaves your ass smarting, red and pulsing from his abuse. His calloused hands grab your fleshy cheeks and spread them apart and he chuckles darkly. "Don't tell me you're turned on."

You whimper as you feel him insert a finger into your moist hole, probing forcefully before withdrawing. "Just when I thought you could sink no lower. You really are nothing but a basic piece of meat just hoping a cock will fill you and make you feel like you have a purpose."

His finger withdraws and he pulls you up abruptly, his hands harshly squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples aggressively and earning a keening noise from you, your whole body feeling a sensitive blob. He twists and pulls, and you squirm in his grasp, causing him to growl and grip your chin, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Stop acting like you want to escape." He firmly spanks your pussy and your body jolts from the surprise, a cry leaving you. "You crave this. Want this. Because deep down, you know there's nothing more you want than to be a glorified fucktoy. That's all. You're a vessel to hold my cum, if I decide you're worthy enough to receive it."

He pushes one of your breasts up to his mouth and suckles roughly and you can feel the edges of his teeth skimming along the sensitive peaks. Kento releases it and does the same for the other, and just when your senses start to calm down, he sinks his teeth into the nipple, just hard enough for you make a noise of pain. He smirks.

"Oh. So you do have a limit." He bites the other nipple with similar force and you let out a broken sob. "Tsk. You're not very good at being a fucktoy are you?"

He shoves you to the bed and you fall on the soft mattress. You hear the clink of chains and see him securing handcuffs around your ankles before securing the free ends to the bedposts, angling your legs so that they're spread apart wide. Your wet pussy is exposed to his feral eyes and he licks his lips at the sight of the glistening membranes. He flicks your clit cruelly, enjoying the way you twitch and struggle.

"Oh you're dumb aren't you? Haven't you learned what happens when you try to avoid me?" He spanks your clit again, and your eyes roll back into your head as you try to separate the confusing blur of pain and pleasure that shoots through you body.

"Why is it that the more pain I give you, the wetter your dumb whore cunt gets?" The resounding echo of his palm on your wet folds gets louder with each slap until your clit is swollen and red from the repeated blows.

"Look at that. You actually want more after all that." Before you can process what's happening, Kento shifts on the bed and plunges his hard cock into your pussy. The stretch makes you sob because you weren't quite ready for him, the push slightly painful, but as you adjust to him, the feeling fades. His movements are harsh and selfish, swiftly bottoming out each time and hitting your cervix, setting a brutal pace that has you feeling like you might black out.

You let out a shocked squeak as his thumb starts to manhandle your clit, brushing over it in savage strokes that bring you dangerously close to the edge. Strings of incoherent noises spill from your lips, sounding more and more animalistic as your brain turns off all rational thought and begins to fill with need. You just wanted to orgasm, then have the satisfaction of Kento's seed filling your wet channel, to feel him soften inside you before the next round....

You let a quivering wail as your orgasm hits and Kento huffs in satisfaction as he feels your walls clenching him as you cum. Your feet thrash against their restraints as the ripple of orgasmic pleasure rocks your body. "You can't help it can you? Being a cumslut?"

His hips start to pick up pace and slam into you as he chases his orgasm, his breathing becoming ragged, hands digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises as he uses your hole to satisfy the raging, primal need that's fuelling his actions. His movements become sloppy and the edges of his vision start to blur.

"Here it comes. Your reward. Try not to spend it all in once place." With a final thrust, thick ropes of cum start to fill your insides and he shudders with the satisfaction. A moment passes before he pulls out of you, leaking his seed as he withdraws. You lay spent and exhausted on the bed.

Kento finally breaks character and crouches over you. "You didn't use your safe word."

"I didn't need to."

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[fdelopera]

Hamasniks are on track to become the next Jonestown

I've decided that I'm going to use a different strategy when I engage with Hamasniks.

I used to try to get them to feel empathy for Jews, thinking that maybe an experience of empathy for us would get them to wake up and realize that they are being Jew-hating bigots.

Maybe I could get them to feel some remorse for attacking Jews if I could get them to see that they are engaging in the same violent, depraved behavior that the Nazis engaged in during the 1930s, leading up to the Holocaust.

Maybe I could appeal to them using Rabbi Hillel's "golden rule": "What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole Torah. Now go and study."

But I now know that these approaches were futile.

Why?

Because Hamasniks are in a cult.

The strategies I was using were all rational approaches, and Hamasniks are not behaving rationally.

They are in a cult that has compromised their empathy, which is a well-understood aspect of cult mind-control. And instead of feeling remorse for attacking us, these Hamasniks actually revel in harming Jews.

I started to realize this when I rewatched some documentaries about The Peoples Temple (aka Jonestown) and the Manson Family.

Imagine if Jim Jones and Charlie Manson were here today and had Instagram and TikTok, and you'll understand the scope of the cult that the Hamasnkis are part of.

Jonestown Massacre, explained

Jonestown Documentary

Manson Family Interviews

Manson Family Singing

Hamasniks are speedrunning both of these cults. And they are getting to the point where they will start being used as "sacrifices for the cause."

Aaron Bushnell was just a glimpse of what is yet to come for many of them.

So now, I am changing tactics.

I will no longer appeal to Hamasniks' empathy, because they have none. It has been beaten out of them.

Instead, I will give them a warning:

You are in a cult.

You may not fully realize this, which makes this cult especially dangerous for you.

The people running your cult are being very careful to "boil the frog" very slowly with you.

They started by teaching you some slogans to chant, and giving you some signs to carry.

They lovebombed you hard, and it felt wonderful to be part of a social group, especially after the extreme loneliness and isolation of Covid.

You didn't really understand what the "Pro-Palestine" movement was about at first, but you were just happy to be part of something larger than yourself.

Then Hamas carried out the October 7th terrorist attack, and within 24 hours, your cult leaders got you to chant their "Free Palestine" slogans in the streets, and they got you to harass Jews online.

You were told to tell Jews things like "Die Zio Scum" and "Hitler should have killed more of you rats."

You were told, "It's okay to attack these people, these people are Zionists, and Zionists are basically Nazis."

You were so lovebombed at this point that you didn't care that calling a Jew a "Nazi" is one of the worst things you can say to us. You showed your friends the hateful messages you were typing out, and you all giggled together at how much you were hurting these Jews.

Then your cult leaders got you to go out in the street and vandalize random Synagogues and Jewish businesses. They told you these were part of the "Zionist entity" that you were all trying to take down.

And sure, Jews were being attacked and murdered in the streets and in their homes all over the world, but you convinced yourself that their lives don't matter.

After all, your cult leaders told you that once Palestine is "free," every societal ill will somehow be "corrected."

And so, maybe you felt a little weird about spraypainting Nazi Swastikas on Synagogues, and maybe you felt a little guilty about smashing the windows of Jewish-owned businesses, but you did it anyway "for the cause."

Then your cult leaders got some of you to partake in University encampments, where they could indoctrinate you further. They controlled your food and water, and they deprived you of sleep. Those are some of the most well-understood methods of cult mind-control.

Then your cult leaders got you to take to the streets and harass and attack Jews in public places. Now you're no longer just spraypainting Nazi Swastikas on Synagogues or smashing up Jewish businesses, now you're are physically attacking Jews on the street.

That's all well and good, you might think.

You think you're just having some fun attacking Jews and larping as terrorists. You think this is just an opportunity to get some anger out.

But actually, that's not what is happening.

You see, this is not about you.

Your sense of "Main Character Syndrome" has blinded you to the obvious reality.

You are being primed to "give your life for the cause."

That is Hamas' entire strategy.

I suggest you get out of this cult while you still can.

The Islamists running your cult are warming you up for the final act.

Don't just take it from me. Learn about cults. They always end in bloodshed - and that blood is YOURS.

Don't believe me? Learn about Jonestown. Learn about the Manson Family. That is where you are headed.

You love to chant "Long Live the Intifada." Well, you should EDUCATE YOURSELVES about the Second Intifada.

You should EDUCATE YOURSELVES about what YOU will be forced to do in the Intifada that you are chanting for.

Hamas terrorists strapped bombs onto people and sent them into crowded areas to BLOW THEMSELVES UP in order to kill Jews.

And if you are not careful, that will be you.

That's where all this is headed.

Time to wake up, babes! You're in a cult.

[re-lmayer]

i can't afford rent because of my abusive ex and desperately need help. if i don't pay, it will cause a domino effect where i'll be homeless, lose my emotional support animals, and eventually i can be sued and my paypal account seized. i'll also fail this college semester, which will mess up all my student grant funding and getting a degree

i'm disabled and was recently hospitalized for a nervous breakdown, and stress is making me sick. i've been diagnosed with an ulcer

there's a lot of ways to help me and my cats. you can commission me on kofi, donate directly via paypal, check out my crowdfunds on youpay, share my twitter and bluesky threads, and of course reblog this post. sharing is free!

more context under the cut. it will be updated as things change

my ex boyfriend is an abusive alcoholic. he's raped me, tried to medically neglect me, stranded me at our new apartment alone with no food and a clogged toilet, and most recently refuses to pay any rent and is content to allow me to become homeless despite legal obligation

i have been granted a hud/section 8 housing voucher, but to use it a unit must pass inspection

the apartment i applied for didn't pass, and needed repairs. the landlord told me he'd accept the first applicant that could pay first month rent and a huge deposit. the housing authority told me i'd lose my voucher if i didn't proceed with this exact unit

originally, i was supposed to be on my own. but i was shoved between a rock and a hard place with the voucher and deposit. i couldn't afford the deposit despite friends crowdfunding for me, so... i asked my boyfriend for help

he needed a place to go himself, because he broke his lease bringing me and my cats in. (i was unaware of this, and had no suspicion he'd do something that would compromise his 2 bed/bath apartment)

my doctor also prescribed caregiver after my hospitalization so it seemed mutually beneficial from a financial standpoint, even if i wasn't enthused about it

we couldn't afford movers, so over the course of march we'd been moving things by the carload ourselves. the queen bed was too big, so the night before last he informed me he was dumping it while he had help from a friend to move it. i had a bedframe and mattress from the last place i'd lived, but it had already been taken to the new place. i thought we'd agreed i'd basically move in to the new place early so i'd have somewhere to sleep

come saturday night, i messaged him that the toilet was clogged. he refused to bring a snake, and told me i was using him because i don't hug and kiss him enough. (i'm a csem victim, asexual, and autistic and don't like physical affection)

he's decided he doesn't want to proceed with the unit, and it hasn't passed the inspection, so my voucher doesn't cover it yet. i can't afford the rent out of pocket, and i'm broke because i'm disabled. we agreed he'd pay rent until the voucher kicked in, then he would be added to it as my caregiver, because he'd take me to medical appointments, ensure i get my medication on time, ensure i'd and bathe, etc.

but that ship has sailed. now i'm left in a lurch, and desperately need help. a large portion of the security and pet deposits were nonrefundable, so all the previous effort would go to waste if i can't stay

because i was recently hospitalized, i don't know how i'll survive homelessness. my cats are prescribed emotional support animals, and losing them would be devastating

these are text messages from when he refused to bring the snake and dumped me:

after this, he proceeded to continuously ignore me when i'd bring up rent, that he's on the lease, and going to the bank to pay the landlord

he never responded to the above and then proceeded to act like nothing happened

he didn't respond to any of these except agreement to let me get my cats with the help of someone from my weekly ywca meetings

he is now proceeding to STILL not respond or accept responsibility despite me explaining to him in great detail what the repercussions will be if he doesn't help pay rent. he continues to say "you"

as of august 29, i don't have enough to pay the rent on my own, but i am keeping all of these text messages to present in eviction court if it comes to that. i also intend to take my ex to small claims court

the landlord's maintenance guy also """plunged the toilet""" after leaving me without a working one for five days, and after i was informed there was a problem with the entire complex's pipes. i was not here, so i can't vet if it was true. they """plunged""" without permission, and then sent me an invoice after the fact. i also can't afford this fee, and find it predatory in nature. the maintenance company is owned by the landlord

i have reached out to legal aid to ask about the legality of the landlord handling the situation like this. i will reach out to them again if i get an eviction notice