#trigger warning assault

[deliciousrebeltrashchronicals]

Nah but when I was assaulted in my own bed in the middle of the night by a strange man, after the yelling and the screaming and the throwing of punches the guy ran out. and me, working on pure instinct ran out into the pitch darkness to chase after him.

later que everyone (cops included) asking me

“Why the FUCK would you do that?”

And man, the above post kinda covers it. Like. In that moment there was no thought process other than what I imagine horses feel when confronted with a dingo “idk why but I gotta stomp this mother fucker”

Was it smart to run out into the dark as fuck bush after my attacker? No. Probably not.

But for fucks sake I got one punch in and I wanted to land more idk.

Dude probably thought I was easy prey, but I’m just like if I am going down you’re fucking going down with me. Bet.

When you encounter a wild animal in nature, it's good to bear in mind that a predator can be negotiated with. They don't want to attack unless they're sure they can take you down without risking injury on themselves - a predator that can't hunt won't eat, so going for a risky kill is usually not worth it. A prey animal, however, has nothing to lose. If you spook that thing, it will decide it's best to sell its life dearly and be determined to take you down with it.

This also applies in traffic. A pedestrian is a prey animal. Sure, if I'm walking somewhere and you decide it's a good idea to spook me for no reason, you can try speeding at me as fast as the law allows and screech to a halt at the last possible second. But if the weather is wet and you make me slip while crossing the road, bear in mind that I am carrying a long umbrella with a spike at the end. And if I lose my balance, I might take support of it and land spike first. And the spike might not land on the ground, but the nearest solid surface. While I don't know if my bodyweight is enough to make the umbrella tip puncture the hood of a car, I guess we'll get to find out together.

Spook prey animals at your own risk. Once death is on the line, I've got nothing more to lose.

[gorentaya]

✞༒︎✞ (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ✞☓✞(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ✞༒︎✞ (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ✞☓✞

Patient Zero is a developing indie comic, representing the journey to recovery and healing of illness and trauma. Meant to disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed. The story is based off the creators own life experiences and struggles with mental and physical health. Using metaphors and symbolism to tell the tale of their life

⚠️Story contains adult and mature themes, content/trigger warnings are the following…⚠️

Existentialism. Sexual, physical, mental, and animal abuse. Sexual/physical assault. Violence. Gr00ming. Mental illnes. Chronic illness. Disabilities. Eating disorders. Self harm. Suicide. Sex. Nudity. Drug use. Alcoholism. Addiction. Death. Murder. Gore. Religion and religious trauma. Hospital trauma. School trauma. Bullying. Infertility

These themes will be handled with love and care. My intentions is to raise awareness as well comfort those who has gone through these things. Make them feel heard and understood. To give them hope that you are able to heal and recover from whatever pain they are going through.

You are not alone. You deserve to heal. You deserve to live. You are enough. And you are worthy of being happy.

Toyhouse link for more information https://toyhou.se/Gorentaya/characters/folder:4499676

✞༒︎✞ (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ✞☓✞(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ✞༒︎✞ (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ✞☓✞

~ Main Cast ~

Yamimiki Mimi - Protagonist

Gorentaya - Deuteragonist

Morrigan - Support Character

Bugs - Support Character

Angel - Antagonist

[parakleticknight]

Me: no I don't think I've ever been with a chaser or ever really been SA'ed. Like I've been uncomfortable during s*x but like nothing big.

Also me: if anyone touches me while I'm drunk I'll cry. Why? So this one time-

[todomemolesta18]

I read this manhwa name Get Schooled this manhwa spreading message of anti bullying. They dealt with overt bullying so the story goes with these two teacher coming to a school where someone get bullied. Unlike with helluva boss the female character is not treated badly same with helluva boss, however they still being done really dirty. This manhwa have implicit bias toward feminist movement, black african people and dark skin people. Another thing they arc where they painted feminism movement as this radical ideology where anyone who disagree with them is being mistreated, another arc the idol arc so we have idol who is a bully. Can you guess what is her punishment?

Being assaulted by adult man being called a bitch by her own boss who is an adult too

Tell me is that a punishment or just sadistic suffering? This idol is a bully but they just only touch surface level the reason why she become a bully. She was being body shamed by a her trainer who's an adult woman. I see people praising the man who assaulted her as their crush, they finding it atractive. Then there another chapter where they redeemed a pimp who sold teenage girl to older man she being redeemed

Wtf is wrong with this manga 😟 Misoginia I guess...

And people PRAISED IT? Eh, being in Helluva Boss, where they say shit about sexual abuse and sexual workers, this doesnt surprise me.

Still, it sucks.

[tls12lessthan3]

thinking about orvs metatextual engagement with its genre and specifically how that interacts with its women again. kim dokja is a self insert for the reader - what he thinks is largely meant to represent what we think, especially in the beginning before sing shong really fleshes out his character. kim dokja sees the world through tropes, directly acknowledging the genre around him and the cliches we expect e.g. the overpowered mc, the scheming villain, the beautiful heroine.

but a major part of his arc is deconstructing this reductionist view of the world in a way that parallels the author's deconstruction of the genre, and that plays really well with the way orv writes women. yoo sangah is perhaps the best exanple - shes introduced as the heroine, a one-dimensional pretty girl who in any other novel would become kim dokja's love interest. but the authors allow her to be her own character, directly challenging the stereotype of the heroine and calling attention to the genre's typical lack of depth for such a character. i think this undercurrent plays in the background often but really comes to the forefront when yoo sangah reminds kim dokja of her putting pepper in their bosses' coffee, a memory kim dokja had supressed because it didn't fit with the pretty girl persona he made for her.

i interpret that moment as yoo sangah pushing her way out of the mold of heroine often found in these stories, demanding a depth be added to her character, asking kim dokja - and thus the reader - to see her in her entirety, to see the heroine archetype for what she could be. orv is at all times in conversation with its genre, and its simultaneous writing of female characters with agency and depth and acknowledgement of the tropes these women are expected to fulfill is undeniably a part of that. and its a part i enjoy. most of the time.

[anartisticalniche]

yeah i agree when that part rolled up i swear i legit felt SO MUCH fear for him

please never do that again smg4

significant TW but I felt like this needed to be said related to the new episode

ngl as someone who has trauma related to assault the scene where Peter was being weird with 3 near the end of today’s ep triggered the absolute fuck out of me and I hope they never do any moments like that ever again, most of the episode was great but that part really shook me up /srs

[chryblossomjjk]

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 5}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: A busy Friday night always has its ups and downs, but never this bad.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: triggers associated with the food industry, workplace tension, language, argumentative dialogue, degrading language, power dynamics (due to job rankings), attempted assault, man on woman violence, shoving, pushing, non con touching, non con manhandling, mentions of eating disorder, vomiting, reader has a lot of panic attack symptoms, reader goes nonverbal for a moment, symptoms of shock, minor injuries, smoking, cigarettes, alcohol, alcohol consumption

A/N: i realize this chapter has a lot going on, i've tried to tag it appropriately, if i missed something please let me know and i can add or alter.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

Tommy’s smile was bright as you approached, the hum of the dining room fading out as you looked from him to the young woman across from him.

“Well look who it is, the only girl brave enough to call Joel a meanie to his face!”

“At your service.” You tipped your head, going along with the banter from the jovial man. He had cleaned up rather nice, a dark button down and slacks in lieu of the plain t-shirt and jeans he had worn to the bar all those nights ago. “Chef sent this over.”

“Name’s Tommy, not sure if we actually got acquainted the other night in all the chaos. And this lovely young woman is my company for the night, Sarah.”

“Only because you had a reservation and dad would’ve killed you if you didn’t make it.” The young woman had the same dimple that Joel did, a decoration on the right cheek. Same furrowing brow, now aimed at her uncle across from her. She was beautiful, from the carefully arranged kinky hair atop her head to the caramel of her skin.

“It’s not my fault my date bailed.”

“Of course, of course.” She waved him off as smiled at you in a conspiratorial way, pulling you effortlessly into the conversation. One you weren’t too sure you even wanted to be a part of. There was a heavy weight that had settled in your chest, insecurity and anxiety such a familiar feeling as it flared. “My Uncle Tommy doesn’t have the best luck with the ladies.”

“You’re Chef Miller’s daughter?” You asked for confirmation as politely and professionally as you could, setting the wine glasses down in front of each of them. Introducing yourself as you watched her nod enthusiastically. While using the wine tool, you felt Tommy’s eyes rove over your expression, a collected smile on your lips as the feeling in your chest began to gnaw and move up into your throat. Nausea was rolling deep in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to excuse yourself. But you were a professional and had been tasked with delivering them their drinks.

Tommy must’ve clocked the slight shift in tone, definitely the way you referred to Joel. His smile faltered a little, but he was aware enough not to ask you anything too personal in present company. Hell, even in the restaurant setting, not wanting to cause a stir with whatever was going on with you.

“One and only!” She chirped as lifted her now full glass to her lips and took a sip. The saccharine sweet scent of the wine did not help to settle your stomach as you poured the appropriate serving into Tommy’s glass. “Well, by blood at least.”

You hadn’t responded, unsure of what to say. Not knowing what to say to the daughter of the man who had begun to fill the void in your life you had let form. So you fell back on the practiced skills that allowed you the job you did. You prattled on about the wine, from the notes that should be detectable to the perfect pairings on the menu that they could consider.

The universe seemed to take pity on you, because someone was sidling up next to you as you set the bottle of wine on the table. Millie placed a hand on your upper arm, leaning in to speak to you quietly.

“Need help on expo, Mary’s orders.” Her words were a blessing and you quickly excused yourself from the table.

“Appetizer for 38, chef.” Someone announced as a dish slid onto the expo line. Joel turned from where he was tending to a steak, keeping it braised with the butter that was browning in the pan alongside sprigs of rosemary.

“Run it.” His eyes locked with yours through the line.

“I’m here to expo, not run dishes.” You focused on wiping the edges of the dish with a towel, ensuring no sauce or herbs or fingerprints tarnished the ceramic. You double checked the hanging ticket and when it looked good to go you were calling out. You projected your voice, keeping it professional. “Can I get hands please?”

“You have hands.”

“I’m on expo, Mary said.”

“And I’m tellin’ you to run it, what’s your problem?” The cast iron skillet in his hand clunked to the burner, flat as he disengaged the flame, and turned his full attention on you.

“Think your daughter would like it if you brought the appetizer out, chef.” You shot back at him, aware that eyes were shifting from you both at the exchange as the servers flitted around grabbing refills for drinks and plates to preset tables. Something flickered behind his eyes, but he reigned it in as quickly as it appeared.

“Expo helps runs dishes.”

“I’m well aware of my job responsi-“

“Apparently not. The dish is dying. Run. It.”

Locked in a heated glare with the man across from you, the tension of the kitchen and the dining room and having to sneak around, of your professor coming back to the restaurant, to the feeling that you didn’t want to think about every time you saw the crinkle of his eyes when his lips pulled into a smile.

Chest hurting, panging in such a harsh way you felt your breathing begin to deepen. Full breaths expanding and exhaling visible moving your chest. His eyes softened the slightest bit but whatever he was about to say was drowned out by the dining room door opening with more force than necessary.

“I am so sorry! I thought Mary said to get you for expo, she said to get you back on the well and I run expo.”

“This needs hands.” Was all you said to the flustered girl before setting the towel down and rushing out of the kitchen.

“Somebody run the goddamn dish!” Joel’s raised voice had you picking up your pace and you tried not to burst through the door as you entered the dining room.

The bar was busy, a line of tickets stuck together where the printer didn’t tear them completely and they hung down to the floor mats at your feet. Making quick work of them and running them to their respective tables to help out the swamped looking servers, you were just about to the bar when you noticed that Joel was out in the dining room. He was standing beside table 38, with his family. As you passed by on the way back to the bar, you caught a snippet of their conversation.

“Congratulations, baby girl, I am so proud of you.” Joel leaned down to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into his side as he stood beside her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, flattening the kinky curls there with the action. She swatted at him, though her easy laughter sounded in the air. Another young girl had joined them a beer you vaguely remember pouring in her grip. She was fairer skinned than the rest of them, but it was family, their dynamic too familiar and jovial with each other to be otherwise. You ignored the table completely as you passed it, pretending it was just another happy father and their child, a good evening to be surprised at work by family. The bathroom door slammed behind you and you beelined for the nearest stall and locked it with shaking hands.

You vomited the breakfast you had managed to eat and the bites of recipes you had tried while prepping earlier that day. Coughing as the acid burned in your throat, you tore far too many sheets from the toilet paper roll and raised them to wipe at your mouth. Breathing heavily through your nose, your chest felt tight, and the phantom feel of a man’s large hand on your back had you holding back sobs. Eyes stinging as you fought off tears, you tried to keep as quiet as possible as the bathroom door opened, and the click of heels could be heard from the newcomer. The scuff of boots on the tile signaled another.

“So who do you think it is? The old man could not stop smiling the other day and he does fuck all except work so it has to be somebody here.”

“I dunno, maybe another manager? Everyone here is so young.”

“Yeah, but age is just a number. You’re dating someone older.”

“But dad doesn’t know about that.” Her tone sounded vaguely threatening. But a cackle decorated the air and then giggles. The two girls dissolving into easy going laughter before exiting the room.

After making yourself presentable, you exited the bathroom and made your way back to the dining room. As soon as you were back behind the bar one of the girls who had been waiting for a date must’ve come to terms with being stood up, she was tracking a ride home on an open app on her phone. She waved at you to close out and you took the card from her offered hand, checking the way she was a little too loose in her movements.

“Hey, Mary!” You called out, seeing the woman walking along the length of the bar and helping to refill water glasses for the nearby tables. “I’m gonna run someone out for a ride pick up, that cool?”

“Of course, I’ll let the servers know there will be a wait for drinks.”

“Thanks.” A grateful smile and a signed receipt later, you found yourself waiting on the curb outside the front door with a chatty girl.

Someone was standing to the side, smoking a cigarette but the minimal light didn’t allow you much of a hint of who they were, probably just a patron waiting on a table or stepping away from dinner for a moment. Just as you were helping the girl into her ride, double checking that the person and car matched the description the person put out their cigarette. Making sure the car was driving safely through the parking lot you and taking a moment to enjoy the fresh air, you heard the steps of the person as they made their way back toward the entrance.

Suddenly a hand was grabbing you while another was ushering you away from the immediate front of the building, back by where they had been standing to smoke. They were too strong, causing you to stumble on your feet as you were swept away.

“Yo, what the actual fu-“

“You need to shut up.” Your blood turned cold, and you let out a shout as your back collided roughly with the brick of the building. The action caused the clip your hair was being held in to snap and break apart, the jagged pieced of plastic tangling in your hair and pressing into your scalp. Another shout pulled from your chest at the pain.

A hand was shoved over your mouth and you tried to kick out at the man in front of you and swipe your hands out at him, but he pressed the entirety of his body up against yours. Your nails caught on his figure, tangling in his jacket as you tried to push him away. His own hands yanked them free, breaking two of your nails in the process. Grunting in pain at the throbbing that stemmed from them against his hand.

Through the blood rushing in your ear and the blurry image of blonde hair clouding your vision you bite down as hard as you could on the palm of the hand against you. The man cursed, stepping back in his shock and you pushed at him again with everything you had.

He stumbled, the light catching his face and allowing you to see that it was the man from the bar all those nights ago.

“Fuck!” Your voice squeaked out as you rushed away from his reaching hands. You reached up and brushed what was left of your hair clip away, not wanting to draw attention to anything amiss as you neared the door, for once you were through the threshold. His steps and presence were heavy behind you but the second your hand gripped the handle for the door he seemed to collect himself.

Trying to keep a composed air about you, you weaved your way through the dining room, eyes focused solely on the swinging door that led into the kitchen. Everything was a silent hush around you, mind not picking up on the absent chatter of the dining room or the clinking of silverware as people continued their nights like normal. As soon as you were through the door, you let go of your composure.

You were rushing toward the office with quick steps, your heart beating painfully in your chest and your ears roaring with the sound of blood rushing. Ignoring the way Joel’s head followed you as you sped through the kitchen, you pushed through the way your skin felt like it was itching, too tight over your body. You reached for the closed handle and turned it, stepping inside without thinking and the door clicked behind you as you leaned back onto it. Your breathing was heavy, and your hands were shaking and when you looked up to see Mary in her desk chair, a bite of food frozen midway to her mouth you let out a stuttering gasp.

“Oh no, honey, what’s wrong?” Food forgotten, she stood up and ushered you into Joel’s chair beside her own.

The words you wanted to say wouldn’t come out, stuck in your still burning throat and you feared you would throw up again in the middle of the small office. The longer you tried to force the words, the more your chest hurt, the more strangled noises sounded into the air. Reaching up to lay a palm flat over your chest, you could feel the rapid pace your heart was beating at, and you just shook your head as your skin continued to feel too tight and your temple began to throb in time with your rapid pulse.

“Oh, oh gosh. Okay, just, honey please calm down.” Her hands were on her knees as she knelt down in front of you. She took your hands in her own, pausing slightly at the sight of your broken nails, and urged you gently, “Just breath, one deep breath for me okay?”

A knock on the door startled you so bad you nearly jumped out of the seat. The grip Mary had on your hands tightened as she watched your breathing take on a hurried staccato, her eyes holding so much worry as she looked over you before turned to face the door.

“What the hell is goin’ on? I got the barback running from expo because the lead server said there was a commotion at the bar and-“ Joel’s deep baritone was too loud in the small office as he hadn’t waited for an answer and shouldered his way through the now open door. His words cut off abruptly as he took in the scene before him. You couldn’t bear to look at him, too focused on not tipping over into full panic attack mode. 

“We have a bit of a situation, Joel.” Mary reached out and smoothed a hand down one of your arms, having picked up on the slight trembling your body was doing with the door open. “Please close the door, she’s overwhelmed.”

“What’s going on?” His voice was tempered, arms coming to cross over his broad chest. He was trying to take control of the situation, trying to figure out what had upset you so much you basically abandoned the bar. You could feel his eyes on you even as you kept your head down and gaze focused on your hands tangled up with Mary’s.

“I’m trying to figure that out, she’s frozen, can’t get any words out.”

“Spit it out.”

“Joel!”

“Well! She’s the one with the problem, so she’s the one who had to let us know.”

“Honey, please talk to us. You can tell us, we won’t judge you. Did something happen? Was it a customer?”

You shook your head, tears hot as they trailed down your cheeks. The spike of fear you had felt when the man had reached for you had you scrunching your eyes shut as you took a shuddering breath. Joel was there last time, he had helped you then. Wrestled the man to the bar top and away from you, it had been so easy for him. It wasn’t fair, you could only do so much, you didn’t have the same intimidation factor that Joel did merely existing.

You lifted your head and met Joel’s eyes, the brown dark in the way that displayed how angry he was, unsure of what was going on and falling back on his gruff nature. But your words softened them, something that flashed too quickly for anyone else to see.

“The man from the bar, he’s here.”

He was gone in the blink of an eye, steps loud as he stalked through the kitchen. The sound of the swinging door creaking on its hinges audible even in the office. If Mary thought anything of your words she didn’t let it show, focusing her attention on helping to calm you down. After a few moments, his steps could be heard as he made his way back to the office. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, face set in a scowl as he tried to process the situation.

“Did he touch you again?” Joel’s voice was dark, his words a dangerous thing that cradled a threat in every syllable. You shuddered as they washed over you, even if the sentiment wasn’t meant to be aimed at you, it was because of you. For you, he spoke with such ferocity.

You could only nod, unable to get any more words out. Mary’s hand tightened over your own before she stood.

“Joel, we need to call security and give them a description. I want whoever it is out of the restaurant. I know you’re the owner, but this-“

“I want him out, but I’m calling the cops. Not just security.” Thick fingers already digging his cell phone from a pants pocket. He brought it up to his ear as the line began to ring, having punched it in quickly.

“Everything is going to be okay, we’re going to keep you here in the office until the police get here and then one of us will take you home.” She was trying to continue to sooth you, but half her attention was on the phone in her hand as she contacted the security company employed by the restaurant. She was messaging them, letting them know there had been an attempted sexual assault on the premises.

Those words burned into your retinas, bright as if they were a neon sign even when you clenched your eyes shut. Joel’s steps were solid as he left the room, phone still to his ear as he waited on the line until officers arrived on site, wanting as clear communication as possible. He returned a few moments later with a steaming mug.

Mary detangled her fingers and let you know she was going to go and manage the front of house, to ensure that things were still running and let the girls know to not go outside on any breaks for the time being. Joel took up her abandoned seat, putting the phone on speaker and setting it down atop the desk.

Using his feet to maneuver the rolling chair closer to you, he carefully removed your hands from where you had begun to grip the fabric of your jeans. He molded them around the warm mug, his own around them and he just looked at you. His concerned eyes took in the way your hair was mused, no longer contained in the clip you had showed up to work in. The way your eyes were rimmed red, cheeks stained with tear tracks, the way you were trembling slightly, eyes unfocused as you stared at your lap. You wouldn’t raise your head to meet his gaze head on, no words were being spoken, it was…disconcerting to him to see you so locked up.

“Darlin’,” Was all he said as he raised the mug up toward your lips. “Please take a sip of this, it’s bone broth, it’ll help ease your nerves a little.”

You only intended to take the smallest sip to appease him and get him to back off, still mad about finding out he was a father and that he didn’t tell you his daughter would be coming to the restaurant. Sending you to her table without a thought in the world how you would feel or react to such a revelation. But the second the warm liquid washed over your tongue, you were taking consistent sips until the mug was empty and placed off to the side on the desk beside his phone.

He sat with you in silence, not sure what to say that would break the spell you were under, the shock you were under. He hadn’t seen this side of you, knew that everyone reacted to these things differently, that it wasn’t an easily overcome thing, if overcome at all. You wanted to reach out and take his hands in your own, to feel the warmth of him but you fought back the urge, the happy face of his daughter flashing in your minds eye.

You reached a hand up to press against a pain on the back of your neck, as soon as your fingers touched the skin there underneath your hairline, you hissed out a deep breath. Your hand came away bloodied, shaking as you looked at it with wide eyes. Joel was on his feet instantly, one hand cradling your face as he moved your hair carefully from your neck. You felt his warm exhalations on your shoulder as he leaned in, the faint scent of an earlier cigarette on his breath mixed with the spearmint gum he chewed while on the line. His fingers gently reached for something you couldn’t see, flinching slightly as something tugged at the back of your neck. In his hand was a broken shard of your hair clip, blood bright on the turquoise of it. Fresh tears welled up and blurred your vision as they fell over your lash line and over his hand still cradling your cheek.

“Fuck, you’ve got some pretty deep cuts back here. I’m so sorry, baby.”

“D-don’t call me that.”

Anything he was about to say was cut off as a voice trilled over the phone call still going on his phone.

“Mr. Miller, sir? Dispatch here, officers are pulling up right now.”

He removed his hands from you, a weird look about him as he moved to pick his phone back up, “Thank you, I’ll go meet them out front.”

“Will you-“

Nodding your head, you couldn’t bear to look up at him.  

“Okay.” He nodded at you, his eyes trying to catch yours to make sure but you had ducked your head again. He reached over to get the small first aid kit from where it was stashed atop the shelve over the desk. It wasn’t as stocked or official as the one in the kitchen, but it had stuff you could clean your injury with. “I’d offer to clean it, but I don’t want to push you. Please, at least drag some antiseptic over the back of your neck.”

The rest of the night was a blur, the restaurant closing two hours earlier than posted hours. Mary insisted on driving you home, some of the girls from the front of house parroting her offer. Joel had silenced them all with thanks for being so kind and willing to help, but as the owner and the one who was ultimately responsible for everyone’s safety. He put his proverbial foot down and said he would be making sure you got home safe. A good cover, you thought bitterly to yourself as he walked back into the office sans apron.

“Alright, Mary is gonna close up once everyone is finished cleaning. Do you have your keys? Figured I’d drive your truck so you have it there at your apartment. My brother can meet us there and bring me back for mine.”

He kept his distance as he walked with you toward the staff parking lot at the back of the restaurant. He was quiet as you stopped by the lockers to get your bag, his own on his shoulder he had swiped from the office. You had stayed there while the cops had talked with Joel, with Mary, to security. The man had been long gone, rushing away from the security guards that had quickly rounded the front of the building when you had shouted out. But they had been seconds too late and you paid the price. The cops had asked you for your statement, Joel standing behind you the whole time, providing details from the night at the bar as well.

The truck was silent as Joel held the door open for the passenger seat, making sure you were situated before he closed it as gently as he could. Once he adjusted the driver’s seat from your settings, he climbed in as well, the cab of the truck tense as he looked over at you and you looked out the window.  

“I’m sorry.” Your words were so low, a whisper barely heard over the running engine and hush of the other cars on the road.

“For what darlin’?” Not answering him right away, you reached into your bag and pulled out a cigarette, moving on to dig into your pockets for a lighter. You froze when you couldn’t find it, realizing it must’ve fallen out when… punching a finger to activate the lighter built into the dash you chanced a look over at him. He was focused on the road, his large hands around the steering wheel and his brow furrowed. His bottom lip looked a bit irritated, like he had been worrying at it with his teeth.

“All those reservations, all that business.” Was your quiet response, reaching for the lighter when it jutted out from the dash to signal that it was ready to use. You lifted it to the end of your cigarette, inhaling deep once the ember glow encompassed it. He looked over, but you had already turned toward the cracked window, watching the smoke billow out in wispy curls.

“I ain’t worried about a few hours lost. The most important thing is that you’re okay.” His fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel, you could hear the crinkling of the leather in the small space. He flicked the turn signal on and reached up to hit the gate control you had attached to the visor as your building came into view. It was easy enough for him to pull into one of the spots that ran parallel to the building. It was only two stories, four apartments on each floor. Two more exactly like it on either side within the secure gate. He watched it close completely before he turned the truck off, turning to face you.

“Look, about the table, it was supposed to be for Tommy and a date of his.”

Shaking your head, you made to open the door and get out. With a sigh, he followed suit, rounding the bed of the truck to hold the door open for you while you stepped out. With one last pull, you put out the spent cigarette and dropped it into the bed of the truck. Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you began to walk across the small parking lot toward the outdoor stairs that led up to your apartment. Joel was behind you, your keys in his hand as he made sure the vehicle was locked, the beeping sound loud in the quiet of the early evening.

“I was going to tell you, it’s just-“ You watched as he opened the security door and then the front door, shouldering past him you dropped your bag on the couch underneath the window. The click of the security door deadbolt echoed between you, but all you felt was exhaustion being back in your space.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now, not – not tonight, please.” Walking away from where he stood just inside the door, into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He followed you further into the space, into the living room, closing the main door behind him, locking it to make sure your space was safe and sealed away from the world.

“Joel, I was so scared.” The words were a quiet confession as they left your lips on a shaky exhale, hands clenching at your sides as you tried to fight the urge to reach for him now that you were back in the living room beside him. He was so close already, but it wasn’t enough. You needed, no, wanted him to be the one to pull you for once, to let you know that he cared. You looked up at him, bottom lip trembling.

His arms were enveloping you, pulling you into his chest. He buried his face in your hair, and you could feel the way his own breath was shaky as you. You turned so your cheek was resting right over his strong heartbeat, a faint slightly delirious chuckle shaking your body before you were crying into his chest. His hold on you tightened and you reached your hands around him to hold him in return, hands digging into the fabric of his shirt at his sides.

You silently guided him towards your room, needing to get off your feet and melt into the full embrace of the man you were already entangled with. He followed you, kicking off his shoes to leave in the living room. He let go of his hold long enough to turn around and let you change without his eyes roving over you, not wanting to overstep anything. You were grateful, still too worked up to do much else other than hold each other. Once you were in a baggy shirt and a soft pair of sleep shorts, you reached your hands to grab ahold of the back of his shirt.

He turned around, the fabric twisting up, allowing you a flash of the dark trail of hair that ran from his belly button to disappear down below the belt holding up his work pants. Scrunching your nose at the idea of his dirty pants on your clean sheets, he ducked his head to make eye contact with you.

“What’s that lil bunny nose for, huh?” He boldly kissed the tip of your nose, pulling a surprised huff of laughter from you around soft sniffles as your fingers latched into his belt loops and weakly tugged at them. He made a sound deep in his chest, hands coming to wrap around your own. “Darlin’-“

“Just don’t want them on my sheets, that’s all.”

“Okay, only if you’re comfortable. That’s all I want right now, okay?”

You helped him, rather uselessly, to unbuckle the belt while he shucked the fabric down his legs. He stepped out of them, clad the clean shirt he had changed into at work and a pair of dark boxer briefs. He let you run your hands underneath his shirt and grab at him, he let you push your face back into his chest. And in return you let him wrap you back up in his arms and guide you to the bed. It took a few moments of shifting to get comfortable, but you ended up laying your upper half over his, his arms on your lower back and your legs tangled together where they stretched out. Your face was pressed into his neck, and you were sure he could feel the wetness of your lashes against his skin.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay, darlin’.”

He was reassuring you as much as he was himself.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers by the lovely @saradika

[lesbianrobin]

Seeing as it's Black History Month, I'm gonna take a break from your regularly scheduled girlblogging to be a film nerd and beg every single person reading this post to go and watch Within Our Gates (1920).

Within Our Gates is a feature-length silent film written and directed by black filmmaker Oscar Micheaux and it is a miracle that we have it today. The film was believed to be lost for years until a SINGLE surviving print was found in Spain, translated back into English, and recut to match the original as closely as possible. (This is actually not uncommon in the realm of old film a lot of lost films get found in random closets but ANYWAY.) The film tells the story of Sylvia, a southern schoolteacher who travels up north to raise money to keep her school open. It explores how her life and family have been affected by racism, abuse, and sexual violence, as she falls in love, works to save her school, and grapples with her place as a black woman in the antebellum south. If that's not enough to get you interested, the film is also kinda batshit. There are shootouts! Affairs! Someone gets hit by a car! It's wild and dramatic and incredibly engaging.

You've heard of Birth of a Nation, right? Maybe you've even seen it. That insanely racist piece of film history premiered in 1915. Oftentimes people will defend D.W. Griffith and the film itself as being "a product of its time." Well, Within Our Gates premiered in 1920, and it is a product of its time. It depicts white mob violence against black Americans, and how that violence destroys innocent lives and rips families apart. It is written and directed by a black man. All of its lead actors are black. It is an absolutely heart-wrenching, moving, and intelligent film, produced on a shoestring budget, that explores what it meant not only to be a black American in 1920, but what it meant to be a black woman. Different characters have different approaches to coping with racism and strategies for protecting themselves. It's complicated, and upsetting, and one of the most impactful films I've ever seen.

If you can spare an hour and twenty minutes, if you happen to have access to the film through a streaming service (in addition to being FREE ON YOUTUBE, I believe it's on Amazon Prime, Paramount+, MGM+, and some Hulu plans) or an institution (you may have access to Kanopy or a similar platform via your local library or university), it's worth a watch. Play whatever music you want in the background if your version doesn't have any added! Even if you can't watch it for whatever reason, I'd encourage all of you to look into Oscar Micheaux and the history of "race films," films created outside of the Hollywood studio system by and for black Americans.

Don't buy into the false narrative that the only black representation in historical film was minstrelsy and Griffith-style garbage.

[blacksapphicguide]

The Break-Up (short film)

2023 short film. Available on YouTube. Romance.

Plot points:

Breakup

Child custody

Femme x Stud relationship

Identity questioning

Conversations about transness

Young adult romance

Black lesbian couple (main)

Black director and creator: Savonne Pearson

://TW Physical assault

Black sapphic characters:

Savonne [lesbian] (Chayna Douglas) Aubrey [lesbian] (Diamond Mo)

Connections:

Savonne x Aubrey (black lesbian)

Sex & Nudity - Very Mild

Kissing

Couple seen in bed together

Violence & Gore - None

Profanity - None

Alcohol, Drugs & Smoking - Mild

Drunk character

Frightening & Intense Scenes - Mild

Conversations around child custody

Main character slapping co-lead

Character slapping her child

[angelicwh0r3]

I wish I've never been touched without my consent, I feel like I've lost parts of myself that have been touched and I will never win them back

[ftwdb]

Don't Say Go

Chapter 1

Summary: Soulmates find each other through what is known as The Pull. A sense within a persons body that their soulmate is within reach that guides them to find them. You find yourself following this Pull, guided by vague dreams of a man you can't quite see, until you collapse in the wild and are found by Troy, your soulmate, who has been following the same feeling toward you for days.

Once connected soulmates are able to share emotions through their bond, as well as being able to sense where the other is. But how this force works is very much a mystery still, it can vary from soulmate to soulmate, and just sometimes a connection too deep can lead twist a bond from something beautiful to, well...

Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content, violence, non-graphic description/implications of SA, child abuse and domestic violence. References to addiction. Unhealthy love/obsession/relationships. Soulmate AU. Eventual smut. Love triangle.

You woke with a start, your hand coming to the thrumming sensation in your chest as you gasped and panted. How many nights had it been now since the feeling had woken you, pulling you from much needed sleep at all hours? You’d lost count.

You wished you could remember your dream, to make the link between the figure you kept seeing in your sleep and the pull in your chest that never faded; a silhouette in the dark, moving closer as you tried to reach out a hand to grasp the shadowy outline.

Sometimes you thought you saw the profile of a face, a strong jaw with a defined nose. Eyes that swam between such a dark hue of blue they seemed black and at other times the gentle colours of a calm ocean. The features always melted away when you woke, no matter how hard you tried to remember them, to scribble down what you could in the small red notebook you kept tucked inside your boot. The images were scattered and jumbled, so close to becoming a complete picture; one your subconscious seemed to tell you held the an answer you didn’t even know you were seeking.

It had started when you’d left the remains of San Diego with nothing but the clothes on your back and the supplies you’d managed to scavange in your backpack. At first you’d thought little of it until you noticed when you headed in a certain direction the feeling seemed to grow stronger.

It had been with shock that you realised it was more than just the grief of all you’d lost, the fear of the dead and the unknown stretched out before you. It was it. The Pull. That was when the dreams started.

Everyone knew about the Pull and you were glad there was no one to berate you for how slow you’d been to realise what it meant.

That your soulmate, whoever they may be, was close.

You’d wandered with nothing but the feeling in your chest to guide you, moving in an easterly direction as you rose with the sun each morning and slept when it had disappeared beyond the horizon at your back at night. There was one morning when you had woken to feel nothing, and it had left you clawing at your skin, painfully aware of the hollowness within you that came with the loss of the Pull.

You’d lain down and grieved again that day. You remembered the lessons you’d been given about soulmate’s, what it meant to be one of the few lucky enough to find their match… and what it meant to be one of the many who never would.

At the start of the rise of the dead you’d witnessed the survivors around you randomly crumple over with an agonising pain, searing so deeply it felt like their hearts were broke in two. This pain… it was how you knew your soulmate was dead.

So as you lay there with your eyes closed against the morning light, you tried to reach inside and find the cord that tied you to someone you’d never met, never known and never would, you waited for the pain.

But it never came.

Once the sun was at its highest point in the sky and you were just beginning to consider retracing your steps back toward the ruins of San Diego - since there was nothing for you here other than sunscorched grass and hopelessness - that it hit you like a punch to the chest. An invisable hand reached between your ribs and pulled. The feeling was strong enough that you felt physically lifted to your feet.

Ignoring the worn state of your boots that were on the verge of falling apart, your tired and aching mucles began to scream at you; but not in resistance of your movement, instead your body urged you on.

You moved as quickly as you could, stumbling over dry earth and crumbling rock. The Pull kept you going, driving you further east. You pulled the map from your bag, stopping even as your feet ached and screamed at you.

Go, you’re so close…

Your head began to swim as you tried to fix your eyes on the lines printed on the page in front of you. You’d marked off your route, making note of any landmarks you passed to keep track of your journey. But as another feeling overtook the one that had been propelling you onward you looked toward the sky and realised just how low the sun had fallen.

It was almost night and your mouth was dry as the paper in your hands. You panicked, realising you’d neither eaten or had anything to drink as you licked your chapped lips and tasted the salt of your sweat soaked skin.

The last remnants of your water disappeared all too quickly as your legs finally collapsed and you hit the ground hard.

That was when you heard it. The low rumble of an engine in the distance. A set of lights appeared and lit the ground around you. You were closer to a road than you’d realised as a truck rolled to a slow stop nearby.

The feeling in your chest tightened. You could barely breath as a door opened and boots hit the ground, sending up a swirl of dust and dirt around legs clad in military gear.

You tried to stand but your head swam even more, the very ground beneath you seemed to lurch upward as your eyes travelled over the oncoming man.

He was tall, the light of his truck illuminated a mess of slightly curled hair and cast shadows over his face. As he moved closer and you collapsed back on the ground, the dry grass scratching at the exposed skin on the nape of your neck, you felt the pull of the bond finally give out as if a spring pulled taught had finally been released. You felt it pass through your entire body, a feeling of relief like when you woke after a deep sleep, stretching out the sleepiness from your muscles as the blood pumped and flowed.

The man, who had been holding a rifle in front of his face as he glanced around into the darkness, gasped. He said something then, but your ears were muffled by the sound of rushing water.

Before the dizziness swallowed you up and you fell into utter darkness you felt the smile stretch across your face. You tried to speak but your dry throat could only groan.

You didn’t see the way the man lowered his gun and stepped closer, his eyes fixing on the rise and fall of your chest. You were breathing slightly too fast and the signs of exposure were obvious on your skin. He heard footsteps behind him and gestured for one of his men to go to you as he took a step back and observed the girl he’d been dreaming of for weeks.

“Troy, we need to get her back to the ranch if she’s got a chance in hell of waking up.”

Troy made a sound in his throat, an affirmation, as the other man lifted the girl with ease and moved her onto the backseat of Troy’s truck.

He could now observe her more closely in the light. She was thin, long limbs covered by filthy clothes. He wondered how long she had been wandering. Had she felt it too? The never-ending ache in his chest had left him searching the wilderness day after day under the guise of searching for supplies or defending the perimeter from the dead, or those who saught to take what they had.

Once his eyes had settled on her face and he’d known it was her it was like the need in his body, as strong as a need for water after a long day working in the sun, bled from him completely and he felt whole.

So why, as he stared at the unconsious woman from the front seat of his truck, did he feel so…

Disappointed.

[adinelleggreeo]

Y'all, I woke up from a nap yesterday and opened tumblr to browse some dp x dc.

Tell me why the first fic that popped up was Danny being held captive and s**ually assaulted by the GIW! (I'm censoring the word because I don't want to assault anyone's eyes like mine were)

Like, I know this fandom likes angst, but geez!

I banished that thing like it was a demon and I had to cleanse my pallet or whatever the term is because I was immediately put in a bad mood.

This is why you gotta block certain tags or words and probably don't reach for your phone first thing.

I need to get back into reaching for my Bible instead. Let my eyes take in the good news instead.

[irlangelsdiary]

Facts about intrafamiliar sexual abuse, COCSA, and CSA.

• COCSA can happen with children of any age, but potential incidents can increase as children enter puberty and adolescence.

• 40% of Children who were sexually abused the perpetrator was older and or more powerful

• 5% of children have been affected by sibling sexual abuse.

• It is one of the lowest disclosed forms of sexual abuse, meaning the statistics around this are likely to be higher.

• More than 90% of abusers are people children know, love and trust.

• 30-40% of victims are abused by a family member.

[carlyraejepsans]

Just took a few hours to watch Kwite's video in response to the (now proven false) allegations against him and I feel sick to my stomach. I mean genuinely nauseous.