#trying to think of all the tags I can use for this post but I’m stumped tbh

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Running To You

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister series to Just What I Needed

Summary: You're rescued by a man who you don't even know is a real hero.

Characters: nomad Steve Rogers

Note: a stressed out steve rogers plus a cutie. it bloomed from the theory of Steve's beard being a symbol of his darker side, or a darker state of mind. In the wat that he would usually pride himself on a neat appearance but lets himself go a bit when he's not at his best.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stumble up over the curb as you check the list on your phone. Oops, you should really look where you're going. You steady yourself and giggle at your own clumsiness. For how precise your inventory is, the rest of you is a bit of a clutter.

You dodge through the onslaught of pedestrians and apologise a deep 'hey, lady' thunders through at you. You quickly dip into the store and shield yourself with the door. You gasp and catch your breath, smiling at the associate nearest to you. The organic shop probably isn't the most exciting place to shop but it has most of the ingredients you need. Raw honey, tallow wax, essential oils...

You greet them with a small wave and 'hi' and turn to look at the shelves along the wall. They don't acknowledge you. Most people don't, not that you mind. You keep to yourself.

The door jingles and another customer enters. They pause by the door and look around. They might be lost. It's not unusual for one more person to wander in but usually they don't stay long.

He clears his throat and you do your best to focus on your list. You're going to need a basket. As you go to grab one from the stack, the man faces you. You shy away and stop short of latch onto one of the mesh baskets.

"Excuse me, miss," he holds up a familiar item; a red wallet with white polkadots. It's yours! "I think you dropped this."

"Oh, my, I did," you give a sheepish smile to his chest. He's an awfully big man. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," he hands it over.

You accept it and hold it to your chest. You give a tiny shimmy, "thank you so so much!"

You dare to look up and meet his eyes. They're blue but reticent. He scratches his beard as he nods and backs up.

"I think I'm in your way," he grabs one of the baskets and offers it to you.

"Oh, no, but yes, thank you, I need one," you take it.

"Mm, yeah," he smooths out the tuft in his beard that he was pulling on. The hair is thick and coarse; the locks on his head are just as dense, pushed back away from the face, though his chin-length strands try to droop past his ears.

You put your head down and turn back to the shelves. He lingers, seemingly lost as he looks around. What's the odds that in a city like this someone would do something so nice? You look at the list again then peek over at him. He squints at a jar of sourdough starter.

"What do you use in your beard?" You ask then cover your mouth. "I'm sorry, that's not... polite, is it?"

He shrugs, "hm, I just use shampoo, I guess. Face wash?"

"Right. Well, it's pretty shiny." You scrunch up your face. "I'm sorry." You chew your lip in embarrassment. Your cheeks are ablaze. "I'm working on my beard oil. I make it. Um, sell it. But..."

"Beard oil," he repeats thoughtfully. "I don't... I guess maybe I should."

He touches his beard again, a crease between his brows.

"I don't meant to-- I... I'm not... it's cute. I mean. Suits you. I was just--" you show your teeth nervously. "I don't have a beard so..."

"Yeah," he agrees awkwardly and tucks his hair back behind his ears before it can fall forward.

"I ramble..." you drift off and face the shelves again. "I'll stop bothering you."

He inhales and backs up. He turns to the door then stops. You sense his gaze.

"It's a bit busy. Rush hour," he says. "You don't mind if I hide in here with you?"

You glance over. You shrug. "Um, yeah, sure. It's not my store. Not sure how interesting it is."

You fumble between the basket and your phone. You hum and scour the shelves with your eyes, scrunching your nose in concentration. He comes closer.

"What are you looking for?" He asks.

"Soybean oil."

"Soybean oil," he nods. "For..."

"Soap," you cheep.

"Ah. In my day, ma just used fat and lye."

You give his statement a thought. You've seen some recipes from way back. Like long ago. Almost a hundred years now. A lot of people prefer the gentler ingredients.

"Oh, that's cool that she made her own stuff," you muse as you take a canister and tap your spreadsheet to mark off that item.

"Yeah," you feel him trying to see the screen. "You're really organized."

"Can't forget anything," you say.

"Sure." He lurks and looks around before he focuses on you again. "I'm Steve, by the way."

You look at him. He's just as big as the last time you looked. His blue eyes seem uncertain. He can't be afraid of someone like you. You give your name.

"Nice to meet, you, Steve."

"You too," he agrees. "Can I help?"

"Oh, sure. What do you prefer? Rose or Gardenia?"

"Rose is nice," he says.

"I agree," you say and pluck up the small bottle.

"You said you sell stuff?"

"Sure do," you chime. You tuck the bottle into the basket. "You know, you don't have to pretend to care."

"What? I... I'm curious."

You eye him, "well, Steve, I'll believe you, but there's not much to be curious about."

His brows furrow, not so much in agitation, but intrigue. "The beard oil. How much?"

"Oh, you know, I could get you a sample from my hoard. Since you got me my wallet back. You don't have to do all that."

"I want to. I think you right," he runs his hands over his beard. "Needs a bit of taming."

You laugh, "looks good to me. Oh, you can try coconut oil. It's real easy and you can use it in your hair too."

"Coconut oil," he says. "I'll add it to the list. What about yours?"

"Soy wax," you look at your list. "I can use that for lots of things."

He lifts his heads, shoulders wide and straight, looking around on a mission. He strides around the rack behind him and you watch him search a shelf. He picks up two jars. He comes back to you. "Which do you prefer?" He holds up to two different sellers. You take the one in his left hand.

"Thank you," you grin.

"Next," he looks down at your phone.

"Jeez, you sure are helpful," you check again.

"They sell wicks. I need the long ones. Like this." You hold the basket and phone at a length.

He nods again, "on it."

You point him to the corner where they keep the candlemaking stuff and you go back to your own search. He's too quick for you. He has a hole bunch in hand. You have him put half in your basket and he takes the rest back.

Huh, looks like you made a friend.

🎀

Steve holds the door for you. It's so nice you thank him for what must be the dozenth time since you met. Maybe only even an hour ago.

As you get outside, you turn back to him, certain to keep away from the pedestrians who pay no heed to obstacles. "I can take that bag too."

He looks down as the door shuts behind him. "Pretty heavy," he says.

"Oh, I always do that. I forgot my little rolly bag," you shrug. "I can handle it."

"Wouldn't feel right letting you carry it all. Mrs. Rogers didn't raise a punk."

"Is that your mom? I bet she's nice too," you say. "It's alright, Steve. You've done enough. I owe you. My wallet would've been gone with the wind and I never coulda bought all this."

He stares at you, then once more peeks down at the fabric bag. You always bring the reusable; they're much stronger than the paper ones supplied in-store. He chews his lower lip.

"If you owe me, well, you wanna have a coffee? Together?" He asks.

You blink. That's so nice of him too.

"Coffee?" You press your lips together. You feel bad saying no. Not that you want to. It wouldn't be so bad to have someone to sit with. For once. "I don't drink it."

He nods, "tea? Hot chocolate? Water?"

You laugh.

"I'll have a cookie," you offer. "Um," you look up and down the street. "Where..."

"I saw a place. Never been in. Wanna give it a try?"

"Oh, cool. Yeah. I love new places, even if they're scary," you say.

"Here," he takes the other bag from your hands before you can argue. "It's a block back."

"Wait, Steve! I can carry that."

"Not if I'm around," he insists, "come on."

He rolls his shoulder in a gesture for you to follow. You huff and hop into motion. You walk next to him, wary of the oncoming people along the sidewalk. A man nearly bowls you over and you knock into Steve's elbow.

"Oof, I'm sorry."

"Get on the inside of me, doll," he says. "Used to be that people took their hat off when they passed a lady. Now they don't care if... well... you move."

He stops and lets you step across his path. He keeps you between him and the storefronts as he strides on undaunted. You wish you were as brave as him.

"Ah, there it is." He tilts his chin up.

You look ahead. You see the sign sticking out in the shape of a coffee cup.

"Oh, I see it," you hurdle ahead. "My turn."

You pull open the door as he follows. He stops to let another customer out before he enters. You follow him.

"There's a table," he nods.

You follow his gaze to the wall. You lead the way and he trails you. He puts the bags in one of the chairs.

"How about you sit?" He suggests. "What kind of cookie do you want?"

"Oh, Steve, uh," you pull out your wallet, "if they have oatmeal--"

"My treat." He insists.

"You can't do that," you argue.

"You gonna stop me?" He challenges. You gulp and blink at him. You don't think you could stop him from anything. He's quite the figure.

"I guess not." You murmur.

His expression softens, "hey, I'm kidding. I didn't... scare you, did I?"

"N-no," you force a smile. "I appreciate that. Thank you. Oatmeal. That's all."

"Alright. I'll be back." He turns and you see his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath.

You sit and jiggle your leg as you look around. You avoid the coffee shops, even the bakeries. They're always so busy. You are methodical in your ventures but today's seems to have gone off the rails. Not in the worst way. One time, you tried to take the subway and ended up lost in the rain.

There's women who look like they could be on a TV show with their fabulous dresses and perfect waves; a man in a suit with his laptop and a single earbud in, and an older couple near the door. There are many others in the line to get a treat of their own.

You turn in the chair and press your palms to the table. You stare at the wood between your hands. You feel the heat speckling over your scalp, that sense of suffocation burrowing into your chest, the voices swirling around you like a raging wind.

"Here," Steve interrupts your internal panic. He places a large cookie before you and mug. "They had this strawberry cream thing. No coffee."

You look at the pink concoction with a dark red swirl in the middle. "Mmmm," you lean forward to admire it. "Wow. It looks good."

He puts his own coffee down and moves the bags under the table. He sits and unzips his jacket to let the tension out of the fabric. You smile and pick up the cookie. You hide behind it.

"I can't eat this alone. It's as big as my face." You giggle. 

You break it in two and offer him half. He eyes it for a moment then accepts it with a thanks. You take a bite then round your eyes at him. He's staring. Oh no. Is that rude? You chew and swallow quickly.

"What?" You hide your mouth behind your hand.

"Nothing. It's just..." he glances around the shop. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" You make googly eyes and cross them. "Is there something on my nose?"

He snorts. "No. There's not." He sighs. "Just haven't had a nice quiet coffee in a while. It's nice."

Your brows pop up and you smile big. "I'm sorry I'm not a big coffee person. I tried it once and it made my belly gurgle."

"It's fine. Bad habit," he taps the handle of his mug with his index finger. "Are you gonna try that cup of sugar?"

"Not much better, is it?" You pick up the mug and blow over it. You put your lips over the brim and taste it cautiously. You hum. "Mm," you pull it away. "Delicious! This is a tummy ache worth having."

His cheek dimples as he watches you. You fidget against his gaze. He's nice but you never had anyone stare at you so much.

[meganwritesfanfics]

How to Save a Life (Dr. Jack Abbott x Reader) Part 1

Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 1613

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of firearms, women being threatened.

I altered the show's timeline slightly to make my story work. I will continue to post parts, if you would like to be included in the tag list, comment down below.

“Resuscitation efforts discontinued at 14:51,” Robby said and she felt like see had been been punched in chest. Kid loses always hit everyone hard. Especially a drowning. Y/N’s eyes locked with Robby’s as the mother of the lost girl screamed with grief. She just shook her head as she bolted from the room, not wanting anyone to see her tears. She always felt like so weak when she lost it after losing a patient. She had been a doctor for 10 years, it should affect her as much anymore. But the hard cases always got to her. 

“Caring does not make you weak,” She could hear her husbands voice in her head say as she reached for the necklace he gave her. “It makes you a better doctor.” 

She stumbled out to the ambulance bay, taking a deep breath. The cool air filled her lungs and she felt like she could breathe. She wiped some tears away as she pulled out her phone, pulling up Jack’s contact. She knew he would be waking up soon if he wasn’t already. They had a tradition of texting one another if something happened at work that upset them. Sometimes it was easier for Jack to write down his feelings than it was to speak them out loud. Y/N appreciated him sharing in whatever form made him feel the most comfortable. And Y/N always knew the best things to say to make him feel better.

“Just had a really rough case. Lost them. Just wanted to remind you that I love you more than anything in this world, and you make me incredibly happy.” 

“You have time for a call Doctor?” A text shot back and Y/N smiled as she hit call. 

“What are you doing up?” She laughed. 

“Ugh, you know I can’t sleep without you next to me.” Jack said groggily. “What’s going on Doll.” 

“It was a six year old kid, Jack. Drowned.” Y/N said her emotions coming to the surface again. “She was trying to save her little sister.” 

Jack remained silent just listening as Y/N explained everything they tried to do to save the girl. “Oh darling, I’m so sorry” 

“I just kept thinking, what if it was our baby lying on that table.” Her hand instinctively hovered over her stomach. Neither of them had told anyone yet, but Y/N was about 8 weeks pregnant. 

“Y/N, you can’t think like that. If you connect every lost kid to our baby, you are going to go insane.” 

“I know. It’s just hard.” Y/N sighed. 

“Well, just think, in a few more hours, you will be home with me, I will make us dinner, and then we can do whatever you want to take your mind off the day.” 

“Oh anything I want Doctor Abbott that sounds like you have something dirty in mind.” Suddenly Y/N felt something heavy and blunt against the base of her skull. 

In one ear she could hear Jack talking about all the things he wanted to do with her. In the other ear, she heard someone whisper. 

“Hang up the fucking phone. Now.” 

“Jack, honey, I have to go. I love you so fucking much.” She said and she quickly hung up, just as she heard Jack call her name questioningly. 

As soon as the phone was hung up and put in her pocket, Y/N felt an arm wrap around her chest pulled her roughly back as the barrel of a gun was placed against her temple. 

“Inside. Now.” The voice snapped as he started to drag her inside. 

Her mind was a blur as they came in through ambulance bay doors. She immediately saw the look of horror on everyones face as they came in. 

“Listen here!” The voice screamed. “I want to be treated fairly, I want to be seen by a doctor!” 

Y/N saw Robby come into main area and his eye went wide. 

“I need everyone to calm down.” Robby said with as much composer as he could, but in his head he was full on panicked. “Sir, I need you to let my resident go.” 

“No. Not until I am fucking seen. I have been waiting for hours and no one has seen me yet. It’s not fair. So I am going to get someone to help me, or so help me God I won’t hesitate to shoot her.” 

Ahmad took a step forward but the minute he did, the man cocked the gun and Y/N flinched. 

“Don’t you fucking move, you piece of shit, I’m not joking I will kill her. I need you all to take me seriously!” 

“Mr. Driscoll, we are taking you very seriously…” Robby said hands up his eyes looking over at Y/N’s scared form, trying to figure out some way to get her out of this. 

“Well then who is going to treat me!” Doug screamed as he swung the gun out at the rest of the group causing everyone to duck for cover. 

“I will!” Y/N screamed. “I will treat you! Just don’t point the gun at anyone else, just at me got it.” She negotiated and she could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket. Jack. Her heart broke, she hoped that by seeing this patient she could deescilate the situation. But she also knew that if he was going to these extremes, there was a higher than likely chance this could end in violence. 

“Y/N.” Robby said shaking his head.

“Listen Mr. Driscoll. I have been a doctor for 10 years. I am confident that I can get you the care you deserve.” 

“Finally, that’s all I’m asking. Was that so fucking hard!” Driscoll screamed. “Now,” He said as he started to drag her toward the empty room he could see. “If I so much as see a cop, things won’t end well for…” He leaned over to read her badge. “Dr. Abbott here. Is that clear?” 

“Mr. Driscoll, this is…” Robby started again but Driscoll quickly moved the gun to under Y/N’s chin shoving her face up so she was looking at the ceiling.

“I said is that fucking clear!” He screamed and Y/N could feel a tear roll down her cheek. 

“Crystal.” Robby snapped a look of pure rage in his eyes. 

Everyone watched in silence as Doug Driscoll dragged Y/N into one of the exam rooms and shut both doors. 

“Robby.” Dana said panicked. 

“We need to start moving all the other patients elsewhere for their safety. Also we need to…” He started but he could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. 

He pulled it out to see he had multiple missed texts and calls from Jack. 

“What’s going on with Y/N. She sounded weird when she hung up the phone.” 

“Robby, I’m worried about Y/N.” 

“Can you just let me know if she is tied up right now. She’s not answering me and I just want to make sure she is ok.” 

Robby sighed. He didn’t want to make this phone call, and he knew what the outcome would be, but he knew Jack deserved to know. 

“Is that Jack?” Dana asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“You want me to call him.” 

“No, I got this, go try to calm down the newbies. And let’s get everyone moving.” He sighed as he pulled out his phone, his eyes still fixed on the room Y/N was in. 

“Robby, brother, thanks for calling, Y/N sounded really weird on the phone and I swear to God  I heard another voice in the background I know it’s probably silly, but I got this gut feeling…” Abbott started. 

“Jack.” Robby cut him off and Jack instantly went silent. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack said fear filling him instantly. 

“There has been an incidence. A disgruntled patient and he…” Robby hesitated. 

“Is she ok?” Jack asked and Robby could hear the sound of rustling as he was sure Jack was starting to rush out the door. 

“She’s ok, but the patient brought in a gun. He currently is holding her hostage in one of the exam rooms.” 

“Fuck!” Jack screamed and Robby heard the sound of Jack’s truck peeling out of the driveway. 

“Jack if you are coming here I need you to remain calm and level headed ok. That’s the only way we are going to get Y/N out ok.” 

“I’m not going to remain calm! He’s got my girl Robby. And she…” Jack hesitated his voice catching in his throat. “Have you called the cops?” 

“Not yet, I need to get all the other patients somewhere safe, and I need to talk to Gloria. And he threatened to kill Y/N if he saw any cops.” 

“I’m on my way, please don’t call the cops until I get there. I’m only about 5 minutes out.” 

“Jack you live 15 minutes away how the fuck are you already…” 

“I really don’t give a shit about speed limits right now.” Jack screamed before he let out a loud sigh. “Micheal, I can’t lose her.” 

“Don’t think like that ok, we are no where near that point. This guy is just pissed off but I think once he gets what he needs I think he will be gone.” Robby tried to reassure. 

“She’s pregnant, we haven’t told anyone yet because it is still super early.” Jack said and Robby could hear him breaking. 

“Jack, I am going to do everything in my power to make sure she is safe.” Micheal insisted. But he couldn’t help but feel that this situation was not going to end well. 

[padawan-snack-packer]

[TW: Andor season 2 spoilers, mild jedi critique (but nothing "too anti-jedi"), I swear lol. Also this is a long post]

I’m going through the Andor tags and just wanted to throw in my two cents—

I’m seeing a lot of people saying things like “This is why the galaxy needs the Jedi!!” especially in response to what almost happened to Bix, and look, I get it. I understand the feeling. You see someone you love, a character who’s already been through hell, nearly suffer something unspeakable, and you want to believe there’s a big shining hero somewhere who could have stopped it. I get wanting that.

Desperately.

But honestly — and I say this with so much love — I think that’s missing the point of Andor.

Bix doesn’t need a Jedi.

She needs the Empire to fall.

Just like so many people in the galaxy.

The existence of Jedi wouldn’t have saved her. They never saved "everyone". That’s part of the tragedy of the galaxy long before the Empire ever rose. The Jedi were never a cure for systemic evil — they were a bandage, stretched thin and fraying, over a wound that was already hemorrhaging underneath.

They couldn’t be everywhere. They couldn’t protect everyone. They were never meant to be an army, or the galaxy’s emergency hotline, like some kind of cosmic 911 with lightsabers. They were an order of monks trying to hold back the tide with their bare hands.

And, yeah — I know. They did do good. They saved people. They fought for peace, they fought for justice, and they believed in something bigger than themselves. I'm not denying that. The galaxy would have been a lot worse off without the Jedi trying to shield it for as long as they could.

But, we also have to be honest: sometimes their actions made things worse. The Jedi got pulled into the Clone Wars — and in doing so, they unintentionally dragged neutral systems and innocent worlds into conflict. They became generals in a war they were never supposed to fight. They stood next to the Senate while it crumbled into corruption. And sometimes, trying to help, they made choices that played right into the hands of the people trying to tear everything down.

And that’s the heartbreak of it.

They were good — but they were never enough.

Because no single order, no group of "heroes," could be enough to fix a galaxy that was rotting from the inside.

Expecting the Jedi to fix everything is kind of like saying "the Avengers could fix anything."

Like—sure, you can punch a big threat in the face. You can stop an alien invasion or a rogue AI or a mad titan. But you can't punch poverty. You can't swing a lightsaber at systemic oppression. You can't duel your way out of generational inequality, or the slow grinding violence of a society built to serve a few at the expense of everyone else. You can't stop politicians selling people out for profit with a Force push. You can't heal a galaxy bleeding out under decades of neglect and cruelty just by being "brave" or "good".

The roots of the problem go too deep. They're built into the very foundations.

And the tragedy of the Jedi is that for all their power, for all their wisdom and discipline and sacrifice, they were still operating inside a system that was already collapsing. They were caretakers in a house with a rotting foundation. And sometimes, in trying to hold the walls up, they made the cracks worse.

And that's what Andor is showing us with brutal clarity:

No Jedi sweeping in with a lightsaber is going to save Bix.

No wise Master is going to show up to make the pain go away.

No ancient code can fix an empire built on exploitation and cruelty.

The people suffering under the Empire don’t need a mythical savior.

They need the Empire to fall.

They need justice that doesn’t rely on someone being "special enough" to wield a lightsaber.

They need change built by ordinary hands, stubborn hearts, and impossible choices.

Andor doesn't say "We needed heroes with powers." It says "We needed the people who were already bleeding to choose to stand up. And die. And fight. And win."

It says no outside savior is coming. No prophecy is going to unfold neatly in your favor. No chosen one is going to sweep in and fix the brokenness for you.

It's going to be you. And it's going to cost you everything you have. And you might not even live to see it change. But you fight anyway.

Because the galaxy won’t be saved by miracles.

It’ll be saved by people who refuse to stop hoping, even when hope looks like madness.

Andor isn't a story about how "we need the Jedi back". It's a story about how we need each other — even when it costs everything.

This isn’t me being anti-Jedi, or pro-Sith, or anything like that.

This is coming from someone who adores Jedi. Someone who loves The Clone Wars with their whole heart. Someone who has cried over Ahsoka’s heartbreak, over Anakin’s fall, over Obi-Wan carrying a war he never asked for on his back.

But Andor shows us a different part of the galaxy. It shows us a galaxy where people don’t have magic powers. Where people don’t have lightsabers to cut a clean path through corruption and cruelty. Where they don’t have ancient prophecies telling them they're destined to save the world. Where they don’t have Chosen Ones. Where they don’t have plot armor.

They have only themselves.

Only their grief.

Only their anger.

Only their aching, stubborn love for the people around them.

Only their desperate choice to stand up, to survive, to resist — even when it costs them everything.

And that’s what makes it hurt so much more. Because these aren’t superheroes or legendary warriors. These are ordinary people — bakers, mechanics, fishers, smugglers, orphans, parents, farmers, pilots, factory workers — staring down a machine so massive it barely notices they exist. And somehow, despite how small they are, despite how doomed it feels, they choose to fight anyway.

They choose to matter. That’s the heartbreak.

And that’s the point.

Saying “Well, a Jedi could have saved her” is — lovingly — missing what the show is trying to carve into us with every agonizing scene.

There is no cavalry coming here.

There is no one coming with a lightsaber to cut down your oppressors.

There is only you, and the people you trust, and the terrifying, beautiful decision to say no more even when the galaxy wants to crush you into dust.

Bix isn’t waiting for a Jedi.

Cassian isn’t waiting for a Jedi.

Brasso isn’t waiting for a Jedi.

Mon Mothma isn’t waiting for a Jedi.

None of them are waiting for a Jedi.

They are surviving in spite of their absence.

They are building rebellion from broken pieces, bloody hands, and stolen breaths.

And that’s what makes it powerful.

That’s what makes Andor hit so hard it feels like it rips you open.

It says: no one is coming to save you. So you save yourselves. And you save each other.

And maybe that’s how you light the fire.

[diaday333]

Hey everyone! Usually I like to keep my posts a lot more lighthearted and just post my sporadic updates on me and the gods, but lately I’ve been seeing some stuff here in helpol tumblr that I feel like I need to talk about.

So with the rise of conservatism happening in America, we’re seeing it in everything from politics to fashion to… here it seems? Now ofc I know not everyone here is from America or even a western country, but also I know this stuff doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Now what I have been seeing here isn’t exactly becoming more conservative, BUT I’m definitely seeing a more downward shift in this space? For example, I can’t hop onto here and look under the Hellenic polytheist tag without seeing someone talking about hating some god (for example all the Zeus hate???) or seeing someone talk about seeing people talking about hating a god. But it’s not only that, I feel like this space has become a lot more limited? I became a Hellenic polytheist back in 2021 and back in the day (a ripe 4 years ago), everyone was so much more carefree and less constricting with their posts (and presumably their worship).

Yes, as I became older and more experienced, did I think some of the posts I saw on here were strange or ‘cringe’? Yes, I even thought how I used to worship was cringe! But would I rather see that than seeing everyone talking about hating Zeus or talking about how you can and can’t worship? Yes absolutely! I’m definitely not a veteran, so I don’t know how the Hellenic polytheist space was before 2020 or even long before that (I know some people have been following this religion before even finding others on social media spaces lol), but that fact I’ve seen such a rapid change in just 4 years is kinda odd to me. Or even just last year, I feel like it was so much better.

Not to be a Debbie downer, but with living in the US and seeing again, the rise in conservatism and just seeing the internet becoming worse and worse everyday, it really hurts to see that happening here of all places. I don’t know if it’s just me or if I’m being dramatic, but I feel like it’s becoming a lot more sanitized here. Like I said, while I may have thought it was ‘cringe’, some of the stuff I was seeing here, I’d much rather see (probably) 13 year olds talking how they offered Apollo their morning orange juice or whatever it is and how they saw like 50 crows on the way to school lmao. While this isn’t ridiculous (I just couldn’t think of a good example of the top of my head), I’d rather see people’s ridiculous random offerings and them making something dramatic out of nothing (like seeing one crow and freaking out) than what I’m seeing today. I still see some silly stuff here ofc, but even then it’s few and far between and not as special as it used to be.

It’s just weird for me to see because being a polytheist/ pagan/ witch or whatever anyone here calls themselves was seen as more ‘freeing’ and allowed them to get silly with it, but now I’m just seeing posts on people policing on how to worship and why you shouldn’t worship this god and you should worship this one instead 😭 like what are we doing? And yes, this has always been a thing (trust me, I know), but before, people would get thrown into the sun for trying to police worship and now I see people agreeing with them? Like people were more ‘do what you want (as long as you’re respectful!!)’ and now it’s ’do this and this to properly worship a god.’ Like as long as you’re respectful (and doing the basics lmao) and happy, who cares?? It’s between you and the gods, not anyone else. I could say more on this, but instead I’m going to move on and say wtf is with all the god hating??? Like if it was just once or twice, it’s whatever, that’s always existed unfortunately, but it’s like a trend??? With Zeus specifically, all I have to say is if you’re a Hellenic polytheist and you want to keep believing the myths… that’s between you and the gods (and your lack of common sense I fear). Like the first thing you do when you become a Hellenic polytheist is let go of the myths??? This a religion, not a fandom. And lastly, yes this space has always had its problems, transphobia, misogyny/ sexism, and more recently Zi^nism 💀, but I don’t know how to explain how those have always felt more ‘small’ and manageable, now I don’t even want to open tumblr because all I see is people talking how they met someone who hates Apollo 😭

That’s the end of the post, I’m sorry it’s so long. I just really love being a Hellenic polytheist and I couldn’t have got there without helpol tumblr. Literally how I found Hellenic polytheism exists is because of Tumblr. I love this space and what it’s given me (and others!!) and I don’t want to lose that to whatever’s going on. Love you guys and if you have also being seeing stuff like this, lmk!! I hope I’m not just being dramatic and blowing stuff out of proportion. Bye and let’s hope my next post will be shorter (and happier!!).

[ssweetiebop]

Things I would like to see written more, or would write about if I could write featuring Disco Elysium:

- Harrier Du bois is a Innocence ! It would start out very subtly, with Kim catching Harry just seemingly not breathing, of course his first concussion would be that Harry’s heart must’ve just stopped, que panicked moments where Kim shakes Harry awake or semi freaks out whenever he sees Harry napping at work or just sleeping in general, because Harry is just not breathing. (Because it’s stated in game that apparently Innocence’s are said to not even breathe, they just eternal like that.) or maybe Harry just makes one too many predictions that are scarily accurate which really fucks with Kim as he entertains the idea of Harry being an Innocence, like he doesn’t believe it, but it’s a entertaining thought to ponder until Harry’s lungs suddenly glow out of nowhere, maybe Harry doesn’t notice himself or Kim convinced himself it was a trick of the light… just alot of second guesses and whatnot!

- Harry dating (and it’s not Kim) Harry, after finding out about his sexuality and finally coming to terms to it — decides it’s time to head back into the dating scene! Maybe Harry just ASSUMES Kim is taken already because I mean… it’s Kim! Kim is so cool! Of course he has a partner! (He doesn’t.) and Kim is just like wow my lungs are burning with hurt right now. Kim painstakingly supporting Harry but also dying inside hearing about all of Harry’s dates and partner(s). I just want jealous Kim honestly. Or even possessive Kim teehee… like Kim overhearing Harry has a date tonight and before Harry himself can tell him Kim abruptly asks if Harry wants to hang out tonight, wanting Harry to choose him over his date, even sweetening the deal by saying he has alot of plans of *insert literally all of Harry’s favourite activities and also maybe Kim confessing or being willing to let Harry do XYZ for once* Harry of course just blurts out ‘YEAH ILL HANG OHT WITH YOU!!’ Without thinking and is like oh shit I have a date tonight. Oh god. Do I blow my date off or Kim?? Kim realllyy smug when Harry chooses him all while acting innocent. Even “scolding” Harry when Harry admits he choose Kim over his date. Just small moments where Kim feels guilty for sabotaging his dates but also just can’t help it, he keeps purposefully somehow ruining the relationship. Of course he feels really guilty but Harry will forgive him because it led to them finally dating. Maybe Kim takes it too far or EVEM GETS CAUGHT ACTIVELY TRYING TO RUIN HARRY’S DATES and for the smallest second Harry sees Kim as some sort of jerk (sorta rightfully so!) and gets mad at Kim until later he thinks about WHY Kim was doing that.

- Body swap au ! I know there’s already some of body swaps out there, but I want more! Like the idea of Kim hearing Harry’s skills and being like ‘This is what Harry is forced to hear all the time? It’s so noisy…’ and then Harry being like ‘wow it’s so… quiet… I don’t like it! I miss my friends!’ BUT ALSO!!! BUT ALSO!!! People always do Harry and Kim! I want to see some more variety! Hell even just adding Jean to the mix sounds so fun! Jean waking up at Harry and just being absolutely mortified. I think it would be funny if the skills know right away that the person in Harry’s body right now isn’t Harry, and are deathly quiet during those first few minutes when Jean first wakes up Harry’s body, until… let’s say perspective or reaction speed helps Jean stop a mug from falling and Jean goes very still at the sound of their voices. Harry in jeans body… or maybe KIM in Jean’s?! Oh Kim would be absolutely checking himself out in the mirror (and delighted at how he can SEE!!! WITHOUT GLASSES!) before catching himself and scolding himself to be more respectful. And I think we all know how Harry would be in Kim’s body…

- Furry Elysium ! Look… here me out. we all agreed that Harry and Kim have a very dog + cat dynamic — or at the very least it’s fun to draw them as animals! But alas… I have seen almost ZERO fanfics about them as actual animals/animal-like features! I want to explore a world like disco elysium filled with animal hydrids! … do you think Jean would be a horse? Or a bird like his name suggests? Would Harry actually be a dog or would he be something else? I feel like Kim being a cat or cat-like is perfect BUT if you think of another animal Kim would fit lmk!

- THEM AS KIDS !!! BUT, BUT… I want them to turn into kids! How? Idk! The pale did it maybe?! It doesn’t have to make logical sense. Maybe they remember their adults self maybe they don’t. I just want someone to hold Harry when he’s a toddler… he deserves some soft parental love… or Jean waking up as a teenager and being absolutely pissed because of it… MAYBE they all are different ages, Harry a toddler, Kim a little boy, Jean a teenager. Or just the classic one-person-magically-turns-into-a-toddler-and-then-the-remaining-adults-have-to-come-together-to-take-care-of-said-toddler.

- Kid fic OR parent fic I know I just mention kids but this time I want one of them to HAVE a kid. Of course Kim would likely be excluded from this biological wise but adoption works too! I just like the idea of of Harry being a father or Jean awkwardly holding a youngster or Kim looking around to see if he’s alone before cooing at a cute little kid. Harry would have a blast dressing the baby up. Also imagine just Harry walking into work with a baby strapped to him on day and Jean just spits out his coffee like WHAT is HARRY doing with a baby?? And Harry is just like ‘this is my baby! And you’re the godfather… kinda rude of you to not know!’ I read some kid fics and they were so, SO sweet.

- MAGICALLY TURNING INTO AN ANIMAL ! Yes. We are pulling out ALL the classics. It doesn’t have to be a cat but I WILL be using a kitty here. I’m so sorry this one is the longest. I wanted a fic like this for so long so please allow me to ramble my ass off:

They can’t change back… or maybe when they do change back to being a human it’s not their choice! Think of ‘A Whisker Away’ type of situation. Kim waking up as a kitty absolutely terrified and thinking the one person who would be able to tell it’s him would likely be Harry, right?! Like he gets premonition and predictions and insights all the time! Surely Harry will immediately know it’s Kim! …. Harry does not know or find out actually. Harry just immediately scooping Kitty-Kim once he ‘gains it’s trust’ (but really it’s just Kim stuck between indecisiveness of just running back home or not and trying to figure this out on his own because he already trusts Harry!) and Kim allowing himself for ONCE in his life to be held and loved and pampered and cooed at without shame. BUT I also love the idea of this happening to the others too, like Harry immediately using this to get to know what Kim is like behind closed doors, feeling guilty but also just can’t help but still go and try to get adopted by Kim (newsflash, it takes FOREVER for Kim to finally let Kitty-Harry inside his apartment, and even LONGER for Kim to officially adopt Kitty-Harry, (bonus points if Kim is still in/at precinct 57) but then ! Kim wants to introduce Harry to his cat! uh-oh! Kitty-Harry also kinda afraid of Jean’s reaction to Kitty-Harry but going to be nosy anyways and turns out — Jean is a big animal lover! It barely takes any convincing for Jean to decide to adopt Harry. Harry feeling jealous that he doesn’t get this soft side of Jean but also gives Harry a new perspective on Jean overall. Que Kitty-Harry awkwardly being owned by two of his friends and THEN also imagine them both talking about the cat they own and finding out it’s the same kitty and they both feel sorta backstabbed(?) or are like ‘wow my/our cat isn’t loyal…’ Jean as a Kitty sounds very amusing… just hissing and very annoyed that they don’t clock it right away that it’s him! Knocking over mugs to get their attention and whatnot, getting scolded and put in kitty jail.. :( !

- SWAP AU! Do I really have to go into detail here? I love the idea of a ‘very, very sane’ Harrier du bois and just an absolutely pathetic failure of Kim Kitsuragi in the swap au… shout out to @/Danielcalmdown0 on Twitter for the new perspective/dynamic on this au!! Kim doesn’t own the kineema in this au because they gave it to a more dedicated officer and Kim is just… absolutely heartbroken over it, but also a bit petty and jealous like ‘I WOULDVE TAKEN CARE OF IT THE BESTEST!’ I wish people discussed Jean and Harry’s relationship in this au more though! I like to think in this particular au they would have a bit of a more father-son dynamic?? MAYBE? not necessarily father-son, but something close for sure, just older figure Jean looks up too… (Maybe Harry baby’s or coddles Jean too much in this au and it PISSES Jean off.) would he still be his brooding self?! Let’s just say yes. I think Jean would have a bit of a crush on this Harry, of course he denies it to himself but it’s there, until Kim joins the picture then its pathetic loser vs pathetic loser and Harry wanting them to be friends but it doesn’t really work to much at first… they figure it out later though. IDK! I have a lot of ideas! And a lot of them contradict eachother!

I have alot more ideas. But I been typing for far too long so I’m gonna call it wraps. If you read the entirety of this I love you. AND if you’re a writer… and you get inspired by ANY of these and if you write it?? Please let me know! I would love to read it!

[quietlyblooms]

alright, friends, it's time for a lil heart-to-heart.

for quite a while now, i've struggled with feeling like the rpc is an actual community. there's a few things that contribute to this feeling, but it mostly comes down to a lack of interaction and visible interest. sometimes i feel very one-sided in my interest and attachment to my mutuals bc when i see their ooc posts or headcanons, i like them or comment, yet this isn't reciprocated by everyone. i can usually guess who i'm about to see in my notifications, and to be absolutely clear, i'm very grateful for those people!! it's a handful or two of you, but it could be just one and i'd be grateful. it's not about numbers whatsoever but rather growing uncomfortable that not all of my mutuals are all that interested in my character or me.

i write on here to share the excitement of creating with other people. i write on here to create together, too, but i'm also here to share characters and ideas and lore with people i know are happy to hear me ramble. i'm just getting to the point in which i'm questioning how many of you are actually happy to listen, and that's just not a good feeling at all. i'm not a mind reader, y'all. if you don't tell or show me that you care about the things i talk about or even about interacting, there's no way for me to know. eventually, i'm going to question why you're following me if i never see or hear from you, and eventually, i'm going to softblock and move on. that's the only way forward i see right now because i just do not feel comfortable on my own blog. i feel like i'm retreating into this quiet bubble to avoid discomfort, and it really sucks. it's killing my muse.

i'm not perfect. none of us are, and we can't be online at all times to catch every little post. but if we're a community, then we should be supporting each other when we can and liking headcanons, liking/commenting on those lil ooc posts that remind us our writing partners are humans with lives outside this site, reblogging their promo posts, sending in that meme they've reblogged even if we're nervous to reach out first -- if we're a roleplaying community, then we need to act like it. " community " implies connection, and a connection doesn't really begin when you follow each other. it begins when you reach out, even if it's in some small way.

tldr: i think we can all do better to support our mutuals and to connect, and i'm going to softblock people rather than continue to feel unsure where i stand with my mutuals. i won't start until sometime next week, and i won't make one of those " like this to remain mutuals " posts. they're not helpful to me, if i'm honest. if you're worried, just reach out. i'm literally a 4'9'' gremlin who sleeps with a m.unchlax plushie -- i promise i'm not scary despite this post uvu

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You peer around awkwardly, unsure of the fine silvery cutlery and which of the forks to use. You can’t help but feel out of place as you’re the youngest at the table; by decades. It’s surreal, like when your mom left you with your great grandparents as a child. She said it would be a few days but it turned out to be a month. They never had you back. 

You fidget and play with the frill along your left shoulder. The asymmetrical cut isn’t your favourite. You’re not sure what high school you was thinking, even if it was only a few years ago. 

“That colour is gorgeous on you,” Frigga preens, forcing you out of your anxious trance. 

You smile sheepishly. “Thanks. I... love your hair pin.” 

She touches the pearl barrette in her hair. “Oh, thank you, dear.” 

He uses the smaller fork, you think, to poke at her salad. You’re not into kale, you find it dense, but you know better to complain or decline. Just like with her son. You gulp and grab your fork. It’s like when your great grandmother made you that olive and cottage cheese delicacy you vomited into her garden. The salad is more palatable. 

You taste it, hoping the task of chewing can save you from talking. They all are exceedingly skilled at that and you don’t have much to offer. If you try, that screaming inside your head might escape to the outside. 

You wince as Thor rests his large hand on the back of your chair. 

“She’s a very clever woman. She works with electronics. Oh, and is she attending classes.” 

You swallow and nearly choke. He’s bragging about the lamest things in your life. Your job is boring and you don’t really do anything with the computers yourself. And classes... you’re just trying to pad your resume. 

“It’s very important to get an education,” Odin intones. “What’s more important is what you do with it. I spent a fortune on two engineering degrees for this one...” he shakes his head. “And look where he ended up.” 

You’re even more confounded by that revelation. Thor? An engineer? What on earth got him put in prison? You try not to delve too far into that riddle. It’s probably best to ignore that. How many red flags did you already ignore? What’s another. 

“It’s nothing special. Just... business admin. Basic stuff,” you shrug.  

Frigga’s eyes narrow and Odin tilts his head. They aren’t impressed and they shouldn’t be. That might be something. If they don’t approve of you... 

“And... I’m stuck with my parents still so... you know...” You add. 

“She is saving money. For us,” Thor assures. “You know things are difficult these days and father always said there is value in hard work.” 

“Mm, so I said,” Odin drawls. “Certainly, I hear your brother took that to heart. I hear he’s hired help.” 

“Oh?” Thor sniffs. “And still he could not come see me?” 

“He has not come to see all of us. Your mother only chanced upon him herself. Hasn’t even the time to pick up the phone for her--” 

“He is busy,” Frigga assures Odin as she pets his hand. “He will be here for your father’s birthday. That is what matters. And his assistant, she was darling. Though he was in a state. You know how he can be. Perhaps you might ask his advice, Thor. He could help you find some work.” 

“Hm, I suppose I could try asking,” Thor shifts, retracting his hand from the back of your chair. “I am not helpless. I have plans...” 

“Yes, son, you have told us the same many times. I believe the day before your sentencing,” Odin scoffs. “A bit old now to be falling back into bad habits.” 

“Father. I’ve turned myself around and she,” he reaches over to take your hand, your fork scraping your plate, “will keep me straight.” 

“Right,” Odin crosses his arms and leans back. “Don’t tell me so, show me.” 

“Father, I--” Thor clears his throat.  

Silence rises with a rippling tension. You look between his parents. You piece together the few clues you have. You can’t really begrudge them their doubt. You have your own. 

“Well, I have one in particular,” Thor pushes his chair back and keeps hold of your hand.  

He slides your fork free and puts it on the table. You peek up at him, confused. He kicks his chair back and he turns, lowering himself to one knee with a grunt. He digs in his pocket with his other hand and pulls out a band with a large diamond sparkling in the light. 

Frigga gasps and you gurgle. Odin sighs. 

“My queen, how I’ve waited so long for us to be together and now I can’t hardly wait for it to be. Please, will you make me your king?” He holds up the ring. You could fold over and evaporate into the floor. Sweat glazes over your face and your scalp itches. What do you say? 

“Um,” you sniff and blink. Your options are many. You really don’t have any. You’re too afraid of even saying no to him. Even with witnesses. “Yes?” 

He squeezes your hand and you let out a fluttery noise. Your heart is thumping, deafening you as the world pinpoints to his grip on you. He opens his hand and slides the ring onto your finger. You stare at the large rectangle diamond framed in smaller diamonds on a gold band. It must be expensive. 

A chair scrapes and you wince. You look over as Odin clucks and turns on his heel. He swipes up his can from against the table and marches out. Not a word, not a look. You look at Frigga as she gives a gentle smile. 

“He’s in shock, I think,” she says. 

You glance at Thor as he stares after his father. His face falls. He lets go of you and gets up, another groan as he does. He sits in his chair and frowns. 

“I thought he’d be happy,” Thor mutters. 

“Oh, of course he’s happy for you, son,” she affirms and reaches across to her son. He takes her hand. “I am. Don’t you worry.” 

“He didn’t say anything,” Thor sneers. 

“Thor, it’s been a lot. You’ve been away from us for so long and now this... it’s all very sudden. We’ve just met this lovely woman.” She looks at you kindly. “What are your plans? For the wedding?” 

“I have my trust,” Thor recoils and crosses his arms, almost petulant. At his size, the bratty demeanour is almost laughable. “I was not entirely unproductive in prison. I only ever did what needs to be done. Mother, you know I am not a cruel person. I’ve made mistakes, I admitted them. And you all hold it against me.” 

“No, we don’t, darling--” 

“You do! But only my diamond forgive me. She is so kind and--” he huffs. “He couldn’t even stay and face me. Congratulate me. Worse, he’s disrespected my future wife.” 

Wife? You could faint. You brace the sides of the chair to keep from doing just that. 

“Dear,” Frigga’s eyes meet yours. “Are you unwell?” 

You shake your head. You lean forward and catch yourself against the table. You reach for the tall glass by your plate. 

“I only need water,” you assure her. 

“Mm, yes, we shouldn’t let all this go to waste,” she tuts. “You know, your father just needs time. He is like you and your brother. You only need simmer in your thoughts then you come to sense. Eventually.” 

🩷

Leaving brings both relief and dread. You are glad to be free of the repressive exuberance of Thor’s family estate but uneasy at the prospect of being alone with him. Again. 

You sit in the passenger seat and stare at your hand. The large stone is as heavy as a boulder. You are not Sisyphus. You’re not sure how much further you can get it up the hill. 

“I am so happy. Are you?” He asks. 

You sit up and suck in a thick breath. You are many things. Afraid, lost, almost mourning. You regret being so stupid. Those idiotic emails were only meant to be... well, an ego boost. You are so pathetic, you wanted desperate men to tell you lies. And you told your own. 

“Thor,” you utter cautiously. “It’s a very nice ring and a very nice gesture but... I’m still very young and I don’t have much. I think maybe--” You pause and weigh your words; does the boulder roll back to the bottom of the hill? “Maybe that’s why your dad wasn’t happy. Because I’m not—not the right person for you right now--” 

He slams on the brakes. You squeal as the seat belt keeps you from hitting the dash. A car honks and serves around him. He ignores them. 

“Not right for me? You are the only one for me,” he insists. “My queen, you said yes to me.” 

“I did. I—I didn’t want to have this conversation there. It’s not that... It’s... I’m... I have to finish school and right now isn’t good for me--” 

“You don’t need school. I will take care of you--” 

“Thor, I can take care of myself--” 

“It is my job to take of you,” he snarls. 

You lean away from him, startled by his deeper tone. In the cabin of the truck, he is even bigger. You wipe your sweaty hand on your skirt. 

“It’s very sweet of you but--” 

“You said yes,” he growls. 

You blink, eyes tinging with moisture. You wet your lips. Your throat is scratchy. 

“Yes,” you nod. “Thor... My parents... you know, I think maybe before we decide anything I need to talk to them.” 

“Oh, I will be speaking with this man, this stepfather of yours. I will not be asking anything of him either. I will be telling him,” he says. 

You gulp. While the idea of him intimidating Andy is on the surface amusing, it’s deeply troubling too. You don’t want your family to know anything about Thor. 

“Well, let me talk to them first.”  

Another car honks and you look out the back window. Thor is unbothered by the roadblock he’s caused. You are about to melt into a puddle. 

“Can I be honest?” You ask. 

He stares and nods. The lines in his face trace his displeasure. Your eyes wander to his rounded muscular silhouette and his thick hands. The intrusive thought of them around your neck make you squirm. What if he killed someone? 

“I didn’t tell them yet,” you blurt out. It’s true but still a lie because it isn’t the truth you kept from him. “My family. I never mentioned you. I... never told them about anyone so I think they might be surprised and, so, er, can’t you let me... tell them first?” 

He looks at you. His forehead wrinkles. He exhales through his nose. Another car lays on their horn. He shakes his head and sits straight. 

“I suppose...” he mutters as he hangs his head. The horn continues to blare. 

He grips the wheel and he face twists in agitation. He peels his fingers off and balls his hands to fists. He hits the steering wheel and snarls. 

Before you can react, he taps the button on his seat belt and it retracts. He swings open the door, mindless to oncoming traffic, and gets out of the car. He lands heavy on his feet and marches along the side of the truck. 

You panic and scramble to untangle yourself from your seat belt. You fall out of the truck as you hear him hollering. 

“You honking at me?” Thor barks as he approaches the other car. “You’re messing with the wrong man.” You sprint around the truck bed as he gets to the driver’s window. He bends to snarl through, “why don’t you open up and face me, eh? Coward!” 

“Thor, please, get back in the car,” you scurry over. “Please, we’re in the way--” 

“No, he has no patience!” He hits the top of the car and leaves a dent. You gasp. It looks as if it took him no effort at all. 

The man in the car is frightened. He curls over his wheel and revs in a futile effort to scare away the raging giant. You grab Thor’s hand and pet his forearm. 

“Thor...” you peek once more at the scared driver. It’s your fault. All of this is your fault. “My king.” You coo at him shakily. “Please get back in the truck and take me home.” 

“He is disturbing us! He could go around--” 

“Thor!” You nearly shriek. “How can I marry you if you are so angry? If you do not listen to me?” 

His eyes round and he twitches as if he’s been struck. He looks at you and his face turns grim. “Marry me?” 

“I didn’t-- I wasn’t saying no. I was just saying—asking for some time,” you look him in the eye, caressing him, calming him like a riled dog. “But I can’t marry someone who does these things.” 

He lowers his head. He actually looks guilty. He nods and turns. He bends and taps gently on the window. He waves his hand. 

“Sorry about that. Bad day,” he gives a sheepish grin. “Here.” He lets you go and takes out his wallet. He takes out a couple of bills; each at least a hundred dollars. “For the roof.” 

He tucks the money under the wiper and stands straight. He latches onto you again and drags you away. He sighs out the tension. 

“You are right, my queen.” He says. “This is why I need you. To keep me in my right mind.” 

[cuteniaarts]

2 hour rough drawing of Ehuang, my precious Green Opal child who I don’t draw nearly enough <3

[spacespore]

HI TUMBLRR it’s me

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[penitenteyeball]

Dum de dum dum

Gonna add max tags and max characters to each cause who cares

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Running to You 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister series to Just What I Needed

Summary: You’re rescued by a man who you don’t even know is a real hero.

Characters: nomad Steve Rogers.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

With a quarter of the oatmeal cookie wrapped up in your purse, you head back home at last. You’re a bit behind but it’s not so bad since you have help. Despite your protests, which recede each time they’re swept over, Steve insists on carrying your bags to your building.

He doesn’t let the subway ride deter him even as you anxiously wiggle in your seat. You sit beside the bags as he stands in front of you. He holds onto the overhead bar as he shields you from the rest of the car. You don’t mind it. Often times you feel like people are watching you. 

Your stop comes and you get up. Steve keeps you from falling back down as a press of bodies pushes by. He takes both bags and follows you to the doors. 

You sigh as you get off. You look at him. “I always get a bit... claustrophobic.” 

“Me too,” he agrees coolly, his eyes scanning the platform. It’s cracked and stained. There’s a faint smell of urine rising from the concrete. “Been a while since I hit this end of the borough.” 

“Hm, yeah. The shop’s a bit further but nowhere closer sells what I need,” you explain. “Used to go further when I worked... for someone else.” 

You shrug. You try not to think about that time. Those memories are not fun. 

You come up to ground level. There’s a man sitting against the brick wall along the sidewalk. You don’t look at him. You used to offer some spare change but stopped after a few mean names too many. You didn’t mean to insult anyone. 

Steve sighs as you carry on down the street. 

“Rough area,” he says as you pass a group of men in hoodies and ball caps. They quiet as you go by. They even turn to watch Steve. 

“Mm, everyone needs somewhere to live,” you shrug. “I don’t go out much anyhow.” 

“I wouldn’t either.” He steps closer, almost protectively, as a slouching man mutters something under his breath. You don’t bother anyone and they do the same. For the most part. 

Your apartment isn’t very far. At the front door, you quickly unlock the heavy grated door and grunt as you open it. Steve gets his elbow against it and pushes it back all the way. He trails you inside. 

“You can leave those with me now,” you say as you approach the end of the staircase. “You came all this way already.” 

“You live upstairs?” He peers up. 

You bite the inside of your lip. “Yes, but only one floor.” 

“I came all this way, like you said. What’s a bit more?” 

You hum. He tilts his head. 

“I’m... bugging you?” 

“No, Steve. I just... I feel bad, is all. I don’t have much to pay you back with.” 

“Pay me back? I’m being nice.” 

“I know but... no one’s that nice. Not even me.” 

“Sure you are,” he shrugs. “Just one more floor, right?” 

You don’t argue. You hop up the steps ahead of him. You’re drained from a day out in public. You just want to get to where you know is safe. 

You lead him to the second floor and pad along the hall. As you near your door, the one next to it opens. A familiar face looks out. Mike sniffs and rubs his dark eyes as he waves and steps out. 

“Oh, hi, Mike,” you greet your neighbour. 

“Was wondering where you were,” he utters dully. His tattoos peek out beneath the thin fabric of his white tank, another traced onto his bicep. “I was knocking—oh, uh, who’s that?” 

He looks past you as Steve stops behind you. 

“This...” you look over your shoulder, “this is my friend, Steve.” 

“Friend?” Mike echoes flatly. “Huh.” 

“I had to go get some stuff. Did you get what I left you this morning?” You ask. 

“French toast,” he grins sleepily. “Yeah...” 

“I made it with the special sugar,” you say. 

“Mmm, alright,” he sways and leans back into his door. “Sorry... I... see ya.” 

He turns and nearly tumbles through his door. It snaps shut behind him. Steve lets out a long breath. 

“He your friend too?” He asks. 

You’re suddenly very self-conscious. You know you don’t live in the best neighbourhood. He must have thought you were better off shopping up at that organic shop. He must be, at least, if he hangs out around there. 

“He’s my neighbour,” you say as you unlock your door.  

You turn to take a bag from him. He stares at Mike’s door. You frown. 

“He’s nice enough.” 

“His arms...” 

“Yeah... diabetic. He takes insulin. Probably his blood sugar again,” you give a sad smile. “My aunt had diabetes too.” 

“Diabetic?” His eyes flick over to you. “Did he say that?” 

“I... I didn’t ask,” you murmur. “I just thought...” 

“You don’t...” he begins then shakes his head. “I think you’re right. He must be sick.” 

You’re quiet. You step forward and take a bag. You turn to put it inside your door. Then you reach for the next. 

“You give him food?” 

“He’s skinny. I have extra,” you say. “Nothing wrong with sharing.” 

“No, there’s not.” He hands over the other bag. “But there is such a thing as being too nice. Being used.” 

“What?” You hug the bag. “No, Mike is... Mike is nice to me. He... he watches out for me. You know. Someone broke the chain in my apartment. I was so scared but he chased them off. Stayed and watched the apartment until I got back.” 

Steve’s brows knit. He looks over again at Mike’s door. 

“You weren’t home?” 

“Luckily,” you nod. 

His eyes spark and his cheek dimples. Why is he upset?” 

“Oh, um, the beard oil. One second.” 

You spin and scurry into your apartment. You put the bag down and rush around the tight space. All your supplies are along one wall on shelves and in boxes, then you have your work station and the package mat. You sit on the floor and pack it all up. It’s like a little factory. You have just enough room for your cot in the corner. 

You grab a vial of beard oil with bergamot and a comb to go with it. You hurry back to the door as Steve peeks inside. He backs up as you do. 

“Here. You can use this,” you wiggle the comb at him. “To work it in a bit better. I’m all out of the evergreen oil.” 

“Uh, thanks,” he takes them in his large hands and examines your hand written labels. “Wow, this looks almost... like it could be in a store.” 

“I do my best.” 

“You’re good at it. You make a lot.” 

“Enough to live.” You assure him. “Steve,” you put your feet together and stand up as straight as you can. “Thank you so much. Really.” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“It’s everything to be kind,” you say. 

“You make it easy,” he turns the vial between his fingers. “Can... is it too much to ask for your number?” 

You stare at him then your chest thrums. You clap and bounce on your toes. “Oh! You can take my card.” Once more, you twirl and race into your apartment. You search for the box with your business cards and return to him again. “I had a bunch printed out. A few shops let me leave them there with a bit of product.” 

He accepts the card and reads it. He brushes his finger over the font. He smiles and looks at you. 

“I’ll call,” he says. 

“Sure,” you rock back and forth. “But please, go home and get rest. It’s been a long day.” 

“It sure has,” he agrees. “You do the same.” 

“I will. Once I get this all put away.” 

He chews his cheek then reluctantly backs off. You wait until he turns and starts down the hall. You don’t shut the door until he’s at the end.  

You slide your chain into place, the wood frame still splintered from where it was broken by the intruder. It would’ve been a lot worse if you didn’t have such a good neighbour. Just like today would’ve been so much worse without Steve. 

🎀

Your phone rings. You hold up your hands, wax oily on your gloves. You really don’t want to take them off. You’re just getting into the swing. 

You look around desperately. Huh. You bend and tap answer with your nose. 

“Hello,” you say too close to the speaker. 

“Hey, it’s Steve,” the greeting comes from the other end. “Is this a bad time?” 

“Ummmmm. Not bad. I’m just making some stuff.” 

“Right. You’re busy.” He says. Disappointment laces his tone. 

“Not too busy,” you assure him, speaking up so he can still hear you as you go back to it. “How are you?” 

“I’m... okay,” he drags out. You can hear him moving on the other side. “Long day.” 

You scrape the wax into a tin and level it off. “Long... how?” 

Silence. Then you hear him set down the phone. Something shifts. A chair spring, maybe? 

“Just... I hate being out of the city. I know it’s work but... being far from home. It reminds me... of a long time ago.” He takes a deep breath. 

“You work out of town?” You ask. 

“Sometimes. Most times.” He answers, almost reluctantly. 

“Wow. Well, you must get to see lots of new things. There’s that at least. Even if work is crummy.” 

“That’s definitely the bright side,” he agrees glumly. 

“But you miss your family,” you say.  

He’s silent again. You wait but he doesn’t break it. Oh. Maybe you said too much. 

“Sorry, I hope... hope I didn’t overstep.” 

“No, no,” he says. “No. It’s... I miss my friends, I guess.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

“Don’t have many others to miss,” he hums. “Anyway, I didn’t just call to complain. The beard stuff you gave me. It’s nice. It smells great and helped soften this up. You know, it gets so itchy.” 

“Really? I’m so happy you like it.” 

“Of course I do. You made it,” he assures you. “I was thinking of shaving. I should. I want to. But, eh. I don’t mind it as much now.” 

“Well, if you do, let me know. I have shaving balm. It’s like aftershave but a cream,” you say. “I’m slowly expanding my men’s products.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He says. 

“If you wanna know about my work, it’s messy! I opened the window. I was getting dizzy,” you giggle. “And it’s not very exciting unless I burn myself.” 

“Did you?” 

“No... not yet,” you laugh again. “I’m used to it. Not too bad.” 

“You do all that in that tiny apartment?” 

“It’s not that small.” 

“Can’t be that roomy. Or safe. Don’t they have building codes?” He wonders. 

“Sure they do but they only enforce them when they know what you’re doing,” you shrug. “I’m just making soap and whatever. I’m not hurting anyone.” 

“I know, it’s just... you could get hurt.” 

“I guess,” you drone. “But, you know, I’m saving up for a real space. Some day.” 

“Some day,” he sucks his teeth. You frown. You know you’re breaking the rules but him reminding you, doesn’t help. This is your livelihood. You don’t have a choice. “What about your neighbours? They don’t care?” 

“Never say anything,” you mutter. 

“What about Mike? You talked to him lately?” He wonders. 

“Sure. He’s cool. He helped carry my laundry back from the machine. It was so heavy.” 

“Helpful,” he remarks. 

“Like you,” you reply. 

He takes another heavy breath. “I’m back in town in a few days. Wanna go find the best cookie in the city?” 

You hesitate. It sounds fun but you can’t really afford all that. “Maybe or... we can just go watch the birds in the park.” 

“Sure, whatever you want, doll,” he groans and you hear that squeak again. “Ugh, I’m all cramped.” 

“I’ll save you a bath bomb!” You offer. “Take a nice hot bath. It’ll help.” 

“I should...” he yawns. “In a bit. Why don’t you tell me what a bath bomb is?” 

“You don’t know? Wow. Okay!” You begin giddily. You don’t get to talk to many people and those you do, rarely care about what you do. 

[icelogged]

i haven’t gotten to be a bookblr (?) girlie in a bit so lets gooooooo (some quotes detail sexual abuse)

“Suffering feels religious if you do it right”. Chelsea Hodson, Tonight I'm Someone Else: Essays

“How perverse is his glee? / To pick feathers from angels / For a wank bank of sufferings” CUPIDCORE, currently untitled [unreleased]

“I take my suffering like a martyr because it’s all I got

Who am I without my sufferings? /Who are you if you don’t get to watch? / My eyes to heaven / Mouth hanging open / My knees shred on hard ground— / Spit running down my chin now / Hand like a gun to the back of my head / Guiding me / ‘This is worship’ / ‘This is how to pray’— / Grunting loud now / All mean / Louder than the slop and choking / Promises to tear me a new one / And stick your fingers there— / Salt instead of sugar / I swallow like Agnes anyway— / Still looking up / Towards heaven’s gate— / As above so below /Flowing sticky hot heat / Why does the body betray / Those who carry it— / Behold; it’s little death / Seeing white again— / A shake signalling divine violence—/ Dying Martyr or Living God?— / Your three-headed Lamb” CUPIDCORE, A Love Like God’s Ⅱ [unreleased]

(edited) “One thing or the other: either the taboo holds good, in which case the experience does not occur, or if it does, only furtively, outside the field of awareness; or it does not hold good—“.

“—As far as science is concerned, the taboo is not justified, it is pathological, neurotic. It is seen from outside: in our own personal experiences— we see it as a neurotic phenomenon— an outside mechanism intruding on our consciousness. This— does not do away with the experience. Instead it minimizes its significance”.

“Hence when the historian, the psychiatrist or the psychoanalyst describe taboos and transgressions, they are only described objectively”. Not as a real functioning organ or tumour left untreated <-crazygirlpilledcore

[inksandpensblog]

How about switching tenses mid-scene without realizing it because vibes?

Disclaimer these are just a small sampling of some possible writer traits I’ve noticed either in myself or in fics I read. Also consider a rb for sample size !

[devils-yui]

Reposting this from a friend bc I think it is VERY important to know of this, and for immigrants, and other possible victims of the ICE Raids happening right now

Here’s to also a very huge edit, from the list of very helpful people who have been reblogging and providing more info.

I’m not as well informed but I will be relaying the information and tagging each person who added onto this post:

@onthedriftinthetardis -

The phone number in the first photo is ONLY for Orange County, California!

Look up your local ACLU affiliate here

@6feetunderwater -

It always makes me nervous to see a reporting phone number passed around without any links to verify it, so the number in the first pic can be found on the site for the Orange County Rapid Response Network, which is "an interconnected system of non-profit and grassroots organizations, civil rights attorneys, law school clinics, and individuals working together to respond to dehumanizing immigration enforcement activities and policies in Orange County"

@geekerypeekery -

The second warrant is not fake, but is an administrative rather than judicial warrant, and has no constitutional authority to bypass Fourth Amendment protections - in other words, it does not entitle the bearer to enter and search your home. It simply authorizes agents of the issuing department to contact you. Always ask to see the warrant before opening your door!

In addition to the ACLU links, try contacting the National Immigration Law Center https://www.nilc.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Warrants-Subpoenas-Facts.pdf

@american-anger -

The phone number listed here is specific to Orange County in California, but you can look up other California counties here:

CALIFORNIA RAPID RESPONSE NETWORKS

@beaniebaneenie -

Unpleasant reminder: within 100 miles of the border (which is home to 200 million people and virtually all major cities in the US), ICE does not need a warrant to enter your home, your car, to search anything, or even to arrest you.

You are not automatically safe just because they don't have a real warrant.

The best and safest thing you can do is learn to have escape routes- quick ways to get out of the house or area you're in if you find out ICE or CBP are around. Those of us who do have documentation? Time for us to step the fuck up.

Film any interaction. Every interaction. If you're able, step into the conversation and be a Karen/Kyle- weaponize your privilege for Good. If you get asked about people? Use positive but vague statements so you a) cannot be caught in a lie, and b) do not give any information away.

"I don't know them that well, but I don't tend to socialize much. They seem great to me."

"I can't remember the last time I saw them."

"Maybe they speak another language, I can't remember details. But I picked up Duolingo during the pandemic and tons of other people did too."

"I'm not sure."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Even if you're somewhere the 100-mile Exception doesn't apply and a warrant is in fact needed? I don't expect ICE and CBP to play by the rules for long, if at all. I fully expect this to get ugly, and fast.

Cheeto has already declared an emergency of national security at the border, and is mobilizing the military to have jurisdiction over a huge swath of the country. It's essentially tantamount to martial law. And it's only been four days.

Gear up for a long, hard fight. This is gonna be a marathon, not a sprint.

— I am leaving all of this as an edit because on the off chance someone does find the posts that have these people specifically reblogging, I don’t want it to be too late. So I’m comprising it all here

Here are a few other people’s reblogs I thought were important:

Thank you @onthedriftinthetardis @6feetunderwater @geekerypeekery @american-anger @beaniebaneenie @bunnychiffon @dubiouslynamed @trisockatops @witchy-disaster for contributing and helping me make this a more well-informed post. Thank you so much

[humanjarvis]

the world when you're with me

synopsis: you seek out sylus for comfort after realizing you were wrong about him.

tags: comfort, fluff, implied avoidant!reader learns to trust sylus, implied avoidant!reader clings to sylus, sylus takes care of reader from afar, sylus has mephisto and the twins follow reader but wbk pairing: sylus x reader, reader is mostly mc word count: 802

a/n: is this the peak of literature? no. did i need to write it after the day i had? yes. did i need to post it today? no, because i’m trying to stagger my posts more, but here we are. anyway 4k caleb pwp coming tomorrow 

For the first few weeks after you’d infiltrated the N109 Zone, you’d avoided Sylus Qin like the plague. 

After being scared out of your wits by the first version of him you'd met—the cold, unavailable criminal mastermind who’d forced you to shoot him within 5 minutes of knowing one other—you were unashamedly wary of working with him again. 

But Sylus’s intel was unrivaled. More and more often, you found yourself visiting the N109 Zone to meet with him, eventually not even bothering to book a place to stay. There was always a guest room at the Onychinus base prepped for your arrival.

As you spent more time with Sylus, he’d noticeably changed his approach to interacting with you. Rather than forcing you to resonate with him, he’d explained to you how his Evol worked, letting you aim his hands at some training dummies to test it out yourself. Instead of unceremoniously shutting you out when he was tired, he’d drag his robe-and-slippers-clad self to sit beside you on the sofa, answering your cautious questions by practically giving away all his secrets. 

His shift in attitude hadn't stopped there. Sylus had clearly been using that endearingly incorrigible crow to keep tabs on you, but for the strangest reasons. 

Whenever you had a bad day at work, some building-wide maintenance emergency would magically appear, forcing your team to cease operations for the rest of the day. He’d text you a couple hours after your early dismissal, saying he was in the city and inviting you on an evening joyride to clear your head.  

The day after you’d lugged a case of water up the stairs to your apartment, having to pause a couple times to catch your breath, you came home to see your fridge mysteriously stocked with groceries. The only traces left behind were the masked twin figures you spotted scurrying away from your window. 

When a new phone showed up at your doorstep one day—you never even told him you’d shattered your screen, you thought—you’d decided that Sylus wasn’t as bad as you’d once assumed. Not anywhere near as bad, in fact. He was thoughtful, generous, and helped you without taking credit or forcing you to ask for it. You’d never had that before.

Which is why, somehow, you find yourself standing in the doorway of his armory, studying him silently as he polishes an antique-looking gun.

When he notices you, Sylus looks up, raising a delicately arched eyebrow. “Something wrong, kitten?” he drawls, subtly checking your body for injuries. 

Mind numb from your absolutely dreadful day, you stay silent while Sylus looks at you expectantly, his hands forgetting their earlier task. 

But for the next minute, you remain hovering in the doorway. You expect him to get annoyed—you almost want him to, so you have an excuse to go back to relying only on yourself—but all you see on Sylus’s face is patience.

When you start shuffling toward him, that patience mixes with a glimmer of anticipation that he visibly tries to suppress. You need him to be calm right now—an anchor, he thinks. If he loses his composure, if he startles you with his excitement at your approach, you might bolt at any moment. 

Sometime during his inner struggle, you reach him. Meekly, you stand before his chair, briefly opening your mouth before closing it. 

“What is it, sweetie?” he asks softly. “Tell me, and we can figure it out together. I’ll personally track down whoever seems to have stolen your words from you.”

At his offer, you break, collapsing into his lap. His large, warm hands immediately encircle your waist, and you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his leather and spice cologne. 

“Aw,” he coos in his baritone voice, rocking you slowly in his embrace. When he lifts your head an inch, you resist, letting out a soft whine. Gently, he guides your head back to his chest, his quickening heartbeat thumping in your ears and grounding you in the the moment. 

After several moments of silence, your deep, shuddering breaths the only interruptions, Sylus murmurs into your ear. “When I noticed you never ask for help, I was worried the world may not be treating as well as it should. You must be very tired, hmm?” he asks, rubbing his chin against your hair. 

Tightening your arms around him, you sit there for a while, his steady breaths seeming to mend a decades-long rift in your heart.

The next time Sylus tries to lift your head, you let him. He pulls your face from his neck so he can look into your eyes, hoping his gaze conveys his sincerity, before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

“You don’t need the world when you’re with me,” he promises. “I’ll treat you better than it ever could.”