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dilfosaur · 4 months ago

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well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

#getting personelle #reflecting about some shit #thank u for reading or not reading just thanks for sticking around ig

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spacelazarwolf · 1 year ago

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"it's 2024 antisemitism isn't a problem anymore you just want to be oppressed."

here's a non-exhaustive list of antisemitic incidents, attacks, and pogroms during my lifetime. if you're not jewish, i am guilting you into reading this entire list. i really do not care if it takes forever or makes you feel bad. read it.

1993

state farm settles a $30mil lawsuit after it was revealed that state farm kept a list of prominent jewish lawyers referred to within state farm as "the jewish lawyers list" where any claims made by those attorneys were automatically forwarded to state farm's fraud unit, purely on the basis of the attorney's jewish identity. state farm employees testified confirming the list had been used to discriminate against ethnic minorities.

1994

four days after the cave of patriarchs massacre, a man shot at a van full of jewish students, killing one and injuring three others. he is reported to have shouted "kill the jews" as revenge for the cave of patriarchs massacre.

a white supremacist fired ten rounds at a synagogue in eugene, oregon.

a jewish community center in buenos aires, argentina was bombed, killing 85 people and injuring 300.

1995

a japanese magazine ran an article that stated "the 'holocaust' is a fabrication. there were no execution gas chambers in auschwitz or in any other concentration camp. today, what are displaced as 'gas chambers' at the remaints of the auschwitz camp in poland are a post-war fabrication by the polish communist regime or by the soviet union, which controlled the country. not once, neither at auschwitz nor in any territory controlled by the germans during the second world war, was there 'mass murder of jews' in 'gas chambers'."

1996

in turkey, an islamic preacher distributed thousands of copies of a book called "the holocaust lie."

1997

jean-marie le pen was convicted and fined for remarks minimizing the holocaust, and then accused the president of france of being "on the payroll of jewish organizations, and particularly of b'nai b'rith."

1998

osama bin laden stated that israel's ultimate goal was to annex the arabian peninsula and the middle east and enslave its peoples. he claimed that the us state department and department of defense were controlled by jews for the sole purpose of serving israel's goals. he also claimed that israeli jews controlled the governments of the us and uk, directing them to kill as many muslims as they could.

1999

iran arrested 13 iranian jews, accusing them of being spies for israel, including a 16 year old boy. ten of them were sentenced to 4-13 years in prison, and eventually when they were freed they left iran for israel.

a man was arrested in paris for attacking a bartender because he "believed she was jewish."

several synagogues in sacramento were set on fire by a group of eight or nine men.

a man shot and killed one person and injured five at a jewish community center in los angeles.

2000

a man broke into a jewish woman's house, shot and killed her, then set her house on fire. he then drove to the synagogue where she was a member and fired into the windows of the synagogue, then exited his car and spray-painted two red swastikas on the building. he drove to another synagogue where he shot and shattered the synagogue's glass windows.

on yom kippur, two molotov cocktails were thrown at a synagogue.

a synagogue in syracuse, new york was set on fire by a man who reportedly yelled "i did this for you, god!"

a sukkah was destroyed at a synagogue in st. paul, minnesota.

a synagogue in harrisburg, pennsylvania was set on fire before yom kippur.

during the 2000 presidential election, lee alcorn, president of the dallas naacp branch, criticized al gore's selection of senator joe lieberman for his vice-presidential candidate because lieberman was jewish. alcorn said "if we get a jew person, then what i'm wondering is, i mean, what is this movement for, you know? does it have anything to do with the failed peace talks?" ... "so i think we need to be very suspicious of any kind of partnerships between the jews at that kind of level because we know that their interest primarily has to do with money and these kinds of things."

2001

in belgium, the vice president of one of the country's largest parties gave an interview on dutch tv where he cast doubt over the number of jews murdered by the nazis during the holocaust. in the same interview he questioned the scale of the nazis' use of gas chambers and the authenticity of anne frank's diary.

2002

osama bin laden stated in a letter that jews controlled the civilian media outlets, politics, and economic institutions of the united states.

a synagogue was set on fire in toronto, ontario, canada.

men rammed two cars through the courtyard gates of a synagogue in lyon, france, then rammed one of the cars into the prayer hall before setting the vehicles on fire. eyewitnesses reported seeing between 12 and 15 attackers. this was the first of a series of attacks on jewish targets in france in a single week - which coincided with passover - including at least five other synagogues.

a synagogue in marseille, france was burned to the ground.

a synagogue in strasbourg was set on fire.

a synagogue in paris was firebombed.

"richard nixon tapes" were declassified, which confirmed that billy graham, a famous evangelist and civil rights advocate, had agreed with nixon that jews controll the american media, calling it a "stranglehold."

a synagogue in tunisia was bombed, killing 20 and injuring 30.

a gunman opened fire at the airline ticket counter of el al, israel's national airline, at the la international airport. two people were killed and four were injured. federal investigators concluded that the gunman had hoped to influence us government policy in favor of palestinians and that the incident was a terror attack.

in an interview for a french magazine, a french actor, comedian, and activist dieudonne m'bala m'bala described "the jews" as "a sect, a fraud, which is the worst of all because it was the first."

white supremacists planned to bomb a series of institutions and people associated with the black and jewish communities. targets included the united states holocaust museum, the new england holocaust memorial, and steven spielberg.

2003

terrorists attempted to bomb a jewish cemetery, and succeeded in bombing a jewish community center and jewish-owned italian restaurant in morocco. 45 people in total were killed.

a molotov cocktail was thrown through the windows of a synagogue in los angeles, california.

the prime minister of malaysia drew a standing ovation for his speech. an excerpt: "[muslims] are actually very strong. 1.3 billion people cannot be simply wiped out. the nazis killed 6 million jews out of 12 million. but today the jews rule this world by proxy. they get others to fight and die for them. they invented socialism, communism, human rights and democracy so that persecuting them would appear to be wrong so they may enjoy equal rights with others. with these they have now gained control over the most powerful countries. and they, this tiny community, have become a world power."

two synagogues in turkey were bombed, killing 55 and injuring over 750.

2004

romania officially denied the holocaust occurred on its territory up until 2004.

the film 'the passion of the christ' was released, causing backlash against the jewish community for protesting the antisemitic tones of the movie.

a jewish school library was firebombed in montreal, quebec, canada.

jewish cemeteries were defaced with swastikas and a funeral home set on fire in wellington new zealand.

2005

m'bala claimed during a press conference that the central council of french jews was a "mafia" that had "total control over french policy exercise", called the commemoration of the holocaust "memorial pornography" and claimed that the "zionists of the centre national de la cinematographie" which "control french cinema" prevented him from making a film about the slave trade.

the muslim brotherhood leader denounced what he called "the myth of the holocaust" in defending iranian president's denial of the holocaust.

a polish radio station during the polish election promoted antisemitic views, including denial of the jedwabne pogrom. their support of right-wing conservative law and justice party is considered a major factor in their electoral victory.

a group of 15 members of the state duma of russia demanded that judaism and jewish orgqanizations be banned from the country. 500 prominent russians demanded that the state prosecutor investigate ancient jewish texts as "anti-russian" and ban judaism.

islamic extremists planned to bomb a number of synagogues and an israeli consulate in california.

iranian president denied the holocaust during a speech in zahedan. "they have invented a myth that jews were massacred and palce this above god, religions and the prophets." he suggested that if the holocaust had occurred, that it was the responsibility of europeans to offer up territory to the jews.

2006

a man stabbed nine people at a synagogue in russia.

the iranian state-sponsored "international conference to review the global vision of the holocaust" opened, with its focus being to question the facts of the holocaust. the iranian foreign ministry spokesperson stated "the holocaust is not a sacred issue that one can't touch. i have visited the nazi camps in eastern europe. i think it is exaggerated."

mel gibson was arrested for a dui, and reportedly yelled at the police officer, "fucking jews... the jews are responsible for all the wars in the world. are you a jew?"

m'bala was fined for defamation after calling a prominent jewish tv presenter a "secret donor of the child-murdering israeli army."

ilan halimi, a french moroccan jew, was kidnapped, tortured, and murdered. he was dumped on the side of the road, 80% of his body covered in burns, and died from his injuries on his way to the hospital. the kisnappers thought halimi was wealthy because he came from a jewish family, and the gang confessed that they believed all jews to be rich which motivated them to target several jews. the halimi family reports being told that if they could not raise the money for the ransom then they should get it from the jewish community.

a man targeted the jewish federation of seattle when the organization showed up in search results after he typed the phrase "something jewish" into a search engine. he forced his way through the building's security door with several guns, a knife, and ammunition, taking a 14 year old girl as a hostage. he is reported to have said "i'm only doing this for a statement" and "i'm a muslim american; i'm angry at israel" before the shooting spree began. he then took a pregnant woman hostage, saying "now since you don't know how to... listen, now you're the hostage, and i don't give a fuck if i kill you or your baby." the woman reported him stating "that he was a muslim, and this was his personal statement against jews and the bush administration for giving money to jews, and for us jews for giving money to israel, about hozbollah, the war in iraq, and he wanted to talk to cnn."

2007

holocaust survivor elie wiesel was attacked by a holocaust denier in san francisco.

jewish professor elizabeth midlarsky had a swastika spray painted on her office door.

2008 - gaza war

a leading member of hamas made a statement that israelis "have legitimized the murder of their own children by killing the children of palestine... they have legitimized the killing of their people all over the world by killing our people."

a belgian jewish magazine received a dozen death threats on its website, including a threat to carry out a suicide attack to "avenge the suffering of the palestinians."

protestors in indonesia shut down the country's only synagogue, threatening to drive out the country's jews. they stated that "if israel refuses to stop its attacks and oppression of the palestinian people, we don't need to defend [the synagogue's' presence here." the synagogue has been shuttered since.

a man sent a letter threatening to bo b the ida crown jewish academy in chicago. the letter said that explosives would be set off around the school unless violence in gaza stopped by january 15 2009.

south african deputy foreign minister was quoted saying "[jews] in fact control [america], no matter which government comes into power, whether republican or democratic, whether barack obama or george bush... the control of america, just like the control of most western countries, is in the hands of jewish money and if jewish money controls their country then you cannot expect anything else." she later claimed she "conflated zionist pressure with jewish influence."

antisemitic graffiti, including swastikas, appeared all over turkey. a sign was put up at the door of a civic group's office saying "jews cannot enter, dogs can." anti-jewish articles began appearing in turkish newspapers, and there were several hundred documented examples of antisemitic messages. as a result, turkish jewish immigration to israel increased.

in yemen, jews experienced verbal and physical harassment. jewish children were injured, one seriously, when muslim students threw stones at them. anti-israel protestors also attacked several jewish homes, smashing windows and pelting them with rocks, and injuring at least one jewish residence. a yemeni jewish family was extricated from yemen to israel after suffering continuous antisemitic attacks and death threats. a grenade was also thrown into the courtyard of the family's home in raydah.

a molotov cocktail was thrown. at a synagogue in brussels. rocks and other objects were thrown at a jewish school. a jewish home was the subject of arson. afterwards, hundreds of protestors tried to march toward the jewish neighborhood but were held off by police.

a man opened fire on three israeli cosmetics salesmen and two customers in a shopping mall. the shooting, which followed a period of harassment against the cosmetic stand, resulted in two israelis being hit by the shots. the perpatrator explained that he was motivated by the middle east situation.

sixty-six antisemitic incidents were reported in france, home to europe's largest muslim and jewish populations. numerous synagogues were attacked with petrol bombs and damaged in various towns. a car was rammed into the gates of a synagogue in toulouse and set on fire. a petrol bomb was thrown at a synagogue which set fire to an adjacent jewish restaurant. offensive graffiti was also sprayed on synagogues throughout the country. in paris, a rabbi's car was torched, a. jewish student was attacked and stabbed four times, and a 15-year old girl was assaulted by a gang.

a jewish community in germany was daubed and later stoned, and the central council of jews in german reported a significant increase in the number of hate mails and death threats during the conflict.

synagogues in multiple cities in greece were vandalized and suffered arson attacks. in athens, the walls of a jewish cemetery were sprayed with antisemitic graffiti "jews israelites murderers." neo-nazi slogans like "ax and fire to the jewish dogs" were used at anti-israel protests. a monument commemorating the murder of greek jews was vandalized with slogans like "greece - palestine no jew will remain." a seminar at the jewish museum of thessaloniki was cancelled after receiving threats, and the leftist parliamentary party of coalition of the radical left declined to attend the greek national day of remembrance of holocaust heroes and martyrs because of the attendance of the israeli ambassador. in ioannina the local jewish cemetery was vandalized with several tombs broken. the corfu synagogue was vandalized with graffiti such as "shit on israel" "jews nazis" and "murderers." the shoah memorial was also vandalized with graffiti regarding gaza. in larisa both grouns from the extreme right and extreme left targeted the local community. leftist and palestinian demonstrators attempted to vandalize the synagogue during a march, while later the same day groups linked to neo-nazi groups vandalized the shoah monyment and organized protests in front of the synagogue asking for the expulsion of jews from larisa. jews were attacked as "christ killers" and "smelling of blood" "they are the worst thing of the 20th century" and an eminent member of the greek orthodox church spoke of "zionist monsters with sharp claws" and "jews puhished for killing christ" and being "god killers."

italian trade union flaica-cub issued a call to boycott jewish-owned shops in rome in protest at the israeli offensive. it was condemned as antisemitic and reminiscent of the italian race laws under fascism in the 1930s.

a molotov cocktail was thrown at a jewish owned building in amsterdam following an attempted arson of a jewish institution in arnhem. a synagogue and jewish owned building were targeted by stoning. at an anti-israel demonstration in utrecht, some demonstrators shouted "hamass, hamas, jews to the gas."

during the 2009 oslo riots, the largest anti-jewish riots in norwegian history, muslim youth attacked the israeli embassy and yelled anti-jewish slogans in arabic, including "death to the jews" "kill the jews" and "slaughter the jews." in one incident, young men beat a 73 year old man who was carrying an israeli flag while shouting "bloody jew - get him!" they only stopped attacking him when they realized he was not jewish.

a jewish burial chapel in sweden was the target of an arson attack and a jewish centor was set on fire twice in three days.

there were approximately 225 recorded antisemitic incidents in the uk during the war. synagogues were firebombed, jews received verbal and digital abuse, and a gang tried to force their way into jewish restaurants and shops, specifically focusing on the london jewish family centre. a jewish motorist was also dragged from his car and assaulted. antisemitic graffiti with slogans including "kill jews" "jews are scumbags" and "jihad 4 israel" were sprayed in jewish areas across london and manchester.

a molotov cocktail was thrown at a tample in chicago, and in lincolnwood a synagogue's glass doors were shattered by a brick and "free palestine" and "death to israel" were spraypainted on the building. a jewish preschool in california was graffitied with swastikas and antisemitic messages.

argentinian jews wearing kippot were physically attacked on public buses and jewish cemetaries were defaced. a gang attacked argentinian jews near the israeli embassy in buenos aires.

in bolivia, vandals removed a star of david from a monument from the plaza israel and started spraypainting "plaza palestina" on jewish murals.

during shabbat, the caracas synagogue, venezuela's oldest synagogue, was defaced with "property of islam", and an armed gang of 15 unidentified people broke in and the security guards were bound and gagged while the gang destroyed the offices and the repository where the holy books were stored. they daubed the walls with antisemitic and anti-israel graffiti that called for jews to be expelled from the country, and also stole a database that listed jews who lived in venezuela.

2008 - cont

the harvard crimson school paper ran a paid holocaust denial ad.

a chabad house in mumbai was taken over by two attackers and several residents were held hostage. a rabbi and his wife, who was six months pregnant, were murdered with four other hostages in the house by the attackers. according to radio transmissions, the attackers "would be told by their handlers in pakistan that the lives of jews were worth 50 times those of non jews." injuries on some of the bodies indicated that they may have been tortured.

2009

hamas refused to allow palestinian children to learn about the holocaust, which it called "a lie invented by the zionists" and referred to holocaust education as a "war crime."

an irish journalist claimed "there was no holocaust... and six million jews were not murdered by the third reich. these two statements of mine are irrefutable truths."

tapes were released in which billy graham is heard in conversation with richard nixon referring to jews as "the synagogue of satan."

four men were arrested in new york in connection with a plot to blow up two synagogues in the bronx.

a neo nazi entered the united states holocaust memorial museum in washington dc and shot and fatally wounded a security officer.

2010

the last surviving romaniote synagogue in greece was targeted for an arson attack.

a synagogue in cairo, egypt was bombed.

a synagogue in sweden was attacked with explosives.

2011

six jewish institutions were attacked by vandals in montreal, including four synagogues and a school.

j.z. knight stated "fuck god's chosen people! i think they have earned enough cash to have paid their way out of the goddamned gas chambers by now."

the manhattan terrorism plot to bomb various targets in manhattan, including a synagogue.

2012

a man killed four jews, including three children, outside a school in toulouse, france.

a synagogue in sweden was attacked with an explosive decide, shattering a window.

2013

alice walker expressed appreciation for the works of antisemitic conspiracy theorist david icke. she said that icke's book "human race get off your knees" would be her choice if she could have only one book. the book promotes the theory that the earth is ruled by shapeshifting reptilian humanoids and "rothschild zionists."

louis farrakhan delivered an antisemitic speech, referring to jews as "satanic jews" and "the synagogue of satan", controlling america's government and other sectors, reportedly saying that president obama "surrounded himself with satan... members of the jewish community." farrakhan also said that the jewish people "have mastered the civilization now, but they've mastered it in evil... who's the owner of hollywood that creates images and makes the people think that what is created on screen is the way we should live? that's satan... satan has devoured so much of humanity. ... the people that own hollywood are the same people that control your press, the same people that control your media, the same people who are the publishers, the same people who are the distributors, the same synagogue of satan, and they put you before the world in this disgraceful manner. ... jesus was the last hope for the jewish people but they rejected him. they are now in control of the media and the airwaves, gaining access to the 'sacred territory' which is in the minds of the people."

the supreme leader of iran grand ayatollah ali khamenei questioned the validity of the holocaust, saying "the holocaust is an event whose reality is uncertain and if it has happened, it's uncertain how it has happened."

2014

kkk leader killed three non jewish people at a jewish community center and jewish retirement home in kansas, the day before passover.

residents of a village in spain called "castrillo matajudios" ("jew-killer camp") since 1627 voted to change the name of the village.

2015

four jews were killed when a gunman attacked a kosher supermarket in paris where the gunman held 15 other hostages and demanded that the kouachi brothers not be harmed.

iran organized the international holocaust cartoon competition, a competition in which artists were encouraged to submit cartoons on the theme of holocaust denial.

louis farrakhan accused jews of involvement in sept 11 attacks.

swastikas were spraypainted on a jewish fraternity at uc davis on the 70th anniversary of the liberation of auschwitz.

a french settlement named "la mort aux juifs" or "death to jews" finally changed its name after a denied attempt in 1992.

a synagogue in copenhagen was taken by a gunman during a bat mitzvah celebration where one jewish man on security duty was killed.

stanford university student senate candidate molly horwitz was asked by a student group how being jewish would affect her decision-making.

two synagogues and a jewish neighborhood in san antonio, texas were vandalized with antisemitic graffiti.

2016

natasha waldorf of alameda was subjected to two boys sending her text messages that included antisemitic slurs, two other students joked about the holocaust and when she confronted them they told her that "hitler should have finished the job."

the campus chapter of students for justice in palestine at the university of california irvine was sanctioned because they disrupted a program hosted by a jewish campus group and intimidated jewish students.

2017

alice walker published a poem on her blog titled "it is our (frightful) duty to study the talmud", recommending that the reader should start with youtube to learn about the evils of the talmud.

a huge wave of threats, including bomb threats, were made against jewish community centers and other institutions in the united states around the high holy days.

sarah halimi was murdered in paris.

the chicago dyke march organizers singled out and approached a group of women carrying jewish pride flags and began to question them on their political stance in regards to zionism and israel, and then expelled them from the event. the organizers attributed the reasoning to the star of david on the flag as a "zionist expression." the organization's twitter account also used the phrase "zio tears" in a now deleted tweet. "zio" is a slur originated by david duke.

the new england holocaust memorial was smashed with a rock.

in ukraine, the space of synagogues holocaust memorial display was vandalized by neo nazis.

the chairpersons of the chicago slutwalk wrote, "we still stand behind dyke march chicago's decision to remove the zionist contingent from their event, and we won't allow zionist displays at ours." the organizers made the following declaration about the star of david: "its connections to the oppression enacted by israel is too strong for it to be neutral."

a jewish cemetery in missouri was vandalized.

the unite the right rally took place in charlottesville, virginia, where white nationalists chanted slogans like "blood and soil" "jews will not replace us" "the goyim know" "the jewish media is going down."

a synagogue in sweden was firebombed.

2018

trayon white, an american politician, posted a video to his official facebook page showing snow flurries following, and alluding to the rothschild family conspiring to manipulate the weather.

an israeli man wearing a yarmulke was attacked in berlin; the attacker reportedly beat him with a belt and shouted "yehudi" ("jew")

tamika mallory, an american activist and one of the organizers of the womens march, attended an antisemitic speech by louis farrakhan, a figure she had previously refused to denounce. during the three hour speech, farrakhan claimed that "the powerful jews are my enemy" "the jews have control over agencies of those angencies of government" like the fbi, thta jews are "the mother and father of apartheid" and that jews are responsible for "degenerate behavior in hollywood turning men into women and women into men."

a republican candidate for senate in california openly called for a united states "free from jews."

11 people were murdered at the tree of life synagogue. on social media, several people made the claim that they "should not be mourned if they were zionists."

2019

belgium outlawed kosher slaughter.

rep ilhan omar tweeted an allegation that american support for israel was rooted in money spent by pro israel lobbying organizations.

several mps quit the labor party under jeremy corbyn citing "culture of extreme antisemitism and intolerance."

a subway poster in brooklyn with a picture of ruth bader ginsburg was valdalized with the writing "die jew bitch" and a swastika.

multiple violent attacks occured in brooklyn.

a synagogue in turkey is attacked with a molotov cocktail.

one person was killed and three were injured during a shooting at a passover seder in california.

a synagogue was attacked by a lone shooter in germany.

a kosher grocery store in jersey city, new jersey was attacked and five people were killed.

jersey city mayor steve fullop said a trustee of the jersey city board of education should resign in the wake of her comment after the above shooting about "jew brutes" that according to her have "threatened, intimidated, and harassed" black residents. the trustee asked whether the public is "brave enough" to listen to the shooters' message, and said the local rabbis were selling body parts. she remained on the board until 2022.

a jewish elder was killed and four others were injured at the home of a hasidic rabbi during hanukkah in new york.

2020

the tomb of esther and mordechai in iran was subjected to an arson attack.

the jewish center at the unitersity of delaware was subjected to an arson attack.

six igbo synagogues in nigeria were razed by soldiers, and at least 50 people were killed.

a synagogue in portland was subjected to an arson attack.

2021

george washington university's chapter of tau kappa epsilon fraternity reported that their house was broken into and vandalized, and their sefer torah destroyed.

2022

four hostages were taken at a synagogue in colleyville, texas. the attacker believed that the rabbi could call another rabbi in new york and secure the release of aafia siddiqui, a pakistani operative imprisoned for attempted murder and other crimes. siddiqui tried to dismiss her lawyers on the grounds that they were jewish. she said the case against her was a jewish conspiracy theory, demanded that no jews be allowed on the jury, and that all prospective jurors be dna tested and excluded from the jury at her trial if they had "zionist or israeli" dna. she wrote a letter to president obama, asserting, "study the history of the jews. they have always back-stabbed everyone who has taken pity on them and make the fatal error of giving them shelter... and it is this cruel, ungrateful back-stabbing of the jews that has caused them to be mercilessly expelled from wherever they gain strength. this is why 'holocausts' keep happening to them repeatedly! if they would only learn to be grateful and change their behavior!"

kanye west states that he "likes hitler" and is a "nazi." he still occasionally goes on an antisemitic twitter bender.

2023-2024 - current war

in october, an egyptian police officer shot and killed two israeli tourists and an egyptial tour guide in alexandria.

a jewish man walking to synagogue in johannesburg was accosted by a male jogger screaming antisemitic insults at him. the jogger then assaulted the man, knocked him over, and kicked and punched him while he lay on the ground.

a jewish cricket player was stripped of the captaincy by cricket south africa, claimed to have been a measure to reduce protests at the world cup.

a synagogue in tunisia was severely damaged during anti-israel riots with hundreds of people filmed setting fire to the building.

in armenia, unknown assailants set fire to a synagogue in yerevan and disseminated the arson attack on social media.

the associated press noted a rise in antisemitism on chinese social media. an israeli employee of the israeli embasee in beijing was stabbed and injured on october 13.

a 16 year old in australia was arrested after planning to attack a synagogue in vienna.

gravestones in belgium were damaged and many stars of david were stolen from a cemetery. only the jewish section was vandalized.

danish police arrested at least four operatives who were planning attacks on jewish or israeli targets in denmark.

in paris, stars of david were painted on multipe spots on several building fronts in a southern district. similar tags appeared over the weekend in other suburbs. antisemitic chants were filmed on the paris metro, "fuck the jews and fuck your mother, long live palestine. we are nazis and proud of it." a woman in lyon was stabbed and a swastika was graffitied on her home.

overall, french jews have noted a huge increase in antisemitism, with a surge of 1200% since october 7.

in berlin, the houses of several jews were marked with a star of david. two molotov cocktails were thrown at a synagogue.

israeli students in riga, latvia reported receiving hate texts and threats from other students.

lectures on the holocaust at utrecht university of applied sciences in the netherlands were postponed indefinitely.

a norwegian medical student at a rally in warsaw was pictured holding a poster of the flag of israel in a trash can alongside the text "keep the world clean." far right polish lawmaker grzegorz braun used a fire extinguisher on a lit menorah and removed it from the wall during a hanukkah celebration, saying "there can be no pace for the acts of this racist, tribal, wild talmudic cult."

residents of dagestan gathered near the flamingo hotel after reports that refugees from israel were being accomodated there. the protesters demanded that all hotel residents come to the windows to look at them. when the guests did not do this, stones were thrown into the building. the residents demanded to check the basements and let them into the hotel. police arrived and allowed protestors to check the hotel to make sure it was "jew free", and after this a message was posted outside the hotel that jews were prohibited from entering.

an antisemitic ralley was held in cherkessk, demanding the "eviction of ethnic jews."

a local jewish religious national-cultural community center under construction was set on fire in nalchik with the attackers writing "death to the yahuds" on the wall.

a mob stormed the uytash airport in dagestan after the arrival of a red wings flight from tel aviv. messages spread on telegram that a direct flight from israel was arriving, with calls to come to the airport and prevent the plane from landing. dozens of protestors stormed the airport and reached the runway, some of whom managed to climb up onto the plane's wings. 20 people were injured, two of whom were seriously injured. there are reports from passengers of rioters checking cars going to and from the airport for jews.

a synagogue in melillah, a spanish enclave in north africa, was attacked by a mob chanting "murderous israel" while waving palestinian flags.

pro palestinian demonstrators burned an israeli flag and chanted "bomb israel" outside a synagogue in. sweden.

i have to break up the sections because tumblr apparently has a character limit.

multiple cases of antisemitism were reported by students at concordia university with jewish students facing verbal and physical threats from both other students and faculty members. footage of a professor yanise arab shouting at jewish concordia students to "go back to poland, sharmuta (whore)" went viral alongside another video of a student using the slur "kike."

two jewish schools in montreal were targeted with gunfire overnight, and one was struck with gunfire a second time a few days later.

a jewish community center in montreal was attacked with a molotov cocktail.

jewish students and teachers of the peel district school board reported antisemitism and violent threats, including a teacher posting "jews are the problem" in a private facebook group.

a sukkah at caltech was vandalized with anti-israel graffiti. a man threw rocks through the glass doors of a synagogue and cafe in fresno, the second with a note reading "all jewish businesses will be targeted."

at columbia university, a woman assaulted an israeli man with a stick after he confronted her for ripping down posters with pictures and information abuot kidnapped israelis.

a man was arrested for sending threatening emails to a. synagogue in charlotte, north carolina.

a man in new york's grand central terminal punched a woman in the face and told her it was because she was jewish.

seven members of "white lives matter" california held a demonstration, holding up signs reading "no more wars for i$rael."

professor russell rickford spoke at a rally, saying he had found hamas's attack "exhilarating."

the illinois comptroller's office fired one of its lawyers, sarah chowdhurt, over antisemitic remarks she made on the instagram of another lawyer who is jewish.

a building next to a jewish fraternity at upenn was vandalized with antisemitic graffiti reading "the jews r nazis."

a man broke into a jewish family's home in los angeles, yelling "free palestine" and "kill jews."

threats against the jewish community at cornell university were posted online, threatening to shoot rape, and murder jewish students and encouraging violence against them.

paul kessler, an elderly jewish man, was killed at a rally after being struck in the head by a megaphone by a pro palestine protester, causing him to fall.

a woman was arrested after ramming her car into a black hebrew israelite school in indiana, mistakenly believing it to be an "israel school."

a man fired two rounds from a shotgun into the air outside a synagogue in albany and made threatening statements. he is alleged to have said "free palestine" at some point during the attack.

a game between the girls' varsity teams from the leffell school and roosevelt high school early college studies in yonkers was stopped when roosevelt students began to hurl antisemitic slurs at leffell students, with one yelling "i support hamas, you fucking jew", and during the third quarter became aggressive and violent during the play resulting in injuries of leffell's players.

participants in a pro-palestine rally in sydney changed "gas the jews", and several individuals in melbourne made death threats against jews, one group harassing a rabbi and his son, and another asking where to find jews, saying they were "hunting for jews."

a man in new south wales threatened to kill four jewish teenagers in a car with an israeli flag draped on it.

neo nazis marched in melbourne, displaying a banner reading "expose jewish power" and distributing neo nazi literature.

a sydney jewish man was verbally abused for wearing a kippah.

pro palestine graffiti was spray painted on the fence of a synagogue in auckland, and an unsuccessful attempt was made to set the property on fire. google maps had mistakenly listed the property as the local israeli consulate.

new zealand jews report a surge in antisemitic threats.

in new zealand, one child was physically assaulted and another had a swastika and a star of david drawn side by side on their school shirt. children were greeted by their peers with nazi salutes, being called "dirty jews", being told "jews control the world", and jokes about jews being gassed, and the blood libel claim that jews "chop off babies heads."

the us and israeli embassies in buenos aires received bomb threats via email, including one which said "jews we are going. tokill you all."

three people were arrested under suspicion of planning an attack on the maccabiah games.

brazilian authorities arrested two suspects in a. hezbollah backed terror plot to attack synagogues and other jewish targets in the country.

a column on the israeli embassy on colombia was vandalized with a swastika, start of david, and the word "terror" in hebrew.

if you made it to the bottom of this list and actually read everything, reblog with the tag "heard." that's really it. i just want to know that people hear us begging for people to speak up.

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oceantornadoo · 3 months ago

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ch1 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

masterlist | next

“Yer gettin’ married next week.”

You scoff at your brother staring at his Scotch whisky like it holds the answers to the universe.

“And you’re the king of Egypt. Funny, Simon.” He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he glances at Johnny, his husband and right-hand man. The two have a silent conversation, a head twitch followed by a pursing of lips. Johnny’s lips are cracked and split, something you can’t imagine your brother is attracted to. Superb mental health does not run in your family.

Johnny rises out of his chair, a wooden thing that creaks with effort, and takes his leave. He ruffles your hair on the way out while you try, for the thirtieth time, to shove his side. You are, yet again, unsuccessful. He’s built like a tank.

“M serious, love. ‘Ve been in negotiations the past month. It’s happenin’ next Saturday, St Etheldreda's Church.” You run through a list of churches in your head. St. Ethledreda’s is not in Manchester. In fact, you’re pretty sure it’s not in your territory. Which means…

“Why’re you naming a church in London?” Simon’s quiet as his eyes bore holes into yours. This is one of his favorite tactics to use on his men - staying silent until they find the answer themselves. You hate when he uses it on you like you’re under his command and not his younger sister.

“You can’t be serious.”

“We need an alliance an’ they offered.”

“Then write a fuckin’ treaty! Not a marriage certificate.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“It’s the 21st century.”

“Not in this family.”

That’s something you can’t argue against. Most people outside of your immediate circle don’t even know Simon’s married to Johnny, let alone into men. When he first came to power, you created a sob story for him - early marriage to his (female) childhood sweetheart, then fast-spreading cancer, ending with a man struck by grief. It allowed him a known reason for turning down arranged marriages while making him seem more human than your shared father. No one paid enough attention to you two as children to know the story wasn’t real, and fake certificates of marriage and death are a dime a dozen. Everyone knows he’s close with Johnny, his right-hand man, and that’s that.

“What about my bookstore?” It’s your pride and joy, plus it’s 95% legal. Mostly.

“There’s bookstores in London.” London. Only 200 miles away, but it’s like another world. Another world where you can’t walk down the street where every single storefront owner knows who you are. Where the cops are on your family’s payroll and don’t blink an eye at the gun strapped to your hip. It doesn’t matter if you were raised away in your formative years, losing your accent and most concepts of slang that baffle you. It doesn’t matter if you only share a father with Simon, that your mother was a Riley employee and not Mrs. Riley. Manchester is your home.

It doesn’t occur to you that you have a choice, mainly because you know you don’t. The firm, or mafia, gang, or whatever you want to call it, still operates as if women are objects to be traded and bought. Marriages are merely political agreements. Getting to run a bookstore, or cash-cleaning business, as a woman is almost unheard of where you’re from. Others might call you lucky, but it’s more like being a bird in a gilded cage. A glimpse of what a true, normal life might look like. Living in a flat above your store, hosting local book clubs, setting out free cookie samples - all to be ruined when Johnny stumbles through with a gunshot or the newest recruits are sent to grab more bullets from the basement. Every other week, you snap back from your daydream and remember that you’re a mafia princess at the end of the day, though duchess seems more adequate since the Rileys don’t have that big of a territory.

“And who is my husband-to-be in London?”

“John Price.”

“I’d rather marry Nikolai. In fact, I might just go elope.” Simon glares and you glare back. “I’m not marrying John Price.” You clarify, for emphasis. Simon leans forward in his office chair, looming over his desk like a puppet master. You’re in the chair across from him, crossing your legs casually like you’re not discussing your arranged marriage and potential future. “Contract’s done, love. Jus’ waitin’ on yer signature.” Your signature, the one change from the barbaric practices of old England. You could say no, but then Simon would have no choice but to cut you off. It would be a sign of weakness to the other families if he let a delinquent bastard half-sister run his decisions.

“I want to negotiate the contract.” It’s the closest your brother has ever been to rolling his eyes. They twitch with restraint, blonde lashes flickering. “This isn’t a TV show, kid. Yer not negotiatin’ yer bloody contract.” You uncross your legs, hands on your armrest like you’re about to leave. “Fine. Let me go call up the NCA, tell them all about my brother and his scary gang.” He sighs deeply, then pulls out his phone. “Bloody hell. Can’t wait t’ marry you off, fuckin’ arsehole.” You grab the bright pink stress ball on his desk, a stocking stuffer you gave him as a joke, and throw it at him. He doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone, huffing as the ball hits the side of his head.

“Here.” He tosses you the phone that’s already ringing. There’s no contact name, just initials. JP. “Riley. Got a problem?” A smooth baritone emits from the phone’s tinny speakers. “Hope you’re not busy this weekend, future hubby. I can’t wait to see you.” Simon sighs at the consequences of his own actions. John’s silent on the other end, processing your words. Bit thick, that one.

“An’ why’s that, sweetheart?” It’s a term of endearment but he laces it with vitriol. “We’re having tea on Saturday at my store. Bring your contract and favorite lawyers. See you then!” You hang up before he can answer, tossing the phone back to Simon. He shakes his head at you.

“Smile, Simon. It’ll be nice to bond with your brother-in-law.”

This is going to be a very long marriage.

If you even get down the aisle.

Why does reader hate John? Why is she also a little shit? All will be revealed :)

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reasonandempathy · 9 months ago

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Walz has served as Minnesota’s governor since 2019 after 12 years in the House of Representatives and now chairs the Democratic Governors Association. He has built a reputation as a folksy politician who can get things done, as Minnesota has adopted a number of progressive laws during his tenure. According to a poll conducted earlier this year, Walz enjoys an approval rating of 55% among Minnesotans. Since Minnesota Democrats achieved a legislative trifecta in the 2022 elections, Walz and his allies have used their power to push a slate of progressive policies. The governor has signed bills protecting abortion access, expanding background checks for prospective gun owners and legalizing recreational marijuana. “Right now, Minnesota is showing the country you don’t win elections to bank political capital,” Walz said last year. “You win elections to burn political capital and improve lives.” That philosophy has endeared him to progressives, who threw their support behind him as the veepstakes kicked into high gear over the past two weeks. They reshared clips of Walz lovingly mocking his daughter’s vegetarianism and tinkering with his car to paint him as the dad that America needs right now.

This is fucking awesome! Honestly, sincerely good news and a very promising pick for the potential Harris Administration. An aggressive, unabashed, popular, populist left-winger with a track record of enacting real, substantive help for people is capital-G Great.

What has he done, specifically?

Abortion rights

In a 1995 ruling, the Minnesota Supreme Court upheld abortion rights in Minnesota. In January 2023, Walz signed the PRO Act (Protect Reproductive Options Act) into law, making abortion a "fundamental right," as well as access to contraception, fertility treatments, sterilization and other reproductive health care.

The law made Minnesota the first state to codify abortion rights in the aftermath of the U.S. Supreme Court's 2022 ruling in the case of Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, which nullified Roe. v. Wade after nearly 50 years of precedent. In April 2023, Walz signed the Reproductive Freedom Defense Act into law, shielding women and providers from any legal action originating from the patient's state.

Pro-LGBTQIA+ legislation

In March 2023, Walz signed an executive order to protect the right of residents to have access to gender-affirming health care. Weeks later, he signed the "Trans Refuge" bill, banning the enforcement of arrest warrants, extradition requests and out-of-state subpoenas for those who traveled to Minnesota for care.

"When someone else is given basic rights, others don't lose theirs," Walz said. "We aren't cutting a pie here. We're giving basic rights to every single Minnesotan."

Paid family, medical and sick leave

In May 2023, Walz signed a law creating a state-run program to provide paid family and medical leave for Minnesota workers, funded by a 0.7% payroll tax on employers, by 2026.

Legalization of recreational marijuana

In May 2023, Minnesota became the 23rd state in the nation to legalize recreational cannabis use. Three months later, people 21 and older could start to possess certain amounts of marijuana at home and on their person, in addition to legally growing up to eight plants at a time.

Restoration of voting rights for former felons

In March 2023, Walz signed a bill that restored the right to vote to more than 50,000 convicted felons who had already served their time.

Universal school meals

Amid the increase in food insecurity for many Minnesotans during the pandemic, and the subsequent strain on the state's food shelves that remains to this day, Walz signed a bill in March 2023 that ensures all K-12 students in the state have access to free breakfast and lunch on school days.

Do you know what makes this even better?

Fuck 'Em. I know negative partisanship is important and can help motivate right-wingers to vote, but they're going to vote anyway. And him being afraid of Walz is just a sign that he's a good pick, in policy and politics.

#donald trump #kamala harris #2024 election #Tim Walz #progressive politics #original content #politics #good news #legalization #trans care #voting rights #lgbtqia #worker rights

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maythedreadwolftakeyou · 3 months ago

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man... in Veilguard it really is so so clear how much Lucanis yearns for connection, how much he laments having barely anyone who is a tangible long-term presence in his life. Illario and Caterina are IT until he meets Rook, he tells them.

but he grew up in the Dellamorte estate. A huge, huge manor that would not just have servants, but STAFF. payrolls full of people who clean and cook and keep the place running. And we know he had some amount of free reign around the place. He explored in the tunnels and basements and found the secret entrance/exit while playing alone. He learned how to make churros and cook other food from the kitchen staff. Someone taught him to knit. So... where are those people? Where's the kindly cook who became a second mother, or the maids who watched him play? He would know their names and remember them, if they were around long enough. And it's NOT just some rich boy privilege that makes him forget they're there, because we know he sees the working class as people who with real lives. In The Wigmaker Job, he knows elves in the alienage, who think well enough of him to let him use their secret routes around the city. He risks the whole mission and breaks rules to let one single serving maid go--they're not invisible or somehow lesser to him. He was raised as a Crow, he's been trained since he was a boy to be observant--he'd listen for the names and details about the lives of servants who were around him all the time as a child. And he is also kind and gentle, so he would reach back if they offered him any kind of affection

Which means their absence in his life is intentional. Caterina must have had the staff rotated often enough that he couldn't learn who they were, and discouraged anyone from talking to or connecting with the Dellamorte boys--she probably thought she was keeping them safe. Keeping them from having people who might matter and therefore could be used against all of them--not to mention it's way easier to slip a poisoned treat to a trusting child, or convince them to follow you out of the estate to an undisclosed location. Her paranoia after losing all her children and other grandkids warped into isolating the Dellamorte boys utterly from any kind of connection and affection outside of herself, and then she withheld it anyway, because she was afraid of getting hurt again too (<- not an excuse, still abuse). And she is NOT a kind woman, who would look over a transgression--servants disobeying her orders about staying away from her grandsons would mean losing their job at best and probably physical punishment along with it. Or maybe you just never saw that coworker who dared say something kind to a crying child again.

It's so sad. And makes it so much more meaningful that there WERE occasional times he got away with it anyway. I wonder how much those cooks risked when teaching him how a kitchen runs, and to make his favorite dessert. If they had some excuse for it, or were all sent away once Caterina found out. Of course he'd stop trying to make friends with any children of the staff his age, if any time he did, the whole family got moved to work at a summer villa in the country instead. If the people who cleaned his rooms were different every month. He'd notice that anyone who he tried to get close to just ended up out of his life entirely, and so eventually Caterina wouldn't need to keep isolating him intentionally as he grew. Lucanis learned. He started doing it himself.

#😭😭😭 thought i was out of Lucanis Thoughts but then this hit me like a train #lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #lucanisposting #caterina dellamorte #house dellamorte #dragon age #dragon age: veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #veilguard #datv spoilers #da4 spoilers #MADE MYSELF SAD... again... sigh #jade plays dav #ramblings #rook x lucanis #rookanis #SORRY I IMMIDIATELY HAD MORE THOUGHTS ACTUALLY PLEASE SEE MY REBLOG OF THIS WITH THE ROMANCE THOUGHTS #too late to add to the original post BUT hhhwwwrgrrrgg

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vaspider · 7 months ago

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Hey y'all.

I haven't been talking about this very much bc I don't like to complain about my own medical stuff very much - I find it easy to get angry on behalf of others but very hard to ask for help for myself - but I have had a string of mild complications from my hysterectomy that have meant we've needed to cancel going to Salem Pride next weekend and I haven't been able to work. We paid for the hotel already, which is $500 we've just... lost.

On top of that, the post office just straight up lost 60 backer orders from Proud To The Bone 2, and bc they never got scanned in, our package insurance doesn't mean shit, so we've lost about $1000 in inventory that's just gone.

So... I've turned the Bottoms & Tops sale code back on, bc we need to pay payroll and I'm not gonna be able to do a lot of work anytime soon, so...

If you don't wanna buy stuff right now, consider tossing a coin to me for bitching about the stuff you like to listen to me bitch about:

Or use @vaspider or $vaspider on Venmo/CashApp.

Ser Davos Seawoof tax:

#mutual aid #oh i hate this #NerdyKeppie

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ovaryacted · 2 days ago

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OFF THE LEDGE

─ Dr. Jack Abbot x fem! reader || WC: 4.6k

SYNOPSIS: Surviving is hard. You've become exhausted with the current circumstances of your life. When the pressure finally gets to be too much, you fall apart at the seams. Luckily, Jack is there to put you back together.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. ANGST. Hurt/Comfort. Age Gap implied [Jack is late 40s, reader is late 20s/early 30s]. Power imbalances [Attending/Resident]. Established “secret” relationship. Mentions of a drug overdose & medical treatment (patient in ED). Mental health triggers & descriptions of depression, suicidal ideation, and a mental breakdown. Reader is passively turned actively suicidal. Injury from self-harm/self-infliction using a razor that results in bleeding & stitches. Brief references to past sh attempts from reader. Mentions of Jack struggling w/his mental health in the past. Jack being a good partner and providing support.

NOTE: This fic contains explicit descriptions of self harm, depression, and mental health issues that may be triggering for some readers. If you or a loved one are experiencing this, please reach out to someone or call the corresponding crisis lifeline in your state/country. For the U.S. - Dial 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

A/N: I usually don't write things like this, and a part of me was scared to even upload this, but I’m gonna take the risk and do it anyway. I initially wrote this when I was going through something, especially this week, and just needed to release all of these built up emotions somehow and I created this, which was cathartic to write & read. We all deserve reassurance that we are still loved after our mistakes, and I hope those who are going through a hard time know that you are deserving of a long and joyful life and that you are loved. Thank you to @ozarkthedog for proofreading this and the constant encouragement, love you hun. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

You’d think by now things would get easier. That the ringing in your head would become more manageable; the noise would fade away, and the voices would quiet their chattering for once.

You thought wrong.

A part of you thinks you never should’ve taken the time to go through high school, undergrad, and medical school to enter a field where you were frequently reminded of how fleeting life was. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, the grim reaper was always there, breathing down your neck, watching the sand in the hourglass run out for those bound to leave the mortal coil. The emergency department was their personal hell, and you served as the angel of death, guiding them into the afterlife, witnessing the lights dim from their eyes and declaring the time they crossed the bridge like it was second nature.

It reminds you that it could’ve been you. Sometimes you think it should be.

Of course, that wasn’t rational thinking, was it? The constant nagging voice drilling into your head that you don’t belong here, you don’t deserve to be walking the earth alongside everyone else. It was painfully ironic working in a field where your hands were capable of saving lives, all while you constantly battled to validate your own existence.

A walking contradiction you were.

You hid it well from everyone around you, continuing with business as usual during your night shifts at the Pitt, working doubles just to get through the day, regardless of your body begging for rest. It wasn’t a problem; in fact, the staff were more than glad to have someone reliable to provide more support without asking, and with someone as capable as you, they had no qualms about adding overtime hours to your payroll.

But Dr. Abbot? He saw right through it, right through you.

He knows because he gets it.

You’re good at your job, almost too good, and nobody would dare say otherwise. Despite your talents under pressure and your quick reflexes, there was a darkness that hung over your head like a shadow everywhere you went. Your eyes were clouded over, trying to hide something; the curl of your smile was subtle—never too wide; and your laugh was too tight to be considered a chuckle but enough for an exhale.

Jack knows, because it’s him.

The next time he goes up to the roof for some fresh air, he isn’t entirely surprised to find you already there. You stood on the other end of the ledge, leaning against the railing, hands in your pockets as you stood straight, head held high to admire the Pittsburgh skyline. Jack doesn’t make a sound as he steps closer to you, discreet in his footing, careful not to disturb your moment of reflection.

“You’re in my spot.”

Looking back, he thinks his comment could pass off as reprimanding, spotting the same cues from you that recalls a version of himself he often tries to forget. The version of him that saw more men die than he can count, his past self that buried a piece of him along with his wife, the part of him that didn’t care to see another day in spite of how long he’s fought to be here anyway.

You don’t flinch when you hear Jack’s voice from behind you, tilting your head in acknowledgement and returning your focus to the buildings in front of you.

“Had to borrow it for a second. Wanted to take in the view.”

He only hums, arms reaching over the railing and clasping his hands. Leaning forward on the opposite side of you, he keeps his attention on the side of your face, observing you with keen eyes.

“Next time you’re up here, bring a drink. Really adds to the ambiance.” That got you to laugh dryly, and for a second, Jack considered it an accomplishment.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Unless you plan on joining me for that drink, considering this is your spot and all.” You turn to face him then, and the twitch of a smirk tugs at his lips, taking in your features before glancing down to the floor.

“I’ll put a pin in that for our next meet-up, kid.”

Jack was only half-serious when he said that, but your uncoordinated meetings became more consistent, the sight of Jack growing to be a welcoming one. Amongst the chaos of the Pitt, above all of the death and carnage that came through the ambulance bay every day, Jack was always there to keep you grounded in ways you didn’t know you needed. A pat on the shoulder, a hand on your lower back, a squeeze on your arm, and an expression that inaudibly asks, “You’re good?” To anyone else, they’d think he’s just being a good mentor and doctor as he always was, but you knew there was a secondary motive, not that it wasn’t reciprocated.

He made you stronger, better, and for the longest time you were okay, happy even. In a professional sense, he kept you on a tight self-care regimen, making sure you ate proper meals, slept a full 7 hours at minimum, and took supplements you wouldn’t admit made you feel better even after being more energetic and clear-headed throughout your shifts. He did you the favor of setting you up to get connected to his therapist, at least for a consultation before being referred to someone who was better equipped to handle your needs, going as far as being your sponsor if necessary.

You knew he was only looking out for you, but when the concern transitioned to desire along the way, it felt natural, comforting, safe. Jack welcomed you into his reality, made room for you in his home and his heart, told you his nightmares and the memories that haunted him while making new ones with you. He let you weave yourself around his very being and made you promise to never let go, whispering those three words without issue to cite that you belonged with him, that he wanted you here where he could love you the way you deserved.

But even Dr. Abbot couldn’t keep you safe from yourself.

He can always tell when your worst habits start to make a reappearance, when you have trouble sleeping and he finds you on the couch in the middle of the day, aimlessly watching something on the TV. You pick at your food more, no longer enthusiastic about your favorite lasagna he’s cooked for dinner, saying you’d save it for lunch at work and going to bed with a dwindling appetite.

You hide yourself from him, less receptive of his touch and affections; the kisses you returned were superficial at best, but it was better than nothing. The spark he adored was slowly dimming from your eyes, giving him a sad smile when he said he loved you, the words muted when they tumbled from your lips as if you were afraid of repeating it.

Back at the Pitt, your mask began to crack. Your laughs were minimal, your face permanently frozen and devoid of emotion, and your head tormenting itself as you strained to suppress your mood. You spend much longer on the roof during your shifts, and though he trusts you enough, he still keeps track of the number of times he spots you sneaking away and heading for the stairs. He’s told you so many times before—

“If you’re not back in 5 minutes, I’m coming up to get you.”

And Jack sticks to his word, running up to the roof and hoping he’d still find you on the other side. He always does, approaching you cautiously, talking to you in the same passive authority he uses in the ED. It does the job, bringing you into his chest and cradling the back of your head, feeling you grip onto him like he’s the only thing you had left. It does little to quell his own anxieties about your fraying state of mind when he finds you closer to the ledge every time he comes to get you.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you fall apart, or worse.

Your shift at the Pitt was manageable for the most part until a case of a self-inflicted drug overdose came in at the wee hours of the night. An unresponsive teenager around the age of 17 came in through the ambulance bay with his parents, suspected of an extreme intake of Xanax, no reaction to pain or light, blown pupils, and weak pulse. Everyone knew there was limited time to bring them back from the brink, and the first attempt using Narcan was already unsuccessful.

The teen crashed in Trauma 1, you called for the crash cart and ordered two shocks before attempting compressions. You pumped the kid’s body full of atropine and epinephrine, cracked a few of their ribs and worked up a sweat giving compressions, but his overworked heart wouldn’t restart on its own. You kept going for another 30 minutes before Jack called it, and you noted the flatline on the heart monitor, spacing out as your ears rang and the walls closed in on you.

Jack took the responsibility of notifying the parents, suggesting you take five to cool off. When he found you in your spot, you were sitting down on the edge of the roof, feet dangling on the edge and looking down to the ground.

That was the closest he found you to the ledge.

The drive back home was quiet, the air rigid between you, but he knew well enough it wasn’t directed towards him. You didn’t bother to look at him for the entire commute, staring out into the window, counting the streetlights passing you by. Rolling into the driveway, you grabbed your work bag and made your way to the front door, Jack matching your pace behind you, reading your body language like a hawk. After unlocking the door, you were quick to walk past him and march to the bedroom, but he was faster than you, grabbing your arm and bringing you back into the foyer.

“Hey, hey. Talk to me.” He turns you to face him, one hand rubbing over your wrist and the other cupping your cheek. “I know today was hard, you don’t have to hide it from me, you know that. But please, just talk to me. I’m worried about you.”

“I just want to rinse off the day, Jack. It’s been… I’m tired, okay? Can we talk later when I’ve slept a bit? Please?” You held his gaze, his touches only unnerving you more, confused and struggling to focus. He didn’t believe you; he knew you weren’t okay, but the last thing he wanted to do was smother you when you couldn’t give him a straightforward answer.

“Alright, we’ll talk later. Go shower, I’ll make you something to eat before you sleep.” He planted a light kiss by your temple, breathing you in as if it were for the last time. “I love you.”

“I know.” It was the only thing you said, and he apprehensively let you go without hearing the sentiment returned to him, letting your silhouette disappear into the master bathroom.

It had been 40 minutes since he last saw you, and it was eerily too quiet for him to be tranquil. The hairs on the back of his neck stick up once he’s done packing away the food he made for you in hopes you’d be able to keep it down before heading off to bed. The danger senses that always protected him were firing off, and he knew you needed your space, but the urge to check up on you pestered him to the point of suffocation.

Stepping into the shared bedroom, you were nowhere to be found. The lights in the bathroom were still on, and the shower had long stopped running, but he heard the muffled sniffles, probably stifled with your hand covering your mouth.

Something wasn’t right.

“Sweetheart?” He knocks on the door, trying to get your attention. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, he thinks. He knows the answer is no, but when you don’t give him a response, his worry deepens.

He instantly thinks of the worse-case scenario, compartmentalizing what could be happening in the small room closed off to him. He knew from the moment you lost that patient a switch had gone off, that your subconscious roamed into the abyss you’ve been fighting to avoid. You’ve gone off the deep end, and he had to try to bring you back.

His trained ears pick up on the sound of something clinking in the sink, sharp and metallic, a hiss emitting from you followed by a restrained groan. You were in pain; something had caused you to react that way, and from the way you started to hyperventilate and cry, he can only imagine what happened.

“Baby, please. Let me in.” Jack calls out to you, reaching for the doorknob and twisting it open, but finds the door locked. He calls your name again, knocking on the door harder without trying to startle you further. “I won’t be upset with you, I promise, but I need you to open this door. You gotta let me in, or so help me, I will break it down to get to you.”

Your name tumbled out of his mouth in a plea, knuckles rasping harder against the wooden door, the knob rattling under his grip as he cursed to himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to help, of being kept in the dark while you do God knows what to yourself. Silence on the other end made his blood run cold, shoulder and head now pressed to the door, trying to find any sign of your presence on the opposite side.

Already in position to ram into the door, the click of the lock registers in his ears. Wasting no time to swing it open, his heart pounded in his ears at the display before him.

There you stood, tears streaking your face and eyes empty from the mess that was your psyche. His sight trailed lower, nostrils flaring at the sight of crimson pooling in the sink, surrounding a bloody razor. Your trembling hand swathed your wrist, the red liquid staining your palm and your fingers digging into your tainted skin in a poor attempt to manage the flow.

“I’m sorry…” You mumbled, your bottom lip wobbling as you refused to meet his eye.

He didn’t react or think about anything else; his sole focus was on you.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but he stayed collected for your sake. Coming into the bathroom, he held you by the hips, eyes anchored to your face because he knows he’ll lose his shit the instant he looks at your arm. “I’m going to sit you down for a second, alright? Just breathe with me, I’m right here.”

As much as your body could in its state of shock, Jack maneuvered you to sit on the toilet seat, keeping your eyes stuck on the tile. You could hear him moving around you, grabbing a boxed item from the cabinet and running the sink for a bit. Your breath lumped in your throat, lungs tight and wheezing on every exhale. It was a blur how you got to the kitchen, your feet moving on their own as you floated outside of your body, your cognizance wandering to anywhere but here.

“Let me see your wrist, honey.” Jack advised, his voice unwavering despite the constriction of his pupils disclosed his panicked nature.

Carefully, you revealed your injuries to the veteran, blood streaming down onto the sterile procedure underpad he placed your arm on. He sighed in slight relief, thankful the two wounds were horizontal like the rest of the faded scars instead of the opposite, not deep enough for immediate concern, but you’d still need stitches.

“They’re not too deep, but I need to stitch you up so they heal, okay?” He was talking, you think he was, and despite not fully processing his mouth moving, you nodded anyway.

Placing the lightest kiss on your forehead, Jack promptly got to work. Opening the tactical first aid kit he kept in the bathroom, stacked to the brim with medical supplies, he found some gloves and got his station ready. He treated you like any other case in the ED, holding off on everything else going on in his head until you weren’t hurt anymore.

As serious as he can be, he numbed out the area for your comfort and flushed out the cuts for better visibility, taking hold of the suture and piercing the curved end to your skin. You didn’t jerk your arm away as he did so, looping the metal hook into your flesh a few more times before neatly tying the end and cutting the rest off. He double-checked to make sure the wound would heal properly with minimal issues and wrapped your wrist up in some gauze and a medical-grade bandage.

You were silent the entire time, the tension thick enough to cut through. He was figuring out the best approach to this conversation, to make sure he wouldn’t push you farther away.

“How’s the wrapping?” He started off with that, something easy for you to answer.

“It’s fine.” You shrugged, thumbing over the bandage. “Can’t feel anything.”

“Good, that’s good.” He replies, maintaining his analytical gaze on you. He plotted what exactly he could say, the right sequence of words that would put you at ease, but you got to it before he could.

“Jack…” He scanned your distressed features, never taking his eyes off of you. “Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be upset with you?” The thought of your priority being his reaction to your behavior in such a high-stress environment ached him. “I couldn’t be upset at you. Not for this, not for anything. You understand that, right?”

“I just… I feel so fucking stupid. For doing this, after being clean for so damn long.” You stared down at your wrists with sunken eyes, the self-deprecating thoughts banging around in your skull doing nothing to calm you down, eyes stinging with residual tears that never seemed to stop falling.

He uttered your name softly, reaching out to hold your hands as if you were made of porcelain, making an effort to dodge the new bandages covering your wrist.

“You’re not weak, or any less deserving of a life worth living for repeating old patterns. We’re not perfect, and when your mind is your worst enemy, it’s a constant battlefield up there. You think I didn’t struggle the same way before? I still do sometimes, and I’m sure if there was a remedy to get rid of all of the bullshit in our heads, we would’ve taken it a long time ago. What matters is you’re still here, breathing, talking. You’re still here.”

A pregnant pause followed his words, your grip tightening around his, blankly looking at his digits and mindlessly rubbing over his skin.

“I’m tired, Jack. I’m tired of it all, of the noise, of constantly needing to fight everything, to find a reason to keep going.” The tears still pebbled at the corner of your eye, lids lined with red and irritated from the emotional turmoil you’ve been working through. “It’s all becoming too much, and nothing was working, so I just…needed something to release the pressure. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, and that scares me. I’m at my limit, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

It killed him to know you’ve been carrying so much pain. He already knows of your background, of your prior attempts, and the skeletons hidden in your closet. Jack understands the cards that have been stacked against you from the very beginning of your existence, chasing a calm reality you’ll never experience; the closest you got to that was being in a partnership with him. Jack loved you with every part of his soul, he’s told you countless times. He hoped his love was enough to nullify your suffering, but even he knew there was no remedy for being your worst enemy.

“You don’t need to have it all figured out right now, and you don’t have to tell me everything you’re thinking or are choosing to forget. But just know, I love you, and I want to be able to love you in any capacity while you’re here with me.” His voice grew taut as he spoke, the faintest tell that he was being strong for your sake.

“This doesn’t change that, and whatever comes, I will help you through it. You’re worth the fight, you always have been, and you’ve been fighting for your place here for so long. I’m not letting you go, not that easily, and I won’t let you give up on yourself either. You don’t have to do this alone, not anymore.”

His words struck a chord with you, feeling them reverberate through your body, shuddering as he said everything you needed to hear. You sat together in the kitchen, letting his declaration to you hang in the air and marinate, breaking the silence after some time.

“Thank you.” Your gratitude for Jack’s selflessness goes without saying, the hazel eyes that had been drawn to you from the start were kind as they always were, warm and full of adoration you’ve never felt with or from anyone else.

“Always.” His head tilts behind him, gesturing to the fridge. “Made something in case you still wanted a bite.”

“I don’t think I can stomach anything right now, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I already wrapped it up in case you changed your mind.” Jack stayed quiet, pondering for a beat before talking again. “I’ll ask the other residents to cover your shifts for the rest of the week, and I’ll switch out with Robby so I can stay here with you.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you already were.

“I know I don’t, but I want to, I feel like I need to. We’ll just take a few days, recuperate, get you out of the house for some fresh air and do something together, maybe coordinate next steps. How does that sound?”

For the first time in what felt like weeks, that spark that slipped away appeared in your eyes again. It was faint and fleeting, but you were still there underneath all of that baggage.

“It’s much better than being in the Pitt. I don’t want Robby on my ass for not showing up for a while.” He chuckles dryly, shaking his head in agreement.

“He’ll understand, trust me, and he loves being there with all of the rookies. Plus, the old man owes me, he won’t mind.”

Your shoulders dropped from their stiff position the entire night, your body language now more relaxed than before as the exhaustion from everything started to kick in.

“I think I want to go to bed now, sleep all of this off.”

“I’m right behind you.” He didn’t debate with you or ask for more answers to his questions; there was no need if he knew you'd come to him when you were ready to talk.

Packing away the rest of his medical gear and disposing of the hazardous material properly, he made sure the rest of the kitchen was cleared before meeting you in the bedroom. You stood awkwardly in front of the bathroom, the same place where the offense took place, losing yourself in the constricting tiled room.

“Do you want me to help you?” He lingered, as he usually did, and you’ve never been more grateful for his consistent support.

“Please.”

He put the first aid kit back where he found it and searched around the bedroom, finding his overworn Army shirt you claimed was your favorite. He approached you with a cool and collected attitude, gently asking for permission before he slipped your current t-shirt off of your head and dressed you in the olive green cotton, caressing the side of your jaw affectionately.

Letting you go to slip under the sheets and claim your side of the bed, he sat on the edge of the mattress to take off his prosthetic, placing it against the bedside table for when he woke up. Tossing the duvet cover over him and filling the empty space beside you, he angled his body towards you, head digging into the pillow under him.

You shifted to him in an instant, nestling your face into his chest. The scent of him hit your nose, overpowering your senses and soothing your nerves, leaning against him with your full body weight and seeking out his warmth. A thick arm shielded you from the rest of the world, winding around your waist and bringing you closer, resting comfortably on your backside. Your breathing matched pace with his, mimicking his inhales and exhales as he coached you to fully settle.

“Jack?” The hum he gave you vibrated underneath your cheek. “I love you, and I hope you know that, even if I don’t say it all the time.”

“I know. I love you too.” He kisses your hairline again, your face tilting upwards to meet his lips, soft and sweet, and just enough pressure to reassure him you felt the same. “You have me, sweetheart. Always.”

“Tell me a story. Want to hear you while I sleep.” You requested shyly, throwing your free arm over his waist, stroking the arch of his spine under his t-shirt.

As he retold another memory from his past, a fond one from his childhood, while his hand rubbed the back of your head, kneading the nape of your neck and running lines over your scalp. His words trailed off as your eyes fluttered closed, your hand ceasing its movement over his back, falling limp along with the rest of your body. You fell asleep long before his story finished, but Jack didn’t close his eyes just yet, he couldn’t.

It was in the stillness of the night that his trepidation creeped up to the surface, his mind running a mile a minute, overrun by all the protocols of the worst-case scenarios and their proper reactions. When it came to you, the same rules never applied, his sense of reason always flew out of the window. He released a quivering breath he didn’t realize he was holding; the thought of losing you, of not being there to save you, haunted him in his sleep. He never thought a part of his nightmare would manifest into reality, but he knows this was more than just him.

Whatever came next, however you wanted to handle this, he vowed to stick beside you, no matter the outcome. He was determined to prevent you from falling through the cracks, not if he could help it. You were worth the heartbreak and the sorrow; he’ll share the burden of your existence with you if it means he can keep loving you for a bit longer if you’ll let him.

In any way, Jack is here to stay like the loyal soldier he is, and he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot #the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo #the pitt 2025 #shawn hatosy #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆#cw sh mention

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 9 months ago

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Desperation

When you disappear from the Arkham Knights base, he's intent on getting you back. ~1.1k words

If the Arkham Knight knew that you'd be so against releasing fear gas over the entire eastern seaboard, he wouldn't have let you have nearly as much freedom around his base as he did. He really didn't consider that your moral compass would keep you from staying with him.

He's frustrated, as he tears through the streets of Gotham searching for you. If you wanted him to change his plans, you only needed to ask. Sure, he might have lied about the details, but the two of you could have at least talked before you decided leaving him was for the best.

He doesn't understand how you've managed to evade him for this long. He's checked every one of The Bats safehouses he knows you know about and a few you didn't. So where the hell are you?

He slams his fist into the wall of another empty safehouse. This is ridiculous. You don't get to run from him, don't get to be anywhere he doesn't know. How is he supposed to know you're safe like this? Know you're not making a bad decision? Not doing something that'll end in you hurt– kidnapped– dead?

His throat tightens as he storms out of the room, mentally running through where you could have gone to hide from him. He has his men stationed at the port, at hotels, at the subway stations, the airport, the highways out of Gotham. There's no way you've gotten out of the city.

'Unless you escaped before he noticed you were gone,' his mind supplies unhelpfully. The Arkham Knight scowls, as if that was possible. He stalks across the rooftops, mind racing. The second he gets his hands on you, he's putting a tracer on you. He should have done it sooner. Never should have let this happen. You're not supposed to be away from him. He needs you with him, needs you close.

Where did you go? Where did you go?

"Boss," a voice cuts through his helmet.

"What?" He snaps, voice sharp and angry and dangerous.

"We had a sighting of them."

He almost lets out a sigh of relief, "Location?"

You cursed rapidly under your breath as you dart through the alleys of Gotham. Stupid- stupid to get spotted by one of Jason's payrolled men. You knew you were lucky to have recognized him, but The Arkham Knight must know where you are by now.

You debate chancing the sewers, Killer Croc is supposed to be in Arkham, and if you're careful you could avoid Grundy. You don't have a plan– didn't have a plan when you left. You just needed to get out, needed air and space and time to process, to really come to terms with the fact that Jason isn't your Jason anymore.

Everything seems to be flying by in a whirlwind as you move through the shadows. Your thoughts frazzled, you don't even know what you want. Do you want him to find you? Do you want to go back with him? Do you want to keep running?

You don't really get a say in the matter when the Arkham Knight drops down a mere five feet in front of you, blocking one of your two exits out of the alleyway.

You let out a strangled noise of surprise as he storms towards you. You stumble back, eyes wide, "Jason–"

"What are you doing out here? Do you know what time it is? How dangerous this is?" He grabs your arm, grip tight to keep you in place. You can hear the desperation in his tone even through the modulator.

"I just– I needed to think–" You stumble out, eyes darting over the neon blue glow of his helmet.

"You can think inside the base, where it's safe." He tells you firmly, already dragging you along the alley.

You dig your heels in, "No, Jason. I can't go back there."

He turns back to you, voice low and almost threatening, "Why not?"

"I'm scared."

He falls quiet. You both do. He lets go of you. "Of me?"

"No! No, Jason, not of– of course not of you. I'm scared of– I'm scared that I understand. That your plan makes sense and I– I understand. At least, why you need this. Bruce failed you. I failed you." You start to reach for him, for the boy you fell in love with, the one lost underneath the armor and guns and nightmares. You stop short, it's hard sometimes, to not blame yourself for what happened to him.

He meets you halfway, the man he is now, the one who you don't quite know how to love yet, grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest. "I don't blame you."

"You should," You protest, but don't remove your hand, "I'm guilty too. A part of you must know that."

He shakes his head, squeezes your hand, "I don't care."

"You should," You repeat, angry and bitter with yourself.

"It doesn't matter, even if I did," he sighs your name and tugs off his helmet, letting it drop to the ground, "You're coming back with me."

You frown a little, something you can't quite name flicks in your eyes. In another life, he would have said he needed you, that he wants you with him, that he can't bear to be apart from you. But that's not who he is anymore, it's not what Arkham turned him into.

You don't know how to say no, not when his eyes are hard and his jaw is set. His only sign of vulnerability is the slight acceleration of his heartbeat, the way his fingers twitch against yours. All you can offer is a nod.

The lines of his face soften just enough to make your heart flutter and he leans in to press a firm kiss to your mouth.

It's still unfamiliar, the way he kisses you now, but you can't help but want to learn. It feels impossible not to, not when you know what he really means with his actions. Not when he whispers that he can't lose you, that he still loves you into your skin when you're half asleep at night.

You just start to kiss him back, just start to lean into his touch when he pulls away, letting go of you to dip down and retrieve his helmet.

He pulls it on in one practiced motion, hiding anything that was readable on his face from you, "Let's get you back."

Your face falls a little as he turns and starts walking away, but you follow him. Of course you do. Your chest aches, your head still feels muddled with what you've learned, but when he silently reaches his hand back for yours, your steps no longer feel so heavy.

#arkham knight x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #ak!jason todd x reader

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nerdykeppie · 5 months ago

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Holiday Shopping that fights period poverty for college students? Yep! Read on. :)

After the success of our June/Pride 2024 sales goal, where we managed to eliminate a lot of the debt we accumulated while I was unable to work earlier this year & stock up cash so we didn't have to borrow for payroll during the fall lull and also donate to @queerliblib, we were considering where to focus on this year when a conversation I had with my mom pointed me in the direction of our charity for Holidays 2024: the East Stroudsburg University Warrior Food Pantry, and specifically, stocking menstrual products at the pantry.

Without getting too much into the weeds about the details - which I'll talk about under the cut for those of you who are interested - here's the pitch: we need to hit a gross sales goal of $45K in December in order to pay our bills and payroll basically until Pride starts up. Businesses like ours are very much feast or famine, and we've got to eat and we've got people whose paychecks depend on us having the cash to pay them.

If we hit that goal, we'll donate the equivalent of 1% of our net profit from the month of December in period products -- tampons and pads, specifically, by request of the food pantry, and possibly reusable pads and menstrual cups, if the pantry wants that from us. (At the end of the day, this is about taking care of people the way they need, and we'll listen to the pantry staff about what people are requesting.)

We've currently got our Bottoms & Tops sale going, too, so you can buy 2 tops or bottoms from the linked collection & get 69% off the 3rd item from that collection.

Okay, so for the long version whys and wherefores:

My mom taught math at ESU for 35 years, and she and Dad now volunteer running the food pantry along with a couple of other people. ESU is a state school, and as such is one of the few remaining vaguely affordable schools in Pennsylvania. A lot of its students are self-supporting for one reason or another -- many are "non-traditional"/adult students, have kids, or don't have families that can support them while they go to school. Mom & Dad have pushed to expand what the food pantry offers to personal care items, which has been difficult due to a bunch of boring stuff about money and state entities and also people thinking 'that's not food,' but Mom is stubborn about it, because -- to paraphrase her -- how can you focus on class when you feel gross? This struggle has been especially difficult for menstrual products, and way more so for tampons, because it's a rather conservative area and... yeah. People get weird about it.

I've been really broke, with a young kid, and reliant on food pantries, which rarely, if ever, have any menstrual products, let alone tampons. Period poverty is very real, and it sucks.

Plus, I gotta tell you, if we can send a bunch of boxes of tampons and pads to the food pantry, well... Rumor has it this will help my mom win an argument over whether those items should be carried at all, because what are they gonna do, throw them out? They're here! They've been donated! Wasting them would be terrible. :)

So that's the pitch, guys. Help me make a direct, measurable difference in the lives of people at the school where I went to winter swim team, the school that fed me growing up... and help my mom win an argument about making people's lives better... and get your holiday shopping done while you do. ;) We start counting sales from the minute I hit post. :P

#nerdykeppie #queer pride #trans pride #mutual aid #we take care of us

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skitzrep · 17 days ago

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what if we switched it up from half-angel to half-demon? enemies to lovers

when sparda made the barrier, he had his right-hand in attendance. by serving him loyally, this elite female demon was brought by her commander to earth's realm after the war

once news of sparda's offspring reached her ears, her loyalty knew no bounds, and she sired her own with a fortunate human

when sparda left his sons, his right-hand left with him, taking her offspring with her

the elite female demon thoroughly raised the halfling to be a warrior before disappearing with sparda once she was ten

the halfling quickly made use of her talents and skills, climbing the ladder within the city underworld until she started her nightclub (cliche ikr) to make money over—and under—the counter, with a side hustle in demon immigration

the halfling knows who dante is the minute he steps into her club—with the red amulet resting boldly on his chest. part of her wonders how he stumbled into her nightclub. the son of the demon knight and the offspring of his lieutenant reuniting because of their entwined fate.

"If it isn't the demon hunter," the halfling greets, leaning against her office desk. "I hope you didn't hit anyone on your way up." "No, no," Dante drawls dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. The amulet shone glaringly in the light. "Your guys were total gentlemen. I almost thought one had a crush on me." "What brings you into my club?" The halfling brushes her hair out of her face as she sips her coffee. She could tell her invitation up to her office had flustered him. Dante probably wasn't expecting to get noticed so quickly. "I've heard you've been smuggling demons into this realm," he answers candidly. He falls silent, and the halfling frowns at the pause. "Yes? What about it? Spit it out." "I need passage into Hell." The conviction in his voice does little to capture her attention. She scoffs and takes another sip of her coffee. "Is that all? Simple." A deeply purple ball grows in her hand before she flicks it at the wall, ripping a hole through the wall. The other side of the purple veil revealed Hell's desolation. "Be on your way." "There's another thing. You need to stop smuggling demons into this realm." This made her laugh from her stomach. "I wouldn't push your luck. I think I'm already doing you one favor at a considerate fee." Free of charge—contingent on him leaving immediately. "It wasn't a request," Dante says confidently with a grin. "Don't think I couldn't tell you're one of them too." "Oh? That sounds like a threat. What are you going to do?" She responds in a hardened tone. The halfling snaps her fingers and the veil vanishes. "Now you can walk out of my club before I castrate you." "Now who's making threats?" Dante smirks, reaching for his blade. "Must be on the same page." She brandishes a karambit as her eyes gleam with excitement.

their fight ends in a draw, with most of the surrounding area of the club torn up as a result. dante is stronger than her, but she is faster and smarter than him. their sexual tension and fighting rapport is so condensed, that it makes their disagreement seem long-forgotten

a few months later, dante is breaking into her club for a job.

Dante didn't mean to break the window, but his lock-picking skills weren't the best. He figured there must not be any alarms since nobody came to investigate, and he managed to find his way up to the office without getting caught. Enzo told him a bad demon was on payroll in the halfling's club. She could overlook this. He was convinced. "This should be good," her voice made Dante jump in surprise. "What brings you into my club again, demon hunter?" There's a vague hostility in her tone, like he had crossed a line. Dante raised his hands up in surrender. "I just need one of your buddies to come with me for the night," he answers casually, shrugging. Her eyes widen before a look of outrage flashes on her face. "You don't fucking learn your lesson do you?" "Whoa, let's relax," Dante tries to placate, not in any mood to go hours fighting again—especially not when she seemed angry. "It's not a huge deal, your demon's just a murdering thug. You could find any other human to do the same busy work for you." That was not the right thing to say. "You come into my club making ridiculous demands, and think I'll just let you kill one of mine?" The lieutenant's offspring's hair lit up in flames and hardened demon skin spread over her human image. Tails sprouted from her tailbone, sharpened at the ends and waving dangerously. "Someone should really teach you some manners. Seems like mommy didn't get a chance."

note: i hope this dynamic makes it sense (it's a slow-burn)

#dmc dante x reader #dmc dante #dante sparda x reader #devil may cry

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scary-grace · 23 days ago

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Call Me Sometime - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You work the dispatch desk at a phone sex line to make ends meet, and you're used to handling some strange calls. But the caller you're babysitting tonight is the strangest by far -- and that's before you find out why he called.

Your headset is making your ear hurt, but you know you’ll get a call the instant you take it off, and your boss has this thing about dropped calls. The meter on each session starts running the instant the client is approved by the screener, and why Mizuho can’t do this part, too, you’ll never understand. Her quirk lets her pick up a variety of useful information just from hearing someone’s voice, but she’s only interested in three pieces – their sexual orientation, their price point, and their age. If the latter two check out, she fills in the third and routes the call to you, and it’s your job to match the client with the appropriate phone sex operator.

It’s not your job to talk to the clients. But the meter’s running once they pass the screener, and more often than not, they’re paying to talk to a woman. During busy times, when all the other operators are occupied and there’s a client on hold, that woman is you.

You’re nineteen, technically too young for a job like this one. You were younger when you were hired. The head of the agency, Souma – she makes everyone call her Akiko, like you’re friends or something – knew that when she sought you out, but you didn’t know she knew. Midway through the interview, when she was talking about the solid pay rate and flexible hours, you brought it up. “You know I’m eighteen, right?”

“That’s why I want you,” she said, her smile sharp-toothed, and you blinked. “Our clients are perverts of the first order, and they get off on doing what they aren’t supposed to. Even if there’s nothing sexual about your conversations with them – even if you’re telling them to hold while you route their call – knowing that they’re talking to an underage girl will get them going.”

“That’s gross,” you said, for lack of anything better. Akiko nodded. She was applying lipstick, checking it in a compact mirror, although you know now that the mirror itself contains a device that jams surveillance equipment. Your boss doesn’t take risks, and neither do you – which is why you were so hesitant to take the job. “I don’t have to – do anything. I’d just route the calls and chat when they have to hold longer than two minutes.”

“That’s right,” Akiko said. She smiled at you. “Are we doing this? I’ll put you on the payroll right now.”

You wanted to be on the payroll. The pay rate was twice as much as you could get anywhere else, and you needed the money. But you had another question. Two questions. “You know I’m quirkless?”

“So what? You don’t need a quirk to answer phones.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, and even then, you were smart enough not to let her see it. “There are other girls my age you could get to do this. Ones who’d be – better at it.”

“You mean my fellow sluts?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant,” Akiko said, and kept talking when you protested. “It’s all right, darling. We’re all sluts here.”

“It’s not what I meant,” you repeated. “There are other girls who’d be better at it. Why me?”

“Mm.” Akiko studied you. Six months later, you still remember the way your skin crawled under her gaze. “You know how to sound high-class, and you sound innocent. But the questions you ask tell me that you’re sharp enough to handle a job like this. And you need the money badly enough to know that you can’t say no. Are you in or are you out?”

You were in. You felt like you were walking into a trap, but you were in, and you’re still in now. Which is why you don’t take your headset off, even when it hurts your ear. Which is why, when a call comes in and you see that every operator has at least two minutes left in their current session, you hit accept and sit up a little straighter in your chair. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to Shiroiwa Services. I’m not your conversational partner for the evening, but I’d love to keep you company while you’re waiting.”

“What are you wearing?”

You sigh inwardly and make a checkmark in the notepad where you keep track of terrible opening lines. You get that one about seventy percent of the time, and you increase the pitch of your voice ever so slightly as you pull up the caller’s details. “Why do you want to know?”

“So I can picture you just right.”

Gross. The client’s in his fifties, and Mizuho’s been nice enough to give you a heads-up that he’s married – and when he’s called in before, he’s wanted to talk to young-sounding operators. “Just my uniform, sir,” you say. You give a beat, then follow up. “My school uniform.”

You’re lying. You work strictly back of house, and right now you’re wearing sweatpants, flip-flops, and a shirt you stole from one of the operators that says ‘men’s tits’ on it. But the guy on the phone doesn’t know that. “A schoolgirl,” he says, and you can practically hear him drooling into the phone. “Does your daddy know what you’re doing right now?”

Your daddy’s probably calling a phone sex line as you speak. You know for a fact that he’s too poor to afford Shiroiwa, but you still live in fear of the day where you have to transfer his call. “No, sir,” you say. “Please don’t tell him. It can be our secret. I’m really good at keeping secrets.”

Before the client can say anything else, a green light pops up on your screen – Minami is open for business. Perfect. “It’s been so nice to speak with you, sir. I’ll transfer you to Minami presently. Have a sensational evening!”

The client dallies a little bit, hinting that he’d rather talk to you than Minami, but you shake him off in fifteen seconds or less and finally pry your headset off your ear. Then you flop facedown on your desk. You hate your job. You love that it pays, but you really, really, really hate your job. “Ugh.”

“Heard you on the phone.” Haruka, one of the escorts, punches you in the arm on her way out the door to meet the car that will take her to tonight’s engagement. She puts on a high-pitched voice. “I’m really good at keeping secrets –”

“What was I supposed to do? I can’t talk about how horny I am. That’s illegal.”

“For another eight months. Then we’ll get you.”

“You wish.” Eight months from now, you’ll be out of here. You think. You hope. As your headset lights up with another call, you might actually pray.

You wanted to be a doctor, but that takes money – and although nobody will admit it, it takes a quirk. Nursing school is less expensive, but once again, no nursing school likes to take on quirkless students. It pisses you off to think about it. Sure, some quirks are suited to the medical field, but a guy with a quirk that lets him blow bubbles with his own snot isn’t any more suited to be a nurse than you are with no quirk at all. But thinking that way lies madness, so you turned to the rest of the field and found your dream job. Dynamic. In high demand. Still expensive, but cheaper than everything else. EMT school. You’re going to be a paramedic, and doing office work for a high-end sex service is how you’re going to pay for it.

You route three more calls, babysit one client who wants to know what you’re wearing and how much of it you’ll take off, and confirm addresses and code phrases for three of the escorts before they head out. There are three tiers of service at Shiroiwa. At the top are the real escorts – Akiko, Mayumi, Sakura, Kyoko, Akane, the ones who go out on dates and pull in big money. Then there are the ones who work as servers and dancers at fancy parties – Takako, Yukie, Keiko, and a whole bunch of others whose names you keep forgetting. There are a lot of them. Then there are the phone and chat sex operators, of which there are even more, and all the way down under the foundations of the pyramid, there’s you.

Your job, as Akiko puts it, is to fill the holes. Every place where a detail or a client might fall through the cracks, that’s where you’re supposed to be to catch them. It keeps you on your toes. You tell yourself that it’s good practice for the job you really want to do, and some nights, you almost believe it.

Saturday night is busy, but there are lulls here and there, and whenever there’s a lull, you take out your textbook and do a little studying. You’re decent at biology, but it takes work, and you need to pass your entrance exam to EMT school on your first try. You’re in the middle of familiarizing yourself with all the parts of the limbic system when your headset starts beeping – and when you check your screen, you see that every single operator is busy. Again.

You get paid a flat hourly rate, but you really should negotiate that up for nights you spend keeping clients occupied while they wait. You answer the phone and run through your spiel – your operator’s not ready yet, but I’m here, and I’m super psyched to talk to a weirdo just like you – and wait for the inevitable question about what you’re wearing. You wait. And wait.

And keep waiting, so long that you start to wonder if the call’s dropped when you weren’t looking. That, or the client got so wound up hearing a woman’s voice on the phone that they had a heart attack and died. You try again. “Hello?”

The call’s still live. You hear your voice echo on the other end of the line, and when you listen closer, you can hear someone breathing. Breathing sort of heavily. Great. “You know I get paid whether you talk or not, right?”

Oops. You shouldn’t have said that. Akiko will be pissed, and if whoever this is pays up, does it really matter if he says anything? Maybe he just wants to breathe heavily into the phone until time’s up. You’d like to thing you can sit quietly while some guy does – something – to the sound of your breathing on your end of the line, but it turns out that’s beyond your power to cope with. “Um, do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

“What?”

“Clients usually ask that,” you say, trying to cover your shock. This client sounds young. Shiroiwa’s price point is so high that next to none of the clients are younger than forty, but this guy sounds like he’s barely out of high school. You should know. You’re barely out of high school yourself. “They want to know what I’m wearing so they can – um, imagine a little better.”

Silence. The breathing sounds a little less heavy and a little more hyperventilating, and you resist the urge to bang your head on the table with an effort. Why do you always get stuck with the weird ones? “So, like I said, I’m not actually the person you’re supposed to talk to. I’m just here to keep you company until your partner’s ready for you. We don’t have to talk at all.”

You’re rapidly coming to the conclusion that not talking is the best outcome for this situation. You and the client can pretend each other isn’t there until you can transfer him to somebody else, somebody who’s good with the weird ones or the shy ones. Rika, maybe. She’s good at bringing clients out of their shells. The fact that she and you and anybody else who listens in wishes they’d never come out of their shells in the first place doesn’t really matter.

“Who are you, then?” The raspy voice is in your ear again. “If you’re not who I’m supposed to talk to.”

“I’m admin. Kind of a secretary.” You kick yourself instantly for the choice of words. “Not the sexy kind of secretary. Just – I’m the one who routes the phone calls. And the messages from our chat service. Unless it’s busy.”

“It’s busy?”

“Saturday night? It’s really busy,” you say. He sounds disappointed. “Is there somebody you were hoping to talk to specifically? I can let you know how long of a wait there will be.”

“I don’t care who I talk to,” the client says. You hear that from new clients a lot, before they pick a favorite. All the regulars have favorites. “This was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say hastily. Akiko will kill you if you lose a client. Even a weird client. “Tell me what you want to talk about. That way I can pick the right partner to send to you.”

“I don’t know,” the client says. You glance at the info Mizuho sent and get a shock – the client’s twenty, just a year older than you. “It’s – fuck. It’s my birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you say on autopilot, which is apparently the wrong thing to say. You can practically feel the client’s discomfort oozing through the phone, and you spin off into a sales pitch that sounds terrible even to you. “Well, you’ve called the right service. I know a ton of our companions who can make your day really special.”

“Too fucking late.” The client sounds bitter about it, or maybe just sad. Definitely pissed that he feels that way. “This was stupid. I just wanted –”

“Someone to talk to,” you realize before he can finish the sentence, and you hear a startled inhale on the other end of the line. He’s going to be prickly about it. You would be, if somebody read you like that. “What did you do today?”

“What did I do today?”

“Look, we can talk about that, or I can tell you what I’m wearing. Up to you.” You hear a weird sound. Is he choking or laughing? “What did you do today?”

“Nothing. Slept until three. Played a few games.”

“Which games?” you ask. “Something tells me you’re not a board game type of guy. Are you an FPS type, or more into MMORPGs –”

“You know what that is?”

He sounds surprised. “I’m more of a D&D type myself,” you say. You, two of the phone sex operators, and three of your friends from high school all have a campaign going. “But I know what the cool kids play. Are you a team player?”

“Solo.”

“Impressive,” you say. “It takes skill to go it alone. I’m only good as part of a team.”

It’s weird to say something honest about yourself on the phone with a client. You know for a fact that Akiko always shares certain details – she says it makes them feel closer to her, makes them easier to manage – but you’re not a companion. You lie every time you’re on the phone with a client. This is the first time you’ve ever said anything true, and it feels weird. It’s not a habit you want to get into.

The client, meanwhile, is finally starting to loosen up. “So that’s what you’re doing when you’re not answering phones at a phone sex line? Playing games?”

“No, usually I’m studying.”

“Studying what?”

Too personal, again. You need to shut it down. “Do you really want to talk about me?”

“Better than talking about me.” The client’s voice takes on a weird flat note, one you don’t know how to identify over the phone. “What would have happened, anyway? If I’d talked to somebody else.”

“You’re going to talk to somebody else.” None of the other operators are free yet. “Well, to start with, they’d probably tell you what they’re wearing.”

The client snickers. You made him laugh. Why does that feel like an achievement? “Um, and then you’d probably have phone sex. That’s what they do.”

“But not what you do.”

What is that supposed to mean? “Definitely not. Like I said, I just route the phone calls. And keep clients company while they wait.” It’s silent. You wait, growing more uncomfortable by the second. “If you tell me what kind of phone sex you want to have –”

Your screen flashes. “All right, we have an open operator. A couple open operators. If you tell me a little bit about what you’re looking for, I can match you up.”

Ordinarily, you don’t play matchmaker like this, but you’re weirdly invested in making sure that this client has a positive phone sex experience on his twentieth birthday. “Uh –” the client breaks off, clears his throat. “I don’t want to talk to any of them.”

“Um –”

“Can I just talk to you?”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” You watch, agonized, as three calls pile up in the queue behind this one. “You don’t actually want to talk to me. You’re paying by the minute for someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“If you transfer me, I’ll hang up.” The client’s not threatening you, you don’t think – just telling you how it’s going to be. Some part of you appreciates the clarity. “I want to talk to you. You can even tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, and even though you know it’s a terrible idea, you hit transfer, sending the three queued calls to the open operators and keeping this client on the line with you. “It’s not worth talking about. Tell me about you. On the scale of worst to best birthdays ever, where does this one fall?”

“The shit end.” The client’s answer should have been predictable, but his follow-up isn’t: “Moving up a bit, though.”

“Why was it shitty?” you ask, knowing as you do that it’s a mistake. You don’t need to know why the client had a shitty birthday, except to know that it’s shitty enough that he called a phone sex line to have someone to talk to. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” The client’s voice gets quieter. “Nothing ever happens.”

You somehow manage to restrain yourself from going down the list, checking off all the birthday stuff to make sure the client’s really telling the truth. The client starts filling in the blanks without being prompted. “I don’t need any of it. I can buy my own presents. And a cake. And fucking balloons if I want them. What am I supposed to do then? Sing happy fucking birthday to myself?”

“That would be pretty sad,” you agree. “Want me to sing to you?”

The client makes a weird sound. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t actually want to sing to me. You don’t know me. You’re only on the phone at all because I’m paying you.”

“That’s how you got on the phone with me, sure,” you say. “But I don’t have to know you to think you should get at least one birthday song. Even if it’s from me.”

It’s quiet for a second. “You sure you don’t just want to tell me what you’re wearing?”

You decide to hell with it and start singing anyway. Quietly, and making at least a little effort to stay on key. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear –”

You stop when you realize you don’t know the client’s name, and you wait for him to fill it in. And wait. And wait. “Are you going to finish it or not?” the client asks.

“I need your name first. Otherwise it won’t be the real birthday song.” You’re aware that this is ridiculous – you’re singing happy birthday to a client who called Shiroiwa’s phone sex line and got stage fright so bad that he decided he’d rather talk to you. “Happy birthday dear –”

“Tenko.”

“Happy birthday dear Tenko,” you sing, “happy birthday to you.”

It’s quiet for a second. You’re still not great with silence. “Was that so hard?”

“No,” the client – Tenko – says. It’s quiet for longer this time. “That was –”

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

That’s Akiko’s voice. Shit. You look up in horror and find her bearing down on you, dressed to the nines and wearing heels that probably make her taller than All Might. “There are eight calls in the queue and seven operators with no clients, and instead of doing your job you’re on the phone with a friend –”

“You’re in trouble,” Tenko says. It’s not a question.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I have to go,” you say. “I can transfer you –”

“I don’t want a transfer. Do you really have to –”

The look on Akiko’s face says yes. “I’m really sorry. Look, um –”

“What’s your name?” Tenko asks. Akiko is looking for the ‘end call’ button, but she’s not great with tech. You’ve got ten seconds or so before she realizes it’s on your headset and rips it off your head. “Come on. You know my name. It’s not fair if I don’t know yours.”

“My friends call me Nine,” you say. They do when you’re playing D&D, at least – that’s your character’s name. “I have to go.”

Tenko says something else, or starts to, but you press the end call button yourself and face up to your boss, assigning the queued calls as quickly as possible. “It was a client,” you say, before she can say a word. “The meter was running the whole time.”

Akiko’s temper comes down a notch when she hears it was a paid call, but you’re not out of the woods yet. “You should have transferred him.”

“He said he’d hang up.”

“This operation is barely legal as it is, and you’re underage. If you were talking about anything sexual –”

“We weren’t. He just turned twenty,” you say desperately. “He didn’t even want to know what I was wearing.”

Akiko blinks. “Really?”

“I tried,” you say. She nods, bemused. “I shouldn’t have let the other calls wait. I’m sorry.”

“As long as you don’t do it again,” Akiko says. She’s smiling, but you’d be an idiot if you thought she was telling the truth. She leans over and checks the call receipt on your screen. “Mm, this was a nice long conversation. What were the two of you discussing?”

“I don’t really know.” At least half the conversation was you trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Am I in trouble?”

“None of the calls have been dropped, and that client of yours paid the same price for you as he would have for one of my operators. You aren’t in trouble,” Akiko says. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You turn back to your screen and transfer the last queued client, watching as the clock on your computer flips from 11:59 to 12:00am. It’s not Tenko’s birthday anymore. You wonder if he got what he wanted out of calling Shiroiwa Services. Probably not.

taglist: @f3r4lfr0gg3r @lvtuss @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @evilcookie5 @deadhands69 @shigarakislaughter @lacrimae-lotos @xeveryxstarfallx @handumb @agente707 @warxhammer @issaortiz @stardustdreamersisi @cheeseonatower @boogiemansbitch @koohiii @baking-ghoul @atspiss @shikiblessed @aslutforfictionalmen

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shimura tenko x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #tenko shimura x you #shimura tenko x you #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door

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thebearer · 2 years ago

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follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust.

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust.

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.”

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-”

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.”

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.”

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him.

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.”

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.”

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good.

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.”

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.”

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office.

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully.

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-”

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?”

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!”

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant.

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.”

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open.

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least.

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.”

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.”

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned.

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush.

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly.

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-”

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently.

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered.

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted.

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.”

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat.

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him.

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded.

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright.

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.”

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert.

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left.

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen.

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed.

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock.

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?”

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered.

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.”

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?”

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.”

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil.

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.”

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven.

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.”

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?”

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment.

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie.

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.”

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.”

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room.

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded.

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.”

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in.

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!”

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please”

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good.

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!”

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him.

To: Carmen

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!”

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way.

So, Carmen did what he always did.

From: Carmen

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret.

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!”

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.”

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned.

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance.

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you.

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.”

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.”

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s.

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?”

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?”

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked.

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell.

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way.

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do.

“What? Cousin, what are you-”

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.”

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned.

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added.

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him.

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her.

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-”

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.”

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.”

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?”

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen.

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.”

3K notes · View notes

rosemariiaa · 1 month ago

Text

~Off the Rails (And into my Head) pt2~

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— w/c: 9.4k (i think)

𐙚— rosie’s note: hi there, after my little crashout we finally got it! not all they proofread but wtv, happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚— themes: fluff, language

By now, Azzi is convinced Paige is doing this on purpose.

Because no one—not even the most scatterbrained, forgetful, reckless person on the planet—could possibly get locked out of their hotel room four times in two weeks without some level of intention.

Right?

She doesn’t want to sound cocky, but at a certain point, she has to wonder—is this really just Paige being dumb, or is she actually doing this to see me?

The first time, Azzi gave her the benefit of the doubt. Mistakes happen. People forget their keycards. No big deal.

The second time, it was kind of funny. Paige had banged on Azzi’s door, looking like a very inconvenienced golden retriever, grumbling about how she definitely left her key on the nightstand.

The third time? Suspicious.

And now, standing in the hallway yet again, watching Paige attempt (and fail) to sweet-talk the front desk into giving her a new key without ID, Azzi is starting to think this is a pattern.

“You know they’re not gonna let you in unless you have ID,” she says, arms crossed.

Paige leans against the counter, turning on the charm. “Come on, man. We’ve done this before.”

The employee—same guy from last time, looking thoroughly unimpressed—gives her a blank stare. “Yeah. We have. Which is why you should know I can’t give you a key without ID.”

Paige sighs, spinning to face Azzi like she’s personally offended. “You hear this? They don’t trust me.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Because you literally could be an intruder.”

Paige scoffs. “Do I look like an intruder?”

Azzi takes in her oversized hoodie, messy bun, and sock-covered feet—because, of course, Paige didn’t even put on shoes before locking herself out. Again.

“…You look like someone who doesn’t deserve to get let back into their room.”

Paige gasps, audibly. “Wow. And I thought we were friends.”

Azzi rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother hiding her smile. “I’ll go get my key.”

But before she can turn, Paige is already leaning dramatically over the counter, pleading her case.

Paige leans on the hotel counter, exasperated. “Kevin, I’ll give you my full name, room number—whatever you need.”

Kevin doesn’t blink. “Still need ID.”

Paige groans. “Kevin, you’re killing me.”

“Not my problem.”

Azzi snorts, clearly enjoying the show.

Paige sighs. “Come on, you know me. I’m practically on payroll at this point.”

Kevin just raises an eyebrow. “Or you could stop forgetting your key.”

Azzi covers her mouth to muffle a laugh.

Paige turns to her. “Alright, hypothetically, I’m a paying guest, right?”

Kevin deadpans, “You are a guest.”

“So, shouldn’t I get customer service?”

Azzi actually laughs now.

Kevin stays unimpressed. “Customer service doesn’t mean breaking hotel policy.”

Paige throws herself onto the counter like a child. “You are so dramatic, Kevin.”

Kevin shrugs.

Azzi, amused but knowing this could go on forever, steps in. “Kevin,” she says, sweet and polite. “I totally understand if you can’t, but I’d really appreciate it if you made an exception.”

Kevin hesitates.

Azzi tilts her head, smiling.

Kevin sighs, already caving. “Fine. Just this once.”

Paige snatches the key before Azzi can grab it. “Wow. So all it takes is her asking? Unreal.”

Kevin shrugs. “She asked nicely.”

Paige’s eye twitches. “I asked nicely!”

Azzi laughs. “No, you didn’t.”

Paige huffs, dragging Azzi away by the wrist.

Azzi stumbles after her, grinning. “Aw are you jealous right now?”

Paige scoffs. “No. I’m offended.”

“Same thing.”

Back at Paige’s room, she grumbles under her breath, keycard clenched in her fist like a personal insult.

Azzi shakes her head, still entertained. “I barely even asked.”

Paige scoffs. “Barely asked? Please. You could get someone’s social security number with that voice.”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “It’s called being polite.”

“I was polite.”

Azzi gives her a look.

Paige throws a hand up. “I said ‘come on, man,’ I used his name, I even recited my room number! I was the definition of polite.”

Azzi hums, unconvinced.

Paige glares. “Don’t ‘hmm’ me. You smiled, and Kevin folded in three seconds.”

Azzi smirks.

Paige scowls. “Wipe that look off your face.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re smug.”

Azzi grins. “Well, I did get you a free key.”

Paige narrows her eyes. “I don’t need your charity.”

Azzi teases, “Should I go back and tell Kevin I changed my mind?”

Paige shoves the key deeper into her pocket. “Don’t you dare.”

Azzi laughs as Paige jams the key into the slot harder than necessary.

Green light.

Paige throws the door open. “Finally.”

Inside, Paige flops onto the bed dramatically.

Azzi perches on the edge. “So… you wanna admit you did this on purpose, or should we pretend you’re just that forgetful?”

Paige groans into the comforter. “I wish I was smart enough to plan this.”

Azzi chuckles. “At least you admit it.”

Paige peeks at her through her fingers. “You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Paige groans again.

Azzi nudges her. “Look on the bright side. You’re inside now.”

Paige squints. “Wait… what’s the bright side?”

Azzi gives her a look. “That you’re not locked out?”

Paige blinks. “Huh. Never thought about it that way.”

Azzi shakes her head, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige smirks. “You still like me.”

Azzi stills for half a second.

Paige doesn’t notice.

But Azzi does.

Because liking Paige is too easy.

She swallows the thought, rolling her eyes instead. “You wish.”

Paige grins. “I know.”

Azzi stands. “Come on, let’s make the sushi before you lock yourself out again.”

Paige groans. “Ugh, fine.”

Azzi heads toward the tiny kitchen space as Paige pulls herself up, watching her go.

Azzi washes her hands first. Paige doesn’t, and Azzi gives her a pointed look until she does.

It’s a small thing, but Paige kind of likes it—how Azzi just expects her to listen, to follow her lead. Like she already knows Paige will.

Azzi is focused as she reads the instructions, brows drawn in concentration, lower lip slightly tucked between her teeth. Paige should be paying attention, but instead, she leans against the counter, watching Azzi’s mouth move as she murmurs something about the rice.

She’s always been good at picking things up quickly—on the court, in school, in life—but standing here, watching Azzi prep sushi like it’s an art, Paige feels totally out of her element.

“This is the easy part,” Azzi says, rinsing the rice before setting it on the stove.

Paige hums, pretending to listen, but really, she’s still caught up in her own thoughts.

It’s almost funny.

Paige never stops talking—never has, never will—but right now, she doesn’t want to.

She just wants to watch.

The way Azzi moves, the way her hands glide effortlessly as she preps the cutting board, the way she hums lightly under her breath, completely at ease.

Paige has known her for—what, two weeks now? Three? She should not be this mesmerized.

And yet, here she is.

She hears Azzi sigh and snaps out of it.

“Are you even paying attention?” Azzi asks, exasperated but amused.

Paige grins, rubbing the back of her neck. “Define ‘paying attention’.”

Azzi shakes her head, grabbing the bamboo mat and placing it in front of Paige. “Here. You’re rolling first.”

Paige raises an eyebrow. “You trust me with this?”

Azzi considers for a moment. “Not really, but I think you should suffer a little before I show you how to really do it.”

Paige gasps dramatically. “Wow. So rude.”

Azzi grins. “I’m just being honest.”

Paige narrows her eyes, pointing at her. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe a little.”

Paige watches as Azzi spoons the rice onto the nori, smoothing it out with the back of the spoon like she’s done this a million times before.

Paige, on the other hand, is struggling.

Her rice sticks to her fingers, clumping in the most unforgivable way.

Azzi laughs. “Wet your hands first.”

Paige scowls, but does as she’s told. “You could’ve told me that before I embarrassed myself.”

Azzi grins, still not missing a beat. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Paige huffs and turns back to her roll, looking more like a disaster than a sushi chef. Her eyes keep darting to Azzi, who’s smoothly making her own roll with grace—just another moment of Paige feeling out of her depth.

But there’s something about the way Azzi moves, how at ease she is in this kitchen, that makes Paige want to keep looking.

Azzi picks up a cucumber, cutting it with swift precision. Paige notices the way the light catches her hair, the soft curls falling into place, how her eyes flick between the food and the knife, like she’s at peace.

It’s a little… distracting.

Paige feels a warmth in her chest she can’t quite place, a soft tug that she pretends not to notice.

“Okay, now roll it,” Azzi says, gesturing to Paige’s half-made roll.

Paige grabs the bamboo mat and hesitates. She tries to roll, but the thing unravels in her hands.

Azzi snickers, but it’s not mean—it’s light, like she’s amused at Paige’s stubbornness.

Paige glares. “Stop laughing and help.”

Azzi leans over, hands brushing against Paige’s as she fixes the mess Paige made. Paige freezes, feeling the heat in her face, her heartbeat quickening at the accidental touch.

But Azzi doesn’t notice.

Or maybe she does.

Because when she looks up, she lingers.

There’s something in the air then. It’s almost like time slows, the space between them filling with an almost magnetic tension. Paige feels her breath catch for a second, and she wonders if Azzi notices too.

And then, like nothing’s changed, Azzi smirks, tilting her head. “You make the easiest things so hard, piece of cake.”

Paige lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

She steps back, letting Azzi work, and leans against the counter again, arms crossed.

She should be annoyed.

She should be focused.

But all she can think about is how Azzi looks when she’s in her element—calm and beautiful.

Paige should be keeping track of the roll. She should be keeping track of the task at hand. But as Azzi continues to move, Paige can’t tear her eyes away from the other woman.

Azzi flicks a strand of hair from her face as she continues assembling, making the final adjustments to Paige’s half-made sushi with delicate, practiced hands.

Paige doesn’t want to admit it—but she is mesmerized by Azzi’s quiet focus.

By how patient she is.

It’s a strange thing for Paige—because she’s never been one to wait, especially when it comes to something she wants. But there’s something about Azzi’s calmness, the way she doesn’t rush anything, that makes Paige want to sit back and let it happen.

She watches, intently, as Azzi finishes rolling, securing it with a delicate press of the bamboo mat.

“And done,” Azzi says, placing the sushi in front of Paige with a soft smile.

Paige feels herself smile back, though there’s a quiet ache behind it.

She’s a mess. She’s never been this stuck on someone before. And maybe Azzi doesn’t even know it. Maybe Azzi doesn’t even feel it. But Paige knows. She can feel it in the air between them, the quiet moments where their eyes meet.

It lingers—thick and unspoken.

Paige is still standing close, her hands resting idly against the counter, but she’s not really thinking about the sushi anymore. Not even a little.

Azzi’s eyes stay on hers for a second longer than normal, and Paige is convinced she feels it too. The shift. The weight of something unspoken pressing between them.

Then, just as quickly, Azzi looks away.

Her gaze flickers to the food, then the living room, like she needs something else to focus on. “Should we go eat now?”

Paige blinks, snapping out of her thoughts—or the trance Azzi had her in, she thinks—and forces a nod.

“Yeah,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, let’s—uh—should we put on a movie or something?”

Azzi glances at her, then shrugs, casual. “Sure.”

They grab their plates and settle onto the couch, Azzi tucking her legs beneath her while Paige scrolls through the options on the screen.

It’s quiet for a minute, the only sound coming from the faint clicks of the remote. Paige hesitates for a second before casually tossing out, “You ever seen Frozen?”

She already knows the answer.

Azzi’s head snaps toward her, eyes lighting up in a way that makes Paige’s stomach flip.

“Duh,” Azzi says. “It’s my favorite.”

Paige smirks, feigning surprise. “No way. Really?”

Azzi narrows her eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t already know that.”

Paige laughs, clicking on the movie. “Yeah, okay, maybe I did.”

The opening scene starts playing, and Paige watches from the corner of her eye as Azzi settles in, eyes locked on the screen like she’s seeing it for the first time.

Paige leans back, casually draping her arm along the back of the couch—not around Azzi, but close enough. She waits a few seconds, then shifts just a little closer.

Azzi doesn’t move away.

Paige tells herself it’s fine. Normal. Two people sitting on a couch watching a movie.

Except it isn’t normal.

Not when Paige is hyperaware of every tiny movement Azzi makes. Not when she can hear Azzi murmuring along to some of the lines, her voice softer than the actual dialogue.

Not when her own pulse is way too loud in her ears.

It’s nothing.

But it’s also everything.

Paige’s fingers drum lightly against the cushion, her mind racing with thoughts she’s not sure she should be having. She focuses on the screen, but really, she’s more focused on her—on the way Azzi’s expression changes slightly during each scene, how her lips curve upward whenever Olaf appears, how she instinctively tugs the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers when she gets comfortable.

And okay, maybe Paige lets herself stare a little too long.

Because suddenly, Azzi turns to look at her, catching her mid-stare.

Busted.

Paige barely has time to react before Azzi’s eyes flicker to her arm—still resting along the back of the couch, inches from her shoulders. Paige swears there’s a flicker of amusement in her gaze before Azzi looks back at the screen, like she’s choosing not to acknowledge it.

Paige clears her throat, shifting slightly.

She tells herself to relax, to focus on the movie, but then Azzi moves again—this time leaning in just enough that their arms brush, soft and warm.

It’s a tiny thing.

But it sends Paige’s brain into full meltdown mode.

Because suddenly, all she can think about is how easy it would be to just—do something.

To close the space. To see if Azzi would lean into her the way Paige thinks she might.

The thought alone is dangerous.

And then, as if to make things even worse, Azzi hums along to Let It Go, her voice quiet, absentminded.

Paige groans internally, tilting her head back against the couch.

She’s so, so screwed.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

It’s not just that she met Azzi a few weeks ago. It’s that in those few weeks, she’s done things she wouldn’t normally do. She doesn’t get attached like this. She doesn’t make an effort like this.

And yet, here she was—driving Azzi to her first photoshoot before they even really knew each other, going to bookstores with her like it’s their thing, memorizing the way Azzi takes her coffee without realizing it.

Azzi had laughed when she first noticed.

“You remember my order?” she’d asked, watching as Paige handed her the cup.

Paige had shrugged, playing it off. “You act like you’re complicated. Black coffee with a splash of oat milk. Not exactly rocket science.”

Azzi had just hummed, smiling behind the rim of the cup before taking a sip. And Paige? Yeah, she’d definitely looked away too fast, heart knocking against her ribs.

It’s weird. Paige doesn’t do relationships like this. She’s had flings, sure—casual, easy, nothing that lingers. But this? Wanting to sit next to someone every time they’re in the same room? Wanting to hold them or just be in their space? She doesn’t know what to do with that.

Maybe that’s why Azzi’s here. Maybe because she doesn’t make Paige feel like she has to be anyone but herself. Maybe because she listens, really listens, even when Paige is rambling about why cereal should be considered a soup.

“Think about it,” Paige had argued one night, sitting cross-legged on Azzi’s couch. “It’s literally food floating in liquid. That’s soup.”

Azzi had just given her a look, unimpressed. “You know I’m never gonna agree with you on this, right?”

“That’s because you’re wrong,” Paige shot back, grinning.

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. Instead, she let Paige keep talking, nodding like she was genuinely considering the ridiculous debate.

And when Paige got too carried away, Azzi had just pressed a finger to her lips.

“Shhh.”

It wasn’t mocking or impatient. It was soft. Playful. And Paige? Yeah, she short-circuited immediately, brain going blank as she just stared.

Azzi had smirked, dropping her hand, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Paige had barely recovered from that, and now here they are—sitting on Paige’s couch again, watching some movie Paige is definitely not paying attention to.

They’re close, closer than usual, and every time Azzi shifts slightly, Paige feels it. The warmth of her, the brush of her knee against Paige’s.

Her hand twitches against her thigh. She clenches her fingers, trying to get her brain to chill. But then, before she even realizes it, the words slip out.

“You’re really pretty.”

Azzi blinks, turning her head toward her. Paige realizes immediately what she just said.

“Oh,” Paige blurts, eyes widening slightly. “Uh—”

Azzi doesn’t look away. Instead, a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her lips.

“You just now realizing that?”

Paige opens her mouth, then closes it. She runs a hand through her hair like that’ll somehow make her feel less like a total idiot.

“I mean, no—obviously,” she says, forcing a laugh. “I just—wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.”

Azzi hums, her expression unreadable, but Paige swears she sees something shift in her eyes.

“Guess I should say thanks, then.”

Paige lets out a weak chuckle. “I mean, you could…”

Azzi’s gaze lingers for another second before she turns back toward the screen, but the air is different now. Charged.

Paige’s fingers twitch before she lets herself reach out, resting her hand lightly against Azzi’s knee.

Azzi doesn’t move away.

Paige’s stomach flips.

She hesitates, throat suddenly dry, before speaking. Her voice is quieter than usual, softer. “Is this okay?”

Azzi glances down at Paige’s hand, then meets her eyes again. Her expression stays unreadable for a beat too long, but then she nods.

Paige swallows, nerves buzzing under her skin.

They’re closer now—so close that Paige can feel Azzi’s breath against her lips.

Azzi shifts slightly, just a fraction of an inch, and suddenly their noses brush. Paige’s pulse stutters.

She should say something. She should—

Azzi’s fingers brush over the back of her hand, light, barely there, but Paige feels it everywhere.

The moment stretches—

And then.

Knock knock knock.

Paige freezes.

She groans as the knocking gets louder, dragging a hand down her face.

Azzi leans back into the couch, barely glancing away from the blondes face as she smirks. “I think someone wants your attention.”

Paige groans again, dramatically letting her head fall against Azzi’s shoulder. “Or, hear me out—I just don’t answer.”

Azzi pats her knee, voice light. “You should probably get that.”

The knocking persists.

Azzi raises an eyebrow, and Paige sighs heavily before finally forcing herself up, trudging to the door. Instead of opening it all the way, she cracks it just enough for her head to peek out.

KK and Caroline stand on the other side, both looking unimpressed.

“Finally,” KK huffed. “Took you long enough, bro.”

Paige blinked, eyes still adjusting. “What are you guys doing here?”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Paige.”

KK gasped dramatically. “No way. Nooo way. You forgot, didn’t you?”

Paige frowned. “Forgot what?”

KK reeled back, clutching her chest. “She forgot we were coming. After we planned this like a month ago. Ridiculous. The memory of a goldfish.”

Caroline sighed, shaking her head. “I texted you this morning.”

Paige blinked. There was a vague recollection of a text she’d skimmed and ignored, but her brain had been… preoccupied. Not with basketball, not with film, not even with herself. She glanced back over her shoulder at the couch, where Azzi was still watching the movie, blissfully unaware of the scene unfolding at the door.

Caroline crosses her arms. “Are you gonna let us in, or…?”

Paige hesitates, then shifts awkwardly in the doorway. “Uhhh…”

KK narrows her eyes. “Why you actin’ weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Paige says way too fast.

Paige turned back, lowering her voice. “Look, I’m kinda busy right now.”

KK squinted at her. “Busy?”

Caroline tilted her head. “Busy doing what?”

Paige shifted in place. “Just… chilling. Watching a movie.”

KK crossed her arms. “You never turn down a hangout to ‘chill.’ Who’s in there?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Why does it matter?”

KK’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh. You’re hiding something.”

Caroline smirked. “Or someone.”

Paige groaned. “Oh my god.”

KK grinned. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

“No—” Paige stopped herself. “I mean, yes, but—” She exhaled sharply. “Look, just don’t be weird, okay?”

KK and Caroline exchanged glances before KK leaned in. “Who is she?”

Paige groans dramatically, dragging a hand down her face again. “Okay, first of all, y’all weren’t supposed to come today.”

Caroline raises an eyebrow. “We talked about this a month ago, Paige.”

Paige huffs. “Yeah, well, things have happened since then.”

KK tilts her head. “Like?”

Paige scratches the back of her head. “Like… like stuff.”

KK makes a face. “Damn. She’s lost it.”

Caroline sighs, already exhausted. “Paige, just let us in.”

Paige winces. “I will, I will, but like… just—be chill, okay? And you can’t be too loud.”

KK scoffs. “Since when do you care about being loud?”

Paige rolls her eyes. “It’s not for me, dumbass.

Paige rolls her eyes. “It’s not for me, dumbass. It’s for—” She stops herself, then exhales sharply. “Look, just… just keep your voices down, alright? And also, don’t, like, bombardher with questions, okay? She gets overstimulated real fast.”

KK’s eyebrows shoot up. “Her?”

Caroline gives Paige a look.

Paige realizes her mistake a second too late.

KK grins. “Nooo way.”

Paige groans. “Shut up.”

KK whistles. “Ain’t no way. P Boogers got a girl?”

Paige hushes her immediately. “Shut up.”

KK grins. “Ohhh this is huge.”

Caroline sighs. “Paige, just let us in.”

“I will, but be cool. The coolest ever.”

KK smirks. “I am cool.”

“No, you’re annoying.”

KK ignores that. “So who’s in there?”

Paige shifts on her feet. “She wasn’t expecting company. And don’t interrogate her, okay? She gets overwhelmed sometimes.”

KK stares. Paige rambles.

“She’s indecisive as hell—almost cried picking between pancakes and waffles. And she likes quiet, so please—don’t be loud.”

KK and Caroline exchange looks.

Caroline smirks. “Paaaiiigeee.”

Paige frowns. “What?”

KK grins. “You like her.”

Paige stiffens. “Mind your business.”

KK’s grin widens. “P BOOGERS HAS A GIRLFRIEND. Ohhh brother. I thought you were asexual or something.”

Paige slaps a hand over her mouth. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

KK smirks. “Then why do you know her whole life story?”

Paige groans. “I hate you.”

Caroline nods. “She’s got a point.”

Before Paige can respond—

“Paige?”

They all freeze.

Azzi peeks through the door, blinking curiously. “Is everything okay?”

Paige steps in front of KK. “Yeah! Everything’s great.”

KK grins. Paige glares.

Azzi glances between them. “Who are you talking to?”

KK steps around Paige, eyes Azzi up and down. “Ohhh, so this is what had you acting weird.”

Paige sighs. “KK, please—”

Caroline, ever polite, extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Caroline. Nice to meet you.”

Azzi hesitates, then shakes it. “I’m Azzi.”

Caroline nods. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Azzi frowns. “You have?”

KK grins. “Yeah, but not from you—from lover girl over here.” She gestures at Paige, who turns bright red.

Azzi looks at Paige in surprise. Paige stammers, “I—I don’t—”

KK cackles. “Girl, you just gave us her whole biography.”

Paige groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fuck me.”

Azzi, amused, watches Paige internally combust.

Paige sighs, stepping aside. “I guess y’all can come in.”

KK skips inside. “Aw, P Boogers, you’re so sweet.”

Paige groans, dropping her head into her hands.

They settle in. KK immediately snoops. “Okay, P, I see you! But damn, you still got them big-ass feet.”

Paige glares. “Put my shoe down before I make you eat it.”

Caroline eyes Frozen playing on the TV. “Frozen?” She looks at Azzi. “Your pick?”

Azzi nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite.”

KK smirks. “Interesting. ‘Cause last I checked, P Boogers doesn’t sit through Disney movies for just anybody.”

Paige shoots her a look. “Shut up, KK.”

Azzi, still amused, leans in. “So… lover girl?”

Paige stiffens. “Azzi.”

Azzi smiles. “I was wondering why you hesitated letting them in. Now it makes sense.”

Paige groans. “KK exaggerates everything.”

Azzi hums. “So you didn’t recite my biography five seconds ago?”

Paige presses her lips together.

Azzi raises an eyebrow.

Paige sighs. “I maybe said a few things.”

Azzi grins. “A few?”

Paige groans. “Kill me now.”

Before Azzi can respond, KK plops onto the couch—right in Paige’s spot.

Paige blinks. “Hey—”

KK stretches. “Sooo, Azzi, how do you know P?”

Azzi barely has time to answer before Paige taps her shoulder.

“Get up.”

KK feigns innocence. “Uh… why?”

Paige gestures. “That’s my seat.”

KK leans back. “Nah, I’m comfy. You can sit by Caroline.”

Paige narrows her eyes. “Move.”

“Nope.”

Paige turns to Azzi. “Tell her to move.”

Azzi opens her mouth, but KK cuts in. “Damn, P, no patience. Lemme have a turn with Azzi”

Paige doesn’t respond—just kicks KK’s shin.

KK yelps. ��Ow! You violent-ass—”

Paige immediately drops onto the couch, reclaiming her spot.

KK glares. “Oh, we’re playing dirty now?”

Paige smirks, arm draped over the back of the couch. “I told you to move.”

Azzi watches, amused. “Really?”

Paige shrugs. “What? I told her to move.”

Azzi shakes her head with a soft laugh. KK groans dramatically. “Unbelievable. She’s so whipped.”

Caroline sighs. “You two are actual children.”

KK, still rubbing her leg, huffed. “And Paige is a menace.”

Paige smirked, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind Azzi. “Damn right.”

Azzi just shook her head, biting back a smile. Paige, despite the chaos, felt perfectly content right where she was.

As they settled in, KK—still rubbing her leg from Paige’s kick—got straight to the point.

“So, Azzi,” she leaned forward, eyes glinting. “How do you know P over here?”

Azzi glanced at Paige before answering, “We met on the train.”

Caroline raised a brow. “The train?”

“Yeah,” Paige cut in. “We just… started talking.”

KK squinted. “You—just started talking? Like a normal person?”

Paige huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi, amused, added, “She claimed i was stalking and she almost spoiled my book.”

“The Housemaid,” Azzi said when KK asked which one.

KK looked blank, but Caroline nodded. “That one’s pretty good.”

Azzi smiled. “Yeah, it was—”

“Was,” Paige corrected. “Until I almost ruined it.”

Azzi hummed. “I forgave you, didn’t I?”

Paige grinned. “After ten minutes of glaring at me.”

KK waved a hand. “So, you met on a train, bonded over a book, and now P is acting all weird and protective?”

“I am not—” Paige started, but KK was already squinting at her like she’d solved a puzzle.

Azzi just shrugged. “I guess?”

KK pointed at Paige. “You left us in the cold forever before letting us in. Since when do you hesitate opening the door for us?”

Paige opened her mouth, then closed it.

Caroline smirked. “She’s got a point.”

Paige groaned. “Can we move on?”

KK leaned back, smug. “Fine. But I’m circling back to this.”

Caroline turned to Azzi. “So, what do you do?”

“I’m a model,” Azzi said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

KK’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit. Runway?”

“A little of everything—runway, print, campaigns, commercials. It depends.”

“Sounds intense,” Caroline said.

“It is,” Azzi admitted. “Schedules are exhausting, and there’s pressure to look perfect. Body, skin, hair—everything. Plus the traveling. I barely stay in one place.”

“Sounds like hell,” KK said bluntly.

Azzi laughed. “It has its moments.”

Paige, beside her, hadn’t stopped watching. Not just listening—studying. The way Azzi’s lips moved, the subtle gestures of her hands. Close enough to notice a stray piece of cotton on Azzi’s sweater, Paige reached out without thinking, plucking it off.

Azzi paused mid-sentence, glancing at Paige as she flicked it away like it offended her. Paige, unfazed, just nodded.

Caroline, watching, almost gagged. “Jesus Christ.”

Paige blinked. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” Caroline muttered.

KK, meanwhile, was grinning. “Nah, I see it now. P, you been starin’ at her like she hung the damn moon.”

Paige groaned. “Can y’all stop?”

Azzi, unbothered, side-eyed her. “She always does that when I’m talking.”

Paige deadpanned. “You want me to stop?”

Azzi smirked. “Didn’t say that.”

Caroline rubbed her temples. “This is unbearable.”

KK cackled. “I love this.”

Paige ignored them completely, turning back to Azzi. “So, what’s been your favorite shoot so far?”

Azzi tilted her head, considering. “Probably my campaign for Dior. It was shot in Italy, and I got to wear some of the most beautiful couture pieces. It felt unreal.”

Paige nodded, still watching her like she was imagining it all in real time. “That’s sick. You gotta show me the pictures later.”

Azzi’s lips curled slightly. “I will.”

Caroline groaned. “Jesus, Paige, can you breathe?”

Paige shot her a glare. “I am breathing.”

KK leaned in, whispering loudly, “Barely.”

Caroline, ever the level-headed one, leaned back. “Since we’re all here, should we play a game or something?”

KK immediately perked up. “Ooooh, drinking game?”

Azzi blinked, looking a little hesitant. Paige noticed the way her fingers twitched slightly against her lap.

“Azzi doesn’t drink,” Paige said quickly. “So we’re not gonna pressure her into anything.”

Azzi gave her a small, appreciative look.

Caroline nodded. “Fair enough. We can do something else—like a truth-or-dare type thing. Or Azzi could just get a pass on drinking and win a date or something instead.”

KK wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooooh, now that’s an interesting twist.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige. “You’re supposed to come to my fitting tomorrow. You sure you wanna drink tonight?”

Paige blinked. “Oh… right.”

KK groaned. “Oh, come on, P. One night won’t kill you.”

Paige hesitated, then shook her head. “Nah, I’ll just sit this one out.”

KK gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Who are you?”

Caroline laughed. “I mean, I think it’s sweet.”

KK shot her a look. “Okay, mom.”

Azzi, amused, just leaned in closer to Paige and whispered, “You’re really not gonna drink?”

Paige shrugged. “Gotta be sober enough to see you tomorrow, right?”

Azzi smiled. “Good answer.”

Paige grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Now, let’s play.”

As the game began, the questions were lighthearted, mostly directed at Azzi since she was new to the group. KK and Caroline took turns grilling her on the basics—where she was from, her job, and little details to get a sense of her.

Azzi handled it well, gradually opening up with a charm that made them warm up to her quickly. Paige, sitting beside her, watched with amusement, occasionally chiming in when Azzi mentioned something she already knew.

“You don’t have a New York accent,” KK noted.

Azzi laughed. “I’m from Virginia.”

“What brought you here?” Caroline asked.

Azzi hesitated, fingers twitching briefly. “Work… and a breakup.”

KK’s interest piqued. “Oh?”

Azzi smirked. “That’s all I’m saying.”

Caroline nodded. “Smart.”

“What’s your favorite thing about modeling?” Caroline asked.

“Travel,” Azzi said. “And the clothes—I get to wear things I’d never pick for myself, like the Italy shoot, It was on a rooftop overlooking the water—it felt unreal.”

“And least favorite?”

Azzi chuckled. “Shooting in freezing weather for hours in a thin dress.”

Paige frowned. “That’s messed up. No heated blankets or something?”

Azzi turned to her, amused. “They did, but only between shots. It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige still looked unimpressed but let it go.

The game continued, shifting between personal and lighthearted topics.

“So, how’d you and Paige start actually hanging out?” Caroline asked.

Azzi and Paige exchanged a glance, clearly recalling the same memory.

Azzi smirked. “I accidentally hit her in the forehead while trying to leave my room.”

KK’s eyes widened. “What?”

Paige groaned. “It was a personal attack.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “It was an accident. She claimed I “owed” her so to make it up to her, we got food together.”

KK squinted at them. “Huh.”

Caroline raised a brow. “And the rest is history?”

Azzi shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Then the questions took a turn.

“Azzi, biggest turn-on?” Caroline asked.

“Confidence.”

“And turn-off?”

“Arrogance.”

Caroline side-eyed Paige. “Oof, close call, P.”

Paige pointed at her. “I will actually fight you.”

Azzi, amused, turned to Paige. “You think you’re arrogant?”

Paige hesitated. “…No?”

KK and Caroline burst into laughter.

Then, KK smirked. “Paige, what’s your type?”

Paige stiffened. “Why does that matter?”

“Because we’re nosy.”

Azzi glanced at her, waiting.

Paige cleared her throat. “Uh… driven people?”

Caroline smirked. “She means brunettes .”

Paige groaned as KK nearly fell over laughing. Azzi arched a brow, amused.

KK’s next question was worse. “Azzi, if you had to go on a date with someone in this room, who would it be?”

Paige tensed, forcing herself to stay neutral.

Azzi looked around casually, then smiled. “KK. She seems like she’d make it fun.”

KK beamed. “Knew I had charm.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t expected that. The flash of something unreadable in Azzi’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed, but she said nothing.

Paige forced a smile. “Of course. You’d want someone who keeps things interesting.”

She took a sip of her drink, chest tightening, as Azzi leaned back, studying the room with her usual quiet confidence.

—

The room was slowly quieting down as Caroline and KK stood up, stretching and grabbing their jackets. The game had wound down, the laughter still hanging in the air as they started to say their goodbyes.

“I’ll see you girls in the tomorrow, alright?” Caroline grinned, her eyes landing on Azzi. “This was fun. You’re a lot cooler than I expected.”

Azzi laughed, her smile warm. “Thanks, Caroline. You’re not so bad yourself.”

KK smirked, wrapping Azzi in a big, affectionate hug. “You’re my new best friend,” she said dramatically, squeezing her tight. “Get ready for all the shit I’m gonna drag you into.”

Azzi smiled against her shoulder, feeling the comfort of KK’s warm embrace. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Alright, alright, lets go KK,” Caroline teased, pulling KK away and waving as they headed for the door.

Paige and Azzi stood by the bed, the weight of the night settling between them. Azzi glanced back before leaving. “Goodnight, you two. Sleep well,” she said with a soft smile.

“Night,” Paige mumbled, quieter than usual.

When the door clicked shut, Paige immediately started cleaning. Azzi joined her without a word, their movements in sync, comfortable in the quiet. It felt natural—like they’d been doing this for years.

As Azzi wiped down the counter, she realized how much she liked this—the quiet, the ease of being in Paige’s space. It felt like home in a way she hadn’t expected.

Once everything was put away, Azzi grabbed her purse, ready to leave. But Paige lingered by the bed, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Azzi noticed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her purse down again.

Paige hesitated, then exhaled. “You can’t stay a little longer?”

Azzi blinked, surprised. Paige’s vulnerability caught her off guard.

“It’s late, and we both need sleep,” Azzi reasoned gently. “The fitting’s at nine. And you know how grumpy you get in the morning.”

Paige groaned. “Then stay here…We can grab your stuff in the morning.”

Azzi hesitated, warmth creeping up her neck at the thought. But she nodded. “Fine. But I need pajamas.”

Paige tossed her an oversized T-shirt and shorts. “Here,” she said, heart racing. “These should fit.”

Azzi changed and slipped into bed beside Paige. Just as they settled in, Azzi poked her head out from under the covers. “I can only sleep on the right side.”

Paige frowned. “You… want me to move?”

Instead of waiting, Azzi crawled over Paige—right across her body. Paige’s breath hitched, her face burning as Azzi’s (plump) ass rose in the air. Turning her face the other way quickly as Azzi settled beside her.

“You okay?” Azzi asked.

Paige cleared her throat. “Yeah. Just… hot.”

Azzi chuckled. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight,” Paige murmured, though her mind raced with thoughts she had no business thinking.

—

Paige woke first, the warmth of a body pressed against hers making her heart stutter. Azzi was draped over her, breath soft against her neck, leg hooked over her own. Paige wasn’t used to waking up like this.

She turned slightly, taking in Azzi��s peaceful expression, messy hair, lips slightly parted. It made her forget, just for a second, how they ended up tangled together.

Azzi stirred, eyes fluttering open. Realizing their position, she pulled back abruptly. “Oh! Sorry sorry,” she whispered, cheeks flushing.

Paige smirked. “It’s okay. How’d you sleep?”

Azzi rubbed her eyes. “Your bed is way more comfortable than mine.”

Paige chuckled. “Then we should have more sleepovers.”

Azzi laughed, grabbing her bag. “We’ll see. Meet me in my room when you’re ready.”

Paige nods, the word slipping out before she can even process it. “Yes, ma’am.” Her heart skips a beat at how easy it is to fall into a rhythm with Azzi.

Azzi flashes her a quick, teasing wink as she slips on her shoes and walks out the door. Paige watches her go, a heavy sigh leaving her lips as she immediately misses the warmth of Azzi’s touch.

But there’s no time for that now. She groans, pushing herself out of bed, not used to waking up at this hour. 7:30. It’s early. Way too early. But, then again, here she is—getting up at this ungodly hour for a fitting with Azzi Fudd. The things you do for love. Well, not love… but, something like it.

She drags herself to the bathroom, hoping a warm shower will wake her up fully. The steam clears her head a bit, and she quickly dresses in the Fenty set Azzi got her. Another perk of having such a famous friend. She spritzes on her Valentino perfume, the same one Azzi always compliments her on. It’s become a signature scent now, one she associates with the brunette. Every time she catches a whiff of it, she thinks of Azzi.

With everything ready, she heads out of her hotel room. Her key’s on the dresser, still resting where she left it. But, once again, she decides not to grab it. She’s gotten away with leaving it before, and frankly, she likes it that way. It means she gets to spend more time with Azzi. Maintenance might get mad, but—oh well. She’ll deal with the consequences later.

Paige walks down the hall to Azzi’s room, knocking gently on the door. Azzi opens it almost immediately, looking effortlessly chic in her matching Fenty set. Paige’s heart skips a beat, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You ready to go?” Paige asks, leaning against the doorframe, trying not to let the excitement bubble up too much.

Azzi nods, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They walk out of the building, heading to Paige’s car. It’s a comfortable silence between them, the only sound the soft hum of the car as Paige pulls out. She glances over at Azzi, wondering if she should ask if she wants to stop for anything before they get to the fitting.

“Want to grab anything first?”

Azzi shook her head. “They’ll have breakfast there.”

As they pull up to the building, Azzi’s attention is drawn to something outside the window. She taps Paige’s arm a little too hard, making Paige jump.

“What? What?!” Paige says, looking over at her.

Azzi points, eyes wide with concern. “Look at that poor thing,” she says, voice full of pity.

Paige follows her gaze, spotting a small brown wiener dog sitting by the side of the building. Azzi’s face softens, and her heart melts at the sight of the little dog, alone on the sidewalk.

“No,” Paige says, shaking her head firmly, a small grin forming on her lips. “Not happening.”

Azzi pouts, her lower lip jutting out as she leans closer to Paige, her voice soft and pleading. “Please, Paige. Look at it. It’s so lonely.”

Paige rolls her eyes, trying to stay firm. “Azzi, this is the third time. You can’t save every dog.”

But Azzi’s eyes are impossibly wide, her pout deepening. She leans in even closer, nearly whispering in Paige’s ear. “Every dog deserves a home, Paige. Please… just let me take this one. It’s so cute, and it’s so alone.”

Paige groaned, already knowing she was going to cave. “Fine. But you owe me.”

Azzi’s face lights up, her joy so infectious that Paige can’t help but smile, too. Without hesitation, Azzi runs toward the little dog, crouching down to speak softly. “It’s okay, little one. You’re coming home with me.”

The dog wags its tail furiously, rubbing against Azzi’s hand. Paige watches, arms crossed, chuckling to herself. Azzi scoops the dog up like it’s the most precious thing in the world and turns to Paige. “Come on,” she grins. “Let’s go.”

With the dog in Azzi’s arms, they head into the building, the door swinging open behind them. They make their way to Azzi’s fitting station, Paige now with the dog in her lap as they sit off to the side, quietly eating fruit. Azzi’s designer arrives shortly, and the fitting begins.

As Azzi tries on different outfits, Paige’s attention drifts, unable to stop staring. She knows she’s supposed to be watching the fitting, but all she can think about is how incredibly beautiful Azzi looks in everything. She watches the way Azzi moves, how the clothes seem to fit her just right, the way her hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders. Paige can’t stop herself, even though she knows she should.

She absently scratches the dog’s ears, trying to keep her composure, but she’s failing miserably.

“Ugh,” Paige mutters to the dog, more to herself than anything. “She just… makes me so nervous. And I don’t get nervous a lot, you know?”

The dog tilts its head up at her, as if listening, but Paige doesn’t wait for a response. She’s too wrapped up in Azzi’s effortless beauty, her mind racing with thoughts she can’t even begin to process. “I mean, I know we just met, but you can tell me you don’t see the connection, right? I’m not crazy for thinking there’s something there?”

“Right, you’re a dog,” she continues, her voice softer now, almost whispering. “We just got you off the side of the street. What is wrong with me?”

She sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that feels like it could sink her into the floor. She doesn’t know what’s happening, but everything about Azzi just does it for her. Her legs, her smile, the way she carries herself—it’s all too much, and yet Paige can’t stop staring.

She can feel the heat rising in her chest, the way her body reacts just from being near Azzi—just from seeing her in these clothes. Paige is almost drooling, but she quickly pulls herself together, though she’s definitely not fooling anyone, especially not herself.

By the time the shoot wraps up, Paige feels something heavy in her chest. She watches Azzi cradle the dog, warmth in her eyes, and wishes—just for a second—that look was meant for her.

As they head to the exit, Paige checks her phone and groans. “Flat tire.”

Azzi glances over, unfazed. “Guess we’re taking the train, then.”

Paige sighs, but Azzi just smiles. “Maybe it’s fate.”

Azzi leads the way, the dog still curled up in her arms, as they make their way toward the subway station. The quiet between them settles comfortably, the low rumble of the train and the soft shuffle of the dog’s paws the only sounds breaking the silence. But for Paige, the air is thick with something she can’t ignore. Something she doesn’t want to ignore.

The train pulls up, and they step inside, the vibrations sending a slight tremor through Paige’s chest. Her mind begins to race, replaying all the moments they’ve shared—those casual, easy conversations, the effortless way Azzi could make her laugh. The way she smiled at her today, the way she treated the dog with so much care, so much love, like she genuinely cared about everything, everyone, in her orbit. And oh, god, the way she laughed.

Paige can feel it now, her heart racing, her palms clammy as she looks at Azzi, trying to steady her thoughts. This is happening, she thinks. She can’t pretend anymore. She’s felt this pull since that first encounter, when Azzi had sat across from her on the subway, looking at her like she’d known her for years.

She opens her mouth to speak, but they come out all wrong. “Azzi…” she starts, and her voice feels smaller than usual, maybe because this feels like one of the most vulnerable things she’s ever done. “Okay I— I know this might sound a little insane, but I can’t stop thinking about it. You.”

Azzi looks at her, brows lifting. “What do you mean?”

Paige hesitates but pushes through. “I like you. Like a lot. Since the moment you sat across from me on the train and I can’t keep pretending I don’t.” She meets Azzi’s eyes, feeling the weight of her own confession. “I just need to know if you feel the same, so I don’t end up looking like a lunatic Az.”

Azzi’s gaze softens. “Paige…” A small smile tugs at her lips. “I like you too.”

Paige blinks. “Wait. What?”

Azzi laughs. “I’ve liked you since… well we met, probably more since you made that weird face when I mentioned going out with KK.” She nudges Paige playfully. “I just didn’t know if it was too soon.”

Paige feels her heart skip a beat, and a rush of relief floods her chest. “So… you’d want to go out with me? For real?”

Azzi nods, that smile growing wider, reaching her eyes. “Of course, yeah.”

Paige feels like she’s floating, her heart doing something that feels like a cartwheel. She can’t help it—without thinking, she leans in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s like the world has fallen away, just the two of them in that moment, exploring this thing that’s been quietly building between them. When they pull away, they both just… smile.

Paige can’t stop the smile spreading across her face. “Also I forgot my hotel key again…”

Azzi rolls her eyes, grinning. “Paige. Seriously?”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi fics #rosemariiaa

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