#IF you do the therapy to stop being an asshole and make a POINT of being like

[inkskinned]

maybe i'm a bitch but if i hear you go out of your way to judge someone's weight, i immediately lose trust in you & will probably forever find you a little unbearable . yes also the little floating bar over my head will start reading [hostile]. this is natural and u caused it.

#IF you do the therapy to stop being an asshole and make a POINT of being like #''i used to be a jerk about this but now i'm not'' #..... we can reevaluate .... #btw i hope this doesn't need explanation and everyone can be normal on this post #and not be like #what if i am a DOCTOR and i was aSKED #like we all know what i'm referring to here #you're like in target and lizzo is playing in the background and they're like #DID YOU NOTICE THAT LIZZO IS FAT? #or ur on instagram and like some dude's comment is like #NICE ART BUT WHY ARENT YOU THIN #like .... okay we get it. we get it . go to sleep . go to therapy. bye. #ALSO BTW i am in recovery for an ED and im saying this AS someone with Brain Problems #pls do not clown on this and be like ''actually i'm allowed to be rude and judgemental'' #no u aren't. none of us are. having an ED is not a pass for being a fucking dick #it can make you ACT like a dick. that isn't something you should be proud of or seek to continue #hence.... therapy!!!!!!!! #i know it's kind of controversial to say it but frankly i don't believe in infantilizing mental illness #by being like ''oh they can't help themselves'' #bc that kind of thinking is .... unbelievably toxic lmafo #you might not be able to control your split-second thoughts/judgements #i have ocd i understand #but like. . . .. you know #we both know #this post is not about ''u blurted something u regret'' #this post is about. THAT GUY

[craycraybluejay]

this is exactly what im talking about btw, baeddels harassing trans men but trans men are expected not only to shut up and take it but not do anything in turn. just like a specific brand of abuse on the tip of my tongue

like waow i guess im OpPrEsSiNg you for telling you its bad to call a whole group of people slurs as insults and being a misgendering and transphobic piece of garbage.

why cant we make 'theymab' a thing? oh yeah because its acceptable to abuse a trans person under the pretense of their agab if you see them as a woman but not if you're seen as a man. huh. i wonder what that reminds me of.

#wtf was the goal of that hate comment. stop #anyway to make 1 thing clear if you want to harass people and act patriarchal i really do not care ab how Most Oppressed you are #if you want not to feel like a man maybe stop degrading women and even calling people who arent women that so you can degrade them #like imagine being racist and crying about racism?? no one cares bro you are the asshole #i should not have to tolerate harassment because you feel that you deserve and still chase after the same pariarchal space that cis men have #because you want all the power to abuse inherent to being a cis man at the same time as saying you dont want to be seen as one #you could say its properly transmisogynistic to not let you abuse people for percieved womanhood even a LITTLE #how dare they? this was your birthright #i dont believe in karma but i believe you deserve to get what you give on some level #baeddels are clinging so hard to the conventions of toxic masculinity #and u have to stay quiet about it and try to reword that glaring fact bc its Misgendering #i am not the one running around trying so hard to be transphobic and misogynistic to vulnerable ppl #also yall act like oppression is always gonna align with your identity. its not thats the point. #but just bc you start experiencing misogyny for the first time does not mean you need to level it at transmasculine people #go find a better outlet. go the fuck to therapy #we are not your punching bag

[transmascissues]

every time i scroll through twitter, i start taking screenshots of the anti-transmasculinity i come across before eventually giving up because it’s so overwhelmingly constant right now that i have no idea where to even begin talking about it.

i’ve seen less people talking about a cis mom selling instructions for the DIY conversion therapy she used on her trans son for $1200 than i have people just endlessly shitting on trans men for the crime of existing in the trans community. do you get how fucked up that is? do you see why i’m at a loss at this point? how do we convince the world to stop abusing and traumatizing us if our own community would rather spend its time berating us than caring about how many of our parents are willing to drop thousands on their efforts to beat the transness out of us?

i honestly wish i had the skills and resources to properly study whatever the fuck has been going on lately. like, is all this just because we’ve gotten louder? is that what this is — a bunch of assholes who were hiding in our community, counting on trans men&mascs to stay easy for them to ignore, who can’t stand the fact that more of us are being outspoken about our experiences? is there some other factor playing into it? it’s the kind of thing that gets me curious, and i want to look deeper into it and really understand it.

but man, as curious as i am on an intellectual level, it sure is hard to think clearly enough about it to do that kind of work. like how do you read someone saying (and yes, this is a direct quote) “everything that improves the lives of trans men is paid for by making the lives of trans women worse” and not just want to throw your phone into the nearest volcano?

#obviously it’s not just happening on twitter #but that seems to be the epicenter #i know this isn’t my usual kind of post but man. i really don’t know how to talk about it the way i normally talk about things #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #anti transmasculinity #transmascphobia

[genderkoolaid]

So I read this interesting post from the MensLib subreddit, about how men's issues are always blamed on men themselves and never on society. The post itself as well as the comments are a very good read in digging in to antimasculism & the ways in which feminism has failed to critically examine men's suffering under the patriarchy. For example (all bolding by me):

Here again, the problems predominantly affecting women are addressed by changing society, while those predominantly affecting men are addressed by changing men (or by telling men to change themselves). The difference is not that one approach is right and the other wrong; they are both 'right' in the sense that they highlight genuine issues, but the approach to men's problems is more superficial. When dealing with men's problems, we focus on the immediate cause, which is usually the men's failure to cope with mental strain ("he should have gone to therapy", "he should have learned to open up more"); in contrast, when dealing with women's problems, we focus on "the cause of the cause", and try to remove the systemic social issues causing the mental strain, rather than telling the victims what they should have done to better cope with it.

I think this is a great point, and something we really need to tackle. OP also goes on to talk about self-repression, comparing girls avoiding sexual harassment and boys avoiding bullying:

Boys (and men) are notorious for repressing their emotions. They have a good reason: in boys' peer groups, a failure to control your emotions is almost as shameful as a failure to control your bladder; it is a sign of weakness, and any sign of weakness makes you a target for bullying and ridicule. So boys learn to wear a permanent mask of aloof toughness to avoid inadvertently revealing any sign of weakness or uncontrolled emotion, and many keep this habit into adulthood. It is generally well recognized that suppressing emotions is unhealthy in the long run, but it seems to me that the commonly proposed antidote is misguided: boys (or men) are told to "just open up more and be vulnerable" or to "learn how to cry", as if their reluctance to show emotions were some kind of irrational emotion-phobia, rather than a perfectly reasonable, perhaps even necessary, defense against the ridicule, contempt and loss of respect that society inflicts upon those who can't keep their emotions in check in the proper "manly" way.

It's something we don't really question in mainstream feminism. Women's issues have a societal root, and men's issues are issues that men put on themselves, and therefore men just need to fix it themselves and change.

And while yes, we all have a responsibility to unlearn harmful societal teachings, just saying "men need to fix their shit" doesn't help anyone. I've been annoyed for a while at how people will react to men suffering under the patriarchy with "UGH they need to go to therapy", as if

Needing therapy is a sign of failure or a bad thing, and someone not going to therapy when they need to is them being an asshole on purpose and not potentially a sign of them not feeling safe enough to go to therapy, feeling too ashamed, not having enough money or time, etc.

Individual men getting individual therapy will solve the societal problems of forcing boys and men to repress their emotions and view themselves as only valuable if they can perform manual labor and have a lot of sex with women. It's a problem that is only perpetuated by men themselves and if they just stopped doing that, then the problem would disappear.

No self-respecting feminist would ever react to a woman obviously suffering from the patriarchy with "ugh, she needs to go to therapy and fix herself." Yes, therapy would be helpful most likely, but that's not going to actually fix the underlying cause of her issues. So why do we, as feminists, think that "men just need to fix themselves" is an okay response to societal suffering under the patriarchy?

Who does this help? Who benefits from us ignoring these issues? Why do we assume that men's experiences under the patriarchy are so one-dimensional and that we have no responsibility for unlearning our societal biases around men and masculinity?

Someone in the comments also added this quote from the "perpetually relevant" I Am A Transwoman. I Am In The Closet. I Am Not Coming Out essay by Jen Coates:

Have you noticed, when a product is marketed in an unnecessarily gendered way, that the blame shifts depending on the gender? That a pink pen made “for women” is (and this is, of course, true) the work of idiotic cynical marketing people trying insultingly to pander to what they imagine women want? But when they make yogurt “for men” it is suddenly about how hilarious and fragile masculinity is — how men can’t eat yogurt unless their poor widdle bwains can be sure it doesn’t make them gay? #MasculinitySoFragile is aimed, with smug malice, at men—not marketers.

And then another commenter left this (and referenced bell hooks' work on men!!):

"Do you agree that we tend to approach women's problems as systemic issues, and men's problems as personal issues?" Yes, and there's even a name for this: Hyperagency. Individual men are assumed to be immune to systemic pressures because the people at the top of the hierarchies generating those pressures are also men. "And if you do agree with that, do you think this difference in approach is justified, or do you rather think it is a case of an unfair bias?" It's pretty clearly not rooted in reality. The idea that billions of ordinary men aren't beholden to the social constructs under which they were raised is just plain silly. I'd blame the empathy gap, but honestly I feel like it's more than that. Patriarchy hyper-individualizes every struggle a man faces as a way to shield itself from critique and gaslight ordinary men. The motivations there are readily apparent. However, we see the same blind spot appear even in more academic Feminist spaces (taking for granted that "Feminist" spaces on social media are hardly representative of the cutting edge of Feminist thought). bell hooks once postulated that some Feminist women are deeply afraid of acknowledging how little they understand about men, let alone taking the steps to broach that gap.

Another person explained hyperagency by saying "Every single individual man is a hyper agent who is just expected to bootstrap his way out of the patriarchy through sheer force of will."

#m. #antimasculism

[spidybaby]

Gold Digger | Part Two

Summary: A broken plate can't be fixed.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: hello, it's been a long time, but here it is. I want to apologize for the wait, I was sick and ended up at the hospital, but now I'm good. Thank you all ❤️✨️

Part one | Part Three

It's been a week since the whole incident. In that time, Kylian was blowing up your phone with calls and texts. He even tried to talk in person, but Ethan and Fayza weren't having it.

You were thankful with both Ethan and Fayza. They made sure you were okay. The night you left Kylians house, his mother was the shoulder you cried onto.

She was so embarrassed for his actions. Ethan even called him to berate his actions.

They loved you as family. For them, you didn't need a paper or a ring to become part of their family, your loyalty and unconditional love for the whole family was enough.

You planned on leaving Fayzas house and going to a friend's house, but she refused. Insisted on you staying for a little more.

But at the same time, the fact that you couldn't really mourn the feelings was taking a toll on you. So you explained that and your best friend and you became roommates.

Kylian wasn't at his best either. He fought with his father. But also blame himself for being so naive, believing things he knew you would never do.

He missed two games, faking being sick. Missed a whole week of training. Until Sergio and Achraf went to his house to check on him.

When he explained the whole situation to them. Sergio slapped him, and Achraf almost did the same but control a little more.

"You're so stupid," Sergio says angrily. "Es que, si sabes que ella no lo haría por que no la defendiste? Kylian, what the hell?" (It's just, if you know she wouldn't, why didn't you defend her?)

"Okay, time out." Achraf says, pushing Sergio away from him. "Go get something to drink, calm down."

Sergio did that. He was so mad at his friend.

To sergio, you were like a little sister, always helping him and Pilar with everything you can. Even Achraf held you to a big standard.

You were that person who's always looking for everyone and trying to help as much as you can without expecting anything in return.

"Bro. Look, I'm not judging, but why did you do that?"

"I'm so stupid Haki, I'm so fucking stupid."

"You fucking are" Sergio yells outside the room.

"My gosh, fucking kids. It's what you are." Achraf says, hands caressing his forehead. "My child is more mature than you, and he's not even five years old."

"Tell me what can I do?" Kylian cry out. "I don't want to lose her."

His friends didn't even know how to help him.

"Take this, you look like the shit you say you're." Sergio hands him some water.

"Sergio." Achraf growled. "Stop it, we both know he fucked up, he knows it, his mother, brother, and whole family knows it. Stop it."

"Hey, that's mean." Kylian says, finishing the water Sergio brought him.

"But the truth, asshole."

"Enough, I feel like I'm with my kids. If I wanted to fight, I would've called my ex-wife." Achraf says frustrated.

"Mira Kyky, I'm going to be honest with you, I don't know if you can get her to forgive you. Maybe some therapy, maybe some expensive ass gift, but you already know that's not her." Sergio sighs. "What you need to do is let her breath, take her time to cool down, as much as you think you can't fix everything. This is not a match. This is your life. So what I recommend is for you to let her have her time. Text her saying that you'll wait as much as you have to, for her to be able to listen to you. And then apologize, man, because that shit was terrible. Pilar me hubiera cortado los"

"We got the point, Sergio, thank you." Achraf interrupts. "But he's right. She needs space. This shit is fresh. You also need to think what you're going to say. Apologizing is not enough. But don't make excuses. That's not cute."

And that's exactly what Kylian did. He texted you saying that he was going to stop with the text messages and the calls. He was giving you the space you need. And it was up to you to decide how much time you need for him to be able to see you again.

You never answered, but you did read the text. Thankful for his decision.

When Kylian texted you that as much time as you needed, he meant it.

What he never expected was for you to take a whole two months. And counting.

His mother and brother were in talking terms with him. It wasn't easy, but he apologized with them too.

Now, his father was another story. Wilfrid tried everything to reach him. Nothing.

Kylian understood that it was his fault. But, he didn't feel comfortable with having a talk with him.

On the other side of the city, you were closing a very hard finals week. The last finals of your whole college career.

"So, now that we finished with everything." Your friend says. "Are you going to text him?"

You told her that as soon as your finals ended, you were reaching Kylian. Two months in her head were enough of a punishment for him.

Not for you. You want him to understand that what he did was something you were not okay with.

You could take his father disliking you. But you can't take the lies and accusations. You weren't a thief.

You can tell how many times you denied your boyfriend to pay for things for you. Dinners, vacations, even your college debt.

You also were the one in charge of his whole financial situation. You knew how much he earned in a month. You helped him with the payments and saving.

So, for him to even believe you were in possession of his cards was crazy. Even after you made the calls to block every single one of them. Making sure there wasn't any new charge.

"I don't know." You say. "I'm not sure if I feel ready."

"Well, you know you can always count on me. But if you ask me, it's been enough."

After that, you both said goodbye to each other.

You were walking back to your new place. It was close to your college and it was pretty.

Just when you were about to get there, you smelled the fresh coffee aroma, coming from a small coffee shop you loved.

"Well, I deserve it."

And you did, after the amount of deprived sleep and hard study sessions you went through.

You order your usual to go. Wanting to go home and relax.

"Y/n?" Someone calls you from behind.

You knew who it was. You even thought that acting as if you didn't hear was the best, but when he repeated your name, you couldn't.

"Hi," you say.

You felt lucky when, after that little, "Hi" the girl called your name and handed you your order.

"I have to go." You say getting out quickly.

"Can we talk? Please". He asks following you outside.

You wanted to be nice, you do. But you can't do it. His words, his accusations, everything is replaying in your mind.

"If I'm not even giving that benefit to your son, why would I do that for you?"

"Just let me apologize."

"I don't need your apology, sir."

"One minute."

You stare at him. You didn't want it. But at least after this he was going to stop.

"One minute, after I'm leaving." You say watching the time on your watch.

"I'm sorry for the accusations, for telling you those awful words and treated you like a thief and someone you're not. I'm sorry for ruining the best thing Kylian ever had. But you had to understand me. He's Kylian Mbappé and everything he has worked so hard for it's been also my and Fayzas work."

You scuff.

"Of course." You say laughing. "He's Kylian Mbappé and I'm just a broke college student who was ready to take all his money, right?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh, you didn't?" You ask sarcastically. "So let's see, if all his hard work is also Fayza and yours. Why does she trust me? Why can she see me for more than just my school debts? Why can she see me as someone who loves your son and not his net worth?"

"I worded this wrong."

"No, you didn't. And even if you want to fix it," you say, quoting the last two words. "Your time ran out. Please don't bother me again, I'm done with this situation for good."

You walked to your apartment, mad at everything. At him, at Kylian, at yourself. Even when you didn't even have a reason to be mad at yourself.

Without thinking you texted Kylian.

"Let's meet up at your house in an hour."

It was not the smartest thing to do, but the rage inside wasn't helping much.

You ask for an Uber due to the time all the cabs were busy. Plus, his house was a good forty-five minutes from where you live.

You knock on his door.

Even when you have your own key, this wasn't your home anymore. This was his.

"Hey," he says happily, opening the door for you to get inside. "It's kind of chill for just that cardigan."

You ignore him. Walking to the living room. The house feels different. The home you used to love is now just a place.

You feel like crying. It's like having an intense flashback.

"Can we talk?" He asked.

You nod, blinking the tears away.

"Yes, go ahead."

"Don't you want to sit?" He asks, confused. Your posture is like a rock. Hard and not easy to break.

"No, go ahead."

"Okay." He clears his throat. "I have to apologize. I know I fucked up. I was so wrong for not saying anything to defend you. I just want you to know that I don't believe any of that, never did, never will."

You interrupted his speech by laughing. "You don't? Then why did you let your father belittle me in that way?"

Your question take him by surprise. He wasn't expecting this.

"Well."

"No, I'll tell you why." You interrupted him again. "You're so up your ass, Kylian. You don't have an idea of what the real world is like anymore. You've been so glorified by everyone. Specifically your father."

The way his eyes are about to pop out of his head.

"And I'm so mad at you." You laugh again, trying to calm yourself down. "I've been the one who denied your offer to pay my whole debt, I was the one who helped you with money, with savings, with payments. I was the one who turned your additional cards when you offered them to me. Because I wasn't here for the money, I was here for you. I was here because I love you. Because I saw myself staring a family with you. I saw myself growing old with you."

"Let's just pause." He says breathless, even when he's not the one speaking.

"No, I'm not pausing."

"Okay, just, please let me finish."

"Save your apologies." You say.

"Amour. Y/n. Wait, I need."

"I needed you." You interrupted again. "I needed you to defend me. I needed you to say something, and not doubt me. I needed you, Kylian. And you failed me."

The burning sensation was consuming you.

"Please, we can go to therapy." He tries.

"Kylian, don't you get it?" You ask. "Even if I say yes. What's next? You stop talking to your dad for good? That's not what I want. Do you really think I can come back here? I can hear his words in my head, I blink and see him accusing me of stealing from you, and I see you taking his side, even when you didn't believe it."

"We can sell the house," he grabs your face. "I can have a new property tomorrow morning. Better, pick one, the one you want, as big as you want, as expensive as you want. But please, don't give up on me."

His eyes are shining with tears.

A part of you is saying, "forgive him," but the rational part of you is throwing that option out of your head.

"It's not about that, Kylian."

"Then what do you want? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Everything." He cries.

You shake your head. Tears rolling down.

"I want you to let me go."

"No. Everything but that."

"Let me go, Kylian." You take his hands off your face. "I can't do this."

He hugs you, crying on your shoulder.

"Please don't go. You're my everything."

You only caress his back. Letting him cry.

He keeps begging, and with every word, with every sob, every tear you feel yourself breaking more.

"Kylian. Please let me go."

He hugs you tighter. "Please, no."

"Baby, please."

You can feel him tense because of the nickname. He let go enough for him to be face to face again.

"Tell me you don't love me anymore, and I'll let you go."

You shake your head. You can't.

"Don't do this to me."

"Tell me, look at me in the eyes and tell me."

"Let me go." You repeat. "Please."

"You can't say it because you love me. And I love you. We can get over this. I promise even if I have to spend my whole life apologizing, even if I have to tell you every day, how important you're for me."

"Stop, please." You cry. "We can't. I can't. I need time kylian. You say everything, I need time."

"How much?"

"I don't know, but I need it. I can't just forget and swipe this under the rug like it's nothing. We can't build each other again if we're both broken." You say holding his face. "You promised me years ago that you would never doubt me. And here we are, so I need you to give me space. Let me heal and heal yourself in the process. Make up with your family, go to therapy. And then we can go back."

His eyes were burning, and the tears fell like cascades.

"Can you promise me that you will be back to me?" He asks

You didn't have an answer because time and life were unsure. Life can change in a moment, just when you less expect it.

"I promise you that I'll work on healing. I promise you that if you need me I'll be here. I'll be your biggest cheerleader from afar. But I can't do it alone, you have to make your part."

He hugs you again.

It wasn't a goodbye.

But it hurt like it was.

He let go of you. Looks you from head to toe. It's like if he's taking a mental photo of you.

You pick your purse from the floor. Walking to the front door.

"Y/n" he calls.

You turn around.

"I love you."

"I love you too." You smile at him, closing the door.

Tag list:

@slayweirdosaway @voguebikini @ironmaiden1313 @magicalfundragon @nightlockcornucopia @christianpulisic10 @bellinghambby22 @noodle81937 @moonlightholland22 @germanapples @paniwiaderko

#football angst #football drabble #football fanfic #football smut #football x you #football #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe fic #kylian mbappe oneshot #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian imagines #kylian smut #kylian x you #mbappe imagine #mbappe #mbappe icons #mbappe psg #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian mbappe x you

[ruskaroma]

omg omg (i really need professional help) i had this Vision of dark+DARK+mean!john wick learning about an asshole who bullied their bunny-really-the-nicest-human-being!reader back during her school years (the reader cluelessly mentions it during conversation). john is not just angry outraged etc, he is The Rage, The War, The Biblical Day of Wrath, so he finds that guy, beats/tortures the living shit out of him and then brings his absolutely clueless little pretty bunny so that she could finish him. john is behind the reader, his arms wrapped around her arms, his hands on her shaking hands holding a gun pointing at the barely breathing man tied to a chair. the reader is crying begging to stop, and john goes "he deserves it, honey <3. now, right kneecap. go, princess, don't let me down".

Oh my god I have something for you.

Let’s give it a very dark twist, shall we? We’ll stick to this concept, but let’s make it even darker.

TW: mentions of past sexual and physical abuse, blood and gore, graphic depiction of torture, john being a very very mean man like he is fucked in the head may god bless his soul, john is also forcefully making the reader kill the man so there’s that.

It was a slip of your tongue. You didn’t notice it, but John surely did. You were used to rambling your thoughts away, a habbit that John adores so much, hearing your voice and telling him everything that’s in your head, because it means you’re not keeping any secrets from him.

A supposed to be peaceful Saturday night ruined John’s whole week, but he didn’t let it show. He kept himself composed around you, smiling so softly when you’d share a random fact about the things you’re holding or whatever comes in mind. He’s a master in the arts of keeping his expression controlled despite his emotions practically clawing their way out of his fucking lungs.

Your head was on his lap as he brushed your hair with his long fingers softly. For a hand that’s killed too many people to count, it’s surprisingly merciful around you. A shitty horror movie was playing on the TV but your attention quickly diverted to somewhere else when you watched a rather familiar scene in the film.

“Oh, man, that sucks. I know how it feels, I used to get hit by my ex-boyfriend all the time.”

What the fuck, John thought. His fingers stopped their movements as he furrowed his eyebrows. You said it as a whisper too but he heard it. He heard it fucking clearly.

“What?”

“Huh?” You moved your head to look up to him. “You said something?”

“You did,” John pointed out. “About your ex-boyfriend. What did you say?”

“Ohhh,” you said in realization, but your tone was calm. Like it was the most fucking normal thing to say in a conversation. “Yeah, he was mean. He used to hit me every time I made a very small mistake, but he said sorry when we broke up.”

John didn’t know what to say. He was frozen, trying to comprehend the words that were being thrown at him all at once.

His baby – the love of his life, someone who cannot even hurt a fucking ant – just dropped a bomb that she was a victim of abuse.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” John tried to keep his voice leveled, soft, as he placed a large hand on your cheek and pulled you up so he could take a good look at your face.

“Well, you didn’t ask. And it’s not like it mattered anymore. I went to therapy and everything was back to normal.”

“No, that’s not –” he closed his eyes in frustration, trying so hard to keep his shit together. “Did he do anything else? Where is he now?”

“He’s–he’s doing fine. I don’t know where he is, it’s been awhile since we’ve gotten in touch.”

John could hear the tremble in your voice, like you knew what was going to come, like you knew what he’s going to do.

He didn’t answer after you said that. He looked away from you, put his attention back to the television.

You shrugged it off, hoping he would let it go.

*

He did not, in fact, let it go.

You came home one day after work to see him being rather... cheery than usual. It was unusual in itself. John being particularly cheery was not something you see in your everyday life.

He had already cooked dinner when you arrived, ate it beside you with an arm around your shoulders. He was also crooning at your ears, asking about your day if something special happened.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Your eyebrows flew up, curious yet amused. Is this why he was cheery all of a sudden?

He led you to his basement – a place where you’re never allowed to go, always bolted shut and completely restricted to you. You were getting a pretty bad feeling about this.

“What–what are we doing here, John?”

Again, he didn’t answer. You could see the grim, dark expression on his face as he opened the door. The face you only ever see when he was just coming back from a long, tiring day at work. The face you only see you know he just slaughtered someone.

Turns out, he did.

Not exactly slaughtered, but close enough.

The man who made you go through hell for years, tied up in a chair in the middle of the room, missing all his fingers on both his feet and hands.

“John, what the–”

Your boyfriend pushed a heavy pistol in your hand, and your heart is beating so hard inside your chest you couldn’t speak properly. You haven’t yet got the time to comprehend what was happening. It was all too fast.

“Pull it.”

“J-John, please don’t–”

“Pull it,” John repeated. He didn’t like repeating himself. You know this. He was standing behind you, his chest pressing against your back, warm and broad and his voice sounded so menice and fucking evil and– “Pull it, baby, before I do it myself.”

“Why are you–” your voice was shaking as well as your hands. You wanted to drop the weapon but you knew it wouldn’t do you any good, not when John was just behind you. “Why are you doing this, John? Please let him–let him go, it was a long time ago–”

“I don’t care,” he said simply, one large hand sneaking down to grab your wrist that’s holding the gun, pointing it directly at the man who’s – Jesus, was he still alive? You saw him move, he flinched, then let out a cough that made more blood from his mouth drip onto his lap. “I haven’t killed him yet because that’s your job.”

“N-No–” tears were forming into your eyes. The feeling of John’s hand gripping yours was already too much to bear, much worse pointing it to the man who abused and neglected you during your relationship, but why were you feeling bad? “John, I–I don’t w-want to, John, please, I don’t want–”

John sighed, disappointed, but he didn’t let you go. Instead, he leaned down closer to your ear and pressed a soft kiss there. His beard tickled, making you flinch and let out a shaky breath as you gulped hard.

“John, he–I know you’re doing this because you think it’s best, but I–I promise you that it’s not worth it–it’s in the past and, and–”

“Excuses, excuses,” John whispered, standing straight and taking a step away from you, positioning himself in front of the gun. “Here you are, begging for the life of the man who abused you in the past. Don’t you think that sounds absolutely ridiculous, baby?”

“It’s not–it’s not ridiculous, John, I promised! We–we talked one time after our breakup and he–he apologized for everything, I swear–I swear, John, it was all in the past–”

John cut off your rambling with an evil stare, and it was so unlike him that it scared you right to the very core. “Pull the trigger or I will. I’ll put a fucking hole in his head, saw it off and send it to his little wife and children back in Vegas.”

“John–” you sobbed. “John, please–”

“Did you know that I made him confess every diabolical shit that he’d done to you every time I chop off one of his fingers?” John said it in such a calm and steady tone that it made you only afraid of him even more. “I chopped all his fingers, and he still won’t stop confessing more. Can you believe that?”

“I already forgave him–I already forgave him, John, this wasn’t necessary–”

“It won’t be the same if I’m the one who pulls the trigger now, would it? It wouldn’t be fair, because I’m not the one who suffered under his hands,” John pushed even further, walking back to his original position behind you, gripping your arm and pointing the pistol directly at his head. “If you don’t pull that fucking trigger in the next five second, I’ll let you use a chainsaw to do it and trust me when I say you wouldn’t want it messy.”

You gulped, feeling yourself grow more and more afraid as John stood behind you. He was radiating anger, but he was keeping it at bay, though his swear words might be some of the leakage of his emotions he couldn’t contain any longer.

“I don’t want–don’t make me d-do this, John–”

“One...”

“John, please–”

“Two....” His voice was scary. Deep and level, and the grip on your arm tightened. You felt suffocated.

“I’m gonna throw u-up if I–”

“Three...” He was getting agitated.

The man’s head rose up from his position earlier to meet your eyes, and you swore you felt your stomach churn. His eyes were fucking gone.

The man opened his mouth to speak and a weak voice came. “D-Don’t–”

You pulled the trigger.

“There’s my little bunny.”

You dropped the gun as soon as his brains flew against your face and onto the wall, painting it red. You couldn’t bear to watch any further. You turned with a sob and buried your face in John’s chest, crying hysterically as he soothed you calmly by petting your head.

“Good girl. You did so fucking good, I’m so proud of you.”

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick smut #jw #concept #drabble #ask #ahhhhhhhhhhh #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves imagine #WELL. #my works

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being paranoid about US Border Security?

🪤 <- for searching later

Background info: I live in Canada, (relatively) close to the US border. Because of this, when shopping online it can be cheaper to have orders shipped to the nearest American town and then drive down yourself to pick them up. I hadn't done this myself but it's pretty normal to do around here.

This happened at the end of this summer, so the situation is fully over but my (white) friends immediately adjacent to this situation have said that I was basically the only asshole here and I feel that I am, at least, only one of the assholes. I want people's genuine opinions however. I have since stopped talking to this entire group of people, who I'd previously been friends with for 4-5 years, over this issue and a couple others.

My friend (20s, white) had ordered a package to [nearest American town], and because they don't have a car, they were looking for someone who could do a day trip to the states so they could pick it up. I (20s, white-passing, but from a mixed South Asian Muslim family, & I have very recognizably Muslim family names) offered to drive them down with my car, they agreed. We were going to split gas money, the date was set, everything was ready to go.

A few days prior to when we were going to go, my south asian parent reminded me that because I have muslim names, I need to be very careful when crossing the border, because the US Customs is well known for profiling muslims/arabs and pulling them aside for intensive screening. My parent also pointed out that, because my friend smokes weed basically every single day (legal in Canada), I would need to make sure that they were not carrying any weed with them when we went.

I was freaked out by this, and was not thinking super clearly in the moment because it was close to midnight and things my parent had mentioned about previous experiences going through Customs had scared me a lot.

I immediately texted my friend, saying that Customs would find weed on them if they swabbed them, and that it would be "a big problem." They replied that Customs doesn't swab for weed, and that they "failed to see any problem." I replied that Customs is allowed to go through your phone (people have been turned away at the border for admitting to having used cannabis before, but if you tell Customs that you've never smoked weed and they find evidence to the contrary they can ban you from entering the country for lying to border personnel.)

I linked them to an unofficial site that went into detail about what US Customs agents can do if you have weed on you or admit to having smoked previously. My vague intent at this point was for us to get everything in order so that none of the bags/jackets/etc we were taking could possibly have had any weed crumbs/dead old vapes/edible packaging in them , but I didn't get a chance to say this because they immediately replied that even if Customs tested them and found weed in their system, that they wouldn't care because it's legal in Canada. I said that Customs very much would care, and they said that I was insulting them and accusing them of having a criminal record. At this point they sent a further ~10 upset/angry texts in a row, which I didn't open or reply to because I was really upset at this point and needed a minute.

At this point (around midnight), they phoned me, I picked it up and they immediately(!) started yelling at me and saying I was a piece of shit etc etc. I told them they sounded dysregulated and should take a minute to compose themself (I phrased what I said in an aggravating therapy-speak way, bc I had been watching vids about cptsd immediately before they phoned me, but I was extremely freaked out, as I think most people would be when their friend is suddenly yelling at them, and it was the first thing that came to mind). This just made them yell louder, so I told them I refused to let people speak to me that way, said goodnight, they said goodnight, we hung up, and I blocked their calls and texts so they couldn't continue berating me.

After this, I realized that I'd completely neglected to mention that the reason I was particularly scared was because of US Customs' Islamophobic profiling, but I had gone into the interaction assuming (incorrectly) that they already knew implicitly that that was going to be an issue, because we'd known each other for 5 years and I've definitely talked (not recently) about how going thru US Customs is always a pain in the ass because my whole family gets profiled and taken for extra questioning, so right before I went to sleep I briefly unblocked them and sent a text saying that the reason I was so paranoid was because of the extra questioning I was already expecting to encounter at the border, but that it was now irrelevant anyway because I refused to be in a car with someone who was totally fine treating me this way.

I've since stopped talking to this person and, by association, my (white) friendgroup because they sided with them completely. It was a long time coming for other additional reasons I can't get into though.

TL;DR

Planning trip from Canada to US in my car with stoner friend, realized a few days before trip that US Customs can arbitrarily fuck your shit up if they find evidence of weed on you. Got scared and tried to tell stoner friend that it would be a big problem if they had weed on them, they flipped their shit and yelled at me over the phone about it, I blocked them (functionally cancelling the trip).

I believe I was accusatory in a bad way, and that I should have communicated better, but ultimately that my fear had a 100% legitimate basis and should not have been completely and totally dismissed by everyone around me, even though I was too extreme in my paranoia

(They were able to get another ride and pick the package up later)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[heyitspersephone]

Thinking about stranger things again now that the strikes are over and how, narratively, it would be way, WAY cooler to have Mike get Vecna’d instead of Will in s5

It’s just something about the way Mike’s trauma is never addressed or handled in any way?? Like, he hugs his mom twice and then when he was depressed in season 2 and 4 nobody did anything (his parents scolded him for his behavior in s2 ig but that’s not support). His best friend went missing leaving from his house, he watched his body get pulled from the quarry, watched El (in his eyes) kill herself stopping the demogorgon, watched Will be possessed, saw Bob die, was in Star Court when everything went down, saw Billy die, had his best friend move away, was SHOT AT (and really too few people talk about the shooting in Cali bc omg??), buried a body, and watched the apocalypse start. And that’s just off the top of my head.

(And yes I’m aware that the other characters (especially Will) are traumatized too but I will get to my point in a second just hold on)

The plot is geared towards this idea that Will and Henry have to have some big face off (and they should, in my opinion, but I don’t think it should be in a possession, or at least not the the Vecna kind of possession, yk?) but that makes it all the better, writing wise, to have mike be the one in danger. Will was helpless and hiding in s1, I think Will should get his big strong moments in s5 where he gets to be the hero of the story.

It would just be a lot more fun to work with Mike being Vecna’d than Will, because what are we going to bring up with Will’s visions? His dad? His sexuality? The events of s1 from his perspective? It would be cool to see, for sure, but we already know most of that. Mike, on the other hand, has a number of untapped things, like jumping off the quarry, why he’s so hesitant to tell El he loves her, how someone who was smart and kind enough to take El in in s1 and come up with the spy and sauna plans in s2 and s3 could turn into the oblivious asshole that he was in s3 and s4 (he needs therapy, ik, I still love his character but I want to explore the reasons he went from his s2 characterization to his s3 one)

It would be a very interesting parallel, I think, to explore Mike’s thought processes in this way, especially with all of Mike’s repression business (bc whether you ship byler or milkvan he is repressing his feelings HARD. Like, beyond his inability to say I love you there’s the fact that he doesn’t bring up the apparent many times he called pre-s4 during the Rink O Mania fight?? That literally would’ve absolved him of guilt in that argument since he WAS reaching out to Will the whole time? Hellooooo????).

Anyways, this all brings me to my main point: Vecna targets isolation as much as he targets trauma and guilt. The whole party was traumatized by the events in s1, s2, and s3, but Max was the one targeted. Plus, Henry went for Fred, Chrissy, and Patrick (I think his name was Patrick) instead of going for the perceivably easy targets that the mcs would make (ik narratively that would’ve made it more boring but shhh), so why Max and those three specifically? They were isolated. Lucas and Erica have each other, Dustin goes to Steve and Robin, Will and El have each other and Jonathan and Joyce, Nancy probably goes to Jonathan, and who does Mike go to?

No one. And don’t say Nancy because if those two have heart to hearts then I’m the next coming of Christ. Max separated herself from the Party in the aftermath of her grief and guilt over Billy, and it feels quite obvious that Mike was doing the same (like I said, he has repression issues). So Mike is traumatized, alone, and guilty (be it Will getting taken from Mike’s house, losing El in front of him multiple times, the many deaths he has witnessed, or the internalized homophobia angle), which makes him more of a target than Will, in my opinion (or at least an easier one, especially given his tendency to put himself on the line during fights (quarry, most of s2, s3 mindflayer fight), which would set him up on the suicidal ideation path)

Furthermore, as I’ve seen a few other people point out (and I can’t find the posts but one of them had eight screenshots of the various moments), Mike is always the one getting in the way, so it would be a strategic move for Henry to target him to get him out of the picture. Mike was the one that found El and got her involved in saving Will s1, he was the one who came up with the spy plan and called out the ambush in s2, he was the one to monologue Will out of his possession s2, he was the one with the sauna plan for Billy in s3, he was the one trying to help El get the strength to fight s4 (even if the monologue sucked ass it’s the intention that counts). As much as people like to hate on Mike, he is in the leader position most of the time when the party is grouped up (barring his mental health struggles slowing that down beginning of s3 and throughout s4, but he’s still capable of it). He’s the idea man, and he’s the one whose character’s foundations were built on the desire to keep his friends safe, so it would be a very fun plot line to watch him be the one targeted in s5. Like Will said, as lovestruck and cheesy as he was, Mike is the heart of the party when he’s on his A-game, so Henry should 100% be trying to keep him in the issues he’s been struggling with.

Obviously, Will and El are the Targets with a capital T for Henry since they’re the ones that got away or whatever, but I think Mike is a weakness of Will’s (and El’s tbh but also I think they need to have separate character arcs and I don’t exactly ship milkvan) that should be exploited.

TL;DR: Mike should get Vecna’d instead of Will in s5 because it would make sense in lore and be a very cool way to resolve his character arc

#wow this ended up being super long for no reason oops #I meant to stop at the first paragraph #oh well this was a lot of fun to type out at midnight haha #and I don’t see enough people talking about or exploring this concept #percy speaks #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #eleven stranger things #el hopper #vecna #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #max mayfield #byler #character analysis #stranger things analysis #byler analysis #ish #I’m a byler shipper at heart but it wasn’t the main focus sorry

[drpoisonoaky]

Therapy homework, fire siblings edition

Azula and Zuko have to share moments from their childhood in order to heal their relationship (therapy homework), even as they are there for each other.

In my own personal Azula’s redemption arc, Zuko is there helping her sister in the same way he got help.

So they talk about everything because they’re healing and they need to do it.

[Turtle ducks]

Zuko: I think those two are playing together.

Azula: Or they’re fighting to decide who will become the Turtle Lord.

Zuko: Don’t project your trauma onto turtle ducks. 

Azula: I was not. It’s a very real and possible situation in the turtle duck world.

Zuko: I am going to ignore that because I was wondering why you hate them.

Azula: I don’t hate them.

Zuko: You threw rocks at them every time we were here.

Azula:

Zuko: What?

Azula: That we never included me, you know? It was more like “Mom and Zuko and, oh, Azula is here”.

Azula: So I guess I want my mother to give me attention, and my child brain said “Let’s make chaos”.

Zuko: Oh… I’m sorry I…I never thought about it that way.

Azula: Don’t punish yourself Zuzu. We were children. It wasn’t your job.

Zuko: But now we can feed them together, right? No rocks, only bread.

Azula: You really are a softie. It’s annoying.

Zuko: Let’s take the bread.

[Children]

Zuko: Do you want kids?

Azula: Not really. You do?

Zuko: One. Only one.

Azula: Did I traumatize you Zuzu?

Zuko: Yes, but no. If I had a kid, I want to focus on them, giving them all of my love and support. Being the Firelord and doing that for more than one child it’s impossible.

Azula: Oh, you really think about this… I hate to say it, but you would be a great dad.

Zuko: Thanks. I appreciate it. Why don't you?

Azula: First of all, it would have to be adopted, so the kid comes with baggage. And with my baggage, I probably couldn’t be there as much as the kid needs. It’s not fair to them. I can’t put the happiness of some child behind my own selfishness.

Zuko: Cool aunt?

Azula: I’m going to spoil your child so much that they’ll be as insufferable as you are.

Zuko: Of course you will.

[Fire resistance]

Katara: Hey firebenders, I have a question. Do you really resist fire better by nature or…?

Azula: Yes and no. 

Zuko: I mean, look at my face. 

Katara: That’s why I’m asking. Why do you resist less than ‘Zula? I swear she could be on fire and not notice.

Azula: We didn’t have the same training. Mother stopped Ozai a lot for the both of us. But when she was gone…

Zuko: I was banished when he started his fire resistance methods…

Katara: but ‘Zula don’t.

Azula: I was burned every day in every place except the face. Well, you saw the marks.

Sokka: Why not the face?

Suki: Don’t be rude.

Azula: It was because I was a princess after all, and you know we had to be pretty and perfect.

Katara: And how do you get high pain tolerance from that?

Azula: I guess some nerves died along the way or maybe my brain learned to ignore that kind of pain…I don’t know. 

Azula: I hate him, but in battle it’s really useful. But yeah, don’t try it at home, kids.

Sokka: So if we try to burn your fac-

Katara: Don’t you dare, asshole.

[Crying]

Katara: Did they cry much when they were babies?

Azula: I bet Zuzu was insufferable.

Zuko: I was a pretty nice baby.

Ursa: You were nice, but you cried a lot.

Azula: See.

Ursa: And you weren't nice at all, young lady. But truth to be told, she didn’t cry.

Zuko: Lack of emotions, I see.

Azula: Not dumbass, it was for the balance between you and me.

Katara: She didn’t cry at all? What would happen if she was hungry or hurt herself?

Ursa: She just waited.

Azula: Of course I did that, crying change nothing. Plus, it wasn’t allowed.

Zuko: What do you mean?

Azula: Oh right, that was one of the points of our “educational differences”.

Ursa: Azula?

Azula:

Katara: Azula?

Azula: Fine.

Azula: Father didn’t really like the tears. He said that water isn’t something that should exist around a firebender. So I didn’t cry.

Katara: …but what if you did by any chance?

Azula, smiling sadly: He turned into my personal dryer. Goodbye tears.

Ursa: *gasp* But when you were a child he neve-

Azula: Don’t worry mother… It's not your fault.

Zuko: We should try to cry together anytime you want. As a therapy exercise, of course.

Azula: I-…thanks Zuzu.

Katara: And I hope he knows that you are around water all the time and he can’t do shit.

Azula: Of course master Katara, best master water bender of all times.

Zuko: Mom, we should go. They had started their own weird flirting thing.

Katara:

Azula: 

Katara: What are you waiting for? Keep going.

[Compliments]

Aang: I know It’s none of my business, but I was wondering why some compliments make you look awkward but on the opposite sides. *Points at Azula and Zuko*

Zuko: What do you mean?

Aang: Like Azula takes it so well when we say something nice about her bending or her looks but she’s weird when it’s not about that. And you get so weird when we compliment your looks or your bending. Like a yin and yang kinda thing.

Azula: Easy. I was praised for everything Zuko isn’t.

Aang: What do you mean?

Azula: I’m a prodigy and a princess. Being an excellent firebender and looking pretty at the same time is or was my job. Zuzu is a mediocre firebender, under Father’s eyes, and he burned half of his face. 

Zuko: And ‘Zula never was praised for being anything else. 

Aang: But that’s awful.

Azula: I didn’t need to be anything apart from that, Zuko was banished. That’s life.

Sokka: No, it’s not. Your father it’s a piece of shit.

Katara: And I hope we never see him again. No offense.

Azula and Zuko: None taken.

[Giving Affection]

Katara, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic: I don’t know if it’s awkward to ask you that.

Zuko: …Go on.

Katara: Okay, so when you get out of the fire nation. Do you flinch?

Zuko: …Did I flinch?

Katara: General affection. 

Zuko: Not really. My mother used to hug me a lot and you know Iroh. 

Katara: …and who hugged Azula?

Zuko: Mom before disappearing, I guess? Me on some special days. I don’t know if our father ever did that.

Azula: Neither of them. Did you go to Zuzu to get information about me? 

Katara: I want to know “your background” from another point of view.

Azula: I hate that that is a logical move. But to answer that, maybe Ty Lee was the only one. And you know Mai.

Zuko: Didn’t Mom hug you?

Azula: Do you remember that little detail that mother hated me? 

Zuko: She didn’t ha-

Azula: Don’t. Please. We already passed that point.

Katara: So it’s decided.

Azula: What?

Katara: I’m now your personal koala, whether you want it or not. Come here.

Azula: But you do more things…

Zuko: And that’s my cue to get out of here.

[Education]

Aang: Wait, really, you know it all?

Azula: Of course, it was part of my education. I need to know history, especially anything related to war, but knowledge is knowledge.

Aang: But Zuko didn’t know anything about the Air Nomads' history.

Azula: We didn’t have the same education.

Zuko: Basically because Azula is a nerd.

Azula: Excuse me.

Zuko: After you did your homework, you started to read about everything, especially history. That’s why.

Aang: So she's more prepared than you.

Azula: I am. While Zuzu cried, I trained or focused on my studies. Time is gold in war.

Katara: You didn’t rest?

Azula: Not really, but sometimes I needed to rest in order to continue. 

Zuko: No you don’t. You can’t count that as resting. 

Aang: What, why?

Zuko: It’s not my call. Sorry. But you should explain it ‘Zula.

Katara: Azula?

Azula: What Zuzu means is that the “rest days” weren’t really optional.

Aang: Oh, they force you to rest?

Azula: Not exactly…I have to rest because I couldn’t move. Training wasn’t always…educational.

Zuko: Call it what it was. That shitty excuse of man made us fight against him and beat us until we faint.

Aang: Spirits.

Zuko: And I guess me being gone didn’t make him less reckless…

Azula: Quite the opposite…that’s why learning was fun. 

Azula: But anyways Zuzu you should learn that so from now on I’m going to teach you history, physics and math. Be aware.

Zuko: Only if we take rest days. Real ones.

Azula: Don’t be lazy.

[Wake up time]

Katara: I can’t beat Azula.

Sokka: But you did remember…Oh, spirits, don’t tell me is a dirty-

Katara: NO. 

Katara: Also not in that way, dummy. I can’t get up earlier than her. It's like every time I wake up early and say “Wow, today I really got up early” she’s already awake and meditating or something. 

Ty lee: I tried for a week. Then I got tired.

Mai: It’s a losing battle. You can’t beat them.

Katara: Wait, does Zuko also wake up early?

Mai: Every day, like if he makes the sun or something.

Azula, arriving from sparring with Zuko: Talking behind my back isn’t new, but still hurts a little. 

Zuko: Same.

Katara: Why do you wake up so early? Both of you.

Azula, raising an eyebrow: Why do you ask?

Zuko: Why do you wake up so late? 

Katara: Don’t answer a question with a question. Both of you don’t know the concept of oversleeping or even slacking. Why?

Zuko: What are you ta-…Oh. 

Zuko: Lala, do you remember the “If you wake up after the sun…

Azula: …how do you pretend to use his flames”. 

Katara: Oh no.

Mai:

Ty lee: That jerk.

Zuko: So we have to stop.

Azula: I’m going to knock myself out every morning, I swear. 

Zuko: Same.

Katara: Or instead of me waking up next to my unconscious girlfriend, you could try not getting out of bed.

Zuko: You mean stay in bed until the sun is up so we can train later?

Katara: I mean yeah. At least until you wake up like a regular human being.

Sokka: But that would imply they are regular human beings and we-AH STOP.

Azula, shooting little lightning at him: Sorry what?

Zuko, burning his butt: We are having difficulties hearing you.

Sokka: KATARA HELP YOU BROTHER.

Katara, ignoring Sokka and talking to Mai and Ty lee: So you two also like to wake up late?

Sokka: KATARA.

Ty lee: Yes, but it doesn’t fit the Kyoshi Warriors’ lifestyle. And that makes Suki angry with me, a lot.

#avatar the last airbender #azula #atla #fire siblings #zuko #katara #azutara #trauma bonding #i guess #they are my babies #my traumatized babies #ty lee #sokka #suki #turtle ducks #aang #ursa #mai #maiko #kazula

[boltupbitches]

Enemies to Lovers - Joe Burrow

Angst -> to fluff

Joe couldn’t put into words precisely why he felt the need to say something every time she entered the room. The new physical therapy assistant was the sweetest person - at least according to several guys on the team who joked with her and would talk endlessly during their sessions.

Joe? Well, he shot himself in the foot the first day they met when she had bumped into him coming out of the exam room he was walking past. He was having a bad day, his calf was still sore and acting up, and on top of that, he had just had a heated conversation with his parents over his ex-girlfriend.

He remembered snapping at the new girl, “Can you watch where the fuck you’re walking?” 

He hadn’t stuck around to hear her response, but after that, she went out of her way to avoid him or just outright ignore his presence unless absolutely required to talk with him. If she did have to, it was short, monotone sentences with a blank expression.

It pissed Joe off to no end. What pissed him off worse though was that HE caused this odd tension between them with his outburst that day. He had attempted to track her down a few times afterward to apologize but each time he had approached she’d take off the other way.

Now, every time he saw her, he felt his face twist into a scowl and frustration take over. It pissed him off and he wasn’t sure why his face flushed and his heart rate sped up at the sight of her. He knew his attitude made her uncomfortable but he couldn’t figure out why he was feeling the way he was.

It was Sam of all people who brought it up one day during a post-workout. “I just think it’s odd how mad you get when you see her. I mean, what is the problem?”

“I don’t know..” Joe muttered as he took a swig of his water. “She just always acts like she’d rather be somewhere else than near me. It’s like I’m dirt beneath her shoes.”

“I think she probably looks at it in reverse,” Sam said after a moment.

Joe looked at him questioningly.

Sam raised his brows at him before smirking. “It was you after all who said you yelled at her the first day you met her. And I’ve seen how you act towards her when she’s in the same room as you. The girl thinks you hate her guts. It’s likely why she’s always trying to get away from you. You’ve been a dickhead to her, Joe.” Sam said, straight to the point.

Joe mulled over what Sam said after he bit down the immediate urge to debunk his words. He couldn’t deny it - it was true. He had been awful to her and he needed to make it right. In the few interactions they had, either direct or indirect, he had been the unpleasant asshole. This all stemmed from a misunderstanding on his part. Now she thought he hated her.

He knew he didn’t hate her. How could he? He barely knew her. Yet, his ire with her made no sense to him.

“Yeah.. you’re right.” He finally admitted. He looked over to an amused Sam, “What should I do to make this right?”

“Well,” Sam scratched his chin as he thought, “You could corner her and apologize. Explain that you’re not normally like that, but still, it was no excuse for being a dickhead to her. Don’t ask for forgiveness because that’s corny - she’ll decide when she forgives and it’s ok.” Sam went silent again before grinning suddenly to himself, “And stop glaring at every man who approaches her and talks with her. You’re way too obvious, dude.”

“What do you mean by ‘obvious’?” Joe demanded.

“You like her,” Sam answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You act all pissy when a guy talks to her, then you follow her around the room with your eyes, and I’m pretty sure you are one step away from marking her like a damn dog marks his spot. It is so obvious that you have a crush on her.”

“That’s - that’s… not true,” Joe sputtered out. 

“It is,” Sam said.

The two sat quietly once more, one of them completely lost in thought over his feelings, and the other one amused that his good friend was so intelligent but couldn’t read the situation at hand to save his life.

“Fuck,” Joe groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I do.”

“What?” Sam goaded.

“I do like her. Fucking hell, man. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She thinks I’m an absolute asshole now though,” Joe mumbled with his face still in his hands. 

Sam thankfully had some information to make his day, “I have an appointment with her at 2 pm. I’m going to show up late. You can go in and talk to her. She doesn’t have any clients from 1-2 pm and will likely be on desk duty for the head PT. Go get cleaned up and you’ll have time to catch her.” Sam nudged his shoulder roughly with his hand.

Joe didn’t think twice, nor did he need any convincing as he got off the weight bench he sat at and took off to the shower rooms. 

He didn’t want to waste this opportunity.

—------------

Joe breathed deeply as he stood outside the room she was working in. 205. He had double-checked twice to make sure it was the one Sam said she’d be working in.

He lifted his hand and knocked firmly. 

A few moments passed and he heard footsteps approach from the other side of the door. The door opened and she appeared on the other side with a startled look on her face once she registered who was knocking.

She stared quietly for a moment and then cleared her voice, “umm… hi, Joe - er Mr. Burrow. How can I help you?” 

Joe felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of her voice before responding, “Joe’s fine… um... do you have a few minutes? I was hoping we could talk really quick.” He smiled nervously.

She stared once more, visibly put off by the friendliness he was exuding. She glanced down the hallway and back, looking for some sign that he was playing a prank before coming to the conclusion that he was serious. “Uh - sure. Come on in.” She opened the door and moved out of the way so his large frame could pass through.

Joe shuffled awkwardly for a minute before taking a seat in front of the small desk in the corner of the room.

She came around to the other side where her laptop was facing and quietly shut it as she sat down.

It was awkwardly silent.

Joe cleared his voice and spoke up, “Listen... Rachel, I’m sorry for how much of an asshole I have been. Not just the first day we met, but also every time after that. I was going through a rough time when we collided that day but that was no excuse for how I spoke to you. I hope we can work together and that you’ll consider giving me a chance.” He smiled nervously.

Rachel nodded at him and remained quiet for a moment. “I appreciate the apology, Joe. I won’t lie - I’ve been really put off and uncomfortable with how you treated me. I don’t understand why you continued to be so unwelcoming to me after one instance in time.” She looked at him curiously.

Joe nodded with a serious expression on his face as he listened. “I was mostly mad at myself for feeling like I made things bad between us - and I did. It snowballed and I just kept feeling more frustrated - not at you but with myself and how I messed up that day. The truth is,” his cheeks flushed red, “I was jealous of how naturally you got along with others on the team but I somehow messed up any friendship we could have had from the get go. It was never you. It was all me and being in my head. I’m very sorry, Rachel, for making you feel unwelcome. It is not an excuse -”

“Just an explanation?” She finished for him.

He nodded.

They were quiet once more before she spoke once more. “Well, since we’ll be working together a lot,” She stuck her hand out to him, “My name is Rachel and I am one of the physical therapist assistants. It’s nice to be working with you, Joe.”

Joe grinned and shook her hand, “It’s nice to be working with you too, Rachel.” It took him a minute to realize he held her hand a little long before he quickly let go, his cheeks still flushed from earlier. “Sam said he was going to be late in getting here today - he needed to talk to the DC really quick. Did you want to get coffee together afterward at the cantina?” He asked nervously.

Rachel smiled and nodded, her own cheeks now flushed, “Sure. I would love to. It won’t be until 3 pm though.”

Joe nodded, “That’s fine. I need to go talk to Zac anyways. I’ll swing back around then.” He got up and stretched before heading for the door.

Joe paused and turned back to Rachel, a small smile on his face, “Thanks, Rachel… for giving me a chance.”

Rachel returned the smile, “Of course. We all have our days. Just don’t make a habit of it, Burrow.” She warned playfully.

He nodded and chuckled, “Right, right.” He looked back at her once more and said, “see you later.” And shut the door behind him.

He paused and released a heavy sigh of relief before fisting pumping and turning down the hallway only to encounter a grinning Sam.

“Went good, Shiesty? You look pretty stoked.”

Joe nodded a smile once more on his face, “She agreed to have coffee with me at 3 pm. So, don’t keep her waiting too long and holding it up, Hubbard.” He smacked his larger friend on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. For that, you’ll have to wait for 3:30 pm.” Sam winced and pretended to limp towards the door.

“Dude,” Joe called, “Don’t you dare!”

Sam turned and winked at him, “She’ll be done by 3 pm, lover boy,” before knocking and walking on into the room.

Joe stood there in the hallway alone for a moment, staring at the door. He couldn’t wait to go back there at 3 pm.

#joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow one shot #joe burrow imagines

[kookie-doughs]

Daddy Cupid: The Asshole

Modern!Donquixote Doflamingo X Reader

-When your father grows weary of your single life, he takes it upon himself to play matchmaker. With him knowing the entire city, he embarks on a mission to find you the perfect match.

Chapter 3: You're being super weird rn

YOURE BEING SUPER WEIRD RIGHT NOW

Like you had just come from possibly the best date you've been to in a while but you're thinking about the asshole who tried to ruin it???????????

You're absolutely right. It's quite strange that you're dwelling on Doflamingo when you should be enjoying the positive moments from your date with Marco. Sometimes, people have a way of getting under your skin, and Doflamingo seems to have a special talent for that. It might be best to put him out of your mind and focus on the good experiences instead.

No. You're not thinking about how he could've almost ruined your date if it wasn't for how great of a man Marco was.

You were thinking about how he did a bare minimum of walking you home and making sure you got in safe.

AND IT'S MAKING YOUR STOMACH DO BACKFLIPS????

It's understandable that you might find Doflamingo's behavior puzzling. Perhaps he had some hidden motive for walking you home, but at least he ensured your safety in the end. It's not uncommon for people to act in unexpected ways, especially when it comes to complex personalities like his. In any case, your focus should be on the enjoyable aspects of your date with Marco, and not on Doflamingo's peculiar actions.

Feeling like your mind was in chaos, you decided it was time to seek some therapy of your own. You headed to your favorite free therapist.

"Smokeyyyy!" you cried out as you entered the room.

"Y/N, what is it this time?" Smoker asked, looking up from his paperwork with a frown.

You sighed and slumped into a chair. "I don't even know where to start, Smokey."

He nodded at you to begin occasionally lifting his eyes from his papers to you.

So you began to vent, telling him about the bizarre date your dad had set up, the encounter with Doflamingo, and the unexpected walk home. Smoker listened, occasionally offering a sympathetic nod or a snort of disbelief.

Once you finished, he leaned back in his chair. "Sounds like quite the day. Your dad really knows how to pick 'em."

You groaned. "Tell me about it!"

"You just need a break from all this nonsense," Smoker suggested.

You nodded fervently. "Definitely. But what should I do?"

Smoker grinned mischievously. "How about we go grab some ice cream? Sometimes a little sweetness can help wash away all the bitterness."

You couldn't help but smile. "That sounds perfect, please."

"Let me point out, despite having a great date with Marco, you talked an awful lot about Doflamingo," Smoker remarked, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed, "Well, he was being obnoxious and he just wouldn't stop bothering us!"

"We're just going to ignore the entire monologue about how he walked you home?" Smoker raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"That was weird!" You defended yourself.

"Y/N, let's get this straight – he likes you, and you..."

"He doesn't like me."

"Y/N... maybe he's right, you are incredibly dense. It's like a basic 'guy liking a girl' trope." Smoker shook his head, clearly exasperated.

"Okay, fine, lets say he likes me! So what?" You huffed, crossing your arms.

Smoker let out an exasperated sigh. "He's been pretty clear he likes yo-"

"No, he hasn't," you interrupted.

Smoker's eyes bore into yours, frustration evident in his expression. "He likes you, and he's clear about it. He walks you home because he likes you and doesn't want you to get hurt. What part of that is weird?"

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Smoker's gaze. "The part where he likes me."

"You're so hopeless," Smoker muttered, shaking his head.

"if he likes me he wouldn't be an asshole."

Smoker couldn't help but roll his eyes. "You're the one who's obsessed with reading novels and shit. Why are you so confused?"

You blinked and stared at the ground. As the realization slowly dawned on you, your face started getting warmer.

"Holy fuck, Doflamingo likes me?" Your voice held a mix of surprise and embarrassment, and you could feel your cheeks flushing even more.

"SMOKEY, DOFFY LIKES ME! HE WAS THOSE CLICHE BOYS WHO ARE ASSHOLES TO GIRLS THEY LIKE! SMOKEY, WHAT DO I DO????"

"Omg, Y/N, this isn't the first time someone liked you. Why are you acting like this?" Smoker replied with an exasperated tone, crossing his arms as he watched your dramatic reaction.

You paced back and forth in your living room, flustered by the revelation. "But Smokey, this is Doflamingo! He's... Well, he's Doflamingo!"

Smokey couldn't help but chuckle at your predicament. "Well, regardless of who he is, if you like him back, maybe try not to let his annoying side get to you so much?"

You stopped pacing and looked at him with wide eyes. "What if I do like him back, Smokey?"

Smoker sighed and shook his head. "Then, my dear friend, you're in for quite a ride. But hey, who am I to judge? Go for it if you want to. Just be prepared for all the chaos he'll bring into your life."

"Did I like him walking me home? I don't know, it was weird... Did I like it when he paid for my coffee? No, because I didn't realize he did."

"He paid for your coffee?"

"Yeah, he came to shit on me when Marco ditched me. I walked out and didn't pay."

Smoker raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "You already went on a date with him?"

"Smokey, I don't wanna be with Doflamingo..." You sighed, your voice tinged with uncertainty, and you fidgeted with your fingers, a sure sign of your inner turmoil.

"No one's telling you to."

"But... what if I like him..."

Smoker raised an eyebrow, skeptical but willing to listen. "You said you don't want to be with him. How can you like someone you don't wanna be with?"

You bit your lip, your gaze fixed on the floor as you struggled to find the right words. "When you're in denial, Smoke."

You looked up at Smoker with a mix of frustration and confusion, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of your feelings.

"Argghhhh, I don't know. Maybe if he wasn't a huge asshole this wouldn't be a problem."

"You wouldn't even be thinking about him if he wasn't. He clearly gets your attention this way. You'll figure it out," Smoker reassured you, patting your shoulder gently.

You let out a sigh of frustration. "I better soon because I wanna go on a date with Marco again."

Smoker couldn't help but chuckle at your determination. "If you wanna go on a date with Marco, it obviously means you don't like Doflamingo. Problem solved."

You blinked at Smoker's straightforward logic, a small smile forming on your lips as you considered his words.

After parting ways with Smoker, you decided to head to your favorite cafe. As you arrived and glanced at your phone, you noticed that Law wasn't behind the register today. Opting for something different from your usual order, you took a seat at a nearby table.

It seemed that merely thinking about Law had summoned him, as you received a text message from him. You opened it to find a video attached.

Your gasp echoed through the cafe as you watched the footage. In the video, Doflamingo wielded a golf club and unleashed his fury on a car. He even climbed onto the vehicle and started jumping on it.

"You fucking dumbass! Burn your fucking license, you're too much of a fucking dumbass to be driving! You bitch!" Doflamingo's voice in the video was filled with a barrage of insults and curses aimed at the presumed owner of the car.

You couldn't believe your eyes as you witnessed the chaotic scene unfolding on your phone screen.

The next message from Law made you raise your brow:

"your sociopath is done pick him up from jail he doesnt need you or anything but hed appreciate it"

You replied, questioning why you should do something for him.

"the car was the one that almost hit you a while back, according to him. He spent a while looking for this and asked me to come with him. That's why I'm not there,"

Recalling the incident where Doflamingo had grabbed your sprained wrist, exacerbating the pain and showcasing his weird behavior, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

Did he actually go through these trouble just to get back for you?

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@nykie-love-anime @gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @angstylittleb1tch @valen-yamyam16 @melodyidk @anicega @littlegreekgirl1 @rebeccawinters

#x reader #fanfiction #y/n l/n #one piece #one piece x reader #doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote family #one piece donquixote doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo x reader #daddy cupid #the asshole

[itsnatt09]

(Tw for self-harm and abuse)

I just had a really weird ask show up, and instead of airing it (because it implied both that we choose to be gay, and that trans people wouldn't be trans unless we were m*olested as children) I'm gonna talk a bit about my long journey with identity.

Even though I spent a lot of my childhood being pretty confused about myself, I didn't hear the word 'Transgender' until I was an adult in 2009. That year I also got my license suspended for underage drinking and had to move back with my parents for a year. At my parents urging I started going to church activities every week, which is where i met my now ex-wife. I spent 2011 until about 2016 slowly knowing that I was going to come out eventually, but i was doing it all in secret. What I was doing was in pretty stark contrast to my religious upbringing and all the pressure being placed on me to start being a husband, and the huge expectation to have kids.

It culminated in me wearing makeup to my old Home Depot job for about a month, and even though everyone there was pretty ok with it, my parents saw me one day. And the entire situation crashed around me. My parents and my ex let it be known that I was going to stop this forever or I'd be cut off from the family, that I'd be homeless and alone if I continued. They said what I was doing was against God.

And I was so scared I went along with it. Everything fem was thrown away. I shaved my head. I had a kid, even though I had some serious doubts that I would be a good parent. The next 4 years of my life was pretending to be the cis straight man my family wanted me to be.

And it's not a stretch to say that I was dying. I slept 3 hours a day. I went through periods of binge eating and then starving myself. I had a terrible temper. I started working a driving job and every time I got behind the wheel I thought about driving off a cliff. I gave up control of my finances. I let other people decide everything for me. I didn't get pleasure from anything in life at that point, not food or entertainment or even sex. The light was gone from my eyes, hidden behind a big beard and a flannel shirt.

It wasn't until summer 2021 that I couldn't take it anymore. I broke down in front of my ex-wife in a restaurant parking lot while our kid was asleep in the car. It was a 2-day fight where I was called hateful things I've never heard before, by someone who claimed to love me. But eventually she relented. We agreed the relationship between us was functionally over, and I still had an obligation to our son. I started looking for therapy the next day.

All that brings me to now. That ask was sent by an asshole, who doesn't know anything about my life and isn't gonna change their mind based on anything I say. But I do hope there are people who find this and think a little more positively about queer existence. You could say I 'chose to be trans' and you might be right in a way. I was always trans, but I chose to transition. Because the other option was death. I decide my life, not transphobes or my shit family or a shit interpretation of God. Me. Gay people, trans people, all of us *choose* to live in a way that makes us happy. That's it.

#asks open #asks #natalie answers #trans #lgbtq #lgbt #transgender #transisbeautiful #transfem #mtf trans #queer community #transition

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 17 - Come a Little Bit Closer

📖 One of my friends who beta-read this for me pointed out there is a scene in here that is very similar to one in Ted Lasso (I've never seen it, though there are a lot of people in my life telling me I should now); so I'm just mentioning there might be a similarity.

There is also something in here that people have been waiting for. Albeit, it's probably not the one scene everyone wants, given recent events. But someone(s) gets karma'd 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, angst, mentions of shitty family dynamics, physical fights, Ruthless Dagger Squad, violence, verbal fights, and mentions of blood.

#7k words

Part 16 | Masterlist | Part 18

“Are you a fucking idiot, Bradley?!”

You slapped Rooster hard on the back of his head, the thwack anything but satisfying.

“He is, indeed, a fucking idiot,” Nat quipped next to you. Bradley frowned at you, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought you would be happy I got to him!”

“You do not invert over another pilot on your team, catch them in a fucking corkscrew, and make them hit the fucking hard deck! Regardless if they are my ex or an asshole!”

It was hopeless to think you could ever stop swearing in Penny’s bar, not when Bradley was still pulling stupid shit like that. Therapy was a big step, but you knew deep down it would take a little more than a few sessions to make him less impulsive.

Maybe even more so from behind the joystick of his jet.

Rooster threw his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to teach him a lesson. You know what he did to you!"

You shot him a look.

Bob rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. "And what exactly did you accomplish, Rooster? Besides nearly killing yourself and him?"

Bradley gave him a death glare.

“I don’t care why you did it!” You snapped, tapping the end of the bottle opener hard on the top of the bar as you made your point. “You put yourself and a teammate in danger! You’re lucky Maverick stepped in before you got kicked out!”

You spun the tool in your hand while rolling your eyes, quickly popping the caps off the row of beer bottles lined up in front of you in frustration. Placing one in front of Nat, you handed Bob’s to him with a stern look.

“One, Robert,” You said, holding up your finger. “One, and then I am cutting you off.”

He grabbed the neck of the bottle, nodding and throwing his hand back in what seemed to be a 'yeah, I get it' kind of way. You held back on Roosters, holding it out of his reach, engaging him in a staring contest.

"Promise me."

"Liz."

You shook your head.

"This is not something I'm being funny about, Bradley. Promise me you will not pull that shit again."

"You're being unfair; it was just a dogfight."

You raised your eyebrow, purposely glancing over at the barbell for a split second. "I'll ring the bell on you."

Bradley cocked his eyebrow at you. The bell was something he prided on, never happening to him before. "I'll tell your manager you've been providing bad customer service."

You shrugged. "Go ahead."

Penny would legitimately not care. She'd do more damage to Bradley by chewing him out than you ever could.

"You should see the Yelp reviews when they mention me when I ring the bell on assholes. I don't care. Promise me you won't put yourself in danger anymore just to prove a fucking point."

Rooster made no effort to tear his eyes away from you. 

"Bradley Bradshaw, do you promise me?!" you tried again. When he didn't reply for the second time, you raised your voice, "Lieutenant Bradshaw! Do you promise not to risk your fucking life over proving a point?!"

Bradley blinked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

You thumped the glass bottle to the top of the bar, sliding it towards him with a huff.

“Liz!” Jimmy called out. You turned in his direction with a smile, though you were anything but happy right now.

“The Jukebox is doing that thing again. Can you see what’s wrong?”

“Did you try hitting it?” you called back.

“Several times!”

You sighed. Walking to the other side of the bar, you stopped in front of Bradley, pointing your finger into his chest.

“You pull that shit again, therapy or not, I swear to god, Bradley..." You couldn't even formulate the rest of your sentence, throwing your hands up in frustration and letting out a garbled yell as you walked away.

You approached the Juxebox with a huff, grabbing the sides as you peered into the glass. The machine was turned on, but the needle hadn't touched the spinning disc.

Someone slung their arm over the top of the machine, startling you with an almost empty beer bottle in their hand. 

"First, it was the keg, now it's the jukebox. What else is on your hit list, darlin'?"

You stiffened.

You hadn't seen Jake since that night. The minute you managed to get the courage to leave Rooster's Bronco, you cleared out your house of anything to do with him, his overnight bag sitting on your porch when you went to pick up Sadie.

It was gone when you came back home.

And It was suddenly like he hadn’t existed. You hadn’t found yourself going through what you assumed was the traditional aftermath of breaking up with someone. You hadn’t eaten a tub of ice cream, binged rom-coms or cried your eyes out except on the drive home. 

And that had been it.

No calls. No texts. No apologies. 

Without turning to face him, you remarked sarcastically, "Your over-inflated ego, but something tells me I'm going to need something bigger than a broken jukebox to take down."

Jake glanced at the machine, knocking it hard with the side of his boot.

You don't know what was worse, that the machine came to life or that it started up in the middle of the song, 'Come a Little Bit Closer' by Jay and the Americans, started up in the most ironic part.

Come a little bit closer. You're my kind of man, so big and so strong.

The quip fell easy from your lips. “Oh, what do you know, a knight in shining armour, solving all my problems.”

You don't know what you were trying to achieve by being like this. You just wanted him gone. But Jake didn't leave. Instead, he smiled at you. "You always have a way with words, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. Snatching the bottle from his grip, you turned on your heel.

"What are you doing here, Jake?" you called out, knowing he would follow you.

"I just want to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

He quicked his pace, jogging up and interrupting your path. You stopped, gritting your teeth and twisting your hand away from him in frustration.

"Liz, please."

You huffed. You finally met his eyes, your gaze hard. “What is there to say, Jake? What could you say to me other than I was another bartender on your list? I just wish you had the common decency not to involve my niece in this, you asshole.” 

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shout across the bar. 

"Jake!"

George had called out to his brother, surrounded by a group of women. When Jake turned at the mention of his name, George was already waving him over.

You couldn't blame the women shooting him flirty glances, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat. You just wished the pang in your chest didn't hurt as much as it did.

"Go ahead," you offered with a tense smile. "You made your intentions known. You are free to do whatever the hell you want now."

Jake faced you, his expression faltering as the edges of his mouth twitched, failing miserably to hold on to some semblance of confidence.

"You don't think I know that?" he remarked. "I think about it all the time."

“You should've thought of a lot of things before, Jake," you sighed, stepping backwards and away from him. "Don’t start on my account now.”

---

Why George had decided to stick around, Jake had no idea why. Maybe it was insurance that the damage he had done was permanent. 

Jake just wanted him to get the hell out of dodge. 

He wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation he’d been roped into when you walked away from him. He had no other choice but to walk over and let George introduce him to the two ladies he had been flirty with. 

Jake knew what George was doing. He was trying to entice him back into his old ways. It was clear as day to anyone George would be going home with this woman tonight. 

The other one, he thought her name was Bree or something along those lines, was trying to engage him in a conversation, batter her eyes or flirt. But he hadn’t so much as blinked, too caught up in how you shot him down and walked away from him. 

It wasn’t until George opened his mouth to answer a question that Jake snapped out of his trance and caught the last end of his sentence. 

“I guess having played football in high school makes it easier. My throwing hand is awesome when playing darts, though.”

That pipped his interest.

"Since when have you played darts?" he finally spoke up. 

"Since we hired a few new ranch hands,” George shrugged. “All they want to do is drink, sleep, and play darts. It's great for introducing yourself to other ranch owners. I practically win them over each time," he remarked, trying to throw in a bit of modesty.

The gears started to grind in Jake's head. And slowly but surely, the cocky-ass Mona Lisa smile came back. 

He nodded towards the dartboard. "Wanna play a game?"

George raised his eyebrow, taking a swing of his beer, "Want something else to lose your dignity to?"

Jake's grin didn't lessen. In fact, there was a certain glint in his eyes when he replied, "Something like that."

---

A crowd had gathered around the dart board while they had been playing. Practically, the whole bar was suddenly invested in this little game.

And you, leaning up against a pillar next to Bob, who had ushered you away from your post for a few seconds to watch the end of the game. Your arms were crossed, and you had a slight frown, watching him with sad eyes.

It was clear you wanted to be back behind the bar, not standing here, watching the person responsible for your broken heart play a fucking game of darts.

It wasn't even really a game. Jake could land a bullseye with his eyes literally closed. The regulars knew it, too. So, why was he purposely throwing darts with his non-dominant hand? You had no idea.

From what you could tell from when you were behind the bar, he still played well enough. They went for the long haul, starting at 501 points and slowly working their way down. Coyote and Rooster had decided to keep track, using the chalkboard on the side. George had led throughout the game and was still leading, but Jake was always close by enough to make it interesting.

Then George landed enough points that if Jake didn't get exactly what he needed to on his turn, George would win the game with his next. You didn't know why Bob pulled you over here; maybe it was to see Jake lose. Or to see George fail.

You have yet to determine which would be the better option at this point. And yet, you still couldn't bring yourself to step away.

You leaned over to Bob to ask, "What does he need to win?"

Bob sighed. "Two triples in the 20 slot and a bullseye. The bullseye needs to be last."

"What are the stakes?" you frowned.

Bob only shook his head next to you. "Nothing, from what I know."

George spun from his position, smiling at everyone cheering for him. He came to stand next to Jake, patting him hard on the back a few times.

"I don't know if you were trying to prove something, brother," he laughed, "But good game. We should do this again sometime."

Jake did the one thing he wanted to do his whole life.

He laughed at his brother.  

"George, I never understood why you've had this grudge against me for my entire life," he said, stepping out of George’s grip on his shoulder. 

Jake twirled the dart between two of his fingers, shaking his head. With a little sleight of hand, you watched as he switched his grip, the dart now in his dominant hand. You stood from leaning against the pillar and uncrossed your arms.

"You had it all. Dad's approval, the football career. All the girls flocking to your side in high school. You’ve spent your entire life under his thumb, chasing approval.”

He cut his eyes to you, seeing the frown on your face, and knew he had to continue. Stepping up to the mark, he squared his shoulders, eyeing the board.

“Trust me when I say this - you might've been the chosen one in Dad's eyes, but out here, in the real world? That doesn't mean shit."

Jake threw his first dart, the spike landing within the safety of the triple twenty. Everyone watching caught their breath in surprise.

Jake's smirk grew bolder, the fiery confidence he was known for blazing in his eyes as he looked back at his brother.  "Do you want to know what I would have said to you the day you were talking shit about Liz and Sadie?"

A quiet gasp escaped your lips.

George's mouth twitched.

“I agreed with you for one thing and one thing only. I know I won’t be welcomed back,” he stated. “I couldn’t give a damn if I am.” 

Something burned deep inside Jake’s chest as he pushed on, needing George to hear what he was saying desperately. 

" Sadie? She sees right through your bullshit. But she will not hesitate to stand up for someone if she thinks they are being mistreated. She’s so mature for her age, and I am damn proud to be her uncle.” 

He knew he shouldn’t have called himself that but was too caught up to care. 

“And Liz? The world throws so much bullshit at her, and she still chooses to be kind, even when she still buries her grief, because she doesn’t want her niece to see her cry.” 

Jake shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “I found people who, despite knowing my flaws, chose to stand by me. Not hold them against me.”

Jake threw the second dart, hitting the board next to his previous dart within the rim. 

"I remember all the nights you came home, mirroring Dad's words, telling me how worthless I was.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Now I just realize you were literally copying everything he had to say to you from that day. Making yourself feel better.”

He'd never admit Rooster forcing the both of them in a Corkscrew is what made him realize it. He had been regurgitating every diminishing word and sentence his father had screamed at him growing up back at Rooster's face, hoping it would make him feel better.

He picked at the tail end of his dart, the weight of it familiar and comforting, before glancing at George's face.

"You ever heard of Roosevelt?" he asked nonchalantly. George eyed him carefully, "What does a dead president have to do with a game of darts?'

Jake had a conceited grin on his lips. "Well, he had this quote, and I'm probably butchering this, but he said critics don't count. Or the person who points out how we stumble or how someone could have done something better." 

Jake twisted from his mark on the ground, standing square in front of George as he continued to explain his point.

"Because the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly... and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."

Jake's voice was steady, but his eyes bore into George's with a fire. "All my life, George, I've been in that arena. I've stumbled and failed, but I didn't listen to someone from the sidelines telling me how to live my life."

Jake lifted his hand, never taking his eyes once off George.

"It's time I remembered that," he said, thinking about Sadie. "You shouldn't have to either."

He flicked his wrist forward, letting his dart fly.

Bullseye.

He heard the thump of the dart hitting the board, and cheers erupted throughout the Hard Deck. Jake had thrown a dart enough times to know whether or not it had hit its mark; he didn't need to look. Even Rooster was laughing at the utter shock and disbelief across George's face.

"I'm living my life, George," he said, patting him on his shoulder, leaving his hand there. "It's about time you did the same."

For once in his life, Jake had managed to stand up to his brother. But the moment wasn't as satisfactory as he might have imagined - He found himself thinking it didn't matter.

Because as he stepped away from George to look back to where you had been, he realized you hadn't been there to see it.

---

Your shift came and went in a blur after Jake and George’s dart game. The squad still hung back well past closing hours, watching and even helping as you closed up the bar, except Rooster, who was messing around on the piano.

Jake was still here. And George. 

They had been out on the patio for over an hour now, simply talking. You tried not to pay them much mind as you tried to get through your remaining tasks quickly, but you couldn’t help but look out the back windows occasionally, unable to take your eyes off the Seresin brothers for long.

George approached Jake soon after he escaped the crowds. There had been no fights, no punches thrown or someone storming out. In fact, every time you looked up, the two seemed to be inching closer to each other.

Damn him and that cocky grin. Why'd he have to be so... Jake?

You didn’t want to be a spectator to Jake’s theatrics during that display during their dart game. Leaving before he threw that last dart, you were now questioning yourself… if you walked away to shield yourself or to punish him. 

While he stood up for himself against George, in the back of your mind, there was an insistent voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, that display was also for you too. 

Some of you ached at the idea of him seeking validation and needing to prove himself. And that's what hurt the most: that deep down, under layers of stubbornness and hurt, you still cared for him.

If it was, you weren’t ready. Not for this. Not for answers or explanations. You deserved more than whatever that was. 

But you still heard him. Heard everything he said to George.  

You really didn’t know what to make of it. 

The sound of the front door slamming up against the wall, rattling some of the portrait frames, startled you from your thoughts. There was a momentary thought of remembering you really needed to lock the front door when you were closing, but it was washed away just as quickly as it came.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Tyler’s body as he charged forward, finger pointed towards you with a seething glare. “You fucking bitch!”

You stepped backwards, the sharp edge of the sink hitting your spine hard. A few glasses jolted from the force of it, sliding off the ledge and shattering to the ground. Rooster’s playing stopped immediately, and the piano bench toppled to the ground.

Was it anger? Shock? Disbelief the past few weeks of not seeing him coursing through your veins responsible for your reaction? You knew Tyler was dangerous, but deep down, you hated how easily you cowered at his appearance.

Tyler didn't get very far in his effort to get to you. Bradley came out of nowhere, something out of a comic, with his fist flying, punching Tyler square in the jaw.

“That was for Sadie, you bastard!”

Unfortunately for Bradley, Tyler only keeled over briefly before taking a swing. Rooster had not been prepared for him to retaliate, thinking his punch would have been enough to put the asshole on the ground.

Tyler had taken more punches and hits to the face as a football player than the average person would in their life. While Jake had managed to get him on the ground when he tried to kidnap Sadie, and Rooster was fitter than the average person, it would take much more than Jake and Bradley combined to keep Tyler there.

The uppercut to Bradley’s jaw could be heard from miles away, and you could only stand there, watching helplessly, as Bradley crashed backwards into a wooden table, his name a cry on your lips as the pieces scattered.

Whether or not they heard your cry or the commotion, the rest of the Daggers swarmed the island bar as Tyler watched Bradley roll on the ground amongst the splinters in some twisted sense of pride.

Whether you could realize it at the time or not, that would be his biggest mistake.

Nat was the first one there, the first one to put herself between you and Tyler, readying herself in case he tried to leap over the bar to get to you. Javy, Fanboy and Payback had run from opposite sides of the room to surround Rooster and Tyler, Bradley finally rolling himself off the broken table on the ground and pulling himself up.

And Jake, almost breaking the sliding door as he bolted inside to get to you, George on his heels. Rooster was too happy to stand beside him as Jake placed himself before everyone else, this hand twitching in anticipation of a fight.

"This is the one who did all that?"

Jake side-eyed George as he came up from the back to flank him on his other side.

"What?" he remarked, puffing out his chest and not once taking his eyes off Tyler. "I'm not that much of an asshole to know that's not how we treat women. Or children. We should drag his ass back to Texas and show him some southern hospitality."

Nat cocked her head at Tyler, speaking up from her spot next to the bar. "You must be a complete idiot to walk back in here after what you did to them."

Tyler shrugged, a sickening smile on his face. "I've got nothing left to lose. Literally."

"What, Daddy cut you off and kicked you out?" Rooster asked, spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth.

With the presence of your friends, you managed to calm down a little bit. You were still scared, which would never change as long as you could see his face, but you could take in Tyler's state more clearly.

Dark circles under his eyes. Blonde hair, greasy. He was still wearing that same freaking white sweater, only it looked like it hadn't been washed in days.

Rooster was right. Tyler had been cut off, indeed.

Fanboy and Payback, having realized what was going on, went to either exit to stand guard. You weren't sure whether to keep people out or keep someone in. But Tyler hadn’t noticed. He was too preoccupied to remove his eyes from Jake.

You watched as Tyler glanced at everyone around the bar, obviously bothered by Rooster's remark but not addressing it. "Seeing a lot of protectors here. Must be that 'Navy bravado,' huh? All show, no substance. We've all seen how they fail when it matters most.”

Ironically, it was George who intervened first. “This isn’t your place, man. Walk away before you get hurt.” 

Tyler flicked his eyes between Jake and George, a smirk playing on his lips, “This is interesting. Another misguided soul ready to join this little squad over here?” 

George smiled at him, nodding at Tyler, cracking his knuckles, “Just somebody who doesn’t like your face.” 

Your voice was hoarse, vocal cords feeling like they were being dragged over jagged rocks, when you asked, “What the hell are you doing here, Tyler?” 

He didn’t even give you the courtesy of looking at you when he replied, “Respect! What else? 

Jake scoffed with amusement, "By wearing that dirty sweater and showing up here drunk and messed up? You're doing a great job, really. I applaud you."

Tyler doubled back with that all-too-familiar smug smirk, " Alright, saw through that one, did you,” He chuckled before he teased. “I came to see how Sadie's holding up. It must be hard, having her favourite play-hero away. Unless you've moved up from being her 'uncle' to something more."

Jake's face immediately paled, his entire demeanour changing from cocky to pure rage in a fraction of a second. The atmosphere in the room grew dense with tension. "You say her name again, and I'll make sure it's the last word you ever speak."

Still grinning but with an undercurrent of faux uncertainty, Tyler raised his hands in mock surrender, "Just stating facts, Jake."

George, sensing the danger in his brother, whispered a warning, "Easy, Jake."

But Jake's voice came out as a dangerous whisper, all restraint seemingly gone, "You wanna dance? Let's fucking dance."

Jake charged, tackling Tyler to the ground as you stood there wide-eyed and in shock. Rooster and Coyote flanked the grappling pair while George kneeled, calling out to Jake all the spots Tyler was leaving himself open. The sound of flesh hitting flesh accompanied Jake’s punches, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

A startled cry escaped your lips as you felt someone put their hands on your cheeks, turning you away from the fight and wiping away your tears. Bob had somehow found his way into the bar with you and was currently forcing you to stare at his face.

“Nope, you don’t need to witness any of this.”

"How much trouble are they going to get into because of this?" you asked, scared out of your mind. Bar fights were a thing that could get you kicked out of the Navy.

Bob glanced over to the fight. Nat was walking towards the back door, her phone pressed to her ear, no doubt calling the police. As his eyes tracked back to Tyler, George and Javy had now joined the fight, the elder Seresin brother grabbing Tyler by the back of his neck and his belt, tossing him like a bale of hay onto the top of a nearby table as Rooster surprisingly helped Jake up from the floor.

The legs splintered under the force with a sickening crack. It wasn’t until you shuttered at the sound and let out a soft whimper between his hands he remembered you asked him a question.

"None," his voice was firm. "As far as anyone knows, he walked in here like that."

"Bob..." you whimpered. He stroked a piece of hair away from your face soothingly. "I'm not going to be the one that says he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. Tyler’s not walking out of here now. He literally signed his own death sentence."

Deep down, you knew that. Tyler against not one, but three navy pilots and Jake’s brother? There was no way he was walking away from that.

The sound of glass shattering caused you to jolt again.

"Penny's so going to fire me after this," you managed to say through tears. Bob gave you an affectionate smile. "No way, you're the best bartender she's had in years. You put up with so much shit, and Sadie would no doubt give her two cents. She seems to be doing that a lot lately."

"Bobby..." you huffed through a sob. "You've never heard you swear before."

He shrugged, wiping away one of your tears. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

Bob hadn't covered your ears. He was only keeping your eyes off the ongoing violence. So you could hear everything going on. There were no more crashes, glass breaking, or wood splitting in two. You could only hear the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting hard flesh.

The next cry out of Tyler's mouth made you stiffen.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth!" he gave an almost whine as Bradley laid a punch to his stomach. "I'm sorry for all of it!"

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

Where you were once scared, pure anger builds in your stomach. You pull Bob’s hands away from your face, swatting away his feeble attempts to reach for you. You marched towards the exit doors of the bar, rounding the corner to get to the group.

Jake saw you approaching first with a sharp lift of his head, tapping George on the shoulder, who looked up at his brother before his eyes landed on you, catching on instantly. He grabbed Tyler by the back of his sweater, hoisting him up onto his knees before changing his grip to the middle of his back. Jake gritted his teeth as he tugged Tyler's head back with a vice grip on his hair.

You kneeled down in front of him, taking in his face.

Even bruised and bloody, Tyler looked nothing like the egotistical sociopath you knew him to be. Nothing like the villain that stalked you months before this or when he walked into the bar all those weeks ago.

This version of Tyler looked desperate, unhinged, but on the verge of a last straw. You couldn't say seeing that white hoodie stained red was unpleasurable. To say he had nothing left to lose was one thing, but seeing it across his battered face was another.

“You’re sorry?” you snarked. “You’re sorry you abused my sister? Are you sorry you killed her? Sorry, you tried to kidnap my niece?!”

You wanted to nail him across the face. You wanted to know the absolute pain and heartache and suffering he had put you through. He took Ridley from you. He hurt Sadie. He hurt you.

But then you took in the room, Jake and George kneeling behind him. Bradley and Javy standing by, ready to pounce the second he might try to escape. And the state of the bar, the damage sobering your thoughts.

No questions asked.

You noticed the ties of his sweater were out of place. Lifting your hand, you fixed one back into place, smoothing the string down before looking him dead in the eye.

"I could fucking care less."

Approaching sirens could be heard outside the bar, making everyone hold their punches. You stood, turning your back on the display to rejoin Bob, who had followed you out from the relative safety of the bar.

You wouldn't give Tyler the satisfaction. Ultimately, he was still a narcissist, wanting a reaction.

"Tie him up," you heard Jake command. Despite Bob urging you not to look once again, you couldn't help yourself. You needed to see this. To see Tyler caught and unable to do anything but accept his fate.

You needed to know you and Sadie were safe.

Coyote was handing George a sailor's rope he had torn off the wall, having pulled the twisted pieces apart. Jake pressed his knee down onto Tyler's back, pinning him to the floor as George quickly hog-tied his hands together, not that he'd be going anywhere. The group of men had done enough damage. Tyler wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Everything happened so quickly in the moments after. The police burst through the front door. George was holding up some sort of badge, and you were suddenly rushed out into the parking lot by Bob and Nat.

Penny was already there, greeting you outside with extreme worry in her eyes, sweeping you up into a hug the second she saw you. She was trying to console you, tell you Sadie was safe with Mav and that you would be alright. You didn’t realize you started shaking until she pulled back in concern to ask what had happened.

Your breath hitched as you shakily joked, “I promise I’m not purposely wrecking your bar. I don't know where these assholes come from."

Penny huffed out a laugh and a sad smile. Biting her lip, she reached out and stroked your hair at the side of your face as only a mother could. She tugged you into her hold, refusing to let you go.

You don't know how long you stood there until Nat tapped you on the shoulder. She pulled you into her side and looped her arm around Penny's, holding you upright as the front door of the Hard Deck opened. A pair of Police officers were dragging Tyler out, still hog-tied and a mess. George was behind them, following them while speaking to another officer.

When you watched the police car containing Tyler in the back seat roll off into the distance, and a tow truck rolled that stupid white piece of machinery away, you finally felt like you could breathe.

Tyler's frightening hold over both you and Sadie was over.

And yet, it wasn’t as much of a relief as it should have been.

---

You wanted to stay away from the Choas unfolding in and around the Hard Deck. 

Taking the first chance you could, you escaped when nobody was looking, eventually finding yourself sitting in Penny's chair on the beach. 

Less than a year ago, you were sitting in the chair, unaware of what was about to happen to you. You who were desperately trying to get through a book by reading the same page twice. Gawking at a pilot playing Dog fight football who you knew was off limits, trying to get by till the following Saturday night. 

Then Ridley's ex came for you and Sadie. You had fallen in love with said pilot. Learned your sister was murdered. Your best friend hurt your feelings. You had gotten your heart broken by said pilot. 

You didn't know what was worse, the fact you had seen and experienced all this trauma, or that Ridley's death and abscene were still triumphing over all that. 

You jolted when someone placed a blanket around your shoulders.

George Seresin retracted his hands just as quickly as he placed the blanket around you, holding them up in surrender. 

You didn't have anything to say to him, choosing to remain stoic as he lowered himself into the sand, sitting with his back in front of the armrest of your chair. 

It was a full minute before he finally spoke. 

"I need to apologize, Liz."

You scoffed, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Apologize for the derogatory display of how you treat women? Or what you said to Jake to make him act the way he did?" 

At least this time, George had the decency to look shameful. 

"If his words at the dart game weren't any indication, I know you egged him on. He was trying to get you to back off, in his own twisted away.” 

"I still need to apologize. For all of it," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "It wasn't my place to do that to the two of you." 

"Yours is not the one I need right now," you spat, lifting your feet off the ground and curling into the depths of the chair. 

Either one of you spoke for a few minutes after that. George seemed to ponder his thoughts, scanning the horizon but not finding anything. The waves were both loud and quiet, making the world smaller than it actually was.

You couldn't handle it. 

"Do you realize the gravity of what you did, George?" you said heatedly, uncurling yourself from the chair and submerging your feet into the sand. "You weren't just egging him on. You were meddling in someone's relationship because your father asked you to."  

"Yes, I know." 

"Do you know how fucked up that is?" 

"Jake doing that grand display with the darts painted a pretty clear picture in my head." 

You rolled your eyes. "When was the last time you asked yourself if you were truly happy, George?"

George thought about it for a second before he replied, "When I became the livestock official back home."

"And let me guess, you made that decision all on your own, without any influence from your father?"

He looked down at the sand, grabbing a handful before watching it fall back to the ground. "Kind of. When I got the ranch, it wasn't by choice. But this felt like the first one I could make by myself."

"You just proved everything that Jake said, right." 

You huffed, frustration evident. "How do you plan on making up to him?"

George took a deep breath, steadying himself. "By supporting Jake genuinely in whatever he chooses. And by ensuring our father doesn't come between you two again."

Your eyes searched his for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was raw honesty. 

"Jake loves you. It's clear as day. Don't let this get between the two of you." 

You spat out a laugh, a high-pitchy sound you hoped would tell him you saw right through his bullshit. "Right."

"Liz, he didn't agree with the BS I was spilling to agree with me. Don't hold it against him."

 "But he went through with it," you countered. "Even if it was some twisted idea of dealing with all the bullshit you and the rest of your family throw at him save Janet, he still said those things. He still hurt me."

You threw yourself back into your chair instead. "I don't know anymore, George. I don't know what to think anymore." 

George dropped his head to his chest, furrowing his brow. "You know, you didn't allow him to explain that day. Or today even." 

That made you sit up. "Are you saying I should have?"

"I'm saying," he replied, "Whatever happened to giving someone a chance to know that people care? Even when other people think they don't deserve it?"

"That's different."

Maybe," he nodded. "But something is missing. I think that's only rooted in what other people think, not when they've done something to you." 

George's words made your voice catch in your throat.

"Give him a chance to explain, Liz. Just listen to what he has to say. Then make your decision." 

Suddenly you were wishing for the asshole from a week ago. Because, deep down, you knew he was right. 

"George, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You have potential. Listen to what your brother told you. You can't have your father tell you what to do for the rest of your life." 

He glanced down to the sand but tilted his head towards you so you knew he was still listening to what you had to say. 

"Ridley and I... My sister... We went through the same thing with our father. And I was so young, I didn't know any better. But she got us out before any more damage could be done. You still can get out. You don't need him in your life." 

"Is it wrong for me to want his approval?" 

You bit your lip, surprised at his question. "No. He's your father. It's natural you'd want that. But you shouldn't have to change who you are. You shouldn't have to seek his approval when he hasn't been someone worthy of giving it." 

George nodded, more to himself than to you, finally managing to mumble, "Jake is lucky to have you in his life. Sadie, too."

Even after everything that happened today, you still gave him a soft smile. "You're not that bad, George,” you said before adding, “When you want to be.”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning upward slightly. "Don't let it get to my head. I might end up like Jake."

You reached over and patted his shoulder. "That wouldn't be a bad thing."

---

George left you a little while ago when an officer sought him out to take a statement. The night air was nipping at your skin, even with the blanket around your shoulders, and yet, you didn’t know how you would sleep after this, the adrenaline spike still showing no signs of slowing down. 

You didn’t know what to feel, the myriad of emotions thrown at you over the past week, month, and even year - any one of them would have sufficed. But you couldn’t bring yourself to figure it out. To live through any of them.

You just wanted to get through the rest of the day.

Dragging your feet through the sand, you made your way up the back steps of the Hard Deck’s back patio, shutting the door behind you. Shrugging the blanket off your shoulders, you gently placed it on the pool table, readying yourself to take in the true extent of the damage Tyler had wrought on the place.

The bar was dimly lit, save for the neon flashes of red and blue pulsing through the windows. There were splintered pieces of wood from the broken tables still littering the room, chairs overturned and scattered menus. With shards of glass and the thick smell of alcohol, you hated seeing the bar in such a state.

And in the middle of it all, Jake, sitting on a barstool with his head bowed and his hands resting on his knees. It was a stark image, seeing Jake’s knuckles bloody and bruised, his hair dishevelled. Looking less than himself. Utterly defeated.

It was a moment you weren’t supposed to see. A moment nobody was supposed to see.

And yet…

He didn’t hear your footsteps as you went behind the bar to grab a clean cloth, nor did he hear you take a metal bowl from under the sink and fill it with water. Or the ruckus as you fought with the first aid box.

It was only when you reached for one of his hands, having come to stand in front of him to run that cloth over his skin, that he jolted out of whatever stupor he had found himself in.

“Liz, I…”

You shook your head, shushing him. “Not now, Jake. Not tonight.”

He let you clean the blood from his hands. Let you dab at the split skin surrounding his knuckles. He was stiff as you worked, eyes tracking your every movement, from how you delicately held the bottom of his hand to watching you ring the cloth over the bowl. The water had already turned red by the second time you’d cleaned the fabric.

You reached for some antiseptic from the first aid kit, tilting the bottle forward as your finger held the cotton swab in place. Jake hissed when you placed the soaked cotton swab on his raw skin, his other hand shooting out quickly to grip your wrist tight.

His touch did feel like Sandpaper. But it wasn't as coarse, not as rough as you made yourself believe. You halted your fingers, the cotton swab falling to the floor at the shock of his touch.

“Sorry,” a quiet murmur on your lips. Jake eye’s darkened, a flicker of something passing through. He loosened his grip on your wrist but didn’t let go, letting his fingers slide loosely down to your wrist. You followed his touch, watching as careful fingers caressed the palm of your hand.

"You don't have to do this, Liz," he stated, his voice rough.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, keeping your eyes fixated on his hand. "Someone has to. You certainly won’t."

"You're always caring for me."

You reached with your free hand for another cotton swab, but Jake stopped you, meeting your hand with his. He brought it down, and you let him pull you gently into the space between his legs. 

"Do I deserve it?" He whispered, playing with your fingers. "Especially from you."

You swallowed hard. "That's up to you. But I can’t stand by and watch you be hurt."

You finally gathered the courage to look up at his face. It was a miracle Tyler didn’t do much damage other than a slight bruise along his forehead.

“Otherwise, you’ll go crazy,” he remarked, recalling when Sadie was in the hospital. "Even when I've hurt you."

"Jake..." his name a quiet plead on your lips.

He let his hands glide up your wrists to your forearms, the air between the two of you heated as he leaned forward, hooded gaze intent on your lips.

"If not tonight, when?" he whispered.

Your foreheads met, you more than him, allowing yourself to press your weight against his skin. The two of you came together like this, a series of almost kisses and burning moments that left the two of you wanting more. 

Except that was when you thought you couldn't have him when everyone was screaming at you not to get involved with him.

You're not sure what it is now. Because the person who swore so long ago never to let Jake be in a position where he could break your heart was crawling out from the depths, insisting you push him away and run for the hills.

But Jake's breath, mixing with yours, lulled you into his gentle pull, hands tugging you into him as you felt him lightly graze your lips with his.

What would it be like to memorize the touch of his lips one last time?

Penny’s voice startled the two of you, making the both of you jolt back and away from each other.

"Come on, all this wait till tomorrow."

Whether she was referring to the mess in the bar or your relationship, you couldn't tell. 

You cleaned up the first aid supplies as Jake switched holding an ice bag you gave him between his hands and face. Penny locked up the bar behind the pair of you once you finished, always standing between you and Jake.

He followed the both of you hesitantly into the parking lot, unsure what he could say or do.

At the last second, you turned. You looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time since you yelled at him that day in the Hard Deck, a quiet mummer and a sad smile on your lips as you said, "Thank you, Jake."

Then, with Penny guiding you with a hand around your shoulders, you left towards your car, keys in her hand.

He could only watch every step you took, watching as the distance between the pair of you grew, left wondering if there was still hope for him to make things up to you after all. 

Tag list: (I think I'm missing a few people, so if you want to be tagged, please let me know!)

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky @

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 18 - Sapling is in-process

#Spotify #jake x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun au #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun hangman #top gun fanfic #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #controlled chaos squad #horseshoegirlwrites #damn those dog tags #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin au #hangman seresin

[crepesuzette2023]

What do you think was the deal w George playing on HDYS? Like all those ppl in the room knew Paul, used to be friends with him, and still talked shit about him, and it's just so crazy to me that Ringo was the only one bothered by it all. I can't wrap my head around it.

Full disclosure to get it out of the way: I don't much like HDYS. Musically, I mean. I think it's boring and monotonous, and the lyrics are childish because of how obvious they are. I know many people like the song, or like it musically while disliking the lyrics—all fine with me. But I'm not coming at this as a fan of the song.

What do I think George's deal was playing on HDYS? It's speculation time!

I think George had legitimate grievances about being in the Beatles: the fame, the John & Paul of it, the resulting creative frustration. He was clear enough in later years that, despite loving Paul as a friend, he wouldn't play in a band with him anymore. You can dismiss that as George being a mediocre bitch who's incapable of playing with a genius like Paul, or as Paul being a domineering asshole who can't play well with others, but it comes down to creative incompatibility, and three songwriters being at least one too many.

I imagine that any wounds and anger George carried because of that were still relatively fresh at the time HDYS was recorded. And since Paul had positioned himself as the odd one out (culminating with the lawsuit), George ended up in John's camp—his dislike of Yoko being compensated for by the presence of Klaus, Ringo, etc.

With HDYS being a reaction to Paul's no less cruel (in its own way) "Too Many People", I imagine George felt some personal outrage and solidarity with John as well: Too many people preaching practices...

With so much miscommunication/non-communication between all of them at this point, it was easy to project, blame, and make bad faith assumptions...with no one in the room (except, eventually, Ringo) willing and able to prioritize John and Paul's (and all of their) friendship over being part of the 'winning' fraction.

In One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, the main character, McMurphy, observes a group therapy session that ends with everyone piling on and competing for the cruelest thing to say or do. He compares this behavior to a pecking party: a flock of chicken driven into a pecking frenzy after smelling blood, which leads to more cuts, and more blood. It's a dramatic example, of course, but I sense something like this in the composition of HDYS: the collective rush of being assholes together, further enhanced by John's charisma and the victim being absent. Who hasn't experienced this at some point—talking shit about the person no one liked in the moment, so happy to be part of 'in crowd'? *Raises hand* definitely guilty—teenage behavior, not proud of it. Ashamed, even.

I think that's a big part of what happened. It says a lot about Ringo that he eventually left. That's backbone.

By the way, I've no intention to make this about Paul vs. John. The situation was out of hand, and there was no one with the authority or will to make them talk and stop this (though eventually they apparently decided to stop the excessive mutual flogging in public). It remained the John & Paul business, to the end.

To wrap it up, I'm not a huge fan of "Too Many People," either, because the taunting lilt is so mean and cutting. I like the melody, though, and enjoy the version on Thrillington.

Now, the whole Dear Boy/ Dear Friend/ Best Friend/ Jealous Guy/ I Know (I Know) thing...please.

#How do you sleep #Imagine #John Lennon #George Harrison #Paul McCartney #the Beatles #one flew over the cuckoo's nest #In the end #there was anthology #these are just some speculative thoughts—I'm sure the truth was much more messy and complex! #it makes no sense to feel rage on behalf of either John or Paul: in the end it was between them #mclennon #(sort of) #asks

[vmartist]

Adrien Agreste/Cat Noir x Male Reader:

• surrender my heart •

Quick AN: This is part two to the loneliest time. tw:minimal editing

The song is another track from the same album. I recommend listening when you have the time anyways bye hope you enjoy xx

Your hands mess with the fabric of your pants as you sit in the chair. The bouncing of your leg isn’t easing your anxiety as you wait for your name to be called.

“Uh…” A woman with a clipboard exits and reads out your name. “(Y/n) (L/n)?”

You stand and follow her into her small office. It’s adorned with children’s books, toys, diagrams about mental health and her several degrees hanging behind her. The room is slightly dimmed and warm, with a subtle scent of vanilla.

“This is our first session together. I understand that it can be very nerve wracking.” She says while looking to your bouncing leg. “But I assure you, there’s nothing to be afraid of here. You can talk about whatever you want or not talk at all. It’s all up to you.”

You nod your head and watch as she writes something down on her clipboard. “What’s that for?” You ask pointing to her clipboard.

“This is how I log all my sessions with my patients. It’s all purely confidential and I won’t share this with anyone. Unless it’s putting your health at risk of course.” She replies.

You sit in silence for a bit before she speaks up. “Do you mind if I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable.”

“Go ahead.”

She nods and proceeds with her question. “Why is it that you wanted to seek therapy? What brought you here today?”

“I’ve got a lot going on in my life and it’s kind of…stressing me out. I don’t really have any one I can turn to for help. So…I thought maybe therapy could help.” You admit while breathing out softly.

You hear her pen scratch against the paper before she speaks again. “What exactly is going on in your life that’s causing this distress?”

“A friend of mine...We got into an argument. I said some awful things I wish I could take back and I hurt him…” Your eyes are glued to the floor, but when you look up you see her nod.

“What started the argument?” She asks, continuing writing something down.

“He kept this huge secret from me. Which normally I wouldn’t mind but, he prides himself on hating secrets. But when I think about it…it wasn’t that big of a deal…” You muttered out as you rub your arm.

She hums while nodding. “And do you like this guy?” You perk your head and think for a second.

“We’ve been friends for a long time. I stopped talking to him for a bit and we recently reconnected. And I’m pretty sure he wanted to be more than…friends.” You say before swallowing the lump in your throat.

“And how did that make you feel?” She asks looking up from her clipboard.

“Um…I don’t know? I didn’t mind, he’s a nice guy…” You mumbled while gripping your knees.

She sighs before putting her clipboard down. “Alright. I’m gonna give you some resources so you can better understand your emotions and how you feel. For our next session I want you to tell me what you learned about yourself. Can you do that?”

“Yeah I can do that…”

That night you went online and filled out several questionnaires before sighing. “This is…ridiculous.”

The next therapy session was much more productive as you were able to unpack more of your issues. For the next couple days you drafted an apology. Something quick and to the point that’ll get your message across.

You transform and sit atop a random apartment before pinging Cat Noir. Adrien looks at his glowing ring, he transforms and looks at the location that’s been marked. Once he’s there he looks around nervously.

“You actually came…” You smiled.

“I thought it was important?” He sighs and starts to extend his weapon before you stop him.

“I wanted to apologize. Please, just give a moment of your time. That’s all I ask.” You plead while looking into his eyes.

“Fine.” He sighs before sitting down beside you.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole…it wasn’t cool at all. I understand now why what I said hurt you and I don’t want you to feel like that around me any more. I shouldn’t have hurt you, but I did.” You look over to him. He’s quiet for some time.

“Thank you…I forgive you but I’m still gonna need some time away from you…I have a lot to think about…” He stands and turns to you with a weak smile. “I’ll…see you around.”

“Take your time, I’ll wait for when you’re ready.” You reply. He smiles and nods before leaving.

‘I’m forgiven…but that doesn’t mean he’ll even want to be around me any more…And that’s okay. As long as we know that we’re okay now…’ You ponder while looking into the night sky with a determined smile.

The weeks after are looking up after all. Adrien is more outgoing than usual and when he’s Cat Noir he’s more determined than ever. Yet he still hasn’t reached out to you personally, but you understand and respect his feelings.

I found myself back in therapy this time in a better spot. I sniff the subtle vanilla and smile while crossing one of my legs over the other. My therapist looks to me with a polite smile as she places her clipboard down. “You’ve made a lot of progress since our first session. I’m proud of you for putting in the work and taking initiative.” She says while adjusting her jacket. “So, what brings you in today?”

“Well at this point you’re pretty much caught up on everything that’s going on in my life. I came here today to thank you, for listening and helping me.” I stand and nod my head to her.

“But you still have an hour? All you came to say was ‘thank you’?” She asks quickly standing.

“Yep. That’s it. But don’t worry, I’ll be back to update you. But in the meantime, just accept my thanks.” I wave before leaving. She sinks in her seat and smiles to herself.

I take a stroll into Paris, taking in every view there is. The pigeons chirping, the cerulean sky, the barks and meows, the Parisians going about they’re every day and my phone buzzing. I look down and pull it from my pocket and see a text.

Adrien: Hey, meet me at my place tonight.

You re-read the message several times before typing a simple: “Okay.” Sure it was basic but it gets the point across. You pocket your phone and go about the rest of your day in peace. As nighttime approaches you feel anxiety slowly seep into every pore of your body. In an attempt to calm your nerves you begin pacing around your room, which only makes it worse.

‘I just need to go on a walk…maybe that will calm my nerves?’ You wonder as you run outside and take a walk. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you breathe through your nostrils. Eventually you remind yourself to take deep, slow breaths and calm down. Once calmed down you make your way to Adrien’s and text him. The gates open and you walk inside to see Adrien at the top of his stairs.

“Up here.” He states with a tiny smile before turning and walking up to his room. You follow behind and enter slowly while looking for him. He exits his bathroom and waves you over. You enter the bathroom and look around with confusion.

“Um…what exactly are we doing in your bathroom?” You ask while chuckling. Adrien just pats the spot beside him on the floor.

“I just need to make some peace with myself…and with you as well.” He says, looking up at you with a sullen expression.

You sit down and bring your knees close to you as you hug them and watch Adrien. All that can be heard are his soft breaths. He turns to you and makes direct eye contact.

“Before I said I couldn’t look you in the eyes and say I forgive you. And I know I’ve said it before but I just wanna make sure you understand. I genuinely forgive you.” He whispers. You grab his hand in yours and shake your head.

“You don’t owe me anything. I do.” You whispered while pushing some of his hair behind his ear. He glances down at his wrist and begins touching it. “Our friendship bracelets…I’m not sure if you still have yours but I…kinda destroyed mine.” He whispered. His eyes look up at you and he smiles nervously.

You touch his wrist and rub it gently. “That’s okay, we’ll make new ones.” You both smile as your eyes meet. His eyes trail down to your lips as he slowly leans in. You lean in but before your lips touch both your miraculous begin blinking.

“Guess we’ve gotta transform…” You murmured as you slowly stand. Adrien nods quickly before you both transform.

Soon you’re both with Ladybug. “Alright now that you’re both here I need you two to distract.” She states as she motions to the akumatized victim. Cat Noir nods and grabs your arm.

“Follow my lead, mon amour.” He whispers while winking.

You roll your eyes. “As long as you promise me no more cat puns.” You said as you run by his side.

He pretends to act offended and clutches his chest. “You’re kitten me right?”

A groan erupts from your throat as you stare at him. “Let’s just get this over with already.”

When you land, Cat Noir extends his hand. “May I have this dance?” He asks while grabbing your hand and planting a gentle kiss upon the back of your hand.

You nod. “With pleasure, kitten.” He throws you in the air, you quickly dart into the enemy and after landing the first hit you bounce back. You grab Cat’s hands and begin dancing while occasionally swatting at the monster with kicks. He leans down into you as you lift your feet in the air. “Ready for the finisher?” He whispers.

“Let’s do it.” You whispered back while grinning. As you twirl you guide your hands down to his waist as you wind up for a throw.

You spin into a throw as you launch him towards the monster. “Cataclysm!” He shouts as he reaches his arm out. He flew past and destroyed a large advertisement that collapsed onto the monster, immobilizing it in the process.

Ladybug snaps the akumatized object before capturing and releasing the butterfly. Afterwards she fixes everything with her ladybugs and turns to you two.

“Did I miss something?” She questions while pointing to your hands. You glance down and chuckle as you noticed your hands intertwined.

Cat Noir blinks and averts his eyes to the side. “Not at all M’Ladybug…”

Her eyes rest on the both of you as she sighs. “Well, I’m glad you both are okay now. Just as long as this doesn’t make either of you prey for Shadow Moth.”

You’re quick to shake your head. “No, he’d be a fool to try and come for one of us.” Suddenly everyone’s miraculous begin beeping. “Looks like we’ve gotta go. Great job as always Ladybug!” You praised before leaping away.

Ladybug nods and swings away as you and Cat Noir head back to his house. After de-transforming you sigh as you sit on the ground while feeding your kwami.

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” Adrien asks as he feeds Plagg.

“We had to do an elective and I chose dance since it seemed fun. Trust me, not as easy as it seems. I can already feel my body cramping.” You giggle while rubbing the back of your neck. Adrien laughs with you and takes a seat next to you. He nuzzled himself into your neck while planting kisses along your skin. Then he pulls away and looks into your eyes.

“I know this probably isn’t the best time to ask, but…” He doesn’t hold eye contact for long as he looks down. “Why were you mad at me?” He mutters.

“I…I was frustrated at first that you kept such a big secret from me. Obviously I was too but I didn’t see it that way at first. Then I realized that I didn’t know you. I knew Cat Noir and you as if you both were separate people but to then suddenly merge the two together…It made me wonder about myself.” You mumbled as you stared at the ceiling.

“…” He nodded slowly before shrugging. “I didn’t put that much thought into it. Hero or not, you’re still you. And…I’d love you regardless.” He smiles softly as he rubs his thumb across your cheek.

You cheeks tint a soft rose as you cough awkwardly and avert your gaze. “…You’re so cheesy…you know that?”

A small chuckle escapes him as he nods. “So I’ve been told.”

Okay it’s done, thanks for being patient. Honestly I wish I had an excuse as to why I was gone for almost half of the year. I suppose mental health could be one? But I feel like that would sound so cheap. (Cheap coming from me specifically, not coming for anyone else😭) Anyway, hope you enjoyed! I’m not gonna promise anything soon but I do have some drafts and ideas for stuff in the future.

#mlm #male reader #male x male #mlb adrien #adrien agreste x male reader #adrien agreste #miraculous adrien

[bugbuoyx]

There is no good justification for suicide-baiting.

Full stop. I was actively suicidal for most of my life and did attempt at one point which ended in my hospitalization and forced therapy, which apparently saying all that makes you an expert on it.

Suicide-baiting is harassment and an act of violence, I refuse to even call it bullying because it is much worse. I still remember the name and face of the kid who told me to kill myself when I was 15, I don't even remember most of my teachers names, even the ones I liked, because of long term depression caused memory problems. I'm 24.

If you are blaming it on a mental illness, stop. You are not only actively contributing to society's negative views on mentally ill folks as inherently violent (despite being more likely to face violence than enact it) you're also just a fucking asshole. "But it's a symptom!" Yeah and you know what I do when I lash out? I fucking apologize because there are no excuses.

"But it's fine if they're a nazi/fascist/pedophile/rapist/etc." your definition of an acceptable target will broaden and broaden to encompass any group you hate, you will make excuses until any target is acceptable. Lies will be spread without proof to justify your hatred. Any asexual, aromantic, and bisexual person, amongst many other groups, will tell you how there have always been accusations of them being heterosexual invaders/ not truely queer. How many times have we seen accusations of pedophilia against trans folks from both within and outside the community? How many folks claim aromantic folks are rapists? That gay trans men are predators? What lows are you stooping to to justify your hate right now?

All of this is is made worse by the prevalence of hatred in a community already prone to extremely high rates of depression and suicide.

"We don't want that filth in our state" - Oklahoma senator on Nex Benedict's death.

That is what you sound like. Do better.

#lgbtq #harassment #suicide baiting #transgender #transmasc #transfem #intracommunity discourse #transmisogyny