#it's not even an emergency 'we fucked up' fund

[awkward-teabag]

I hate the idea that a company should always be in growth mode and that mass layoffs, sorry, restructuring is something that should happen at set intervals. Steady profits are still profits and people will be less inclined to work or get invested in their work if they have to keep an emergency backup job in the back pocket no matter how good their work is.

To say nothing about how it limits social bonding 'cause there's only so many times you can go through seeing friends lose their job and have survivor's guilt or vice versa, or how since it's a known occurrence it means you know you're competing directly with friends.

Of course that's the point, along with the business idea that employment should follow the Pareto Principle even though it's pop science, demonstrably false, and an intentional misunderstanding of what was really an observation of coincidences.

And of course that means you're constantly shedding people who have knowledge, skills, and training to "streamline" things or to "increase production speed" when overworking already overworked employees and throwing greenhorns into it does the exact opposite.

It's not about making the company better, it's about making unionizing harder, paying people less, making it seem like the company is doing something, and giving the execs and shareholders more money.

While overworking those who kept their jobs.

#and how many times has a company bragged about how much money it made #only to turn around and fire a bunch of workers (but never execs)? #maybe even given themselves massive congratulatory bonuses to celebrate their 'hard work' #which was actually the work of dozens/hundreds of others #and iirc the pareto principle observation varied wildly from something like 5% to 50% #but it got turned into 80-20 for round numbers and because who cares about nuance #just sell it as 20% of your employees are slacking no matter what so you should fire 20% regularly #and of course there's the little thing known as fiduciary responsibility that's been warped by capitalism #so execs prioritize shareholders above all else #and of course the same companies often complain how no one wants to work anymore #or laments how people right out of college don't have a decade plus of experience with the company's proprietary system(s) #and sometimes they try to sneak no compete clauses into employment contracts so if someone is fired #they may have to stay out of the industry they have experience/training/degrees/interest in #no that such clauses can be enforced for something like this but it's a threat and warning to further cow workers #and a company bragging about making billions in profit and has a whole legal department #can easily afford the time and legal fees compared to someone who just lost their job even if they know they're going to lose #corporations literally have money earmarked in their budget for fines and settlements #which should tell you all you need to know about how much they care about laws #it's not even an emergency 'we fucked up' fund #it's 'this is the cost of business because it's cheaper to pay the fine and do what we want' fund

[deadpresidents]

"What emerged in two interviews with Trump, and conversations with more than a dozen of his closest advisers and confidants, were the outlines of an imperial presidency that would reshape America and its role in the world. To carry out a deportation operation designed to remove more than 11 millions people from the country, Trump told me, he would be willing to build migrant detention camps and deploy the U.S. military, both at the border and inland. He would let red states monitor women's pregnancies and prosecute those who violate abortion bans. He would, at his personal discretion, withhold funds appropriated by Congress, according to top advisers. He would be willing to fire a U.S. Attorney who doesn't carry out his order to prosecute someone, breaking with a tradition of independent law enforcement that dates from America's founding. He is weighing pardons for every one of his supporters accused of attacking the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, more than 800 of whom have pleaded guilty or been convicted by a jury. He might not come to the aid of an attacked ally in Europe or Asia if he felt that country wasn't paying enough for its own defense. He would gut the U.S. civil service, deploy the National Guard to American cities as he sees fit, close the White House pandemic-preparedness office, and staff his Administration with acolytes who back his false assertion that the 2020 election was stolen."

-- "How Far Would He Go", TIME Magazine's interviews with Donald Trump, April 30, 2024.

I know we're saturated in coverage of Trump and it's easy (and probably better for our mental health) to usually ignore most of the articles when we see them, especially since he's so full of shit and infuriating. But it's also important to recognize that he is going to be the Republican nominee for President and he could absolutely be elected in November, and if you thought his first term was scary and dangerous, you need to understand that in a second term he's going to have people around him that are better prepared and VERY willing to do the crazy shit that he wants to do to this country. They aren't even hiding the fact that they are seeking vengeance against political opponents whom they feel have wronged them, and are ready to fundamentally dismantle the democratic foundations that are barely holding this country together after nearly 250 years.

Just look at what Trump says about the people who he incited to attack the United States Capitol in an attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election and halt the peaceful transfer of power that has happened every four years since 1789:

"Trump has sought to recast an insurrectionist riot as an act of patriotism. 'I call them the J-6 patriots,' he say. When I ask whether he would consider pardoning every one of them, he says, 'Yes, absolutely.' As Trump faces dozens of felony charges, including for election interference, conspiracy to defraud the United States, willful retention of national-security secrets, and falsifying business records to conceal hush-money payments, he has tried to turn legal peril into a badge of honor."

Oh, and please note that Trump -- a former President of the United States and possible future President of the United States -- said on the record in these interviews with TIME: "There is a definite antiwhite feeling in the country and that can't be allowed either." We are at a point where political leaders are outright saying that in this country again, and it's because of Donald Trump.

So, take the time to recognize that Trump is straight-up telling us the country we're going to be living in if he wins again in November. And understand that your vote matters -- and WHO you vote for matters -- because, as I've been saying for years now, ELECTIONS HAVE FUCKING CONSEQUENCES.

#2024 Election #Politics #Donald Trump #President Trump #Trump Administration #Vote #ELECTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES #TIME Magazine

[wp-blaze]

What are the key features of great songs?

I’m in the midst of learning ‘Clair de Lune’ at the moment, and I’ve already gone past the ‘I love this music’ part. I don’t know about you, but when […]

[inkskinned]

it is totally okay to be hurt and tired and fed up with the american schooling system but i need you to understand that we need to be better about loudly and routinely defending public education.

yes, many teachers suck, many schools utterly suck. i also got bullied and was absolutely not given the right support for my needs. i am not defending public education because it was kind to me. i am defending it because it needs to exist.

right-wing republicans do not want an educated population. they want kids to be homeschooled or in private school. there is a huge religious undertone to this.

the most common argument is that despite high costs, the "result" is not "good" enough. they point to failing schools as proof that public education is just never going to work out. there will be arguments made here that you actually agree with: that teachers can be bullies, that we taught online for 2 years and still charged the same amount of tuition, that we have no recourse for students to actually have agency or a voice, and that schools are now unsafe for kids due to risk of illness and gun violence.

these are all placing the blame in a fraudulent way, one intended to get your parents to homeschool you. the less kids in a school, the less federally-awarded funding for that school, the less any school succeeds. they will not mention the fact it is their legislation that takes away important funding opportunities, that teachers are living at or below the poverty line, that buildings are not kept up to code, that administration is overpaid and forces specific curriculums, that corporations like (my personal enemy) Pearson Education control certain classroom goals because teachers can't afford other options. they pretend to be ignorant of the gun violence and say "oh just get a gun" - but these are the same people who will be sending their child to a private school with a bulletproof backpack. they don't care if your kid dies, though. they "don't believe" in covid, but they did get their kid vaccinated, because of course they did.

it is a closed loop. conservative parents hear the fearmongering and remove children from the system. frequently these parents are also deeply religious. the kids are raised without access to other media & learn to parrot their parents. you have now created a new generation of conservatives. additionally, one of the parents/caregivers must stay home and homeschool the children, usually for free. i will give you 1 guess which parent tends to stay home to homeschool the children. these parents are encouraged to have many, many children. those children are most likely not getting access to safe sex ed.

we might laugh at fox news suggesting teachers are forcing children to use kitty litter but: first of all, there is kitty litter in the classroom. it's part of an emergency kit in case children are locked in due to a shooter. so that's fucking dystopian, and the fact they've completely reimagined the scenario to somehow make the teachers look bad when it's instead a fucking huge symbol of our failure as a country to protect our children.... it feels a little intentional.

secondly: don't just dismiss the situation. because, yeah, obviously, no teacher is encouraging kids to be a catboy. but the actual undertone that fox news is trying to sew is an outright distrust of teachers and of public education. they rely on the dehumanization of trans people as a common touchstone to hide the fact they're pushing two agendas at once. (which is ironic. because the thing they accuse teachers of. is pushing. an agenda.)

whenever someone tells you they want you to read less, you should be suspicious of that. when someone tries to separate you and your education, you should be suspicious of that. i don't even like incel rhetoric nor would i want my kids exposed to it - but i would not take away my child's (age-appropriate) access to the internet. i would just provide more educational materials, not less. the difference here is that i believe we can resolve ignorance with knowledge; whereas conservatives believe that ignorance is bliss.

they misappropriate funding and demonize teachers. they pull the same trick each time - the same thing we are seeing with anti-trans rhetoric. they do not want you to have access to safe sex ed, so they act horrified, claim sex ed teaches you how to thrust deep, claim that we have no idea what "age-appropriate" means. since the mid-nineties, the united states has spent at least 2 billion dollars on abstinence-only education, even though to quote the above link: "a preponderance of studies has found no effect of abstinence education at reducing adolescent pregnancy". conservatives want you to think less of any person struggling with addiction so they can continue their racist "war on drugs", so they spend up to $750 million dollars a year on the DARE program which has absolutely no effect. acting like teachers "must" be "grooming" children is just the same thing - so they can demand that funding either goes to their causes or the funding doesn't "exist" ("i'm not paying for our kids to learn that thing!")

and they want you to feel uncaring about this. they are aware that you will hate some parts of your school experience. pretty much everyone does. they want to lean into the parts that you hate so that you don't put up a fight about it when they take it away for not being "good enough."

i know i maybe sound like a conspiracy theorist. but truly. truly. it is beneficial for conservatives to reduce your faith in the american public schooling system.

one of the explicitly stated campaign promises of the conservative party: to axe the Department of Education in 2024.

i know we are all tired and burnt out and there is so much else wrong with their entire platform. but maybe just - pay attention to this one.

#i can't believe i have to say this #the conservative party is legit like ''is it anything good? okay we hate it.'' #''lets kill lgbt people and ummmmm school children shouldnt be able to read they should be at home watching jordan peterson :)" #the fact that it's like all related is. wild. #like it's wild bc if u start being like. actually making it impossible to afford housing is part of how they keep the nuclear family..... #it's just like lines connecting to lines. EXCEPT ITS OBVIOUS? #what's wild to me about most conspiracy theorists is that they're like . ohhhh the govt is hiding shit!!!!!!! they don't want u to know!!! #and im like. this old man literally got up on stage and said he hates public education and will let our kids die before taking away ak-47s #and ppl are like: lol thats just bob's sense of humor he didn't mean it literally uwu

[rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world]

As a Jewish advocate for Palestinian rights, let me tell you something. I’m fucking hurting right now.

I hate Hamas because they have made the plight of Palestinians so much worse with their actions in that now even fewer people will be willing to acknowledge their 70 years of suffering.

I hate that they will be used as an excuse to demonize all Palestinians, and the US is already upping their already astronomical military funding for Israel.

I hate that they’ve committed unforgivable violence in the name of a cause that is just.

I hate the Israeli government and the IDF for creating the conditions for this tragedy and countless others stretching back to the Nakba.

I hate how they have perverted my culture into a settler-colonial ideology and perpetrated on the Palestinians the very kinds of pogroms my own family fled Europe to escape.

I hate that so many Jews in Israel and throughout the diaspora face ostracism from their communities and families for speaking out against the atrocities Israel has been committing against Palestinians.

I especially hate how many of my fellow Jews have bought into an ideology that can handwave the bulldozing of homes and schools, the imprisonment of children, the bombing of residential homes, the displacement, the massacres. Virtually all things we have suffered as Jews at points in our history.

My heart aches for the innocent people murdered across the board - no matter who the bombs came from. Even though part of me thinks settlers aren’t innocent, what can you really do if you just happened to be born there? And even if you moved to Israel, do you really deserve to die? No.

But neither do all the children in the Gaza Strip currently being bombed in a revenge attack that, with the denial of food, water, and medical aid, violates the Geneva convention.

But to everyone who is posting now about Israel and these “unprecedented tragedies” - yes, these are tragedies, and my heart is so heavy with them. But they are not unprecedented. Where were you when the same things were happening to Palestinians for decades upon decades? There’s a monumental amount of video evidence of atrocities against Palestinians, but somehow people have managed to miss all of that. If you’re only paying attention to the suffering of certain people, ask yourself why.

If you’re only now posting about “of course Palestinians should be free” in posts primarily about mourning the killing of Israelis, where were your voices before now? Those of us trying to organize and fight for Palestinian human rights could have used you.

If more people had spoken out against our government’s support of what Amnesty International and countless other human rights organizations have called an apartheid regime, who knows what could have been possible.

Edit: Since this is getting a little traction, I wanted to leave these links here. Both are very reputable organizations that are providing humanitarian aid:

#personal #Israel #Palestine #free Palestine #Gaza #Gaza under attack #human rights #fuck hamas #free gaza #israeli apartheid #war crimes

[deadsetobsessions]

As the girl who came up with the Triplet! Tim AU PLEASSEEEEE continue it!!!!! I NEED to see Bruce who thought he had one robin finding out he actually has three separate completely different ones

I gotchu lmfao I think I’ll get to Bruce later? I’m really happy you liked it omg like that idea is so good

——

Their plan was perfect! It would have been perfect, had it not been for Dick Grayson and his nosy face!

Batman might not have known his identity, but Dick Grayson did. He promised to keep it from Batman, but Tim hadn’t exactly thought about his secret identity when he showed up to harass the man into being Robin again.

And now, they’re paying for it.

Tim leaned back and crossed his arms as he watched Dick cradle his head in his hands, looking half a short breath away from a mental breakdown.

“Are you telling me… there’s three of you?”

“Yes, Dick.” Tim sighed, having answered this exact question ten times in the past two minutes.

Dick lifted his head, wide eyes looking a little feverish… no, looking a little manic.

“Tim. Your name is Tim, right? I’m not-”

“Yes, my name is Tim. Technically, so are the others. But the one here with us is Lionel.”

“No, wait, Tim, you understand how this is- insane, right? It’s not even remotely in the realm of mentally healthy.” Dick paused. “Wait, are you skipping school right now?!?”

“Has anyone ever told you your priorities are screwed up, Dick?” Lionel-Tim walked back into the room, hands full of snacks and, most importantly, Dick’s emergency marshmallow bag. Dick turned to Lionel, eyes full of guilt, and grabbed the bag of marshmallows like a dehydrated man in the middle of a desert who’s only couple of feet away from an oasis that he’s been looking for for days.

“Oh my god. I’ve had three younger brothers and I thought they were all the same kid!” Dick wailed, grabbing a handful of marshmallows and stress cramming it into his mouth. Tim threw him a disgusted look.

“To be fair, we made sure to train to act like each other from a really early age,” Tim said, snatching the bag of chips that Lionel chucked at his head. His snack laden triplet plonked himself on the plush spinning chair, shoving a hand inside the bag of gummy worms and cramming it down his throat as he spun around.

“I can’t believe I’ve never even checked up on you at your place!! If I did, I would have noticed it way earlier!”

“Probably not,” Lionel mumbled through his mouthful of colorful gummy worms. “You only caught us because Tim got beat half to death by an edgy crime lord teenager.”

Dick hunched into himself, a myriad of complicated emotions- largely, guilt and fury and heartbreak- wormed its way past his face. Tim glared and threw a chip at his triplet.

“It’s fine, Dick. Lionel’s just being an asshole. We’re taking care of it. Revenge prank.” Tim explained.

“He wouldn’t have caught us and you know it.” Lionel grumbled.

“I’ll help.” Dick mumbled dejectedly.

“You’ll have to get in line, Wing,” Tim went back to his laptop. “My thirds got first dibs, and I’m not planning on staying still either. I’m gonna mess with Jason’s slush funds.”

“He’s got a stash of cash locked up in the fourth safe house, but that’s not interesting. Look!” Lionel proudly displayed a duffle bag- from where he got it from, Dick had no clue- and unzipped it to show batteries, lightbulbs, and random bits and bobs.

“What is that?” Dick asked.

“That’s the second lightbulb in his bathroom light! This is the left battery in his TV remote! And this is half of his back up boot laces. I took all of his 10 mm sockets! And the specialized socket he got for his bike! And this,” Lionel grinned, lifting up a piece of fabric. “Is his pillow case!”

“Niceee.” Tim whistled. He tossed a piece of tech at Lionel. “Sneak back into his house and put that in between his pillows. It’ll keep both sides uncomfortably warm.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Is… this revenge for almost killing you?” Dick asked.

“It’s either this or complete and total financial ruin, social death, and then actual death.” Tim tapped away at his laptop.

“You’re kind of scary, you know that?”

“We know!” Lionel chirped.

“Base, come in.”

“Base,” Tim quickly replied, laser focused on Archy’s call. Lionel and Dick quieted.

“Hood’s lurking outside the school like a creep,” Archy muttered into the comm, papers rustling behind him.

Dick tensed, upset making itself visible once more.

“You still have the container I gave you this morning in your pocket?”

“Yes.”

Tim smirked in a way that made Dick suddenly have a horrible need to shake and lecture him on the moralities of not becoming a villain. “It’s glitter. Purple and pinks.”

“…Ah.”

“Godspeed, Archy!” Lionel chirped again, sounding slightly more demented.

A moment of silence before-

“Oof!” A puff. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, mister!”

On the other end of the comm, the gruff voice of a beefy teenager spluttered, “What- why do you- egh- my mouth! The glitter went into- pleh, pleh! What the fuck, kid?!”

“I’m so sorry! It was supposed to be for a project! I worked so hard to mix the colors right! Wait, stay still, mister! I’ll help!”

Archy, eyes wide and innocent, patted some more glitter onto the vigilante.

“No, stop! Stop! You’re getting it on my bike!”

“It’s a pretty color- oh hey, this is open-”

“No! That’s the fuel tank!”

“Oh! Whoops! Sorry!”

As chaos spread on the other side of the comms, Tim and Lionel burst into cackles. Dick choked on the marshmallows, helplessly shaking with laughter.

Lionel whacked at Dick’s back, hysterically giggling.

“That’s- that’s Archy?”

“Archy pretending to be Lionel pretending to be me yeah. I hope he got glitter in the fuel tank.” Tim grinned.

“Want me to patrol tonight to see if he got the glitter out of his bike?”

Lionel jabbed his pointy elbows onto Dick’s shoulders. “Absolutely. Distract him, too! I gotta mess with his safe houses. He’ll never feel comfortable in a safe house ever again.”

“Don’t go overboard, Lionel.” Tim looked up. “But also, I changed his WiFi passwords to 123456, so do with that what you will.”

Lionel grinned. Dick mustered up a smile in response, pushing the guilt away. He had a lot to make up to his little brothers, and if terrorizing Jason was how he was going to accomplish that… well, Dick’s not feeling too nice about Jason right now.

——

Batman squinted suspiciously at a humming Nightwing.

“Something happen?” He managed to ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, I got some nice pictures.”

“…I see.”

Batman, regardless of what his history might suggest, knew how to pick his battles. This? This thing that brought Nightwing’s murder smile? This was one battle he was willing to walk away from.

“Hey, B, you ever think about adopting more kids?”

Batman choked and promptly grappled away. Nightwing cackled.

“You can’t escape the question!”

Batman ran faster.

#Batman #nightwing: maybe i can adopt this time #nightwing being nightwing #nightwing #tim drake is a triplet au #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Jason getting effectively glitterbombed

[eddiemunsonw]

Snow Storm

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You're on a 'date'. Sort of. You're really not feeling it, especially when you realize that the guy has been lying. Steve, witnessing it all during his shift at Family Video, is more than happy to meddle a little.

CW/Disclaimer: Hmmmm things start to get a little heated and sexy but nothing too dramatic. So... idk. Mention of porn?

Author's note: I have a tendency to post fics out of their season, it seems

Words: 3435

Steve’s POV

He watched as your eyes followed the section of horror movies slowly, scanning each title to try and remember if you had seen them before. Next to you, a guy stood impatiently as he eyed the curtain that separated the adult section. Steve watched with interest, as it was all that was currently happening in the store apart from a regular who looked into the slapstick classics on the other side.

“Come on, I just wanna see.”

The guy sighed, nudged you with his arm. You were having none of it and Steve couldn’t help but wear an amused smile. Eventually, when you had picked out two movies, you followed him towards the curtain. Steve, feeling particularly menacing today, quickly left the counter and approached the curtain just in time.

“Hello there! ID’s please.”

He held his hand open and you took it out immediately, showing that you were 23, a year younger than he was. When the guy handed it over with some reluctance, his curiosity piqued.

“Oof, sorry dude, can’t let you in. It’s 21+”

“What? Since when?” the guy responded, but Steve clocked something much more interesting.

“Clark… You said you were 24. Jesus this is why I never wanna say my age first,” you groaned and rolled your eyes. Steve bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it was too hard not to.

“Damn, why’d you have to lie to the lady? That’s not cool,” Steve added on.

Your POV

“You weren’t supposed to know. Now come on,” Clark mumbled and attempted to pass the curtain but Steve quickly moved in between, the smooth glide of his body grabbing your attention.

“Still a no, Bud.”

You were already tired of his pushy behavior earlier, so while Steve had him occupied, you entered the adult section. You didn’t even want to go in there, but it was better than staying.

“Grab some deepthroating! And some lesbian porn?”

Steve’s POV

Steve shook his head at him as he leaned against the wall right next to the curtain.

“Jesus, dude. Are you trying to make her run away from you even harder?”

“Shut up,” Clark grumbled, side eyeing him with annoyance.

“Hm, no,” Steve said, a small smile on his face. “Not for a pipsqueak like you.”

“Oh fuck off, says the failed jock whose daddy no longer funds him so he has to do a shitty job like this one, the highlight of his day being to be a total asshole to a guy trying to have sex with a girl.”

Steve stared ahead of him, taking a deep inhale before replying.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s a neat description of you and me both. Emphasis on the trying.”

“The day’s not over yet.”

“Oh but it is, pipsqueak. Cause you’re gonna turn around and leave now.”

They looked at each other, eyes dark and challenging. Steve wasn’t sure what came over him. He just knew that he needed to do you the favor of getting rid of him.

“The hell I am,” Clark bristled.

Steve chuckled darkly. Woah, when did he become this super villain huh? Hmm. Interesting.

“Oh you are. She wants you gone and so do I.”

“You don’t know shit about what she wants.”

“Let me go ask,” Steve said as his hand lazily slid the curtain aside. “What’s her name again?” he asked, pretending like he hadn’t checked your name on your ID. He didn’t wait for his answer and walked behind the curtain despite his protests. This, however, made him miss out on the emergency alert on the radio.

“We interrupt your favorite tunes for an important message. The blizzard is getting worse. If you haven’t yet, go home. Chances are you won’t be able to if you wait much longer.”

Clark, however, did. Besides, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He knew he had lost his chances with you the moment he tried to get you to grab his favorite porn videos. Whatever.

Your POV

“So… see anything you like?”

His voice startled you, but at the same time it was met with relief from your end that it wasn’t Clark. Steve slowly walked closer and quickly noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of it in the slightest and chuckled.

“Or are you just planning to stay here forever until he leaves?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that. Also, you don’t just ask a lady about her favorite porn, Harrington.”

Delighted by your response, he cocked his hip against the wall as he crossed his arms with a grin.

“I mean… we both already know Clark’s…” Steve said jokingly, earning a smile from you.

“All men are the same,” you sighed. Steve pouted and scanned the titles for something interesting.

“You say that now but… wait until you find out that my favorite is actually… Granny getting a— nope, nope, forget I started that sentence,” Steve said quickly as he put back the tape he just had in his hands.

“All the grannies over the world are crying right now,” you said sadly, a smile on your lips.

“Too bad, I’ve set my eye on girls who actually are the age they say they are.”

“I’ll admit that’s the most interesting belated opening line I’ve ever heard,” you said dryly.

“As long as it catches your intrigue, I’m satisfied,” Steve said with a playful, cocky grin.

You grabbed a tape and smirked, holding it out for him.

“So I’m guessing you don’t need yourself a… Satisfyer 2.0, then?” You asked, holding up the tape which had sensual “instructions” for a vibrator.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“These satisfy just fine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. Your mind drifted off to what he could do with those big hands. Not just to himself but to—

“… left?”

Steve had apparently just asked you a question.

“Huh?”

He smirked and nodded towards the curtain.

“I think he left. Just heard the bell above the door.”

“Maybe someone came in though…” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” He spun on his heel and approached the curtain when—

“Wait—” It was out before you knew it. Steve halted, turned back around and looked at you patiently.

“Yeah?”

“If he is in fact not gone, can you… get rid of him somehow? I normally wouldn’t ask but he’s just such a—”

“Dick.”

“Yeah…” You smiled a small smile and watched as he approached you again. His eyes were on you, taking in even the smallest changes in your expression.

“So is he like… your boyfriend?” Steve asked softly. “Or uh, was?”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Nah, this was the second date which I had reluctantly agreed to.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Steve asked curiously. He followed your movement as you skimmed some more tapes and smiled at the playfully quipped corner of your mouth. “I mean, it didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

“I didn’t. I just… I kind of never said yes but he just showed up on my doorstep and then I felt too bad to not go with him, so… yeah. Didn’t know he had plans to rent some porn and spend the second date in his bedroom or whatever.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmmh… yeah that sucks. Well, I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” he said as he shortly winked at you and once again turned on his heel, this time actually continuing his walk through the curtain. He was out there for a few minutes when he turned back with a frown.

“Uh… Y/N? We’ve got a little… hiccup.”

You approached him with a frown of your own and followed him to the front, unsure what to expect. What you certainly didn’t expect, was to see a snow storm going on outside.

“Apparently there’s a code red. Just heard a repeat of it on the radio but it keeps breaking up. They urge everyone to stay inside until it’s over.”

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared ahead. It was the worst storm he had ever witnessed and the fact that nothing had seemed to be going on apart from some gentle snowfall surprised him.

“Stay… here?” you asked eventually.

“I mean, yeah? You can’t drive in this weather, it’s too dangerous. So is walking. So…”

“But I can’t just…”

“Hey, I don’t bite,” Steve said softly, nudging your arm with his own. “Besides, Clark seems to have left after all. Maybe he heard the warning and decided to bolt? If so, very nice to let us know as well but I will say that I wasn’t nice to him, so…”

You smirked.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean, genuinely, I didn’t say much. Just that he had to fuck off, using different wording. He didn’t seem all that ready to leave when I went to look for you though.”

“Oh well, good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

Steve walked forward and locked the door, putting the closed sign up front just in case.

“Let’s go to the back, it’s warmer there. And there’s a coffee machine.”

And so your “Stuck at Family Video with heartthrob Steve Harrington” began.

Once you were settled around the table in the break room, Steve gave you an odd glance. It was hard to figure out what he meant by it, although his frown disappeared the moment he got up from his chair.

“Coffee? Tea? I think we even got a few of those instant hot choc packages,” he offered, his back already turned to you as he searched the cabinets.

“Oh, hot chocolate sounds nice actually. Is it just me or is it… still kinda cold, even here?” you asked hesitantly. Steve nodded ruefully and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet he was currently facing.

“Ah, yeah… it looks like the heating is struggling again. I could kick it to see if it helps but… chances are it’ll get worse.”

“How could it get worse?”

Steve shrugged.

“Beats me, but I’m speaking from experience. Sometimes it does the trick and other times it really, really doesn’t.”

“Let’s not risk it then. At least we have a warm drink, right?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the kettle. You watched him busy himself with putting it on, emptying the hot chocolate powder and grabbing two spoons. He was humming along softly to whichever song he seemed to have stuck in his head and shot you a smile when he caught you looking.

“So what do you usually—”

Suddenly, the room turned pitch dark. You heard Steve swear softly when he shuffled back towards the table and bumped into a chair.

“Uh… okay. That’s… kind of a problem,” he mumbled as he managed to sit back down. “No hot choc I guess, sorry. No… heating either. Maybe we should check how the weather’s doing?” he opted.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a small strip of light seeping in from the doorway, slowly turning brighter as you adjusted to your surroundings again. Warm fingers teased your arm before your wrist was grabbed and Steve helped you up. As he opened the door, the brightness of the snow outside was almost blinding. The thin windows made it a lot colder at the front, making you shiver as you watched the outside. It wasn’t just snow anymore, as heavy hail rained down, large enough to leave dents into cars. Steve groaned and let go of your wrist.

“Let me check if I can get the power back on,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. He grabbed a flashlight from below the counter and went to the back again. After a few minutes, he returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, nothing. I guess it’s my fault you’re stuck here, huh?” he sighed. “If I hadn’t bothered Clark as much you’d be on your way already. Or if I just… I don’t know. Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault the weather decided to fuck us over, Steve,” you said with a soft smile which he returned with some hesitance. “What do you usually do for fun around here?”

Steve gave you a wry smile.

“Watch movies?”

“Ah, yeah.”

There was a short silence until Steve clapped in his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve got this huge blanket in the back, brought it here once because Rob, Robin, my colleague, gets very cold easily so sometimes we’d just huddle under the blanket during breaks and stuff. I think we might as well sit out here, at least it’s light… for now.”

You nodded, smiling as you thought of Robin Buckley. You knew her of course. Not super well, but well enough to know she was nice.

“Yeah, it’s already getting dark, huh? A blanket sounds good though.”

Steve nodded and once again disappeared for a short moment, until he returned with a bright blue blanket, which he partially draped on the floor in front of the counter before he motioned for you to sit down and wrapped it around your shoulders. He joined you after grabbing you both some water and put the other end around his shoulders once he settled down.

“How’s this?”

You were really trying not to let it get to you that you were cozying up to Steve right now. Heat was radiating off of him and it made you wonder if he was actually cold, or if he was basically doing the whole “it’s better to stick together for body warmth” kind of thing. With the addition of clothes, of course.

“It’s nice. Better than without for sure,” you told him softly. Steve’s shoulder brushed yours and soon enough you felt the pressure build up until he was actually resting against you. Not in an uncomfortable way at all. It was really… nice, actually.

“Your parents? Do you think they’ll worry?”

“Ah, no. My mom’s visiting my grandma in another state actually and my dad’s no longer around, so. Doubt he can worry,” you joked lightly. “What about yours?”

Steve snorted, then realized it probably wasn’t all that funny and shrugged.

“Dunno, they’re somewhere in Europe now, I think? So no.”

Another silence. It was by that point that you remembered how little you actually knew about Steve Harrington. Sure, he had been popular in school for some time, and then he wasn’t, and then he graduated. But you had never really talked to him other than giving him a pen or two in English class. You were from different social ladders, really. Although, right now you felt quite equal to him, somehow. Which felt weird, considering he looked like a freshly cut out of a painting model and you were… you. Mr handsome decided to steal you away from your brain, which honestly, was a good thing.

“Hey, wanna play a game?” he asked, peering into your eyes as he leaned forward a little. You watched him with newfound curiosity.

“What kind of game?”

“I spy with my little eye.”

“Isn’t that just called “I spy”?” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno. So. Yes?”

“What else is there, right?”

Steve grinned and rested his head against the counter.

“That’s right. Okay. I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“That tape,” you said as you pointed. Steve leaned into your space, following your hand.

“Which one?”

“The green one.”

“There are maaaany green ones.”

“The green one with… Fuck I can’t read,” you sighed as you tried to squint. Steve laughed warmly, which you could feel the tremble of against your shoulder. “Okay so. The sci-fi shelf, yes? Fifth on the second row.”

“Aaaah, I see it now. Nope!”

“You knew that wasn’t it from the start.”

“I had to make sure.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Steve grinned and nudged you with his shoulder before tapping your thigh with his hand.

“Your turn, your turn!”

He left his hand on your thigh. Oh shit. Yeah, you were totally normal about that. You could still think. You could definitely still find some kind of object that you could use—

“Wait, I didn’t even guess it, how is it my turn?!” you questioned. Steve, who had been looking at… somewhere that wasn’t your eyes, quickly lifted his eyes to meet yours and grinned.

“Right. Guess!” “Your vest?”

“You are absolutely right. See? Your turn.”

“It wasn’t— okay. Hm… I spy with my little eye… something red.”

“Your cheeks.”

“Shut up, my cheeks aren’t red.”

“They are a little.”

“If you keep talking about it, yes, they will turn red.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Once again Steve leaned forward to look you straight in the eye, this time lifting a hand to cup your cheek gently. “Hm, they’re a little pink at the very least.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and took his hand off your cheek as you looked away. Steve chuckled softly and turned his hand around so he could grab yours.

“Fine, then… the bike outside?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I thought that was it for sure. That red blob of paint that Keith never managed to get off the ceiling?”

“That’s it!”

Steve grinned at you and gave your hand a squeeze. For a moment you had forgotten about his hand, too drunk on his animated face. Fuck.

“I spy with my little eye…” Steve turned his head to look at you and smiled. “Something pretty.”

“What?”

“Purple! Purple.”

“My shirt.”

“So clever.”

It was getting darker rapidly and soon enough, even your little game became harder to play. You did some other ones, word games, guessing games, whatever you could think of. The blanket was wrapped closer around you both now, as the store became colder without the heating. You sat hip to hip, your arms a little awkward sometimes although neither of you really minded.

“Would you have stayed here if I hadn’t been around?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t really care if— I mean, I’d only be risking myself in that case.”

“That’s a bad reason. You’re just as important.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, and for some reason you felt like he needed an honest answer.

“Yeah, you are, Steve.”

“Hm…” A beat of silence. “I spy with my little eye… someone pretty.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I’ve memorized her by now.”

“Is it the blonde babe cardboard cutout?”

Steve, not expecting that answer at all, burst out laughing.

“Fuck, no,” a giggle, “it wasn’t.”

“Oh… hm. What about that girl from the ring? Samara?”

“Shush.”

“Or the woman from that movie where—” “Ssshh.”

You felt his hand cup your cheek and it was as if your heart was gonna jump out of your chest at any moment now. His breath tickled your cheek, warm and comfortable against your cold nose. Your lips parted on their own, eyes closing even though there was only an outline of his face to see.

“You sure it’s not the blond babe?” you murmured teasingly.

Steve giggled softly and shook his head, causing the stray strands of his hair to tickle you a little.

“Positive.”

A faint sound of lips being licked, and then his lips brushed against yours. Soft and pliable, eager to taste yours. He hummed softly, pleased, as he pulled you closer. You were easily pulled into his lap as his tongue teased your bottom lip for access. Hands smoothed up and down your waist, the blanket forgotten as your kiss provided enough heat between the two of you. It was silent, save from the gasps and soft, pleasant hums leaving you both. He gently moved his hips while simultaneously guiding yours, a gentle moan leaving him as he found a rhythm. His lips found your neck and your hand made its way into his hair to have something to grasp onto. One hand found the hem of your shirt and he was about to lift it up when—

Brightness. Light. The electricity was back on. Meaning… everyone outside could see you. If there had been anyone, that is. Still, it broke the moment instantly as Steve dropped his hand to your thigh and looked up at you.

“Shit,” he murmured, a lopsided grin on his face. “They really know how to spoil the fun today, huh?”

You smiled down at him and turned around to look outside, one hand resting on his chest for balance.

“Hm… I don’t know. It seems safe to go back home.”

Steve dug his fingers into your hips with eagerness before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Your place or mine?”

end.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics #joe keery #i'm so great at promoting my fics with a cool description #not

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal

We’re all in this together. Don’t give up.

On food and groceries:

How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss

Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic

If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.

On entertainment and socializing:

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment 

Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date

The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There

Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!

What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

On health:

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership

How to Get DIRT CHEAP Pet Medication, Without a Prescription 

On other big expenses:

Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question

Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague

Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income) 

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years 

Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It

On buying secondhand and trading:

Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade

On giving gifts and charitable donations:

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

In Defense of Shameless Regifting

Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

How to Spot a Charitable Scam

Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again? 

On resisting temptation:

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

On minimalism and buying less:

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse

Slay Your Financial Vampires

The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending

On saving money:

How To Start Small by Saving Small

Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal

The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges

Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead

From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

Bitches Get Riches: setting realistic expectations since 2017!

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[hellishjoel]

psycho bitch

3.2k / pairing: brat tamer!joel x f!reader

pt. 1 pt. 2

summary: When Joel ignoring you leads to an expensive shopping spree on his credit card, punishment follows in the form of spanking and a well-deserved pounding. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, brat tamer!Joel, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (kitten, etc.), degradation, name calling (be nice lol), praise kink, dom!joel, spanking, a little ass play, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, mean joel honestly lol

A/N: it’s official, I’m naming this series psycho because I’m pretty sure that’s what Joel has reader’s name in his phone saved as. his lil psycho <3 we love psycho in this house (it’s you, you’re psycho).

“Say you’re sorry.” Joel sneered, voice low.  You paused the motion of your hips and cocked your head in an attempt to look back at him.  A dopey hm? left your lips. Mistake.  The smack of his hands cracked against your ass, the stinging sensation warming your entire body as you gasped.  “Shit-- Joel!” You whimpered as you writhed under his body, but it was pointless, he had pinned you to the couch. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “Say you’re sorry,” He repeated. “Say you’re sorry for rackin’ up my credit card.”

If there was one thing you loved doing above all else, it was irritating the shit out of Joel. Whatever he was to you, boyfriend, fuck toy, situationship… whatever role he played, he was more fun riled up. 

You’d rather have the most psychotic, deranged, raving mad sex with Joel than be stuck in missionary for the rest of your life. 

You were at his place, lying in his bed waiting for him to come home from work. And you’d be waiting a while because according to your phone, it was barely noon. Bored, you tried calling him a few times, but he didn’t care to answer. 

To busy your mind, you started watching Clueless. What a horrible idea that was because now, you wished you had the funds to afford Cher Horowitz’s wardrobe. Hm. 

Laid in the lingerie Joel left you in this morning, you rolled onto your tummy and started surfing the different stores you loved for inspiration. You wondered what would drive Joel up a wall. A mini skirt? Knee-high socks? An expensive gold waist chain? They all sounded good. 

Add to cart. Add to cart. Add to cart. 

Your heart clenched at the total. 

“Fuck.” You murmured, tossing your phone to the side in frustration. To live a life of wanting so much, but earning so little was not a life for you. Your lips twisted in thought. 

Maybe Joel would buy the rest of your items if you threw in a new set of lingerie or two. As much as it was for you to wear, it was just as much for his enjoyment. 

You sent him a screenshot of a nice bubble gum pink lace bustier and garter set. The embellishments were gold hearts, and the snaps onto the garters were gold clasps. It was absolutely to die for, despite it being a few hundred dollars. 

cute, isn’t it? 

You sent it off to Joel and chewed on your fingernail for his response.

It made your eyes roll back into your head the way that he continued to ignore you. You decided to give him one last call, and if he didn’t pick up, you were grabbing the emergency American Express on top of the refrigerator and using it for… said emergency. 

If there was one lesson Joel needed to learn, it was that you were not someone to be ignored. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon into the evening online shopping with the Amex, giggling in excitement at the newfound cash flow. Sure, he might not be happy at first, but surely Joel would love everything you bought. It was all for him, after all.  

You had moved from his bed to the couch after eating a late lunch, laid on your tummy in just a t-shirt and thong, still scrolling through your phone.  

Your jaw clicked when the front door was kicked open so fast that it made the floorboards shake. You were used to his theatrics by now, so you continued to lay unphased. 

“The HELL do you think you’re doin’ with that?” Joel snapped as he swiped the Amex card straight from between your fingers. You smirked as you stared down at your phone, mindlessly scrolling and ignoring him. 

“Do you know how many DAMN notifications I got on my phone today? Do you know how many charges you made on the card?” He snapped, shucking off his work boots and jacket as his eyes burned into the back of your head. 

You fluttered out a sigh, finally giving him a little attention and turning your head to him. 

“You don’t like what I bought?” 

Joel was starstruck with anger, it grounded him into one standing spot in the living room with his muscular arms crossed in annoyance. 

“You crossed a line, you fuckin’-- psycho bitch.” He spat his words, venom poison dripping from his pretty lips. “Paid over a thousand dollars today and for what? Lingerie?!”

You stifled a giggle and bit on your lower lip. “And a pink silk robe. Verrrry pretty.”

He scoffed. “Very fuckin’ expensive. Waste of time, waste of money, made me damn near keel over at work today seein’ those bills rack up!” Joel said as his angry growls filled the room. 

“So you were on your phone today, just not talking to me, huh?” Your voice held annoyance, your face in a light pinched expression. 

He ignored you, rolling your eyes as you returned to your phone. 

“Should have said so before I bought everything... Tried calling you, texting you. Never answered me.” You could feel Joel’s obvious annoyance and anger without even looking. 

“I was at work, don’t have time to wait on you hand and foot.”

You lightly shrugged, back turned to him as you pouted. Still laying on your stomach, you lifted your calves and crossed your ankles, ass curving perfectly with your thong on display. You could feel him watching, staring, admiring. 

“Sounds like a you problem, Joel.” 

His scoff was indignant as he sauntered past the coffee table and moved closer to the couch. Joel’s fingertips lightly grazed up the back of your thigh, causing goosebumps in his wake. 

“Does it now?” His southern accent was slick with lust, you could feel his eyes staring at your ass. It was only confirmed when he took a big handful in his palm and squeezed. 

“Mhmmm.” You hummed, paying him no mind. “Bought all of it for you, anyway. Know how much you like seein’ me all prettied up.” Your words were sweet but dangerous, a Venus flytrap waiting to snap Joel up. 

Joel’s jaw was tight with anger, and he was taking it out through the grip of his hand on your juicy flesh.  

“Feel like no one’s ever said no to you before I came along,” Joel muttered. You felt the couch shift, a soft gasp leaving you as he mounted the tops of your thighs with one of his knees smooshed between the cushions and the other on the edge, your body laid between. 

Your lips parted at the feeling, his denim jeans grinding against the smoothness of your thighs. Your phone fell to the floor, and you paid no mind to it. 

Joel was taking all of you in, massaging your gorgeous ass in his wide, warm palms. 

You hummed at the feeling, your head dropping to lay on the arm of the couch.

His fingers lined your thong, and you purred in excitement. 

He loved this pose. He’d sit on your thighs and part his dick right between your ass cheeks, slip right in, and watch his cock disappear into your entrance, enveloped by your flesh. Sometimes his thumb would notch into your second hole, fill you up and drive you up a wall. 

You supposed you were both good at driving each other mad, just in different forms.  

You couldn’t help but try and lift your hips up off the couch, leaning into his touch and lightly grinding up into his palms. 

“Say you’re sorry.” Joel sneered, voice low. 

You paused the motion of your hips and cocked your head in an attempt to look back at him. 

A dopey hm? left your lips. Mistake. 

The smack of his hands cracked against your ass, the stinging sensation warming your entire body as you gasped. 

“Shit-- Joel!” You whimpered as you writhed under his body, but it was pointless, he had pinned you to the couch. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Say you’re sorry,” He repeated. “Say you’re sorry for rackin’ up my credit card.” His signature snarl was sending you into a fit. And now you were just being stubborn. You weren’t sorry, he should be sorry!

“N-No.” A harsh slap hit your backside once more, and a broken crying whine left your throat, your eyes clenching closed. 

This was the worst part about spanking; Joel was ruthless and unforgiving. But the hot sting was soon greeted by an aching pleasure between your thighs. You were going to give the couch a terrible wet puddle. 

A shaky breath left your mouth as you braced for more, it was heaven to get this much attention from him. 

The anxiety was lying in wait. You never knew when he was going to strike your red-soaked ass again, your breath hitched in your throat as you willed yourself to calm down in anticipation. 

“A thousand. Fucking. Dollars. Just for you to be half naked like a little slut.” 

Joel’s words didn’t hurt, they only implored you. He was so goddamn sexy when he talked like this. A soft moan left your lips, not being able to help it. 

You were a wet sopping mess below him, weakly grinding your hips either down into the couch or up into his thighs. Anything to get some sort of friction. Fucking touch me already!

His greedy hands gripped and cupped your ass, pushing it up into your tailbone. He was so fucking possessive, the motion had you moaning. 

“Yeah... I know you fuckin’ like it when I manhandle you. Lucky I even touch you after the shit you pulled today.” He pulled your panties aside and spat down over your pulsing asshole, feeling it glide down to your pussy and between your thighs.

You gulped, and the sound bounced off the walls. “Joel baby, I-” A harsh slap rang so loud, it echoed off the windowpanes. You clenched the couch in your little fists and let out the shaky, whimpery breath you were holding in. His couch would surely have nail marks in them now. 

He spanked you until you were apologetic and deduced to nothing. A writhing apology below him in the form of your cunt sopping wet and mascara tears of pain and pleasure on your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so f-fuckin’ sorry daddy, please put your hands on me again-”

Smack.

“Fuck! Fuck! Right there, yes Joel, holy sh-shit, can hit me harder baby, feels so good, so so go-”

Smack.

“Fuck! Fuck Joel, owww, p-please baby, lemme make you feel good, take me in any hole you want, I’m yours, I’m yours!” 

You were a whimpering, moaning, mess of a woman under him. He had smacked your ass so hard that it was numb. You hoped his hand would be tattooed on you forever. And you knew that was his point, to imprint the outline of his massive hand on your ass, branding you, announcing to everyone through the way you were going to walk tomorrow that you got bent over and spanked so hard into submission. 

More tears threatened to spill on your waterline, you kept trying to blink them away. You had a dummy fucked grin on your face, Joel could see it with the way your sweaty cheek laid against the couch arm. He raised his hand once more, but you couldn’t take it again. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fuckin’ sorry, please, please, please..” Your voice trailed off, and his hand lowered. Suddenly, his hands were on your ass again, but now he was massaging into you again, taking away the ache and sting. Somewhat. 

You let out a groveling whimpery moan, jaw dropped as you watched his gorgeous face out of the corner of your eye. His cock was rock hard against your thigh. He had only gotten harder during the whole spanking session. 

“Know you wanna fuck me.” The notion slipped out of your mouth before you even had the chance to reclaim it. A cocky little smirk on your lips as you mustered up all the strength you had and ground your ass up into his hands. 

You felt him peel your ass apart, watching the wet thong sopping with his spit and your arousal sink down to your pussy. He hummed in appreciation, slipping his thumb under the band and brushing against your tight hole. 

“You can keep one pair of lingerie..” Your eyes twinkled in lust, a smile perking up on your lips. 

“Only ‘cause I’m ‘bout to rip these off you.” 

You gasped as your head whipped back to him, watching as he ripped the flimsy lace of your thong into nothingness. He made it look easy, effortless, his strength was nothing to contend. So fucking sexy. 

You bit down on the plush pillow of your lower lip, holding back a grin as your small hands gripped the cushion of the couch. Fuck, he was so riled up tonight. Getting under his skin was always in your best interest.  

Hot, shaky pants left your mouth as you watched him undo his belt buckle, the cool metal clasp falling onto your spanked, red ass with a hiss that had you seething through gritted teeth. 

Joel pushed his jeans and black boxers down his thick thighs, his cock springing free. 

The sight in your peripheral made you writhe your hips under his, but he was heavy weight over you, holding you down as you tried to shake your ass back into his tip. 

This made him scoff out a degrading little puff through his nose, seeing you so desperate for him like this despite being freshly punished. 

The adrenaline of it all heightened your senses, you could really smell him now. 

You liked when Joel smelled like work. His lips and cock tasted musky, fresh and old sweat mixed with the heady smell of lingering cologne he applied in the morning. His odor tickled your nose, and you couldn’t help but let your grin slip. 

“Somethin’ funny, princess?” Joel’s tone was teasing, goading even. He was looking for a fight, a reason to ram you into a speechless existence. Maybe then you’d learn to shut up. But for now… 

Your head twisted against the couch cushion, loose arousal moistening your thighs as you took a shy but brave look back to the man mounting you from behind. 

“You’ll never fuck the attitude out of me.”

Your eyes held his in a seductive staring contest. 

“Is that so?” His grated voice was teetering on no return. You could feel his heavy shaft sitting between your peeled-apart ass cheeks now, his tip lightly notching against your hole as you whimpered with need, an ache for him to fill. 

Joel held himself at his base, loosely pumping his shaft and feeling it swell fat and heavy in his hand. 

His tip was slowly enveloped by your thighs and ass, finding your cunt and slowly pushing in. Your eyes quickly rolled to the back of your head because to be filled up by Joel was an indescribable experience. 

Joel’s head fell, partly in concentration but also in awe watching his dick slip between your folds.

It was messy at first, with broken moans and whimpers leaving you as his hips pushed forward. He parted your insides, trying to accommodate his size. Usually, he didn’t give you this much time. Often you had pissed him off so much that he was bottoming out in one thrust and you were screeching his name in hot, happy pants. 

This was slow, methodical, making you feel the weight of every damn dollar of his you spent today. 

Finally, he plunged in fully to the hilt, bottoming out in one swift thrust that had you choking for air. 

Joel slowly reeled his hips back out, seeing his length glisten in your pretty slick before he slowly joined your bodies together once more. 

Your head was heavy and full, clouded and starry as he fulfilled a need you had been desperately aching for all damn day. 

No amount of clothes could fulfill the hole you needed Joel to fill. 

Joel’s balls were swollen and happy, you can tell by how they slapped against you while he picked up the pace of his thrusts. His hands are splayed around your ribcage, fucking you into the couch and making you feel as if you were sinking into the cushions. 

Your moans were a broken record of his name, feeling your head rock as he started to really pound into you. 

“Joel, Joel, Joel, J-Joh fuck!” You clenched your eyes closed, you could feel his one knee sinking deeper into the couch as he continued to rest on your upper thighs, his other foot coming down onto the floor beside the couch to keep his fill in you. 

With the added traction, he felt like he was fucking you at a million miles an hour. The squeeze on your ribcage shuffled from your sides to your hips, feeling yourself get pounded and straightened out. 

He was merciless when he was fucking you silent like this, making you listen to the echo of your disgusting moans, the only sounds Joel made being his horny growls and fuck-hungry grunts. 

You were squeezing around him perfectly, the curve of your ass and the walls of your cunt milking his length. 

His hips continued to clap your ass, feeling it bounce and reverberate against his abdomen as he started to hunch his body over you. 

You gasped as you felt his palm flatten against your cheek, face smooshing into the cushion and distorting the sounds of your moans. 

“Oooh f- ooh, Jowl, Jowl!” 

His tip tickled your cervix, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. He was close. Your clit was throbbing, begging for release, he needed to keep hitting that spot in you. 

“P-Please, wanna cuwm.” You whimpered, mouth still smooshed. 

Your jaw dropped as he used the leverage from his extended arm holding your face down, fucking into you deep and leaving your ass clapping. 

“Retunin’ all those damn clothes,” Joel grunted, leaving you whining against his palm. 

“Shut up, fuckin’-- little psycho bitch.” 

Your cunt swelled at the compliment, a loud moan leaving you as his piping hot, white cum creamed your walls. 

Please don’t stop, help me finish, so close-

Your eyes widened as Joel moved his hand from the side of your cheek to your shoulder and hoisted you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest as you both kneeled on the couch. 

His softening length stayed nuzzled inside of you, feeling Joel reach around to circle your clit messily with his free hand as he was still reeling from his own orgasm. 

You cried out and threw your head back on the top of his shoulder, face trying to curl into his neck as he overstimulated your senses. 

Joel’s big firm hand holding you up by your shoulder moved to wrap around your throat, keeping you against him as your hands weakly gripped his wrist. 

“God- God!! Fuck! Joel!” You cried out his name while he squeezed at the sides of your windpipe, your walls clenching around his soft cock as you came desperately down his shaft. You saw stars as Joel restricted your airflow during your orgasm, a dopey grin on your face. 

He threw you back down onto the couch, your body falling into the safety of the cushions. He pulled himself from your soaking cunt, snagging his boxers and pulling them up with ease along with his jeans. All while you were laid out on the couch, fucked dumb as you laid in a heap on the couch. Fuck, that was so good. 

“Joel?” You whimpered, both of you still panting to catch your breaths. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you think about letting me keep all the lingerie?”

You watched with a small smile as he rolled his eyes, trying to hide a grin. 

“You never learn, do you, psycho?” 

You shook your head slowly, pushing your hair away from your sweaty face. 

“Sometimes I need to be told twice.” 

---

here's my masterlist!

here's how to join my taglist!

@jrrmint @macfrog @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog @joeldjarin @unsteadyimagines @pattwtf @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @schnitzelwnoodles @flippittygibbitts @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @cartoon-garbage04 @lunarxeclipse @alltheseperfectimperfections @sunnywithachanceofjavi @kyloispunk @hopplessilse @keeponlivinmanl-i-v-i-n @toxicfics @angelicnotifs @iquitedislikeithere2 @livingdeadmaria @emmalandry @worhols @radsanchez @pedritoferg @lucyeyelesbarrow @airalihmarylu @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @suzmagine @pastawench @crazedquilter-blog @kaitangatatacos @amanitacowboy @loveisacowboyyy @kittytiddywinks @slut-for-bucky-barnes @mendessi @aphterthoughtt @chyannealaniz @pedrotonin @barbieratogabx-blog @chicville03 @meaganjm @quicheislife @bookishhella

(idk why so many of my tags aren't working. Might make a notifications blog instead where you'd follow it and turn the notifications on and I'll only reblog my work on that account. Sorry for the inconvenience! love you!)

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #therapist joel #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #hellishjoelrequest #joel miller x reader

[orbleglorb]

the only support center for trans people in the state of arkansas has been vandalized, and the vandals took the fucking pipes. the fucking PIPES. if you can donate anything, please do.

Cashapp: $Transcoins

Venmo: @intransitive

ActBlue (donation website): here

i cannot express how much intransitive really does for us. they are there for any trans person in arkansas. with all of the recent barrages against trans rights, they're needed more than ever.

on top of this, they're trying to help 8 trans asylum seekers with time sensitive immigration cases, and they deal with emergency situations for trans folks all over the state. hell, they even made a community garden and jail bonds. if you can give anything, please do.

ID: Instagram slides that say "We've been vandalized again. This is the 5th time, but the worst time. The pipes have been completely taken from the ground up. The center will be closed until further notice. Since 2022 we've faced multiple instances of vandalism, police harassment and threats against the center and staff. It's disheartening and frustrating to be hit again with vandalism to our pipes, forcing us to close the Center until the issue can be fixed. Help us boost this post! Cashapp: $Transcoins Venmo: @intransitive /end ID

ID: Instagram slides that say "Update on Pipes being vandalized again. We've used our line of credit to pay for repairs to the pipes. It's not ideal, but it's crucial for us to remain open so we can continue supporting our community. We'll continue figuring out ways to raise funds and security. We're incredibly thankful for the donations, the words of support, and the folks who have reached out ready to help.

To the folks asking why we don't go to the police: 1) We've experienced harassment from local law enforcement at the center. 2) We've experienced physical violence from local law enforcement during protests. 3) Trans people of color are 6x more likely to experience violence when interacting with police. 4) We are abolitionist.

We still need support on: 1) Fundraising to pay the line of credit for fixing the pipes. 2) Fundraising for a security system. 3) Support from trusted people with experience on surveillance and security.

Our voice and work will prevail. We hold our elected officials responsible for any harm done to our staff, the Center and Trans Arkansans. Our elected officials who have pushed anti-trans legislation, our Governor Sarah Huckabee Sanders and her messages of hate against our community. Your discrimination of Trans Arkansans has consequences. May your constituents hold you accountable and push you out of office. /end ID

#mutual aid #arkansas #transgender

[aicosu]

Guys, I hate to do this.

Any of you who know me in any circle know that I'm a very professional, very private lady who hates any sort of disc horse breeds that might give me a headache. But this one is important, and my goal here is the integrity and reputation of artists.

For my credentials: I have been a part of five zines in the past. Two I moderated, and one I ran, created, laid out, printed, and shipped in its entirety.

So anyway:

HELLCHEER ZINE BULLSHIT

I joined Hellcheer and the Kindred Freaks Zine very late. Well, after sign ups, check-ins, etc. I saw it was happening in april-ish and shot a DM to the twitter to join. I did both a full art page and a cosplay page.

At the time, the server was quiet but kind. We got updates on the number of orders and books being made.

@Lawless is the runner of the Zine. They created and organized it. They are in charge of the main emails, the selling website, the orders, the shipping, and the funds. (To be clear, this level of sole responsibility is not ABNORMAL in a zine. And is not always an issue.)

@Valerie is the 'social media' mod. They are in charge of managing announcements and answering questions on Twitter and Tumblr. Please keep in mind: No one wants anything but a fast and easy recovery for both Lawless and their mother. Medical emergencies, heck—LIFE happens. It's always okay to put a hiatus on anything, even product with money, in order to take care of yourself and family. Every single contributor only wants them to be clear in what they need and how we can help.

So lets break down what's happening.

Back in May, Lawless went radio silent on the status of books and merch coming in. Another contributor and I, @Toguchin, start dming Lawless to make sure everything is on track. They come back after a week and apologize for being MIA, explaining that their mom got sick. We thank them for all their hard work and wish them and their mom well.

On July 15th, after contributors and customers inquire on delays to meeting the announced shipping deadline, Lawless makes a twitter post saying shipping has started and contributor copies will be happening. They proceeded to go MIA from the server discord and have been since.

The following week, contributors and customers discover that shipping HAS NOT started. Labels have been created and printed, but nothing appears to be in transit at all.

Toguchin and I started getting reached out to by customers worrying their packages are lost. We report this to the zine server to NO RESPONSE. Except @Ashlee, the discord mod who also has heard nothing.

July 20th to 22nd with customers complaining and theorizing a scam in mind; Toguchin and I propose that PDFs be given out to assure and apologize for delays.

We as a server discover a few things: 1. We cannot access the list of buyers at all in order to email apology zines because Lawless did not share the account information with anyone. 2. We cannot access the main email for the same reason. 3. Valerie, the social media mod, deleted discord and distanced themselves from the Hellcheer fandom and has not been checking the Twitter or tumblr, or discord notifications since May.

Ashlee and Ichikun contact Valerie to sign on.

I made a new email and said fuck it, we need to do something to assuage fears, let them send receipts to honor their zines. Valerie didn't know what to post or say or how to answer everyone, so I gave them a copy paste.

Still no words from Lawless but hoping for the best knowing the have a medical emergency, Ashlee and I begin answering the new email for PDFs, but cant help people change addresses or give them any update!!!

Throughout the weeks mods and contributors ping Lawless constantly asking if they need any help! Any help at all, answering emails, changing order addresses, heck a few of us ask if we can pick up the books and packages and ship stuff for them so they can hands off the project and take care of their mom. No response.

We send message after message saying if Lawless can share picture proof, that would be great cause scam theories and chargebacks are starting. BUT ALSO, we let Lawless know we and customers will ABSOLUTELY UNDERSTAND delays if they just communicate it. That if they post in server and on Twitter that shipping needs to wait a month or two, no one will mind. No responses.

July 31, Lawless makes a Twitter update with comments disabled that they are shipping ALL packages that monday with a picture of packages. They also call Valerie privately and tell the issue that USPS refuses to pick up shipments from Lawless has, and they can't leave their mothers side from the post office. They also claim they can only deliver ten packages at a time at the post when they go. *USPS has no such rules. Me and other mutuals who run shops have never had such a problem.

A week later, we realize that customers and our packages are still not in transit. Labels printed only. Most of us assume all packages are just label printed and sitting at Lawless' house.

We beg for updates from Valerie or Lawless. Valerie doubles down on Lawless old reasonings and also officially goes MIA until present day.

Throughout August, USA packages get delivered. A few more updates are made straight to Twitter and Tumblr with comments off. Radio silence in server.

As packages arrive, we all become aware from people's posts and pictures that random Stranger Things Art Stickers are included. No credit to any artist is given? No contributor is responsible for this art. These are suspected to be BOUGHT from Amazon. STOLEN arts amazon sellers resell in packs. NO contributor is okay with this!!! Valerie responds with no response at all.

As of now:

No response to missing digital copies. Ashlee and I cannot give out any without receipts because we have no access to buyers list. Nor can we answer missing packages inquiries cause we have no info. International packages unaccounted for. SCRUNCHIES FREE OR OTHERWISE UNACCOUNTED FOR. Zero word on contributor copies. Zero word on donation status. Zero word on generated profit or book and shipping cost. No way to verify funds at all. No word from Lawless to contributors since July 15. From Valerie since the 31st.

Some notes:

Turning off twitter comments was NEVER what any one of us wanted. A ZINE LAYOUT was never shared. So until people had them in hand or in PDF none of us realized that the credits DO NOT POINT TO ANY SOCIAL MEDIA. All of our usernames are handle-less? This was extremely disappointing. This one matters to me: Our FanEdit artist was not aware their work was not getting a full page. Again no pre-layout was shared. So their work is tiny and in the margins of the front and back. That's not okay. All of us wanted to help in any way we could. NONE of us doubt Lawless intentions or emergencies. But lying, misleading, non-communicating and turning off comments are all things we did not consent to. All of us only wanted a cordial, honest response. None of us actually cared about delays as much as we did communications. There has been many noticeable times Lawless has been online, posting privately or otherwise, even active on Discord and has not reached out.

Why make a post:

Customers should know contributors fought for them. That we did everything we could and our reputation as artists in the fandom shouldn't be tarnished cause two creators decided to disappear. Contributors should get their copies. Many of us BOUGHT bundles. I've been in five zines and every single one gave out free contributor copies WITH merch!!

I'm also attaching all server screenshots for integrity. I'm in half a mind to release the zine PDF publicly, for free, for everyone at this point. I personally think it's only fair since many are still missing just that. But I do not want to insult anyone who paid for just the PDF regardless of the potential contribution to charity. But it's really up to customers, not me.

#hellcheer #hellcheer zine #kindred freaks #fucking sucky ass post to make

[wantonlywindswept]

adopted baby Guard Din idea that I am never going to write

because it would involve logistics and quiet moments and idle life which I am very down for reading but cannot for the LIFE of me actually sit down and write

So the war ends, Palps is outed as a Sith and an asshole and dies somehow, and the Senate eventually decides that the clones do count as people and thus are allowed to leave the GAR if they want. Give the bureaucrats another few years and they might even give out backpay and citizenship, so long as you stay in the service--wait what do you mean the entire Guard is resigning. What do you mean they've already left orbit?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NOW MILLIONS OF FILES ON THE HOLONET ABOUT THE SENATE'S SHADY DEALINGS???

Guard, collectively: lol cya suckers

Fox is of course one of the last ones out, and since this was all planned on the down low, everyone's been split into groups so they can take commercial flights, since they're not about to be accused of stealing ships. (They also leave their weapons and their armor behind, in a giant macabre pile in the middle of Corrie HQ. Even their helmets, their faces, they discard: it's time for a rebirth.)

He and Thorn and a few other Corries have a stopover on some tiny station, waiting a week for a delayed transport to arrive, and in the meantime they're approached by some locals who just fled the planet below. Separatist remnants attacked their homes, forcing them to leave everything and everyone behind; can the big strong clones do anything about it?

The Big Strong Clones: Oh shit we finally get to kick some Seppie ass? Sign us the FUCK up.

The eager group does not include Fox, who could not care less about the Separatists and would very much like to finally catch up on his sleep. Unfortunately that means that the group that goes down to the planet is Unsupervised.

(Thorn does not count as supervision. Thorn, bereft of Senate oversight, has finally allowed his Inner Chaos Gremlin to fully emerge. Thorn needs more supervision than the shinies.)

Thorn, three days later, waking Fox from half-hearted sleep by dropping an entire natborn child on him: Hey boss, look what we found! None of the refugees claimed him, so we called dibs. Can we keep him? Fox, staring at the child: ...

Din, staring back: ...

Fox: ...no..?

Din: *sad but understanding big brown eyes*

Fox: Nevermind this is my child now.

Din has gone from two parents to one parent and hundreds of overprotective brothers.

Eventually his group makes it to their destination, Din in tow. I am uncertain of what the destination is but it is a planet that is as far away from Coruscant that the Corries could find. I am tempted for Tatooine not because I like Tatooine (I share Anakin's loathing of sand and deserts) but because Luke's description of Tatooine in ANH was 'if there's a bright center to the universe, this is the planet the furthest from'. 

Corries, hearing that: Fuck it sounds perfect. 

Anyway they make it to Tatooine, there is probably purchasing of some shitty land/buildings that nobody wants out in the wastes bc crime, scum, villainy, etc, but it's not like they have problems taking care of anything that tries to mess with them. 

Where did they get the funds?

Shh don't ask about it.

Stone takes up moisture farming. Thire takes up farming-farming. Thorn shoots gleefully at anything that shows up unannounced within a ten-mile radius. Literally everybody dotes on Din. There are a surprising amount of peaceful days.

Eventually some dumb shiny goes: Hey don't kids need friends? Shouldn't we set up some playdates for him or something?

The shiny is not called dumb for asking the question, but they are called dumb for thinking that the question would only ever be taken rhetorically. Fox disappears for two weeks and then comes back with a black eye and a yowling hissing Boba tucked under one arm, looking stupidly pleased with himself.

(Boba is also pleased to be back with people he knows will keep him safe. Boba will not admit to this under threat of death or dismemberment. Boba is a SERIOUS SCARY ADULT BOUNTY HUNTER.)

Boba also decides he will be Mortal Enemies with Din, which after about ten minutes of meeting him morphs into If Anyone Hurts Din I Will Kill Everyone In This Room And Then Myself because all clones be the same, really.

Din has gained another brother/bestie. (Or potential future boyfriend, whichever floats your boat.)

Somehow they still end up overthrowing the Hutts.

Officially the GAR knew and knows nothing about the Guard leaving Coruscant as soon as the metaphorical paint was dry on their sentient status.

Unofficially Fox's batch harangues him every single day for photos of his new kid(s). They eventually show up unannounced, demanding time with their nephew. (They are shot at by Thorn.)

Din gains five new uncles.

The batch proudly show pics and holos to their battalions. Din gains millions of new uncles.

Fox finally gets a full night's sleep.

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #commander fox #din djarin #coruscant guard #someone else should write that #tho tbh it's mostly written here just in rambling infodump form #btw this is half-inspired bc red is both baby din and fox's color #din is nonverbal for a little while because Trauma #and gets nicknamed 'Kit' #Fox refuses to be pleased about this #Fox is extremely smugly pleased about this

[mariacallous]

Content warning: This article includes scenes of physical and sexual harassment and assault.

The trouble in Antarctica started in Boston. It was August 1999, and Stanford geologist Jane Willenbring was then a 22-year-old self-described “country bumpkin.” She had just arrived to start her master’s in earth science at Boston University. As an undergrad with an oboe scholarship at North Dakota State University, she’d studied beetle fossils found in Antarctica and learned how, millions of years ago, the now frozen continent once pooled with freshwater lakes. “That’s not so different from the conditions we might expect in the future,” she says. She wanted to explore this critical science. “It seemed really important for future global climate change,” she says.

Of all the geologists, few were more renowned than the one Willenbring had gone to Boston to study under: 37-year-old David Marchant. Marchant, a scruffy professor at BU, was a rock star of rock study. He was part of a research group that rewrote Antarctic history by discovering evidence of volcanic ash, which showed that Antarctica had been stable for millions of years and was not as prone to cycles of warming and cooling as many thought. To honor his achievements, the US Board on Geographic Names approved the naming of a glacier southwest of McMurdo Station, the main research base on Antarctica, after him.

Willenbring says Marchant had insisted on picking her up at the airport, an offer she thought was nice but strange. It got stranger when he started making her feel bad for his gesture, which she hadn’t asked for. “I’m missing a Red Sox game,” she recalls him chiding her. “You really should have picked a better time to fly.” He asked whether she had a boyfriend, how often she saw him, and whether she knew anyone in Boston or would be alone. In a few months, she’d be heading with him on a research trip to Antarctica and the region with his big chunk of namesake ice. “It was almost like a pickup line,” she recalls, “‘I have a glacier.’”

But it’s what happened in the glacier’s shadow that led Willenbring to take on Marchant and become the first to expose the horrors faced by women at the bottom of the world. A report released in August 2022 by the National Science Foundation, the main agency funding Antarctic research, found that 59 percent of women at McMurdo and other field stations run by the US Antarctic Program said they’d experienced sexual harassment or assault. A central employer, Leidos, holds a $2.3 billion government contract to manage the workplaces on the ice. One woman alleged that a supervisor had slammed her head into a metal cabinet and then attacked her sexually. Britt Barquist, a former fuel foreman at McMurdo, says she had been forced to work alongside a supervisor who had sexually harassed her. “What was really traumatic was telling people, ‘I’m afraid of this person,’” she says, “and nobody cared.”

With a congressional investigation underway, Willenbring is sharing her full story for the first time with the hope of inspiring others to come forward and claim the justice they’ve long deserved. But even now, decades after she first got into Marchant’s car, she can’t help asking herself how, and why, the nightmare happened in the first place. “You never hear a women-in-science panel where people are talking about stuff like I do,” she says, “because they’re smart enough to fucking run.”

[theladyofbloodshed]

Hunt x Nesta - Chapter 8

The sounds of the shower roused Hunt from sleep. Since Nesta had discovered that her cell could access music at any moment, she was unstoppable. A symphony blasted through the wall; violins were reaching their crescendo alongside a barrage of brass instruments that were accompanied by a flurry of percussion. Then the cannons came as she turned off the shower.

Releasing a groan, he rolled onto his side to check his cell. Eight messages. All from Nesta at various points in the morning whilst he still slept. Each one made him laugh.

‘Hey, when you text, you don’t need to write an address line or a sign off. I know it’s from you because I have your contact saved,’ he explained as she entered with a towel wrapped around her body.

‘What do you mean?’

Hunt motioned for her cell that was churning out another classical song. ‘What am I saved as?’

Nesta paused the music. ‘I don’t know. Plus five zero five eight two-’

He yelped like he’d been shot and threw himself down. ‘You didn’t even save my number? Do I mean nothing?’

‘I don’t know how.’

With Ruhn’s number, he showed Nesta how to save it. He pulled a photo from the web of Ruhn being arrested before he was legal to drink – of course, his daddy had the charges scrubbed but the photo remained – and saved him as the Prince of Pricks.

‘There, now try with me.’

A devious smile flitted over her lovely face as she stood in the middle of the room typing at the speed of a snail.

‘That index finger is getting quite a workout,’ he commented.

Surprising him, she raised her middle finger.

For the second time that morning, Hunt collapsed back onto the pillows, laughter rumbling out of him. ‘Who the Hel taught you that?’

‘We have that in my world.’ She flashed the phone towards him.

His contact name had been updated to Orion Athalar – my favourite angel along with as many emojis as the name would allow. The picture was of him shirtless with ridiculously fluffy wings.

‘You said you’d deleted those, liar.’

‘I’m leaving today. I need a memory to keep.’

‘You’re taking the cell with you to plug in where exactly?’

Nesta shrugged and pressed it to her chest. ‘I will invent electricity in my world so I can always look at these photographs.’

There was no doubt in his mind that Nesta could do anything that she set her mind to. He couldn’t help but wonder what sort of person she’d be if she stayed in Lunathion. They’d stayed up late in each other’s arms talking for hours; Nesta had wanted to know everything about him and the land she was leaving behind. They’d talked about university for over an hour with Nesta needing to know what could be studied, what the fees were, who could study, when it could be studied, and what happened upon graduation. Hunt had listened to her talk about Prythian but most of it left him seething. Nesta couldn’t tell him anything about the place she lived because they stuck her in a fucking house and cut off her funds so that she was entirely dependent on the king and his lackey. That one, Cassian, he’d quite like to meet so he could knock him into next week. She’d grown upset when she talked of her sister whose pregnancy would cause her death. Beyond kidnapping a couple of surgeons and a midwife, Hunt didn’t know what to do to help. The male, Cassian, who forced her on a hike as punishment for telling her sister the truth deserved to be punched. He didn’t like any of these fae males, but this one sounded like the worst.

He'd even come clean about Micah and the awful things he did to inch towards freedom. In a way, Hunt wanted her to be repulsed or to pull away then at least it would soften the blow of her departure. But this damn female just said that she understood why he did it and held him a little tighter.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

Nesta snickered. ‘Don’t tempt me, Hunt.’

It wouldn’t be that hard to adjust. He’d grown up in a time when technology was near enough non-existent then emerged from a dungeon and everybody had cell phones or were driving cars. He’d cope again going backwards. Anything was possible with her at his side. But maybe Hunt would cause a few too many fights with the fae that ruled her.

‘Just stop letting them put you in danger and using you. Or I’ll fly all the way there and kick their asses.’

Hunt sat her down on the edge of the bed to start drying her hair. She was nervous about him doing it although he thought he did a fabulous job of his own. Truly, he was desperate to do it. Nesta was leaving back to a world where the male that she was tangled with didn’t seem to care for her at all. He needed to show her that males could be gentle – that it was a choice not to be caring. He wanted to dry her hair and take care of her because that was a male’s duty – not fucking her then leaving with his seed still dripping from her.

Vik was expecting them when Hunt took Nesta through a private entrance into the Comitium that was strictly for workers only. Worker was laughable. The slave’s entrance was a better name for it.

‘The sword and the Harp as promised. And I don’t need to remind either of you that it would be a good idea for Nesta to return today, do I?’

‘No, mom,’ Hunt replied, kicking her boot lightly.  

‘And I needn’t advise you that walking through Lunathion with a sword will likely have you arrested.’

Hunt frowned. ‘Danika Fendyr and Ruhn Danaan do it.’

‘They’re leaders of the aux and will be the heads of their species one day,’ Vik said.

Sensing Hunt was about to argue with Vik, Nesta rested a hand on his forearm. ‘I’d rather spend my last hours here with you rather than in an interrogation room.’

‘I’d still be there. We can play cops and robbers.’

‘Gross,’ muttered Vik before she turned back to her computer.

For once, Nesta had left most of her hair down. She’d pulled it from her temples with a twist and a couple of hair pins. Paired with a pale blue summer dress, she was utterly stunning. But his dreams of strolling through Lunathion with her again hit a snag when Micah’s name flashed on his cell.

‘You should answer that,’ she said, peering at the name.

‘I want this day with you.’

Nesta pushed the phone towards him. ‘I’d be glad for time with my thoughts. Answer that. Do whatever it is you need to do. We can meet later.’

‘I’ll fly those to the hotel,’ he said, gesturing to her returned items.

Nesta kissed his fingers then strode into the sun, hips swaying as she went.

***

How many different ways could Nesta try to convince Hunt to leave with her – or for him to ask her to stay. She didn’t want to impose. She’d done that enough already on his life. But if Hunt asked her to stay… No, she couldn’t. Feyre was dying. What sort of sister would she be if she left her in those final moments?

Nesta sighed.

The same sister they all believed her to be; worthless, spoilt, and needing redemption.

A shadow bumped into her arm then a figure took up the seat beside her on the bench. Ruhn Danaan wore his typical black jeans and t-shirt with a pair of sunglasses to protect his hungover eyes from the bright sunlight.

‘It’s very loud,’ he said, wincing.

Children were playing at the park where Nesta’s feet had taken her to. Their squeals and joy made her think of the children who never stood a chance in Prythian; the ones who were exposed to war, Illyrian girls who were clipped and beaten.

‘I didn’t think you would come.’

‘And miss the chance to say goodbye?’

Following Hunt’s advice, Nesta had sent a text that merely asked Ruhn to meet her – and she received a reply asking who it was in return. Then another saying if they had once had a date, he wasn’t the sort of guy to want to settle down and he was sorry.

‘I need to return this.’ Nesta held out Tristan Flynn’s credit card. ‘I’d like to keep the cell phone. If that’s alright.’

‘Of course you can. Flynn will be devastated you gave this to me and not him.’

A messenger otter scurried along then stopped in front of Ruhn, brandishing a letter. Nesta couldn’t stop her fawning.

‘Tharion Ketos. What a weasel,’ he muttered, pocketing the letter.

‘I wish we had those.’

‘Mer?’

Nesta tutted. ‘Otters. We have otters, but not ones that wear little jackets and deliver letters.’

Ruhn gave a slight laugh then folded his arms over his chest. He looked at her, really looked at her. ‘You don’t want to go back, do you?’

Everything suddenly felt hot and painful. Nesta tipped her face upwards, blinking as quickly as she could to keep from crying. Ruhn stroked her bare arm.

‘I can’t sugar coat it. My father will not stop until he finds out who you are. You’re technically under his jurisdiction as one of the fae. Hunt is a slave – there isn’t much he can do for you. If Micah sells his ass to Sandriel, he won’t be here.’ Ruhn winced. ‘Is it really better here for you than there?’

Yes, she thought. Because I can be somebody here. I can study and learn and be my own person without history trailing me. And I’d have Hunt.

‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I know I have to.’

‘Let me walk you back to your hotel at least.’

Despite the beauty of the day, Nesta had gone cold and hollow with every step closer to the hotel.

Nesta steeled her wounded heart. She held the pieces together even if they felt like they would shatter from the force. It wasn’t fair.

‘How much would it cost to buy Hunt?’

Ruhn let out a whistle. ‘The Umbra Mortis?’

‘What if I offered my Harp or my sword?’

‘It might sweeten the deal but Hunt Athalar is one of a kind.’

Visions of her putting on the Mask or Crown and forcing Micah to release Hunt to her came to Nesta. It was a bad idea, but a tempting one. There had to be some way for them to be together. Maybe destiny was forged by their own hands.

‘That Harp of yours,’ Ruhn said. ‘It wouldn’t be related to the Horn, would it?’

‘Why would it be?’

Ruhn shrugged. ‘It’s just that the Horn went missing the other day. I came to see you just afterwards and you looked pretty panicked. Then Athalar appeared looking sweaty just after there was a freak lightning storm at Luna’s Temple.’

‘How odd.’

‘Odd indeed.’

On an instinct, Ruhn grabbed the strap of her dress with two fingers at the edge of a busy road without a crossing. Nesta hadn’t quite mastered it yet, but she knew not to walk out now – but his care was appreciated.

‘I heard it’s broken anyway,’ Nesta said with an airy tone. ‘It wouldn’t be any use to the person who now has it.’

‘Unless they knew how to create Made items like a magic sword that doesn’t like me.’

‘What would it mean if there was somebody in Lunathion who could create Made items – theoretically, Ruhn?’

The hotel came into view and they slowed their pace to finish their theoretical conversation. Ruhn pretended to stroke an imaginary beard then slung an arm around her as they walk so he could lean towards her ear and speak in a whisper.  

‘If the Asteri knew there was somebody with those powers in Lunathion, they’d be the public’s most wanted. And Hunt Athalar would be ordered to bring them in dead or alive. I don’t think that theoretical person would want the Umbra Mortis in that situation, would they?’

There was no telling if Hunt could disobey direct orders although she knew he’d try. For her, he’d try. And she couldn’t do that to him.

At the doors to the hotel, they stopped opposite each other. Amidst the vibrant colours of his tattoos, Nesta could make out damaged, scarred skin.

‘I’m sorry that it can’t be the way you want it.’

Nesta offered a half-smile that felt like a veneer slapped over a rotting foundation. ‘Do any of us ever get what we deserve?’

‘Maybe in another life.’

This was her other life, her other chance. When Ruhn embraced her, she didn’t know how to respond because the males here treated her with kindness without expectation.

‘I’ll tell Flynn you love him. He can peddle that story about unrequited love to simpering females.’

‘Goodbye Ruhn.’

***

Five names. Five names for him to kill.

Hunt felt sick from it. Sick with himself. Because five on one night was more names than he usually had in half a year. He shouldn’t rejoice in death, but it would shave off a little more of his debt.

He was wrong for it. Wrong for being glad that he could exchange a life for his debt.

Nesta deserved better than that. Better than a slave. A killer. A worthless male.

When he met her in the hotel room, he didn’t mention that he could smell Ruhn Danaan on her clothes despite her desire to spend time alone. He’d let her keep that secret if he could keep his. She might have held him last night and waved away his debt to Micah as something he couldn’t control, but it was Hunt’s action that led him to this point. Nobody forced him to lead a rebellion. And it wasn’t just killing. A single bullet to the head was merciful; the sorts of death Micah had him enact would send Nesta running from him.

Hunt bundled up his grief and disgust. He could hold it back for a few hours. Give her a good few hours before she returned. Let Nesta go home beneath a golden sky rather than his storm.

‘I did something. I think.’

Nesta held out the Horn to him which was glowing with an iridescent light. Faintly, he could feel a thrum of magic through his core.

‘How?’

‘The sword is a Made item. Made by me. I was Made by the Cauldron then took its power.’ Nesta swallowed then looked at him. ‘I fixed it Hunt. It can open to new worlds. It’s a safer bet than the Harp. I fixed it.’

‘If anybody could fix a relic that is thousands of years old, it would be you,’ he said, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone.

Every now and then, a silver flame would skitter across the instrument that she clutched in her hands. The Harp would hum in unison with it. Whoever – whatever – Nesta was, Hunt didn’t care.

‘Are you going to blow it?’

Despite her nod, Nesta didn’t move for a while, just stared at him with wide eyes.

‘It’s alright if you’re scared. I’ll be with you.’ He kissed her forehead and the Horn buzzed between them like a hornet. ‘I’m talking to Nesta, not you.’

*** ‘Ready?’ She wanted Hunt to call it off, to tell her to stay at his side until the stars fell. No matter his warnings about the Asteri or Micah or the Autumn King, none of it could be as bad as what was waiting for her in Prythian. A vengeful queen, a sister who was to die, and a high lord who only wanted her to suffer. It didn’t matter what danger she faced in Lunathion because with Hunt at her side, anything was possible. There was no storm they couldn’t weather together.

Hunt squeezed her knee. ‘Ready. To the stars.’

Pursing her lips, Nesta touched the horn to her lips and blew.

A pathetic, raspberry echoed through the horn.

She glanced at Hunt, heat building in her cheeks, and saw that he was screwing his face up. After a moment, he burst into riotous laughter.

‘What was that?’ He asked between his booming laugh.

She found herself laughing in answer, infected by his merriment. ‘I’ve never blown a horn before. I don’t know how to do it.’

Hunt slapped his thigh, trying to right himself. ‘Not like that!’

The pair of them lost it. Whatever tension had been clinging to the room soon evaporated as Nesta tried again and again to put her lips towards the horn. Each time she pouted or made a trumpeting noise, Hunt roared with laughter, setting her off too.

‘Stop looking at me because you’re putting me off.’

Tears rolled down Hunt’s cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut although a large grin spread across his handsome face.

Nesta pulled out her phone and searched how to blow a horn. In a world where knowledge was at her fingertips, it seemed terribly wasteful not to utilise it.

‘Maybe the Horn is still broken, Starlight.’

But it couldn’t be because her magic had been drawn to it and the Horn had been buzzing with possibilities since.

‘I can do it,’ she insisted.

‘I know you can,’ he replied, touching her leg again. ‘Not looking again.’

Easing out a breath, Nesta formed her lips in the shape her cell phone told her to. A low, well-held note emitted from the top of the horn.

Hunt whispered her name.

Near the wall, a great portal had opened, its edges rimmed with her silver flames. Rather than offering a view of Crescent City, Nesta saw into the library in the House of Wind. There was her favoured arm chair with the foot rest pulled close by. A little stack of books that she’d pulled out a couple of weeks earlier was upon the three-legged table.

‘You did it,’ he praised, stroking her cheek. ‘Is there anything you can’t do, you wonderful girl?’

Nesta grasped for him, too emotional to speak. Her hands reached for his face, pulling it to hers to kiss one final time. Strands of his hair fell onto her cheek as they kissed and she stretched out a hand to brush the inside of his wing one last time.

‘Mother above, what the fuck.’

She leapt away from Hunt, startled by the voice.

Lucien Vanserra stood in the library opposite them, peering into the hotel room, a full cup and saucer held in his hand.

Hunt braced his legs then lightning wreathed his body.

‘No,’ Nesta urged. ‘This is my sister’s mate.’

His voice took on a lethal edge. ‘This is Rhysand?’

‘Definitely not,’ called Lucien.

‘Elain’s mate. The eye.’

‘The eye,’ confirmed Hunt, finally taking in the golden eye and the scar rippling down Lucien’s face which was paler than usual.

‘We thought you were dead or kidnapped or trapped in the Prison.’

‘Surprise,’ Hunt said drily.

They passed the bag through first to test it. Lucien, baffled and muttering to himself, waited on the Prythian side to accept it. Maybe it was odd to keep all of the clothes from Lunathion as they’d have no place, but Nesta didn’t want to part with anything from her week there. Everything was taken from her in the war, so she wanted to keep this.

When the Harp and Atraxia were passed through safely, she said it was her turn.

The portal was too high for her step through easily so Hunt lifted her over it and Lucien, gingerly, accepted her on the other side, lowering her to the floor as if she was a sack of potatoes.

‘I think if I blow the Horn again, it will close it.’

She lifted it near to her lips. ‘Don’t make me laugh this time.’

‘It’s my last chance. I have to,’ Hunt insisted, brown eyes sparkling with joy.

But when Nesta did press the Horn closer, the amusement drained from Hunt’s expression, accepting it was the end.

A single note emitted and the flames collapsed in on themselves, leaving Nesta with a view of the tall windows in the library. She dropped the Horn then sank to her knees and wept.

#hunt x nesta #hunt athalar #nesta archeron

[vigilvntes]

Vigilante Hotline - Adrian Chase x Reader

A/N: hi. my brain works in mysterious ways and i had this idea earlier on when i responded to an ask and now here we are, three hours later with a silly little vigilante fic. it's literally just text interactions, vig's texts are the ones that end with 🧜‍♂️ (obviously). but yeah. i had a lot of fun writing this, and i'll be SO happy to write more if y'all want it?? idk. anyway enjoy i guess!

Warnings: mentions of groping/non-consensual touching (grabbing ass, etc), creepy men, mentions of violence/injuries, language (are we surprised), and just vig being generally unhinged as always. (let me know if i've missed anything!!)

Word count: 2.9k. oops.

Summary: You text in to Vigilante's 'Vigilante Hotline' after a bad encounter at the club.

likes, comments and rbs are very much appreciated <3

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You've heard of it, of course you have. It's the town's worst kept secret. The little side hustle that Evergreen's favourite local murderer-slash-vigilante (who's conveniently named Vigilante) runs at the weekend, when the clubs and bars are busy and the creepy assholes come out to play, preying on and harassing unsuspecting victims who, by the end of the night, are probably too drunk to even remember their faces when they wake up.

The cops know about it, too. They've made weak attempts to shut down his operation over the last couple of months, but really he's doing them a favour. They're already in over their heads with calls when the Friday night crowd hits the town's nightlife, so why not just let him operate under their noses? At least, for now. Until they can apprehend him.

So, yeah. You know of it, but you've never utilised it before, because truthfully you've never really had a reason to. You like to party, but your nights out are usually spent with your girlfriends, keeping a close watch on each other and avoiding interactions with men who look like they're bad news like the plague. It's a system that works, one that keeps you out of trouble and away from bad pick-up lines and hands where you most definitely don't want them to be.

Tonight is different, though.

Your friend bailed on you at the last second, a family emergency, and you were already dressed up, so you decided that instead of wiping off your makeup and changing back into your sweats, you'd go out anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

You soon found out that the worst came in the form of Brett Lucas. A guy you knew in high school, someone you haven't spoken to in years. He found you at the bar, used the shittiest lines you've ever heard, and then bought you a drink. You decided to entertain it, because if he was willing to fund your night, then why not? You kept your hand firmly over your drink while he made derogatory jokes about other women and commented on your body and your dress. When he asked you to dance, you agreed, hoping you'd be able to lose him on the crowded dance floor.

That didn't happen, though. Instead, he got a little too touchy-feely, kept his hands firmly on your hips and pulled your body close to his until he got brave enough to slide them on to your ass and squeeze. Hard. You freaked out, told him to back the fuck off, and instead of showing any remorse, he cussed you out. Called you a fucking slut and told you that you're a bitch for leading him on and making him think he had a chance at getting into your pants.

Now, you're standing just down the street from the club, staring at the oddly professionally made poster that's been flimsily taped to a lamppost, a little picture of the all-too familiar masked man that you've seen on the news and wanted posters right in the middle.

Vigilante Hotline

Have you been a victim of a fucking creep in a club who just won't leave you the fuck alone?

Did the guy at the bar use his worst pick-up line and then immediately assume that you're into him and it's okay to touch you without your consent?

Do you wish you could fuck them up without having to face the consequences yourself?

It's your lucky day, because I can fuck them up for you!

Text their name and/or a description to the number below and I'll make them wish their mom swallowed!

(This part is just to cover my ass so, if I accidentally beat up or kill the wrong person... my bad!)

You chew down on your bottom lip, looking between your phone and the poster. You've never really been a vengeful person, you've never wished harm on anyone or caused harm to anyone, but in this moment, it's tempting. You're a little bit tipsy, irate and unsettled. The one night you decide to go out on your own, and this happens? It's a little too tempting.

But is what happened enough to contact a guy who's known and wanted for murder? Is what he did enough to warrant the beatdown of a lifetime?

You sigh to yourself before slipping your phone back into your purse, deciding that it's not worth it. But as you begin to walk away, you remember his loud, jarring cackle whenever he cracked himself up at his own shitty jokes. The way his eyes never met yours, always trained on your chest or your thighs. His gross, sweaty hands roaming all over your body before they went to grope you on the dance floor, thinking you wouldn't react because you were surrounded by other people and it'd be too embarrassing for you to make a scene.

No. Fuck it. That asshole deserves it.

You spin around quickly and pull out your phone, adding the number to your contacts and quickly typing out a message, sending it before you can even give yourself another second to think it through.

'Hey. First time texting in. Need some help. Brett Lucas. White blonde dyed hair. Awful beard, doesn't match his hair. Around 5'9. Wearing a pink shirt and black jeans. Got handsy with me. Grabbed my ass on the dance floor. Don't kill. Just rough him up a little, please.'

You don't even have a minute to breathe before your phone pings. Fuck. Alright. He's fast.

'Sick. A first time user. Happy to help. Where can I find him? 🧜‍♂️'

'He was in Dazy Nights, downtown. You know where that is?'

30 seconds pass. Your phone pings again.

'Yep. Got it. Thank god for GPS. Don't worry, first timer. I'll fuck him up the ass so hard his he'll wish he'd never even been born, as advertised. Not literally, though. I'm not gonna actually fuck him up the ass. That'd be weird. But not because I'm homophobic. My dad is gay. More because he's a creep and he touched you inappropriately. 🧜‍♂️'

"What..." You mumble under your breath as you read the text, an incredulous giggle escaping you. This guy, whoever he is, is seriously fucked in the head, you decide. A little funny, too. But you can't complain too much. You contacted him, you made the choice to text his number and incite some indirect revenge. So you just shake your head, and text back.

'Thank you. I appreciate it. Again, don't kill. Just get him good.'

'Noted! No problemo. But if you ever do need me to kill, don't hesitate to ask, first timer. Seriously, I'm so down for it. Guys like that deserve it. 🧜‍♂️'

You decide to cut the conversation there, sliding your phone back into your purse. You feel a little sick to your stomach as you walk yourself home, guilt and regret stalking you the entire way, following you into your home and crawling into bed with you.

But as you lay there, wide awake, you remind yourself of what he said. Guys like that deserve it. And maybe he's right. Maybe this is for the best, maybe next time fucking Brett will think twice before making unwanted advances. Maybe you've saved someone else from the suffering the same fate as yourself at his hands.

That thought helps you sleep a little easier.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Monday rolls around quicker than you'd have liked it to, and all you've been able to think about over the weekend is that short conversation you had with Evergreen's own Vigilante a few nights ago. You spent all of Saturday morning re-reading the messages. Saturday night was spent in front of the TV, with some rom-com you've been meaning to watch playing as background noise while you thought about the messages. Sunday, you tried to distract yourself. You went out for brunch with a few friends, but as soon as you made it through your front door, your mind wandered right back to him and that silly little mermaid emoji that made his threats of murder seem a little lighter.

You wonder if he actually did it; whether he made good on his promise to fuck him up so badly that he'd be wishing he was never born. Part of you hopes he did, that he managed to find that fucker before he made it home and gave him a beating he'll never forget. The other part of you hopes that he missed out on the opportunity, if only to subside the quiet, yet nagging, guilty conscience in your head.

Work is a welcome distraction from the weekends events. Deadlines that need to be met, lunch with your co-workers, and your micro-managing boss that never seems to leave you the fuck alone when you're trying to do your job. It's all incredibly exhausting and boring, but at least it gives you the chance to take your mind off of what happened at the weekend, and the masked vigilante that's been invading your thoughts all weekend.

You haven't thought about it all day, until you pull up to the grocery store after work, and you see him. Brett.

He hasn't seen you, you're safely locked away in your car, but you can see him. He's standing outside the store, cigarette in hand, talking to a guy who you can only assume is one of his friends – he looks like he's just as much of an asshole as Brett. From where you're parked, you can see the shiner of a black eye on his face, dark blue bruising that extends to his forehead. There's numerous cuts and scrapes on his cheeks, and it's looks like his lips have been completely bust up.

It makes you feel slightly ill, looking at him, knowing that you're the one behind this. But at the same time, you can't help but smile to yourself, feeling weirdly... satisfied.

You grab your bag and pull out your phone, unlocking it and scrolling through your texts until you find the chat with the contact you've named 'VH'. You stare at your screen for at least a minute, re-reading the short conversation from Friday night over and over again. You want to text him. Hell, you've found yourself wanting to text him again all weekend, and you can't quite seem to place your finger on why that is. What would you even say to him? 'Hey, thanks for doing at great job at fucking up that guy's face, I really appreciate it'?

With a sigh, you lock your phone, trying to kick the urge to converse with a vigilante to the curb. But before you know it, you're typing in your password again and sending him a 'Hey'.

You keep the chat open, but you make a point out of looking away from the screen, hoping that if you don't look, he'll reply faster. Minutes pass by, and you're slightly disappointed by the absence of the jarring pinging of your notification bell. Then you remember that he probably has a life outside of being Vigilante. He's most likely just a normal guy, with a normal job and friends and family, he probably doesn't spend all of his time checking whatever burner phone he uses to run the hotline.

Just as you're about to lose hope that he'll respond, your phone pings.

'Woah, hey. First timer's a second timer already? Did you get yourself into trouble just so you could talk to me? 🧜‍♂️'

It pings again, a few moments later.

'For the record, that was a joke. If you're in trouble again, I'm sure it's not your fault and I'm more than happy to help. Though I gotta remind you that I usually only do this hotline stuff on weekends, but I'd be more than willing to extend my hours. For you. What can I do for you? 🧜‍♂️'

You feel your face heat up, a grin beginning to creep across your lips as you read the two texts. 'For you'. That's oddly sweet. He's oddly sweet. You know what he's done, you know he kills people. You've heard the whispers around town, stories from the people who've been lucky enough break the law and survive one of Vigilante's attacks. Yet you can't help but be taken in by how... charming he is. Sure, this is only the second conversation you've had with him, but he's been so kind. Funny, too, in his own way.

The rush you get from texting him is intoxicating, and it only makes you want more. So you type out a response, and hit send.

'Nothing! I didn't get in trouble again. I wouldn't want you working overtime for me. But I did wanna talk to you. Just to say thank you for what you did for me. I saw Brett. You got him good. Gave him a real shiner of a black eye.'

Just a minute later.

'HA. Yeah. You should have seen it. He took a real beating. He cried like a fucking BABY. Begged me not to kill him. I made him apologise for harassing women, too. It was HILARIOUS. You were right about the beard, btw. Definitely makes him look even more of an asshole🧜‍♂️'

You're surprised to see a video loading up on your screen.

'He definitely didn't mean it, life or death situations call for desperate measures I guess. But at least you can laugh at him and his stupid fucking face. 🧜‍♂️'

Although you're hesitant to press play, you do so anyway. There, on your screen, is Brett. Beaten and bloody, begging for his life, and apologising through his tears for being a creep. Saying sorry for using bad pick-up lines, and objectifying women's bodies, and... groping asses on the dance floor. You freeze up when you hear that, a wave of panic washing over you. Does he... does he know that you're the one that sent Vigilante after him? Fuck. You didn't even consider the possibility that he'd put two and two together and figure out that it was you who texted in. You have to know if he knows, if Vigilante mentioned anything specific about why he went after Brett.

'You're right. That's funny. But I need to ask you something.'

'Anything! 🧜‍♂️'

'Does Brett know that I'm the one who texted you? Did you mention anything about me or what happened?'

You chew on your bottom lip as you await a response, and when you read his reply, you're more than relieved.

'Nah. I didn't say anything. I wouldn't. Vigilante-client confidentiality, and all that. He was the one that mentioned names. A whole list of them, actually. Kinda concerning how many women he named that could've been the one to contact me about him.🧜‍♂️'

'Okay. Cool. I guess I just never thought of the consequences of texting in. I didn't consider that maybe he'd know it was me. Had me kinda panicked for a sec.'

'Don't worry, I made it clear that if he ever tried to approach or contact you or any of the other women he named, I'd find out. And I'd kill him for it. You're safe. I got you. 🧜‍♂️'

For what feels like the hundredth time in, you find yourself smiling down at your phone as you read his text.

'Thank you. I appreciate that :). Hopefully you've taught him a lesson. Maybe he'll stay home when the weekend comes around. I think he'd be doing everyone a favour.'

'Hopefully! Listen, I gotta buzz. Work stuff. Not Vigilante work. I only do that stuff at night. Like my actual job kind of work. But I'll talk to you later, first timer. 🧜‍♂️'

'Yeah, of course. Sorry for bothering you while you're at work. And thank you, again.'

You take a deep breath before sending another text.

'My name is (Y/N), btw <3'

'First timer has a name? Fucking sweet. Obviously I know you have a name but you never told me, so in my head I've just been calling you first timer. But now you're (Y/N), which is cool. So talk later, (Y/N)! 🧜‍♂️'

'<3 🧜‍♂️'

You throw your phone on to the passenger seat, like it's burning hot to the touch and it's just scalded you. Did you... did you seriously just send a heart to Vigilante? And did he seriously just send one back? Wait, no. The heart isn't the biggest problem. You just told him your name. Your real name. What if he finds you? What if this whole funny-charming-kind thing is just an act, and you end up bleeding in a dark alley within a month?

"Fuck..." You mumble, leaning your head back against your seat, wondering what the hell you've just gotten yourself into. Wondering if you should just block his number and never think about him again.

It's a stupid idea, getting involved with someone like him. One that could leave you hurt, or dead. Anyone would call you crazy for it. You probably are crazy for it. But that's not enough to deter you from reaching for your phone and grinning down at it when he texts you later that night.

'Hey. 🧜‍♂️'

It's a dangerous game, but one that you're more than willing to play.

#adrian chase #vigilante #peacemaker #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #adrian chase fic #vigilante fic #adrian chase x y/n #vigilante x y/n #hbo peacemaker

[thatgirlonstage]

The sending stone died before Cerrit made it out. And Cerrit is a full-classed rogue. No Sending, no spells at all. With nothing but destroyed continent beneath him, he’d have no way to contact anyone.

His family had *no idea* he made it out. They very probably assumed he didn’t.

When the entire continent of Dunemas went dark, when the news started to filter back of its destruction, when the scant survivors started trying to reach their families…there was no reason to believe that Cerrit had escaped.

Survivors and their stories emerge—but they’re civilians, mostly. Regular people who escaped on ships, through teleport, through trees.

The ones from Avalir and Cathmoíra have one particular story to tell: at the end, the Herald told them that the ring of gold, the magisters, the leaders of the city would go down with the ship. That no space on what lifeboats they had would be taken from Avalir’s people.

So that’s the answer: Cerrit, too, would have gone down with the ship.

His wife probably had a difficult conversation with their children. Told them about sacrifice, told them sometimes we lose people but they will always love us just the same, told them that their dad sent them away from the city because he loved them more than anything in the world and then spent every last moment he could trying to save as many more people as he could because he was a good man, because he cared so deeply, because he found problems and fixed them. These conversations probably happened amidst panic and chaos, as news of the attack of Vasselheim spread, as the gods descended and magic raged out of control across Exandria, as the Betrayer gods wrought as much destruction as they could cause.

Were they still at home, when Cerrit finally found them? Did their home still exist after all those weeks he took flying across the ocean? Did they need to flee somewhere safer? Did Kir scrawl a note somewhere the wreckage — “Wingspan: gone north-by-northeast. Look for trail markers on the trees” because he’d promised, mom, he promised, and what if he’s coming but he can’t find us because we’re not here? Did Cerrit have to bring every ounce of his investigation and tracking skills — with no magic, no Avalir, no Patia to let him look back at memories, no Quay to inspire him, no Nydas to fund or enchant any helpful items, no partner to compare notes with, nothing but his sharp eyes and his brain and utter fucking determination — to follow after his family, weeks on an already weeks-long journey, slow and messy and fearing every day he might be too late?

Did he show up almost unrecognizable, head to toe in soot and dirt, some new scar from his near brushes with death, some fresh wounds still bound in bandages for want of anyone with healing spell slots? Did he find his family weary, grieving, scared, but whole and—for the moment—safe? Did they even believe it was him at first? Did they fear he was a ghost, or worse, some horror dragged from the wreckage of Avalir and reanimated by an enraged Asmodeus? Did he take off a bandage to show he still bleeds, and bleeds red, did he kiss his children’s heads and call Kir “Talon”, and see Maya clutching the sphere as if she hasn’t let go of it since it landed in her hands, and tell her—voice breaking at the reminder of Patia, at the first thing he has seen in months besides himself that survived Avalir’s destruction—that he is so, so proud of her, and more importantly he loves her so, so much, and then they knew, then they were sure: Cerrit kept his promise.

#critical role #cr spoilers #exu calamity #exu cerrit #cerrit agrupnin

[starry-blue-echoes]

So I was scrolling through some old messages and found an. Honestly really interesting concept for an AU which I totally forgot about

AU where Holly doesn't call Joseph about the whole “Jotaro’s locked himself in jail” situation

Essentially the idea is that Joot is sitting and vibing in the jail cell just like canon, however this time when Holly shows up take him back home, he ends up noticing things because she’s now alone and his sole focus. Be it because if his own observation skills or because if Star’s incredibly precise vision, he ends up noticing some things

He notices his mother is paler than she usually is, that she’s having a bit of difficulty breathing, that over all she looks weaker and more strained than she usually is

Jotaro may be terrified of hurting his mother. But he’s even more terrified of leaving her alone sick with no one to take care of her, so it’s enough to get him out of the cell and go home.

And then the second they get through the door, she collapses.

Only it’s the evil spirit which catches her, far faster than Jotaro could have. And despite Jotaro’s worst fears of it hurting her.... it doesn’t. Instead, it just carefully cradles her fevered form and gently gives her to him. Jotaro then takes her to her room, lies her down, and starts caring for her best he can with the Possibly-Not-That-Evil Spirit’s help.

The next days rolls around, in which Jotaro skips school to care for his mom....... only for Kakyoin to show up.

There’s a fight, the house gets more than a little damage, Jotaro goes absolutely ballistic when he realizes they’re getting closer to the room his mom is in, and ends up knocking Kakyoin the fuck out. He also takes out the flesh bud because What The Fuck Is That Why Is It In Your Head Why Is It Going Up My Arm-

Fast forward a couple more hours. Kakyoin awakens to being tied up and very beat up in a closet. A few minutes of fumbling and trying to figure out what’s going on and eventually Jotaro opens the door with a “are you feeling less crazy and murderous now or do I have to knock you out again?”

They talk, both get answers about What The Fuck Is Going On, and realize their best bet of saving Holly is to find Dio, and maybe beat him up if necessary. Kakyoin remembers him having an enormous library and a bunch of other Stand Users around, so somebody was bound to know something about Holly’s clearly Stand Given Condition.

So they’re off. Jotaro leaves his mother with some neighbors he knew she liked and with the  surprising amount of funds Dio had given Kakyoin, they start their journey.

Fast forward a few more hours..... and Joseph ends up getting a call from the hospital. Those neighbors Jotaro left Holly with? Yeah they were really really concerned about her health so she was brought to a hospital which.... you know what fair. Joseph was one of her emergency contacts, and he puts together the possible Stand Involvement so Avdol comes to.

They go check in with the hospital, Avdol confirms it’s a Stand Thing.... and they also learn that Jotaro had left the jail cell but hasn’t visited his mother since she was admitted. So Joseph and Avdol start head back to the Kujo House, and Joseph is prepared to kick his ass for not visiting his mother, offer a shoulder if the kid’s not visiting because Emotions, or both. Plus he also starts planning on explaining Stands and how killing Dio was the only way to save Holly

What he wasn’t prepared for was to find clear signs of a fight alongside blood, because Jotaro and Kakyoin..... didn’t leave the house in the best shape. Joseph then realizes that Dio got to Jotaro before they did, and now is doubly motivated to go and kick Dio’s ass.

So now we have two groups. Jotaro and Kakyoin(and maybe Polnareff) heading to Egypt at a more leisurely pace while trying to learn as much about Stands as they can along the way, and then Joseph going on an absolute war path with Avdol and Iggy 

Bonus points if Joseph keeps using Hermit Purple at the worst possible times and getting Seemingly Not Great photos of Jotaro’s situation, double bonus points if they keep nearly missing each other along the way

#WOW that was a big one #initial thoughts #dual trip #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #sdc #jjba part 3 #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #star platinum #jjba holly #holly kujo #jjba kakyoin #noriaki kakyoin #jjba joseph #joseph joestar #hermit purple #jjba avdol #mohammad avdol #jjba polnareff #jean pierre polnareff #jjba iggy #iggy #jjba dio #dio brando