#and i can't stop comparing myself to others although i know it's not good

[radioactive-cloud]

my mood swings lately are actually pretty embarrassing

#i feel unmotivated and pathetic and angry and lonely and sad and jealous #and also unsure of my hair colour and of my appearance in general and of everything i try to do #and i can't stop comparing myself to others although i know it's not good #nothing new tho #it will happen again #whining for the sake of whining #personal

[flowerandblood]

ONE YEAR OF FLOWER&BLOOD

✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙

Exactly one year ago I posted my first chapter of the My Best Friend series. Nowadays I think it's something awful and I don't even try to edit it because I'd have to write everything from scratch, but I've left it for people who feel attached to the story. I remember getting about six likes and one comment on the first day and that huuuuge interest made me eager to create chapter 2 and then all the others.

I remember the excitement with which I waited and then replied to comments, not believing that people were actually waiting for the next chapter. At the time I was literally not following anyone, which was good because I wasn't comparing myself to anyone.

Eventually I felt I was ready to try writing other series and a few were successful enough that I decided to stay here permanently and create because it made me happy. Up to that point, everyone had been very kind to me and I started following more and more blogs, wanting to feel part of the fandom, to make friends with everyone. Now I know that was the biggest mistake I made.

Seeing things that didn't interest me, fanfic's whose way of writing couldn't draw me in, I felt frustrated, while at the same time fearing that if I stopped following someone, that person would see it as an affront. At the same time, The Impossible Choice, my biggest project until The Fall from the Heavens (which I'm currently editing and re-editing, while inserting on AO3), began to be written.

Just when I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my abilities (which wasn't true), I also started to clash with anonymous hate messages, probably the worst of which were those vilifying me and my husband, and those regarding my one-shot with Micheal Gavey. I know now that taking it personally and getting involved was my big mistake, and the fandom was shaken by drama that got out of hand.

I was a few steps away from deleting my blog at the time, but my husband talked me out of the idea (thankfully, as my stories aren't saved anywhere else − I'm only now moving them to AO3).

That's when I first realised that some people here I don't even like, and they probably don't like me. I wondered, why are we following each other then? Why are we pretending to have any courtesy? It was only later that I realised that to be considered someone's friend, you have to reblog their work and preferably agree with them even when they write hurtful things.

Since I've depleted my circle of those I follow to about 20 people, since I've blocked dozens of people and tags, there's been blissful silence (with the exceptions of when I write about behaviour in the fandom that I find toxic and someone accuses me of causing drama, but I'm used to it now). I've also never written happier than I do now.

Ideas come to me on their own, I don't feel uptight about what other big people will think of me, whether they reblog it, approve of it or not. I don't give a shit and life is beautiful! Although I can be emotionally unstable, I'm only 70 people short of crossing the next milestone of 3,000 followers, and that's BIG for me. It amuses me that I keep getting messages that someone is going to block me or stop following me, and you guys keep coming. It's gratifying.

I'm going to keep writing for you guys, and I'm sure during season two you'll also see my posts describing my impressions after the episodes in which I hope to involve my husband. I'll also keep you updated here on how I'm doing with my book I'm creating in my private life.

Apreciation

@ewanmitchellcrumbs

Ange. I know that sometimes I'm fucked up, but I want you to know that you've made this place so much more bearable for me that I can't imagine it without you. What I appreciate most about you is that you can talk and discuss, that you always try to understand the other side, that you are empathetic, warm and kind. I feel that, like friends in everyday life, we can also tell each other about things we disagree about, and there are not many people like that here.

On top of that, you are very talented and your stories are always a pleasure to read, even when they are short, you are able to build the plot and atmosphere perfectly, something I have always admired. Thank you for every kind word and understanding.

I still remember your first message to me via ask, referring to the fact that I didn't want to write a pairing with a mermaid because someone else was writing about it at the same time. My heart melted then, it was so nice!

@targaryenrealnessdarling

Liz, Queen of Angst! Your calmness and composure puts me in awe. You're disgustingly talented when it comes to writing and you have a super-sweet personality. When you started following me I began to squirm with delight, and when you started reblogging my stuff? My goodness!!!

@persephonerinyes

You've been engaging and reblogging my stories for as long as I can remember. Always involved, your thoughts make me smile. Thank you for being with me for so long!

@zenka96

You've been here with me since the dawn of time. You know that I love you. Your support from the very beginning really makes me feel like I have a friend here.

@huramuna

I am so proud of you! I remember your asks when I wrote Glass Cuts Deepest, your illustrations for me and your uncertainty about whether you should start writing yourself. I'm so happy for you and that you are so successful! You deserved it.

@black-dread & @aegonx

You are my favourite gif makers. Your work always leaves me in awe, you are amazing! I know how much work you put into it and somehow you make even the worst lit scenes look wonderful!

@summerposie; @0eessirk8; @melsunshine; @immyowndefender; @bellaisasleep; @kckt88; @thedamewithabook; @happinessinthebeing; @queenofshinigamis; @travelingmypassion; @mefools; @fan-goddess; @toodlesxcuddles; @ammo23; @troublesomesnitch; @mariahossain; @out-of-life; @apothe-roses; @heavenhatesme; @whitearemydarkestnight; @liv-cole; @blackswxnn; @echos-muses; @watercolorskyy; @at-a-rax-ia; @tssf-imagines; @snh96; @hiatuswhore; @exitpursuedbyavulcan; @darylandbethfanforever9; @the-dendrophile-bookdragon; @opheliaas-stuff @zaldritzosrose

Your comments and reblogs make me want to keep writing. You make me laugh, you comfort me and you support me. I know I'm definitely forgetting someone, but I want you to know that I love everyone who comments on my stories and there is nothing better for me than responding to your reactions and questions! I have known some of you for so many months that I truly consider you my good friends!

lottie-blue-star; aveatquevale-; aemondtargaryenwifey marvelescvpe; alphard-hydraes-blog; herejusttostan; li0nn3stuff; alexandrawho; vilmakamunen; angelinap09; theloveablestargirl; rose-blue-19; xxxkat3xxx; flosaureum; mandiiblanche; librawh0re; jasminecosmic99; ivvypg; rojocarnation; killmanduh; tokkiiidoll; wolfdressedinlace; angelofvivianne; nina2697; starwarsgirlsimmer1; katsucker; ipostwhtifeel; aemondsdelight; ilswemoon; tigrigri; pasta-rask; roselibrary; lystargs; gemini-mama; nikstrange; tempo-rary-fix; coffeeobsessedtrencher; gwuinivyre; dreamerbythewayx; diiickbrainn; mothmankit

And everyone else I missed and whose icons I would recognize from afar. I know that you have been with me for many months, often in silence or communicating anonymously. Your silent support and presence is something wonderful for me, knowing that you have been with me for so long and read all my posts!

Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!

#one year anniversary #celebration

[hxney-lemcn]

Tea Errors — General! Jonathan Crane x gn! reader

summery: Harley tries to help reader to get with Jon. But when the reader mysteriously doesn't appear at work one day, Jon can't help but worry. What happens when he finds out they're in a hospital?

tw: Descriptions of injury and violence.

a/n: Idk why, but the rogues have been making me write damn novels compared to my other fics. My average has been like...3.7k words for them when normally its only 1k 😭 This fic is loosely inspired by these headcanons by @roguish-gallery

wc: 5.6k

Master List

(Read it on ao3 here)

“Wait…WHAT?!” Harley shouted, not caring how the other patrons glanced in our direction. Although once they realized it was Harley Quinn, they quickly went back to minding their own business. 

I dropped my head to the table, feeling my body heat up with embarrassment. I knew that telling Harley a secret was like telling a middle aged housewife the neighborhood gossip. Which meant it won’t be a secret for long, but I’ve been keeping this secret for a long time. It was getting draining to hold these feelings in to myself and Harley was surprisingly one of the closest people in my life at the moment. 

How? Well I was Jonathan Crane’s assistant. I helped him with anything he needed to take care of that he didn’t have time to oversee himself. It took me a long time to get into the position I have now, and over that time I found myself falling for him. Somehow. He was reclusive, quiet, and distant. Yet somehow that charmed me. His passion, albeit unique, spoke to me. Not many people were as passionate as he was about his research, and the fact that he never let any setbacks get to him was admirable. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to help him so much. 

Even more surprising was how Harley Quinn, the clown queen of crime, seemed to have a strange attachment to Dr. Crane. It was like a frenemy situation. Dr. Crane would always seem to have an air of distaste towards Harley when she was around, yet he would never kick her out or yell at her. Not that he was the shouting type. His threats towards her were surface level at worst, and he never scolded me for her somehow getting into his office. 

Which led to us becoming friends. Whenever she deemed Dr. Crane to be worthy of her attention, she’d end up getting sidetracked when I actually would hold a conversation with her. I think Dr. Crane appreciated it as well, since he could actually focus on his toxins instead of making sure Harley didn’t accidentally gas herself…not like it would affect her. 

Which led to the current situation. I confessed my hidden feelings for my boss to Harley Quinn. It was wrong on so many levels. It was unprofessional the way I felt about him, and not to mention that he was a criminal mastermind. 

…well that second point never really mattered. I got over it the second I saw my first paycheck. 

“I know,” I groaned into my arms. “It’s weird.”

“This is amazing!” She squealed, kicking her feet. “Y’know he’s always been a loner. I’ve just been waitin’ for someone to come along and sweep him off of his feet.” 

Lifting my head, I stared blankly at her, “I don’t think I’ve swept anything but the floors.”

“Awe I don’t think that’s true,” She smirked, taking a sip of her obnoxiously bright drink. “Y’know he’s never had an assistant last as long as you have toots. Not to mention he seems ta really like ya. I mean he hasn’t made ya one of his test subjects yet.”

“Yet,” I pointed out, taking a sip of my drink. 

Harley’s cherry red lips were held in a pout, “Don’t be such a party pooper. Besides! If he tries anything he’ll have to get through me!”

I couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on my lips at that statement. There were some perks to having villain friends. Harley may be crazy, but she was loyal. I’m lucky that I’m in her good graces. 

“He’s got a soft spot for ya,” She said with a shrug, stirring her drink with her straw. “He’s just got his own way of showin’ it.”

Harley’s words continued to ring through my head the next day. I brewed some coffee while also checking the email for Dr. Crane. I hadn’t seen him come in yet, so he was either running late (unlikely), or he was already cooped up in his lab (very likely). In fact, it was likely that he hadn't even left it all night. 

Seeing as none of the other rogues contacted Dr. Crane, I decided to check out the lab and make sure everything was in order. I’ve only been into the lab a couple of times. Dr. Crane didn’t like anyone entering, and the times I had been in there were to escort Harley out into his office instead. The lab is where he kept his most vile of fear toxin samples. Building off of his old works to create more potent toxins to warp Batman's mind. 

I knocked on the door first, wanting to make sure I wasn’t intruding. When I didn’t hear anything, I cracked the door open, peering into the room. Tables are littered with burners, tubes, vials, flasks, pipettes, beakers and basically anything you could possibly need for creating toxins that drive people insane and possibly kill them. My eyes finally fell onto the brown haired scientist, slumped over the table with beakers surrounding him. Orange liquids filled some, others were a dark brown. 

Taking a tentative step back, I shut the door as quietly as I could. I made quick work of grabbing the jacket I wore today and quietly slipped into the lab. I scooched the beakers back (keeping them in the same order) to give Crane some more space. I then gently placed my jacket over his shoulders, which made him stir, causing me to tense, only for him to continue his slumber. Carefully, I slid his glasses off his face so he could sleep a bit more comfortably. Folding the legs of his glasses, I placed them near his head.

I should wake him up. It was my job to make sure everything was in working order. Keep an eye on the goons, make sure transactions were upheld, and report any problems to Dr. Crane. Yet seeing how he tended to overwork himself, neglecting his needs, I could only hope that he won’t be too irritated at my decision. Double checking that the space was as safe as it could be, I left the lab. I was just glad he didn’t leave any burners on overnight. 

A few hours later, Crane had entered what could only be described as the lobby. It wasn’t really a lobby, as no one came in and out of the hideout except for goons, but it held my desk. I was absorbed in my work, making sure that the next shipment of chemicals came in discreetly and without a hitch.

“I believe this is yours,” His low voice shocked me out of my trance. Looking away from the screen of my computer, I was met with his blue eyes staring back. With his lips barely uplifting into a smirk, Crane teased, “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t,” I teased back, taking my jacket back. “I hope you don’t mind that I let you sleep in.” 

It was silent for a few seconds. A few agonizing seconds. His blue eyes felt like they were piercing through me, and I could only hope Harley was right about how Crane felt about me.

“I suppose I wouldn’t be able to properly make batches of my toxins if I were drowsy,” He muttered, pushing his round glasses up his nose. “Speaking of, are those chemicals going to be here today?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded proudly. I always felt proud when I had good news to give him, even if he didn’t give me a reason to. “They’ll be in within the hour.” 

With a nod, he excused himself and made his way into the makeshift breakroom.

…

“I wish I could help,” Harley pouted, holding her head up in her hand. 

“You have no business getting into other people’s personal lives,” Ivy scolded, green eyes half lidded in a disapproving stare. “Besides, I doubt Crane has any interest in them outside of scaring them.”

My smile fell at that. Ivy was the clear headed one of the two. She kept Harley grounded while Harley helped Ivy let loose every once in a while. Ivy wasn’t really fond of me, though I didn’t blame her. She was weary of all strangers, and we’ve only talked a few times. The only reason being that I was a friend of Harley’s. 

“You shoulda seen ‘im red!” Harley exclaimed, flapping her arms around wildly. “He was totes makin’ goo goo eyes' last time I visited.”

“I don’t even understand why you visit the old crow,” She grumbled, taking a sip of water. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” Harley waved off. “And don’t listen to red toots. She’s just jealous that I’ve been payin’ more attention to your little love story than her.” 

“You wish,” Ivy mumbled into her glass. 

“Anyways,” Harley emphasized. “You gotta show him you're interested! But not over the top. He’s mentioned how he had students flirt with him to get better grades so that type ‘a flirtin’ don’t work for him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You gotta do somethin’ else,” She explained, twirling her hair. “Y’know, I think he’d really enjoy acts of service. Take care of him a little. Ooo, maybe some quality time.” She winked.

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” I asked, slumping over slightly. “Ask him on a date?” Ivy looked as disinterested as ever as Harley tapped her chin in thought.

“Uhhhhmmm,” Harley hummed. “Maybe start with something smaller. Take a break together, get to know each other better.”

I hummed, thinking it over. Harley was actually giving good advice. It wasn’t over the top or brash like it usually is. She must be closer to Crane than I thought.

“I’ll try,” I nodded. It seemed easy enough.

…

Boy was I wrong. It felt nearly impossible to pull Crane away from his work, and I honestly didn’t want to. He seemed close to a breakthrough and I didn’t want to distract him…I’m not sure if it would end well for me if I did. So I decided to focus on what I do best. Acts of service. I dropped by the lab, the room feeling less daunting every time I entered without Crane shooing me out. When his coffee was low, I’d refill his cup, when he hadn't eaten anything since the morning, I’d ask if he wanted any food or snacks. 

It would be stupid to think that Crane hasn’t noticed my change in behavior. How I was providing him more aid than usual. How I started to focus on his needs more. I was just glad he didn’t bring it up, though he wasn’t the type to do that. It was a slow day today. No deals, no shipments, no rogues needing anything. So I was left to help Crane, whether it be cleaning his equipment or getting him another refill. 

“Did you need anything else Dr. Crane?” I asked, watching him drop some chemicals into a flask, the chemicals bubbling as a reaction. “Perhaps you could use a small break.”

He paused for a second, rubbing his eyes. It was hard to ignore the purple under his eyes as it continued to grow darker by the day. I could only imagine the soreness he felt as he hunched over his equipment for hours. I felt a glimmer of hope that I managed to get to him.

“I reckon a break wouldn’t hurt,” He mumbled, pushing himself to stand up. A bright grin splashed across my face, feeling giddy that he actually listened. Shrugging off his lab coat, Crane exited the lab and I trailed behind him. 

“Harley mentioned you tend to overwork yourself,” I spoke up. “But she didn’t need to tell me that since I witness it first hand almost everyday.”

“Yes,” Crane hummed, taking a seat in his office seat. It looked much more comfortable than the stool he used in the lab. “A bad habit. You’ve been talking to Harley?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, standing in front of his desk. I wasn’t fully sure if he wanted me there for his break, but the advice Harley gave rang through my head. “She’s been really nice to me. Inviting me to hang with her during her more laid-back outings…which never seem to stay that way. But I got to meet Ivy! But she doesn’t really like me, so I feel bad when I third wheel her and Harley.”

Crane quirked an eyebrow, but his reaction was as nonchalant as ever, “I wouldn’t feel too guilty, Ivy doesn’t really like anyone outside of Harley.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, finally deciding to take a seat. “It’s nice to have friends. With my current career path and all, I didn't think I’d have any.”

A silence settled over us before Crane spoke up, “...I understand how the life of crime may be lonely.”

Even though I worked for a criminal, and I was surrounded by criminals, I always forget that I was now technically classified as a criminal. I had worked as a receptionist once when I was a teenager. A minimum wage job to give me some extra spending money. So working for Crane felt nostalgic almost. Even though I was in charge of stock, transactions, and the schedule for Crane…I never saw the aftermath. I could’ve been working for anyone with the tasks I kept, so it was easy for me to forget just how deep I was in if either Crane or I were caught. 

“Well,” I trailed off, trying to gain the courage for what I wanted to say. “I hope my presence makes it just a little less lonely around here.”

Crane was cold, distant, reclusive. That didn’t mean he wasn’t human (even if he didn’t want to admit that). Loneliness was like a disease, once the feeling’s there, it’s hard to make it dissipate. It would slowly creep through you until it would fully consume you. Some people had a higher tolerance to it, others didn’t. 

Crane seemed to be one of the few that was immune to the feeling. He, after all, never showed anything to prove contrary. Yet the hidden warmth that laid just behind his eyes screamed otherwise. Perhaps, his alias as Scarecrow was only one side of him. The side he wanted everyone to see, that he wanted everyone to cower to. But behind that mask, revealed an old man who was both tired and lonely. Perhaps a part of him craved that loneliness, I understood the need to be alone all too well, but it was clear he also craved a connection. For someone to see all of him, and to accept him for all his flaws and perfections. 

“You’ve definitely livened the space up,” He replied, his eyes trailing to the plants I’ve added to his office. “...I do appreciate what you do…thank you.”

I stared at him in awe. The master of fear, a man renowned for bringing your worst fears to life, had given me praise. He had caused my heart rate to accelerate, but it wasn’t from fear. 

…

“YES!” Harley cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “I better be the maid of honor.”

I let out a snort, “If it took this long for him to compliment me I think marriage is far, far in the future.”

“You don’t get it,” Harley grinned, bouncing in her seat. “He neva compliments anyone! He’s basically just confessed his undyin’ love for ya!”

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t hide the amused grin that took over my lips. The idea of Doctor Jonathan Crane, the brooding workaholic scientist/terrorist professing his undying love was entertaining. A man who was a force to be reckoned with, being soft. The more I thought about it, the more I craved to witness such an event. To be someone he deems special.

The rest of the night went by smoothly. Or as smooth as it can get with Harley. She only busted one guy's ass after he tried to catcall her. So overall, a calm night. We parted ways eventually, and I seemed to have grown too comfortable in Gotham. I was surrounded by rogues! What did I have to fear when I worked with the most fearsome?

There’s nothing more fearsome than desperation. The terror that filled me at this moment was worse than my first day of working under Scarecrow! The man held a knife up to me, hands trembling as he ordered me to hand over my wallet and all other valuable items I may be carrying. I knew better than to fight. My wallet wasn’t worth more than my life. Though I was scared of what the man’s reaction will be when he realizes I don’t have anything of value. I may have been stupid enough to walk down the streets of Gotham without a buddy, but I was smart enough to keep valuables off of me.

I slowly took out my wallet, to make sure he knew I wasn’t a threat. But the man didn’t seem to be stable, whether he was coming down from a high, or was paranoid, I wasn’t sure, but he jerked the knife forward. I gasped, eyes wide as I watched the knife pierce my abdomen, my wallet dropping to the asphalt forgotten. The man also seemed surprised, as he took a step back. 

“W-wait,” I pleaded breathly, but it was too late. The man yanked the knife out and took off running. “Shit,” I whispered, pressing the wound. Moving to sit on the trash littered pavement, I tried to keep pressure on my wound as I dialed 911. 

“911 what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher asked calmly.

“I-I just got stabbed,” I replied, taking a shuddering breath in. The pain started to spread along with the blood that seeped between my fingers. “I need an ambulance.” 

I kept trying to take deep breaths as I gave them my location. My vision started to get blurry as stars filled my peripheral vision. I hoped to whatever was listening that I was close enough to a hospital. That today wouldn’t be my last day. That all I lived up to was being an assistant. Not being able to say goodbye to Harley, to Jon. I tried to stay awake, yet my eyelids were growing heavier by the second. The drone of the dispatcher felt like a lullaby as they tried to question me, keep me awake, keep me alive. 

The sound of sirens rang through my head foggily. The pressure I kept on my side had loosened as my hands started to feel colder. The searing pain started to numb as everything soon turned dark. 

…

When Jonathan had walked into the hideout that following morning, the space was unusually quiet. As he passed your desk, he noted that it hadn’t changed since you left the night before. It was strange when the smell of coffee brewing no longer filled the air. That your cheery voice hadn’t greeted him. He felt his mood sour by the second. 

Though it was odd that you were late. He couldn’t remember a day that you weren’t there to greet him. You were only human, and people made mistakes. He’ll let you off with a warning this time, but don’t make it a habit. 

After making himself a pot of coffee, he went into his lab to drown himself in his work. Like usual. Yet that stupid nagging wouldn’t leave the back of his head. Where were you? If you needed to miss work you would’ve called in. Yes, typically he didn’t really allow sick days. His goons were paid to get the job done, not to lay around and be sick. 

But you weren’t just any goon. You were his charming assistant who made his day, even if he didn’t show it. He paused his movements, eyes fogging over as he started to theorize where you could possibly be. Were you sick? Were you hurt? Maybe you forgot to call? With that thought, Jon took out his phone and called you. Each ring made his heart thump faster. When he heard your voice, a sense of comfort washed over him, only for it to be your voicemail. His comfort vanished. Remembering the fact that you had mentioned going to see Harley, he decided to call her. (Texting wasn’t really his thing).

“Hiya Jon!” Harley greeted over the phone. “You finally called!” Not wanting to waste time, Jon got right to the point, asking if she knew where you were. “Whaddya mean they’re not at work?” Harley asked, voice giving away her concern.

Jon hung up, a scowl starting to form on his face. Where the hell were you? A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time started to form. His gut twisted, heart pumping faster, he felt scared. A feeling he’d normally welcome. A state he was so used to it felt like home. Yet, with the context of you possibly missing, his fear wasn’t welcome. 

It wasn’t until an hour later when relief flooded through his system. Your caller I.D. flashed on his phone screen and he didn’t hesitate to answer.

…

The first thing I heard was the sound of beeping. I scrunched my face as pain seared through my abdomen. Blearily opening my eyes, the bright light overhead seared my brain. I let out a groan as everything started to hurt. My head pounded at the same time heels clicked against the ground. Looking over, a nurse rushed over to me.

“You’re awake!” She spoke loudly, her voice irritatingly cheery for my current condition. “The doctor’s on his way.”

“What happened?” I asked, throat raspy with misuse. 

“I’ll let the doctor go over your condition,” The nurse replied patronizingly. 

“What time is it?” I asked instead, wanting to get some information.

Pulling out her phone, she glanced at it before replying, “It’s currently 10:47 am.” A knock on the door sounded through the room before the doctor entered. 

“Good morning,” The doctor greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” I grumbled, trying to shift up on the hospital bed. The nurse quickly rushed over and helped me. 

“Well, it would be concerning if you didn’t feel anything,” The doctor jokes. “I’m Dr. Bell. You’re currently in Gotham General Hospital. You were stabbed, luckily, all major organs and arteries were missed. You’ll be discharged in a few days if your wound shows no signs of infection. Do you have any questions?”

“Uhm,” I muttered, trying to take in all this information at once. “Where…are my things?”

“Would you bring their personal belongings Lynn?” Dr. Bell turned to the nurse who nodded and hurriedly, the sound of her heels following her out of the room. “Not so good news, there’s no one named under your emergency contact list, so you may have to stay longer in the hospital if you have no one to take care of you. And since you were stabbed, the police are here to do a brief interview.” I let out a sigh, leaning my head back. Dr. Bell nodded to two police officers standing just outside of my room before taking her leave. 

“Hello,” One police officer greeted me. The other slightly tipping his hat. “I’m Detective Yates, that’s my partner Tanner. I’m sure you already know why we’re here.” I nodded, pulling the thin hospital blanket further up. 

“We know this may be hard to talk about,” Tanner spoke up. “It’s still fresh, but that’s why we try ta get as much info as we can right away.”

“It’s all really blurry,” I lied. “I might not be much help.” It wasn’t blurry. I remember every second vividly. The distress in the man's dark brown eyes. How his dark brown hair was tousled and greasy like he hasn’t had a shower in days. How his hands trembled with the silver of the knife glittering under the street lights. The look of utter horror, panic, and regret that flashed in his eyes as the knife plunged through my skin. 

He was a person who needed help, not enforcement.

“Any detail will be of help,” Yates gruffed. “Do you remember how they looked?”

“He…he was tall. Maybe 5’9?” I offered. If I said nothing they’d get suspicious of my intentions. “He was wearing a hood, so I couldn’t see much besides that.”

“What clothes was he wearin’?” Tanner asked next.

“Uhm, black hoodie,” I replied. “And blue jeans.”

“How’d he act?” 

“Scared,” I replied honestly. “I don’t think he meant to hurt me. He ran off right after. Don’t remember much after that.”

Another lie. I remember the fear that rushed through me when I believed I was a goner. The pain that felt like liquid fire burning through me. The glow of the street light that shined down on me as I bleed out. Though I doubt that’s what the police needed to know.

“Thank you for your time,” Detective Yates replied, standing up with his partner. “We’ll contact you if we find anything else.”

“Thanks,” I replied awkwardly, waving at them as they left. When I finally thought I’d be left to my own devices, Nurse Lynn entered carrying my belongings. 

“You didn’t have much on you,” She said mindlessly, setting my things down on the bed beside me. “Wallet, phone, and keys. If you need anything, just press this button.” She aimlessly pointed near the side of my bed. With that, she was gone. Finally, peace and quiet…not counting the loud beeping of the heart monitor. Checking my phone, my eyes widened. Over 100 notifications. Most of them being none other than Harley Quinn.

Scrolling through the spam of texts Harley sent, my heart warmed at how much she really cared for me. 

‘Jonny called me’

‘u ok toots?’

‘helloooooooooooooo’

‘ur scaring me here’

‘Jonny never called me before y’know’

‘ANSWER ME’

‘pls’

You get the jist. I quickly typed out a short ‘I’m ok, there was a small accident but it’s all good now’. Then I finally got to the first missed call. Dr. Crane. There was something common between Harley and I. Jon never called me before either, and my nerves started getting to me. I’d never missed a day of work before. Well…only if I were sick. I’d never missed a day of work without telling Jon before. Was he angry? Would he fire me? …would I become his next test subject? 

I never thought about him like that before. I always felt a strange security around him. It was funny, I found comfort in a man who took away people's comfort. Yet that security was stripped. At the end of the day, he was still my boss. A man who didn’t take insubordination lightly. Yes I was literally stabbed, but there was that fear that still lingered. I suppose that was Jon’s entire motif. 

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. The heart monitor beeped more rapidly each time the phone rang. It rang three times before he finally answered, my name whispered out under his breath.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sorry about everything. I, uh, had an accident last night. Doctor said I have to stay in the hospital for a few days, maybe longer since I don’t have anyone to take care of me if I were to go home.”

It was quiet for a few beats.

“Where are you being held?” He asked, his voice low. A shiver ran up my spine at his tone.

“Gotham General Hospital,” I replied back. 

“I’ll be right there,” He muttered before hanging up. I blinked, unsure how to feel. But I couldn’t dwell on it long because I was being spam called by Harley. 

“Hi Harley,” I answered.

“What do you mean you had an accident?” She shouted, making me pull the phone away from my ear. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything but you gotta promise not to freak out,” I sighed. “Jon’s already on his way to visit me.”

“OMG YOU JUST CALLED HIM JON,” Harley shrieked. “Wait, you’re distracting me, what’s going on?”

“...I got stabbed.”

“YOU WHAT?” 

I bit my lip, “It sounds worse than it is…?”

“You’re not makin’ much sense toots,” Harley replied, and I could hear the frown on her face. “How can a stabbing sound worse than it is? Are you at the hospital? Please tell me you’re gettin’ cared for.”

“I’m at Gotham Central Hospital,” I stated. “It’s all stitched up. Doc said nothing vital was hit and I just need time to heal. Like I said, it sounds worse than it is.”

Clearly pouting, Harley huffed, “I wish I could visit ya, but I think that’d cause a bit of a hassle.”

I laughed lightly before flinching at the pain it caused, “Yeah, I’d rather you not get arrested.”

“Tell me when you get out, okay?” Harley asked.

“Okay,” I agreed, a warm grin painting my lips.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Do ya know who did it?” Harley finally asked. “I’d just like ta pay ‘em a little visit.”

Looking down at my lap, my smile turned more somber, “You don’t gotta do that Harls’. He didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind.”

“...” Harley stayed silent before responding. “That don’t matta. You got hurt, end of story. End of theirs too.”

I sighed, “No.”

“You got a big heart toots,” Harley sighed. “A little too big if ya ask me.”

I chuckled once more, “Yeah yeah.”

“You get betta for me, alright suga’?” She asked somberly. 

“Of course,” I agreed. 

“And you better call me!”

“I will.”

“...you callin’ him Jon now?” She asked, and I could just imagine the cheeky grin she held. 

My heart stuttered at the implication, “I…it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Mhmmm,” She hummed. “No, of course not. You’ve just been callin’ him Crane for what? Two years now?”

“...”

Harley chuckled at my silence, “Alright, I’ll stop teasin’ ya. You get some rest, okay? I need my best friend back in tip top shape!”

“Aye, aye captain,” I saluted, even if she couldn’t see. 

“Bye bye toots.”

“Bye Harley.”

I felt myself relax, looking over to the small tv that rested in the corner of the room. I picked up the remote that laid on the side table and scrolled through the channels. I frowned as nothing good seemed to be on, and it was hard to see the screen anyways. Why did they put it in the farthest corner of the room?

The sound of knocking resounded through the room, and a nurse entered the room shortly, “You have a visitor.” None other than Jonathan Crane towered behind the nurse. He was as put together as always, the only sign of something being wrong was the intensity of his gaze as it fell onto my figure. The nurse exited just as quickly, closing the door behind her. 

The tension felt high as silence consumed the room. I picked at the linens, anxiety suddenly running through me. Talking to Harley helped me calm down about the situation, but Jon brought me back to reality. 

“Just an accident?” Jon asked, his face never leaving its calm expression.

I offered a sheepish grin, “Does someone get stabbed on purpose?”

His face remained stoic, not a hint of amusement as I tried to diffuse the tension. Jon took a seat in the cheap plastic chair that sat next to the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the rage in his eyes dying down into a warm caring look. 

I shrugged, “It hurts. I’m tired, a bit hungry.”

“Have you eaten anything yet?”

“No,” I shook my head. The previous tension had dissipated into a warmth. Maybe I should get stabbed more often if Jon would take care of me. Nah, the pain wasn’t all that fun.

…

With Jon taking care of me, my feelings towards him only grew stronger. He’d try to help me through the trauma I gained from the interaction. Trauma I didn’t even realize I really had. I would wake up in a cold sweat some nights, the feeling of the knife penetrating my skin feeling as real as it did the night of the attack. I also couldn’t get over the hopelessness I felt that night. The need to see the people I cared about most just one last time. How I took our interactions for granted. 

I watched with gratitude as Jon pressed the back of his hand on my forehead, making sure I didn’t have a fever. Making sure I wasn’t catching an infection, even though my wound had nearly fully healed. The sudden urge to confess my feelings consumed me. This wasn’t how a boss normally treated their employee. This was how someone treated a loved one.

I wished to see his soft side, and now I saw it, and I never wanted to let go.

“Jon,” I whispered, my breath fanning over his face. His blue eyes met mine, urging me to continue with his expression alone. 

Fear drives people. That’s what Jon theorized. And with recent events, I’ve come to realize that he’s right. I was afraid of rejection, and so I kept how I felt to myself. Now, I was afraid he’ll never know how I feel. How much I care for him, how much I admire and appreciate him. 

“Thank you, for everything,” I thanked, taking in just how handsome he was. “Would you be okay with getting a coffee together?”

The faintest look of surprise crossed his features before that barely there grin pulled his lips up, “Sounds like a treat.”

“Then it's a date,” I grinned, closing the distance and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Wait…WHAT?!” Harley shouted, not caring how the other patrons glanced in our direction. Although once they realized it was Harley Quinn, they quickly went back to minding their own business. 

I dropped my head to the table, feeling my body heat up with embarrassment. I knew that telling Harley a secret was like telling a middle aged housewife the neighborhood gossip. Which meant it won’t be a secret for long, but I’ve been keeping this secret for a long time. It was getting draining to hold these feelings in to myself and Harley was surprisingly one of the closest people in my life at the moment. 

How? Well I was Jonathan Crane’s assistant. I helped him with anything he needed to take care of that he didn’t have time to oversee himself. It took me a long time to get into the position I have now, and over that time I found myself falling for him. Somehow. He was reclusive, quiet, and distant. Yet somehow that charmed me. His passion, albeit unique, spoke to me. Not many people were as passionate as he was about his research, and the fact that he never let any setbacks get to him was admirable. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to help him so much. 

Even more surprising was how Harley Quinn, the clown queen of crime, seemed to have a strange attachment to Dr. Crane. It was like a frenemy situation. Dr. Crane would always seem to have an air of distaste towards Harley when she was around, yet he would never kick her out or yell at her. Not that he was the shouting type. His threats towards her were surface level at worst, and he never scolded me for her somehow getting into his office. 

Which led to us becoming friends. Whenever she deemed Dr. Crane to be worthy of her attention, she’d end up getting sidetracked when I actually would hold a conversation with her. I think Dr. Crane appreciated it as well, since he could actually focus on his toxins instead of making sure Harley didn’t accidentally gas herself…not like it would affect her. 

Which led to the current situation. I confessed my hidden feelings for my boss to Harley Quinn. It was wrong on so many levels. It was unprofessional the way I felt about him, and not to mention that he was a criminal mastermind. 

…well that second point never really mattered. I got over it the second I saw my first paycheck. 

“I know,” I groaned into my arms. “It’s weird.”

“This is amazing!” She squealed, kicking her feet. “Y’know he’s always been a loner. I’ve just been waitin’ for someone to come along and sweep him off of his feet.” 

Lifting my head, I stared blankly at her, “I don’t think I’ve swept anything but the floors.”

“Awe I don’t think that’s true,” She smirked, taking a sip of her obnoxiously bright drink. “Y’know he’s never had an assistant last as long as you have toots. Not to mention he seems ta really like ya. I mean he hasn’t made ya one of his test subjects yet.”

“Yet,” I pointed out, taking a sip of my drink. 

Harley’s cherry red lips were held in a pout, “Don’t be such a party pooper. Besides! If he tries anything he’ll have to get through me!”

I couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on my lips at that statement. There were some perks to having villain friends. Harley may be crazy, but she was loyal. I’m lucky that I’m in her good graces. 

“He’s got a soft spot for ya,” She said with a shrug, stirring her drink with her straw. “He’s just got his own way of showin’ it.”

Harley’s words continued to ring through my head the next day. I brewed some coffee while also checking the email for Dr. Crane. I hadn’t seen him come in yet, so he was either running late (unlikely), or he was already cooped up in his lab (very likely). In fact, it was likely that he hadn't even left it all night. 

Seeing as none of the other rogues contacted Dr. Crane, I decided to check out the lab and make sure everything was in order. I’ve only been into the lab a couple of times. Dr. Crane didn’t like anyone entering, and the times I had been in there were to escort Harley out into his office instead. The lab is where he kept his most vile of fear toxin samples. Building off of his old works to create more potent toxins to warp Batman's mind. 

I knocked on the door first, wanting to make sure I wasn’t intruding. When I didn’t hear anything, I cracked the door open, peering into the room. Tables are littered with burners, tubes, vials, flasks, pipettes, beakers and basically anything you could possibly need for creating toxins that drive people insane and possibly kill them. My eyes finally fell onto the brown haired scientist, slumped over the table with beakers surrounding him. Orange liquids filled some, others were a dark brown. 

Taking a tentative step back, I shut the door as quietly as I could. I made quick work of grabbing the jacket I wore today and quietly slipped into the lab. I scooched the beakers back (keeping them in the same order) to give Crane some more space. I then gently placed my jacket over his shoulders, which made him stir, causing me to tense, only for him to continue his slumber. Carefully, I slid his glasses off his face so he could sleep a bit more comfortably. Folding the legs of his glasses, I placed them near his head.

I should wake him up. It was my job to make sure everything was in working order. Keep an eye on the goons, make sure transactions were upheld, and report any problems to Dr. Crane. Yet seeing how he tended to overwork himself, neglecting his needs, I could only hope that he won’t be too irritated at my decision. Double checking that the space was as safe as it could be, I left the lab. I was just glad he didn’t leave any burners on overnight. 

A few hours later, Crane had entered what could only be described as the lobby. It wasn’t really a lobby, as no one came in and out of the hideout except for goons, but it held my desk. I was absorbed in my work, making sure that the next shipment of chemicals came in discreetly and without a hitch.

“I believe this is yours,” His low voice shocked me out of my trance. Looking away from the screen of my computer, I was met with his blue eyes staring back. With his lips barely uplifting into a smirk, Crane teased, “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t,” I teased back, taking my jacket back. “I hope you don’t mind that I let you sleep in.” 

It was silent for a few seconds. A few agonizing seconds. His blue eyes felt like they were piercing through me, and I could only hope Harley was right about how Crane felt about me.

“I suppose I wouldn’t be able to properly make batches of my toxins if I were drowsy,” He muttered, pushing his round glasses up his nose. “Speaking of, are those chemicals going to be here today?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded proudly. I always felt proud when I had good news to give him, even if he didn’t give me a reason to. “They’ll be in within the hour.” 

With a nod, he excused himself and made his way into the makeshift breakroom.

…

“I wish I could help,” Harley pouted, holding her head up in her hand. 

“You have no business getting into other people’s personal lives,” Ivy scolded, green eyes half lidded in a disapproving stare. “Besides, I doubt Crane has any interest in them outside of scaring them.”

My smile fell at that. Ivy was the clear headed one of the two. She kept Harley grounded while Harley helped Ivy let loose every once in a while. Ivy wasn’t really fond of me, though I didn’t blame her. She was weary of all strangers, and we’ve only talked a few times. The only reason being that I was a friend of Harley’s. 

“You shoulda seen ‘im red!” Harley exclaimed, flapping her arms around wildly. “He was totes makin’ goo goo eyes' last time I visited.”

“I don’t even understand why you visit the old crow,” She grumbled, taking a sip of water. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” Harley waved off. “And don’t listen to red toots. She’s just jealous that I’ve been payin’ more attention to your little love story than her.” 

“You wish,” Ivy mumbled into her glass. 

“Anyways,” Harley emphasized. “You gotta show him you're interested! But not over the top. He’s mentioned how he had students flirt with him to get better grades so that type ‘a flirtin’ don’t work for him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You gotta do somethin’ else,” She explained, twirling her hair. “Y’know, I think he’d really enjoy acts of service. Take care of him a little. Ooo, maybe some quality time.” She winked.

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” I asked, slumping over slightly. “Ask him on a date?” Ivy looked as disinterested as ever as Harley tapped her chin in thought.

“Uhhhhmmm,” Harley hummed. “Maybe start with something smaller. Take a break together, get to know each other better.”

I hummed, thinking it over. Harley was actually giving good advice. It wasn’t over the top or brash like it usually is. She must be closer to Crane than I thought.

“I’ll try,” I nodded. It seemed easy enough.

…

Boy was I wrong. It felt nearly impossible to pull Crane away from his work, and I honestly didn’t want to. He seemed close to a breakthrough and I didn’t want to distract him…I’m not sure if it would end well for me if I did. So I decided to focus on what I do best. Acts of service. I dropped by the lab, the room feeling less daunting every time I entered without Crane shooing me out. When his coffee was low, I’d refill his cup, when he hadn't eaten anything since the morning, I’d ask if he wanted any food or snacks. 

It would be stupid to think that Crane hasn’t noticed my change in behavior. How I was providing him more aid than usual. How I started to focus on his needs more. I was just glad he didn’t bring it up, though he wasn’t the type to do that. It was a slow day today. No deals, no shipments, no rogues needing anything. So I was left to help Crane, whether it be cleaning his equipment or getting him another refill. 

“Did you need anything else Dr. Crane?” I asked, watching him drop some chemicals into a flask, the chemicals bubbling as a reaction. “Perhaps you could use a small break.”

He paused for a second, rubbing his eyes. It was hard to ignore the purple under his eyes as it continued to grow darker by the day. I could only imagine the soreness he felt as he hunched over his equipment for hours. I felt a glimmer of hope that I managed to get to him.

“I reckon a break wouldn’t hurt,” He mumbled, pushing himself to stand up. A bright grin splashed across my face, feeling giddy that he actually listened. Shrugging off his lab coat, Crane exited the lab and I trailed behind him. 

“Harley mentioned you tend to overwork yourself,” I spoke up. “But she didn’t need to tell me that since I witness it first hand almost everyday.”

“Yes,” Crane hummed, taking a seat in his office seat. It looked much more comfortable than the stool he used in the lab. “A bad habit. You’ve been talking to Harley?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, standing in front of his desk. I wasn’t fully sure if he wanted me there for his break, but the advice Harley gave rang through my head. “She’s been really nice to me. Inviting me to hang with her during her more laid-back outings…which never seem to stay that way. But I got to meet Ivy! But she doesn’t really like me, so I feel bad when I third wheel her and Harley.”

Crane quirked an eyebrow, but his reaction was as nonchalant as ever, “I wouldn’t feel too guilty, Ivy doesn’t really like anyone outside of Harley.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, finally deciding to take a seat. “It’s nice to have friends. With my current career path and all, I didn't think I’d have any.”

A silence settled over us before Crane spoke up, “...I understand how the life of crime may be lonely.”

Even though I worked for a criminal, and I was surrounded by criminals, I always forget that I was now technically classified as a criminal. I had worked as a receptionist once when I was a teenager. A minimum wage job to give me some extra spending money. So working for Crane felt nostalgic almost. Even though I was in charge of stock, transactions, and the schedule for Crane…I never saw the aftermath. I could’ve been working for anyone with the tasks I kept, so it was easy for me to forget just how deep I was in if either Crane or I were caught. 

“Well,” I trailed off, trying to gain the courage for what I wanted to say. “I hope my presence makes it just a little less lonely around here.”

Crane was cold, distant, reclusive. That didn’t mean he wasn’t human (even if he didn’t want to admit that). Loneliness was like a disease, once the feeling’s there, it’s hard to make it dissipate. It would slowly creep through you until it would fully consume you. Some people had a higher tolerance to it, others didn’t. 

Crane seemed to be one of the few that was immune to the feeling. He, after all, never showed anything to prove contrary. Yet the hidden warmth that laid just behind his eyes screamed otherwise. Perhaps, his alias as Scarecrow was only one side of him. The side he wanted everyone to see, that he wanted everyone to cower to. But behind that mask, revealed an old man who was both tired and lonely. Perhaps a part of him craved that loneliness, I understood the need to be alone all too well, but it was clear he also craved a connection. For someone to see all of him, and to accept him for all his flaws and perfections. 

“You’ve definitely livened the space up,” He replied, his eyes trailing to the plants I’ve added to his office. “...I do appreciate what you do…thank you.”

I stared at him in awe. The master of fear, a man renowned for bringing your worst fears to life, had given me praise. He had caused my heart rate to accelerate, but it wasn’t from fear. 

…

“YES!” Harley cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “I better be the maid of honor.”

I let out a snort, “If it took this long for him to compliment me I think marriage is far, far in the future.”

“You don’t get it,” Harley grinned, bouncing in her seat. “He neva compliments anyone! He’s basically just confessed his undyin’ love for ya!”

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t hide the amused grin that took over my lips. The idea of Doctor Jonathan Crane, the brooding workaholic scientist/terrorist professing his undying love was entertaining. A man who was a force to be reckoned with, being soft. The more I thought about it, the more I craved to witness such an event. To be someone he deems special.

The rest of the night went by smoothly. Or as smooth as it can get with Harley. She only busted one guy's ass after he tried to catcall her. So overall, a calm night. We parted ways eventually, and I seemed to have grown too comfortable in Gotham. I was surrounded by rogues! What did I have to fear when I worked with the most fearsome?

There’s nothing more fearsome than desperation. The terror that filled me at this moment was worse than my first day of working under Scarecrow! The man held a knife up to me, hands trembling as he ordered me to hand over my wallet and all other valuable items I may be carrying. I knew better than to fight. My wallet wasn’t worth more than my life. Though I was scared of what the man’s reaction will be when he realizes I don’t have anything of value. I may have been stupid enough to walk down the streets of Gotham without a buddy, but I was smart enough to keep valuables off of me.

I slowly took out my wallet, to make sure he knew I wasn’t a threat. But the man didn’t seem to be stable, whether he was coming down from a high, or was paranoid, I wasn’t sure, but he jerked the knife forward. I gasped, eyes wide as I watched the knife pierce my abdomen, my wallet dropping to the asphalt forgotten. The man also seemed surprised, as he took a step back. 

“W-wait,” I pleaded breathly, but it was too late. The man yanked the knife out and took off running. “Shit,” I whispered, pressing the wound. Moving to sit on the trash littered pavement, I tried to keep pressure on my wound as I dialed 911. 

“911 what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher asked calmly.

“I-I just got stabbed,” I replied, taking a shuddering breath in. The pain started to spread along with the blood that seeped between my fingers. “I need an ambulance.” 

I kept trying to take deep breaths as I gave them my location. My vision started to get blurry as stars filled my peripheral vision. I hoped to whatever was listening that I was close enough to a hospital. That today wouldn’t be my last day. That all I lived up to was being an assistant. Not being able to say goodbye to Harley, to Jon. I tried to stay awake, yet my eyelids were growing heavier by the second. The drone of the dispatcher felt like a lullaby as they tried to question me, keep me awake, keep me alive. 

The sound of sirens rang through my head foggily. The pressure I kept on my side had loosened as my hands started to feel colder. The searing pain started to numb as everything soon turned dark. 

…

When Jonathan had walked into the hideout that following morning, the space was unusually quiet. As he passed your desk, he noted that it hadn’t changed since you left the night before. It was strange when the smell of coffee brewing no longer filled the air. That your cheery voice hadn’t greeted him. He felt his mood sour by the second. 

Though it was odd that you were late. He couldn’t remember a day that you weren’t there to greet him. You were only human, and people made mistakes. He’ll let you off with a warning this time, but don’t make it a habit. 

After making himself a pot of coffee, he went into his lab to drown himself in his work. Like usual. Yet that stupid nagging wouldn’t leave the back of his head. Where were you? If you needed to miss work you would’ve called in. Yes, typically he didn’t really allow sick days. His goons were paid to get the job done, not to lay around and be sick. 

But you weren’t just any goon. You were his charming assistant who made his day, even if he didn’t show it. He paused his movements, eyes fogging over as he started to theorize where you could possibly be. Were you sick? Were you hurt? Maybe you forgot to call? With that thought, Jon took out his phone and called you. Each ring made his heart thump faster. When he heard your voice, a sense of comfort washed over him, only for it to be your voicemail. His comfort vanished. Remembering the fact that you had mentioned going to see Harley, he decided to call her. (Texting wasn’t really his thing).

“Hiya Jon!” Harley greeted over the phone. “You finally called!” Not wanting to waste time, Jon got right to the point, asking if she knew where you were. “Whaddya mean they’re not at work?” Harley asked, voice giving away her concern.

Jon hung up, a scowl starting to form on his face. Where the hell were you? A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time started to form. His gut twisted, heart pumping faster, he felt scared. A feeling he’d normally welcome. A state he was so used to it felt like home. Yet, with the context of you possibly missing, his fear wasn’t welcome. 

It wasn’t until an hour later when relief flooded through his system. Your caller I.D. flashed on his phone screen and he didn’t hesitate to answer.

…

The first thing I heard was the sound of beeping. I scrunched my face as pain seared through my abdomen. Blearily opening my eyes, the bright light overhead seared my brain. I let out a groan as everything started to hurt. My head pounded at the same time heels clicked against the ground. Looking over, a nurse rushed over to me.

“You’re awake!” She spoke loudly, her voice irritatingly cheery for my current condition. “The doctor’s on his way.”

“What happened?” I asked, throat raspy with misuse. 

“I’ll let the doctor go over your condition,” The nurse replied patronizingly. 

“What time is it?” I asked instead, wanting to get some information.

Pulling out her phone, she glanced at it before replying, “It’s currently 10:47 am.” A knock on the door sounded through the room before the doctor entered. 

“Good morning,” The doctor greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” I grumbled, trying to shift up on the hospital bed. The nurse quickly rushed over and helped me. 

“Well, it would be concerning if you didn’t feel anything,” The doctor jokes. “I’m Dr. Bell. You’re currently in Gotham General Hospital. You were stabbed, luckily, all major organs and arteries were missed. You’ll be discharged in a few days if your wound shows no signs of infection. Do you have any questions?”

“Uhm,” I muttered, trying to take in all this information at once. “Where…are my things?”

“Would you bring their personal belongings Lynn?” Dr. Bell turned to the nurse who nodded and hurriedly, the sound of her heels following her out of the room. “Not so good news, there’s no one named under your emergency contact list, so you may have to stay longer in the hospital if you have no one to take care of you. And since you were stabbed, the police are here to do a brief interview.” I let out a sigh, leaning my head back. Dr. Bell nodded to two police officers standing just outside of my room before taking her leave. 

“Hello,” One police officer greeted me. The other slightly tipping his hat. “I’m Detective Yates, that’s my partner Tanner. I’m sure you already know why we’re here.” I nodded, pulling the thin hospital blanket further up. 

“We know this may be hard to talk about,” Tanner spoke up. “It’s still fresh, but that’s why we try ta get as much info as we can right away.”

“It’s all really blurry,” I lied. “I might not be much help.” It wasn’t blurry. I remember every second vividly. The distress in the man's dark brown eyes. How his dark brown hair was tousled and greasy like he hasn’t had a shower in days. How his hands trembled with the silver of the knife glittering under the street lights. The look of utter horror, panic, and regret that flashed in his eyes as the knife plunged through my skin. 

He was a person who needed help, not enforcement.

“Any detail will be of help,” Yates gruffed. “Do you remember how they looked?”

“He…he was tall. Maybe 5’9?” I offered. If I said nothing they’d get suspicious of my intentions. “He was wearing a hood, so I couldn’t see much besides that.”

“What clothes was he wearin’?” Tanner asked next.

“Uhm, black hoodie,” I replied. “And blue jeans.”

“How’d he act?” 

“Scared,” I replied honestly. “I don’t think he meant to hurt me. He ran off right after. Don’t remember much after that.”

Another lie. I remember the fear that rushed through me when I believed I was a goner. The pain that felt like liquid fire burning through me. The glow of the street light that shined down on me as I bleed out. Though I doubt that’s what the police needed to know.

“Thank you for your time,” Detective Yates replied, standing up with his partner. “We’ll contact you if we find anything else.”

“Thanks,” I replied awkwardly, waving at them as they left. When I finally thought I’d be left to my own devices, Nurse Lynn entered carrying my belongings. 

“You didn’t have much on you,” She said mindlessly, setting my things down on the bed beside me. “Wallet, phone, and keys. If you need anything, just press this button.” She aimlessly pointed near the side of my bed. With that, she was gone. Finally, peace and quiet…not counting the loud beeping of the heart monitor. Checking my phone, my eyes widened. Over 100 notifications. Most of them being none other than Harley Quinn.

Scrolling through the spam of texts Harley sent, my heart warmed at how much she really cared for me. 

‘Jonny called me’

‘u ok toots?’

‘helloooooooooooooo’

‘ur scaring me here’

‘Jonny never called me before y’know’

‘ANSWER ME’

‘pls’

You get the jist. I quickly typed out a short ‘I’m ok, there was a small accident but it’s all good now’. Then I finally got to the first missed call. Dr. Crane. There was something common between Harley and I. Jon never called me before either, and my nerves started getting to me. I’d never missed a day of work before. Well…only if I were sick. I’d never missed a day of work without telling Jon before. Was he angry? Would he fire me? …would I become his next test subject? 

I never thought about him like that before. I always felt a strange security around him. It was funny, I found comfort in a man who took away people's comfort. Yet that security was stripped. At the end of the day, he was still my boss. A man who didn’t take insubordination lightly. Yes I was literally stabbed, but there was that fear that still lingered. I suppose that was Jon’s entire motif. 

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. The heart monitor beeped more rapidly each time the phone rang. It rang three times before he finally answered, my name whispered out under his breath.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sorry about everything. I, uh, had an accident last night. Doctor said I have to stay in the hospital for a few days, maybe longer since I don’t have anyone to take care of me if I were to go home.”

It was quiet for a few beats.

“Where are you being held?” He asked, his voice low. A shiver ran up my spine at his tone.

“Gotham General Hospital,” I replied back. 

“I’ll be right there,” He muttered before hanging up. I blinked, unsure how to feel. But I couldn’t dwell on it long because I was being spam called by Harley. 

“Hi Harley,” I answered.

“What do you mean you had an accident?” She shouted, making me pull the phone away from my ear. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything but you gotta promise not to freak out,” I sighed. “Jon’s already on his way to visit me.”

“OMG YOU JUST CALLED HIM JON,” Harley shrieked. “Wait, you’re distracting me, what’s going on?”

“...I got stabbed.”

“YOU WHAT?” 

I bit my lip, “It sounds worse than it is…?”

“You’re not makin’ much sense toots,” Harley replied, and I could hear the frown on her face. “How can a stabbing sound worse than it is? Are you at the hospital? Please tell me you’re gettin’ cared for.”

“I’m at Gotham Central Hospital,” I stated. “It’s all stitched up. Doc said nothing vital was hit and I just need time to heal. Like I said, it sounds worse than it is.”

Clearly pouting, Harley huffed, “I wish I could visit ya, but I think that’d cause a bit of a hassle.”

I laughed lightly before flinching at the pain it caused, “Yeah, I’d rather you not get arrested.”

“Tell me when you get out, okay?” Harley asked.

“Okay,” I agreed, a warm grin painting my lips.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Do ya know who did it?” Harley finally asked. “I’d just like ta pay ‘em a little visit.”

Looking down at my lap, my smile turned more somber, “You don’t gotta do that Harls’. He didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind.”

“...” Harley stayed silent before responding. “That don’t matta. You got hurt, end of story. End of theirs too.”

I sighed, “No.”

“You got a big heart toots,” Harley sighed. “A little too big if ya ask me.”

I chuckled once more, “Yeah yeah.”

“You get betta for me, alright suga’?” She asked somberly. 

“Of course,” I agreed. 

“And you better call me!”

“I will.”

“...you callin’ him Jon now?” She asked, and I could just imagine the cheeky grin she held. 

My heart stuttered at the implication, “I…it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Mhmmm,” She hummed. “No, of course not. You’ve just been callin’ him Crane for what? Two years now?”

“...”

Harley chuckled at my silence, “Alright, I’ll stop teasin’ ya. You get some rest, okay? I need my best friend back in tip top shape!”

“Aye, aye captain,” I saluted, even if she couldn’t see. 

“Bye bye toots.”

“Bye Harley.”

I felt myself relax, looking over to the small tv that rested in the corner of the room. I picked up the remote that laid on the side table and scrolled through the channels. I frowned as nothing good seemed to be on, and it was hard to see the screen anyways. Why did they put it in the farthest corner of the room?

The sound of knocking resounded through the room, and a nurse entered the room shortly, “You have a visitor.” None other than Jonathan Crane towered behind the nurse. He was as put together as always, the only sign of something being wrong was the intensity of his gaze as it fell onto my figure. The nurse exited just as quickly, closing the door behind her. 

The tension felt high as silence consumed the room. I picked at the linens, anxiety suddenly running through me. Talking to Harley helped me calm down about the situation, but Jon brought me back to reality. 

“Just an accident?” Jon asked, his face never leaving its calm expression.

I offered a sheepish grin, “Does someone get stabbed on purpose?”

His face remained stoic, not a hint of amusement as I tried to diffuse the tension. Jon took a seat in the cheap plastic chair that sat next to the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the rage in his eyes dying down into a warm caring look. 

I shrugged, “It hurts. I’m tired, a bit hungry.”

“Have you eaten anything yet?”

“No,” I shook my head. The previous tension had dissipated into a warmth. Maybe I should get stabbed more often if Jon would take care of me. Nah, the pain wasn’t all that fun.

…

With Jon taking care of me, my feelings towards him only grew stronger. He’d try to help me through the trauma I gained from the interaction. Trauma I didn’t even realize I really had. I would wake up in a cold sweat some nights, the feeling of the knife penetrating my skin feeling as real as it did the night of the attack. I also couldn’t get over the hopelessness I felt that night. The need to see the people I cared about most just one last time. How I took our interactions for granted. 

I watched with gratitude as Jon pressed the back of his hand on my forehead, making sure I didn’t have a fever. Making sure I wasn’t catching an infection, even though my wound had nearly fully healed. The sudden urge to confess my feelings consumed me. This wasn’t how a boss normally treated their employee. This was how someone treated a loved one.

I wished to see his soft side, and now I saw it, and I never wanted to let go.

“Jon,” I whispered, my breath fanning over his face. His blue eyes met mine, urging me to continue with his expression alone. 

Fear drives people. That’s what Jon theorized. And with recent events, I’ve come to realize that he’s right. I was afraid of rejection, and so I kept how I felt to myself. Now, I was afraid he’ll never know how I feel. How much I care for him, how much I admire and appreciate him. 

“Thank you, for everything,” I thanked, taking in just how handsome he was. “Would you be okay with getting a coffee together?”

The faintest look of surprise crossed his features before that barely there grin pulled his lips up, “Sounds like a treat.”

“Then it's a date,” I grinned, closing the distance and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #gotham rogues x reader #rogues gallery x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #x reader #rogues gallery #gotham rogues #dork squad #dork squad x reader

[dinogoofymutated]

So I'm warming up to the idea of Cable now with this new animation style. And now I can't help but imagine a mutant reader seeing him shirtless for the first time 👉🏽👈🏽. Maybe she's helping him treat a wound he cant reach on his back and he's too worn out to rely on his telekinesis for it. Sure she knows that he has a metal arm. Techno-organic viruses were nasty business. But she never imagined she'd get to see the stark contrast of metal and flesh up close. Just a tender moment where she gets to see him at his most vulnerable. Preferably sfw. Sorry if this is too long winded or specific. Really love your writing and enjoy what you share with us regardless if u choose this one or not 🫶🏽

SFW!Cable/GN!Reader OOOOGHHHH when I tell you I have been thinking about this since you sent me the ask!! I've been dying to write this but forced myself to follow a schedule :( I've never really been a Cable girly but this scenario has been in my head non-stop! I just hope this fic does the same to others!!! Speaking of which, I hope this isn't too OOC for him! This also might get a pt 2 with some smooching 😘

Read pt. 2 Here :)

-Ps- Heads up, finals week is coming up for me and I have a lot of essays and work to do. my writing is sadly going to slow down a bit. I don't think I'm going to close requests for now but it's not out of the realm of possibility! TWs: Can't really think of any. Gross depictions of techno-organic shit. As always, Reader written while picturing fem! but no pronouns mentioned. The reader is short in this one, sorry to all my Amazonian friends.

    Prime sentinels were like wasps. Squashing one could be relatively easy with the right tools, but it was difficult to handle multiples at once. It had been a rough day, and your ears were still ringing from the sounds of blaster fire when you got to the safe house. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, body exhausted from overusing your mutant powers. Bruises are forming all over you, and despite the pain and soreness, you know you got off easy compared to Cable. 

    He’s got an arm slung around your shoulder, using you as a crutch as you help him limp over to the table- although you’re sure you’re not a very good one, too short for him to properly lean on. His gun clanks on the floor as he sits, grunting as the movement sends shooting pains through his body. You can tell his left arm is aching, the techno-organic virus fighting to beat the telekinetic powers keeping them still. You weren’t the only one who overdid it today, but you also weren’t the one who had to keep a virus from eating you alive.

    Once Cable is settled, the routine starts. You cautiously make a round through the safe house, making sure blinds are drawn and entryways secured. Usually, the task was split between the two of you, being faster and safer than it would be alone- but he would take it over when you were badly hurt. It was only natural that you would do the same. You feel the sting of anxiety and worry in your heart. Cable had saved your ass today. He had done so many times, but normally the fighting wasn’t this extreme. You had been stupid, and he was suffering the consequences. 

    A series of pained grunts lead you back into the kitchen once you’ve finished, and you can tell Cable is pissed just by the tone of them. You’re facing his back when you walk in, noticing the large red stain that spans across the width of his shoulders. You try to hide the worry on your face as you approach him. He has the medkit sprawled out on the counter, sorting through the various items in it.

    “Can’t believe this thing doesn’t have a damn mirror.” He grunts. You hum in response, looking him over before examining the items on the table.

    “What do you need a mirror for?” You ask, voice coming out a little hoarse. You clear your throat, must be from the smoke earlier. Cable sends you a look, tossing his head towards his back. You mouth an “oh” before looking at him, unable to hide your worried expression. You’d seen him stitch his wounds up with his telekinesis before, when the fight was all guns and no powers. An action like that was child’s play for someone of his capabilities. For him to actively avoid it, and the way his arm seemed to be bothering him more than normal… It made you worried. It made you feel guilty. 

    You look down at the suture kit, open on the table from where Cable had unzipped it, and then look back at him, wordlessly asking. He gives you a cautious look for a moment, before it shifts into something much softer. He doesn’t bother nodding, choosing to simply take his shirt off instead.

    You blush a little but quickly get to work, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. They’re too big for you, meant to fit Cable’s sturdy hands instead of your own smaller ones. You try not to get distracted by the sight of him shirtless as you pick up what you need and get behind him. The air has shifted between the two of you, forming into something a little more intimate. Something that builds itself on words unspoken, truths that neither of you is quite ready to communicate yet.

    His back is broad and beautiful, dotted with scars and bruises. The gash on his shoulders is from a stray blast, starting at the top of his left shoulder and ending at the lower shoulder blade of his right. 

    You’re not sure if you had been ready to see the cut-off between flesh and metal.

    The cords of metal attach to the skin of his shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. They sprout from underneath the skin, winding against each other in a way that makes no clear sense to you. The top layers of skin are rough, keloid scarring having formed at the impasse of skin and metal. It's horrific, the way the virus has both eaten and forced its way under the skin. The top of the gash is somewhat deep, the deep inner cording revealed by the wound cutting through the top of his skin has you unable to look away despite the horror that has taken you.

   “I can feel you staring, you know.” Cable’s rumbling voice causes you to snap back to reality.

    “Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” You trail off, not fully able to place the words. He sighs, and you mistake it for annoyance. You quickly get back on track and begin to disinfect the wound. Cable hardly flinches as you do so. You’re overly cautious as you stitch him up, focusing on each stitch being perfectly placed. You know they wouldn’t stay for long. Cable had a habit of tearing his stitches. You hope that maybe you’d be able to keep that from happening this time.

   You place both hands on his shoulder blades when you are done. The nerves have worn off as the pseudo-doctor in you took over. You’re trying to examine the stitches, but find that your attention keeps being drawn back to that stark contrast of his shoulder. If Cable notices, he doesn’t say anything. You glance at the back of his head, trying to gauge what he’s feeling. 

    Your left hand drifts a little. Cable shudders as your thumb gently traces that line of scarring, the metal of his arm feeling extra cold compared to the heat of his skin. You’re waiting for him to say something. To tell you to back off. To grumble and shake you off and avoid speaking to you like he used to when you first started to work together- when he was so determined not to get attached. 

   But he doesn’t say anything. Not at first, anyway. The tenseness of his shoulders slowly gives as the gently touching morphed into more purposeful touches, working the stiff muscles- what was left of the organic ones, anyway. 

    It’s intimate. It’s quiet. It’s… nice. Part of you wishes it would last a little longer. Part of you wishes he would let you touch him like this more often. 

    Cable stiffens again as the thought crosses your mind, recoiling away from you. He stands suddenly, turning around to face you. His towering stature used to make you nervous out of fear. Now you’re nervous for a completely different reason. Part of you had forgotten about the glimpses he takes into your mind. A flicker of anxiety ignites when you realize how much he might have seen. The two of you just look at each other for a moment, his brown eyes hard compared to the softness from earlier. You hadn’t meant to think so much. You didn’t think he was horrific. It was the virus. What it was doing to him. The energy and effort it takes out of him. That was what scared you.

    Cable was used to the stares. The horror. Most recoiled at the sight of his flesh. It only made sense to him when you did too.

    But Nathan… Nathan wasn’t ready for the depth of your thoughts. The care in your eyes. He wasn’t ready for the depth of his own feelings. The ones that cause such a storm within him. The ones that cause him to be stupid. The ones that make him focus more on saving you than the goal of every mission.

    “Is this… Are we okay?” You ask. He didn’t need to be a telepath to sense the fear that has swelled within you. Most of your emotions were always written on your face. It made things easier for him when he didn’t have to search for your thoughts. That hardness in his eyes softens yet again, and he glances away for a moment. 

    “... Yeah.” Is all he says. His heart feels light when you finally smile at him, even though an underlying nervousness still resides behind that smile. You let out a relieved sigh, and he can’t bear to look at you any longer. Instead, he sits back down. He faces away from you, giving you the space to finish taking care of the wound on his back. 

    You don’t realize how late it is until you’re finished, and the mess on the counter has been cleaned and contained back in the medkit. The two of you sit together as you eat. The food isn’t great- consisting of an MRE that’s not exactly as advanced as the futuristic weapons and technology would lead you to believe. He doesn’t say anything when you lean on his shoulder, or when your breathing evens out, having fallen asleep on his side.

  The aches and pains don’t really bother Nathan as he carries you to bed, but the thoughts of you, your feelings, your thoughts… Those keep him awake longer than any wound would.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #cable headcannons #cable x reader #cable xmen #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers #nathan summers headcannons #Cable imagines

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not calling out my little brother on his offensive behavior earlier?

For a bit of backstory, I (F21) am autistic. I was diagnosed was diagnosed with ADHD and autism at age 7. I have been in and out of therapy for it (against my will) until I turned 19 and went to college. For years, I have been trying to prove to others that I am capable of taking care of myself. I don't feel bad about being autistic. It's not an injury or a misfortune or whatever. It just is. But I don't speak up for myself when people insult me (directly or indirectly) for it.

I've been called crazy by my entire elementary math class for a class assignment (we had to say one nice word about each of our classmates). I've been called deviant by my college friends. I've been infantilized and compared to a pet by literal adults even after I tell them that I am autistic. I haven't been good at reprimanding this behavior, and I think I might've gotten used to it, hence why I even allowed my little brother to call me the r word in the first place. I haven't been mentally well for a good while, and I've only recently started to get the hang of managing my ADHD symptoms, so only now have I started paying attention to other people's lives.

Now here's where I may be the AH. My (M14) brother is neurotypical, and although I haven't called him out before for calling me the r word, he recently started calling me it in front of his friends. He's also in a lot of trouble as well for being racist and sexist at school as well, and I've started to wonder if I've been too soft on him. I've been going to a out of state college, so it's not like I was too involved in his life, but I was present, on occasion, when he was saying offensive things with his friends. I feel that as the adult in the situation, I should have intervened. I feel that my autism or mental state doesn't change the fact that in those situations, I am the responsible party. I feel that by being non confrontational, I was hurting my little brother. He trusts me, and I want him to be able to rely on me for help, but I feel I need to stop reinforcing this behavior. I just don't know how.

Maybe it's a too little, too late thing, but I'm really worried about him. He has a different dad, so he passes for hispanic, and I'm white, so I've always been unsure what role to take to confront him about his racism. I've experienced sexual harassment before, but I don't know how to talk about that with him either. I've told him multiple times that I am uncomfortable when he says things of sexual nature, but he hasn't stopped trying to get me to listen to his favorite (highly sexual) rap music. The one thing I was certain about that I could potentially ask him to stop was regarding my autism. I thought, since it was personal to me, he would understand and would stop. Maybe it would help him reflect on how others feel regarding the other stuff if I set one boundary. So I tried to ask him politely to stop making fun of my autism because it makes me uncomfortable. He got really upset and asked why I had a problem with it now instead of before. I've always been uncomfortable, I just never said anything. It's not like I can go back in time to change my past behavior, but I can see his point. I never called him out on it before, so why now? We aren't talking to each other anymore, but I can't help but think about the role I've taken in his life to make him act the way he does.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[lucy90712]

Could you write something with Pedri? 🥺 Pedri and the reader had a relationship in the past, but counts on Pedri's mistakes they ended up separating. One night they meet in a nightclub and Pedri is jealous of her with another. So he tries reconcillation

WC: 2.0k

Pedri's POV

Breakups are never fun and most of the time they hurt but usually after a while you move on and find someone new or at least normal people do. However nearly two years on and I still haven't got over y/n. The worst part about it all is that I broke up with her so my pain is all my own fault. The two of us began dating not long after I moved to Barcelona and for a few months things were great we did everything together and I was truly falling for her. At some point things changed and we started fighting a lot about stupid things really but the fights were so constant that after a while it was clear neither of us were happy so I ended things. We were both so young that staying in an unhappy relationship didn't seem worth it but now I wish we just worked through things and grew together. 

Right after the break up I missed her a lot as she was always by my side supporting me and although over the last two years this has faded sometimes I still wish she was by my side during the big moments. Going to the World Cup all I could think about was how I wished she was there to experience it all with me as we had talked about me one day hopefully making it to a World Cup while we were together. So many little things still hurt me more than I ever thought they would even all this time later. My biggest regret up to this point is definitely letting her go as she was my world and now without her I don't feel whole. 

Occasionally I still look at her Instagram as we still follow each other but with the amount of people I follow it's hard to see her pictures on my feed. Over the years she has had a few different boyfriends while I haven't been with anyone else since as no one could ever compare to her. Seeing her with other guys isn't what hurts the most though it's seeing her so happy without me that kills me every time I look at her Instagram. She always seems to be having fun with her friends and smiling, genuinely smiling too which is something I took for granted during our time together. It's torture watching her enjoy her life without me but I can't stop myself as I have to know how she is and what's she's doing even though she isn't mine anymore. 

My friends are always trying to set me up with other girls which has never worked out but they keep pushing and I already know that tonight will end up the same. Like always we will go out and they will find a girl who they think would be good for me and inevitably I won’t like her and we will go round in circles. Despite that I'm still going to go with them as we are supposed to be celebrating the end of the season and I don't want to miss out on that.

On the way to the club I picked up Gavi and as we arrived a few of the other guys arrived at the same time so we all walked in together and met with everyone else who was going. We all sat down and tried to talk for a while and I actually started to enjoy myself as I was just left alone and not forced to talk to anyone even though there was a lot of pretty girls in the club. At some point a few of the guys disappeared to go get drinks or go and talk with a group of girls but I stayed put and enjoyed my own evening celebrating with the guys that already have girlfriends. For once I was actually enjoying a night out as my mind wasn't always thinking about y/n and the stupid mistakes I made which led to me losing the girl of my dreams forever. 

My nice enjoyable night out didn't last much longer as it was ruined by Gavi coming back over laughing and getting me to look at some of the guys who were attempting to flirt with a group of girls. He clearly wasn't interested in any of them but Ansu, Balde, Ferran and Eric clearly were as even from a distance it was obvious they were trying to get these girls attention. I must admit it was funny to see them so desperate for these girl's attention even though on a normal day a few girls will willingly give them their numbers. It quickly turned to not being so funny anymore when I caught a glimpse of the girl Alejandro was flirting with. Straight away she looked familiar and then I saw that smile, a smile I could identify from a mile away. He was flirting with y/n and of course he didn't know that as I try not to bring her up too much as it hurts to talk about my mistakes but it hurts even more seeing someone else flirt with her right in front of my eyes especially one of my teammates. 

"Are you ok man?" Gavi asked 

"Umm yeah I'm good" I lied 

"Ok I know that's not true somethings bothering you just tell me what's up" he said 

"Ale's flirting with y/n" I stated simply 

"Who's that?" He asked 

"She's the girl I've mentioned that I dated when I was younger we broke up but I've regretted it ever since, she's the reason you guys can never get me to go on a date with another girl" I explained 

"Oh if I'd have known I would've stopped him flirting with her" he said 

"It's ok it was a few years ago I should really move on" I said 

"No if you still love her you should try and talk to her you never know she could still have feelings for you come on you are getting your girl back" he demanded 

Your POV

Usually on girls nights I will let loose a bit more and forget about everything going in in my life but tonight that's been harder than it usually is. For the last few days all I've seen is my ex boyfriends face plastered everywhere because his team just won la liga. For some this might be a bit annoying but they would get over it for me it's just painful. We didn't have the best end to our relationship as we just kind of gave up on each other after we went through a rough patch with fighting all the time and that's when Pedri ended things. To this day I still wish we had just been less stubborn and actually talked to each other so we could work through our issues but it's too late now. Seeing Pedri's face everywhere living his best life is what's been difficult this last week as my life has been tough. I just started a new and very stressful job and recently lost a family member and all I want to do is share my worries with Pedri like I always did when we were together. 

In an attempt to cheer myself up I've found myself letting this guy flirt with me and maybe flirting back a little. I mean I've had a few boyfriends since Pedri and I broke up but none of those relationships lasted very long as the guys either cheated on me or I got over them pretty quickly. This guy however seemed pretty nice he looked a little familiar but with the lighting in the club coupled with having drunk a bit I couldn't work out where I knew him from. As he was nice enough I didn't worry about where I knew him from as let's be honest after tonight I'm not going to see him again so why not have a bit of fun. The guy quickly told me his name was Alejandro and asked if he could buy me a drink which I couldn't say no to so we went to the bar together to get some drinks and kept chatting. I must say Alejandro was very charming but I'm not stupid I know what he really wants but for tonight I'm willing to play along as it's a bit of fun and I need more of that in my life. 

I was enjoying myself as Alejandro put a hand on my waist and pulled me a bit closer until it gave me a view over his shoulder. Straight away I locked eyes with Pedri who was coming towards me from across the room and I just panicked. I pulled away from Alejandro instantly and tried to get away not wanting to face reality but a hand grabbed mine to stop me getting too far. I didn't even need to look to know that it was Pedri's hand in mine as our hands fit together so perfectly just like they used to when we were together. As he pulled me back towards him I could smell his cologne which brought me right back to the date nights we used to have together when we would get dressed up even if it was just to go to McDonald's as we didn't have a care in the world. He continued to pull me away from the crowd as we headed towards the door and out the back of the club where there was no one else was around. 

"As much as it's nice to see you again I have to know why do we have to talk out here?" I questioned lightheartedly 

"Because I want to have a proper conversation" he said 

"So um how have you been?" He asked 

"I won't lie I could be better life's tough at the moment but I'm getting through it what about you you must be thrilled to have won the league" I said 

"Yeah it was cool but I'm going to be completely honest I kind of wish you were there to celebrate it with me" he admitted 

For a few seconds I couldn't believe what he just said. He missed me too. This whole time if we'd have just talked to each other the endless pain could've been prevented. My head was spinning with so many thoughts but I knew I needed to say something before Pedri got worried. 

"Do you miss me" was all I managed to say 

"Yeah I do I miss you constantly I always wish that we never broke up you were the one for me and I ruined it" he said 

"I miss you too nothing has been the same without you" I admitted 

"I don't want to take things too quickly and ruin them again but would you like to give things another go this time we will communicate better and work through any problems I just can't go on in life without you" Pedri said 

"I'd love to try this again with a clean slate" I said 

Both of us were beaming as we walked back into the club hand in hand. We both said goodbye to our friends before heading out of the club so that Pedri could drive me home. Neither of us needed to be out any more as we already got more than we could have ever wished for when leaving the house this evening. When we arrived back at my place together instinctively our lips found each other and we shared our first kiss in nearly two years but it was just as magical as our first if not even better as we are no longer awkward teenagers. As we want to take things slowly and do them right this time we didn't go any further but as he left Pedri promised me a second first date which only made me more excited for what's to come from our reunion. 

#pedri imagines #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzalez imagines #pedri imagine #pedri

[velinediary]

Comparison is ruining you

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶✿

One of the lessons I have had to learn to become who I am now is to stop comparing myself to others. It's not a lie that if you ask Veline from 2022 how many times she compared herself to different people, the list would be endless. But now, I see it more clearly and I know that I have greatly reduced this behavior that was harming me for many years. I want to mention that this doesn't mean that I don't sometimes have moments where I feel bad about myself, but the feeling doesn't linger for long, as I choose to let go of that feeling and come back to myself.

Although it may sound contradictory, comparison is good only if we know how to use it. It can help us identify areas for improvement or find inspiration, but it is also fundamental to remember that each person is unique, and the true measure of success lies in personal progress and personal satisfaction.

Here are certain aspects that we often compare ourselves with, so you can identify which ones you are comparing yourself to. (Remember, if you have all of them, there's no need to feel bad. Instead, it's a sign for you to start your own path.):

Physical Aspects: It can include height, weight, physical build, facial appearance, etc.

Emotional Aspects: The ability to handle and express emotions, empathy, emotional intelligence, etc.

Intellectual Aspects: Comparing cognitive abilities such as intelligence, creativity, problem-solving skills, etc.

Social Aspects: The ability to relate to others, communication skills, teamwork ability, etc.

Professional Aspects: Work achievements, skills, educational level, etc.

Personal Aspects: Values, beliefs, hobbies, lifestyle, etc.

Now that we know these aspects, let's move on to some tips that helped me reduce my level of comparison.

○ Focus on Yourself ♡

I know this advice has been given many times, but it is extremely true. By focusing on our own progress and not that of others, we start feeling better. By this, I mean letting go of thoughts like, "Look at her, she's been going to the gym for a month and already has visible changes, while I've been going for a year and still don't see anything," or "She just joined university and knows everything, while I can't even answer the professor's questions," among others. My loves, it's not like that. Each person has their own time to achieve the results they desire. The more you focus on your own path and what you want to achieve, the less space there is to think about others.

○ Cultivate Self-Acceptance ♡

We all have strengths and weaknesses, and that's why we should embrace them. We need to learn that we can't be good at everything to avoid frustration, but of course, there's always room for improvement. What I mean is that we should acknowledge both our strengths and weaknesses. First, to improve in areas where we struggle, and second, to enhance and make the most of our strengths.

○ Be Your Own Comfort ♡

Being our own comfort in moments when we feel like we have failed can be very helpful. Don't hurt yourself or beat yourself up over something you did wrong. Even I have to remind myself of this. Don't be cruel to yourself! Don't become your own worst enemy when you have those feelings. Instead, embrace and accept that fact, knowing that you will do better next time or that it won't even matter in the future.

○ Social Media is Just "Social Media, Not Real Life" ♡

I will try to keep this brief, as it is a vast topic with many subtopics. Social media is designed for sharing, creating communities, and making friends. However, over time, it has become a constant need for validation to boost our egos. Now, don't get me wrong, we all want to feel accepted or validated, but what I have realized is that the more you seek it, the more you want it. If you don't know how to handle it, you may end up feeling bad for not receiving the attention you thought you would get.

Of course, as it has been said many times, not everything we see on social media is true or dreamlike. Some photos may have been edited beforehand, or the person posting may not have felt genuinely good at that moment.

After all, these platforms only go so far. How many times have we remembered a specific post after closing an app? None, because real life exists. Not everyone around us has that "amazing" physical appearance or the "ideal" job as portrayed on social media. Not everyone follows trends or has "perfect skin". That's why we need to look beyond what is behind the screens and live our lives.

Conclusion

My dear girls, comparison will only serve you if you know where and when to apply it, without crossing the line, of course. Each one of us is on our own path towards becoming a better version of ourselves, no matter how long it takes, because that's what it's about - persisting and not focusing on what others did or didn't do. In the end, you are the one who will be telling your own story soon. I don't want to hear similar stories from everyone else because I want to know what you had to go through to get where you are.

Personal Note:

Creating this blog doesn't mean that I have everything figured out or the perfect life that every girl would want, but I'm still in the race, trying to reach the goal without looking at whether others have already achieved it or if they have surpassed me. I go at my own pace, and that's what matters. In fact, creating this blog is part of who I want to become.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------♡---------‐----------------------------------------------------

Thank you to the women who have made it this far, and I hope you enjoyed this post and found it helpful. Love yourselves, embrace yourselves, and have patience with yourselves because you will need it on the journey.

With love, Veline. Kisses!

#self awareness #self development #self love #tips #fashion girl #glow up #inspiration #self confidence #afirmaciones #self improvement #it girl #girlblogger #girlblogging #becoming that girl #girly aesthetic #girly things #that girl energy #this is a girlblog #pinterest girl #inspiring quotes #self care #loa #loassblog #health tips #fashion icon

[lilyevanstan1325]

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 7

I open my eyes with difficulty.

The light, although dim, hurts my bloodshot eyes.

A hand gently touches my forehead.

“Summer?”

When I finally bring the world into focus a pair of dark eyes are staring at me intently.

Worry seems to give way to relief as a corner of his lips lifts upwards.

It's always like this when we're alone.

When it's me and him everything is as it always has been.

Only love and devotion.

“Hey, you're back” he murmurs in his scratchy voice.

Another sweet caress on my face and then his hand grabs mine, squeezing it tightly.

For just a moment I forget everything he has done to me, everything he is doing to me, and I enjoy the warmth of that hand so familiar but at the same time unknown.

I try to sit up but a strong pain in my stomach stops me right away.

I hiss between my teeth, burying my head in the soft pillow.

“Stay down.The doc had to put some stitches”

Great.

Fucking prick.

“How do you feel?” he asks, leaning towards me and kissing my sweaty forehead.

I pull away slightly from his touch.

This attitude of him irritates me.

Once I would have craved his touch, but now it almost disgusts me.

His gaze hardens.

Obviously I'm offending him with my behavior.

I'm disrespecting him.

And no one can disrespect Negan.

Not even me, his greatest love.

“I'm fine.You can tell Simon that'll be for the next time.I'm sure that sooner or later he will succeed” I snort, immediately regretting it.

Every little movement seems to tear out this fucking stitches.

The man lets go of my hand, leaning his back against the back of the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Simon says it was an accident.You know, it can happen during training”

I roll my eyes in response.

One corner of his lips twitches slightly.

I'm annoying him.

Good!

My intention is precisely that.

We remain still to observe each other.

Where is the man I once respected?

What happened to our love?

Yet there was a time when I revered this man more than anything, no other man in my life could be compared to him.

There was a time when I would have thrown myself into a tank full of sharks to please him.

But now I can't see anything anymore.

I don't see him anymore.

In front of me I only have a stranger.

“You know it's not like that”

“Oh really?You know very well that Simon hates me.He hates what I am.What I represent” I reply angrily.

We've had this discussion countless times and yet he still doesn't believe me.

Why doesn't he want to believe me?

And why does this hurt so much?

Simon hates me.

He always hated me.

He sees me as a threat to his position.

He wants the power that rightfully belongs to me.

A power that I don't want but that will inexorably be mine one day.

I don't want to lead these men.

I don't want the Sanctuary to become my kingdom.

I never wanted it and I never will.

I'm aware of the looks I receive.

Some look at me with respect, almost with veneration while others with envy.

Being Negan's right-hand is one of the most coveted positions.

Too bad I didn't choose it.

I do not want it.

The man in front of me shakes his head, resignation is painted all over his face.

He brings a hand to his face, rubbing it vigorously.

“Okay, okay.Tell me how it went” he snorts at the limit of patience.

I lift myself up slightly with a grimace of pain.

He immediately gets up driven by an old protective instinct and helps me by placing the pillow behind my shoulders, after which he sits back in the chair ready to listen to me.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his leather jacket creaking with every movement he makes.

“There is nothing to say.He was training me on how to attack using a knife and during a small demonstration he thought he could take advantage of it and tried to stab me”

“That's not what he said”

“And obviously you believe him, don't you?”

“Summer” he sighs nervously.

“Don't Summer me!Okay?” I silence him with an abrupt wave of my hand.

A flash of anger pierces his gaze, making him stand up abruptly.

The chair screeches on the floor, falling with a loud thud.

He paces the room with long nervous strides, passing a hand over his mouth.

I'm used to his outbursts of anger by now.

And if at the beginning I felt terrified by all that anger, now I'm indifferent to it.

“Listen to me.Now rest.We'll talk about it later”

“We have nothing to talk about, Negan”

Oh man...

If a look could kill I'd be dead right now.

Now I would be just one of the many biters tied to the fence.

He hates it when I use his name to refer to him.

But, hey!

I don't give a fucking shit.

Without even looking at me again, he heads towards the door, leaving me alone.

I smile bitterly.

I'm used to that.

It's like this between the two of us now.

An immense abyss has now been created between the two of us and nothing will bring things back to how they once were.

Nothing will be the same.

All the good times we spent together are now just a memory.

A distant and painful memory.

Nothing will bring back the man I loved.

I don't belong here anymore.

My heart no longer belongs to him.

And this hurts.

It hurts so damn much.

So bad I can physically feel it.

A strong and unbearable pain that takes my breath away.

Suddenly everything goes dark, I can feel the walls tightening around me until they suffocate me.

What the hell is going on?

I try to get out of the bed but my body doesn't respond.

The grip on my chest becomes more and more suffocating.

I try to scream but I can't find my voice.

It's all dark.

And it hurts.

It' hurt like a bitch.

I suddenly open my eyes in panic trying to sit up.

I am no longer at the Sanctuary.

I'm in another bed.

Around me there are only white walls and above me the figure of a man who delicately tries to keep me lying down.

“Summer everything is fine.You're safe”

Rick's soft voice, accompanied by his gentle touch, makes my heartbeat slow down.

My eyes wander wildly throughout the room until they land on the officer's blue and melancholy ones.

I'm at the farm.

I'm not at the Sanctuary.

My labored breathing is the only sound in the room.

Rick's hands are still on my shoulders.

It was just a memory.

An old memory that came to haunt me in my subconscious.

“You're safe” the man repeats, trying to give me some calm.

I'm safe.

He is far away.

He can't hurt me anymore.

Repeating these words in my mind I find some tranquility.

The breathing calms down, the heart slows down until it returns to a regular beat.

Rick lets me go and sits down on the chair next to the bed.

I let my gaze wander along the walls.

Photos of Hersel and his family cover them.

This must be the vet's bedroom.

My gaze focuses on the window.

It's broad daylight outside, the sun is shining high in the sky.

How long was I unconscious?

“How long did I sleep?” I ask confused.

Rick sighs, letting a feeling similar to worry slip from his gaze.

“You've been out for almost 36 hours.What do you remember?” Rick asks, attentive to my reaction.

I shake my head trying to remember where I was and how I ended up here.

I clear my throat.

I touch my shoulder and feel some gauze under my fingers.

I look down and notice a bandage.

“Blood.I remember blood” I murmur touching my wound.

Rick nods.

“Andrea shot you”

What?

Stupid fucking bitch.

“She thought you were walkers”

I try to concentrate by putting my confused memories in order.

I remember the pain, the panic.

And blue eyes.

Daryl.

I shudder.

“Daryl?”

His name rolls from my lips in an agitated whisper.

Where's Daryl?

He's fine?

He…he can't be…

“Daryl's fine” Rick responds promptly.

I carefully observe every nuance on his face to catch every little movement, something that would make me understand if he is lying.

His calm expression makes me believe him.

Daryl is fine.

I relax my shoulders leaning on the pillow and letting go of all the tension.

“Daryl is fine” the man in front of me repeats.

I nod closing my eyes.

“I forced him to go eat something and rest with the promise that I would let him know as soon as you woke up” he adds, smiling slyly.

Rick crosses his arms over his chest while still smiling.

His gaze embarrassed me.

Why is he looking at me like that?

I squirm under his gaze full of malice.

“You know he didn't leave your side for even a moment.Hersel had to give him stitches while he was sitting in this chair.In the end Carol and I managed to convince him”

I blush violently.

Did Daryl really do this?

Unable to formulate a coherent sentence, I look down at my hands.

A wave of memories hits me.

Daryl helpless and wounded.

Sophia's doll.

The walkers.

The kiss.

Shane.

I turn my crestfallen gaze back to Rick.

“Rick I'm sorry” I whisper in a small voice.

The man's eyebrows raise in confusion.

“What exactly are you apologizing for?” he asks really confused by my words.

Now that it's just me and him I have to talk to him.

I have to apologize.

And above all I have the duty to warn him.

Shane is dangerous.

“I'm sorry for how I reacted to Shane but- but- but…” I stutter unable to find the right words.

Rick continues to observe me patiently waiting for me to find the right words.

But are there really suitable words for what I'm about to tell him?

I torture my lower lip between my teeth trying to tame the nervousness that grips my guts.

Rick deserves to know the truth.

“Listen Rick, I know this may sound crazy to you but you have to believe me.You have to…you have to keep Lori and Carl away from Shane.I beg you.Shane…you can't trust him anymore”

My heart hammers in my chest.

How can I tell this man that he can no longer trust his best friend?

The man who is like a brother to him.

I feel crushed by the weight of my own words so I go back to observing my hands that are torturing the white linen sheet between my fingers.

Rick lets out a big sigh.

Neither of us speaks and the silence continues suffocating for a few minutes.

“Lori told me everything”

My head snaps in his direction.

His words catch me completely off guard.

The officer has his head down, his shoulders hunched.

His eyes are looking straight at mine.

“I understand why you're warning me” he adds, giving me a sad smile.

So he knows…he knows about his wife and his best friend.

Poor Rick.

My heart aches for him.

He is too a good man to deserve shit like this.

“Does she take the pills?” I venture not expecting an answer.

After all, I am a stranger who procured abortion pills for his cheating wife.

I would hate myself too if I were in his place.

Rick nods with such pain in his deep blue eyes that it makes me tremble.

“She took them but she throw up right after.We don't know if they had an effect or not”

He looks defeated.

I wish I could do something for him.

I would like to be able to ease his pain at least a little, make it mine.

Rick turns his gaze to the window before speaking again.

“I'm not stupid.I knew there was something going on between Lori and Shane and I don't blame them.Really.They thought I was dead” he murmurs, bringing his gaze back into mine.

His eyes are veiled with tears.

It can't be easy for him.

He returned from the dead and fought against the dead to find his family.

Only to find out that his family had moved on without him.

To find out that Lori was moving on with another man.

With the man he considers a piece of his heart.

“I'm sure that after my return Lori was no longer with Shane but this doesn't give me the certainty that this child is mine”

How much pain can a heart hold before it breaks?

Is there a maximum threshold of sorrow that a soul can endure before falling apart?

Even though we have two completely different stories, Rick and I have a lot more in common than I might have thought.

We were both betrayed by the people we loved above all else.

I shake my head, smiling sadly.

“It doesn't matter Rick.It does not matter.Lori loves you.And this baby…this baby is yours.It doesn't matter what happened.This child is the most beautiful thing that could have happened to you”

Rick seems to hang on my lips, anxious to find an outlet in my words that can give him the strength to react.

He has carried this weight inside his heart for too long, for so long that he could believe the words of a perfect stranger.

“After all, that's what we're fighting for, right?This baby could be the hope we need” I murmur struggling against my aching body and pushing my legs off the bed positioning myself right in front of him.

I grab his hands and squeeze them in mine.

“How?” he asks hesitantly.

The grip of his fingers intensifies around mine.

I smile.

“I know it might seem crazy right now.Bringing a new life into this world is unthinkable, risky, reckless but...but we can't just kill walkers.What's the point of fighting just to survive, Rick?Our aim is to live again.We cannot lose feelings like love along the way.This child is the proof that life goes on.Life always wins.I really believe it.I still believe in love.It can't all be over.And I promise I will help you, I will fight for your family as if it were my own.I would die for you”

I'm sincere.

Even though I have only known these people for a short time, in my heart I know that these people can make a difference in this world.

Rick will make a difference in this disturbing world.

And I will always be by his side.

Rick seems to be mulling over my words, our hands in front of us still clasped together.

“Why would you do that?” he asks me out of curiosity.

“Because I choose to trust you, I know I can.You are a good man Rick”

Rick lets go of my hands to wrap his arms around my shoulders locking me in his embrace, welcoming my head against his strong chest.

I close my arms around his body pressing my hands against his back.

I feel his body trembling.

In our embrace there is a sort of mutual consolation.

Today we both discovered that we have someone we can count on.

A knock at the door interrupts our embrace.

Rick clears his throat before speaking.

“Come in” he replies, rising from his chair at the same time Carol's face appears in the doorway.

As soon as she sees me, a radiant smile appears on her face.

She approaches me with a couple of steps and then crushes me in her warm embrace.

Suddenly it's as if my eyes can no longer contain the tears and, hugging onto woman's chest, I let out a liberating cry.

Getting rid of all the fear and stress.

“I'll leave you two alone” Rick murmurs as he leaves and closes the door behind him.

“It's okay, Summer” Carol whispers in my ear, stroking my still dirty hair.

Carol comforts me until my sobs subside.

"How are you?" I ask looking at her beautiful, tired eyes.

I'm sure she has already been briefed on what Daryl and I found.

Carol laughs amusedly, her eyes are shining.

“I should be the one asking you, don't you think?” she replies, making space next to me.

I let her sit on the bed and then I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her against my side.

The woman turns her face in my direction, looking straight into mine.

She doesn't speak, she stands there staring at me for a few moments then her gaze turns towards the window.

“You need to know something Summer.You and Daryl did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life.Today…today you could have died and you have no obligation towards her.Or towards me” Carol whispers softly, sniffing.

I immediately shake my head and tighten my grip around her shoulders trying to communicate all my love to her.

“Carol I owe you my life and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.Nothing.Today we were really close, we'll find her.I'm sure of it" I reply.

I think back to Carol's husband.

Ed.

I still remember the amazement I felt when, with disarming naturalness, she told me about the abuse she suffered from her husband.

Ed was a real bastard.

I'm sure no one mourns his death.

Not even the one who was once his wife.

I couldn't understand her words, her resignation in suffering the abuses.

For me this is unthinkable.

I come from a family full of love and respect.

Carol lets herself be consoled by my words, she rests her head on my shoulder, closing her eyes.

We remain absorbed in a pleasant silence.

Both happy with what little we have, both full of hope for the future.

Outside the window, among the branches of the trees swaying in a light wind, I can see a flash of clear sky.

Blue like the eyes of my handsome archer.

I should leave this room and go look for him.

Make sure he's okay.

“Is Daryl okay?Did you talk to him?" I ask hesitantly.

Carol straightens her head, turning her torso in my direction.

A huge smile spreads across her face.

“Daryl is fine.If it wasn't for you he would have died.He told me how you bravely saved his life”

I snort in amusement.

“He just made the matter bigger.I didn't do anything Rick or everyone else wouldn't have done” I reply with a shrug.

I move nervously, attracting the woman's interest.

“What happens?” she asks in a curious tone.

I bring my index finger to my mouth, nibbling nervously at the tip of it.

“Did he tell you anything else?”

Now I have her undivided attention.

“What should he have told me?”

“Forget it” I mutter, my face red with shame.

What the hell am I thinking?

Why did I even think Daryl might have told her anything about what happened between the two of us?

Then, let's face it, what really happened?

It was just a stupid kiss.

A one-way kiss.

I kissed him, he remained still.

He didn't react.

He didn't kiss me back.

I'm stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Summer?What happened between you and Daryl?”

Carol stands in front of me, overwhelming me with her questions.

I avoid her gaze mortified.

I should never have done what I did.

What if Daryl wants nothing to do with me now?

Just thinking about it makes my heart ache.

“Summer what-”

“I kiss him” I interrupt her.

Her mouth remains open while her eyes dilate so much that I believe they could pop out of their sockets at any moment.

“You kiss Daryl?” she yells back.

I immediately bring my hand to cover her mouth, trying to quiet her loud screams.

The sudden movement causes a pang in my injured shoulder.

“Shhhhh!Do you want everyone to hear you?” I hiss softly through my teeth trying to calm her growing enthusiasm.

Carol continues to slur words made incomprehensible by my hand still pressed over her mouth.

I glance nervously at the door, trying to sharpen my hearing to understand if anyone is nearby.

This thing must absolutely not be known.

Carol dodges my hand.

“What do you do?And him?What did he do?What did he say?”

Carol bombards me with questions but at least she has the decency to whisper them.

The woman looks at me with a toothy, radiant smile as she awaits my clarification on the subject but the smile slowly dissolves at the sight of my expression.

I feel tears pushing behind my closed eyelids.

I shake my head trying to tame the anxiety that arises within me.

In a small voice I whisper “I did something stupid.I ruined everything, Carol”

I look at my friend.

My sweet confidant.

A very sweet smile appears on her lips as she caresses my cheek with her hand.

I let myself be lulled by her gentle touch.

“Let me ask you a question” she whispers.

I nod without speaking, I don't trust my own voice at the moment.

The grip in my throat is too great.

“Have you ever touched or hugged Daryl?”

I nod again.

If it's possible, her smile widens even more.

“I'll tell you a secret.I never saw anyone come close to that man, much less touch him.Daryl lets you do things that are forbidden to him.I've never seen him so interested in anything other than his crossbow” Carol giggles, putting her hands in her lap.

A small smile emerges on my lips even though I feel a painful sadness.

I shake my head a couple of times.

“I made a mistake Carol”

“Are you sure?”

I'm sure?

“Yes.This is wrong.I shouldn't have…but I was scared.He…he…I thought I would lose him forever.I don't know what I was thinking about” I admit dejectedly.

When I saw him so weak, so defenseless, something clicked in my head.

I was simply afraid.

So much afraid.

The thought that I would never see him again destabilized me and made me lose my mind.

“Bullshit” the woman takes me back.

“Carol…”

“No.Listen to me.Talk to him.Daryl just needs a little push.Even though you wouldn't think so, Daryl is an extremely insecure man when it comes to feelings.He believes he doesn't deserve what others have to offer him”

We remain silent lost in our thoughts.

Talk to him?

No, I don't think I'll ever have the courage to do it.

What could I possibly tell him.

“It's irrational, you know?How long have I known him?A week?It's not...it's absurd”

“This is love”

Love?

“Oh c'mon Carol!Love?Are you serious?”

I have never been in love in my life.

At least not to the point of losing my mind over a man I just met.

I have only truly loved one man and I know very well how it ended.

I can't risk.

Not again.

This time I don't know if I could bear it.

Carol wraps an arm around my shoulders and this time I rest my head on hers.

Her hug reminds me so much of that of my sweet mommy.

“Life is too short Summer.Nowadays more than ever.Tomorrow we may no longer be here.Would you really want to deprive yourself of something so beautiful?”

I sigh heartbrokenly, the air comes out in a puff from my nostrils.

I bury my face in the crook of her neck fighting against my every desire.

What I want is not what he wants.

“I feel like it's just all inside my head Carol.I can't risk it”

I confide to her in a whisper.

Carol kisses the top of my head and then gets out of bed.

“Sleep on it, okay?I'll bring you dinner later” she whispers, giving me one last smile before reaching the door and closing it behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I mull over my friend's words for hours without coming to any conclusions.

I toss and turn in bed full of restlessness, the sheets twisting around my legs doing nothing but increasing my nervousness.

The shoulder seems to hurt more and more by the minute.

Whatever medicine Hersel injected me with is wearing off.

The sky outside the window is starting to darken and now resigned to not being able to rest I decide to get up.

I have to do something or I'll go crazy locked up in here.

Leveraging my good arm, I sit up, bringing my legs closer to the edge of the bed.

I slowly put my feet on the ground and, supporting myself with the chair, I stand up.

A slight dizziness catches me unprepared but I manage not to fall face first on the floor.

Once I'm sure my body can hold me, I walk towards the door.

When I open it I find a pair of blue eyes staring at me, his hand suspended in mid-air as if I had interrupted his attempt to knock on the door.

“Hi” I greet the boy in front of me with a soft smile.

“You must be Carl, right?”

The boy smiles shyly and nods.

His eyes, so similar to his father's, scrutinize me carefully.

It's the first time we've seen each other and I'm sure that on his part there's a lot of curiosity to meet the latest arrival.

“Do you need something?”

My question seems to snap him out of his thoughts.

He straightens his back and reaches his hand out to me.

“Mom asked me to bring you this” he replies handing me a bottle of water.

I accepted it with a smile.

“Thank you”

“You're welcome.So…how are you?I know Andrea shot you”

His eyes immediately go in search of my bandage.

“Well, you know.It's suck but I'll survive”

Carl chuckles, wrinkling his nose.

His eyes shine.

“I know.It's hurts” he replies with a hint of pride.

I'm sure that at his young age, having survived a gunshot wound is a source of pride.

“You know tomorrow you will be better, at most you will be left with a scar.It certainly won't be nice to look at but better than being dead” he confides to me, passing a hand over his abdomen.

I bend down on my knees bringing my gaze to his level.

“Can I tell you a secret, Carl?”

The boy nods almost ecstatically.

I smile at his sweet naivety.

“Girls find scars very attractive”

The boy's cheeks turn a delicious shade of red.

But even if he is embarrassed he continues to listen to me with great attention.

A light rustle of clothes behind Carl catches my attention.

In the hallway, with his back straight and his gaze tense, is Daryl.

For a moment I get lost in the crystalline blue of his eyes and a wave of relief overwhelms me.

Daryl is really fine.

With an unprecedented effort I bring my attention back to the boy in front of me, still anxiously awaiting for my words.

“Especially the ones that have a cool story.They will literally lose their minds, trust me.And then don't forget that every scar we carry tells a story, a little piece of us.You should never be ashamed of it.Never”

With a soft grunt I get back to my feet, my knees creaking painfully.

My body is still too traumatized and weak from the last events.

Carl sees the look of pain on my face and brings his arm closer so I can grab it.

He really is a little gentleman.

I let him help me get up trying to put as little weight on him as possible.

I don't want to offend him and I prefer to make him believe that without him I wouldn't have made it.

As if I couldn't help it, my gaze is drawn to the motionless man in the hallway.

There is an expression on his face that is impossible to read.

I can't understand the nature of his thoughts.

The severe frown permanently resides on his face while his lips are pressed into a hard line.

Why is he here?

I tremble at the thought that he came to scream at me, to scream at me all his anger for having taken the freedom of kissing him.

“Do you want me to take you to your room?” Carl asks shyly, looking over his shoulder at Daryl and then looking back at me.

He seems intimidated by the man and from my bewildered expression he must be thinking that I am too.

Of course I am but I can't tell him so I just smile and shake my head.

“I'm fine Carl.You can go.Thanks”

Carl nods and walks away out of my sight.

My gaze wanders everywhere except in the archer's direction.

What should I do now?

I could turn my back on him and go back to my room.

Or I could face him.

I feel helpless in front of him.

I risk a glance in his direction and I find him motionless in the same position.

The serious look and the arms hanging lifelessly at his sides.

I start to open my mouth but immediately stop when I see him advancing towards me with a determined step.

I panic and retreat back into the room where I spent the last few hours recovering without ever taking my eyes off Daryl's unreadable gaze.

I only stop when my back hits the wall.

The bottle slips from my hands and hits the floor with a dull thud.

Daryl doesn't slow down his pace and scared I close my eyes waiting for his wrath, putting my hands in front of me in defense.

What will he do?

I tilt my head to the side, keeping my eyes closed until I feel his large body pressing against mine, crushing me against the wall.

My hands press against the warm muscles of his immense chest.

His arms tighten around my shoulders and he buried his face firmly into my hair.

He's shaking.

My breath gets stuck in my throat.

I'm literally paralyzed but a strength beyond my control makes my fingers tighten the fabric of his shirt.

I press my head hard against his broad, muscular chest, the crazy roar of his heart in my ear.

Without shame I inhale his scent deeply.

Daryl still smells like the woods with a slight hint of laundry soap this time.

My body vibrates in response to this sweet scent.

I feel his cheek rubbing against my hair.

His lips, so unknown but so familiar that it almost hurts, touch my ear and my skin fills with shivers.

His hot breath became more strained and his muscles tensed as his hands descended along my body, flattening themselves against my spine.

He drew me even closer to him.

My skin flush under his touch.

“Ya good?”

His stubble tickles my cheek causing a sweet sensation that extends throughout my body.

“Yeah, I'm good.You?” I whisper worriedly, moving my face away from his chest, searching for his eyes.

When I find them a wave of pure pleasure overwhelms me.

They are like waves that crash forcefully into my heart, sweeping away all my hesitations, all my fears.

It's devastating.

Absolute.

Frightening.

Daryl's eyes searches for my face.

His eyes move without a specific destination and then stop on my lips.

And there they remain.

I swallow empty.

A shiver runs down my spine making me vibrate under his persistent gaze.

His lips part imperceptibly as he inhales deeply.

My head is spinning like I'm dizzy.

I feel like I've been catapulted through the air and now I'm falling and the fall is leaving my head light and empty.

His hands moved to my hips, gripping them with so much force that I gasped.

His fingertips imprint themselves in my flesh.

Without ever leaving my eyes his head moves gently towards mine.

Unable to remain still waiting for his lips I move my body against his making him shiver.

His eyelids flicker and then close, his mouth ajar.

My hands fly into his hair pulling him towards me.

When I can already savor the taste of his lips, a gasp followed by a curse behind us bursts the bubble in which we were locked up.

Pop.

And it's all over.

Daryl's eyes widen, a look of pure panic on his face as he quickly takes a few steps back and pushes me away abruptly, putting as much distance between us as possible.

His gesture hurts me, making anger boil under my skin.

In his opinion, was what we were doing really so wrong?

So wrong that he reject me with so much disgust?

Would it really be so humiliating for him?

Confused thoughts swirl in my mind as Glenn watches us from the doorway with wide eyes.

His mouth is so open his jaw could graze the floor.

Daryl clears his throat.

His eyes fixed on the tips of his boots.

“Shit!I'm Sorry.I- I- I- I can come back later” Glenn stammers, his cheeks red with shame.

I'm sure he could have imagined anything except that he would find Daryl and me so close in front of him.

Daryl shakes his head nervously, muttering something under his breath and leaving the room with his head down.

Leaving me stunned and embarrassed.

Glenn watches the man's back as he walks away and then brings his attention back to me.

“Shit Sum!I'm Sorry.I just wanted to come to see how you feel.I…I didn't want to interrupt anything” he apologizes next to me with a mortified expression.

I look at him without knowing what to say.

I'm honestly a lot more stunned by Daryl's reaction right now.

Would it really have been a source of unbearable shame to have been seen with me?

Glenn stands there confused, watching me with his eyes ajar.

As much as I try to regain some composure, I am sure that the various emotions I am feeling flow across my face at the mercy of anyone.

Anger.

Rejection.

Ache.

Sorrow.

Humiliation.

And finally the shame.

Glenn takes another step closer, tightening his hand around my upper arm.

“Summer are you okay?Do you want me to go get Hersel?”

Now the boy is worried.

My silence and my eyes lost are making him wonder if I'm in shock.

His other hand also reaches my other arm.

He tightens his grip slightly, shaking me gently.

“Hey!You're scaring me now!Everything is fine?Was Daryl doing something against your will?” the panicked tone of his voice pushes me to find my own.

The words seem glued to my tongue but I force myself to speak.

I can't let Glenn think such a thing about Daryl.

I shake my head.

“No, no…I- I- I- I don't know what was happening.I…” I stammer, about to cry.

I hide my face in my hands full of frustration.

“I think he was about to kiss me but then you came.I don't know.It all happened so fast”

The sound of my words is muffled against my hands pressed to my face.

“Shit.I'm really sorry Sum, really sorry”

I move my hands away from my face meeting the truly contrite gaze of the man in front of me.

“Stop apologizing.It's not your fault.I think he would have regretted it immediately afterwards anyway.You better have interrupted us.It's better this way, trust me”

I smile weakly at him.

Right now I'm so tired that I can't even lie about the nature of my feelings for that complicated man.

Glenn hugs me, lifting me into the air, making me laugh in amusement.

For a moment my feet don't touch the floor.

Glenn's arms are wrapped around my waist while mine is wrapped around his neck.

He smiles at me beamingly.

A smile that I return with absolute sincerity.

“To what do I owe this?” I laugh as he puts me down, making the soles of my boots stick to the floor again.

“I'm happy you're alive” he exclaims enthusiastically.

“When I saw all that blood, after Andrea shot you, for a moment I feared the worst”

Glenn moves away from me and sits on the bed.

I join him by sitting next to him.

“Nah!I got thick skin, you'll need something else to get rid of me" I reply, raising the corner of my lips.

Glenn chuckles, nudging me playfully.

“So...you and Dixon, huh?”

I laugh.

“Oh shut up!”

We laugh together.

When the echoes of our laughter disperse in the air, Glenn grabs my hand.

“I'm really sorry Sum.I didn't want to embarrass you”

His sincere eyes find mine.

Not knowing what to answer I just shrug.

Honestly I didn't feel embarrassed, I trust Glenn and I'm sure I can count on his discretion.

What hurts me is Daryl's behaviour.

Without a shadow of a doubt something was about to happen but now I don't know if his reaction was a consequence of his shyness or if he really realized that what he was about to do was wrong.

“Can I tell you what I think?” Glenn asks, squeezing my fingers between his.

“Can I stop you?” I chuckle, rolling my eyes.

Glenn pushes me again, laughing.

“C’mon talk”

“I think you are what that man needs.It might work.You are so different but I'm sure that together you complement each other in some strange way.I've never seen him worry like that about anyone.Even for Merle”

“You forget Sophia”

“Not in that way, Sum.You know what I mean”

I sigh biting my lip between my teeth.

I don't feel like dealing with this now, not now that my mind is still so confused.

Now there is another thing I want to talk about.

“I'm sorry I lost my mind with Shane.I didn't want you to see that part of me” I whisper embarrassed.

I have vague flashes of Glenn's worried face trying to calm me down as I brandish the knife in his face.

I'm not at all proud of how I reacted the other morning.

“Why do you care?That man is an asshole”

I know.

I know it very well.

But this does not justify my actions.

Thinking about it now with a clear mind, I should have ignored his words and left.

“What happened after?” I ask hesitantly.

Glenn moves uncomfortably, it almost seems like he doesn't want to answer my question.

I throw my head back, closing my eyes.

Damn.

“Was it that bad?”

Glenn shakes his head sadly.

“Shane lost his mind.He railed against everyone.He yelled at Rick and Dale that we should send you away.That you're unstable" he huffs, clearly annoyed by the idea.

But maybe Shane is right.

I'm unstable.

My past is a danger to these people.

In recent days I have often thought about leaving.

I imagined if Negan ever found me what he might do to the people who dared to defend me.

To him I am only his property.

“What if he's right?”

For the first time I admit my greatest fear out loud.

Glenn looks at me with wide eyes, immediately dismissing my words with an energetic shake of his head.

“Listen to me Glenn.I have to tell you something I've never told anyone.Not to Carol, not Rick or Daryl.Nobody knows”

I feel my throat dry while my forehead is beaded with sweat.

Can I really trust the guy next to me?

“Summer whatever it is you can trust me, you know this”

His eyes are the mirror of his words.

I can trust him.

“The community where I lived before, those people…they are not like you.I've done things to survive that I'm ashamed of.Those men are dangerous”

It's all true.

I've done things I'm not proud of.

Under Simon's orders I made people suffer.

I look down at my hands unable to face Glenn's judgment.

“I ran away” I continue “I couldn't take it anymore.I wanted to reach Atlanta to start again then...well, you know how it went”

Then Daryl found me.

“I should leave you.It would be the best decision for you.You are good people, you don't deserve what could happen”

A tear slides down my face crashing onto my clasped hands.

Glenn doesn't speak making my anxiety skyrocket.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

His whispered words make me jump.

“What?No!Oh my God!No, never.You have to believe me.But my actions made so many people suffer...I was forced.I swear”

A moment later I find myself held tightly in his arms.

“I know that they are far away now but I'm always afraid that one day they might find me” I admit without being able to hold back the tears.

Glenn silences my fears by holding me even tighter.

We remain close for a few minutes until his hands move up my face, drying the residue of my tears.

“Do you remember what I promised you when we were in that stable?”

Yes, I remember it.

Without knowing me, without knowing my story, he promised me that he would not allow anyone to hurt me.

“That promise is still valid, Sum”

A big smile spreads across his face.

I try to compose myself and get up.

“I'll talk to Rick about it.I will do it.I just need time”

Glenn nods.

“Don't worry.With me your secret is safe” he replies giving me another smile.

I turn my gaze towards the door.

Now there's one more thing I have to do.

I can't wait.

“Go talk to Daryl” Glenn suggests, getting up and giving my hand a final squeeze.

Together we leave the house.

Once I get outside I realize that the sun has now set, giving way to the imminent night.

I take a deep breath and without looking around I head straight towards my goal before my courage abandons me.

With a determined step I reach the furthest tent from the camp, entering inside without announcing my arrival.

Daryl is sitting on an old sleeping bag, his long legs stretched out with his ankles crossed.

He twisted an arrow in his hands and as soon as he senses my presence he looks up.

“Hey” I greet him suddenly drained of any courage I had promised myself I would maintain.

“Hey” is his only response and then he lowers his gaze again to his hands.

Embarrassed by the silence, I let my gaze wander along the narrow space.

The floor of the tent is bare.

Only in one corner there are some clothes piled up and his crossbow with more arrows.

“Can I seat?” I ask.

I won't impose my presence on him so if he wants me to leave he will have to tell me.

The archer doesn't look at me but taps the ground next to him with his hand.

I sit next to him crossing my legs.

Now that I am so close to him, all my good intentions and the words I had prepared seem to disappear, leaving me empty and disoriented.

Why did I come here?

I knew it was a bad idea.

The silence around us is deafening.

Then his low, guttural voice resonates in the small tent.

“Thanks fer saving ma’ life”

I turn my head towards the sound of his voice observing his features.

Daryl doesn't look at me.

His cheeks seem to color with embarrassment.

He is clearly uncomfortable although the causes are unknown to me.

Regret?

Shame?

I risk a small movement.

Daryl watches as my hand slowly reaches his, I caress his knuckles with my fingertips.

When I make sure he doesn't feel uncomfortable, I become bolder and put my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look me in the eyes.

And what I see leaves me astonished.

In front of me there is not the self-confident man I am used to.

No, in front of me I have a man, a boy, hesitant.

Almost scared.

As if I had a trapped, scared animal in front of my eyes.

Confident, I lift myself up under his watchful gaze and sit astride him.

His body tenses automatically but he doesn't move away from me.

He doesn't push me back.

He just stands still, barely breathing.

I place both my hands on his face, with my thumbs I caress his strong cheekbones.

I touch the tip of his nose, letting the tip of my thumb slide across his lips.

An imperceptible contact that makes them open.

His eyes close, his shoulders relax.

I enjoy every little nuance of him with dreamy eyes, I take every breath of him.

For a moment I delude myself that Daryl wants what I want so I close the distance between us.

I brush his lips with mine.

Just once and then I stand back waiting for his reaction.

His consent.

Daryl reopens his eyes and all his uncertainty seems to have disappeared.

His large hands rest on my hips and then move almost absentmindedly along my thighs.

The blue of his irises seems to be totally swallowed up by the black of his pupils.

“I was scared” he confesses in a hoarse whisper.

“There was so much blood”

His eyes linger for a moment on my bandaged shoulder and then focus on mine again.

“I know.I had the same fear in that river, Daryl" I admit without shame.

At this point what would be the point of hiding it?

His hands move up from my thighs, wrapping around my torso, bringing me closer against his warm body.

I cannot wait anymore.

And from the way the archer's body vibrates, he too is at the limit of endurance.

This waiting is wearing us both down.

I lean forward deciding to put an end to this pain.

“Summer?”

No.

No, no, no.

I snort, leaning forward and resting my forehead against Daryl's.

Our noses touch, our breaths mingle.

Why I feel like the entire universe is against me today.

Sighing, I get up and collapse next to him.

“I'll kiss you, Dixon” I mutter giving him a light shoulder while Andrea's head looks inside the tent.

Daryl coughs like he's trying to hold back a laugh making me smile.

Good.

From his reaction I understand that he doesn't mind the possibility.

Thank God!

“Were you looking for me?” I say to the blonde who approaches with a lowered gaze.

She doesn't seem at all surprised that I'm here.

More than anything she seems embarrassed as her gaze remains fixed on her feet.

“I'm so sorry.I feel like shit” the woman murmurs, torturing her hands and risking a glance in my direction.

“Yeah, you and me both” I murmur, automatically placing a hand on my shoulder.

Daryl, completely ignoring Andrea, gently places a hand on my thigh, as if he wanted to comfort me with his touch.

Or to calm me down.

Maybe he thinks I could hit Andrea like I tried to do with Shane.

Maybe he might even have been right.

Until a few minutes ago I was furious with the woman but now, seeing her so distraught, I feel a little sorry.

Just a little.

“I don't expect you to forgive me, but if there's anything I can do…”

I stop her with a wave of my hand.

“Andrea it's ok.I will survive.You were trying to protect the group” I reassure her.

I can understand her.

She has been with these people for longer and if I, who have just met them, am ready to die for them, I can understand her gesture.

“We're good Andrea.Don't worry about it”

Andrea smiles at me, relieved by my words and with a more serene step than when she arrived she walks away.

Before she can exit the tent I call her name and get her attention.

The woman turns her face towards me.

“But remember, shoot me again, and you'd best pray I'm dead” I tell her half-jokingly.

Andrea smiles at me and goes away.

Finally we are alone again.

“She's lucky she's a woman.I would punch her fer wha’ she did” Daryl grunts, using the arrow in his hand to point at the woman's back as she walks away.

I laugh throwing my head back.

His grumpy frown is adorable.

“I'm not adorable” mutters the man embarrassed.

I close my eyes.

Damn.

I said it out loud.

I direct my embarrassed gaze outside the tent, towards the sky.

Tonight it looks like a dark blanket dotted with stars.

In the distance I can hear the voices of the others busy preparing dinner but honestly I'm not hungry.

I think the time has come for me to go to bed and at least try to get some rest.

When I'm about to get up something stops me.

My wrist is blocked by the grip of his fingers.

I move my gaze to his face to find him looking at me with a confused expression.

I raise an eyebrow, moving my gaze between his face and my wrist.

“Where ya going?”

“I'm going to sleep in Dale's RV” I reply simply.

“Aren't ya sleepin’ in the house?”

“No.I don't want to take advantage of Hersel's kindness.The RV will be fine”

His grip on my wrist shows no signs of easing.

“Ya could sleep here.If ya want.Ya just got shot and the floor of tha’ old junkyard isn't good”

His embarrassed gaze wanders anywhere but in my direction.

“I mean…There is space here.The sleeping bag is big enough fer both of us”

His words are a quick, awkward murmur.

I smile, deciding to have some fun.

“Daryl Dixon!What kind of woman do you think I am” I exclaim, pretending to be offended, theatrically placing a hand on my chest.

His face becomes even redder if possible.

“At least you have to buy me dinner before taking me in your bed” I add, smiling openly.

“Stop” he mutters gruffly even though his relaxed shoulders make me understand that he has grasped the irony in my words.

“I'm kidding, big boy” I smile, taking my wrist out of his grasp but only to sit better against his side, resting my head on his chest.

His body relaxes next to mine, his palm rests delicately on the center of my back.

“If you want I'll stay” I murmur against the fabric of his shirt.

A grunt rings in my ear.

“I'll take that as a yes” I smile, closing my eyes and letting myself be lulled by the strong and steady beating of his heart.

Please share, comment and rate ❤️

🔥 Masterlist 🔥

Taglist

@deansapplepie @celtic-crossbow @daryldixmedown

#fanfiction recommendation #fanfiction #fanfic #daryl #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl smut #normanreedus #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #norman reedus smut #built for this world #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd #twd family #twd fandom

[the-force-awakens]

I think something that no one talks about is how Poe leans more towards being an anti-hero than just plain hero. He's willing to do the "wrong" things for the right reasons, ex: willing the kill bad people to save the innocent, basically willing to do the dirty work that no one wants to talk or think about. and I think it should be talked about more. Your post was just *chefs kiss*, the way you understood Poe is so refreshing compared to what I see him reduced to in canon

Poe definitely is willing to make the tough calls, including being willing to kill bad people to save innocent people (or destroy a planet to save countless others), but I wouldn't necessarily sort him into the antihero trope myself, more the "good is not nice" trope.

Because for as much as Poe is willing to shoot the bad guys, or blow up a planet if it means saving the galaxy, he's usually the first person to lower his blaster or offer someone a second chance. The biggest source of conflict between himself and Zorii in Free Fall is the fact that Poe can't fit into this life of shades of grey, and that's a trait that does follow him to the Resistance. He can lie (badly) for them, he can steal ships, be labeled a criminal if it's done for the right reasons/for the Resistance but at the same time, he also......really can't wrap his head around and seems uncomfortable at times with Suralinda's way of manipulating or recontextualizing the truth for propaganda purposes (which i wish had...been better explored in the comics it's Fine, but like I wanna know more about Poe "can't lie" Dameron and Suralinda "i'm here to tell a good story" Javos. I WANT TO KNOW MORE LUCASFILM), even if Suralinda is doing those things for the Resistance, so they can gain more support.

There's also this quote of Rian Johnson's, that I really love, and that I feel like sums up Poe the best for me:

“Oscar is like a reincarnation of my favorite old movie stars; he has that old school magnetism paired with insane acting chops. Poe is a straight-up, good-guy hero, and although he gets put through the wringer in this film, because of Oscar you never lose faith that he’s going to come out the other end all the better for it.” [from this post]

I'm having trouble wording/it's kind of hard for me to explain, but like. I view Poe as someone who is, like Rian describes him, as a good-guy hero, who usually cannot quite stop the instinct to do the heroic thing, and how that can make him quite reckless (I do believe Oscar actually described Poe during the TFA Press Tour as "recklessly heroic" sir I'm sorry i ever doubted you about Poe being reckless, I thoroughly learned my lesson #13 Poe issues and a knife to Poe's hand later) - but I think also that doesn't mean that Poe needs to look like the hero, and I think TLJ proves that? He does what he believes is the best for the Resistance, and seizes control of the Raddus. It's a last resort, of course, and I don't think he necessarily cares about what people might think of him for it* - he's a commander, he makes the hard calls all the time, and regardless of his own desire to be a hero, I don't think Poe necessarily wants to be praised as one. He's just gonna do the right, most heroic thing at any given moment, and doesn't care what people say. I mean...we kind of get the impression he's used to being seen a certain way, y'know? Poe doesn't seem surprised in the least when Holdo berates him, he just has this look of "oh this banthashit again I thought I'd heard the last of it", y'know?

*y'know except for leia. because he definitely makes a face when she says that thing about holdo in the transport. anyway moving on because this got completely. the train jumped the track here. adhd moment.

As much as he is willing to do some hard things for the Resistance, I feel like Poe would. not last a day in the Rebellion - the Rebellion is just gray. You have to be, fighting something like the Empire, they're quick and dirty and. manipulative and liars and assassins, and Poe...wouldn't have the heart for that, I think. So I do believe there would be a line, in what Poe would even be willing to do for the Resistance.

That said, I do wish canon/fanon would be more willing to explore....any of his. nuance. that everyone seems very allergic to acknowledging, and I'd especially be interested in seeing more of Poe's - I'm a dw nerd sorry I'm just gonna call it this every time - "oncoming storm" side because it's so much fun. There's some other facets of his character I'd love to see explored in more detail, but that one especially. It would honestly be a dream, I think, if Alex Segura got to write for him again, but perhaps this time in the Resistance era, because I think that man would have a blast!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! with writing a good spy adventure.

#ask box #userorb #my meta #(again. oops?) #poe dameron #i haven't seen anyone categorize him more as an anti-hero before tho! but tbh i also. #don't see many people categorizing him as good is not nice either #because that would imply. yknow. acknowledging that poe has depth #and nuance. #and that he exists as a character outside of being attractive or a part of [is sniped] #anyway. #unfortunately getting any exploration on him would. involve.....actual content for him and we're in the middle of a fcking drought right no #i would also Love if someone explored how sensitive he can be t hough #and i don't just mean in a fjaofjaosfj oscar 'he has a sensitive side' isaac way lmfaoooo but wouldn't that be something #poe definitely has rsd i think because he takes rejection/slights SO hard #i kind of want to make a compilation of it JUST from the movies/resistance alone #unfortunately there's So much there (plus in through the turbulance) that i.........do not have the spoons to do so

[henrioo]

I'm going to stop writing GN imagines and write only Males

You know, when I started this blog I had a very fixed idea of ​​why I would only write for GN readers. It was basically "imagines should not have gender because everyone deserves a chance to identify and be included in them".

And I still very much agree with this idea, I don't think we should treat imagines as something just feminine or masculine, but try to give everyone a chance

But lately I've been having a lot of dysphoria attacks, honestly just looking at myself in the mirror makes me want to cry because I feel like I'll never be a real man... And then enter my comfort bubble and find 80% of the images being feminine and being so feminine that it is impossible for you to read it while pretending is not, because basically with every sentence they remind you that it's feminine with nicknames, etc., it seems like it only hurts more

Lately I haven't been feeling very good about my transition in general, I had a crisis yesterday because of trying tape binding and it didn't get the result I wanted and it just made me cry myself to sleep as I ripped the tape off my chest and thought about all my life choices and trans transition

And as much as I can't force other people to write there are Masc, even because I understand that fem people aren't comfortable with that, I thought, if it bothers me so much to read something feminine and sometimes even GN, why don't I start writing for male readers?

And honestly I haven't decided yet, there are many things to consider, you know? Of course, it would probably make me feel better to have user-friendly content, I could create content that very little exists, I could meet more men (trans or cis) and have more friendships like that because I usually only have female friends, It could also indirectly encourage other people to try writing in other genres for the reader

But I also have to consider that, not many people read male content, my numbers will probably drop and although that shouldn't be something to consider, I'm not going to lie, numbers do affect me because I'm very insecure and I seek validation in everything I do, Furthermore, many of my followers could leave and this would affect me not because of numbers but because I like to consider my followers my buddies, people to talk to and interact with, and if now I don't have much interaction with them since they are a good number, if they decrease I think I will basically be talking to myself (please followers talk to me I want to interact with you please let's be friends)

So I don't know, I'm not very good at comparing what's worth more or what's worth less, maybe I'll have to wait until my therapy to discuss this further with my therapist

I just know that lately I'm very tired, tired of existing as a trans person in general, not having support from practically anywhere is slowly killing me. I don't think that imagines male would be the solution to all my problems, but I think they could give me a little comfort again, of writing and being able to read something that affirms my gender, at least in a story knowing that it affirms my gender

Since I can't have support from real people I'm going to write myself receiving support from my favorite characters, I think that just less will make me feel a little better

This was just supposed to be a brief warning that I was going to write male readers but as always I vented and talked too much

#henri talk #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #one piece imagine #one piece x male reader

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi,

is it possible to orgasm just from your hands/fingers? every time i try it doesn’t feel like anything.. as if im trying to tickle myself. i don’t want to get a vibrator ‘cause im scared ill become reliant on it :( sometimes i feel bad cause people my age are making themselves finish. i think im broken. any tips will help.. thank u

hi anon,

in my heart of hearts I have to assume you already know the answer to the first question. humans have been jacking it for longer than we've even been humans, because even monkey brains know that touch genital feel good. there's evidence to suggest that human fetuses may begin touching their genitals for fun in utero, and tons of animals also masturbate - even these cute little guys!

and you know his rodent ass doesn't have a vibrator.

all of which is to say that the urge to crank it is a powerful and ancient one, and I simply can't believe that you believe that nobody was actually managing to nut until the vibrator was invented in the late 19th century (although that was, admittedly, hardly the first sex toy; there are dildos that are thousands of years old that can attest to that). I suspect the question really bothering you here isn't whether a hands-only orgasm is possible (obviously yes), but whether there's something wrong with you for not having been able to achieve such a thing.

the answer to that is obviously no; I can happily confirm right off the bat that you're not broken on the basis of your sexual function because that's not how that works. there's no singular mode of human sexuality that's the "normal" one that people should be afraid to stray too far away from; what's "normal" varies from person to person, frequently from day to day. what matters isn't being like other people, it's ensuring that you feel safe and comfortable in your own specific relationship with sex.

it seems that you're not at the moment, because of this orgasm insecurity, so I want to talk about that. first off: if your hands aren't cutting it, why not get a vibrator? you say you're scared of becoming reliant on it, but what's the alternative? never coming ever? bullshit. my brain chemistry doesn't naturally balance itself out very well, so I'm reliant on lexapro to be a functional fucking person. that shit's great. being reliant on things that categorically and harmlessly improves your quality of life rules, everybody should do it.

listen, man. everyone has different sexual needs. for some people, it's the intensity and consistency that can only be provided by a battery-powered assistant. I cannot tell you how many people have come to me expressing despair that they can't finish with a partner without also using a sex toy, as if that's not a totally fine thing to need or want. just use a vibrator it's literally fine it does not matter. we're all living on a melting rock ruled by capitalism, just use a vibrator if you want to and if your partner has a problem with it find a better partner.

also. hey. look at me. listen to me. an orgasm does not need to be the single defining factor of whether you're having a good and healthy sexual experience. go read this. I know you're not orgasming when you masturbate, but are you, like, enjoying yourself? does it feel good? because that's really the only thing that matters, and I want you to keep that in mind no matter what you decide to do next in your sexual journey. the point is to have fun, not to reliably produce an orgasm like clockwork.

anyway. you're not broken. get a vibrator if you want; I recommend this one for beginners. stop comparing yourself to others and be kind to yourself.

#sex edventures 2023

[mariana-oconnor]

The Veiled Lodger pt 2

Team Lion represent!

Poor lion deserved none of this.

Then, having reassured her, we followed her up the straight, badly-carpeted staircase and were shown into the room of the mysterious lodger.

Wow, Watson. You weren't satisfied with insulting her last time, now you're insulting her interior decor?

From keeping beasts in a cage, the woman seemed, by some retribution of Fate, to have become herself a beast in a cage.

Watson is also on Team Lion!

Long years of inaction had coarsened the lines of her figure, but at some period it must have been beautiful, and was still full and voluptuous. A thick dark veil covered her face, but it was cut off close at her upper lip, and disclosed a perfectly-shaped mouth and a delicately-rounded chin. I could well conceive that she had indeed been a very remarkable woman.

And then he's getting horny on main again, because he is Watson and we all know Watson has three settings with descriptions of people: horny, disgusted, and animal references.

"Because the fate of someone else depended upon it. I know that he was a very worthless being, and yet I would not have his destruction upon my conscience. We had been so close—so close!"

She was either having an affair or she has a secret relative. My money is on affair.

The woman rose and took from a drawer the photograph of a man. He was clearly a professional acrobat, a man of magnificent physique, taken with his huge arms folded across his swollen chest and a smile breaking from under his heavy moustache—the self-satisfied smile of the man of many conquests.

Oh yeah, Watson is in horny setting atm. But also judgy. You cannot tell how many 'conquests' a man has had from his smile, Watson. I refuse to believe it.

"That is Leonardo," she said.

Leonardo???!

Although, from the description, maybe it's closer to this version:

It was a dreadful face—a human pig, or rather a human wild boar, for it was formidable in its bestiality. One could imagine that vile mouth champing and foaming in its rage, and one could conceive those small, vicious eyes darting pure malignancy as they looked forth upon the world, Ruffian, bully, beast—it was all written on that heavy-jowled face.

Animal imagery and disgust. Watson's really pulling out all the stops for this one. I like how Mrs Ronder is just 'compare, contrast' right up front, instead of actually explaining anything. This is a show and tell presentation.

"He tied me down and lashed me with his riding-whip when I complained."

What is it with these abusive spouses and beating their wives with riding crops? That's the sort of thing you only do after extensive discussion and clear, informed consent.

Welp, Team Lion is currently winning.

"We planned that he should die."

Oh, it was premeditated. Good for you.

"We made a club—Leonardo made it—and in the leaden head he fastened five long steel nails, the points outwards, with just such a spread as the lion's paw. This was to give my husband his death-blow, and yet to leave the evidence that it was the lion which we would loose who had done the deed."

Look, look, look, look. I am fine with killing the evil, abusive husband. Two thumbs up. Could not be more onboard with this plan. But blaming the lion. You couldn't have come up with a plan that didn't involve a poor animal being implicated and (presumably) put down because of it?

Come up with a different way of killing him and just give each other alibis. Don't blame the poor lion.

"Its hot, filthy breath had already poisoned me and I was hardly conscious of pain."

I... don't think lions have poison breath. Like I've never met one in real life, but I feel like I might have heard about that if it's true. And I especially don't think their breath is bad enough that you can't feel the pain from having your face eaten off. Not that I've ever experienced that either. I think it might have been the shock.

"When I came to myself, and saw myself in the mirror, I cursed that lion—oh, how I cursed him!—-not because he had torn away my beauty, but because he had not torn away my life."

I mean, understandable, but also you did keep him trapped in a cage, force him to perform for crowds and then frame him for murder, which I assume he was killed for. Like... you may have deserved just a leeeeettle bit of mauling. Karmically. Perhaps.

Then Holmes stretched out his long arm and patted her hand with such a show of sympathy as I had seldom known him to exhibit. "Poor girl!" he said. "Poor girl! The ways of Fate are indeed hard to understand. If there is not some compensation hereafter, then the world is a cruel jest."

I don't know why Watson is so determined to tell us that Holmes rarely shows sympathy when he shows sympathy in almost every other story. He shows sympathy to the characters who deserve sympathy.

And Eugenia here does deserve it, although it was a dick move to frame the lion. Her life has pretty much sucked. Can't blame her for trying to get out of it.

"Your life is not your own," he said. "Keep your hands off it."

Well, my last sentence was not supposed to be foreshadowing.

Holmes is not here for that Romeo and Juliet bullshit. (Not that this is about Leonardo dying, but still)

Although if she's already dying, would this be considered closer to euthanasia?

But she implies the reason she wants to do it is because of her face. I'm glad that Holmes is having none of that. The attitudes here towards her scarring are just all over horrendous. But I'm so glad this story ends with her choosing not to do it, because the message of 'if you are a woman who has lost her beauty and become disfigured your life is not worth living' would have been a horrible one. Glad they avoided that ending.

That was... short, and very messy. I'm glad she got out of the abusive situation, but I wish she'd actually been able to do something with her life rather than shut herself in her rooms forever to hide from the world. I'm also sad the lion had to die for her freedom.

Just very sad all over, this one.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Veiled Lodger #long post #The lion's fate was never confirmed so I choose to believe he was released into some sort of wildlife sanctuary #where he had a long and pleasant life #suicide mention

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi i hope you're having a good day 😊

i was just wondering if maybe you could help clear something up for me...

i often find myself emotionally manipulating myself to the extent that i'm not really sure whether i actually have some issues or i just want to have them (i know that's so fucked up I'm so sorry) to, what in my mind is, fit in. i hang out with quite a few people who don't have great mental health and so find myself subconsciously wanting to adopt how they act or what they do often to the harm of myself (once or twice even getting really close to sh and similar because they've mentioned doing it and i immediately think ‘what if i...’).

i personally view myself as very lucky, i don't have any reason to act this way as i have a loving family and friends, alright grades, and in general not much to be upset about and so often find myself beating myself up about immediately turning to copy others when i should be trying to support them instead.

reading this back ik it seems a lot more like i'm massively blowing up what doesn't seem that complicated but i'm genuinely confused in my mind as to whether i'm copying people or have genuinely adopted these actions.

this also extends to the fact that i have a couple of neurodivergent friends who, as a result of, i’ve begun to adopt more neurodivergent habits or even feeling in certain ways in which they describe (this part is according to them) and so, as a neurotypical, it seems both offensive as well as unsupportive to act this way although i don't know how to stop.

i think overall what i'm asking is 1) i read a lot that obviously you adopt mannerism of people you spend a lot of time with and do you think it would extend to things like this and 2) do you have any opinions on maybe whether i'm just subconsciously wanting to think this way or if it's genuine because it's kinda hard to move on before i know what's going on and ngl i'm kinda scared

Hi!

First of all, I'm gonna write a TW for people reading! Talk of SH.

Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're not fucked up <3

It seems like you're comparing your struggles and mannerisms to other people a lot. Like you couldn't also be struggling. Just because you're 'very lucky' doesn't mean you couldn't also be struggling. Celebrities end up with lots of struggles all the time, after all.

I'm going to be honest with you: the fact that you are coming to me, a stranger on the internet, and anonymously asking me about this, and like...wondering if you're faking? Tells me that you're not faking.

I'm not a professional and I don't know your life, so I honestly can't tell the reasons why you're feeling this way. But what I can say is that these feelings are clearly confusing for you, and no fun to be feeling. And especially feelings about SH are things that need to be talked about. SH can turn into a very dangerous thing.

So, because I'm not a professional and I don't know the details, I'm going to encourage you to speak to someone about this IRL. Do you have someone who you might trust to talk to about this? An adult, who you think would listen to your feelings and really think about them without writing them off? If you do, go to them and tell them how you've been feeling.

But trust me, you're going to be okay and figure this out <3 If you ever need to vent or talk, I'm here!

#ask #asks #ask cas #tw sh related

[teaandcrowns]

I don't ship kataang, nor any ship in atla, so when I say this I'm talking from more of a platonic perspective, but I really don't think Aang was trying to push his beliefs onto Katara as much as people think in TSR, just like Zuko didn't push her to violence. Aang shouldn't have said it how he did, but when he and Sokka said what they said, they didn't say it because they thought it was necessarily wrong, but because they knew killing someone would not help katara (although Sokka and Aang are very different here considering, especially considering Katara is Sokkas sister), and we find out later in the episode that revenge wasn't the suitable option for her. Yes, Katara wanted more than to just confront Yon Rha, but I don't think Aang was demonising Katara when he said she was like Jet. This part is really all up for interpretation, but Jet died a noble death and Katara mourned him personally, he was a child taken over by revenge after the grief of his parents and village, and Katara, Sokka and Aang all saw how it ended for him. And in the end, they don't stop Katara. They let her go, even if they're scared she might end up killing him, but even if she had, they wouldn't have shut her out. Aang himself had several instances in which he would have taken several lives (sandbenders) if katara hadn’t stopped him. That’s why he says, “I’m proud of you,”, not because shes proud she went by what he said, because katara arrived at that moral decision on her own, without the influence of external sources. That was all her- it wasn't Aang, it wasn't Zuko, or anyone else. Neither Aang, nor even Zuko, are forcing her to do anything as much as people say, or trying to force their opinions and wants on her. I definitely think that the point other anon said about the fact Aang physically can't get revenge is a good point- it means that even if he wanted to, he couldn't understand Katara fully because its impossible for him to be put in that position since everyone who attacked the air temples is dead by time. But that's the thing, everyone in the group has experienced different things, and that doesn't make it that they're supporting someone less or more because of it. Sorry if this was long, I just have a lot of thoughts on this

I think one can read TSR's interactions both in a friendship and in a relationship lead-up light, but it can 100% be read just in a platonic light. While I don't agree with all your interpretation, I do agree with some of it, which is part of the joy of fandom. As I'm sure you can tell, I also have a lot of thoughts on that episode (all the show, really), so having a lot of thoughts yourself is always welcome.

I do read Aang as trying to at least get Katara to see his point of view on the idea of confronting Yon Rha, but by reading that, I have to ask myself, Why? Why is he trying to get her to see things from his point of view? The most logical answer I can come to is because he wants her to agree with him. I don't even know if Katara doesn't see it from his point of view, because she never explicitly says—what she does say is that she knows he "wouldn't understand," which indicates to me that she, at least, very much feels that he isn't trying to see things from her perspective. I think that's where the bigger conflict comes in, and why she gets so mad, especially when he compares her to Jet. This is where I have to somewhat disagree with what I'm reading as you trying to argue: Katara knows Aang isn't referring to how Jet died in Ba Sing Se, he's referring to Jet's quest for vengeance against a (colonized) town of Fire Nation people. Coupled with that is the fact that Jet manipulated both her and Aang into helping him get things set up to destroy the town, with the intention of killing all its inhabitants.

Just like it's not a 1:1 comparison for Aang to compare losing a very much alive Appa to Katara essentially witnesses her mother's murder (which is a script-writing question I have: why in the world would Aang be written to say that when he could easily have said, "My entire culture was wiped out by the Fire Nation, I know how it feels to lose everyone you love," instead. That boggles my mind), it's certainly not a 1:1 comparison for Aang to make about Katara, wanting to confront a specific person who did her direct harm, to Jet, whose rage was directed at anyone of Fire Nation origin or descent.

I do agree that Aang says, "I'm proud of you," because he thinks she chose not to kill Yon Rha and instead forgive him because of what he said, but he's wrong. Katara chose not to kill Yon Rha because of herself, and she certainly did not choose to forgive him, which she explicitly tells Aang. Like I said, she ultimately is swayed by neither Aang or Zuko, and that also includes her final decisions about Yon Rha (both to not kill and not forgive him). Saying things like, "[Aang] and Sokka said what they said . . . because they knew killing someone would not help katara," is exactly the issue here as well. They're assuming they know what's best for Katara and what she needs, instead of allowing her to make that decision for herself. (Also, Aang does absolutely think killing someone is wrong, which we see is his very big conflict with the entire group regarding how to deal with Ozai, but you are right in that Sokka doesn't view it as wrong.) But again, that's likely why she gets mad at Sokka, too—because he's assuming he knows better than Katara what she needs and what's "best" for her.

And, having those different opinions and perspectives and conflicts isn't inherently a bad thing itself, but it is bad when Katara is seen by the audience as being in the wrong somehow and Aang in the right because the narrative never addressed it and/or the creators tried to push their own agenda of the scenario in commentary when that isn't reflected in canon. (I'm not trying to imply you're doing that here, but I mention it because I've seen many people cite that as a reason in their argument.)

#anon ask #ask #atla analysis #atla meta

[hopeymchope]

re: toxic fanbases. I'm not good at telling what fanbases are toxic. I'm both a doormat ("that rando who started yelling at me all of a sudden probably has a good reason and I'm dumb for not seeing it 👍") and a weirdo who tends to stay within very small circles. With Danganronpa, I feel like there's *something* that makes it a little jarring compared to other communities, although it's by far not the worst community I've personally interacted with.

Its popularity definitely plays a massive role; it's actually impressive to see how active Danganronpa circles remain after all this time, but the downside is that there's a lot of brainrot, distant memories, and most importantly people who've been involved with it for WAY too long. I myself have definitely grown horribly bored of having the same tired debates be brought up time and time again - I can imagine people with a different personality from mine getting very upset over that.

Though I don't feel a connection to that aspect at this time, the prevalent young fanbase also comes with its qualities and flaws.

I could go on, because this community is so large and so old that it's genuinely, like I already mentioned, jarring at times. I'll turn my back from being told DRAE is irredeemable media because it uses dark humour to see someone draw a Komaru with giant tits requesting coitus. There are times when interacting with Danganronpa fans has made me wish I'd just never known about Danganronpa at all, so all things considered, even if I can't put words on it, there's a strong negative aspect to it.

At the same time, I don't know how it being Danganronpa specifically relates to some negative experiences I had - was some of the abuse I endured as a Wiki admin related to the way the DR fandom is? Or did it have to do with Wikis more than it did with DR, with French users more than it did DR? Maybe the problem is that this series has given so many of us such intense brainrot and we can't stop getting involved with it.

Sorry if this long ask is annoying in any way - I figured you might be interested in exploring the conversation around how the DR fandom might come across as toxic, objectively or subjectively OTL

One thing I remember for sure is that when I posted Akudama Drive LGBTQ headcanons, I felt perfectly fine and happy about it - but when I decided to post my Danganronpa headcanons too, I had a strong feeling that I was taking a risk, however small. That's not a very nice feeling to get as an adult who's just trying to be a little happy and silly with PNGs.

Oh, I don't mind a long ask at all! I'm grateful for the detailed thought you put into this, honestly. :) I'm a pretty wordy person myself — you may have noticed.

I think a lot of what you're describing as negatives within the DR community are unfortunate constants with fandoms of ANY popular media these days. Not ALL of it, but....

Every piece of media is gonna be declared irredeemable/offensive/problematic by some parties now if it delves into any kind of darkness or deals with any kind of major crimes, it seems like I've seen more than one person online state — with a straight face, mind you — stuff like "Danganronpa is toxic AF, many of those characters are LITERALLY murderers" and I'm just over here thinking are you fucking serious? I don't remember seeing people say stuff like this in my fandom circles before 2019 or so, but I see it everywhere now. It seems to have grown more prevalent since the 2020s hit? There are people who just can't stand to deal with any moral grayness, any dark theming, etc — and they don't think anyone else should allowed to enjoy that stuff either. (Now I'm wondering whether there are people similarly dismissing Akudama Drive. Much smaller fandom, so maybe you don't see that. But I can imagine someone grumbling "These characters are LITERALLY criminals, wtf." LOL)

We all know Internet Rule 34, but I feel like there are certain built-in multipliers to it that increase how widespread it is. Animated media? That's a multiplier that will cause even MORE porn to exist. Japanese media? That's another multiplier. Which means there's tons of porn of DR characters — even for the teen characters that're underage in most countries like Komaru. At least I've never stumbled across porn of the small children like the Warriors of Hope, THANK FUCKING GOD. I sadly don't doubt that it exists, but I hope to god it remains in a dark corner, out of my goddamn sight.

And I definitely feel much, MUCH more afraid to say anything about LGBTQ headcanons for popular media than I do for relatively small fandoms. Maybe that's partly symptomatic of being American in an era where tolerance and acceptance of LGBTQ people is sliding horiffically backwards? At least I think I'm safter to share such things on Tumblr than I would be on Reddit. I'd be afraid to talk about my personal DR LGBTQ headcanons, too. I've even drafted a post about that once and then been like "You know what? No. I'm not opening myself up to abuse for this," leading me to delete it. I've done similarly for the Madoka Magica fandom as well... too active, too big = too likely to result in blowback. I believe Akudama Drive is a pretty small fandom, though, so it makes sense to me why that'd feel like a more comfortable place to talk LGBTQ concepts.

But with all of that said, I can't claim that the infighting over interpretations of characters and events that I see on the DR Wiki is something that every fandom deals with. Maybe some of them do; honestly, Fandom Wikis weren't really so huge a thing before I got deep into DR in the back half of the 2010s, and I haven't really gotten involved with any of the Fandom Wikis I've come across afterwards either. So I don't know for sure! But it seems like that could be uniquely unpleasant about the DR fandom — the way people define "canon" as a matter of personal interpretation.

Since I'm stuck on the English side of the DR Wiki, I'm not certain whether you deal with the same stuff in the French incarnation. Characters like Komaeda and Ouma are especially difficult to police — they have so many fans who think they are pure of heart, and so many fans who find them loathesomely manipulate, and you can't necessarily be certain what about them is true or false. Put all that together, and it's hard to keep things to "Just The Facts" when people fundamentally disagree on what the facts ARE, which can lead to a lot of infighting among the people editing the thing! God... even deciphering the truth about what's going on in V3 and determining how we should or shouldn't explain that haziness is an awfully sticky wicket all by itself.

#asks #fandom #fandoms #danganronpa fandom #fandom wikis #fandom wiki #toxic #toxic fandoms #danganronpa

[alottamoney]

https://www.tumblr.com/alottamoney/739246923076239360/httpswwwtumblrcomalottamoney7392443118745681?source=share

Well, Yoonmin does have the same problem, having Jm as an overlapping member of Jkk. And if you follow yoonmin blogs, you'll know that yoonmin logic is pretty similar to tkk: they are closer than official content shows, they used to be portraited like that and then the company dropped them for jkk, they talk a lot about working together but never do, they were separated by the company at times, they have their moments cut... I do think that after 2021 they stopped focus so much on the romantic aspect of jkk and turned them more into bros. Although, from time to time, BH throw them a bone. Around 2020-2021 JinKook was very highlighted (not as smt romantic). Overall, Rap Line doesnt feed their ships as much as VL, especially ML, especially after ~2018/2019. So, it doesnt make sense to compare sope/minimoni/taegi post 2018 to jikook/vmin/taekook. TaeJin still has some moments, but no one take them seriously (as a real couple) because everyone believes Jin is straight and just ignore some very o.o interactions that they have. Some TaeJin interactions, if happened to jkk/tkk, would be enough evidence in a ship war.

Every ship was dropped for Jikook, anon. Jikook was consistenly promoted. It's not because people ignored Taejin that it fizzled out. It's inconsistent promotion, because if they wanted to make it happen they could have. I don't see the appeal, but many people do. There are a few moments here and there for Taekook as well, like every other ship, I'm not denying that but you also can't compare the obvious lack of content vs the popularity of Taekook with the other ships you mentioned. I don't know if you sent the intial convoluted theory but didn't we say why it was a bad idea to promote ships this way. There might still be a lot of Taekookers around (they aren't buying any merch though) but Yoonminers have significantly decreased from what I myself can tell. So, no, fan disservice is not a good way to keep shippers around and in the off chance that it does, they aren't making any money from them.

Also about fan theories- a lot of shippers co-opt popular fan theories, I've seen Jikookers say BH was hiding Jikook content lol, doesn't make it true, but that's another conversation.