#Safety Job in USA

[validworthblog]

6 easy steps on how to become a safety engineer

6 easy steps on how to become a safety engineer A safety engineer is saddled with a lot of responsibilities in the workplace, but then before you can become a safety engineer, you have to undergo some series of training, education and certifications; these requirements are not mere feats; anyone who is desirous of achieving that step must plan carefully to make it at the end. However, this…

[sollers-college]

The emerging technology known as quantum computing is expected to benefit a variety of industries, including drug discovery and pharmacovigilance.

[sylphy]

got like 5 compliments on my detective outfit last night but as the theme was dames detectives or cryptids so obviously i had to be some-fiend-from- the-public-service-committee.

i even dug out my mom's old Boston Forrester coat, peak makima energy into 2023

[untexting]

We Are No Strangers to Human Suffering, but We’ve Seen Nothing Like the Siege of Gaza

Dec. 11, 2023 | Source: New York Times Op-ed

By Michelle Nunn (CARE USA), Tjada D’Oyen McKenna (Mercy Corps), Jan Egeland (Norwegian Refugee Council), Abby Maxman (Oxfam America), Jeremy Konyndyk (Refugees International), and Janti Soeripto (Save the Children U.S.)

We are no strangers to human suffering — to conflict, to natural disasters, to some of the world’s largest and gravest catastrophes. We were there when fighting erupted in Khartoum, Sudan. As bombs rained down on Ukraine. When earthquakes leveled southern Turkey and northern Syria. As the Horn of Africa faced its worst drought in years. The list goes on.

But as the leaders of some of the world’s largest global humanitarian organizations, we have seen nothing like the siege of Gaza. In the more than two months since the horrifying attack on Israel that killed more than 1,200 people and resulted in some 240 abductions, about 18,000 Gazans — including more than 7,500 children — have been killed, according to the Gazan health ministry. More children have been reported killed in this conflict than in all major global conflicts combined last year.

The atrocities committed by Hamas on Oct. 7 were unconscionable and depraved, and the taking and holding of hostages is abhorrent. The calls for their release are urgent and justified. But the right to self-defense does not and cannot require unleashing this humanitarian nightmare on millions of civilians. It is not a path to accountability, healing or peace. In no other war we can think of in this century have civilians been so trapped, without any avenue or option to escape to save themselves and their children.

Most of our organizations have been operating in Gaza for decades. But we can do nothing remotely adequate to address the level of suffering there without an immediate and complete cease-fire and an end to the siege. The aerial bombardments have rendered our jobs impossible. The withholding of water, fuel, food and other basic goods has created an enormous scale of need that aid alone cannot offset.

Global leaders — and especially the United States government — must understand that we cannot save lives under these conditions. A significant change in approach from the U.S. government is needed today to pull Gaza back from this abyss.

For a start, the Biden administration must stop its diplomatic interference at the United Nations, blocking calls for a cease-fire.

Since the pause in fighting ended, we are again witnessing an exceptionally high level of bombardment, and at increasing ferocity. The few areas left in Gaza that are untouched by bombardment are shrinking by the hour, forcing more and more civilians to seek safety that does not exist. Over 80 percent of 2.3 million Gazans are now displaced. The newest Israeli offensive is now forcing them to cluster on a tiny sliver of land.

The bombardment is not the only thing brutally cutting lives short. The siege of — and blockades surrounding — Gaza have led to a critical food scarcity, cutoffs of medical supplies and electricity, and a lack of clean water. There is barely any medical care to be found in the enclave and few medications. Surgeons are working by the light of their mobile phones, without anesthetics. They are using dishcloths as bandages. The risk of waves of waterborne and infectious disease will only grow in the increasingly overcrowded living conditions of the displaced.

One of our colleagues in Gaza recently described their struggle to feed an orphaned infant who had been rescued from the rubble of an airstrike. The baby had not eaten for days after her mother’s death. Colleagues could only scrounge up powdered milk — not formula, not breast milk, and not a nutritionally suitable infant food — to help stave off her starvation.

Before the war, hundreds of truckloads of aid were needed each day to support Gazans’ daily existence. Only a trickle of that required aid has made it into Gaza in the two months since the war began. But even if more were allowed in, our work in Gaza is dependent on ensuring our teams can move safely to set up warehouses, shelters, health clinics, schools, and water, sanitation and hygiene infrastructure.

Today our staff members are not safe. They tell us they’re making the daily choice of staying with their families in one place so that they can die together or go out to seek water and food.

Among leaders in Washington, there is constant talk about preparing for the “day after.” But if this relentless bombardment and siege continue, there will be no “day after” for Gaza. It will be too late. Hundreds of thousands of lives hang in the balance today.

So far, American diplomacy in this war has not delivered on the goals President Biden has conveyed: protection of innocent civilians, adherence to humanitarian law, more aid delivery. To stop Gaza’s apocalyptic free fall, the Biden administration must take tangible measures, as it does in other conflicts, to up the ante with all parties to the conflict and bordering countries.

Secretary of State Antony Blinken once said of the war in Ukraine that the targeting of heat, water and electricity was a “brutalization of Ukraine’s people” and “barbaric.” The Biden administration should acknowledge that the same holds true in Gaza. While it has announced measures to deter violence against Palestinian civilians in the West Bank, Mr. Blinken and his colleagues should apply similar pressure to stop violence against civilians in Gaza, too.

The harrowing events unfolding before us are shaping a global narrative that, if unchanged, will reveal a legacy of indifference in the face of unspeakable suffering, bias in the application of the laws of conflict and impunity for actors that violate international humanitarian law.

The U.S. government must act now — and fight for humanity.

Ms. Nunn is the president and chief executive of CARE USA. Ms. McKenna is the chief executive of Mercy Corps. Mr. Egeland is the secretary general of the Norwegian Refugee Council. Ms. Maxman is the president and chief executive of Oxfam America. Mr. Konyndyk is the president of Refugees International. Ms. Soeripto is the president and chief executive of Save the Children U.S.

[psychoticallytrans]

I believe very strongly that if you want to be an ally to marginalized groups, you should absolutely read and watch material bigoted against them.

This is because one of the big things that radicalization pipelines benefit from is the principle I've seen framed as "milk before meat", where they feed you palatable, easily digestible ideas, often with a kernel of truth, in order to work you up to the core of the bigoted ideology. If you go to the meat first, you will choke on it. This will make you more easily able to spot it when they try to feed you the milk, and more resistant because you know the meat it's building up to.

There are two keys. First, you need to start with the meat, and second, you need to read it with a sharply critical eye.

If you're looking to read something fatphobic, for example, Harry Potter may be a great mainstream example, but it's in a way that is so culturally acceptable that it can slip by if you aren't looking for it. "None For You: How Fat People Are Ruining America and the Planet and What You Can Do About It", on the other hand, is rather obvious in its biases, allowing an amateur to see them clearly for easier interrogation of the premise. Most bigoted material can be acquired by piracy or through your local library. This is one of the big reasons that libraries stock bigoted material.

Then, start noting down all of the things that the material says that seem to make sense, or that you are sure are true. There's no shame in this. Bigoted ideas are ingrained in your upbringing, and on top of this, a lot of bigots will take real problems and build on them in ways that are bigoted.

For instance, anti-immigrant sentiment in the USA is often bolstered by the fact that wages in the USA are effectively decreasing, along with job security. They say that this is because immigrants are taking the jobs, decreasing the amount of value that is available to USAmericans. To a USAmerican who does not know much about immigrants, but does know that their paycheck buys less and less, this sounds like a plausible explanation.

Then, later, look up exactly what they are saying. What are the real issues? (Racism and unchecked capitalism.) Why are they being used to bolster this argument? (Because it takes the heat off of powerful people and puts it on powerless ones, redirecting the hate to people it can more easily hurt, which satisfies the rage of the USAmerican, drives a wedge between them and immigrants, and takes heat off of the powerful.) What are real ways to tackle the real issue? (Solidarity with immigrant workers, especially undocumented ones, unions, and working for better social safety nets.) Why did I fall for that? (You did not have enough information.) Can I notice this rhetoric in the future and avoid falling for it? (Yes.)

Know that many of the ideas you encounter will be normal. Much bigotry is normal. Normal is not automatically good or right.

Know that there will be useful ideas interspersed with some bigotry. A lot of people with useful ideas have been bigots. This does not mean we must discard their ideas, nor that we must accept the bigotry. It does mean that we need to critically examine the ideas to see if they are rooted in and/or affected by the bigotry, and if it is possible to effectively remove them from their bigoted origins, or if the bigotry is so wound into the ideas that they is no longer useful if you wish to avoid harming the group the thinker was bigoted against.

This is difficult work to do. It is intellectually intensive, and emotionally exhausting. You will start seeing bigotry in all kinds of places, including media you thought of as "good" and "progressive", and that will also be emotionally exhausting and dispiriting. It will also mean that you are no longer passively absorbing those bigoted ideas because you settled on the idea that this media is "good" and that as long as you only consume "good" media, you will be free of bigoted ideas- a premise that is disturbingly popular for how incorrect it is. Knowing how to recognize and discard bigotry in works is far, far more useful than flatly refusing to consume more overtly bigoted works.

One way to make it easier is to form reading groups, so that you can lean on each other when reading something that's affecting you badly. It also means that there's more than one person processing the bigotry, so other people might notice more subtle parts of the bigotry that slipped past you in your own reading, allowing you to have a fuller picture of the book. If you can't form a reading group, more famous bigoted works often have criticism available online for you to read through. Remember to do your own research. What makes doing this so valuable is increasing your own ability to detect bigotry and to think critically about material you are consuming.

You do not have to limit yourself to traditional media, either. There are forums and social media bubbles that are hotbeds of bubbling, seething bigotry that is more extreme and repugnant than the vast majority of published work. Reading these conversations can be useful for the exact same reasons that reading overtly bigoted books, articles, letters, and essays can be, and they often contain more up to date dogwhistles. However, this is a riskier move. Social media is built to make you keep scrolling, and you can easily find yourself at your wits end and vulnerable to a bigot whose rhetoric is slightly less obvious than the others. In addition, it can be tempting to interact- at which point the bigots will either attack you or try to recruit you, both of which are damaging to you. Only read the conversations of bigots if you are well supported and have strong impulse control, and read them in small doses.

You are not immune to propaganda, but you can partially inoculate yourself into being less vulnerable by consuming it in controlled circumstances that match your ability to recognize it as such and reject it.

[allbark-no-bite]

marriage and honor.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.5k)

summary: the Navy has already taken two people from your life, and you don’t intend to let there be a third. that is until Jake Seresin walks into your life

warnings: severe plot holes, mentions of character death, swearing

authors note: based off of the movie Purple Hearts. it’s a great movie and i highly suggest watching it! please bear with me in the beginning of this, the plot holes fix themselves, i promise lol. i literally threw this together because i wrote one scene for shits and giggles and had to commit to it

(read parts two and three here: december and devotion, cats and christmas)

————————————————————————

No one ever expects to have to bury their brother at fifteen. Kinda just like no one expects to have to bury their other brother at eighteen. But you do it the first time and then you do it again three years later. It's a bit like deja vu the second time, like you're reliving the actual nightmare all over again. Except this time there's no one to hold your hand and tell you it's all going to be alright because he's dead and buried too.

They both die honorable deaths in service to their country. At least that's what they say at the memorials. You're not so sure there's anything comforting about dying honorably. They're both still dead, honored or not.

Raised by your grandparents, you'd grown up the youngest of three on a military base smack dab in the middle of San Diego, better yet known as Fightertown USA. True military brats, your old brothers enlisted straight out of high school, one after the other. As their young and impressionable kid sister, you worshiped the ground they walked on and had your heart set on following in their footsteps. That was of course, until they both went and died.

'Sometime these things just happen', is what you were told. And you know, freak accidents do happen. Engines fail, training exercises go awry, safety precautions are ignored. But that doesn't make up for the fact that lightning has, against all odds, stuck the same place twice.

So after the Navy takes away not one but two people from your life, you swear off all things to do with military life. The moment you graduate high school you pay out of pocket just to move off of the base into a shitty the-bedroom-and-bathroom-are-in-the-same-place apartment. You go to college and get the kind of degree that looks good on paper but you can't really get a job with. But it's fine because it helped you to put the past behind you and move on. So much that when your grandmother passes away unexpectedly, leaving your grandfather widowed, you're able to stomach moving back closer to home to take care of him.

At least, you'd thought that you had moved on.

Now, standing in the middle of the courthouse wearing what had been your college graduation dress (the only white dress you could find on such short notice) and watching the man before you slip a ring on your finger, you're not so sure. As a matter of a fact, you actually feel sick, queasy like you might have to bend over the nearest trashcan to get the blood rushing to your head again. That might would be a good idea because what the hell were you thinking.

Jake must take notice of the expression on your face because he offers you a weak smile, his pink lips pressed together. The same thought must be running through his mind too because he also looks like he might be sick at any moment.

What the hell were either of you thinking?

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Thankfully the minister is too bored looking with his own job to notice that both of you are looking worse for wear. He also completely forgets to say 'you may now kiss the bride', which is another thing to be thankful for. That might have been the straw that broke the camel's back and sent both you and Jake running for the hills. Instead he mumbles a unenthusiastic congratulations and departs from the room, leaving you and Jake standing numbly side by side.

In the following seconds after the minister leaves the room, silence settles between the two of you, partially due to shock and partially because you don't even know what to say. It's a sight, Jake in his pristine navy dress whites and you in your too short college graduation dress.

Finally, Jake clears his throat, swallowing. "Well, there's no turning back now."

*queue rewind noise* 

You may be wondering how we got here.

*six days ago*

"C'mon baby, you didn't think that was funny? Girls usually love that line."

He'd been after you all night, smiling, cracking jokes, buying you beers. You had to admit, he was nothing if not persistant.

"Unfortunately for you, I don't date funny guys." Despite your tone, you're actually genuinely amused by the situation. He's trying so hard, and it's getting him absolutely nowhere.

He's handsome, without a doubt the most attractive man at the bar, but he could be the most attractive man in the world and you still wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Not with that smile and defiantly not with that uniform on.

"And why is that?" he laughs, undeterred by your blatant disinterest. His friends are watching, have been watching the two of you do this dance all night, and he's not about to back down now.

You watch the smile lines that appear on his tanned face, the way his eyes crinkle in amusement as he awaits on your answer. He's probably a few years your senior, early thirties if that's anything to go by.

"Funny guys are dangerous. They make you laugh and laugh and then boom you're naked."

His smile twitches and yeah, you can be funny too, wise guy.

"Is that where you think this is going?" he asks.

"Where else would it be going?"

And that's how it all started. The beginning of the end.

"You know navy spouses get a monthly stipend and are allowed to live on base?"

You remain facing the bar, peeling at the label on your bottle, not bothering to glance to your side. "You know, I really fucking wish Natasha would keep her mouth shut."

"(Y/n)—"

"It's no one else's fucking business what—"

He grabs the seat of your stool, nearly jerking it out from under you as he pulls it closer to his own. "Listen to me," he growls, a stark change from his usual demeanor.

Stubbornly leaning away so that you're not so close, you regard him with suspicious and narrowed eyes. You raise an eyebrow as if to say he's got your attention, however unwillingly.

"Right now, we're both in a tight spot, okay?"

You knew about his dad. Heard the whole spiel from Natasha— who you're learning that while, your best friend, cannot be trusted to keep her mouth shut— about how they weren't on good terms, hadn't talked since Jake got into the academy, and suddenly he calls out of the blue to tell Jake that he'd had enough of his son's playing around and that it was time for him to start thinking about getting married. That if he didn't within the next few months, he'd arrange the whole thing himself.

"You need a place to live—" You shush him, eyes darting to the people around you. You don't need anyone knowing that you can't exactly afford to pay your rent. Jake rolls his eyes because he doubts anyone could hear him even if he was yelling with how loud it is in the bar, but he lowers his voice regardless. "You need a place to live, and I need to get my old man off of my back..." He trails off, as if you should know where he's going with this.

You don't. You're just staring at him with an increasingly annoyed expression on your face, wondering how soon you can get out of this conversation.

He takes a deep breath and sighs. 

"Hear me out, okay? What if we get married?"

You had actually laughed in his face at first, and Jake was so dead serious about it that he didn't even dwell on the fact that it was the first time you had laughed at something that he'd said.

"Not a chance in hell, Seresin,"  had been your second response. But that's the thing with pretty guys, they can be awfully convincing.

It all happens so fast that you have metaphorical whiplash. Next thing you know, you're wearing a brand new diamond on your finger and going out to the bar with his entire squad the night before their deployment.

Of course, they're all a bit shocked at first. You would be too. You and Jake hadn't exactly been even remotely civil with each other just a few days prior. But if any of them are suspicious of your's and Jake's sudden union, they don't let on, all too happy to have something to celebrate before they ship out. Fanboy and Payback have each brought their wives and Natasha her girlfriend as well. You suppose you're expected to mingle with them, maybe shed a tear or two over the shared bond that your partners are going across the country, but you can't really find a way to connect with them so you kind of just avoid them altogether. You do feel bad, sitting there without a care in the world while they all try to offer comfort and reassurance to each other. But you don't really know what else to do because it's not like you're exactly sad.

Thankfully Javy, or as he's known, Coyote, stands up and raises his near empty bottle of beer in the air and saves you from anymore uncomfortable sitting. "I'd like to make a toast! To the newlyweds!" You spoke too soon. The table cheers and raises their bottles in response, all of the attention turning to where you and Jake are sitting. Cheeks immediately flushing, you have to refrain from sinking down in your seat. Jake is grinning, accepting the few rough pats on the back that he receives from Rooster beside him.

And just when you think that's the worst it's going to get, it gets worse.

"Kiss!"

You're not sure who starts it, but like teenage boys, the entire squad parrots in unison.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

At first Jake just laughs and shakes his head good naturedly, shrugging off the insistent urging of his friends, and you think that's going to be the end of it. But the chanting doesn't stop and finally Jake turns towards you. Your face is probably red hot and undeniably panicked. Heart racing, you try to read him in the half second that you're given as he leans and wraps his arm around you. Is he going to kiss you? Are you supposed to kiss him?

Neither option happens. Jake's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side and at the last moment, he turns to press a kiss to your cheek. A series of disappointed boos follow but they are drowned out by clapping for the most part. He's uncomfortably close, closer than you ever would have liked to be to Jake Seresin, but you have to remind yourself that it's all for show. When Jake does turn away, you can still feel the warmth of his lips smeared against your cheek. Even so, he hasn't let go of you pressed into his side. 

Your heart still racing, you reason with yourself that if Jake can play the part, you might as well too, and under that pretense, allow yourself to hide your face into his shoulder to conceal it's redness. The smell of his cologne washes over you, and oddly enough, you don't hate it. It's subtle, with a hit of what might be amber, and nothing like the overwhelmingly masculine scent that you would have pegged him for. 

If Jake finds your sudden willingness to touch him strange, he doesn't comment on it, likely assuming that you're just trying to make this thing between the two of you seem real. You somewhat reluctantly pull away when Coyote's voice raises again.

"And here's to shooting down some fucking MiGs!"

Again, the table erupts into a chorus of cheering and hollering. You still, allowing Jake to fully pull away from your side while the proclamation rings out in your head. It's a very grounding moment, and suddenly you feel very alone sitting at the table. No one seems to have noticed your shift in mood. Maybe you're the only one put off by Javy's statement because this is their reality. There are people who are not coming home from this mission; everyone just likes to assume it won't be them. You know better.

You can't help it, the words just come out of your mouth. "That's a fucked up thing to say."

It's the first time you've really spoken up the entire night and all heads turn towards you. Based on the look in Jake's eyes, which is a bit apprehensive, as if he knows this is headed nowhere good, you realize you probably should have just kept your mouth shut.

Payback shifts uncomfortably in his chair while the rest of the crew glances around the table wearing varying states of confusion. Their gazes shift from you to Jake, as if waiting for some sort of explanation. 

Coyote is the first to break the silence. "Look, sweetheart, that's just the way things are. Here in the Navy, that's a badge of honor. Your boy Hangman here is the only one of us with a confirmed air-to-air kill."

"(Y/n)—", Jake attempts to interject, but you're not about to let him explain himself to you in front of all these people.

You set your jaw and swallow back the anger threatening to rise up in your throat. "Yeah, because killing people is so honorable."

Coyote scoffs. "We're just doing our jobs. And if that means taking down a few planes while we're at it, so be it."

"Your job is to protect people," you snap. "There are people out there who have families—"

"Alright, that's enough—" Jake begins to interject for the second time, but this time it's Coyote who interrupts him.

"Come on, man. You're really going to let her say that kinda shit—"

You stand up. "I don't need his permission to—"

"I SAID ENOUGH." This time it's startling enough to cut both of you off. "(Y/n), what is your fucking problem?" Jake snaps.

You flinch at the harshness of his question.

Your eyes travel around the quiet table, where everyone is holding their breath, and then back to Jake. His green eyes reflect a type of pissed off what would be terrifying if you weren't so angry yourself.

A small, logical part of you knows that he has a right to be angry. You've picked a fight for no apparent reason in front of his friends and he hasn't the slightest clue why. It's not his fault your brothers are dead and you blame the Navy for it.

Regardless, that doesn't make up for the fact that you're pissed off by his defense of what Coyote has said. Even though you probably owe him an explanation, you're not about to answer him when he's just yelled at you. You also know that if you don't say something, he's going to and you'd rather die before letting him tell you off in front of all these people. You abruptly push away from the table and storm off for the bar top. You can hear Jake chasing after you.

"(Y/n)."

You ignore him in favor of heading towards the back door of the Hard Deck, pushing past people regardless of whether they're in your way or not. Being slightly more considerate, you can hear Jake moving much slower as he excuses himself through the crowd.

"(Y/n)—"

You come to a stop once you reach the door, spinning on your heels with a fire in your eyes.

"What's my problem?!"

Behind you, you can hear the loud jesting and jeering of his friends back at the table. They're still ruffled with excitement from your outburst, and Coyote's voice follows your retreating back. "Jesus man, get your girl under control."

I'm not his girl, you want to snap. He doesn't own me.

Jake has stopped a few feet away from you. 

"What's my fucking problem?! My problem is that your friends are sitting over there calling murder honor."

Jake sighs harshly though his nose. Shaking his head, green eyes looking up, he begins, "He didn't mean—"

"No. I know what he meant, Jake. You're all a bunch of cowards. You're all too goddamn scared to admit that maybe you're not doing as much good as you thought over there, and so you just justify it by saying all killing is good killing, right?" you spit.

His vibrant green eyes harden but he doesn't respond. "That's some real goddamn honor, right, Jake?" you repeat, angrier this time, wanting more than just some watered down reaction from him. If there's one thing that pisses you off about Jake, it's that you've never gotten anything more than what he's conditioned himself to respond with. It's like he's locked up in this stupid box of his and the most you can ever get out of him is a glance. You want him to be angry with you.

"That's enough." His jaw is tight, and you can tell that even despite his lowered voice and rather subdued demeanor, you've hit a nerve.

"Admit it. Admit that you—“

"(Y/n)." His voice adopts a seriousness that you've never heard from him before. It sounds almost dangerous.

Jake steps towards you and for a moment you think you've won. And then in the moment following that, you actually think that he's going to get physically angry with you. Your heart stalls. Jake's a big guy, a naval aviator, and no matter how good he sells himself to be, he could hurt you if he wanted too. You would never have pegged him as someone who would put his hands on a girl, even after only knowing him for a week, but a man is a man, perfectly ironed uniform or not.

Only he doesn't. Instead he steps into your space and leans in closer than you've  ever been before. His hand presses into your back, firmly pulling you into his chest so that you have no choice but to shift closer to him, your bodies molding together. "I said that's enough. They can see us arguing."

The press of his mouth to your ear conceals the exchange of your conversation from the listening table. You can smell his cologne on the starched collar of his uniform.

"I don't care if they see us—" Pushing your palm into his chest, you try to reestablish the distance between you, but like a brick wall, Jake doesn't budge.

"You realize that we have to make this look real?" he hisses. "From here on out, they're watching everything we do. The government is watching everything we do. Do you understood that?" His voice is tense, and it sounds more urgent than angry now.

Standing there, you realize his heart is thumping heavily beneath your palm. His body is uncomfortably rigid, like a scared dog waiting for its owner to show up and see the mess he's made. Behind you, the table has gone relatively quite. Rooster murmurs something along the lines of, "It's a little early for there to be trouble in paradise already."

Someone—Coyote—responds, "I don't think he thought this through, man. They won't last two weeks."

Jake's eyes meet yours, and you know he can hear them too. You swallow, trying to relax a little in his grasp. He's right, you have to make this look real, and fighting right off the bat doesn't exactly look good.

"Are they still looking at us?" You finally ask, leery now to even speak too loud.

Jake breathes a sigh of relief beside your ear, taking your sudden quiet as cooperation. "Yeah, just keep talking, okay? Act like we're working it out."

Despite trying to appear more comfortable than you are, you don't move your hand from his chest. The coarse material of his dress whites rises and falls steadily beneath your palm. It's calming in a sense, and you try to focus on its rhythm rather than the fact that you're so close that you can feel the heat of his mouth beside your ear.

"Still looking?" You ask after a few moments pass.

He hums. "Yep."

"Well then what do we do? We can't just stand like this forever." The longer you stand together, the more details you become aware of. Like the fact that his face is freshly shaven against your cheek and that he must have brushed his teeth before this because his breath smells like Listerine.

"Look at me."

"What?" You ask, your brow furrowing as he pulls away. His hand that had been holding your waist firmly in place lifts to grip your jaw.

"You're going to have to kiss me," he explains, glancing briefly over your shoulder.

"What?" Before you can even protest, he's leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours. Without the time to process what exactly is happening given your state of alarm, all you can do is go along with it. His lips mold against yours in what might be the most borderline tame kiss you've ever had. Despite this, you are reluctantly surprised to note how good of a kisser he is. It's just forceful enough to let you know he's in control but not so much that it's unpleasant. His lips are full and taste vaguely of his mouth wash.

You don't kiss him back.

It makes no difference to the group behind you whether you actually kiss or not; they can't tell from this distance and all they have to do is believe it happened. It's more for your own self preservation than anything. It's one thing to play the part, it's another thing to get caught up in it and catch feelings. And with Jake Seresin, that was a dangerous game to play. You'd already felt it, him prying his way under your skin when he'd held you at the table and the smell of his cologne filled your sense. It would be that easy.

To his credit, Jake lingers just long enough to make the kiss believable before pulling away. Even si, it still feels uncomfortably long. He leans back and you don't miss the fact that he wipes his hand across his mouth. "Sorry," he mutters under his breath, looking away.

"Jake..." you begin, immediately feeling bad, but he stops you.

"Whatever, (Y/n). It's fine." He won't look you in the eyes now. You turn to look over your shoulder, desperate to get yourself out of this increasingly bad situation .

"They're not looking," you say, finding the table now amicably chatting with each other rather than focused on the two of you. The sudden PDA must have finally diverted their attention. "...you can step away now."

"Right," he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. Jake drops his hand from your waist and steps back like he's glad to finally put some distance between the two of you. So much for making this look natural.

You return to the table shortly after, in hand to make it appear as if you've made up and smiling tightly when Bob cheerily welcomes you back to break the awkward silence. Once seated, you drop each other's hand beneath the table immediately. The rest of the evening is spent avoiding contributing to conversations that involve the other. If anyone notices, they don't comment on the fact that the two of you hardly look at each other for the rest of the evening, and somehow you manage to put up an otherwise happily married front.

When a few of the guys finally get a little bit too drunk, specifically Rooster, you're all too happy when Natasha calls it a night. Because they ship out the next day, Jake drives you back to the hotel where all of the married couples have rented out a room for the night. Apparently it's a tradition or something. You make the drive in silence. You let him check into the room and carry both of your bags up, disappearing into the small bathroom to splash cool water onto your face. It helps to ease some of the tension from this evening. Leaning over the sink, you watch the water swirl down the drain.

Is this crazy? This is crazy, right?

Jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands when you step out. He's taken off his hat and suddenly he seems a lot more fragile than he was a few minutes ago. There's a softness to him, something having been previously concealed by the precise styling of his hair and tense pull of his set jaw. Before you can break the silence, he sucks in an uneasy breath.

"Hey, we need to talk about something. Um, you know... in case I..."

In case he doesn't come back.

You swallow, looking down at the ground. After tonight, after he's kissed you, all of this is starting to feel a little bit to real. What the hell happened to pretending? This was all supposed to be pretend. "Jake, please don't do that—"

He stands up from the end of the bed, and you notice the folded paper in his hands. "This is all of my personal information, you know, bank accounts, passwords, phone numbers... Anything you might need if something happens to me." He says it all as if it's so normal, but you can hear the apprehension in the thinness of his voice.

Already, you're shaking your head as he hands you the letter. "Jake, please. I don't want that." Your heart is pounding and all you want to do in the moment is go back in time and never have agreed to do this in the first place. This was insane. What were you thinking? Like you were going to put yourself through this again? 

"(Y/n)—“ Jake tries, interrupting your spiral of thoughts.

"I said NO, Jake," you snap, stepping back from him and the letter. There are tears burning at the backs of your eyes, like you might burst into a hit of hysteria at any moment. "I change my mind. I can't do this..."

Jake's eyes glance from you to the paper in his hand and then back to you, and then he drops his outstretched arm with what sounds like a laugh. "Right. Not like we're fuckin' married or anything." He releases a puff of air from his cheeks and runs his hand through his hair like he's contemplating pulling it out. "Do you know how screwed we are if anyone finds out about this? Do you, (Y/n)??" he asks, his voice rising to a concerning level. "We're done!" 

"Jake, I—"

He tosses the letter onto the bed and sits back down with a heavy sigh, looking down at his feet. When he finally speaks again, his voice had lowered to a more acceptable volume. "It's a bit too late for you to back out now. If the Navy finds out about this— if anyone one finds out about this, I could lose my job. We could both go to jail."

Silence settles over the two of you as Jake sits on the bed, staring at his feet, and you stand there in the middle of the room, willing your heart to stop pounding in your chest. You need to get out of here before your heart implodes. You turn and grab your coat from by the door.

"Where are you going?"  Jake asks, his voice tired and annoyed.

"I need some air," you say, shrugging on your coat and opening the door. He doesn't try to stop you on the way out. 

You regret the decision the second that you walk out the door. Now that the sun is gone, it's freezing outside. Your original plan had been to go for a walk to clear your head but you doubt now you'd make it very far. Walking down the stairs and out into the nearly empty parking lot, you look around, considering whether or not you would survive the trek to a gas station. When you realize you've left your phone back in the room, you decide against it. You aren't dumb enough to walk in the dark alone. Instead you head towards Jake's truck, which is parked out by itself at the end of the lot. To your surprise, you find it's unlocked and the door swings open when you tug on the handle. You climb in and the switch to lock the door behind you. Even the inside of the car is cold but at least it's out of the wind. You hug your knees into your check and tuck your chin into them, curling up in the driver's seat to keep warm.

And then you just sob.

It's the kind of sobbing that starts long and drawn out and then escalates into the rapid breathing that happens when you can't get enough air into your lungs and it feels as though there's an entire golf ball stuck in your throat. You haven't cried this hard since you were a kid—since your first brother died. You didn't cry the second time, didn't allow yourself to feel anything the second time because you knew there wasn't going to be anyone to pull you back together if you did. 

At least being away from all of this had allowed you some time to forget, even if for just a moment, that they were gone without having to be constantly reminded. You had moved to put as much distance between yourself and the Navy as possible. Because that way life wouldn't get the chance to take another person from you in the same way. Looking at the ring on your finger now, that's exactly the opposite of what you had just done. This was just supposed to be until you could get back on your feet, and if it helped Jake out in the process then great. Now that you think about it, it was stupid of you to think that you would be able to make it through this with out catching feelings for him. 

Now you're going to lose him too.

You cry until you almost make yourself sick and then some more. Your sobbing is interrupted every few minutes when you choke on your own air and have to swallow the golf ball that is lodged in your throat so that you can breathe. You're not sure how long you sit there just crying. Surely at least an hour has passed. By the time your sobbing has slowed, your head hurts and your chest aches enough to be sore.

Knock knock knock

You jump at the noise, head shooting up from between the bracket of your knees. It's dark outside, the parking lot just barley lit in a wash of grey by the moon. Even so, you can make out Jake's broad figure in the darkness.

"Open the damn door." His order comes out in a puff of frosty condensation that warms a spot on the window, his voice only partially muffled by the barrier. His shoulders are hunched against the cold, the upturned collar of his coat doing little to protect him from the brutal conditions.

For a while you just stare at him through the window, swallowing back the spit in your throat.

"Open the door," he repeats, knowing better than to think that you can't hear him. If only locking yourself in his car was the solution of all of your problems. Reluctantly, you reach over and click the lock, slowly rolling down the window.

After it stops, you stare at each other through the open car window, separated only by the frame of door that he could now easily reach out and open. His soft brown hair is mushed and in disarray, nose and cheeks tinted pink form the chill. The pleasant green of his eyes is mostly hidden as he squints against the wind.

Finally, you suck in a breathe, your chest shuddering. "I cannot do this," you stress, all of the fear that you've been shoving down now presenting itself in a singular sentence.

Jake sighs, his face softening to reflect a look of sympathy. "Look, I promise you, it's not that bad. You'll come with me to the carrier when I ship out tomorrow, we'll hug each other goodbye, and then you won't even have to see me for a couple of months. It'll be like none of this ever happened. And when I come back... we'll figure it out. Okay?" His voice is soft and understanding, like he's talking to a child.

You stare at the dashboard, your stomach still churning anxiously. "That's not what I'm... It's not you, Jake." Quite the opposite. "I lost my brothers to the Navy. Both of them. And I don't think I can take losing anyone else."

Immediately Jake's face falls as he puts everything into place. Your initial distaste for him, your furious outburst at Hard Deck, your reluctance to have have anything to do with the Navy... "I—God, I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I had no idea."

You shrug, calming down now that you've finally let go over everything that you've been holding in. "I asked Natasha not to tell you. I just thought that I could get over it so what was the point in even telling you?"

The wind blowing into through the open window is bone chilling and so you can only imagine how cold Jake is standing outside the car. For a while there's only the sound of his quiet breathing.

"Nothing's going to happen to me, (Y/n)," he says into the darkness.

"How can you be so sure?"

Hands shoved into his pockets, body braced against the wind, he shrugs. "I'm not. But if I didn't tell myself that every morning, I'd never get out of bed."

Sighing, you pull the handle on the inside of the door. "C'mon, it's fucking cold out there."

Jake huffs as if to say, you're telling me, and grabs the handle to pull open the door. Only instead of climbing in, he steps further inside the door and grabs your head in his cold hands so that your faces are mere inches apart. "I mean it, kid. I'm not going to leave you, alright? You just gotta trust me."

Looking into his eyes, you know he means it. For the second time since you've known Jake, you really see him. Standing before you is the same man that you saw in both of your brothers. Granted, they were much younger than he is now, but you get it. You'd been trying to see him as anyone else other than the brothers you lost, praying that it would hurt less, but you can't make someone into something they're not. 

"Okay," you whisper. "I trust you, Jake."

You're awake hours earlier than what you're used to in the morning, but that's only because you had glanced at the alarm clock at half past three and realized that you only had few hours left with Jake. The both of you had returned to the hotel room and changed in comfortable silence, slipping into the single bed together without a word. Jake had reached over and pulled you into him without so much as a second thought. Now his body is draped heavily on top of yours, his nose tucked into your hair as your fingers trace along the bare skin of his exposed back. 

You switch between staring at the ceiling and watching the numbers change on the alarm clock, trying to think about anything other than the fact that Jake would wake up in about an hour, you'd drop him off at the carrier at six, and that would be it. You'd only just gotten him and now you were going to have to let him go.

When Jake's alarm does go off, you're more emotional than you thought you would be, but Jake seems to be fine, dutifully putting on his uniform and carefully packing all of his bags, so you try to put on a brave face. You move slowly, dragging out the process of getting dressed as long as possible just so that there's no excuse to leave for the dock any sooner than you have too. After you're done getting ready, you watch him shave once and then again for good measure before he ultimately decides that you've both wasted enough time putting off the inevitable.

The drive there is silent as well and would have been unbearable had Jake not reached over the consol to reassuringly squeeze your hand. He doesn't let go of it until you pull into the crowded port. Between people trying to get their things on board and a bunch of teary goodbyes, it's beyond you how you manage to find the Dagger Squad in the midst of the chaos. Fanboy and Payback are saying goodbye to their families while Rooster and Natasha chatter excitedly with an older man also dressed in naval attire, the name plate on his uniform identify him as 'Maverick'. It's all so overwhelming that only when Jake squeezes your hand again do you realize that it's time for you to say goodbye.

Reluctantly, you turn towards him, interlocked hands swinging between the two of you. He does his best to smile, and to his credit, it's not entirely fake. "Well," he sighs. "This it it."

"For now," you add, returning his soft smile as you look up at him.

"For now," Jake agrees, his smile brightening now that you seem to be okay also. He pauses, just staring down at you for a moment before he adds, "Are you going to let me kiss you?"

You smile, answering him this time without hesitation. "Only if you keep your promise."

Jake's large hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling your chin in his palm as he leans down to you. "I promise," he murmurs before pressing his mouth to yours, perhaps even more tender than he did the first time at Hard Deck. Only this time you reciprocate it, chasing his mouth as you lift up on your toes and run your fingers through the back of his hair. Groaning, Jake sighs into the kiss. It's dizzying and you don't know how it's possible to put all of the passion that you've been holding back into one kiss, but somehow you do. His lips are soft and you have to shove down the urge to grip his hair and demand him for more, because it by some miracle occurs to you that you're on a ship in front of hundreds people. 

Jake's the one to pull away, his eyes shining and pink lips slightly more swollen than they were a minute ago. You can't help but laugh, wiping away some of your lipgloss from his mouth with your thumb. "Goodbye, Jake."

"Goodbye, (Y/n). And don't forget, I'll see you soon."

[greyfics]

even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

pairing: the ghoul (cooper howard) x reader fic type: enemies to lovers, no smut, mild spice + eventual fluff slow burn meter: ◈◈◇◇◇ word count: 3.8K inspo: TPD lyric prompt list, reblogged on main reader type: assumed wastelander background, gender neutral, 'I don't need a knight to save me', assumed negative views of BoS, assumed gun for hire cw: strong language, violence, reference to fictional drugs, mild dismemberment summary: reader is a gun for hire who has gotten themselves into a bit of trouble in the form of a moderate bounty with a local segment of the brotherhood- and cooper howard knows he can get all the drugs he needs for what seems like an easy job.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"We can do this all day, darlin'. Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you." you feel the pressure of a pistol barrel pressing against the base of your skull from behind, and a disgruntled, defeated sigh slips through your lips. The game is up- you're out of ammo, down to the ripper hanging from your side, and 'gun against the brain-cage' is the indisputable checkmate.

Up to this point, you'd been pretty successful in shaking off the swathes of bounty hunters and jet-scrounging raiders that'd been on your tale since you became an enemy to the brotherhood- which, nowadays, seemed to be a pretty fucking easy feat to accomplish. The rusty knights were getting a little big for their oversized, several-tonne boots- and you had never been a fan of self-asserting authorities using their power in the name of 'order', especially not when they could hardly organise their own little sectors across the expansive, sparse remains of the USA.

As good with a revolver as you are, today it seems your luck has ran out and your karma has caught up with you, because you've finally met your match in a ghoul with a face so smug you wish you at least had a chance to slap it before losing the game of cat and mouse you'd been playing for a couple days now across Junktown. Your face collides into concrete and a quick click combines with the feel of steel against your wrists, The Ghoul's threat having evolved into a promise.

You spit a ball of blood and saliva from your mouth, wrought up by the hard impact with the ground below, "Alright, you win this round you freak- I'll come with you, just get these off of me." You hear a smirk from above, "Now how stupid do you fuckin' think I am? No, I gave you a chance to come willingly, you chose to shoot me in the leg. Lucky I ain't returned the favour." He gives you a light, sharp kick in the side with the tip of his boot, "Up. We got a long way to travel, and sooner we get there, sooner I get paid. I'll be reminding you now that I only get a bonus for bringing you alive, so make my life hell and I'll live without the extra caps." "Not exactly easy when my-" you hear the chick of a safety being cocked, and awkwardly shuffle back until you can jut sharply up onto your knees and slowly stand, turning to glare daggers into your now captor. The Ghoul's expression remains stiffly affixed with the wry, smug facade he bears: relaxed, squinting eyes peeking out above a thin, ever-upturned lip- you swear to yourself to you'll smack that smile off his face- but by all accounts, beneath the withered, decaying skin that had festered in his ghoulish transformation, the man had the stature (and admittedly, the jawline) of a filmstar.

You shake off the irritable possibility of monster like this getting lucky with the gene pool as a calloused hand secures a vice grip on one of your wrists and tugs you in suit as it's owner sets into motion, dragging you away from the remnants of an old civilisation and towards a military base miles away you are all too acquainted with.

You had been so caught up in the wild ride of adrenaline that came with being on the lamb that you briefly detached yourself from the catalyst of the chase- but as concrete and clay inevitably crumbles away to distant sandy dunes and cacti, the dread stirs in your stomach like a plague. It was easier to wave off the consequences of your actions when you weren't being marched towards the gallows to face them- it wasn't like you made an attack on the organisation. You kill one knight trashing up a town in the name of redundant technology, and suddenly you're on a hit-list. You know The Ghoul probably doesn't know this, and you know for certain that even if you tried to give the man a sob story he wouldn't care. This was it. "You about to be sick?" You snap from your pessimistic daze at the sudden interruption of silence, "No. Why?" "You look like you just ate a mouldy iguana, that's why- and I don't want sick on my boots." You let out an irked groan, and sharply snap your head to face the horizon in the opposite direction to your captor. You hope this will satiate his sour jabs for the time being-

Your hope is crushed five minutes later.

"Go on then. I'm bored shitless and I'm outta jet, so spill." He says with an almost theatrical exasperation in his voice, "Spill what, exactly?" you coldly respond in a mute tone, focus still fixed on the horizon to the west, "Well what's the big story? Someone's always gotta be the victim when they got a bounty on their head, so what's the tragic tale behind 'Y/N', huh?" the muscles in your neck and shoulders tense up at the mention of your name- you weren't exactly a known associate or long-time rival to the brotherhood, and the wanted poster you had wrestled from the stiff fingertips of a raider last week only had a sketch and a scrawled account of the incident. You falter for a moment before replying, but ardently avoid taking the bait, "If your plan is to get me to tell you how we got to where we are right now just so you can mock me, then I think I'd rather carry on enjoying the view, if you don't mind." The sweet-toned sarcasm at the end of your sentence seeps with venom, and the hostility it implies does not slip away from your adversary.

This time, his laugh is a soft, whisper of a chuckle- something spiteful, foreboding- followed by matching words, "You should hear what your little community had to say about you for a couple caps and a promise not to shoot anybody- well, anybody else-" his words cut into something personal, then- and though you would normally know that attacking someone with your hands cuffed behind your back is never going to end in your favour, at this moment you couldn't care less as you swing your leg round in a swift roundhouse motion, and raise your knee towards the only place you can think to leave a mark-

You hit your target, but instead of howls of pain you are met with a split second of awkward silence as the ghoul cocks his head, unimpressed, before slamming it into your own, sending you staggering back a few paces-

Before you can reorient your vision, a heavy dull force plummets into your ribs- the sand cushions your blow slightly better than the concrete you met face-to-face with an hour ago, at least. Your arms, however, are not grateful to be pressed beneath you as a familiar, withered hand pushes into your throat, putting as much pressure on your trapped limbs when your upper body presses back as it does on your esophagus, halting your air supply as he lowers himself down to a kneel and fixes your gaze onto his,

"If I wasn't already a walking corpse, that could've really hurt- not a very nice thing to do to someone just tryna have a little bit of light conversation now, is it?" All you can do is glower through eyes blinded by the sun, which gleams behind the shadow of the ghoul's head, bearing on it a smile tweaked with frustration- you need to breathe- you can't keep this up, your heartbeat is louder than the sun in your eyes and-

The pressure releases. You turn your head to the ground and suck in air between dry, heavy coughs, and after you've finally steadied your breath, you find a minor fleck of relief in being hoisted up from the ground this time instead of scrabbling to get up at gunpoint. You wonder, perhaps, if this is some small act driven by guilt- perhaps this man had a conscience once and a set of values beyond doing what it takes to ensure one's own survival. You were a gun for hire yourself, so it would be hypocritical to criticise your captor for his line of work- mostly, you preferred to stick with jobs guarding merchant caravans and to take out bands of raiders harassing the cities you passed through, but you never questioned the legitimacy of the requests you received, or the cargo you oversaw; you had settled for a little while, having stuck around the same little settlement for a few years now and had started to develop some semblance of a connection to the people there-

or so you thought.

You know you're going to be walking for a while- so with a resigned breath, you begin saying what little there is left to say about your present situation, "Well, you probably know most of what I can tell you from the sounds of things, but I guess there's nothing else for me to do right now, and the horizon is the same no matter where you go around here. I guess you could say we're in similar lines of work, but that's not really what got me in trouble with The Brotherhood. They think they can rock up in a power armour with a logo on it and wreak havoc as they please because it's for 'the greater good', but they leave towns half-destroyed when they pass through. I didn't want that to happen to... well, I didn't like the sound of that happening where I was. So, dude gets out of his power armour and starts waving guns around screaming about some piece of pre war tech or the other, and I tell him with... a strong choice of words, to get going. He starts running for the power armour, guns blazing- and I just have better aim, I guess. Not even like I got paid for killing him, either. Maybe that would've made this whole thing a little bit sweeter."

Your profession leaves a silence hanging in the air for a little while after, but it feels appropriate. The dunes filter sand from the far west to respond to your story- the horizon quivers, but only through the illusion of heat; the sand dries your eyes before they have reason to shed tears. A loaded sigh escapes the ghoul in front of you, and the clasp on your wrist softens but for a moment before stiffening to pull you onwards, "Yep, well, caps keep you going a little longer round these parts, but money can't solve all your problems." "You should tell that to the Brotherhood. They seem to be doing pretty well for all the wealth they've hoarded- can even pay big time bounty hunters to do their shitwork from the looks of things." You retort, but after a moment follow up with, "Wish I could say I was upset about it but hell, if I were you, I'd turn me in too."

You hear that soft chuckle again, but when you turn around to catch a look at the face that matches it, you see relaxed muscles and a far-off stare- he won't let you go, but he has let his guard down but a little bit- perhaps when we get closer to my story's end, he'll even let me walk to my death with my hands unbound.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

After trudging on in silence for a while, head bowed to your fatalistic contemplations, you find as you drag yourself out of the pit in your head and look over the horizon once more that the scene has changed: the atomic orange dewdrops spattering the sky not long ago have quickly to faded into a bruised overhanging shadow of violent, lavender, crimson; twilight approaches, and you're still surrounded by desert hills and illusions.

One of these illusory quivers catches your sharp eye, a dark blip that has appeared somewhere in that distance; it's moving, but it isn't close enough for you to determine whether it's just a trick of the heat or whether it's something heading in your direction. Your brow furrows, but you say nothing yet.

Within a minute, the object comes into better focus- or, rather, the creature. Your heart skips a beat, and you open your mouth to utter some kind of warning, managing to rasp, "Get the handcuffs off of me." "Now, darlin', I thought we managed to get past this already-" "No-" You tug your bound wrists, pulling the ghoul into your side- his other arm steadies itself against your shoulder before slipping up to your jaw and dragging it to face him, his own clenched and unaccompanied by a smile this time- the pallid complexion of your own face gives him enough pause for you to blurt in a fruitless, strained whisper, "Deathclaw."

If The Ghoul's skin could have paled more than it already had in his lifeless state, then it might have at that moment. The tight grip holding you against him slackens completely and you thud onto your ass as he draws his guns and casts you a playfully pitiful glance from above, shrugging and saying, "Sorry, darlin', guess I forgot to pick up the keys." He steps in front of you as a curse rips out of your throat in the sudden panic that ensues, and you try to muster enough brain cells in this moment to figure out a way of not dying, prematurely, and becoming just another skeletal curio.

There's the back-up plan, the 'if shit goes south' plan that you still hadn't gone through with because of the possible dismemberment that it might entail- but you had not been unarmed when you had been restrained earlier, and the phantom hum of a ripper blade always strapped to your waist as your last resort. You won't be able to wield it with any competence with your hands restrained as they are, but you can hit the power button from your current position-

Though, usually, you'd prefer to do it when the blade was already in your hand, not digging into the side of your leg.

shredded leg is better than deathclaw snack. Your astute analysis confirms your decision, and with a grunt and a whack, the blade starts chugging into a steady whirring action by the will of the dregs of an energy cell embedded inside- the next couple of seconds are far too long.

The blade begins it's excursion into your thigh as the gunslinging ghoul whips around at the sound, eyes wide at the sudden display of spraying crimson. You scream, struggle to try to align the cuffs without jerking your shoulders out of place. The deathclaw bounds into the mid-distance, closing in upon it's approach- it caught your scent before you could even see it's silhouette-

The tip disappears as your leg reflexively jerks, responding to the dancing jig of the chainsaw blade- you see pathetic sparks as the thing bounces off of the cuffs- strong enough to sever a leg, too rusted and battered to cut through metal. Your plan is failing. Your leg is bleeding. The cowboy falters as the deathclaw closes further-

You make a snap decision: fingers are easier to fix than legs.

You twist your wrist, and the pain just melts into the already existing burn emanating from your leg- a bloody, three-fingered stump slips from it's cage, and you swing your still-cuffed hand around in a fluid movement to drag the ripper from its sheath within your leg, snapping the cord that ties it to your waist-

You hear a frenzied firing of a revolver, but the approaching thunks are unimpeded- and though you know your leg may give way when the adrenaline finally dies, and though you know you need to find the two fingers you lost before sand vipers snatch them up and you're known as three-fingered y/n for the rest of your life- you launch yourself from the ground on your good leg, and stagger towards the approaching beast.

You grew up in the wastelands. You grew up in a settlement up here that, like any of the rest, was constantly plagued by critters and beasts- and if you were taught anything by the survivors that surrounded you, it was the following:

If you can't blow the bastard up, get 'em in the belly.

The deathclaw- a baby, thankfully- has it's gaze fixated on the man that had in the past half a minute become it's primary aggressor- so when you stumble forward, low and bleeding, with what to the creature is just another indistinguishable bit of metal in your hands, it does not see reason to change the track of it's jump.

As it launches itself above you, you pray to lady luck that you hit your mark.

An ear-splitting yowl and a sudden muffled crash tells you she's listening, for once.

Finally, after a few ragged breaths, the adrenaline wears off and you feel the weight of your body pressing into the wounds that liberated you- and the blueberry sky fades to black as you become weightless. This time, your fall is of your own accord- and this time, something stops you from hitting the ground.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

When you come to, you do not open your eyes at first- awake though you might be, your body is heavy with exhaustion. Before your encounter with the ghoul, you had been on the run for weeks, and in the last twenty four hours had not had time to stay put long enough to sleep. Coupled with the rough journey and the blood loss, you couldn't move if you wanted to. That being said, in those few dark minutes, a few things of note still catch your attention.

There is a faint crackling to your side, and the lulling warmth of a fire that brushes in waves against your face- and though you feel the silky grains of sand cushioning most of your resting body, your head lays higher up, neck leaning up to a more elevated surface- your attention snaps to the light sensation of fingertips absently grazing your neck in a repeating pattern, and the distant hum of an old country song embedded into muscle memory. The surrounding sensations are a strange comfort for all the brutal imagery this post apocalyptic world usually beholds; but it is brief, as your neck tenses, giving away your lucidity. The hand pauses, lifts- settles somewhere to the side.

When you dare to open your eyes, you are unsurprised to see the question-begging smirk and sharp eyes peering down from above, "Have a good nap?" You bolt upright, and immediately regret it when the bending of your leg snags one of the stitches you didn't know had been sewed into you until just now. Defeated, you flop back down, turning your head to the side to gaze into the dying embers of the fire beside you- praying you can brush off the flush of blush creeping into your face to the influence of the fire. Eventually you garner the courage to speak, "Feels like I've only been out for an hour." He snorts, shaking his head, "You went down around sunset, and it'll be sunrise in a couple hours." This catches you by surprise, and not just because of the amount of time you've lost, "What happened to getting your caps as soon as possible? Lost a lot of time waiting." He frowns, but does not lose his grin, "You trying to get yourself killed? 'Cos you've done a damn fine job of that so far. No, I've just been doing some thinking." "Congratulations. I'm proud of you." His eyes narrow into slits and he tuts at your sarcasm, following your gaze into the fire, "See, it could be argued that I would've been minced ghoul splattered n' buried six feet under the dunes if you hadn't gone all psycho slicing yourself up like that to get that baby deathclaw where it hurts." "That was a baby?-" "Anyway, guess my point is I might be willing to do a lot of things, but I still got my principles- only human thing I got left, probably. So I'd say I owe it you to not kill you at least. When you can walk, we'll go east to- well, to what's left of Shady Sands, and then you can do whatever the fuck you want."

You consider his words, and not knowing how to express appreciation or what to begin to make of this mysterious stranger and his obscure appeal, you find yourself rejecting this suggestion, though you don't know why- and so naturally, you dig yourself into a hole, "Well, you could also say that I would have died of blood loss if you didn't stitch my leg up." He studies you then for a minute, before shrugging and clasping your hands together at the wrists. You begin to stammer indecipherable protest and with a smirk he pulls you up, your hands still held rigid in your lap by his own, his head resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, "Now, I'm starting to get the impression you want me to march you up to our friends at the brotherhood just to keep my company." If he can't see the warm hue in your face now, he can certainly feel the heat flushing through your flustered face- you fight against the feeling, if only to make sure you stand a chance of winning this little exchange,

"Says the man who watched me sleep all night." You feel him shrug your comment off as his grin extends, "I might look like a monster, but I was a gentleman once upon a time. Like I say, I got principles." He lets you slip forward out of his grasp when you move to shuffle yourself around. As you do, you feel for the first time you are looking at him properly, sincerely- face to face, on equal grounds, with no threats of death or necessary facades of false confidence. After soaking in as much as you allow yourself to without losing yourself to curiosity entirely, you crossing your arms across your chest, and reply,

"Well, I have principles too- and if you're oh so graciously not turning me into the brotherhood then I still I owe you, so I guess I'll just have to stick around until you nearly get yourself killed again- that's all. No other reason." The ghoul rises, resting a hand on his pistol,

"You tell yourself that, darlin'- I'm gonna enjoy this change of scenery, I think."

[dummysmartdeviant]

🔞MDNI🔞

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30 cis f, i go by Laci online for safety, i don't send pix to strangers, or RP/sext with rando ppl, these r hard boundaries for me. Imma smart independent needy clingy juicy contradiction, hypersexual sex repulsed, demisexual tomboyish girly, ND ditz perfectionist, humiliation slut who is reluctantly dumbing down in the midwest USA.

SAFE WORD IS SAFEWORD.

Send dick pix without asking and get reported.

You must get to know me and build an emotional connection before I will consent to mind fucks or play, I will safe word if you make me uncomfortable, respect this or get blocked.

OC posts under #LaciThots

post que on, fun stuff exposed under my public likes 🫠

i LOVE good convos n attention so yes plz dm me but also plz know i work full time at a very physically demanding job thst is my #2 priorty in life rn under mental health bc stability is super importsnt to me & i go non verbal sometimes when my brain buffers (i can't spell dissosociate so i call it buffering for short) so be patient n nice plz i come on this app when my brain is shutting down dont make me think with mean messages anyways heres wonder wall

Main Kink experience

Humiliation/degradation/objectification, praise, bimbofication,pet play,anal play, intelligence play, cum,cock worship, sensory deprivation, bimbofication training, behavior modification,self reliance,bondage, online hypno play/mind fucking/manipulation/gaslighting play, dirty talk/dirty name calling/condescendingly sweet yet degrading remarks especially aimed at my intelligence, sensory deprivation, light impact play (spanking+flogging mainly), emotional sadism(reciving), pee kink (purely for humiliation/marking/training purposes), choking, and free use (especially being fucked in my sleep)

Kink interests

Bimbofication (haven't gotten to explore it in person fully but have training experience), body modification, hypnosis in person, corset training and shibari

Strictly fantasy or future Owner only

Forced breeding/breeding in general, extreme anal gaping, forced hucow, and intox play/chem sex

Under future Owner only

Being trained to orgasm more / cum on command/trained to enjoy orgasms in general/ masterbate more, CNC, being pissed on or in, diet control, anal gaping, dumbing down, bimbo training, behavior modification training, eating ass, body modification and assigned tattoos.learning to actually enjoy orgasm denial+forced orgasms, and I'm very interested in the concept of using rewards + praise instead of punishments to ensure a task is done correctly bcuz i have punishment trauma

Hard limits

People who ignore safe words or disrespect limits+boundaries, stalking, physical abuse, doxxing/blackmail, rape, DDLG, age play, ABDL, NO KID/KIDDO/DADDY TITLES, knives, needles,incest/step incest/anything family, ANYTHING underage/pedo, couples/unicorn hunters,bisexual fetishizing, MFF threesomes, messy kisses(sloppy wet makeouts are a trigger), alcohol, blood, latex, tight spaces, permanent damage, breaking skin, fisting,cults/harems, gore, snuff, vore, horror/fear, extreme pain/broken skin/bruises, being spit *on* me or *in* my mouth, sweat, scat and vomit.

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

However, without recycling, the big plans wouldn't be possible. This week, the company announced plans to spend $3.5 billion over the next 10 years on a battery-materials plant in the US state of Nevada. Redwood says it will create some 1,500 full-time jobs in the process(..)

Redwood Materials, which has been around for about five years now, is in the process of ramping up production. The goal is to produce 100 gigawatt-hours of anode and cathode components by 2025, which would be enough to provide batteries for 1 million electric cars per year. The company's larger goal is to get production up to 500 GWh by 2030, taking the number of potential EV battery packs to some 5 million or more annually.

Straubel's company is also working in partnership with Ford and Panasonic to build out a closed-loop EV battery ecosystem to help lower costs. The plan will not only reduce electric vehicle makers' dependence on imported materials, but also decrease the environmental impact as a whole.

P.S. Unlike oil, EV battery materials can be recycled and reused many times. This and other similar companies will easily destroy the false myth propagated by conservatives that there are not enough raw materials to produce EV batteries and replace fossil fuels...

[embervoices]

Hello hello! You seem super educated about fighting shitty bills, so how/where can I send things to combat KOSA?

I wouldn't say I'm super educated on this topic. I just passed along a more-useful-than-average chunk of info I happened across because some of my politically active friends shared it elseweb.

That said, a bit of searching goes a long way if you know what to look for.

For KOSA in general, there's actually a designated website for why and how to fight it:

And groups like the EFF are also on the job:

In general, if you have an address in the USA, you can find who represents you and how to contact them in several places.

There are several US government official sites:

https://www.usa.gov/elected-officials

https://www.congress.gov/members/find-your-member

http://www.house.gov/representatives/find-your-representative

https://www.senate.gov/senators/senators-contact.htm

Each state government also has similar sites for the next layer of government down, and counties often do as well. (Local laws have a big impact, too, and set precedents for larger movements!)

There are various non-profit orgs as well, such as Common Cause, who help streamline the process:

Hopefully others can share more resources in comments or reblogs!

[sollers-college]

Three different types of indicators are included in each category: structural, procedural, and consequential. A group of indicators has also been chosen to address public health initiatives... For more visit Sollers College

[lyomeii]

YANDERE! SOLO LEVELING HEADCANON

->warnings: yandere theme, manipulation, death mentions, obsession, kidnapping, children mention, Stockholm syndrome, threats, blackmail and maybe more?

-> request by anon! Can u do more headcanons for solo leveling ?(⁠ ⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⁠⌢⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀⁠) and @kyrielaw Yandere sung jinwoo again!! Pls????

->a/n: not a comeback for the hiatus, yet I’ve being write during my break during my studies so yeah, I wrote this since I miss posting and also because i reread the manwha again since I missed Jinwoo and the other gorgeous characters:) also this is longer than my usual works

-> thomas andre is one of the most powerful hunters of the world, a famous figure around the globe yet his significant other is rarely seeing in public, even with all knowing you name and appearance from the many photos around the internet, you are considered as a private figure from the public

-> in his penthouse is where you stay the most of your time, spending your free time in your hobbies and cleaning the house as the sweet house spouse of thomas’ who hates going out unless your dear husband is next to you to protect from the many dangerous. He gots enemies, right? And isn’t like that you need a reason to leave the safety of your home to buy something for you~ with his cards, you can buy anything from the internet and receive at home :)

-> he love seeing you cleaning the house with so much effort and when he has free time, thomas helps you in your duty. Picking up the heavy furnitures while you mob that area or putting something in the tallest cupboard, ah~ he truly loves those simple yet domestic moments with you, his sweet spouse who try their best to not move away from his touch :)

-> whatever he feels like, thomas takes you out to the best, fancy and expensive restaurant in the USA. Not only you deserve a reward and such beautiful moment for being such a cute and adorable spouse not because you gave up on running away from him and seeing your eyes sparkle seeing such delicious food gives him more years and he hopes that you continue that way, receive gifts from thomas is something that you enjoy, right?

-> physical affection is his love language, thomas loves seeing you, such a small person compared to him either next to him during those moments where he takes you out with his hand around your waist or when you two are cuddling in the bed seeing something in tv, his arms around your body make you unable to leave him and his head resting over yours bring memories of easily he is able to secure you inside this penthouse, your prison.

-> recently in the Germany’s news, a gorgeous person appears next to lennart and the people didn’t took much time to find out you who are. Many fans accounts spread some photos of you with some important information about yourself. A gorgeous model who recently got many jobs at runaway around the world with even more contacts to pose for many famous brands.

-> with that photo of you and lennart out in the web, your social medial went crazy, messages, likes and comments spamming about the secret relationship that you share with the S-hunter. And you even being seeing as a confident person, you are panicked and anxious about such things you’ve reading about those people, threats and name calling you terrible names, oh! they made you crying nonstop til you felt lennart’s hand on your shoulder

-> between sobbing, you asked for lennart to explain the entire situation to his fans, telling to the public that you two are friends since high school and were only hanging out to know what have been happening to each other lifes. The gentle smile on his face should bring you comfort, however, there is something behind it and the words coming out his mouths only confirms your thoughts, he says that you two look like a perfect couple and that would be such sad news to tell everyone that you aren’t together, he brings your face closer to his and his lips met yours, such moment that was supposed to be sweet feels as a trap, one that you aren’t going to escape

-> the next morning, lennart used his social media to confirm that indeed you are in a relationship with him for a couple years, hiding from the public to prevent hateful comments. With such words, the hateful comments and threats quirky stopped from happening and now only those who are his truly his fans are hoping for an engagement to happen between you too soon. And the other hand, you still panicked but another reason, you can’t broken up the relationship with lennart, that would destroy your career for completely and your social life! You don’t have much options than pretend to be his sweet significant other for as much he wants, however you have the feeling that he won’t let you go

-> giving gifts is his love language, seeing you wearing the finest clothes makes him feel crazy, the way those clothes fit your body and curves is to die for :) not to mention that many times you are invited to interviews or wants to go somewhere, lennart makes you wear a piece of his clothes, most of the time his coat, that way everyone will knows that you are dating him

-> congratulations! you caught zhingang’s attention and now he won’t ever let you go of his touch, even you did try to leave him and escape from his grasp, those you love will suffer the consequences, so there is much option than stay and be with him… how did that happened?

-> as you remember, the views of the journal you works for go insane whatever zhigang is on the screen. His smirk and yellow eyes make him a handsome man, many people no matter the gender fall over him and yet, his unique eyes are already settled on someone, you, the journalist who is kind famous in china for always notify the recently news related to dungeon’s and hunters. The lack of fear in your face impress him, how you stay still while reporting the live scene of the hunter stopping such monsters escape from the gates. That’s it, he wants to know more about you

-> a charity party is happening and as usual, Zhigang is there to attend and bring more people to donate to those who lost everything due to the monster, and you are there too, not able to donate since you are rich or that, but to interview the many people who are attending such event. And well, he steps in front of you, ready to be interview by such cute journalist like you. Your eyes start shining and well, you are excited to talk with a S-hunter like zhingang and gain a bonus from your boss, so yeah, you and him went to somewhere quiet and start the small interview.

-> your angelic voice almost make him want to raise from his seat and take you home, yet he control himself, zhingang can’t do that at least not yet, he needs to learn more about you in order to make you his forever. With the interview ending and you need to going back to working, he gives you his number in order to call him for more question after the event and together with the smile on his face, he almost make you go red and pass out right now, but you stay still and said goodbye to him, leaving zhingang by himself

-> days passed and no call from you, leaving zhingang thinking what could happen to his cute journalist, so he went to your work place and talk with your boss, an old man, who almost died by seeing the hunter asking about your wherebsout. The old man told the hunter why you didn’t show up to work nor called him, your family felt that you are getting older to be single, so your family made you quit and got you into a arrangement married against your boss’ wishes who tried to speak that you are a good worker, however the old man stopped trying when your family threatened him of sending you off to another country

-> angry, no, fury filled zhingang’s body who quirky left the office and went to look after you where the ceremony would be. Didn’t took long to arrive there, by the man’s worry, he arrived before the wedding happened, yet you are already wearing the classic clothes for the ceremony. Tears and messy makeup ruins your clothes while your parents scream at you for not being a good spouse to whatever person that they got you, and they only stopped with that the moment zhingang appears in front of them

-> your parents become silent and your cries ceased, and without thinking, you hugged him and begged to leave this place and your family and zhingang did exactly that. Picking you in his arms, he left the place with you falling asleep while he thinks what kind of punishment your parents should suffer after hurting you like that. But that can wait for a while, firstly, he have to take care of you

-> when you wake up, you quickly notice that isn’t the ceremony nor you house, it’s way expensive and the soft clothes in your body feel comfortable compared to your previous clothes. Even you are scared about the situation, zhingang appears from behind, hugging you and placing a kiss on your head, saying that you are now safe from your family and that you shouldn’t worry about anything but him. Even with sweet swords, you feel that is new life isn’t better nor good compared to your previous fate

-> quality time is his love language. Zhingang doesn’t really care much of what you two are doing, as long he can see you or know that you are closer to him, he feels is enough. Sometimes, he takes you out to area with less people like small city or rural area where most people don’t recognize him nor you, and takes photos of you to place it in his album

-> when a young man showed up full of injured to the hospital, you are his assigned nurse to take care of him til he wake up and leave the hospital, with someone as him lost so much blood, you fear that he isn’t leaving this place soon yet you aren’t ready to give up of him

-> everyday without losing it, you take care of his room and make sure that everything is clean to when he wakes up, the patient knows that he is care about it. Not to forget the flowers that his little sister, Jinah ( a cool girl and a new friend!) bring to him when she has time, the room become colorful with such beautiful flower, also it’s help to construct the moment whatever you are reading a book to him even knowing that he might not able to hear it

-> what you didn’t know is that Jinwoo did hear your voice and felt what you did to him. Cleaning the room, reading books to him, talking with his sister of his progress of healing, is that enough to fall in love? For Jinwoo is enough to make him do anything in your name. The instant he regains his conscience and saw you in the room, he thanked you for taking care of him during his stay and finally introduce himself, receiving a sweet smile from you that made him goes complete red

-> spending a few more days recovering at the hospital, you get to know each other better. you learn about his mother and promised to visit her whatever you have free time, Jinwoo learns that you recently moved to this part of the city, the conversation went long and you almost didn’t notice that is it time to Jinwoo leave and when he does, he doesn’t forget to share his number with you, promising to call you when he gets things done

-> a few more days passed and you receive Jinwoo’s call, asking if you could met at a nearby coffee and of course you agreed with him, saying that you will let him there. Once you arrived at the coffee, Jinwoo is looking complete different, more taller and way handsome than you remember, yet his sweet personality didn’t change at all neither the blush in his cheeks when he is talking with you, what a cutie :)

-> hearing his voice after a while does bring memories but let’s focus on the present. He paid for the little hang out and asked if you could visit his apartment, after all, his mother wake up a few days ago and she wants to met you and jinah have so much to speak with you, once again, you agreed to Jinwoo and the two of you walk to his home

-> arriving there yet none was there to met you and hearing the classical sound of the frontal door being closed made you a little anxious of what Jinwoo is going to do or say. Before anything, he guided you to the couch, seating next to you and ready to speak what is going inside his mind, he said that he is in love with you and beg to you to live with him and his family, what sweet words of him, but you try to remind him that you two only each other for a short period of time!

-> he said that’s okay! True love exist and he will show it to you as long you stay ar his side and don’t try to hurt yourself. With that, you realize that you can’t leave his apartment, the door is locked and is too high to jump by the window, so, that’s make you trap inside of this place with your new family and boyfriend :)

-> living with Jinwoo and his family isn’t bad, with his sister going to school and he going to dungeons, you and Kyung-Hye ( his mother) often spend time together, either cooking, cleaning or just hanging out around the city (with shadows attached to you and ready to tell your boyfriend if you dare to escape). The way she speaks of her son is truly amazing, never in a million years you would believe that such woman raised someone like him

-> words of affirmation is his love language! Hearing your sweet voice speaking towards him almost melt him down, even when you only say few words such as “ you did good” about his food, Jinwoo can already die in peace knowing that you loved his food and find him attractive, if you try to deny that, he knows you love speaking about his looks :)

@lyomeii || don’t repost

[luminalunii97]

Iran's protests revolution is not simply about hijab or bodily autonomy, rather those are parts of the issue: a meta post (part 1)

I don't think I can stress enough that today's conflicts between people and the governing system is not to correct the system, rather to make a fundamental change by getting rid of the current corrupted system altogether. Why? Because we came to this conclusion throughout this 4 decades that this system is impossible to work with. (You can't correct ideologies, theocracy, dictatorship, and worst of all a religious totalitarianism) So when you talk about IranProtests2022, don't limit it to mandatory hijab, it goes far far beyond that. As one favorite slogan on the streets states it:

این آخرین پیامه، هدف کل نظامه

(this is the last message, [our] target is the whole system (regime))

*I'm going to use historical facts, people's chants on the streets, and the constitution of Islamic Republic to make my point across*

What you hear today the most on the streets in Iran is the melodic slogan آزادی، آزادی، آزادی (freedom, freedom, freedom)

which is a generic demand that holds all forms of freedom including freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom flow of information and freedom of choice in its belly. Seeking freedom is not a recent development in Iranian society. If you study Iran's history for the past century, one thing is very clear: today's protests-going-on-revolution has old roots. You could say the fight for democracy, what is thought by Iranians to be the only path that enables people to gain individual freedom and to establish social justice, has started more than a hundred years ago, by the constitutional revolution.

The incompetency and corruption of the kings and their royal dependents during the Qajar rule, the vast interference of foreign powers in the country's affairs, and the shift in western politics towards liberation were possible factors that pushed Iranian figures and people into rising up for freedom. But due to many obstacles, among them foreign interference especially by Russia and Britain and later on USA mostly because of the natural resources in iran like oil, and furthermore culture and religion, this fight for libration and democracy hasn't been won yet. There have been various attempts in this ongoing fight, two well known examples are Mohammed Mosadegh government and the notorious islamic revolution 1979.

But our main focus here is the issue at hand. Why Islamic Republic of Iran must go?

In every area you could think of, Islamic republic has f-ed up these last 4 decades. International affairs?! F-ed up. Financial prosperity? Safety and peace? Environment? Managing water resources? Saving endangered animals? Job making? Education? Women's rights? Queers rights? Ethnic groups right? Human rights? Even representing Islam? Freedom of speech? Freedom of religion? Freedom? All f-ed up.

I'm going to give you examples;

Women's rights:

This is important because women are the leads in this protests and their demands are at the center of it all. Women's rights are the heart of this revolution.

Women in iran cannot wear what they want. It's not just hijab that's mandatory, it's a specific dress code. I have a hijabi friend who loves wearing long sleeved blouses and long skirts. But she can't. Because hijab should fit into a specific style to be accepted and blouses are not acceptable clothings. There are should and shouldn'ts women must follow. Look at some examples:

No tight pants, no bright colors, no hair, no bare foot, no makeup, no short manto, no tight manto, no buttonless manto, no short pants, and check out, there's more.

So if you wear your hijab like below you're going to either get arrested or be thrown out of a governmental institute:

But the thing is forced hijab is not the only or even the most important problem for women. Here is a list of women's issues in Iran, this is what gender apartheid means here: (tw for misogyny and rape)

*Women can't drive a bicycle or motorbike in iran, the funny thing is they can sit behind a man on a motorcycle but they can't be the driver themselves!!!

*women can't go to stadiums to watch men's sports.

*women can't get a passport or travel without their husbands permission.

*women can't get married without their father or grandfather or court's permission

*women can't go to work or get a higher education without their husbands permission

*University students who are women in case of staying in a dormitory need their father or husband's written consent.

*Women can't even check into a hotel on their own

*women can't become judges because they're "emotional"

*women can't run for presidency because the first condition to become a candidate is to be a man

*Women can't decide to get a divorce, and their child custody goes automatically to the father so they should fight for both

*a woman's testimony in court has half the value of a man because they're not "trustworthy"

*a woman's blood money is half a man's

*a woman's share of inheritance is half her brother's

*a man can marry up to 4 wives but polyamory not only isn't recognized for women, there are serious punishments including death penalties for women who have sex with anyone who's not their husband

*The law considers sex within marriage consensual by definition and, therefore, does not address spousal rape, including in cases of forced marriage. It gets worse. Women are supposed, by law, to always say yes to their husband's sexual advances. A man can take a complaint to the court about his wife saying no to him for sex!

*fathers are considered the "owner" of their child therefore if a man kills his child he won't get appropriately punished and only spend a brief time in jail. This worsen honor killing in iran where some fathers kill their daughters for reasons like having a boyfriend.

*the legal age of marriage is very low, 13 for girls and 15 for boys, and even that's more of a formality. It's possible to get married at any age. That is by far one of the most alarming things about Iran's human rights violations, child-wives shouldn't exist.

...

The thing is, fighting for women's rights isn't something new in Iran, it has never been this widespread though. After the failure that was 1979 revolution, the government started to oppress women more and more as it went on. Women's protests against discrimination started early on and continued after islamic republic was stablished. Watch this report made by TIME around 2 years ago. Look how far we've come:

[decolonize-the-left]

"we need to organize and create safety nets before a general strike, quit calling for these informal and unorganized strikes"

Remember when the pandemic hit and everyone hoarded toilet paper and then started overcharging for it online?

Yeah good luck getting people to care about class consciousness, each other, & organizing before capitalism kills us all (if global warming doesn't do it first)

Anyway I think everyone just agreeing to take the same day off or Not show up to work for just One day with a unified list of demands is more realistic. Like respect to Marx and Kropotkin and everyone but they were functioning in a reality that's fundamentally different than ours and if y'all could get that through your fucking heads and stop advocating that there's only One Right Way to tell capitalists to fuck off and that's how some dudes from 100 years ago said to do it...that'd be amazing.

Adjust. Adapt. It's okay, daddy Marx is already dead, he can't be disappointed. He can't hurt you here.

And before him and the other messiahs like him were born do you know what workers did?

Theyd ask for a raise and if they didn't get it they just walked off the job. In fact in 1762 sailors said "give me a raise or I will strike down the sails of your ship" and the bosses were like "okay well that would fucking suck. here you go" which is where the term strike itself comes from.

And like you have a better chance of THAT -of threatening your boss's property to have your demands met- than of ~formally~ organizing 160 million workers across the USA before the next century arrives.

Something to consider. My two cents in the ongoing conversation about workers rights.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Taxpayer shouldn't fund Prince Harry's security - 'we owe him nothing' say thousands of Mirror readers by u/Von_und_zu_

Taxpayer shouldn't fund Prince Harry's security - 'we owe him nothing' say thousands of Mirror readers We asked Should Prince Harry be entitled to a higher level of security? Thousands of you voted, with an overwhelming 2,414 saying no he shouldn't, while just 400 said yes he should.Here is the current state of the poll: https://ift.tt/umK9ECb Prince and Meghan Markle announced they were stepping down as senior royals back in 2020, where they were swiftly warned they wouldn't be given the 'same degree' of protection. Instead of being offered the same levels as King Charles, Queen Camilla and the Prince and Princess of Wales, they were offered similar protection to less senior royals including Princess Anne and Prince Edward. Harry - who now lives in the US with his family - then unsuccessfully took legal action.The comments quoted in the article are included here for convenience and amusement:Many of you commented on our story, here's just a selection of what some of you had to say:Shutupayouface1: "Henry had his security downgraded to the same level as Princess Anne and many other royals so I don't see why it's not adequate protection for him, his wife and kids. He's asking for preferential treatment simply because he has delusions of grandeur."Eveningall: "(Prince Harry) just whines and whines. Victimhood is his full time occupation."AnnieintheCastle: "He's got enough money to pay for his own security, he does not live here anymore and does not want to belong to the Royal Family but wants all the benefits that go with it. Harry must be stripped of all titles, a new letters patent must be drawn up and Charles needs to act immediately, this cannot be allowed to carry on any longer."McFadden: "They deserve NOTHING from the British people."Bigbaz654: "The 'spoilt one's' sense of entitlement really is breathtaking."Janlet: "(it was a) good decision and one the tax payers appreciate. There's plenty of royals to take over to do duties until the King is better. William, Kate, princess Anne and Edward and assorted wives should do the duties. In fact it may be a permanent thing after all the King isn't getting any younger, and a fairer division of the duties may be best. Harry etc have a life over in the USA, they don't like the UK lifestyle, so it would suit them better as well."Bella257781: "They are no longer working royals and are not residents in the UK, they have detached themselves and as for his children's safety, they never come over to the UK. He's using them to get his own way and the taxpayer should not have to pay for a none working royal."Boogers: "His security was downgraded to the same level as Princess Anne and others, I don't see her screaming like a baby. It's adequate protection. He's asking for preferential treatment."Sparkles 22: "Harry seems to think he's still top dog here, he's not! He left his position, he lost the perks of the job. Why can't the man get on with his life just as he wanted? But no, he has to keep showing off as though he matters."Perfectnumber8128: "He’s not a working royal anyway so the taxpayer owes him nothing."https://ift.tt/RoBLXzE post link: https://ift.tt/j0efUO2 author: Von_und_zu_ submitted: March 04, 2024 at 07:53PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[snake-snack-stede]

15 QUESTIONS FOR 15 FRIENDS

thank you for the tags 🥰🥰💗 @edsbacktattoo @quiet-compassion @lisahafey @douwatahima @xoxoemynn

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: yes! my first name and middle name are both stolen.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?: a few days ago watching the tv show Dark 😅

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?: nope, I've never wanted to be a parent personally

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?: absolutely none lmao I am not athletic or sporty at all

DO YOU USE SARCASM?: too often !

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?: if they seem warm or friendly

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR?: one of my eyes is hazel, the other is green

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?: if I'm watching by myself, happy endings. if I'm with friends or family I'd rather watch a scary movie (safety in numbers 👷‍♀️👍)

ANY TALENTS?: I'll say cooking and baking because I'm both the chef and the judge of that 😌

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?: USA

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?: drawing! reading! I'm gonna steal jams' answer and say listening to music is a hobby! video and picture editing!

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: I have one precious angel baby

HOW TALL ARE YOU?: 5'1"

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?: definitely english class. my typing style is a reflection of me and my choices, not my lovely teachers <3

DREAM JOB?: I don't know 🤠 yeehaw

💗 no pressure tags (sorry if anyone's already done this!):

@youshouldseemeinadeerstalker @thechastefreeballer @harrylovesspaezle @stedesparasol @cheersmequeers @soupbtch @tulipseason @peanutbutterex @cahootings @beandump @brigdh @callthefruitsquad @soapbubbles511 @epersonae @adickaboutspoons

as well as anyone else who sees this and wants to do it! 💗