#good work boots are a necessary part of life

[bjurnberg]

My work boots are the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned.

Also the most comfortable. I chose them after trying on several different brands and comparing lifespan vs usage vs comfort - I needed them for a physically demanding job, not the weekend hiking trails. I could have easily chosen cheaper boots that would have lasted long enough to be worth their low price, but I know the Sam Vimes Boot Theory and knew weaker, less comfortable boots would make my life harder in the long run.

So when the outside edge of the heel started wearing down after three years of heavy use I went to the shop I got them from and said “hey this is a common problem for me with how I walk but now it’s affecting my ankles and knees and I don’t wanna have to buy a new pair, is there a way to fix this?”

The salesman at this very fancy upscale boot store said “oh yeah, there’s a shoe repair place that can give you some heel guards - it’ll keep the rubber from wearing out.”

So at 8am this morning right after my 9hr shift ends I went to the shoe repair shop and it is the most hole-in-the-wall, is-this-a-real-business-or-a-mafia-front, am-I-gonna-get-shot tiny cinder block cube I’ve ever seen in my life. I grew up plenty poor and love me a good hole-in-the-wall business, but going from upscale store to this cash-only repair shop gave me whiplash. Wasn’t expecting this when a guy who wears three piece suits to sell boots said it’s the best place to go.

The skinny kid behind the counter looks somehow 16 and 25 at the same time, but when I tell him this place was recommended he smiles and says to hand over my boots. I hand him the vaguely warm foot-smelling boots, and stand in my socks in the 3’ square entryway surrounded by every color leather polish you could buy and watch as he turns my boots around in his hands, sizes up a crescent moon bits of plastic, and unceremoniously hammers tiny nails through them before handing them back.

The heels are perfectly level again. I can walk without almost rolling my ankles. They don’t clack loudly on the pavement or feel different. This is gonna fix my knee pain. It cost $10.

This kid had every tool he needed within arms reach, worked fast and smoothly, I was in and out the door in less than 8 minutes, and it only cost $10.

I didn’t think anything could cost only $10 anymore. I’m so used to hyperinflation prices I was spiritually thrown back to the 1400’s visiting the cobbler in town square. This kid might have been that cobbler and just decided to never die.

I’m still reeling from the whiplash, and gobsmacked at the price, and thrilled I didn’t have to go buy new, worse work boots (cuz I don’t have that kind of money for a second pair, I’m expecting these ones to last a decade) and it feels like I just experienced one of the rare little chunks of magic that floats around our world.

[love-belle]

i loved you so hard for a time !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which everyone thinks that they're done for good but it's quite the opposite.

or

for when your love is just out of this world. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

prequel - used to love you ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - tagging everyone that asked for part ii @lorarri @mirrorball-6 @willowpains @fluffyspaceprincess @twobluejeans @urmooniee @electrobutterfly @dakotali @ushygushybaby @sinofwriting hope you like this!!! thank you so much for reading, i love you <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, carlossainz55 and 2,826,628 others

yourusername here's another song lol

18,626 comments

username MOTHER WHAT

username GOODBYE I CAN'T DO THIS

username U CAN'T JUST DROP THAT OUT OF NOWHERE

username HELP THE BREAK UP ALLEGATIONS JUST KEEP GROWING

carmenmmundt such a heartbreaking song but beautiful nonetheless!!! loved this so much 🤍🤍🤍

-> yourusername stop thank you so much ilyyyy 😭😭😭😭😭

username DON'T THINK WE'RE ABOVE MIGHT HAPPEN TO US

username did she.........indirectly..........confirm it?????????

username ahahahahahah!!!!! im fine!!!!!!! toTAllY fiNE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

landonorris slayed the house down 😝

-> yourusername ur spending too much time on tiktok

username help haha im crying so hard haha

username was this necessary lol

username AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

username goodnight.

carlossainz55 on repeat 🔁

*liked by yourusername*

username IM CRYING WHATCGENNCUCJ

username i need daniel to comment like my life depends on it bc it DOES

username im a child of divorce 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username tears are rolling down my cheeks

francisca.cgomes ❤️❤️❤️

*liked by yourusername*

username IT'S 7AM I CANNOT DO THIS

username mother i am not strong enough for this

username daniel and her 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

selenagomez heartbreakingly beautiful 🤍

*liked by yourusername*

username this is my 13th reason ahahahah!!!!!

username alr.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 863,826 others

danielricciardo we're just two people.

9,628 comments

username GOODNIGHT.

username im so lost rn

username bitches wouldn't be in this situation if they just communicated instead of talking to each other through captions (daniel and y/n are bitches)

username daniel in his grovelling era ???????

landonorris 👍

-> danielricciardo 🙂

-> username LANDO WHAT DO U KNOW

-> username king spill the tea

username im honestly out of words rn

username from "i think we'll work bc she's just the better half of me like all of my best parts are of her and she just balances me out and we'll make it till forever, i'm sure of it" to "don't think we're above might happen to us"

-> username shaking in my boots rn

username AHSBDBDNHDBEJSJAJSNDKSN

maxverstappen1 right

*liked by danielricciardo*

username the grid knows something i SWEAR

username i was doing just FINE but then i saw an edit of daniel and y/n with mr loverman and im now RUINED

username dad please talk to mom she's in her sad songs era again 🙏🙏🙏

username god keep testing me and you'll be seeing me soon 🥰

username y/n and daniel are just being silly! don't worry guys 😂😂😂

-> username riiiiiight it's just a big prank 🤣🤣🤣

username no more daniel saying "my girl" 💔💔💔

-> username NO MORE Y/N SAYING "MY BITCH MY LOVE MY BF MY LOVE"

username shut up everybody they're not allowed to break up ahahahahahaha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

username "this award is for daniel, my forever kinda person, sorry i called u a dumb asshole when we first met. i didn't lie but still, just kidding — not really but thank u for being my muse for the past few years, it's been incredible, an amazing journey, full of love and life, loving u, being loved BY u, so thank u. here's to our forever"

-> username "this win is for y/n, the mean girl i pulled by being even meaner to her. nah, not really she's very sweet, she will call u a dumb bitch though. i love her"

username here's me logging off and going to that river in egypt. take care y'all

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by f1wags4ever, paddockgirlies, y/n4everrr and 76,528 others

paddock.club break-up confirmed for ricciardo and y/l/n? fans believe that daniel and y/n are over for good as the formula one driver was seen leaving the singer's hometown — without her. rumours have been flying ever seen y/n released two songs and fans reckon they're about daniel and their break-up. the couple dated for more than five years and their supporters are devasted by their potential split. numerous sources have also claimed that the couple "decided that it was for the best" and "they were just at different points of their lives". for more details about the pair, head to our bio and click on the link.

4,527 comments

username hahahahahahaha say sike rn

username oh!

username idk man how can u just "decide that it was for the best" after being together with someone for HALF A DECADE

username im so 💔💔💔💔💔

username they were so good together

username no bc them being at "different points in their lives" is straight up bullshit bc HAVE U SEEN THEM TOGETHER??????

-> username RIGHT????

-> username they would marry eachother every week if it was possible i can just tell

username y/n did not say "he makes my mind go like 'forever would be pretty cool with u' so obviously, im very lucky to have that kinda love in my life" for y'all to write this

username source???? trust me bro

username just wanna know who the sources are

-> username we'll be nice i swear

username i miss my parents 🫤🫤🫤

username so ur telling me that we may never get daniel at one of y/n's concerts ever again or see her smile at him standing in crowd and point to him while singing the songs she wrote for him???????? alr.

username im RUINED bc of this wtf

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

danielricciardo added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, lilymhe and 2,528,926 other

danielricciardo she's not my girlfriend anymore

tagged yourusername

16,528 comments

username FUCK U BOTH I HATE U WHATCTRB CYCJ

username OH

username OH MY GOD

username i am not ok

carlossainz55 finally!!! i was scared lando would end up spoiling it

-> landonorris fuck you

-> danielricciardo had to keep him out of the country

username OH MY GOD

username IM SO?????? THIS IS??????? NO WORDS.

username oh they played us BAD

username us rn 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

lewishamilton the happiest for you both 🤍🤍🤍

*liked by danielricciardo*

username THEM ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username all the y/n critics so quiet rn cuz girl really had us believing they broke up bc she wrote a sad song

-> username no bc she gagged the haters good

username THE CAPTION THE PHOTOS THE EVERYTHING

username this is my villian origin story

username the sigh of relief that just left my soul

username this was NOT cute do NOT do it again i was FIGHTING for my life (i love them sm they're my parents im gonna cry in a corner now)

username daniel saw twitter dragging him and decided to break the internet

-> username bro said let me show u something real quick and i respect him sm for that

-> username i know who my 🐐 is

landonorris happiest for you, mate!!! i better be the best man

-> maxverstappen1 what

-> danielricciardo battle it out idk

username THEIR WEDDING IS GONNA SO W I CAN ALREADY TELL

username this is historical

yourusername this is a terrible way of telling people we're engaged

-> danielricciardo you wanted to wait till we were married and then post a selfie with the caption "we're married bitches"

-> yourusername still think we should take this down and do that

-> danielricciardo y/n no

yourusername ahahahaha fiancé i love you ❤️

-> danielricciardo i love you so much mrs. ricciardo ❤️

username they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username WE SURVIVED THE GREAT WAR

username this is everything to me

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, carmenmmundt and 3,917,528 others

yourusername i swear i couldn't love you more than i do right now and yet i know i will tomorrow. this love is everything to me, you are everything to me and i know i've said it a hundred times before, but thank you. thank you so much for making me feel like daylight and thank you for being my biggest supporter through everything. i cannot wait to slow dance with you in our kitchen at 4am and do the dishes with you while music plays in the background, i cannot wait to introduce you to people as 'my husband' and i cannot wait to come home to you everyday for the rest of my life. and most of all, i cannot wait to begin this life with you, full of love, happiness, old and new memories, songs and blessings. i love you, forever and then a day after that.

tagged danielricciardo

19,738 comments

username WHAT THR FYCK EHATCTHR FUCK WHATCTHR FUCK EHATCTHR FUCK

username IM GONNA THROW UP WJAT TBE FYCK

username GOODBYE.

username the caption.

carmenmmundt love you both so much 🤍 wishing you a lifetime of happiness!!!

-> yourusername carmennnn ❤️❤️❤️ we love you so much

username "i cannot wait to introduce you to people as 'my husband' and i cannot wait to come home to you everyday for the rest of my life" NO ONE'S DOING IT LIKE THEM

username hahahahaha im SO normal about this hahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

username they're so precious to me ❤️❤️❤️

username her songwriting is really THAT good that we believed they broke up huh

username MOTHER AND FATHER

landonorris daniel is crying btw x

-> yourusername OH MY GOD

-> danielricciardo I'M NOT IT'S ALLERGIES

username no bc i would SCREAM if someone wrote that for me

username the difference in their captions is SENDING me

username no bc u cannot believe they're engaged like 😭😭😭😭😭

-> username nah fr i feel like we watched them grow up

charles_leclerc happy this news is out, not happy about you both stealing my car. please give it back.

-> yourusername about that...

-> charles_leclerc WHAT

-> yourusername i am a motherfucker

-> danielricciardo she forgot your car at the hotel in a whole another city

-> username HOW DO U FORGET A WHOLE ANOTHER CAR

-> yourusername SHIT HAPPENS

username THE CAPTION BRO THE CAPTION

danielricciardo wait now i feel kinda stupid about my caption

-> yourusername it's okay baby i can be poetic enough for both of us

danielricciardo i love you so much

-> yourusername i love you so much more

danielricciardo also i am stuck outside on the balcony let me in please

-> yourusername how the fuck

-> danielricciardo lily threatened to cut off my balls one by one if i hurt you so i had to run and hide

-> lilymhe and i will do it again

-> yourusername i love you lilymhe

-> danielricciardo and right in front of me.....

username "i swear i couldn't love you more than i do right now and yet i know i will tomorrow" can u hear me crying,

username can't believe i ever thought that these bitches broke up 💔💔💔💔💔💔

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

[zablife]

You're No Good For Me

Tommy Shelby x OC Satine

Summary: When Tommy comes into possession of a new club, the Shelbys want to know more about the beautiful and seductive performer working there. What happens when Tommy confronts her about her hidden past?

Author’s Note: Requested by @goodnightkatherine who wanted to see Tommy with a jazz singer men are obsessed with.

Warnings: language, mention of drinking, violence, possessiveness, hints of dark!Tommy, PTSD, mention of a weapon

“Bloody hell, the tits on her! Didn’t I tell ya?” Arthur asked, a wicked smirk curling around the edges of his whisky glass. His eyes never left the stage where a voluptuous ginger haired beauty leaned over the crowd. As her gloved hand seductively slid along the curve of her hip, a slight shudder ran through Arthur. He shifted in his chair, adjusting his trousers just as her ruby lips parted once more and she purred the last line of a lovesick ballad into a golden microphone.

“They’ve got a little perch for her up in the rafters and she swings on it like a bird. Last night she even did an act with red silks where she tied herself-“ Finn started, excitedly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Arthur cut him off. “Shouldn’t he be working the door?” he rolled his eyes toward the table, irritation visible in his clenched fist.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, studying the effect she had on his brothers and every other man in the club. “Go on, Finn,” he ordered with a jerk of his chin.

As the number came to an end, he placed his cigarette between his lips and clapped stiffly, the deafening noise drowning out the huff of a laugh that escaped before an honest assessment. “So this is why you want to stay in London, eh?”

“S right,” Arthur affirmed eagerly as he poured another round. “You need someone to keep an eye here.”

“On the club, Arthur,” Tommy reminded his brother with a sharp note of warning.

“And she’s part of it, ain’t she?” Arthur grumbled.

Tommy shook his head warily, “Remember what dad used to say, brother. Fast women…”

“And slow horses…”, Arthur interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know, I know, Tom!”

Tommy held Arthur’s gaze for a moment as he finished bitterly, “Will ruin your life.” He stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray, glancing back toward the empty stage. “I’ve things to do first, then I’ll give you my answer,” he replied, abruptly ending their conversation.

“Go on then. Don’t let me keep ya,” Arthur bellowed with a sweep of his arm. Allowing the king to exit in grand fashion, he remained at the table unwilling to allow his baby brother to spoil his evening or his plans for the future.

———————————-

The passageways beneath the stage were dark and winding, causing Tommy’s chest to constrict unnaturally. It didn’t bother him when there was chatter from the girls, but now it had become eerily silent save for the rush of blood through his ears. Tommy made haste to the dressing rooms, forcing his boots to thud upon the concrete floor a bit harder than necessary.

Soon he came upon the room he sought, breathing a sigh of relief at the glow of pale orange light seeping from beneath the door like an outstretched hand saving him from the smothering darkness. Like a beacon it called to him and he pushed the flimsy panel open without knocking, any pretense of formality forgotten. 

“I need to speak with you,” he informed the woman sat at the vanity. The redhead looked up with a look of bored detachment, powdering her nose as she raised her eyes to meet his in the mirror.

“Can I help you?” she asked with a foreign lilt he immediately recognized as French.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asked incredulously.

“Are you an admirer?” she asked with a sly smile. Tommy cocked an eyebrow at her, but she only giggled in return. “I have many of those.”

“No, love, I’m not here to throw roses at your feet,” he confirmed. 

“That’s a pity. I like roses,” she pouted. 

“So I’ve heard from your previous employer, but there’s going to be a new arrangement. You see, as of last week, I own this club,” Tommy informed her as he clasped his hands behind his back.

She turned slowly to face him, head tilted to catch a glimpse of his shadowed face beneath his cap. “Are you here to fuck me?” she offered breathlessly.

Tommy shook his head. “No, nothing like that," he assured her, removing his cap slowly and placing it on a nearby chair.

“Then this job will be easier than I expected,” she purred, standing to her full height. She was easily a foot taller than Tommy and she carried it with a casual elegance.

“What’s your name?” he asked, fishing his cigarette case from his pocket and turning it over in his palm.

“Satine,” she replied without hesitation, a smirk playing on her lips mischievously.

Tommy laughed mirthlessly, the sharp note of annoyance clear as he rolled his eyes. He took a moment to light his cigarette, the flame of his lighter flashing in her cat like eyes. “Your real name,” he pressed in a low, dangerous voice, taking a step closer to where she now stood.

In such close proximity she was able to scan the details of his face, pale skin still youthfully freckled but the sunken cheeks and dark circles beneath his eyes bore the passage of time. She looked away before he could glimpse the recognition hidden in her gaze, but she’d already lingered a moment too long.

Tommy seized on it immediately. “You think I don’t know you behind a few rhinestones and hair lacquer,” he taunted, exhaling a large plume of smoke toward her. Leaning in to capture her face in the palm of his callused hand he hissed, “Say your fucking name.”

She tried not to recoil, but the tight lipped smile that tugged at her mouth gave away her discomfort. “Why do you need this?” she asked, jerking her chin away in defiance. 

“Cos I want you to admit what you are...what you did,” Tommy spat, hand flying to her delicate neck as he forced her against the opposite wall. 

Red nails clawing against his wrist, Satine shook her head. “I-I did nothing…” she sputtered.

“Yeah, you did nothing," Tommy nodded in agreement as he emphasized the last word. "Left me for dead," he seethed, tightening his hold until she was left gasping for air before him.

Her eyes welled with tears as they had that final night spent together, tucked away in her tiny flat making promises of a life together after the war. Back then he didn’t care that she fucked Barney first, knowing he would be her last. She’d promised him she’d be his forever. She said, "I'll wait through any storm to be by your side."

It was that thought alone that drove him to dig after the tunnel collapse, clawing his way from the depths of the blackened earth to seek her embrace. There was nothing but emptiness waiting in her flat, however, the neighbor apologizing with sorrowful eyes when forced to recount the man come to collect her. For the better part of a year, he chased a ghost before returning home to Birmingham alone.

As the memories washed over him in quick succession, Tommy allowed the rage to consume him. He watched her head loll and her eyes roll back in the moment before losing consciousness. A low whimper from her pulled him out of himself, the intoxicating sound of her causing his hands to shake uncontrollably. With that, he released his grasp and backed away to the center of the room as nausea gripped him.

Satine fell forward clutching her chest, a coughing fit descending upon her as she struggled for breath. “T-tommy,” her desperate voice called out. The sound echoed around him like the beating of the shovels inside his skull and he turned away clutching his head. 

“You’re no good for me,” he reminded himself as he screwed his eyes shut. But I want you still, his tortured mind replied, fingers fumbling beneath his jacket for the cold comfort of his revolver...a decision to be made.

-----------------------

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[netherworldpost]

(pours one hard drink and it’s not even that alcoholic)

okay here is how we are going to fix your finances

your love life is against my ire so I am going to level with you:

“respect and talk to each other and if you can’t do either part ways, possibly permanently”

this goes for friends and family members too there are zero exceptions, your life is your treasure let none take more than you are willing to share — not give — freely

bad grammar spelling ink lines bad proportions tropes easy and predictable endings color choices contrary to popular taste and all other “sins” in art are irrelevant if you enjoyed making it, and if you enjoy making it then there are likely folk who will enjoy it too

if cooking goes awry lower the heat and go slower, take shortcuts, if you can add more salt butter and/or garlic, in small amounts, tasting often

entropy says something I can’t remember I am a bad scientist so ultimately and untidy home will return to untidy once tidied so clean what and how you can

work your wage and not more, it’s typically more profitable to take time and find a new job than risk not being promoted

this also includes working for yourself

if your business isn’t fun then make it a semi-pro hobby and just do the parts you enjoy

be fearlessly honestly with yourself, in quiet times if no where else

keep an eye on boots lest you not seek freedom but to become a cobbler, or worse, the foot in the boot on someone else’s neck

when (not if) you find yourself as a boot or cobbler, fix it, you always can, and this is when not if because propaganda is subtle

money is a neutral tool, it’s used for good and evil, understanding how it works is possible, I always send people to nerd wallet dot com because it’s the one I remember, there are a million similar blogs

guilt is an unwanted gifted weight to the waterlogged, possibly drowning, be suspicious of its value, it rarely serves as a building material

your sexuality and gender identity are clear as glsss or not and that’s okay not all glass is clear, it’s so pretty whatever color and shape it is, it might not make sense, that’s great too

“life is short” is only half true, life is also very long, the chances of a single fuck up ruining things permanently is exceptionally small

you made it this far, so rest, it’s good and necessary and universal, then keep going when you can

cheers to us all I hope we all make it

[gabessquishytum]

Pregnant Dream is on the run from Mobster!Hob.

It's not that Dream doesn't love Hob; it's not that Dream is concerned that Hob would be a bad father (Hob will be a wonderful father!); it's not even the violence inherent in mob life - Dream will would make a fantastic queen of the city. It's that Hob lied about it.

Lied about being a mobster, lied about being in the business -- lied to and didn't trust Dream with the whole of him! Claiming to want to keep Dream safe. How exactly Dream could be safe in a world of blood and guns and ignorance, Dream didn't give Hob a chance to explain.

The only reason Dream even knows....found out, was someone tried to murder Hob right in front of him. The bullet hit Hob's shoulder and Dream didn't even know if Hob was alive for hours, as the bodyguards shoved him into a car --- speeding him away from Hob!

Listen, Dream knows he will forgive Hob. He knows it. Hob is the love of his life and the father of his child. But Dream had to run and Hob will find him.

Dream is Hob equal. He refuses anything less. So he will keep himself and their baby safe, through any means necessary - someone did just try to kill Hob. And Dream took guns and ammo when he hotwired the junker and left.

Hob knows he screwed up. He would have been happier if his pregnant fiancé punched him in the face or something, instead of leaving the safety of the compound, but Hob is mostly sure that Dream can protect both himself and their little one. Hob just has to get to them before the assassins. And have a good groveling speech ready so Dream doesn't shoot him in the other shoulder.

Pregnant bamf Dream is amazing. I'm obsessed with the image of him with one hand on his gun and the other on his belly. Just looking at Hob with the most disappointed, apathetic expression on his face.

Okay, in fairness, Dream should have clued in to the whole mafia thing. The secure compound, the strange men coming in and out, the safe full of wads and wads of cash... but he figured that Hob was maybe working on his own criminal ventures. Not as part of the mob. Maybe he's hormonal or whatever, but he's mad that Hob didn't trust him, especially when he's bringing their child into this world!

Hob just wants his fiance back, to be honest. He's broken out of the hospital and ditched his bodyguards, and his shoulder still hurts but he's driving out into the middle of nowhere. He's got an idea of where Dream would go, to the cabin where he and his siblings used to stay on vacation. It's a good guess. Hob can tell when he pulls up that Dream has boobytrapped the whole place.

Well, Hob will just have to wait for Dream to hear him out. He kneels down in the dirt and calls out for his fiance, and he... waits. Patiently. Until Dream comes onto the porch. One hand supporting his belly, the other resting confidently on his gun.

Hob realises that he's going to have to say a lot more than sorry. He's going to have to beg. But hey, he can beg. He can plead. He'll kiss Dream’s dirty boots if he has to. Hob might be on the way to being king of the city, but there's one person he doesn't rule over.

Dream is going to rather enjoy this.

[raayllum]

One of the things I love most about Claudia is, quite frankly, how steadily and consistently Fucked Up she is, for lack of a better term. She comes up with the switching spell (an early sign she’ll surpass her father as a dark mage) but unlike Viren, can’t understand Harrow’s reservations about it. Which makes sense, as dark magic is inherently transactional as viewpoint. This ties into her wanting to take Runaan prisoner to be dark magic parts (“Yes! [Dark magic] is clever, it’s brilliant, it’s practical!”) not realizing that in terms of viewpoints, she has a lot more in common with the elf than differences. She lights Harrow’s body on fire with dark magic (reminiscent of using Sarai’s last breath for the vengeance spell she never would’ve approved of) with the framing aligning her with Viren to boot. 

She believes that Rayla could never be a good person because 1) she’s a Moonshadow elf and therefore just isn’t a person (or worth exceptionalizing as one yet) and 2) “She kidnapped you and Prince Ezran, how can she be good?” when Claudia is going to attempt to kidnap the boys the very next episode, but in her mind this is somehow salvageable, because it’s Necessary, isn’t it? It’s what her father wants.

But even her father’s dead set wishes aren’t a steady foundation, as Claudia has a habit of steamrolling over what her family wants when it’s things that might separate them from one another. She won’t let Viren let go, she won’t believe Soren about the princes when Viren offers up a solution that lets her keep her whole family together rather than having to choose her brother over her father, even if that means harming her brother. And she steamrolls because she thinks by physically fixing the problem (Viren’s death, Soren’s paralysis) the emotional issues (Viren’s trauma and panic attacks, Soren’s epiphanies) won’t continue to manifest; of course Soren mis-listened, of course Viren can go up the mountain. Never mind the consequences, never mind the pain; she fixed it. What’s the problem? (And of course, this sense of perfectionist preparation - “Gee Claudia, you’re so prepared, you’re the best” - alongside her smugness - “Wasn’t taking down a dragon one of your life goals?” isn’t sustainable or healthy for her either. We see how she panics and loses it when she isn’t prepared for a situation, and how the desperation drives her down deeper into the dark.) 

Even after Callum begs for her to let them go and after attacking Ezran multiple times, upon being a prisoner in her own home Claudia mandates that “We didn’t do anything wrong” (which is a far cry from Rayla’s response to her homecoming: “But you didn’t run. They have it all wrong” “Does it matter?”). Where Soren begins to question and defect, knowing his truth, he works to get Ezran out of jail whereas Claudia is conflicted but ultimately able to justify leaving him there, and able to justify staying when Soren leaves. With two years of only Aaravos in her ear, she’s gotten even worse, even more prejudiced against elves and dragons than she was before, save for her exceptions (Terry, Aaravos). And if even Terry is calling her out on her cruelty, and admitting that she did terrible things, then you know they were probably pretty awful for an elf who doesn’t bat an eye at his girlfriend slaughtering baby animals (hi puffer bats and baby deer). 

And at the same time, it’s not as though Claudia isn’t goofy and loving and compassionate. She loves ancient ruins and cuddling with dogs, she does feel some kind of way about seeing Callum again, she doesn’t just cut Terry loose when his life is put in danger and it’d be easier too - she genuinely loves him. Like I said all the way in the first few months after S2: 

I’d also like to say that this does not mean Claudia will not be redeemed. She does love people, has the possibility of using magic (Dark or otherwise) for good, would do anything for her brother (although only S3 and time can tell), and could be a reformed, more compassionate, fully rounded and loving person in the future.

Redemption is not out of the cards for her, whatsoever.

It’s just going to be a very long and hard road to get there.

[azsazz]

Bloody Hearts (Part 2)

Azriel x Cassian x Rhysand x Reader

Summary: A modern mafia AU.

Warnings: Blood, injury, guns, depictions of graphic violence. Ik this isn’t how hospitals work but just pretend for the storyline that it is.

Word Count: 1,780

Notes: Well, it's been a long time since I've worked on this one, but you all voted for it, so here it is! [Not edited]

[Part 1]

_________________________________________

“What the fuck, Rhys?” Azriel hisses when he catches sight of his fearless leader leaning heavily on Cassian’s side, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. He’s pale, lips beginning to tint the blue shade of the moon, and the man can hear his teeth chattering from across the room.

The dark haired man drops a steel-toed boot to the ground with a thump as he pushes himself up from the large oak desk where he’s been monitoring the cameras. The green shine from the screen glints over the twin guns nestled in the double holster across his strong chest and reflects off of the azure stone set in onyx metal around his neck.

He’s quick to make his way around the desk, hitting a single key on the console as he goes, and the screen floods black. It’s second nature by now, never leaving anything unlocked that he doesn’t want anyone seeing, even if it is his comrades.

Azriel’s footsteps are silent but Rhys’ grunts are not as Cassian helps him lie back on the poker table, crimson already staining the velvet top. The chips dig into Rhysand’s back but he can hardly focus on anything other than the ripping pain in his side. He’d dug the bullet out of his side and had slipped from the hospital before they could get any more information from him, even if his mind was screaming at him to stay, not for his wound, but for the beautiful woman behind the counter.

Cassian’s already off to retrieve the medical kit as soon as Rhys is settled. Azriel slips the knife from its sheath in his boot and doesn’t hesitate to cut through the expensive fabric covering the wound. His golden eyes are sharp, calculating as he moves, flickering over the torn and damp fabric, and then to the inflamed muscle of his torn stomach when he tugs away the bloody material.

Rhys grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as the room spins. He feels as if he’s the ivory sphere twirling around the roulette table as he lies there, letting Azriel poke and prod at the wound he’d been so careless as to get.

“How many times have I told you not to go running around with an open wound?” Azriel speaks softly, his voice a low rumble that’s always comforting, even when it’s a threat to their enemies slipping past his lips. 

“At least I got the bullet out this time,” Rhys grunts back in time for Cassian to hear. He’s carrying the med kit in one hand and in the other, a bottle of triple distilled whiskey, one of the expensive bottles Rhys likes to reserve for his more important guests. 

Now seems as good a time as any to break into the copper liquid.

“Who did this?” Cassian asks, handing off the supplies but keeping the bottle for himself. His voice is rough, wanting to know answers so that he can move his people where necessary, to find out where Azriel can plant his spies. His large frame casts a shadow over the wound when he hikes his foot up on one of the plush chairs, and Azriel tuts, shooing him to the other side so that he can see better. “And why didn’t you call one of us for help?”

Both of his friends have seen Rhys like this on multiple occasions. Not necessarily with bullet wounds, but their leader seemed to be needing stitches more often than he’d like. As head of one of the most notorious mafias in the country, he’s sought after by rivals for power, women for his body, sometimes both. 

It comes with the territory, though, and no matter how many times he scrubs his name from every source he can find, they’ll always know who he is, his father had made sure of that. But it’s no life to live hiding, and now, Rhys supposes that it's no life to live always having to look over his shoulder either.

Azriel leaves to scrub his hands, sharing a look with Cassian as he leaves him to fish for information from their leader, whose arm is thrown across his eyes, the gold light from the chandelier too much for him right now.

“Was it the Oleanders?” he questions, taking a swig of the auburn liquor before helping Rhys sit up for a sip of his own. It burns as it goes down, its aftertaste of copper he can’t quite distinguish is his own blood in his mouth or the drink.

Rhys swallows roughly, the liquor sticky in his throat. “The Oleanders, the Canus’, the fucking Tritons, take your pick, they’re all starting to look the same these days.”

“Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do about that?” Azriel asks as he slides back up to the table to begin threading the needle. His eyes are sharp, focused on his task, shaking his head when Cassian offers him a swig. “We already have every disposable knight out there that we can.”

His friend hisses as the needle pokes through his tender skin. He’ll never get used to the feeling, and he doesn’t want to. 

“Fuck if I know,” Rhys sighs, accepting another drink. “All I know is we need to start playing offense, they’re getting too close.”

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitches but he nods nonetheless while Azriel grunts his agreement. The three of them will be up for days trying to plan their next move. They need to think of something to shock the rival gangs, to scare them back into place where they’d been when Rhys’ father was still in charge. A new head meant that all past treaties were over, but Rhysand doesn’t regret it for a minute. Not after what his father had done to his mother and sister.

Azriel is meticulous with his stitching, and Rhys concentrates on the stillness of his hands while he patches him up. It had taken a long time for his friend to be able to show his hands like this, even though the three of them are like brothers. A gambling debt gone wrong had left the apathetic man caught and set alight by the Oleanders, harrowing grins and remarks of how he wouldn’t be able to hold his cards after they’d finished with him haunt him to this day, and Rhysand finds him asleep at him computer more often than not, surveillance screen blaring green light and a gun clutched tightly in his marred grip.

“If we knew who put a hit on you tonight we’d be that much closer to knowing where to start,” Azriel murmurs, tying off the suture and sitting back for a better look at his handiwork. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to take the liquor from Cassian, smearing the label red as he does so.

“Was a drive-by,” Rhys answers, his breathing ragged as he sits up. He makes a face at the scrap of shirt hanging from his shoulders, tugging it off and tossing it to a heap on the ground. It lands with a wet sound but he doesn’t care, they’ve all seen worse.

It makes him think of you, offering to help him out of his shirt with wide eyes and red cheeks. You had made his labored breathing worse, struggling to suck down a miniscule amount of oxygen after your beauty had forced it from his lungs. He wants to see you again.

He hadn’t recognized the large blacked-out SUV that had slowed to a crawl next to him. He’d known immediately and cursed himself for taking his phone call outside, and with no knights to guard him. He was sprinting down the block before the window even rolled a centimeter down, his shiny, expensive shoes sounding like their own bullets ricocheting off of the sidewalk as he moved. 

Bullets sprayed the buildings around him, not a soul in sight. Rhys had managed to dip into an alley and disappear, but after having received the lovely wound in his side in exchange.

It could have been much worse.

“I’ll start looking into security cameras,” Azriel says, wiping his palms down his own shirt. He’s already making his way over to his desk, and Rhys would scold him for being a bloody mess if he hadn’t known his friend as well as he does. That glint in his eye tells Rhys all he needs to know about what Azriel will be doing until he finds the culprit. “Where did it happen?”

“Westboro and 8th,” Rhys sighs, sharing a tired look with Cassian. The both of them know that prying Azriel from the screens will be nearly impossible, and they cheers to that, taking another pull from the bottle.

“You need to be more careful,” Cassian tells him. His hazel eyes are glazed with seriousness, his tone stern and fearful all in one. The corners of Rhysand’s frown soften as his friend's tenderness, agreeing with him in full.

“I’ll make sure you know where I’m going next time,” he answers, gaze sliding over to where Azriel’s already tuned deeply into his work. “The both of you.”

He has his own personal guard, a group of trustworthy men that have passed all of his and his friends’ rigorous vetting processes, but it would be nice if he were able to take a breath alone for a moment. Rhys is sure that both Cassian and Azriel will be flanking his sides once more now that this has happened.

Cassian seems less than pleased with his response but Azriel takes it with a grain of salt, fingers flying over the keyboard in an attempt to find the assholes who’ve done this. He tucks Rhys’ words into the back of his mind for later, already thinking of ideas on how to have more eyes on Rhys without being there himself.

“Shower,” Cassian demands softly, removing the bottle from Rhys’ grip. He saunters over to perch on the edge of Azriel’s desk, watching politely and not touching like Azriel has scolded him on many occasions. The thought makes the corner of Rhys’ mouth curl in amusement, even if he knows that they’ll start murmuring about him as soon as he leaves the room.

But he follows Cassian’s orders nonetheless, sliding from the poker table onto his shaky legs. The room steadies after a few harsh blinks but he stays upright, making sure he has his bearings before he moves towards his suite.

“And try not to get that wound wet,” Azriel calls after him, eyes still pinned to the screen before him.

Rhysand rolls his eyes, ignoring his friends, but his smirk curves into a full blown grin.

[smokersbaby]

Safe Place

Characters: Smoker TW: hurt/comfort, fluff, mentioning of murders Reader: gender neutral WC: +1k Author's note: I started writing this having just fluff in mind and it went in the opposite direction. I managed to add the cheesy part somehow

That grumpy face of his, two cigars hanging from the side of his mouth and his jaw clenched almost crushing them.

It was no clue that it wasn't the best day for Smoker and you could see it in every movement he made, how his body tensed feeling your hand caressing his cheek in an attempt to make him feel better.

"Love…" you whispered, a kind expression on your face trying to not upset him more than he already was. He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on a newspaper reporting yesterday's news, his eyebrows narrowed as to express how sad he was looking at the picture in the journal.

Your eyes looked down at what he was reading on the paper: a picture of a burned-down house, the title explaining how a pirate killed a whole family and set fire to their house after robbing it. Smoker's hands clenched on the newspaper as if this news made his heart torn.

Then you remembered. Yesterday Smoker returned home late at night after work, the sound of him kicking off his boots woke you up suddenly from your slumber. You waited 10 then 20 minutes for him to come to bed but he didn't. You got dragged back into your sleep before seeing him that night.

As you woke up this morning, Smoker had already left, another day without seeing or having a chance to talk to him. You found an empty glass with his favourite bottle of whiskey near to it and then you realized he didn't even come to bed after you fell asleep as he spent the night in the kitchen and fell asleep with his head on the table.

What happened yesterday? The answer was under your eyes as you read the newspaper. "I didn't manage to save them" he said in a murmur, the paper crumpling under his fingers. There was no need for other explanations: he managed to capture the pirate who committed the crime, but it was too late, that bastard had already killed the whole family and he couldn't do anything.

Smoker buried his face in his hands, his sorrow taking over him. It wasn't the first time a thing like that happened but he couldn't get accustomed to such tragedies.

Even if he was good at hiding his emotions from his subordinates and appearing tough as a rock, the home was the only place he let himself feel emotions without any fear of showing them to you.

You knew Smoker well and for that reason, you also knew words weren't necessary in such a delicate moment. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind as he was sitting at the table, you placed your head into the crook of his neck trying to comfort him making feel your presence.

The newspaper was still in his hands, with a slow movement you took that away from his hands closing it, the image on the paper made him only feel worse so he didn't deserve to see it any longer.

That was the worst part of his duty: seeing people suffering and dying because of pirates and criminals, it was also the reason that drove him to choose such a straining job.

Smoker let out a sigh and grabbed your hands squeezing them a bit as you were hugging him from behind. He got up from his chair and stood in front of you, his strong arms wrapping your body in a warm embrace as if it was his way to thank you for being close to him even in the worst moments.

Not a single word was spoken. Your fingers slipping through his white hair put a light smile on his face, his heart being less heavy during that moment. The feeling of his big hands caressing your back made you realize how much he needed you, not only in that harsh moment but every day of his life.

He picked you up in his arms, walking towards your shared bedroom carrying you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. He let you down on the bed, and you opened up your arms to him as to say "come here".

You didn't have to tell him twice since he reached you on the soft mattress, placing his head on your chest still being careful to not squish you too much under his weight.

He hugged your waist as he laid on top of you snuggling against your chest. Seeing him like that made your heart melt, it was one of the rare time you was the one cuddling and comforting him and not the contrary.

You placed a kiss on the top of his head, the slow movement of your hands through his hair made him relax so much to get him to fall asleep.

After a few minutes, you started talking to him in a shooting tone, as if your voice could reach him in his slumber. "It wasn't your fault Smoker, I want you to know that. You saved so many lives capturing pirates and just because this time you didn't manage to stop him from committing his crimes it doesn't mean that you are not worthy. Life is unfair, we all know it. But fortunately, people like you exist and I'm so proud of you.".

A wide smile appeared on his face "That was indeed cheesy but I appreciated it, thank you my love" he whispered, answering back to you. A blush appeared on your face as you realized that he wasn't sleeping and he heard every single word of yours.

You sighed pretending to be annoyed by his behaviour, but you couldn't hold a grudge against him as he was watching you with such an innocent stare that made your heart melt.

A smile spread on your face, you leaned forward to kiss him while him still laying on your chest to snuggle. "I love you" he murmured against your lips, caressing your cheeks and showing you how much you meant to him.

He fell asleep on you, for real this time, knowing he had a person who truly cared and appreciated him just as he was.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Like the Real Cowboys Do (Male!Reader x Benny Lafitte x Dean Winchester)

Requested by @capturingthecountryside

Dean smirked into the mirror, checking himself out for the fifth or sixth time since getting into the cowboy getup.

The black cowboy hat sitting low on his brow, the sinfully tight black Wrangler jeans tucked into black cowboy boots, held up with a matching black belt, and his button up shirt still hanging open - he feels like a sexy outlaw or something.

Which is the whole point.

Because, while he usually enjoys the medieval themed LARPs Charlie Bradbury takes him to, she's scouted him out a western one this time.

And what's better, you and Benny Lafitte will be there - Benny began dating you after you helped out his business, and had been inseparable ever since.

And Dean had started to develop a crush on you both when he met you and saw your relationship.

You've mentioned before to Benny about how Dean is always just a little too interested in your life together, always wanting to see you both, and considered the possibility that he might want to be a part of your relationship.

Benny didn't mind too much, but said you should let Dean come to that conclusion and act on it yourself... unless an unavoidably good opportunity presented itself.

Dean knows none of this, and so, he accepted a ride from you both to the LARP grounds, deciding if he can't work up the courage, he'll just have to use his body to seduce you. Hence the graphically tight jeans and slightly-higher-than-strictly-necessary-shut-up-Sammy boots.

Benny sometimes enjoys surprising Dean, so when Dean walks to his kitchen and sees Benny there, he's somewhat surprised but not too much.

"Wow, Dean. Couldn't be bothered to button up?" you tease.

Benny chuckles before Dean can respond. "Real cowboys didn't go around all exposed like that."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh really, old timer? Why don't you give me a rundown?"

Benny has him on the ground instantly, taking advantage of Dean's lack of suspicion to wrestle him neatly to the floor, holding him down by the back of the neck like a scolded puppy.

"You're under arrest." Benny drawls, his Cajun accent moving west and a little south and ending up somewhere on the Texas-Arizona border. "Hand me that rope, would ya, darlin?" he smirks at you.

"Aw, come on! Unfair!" Dean whines, but he doesn't bother to struggle against Benny's adamant grip. Benny has him hogtied in under a minute, his wrists bound together and stretched back to meet his ankles, which are crossed, tied, and pulled tight back up towards his wrists.

It's a testament to Dean's own athletic ability that he can withstand his back being bowed so far that his legs and chest lift up off the floor at the strict hogtie.

"Yeah, we knew how to get a man trussed up back then." Benny winks, watching Dean finally start to writhe, though mainly ineffectually. "But we had one more step..."

Dean growls as Benny pulls his own bandana off, flicking out the tails, and tying a knot in the center of it before pulling it between Dean's teeth.

He can still talk after Benny ties it firmly in place, but his speech is thoroughly garbled.

Benny winks at you as he picks Dean up and holds him over his shoulder, his hand resting on Dean's rear, supposedly to stabilize him but clearly with an ulterior motive.

"Another thing about cowboys was that they didn't care too much about traditional ways of doin things. So why don't you and I keep this here outlaw for a while and see if he enjoys being... kept?" He smirks, and you can see Dean's head move as his eyes widen in interest.

"Sounds like a plan, Benny." you smirk, reaching up to kiss him. "But you gotta teach me how to do that with the ropes."

"Sure thing." he winks, patting Dean's ass, making the hunter yelp. "We got our own outlaw practice dummy right here."

And with that, Benny carries Dean outside, and you consider that this LARP just got a whole lot more fun.

[captainx-camino]

I got Buggy done yesterday just in time for my local Japanese Festival event today so, here are some highlights:

Starting off small, here's the wig (and scarf, which I didn't make) chilling on my wig head waiting for me to struggle to put it on.

90% of the work I did on this wig is going to be covered the entire time I'm wearing it, but did I let that stop me from hand laying an entire glued hairline? Lmao of course not! That would have been easy, and we don't do easy in this house!

As stated above, I didn't make the cap I just got one online simply because I was having shit luck finding the striped fabrics I would have needed and the idea of having to sew two different stripes together was giving me hives.

Ascot, vest, gloves and glove cuffs~ In other words, 90% of the work of this costume and his accessory friends.

The Ascot was stitched together by my lovely partner via the piss poor instructions I was able to give them on how I wanted it made. Seriously, give them a round of applause for somehow decoding my incoherent babbling. This is beautiful. @kadaverc0splay did a fantastic job.

The gloves are just purchased leather fencing gloves of which I fold under the length and hide it under the cuffs I made, which are simply craft foam, paint, and buckles I had to order online with almost not enough time to get them because, for some reason, craft stores no longer find it necessary to carry and assortment of styles and sizes of buckles. *Internal screaming*

*sharp inhale* Ok. The vest. *Reconsiders every life choice he's ever made* This thing is a BEAST. It was a pain to make, it's a pain to wear, the leather belting that secures the garment closed is held on by glue, prayers, and human sacrifice via my own blood, sweat, and tears. It took me more hours than I care to even think about, let alone admit, to do all the top stitching on this godforsaken goblin of a clown man and that's not even half of the ironic tragedy that gathering the supplies for this disaster was.

Not only did I have to replace more than one of the FIVE DIFFERENT TYPES OF RIBBON AND TRIM THIS BASTARD HAS ON HIS VEST but nowhere had everything I needed in enough yards to complete anything I needed done, so I had to make several trips and buy several different things to finish any part of it. INCLUDING THE BUCKLES, which arrived here Thursday...for an event today. So, that was fun.

Oh, and also, the white ribbon is wired, but the wire refused to be pulled out, so it's just in there now I guess. Lucky me!

(the belts aren't entirely accurate, but I'll save adding the additional headache that will cause for the con I'll be wearing this to next spring. I'm tired.)

Buggy's many belts of despair and loathing...

I swear the cosplay gods are never kind to me, but tricking me into thinking this was going to go well because I was able to get some good sized chunks of real, genuine leather for dirt cheap? Not cool, guys!

The leather was chocolate brown and not black, as I had previously believed it to be upon purchase. So, it had to be painted with latex paint. (Thank you again, pretty boy, I seriously couldn't have done it without you. Seriously.) Actually , another round of applause for all the belts being painted by my partner, because they also painted the foam under belt for me. Because he was smart and got his costume done several days ago.

Not me. I'm not that bright. No. But alas, we trudge forward.

And by trudge...

These boots weren't made for walking, these boots were made for traversing through the dusty floor of the fun house you've built around yourself to forget how salty your rat ex has left you - AND IT SHOWS!

Ignore my poorly made foam buckles. I'm not going to repeat myself about that bs, lest I may sink back into a depressive state equaled only by my ability to pass it off as a joke. These crumpled, sad black asskickers were originally brown! And suede. Don't ask me how I got them to look like old, worn leather. I simply fell into a dissociative state and awoke with black boots and no memory of where I'd been. The belts are foam, and the weird pattern on his tongue is simply a quilting square from Joanne fabrics that I glued on and then mod podged over.

As stated above, the buckles are foam and painted. They look awful, but if anyone is close enough to my feet to say something about it, my foot is going to need to detach to be removed from betwixt their teeth.

The entire costume was also weathered by @kadaverc0splay (including the pants, which are not pictured here because I didn't really do anything to them) while I cried over the wig that you won't see most of so you know what, just send all your praise to them I'm not even here all I did was top stitch and cry.

All in all, and in true Buggy fashion, the build of this costume was entirely, and regrettably, failing upward. Because, hot damn, did it come together. 🔥

See you at Aki Matsuri.

I never want to do this again~!

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 5 - I Hold a Beast, an Angel, and a Madman in Me

| FERAL WOMAN | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 7.7k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: typical canon violence, mild self-harm

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: Pushing yourself out of your comfort zone doesn’t come without risk. Multiple incidents threaten to be a substantial setback in your hard-earned progress, and you rely on Joel to help you keep pushing forward.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

“I ate a piece of jerky at 2:17 last night when I woke up to go pee,” you announced as soon as Joel answered the door.

His face pulled back for a moment, not expecting such a unique greeting, but he quickly recovered. “Wow, one whole piece? Got ourselves a daredevil in Jackson now, huh?” he deadpanned. 

You wheezed a nervous laugh when you realized how silly you must have sounded. You dug into your depleted reserves of self-confidence and pushed through the conversation.

“Y-Yeah, that’s right. It’s a– I had a whole piece. A whole entire piece. Maybe I’ll, um, maybe it will be TWO pieces next time,” you boasted. For good measure you popped your hands on your hips and gave a lopsided shrug.

Your spirited, clumsy attempt at bragging and trash-talking over eating a single piece of jerky elicited a genuine belly laugh from Joel. The stilted guffaw was a clear indication you had caught him off guard with your unique style of casual, playful banter. You grinned ear to ear, excited just to have made him react in such a way. It was your new favorite hobby, seeing if you could get Joel to smile or laugh with a bit of back and forth.

“Fuck’s sake, get in here,” he laughed, shaking his head.

He propped the door open wider for you to enter, and you scooted past him quickly. It was market day again. After your failure of a first attempt, Joel helped you lay a bit of groundwork so you weren’t doomed from the start. He worked with you to organize your list so that it was one continuous path with no circling back or crossing aisles. “In and out” as he had told you. It sounded easy enough when he was in charge.

You wanted to try navigating through the store on your own, and Joel obliged with the sole condition that he could step in if he felt it was necessary. So far, he had only had to intervene once. Kevin the store clerk tried to strike up a friendly, casual conversation with you, and all you could do was fumble over your ration slips and blabber incoherently. Small talk seemed to be a tipping point for you.

Still, you worked through your nerves and went twice a week with Joel and Ellie to the market. Maria was quite pleased that Joel had offered to help out with such a clear gesture of commitment, and you wondered why she had made it sound like it wasn’t something she would expect coming from him.

Around the one month mark, your boots had finally started to get broken in. You, too, had molded a bit to the demands of “normal life.”  The routine Susan had established for you proved to be crucial in your progress. Knowing what to expect and when to expect it gave you the comfort to build up a little more confidence each day. You had even discussed a sort of part time job with Maria - something to help you feel like you weren’t just a freeloader.

She considered it for a few days before returning with an offer. Patrol shift changes happened near the front gates, and there were a few tasks and odd jobs that would make the transition smoother for everyone. It would only be a few hours at a time here and there, you didn’t have to interact with people for very long, you’d be around some familiar faces, and it was enough work to make you feel useful. It also felt nice to have a bit of purpose other than keeping Susan company - not that you didn’t enjoy it.

Your new job wasn’t anything complicated. The assignments were pretty straightforward: keeping the supply closets straightened, setting up log books for shift change, opening up the handoff stations, keeping track of everyone’s recorded hours for Tommy to review, doing some light housekeeping like sweeping and wiping down surfaces. When you earned your first ration slip, Susan had insisted you keep it and put it in a small picture frame somewhere readily visible in your room. A reminder to yourself of how far you’ve come, she had said.

It was a bit ironic looking at the framed slip as it sat on your dresser in front of a covered mirror. You had draped a blanket across it, along with almost every other mirror in the house, just to avoid your own reflection. You couldn’t stand seeing yourself. It didn’t feel like it was you who was looking back. It felt like someone else. You much preferred just focusing on your internal workings and not worrying about the flat look in your eye every time you caught sight of yourself in a mirror.

When you had asked Susan if you could cover the mirrors, she was kind enough to not question why. In fact, she had offered to take some of the bigger ones off the wall entirely, but you insisted she not go through that sort of trouble. You didn’t want her to get hurt doing it, and there was something that felt so heartbreakingly final about removing them that you couldn’t condemn yourself to it.

You held onto the hope that one day you would be able to see you when you looked into a mirror. For now, you only had to avoid eye contact with the bathroom mirrors, which you had agreed to leave uncovered at Susan’s request. You had come far in your first month, but there was still so much further to go.

You finished up sweeping the hallways and busied yourself with small tasks as you waited for the patrol groups to switch over. Joel was scheduled today, and that meant you would wait for him to get back with the rest of the group so you could walk home together. You had come to look forward to your walks with just you and Joel. The addition of Ellie during your trips to the market were nice, too, but there was never the comfortable silence you craved when it was the three of you.

Joel wasn’t the most talkative person, you had come to learn. You had seen him several times speak barely a word to others around town or during patrol shift change. Even people he enjoyed the company of, like his brother Tommy, would only garner two or three word sentences from him at times. With you he seemed a bit more open, although you weren’t sure why. It was always pleasant whenever you had a conversation here and there, but really it was the way you could walk side by side in silence that had you eager.

It was the only time you could recall that there was quiet, both outside and inside your head. Your mind wasn’t closed off into that safe spot you had carved out for yourself. You had retreated to it so many times when you needed to disconnect from reality long enough for the bad things to pass. But you hadn’t gone there in weeks. Weeks!

When you walked with Joel, it was just stillness and calm. Your thoughts weren’t racing. You weren’t on high alert. You could just enjoy the much too short walk home, side by side with your silent companion.

Then the times that you did want to talk, Joel didn’t seem bothered by that either. He never made you feel like an idiot when you tripped over your words or struggled to figure out how to express yourself. You hadn’t done it in so long that you were relearning much of the skillset. He even let you practice small talk with him, even though both of you hated engaging in it. It was one of those necessary evils that you had to tolerate if you were going to be sociable with others in Jackson.

Three weeks into your part time work, and you were offering simple greetings to some of the more familiar faces. Most of the ones you were brave enough to interact with had been part of the original patrol group that discovered you. They knew exactly what sort of circumstances you had come from and as such gave you a wide berth whenever you interacted. They all seemed to be rooting for you and wordlessly cheering you on as you found it in yourself to branch out and feel more confident addressing people.

There were others that made you feel on edge, although it was your history to blame rather than anything on their end. Some of the men got too close for your comfort but mostly backed off if they sensed you were ill at ease. In general it was just a lot of people focused on getting ready to start patrol or intent on finishing up whatever they needed to in order to end their shift. You could stay in the fringes, unnoticed and unbothered by the majority of people coming and going.

You straightened the chairs against the wall for the third time in the handoff room when at last you heard the sound of doors and footsteps. A glance up to the clock confirmed it was finally time for shift change. A few of the oncoming members shuffled in wordlessly while others gave you a quick nod of acknowledgment.

You gave Jason a friendly wave when he came through the door, and he flashed a quick smile back at you. He was probably more privy to the extent of your connection with Joel than anyone else. He’d been there that day at the market, eyeing yours and Joel’s hands clasped together during your panic attack. He’d never brought up that day to you, for which you were incredibly grateful, and it was in line with his general disposition.

He was one of the few people you’d recognized as someone Joel respected and cared about what they had to say. At first you thought it was because Jason was a sort of boss or manager with patrol shifts and personnel, but you quickly realized it was because they held a mutual respect for one another.

Jason never sought out more interaction than was necessary. Never pried. Just focused on whatever task was at hand and minded his business. He was a bit of Tommy and Joel combined, when you considered him. Not overly friendly but had a warmth in his eyes and smile. When he would occasionally ask how you were doing, you knew he genuinely wanted to know and wasn’t just asking to be polite.

You gathered up your things as you readied for Joel’s arrival. You picked up Tommy’s coat to put over the more fitted one Maria had found for you.  Her balmy insistence at Tommy’s behest that you keep his jacket permanently still made you smile. You were looking over the jacket with fondness when a newer acquaintance appeared at your side.

“Hello, hello, and hello again,” Nathan purled. His toothy grin went right along with his loose, overly familiar communication style. 

“Hi, Nathan,” you greeted in a short snip.

“It’s Nate, babe. C’mon, what’s it gonna take for you to call me Nate instead of being so formal?” he teased.

Nathan had been seeking you out more frequently with an exponential, energized interest each time. He was just an overenthusiastic nuisance at first, but his cocky youth had made him more brazen than usual this past week. It was never aggressive or hostile, but you didn’t enjoy the interactions. There was a clear shift in him around a week ago, and it was either an inability to recognize or a refusal to acknowledge on his part that his behavior was veering from plucky into pushy.

“Fine. Nate,” you quip.

“Atta girl,” he hooted. “Now how about you let me take you to the Tipsy Bison sometime? Get to know each other a little better, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and your stomach started to tighten.

“No th-thank you,” you decline, cursing your stammer for ruining the firm delivery.

“Acting all shy, huh? You don’t have to keep playing so hard to get, sugar. It was sexy at first, sure, but I think we’re past that by now, don’t you?” His arrogant toying of the words dripped from his tongue like a rotten pour of molasses.

Your fingers tightened around Tommy’s jacket in your hands as you felt yourself freeze up at Nathan’s advances. A molten heat spread across your chest and cheeks, and you worked to get your tongue functional again so you could tell Nathan to leave you alone.

Breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe.

Some of your fingers started to cramp and twitch with how tightly you were gripping the jacket. Nathan’s eyes swept lazily across your face in a way that had you wanting to bolt.

It’s okay there’s people around–you’re okay–just breathe breathe breathe–Joel will be here soon—

Nathan’s tongue drew across his bottom lip with a languid pass, and you felt like you might throw up.

It’s okay you’re okay it’s okay– Jason is at that table nearby–you’re okay— nothing’s going to happen– it’s okay

“Damn, you’re pretty when you blush,” he muttered, tilting his head in admiration and skimming his knuckles across your cheek. You made a noise of horror and rejection that you’d intended to come out as a “DON’T TOUCH ME,” but it got stuck in your throat.

“Leave her be, Campbell,” Jason cautioned from across the room.

“What? Can’t a gentlemen help a lady into her coat?” Nathan sneered at him. Without asking, he yanked Tommy’s coat from you and straightened it out with a jerk as if to assist you into it. You flinched at the abrupt motion after being frozen from his unwanted contact to your face.

Your breathing was picking up to an audible push and pull from your lungs. You were struggling to concentrate on breathing evenly with Nathan so close to you and being so insolent. You felt yourself become wholly petrified of what he was going to do next and if there was going to be anything you could do to stop him. “I-I don’t. No. No,” you stutter.

“You don’t know? You don’t know what?” Nathan questioned, again either willfully or ignorantly overlooking your meaning and visible distress.

“Campbell, goddammit,” Jason snapped, sounding a little closer than before.

You shrunk away from Nathan who had started to approach you with the jacket opened. You couldn’t discern if his enthusiasm was in bad faith or not. Your lip was trembling by the time you turned your face away from him and dropped your eyes to the ground. His steps were closing the gap between you quickly even though you had taken several steps backward, and your last ditch effort to make him stop was to put your hands up in a plea for him to stop.

Before Jason could round the table and intervene, Joel’s foot slammed into the back of Nathan’s knee and buckled him to the ground in a brutal drop. You jumped back at the unceremonious appearance but felt relief erupt in your gut.

“What the FUCK, man?!” Nathan bellowed. He grabbed at his leg in a crumpled heap, but Joel callously stepped over him and snatched Tommy’s jacket back. He lobbed it onto a nearby chair before meeting your eyes. He was zeroed onto you and rushed to cradle your face in his hands.

“This asshole hurt you?” Joel demanded with a stormy look. His eyes darted over you as though he was assessing the possibility himself before you could confirm or deny. You shook your head side to side in quick snaps, feeling jumpy with the rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

When Nathan made the novice mistake of trying to get up from the floor, Joel was quick to hand out a souvenir for your brash admirer’s serious lapse in judgment. Joel dropped his hands from your face and connected the sole of his boot squarely into Nathan’s chest with a hard drive, sending the recipient hurtling across the room. The panicked expression on Nathan’s face and his fruitless gasps for air indicated Joel had knocked the wind out of him.

“Turn around for a minute, honey, and close your ears, okay?” Joel requested softly. He cupped his hand around your shoulder and gave a small squeeze before sliding some of your more wily strands of hair behind your ear. It was a stark contrast to the crippling display of violence he had just exerted, but it was consistent with the rest of this whirlwind of a shitshow.

You yielded to Joel’s request and pivoted away from the scene with your fingers plugged into your ears. Your breaths were coming more steady now, and Joel’s reassuring rub between your shoulder blades brought you back to sanity. 

You waited quietly, focusing on the comforting heat from Joel’s hands on your body. It wasn’t more than 20 seconds when a chair slamming into the one just off to your side pulled you out of your dutiful obliviousness. You could hear Joel’s menacing growl before you even turned back around.

“–outta your fuckin’ mind. You’ll be shitting out teeth for the next week when I knock ‘em down your fuckin’ throat if ever you try that shit again.”

“Okay, man! Jesus, okay! I’m s-sorry, man! I didn’t know she was your girl!” Nathan’s puny groveling almost made you feel guilty. Almost.

He sounded terrified, and for good reason. Joel outsized him by leaps and bounds, and the anger fueling his dealings was nothing but bad news for Nathan. You tucked your head down at an angle as you turned to see the altercation.

Nathan’s upper half hovered over the floor, swaying only with the movement of Joel’s hand where it was firmly locked onto Nathan’s collar. Joel’s free hand was balled into a fist and ready to dole out as many souvenirs as Nathan needed to remember and comply with the expectations regarding his interactions with you. He coughed, still trying to catch his breath. His left eye was starting to swell, and the skin around it was reddening with damage. A few drips of blood were slithering down his chin, and upon second glance you could see his entire mouth was awash in blood.

“Alright, Joel, that’s enough. You’ve made your point,” Jason interrupted.

“Not done yet,” Joel bit out.

With that he turned towards you, something of a sheepish smirk on his face when he saw you were no longer in your bubble, and dragged Nathan across the floor before dropping him at your feet.

“Apologize,” Joel snapped down at him.

Jason was muttering something to himself behind Joel’s back and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Joel clearly wasn’t going to let this go until Nathan satisfied all the stipulations of his clemency.

Everyone had huddled to get a closer look, and not a single soul attempted to mediate the situation, other than Jason’s half-hearted attempt just now. It was then you realized this entire room full of people didn’t want to risk running afoul of Joel. There would be no hesitation on his part in allocating “souvenirs”for anyone interested in testing his patience when it came to your safety and comfort.

“Make it good, dumbass,” Joel growled, ramming the tip of his boot into Nathan’s thigh. Nathan yelled out again in pain and clutched the spot as he swiveled to look at you. You flinched again at Joel’s physical violence against Nathan and tried to stop shaking as you stared at all the blood.

“Fuck okay! Jesus christ, I am!” he relented. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry! I swear to god, I didn’t know that you and Joel were–”

Joel slapped the back of Nathan’s head impatiently. His tone was equal parts indignant and caustic when he spoke. “She’s entitled to some civility regardless of any attachment, you fuckwit. Goddamn, who the fuck agreed to let you stay in Jackson? You are about as useful to have around as a screen door on a submarine.”

You couldn’t help but sputter a laugh at Joel’s creative barb. You were so keyed up that the moment of levity was a welcomed reprieve, although fleeting. The muffled snickering around the room let you know you weren’t the only one amused by Joel and appreciative for the blip of eased tension. 

Joel caught your eye and shot you a questioning smile when you laughed. “You okay now, hon?” It was verbal whiplash, going between the hostile berating directed at Nathan and tender soothing words for you. You nodded and looked down at pitiful Nathan, who launched into an edited solicitation for your pardon.

“I’m– yes, of course. You deserve it. You deserve civility. You don’t have to be his girl for me to be polite. I understand. I get it, I swear. I swear to god I’m never gonna talk to her again. I swear I’m–” he rattled off, directing his pleading back to Joel to assess if it was adequate.

“What about my jacket?” you interrupt.

“Huh?!” Nathan gasped. His eyes snapped back to yours.

“You didn’t e-even ask. Didn’t even ask-ask about it. You just, you just took it from me without asking,” you challenged right back. “You-You can’t do that. To people. It’s not– It isn’t right. You c-can’t treat m-me like th-that.”

You were nervous to be this confrontational, but Tommy’s jacket meant a lot to you. As baffling as it might have been to anyone else, Nathan taking Tommy’s jacket from you without your permission was probably the most upsetting thing he had done to you today.

“I’m sorry! I’M SORRY! Please, I’m sorry!” he begged, watching Joel from the corner of his eye in anticipation of correction for this new grievance.

“Okay. Th-Thank you,” you said. You looked up to Joel and cupped his elbow to get his full attention. “Help him up, Joel, okay?” Joel’s face softened, but you could tell he felt Nathan didn’t deserve to get off so easy.

Joel snatched Nathan up with both hands on his collar now and brought him nose to nose. Even if it was done with the intent to protect you, the verbal altercation and physical violence made your stomach turn.

“If I see you actin’ like a creep with any women around town, we will pick up right where we left off, you understand me?” he snarled.

Nathan garbled nonsense and nodded emphatically. Joel released his hold, much to Nathan’s relief, and offered one parting remark. “Now go tell Tommy he has to call up the standby to cover your patrol shift because you’re a fuckin’ dipshit.”

Nathan didn’t need to hear his assignment twice and bolted from the room.

“Point made, Joel,” Jason sighed. “You okay?” he turned to you and asked. 

“Yeah, I’m-I’m good,” you reply.

“Alright, good. Now get your attack dog outta here before he gets put on leave for interpersonal workplace violence,” Jason grumbled.

You scooped up your jacket and extended your hand to Joel, wiggling your fingers in an encouraging gesture for him to meet your grasp. His remorseless expression only strengthened as he reached out and took it. Once you made it outside and started your walk home, Joel appeared regretful for at least some of his actions. 

“I, uh, I know I shoulda corrected him when he said we were together, but I was so pissed off I wasn’t really thinkin’ straight,” he admitted.

“It’s okay, Joel. Really,” you assure him. You rubbed your thumb along his hand in a soothing motion.

“No, it’s just that… I don’t want you gettin’ the idea that you’re only safe so long as you, I dunno how to put it. So long as you’re attached to somebody, I guess,” he explained.

This was the first time you had ever seen Joel unsure of himself. 

“I really did try to hold back. Wanted to bash his damn head into the wall. Seein’ how afraid he made you,” he muttered. “Just, not exactly too proud of myself for actin’ like that in front of you. I know it bothers you, that kinda stuff.”

“It does…” you admit, “–but, I’m not upset you stepped in.”

“You sure?” he pressed.

“Yes. Very,” you reply.

Joel let out a deep sigh of relief and gave your hand a small squeeze. You looked up at him, but his eyes stayed focused on the walk ahead. “Just wanna be sure. You’ve dealt with enough shit. Don’t need me addin’ to it,” he said.

For the second time today, Joel garnered a surprised, sputtering laugh from you. He glanced down, curious at your reaction.

“Adding to it? Like, adding to my troubles?” you balk. “You serious?”

Joel shrugged your comment off. He didn’t find it as implausible as you did. You came to a halt and waited for him to look at you before speaking.

“If I could do that for you? What you did back there? I would,” you assert with as much conviction as you could muster. “Not that you need it. But, if you did. If you needed somebody to try and, and stick up for you? I would. I would try my best.”

The line of Joel’s mouth curved ever so slightly when you squeezed his hand for emphasis. “I know you would. I know you would,” he trailed off as the two of you started walking again.

“Know you’d give ‘em hell for me, honey,” he finished.

You hugged yourself around Joel’s arm, gripping his hand all the tighter, as you walked the rest of the way home in your usual comfortable silence. The clarity it afforded your mind only produced a single thought: Know you’d give ‘em hell for me, honey …  for Joel, you would.

Closing in on your second month in Jackson was the perfect time to host a celebration dinner. According to Susan, at least. “What better way to show Tommy and Maria all your progress?” she posed to you two weeks ago. In that time, she had worked you through her own little charm school curriculum and proclaimed you “ready to be co-host” to a nice meal.

It was your idea to invite Joel and Ellie, a suggestion that Susan readily gave her stamp of approval, and before you knew it you were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt in anxious wait for your guests to arrive.

You heard Joel’s leaden gait as he and Ellie walked up the front stairs, and you swung the door open before he could knock. “Wow. Host so good you don’t even hafta knock to be let in,” Joel teased.

“Hi. Welcome. Please come in,” you parrot from the dialogue you had practiced with Susan. 

“You sound weird,” Ellie heckled. She scrunched her nose in amusement at your stiff imitation of the mistress of ceremonies.

“Ugh. I know,” you mumble. “Just tell Susan I sounded good, okay?”

Ellie cackled but joined forces with your hostess farce without any begging necessary from you. Joel wore his usual amused grin for the evening. “Not sure you’re ready for this, but I have a feeling Susan’s got enough experience under her belt to keep up,” he said as he handed you a glass bottle of dark brown liquid. 

“Thank you for this gift. How kind.” Your wooden delivery wasn’t selling any of the warmth it was supposed to. Ellie started off down the hall, inspecting whatever doorways were open along the way, leaving you beside Joel.

“Please don’t tell me you’re gonna keep that up the whole night,” he groaned. You glared at him with put-on exacerbation as you shut the door.

“Shutup, Joel. Susan has been putting me through the, through the hanger or whatever, for the past two weeks,” you huff.

“Through the wringer,” Joel corrected with a barely contained smirk.

“Whatever. I really want to do a good job, okay?” you admit with a skittish bounce onto the balls of your feet.

“Alright, alright. We’ll play nice,” he chuckled. “And, since you’re such a gracious host ‘n all and asked what gift was delightfully bestowed upon you, that’s some of Seth’s older batch of whiskey. Good shit.”

Your cheeks warmed a bit at Joel’s apparent familiarity with hosting etiquette. You accepted his gentle attempt to steer you the right way. “Oh. Yes. Well. Thank you. I’m-I’m sure this will go with– pair well with the … with the, um–shit, I can’t remember what’s for dessert.”

Joel covered his howl of laughter with a strained cough, and you couldn’t help but giggle along with him as you scolded him. “Shutupppppp,” you groan.

“Why yes, I would love to be shown to the kitchen to greet the other guests that may have arrived and or to say hello to the other host for this evening,” Joel chortled.

You sighed and rubbed your forehead against the palm of your hand. This was going to be a complete disaster, and you can’t believe it was falling apart already after you’d put so much work into it.

“C’mon,” Joel encouraged with a quick arm around your shoulder and a gentle shake. You leaned your head against his middle before pushing off and heading down the hallway together.

Joel did his usual work of charming the pants off Susan on your behalf. You were lost on the reference he made to some television episode where the main character Lucy and her friend went to a charm school and failed miserably. Joel and Susan joked how you were leagues above Lucy and Ethel’s attempts, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to you, but you took it as a compliment all the same.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen I Love Lucy,” Joel chastised.

“I’ve heard of it?” you offer. 

When Joel scoffed, you swiftly reminded him that it was before his time, too, if you were remembering correctly. Ellie as always chipped in with her helpful takes and said that if it was “just the grey TV before they got colors” then it was “definitely Joel’s time.” Joel grumbled something under his breath about “pain in my ass” and “talkin’ outta the side of her mouth” at Ellie’s remarks, and you and Susan could only giggle at their banter.

“How old were you when the outbreak happened, anyway?” Ellie wondered.

You were shocked it had taken her this long to ask you such a basic question that you had prepared yourself a little bit for it. “Eight.”

Joel choked on the single finger whiskey he had poured himself. You’d only ever told him you’d been a kid on outbreak day but never got into the exact details other than escaping to safety with your parents.

“Poor Bug. Just like my daughter, not even out of elementary school,” Susan murmured softly. You shot her a sympathetic look and squeezed her arm in consolation. “But at least I’ve got you now, Bug,” she added with a squeeze back to you.

Tommy and Maria arrived a little late, and Maria owned the blame entirely. “Baby Miller makes it summertime year round,” she quipped as she freed herself of her jacket when they arrived. Apparently she’d run her head under cold water for 10 minutes straight before she felt cool enough, and then had to change clothes so she wasn’t left in damp, sweaty fabric.

Susan sat at the head of the table, and you were opposite as the cohost. Maria sat next to Susan as the “guest of honor” with Tommy to her right and your left. Joel sat across from his brother and Ellie across from Maria. 

“What a quaint gathering,” you comment stiffly, hoping you remembered the line correctly. Joel choked on his water but straightened up when you shot him a look.

“Oh. Yes. Wow. Yes, quaint. Susan, you’ve been making an impression on her, I see,” Maria chuckled with a wide-eyed grin. 

“Bug has done so well. I’m so proud of her. And Joel can tell you all about how she’s doing, too. Can’t you, Joel?” Susan prompted. 

You couldn’t help the nervous face that met Joel’s gaze, but you really weren’t sure if he would give you a rave review. Not that it mattered. But still, it would feel nice to know he thought you were meeting some sort of unspoken expectations.

“Best company in Jackson, in my opinion,” he said softly, never tearing his eyes from you. Your watery smile made him grin in return, and you only looked away when Tommy cleared his throat. 

“Proud’a you, sweetheart. Come from a hard place, no doubt about that. Made lotsa strides since you got here, and we can all see that,” Tommy said.

You really had to hold yourself back from getting emotional now. Tommy seemed to detect your precarious emotional state and rubbed your hand for encouragement. You gave him a double scrunch of your fingers against his hand in return, and he offered up his crinkly smile you loved so much.

“Really. It’s so great to see you out and about. And helping out with patrols, too,” Maria added.

Tommy shot Joel a devilish look when Maria brought up your patrol job. “Yeah, heard a lotta people talkin’ just the other day about your help up there. Makin’ quite the impression.”

Joel didn’t look up from his plate and opted to just roll his eyes at Tommy’s nettling. Oblivious to what Tommy was actually referencing, Susan clapped her hands together with an enthusiastic expression. “Bug, how wonderful!”

“Probably just being nice,” you mumble before staring off and taking a few sips of your water.

“No no, believe me, there was enough hullabaloo about’cha that I can guarantee you’ve carved out a little piece of Jackson for yourself that people aren’t soon’ta forget,” Tommy chuckled, never tearing his eyes away from his increasingly irritated brother. 

You chewed on your lip thinking about Joel’s run-in with Nathan. You wondered how many people knew about it now and what they thought of you and the role you played in it. You felt Joel’s foot make swift contact with Tommy’s shin underneath the table, who sat up straighter immediately and glanced your way. Apparently Joel had taken note of your dour mood and wasn’t keen on the effect Tommy’s words seemed to be having on you.

“Ah, really, though.” Tommy cleared his throat and flushed a little. “Might not feel like you’re doin’ a whole lot up there, but it does make a difference. Things been smoother since you started,” he said in earnest.

You thanked Tommy for the compliment but adjusted yourself in your seat awkwardly. All the built up nervous energy inside you was demanding to be channeled somewhere. Susan gave you an encouraging wink, mistaking your fidgeting as feeling bashful at all the good things everyone had to say about you.

“Can I get a thing, no– Can I get anyone anything?” you fumble, trying to shift back into co-host mode.

“I’d actually take some ice water if you don’t mind,” Maria said. She had peeled off her long-sleeved shirt and was down to the tanktop she’d worn underneath it. “Just another round of my own personal summertime.”

“Oh, of course. Let me just– I’ll be right back,” you announce, standing and heading to the kitchen. You were just glad the first real request of the night was so manageable. You emerged with a pitcher of ice water and a new glass for Maria that had extra ice in it. 

You felt bad that she had been dealing with these unpleasant bouts of heat for at least several weeks. At least as far back as when you’d overheard her and Tommy’s conversation through their kitchen window after you’d arrived. You sympathized with her recurrent discomfort and made a mental note to ask Susan later if that sort of thing would go away once she had the baby.

“Ugh, perfect. Thank you,” Maria said when you made your way back to the table.

“No problem.” You picked up her new glass and began filling it with ice cold water. The freezing bite against your fingers helped to steady your hand as you worked.  You were trying your best to not overthink this and get nervous, but you really wanted to do a good job for Susan.

“So what, you just get like internal lava from the baby or something?” Ellie wondered.

Maria and Susan both laughed at the description but didn’t deny its accuracy. “Something like that,” Maria agreed.

“Ugh gross. That sucks. At least this winter keeps dragging on, I guess. Somebody said the other day at school that it’s normally a little warmer by now. But that’s good for you, right? Even some snow still coming every now and then?” Ellie reasoned.

You felt a sprout of confidence blooming in your chest, and you took up on it immediately before it went away.

“Yeah, but that just means Maria has to talk Tommy out of filling the bathtub with snow to help her cool off. Can’t just hang out of your kitchen window every time.” You laugh a little at your tongue-in-cheek contribution as you go between Maria and Tommy to fill his glass with water next.

You feel them both still on either side of you, and you glance at Tommy in search of a reason. He had a confused, sad look that you couldn’t understand until you realized what you’d said. You sat the water pitcher on the table without filling Tommy’s glass and reflexively crossed your arms over your lower belly in subconscious effort to self-soothe.

“How do you know about that?” Maria asked behind you.

You took a big step back and removed yourself from between their chairs. “I-I …” you stammer. “Shit.”

“How much did you hear?” she quickly followed up. She knew. It was all over her face. Tommy’s, too. They knew you had eavesdropped on their conversation. Their private conversation about you and how bad off you were. Something you were never meant to hear and had no right listening in on.

“Something wrong?” Susan asked with a confused frown.

“Yeah, what the hell? Why’d everybody get so weird all the sudden?” Ellie chipped in, helpful as ever.

You opened your mouth a few times, but your tongue felt heavy and unwieldy. You didn’t know what to say, so instead you turned on your heel and abruptly exited the room, climbing the stairs two at a time until you made it to your room and locked the door.

“You fucking idiot,” you snap at yourself with a soft headbutt against the back of your door as you leaned into it. You bury your face in your hands and fall into your mattress. It was bad enough that your instigation of Joel and Nathan’s fight had been a topic of vague discussion over dinner, and now you had just outed yourself as an eavesdropper and a liar.

You could only imagine the conversation downstairs with Tommy and Maria letting everyone else know you had apparently spied on them and made yourself privy to their private conversations. Everyone would discover you couldn’t be trusted. Your mind was hurtling towards that ever present and endless expanse of panic that was apparently going to be rooted in you forever. 

You shuffled around your room in search of a rubber band and quickly dragged the first one you found over your wrist. You pulled the band taut and released it with a stinging snap against the softest part of your wrist. The faded scars from so many hours in restraints left little pale patches as the surrounding skin welted up around them with the repeated, calming snaps of the rubber band.

A hiss of satisfaction hummed from your throat at the grounding sensation it gave you. A soft knock on your door tore you from your self-soothing. “Uh, just a minute. I’m– I don’t think I’m coming back down Susan, I’m sorry,” you call out.

“Not Susan, but I’ll give you another guess,” Joel’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

You sighed and walked across your room but only stared at the doorknob after a few steps.

“Gimme two minutes, and I’ll leave you alone after that,” he bargained.

It was laughable that he’d think you didn’t want to see him. You wanted nothing more than for him to be right beside you. You were afraid of the possibility that he was going to look at you differently now after learning that you were a liar and a sneak. 

You reluctantly opened the door for him. You close and lock it after he stepped inside your bedroom. You kept your eyes downcast and settled back into your bed, curling up into yourself on your side without a word. You couldn’t take a look of disappointment or rejection from him right now. It would absolutely gut you.

Joel approached slowly before asking your permission to sit on the bed next to you. You gave a short sound of approval and felt the mattress beneath you sink down with Joel’s weight. You stared at the wall in front of you, hyper aware of Joel’s measured, calm breaths behind you.

“Your mirror’s covered,” he noted.

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course he’d notice. Susan had taken the coverings off all the mirrors downstairs in preparation for tonight’s dinner, but you hadn’t considered any of the upstairs ones.

“Yeah. Too bright. In the mornings. Lots of light,” you lie.

“You’re gonna have to pick between not lookin’ at me and not tellin’ me the truth, ‘cause I’m not gonna put up with both,” Joel said with firm candor.

You stirred at his provocation and rolled over. Joel sat facing forward, still taking in your decorative alterations. When he looked down at you, you instantly covered your face with your arms. It was too much.

“Quit it,” he urged gently, brushing his fingers across your lower arm. You dropped your safeguard and willed yourself to maintain eye contact.

“Are they going to kick me out?” you sniffle.

“You seriously think that?” Joel shot back. “You think even if that was the case me’n Ellie would just stand by? Or Susan?” Your lack of understanding at the extent of how much people cared for you had clearly struck a chord.

“No,” you mutter. You clear the lump in your throat with a few swallows.

“Exactly. So you can stay up here and take yourself outta the equation of your own life, or you can come back down with me and have a little liquid courage and enjoy the rest of this dinner,” he said.

When you didn’t answer after a few moments, Joel doubled down. “So what’s it gonna be? You gonna hole yourself up here? Or are you gonna pull yourself together and come back downstairs with me?”

He wasn’t being unkind, you knew that. It was the truth of your options, and he wasn’t going to let you skirt the issue by forming your own bastardized version of events where everyone hated you and you weren’t capable of doing hard things.

“I guess… I guess staying up here won’t do much. For showing how I’m doing better since I got to Jackson,” you reason. “And I’ll probably just drive myself crazy up here, alone with my th-thoughts.”

“Your call, honey,” Joel reminded you. He meant it. You knew if you really decided to just have a pity party for yourself upstairs, he wouldn’t stop you, and he wouldn’t chastise you over it either. 

You sat up and poked Joel’s thigh, prompting him to stand. When you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, you looked up to see Joel’s extended hand waiting for you. He smirked and wiggled his fingers, mimicking the gesture you gave him after his altercation with Nathan. You huffed a small laugh and knocked his hand away in feigned annoyance before quickly grabbing it back up.

“Oh, one more thing.”

You shot him a curious look. “What?”

“This?” he said, gingerly wrapping his hand around your wrist where you’d snapped the rubber band. “You’re not doin’ this anymore.”

Your cheeks burned. You’d already forgotten about it, too distracted to think about hiding it. “Joel, it’s not– I just do it to help me–”

“No.” He cut you off without hesitation. “You aren’t gonna do it anymore. You’re gonna find somethin’ else to help calm you down. You come to me in the meantime while we’re figurin’ out what you can do to replace that. Don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. You come see me. Is that understood?”

You gulped at the frankly enthralling way Joel commanded you to not mistreat your body, even if you only did it because it brought momentary calm. He raised his eyebrow in a persuasive, demanding motion, waiting for your acknowledgement.

“Okay,” you promise. You hug his arm for a moment and don’t pull away when he sweeps his knuckles down your back in a single, delicate pass.

“Let’s get goin’,” he says, and you think just maybe there was a hint of reluctance in his voice at the mention of ending the moment and going back downstairs with other people instead of staying up here alone. 

You made it to the bottom of the stairs and were sad to let go of your hold of his warm, comforting hand, but you really didn’t want to reemerge with such a pointed, suggestive display before you could even smooth things over from your last faux pas.

“Ready?” Joel murmured lowly so everyone in the next room over couldn’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you whisper back.

And you were. You could do hard things. You could handle the awkward social situation you had created. No one was going to send you away. You weren’t going to have to fend for yourself. No one blamed you for Joel’s choices in dealing with Nathan. You weren’t somebody that stirred up trouble. You were just learning how to be yourself again, and it had been a long time since you were yourself.

The "WHAT TTTOOOWWWNNNNN?!" side of Joel makes my pussy bottom out, sorry not sorry. If only it wouldn't be too upsetting for Feral Woman® to witness Joel get more violent, we might have seen Nathan get all of the ass whooping he deserved. Oh well. We'll just have to settle for what we can get, I suppose.

Also, I just know Susan would give Joel a run for his money if anyone actually tried to kick Feral Woman® out of Jackson. Some true mama bear shit 100%.

As always, ty ty ty for reading and for commenting/sharing/reblogging my work!

Catch ya later,  ♥Puddles♥

[kanerallels]

A little late, but the first few chapters of my first-ish Chenford fic are up! They're also prompt fulfillment for @monthly-challenge's Februfluff, day 27: stuck together. First chapter under the cut, the second is up on AO3!

Some people had a hard time believing in the impossible. Lucy Chen had never been one of those people. Sure, it probably helped that she was a vigilante who could manipulate light energy with her bare hands, but that hadn’t always been the case. There had been a time she was just like everyone else.

But that had been a long time ago. Now, when night fell, she was Lyra, one of many vigilantes that patrolled the streets of L.A., looking for people in need and crime to fight. 

Usually, her version of crime fighting saw her out on the streets in her disguise, fighting muggers. But there were the occasional circumstances that required a slightly more delicate approach. And today was one of those circumstances— a restaurant that one of her fellow vigilantes suspected was running drugs out of the back room.

Hence why she was sitting at a table in a nice dress, eating dinner across from the last person in the world she would have expected to be sitting across from about two months ago.

Lucy had met Tim Bradford approximately three months into her work as Lyra. Ex-cop turned woodworking shop owner, he’d been serious and a little grim, but respectful. Lucy had been curious about him when Jackson, her roommate, mentioned him, and had slowly gotten to know him better as time went by— his shop was a few storefronts down from the coffee shop where Lucy was currently employed.

Around the same time, she’d met Orion— the stern, incredibly boss vigilante who was known as the Huntsman by local gangs. He was notorious for his intense attitude, vicious but generally nonlethal attacks, and strict adherence to police procedure when necessary.

Lucy had mostly just found him annoying. Especially since he had a habit of showing up in the middle of her work and lecturing her on what she was doing wrong. And he called her “boot” a lot— which, thanks to being roommates with a cop, she knew what meant. This did not make it any less obnoxious.

They’d gotten off to a rough start, but it wasn’t long before Lucy found herself working with Orion more and more often. He was smart, and they made a good team. And he’d saved her life more times than she could count at this point— although it was definitely true the other way around as well. Which Lucy never let him forget.

All things considered, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find out Orion was Tim. The attitude, some of the jokes, the rookie cop nickname and the stickler for procedure attitude? It made perfect sense.

Somehow, it had still surprised her when she found out. Although her reaction had definitely surprised Tim, and Lucy snorted in amusement at the memory.

Glancing up from his steak, Tim lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lucy said, waving a hand. “Just— do you remember when I found out who you were?”

“You mean when I found out who you were?” Tim corrected her. “I basically handed it to you on a platter.”

Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “As if I didn’t do the same thing for you. Anyways, I was just thinking about it, how I reacted.”

“Oh, I remember that part pretty well,” Tim said with a dramatic wince, and Lucy scoffed.

“If you didn’t want to get slapped, you shouldn’t have called me boot so many times.”

“You’re sounding a little too pleased with yourself there, Chen.”

“Uh-huh.” Holding back a grin, Lucy glanced around the restaurant again. It was a nice place, with a bar at the back and instrumental music playing in the background, overlaid with people’s conversation. You wouldn’t think a place like this would be a front of some kind.

“Hey.” Tim’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked back at him. His expression serious, he said, “Stay sharp. Just because it’s got a pretty cover doesn’t mean the Ghost’s intel is off. Generally, she knows what she’s talking about.”

Nodding, Lucy said, “Right, got it. But— how exactly do we find what we’re looking for, here? I mean, we’re probably not going to just stumble across a cash exchange— and even if we did, we’re civilians right now.”

“Which is why tonight is about surveillance and keeping a low profile,” Tim told her. “We watch the waiters and the rest of the staff, and if we can, we’ll get a look inside the kitchens. Anything we can get pictures or proof of, we bring to Lopez, and she gets a search warrant.”

“Got it.” Tapping her fingers against the tabletop, Lucy resisted the urge to look around the restaurant again. No matter how much she wanted to catch these people, she couldn’t make herself conspicuous. It was better to focus on what was in front of her instead.

Namely, Tim, who looked just as impatient as she felt— if the people around them were supposed to think this was a date, they weren’t giving much of an impressive performance. Time to change things up a little.

Leaning forward, Lucy said, “Okay. Tell me about work.”

“What?”

Lucy couldn’t hold back a grin at Tim’s baffled expression. “Come on— we’re supposed to be on a date. If we just sit here in impatient silence, that’s not really going to sell it.”

Nodding, Tim said, “Good point. Uh… work was good. Celina’s finally learning how to use the woodstain without getting it everywhere, which is an upside. She’s a good kid, though. Nolan was right to hire her— don’t tell them I said that, though.”

“What, do you think they’ll figure out that you have a heart?” Lucy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly. I can’t be seen as the good guy here, you know.” Tim quipped back, and she laughed.

“I’m pretty sure that ship has long since sailed.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met.”

Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “Okay, that barely counts. You were intentionally mean then— wait. Which time are we talking about?”

“Which time are you talking about?” Tim countered.

“The second first time,” Lucy said. “You showed up and immediately started telling me everything I was doing wrong—”

“To be fair, you could have been killed if I hadn’t—”

“—and you wouldn’t stop calling me boot. The first first time you were a lot nicer. Or… less mean, at least.”

“Because you were a customer,” Tim said, taking a drink from his glass of water, “not a rookie vigilante who was about to let a two bit criminal stab her because she hadn’t secured him properly.”

Pointing at him, Lucy said, “See, if this was a real date, this is the part where I’d throw a glass of water in your face and stomp off dramatically.”

Holding up his hands, Tim said, “Hey, you’ve improved a lot since then.”

“Improved?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

Tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully, Lucy said, “Hmm. How about… “Lucy, you’re the best rookie I’ve ever trained”?”

“First of all, I already said that you were one of the best,” Tim pointed out. “Second of all, you’re not a cop, so it barely even counts.”

“It counts!”

Tim opened his mouth to argue, but something caught Lucy’s eye— a man moving towards the kitchen. In one hand, he held a briefcase, and Lucy could make out the clear outlines of a gun under his suit coat.

“Tim,” she said quietly. His gaze snapped to her immediately, and she nodded to the man disappearing into the kitchen. 

Understanding flashed across his face, and she saw his hand twitch, the way it did when he wanted to reach for a gun he no longer wore at his side. “Let’s go,” he said, getting to his feet.

Lucy rose and followed him across the wide main room. None of the other customers so much as glanced at them, and Lucy silently thanked her lucky stars for that.

The main room was partitioned off by low wooden walls framing, but not completely obscuring the dining area. To their left, a walkway led to the entrance. To the right there were two doorways— one leading to the bathrooms. The other at the end of the hall, a swinging door, opened into the kitchen.

As they moved around the corner, Lucy glanced at Tim. “Hey— let me take the first look,” she said, keeping her voice low. “It might look less suspicious if I’m spotted then if you are.”

He gave a brief nod, hanging back a little. As Lucy headed towards the kitchen door, she couldn’t hold back a flicker of pleasure. It couldn’t have been that long ago that Tim wouldn’t have trusted her with this role. Things had changed a lot between them.

Coming to a stop next to the door, Lucy peered over the low swinging door. There was the usual bustle of a restaurant kitchen— cooks weaving their way around each other, the clatter of pans and sounds of voices.

And then Lucy spotted the man with the briefcase. He was talking to another man, with short blond hair and a scar cutting across his brow. The two of them spoke in voices low enough that Lucy couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. 

The briefcase sat open on the counter in between them, the contents obscured by the blond man. If I can just get a better angle… Quietly, Lucy stepped closer, her hand coming to rest on the top of the door as she peered into the kitchen.

She caught a brief glimpse of what could only be cash— stacks of it, lining the inside of the briefcase— before the door under her hand moved slightly, letting out what felt like a shatteringly loud creak.

Both men turned at the sound. Lucy’s heart nearly stopped, and she ducked away, turning her face so they wouldn’t catch sight of her. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over the noise in the kitchen, but she knew criminals. They were paranoid, and with good reason. Which meant there would be someone out here to check in a few seconds.

She sensed rather than saw Tim moving up behind her. “They saw you?”

“Only barely,” Lucy said. Her heart had regained momentum, and was pounding against her collarbone now. “But someone’s going to be out here soon.”

It wouldn’t be long— and they wouldn’t be able to make it back to their table without being spotted. Better to stay here and come up with an excuse, and there was only one that Lucy could think of.

Spinning to face him, she said, “Kiss me.”

His jaw dropped, just slightly. “What?”

Lucy caught what sounded like a creak behind them. Abandoning any pretense of explaining the situation to Tim, she caught hold of his face, and kissed him.

He didn’t freeze, which shouldn’t have surprised her. Tim was a natural at adapting, and they’d been working together long enough that it wouldn’t be too hard for him to pick up on what was going on.

What did surprise her was the kiss. It was supposed to be awkward, embarrassing even, to kiss Tim. It was supposed to be something she wanted to get over with quickly, and not linger on.

It was none of those things. It was the opposite, and so much more. Her heart was pounding and she knew there was something she was supposed to remember, but all she could really register was Tim— his lips against hers, his hand at her waist, tangling in the fabric of her dress.

And then someone cleared their throat, loud enough that it broke through the trance she was in and reminded Lucy where she was, and why. Pulling back, she made eye contact with the man who’d been carrying the briefcase.

Before he could have a chance to speak, she did. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Lucy said, letting an embarrassed half-smile cross her face. She was pretty sure she was a little flushed, which definitely couldn’t hurt the illusion. “We, ah, we didn’t realize anyone was back here, did we?”

For a minute, she didn’t know if Tim would chime in— he was completely still. Lucy could feel his heart beating against her palm resting on his chest. But then he said, “Nope. Is this area off limits?”

“No,” the man said after a brief pause. “But the kitchen is. Why don’t you two go back to your seats?”

Lucy shrugged, flicking a nonchalant look at Tim. “I guess this can wait until later. Come on, babe.”

Catching hold of his hand, Lucy gently tugged Tim after her, forcing herself to move casually and not look back. When they reached their table, she sank into her chair and looked down at her half empty plate. As Tim sat across from her, she asked quietly, “Is he still watching us?”

“He just turned and went back into the kitchen,” Tim told her, and Lucy let out a long breath.

Finally, she looked up at him. His expression was set in the Tim Bradford Cop Expression, which was… understandable, honestly. “Hey— I’m sorry about springing that on you,” Lucy told him, feeling herself flush a little. “It just seemed like the best move at the time.”

“It was,” Tim said, shrugging. “It kept us from getting caught, so, you know. Good work on that.”

“Yeah, you too,” Lucy said, and nearly groaned at her own words. Things were awkward now— and why wouldn’t they be? It made a lot more sense for things to feel awkward than for them to feel… the way they had earlier.

She shoved the thought aside as Tim said, “I don’t think we’re going to get anything else here tonight. Should we—”

“Call a night, yeah,” Lucy finished for him. “Great idea. We can debrief and regroup tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” Tim turned and waved for a waiter, and Lucy sat back in her chair, holding back a wince.

They paid for their dinner and left the restaurant. Tim had driven them there, so he drove her back to her place first, and walked her up to her apartment. When they reached the door, Lucy hesitated before she went in.

“We’re okay, right?” she asked. The rest of the thoughts that had been boiling in her head came rushing out as she continued. “I— I know it was out of nowhere and— and weird, right? Obviously it was weird, I just know that PDA makes people uncomfortable, so the guy wouldn’t have questioned it as much, and… yeah.”

Tim had waited patiently through her whole rant. When she finally trailed off, he said, “Lucy. It’s fine. I was a cop, remember? I wasn’t a UC, but I still get it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh— of course, right,” Lucy said, a little twinge going through her. Of course he’d get it. And of course it wouldn’t affect him. She should never have thought otherwise, even for a second. “Okay, glad we got that settled. Um— talk to you tomorrow?”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Chen.”

And then Lucy was stepping into her apartment, the door was closing behind her, and she was pretty sure she had a headache.

So she did the logical thing and went to bed before Jackson or Tamara could show up and interrogate her about her date or who she’d been with, internally swearing to not think about the whole thing until tomorrow.

Her dreams had other plans. It was like her traitorous brain insisted on reminding her of the kiss— replaying parts of it over and over again until it was hard not to think about it.

Which was stupid. She didn’t have any reason to think about this so much, Lucy reminded herself as she got up to have breakfast before work. It was just one kiss. Didn’t mean anything, especially not from Tim of all people.

Right, her mind said. Tim. Who you used to be interested in. And WHY did she have to remember that right at this moment?

So she’d been interested in him when they first met. She’d been curious about the admittedly handsome, stern stranger who only softened on very rare occasions. But it hadn’t been long before it had been clear to Lucy that Tim wasn’t looking for romance, with her or anyone else. So she’d stuck with just friends, especially after finding out he was Orion. Romance with Orion was unthinkable on a level she couldn’t begin to comprehend.

Or it had been, anyways.

Okay, enough of that. Lucy pushed the thought out of her mind. And continued to do so as she got ready and went into work.

Lucy had worked at Wellington’s Coffee for almost a year now. It was a nice shop— the decor practical and sturdy, matching the personality of the owner, and the wide windows at the front filled the blue walled shop with light. And, luckily for Lucy, she clocked in today right when the lunch rush started. So she had plenty of time to take her mind off of the fiasco that was last night.

Not that that stopped her co-workers from bombarding her with questions. And they weren’t the only ones.

“So, did I hear you went on a date last night?”

As Lucy passed Aaron his coffee, she frowned at him. “Where did you hear that?”

“If I tell you, will you answer the question?” he countered. The younger man was a usual at their shop, and a good friend. He was also a little too invested in Lucy’s love life ever since she’d asked for his advice on how to break up with her last boyfriend. 

Sighing, Lucy said, “Yes. To both, but it wasn’t a big deal— I don’t think we’re going to go out again.”

Aaron’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Cause that’s not what I heard.”

Lucy frowned. “Okay, where exactly are you getting this information?”

“Uh—”

“Lucy!”

Both she and Aaron looked up at the voice calling her name. Tim was striding across the coffeeshop towards her, his expression serious. Which was pretty on brand for him, but Lucy had gotten good at reading the different types of seriousness. There was definitely something wrong right now.

Giving Aaron a brief nod, he turned to her. “Hey. We need to talk.”

“Okay,” Lucy said. “I don’t think anyone’s using the break room right now— follow me.”

She moved out from behind the counter and towards the door marked “employees only” at the back of the shop, Tim on her heels. As she moved, she saw her co-worker, Dark, moving out of the back room, and waved to get his attention. “Hey— I’m taking my break. Can you watch the register?”

“...sure,” Dark said slowly, his voice making it clear he had some questions. Most likely about Tim being there— but honestly, Lucy had neither the time nor energy to handle that.

The break room was, as predicted, empty. Lucy didn’t bother taking a seat, but turned to face Tim. “Okay— what’s up?”

He hesitated, which was definitely rare for him. “Ah… okay. We were seen last night?”

Frowning, Lucy said, “Wait. What do you mean— we weren’t even there as Lyra and Orion, how could we be seen?”

“Not… that kind of seen,” Tim said. “My former watch commander was there having dinner. With his wife.”

What does— and then it clicked, and Lucy’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, no— did they see—”

“If he and Luna’s visit to the shop this morning, and her comments about the lovely young woman I had with me are anything to judge by… yeah.”

“Crap,” Lucy whispered, with as much emphasis as she could muster up. Starting to pace back and forth, she rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Okay. This is fine— we can figure this out. I mean, we can’t tell them we were undercover, but we can figure this out. What did you tell them?”

Grimacing, Tim said, “That it was a one time thing, and they were reading too much into it. I don’t think they bought it— and they’re not the only ones who know. Luna told their daughter, who’s friends with Nolan’s kid, who told him, who told Celina—”

“Who told Aaron,” Lucy finished, the realization hitting her like a bus. “That explains a lot. Ugh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to blow up this way.”

“Hey,” Tim said, his voice stern but with just a hint of gentleness that definitely didn’t make Lucy’s heart flutter. Because that would be absurd. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted this.”

“Couldn’t have predicted our friends being incredibly nosy?” Lucy said, lifting an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s pretty much a given at this point,” Tim said wryly. “But it’s still not your fault. They’ll forget about this after a week or two— let’s not worry about it right now.”

“Right,” Lucy said, nodding. “Focus on the job instead. Um… oh! I saw what was in the briefcase last night.”

She gave Tim a quick recap of what she’d seen, from the cash to the man with the scar who’d received it. He listened with a deep, thoughtful frown, not speaking until she finished her description. “I’ll have to check with Lopez— but that does sound like a felon she’s been watching for a while now— Valen Rudor, I think. Guy’s got a long list of charges, and a warrant out for his arrest. But if we can’t get proof he’s there—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy said, nodding slowly. “Okay— any ideas how?”

“Actually, yeah,” Tim said. “It involves going back to that restaurant again tonight, and you doing some light sneaking while I start a fight. You game?”

Oh, this was a bad idea. After the first time, putting herself in a situation where she had to pretend to be Tim’s date again? There was potential for this to end very badly.

But there was a dangerous felon out there who needed to be stopped, and Lucy didn’t back down from a fight. “Count me in,” she said.After all, she thought as she headed back to work, what’s the worst that could happen?

[borninwinter81]

DIY budget cyber/industrial outfit - first time in public!

I made a couple of previous posts about this dress here and here, as well as the matching collar, and I thought it would be fun to show how I styled it when I wore it for the first time on Friday. Honestly I was a little concerned it would just look dumb, but when I tried it with the full makeup and shoes I was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked it.

Apologies for the abysmal photo quality, especially in the first image. I don't have a good camera and I wanted to try and show the full outfit. That blurred mirror selfie is the only head to toe picture I got.

I didn't mention in my other posts but in addition to making patches for the dress I also nipped in the seams so it fit me better (it was my size but kinda shapeless, and I wanted to give myself a waist). This is very easy to do with almost any dress, skirt or top, you just put the garment on inside out, pinch in the side seams so they fit the contours of your body (try and do this equally on both sides) and pin them together. Safety pins are best so you don't accidentally hurt yourself.

Take the garment off and draw a smooth line with tailors chalk connecting all the pins, then sew along that line, either with a machine or by hand. Turn right side out and try it on again. Provided you're happy with the fit, trim away the excess fabric. You may need to be careful if it's a fabric that could fray - I usually go over the seams again with a zig-zag machine stitch to try and minimise this. There are also products you can buy like fray-check. If in doubt, or there isn't much excess fabric you could just leave the seams untrimmed.

The length is a little out of my comfort zone so I wore gym shorts underneath to help myself feel less exposed and reduce the risk of flashing - I tend to do this with any dress or skirt that's above the knee anyway.

Continuing the budget theme, rather than buying any new accessories (again, cyber stuff is mega expensive) I looked through my wardrobe for items I already had that might work.

These goggles are not the usual kind of cyber goggles, but they matched everything else I was wearing. I was given them by a friend who was getting rid of them ages ago so they cost me nothing!

I really didn't feel like making and wearing cyberlox, so instead I just got some yellow hair elastics and did a ponytail.

I made these arm warmers about 12 years ago. You can probably tell that they began life as a pair of skinny jeans. To cut down on the amount of sewing I needed to do I used the existing hem and seams. After cutting them to a length I liked I did the pinch and pin thing to make them fit to my arm, and put in zips along the outer seam to make them easier to put on. As it turned out this wasn't necessary because the fabric is stretchy enough that I can pull them on and off. The zips add a nice bit of visual interest though.

I ripped a hole in each one for my thumb, and I had a pack of extra large hook-and-eyes, so I sewed the "eye" parts down them and added some old bootlaces. I've never been 100% happy with this decoration, but I haven't had any inspiration on how to change them in the last 12 years.

I wanted a necklace in addition to the collar, and couldn't think of anything more appropriate than this. I originally got it for a cosplay, Vasquez from Aliens, and with the big yellow industrial loader from the end of that movie which Ripley uses to fight the Queen alien... it seemed there was kind of a connection there.

I once met Jeanette Goldstein whilst dressed as Vasquez and told her she was my childhood hero and she signed these tags, but unfortunately most of the signature has come off when I was cleaning them.

Lastly, the boots. As with any goth outfit the footwear tend to be the most expensive, particularly if you want ridiculous platform heels like these.

When it comes to footwear, I really would not recommend any alternative brand names like Killstar, Koi or similar. They're often terrible quality, the heels will snap, the soles will peel off, zips will break. In my opinion the only decent specifically alternative shoe brand are New Rock (even they're lower quality than they used to be in the 90s) and although New Rock do make heels I wouldn't wear them often enough to justify spending £200 on a pair. I prefer flats the majority of the time!

The brand of these is Funtasma, and I believe they are intended for use by pole-dancers, meaning they're decent quality and will be up to a night of dancing in a club. I took a change of shoes along with me to put on at the end of the evening but they are surprisingly comfortable for the first few hours.

I got them about 15 years ago on sale, and at that time they were around £40. Not cheap but not super expensive either, and I've definitely got my money's worth out of them. I had them re-soled once with special toughened soles that have extra grip so they're safer to walk in, but that's it. One time I even did the 3 mile walk home at 2am in 6 inches of snow wearing these because I didn't want to wait hours for a taxi (an occasion where I did not take a change of shoes!)

So, not your standard cyber outfit, but one that gives my own spin on this look (which should be the goal with any fashion style - a guideline to create something unique, not a rulebook that you have to follow 100%) and was put together super cheaply. The only new things I bought were the dress, fabric to make the patches, and a pack of multicoloured hair elastics.

[flotsams]

hi - i'm jo (read more as yo than joe please 💔; 21+, she/her) and i'll be writing the first character from the summer's end subplot: an hamin, who is also my only character, so the follow will come through this blog. i don't mind plotting either here or on discord (@lahrimosa)

hamin is twenty-two, a resident of yuseong bay and kind of a flop... you can access his profile through this link, and while i'm trying to sort out his pinterest board so it's not a whole mess, here is a screenshot of general vibes.

i will be putting the rest under the read more as i kind of yapped </3

when did your muse first arrive in yuseong bay?

hamin arrived to yuseong bay at the beginning of june '01, that is - when he was born! he grew up on the island, too, scarcely leaving it, save for a couple swimming competitions left and right, when he could afford it; the longest he's been off the island was the near-twenty months he was stationed mainland during his military service.

what does an average day look like for your muse?

his average day is very... average. hamin wakes rather early in the morning, preferring (and being assigned to; with the way everything works around the bay, i assume that his manager would meet him half-way) morning shifts at lemon marts. he prefers the european style of breakfast; a coffee and a smoke, sometimes had at home and sometimes in front of andante, before his shift starts. there, nine hours pass slowly, welcome and have a nice day doorbell rings constant, but nonetheless, he is a diligent worker. depending on the day, he either delivers groceries to elders of the town who cannot make the trip on their own, or he is picking his brother up from school. he tries to read in his free time, but his attention span is somewhat fried. he also does physical work around the house, having stepped as the de-facto man of the house in his father's absence. over the weekend, he can be seen at 88& bar, or at pierrot lanes.

how does your muse feel about hanhwa resort?

feelings about hanhwa resort are conflicted - on one hand, he understands that this offers new job positions to many residents of yuseong bay and a better chance of life. a larger part of him, however, thinks their town isn't built to support the amount of people coming in, or whether the native residents will even be able to survive with the rising prices of living. it's something that tears him at the seams and with it being a conflict within his closest friend group, too, he prefers not to think of it for as long as he can.

is there an aspiration for your muse to stay in or leave yuseong bay?

once upon a time, hamin wanted to leave. he had big dreams of being a national athlete, however, those all fell through. that is why nowadays, he wants to stay; a sense of duty to provide for his family and see his brother grow up well anchoring him down.

list your muse's three favorite songs.

love wifi - hong jinyoung, love love love - kim hyunsuk (an unusual liking for trot influenced by his mom's taste), i'm a b - hwasa (it was definitely better waking up and seeing one of the red moon concept photos of her first thing in the morning rather than his cranky superior's face)

describe your muse's wardrobe.

very simple and comfortable before everything else. summer wardrobe consists of cotton shorts and shirts, swimming trunks used as everyday wear, staple fake nike slippers, airy clothes (x, x). winter wardrobe consists mostly of loose-fit jeans and sweatshirts, and sweaters his grandma made (x, x). owns one pair of sneakers, a pair of winter boots, indoor flipflops and aforementioned 'nikes'. a lot of his clothes is old, in a sense that he takes good care of it and buys new clothes only when necessary.

what is a color, word and emoji that you feel describes your muse?

for color, i'd say a beau blue - any of faded blues in general. word is one that is this blog's url - flotsam: debris in the water that was not deliberately thrown overboard, often as a result from a shipwreck or accident. and emoji would be a simple smiling one - 🙂 - as he tries to keep a smile in spite of what life throws at him.

three strong likes and dislikes for your muse.

likes: swimming (though he would never admit it, insists on hating it instead), cats, walking on the beach - as corny as it sounds. dislikes: gossip, small talk in the mornings, horror movies

three positive and negative traits for your muse.

+ optimistic, friendly, altruistic - jealous, self-critical, gullible

three talents and shortcomings for your muse.

talents: can hold his breath underwater for a prolonged time, really good at tongue-twisters, good listener. shortcomings: will eat cup noodles for days instead of cooking, bites his nails, spends more money on buying food for stray cats than on living expenses

what is a book/tv series/movie/video game character that you feel your character relates to?

a bit like eli jang, minus the criminal past and a child. very protective of family and friends and overall kind, non-judgemental and non-confrontational individual.

a relevant goal or arch for your character to overcome.

1) quit smoking; 2) keep his friend group together and from falling apart; 3) go back to swimming, even if it's not on a competitive level again; 4) find his kicked out slash runaway father so that his mom can finally go through with the divorce and he can get his money back. from these, the most plausible one is the first one and the one that breaks his heart the most... is the second one.

[monsterqueers]

Ok so I love all the tick awareness posts going around, but a lot of the advice is not feasible for everyone.

As someone who lives in a tick hotspot and works in the woods outside, ticks (and other biting insects) are a very normal and unavoidable part of life for some people.

For people who live like me and cannot simply do pitch perfect doctor recommended things always all the time, here is some harm reduction-esque advice;

Pants and lighter clothes are a great idea. They make ticks easier to spot and make them work harder to bite you. They aren't required, but they are useful.

Insect repellent does work. Use some on your lower legs/pants if its available. Its not as effective on ticks as it is on mosquitos, but it can help. Some repellents are great on ticks but not so much other bugs. Ive had luck with the usual 'off' brand name spray and a spray called cedarcide. Cedarcide did better than off for me, but it has a VERY strong nausea-inducing scent that not everyone can handle and you shouldn't go through wetlands with it on your boots. This isn't a rec just a report, do your own research, etc etc.

Avoid tall grass and brush, this often has ticks. They do not drop down from trees. If you avoid places ticks are likely to be it can help. Yes fuck lawn culture but theres a good reason some places mow the places people walk- less ticks. Consider doing that maybe.

Check for ticks periodically while outside, and do a more through check when you come inside. Hotspots are around the crotch, armpits, ankles, anywhere under clothes, any other 'folded over' parts of your body, and the scalp, but feel over as much of your body as you can. Changing out of your clothes when you are done being outside for the day is recommended.

Sometimes ticks manage to bite you. This is not the end of the world. Just get them off ASAP by pulling them off from the head. Don't do a twisting motion, just pull from as close to the skin as possible. Don't burn them off, pull them off still alive, THEN burn them or whathaveyou. Tweezers or the tick removers help but aren't strictly necessary. If its been on for less than 24 hours you are probably fine and don't really need to bother keeping the tick in most cases.

Treat tick bites with your preferred itch reducer if you want (calamine lotion, hydrocortisone, etc) and maybe some rubbing alcohol or other antiseptic if you're worried about infection. Watch the bite and your general state of being for a bit (~2 weeks) after.

A red raised bump from the bite is normal. Some people (hi!) react strongly to all insect bites and get inflamed and itchy at the site for days no matter what. This only becomes notable if the rash spreads strongly, makes a bull's eye shape, you exhibit other symptoms associated with tick borne illnesses or allergic reactions, or it seems to have become seriously infected. This is when you really want a doctor.

If you exhibit tick born illness symptoms, its also not the end of the world. Get to a doctor asap though- fast treatment is key. If you live in a high-risk state for certain diseases, better safe than sorry.

Tick bites happen, you usually don't need to panic about them. Keep an eye out and avoid them where possible, but if you can't just keep an eye out for symptoms and remove them asap.

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Part III of the Dewback Princess Saga, Fate’s Epitaph - based on a prompt suggested by @meshlaxbunny

TW: strong suggestions of sexual violence

ALL JOURNEYS BEGIN WITH THE CHOICES WE MAKE UNDER THE CUT.

The first time he saw her, she looked utterly terrified. The chain around her waist could have been used to restrain a rancor and there were already red welts forming where it dug into her flesh every time Jabba jerked her over to entertain him. Slavery was a necessary evil on Tatooine, and the plight of a girl unfortunate enough to catch the eye of the lecherous Hutt was none of his concern, but he slid her a few credits on his way out anyway. He’d secured a lucrative contract. He could afford to be generous.

The last time he saw her, she looked like a wilted flower. Jabba’s debauchery had reached a fever pitch and his “dancing girls” bore the brunt of his masochism. Bruises, welts, and a few lacerations that looked especially painful - her time at Jabba’s palace would likely come to an end soon if the abuse continued. A sad conclusion to a short, unhappy life. He briefly considered buying her and freeing her, but where would a wilted flower end up in a place like Mos Espa? He could have brought her along with him, but where would be keep a flighty little slave girl aboard his ship? How would he keep her out of trouble?

Excuses. All weak. In the depths of his despair, swimming in semi-consciousness in the belly of the sarlacc, he had the wherewithal to regret not having saved her. She would have given him a reason to forge a new path, to find a new way to make a life for himself in the galaxy. She deserved better than whatever end she’d met under Jabba’s reign.

He’d looked for her around the palace after exterminating that parasite Bib Fortuna. He hadn’t known her name to even ask around for her. He supposed she’d finally succumbed to the protracted agony of enslavement and the thought nearly unmanned him. His father, his tribe, the slave girl. Perhaps family was forever beyond his grasp. And what was he doing fantasizing about a life with an enslaved girl he’d never said more than a few words to as he placed a few credits in her palm on his way to do anything but help her? He did not deserve to imagine what could have been.

Boba Fett, Daimyo of Tatooine, now sat upon Jabba’s thrown and wielded his power - but surely not the power to bring back the dead. When he saw her, he thought foolishly that he must have somehow willed her to life - a life beyond enslavement and a slow death. Then he came back to himself, thinking he mistook the courier for his lost dancing girl. A cousin of hers, maybe, of a similar age and look. But no, his sharp bounty hunter’s eyes did not deceive him. Against all conceivable odds, she’d made her way out of bondage and even managed to procure a hearty looking dewback and earn herself a modest living.

Boba Fett resolved then to do what he should have done when he was a lesser man, concerned only with himself. He could not offer her freedom - she’d done that all on her own without his help. He could give her everything she ever wanted and hope that she’d forgive him for looking away as she suffered, for thinking a few credits in her shaking hand was enough to excuse his apathy.

Her eyes were brighter. Her body looked strong and healthy. She was fully clothed - although her boots needed resoling and her cloak had more than a few hastily sewn patches keeping it in good working condition. She had a companion in her dewback and not just a means to earn money. She had a source of joy. It pleased him, but made his heart ache with guilt and regret all the same. She looked exhausted but well fed and content.

He wondered if he should leave well enough alone - if she’d be better off without his interference. But he’d made that mistake one too many times already. He would give her everything, absolutely everything, even if it meant making her believe that she earned it as a salaried courier. Boba Fett would not risk the acidic sting of her rejection, a rejection he knew he’d earned. His apology would be worth nothing. Less than nothing. What good would “I’m sorry” be to a girl he’d walked away from over and over again, knowing that she faced immeasurable suffering, knowing he could have ended it with the transfer of a few thousand credits. Tears of shame stung his eyes as he walked away from her, seeing how grateful she’d been to drink the stale water from a rusty tap.

“Life under Jabba was brutal for everyone,” remarked Fennec over drinks with him that evening. “She’s moving on just like everyone else. Just hire her outright. A dedicated courier would be useful and you can put her up in the palace and keep her close.”

“There is no offer I could make that would undo what I did, or failed to do, when she needed my help the most,” said Boba morosely into his mug of spotchka.

“We both resolved not to live in the past - both of us. This is a fresh start. We can be in control of our destiny. So take control!” Fennec punctuated her statement by poking him in the shoulder.

Fennec was better with weapons than with words, but she was right.

“To new beginnings,” he raised his mug and Fennec met his toast with enthusiasm.

“To new beginnings!”

…

@daimyosprincess

@acatalystrising

@baufraus

@wings-and-beskar

@die-herzlos-engel

@dukeoftheblackstar

@erinthevampire

Everyone’s enthusiasm was just the spur I needed to crank out another chapter. WELL DONE, EVERYONE!