#But this is why I say you have to let people be wrong

[rosiewitchescottage]

Let's get context here.

When we're talking

'let's get rid of or discourage anyone from reading these books'.

- Reason? Usually because there's some theme that certain people don't want to be known about, or because someone has issues with an author.

100% agreed that this is BAD - Books that talk about slavery, books that talk about The Holocaust.

These should always be widely available, even if they're not very well written, tell the story from an unusual angle or maybe get facts wrong.

All these have the value of getting the subject talked about, and the history studied.

Books that tell m/m or f/f love stories or show a family that simply has two dads or two mums. These books should be available, because whether people approve or disapprove, same sex relationships are a reality.

And as long as they're treated the same way as we'd expect a m/f couple to be, in a book aimed at the same age group, then where's the harm?

Then there's the saga of J K Rowling. You don't like her? You don't want to read her books? Well good news, because you don't have to do either.

But say that no one else should either? Try to erase J K Rowling as author of her own work?

Then don't go expecting to be seen as doing something 'good'.

When we're talking

"These books contain sexual/sexually related words and/or images, which makes them unsuitable for children and young teens. They do not belong in a school library or children's library'.

Then why would anyone have issue with these books being removed from such places?

As far as I know these books can be bought by parents for home use. So they're not getting outright banned.

People talk about children who've been sexually assaulted and needing to talk about what happened to them. And that's important. But I'm still not seeing how all these overly sexual details are necessary.

There's a world of difference between simply naming the body parts where no one should be touching them, especially not grown ups, and using the language of sexual acts!

We can and should be able to name all our body parts, using the right words. And children should know what constitutes a healthy and loving relationship.

But we can help them to talk about violations of this without language that they shouldn't need to know before the middle teens, at the earliest.

And this is NOT supposed to be an anti LGBT matter. This should apply whether a book is showing opposite sex or same sex couples.

As I said earlier. Little children should be able to see families with two same sex parents as well as opposite sex parents, or indeed grandparents.

The issue with 'Grandpa's Pride' shouldn't be that Grandpa has a male partner.

If this was shown exactly the same way that any other grandparents would be. Then I'd be singing a different tune.

Show Grandpa and his partner holding hands and happy, fine. But why the heck do little ones need to see leather BDSM Daddies?! 😡😡😡

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you have any thoughts about the Love square Ship? I just realized that a huge reason why they are happening is because they are 'fated to be together' just cuz they're ladybug and chat noir. Aren't the writers shooting themselves on their feet? 'Cause it just means that Adrienette only love each other because they're LadyNoir.

The love square has fallen into a trope I like to call the Sk8er Boi trap. This is a reference to the opening question of Avril Lavigne's famous song:

He was a boy She was a girl Can I make it any more obvious?

Yes. Yes you can make it more obvious! I'm not going to ship these two based on gender alone! Give them depth! Give them substance! Make me care.

To be fair, Miraculous didn't start this way. The first two seasons of the show did a decent job setting up the crushes. It wasn't amazing, but it was enough to see the potential, especially when you paired it with the fun of identity shenanigans. Those early seasons also felt like a promise that more depth would come with time as is typical in a slow burn.

Instead, as time went on, the crushes became ever more superficial because the show has committed to maintaining a status quo that doesn't allow for a deep, meaningful romance. Without that depth to really sell the ship, Miraculous is relying on the audience shipping the love square because Adrien and Marinette are the endgame couple and that's about it. The quality of the relationship doesn't matter. All that matters is that the show says that they're meant to be. It's disappointing, but annoyingly common.

For reasons beyond my understanding, there is a decent subset of the population who are happy to play this game. If the writing says, "these two are meant to be," then this audience is happy accept that no matter how little substance the couple has. Heck, they'll ship couples that are straight up toxic!

The audience in question seems to be here for the drama and the passion, not the love and depth. Give them twists that come out of no where! Give them ridiculous miscommunication! Give them poor characterization! They'll take it all so long as it's shocking and dramatic. I don't get it, but it's not a fringe preference. It's straight up popular right now. Couples like this dominate mainstream romance, YA, NA, and romantasy. They're all obsessed with drama over depth, but that's the opposite of what I want. I will take depth over drama every day.

My ideal romance is a cute boring couple made interesting by the extraordinary circumstances they're dealing with. I thought that's what the love square was going to be, but I have given up on that hope. It started to really die in season four and season five straight up killed it.

You'd think that a show aimed at kids would be free of unhealthy romances since there are a lot of topics a Y-7 show can't touch, but apparently not! Season five's love square feels like it's an awkward, kiddified version of the kind of trends that have made me avoid mainstream Romance, YA, New Adult, and Romantasy for the past few years. Every book I've tried made me rage (insert reductive "are the allos okay" joke here). So, to answer your question:

Aren't the writers shooting themselves in their feet?

Not really. They're not writing a deep nuanced romance, but they are writing the type of frustrating, drama-laden romance that some people adore. As long as a subset of those people are willing to watch Miraculous, the show will be successful. I don't get it, but Goodreads has shown me that people love this shit, so I'm stuck waiting for the current trends to die off or for a new genre to pop up that leans towards what I like. Such is life. It's not like there's nothing good out there. It's just harder to find since it's not on trend right now. Plus there's always fanfic! That's my main source of romance. I look for other things in original fiction.

[jinnie-ret]

breathe

hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: work exhaustion

word count: 1.2k

summary: you let yourself belittle your own problems because surely they couldn't be as bad as your idol boyfriend's own ones?

requested by: @skzoologist

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤 MAIN MASTERLIST

You always found it interesting how you were held up by a strong armour of bones; how you'd practically be jelly without them, but when your boyfriend was Hwang Hyunjin, all of those existential thoughts trickled away. Sure, those things were true, they were facts, yet he was the one to hold you up when you couldn't do it on your own anymore and you'd be lying if you said that sinking into his arms after a hard day of work didn't also turn you into jelly. To tell a long story short, you lived and breathed Hyunjin and him, you.

Almost instinctively, he could tell something was wrong the minute, no, the second you hobbled in through the freshly painted, front door of your new home. The two of you had only recently moved in, so with the combination of unpacking your joint array of various possessions and also going to work everyday, you were exhausted. Hyunjin had insistently reasoned with you that you didn't have to wake up early in the tiresome mornings to work. He could cover it. That didn't sit right to you. It didn't feel fair. You wanted to start this new chapter of your lives as equals, wanting to contribute and provide too.

"Baby, you're back!" Hyunjin's soft voice cooed as he immediately encased you with his long limbs. Just like that, you were putty in his hands. He brought such comfort to you, such a warmth that he could melt the ice caps.

"Hyune," you simply said his name whilst burying your face into his neck. The small exhale of air as you sagged against him told him everything he needed to know in confirming if he was right or not. Something had to be wrong.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothing's wrong."

Liar, he thought. Before he could press you further, however, you were reluctantly leaving his arms to crouch down and unbuckle the boots you had worn that day, a wince forming on your face as you did.

"You sure? Why you scrunching up your nose like that, baby?" Hyunjin's tone remained delicate with you but you didn't mind it. It didn't feel demeaning, it was comforting considering the people you had been around today. He rubbed careful circles into your shoulders, keeping contact with you as you stood back up and looked at the floor unsurely.

"I'm fine," you sighed, huffing as you pushed some hair out of your face.

"I already know that you've had a hard day," Hyunjin let out a sigh of his own, bringing up a hand to caress your cheek. It grabbed your attention and your eyes to met his.

"Did my manager call or something? Why would they tell you? I'm honestly doing perfectly well," you groaned, the frown on your face disappearing as quickly as it came with Hyunjin smoothing out the furrow of your brows.

"Not because of your manager, but because I know you," he led you into the kitchen, making you sit down whilst he filled up a glass with some water.

"Thanks, Jinnie," you mumbled before taking a few sips. The rush of ice cold water through your body should have alerted you to letting your walls back up like you usually did, but your boyfriend had always told you to be honest with him and that you could be, so there was no stopping you now.

"I've been really tired recently and going into work should feel good for me with having the routine but I think I'm finding it... tricky?"

As you spoke your thoughts and feelings, Hyunjin listened intently from next to you, a hand resting on your arm as to not overwhelm you too much. His fingers caressed the skin that he could reach beyond your sleeve.

"You always say 'tricky', baby, but how do you really find it?" Hyunjin spoke up after a moment.

"Umm, well, I do find it tricky... Like, it's difficult. It's quite possibly wearing me down a bit," you admitted, rubbing your forehead with your thumb and index finger, trying to soothe the impending headache you've been getting every evening this week so far.

"Oh, baby... you'll be okay," Hyunjin pressed against you, hands cupping your cheeks and wiping away some stray tears you didn't even notice had made their appearance, "Let's go cuddle, yeah? That always seems to help."

He had lit a candle in the bedroom, the orange glow setting a calming hue across the bedroom walls. You had never been happier than the decision you had made in unpacking the bedroom as a priority, being able to snuggle beneath the shining, silky sheets. Face to face with you, your boyfriend stroked your hair with one hand, the other resting on your lower back.

"Talk to me, baby," Hyunjin began.

"I already have," you groaned, shutting your eyes.

"There's something else, I can tell," Hyunjin murmured.

"Isn't."

"There is."

"Ughhhhhh."

"Flopping about like a fish won't get you out of this, baby" Hyunjin giggled, arms wrapping around you tighter to cease your random movements.

"Fine. It's just, I can't just stop going to work, Jinnie," you chewed your lip as you paused, "I don't even do as much as you do as an idol and I end up tired and complaining. It's not fair to you."

"Is this why you hold back so much with these things? Because you keep making comparisons?" Hyunjin frowned, "Baby, I'm not going to make it a competition and tell you that I'm more tired or tell you that you don't work hard. I can tell that you do, I see that every day."

"You don't see me at work though-"

"That's not my point," Hyunjin whined, smacking you on the arm playfully.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'," he giggled at your blank face.

"I just want you to rest and relax. We'll take a nap, have a nice dinner and then enjoy the weekend, how's that sound?" Hyunjin kissed you on the forehead for a couple of seconds, relishing the feeling of holding you so dearly.

"It's the weekend?" your eyes widened ever so slightly despite the sleepy haze that had taken over.

"You're so silly," Hyunjin giggled lightly, shuffling closer to you and lifting you so that you could rest your head on his chest. Once again, that light, airiness returned to you as well you could think about was him. Not about work or any other worries that entered your mind. They had floated away just as easily as you did into a peaceful sleep, not needing that strong armour to hold you up in this moment. You were safe, loved and cared for whenever you were around Hyunjin and that's all you needed.

tagged: @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @katzline @kiwihrt @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria @theo4eve

[erysser]

Can i request thanos x reader where the reader sacrifice herself for thanos in the bathroom scene

A GUT FEELING

-> pairings : Choi Su Bong [Thanos] x reader

-> a/n : Thank you so much for requesting!! This is my first time writing and I hope you enjoy anon <3

The third vote had just ended with a tie. Your eyes stare at the scoreboard, unsure of what it would display tomorrow when the voting was redone. Truly, you wanted to vote for X, you had a life out there, but with Thanos' pleading eyes as he promised you one more game... how could you say no?

Besides you, Thanos and Nam-gyu were whispering amongst themselves about something together, their eyes glaring at Min-su who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the X team. Pity engulfs you as you see the boy's nervous expression. You didn't blame him for voting X.

The guards call out to the players like clock-work, instructing people who wanted to go to the bathroom to go now. You lean back on your bed, back against the wall, the feeling of wanting to relieve yourself not making itself present yet.

Thanos climbs up into your bed beside you, a wild grin on his face as he talks, "Hey senorita, me and Nam-gyu are going to the toilet to have a small chat with Min-su."

You furrow your eyebrows at him, shaking your head lightly at his plan.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you start, your voice soft and persuasive, "a fight could break out and..."

Thanos laughs at your hanging sentence, "Don't worry about me, flower! I'm Thanos, I can deal with whatever they throw at me! You probably have to worry about Nam-gyu over there though."

His voice was dripping with boisterous confidence as he reassured you, Nam-gyu rolling his eyes at his statement before hurrying the purple-haired man up.

Your chest constricted, something felt wrong about this and as Thanos moved away from you, your hand caught hold of his wrist. He stops his movement, his gaze meeting your eyes. His eyes were full of unfiltered confidence, like there was no fear behind them. He never seem to have fear in him. After and during every single game, he smiled and joked like his life was not on the line.

"Be careful," you whisper softly to him, turning to Nam-gyu and repeating the same words as you pulled your hand off.

Nam-gyu scoffs as he hears the words, but gives an irritated nod as he moves to walk away towards the door. Thanos looks at you and winks, giving you a thumbs up and a flying kiss as he and Nam-gyu excitedly walk off to the bathroom area.

☆

You weren't sure how long it had been. 5— No— 10 minutes, maybe since Thanos and Nam-gyu had left for the bathroom. A sinking feeling was slowly taking over you as your mind lingered on it longer; why were they taking so long?

With a huff, you stood up from your bed, moving towards the door where the guards were, announcing to them that you needed to relieve yourself. Thankfully, as the allocated time wasn't up, they let you through.

Your footsteps echo throughout the long winding hallway until they finally stood in front of the two doors leading to the male and female toilet. Your heart beat quickens, hearing the shouting and arguing from within the male bathroom. Eyes widening, you quickly realise what was happening inside.

You look at the guards who stood outside. They stood as still as a statue, their heads looking in-front, as no emotion or feeling exuded from their faceless bodies as they stood guard.

"Aren't you going to do anything?!" You shout at them, your face scrunching up as confusion and frustration laces your voice.

You knew they wanted you dead. You knew they didn't care about the people who died, but you thought they would at least have the decency to let the players die in the games and not in a dingy bathroom!

You groan as no response came out of the triangle-masked guards. You didn't care. You stomped towards the door as they make no moves to stop you.

You heaved slightly as you move to push the door open, chest tightening as you see the scene unfold in front of you.

Men stood, fighting with each other. Some of them were on the floor, rolling around in who knows who's blood. Disgust fills you as today's dinner threatens to come up. What the hell was happening here? Your eyes scan the room, searching for the man with the bright purple hair in the middle of this brawl.

It didn't take you long to spot him. He sat on top of player 333, hand around his neck as he moves to choke him. You stood frozen, staring as you watch. Your eyes drink the image up. He didn't notice you, his whole focus on eliminating player 333. He didn't notice player 333's right arm moving and raising to stab him with the fork they had give you all for dinner.

Before your mind could even process what was happening, you move towards them, pulling Thanos off with a clean tug as player 333 swung his fork into air, barely missing Thanos' neck.

Thanos looks at you, wide-eyed and confused but before you could even answer his unasked questions, player 333 lunges for him again. You push Thanos away, trying your best to restrain him as you topple onto the floor with him, hitting your back onto to the cold tile floor. You gripped onto player 333's hand, trying to disarm him but his grip was tighter. His arm was stronger. He was stronger.

In the last few seconds, you catch Thanos's panicked gaze. Funny, that was the first time you had ever seen him panic. You give him a soft smile as you feel a sharp pain through your neck. Your neck heats up as you let go of player 333's hand, subconsciously trying to stop the blood from leaving your body.

Thanos tries to pull him off but it was no use as you continue to bleed out. Player 333's falls back, shocking painting his facw as his eyes stare at your face as you heaved, trying to breathe.

"Nonononono, c'mon y/n, you can't do this to me," Thanos says, immediately going to hold your head. He lifts you up slightly, holding you close to him as he takes his jacket off, trying to stop the bleeding. He wraps the green fabric across your neck, desperately trying to block the blood.

You could barely muster a goodbye, your vision fading slowly as it all turned into a haze, you could make out his purple tufts of hair as he stared at you.

"C'mon, that was real stupid of you y/n! You're Thanos' star, my star you can't die on me! You promised me one more game! I- I promised to take you out after we get out of this shithole." His voice was rapid, fast and breathless. Cracking and breaking slightly but stable enough to understand. No wonder he was a rapper. The thought amused you as you move to touch his face but your arms felt limp. You couldn't even move to touch him.

It wasn't long before you're heart stopped beating. The heart that once rapidly beat in Thanos' presence stopped at the moment he was closest to it.

Thanos could feel your soul leave your body. His mind reeled as he watches your eyes glaze over, your mouth slightly ajar as a satisfied look shrouded your face.

You were dead.

He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true. His mind replayed your last moments as his hands that held your lifeless body shook. You were alive right? This was all some sort of sick nightmare, but as you laid unresponsive to his words. He was forced to deal with the truth.

He puts you down neatly on the tile floor, hands shaking as he opened the locket where he stored his drugs. Slowly, he popped one in, eyes roaming across the room until they see the man who had taken your life. He stood up, knuckles whitening as he rushes in front to put that man in his place.

It should've been him. It should've been Thanos. It should've been anyone but you.

He was a second away from pummeling the man's head in when the guards finally entered, tearing Thanos away from him.

They were all escorted into the main room, bloodied and battered. Thanos' mind kept replaying the scene, the drug seeming to have no effect in keeping those thoughts at bay. Beside him, Nam-gyu walks quietly, unsure of what to say.

Anger enveloped Thanos' mind as they announced the eliminated players, your number being called out last. His eyes look over to the X side, immediately catching player 333's gaze.

He had taken his money and had now stolen the person Thanos cared about the most.

Whatever the next game was, Thanos was going to make sure that player 333 gets eliminated.

[book-lore]

Okay so I wasn't going to reply to this but I am still getting over being sick and this stuck to me. And for the record, it's okay that the OP feels this way and what I'm about to say doesn't mean they are wrong or bad or anything. Let's leave that person in peace. But as to why people don't like Valentine's day and some people even hate it, a gentle reminder:

There are a wide variety of reasons people can find certain holidays objectionable and one that tackles love specifically can be especially difficult for people who are struggling. A recent divorcee might wish to sit this day out because it can bring up how difficult being newly out of a relationship can be. This can be made even worse if the relationship was decades long and they aren't sure how to navigate the world of being single that looks nothing like when they were dating before. People who struggle socially who want relationships can find this to be a day that makes them feel a little more lonely. People who have lost a partner might feel their absence more acutely, even if that loss was years ago. People who have escaped abusive situations might have extremely mixed or hostile feelings about Valentines day (especially given how violent partners tend to become worse around holidays and this is extra true where the abused party is expected to behave a certain way). People who are in the closet might be feeling particularly confused or wounded right now as they feel worlds away from being able to accept or even find love.

The point of this isn't to drag the original poster, but it can be good to understand why sometimes hearts can be delightful for some and heavy for others. I know that some people can be well intentioned and say things like "think of the chocolate and candy" or "it's made up anyway" or "celebrate it with your friends instead", but those aren't really helpful. Love and its reminders can mean a lot of things to people and sometimes they bring up the bad emotions. Sometimes what people need isn't candy or hearts or even a pretend reason to see a friend. Sometimes they need to cry and a day that reminds them of loss or something they lack is what does it for them. Sometimes what they need is to know that they aren't the only one who feels like that when stores and displays and everything around them seems to point out what's making them feel sore.

It's okay to enjoy Valentine's Day. There are plenty of ways to do so if that's what you like. It's also okay to sit it out if you're sore or you're feeling a lot. It's alright if it's just another day in February.

dont understand people who "don't like" valentines day... I personally dgaf that its "made up" and "commercialist"... i love heart shaped things and i love everyone in my life. Its really simple

[bvidzsoo]

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

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[deathofacupid]

you can't remember your last kiss with nanami kento. no matter how much you try, you just can't.

was it this morning? when he woke you up, newborn daughter in-hand? no, that couldn't have been it. because, after, he kissed you again, chaste, as he moved past you to get to the dishwasher.

and then again, when he set your breakfast on the table. another time after, too. when he settled on the couch with you and his baby girl.

but was that the last one? or, was there more after?

you can't remember. in your defense, you didn't have a reason to keep track. there shouldn't have been. the second you told him you were pregnant, he dropped the world of jujutsu. it was over, or it should have been.

speaking of, your pregnancy, it wasn't ever anything you really wanted. it was something he did. kids. it was his dream, you're pretty sure, the whole white-picket-fence fantasy.

and you? you didn't care, not much. as long as you had nanami, you were okay with anything. besides, he'd been so happy when you broke the news. it's not like you guys had been actively trying, which is why you were surprised to see his reaction.

but again, for him, you'd do anything. what did it matter, anyways? it was just a kid, right? and he'd be there every step of the way, right?

wrong.

it was another sunday, the three of you had been snuggled up in bed, just when he got the call.

"they want me to come in," he explained, softly.

"what?" you knew the answer.

"i won't go if you don't want me to. but, darling, i doubt they'd have called me in, if it hadn't been urgent."

you inhaled, watching him gently rock his daughter in his arms. "does- does that mean it's bad, then?"

"well, i'm sure it's nothing i can't handle," he informed you, paired with a soft smile.

"i don't know, na'mi. you said you weren't gonna go back." there was hesitance in your voice, one that trembled.

"honey, that's why i said it's up to you, okay?" nanami pressed his lips to your forehead.

if people really needed him, who were you to not let him go? what were you supposed to do? say no, let those people die? after all, you had a guilty conscience. slowly, you nodded, looking up to meet his gaze.

so, as you stood there at the door, watching him kiss his baby what should've been a temporary goodbye.

you can't remember if he kissed you goodbye, too. he probably did, but you can't remember.

"promise you'll come back to me?" you'd buried your face into the crook of his neck.

"of course, baby. i promise."

fucking liar.

oh, god, and when they told you there wasn't even a body to recover?

too much. all too much.

you think that you would've followed him, had there not have been his baby stopping you.

kiss, kiss, kiss; why can't you remember? why?

the cries of his baby, the baby that yearns for her father, they are etched into your head. you can't get her to stop. you don't blame her. you can't stop, either.

you aren't her mother. she isn't your daughter.

she's nanami's, but he's gone.

the only thing he left you with is a child you never wanted, a living, breathing reminder of his absence, of his broken promise, of the kiss you can't remember - the kiss that might as well have never happened.

[banjo15]

First of all

Canada is booing us

China is booing us

Mexico is booing us

They are our 3 biggest trade partners.

Our 3 biggest trade partners hate us. Is that good for the economy?

“Hey Max, can I buy that sandwich from you? “

“Hey fuck off I know you’re just gonna tax it again”

“What about you Catie, can I buy some wood from you?”

“Fuck you and your tariff tax”

“Can I buy stuff from you, Charlie?”

“Fuck off dude stop taxing us, I hate you capitalists”

What about intersex people? I’d argue they’re a minority. Non-binary, gender-fluid, everyone of the such. They no longer exist because of you. Trans people can’t even leave the country or get a passport.

Literally a high school student I’m 15 dude. I know I couldn’t pass an immigration test, how about you go try to pass one and just come back to me?

My philosophy about illegals is back in the day our grandparents came here peacefully. If they come here peacefully in search of a better life, who am I to deny them that? But if they’re a pedo or a rapist they deserve to get shot, regardless of place of origin, gender identity, sexuality, gender, sex, religion, race, etc.

Trump literally went to Epstein island 7 times. He was best friends with Epstein. Also, did Elon apologize for his actions? No. He made Nazi puns on the internet.

Mexico and Canada is pissed off because first of all, trump said he was gonna BUY Canada.

“Yeah I’m gonna buy your house, what’s your price?”

“Not for sale.”

“You liberal boy, I bet sleepy joe and Kamala told you not to sell it, all you do is just sit down and drink maple syrup. Give me your house.”

“No? Fuck off dude”

“I’m still gonna buy your house.”

*He went up to the next neighbor*

“Also your pool is mine now.”

“Huh?”

“It’s the pool of america”

“No, my pool. Pool of Mexico.”

And Mexico is LITERALLY sending us people to help with the LA fires.

Canada is our friend, why the hell are we trade warring with our brother?

What the fuck even is MSM? I get all my thoughts from people I agree with, and then I think about my thoughts to see if I agree with them.

Denmark said Greenland is not for sale. We are literally pissing off our allies. We are a laughing stock. China is fucking BEATING in ai. “But deep seek is censored” so are all ais. Ask google’s ai if google has ever done anything wrong. And ChatGPT is also censored a decent bit.

As I said before, if you don’t hate so much why can’t they just up and leave? They can’t get a visa.

About abortion… You do know how dangerous pregnancy is right? And I don’t consider ending a pregnancy murder, would you let a tapeworm stay in you if it would turn into a human person?

The reason why women back in the 1950s had kids is because they were lobotomized and on a shit ton of “medication.” After that, they didn’t have many rights. Women couldn’t say “no” to their husbands untill 1993. It took us a bit to give women the right to vote. They couldn’t have a credit card at one point. A driver’s liscense. Lesbians were fucked at the time, do you vote for the Indian woman or the man who and I quote…. “Grab them by the pussy.” He literally called his daughter “volomptuous” and said “if she wasn’t my daughter I’d be dating her.”

You can fact check me on that. No, seriously, fact check me. Do it. I’m begging you.

And as for many cases, abortion is necessary. I’m not gonna go praising it but… it has to exist. What if they get raped? What if it’s incest? What if the pregnant person is underage? What if the pregnancy threatens their life? Denying them abortion doesn’t seem so “pro-life to me.”

“But that’s less than 1%”

So are trans people and people similar to you have campaigned to take their rights away.

Me personally I feel like they can be a man or a woman if they want to IF they don’t hurt anybody. If I gender-swapped you I’m quite sure you would want your original gender.

My argument for/agaisnt trans children is there are Christian children. I’d argue they shouldn’t go through a life changing procedure they likely won’t be able to un-do for the rest of their lives untill they’re 18/21. If children can be trans, why can they be Christian? Why can they participate in religion they’re supposed to be devoted to untill they die?”

Even then, what about single mothers? Do you want them to suffer through it? Childbirth is a punishment from god, yes? I read the Bible. Why should we punish these women for having sex? I feel like you shouldn’t have to labor a baby just because the boy from the dinner date thought you were hot, you thought they were hot, so you fucked. Imagine if men were in a coma for 9 months after sex. And there was a chance of that happening but instead.. after a baby pops out of them. I’d argue most men would get abortions and it would be a normal thing. And if god cares so much about abortions… why does he let miscarriages happen? That’s another pro-abortion talking point. Should they have an abortion if they know damn well the baby can’t survive out of the womb? And another thing, what if they can’t financially afford to have a child? “Adoption” not all kids get adopted. I was adopted and I wouldn’t have minded getting aborted to be honest dude. I know a lot of people would, friends, family, etc. I don’t support killing out of the womb though. And even then, if you care about children so much, are you willing to make safer gun laws to stop school shootings? Are you willing to donate to homeless children in need? You’re not willing to make insulin cheaper for diabetic people (and children), you’re not willing to fund cancer research (for adults and children), what are you willing to do for children?

And we can both agree that the world is a horrible place for kids, left or right.

Another thing… why the fuck would the FBI make the protests violent? If that’s your justification for that then why didn’t the FBI make the blm protest violent? Black Lives Matter was good in concept, but people looted local businesses to make a point. I still think Black Lives Matter, I just don’t really know if I should support the organization that says so.

There are J6ers who rejected their pardon. They agree that what they did was wrong, why can’t you? Even then, what about the J6ers who… Beat up a police officer? So many others beat up police, I thought you backed the blue? The whole movement was to “fight for your country.” Trump told you to… Fight. Fight. Not protest, not speak up, fight. Fight tooth and nail for your “freedom”. And if you don’t hate minorities why don’t you support DEI? And the plane crash wasn’t because of it it’s because trump FIRED everyone. Literally.

The Nazis called themselves socialists because at the time everyone loved socialism. Do Nazis fight for workers rights? Do Nazis fight for free healthcare? Do Nazis give a fuck about equality? Hell no. Nazis didn’t support a community where they have the means of production. He was a capitalist, if he was a socialist he couldn’t afford to make the wonder weapons that he usually made. If communism is socialism capitalism is facism. I’d argue that if I was a big ceo who makes a shit ton of money, would I vote for the people who tax the rich, who give workers rights, or enslaved everyone to work under me? I would vote for the slaves because I’d be a billionaire, but I’m not so I have basic empathy for people less fortunate than me. Do you?

I’d argue I could beat you up with the American flag.

Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???

So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"

But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????

[luvst4rc0r3]

CAN YOU DO A JINX X READER FIC BUT READER IS PREGNANT AND LIKE SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO TELL JINX.

IF YOU DO IT TYYYYYY❤️❤️

“Two Pink Lines”

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Mention of abortion?

WC:2311

NOTE: established relationship.

Your POV

You had been pacing the tiny space of your shared room for the last ten minutes, the little pregnancy test feeling like a bomb in your hands.

Your heart was pounding so hard it made your head hurt. You knew this wasn’t something you could just ignore—Jinx deserved to know. But saying it out loud? Actually forming the words? That felt impossible.

“Hey, Jinx, so, funny story—I’m pregnant.”

Nope. Too casual.

“Jinx, I have something to tell you… I’m having a baby.”

Too dramatic.

“Surprise! You knocked me up!”

Oh, hell no.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. Every option sounded worse than the last. There was no way this wouldn’t shake her, no way this wouldn’t send her brain spinning in all directions. Jinx wasn’t bad with emotions—she just didn’t always know what to do with them. And this? This was big.

You had seen how uneasy she was lately, the way she watched you with that nervous, twitchy energy. She knew something was up, but instead of pressing, she’d let it fester, probably assuming the worst.

Jinx had been through too much, lost too many people, and she had this awful habit of thinking everything was her fault. And you had not been helping, avoiding her questions, brushing off her concerns, all because you didn’t know how to say it.

That had to stop.

You exhaled sharply.

You needed to tell her. But you also knew that telling her face-to-face might make it worse.

Jinx was all reaction—she acted before thinking, emotions bubbling over before she could grab hold of them. If you just told her, there was a chance she’d shut down, that panic would take over before she even had time to process.

But if you left the test somewhere she’d find it, without the pressure of you standing there waiting for a reaction… maybe that would help.

Your eyes landed on her workshop.

That’s it.

She was always working on something, always tinkering with gadgets and bombs. Her workbench was her safe space—the one place she could think things through. If you left the test there, she’d have time to work through the shock before she had to deal with you staring at her, waiting for an answer.

Decision made, you swallowed hard and forced yourself to move.

Jinx wasn’t in the workshop, which was perfect. You stepped inside, ignoring the usual chaos of scattered blueprints and half-finished projects, and placed the pregnancy test dead center on her workbench.

She wouldn’t miss it.

You took a shaky step back, staring at the little plastic stick like it might suddenly shout the news for you.

This was the best way. You had to believe that.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and walked out. You’d give her a couple of hours—enough time to let her mind run in circles, freak out, and hopefully settle before you came back.

You just had to hope she wouldn’t blow anything up in the process.

‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺ ͙

Jinx’s POV

Jinx felt like her skin didn’t fit right.

Something was wrong.

You were gone again, and she had no idea where or why. You kept sneaking off, looking at her like she was some kind of fragile bomb that might explode if you said the wrong thing.

She hated it.

Hated not knowing.

Hated the pit of anxiety gnawing at her stomach.

She stomped into her workshop, muttering to herself, fingers twitching at her sides. Maybe she could work on something, blow off some steam, keep her hands busy before she—

Her eyes landed on her workbench.

Jinx froze.

There, right in the middle of the mess, was something that didn’t belong. A little box.

Her brows furrowed. She stepped closer, picking it up and flipping it over in her hands. The words on the front made her stomach drop.

Pregnancy Test.

Her breath hitched.

That wasn’t—

No way.

She ripped the box open, fingers fumbling as she pulled out the little plastic stick inside.

Two pink lines.

Her heart stopped.

She stared at it, willing the lines to disappear, to change, to be anything else.

Two lines meant—

It meant—

Jinx’s breath came fast and shallow, her grip tightening around the test. Her thoughts were spiraling too fast to grab onto.

You were pregnant.

With her baby.

Her lungs felt too tight. Her hands were shaking. The world tilted, her brain screaming at her to do something, but she didn’t even know what.

This was why you’d been acting weird. This was why you were avoiding her, why you looked so nervous every time she got too close.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Did you think she’d be mad? Did you think she wouldn’t want this?

Jinx stumbled back, almost knocking over a pile of scrap metal.

A baby. A tiny, fragile thing that would need her, to touch her, to need her warmth.

Her.

Jinx.

A girl who broke everything she touched.

She squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath. No, no, don’t go there, don’t—

Her brain wanted to run, to slip into that dark, gnawing place where she wasn’t enough, where she couldn’t be enough. But another thought cut through the panic—sharp, insistent.

You hadn’t left.

You didn’t run.

You left this for her to find, trusting that she’d handle it.

She blinked down at the test again.

Her fingers loosened.

The fear was still there, lurking under her skin, but something else was rising up too—something warm and unfamiliar.

You were having a baby.

Her baby.

Jinx let out a breathless, slightly manic laugh.

She had to find you. Now.

And you had a lot of explaining to do.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

You took your time getting home, dragging your feet through the dimly lit streets of Zaun. Every step felt heavier than the last, your stomach in knots.

You had done it. You had left the test on her desk. You had given her time.

Now you had to face whatever came next.

But the closer you got, the more the fear crept in.

What if she freaked out?

What if she shut down?

What if she left?

Jinx had a habit of running from things that hurt. And this? This had the potential to destroy her.

Your hands were ice-cold when you finally reached the door. You hesitated, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.

Then, slowly, you pushed it open.

Jinx was standing in the middle of the room.

Her shoulders were hunched, her hands curled into fists at her sides. The pregnancy test was still clutched in her fingers, white-knuckled like she had been holding onto it for hours.

The moment she saw you, she went still.

Completely still.

Your breath caught.

She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t moving toward you.

She was just staring.

The weight of it crushed you.

She didn’t want this.

You could see it in the way she held herself, in the way her fingers trembled slightly around the test, in the way her mouth parted like she wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out.

Your stomach turned, a sick, hollow feeling settling in your chest.

She didn’t want this.

And that meant—

You swallowed hard, your voice coming out quiet, fragile.

“I can get rid of it.”

The second the words left your mouth, Jinx broke.

“No!”

Her voice was so sharp, so panicked that it actually made you flinch.

Your breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was suffocating, thick with something raw and unbearable.

Jinx’s breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling too fast. She looked—

Terrified.

Not of you. Not of the baby.

Of losing you.

“You don’t—” her voice cracked, and she shook her head so violently her braids whipped around her shoulders. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think—”

You took a step back.

Jinx moved forward immediately, closing the distance like she was afraid you’d slip away if she didn’t grab hold of you now.

“You thought I didn’t want this?” she asked, voice strangled. “You thought I—?”

You had.

She saw it in your face.

Her expression twisted, something like hurt flashing behind her eyes, and it made your chest ache.

“Shit,” she breathed, voice cracking. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this, okay? I don’t know how to be—” Her throat bobbed. “I don’t even know how to be a person most days. How the hell am I supposed to be a—?”

She cut herself off.

Didn’t say the word.

Couldn’t.

The weight of it was too much.

You looked down, eyes burning. “Then maybe—”

“No,” she snapped, voice hoarse. “Don’t. Just—don’t.”

Jinx ran a shaking hand over her face, dragging her fingers through her hair.

“I want this,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I want you. I want—”

Her gaze dropped to your stomach, and something in her expression cracked.

“I want them.”

It was barely a breath, barely a sound, but it knocked the air from your lungs.

She looked lost, like she didn’t know how to want this but did anyway.

Your throat tightened.

“You do?”

Jinx let out a soft, broken laugh, but it was filled with confusion and fear. “I do,” she whispered, her eyes glossy. “I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to be ready for this. But I want to try. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose us.”

Her voice wavered, and she reached out, her hand trembling as she placed it gently on your stomach. It felt tentative, like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to touch you, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to have a future with you and the baby.

But her fingers lingered there, almost as though she were trying to feel something real, something to ground herself. Her breathing was shallow, her body stiff, like she was holding herself together by sheer will.

You didn’t know what to say.

You could see it in her eyes—the fear, the doubt, the overwhelming weight of everything crashing down at once. She loved you, she wanted you, she wanted the baby, but she was terrified. And the last thing she wanted was to ruin everything. She couldn’t bear to mess this up.

But all you could think about was the space between you, the way she was afraid to touch you too hard, like she might break something precious.

“I don’t want to do this alone,” Jinx muttered, her voice cracking as she looked up at you, her face twisted with desperation. “Please, don’t make me do this alone. I… I don’t know how to be a mom. I don’t even know how to fix myself half the time, let alone another person. But I swear to you, I’ll try. I’ll try, okay?”

Her words hung in the air, raw and painful, and you could feel your heart breaking for her. You reached out, pulling her close, wrapping your arms around her. She tensed at first, but then she melted into you, pressing her forehead against your shoulder, her body trembling.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving this. We’ll figure it out. Together. I promise.”

Jinx clung to you tightly, as if she feared you would disappear if she let go for even a second. Her hands dug into your back, her nails pressing into your skin as though she were holding onto the last thread of stability in her life.

But even as she held onto you, you could feel her shaking. Her whole body was trembling with the weight of everything she was carrying—the fear, the guilt, the uncertainty. She was scared, and you could feel it in the way she breathed, in the way her fingers tightened around you, as if she thought she might lose her grip.

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” you whispered, your voice soothing, trying to reassure both her and yourself. “We don’t have to have it all figured out right now. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? No pressure. We can be scared together.”

Jinx pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks flushed, and her gaze was still full of uncertainty. But there was something else there, too. Something softer.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’m terrified. But I want this. I want you.”

Her confession hit you like a wave, crashing through the walls you’d built in your own heart. You couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes, couldn’t stop the sob that escaped your throat. You didn’t want to be scared anymore, either. You didn’t want to doubt everything you had with her, everything that was coming next.

You kissed her then, gently, softly. It wasn’t a kiss of passion or desperation, but one of quiet understanding. Of shared fear, shared hope.

When you pulled away, you both stayed close, your foreheads resting against each other, breathing in unison.

“I’m not leaving,” you repeated, almost to yourself, as much as to her.

Jinx nodded, her breath shaky, but she didn’t pull away. “Promise?”

You smiled faintly through your tears, nodding in return. “I promise.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence between you stretch, the weight of everything pressing down on both of you. But there was a new understanding there now. An understanding that no matter how broken you both felt, no matter how terrifying the future seemed, you wouldn’t face it alone.

You had each other.

And that, for now, was enough.

YALL I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!

I want food

[theballadofharkness]

Agatha Harkness VS Salem: the kittening

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: When you brings home a stray kitten Agatha can’t say no to those big pleading eyes and putting lips. What she doesn’t know is that she has met her new mortal enemy, transforming her house in a battleground in which she is fighting for your attention.

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: I may have already almost finished a part 2 to this already… this may be my favourite thing I’ve ever wrote

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows along the walls as Agatha sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming against the polished surface. Your fellow witches exchanged glances, some amused, others bracing for the inevitable storm.

“She’s taking too long,” Agatha muttered, narrowing her eyes at the door as if sheer will alone would bring you home.

Billy smirked but wisely kept his mouth shut. Lilia, however, leaned forward, arching a brow. “She just went to get food, Agatha. You do remember she’s an adult, yes?”

Agatha’s sharp glare snapped to her, but Lilia didn’t flinch. She was used to Agatha’s theatrics by now.

“I do remember,” Agatha said, tone clipped, “but she should be back by now. Anything could’ve happened.”

Jen chuckled under her breath. “Oh yes, because the biggest, scariest threat to her is probably tripping over a squirrel.”

Alice grinned. “Or getting distracted by a particularly interesting tree.”

Agatha’s scowl deepened, but her fingers stilled. It was true- you were soft, gentle, prone to stopping to feed birds or magically fixing a bumblebees wing. It was why she loved you. It was why she worried.

Lilia sighed, resting her chin on her palm. “If you panic every time she goes out alone, she’ll think you don’t trust her to be independent.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched. “I trust her. I just don’t trust other people.”

Billy snorted. “Sure Agatha.”

Before Agatha could snap at him, the front door creaked open. The tension in her shoulders snapped like a thread, and in an instant, she was on her feet, sweeping toward you.

There you were, glowing with warmth, eyes bright as you kicked off your shoes. But she saw it- the hesitation, the way you bit your lip. Her stomach dropped.

“You worried mommy,” she purred, brushing a hand along your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You took too long. What’s wrong, darling?”

You swallowed, shifting your weight, cradling something in your arms.

“Aggie… please don’t be mad.”

Agatha’s eyes darkened. “Why would I be mad?”

You hesitated, then slowly, gently, lifted a tiny, black-furred bundle into view. A kitten. Small, fragile, with wide, gleaming eyes. It mewed softly.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. “Oh, absolutely not.”

The room went silent. The coven, who had seen Agatha deal with all manner of supernatural threats, were now witnessing something far more dangerous: a battle of wills between the all-powerful Agatha Harkness and her painfully sweet, unfairly adorable wife.

Agatha crossed her arms, leveling you with a firm stare. “No.”

You blinked up at her, cradling the tiny kitten against your chest. “No?”

She lifted her chin. “No.”

Billy, sitting on the couch, leaned toward Jen and whispered, *“She’s already lost.”*

Agatha shot him a look, but her attention snapped back to you when you let out a soft, sad sigh. You rubbed a gentle finger over the kitten’s tiny ear, your lower lip jutting out just slightly. Not enough to be dramatic, just enough to devastate her.

“Aggie, please,” you murmured, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes. “I love him. He needs us.”

Agatha steeled herself. “Baby, come on, we have a rabbit already.”

You perked up. “But they can be best friends!”

“They will not be best friends-”

“We can raise him,” you continued, stepping closer, voice soft, persuasive, sweet as honey. “Please, Aggie. I love you. And I love him. Please?”

A muscle in Agatha’s jaw twitched. Her fingers flexed like she was physically holding herself back.

Alice, watching from across the room, snorted. “Oh my god, just let her keep the damn cat.”

“She’s gonna say yes,” Jen stage-whispered.

Billy propped his chin on his hand. “She’s just stretching it out for dramatic effect now.”

“I am not,” Agatha snapped, then turned back to you, who was still looking at her like she hung the moon and stars in the sky. Damn you and your sweetness.

She let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand down her face. Then, after a moment, she dropped her hand, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered, “fine.”

You gasped, eyes lighting up as you clutched the kitten closer. “Really?”

Agatha groaned. “Yes, really. But I swear to the gods, if he scratches up my books, or if he pisses on the rug, he’s your problem.”

You grinned, bouncing up and down in glee. “Okay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you’ll love him!”

Agatha grumbled something under her breath but didn’t resist when you threw your arms around her. Her hands settled on your waist, grip firm but familiar, and she sighed against your hair.

Billy snickered. “Well, that was pathetic.”

Agatha shot him a glare over your shoulder. “I will turn you into a toad.”

But even as she threatened Billy, her arms curled tighter around you, and she let you tuck the kitten between you both. He let out a tiny, content purr.

“I told you mommy would let you stay didn’t I S…” you cooed, stopping and blushing as you almost revealed your new sons name.

Agatha groaned. “Oh, for the love of- you’ve already named him, haven’t you?”

You smiled guiltily and nodded “his name is Salem”

Lilia cackled. “Oh, now that’s just poetic.”

~

Agatha woke with a slow, satisfied stretch, a lazy smirk curling on her lips as she reached across the bed, expecting to find you- warm, soft, pliant against her.

But the sheets were cold.

Her smirk faded. She frowned, eyes cracking open, hand still patting the empty space beside her. “Baby?”

Silence.

Her frown deepened.

She sat up, fingers raking through her hair, listening carefully. Then…

A giggle.

Agatha’s head snapped toward the bedroom door. You were giggling? Without her? Another soft peal of laughter, followed by a quiet meow. Agatha’s nostrils flared.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she grabbed her robe, slipping it on as she stalked toward the door. Her morning had already been ruined by the lack of you curled against her, but now she was hearing giggles- the kind that were usually reserved for her alone- and she wasn’t involved?

Completely unacceptable.

Barefoot and silent, she padded down the hall, pushing open the living room doors to find…

You. Laying on your stomach on the rug, elbow propped under your chin, face alight with pure, radiant joy as you dragged a ribbon back and forth. Salem, the tiny black-furred usurper, pounced and tumbled after it, little tail flicking in excitement.

Agatha scowled.

She was being ignored.

By you.

For a cat.

Her presence went unnoticed as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, glaring down at the scene with unmasked displeasure.

“Oh, you’re such a clever boy,” you cooed, wiggling the ribbon. Salem pounced again, missing completely and landing in an adorable, flailing heap. You laughed, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “Such a little hunter, aren’t you? Yes, you are! So fierce!”

Agatha rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw another dimension.

Fierce? That tiny thing was not fierce. She was fierce.

And yet, here you were, lavishing all your attention- attention that should have been spent in bed, between her thighs or seated on her face- on this ridiculous furball.

Enough.

She cleared her throat. Loudly.

You gasped, looking up with wide, startled eyes. “Oh! Aggie, good morning!”

Agatha arched a brow, gaze flicking between you and the kitten still sprawled on the rug. “Is it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, blinking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You tell me, darling. I woke up alone. And when I came looking for you, I find you here, on the floor, giggling and fawning over-” she gestured vaguely at Salem, “that.”

Salem, utterly unbothered by her disdain, flopped onto his back and stretched out his tiny paws.

Your expression softened immediately. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry! He woke up early and was being all cute, so I thought I’d play with him for a little bit.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “You left our bed for a cat.”

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. “Are you jealous?”

Her jaw clenched. “Of a kitten? No.”

You giggled again, pushing up onto your knees and crawling toward her. “Mmm, I think you are.”

Agatha huffed, tilting her chin up. “Absolutely not.”

But then you reached for her, standing up with hands slipping under her robe, fingers grazing over the bare skin of her waist as you pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Poor mommy,” you murmured, lips trailing up her neck. “You just want my attention, don’t you?”

Agatha shivered, but held her ground. “I deserve your attention.”

You hummed, pressing a final kiss just under her jaw. “Well, then maybe you should play nice with Salem, so you don’t have to share it.”

Agatha’s glare snapped back to the kitten, who was currently grooming his tiny paw, wholly unbothered. Smug little thing.

She exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if he touches my spellbooks, he’s gone.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Deal.”

Salem meowed.

Agatha scowled.

This was war.

~

Agatha took a slow breath, rolling back her shoulders as she watched Billy attempt the spell she had just demonstrated.

“Focus,” she instructed, arms crossed. “Channel your energy through the rune, don’t just throw power at it.”

Billy muttered something under his breath but obeyed, adjusting his stance and trying again. The rune shimmered in the air before them, pulsing faintly with his magic. It was… adequate.

Agatha nodded once. “Better.”

She turned slightly, expecting to see you sitting up, watching like you always did when she mentored Billy. You were always so attentive- so soft and doting, looking at her like she had hung the stars just by showing a simple spell. But when she glanced toward the sofa her blood ran cold.

There you were, but not watching her. Not waiting to drape yourself over her the second she was done. No, you were napping, curled up on the couch, and draped across your chest, smug as anything, was Salem.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. Unbelievable.

She clenched her fists, fighting the petty urge to hex the little thing right off you. It was enough that you fawned over him every waking moment, but now? Now, even in sleep, Salem had claimed his place as the ruler of this household.

Billy, following her gaze, immediately perked up. “Oh my god, look at him.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped as Billy abandoned the lesson entirely and rushed to your side.

“Look at this little guy,” he cooed, crouching beside the couch, reaching out to scratch under Salem’s tiny chin.

You stirred at the movement, blinking sleepily, eyes soft and warm as you woke to Billy petting the cat.

“Oh,” you yawned, smiling as you stretched. “Morning, Billy.”

“Morning, Salem,” Billy smiled down at the kitten on your chest, still cooing over the kitten.

You giggled, rubbing your cheek against Salem’s tiny head. “He’s the sleepiest boy today, huh?”

“Right?” Billy agreed, reaching to stroke along Salem’s tiny back. “Look at him. He’s just a baby.”

Agatha, still standing stiffly across the room, gawking at the scene in front of her. You never looked at her with that same soft, sleepy adoration after a nap.

And now the two of you were sitting there, utterly obsessed with that ridiculous creature, treating him like he was the most precious thing in the world, while Agatha stood there, forgotten.

The realisation was horrifying. She had been dethroned. Salem, tiny and innocent-looking, had become the true ruler of this household. He had you. He had the coven. And now he had Billy.

She was losing.

Agatha narrowed her eyes. No. She refused to be bested by a kitten.

Billy glanced up at her and grinned. “Agatha, come look at him! Isn’t he just-”

“No.”

Billy blinked. “What?”

Agatha lifted her chin, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I don’t fawn over creatures that contribute nothing to the household.”

You pouted, looking up at her through sleepy eyes. “But, Aggie, look at his little toes—”

Agatha looked away. She wouldn’t be tricked.

Billy rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad because Salem has completely stolen your wife.”

Agatha scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Billy smirked. “Then come pet him.”

Agatha froze.

Billy’s smirk widened. “Go on.”

You looked up at her, hopeful, and patted the space next to you. “Come on, baby.”

Agatha hesitated.

Her instincts told her it was a trap.

But then you pouted, soft and irresistible, looking at her with those big, pleading eyes… And just like that, she was moving. Slowly. Cautiously.Like Salem was some ancient being waiting to strike.

She perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, glancing down at the tiny ball of fluff stretched across your chest. He blinked up at her, slow and lazy, like he was daring her to do something.

Agatha exhaled sharply through her nose. Then, after a long moment she reached out, one single finger extended…The second her fingertip brushed against Salem’s fur, the kitten let out a mighty stretch and promptly rolled deeper into your embrace, turning his back on her.

Agatha gasped.

Billy lost it.

“Oh my god, you’ve been rejected.” He wheezed.

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I have not.”

Billy cackled, clutching his stomach. “No, no, this is humiliating. He knows. He knows you don’t like him, and he’s snubbing you.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to Salem’s tiny head. “Oh, baby, don’t be mad. He just doesn’t trust you yet.”

Agatha bristled. “I don’t need a cat’s trust.”

Billy wheezed. “Oh, you so do.”

Agatha glared at Salem, and to her horror, the kitten simply let out a tiny yawn and promptly fell back asleep. Utterly unbothered. Agatha had never hated anything more in her life.

This was war.

And Agatha Harkness never lost.

~

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with warmth and want. Agatha had you exactly where she wanted- beneath her, lips kiss-swollen, breath coming in soft little pants as she trailed possessive hands down your body.

She smirked, brushing her lips against your ear. “Mine.”

You whimpered, arching into her touch. “Yours.”

A pleased hum rumbled in her throat. “Say it again, baby.”

You shivered, fingers tangling in hair as she kissed down your neck. “All yours, Mommy.”

Agatha’s grip tightened. Finally, after an entire day of being ignored in favor of that creature, she had you back- where you belonged- focused entirely on her.

She dragged her lips back up to yours, capturing them in a deep, claiming kiss.

And then—

A thump.

A chirping meow.

And before Agatha could even process what was happening… A tiny black ball of menace leapt onto the bed.

Your eyes flew open. “Oh my gods!”

Agatha froze.

You gasped, delighted, and immediately sat up, reaching for the little intruder. “My smart boy!”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

You pushed her away.

For the cat.

Salem, looking entirely too smug, hopped into your lap and headbutted your chin, purring loudly.

You melted. “Oh, you clever little thing,” you cooed, scratching behind his ears. “You figured out the door! Mommy shut you out, didn’t she? But you got in anyway, huh?”

Agatha, still reeling, barely managed to rasp out, “I shut the door.”

You beamed at her. “He’s a genius!”

Agatha scowled. “He’s a problem.”

You weren’t even listening. You were too busy giggling as Salem flopped dramatically onto his back, rolling in your lap, fully aware that he owned you.

Agatha clenched her jaw.

No.

No, she would not allow this to happen.

She reached for you again, slipping a hand under your chin, tilting your face back toward hers. “Come on, baby,” she murmured, voice low and sultry, lips barely brushing yours. “Focus on mommy”.

But just as your lids fluttered, just as you exhaled that soft little sigh that always made her crazy-

Salem chirped and nudged your hand.

And, horrifyingly, your attention snapped back to him, “Ohhh, I know, I know,” you cooed, cradling his tiny face. “You need some loving too, huh?”

Agatha flung herself onto her back, staring at the ceiling like she was being personally victimized by the universe.

“What about my loving?” she demanded, throwing a hand over her forehead like some tragic heroine.

You giggled. “Aggie-”

Salem, with perfect timing, rolled onto his side, stretching just enough to rest a tiny paw against your cheek.

Your heart melted. “Aw, Agatha, look-”

“No.” Agatha sat up, glaring at the kitten. “I refuse to be a secondary character in my own bed.”

You laughed, utterly charmed. “He just loves me, baby.”

Agatha crossed her arms. “I love you.”

You gave her an affectionate smile. “I know you do.”

“Then act like it.”

You giggled again, pressing a kiss to Salem’s little head.

Agatha bristled. “I swear,” she muttered, throwing herself back against the pillows again. “This is witchcraft. He’s bewitched you all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Agatha, he’s just a cat.”

Agatha sat up so fast you startled.

“No,” she said darkly, eyes narrowing at the tiny ball of fluff curled in your lap. “He’s a threat.”

~

The setting sun shone through your windows, casting golden light over the coven as they sat in a circle, discussing plans for the upcoming Summer Solstice ritual.

Agatha, seated in her usual high-backed chair, had you curled in her lap, arms wrapped possessively around your waist. For the first time in days, she finally had you all to herself, without a certain feline dictator demanding your attention.

Because this time, she had planned ahead. The door to the room was magically sealed with the strongest wards she could weave into it. No amount of scratching, meowing, or pathetic manipulation would let that tiny tyrant inside.

She smirked to herself, pleased. Finally.

“So,” Lilia said, gesturing at the books in front of them, “I was thinking we could incorporate more moonstone this year. It should help amplify the energy-”

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Agatha ignored it. You, however, perked up instantly, shifting in her lap. “Aw, Salem-”

Agatha’s grip tightened. “No.”

Lilia continued, unfazed. “- and I read somewhere that incorporating fresh lavender in the-”

A tiny, pitiful whimper sounded from the other side of the door. Alice gasped, clutching her chest. “Oh no, the baby!”

You pouted, starting to push yourself up. “Agatha, let me-”

“No,” Agatha repeated, wrapping her arms more securely around you. “Let him cry.”

Billy’s eyes widened in horror. “Agatha, what the hell?!”

You turned, brows furrowing. “Baby, he’s sad.”

“He needs to learn,” Agatha insisted. “We are not interrupting an official coven meeting just because he doesn’t like being excluded.”

Scratch. Scratch.

A heart-wrenching mewl followed.

Billy was already half-standing. “That’s it, I’m getting the little prince-”

Agatha glared, flicking her fingers in Billy’s direction. Billy was immediately shoved back into his seat with an annoyed huff.

“Sit down,” Agatha ordered. “He is not royalty.”

Billy crossed her arms. “He is to me.”

“Yeah,” Jen agreed, flipping a page in her book. “Kinda sounds like you’re being a bad mom.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I am not his mother.”

The scratching continued.

You squirmed again. “Aggie, please-”

Agatha huffed in exasperation. “No! You are wrapped around his tiny little paw, and if we keep giving in, he’ll just keep winning.”

Jen raised a brow. “Winning what? He’s a kitten.”

Agatha gestured at you dramatically. “He stole her from me!”

The room went silent.

Then Lilia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Oh my gods”.

Billy cackled. “You *are* losing to a kitten.”

Agatha shot him a look. “I am not losing-”

At that exact moment, Salem let out the most pitiful, heartbroken little cry any of them had ever heard.

Your eyes widened in distress. “Aggie-”

“Oh, for the love of- fine.” With a dramatic wave of her hand, Agatha finally released the spell.

The door flew open.

And in strutted Salem, tail high, eyes smug, like he knew he had just won.

Agatha gawked. “You manipulative little-”

Before she could even finish, you had already scooped Salem up into your arms, cradling him against your chest like a precious treasure.

“Ohhh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his tiny head. “Mommy was so mean to you, huh?”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

Alice glared at her. “I can’t believe you locked him out.”

Jen snorted. “I can.”

Billy shook his head in disappointment. “Shameful behavior from our fearless leader.”

Agatha scowled as Salem gave her a very deliberate slow blink, curling up in your arms like he owned the place.

Which, apparently, he did.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “This is witchcraft.”

Jen snorted. “He’s just a cat, Agatha.”

Agatha shot her a dark look. “He’s a threat.”

Billy immediately fell off his chair laughing.

[coffeecacao]

Okay, let's talk about the coming out scene, because people are saying Taash was the one out of line.

Shathann is a sympathetic character. That does not make her a good person. She saved her child from a life of servitude by leaving the country she loved and tried to preserve that culture in her child. I respect that. I also wish there was a way to encourage Taash to embrace both sides of their culture.

BUT.

From the moment we meet her, Shathann criticizes literally everything her child does. Taash runs an errand for her, and Shathann criticizes their posture, pronunciation, gender presentation, AND sexuality, completely unprovoked, yes, in one fucking conversation. Shathann invites Taash over for dinner and then makes Taash cook that fucking dinner. And this has happened before, as stated in the dialogue. Taash is so affected by this behavior and probably worse they have endured their entire life that they say "you don't get to tell me who I am" at a simple question about their heritage, out of pure instinct.

Now to the actual scene.

Taash invites their mother to their new home and prepares a dinner for her, which Shathann immediately criticizes and has Taash make vegetables to go with. Can you imagine inviting someone into your home for dinner you prepare only for them to shit on it and ask you to cook more. And Taash does so, with a grunt. I'd be like bitch you're in my house, I cooked, eat. But they just do it.

Then they say it. "Im nonbinary." Shathann asks what that means, completely fair, and Taash explains that it means they're not a man or a woman.

Shathann asks if this is because she criticizes their gender presentation. Now listen. I have a parent who thinks nearly everything "wrong" with me is a reaction to their actions. It pisses me off. So Taash is getting reasonably frustrated, and insists that's not why. VALID. They were asked a question and they answered.

Let's talk about the Qun and gender identity. Yes they have a word for people who identify as a different gender than they were assigned. But this is implied to apply to trans men and women, not nonbinary people, so Shathann is asking Taash if they "just" identify as a man, because that's something Shathann can better understand, something more convenient for her to process. Sort of like when trans people come out to someone and are asked if they're "just gay."

No. And Taash says no. They have explained who they are. If Shathann was just having a hard time processing it that would be one thing, but she basically talked over Taash and tried to suggest that they were just a man, which they are not. Taash is being vulnerable. Taash doesn't even HAVE to tell Shathann this, but they want to, they think she deserves to know.

And what Taash says next is not purely to do with this one conversation, as explicit in the text. "why am I never enough for you." Never. Not now. We have seen Shathann critique Taash in every scene they share, and that's with a whole other person present who is not in the family. We don't know what happens in private. Shathann signed her child up for a fucking war without even talking to them about it. What Taash says is the build up of years of being talked over and criticized for everything they do, provoked by offering themselves to that person in a vulnerable position only to be talked over and criticized more.

"Why am I never enough for you."

And Shathann does not answer. She doesnt say "of course you are." Even if she disagreed with Taash's identity, which would be shitty, she could still affirm that they are enough for her. She doesn't.

She fucking leaves.

Maybe she thinks that's what Taash wants. Maybe not. But if someone asks you something like that, you affirm them. You say they are enough. Especially if they're your fucking child. But no, this conversation is too inconvenient for Shathann, she's not getting her way like she did when she signed Taash up for a war without their consent, so she just leaves. She could've said "I don't understand, but I love you." She couldve said anything. But she just left.

I'm sad she died. Im glad she accepted her child in the end. But no, Taash was not in any way out of line in this conversation.

Shathann was.

[trustmypoison]

Ateez confessing to their best friend

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘‘Can you please do a headcannon of ateez confessing to their bestfriend that they have a crush on them?‘

Hongjoong

I think there would be an unspoken tension between you two that you’re afraid to address. When you think about it, there always has been. It’s something you dance around for a while until you just can’t. But you’re visiting him late in the studio one night and you both are looking at something together, sitting close, and then suddenly you’re kissing. When it’s time to come up for air, he feels quite a bit of confidence in saying, “I guess we should talk about that.” 

Seonghwa

He’s stunning and you’re not blind. Neither are a lot of other people. The thing is, he turns down people left and right. You don’t think anything about it at first, but when an idol that everyone chases after asks him out and he says, “Oh thank you, but I’m not interested,” you just have to ask. When you bring it up, he initially shrugs it off. When you ask if he’s already interested in someone, he flushes and says “It’s not important.” It’s only after a little arm-twisting that he finally admits he’s interested in you. He’d feel a lot of fear about this moment but would be so, so relieved if you returned his feelings. 

Yunho

You both already act like you’re dating so why are both of you surprised?? (I’m sorry, all I can see is the friends to lovers fic I wrote for him.) This sort of creeps up on him in a way that once he realizes how he’s always looking for and reaching for you, he can’t unsee it. I do think there would have to be an external force that would compel him to confess. Like if you were asked on a date by someone else and you asked his opinion, he would find himself saying, “I’d really rather you not.”

Yeosang

So fucking casual!! So casual in fact that it feels like it came out of left field. He just straight up asks you out and you have this horrible moment of confusion before the panic sets in, because you can’t ask something like that so casually after years of friendship!! But he does and he accepts that it’s a shock for you, but he really just wants to get it off of his chest. He’d totally go back to normal if you didn’t like him like that, but if you did? Not so casual anymore because the relief is obvious!! The casualness was totally fake!!

San

He’s so touchy that this is another one that to strangers you look like you’re dating. But the thing is, he’s touchy even when no one else is around. So imagine cuddling up to him on the couch and he goes in to kiss your cheek like he’s done a million times. Naturally (and stereotypically) you turn your head at just the right time that he ends up kissing the corner of your lips. He likes to see you flustered and acts like he doesn’t understand why. “That was a little close, don’t you think?” You’ll laugh nervously. He’ll shrug in a strong attempt to be casual and ask if that’s a bad thing. If you question if he actually would want to kiss you, he says, “Yes of course,” in an instant. 

Mingi

This is totally an overnight realization. One day, he wakes up and sees you that day and thinks, “Uh when did I become attracted to them??” His attitude will do a 180. He’s totally avoidant, and when he can’t avoid you he’s totally awkward. You actually think you might have done something wrong and one of the group members has to step in. The problem is that he’ll have let this go so long that you’re mad by the time he’s ready to talk. He has to confess and grovel. 

Wooyoung

He confesses so many times in so many ways and you really think he’s joking. It’s funny to him at first because he thinks you’re just a little dense. But over time, the confessions get increasingly more serious and you still aren’t getting it. This will be to the absolute delight of his members to watch him struggle with this. Eventually, he’ll reach a breaking point and just pull you into a kiss because it seems words just aren’t working. His head might explode when you ask, “Wait, are you into me???” and he’s just like, “Yes!!! I kept trying to tell you!!!”

Jongho

Another stereotypical moment, but bear with me. You have a bad partner that just isn’t treating you right and you’re upset for the millionth time. He’s almost scolding you when he says you shouldn’t put up with that sort of treatment and you can do worlds better. But you might be a little jaded that all relationships are like this. If you express this, he’ll just snap and say, “I wouldn’t be like that.” That’s most certainly something that he can’t back out of now. Not that he wants to because bitterness about watching you suffer in your current relationship has been building for a while and he has a lot to say. 

[nor-ay]

Unrequited Love Reader and Pure Vanilla Angst bc I’ve been sad these days. (Not canon to the main story.)

The moon is captivating, you think. How it shines and covers you with its light as if it were the critic and you the performer. You feel like you’re trapped on a stage. And no matter how you try to divert the narrative, someone always finds a way to put you back in your role. And you suppose that you’re not in the wrong. You are in Shadow Milk Cookie’s domain, after all. The need to be comforted fills your heart as a tear falls down and wets your cheek, clinging to your chin.

You smell the faint scent of vanilla before you hear him talk. “[Name] Cookie, oh, I am so sorry to interrupt, but I can’t help but worry about you. You’ve been acting a bit…” 

You’re a bit annoyed, no, scratch that. You’re really pissed off. Your mind can’t comprehend what’s his deal. Pure Vanilla Cookie is someone who cares about his friends and people. He’s kind, empathetic and lovely. But at what point does he help because he really feels like it? Or he just does it out of duty? Is he always genuine? 

“Why are you asking, Pure Vanilla Cookie? What would you do if something was wrong?” He seems surprised by your tone but doesn’t comment on it. It takes him a good minute to answer, calm and firmly. 

“I would do anything in my power, you do know that, right? You are my friend, my old friend, you can count on me.” 

Shaking your head, you smile, but it feels like a grimace. Of course, you knew he was going to say that. He always says the same things, just in different fonts. You know that it shouldn't hurt you; you’re feeling like this because you are allowing it. At least, that is what you think. “That’s so cruel…you can’t say that you’d do anything and then just call me a friend.” 

“Pardon me? [Name] Cookie,” His eyes are open now, and you can’t look at him, so you convince yourself that the floor is more beautiful. “You would do the same, is that right? You told me…” 

“Ugh, let's stop dancing around this topic,” Frustration and anger flares up and helps you ignore the uncomfortable dread in your body. “I told you that because I did not mean it as just a friend. I love you, but right now, I hate you a bit for it.”

You finally look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, and his face is just so pretty that it makes you feel sickly. He’s not looking at you. “I am terribly sorry…but I can’t—“ With furrowed brows and a hoarse voice, he tries to reject you as softly as possible.

“I understand, you don't have to reject me. I was just stating it.” You can’t hear him finish that sentence. Somehow, it feels like if that thought materializes, I’ll turn true. And you so foolishly try to keep some hope for your heart.

“…[Name] Cookie,” For the first time since he found you, he approaches and holds both your hands. “I’m not very good at this. But thank you for telling me. And- we can still be friends If that’s…what you want?” 

You agree and reassure him that nothing will change and that soon this feeling will go away. Bizarrely enough, you think that it may happen sooner than you’d expect.

It’s been a while! As I said, I’ve been struggling a bit these days but I’m better. Please feel free to share your opinion on this fic as long as it’s respectful. And no, this is not canon. In the main story, the reader does not confess to Pure Vanilla. Maybe someday.

[beesandwasps]

Wow, it’s rare for a Democrat to simultaenously show all three of the reasons why Democrats are wrong in a single post, but you’ve managed it:

Ignoring the fact that the Democrats did not merely “uphold the law” but actively made things worse by, e.g., building Cop Cities and new ICE detention centers and dramatically increasing fossil fuel production and continually having protestors beaten up in cities they govern — your party is functionally the same as the Republicans, just less abrasive and a little slower in implementing things. Right now, a majority of Senate Democrats are voting to confirm Trump’s cabinet choices which people like you keep swearing are the most dangerous people possible — if the Democrats were not just Republicans with better PR, this would not happen.

Saying out loud that you value process and law over ethics and morality. Oh, Trump is a Nazi, but it’s a good thing to hand over control to him? How fucking imbecilic can you get, you worthless piece of shit? The original German Nazis were able to take over their country because of people like you, and the Democratic unwillingness to actually stand against modern Nazis is why people didn’t bother to vote for them. What was the difference when, for 12 of the previous 16 years, the Democrats let the Republicans control everything even when they were in a complete minority in every branch of government (as in 2009-2010)?

Blaming third-party voters for the Democratic Party’s inability to make a reasonable case for themselves. I really wish Harris had lost because of third-party voters! It would signal that a significant portion of the US public has spines and morals! But, much though I hate to say it, there isn’t a single state which went to Trump in 2024 where, if every single third-party voter including the Libertarians (who would, if forced to choose between the two major parties, vote Republican) had voted for Harris, she would have won the state. Your party lost its voters to the Republicans, and they did it by mimicking Republican rhetoric: anti-immigration, pro-genocide, pro-fossil-fuel, even anti-trans at the end. If your idiot party is going to spend its campaign telling everybody they’re just like the Republicans, why would you ever find it surprising that voters would vote for actual Republicans? If you want people to vote for Democrats, you need to give them reasons why Democrats will do things differently. If Democrats are just going to be the Lite Beer version of Republicans, why would anybody ever choose to support them?

Why are they so fucking dumb. Does this mean we’ll at least get in new deal in 2040?

[justiceiscalling]

i’m gonna try to keep this one short but, genuinely, why is damian going to hell never mentioned? like jason’s death is mentioned 24/7 and damian’s death is basically never even referenced (to my knowledge). did his death get retconned?

and even then—why don’t fics mention it? damian went to hell! literal hell! that’s prime angst material right there. i don’t understand people sometimes. everyone ignores the important aspects of jason and damian’s deaths, they only take note that they died. like the fic ideas i have for this is limitless.

catholic jason todd dies and sees nothing. no heaven, no hell. no jesus, no devil. he comes back brain damaged, then fucked up in the head, and when he finally gets his feet underneath him, he has a crisis of faith. then damian wayne fucking does, comes back a year later (double it and give it to the next ts). bonding ensues.

“You trashed it.” Tim notes, looking down at the shirt that’s covered with paint, grime, and the distinct scent of the sewer.

Duke looks over at the shirt and scrunches his nose, glancing between it and Damian. “Just throw it in his closet. Maybe he won’t notice.”

Tim gives Duke a look. “It reeks of the sewer. Dicks not that messy.”

Damian frowns at the shirt. His trip through Gothams sewers hadn’t been intentional, it was a detour he had to make when an assassin cornered him. Unfortunately, at the time he was wearing Dicks blue ‘Nightwing’ shirt (yes he has his own merch. Yes it is because he is full of himself).

A low whistle draws Damian’s attention away from the shirt. He looks up and meets Jason’s eyes. His hair has grown out since Damian last saw him two weeks ago. If he refused to go to the barber then he should at least let Alfred cut it, do the entire world a favor. “Oh, Dicks going to kill you.”

“I hope not,” Damian says absentmindedly, putting the shirt down. Lest he start smelling like the sewer again. It took four hours to get the scent out of his hair, an additional two to get it off his body. “I’m not dressed properly.”

It’s meant to be a joke. Him and Jon aren’t exactly ‘working on them’ but he has been a test dummy for a few. Damian came to realize Jon laughed at everything, no matter if it was funny or not. The trio in front of him laugh as if it’s funny—Damian is about to dedicate an entire thirty seconds to basking in glory at the victory of making three out of four of his brothers laugh—but it’s when Tim speaks that Damian realizes it was interpreted wrong.

"What, you too cool to die in a hoodie and sweats?" He gestures to Damians outfit, a Gotham Academy hoodie paired with its matching Gotham Academy sweats. Underneath the black hoodie, is a black long sleeve shirt that had the Gotham Academy symbol on the sleeve.

Duke straightens up to get his own joke out. "Obviously.” He says with complete seriousness. “He has to die wearing Prada. Keep up, Tim.” He looks over at Jason, “Get a loud of this guy.”

Jason snorts in response. “Gotta die in style. Dying in uniform is so outdated.” That earns a loud laugh from Duke, the only person who has yet to tire of Jason’s ‘I died’ jokes.

“Imbeciles.” Damian rolls his eyes, his tanned cheeks were probably coated in pink dye to embarrassment. He would never imply he had to die in a certain outfit if it wasn’t half-true. “That is not what I meant.”

“Please do explain, O-Wise one.”

Damian clicks his tongue at Dukes nickname but does as asked. “When I died before,” He doesn’t miss the way Tim and Jason stiffen at the mention. Duke just kind of pauses. “It was hot. You cannot exactly ditch clothes in hell.”

He’s met with silence. Well, he didn’t expect to be met with laughs.

Jokes aren’t funny after you explain the joke. Damian busies himself with folding the shirt he had previously let go of, the one that smelled of the sewer. “You…” Tim pauses, tilts his head, then continues. “What?”

“You broke Tim.” Duke comments, though he doesn’t seem fully there either.

“I don’t understand.” Damian furrows his brows look from Duke to Tim. Finally, he decides to look over at Jason.

Jason doesn’t seem tense, the only sign he was was the hand he had clenched together in a fist, which he quickly got rid of. In reality, it’s his face that gives him away. Jason’s always been emotional, you could read his emotions far too easy off his face if you were trained to do so. It’s a good thing he wears a helmet. “Hell. You went to hell.”

“Yes.” Damian says, because, was it ever a secret? Did he forget to mention that? He didn’t exactly have to write a mission report on his death. “I assume you did not.” His voice is stiff. Hell isn’t his favorite topic.

“No. I didn’t.” Jason confirms.

“How was Heaven?” His tone is slightly bitter, he can’t help it. Even though he knows Jason was good pre-death. Didnt lay a finger on a soul, and when he did, they were deserving of it and walked away breathing just fine.

“Wouldn’t know.” Jason shrugs. “Wasn’t important enough to get either.” He explains.

and yk bonding brother stuff. the potential is just sitting there untouched. like if someone doesn’t use it ill tweak out. feel free to rec fics, im clearly in need. only crossover fics id enjoy are marvel/mcu and criminal minds.

use this for an idea if you want, give credit obv.

edit: i've been informed that jason, in some iterations, did go to heaven but just doesn't remember it. so...even better ngl.

crisis of faith, thinking there's no heaven and hell, then boom bro finds out he actually did go to heaven. also the little writing bit i did was made in like twenty minutes at like 3 am, so sorry for it being shit. if i do ever get a great incredible idea for a fic on that, ill let yall know.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

One last time I promise after that, I'll let you go

the first time lando and y/n had met was based of pure coincidence.

they both had common friends who had common activities and that’s how the two got to know each other. their bond started growing right after that.

the friend group they had been a part of had a little problem of bullying and picking on certain members, with Lando and her they had decided to ship them together. it wasn’t a innocent harmless thing, they had actually started to make fun of them based of their ship name and how ugly their kids might be. yeah real mature.

y/ns first signs of infatuation were innocent and harmless, i mean which girl could ever ignore a guy who had stood up to their friends group and had personally told everyone to piss off and leave the both of them alone (that action in intensified their rumours) but Lando didn’t seem to care, it was her in the other hand that seemed to be a bit disturbed by the taunting and bullying.

in a haste decision y/n had decided to leave the friend group and had deactivated her socials, it was only Lando who had convinced her to come back just for him.

cute right??

that’s where everything went wrong and at times she wished she would have never met him.

what started as a innocent crush turned into something more, something more genuine and pure.

isolated incidents with Lando often at times where he was being a sweetheart and spending up to 14 hours a day on zoom calls with her, only ending them if he genuinely had to go or if her parents were upset. He knew her families drama, he knew all about her traumatic friendships and was there to defend her and always reminded her that she was better then them and didn’t need to feel inferior. he was her everything. it didn’t help that he’d always want to spend time one on one and never with the group.

they’d laugh together work together heck even ate meals on zoom together and yet they were not actually together.

y/n had tried multiple times to test and see if he cared about her in a different way one that wasn’t friendly. often times she’s pick a outfit that was rather short or something that wasn’t her to see if he’d ask why she was wearing that or whom she was going out to meet. he’d never say anything

y/n was a rational person and knew that someone like him would never settle for someone like her but a nagging feeling always made her believe that she had a shot. And it wasn’t just her gut, Landon’s own mother had on multiple occasions sat down with the girl and had mentioned just how lucky her son was to have known such a beautiful person both inside out and at one occasion even mentioned how much she wanted her as her daughter in law.

she had blushed rather hardly at that. secretly she had also wished the exact same thing. cisca would have been the best mother in law for her.

Lando’s relation with her wasn’t the only thing that had made her think that he too might have been into her, and no it wasn’t the fact that she was the one who had planned his birthday party nor was it the fact that her family were the only people invited to their Christmas party.

It was Lando’s relationship with her mother, he’d always listen to her no matter what. It often puzzled her why and cisca had the same reaction each time, the desperate mother had once asked y/ns mother to click pictures of lando since he would never let her. silly things yk?

but all these silly things add up and when they do things suddenly don’t feel as silly anymore.

after months of hiding her feelings and being persuaded by her mutual friends who had known of her crush y/n decided to ask lando out it was purely because her friend had said that she too things that lando liked her and was only shy and that’s why y/n should make the move.

stupid stupid decision.

it was peak Covid and tiktok was trending like no other app, whilst trying to find ways to confess without being all sappy she had come across the “Jenny darling you’re my best friend” trend and thought it was the perfect playful way to confess her feelings without it being too sappy or detailed.

With shaking hands she typed the lyrics out bit by bit

lan darling you’re my best friend (read 1:43 pm) (y/n)

yeh ik ( read 1:43 pm) (lan)

but there’s a few things that you don’t know off

(1:43 pm) (y/n)

huh? like wha? you on smth (1:44 pm) (lan)

why i borrow your hoodies so often (1:44 pm) (y/n)

i wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead

(1:44 pm) (y/n)

the risk that she had taken had backfired so magnificently that it was almost laughable.

Lando Norris was one person who wouldn’t be caught without his phone, and that’s why his sudden disappearance was like a punch in the gut for her.

it was a whole day later when he’d replied.

oh ok (2:30 am) (lan)