#but why should i care anyway it's not like it's a one time thing

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

                                                *

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door and stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar

[discontinued, feel free to add on]

It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.

Just plain weird.

It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".

Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.

Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.

Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.

(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)

Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.

He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.

Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.

It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.

Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.

On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.

Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?

Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.

Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.

And there was the next weird thing.

No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.

The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.

The fuck?

So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.

Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.

Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.

Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.

Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".

The color might be just a coincidence.

...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.

So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.

He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.

...

Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.

[dyaz-stories]

Cuddling — Day two of Inukag Fluff Week

Second one shot for @inukagfluffweek! This one is set in canon, and probably a little more on the hurt/comfort side.

Keeping an eye on Kagome was second nature for Inuyasha. After all, if there wasn’t food on her plate, she’d grow hungry and Jewel shards hunting would be interrupted. If there wasn’t a fire to keep her warm, she’d be too tired to go on. If they were caught in a downpour without shelter, she’d get sick. If she kept going when her legs hurt, the next day would be hell. So he got her food, he built the fire, he found the shelter, he carried her on his back. Not ‘cause he cared, though, well, he did care, a little bit, the normal amount, whatever that was, but for purely practical reasons.

That meant he figured out early on that something was wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint what for the life of him, though.

He’d added wood to the fire. He’d caught and cooked a rabbit. He’d carried her on his back half the day, holding her two-wheeled thing in one hand. He’d even offered his services in ridding some farmer of pesky yokai, so they’d get to sleep in a barn for once. Sure, he wasn’t Miroku, and he couldn’t secure them a place in some luxury house, but he was trying his best, ‘kay? Miroku wasn’t around anyway, and Kagome had never complained about luxuries before.

And still, when everything should have been fine, something was clearly wrong. Kagome kept looking in the distance, eyes turning glassy, mouth curving downward as she buried herself in her thought, keeping him so, so far away from her even if she was sitting right next to him.

 Inuyasha had no damn clue how to fix it.

“What is it this time?” he snapped at last as she was finishing her food in silence, taking small, slow bites, and she jumped at the sound of his voice. Her wide brown eyes focused on him at last, and that simple action was grounding enough for him that he would almost have felt sorry for his outburst.

Almost.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and the immediate frown on her face told him she was not to be messed with right now — too bad he didn’t care, at this point.

“What’s wrong with you, you mean,” he scoffed, folding his arms and shaking his head. “You’ve been sulking for days. So tell me how to fix it, or just stop doing that already!”

If he’d been self-aware enough for that, he would no doubt have realized how childish he sounded. Kagome could have, too, but instead, her face flushed.

“I’m fine!” she replied, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing. “It’s not your problem anyway, so just forget about it!”

“How is it not my problem when you’re all—” He gestured at her, frustrated. “—and it’s a pain to travel!”

“Well if it’s a pain to travel with me, why don’t you just go with someone else?” she replied, raising her voice a little more.

“Because I don’t want to travel with someone else!” he yelled back. “I just want you to tell me how to not make it hard for you!”

She went quiet then, uncharacteristically so, red spreading to her ears, and Inuyasha growled under his breath, muttering to himself. He wasn’t sure what to do with this quiet Kagome. If she needed to scream at him to feel better, well, she could get on with that, and at least then she’d be fixed or whatever, but even picking a fight wasn’t working, damn it.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome whispered at last, and Inuyasha started like he’d been stung by a bee. Uh, yeah, not good. She didn’t do that. Even when she was in the wrong, she needed her time and space to calm down, and then she’d apologize, often while bringing him an offering of ramen. She never turned down a fight with an immediate apology.

That was when the tears came.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, sniffing.

“Wh— No— Don’t—” he pleaded, voice cracking, but she paid him no attention.

“I just— It’s been a very long year, you know? And I— I— I miss my mom,” she finally broke, waterfalls on her cheeks, quiet sobs wracking her body as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

Inuyasha froze. He reached out for her without thinking, overwhelmed by the need to make it stop, make it better, make her better, make it so she’d never ever cry again, but his fingers curled up before he could touch her, caught by some other part of his instinct.

“W-why didn’t you just say so! You can just— you can just go home then!” he scoffed, trying very hard to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.

“But we’ve been on the road for days,” Kagome sniffed, “and it would take days to go back, and we haven’t found that stupid Jewel shard, and I just want her to give me a hug, and—”

“Ha, well I-I can do that too! You could have asked me!”

That made Kagome stop crying for long enough to give him a blank stare.

“Come on, Inuyasha. I’m not going to force you to hug me.”

“W-who said anything about forcing me!”

“Well you don’t look thrilled about it,” she said, doubtful, and at least she was crying a lot less now, but her eyes and nose were still read and he wasn’t going to let that slide, was he?

“J-just— just don’t move, okay?”

Clumsily, despite how careful he was being, he put both arms around her, awkwardly tugging her until he’d brought her against his chest. He was barely touching her, his arms forming a misshaped circle hovering around her. He’d hugged her before, but it had been an impulsive action, not one he’d thought about. He— had no idea how to do it intentionally.

Against his chest, Kagome giggled.

“You have to actually hug me, you know? Like that.”

She did it without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against his, and this time when he froze, there were very different emotions running within him. On the top of his head, his ears were twitching, all his senses alert, taking in her breathing that was getting more even, her smell, her breath against his skin. Swallowing, he finally brought himself to close his arms around her, and she sighed contentedly.

“See?” she asked. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”

He could barely reply around the knot in his throat. She felt so soft against him, so delicate. His half-demon strength would make it so, so easy to break her in half — and she knew that. Her warmth was spreading through him, from his chest and face to the root of his hair and the tip of his toes. Everything he felt was Kagome. With great care, he ran his fingers through her hair, not wanting his claws to cut through them by accident. She shivered, tilted her head forward a little to give him better access. Mesmerized, he kept going. Her hair felt soft between his fingers, silky.

Everything about this was calming. And she’d been right. It was nice.

It caught him by surprise when she moved, entangling herself from him.

“Thanks, Inuyasha,” she said, sniffing again. “I’m feeling better. It was nice of you to— Oh!”

He pulled her back into him, this time with a tighter grip.

“You said you needed a hug, so I’m giving you one that’ll last you until I can get you back to your time,” he said gruffly. “Now just sleep, ‘kay?”

Her laugh vibrated through his chest, and he found it to be the best thing he’d ever felt.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Inuyasha.”

He would have told her that he was just doing it so she’d be in the mood for shard hunting the next day, but if she’d called him out, he would never have been able to lie with a straight face, so he chose not to.

‘cause truth be told, now that he was experiencing it, he thought he’d needed that hug at least as much as her.

Don't have ideas for the upcoming themes so this will probably be my last entry for the week! Thank you all for the love on yesterday's entry, hope you've enjoyed this one as well, and I'll see you when I see you!

[max1461]

I don't really intuitively give a shit about fairness. I think this is one of those "maximally allistic" traits of mine. Like, abstractly I recognize that fairness often matters, I'm not mounting an argument against fairness here. But I think frankly that my life is way easier for the fact that I don't get bothered by being "treated unfairly", like, I get bothered if I'm treated in a way that fails to meet my standards, and I feel good if I'm treated in a way that does meet my standards. But if you treat me like, ok enough, and another person really really great, 99% of the time I'm just gonna be like "ok cool you like that person more than me". Uh I really even when I type that it sounds dissatisfied. No like. Unless I have the sort of relationship with you were favoritism towards me is part of the deal (e.g. a romantic partner), if you show favoritism towards someone else it doesn't phase me at all. Like. I care about getting my desired share, not my fair share. You see?

I try to be fair towards others, because that is important to them. I don't like upsetting people. But when I was a kid I hadn't figured all this out yet, and sometimes it made people really mad. I remember often getting into arguments with adults where like, I would drop something, and they would tell me to pick it up, and I would be like "oh no I don't mind it being on the floor". And they would be like "well I mind it being on the floor" and I would be like "well then you should pick it up". I really wasn't trying to be passive aggressive this just seemed completely reasonable to me. Like... if I had some inscrutable preference to move something from one place to another, I wouldn't ask someone else to move it up for me, I would just do it myself. But if I drop it, and you want it moved off the floor, I should be the one to do that for you because I dropped it? It didn't make much sense to me. But people got mad, and they said "that's not fair!", and so I conceded.

To be honest I still have the reverse version of this mentality. Like whenever I've lived with people who have different cleanliness standards from me, I haven't really expected that they like, increase their cleanliness to match mine, or meet mine in the middle or whatever. I've just cleaned more, because I'm the one who wants things more clean. That makes sense to me. I don't know why I would expect them to live differently in order to meet my standards, that seems rather presumptuous.

Anyway, fairness is kind of a foreign concept to me. But non-imposition is a native concept, I don't like to bother people, so I generally try to act fair so as not to bother people. But it's fake, I don't really believe in it.

[therealcocoshady]

The Hoodie

A/N : Hey guys ! I'm sorry, I'm not uploading a lot, these days. I have been drowning in work for my PhD dissertation... Also, I've been super sick. I actually allowed myself a break for daydreaming about snuggling in Marshall's hoodie 👀. Anyway, here is a little blurb and I hope you enjoy it ❤️.

Summary : you are dating Eminem and you are sick while spending a few days at his place. Ever the thoughtful boyfriend, he comforts you and gives you one of his favorite Detroit Lions hoodie.

CW : Fluff

The Michigan wind whipped through the trees outside, rattling against the windows.Marshall sat at his desk in the corner of his home studio, trying to focus. Beats thumped softly in the background, lyrics half-formed in his mind, but something wasn’t right.A small cough echoed from the bedroom, reminding him why he couldn’t concentrate. You had been battling a nasty cold for days now. You’d tried to play it off at first, but the stubborn fever, the constant sniffling, and the exhausted look in your eyes were impossible to ignore.He sighed, running a hand over his face before standing up. He was busy and he had tons of work to do for his upcoming projects, but he didn’t like the thought of being locked in the home studio while his girlfriend being sick in bed. It felt incredibly selfish. It was bad enough that he had to spend part of what should have been a lazy weekend with you working, and he wanted to be there to comfort you. You’d been together for a little while, nearly a year, and, though he’d been guarded at first, he had come to care for you deeply and it was time to put the feeling in action. 

He walked down the hall, pausing at the door to the bedroom. You were curled up under the thick comforter, your nose peeking out from the blankets. Your hair was a mess, but even like this, he couldn’t help but think that you had that effortless beauty that always caught him off guard.“You okay?” he asked softly, stepping into the room.You peeked one eye open, offering him a weak smile. “Been better,” you rasped. “But I’m surviving.”Marshall frowned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “You should’ve told me earlier how bad it was. You’re burning up.” You chuckled lightly, but it ended in a coughing fit. You waved a hand dismissively once it passed. “Just a cold. I didn’t want to bother you.” Marshall shook his head. “You ain’t bothering me. You should’ve said something.” He stood up, heading toward the closet. “Hold up. You’re always freezing. I got something for you.”

You watched him curiously as he rummaged through a pile of clothes before pulling out his favorite Detroit Lions hoodie. It was old, worn in, and oversized, but it was the softest thing he owned. “That’s your favorite hoodie.”, you pointed out. He smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, but you’re cold. And if you get better faster, maybe I’ll get it back sooner.” He tossed it onto the bed next to you. “Put it on. You’ll be warmer.” You hesitated for a second but then reached out, grabbing the hoodie and slipping it over your head. As soon as the fabric touched your skin, you melted into its warmth. It was so soft and smelled faintly of him—of cologne and something uniquely Marshall. You buried your face in the collar, sighing contentedly. “Okay, you were right. This is amazing.” Marshall chuckled, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. “Told you. That’s a certified Detroit classic right there. Ain’t nobody who wouldn’t feel better wearing it.” You gave a small laugh, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but a bit of the tension seemed to leave your body as you got cozy in the hoodie. “I’m not giving this back,” you teased, your words a little slurred as you started to drift off. Marshall smiled faintly, watching you. “You keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”. 

After a few days, you finally got better. You hadn’t let go of the hoodie. The warmth, the smell, and the comfort it gave you had become your safety blanket. Standing in the kitchen, you caught your reflection in the window—there you were, swimming in his oversized hoodie, the faded Lions logo worn down from years of wear. As much as you loved how it made you feel, you knew you couldn’t keep it forever. You knew it was his favorite and you had come to understand that he could get very sentimental when it comes to certain items. You heard Marshall come in behind you, his steps heavy on the wooden floor. He dropped his keys on the counter and cracked open a bottle of water, taking a long sip before leaning against the kitchen island, watching you with that half-smirk of his.

“You look better,” he commented, his eyes flicking to the hoodie you were still wrapped up in. You tugged at the sleeves, glancing down at yourself. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better. Thanks to this, mostly.” You gestured at the hoodie, then gave him a sheepish smile. “Speaking of which, I should probably give it back.” Marshall raised an eyebrow, setting his water bottle down. “Why would you do that?” You let out a soft laugh. “Because it’s yours? And I’ve been hogging it for days now. I mean, it’s your favorite.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, eyes narrowing in mock seriousness. “It was my favorite,” he said, his voice low but teasing. “But now it’s yours.” You blinked, surprised. “What do you mean? You love this thing.”. “Yeah, but I love seeing you in it more.” Marshall shrugged casually, but there was an earnestness in his voice that caught you off guard. He reached out, gently pulling at one of the sleeves, the fabric falling long past your fingertips. “You look good in it. Better than I ever did.”. Your heart fluttered, and you couldn’t help but smile, though you tried to downplay it. “I don’t know, you kinda rocked the baggy hoodie look,” you teased. Marshall chuckled, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. “Nah, you can keep it. I’ll grab another one. It’s just a hoodie, anyway.” You bit your lip, looking down at the oversized garment again, fingers tracing the worn-out logo. It felt like more than just a hoodie. It felt like a piece of him—something intimate and familiar, something you never realized you needed until now. “But it’s not just a hoodie,” you said softly, glancing up at him. “It’s yours. It smells like you… and it’s—" You paused, realizing how cheesy you were about to sound. “It’s kinda special.” Marshall gave you a small, crooked smile. “Yeah, it’s special. And that’s why I want you to have it. You’ve been through a lot this past week. It makes me feel better knowing you got something to hold onto when I’m not around.” You looked at him, your heart warming at the sentiment. He wasn’t always good with words when it came to this kind of stuff, but when he was, it hit you right in the chest. You stepped closer to him, arms wrapping around his waist, your face pressed against his chest. “Thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled but sincere. “For everything.” He rested his chin on top of your head, his arms coming up to hold you close. “Don’t mention it. Just... don’t forget to wash it every once in a while. I don’t want my hoodie to smell like Vicks forever,” he joked, the vibration of his chest making you giggle. You pulled back slightly, smirking up at him. “No promises.” Marshall laughed, shaking his head, but his smile lingered as he looked down at you, still tucked into his hoodie like it was made just for you. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s not about the hoodie. It’s just... I like knowing you’re taken care of. Even if it’s something small like that.”. You tilted your head, your eyes softening as you gazed up at him. “You’re sweet, you know that?”. He groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Don’t start with that,” he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched as if he couldn’t hold back the smile completely. You laughed and stood on your  tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Too late.” For a moment, you both stood there in the kitchen, wrapped in each other’s arms, the hoodie now a symbol of something more between you. It wasn’t just about the comfort it gave you—it was about how it made you feel connected to him, even in the simplest of ways. As you settled back against his chest, Marshall kissed the top of your head, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet of the room. “Keep the hoodie,” he said again, this time almost a whisper. “It’s yours. Like me.”

[zayray030]

Anon 🍓

My only thought right now is Ace accidentally becoming the Heartslabul Housewarden during second year and the first thing he does is pretend like he’s not the prefect to mess with the first years

“What are you talking about Riddle’s the Housewarden not me”

“It my job as a second year to enforce the rules, why would you think I’m the Housewarden”

“Making sure the unbirthday party goes as planned is part of being a second. Between you and me the other 2nd years hate doing this job. That’s why I’m always stuck with it”

“Why yes this is the Housewarden outfit… of course I’m not the Housewarden silly 1st year”

“It’s my duty as a 2nd year to give punishment to those who break the rules… no I’m not the Housewarden, why do you keep asking that?”

I feel like Ace would also just drop random lore about himself and no one knows how to deal with it.

“This reminds me of this one time I scolded a ghost princess after kidnapping my friend and then accidentally helped she fall in love with her guard and then she left… she recently invited me to her wedding”

This was said during a random afternoon noon after introducing some first years to the basketball club

“Be careful of free amusement park tickets. You never know if the person who invited you is actually planning on kidnapping you and selling you to appease their shit boss… thankfully me and my friends escaped but you lot might not be so lucky”

Ace warning the first years before they leave for a shopping trip

Anyway that’s my brain I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts

HE SO WOULD!!

Him going out of his way to fuck with people because he knows it stressed our everyone because they know he's doing it to be irresponsible but they also know that they should savour this instead of Ace getting cocky anout being housewarden

Riddle is lowkey grateful because I don't think he would he ready to move on from being housewarden

[what-have-i-unleashed]

player!killer and anomaly!dust

since these ideas have been invading my brain lately, i feel like i need to ramble about the toxic (doomed) kist potential they have.

imagine the game world of dusttale trying to correct itself ever since the anomaly/virus that is killer entered it. so things in the world start to glitch and don't make sense. a character repeats their lines over and over without stopping. shortcuts stop working properly. character stats inexplicably get messed up. goners start appearing to warn dust and killer about the end of the world. it's nearing its doomed timeline trajectory, and yet dust will not give up trying to salvage his universe. in his mind, there's one surefire way to get everything back to normal: exterminate the virus that is killer.

dust and killer (and the goners and the almagamates) are not affected by the glitches because they are anomalies, glitches detached from the world already. to killer, this means enlightenment and freedom. he doesn't understand dust's attachment to the underground, his dogmatic beliefs about justice and the greater good for the monsters. doesn't dust want to ascend to be something "real", rather than the npcs that the rest of the monsters are? doesn't he want to escape from the control of the player? why would he want to obey to the whims of a dying, boring, constricting world anyway? if dust can't see it, then killer will make him see.

the thing is, dust is a difficult monster to persuade. sure, killer can kill him again and again (chances are 50/50 on who will win anyway). but dust always bounces back, more vindicated in his retaliation and belief that killer needs to be gone. the thing is, when you want to break someone down, you need to be the thing they fear the most. killer is already that, isn't he? he's a future of a sans, of dust's own past. this is what dust could have become. killer is what dust has become - a sans doing the work of the no-mercy player.

"aren't you bored of doing the same thing over and over again? aren't you crazy from repeating all these useless cycles only to reach the same conclusion again and again?... oh wait, you already are!"

and dust - what can he say to all that? is it true? is it not? who cares - the only satisfaction he can have is wiping that smirk off that face. killer knows intimately beings like dust - not only because they were the same person at some point, but also because dust is a control freak with a savior complex as well as survivor's guilt. deep down inside, dust cannot fathom losing. he has poured too much, sacrificed too much, to get this far. and he won't stop - not until he reaches his happy ending, which will never come. so he'll forever be stuck down here, repeating his worst nightmares again and again in a hell of his own making.

the only variable in dust's life is killer. gradually, dust treats killing other monsters as a job - an important yet thankless job that someone has to do. the only kill in which he feels something is of his brother... and killer. with killer, dust is filled with something - maybe it's joy, maybe it's hate, it's hard to tell when apathy is his usual state.

and the thing is, the opposite of love isn't hate. it's the lack of love - it's apathy. he feels something for killer - an attachment, an obsession, a possessiveness. "only i get to kill him", "he's my kill", that's what dust thinks. he rationalizes that thinking of course - killer reminds of him too much of himself, the person he hates the most. but there's that fear every time he kills killer - fear that killer will never come back, leaving dust with his empty broken world and voices in his head. and he fears killer will know it, somehow.

for killer, it's always a game to see who's the winner and who's the loser. it's a struggle for control, with the controller and the controlled. and with the player gone, dust should belong to him now. an eternal playmate, after everyone else has disappeared from his life. and like, it's totally therapeutic to beat up and mess with the guy who reminds you of yourself, right? totally not a self-esteem issue waiting to be explored or anything at all. it's funny how much they match. "look, we both wear red!" exclaims killer as he points to his own red soul and dust's red iris. determination pulls them together, and determination will break one of them in the end, and it's not going to be him. he'll persevere once this world rots away, while dust will be trapped by his own volition.

maybe, just maybe, he'll whisk dust away once the end comes. and they'll find another playground to re-enact their play again. killer will take and take and take, until all they are is dust.

Oh, I will ruin you It's a habit - I can't help it

I will only break your pretty things I will only wring you dry of everything And if you're fine with that If you're fine with that

[black-arcana]

WITHIN TEMPTATION Lost Tens Of Thousands Of Instagram Followers Over 'Pride' Post

In a new interview with Germany's Radio Bob!, vocalist Sharon Den Adel of Dutch symphonic metallers WITHIN TEMPTATION was asked if she took notice of the fact that the band recently surpassed 400,000 followers on Instagram. She responded (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "Well, to be honest, I'm not sure if I should say this on radio, but I was a bit shocked of our own audience in a way, because we reached actually 4,2 [420,000] and we lost a two [20,000], because we made an announcement, like, okay, just a post about Pride [the yearly event for acceptance and visibility of the LGBTIQ+ community] in the Netherlands. And we lost 0,2 just by one post saying equality stands for…"

She continued: "I don't care about losing those, but it was a shock to me. So many people were appalled by that message, it's, like, what is the world going to? I was a bit sad about that. It was, like, okay, because you said something about equality and how we see people, how we treat people. Wow. It was a shock… It's reflecting how people are thinking about how things are changing in society sometimes by things you post. It's, like, wow. I didn't see this coming. But anyway, anyway, I'm not regretting it at all. So I'm really happy that it happened because it just cleans up the database. [Laughs] Who cannot stand for equality for everyone? It's, like, come on."

Last December, Den Adel was asked by Mexico's Summa Inferno why it was important for her and her bandmates to voice their political views in some of their recently released songs, including "Wireless" and the title track of their latest album "Bleed Out", which have highlighted such current topics as the war in Ukraine and the suspicious death of Mahsa Amini, an Iranian woman "detained" for not wearing a hijab. She said: "We are musicians. And what do musicians do? They're storytellers, in my opinion. At least that's how I see myself, as a storyteller.

"Back in the day when there were castles, hundreds of years ago, when the musicians were traveling from country to country, what they did is bring the news from one country to another country," she explained. "If there was a war far down South, then half year later, people would know up North because then the musicians came and they make music, telling the stories of what's happening in the world. And I think that essence of being a musician, I think that's important. I think the essence of keeping certain subjects alive in a different way than in the past, of course, but now more like the news goes so fast in our time, because we have Internet and everything, we know what's happening in every country, more or less. And the thing is it becomes old news very fast. But certain things you need to keep addressing and talking about, like what's happening in Iran, for instance, but also the war in the Ukraine, and of course now that what's happening in Gaza and in Israel. Those topics are important to talk about.

"For us, we've written songs about certain of these topics, like Ukraine and Iran," Sharon added. "We did write something about that. We were inspired by that. So that's why we're talking about it in our interviews. And because it becomes old news very quickly here in Europe. I don't know how it's in your country, but nobody talks that much anymore about the Ukraine or what's happening in Iran. Not at all, because it's not in the news anymore. Ukraine is, because we are, of course, supporting them, but in different ways from a European point of view. But Iran, it's already very much old news since Mahsa Amini died because she resisted the morality police and died in a horrible way after being beaten to death, just because she wore her clothes in an incorrect way, to them. And it's very important to talk about these topics because otherwise it becomes old news and their fight is still going on. And that's in many subjects. We could have written about so many things in the world, even about South America where certain things are happening. But these were the things that inspired us when we were in the studio. At that moment, the war broke out in Ukraine. At that moment, Mahsa Amini had just died and we watched the news, and before we knew it, it was integrated in our music. But it could have been also other topics that are just as much needed to be talked about, of course. But these were the things that were happening in the moment when we were writing music."

Asked if she is afraid of the backlash and criticism she and the rest of WITHIN TEMPTATION might receive for publicly voicing their political views, Sharon said: "Well, I believe in democracy. And I think also we have a voice, and I believe in debating. What I hope to do with this — we're not lashing out or criticizing anything. It's more like we try to keep the subject alive because just by talking about it, we can bring other people to new ideas or get a little bit deeper into the subject or start being interested in the subject and thinking about what is the right thing to do. What kind of world do we wanna live in? I think that's a good question. So I'm not afraid of feeling attacked because of the fact that we take a certain point of view because I think… Well, I think it's, that's the thing of democracy. We can all be a voice and we can all contribute to the debate on what kind of world do you wanna live in and what do you accept from each other and what don't we accept from each other. There should be a certain pressure from other countries trying to help certain people in need. And I think it's most important that we support those who are in oppression, who are oppressed, and to let them know there's people thinking about them and supporting them."

[taichissu]

people should be thanking me for reminding them art/writing sharing channels exist on the server bc if i hadn't tried using them they wouldn't have remembered to share as well in order to ignore me

[kittyandco]

does anyone else get so upset when you think about all the things that happened to your f/o... all the things they went through? all the things they haven't healed from? the pain that they may still be enduring? how you can do your best to help them but you can't protect them from everything. so you just love them the ways they needed before, how they deserved. and you see them happy because they finally accept, at least in some ways, that they do deserve it. they deserve love like all beings do

[transmaverique]

amab and afab, if they were used as shorthand for the actual full phrases that they signify, with emphasis on the "assigned" part, and an understanding that they are enforcements of normative (ie, dyadic and cisgender and binary) sex, would be like. really useful. but people took the terms and started using them as shorthand FOR normative sex instead of the ENFORCEMENT OF normative sex. so when other trans people (almost always dyadic trans people) ask for your agab they are almost always asking for your Original Genital Situation. your starting point, so to say. and the reason FOR asking is also almost always bc they are trying to also enforce a certain kind of normativity within queer spaces (which is stupid bc being queer is inherently non-normative but here we are). like, you cant be a lesbian if you're ftm, bc you ARE m, so if you ARE a lesbian, then that means you're lying about some aspect of your identity. does that make sense?

it is always always always incredibly.... i do not trust dyadic trans people that use cagab terms, even moreso than i do not trust dyadic trans people that just use agab terms. agab is also coopted intersex language, but the "coercive" part of cagab SPECIFICALLY refers to medical "intervention" of intersex characteristics, such as "corrective" surgeries and hrt. i am deeply fucking suspicious of any dyadic trans person that uses those terms exactly the same as described above, even moreso if they do so bc "all gender is coercive".

like. yeah. that's true. but you use these terms to erase and overtake intersex discussions on the medical abuse of intersex infants. and i cant help but wonder why you would feel the need to do that.

[seaquestions]

hugs & pets :3 | van @ mtl 11.12.23 & fla @ van 12.14.23

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[fragmentedblade]

The "Dan Heng is Dan Feng" dogmatics annoy me a lot. It entirely brushes off one of the most interesting and prevalent questions posed by the game, incarnated by several characters and stories that give the question different hues with different potential answers, and a constant also in HI3, like a thread waving the two games together

[eikichi-supremacy]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[pendinganchor]

“we never see billy change his ways in canon”

because he dies saving all their lives?????????