#i can never decide on a design for either of them

[xenosagaepisodeone]

some stray thoughts I've had re: my post about Nightbitch (2024) from last night. the recent decade has seen a rise in female writers penning stories about exhausted, educated, financially comfortable professional women and their grievances dating loser men (levels of education and careerdom varying, but often about the same as the woman). in these stories, the female protagonist possesses a cold awareness of the kinds of pitfalls engineered by the institution of marriage, heterosexual dating rituals, gendered divisions of labor, and is sometimes (but not always) even actively cognizant of the baseline kind of apathy that men can have towards women's lives. as professional women first however, they pursue relationships with loser men regardless. this not out of resignation, but instead because what these men do offer is just enough to garnish their idea of what a successful woman is. what a healthy middle class lifestyle looks like. their voluntary dissatisfaction is framed as a kind of martyrdom that a lot of recent media has thoughtlessly branded "womanhood". any morsel of actual happiness from the arrangement in these stories is suctioned between class-controlled ideas of lifestyle. in this context, heterosexual romance is a project that the woman and her husband perpetually work towards, and the woman is disappointed that the man does not understand this to the degree she does. they never stop to ask what actually makes them happy or consider what they want outside of the script, and either stay together by the end of the story or end up with other people who are roughly the same. it is functionally apologia for miserable suburban heterosexual domesticity.

now, here's my thing: if I was one of these professional women in a heterosexual relationship that existed as a power play, I would just start torturing my man in various ways. if I married the kind of guy that women in their 20s waste their time on, I would just start treating him like a dog. If I had the money I would put him in a scooby doo mansion of my own design. if he's treating you in a way that is incentivized by patriarchal society but not conscious of it, it just makes it easier. people watched Gone Girl and decided to take away the Cool Girl monologue instead of the insane way you can trap a schmuck you think is kind of cute in a gilded cage for fun.

[randomidiocyncrazies]

LH0's Q&A sesh on L0's arc (it's implied he'll do this type of Q&A after the conclusion of every arc)

EDIT: summary below the cut now 👍 please lmk if i got anything wrong etc

So first off, L0's arc is chronologically the last events that happen in this season, so OG Nice absolutely will show up in the later episodes as well. There's mention of OG Nice going berserk/黑化 (corrupted due to (usually) mental anguish) and LH0 is looking forward to when the audience gets to see those scenes. (and uh the off-handed mention of "will L0 also succumb to those pressures/turn to the dark side?" is sllllightly worrying lol)

LH0 also says Nice isn't just a facade/role, but has his own character and story, which reflects the cruelty of the world they're in. It's interesting that he talks about "未來奈斯的命運 the future fate of Nice (or the fate of a future Nice?)" can still be explored, which could mean either OG Nice isn't actually dead, some other schmuck becomes Nice, or just means his story ('fate') is yet to be revealed. I personally think it's 1 or 3 (leaning more towards 3) but who knows. He did kinda put emphasis on "it may be shown later on" so like. take it as you will.

As for L0, LH0 says his story starts off as a typical "wage slave/underappreciated office worker wins prestige and respect" fantasy, but with the end of ep 4 it shows that the world of TBHX can be very harsh and cruel, with hidden conspiracies. As for L0's future development, there's tons of possibility for exploration so I guess we gotta wait and see.

About the pacing, the first 4 eps are deliberately fast, but each hero's arc will have a different rhythm since they have different themes. The Top 10 will also have more of a presence in the others' stories.

LH0 clarified that, although Lu Guang from Link Click and Mo Sha/Ghostblade both have white hair, the two works are independent from one another. I'm pretty sure he just likes white hair character designs (tbhx alone has 4 heroes with white hair within the top 10). He thinks Ghostblade's story will probably take us all by surprise, and he's a little worried about whether people will like it/accept a story like that.

The next question is about whether Nice gets startled by his giant statue in the middle of the night. LH0 intended the statue to be kind of ironic, and confirmed that it's a reminder/symbol for Nice to believe in himself (or like, a reminder of the faith that is put on him as his persona as Nice). As to whether the heroes are more like employees clocking in (打公仔) than heroes, LH0 says each hero has their own ideals, but are also caged by those ideals—the essence of the story is to explore them as people who have faith placed upon them, and how they choose to live their life with those ideals.

Last question reveals that Hero Tower only houses the top 100 heroes, meaning Enlighter was not a resident at rank 249. The lowest floor can fit 2 rooms + 1 living room, so it's decently spacious even for the 100th hero. That said, I personally feel like this makes the competition (especially among the lower ranks) fierce, since they will lose housing if they don't maintain their place. And given how Firm Man was presumably kicked out of the Tower by the end of ep 3, a single shift in perception can cost you your accommodations. (I also kinda assumed family or significant others can move in, since Moon was supposedly living with Nice... we never knew her rankings but ep 2 did say she was not very well-known until her 'relationship' with Nice.)

(this also raises the question of what happens if multiple ranked heroes decide to bunk together/live on the same floor—with how it works I assume that means floors would be empty? for example if no. 25 and no. 46 decided to live together, does that mean one of their floors would stay empty until rankings change?

also nobody knows who X is, so idk if he even lives at the tower...)

[sometimesoliloquy]

hey it’s the “see you later” anon back again to say 1 more thing. june also says i don’t know you i don’t know anything about you and nick responds “my name is nick blaine and i’m from michigan” i think we’re aware that june learns something in season 6 about nick and spirals from that (or we’re assuming that’s what happens?) and i think it comes back to that moment in season 1. who is nick? and is who he says he is/who june knows him to be enough?

Hello again!

Yes, I agree it does seem like we are in for an immanent “who is Nick” reckoning. The show likes to do this periodically: the s1 “I don’t know anything about you” scene eventually playing into/escalating to the infamous s3 Swiss meeting: “I don’t think you know who Mr. Blaine is, or was. Our research indicates he’s not to be trusted”—Side note: I watched Casablanca last night and it’s well-documented that the name “Nick Blaine” (the writers choosing the last name of Blaine for the show that is, "Nick" is canon from the book of course), is a nod to the “Rick Blaine” of that movie but I never realized just how heavy the parallels are, including repeated references to a “shady”, mysterious past and a consistent thread of just how little the two love interests really know about each others’ lives (largely by design). Anyway I thought this was really interesting, I may do a longer post on it later, idk.

Anyway, I do think that Nick must have opened up to June a lot more after that s1 scene but clearly there’s still a lot of details she doesn’t know, either by design or just the fact of how little time they have together. And unfortunately the full question of why Mr. Blaine was “not to be trusted” has never been satisfactorily answered. The “resolution” we were given, insofar as June’s feelings anyway, seems to be that she decided it didn’t matter. That she chose to trust what she knew of him, based on his words and actions and her gut, rather than what she’s been told by strangers (and Serena). And she knows shit is complicated in Gilead, she certainly knows he’s no angel (as she says to Esther in s4: “Gilead makes it really hard to be good”).

Whatever it is June learns in the upcoming episode that causes her to spiral, or to doubt him, I think it will ultimately echo this same pattern, though in a bigger way and ultimately with a more distinct resolution. Whatever she learns about his past or present (if that is indeed the “shocking revelation”), I think she’ll eventually come back to the conclusion that the core of what she knows of Nick is true—that he’s a good man (who loves her) even if it is very complicated.

I do have to think that this time they’ll have to talk about it and have a real reckoning though. They didn’t exactly have that chance in s3/4 but they need to now. And I don’t think June would ever just toss Nick aside for good without letting him explain himself. I think if they are to really be together, to ever truly have a relationship grounded in the “real world”, with a potential future—not just the cumulative amalgamation of fleeting, stolen moments they’ve had so far, where the details and the past were shoved aside by necessity—they need to finally have it out, let it all come to a head and decide where they stand: what can and can’t be forgiven, and what’s most important to them. (@withallthingslove wrote about this really thoughtfully a few weeks back when the press kit came out, I think it's here in this this post). 

June has recently been having these crucial moments of clearing the the air with her loved ones, finally saying things that long needed to be said —first with Luke, then Moira, so maybe the biggest one yet is now on the horizon, with Nick. And we will see where they land.

[regulvst]

THE SILLIEST

im not rlly happy w this one but….,, thats ok i suppose

reference is from trueref!

[galactaknightyaoi]

When I first got into Kirby, I didn't expect to like, actually get into it. I thought it'd be like any other hyperfixation I'd had up to that point, that it would go away within a few months and I'd never think about it again.

Given I was so deeply in denial, I didn't care about being fully accurate and had some stuff that was really goofy and/or underdeveloped and unexplained. Stuff I'd made up to just work for the limited time I would be there.

Still, I came up with a few headcanons that I got attached to, and when I started realizing this was here to stay, I still chose to be stubborn and had to work backwards to keep these stupid headcanons, but adapt them into something a bit more fitting and polished.

It led to some cool stuff, like for example, my orbs aren't very magical, this was something I had settled on early on. But after I got invested, I had to think about what that actually meant and the implications of it like, how can they do this without magic? And what about that? What about this canon thing, how do I explain it?

I found decent enough explanations for all of these. But as a result of my unserious beginnings and continued stubborness, now I get really embarrassed at the time to actually talk about my headcanons and the stuff I've come up with.

Because what do you mean your Galacta Knight is half-dragon?

[moonogre]

Anyway I started making these weird front/back shirts do people like them? 👀

Ropeslut

You Promised!

God as a Sacrifice

Alcatraz

Defeat

[arolesbianism]

Been thinking abt them <3

[sysig]

Hey, those look familiar! (Patreon)

[monarchofandromeda]

tann calling ryder a pretend pathfinder is really such a big dick move I can’t help but respect him for it even though it pisses me off

[cy-cyborg]

Free Manual Wheelchair Reference Models

ID: A banner with grey 3D models of 5 kinds of manual wheelchairs in a line in front of the disability pride flag and text that reads "Manual Wheelchair References" /End ID

For disability pride month, I decided to release a pack of 3D manual wheelchair models.

The pack includes 5 wheelchairs:

2 Active urban-style chairs (one of which includes a smart drive)

1 off-road active chair

1 children's wheelchair

and 1 standard "hospital" wheelchair).

All the wheelchairs are based off either wheelchairs I or friends of mine have used

Downloadable here!

or on the Clip Studio Paint Asset Store (ID 2097442) (there's been an issue with the CSP version, but the models in the download folder can be imported into clip studio paint until I can fix it)

More info about the download contents below:

The first download link includes the original .Blend file with all 5 chairs, as well as individual .obj or .fbx files the chairs (All but 1 have an .obj file, as they're only meshes. The chair with the smart drive is rigged, which is why it has an .Fbx file instead so it will retain that information) as well as a "read me" file that explains in more depth what kind of disability/character/lifestyle each chair is made for (These are just what I had in mind when I designed them, they are usable by other characters who don't fit the suggestions for the most part!) I wanted to include the Read Me contents in the CSP Asset Store listing, but CS said it was too long lol.

Also, as the title says, these files are free to use! While it's not mandatory, I would appreciate credit if you use them (or even just a tag so I can see the cool art you make with them!!)

I actually made these ages ago, the original plan was to use them in a series of posts then release the pack, but I never got around to making the series and so they've just been sitting here. I took a day off from art fight attacks to clean them all up and get them ready to post. If you experience any issues, let me know and I'll try to fix it up.

I had a couple more that were supposed to be in the pack including a sports (basketball/Tennis) wheelchair and some different styles of wheelchair, but I think the files corrupted so once I fix (or remake) them, I'll probably make a second pack.

If you have any issues, please let me know!

[readwritealldayallnight]

“But what if you hate it?”

“I can tell ya I wouldn’t, because it’d be yours.”

“Okay but what if you actually do really hate it, and you can’t tell me because you just said that?”

“Love, ya don’ have to do this. I didn’t wan’ this to stress ya-”

“No! No, Simon I want to do it. It’s such a sweet idea you had, I’ll do another one.” You finally decide, putting the pen back to paper, unable to bring yourself to actually draw.

“Could always take any o’ the ones from the bin.” He offers, nodding his head over towards the overflowing waste basket surrounded by crumbled up pieces of paper, evidence of your many previous attempts.

When SImon had brought up the idea of you drawing something for him to add to his sleeve to represent you, you’d jumped at the opportunity, loving the idea. However, you’d all too quickly discovered that you were having issues committing to the idea of what to draw, and Simon was refusing to offer any ideas, wanting the idea and design to be entirely yours.

Appropriate to his call sign, your first instinct had been to try drawing different versions of ghosts, but each one felt too cartoony, too childish, and you passed on that idea.

Then you thought you would draw your own little skull, something that could more easily be incorporated into the images and not be totally out of theme. But the next issue to come to light though, was when the connection between you brain and your hand apparently forgot entirely how to draw a skull, and you hated everything that came up on paper.

“S’that a lightbulb?” He’d asked at one point, and the skull idea was quickly out the window too.

From there, you were worried he wouldn’t like any of your drawings, as you couldn’t bring yourself to like any them either. You’d both agreed to put a pin in it for the time being, and as the weeks passed, you nearly forgot about his request.

That was until, he came home with a plastic wrapping around his forearm.

“You hurt?” You ask him, immediately spotting the darker bandages peeking out from the edges of his sleeve as he removes his jacket.

“Nah, just got somethin’ done.” He replies, sauntering over to you, slowly folding up his sleeve to reveal more of his pale skin.

“Huh?

Instead of answering, he carefully unravels the outer layer of bandages, before slowly peeling back the bandage to show you the skin underneath, an overly pleased grin stretching across his face, chuckle bursting through as your stunned gasp echoes through your shared flat.

Forever on his skin, Simon has tattooed something you’d drawn in the first birthday card you ever gave him. In your handwriting, he can always glance down at himself and see both your and his initial with a plus sign between them, surrounded by a little heart with an arrow going through it. When you’d drawn it for him, never in a million years had you thought he would be etching the corny doodle onto himself permanently, but now, that same doodle is his favourite thing to look at when away on deployment.

[chaoticwriting]

GOTHAM'S NEW ROGUE 4

Part 3

Danny looks at the guy skeptically. Last time someone approached him, they were Red Robin, Spoiler and Signal. This time, a dude that looks like an average office worker approaches him.

Trickster: Sure, why not?

???: Thank you.

Trickster: So, what do you want with me?

???: Let me introduce myself first. I am Clark Kent. A journalist from the Daily Planet. I would like to ask, is it true that you know Batman's secret identity?

Trickster: You mean those pictures I stole from his wallet? Yeah sure. Why do you wanna know?

Clark: As you know, I am a journalist. And it is our job to find out about news and share it with the general public. I am just thinking, what would you like to exchange for the real identity of Batman.

Trickster: Hmmm..... What price huh? Let me think for a moment.

Danny then continues to eat his food as he pretends to think about Clark's offer. Honestly, he doesn't give a damn about this Clark guy. He is also a vigilante once, so he knows the importance of their secret identities. While slurping away his last coke, Danny gains a very good idea (He thinks it is a good idea).

Trickster: Well, I don't think I would sell the pictures just yet since the card is still useful and I don't need money. However, I have a very interesting topic you can investigate.

Clark: Oh? What is it?

Trickster: Try searching for something called GIW. It is a government branch and I'm sure it will be a hit piece.

Clark: GIW? What is that?

Trickster: Well that's for you to figure out. Oh well. I'm pretty full now. Gotta go now. See you never.

Danny then disappears right in front of Clark before he can do anything. Clark can't even hear or see the kid anymore with his enhanced sense and x-ray vision further cementing that the kid probably has teleportation power.

Danny meanwhile is laying on his makeshift bed while watching the stars after he uses his power to clear the sky thinking what he just did is very smart. Unfortunately, he doesn't know this decision is as good as the previous time he thinks his idea is good.

-1 month later-

Danny is picking up scraps from the junkyard for his next prank. Collecting some toasters, some blenders and even some radios. Danny has spent a lot of time these past few months, tinkering with machines that he practically knows what component is in which appliances.

Suddenly, he sees a very familiar device among the junk. A sleek silver gun with a few green buttons on it. It doesn't have the usual designs that Danny used to see but Danny knows without a doubt in his mind that it is an ecto gun.

The problem is that, the gun is new. Very new. Like it is just created. And that means one thing. A GIW agent is here. Shit! Danny needs to run. But where? He has checked before this but the only place with enough ectoplasm to hide him is either Gotham or Amity Park. No where else in the world has as much ambience ectoplasm to hide him from the ecto detector.

But now that they are in Gotham, he might as well not hide since at such close proximity, the ambient ectoplasm can only hide him if they are not close. Danny is thinking very hard when his ears pick up something. A group of people is coming his way, and from the way they are all carrying heavy devices, they are probably GIW agents.

Danny against his better judgement turns invisible and flies high enough so that if the agents decide to shoot him, he will have time to dodge them. Danny watches quietly as the ecto detector bips faster and faster the more they go to where he is previously.

???: Damn it. I thought this is where Trickster is. But it's just the gun that you lost.

???: Hey, at least we don't need to file reports of missing weapons right? Also, didn't that thing already get set up by the Fentons to find Trickster?

???: It's probably them messing it up. It's not like them messing shit up is something new anyway.

???: Yeah. Let's just say it is a false alarm. I hear the higher ups are thinking of lowering our budgets next year if we don't produce any results soon.

???: Ugghh, don't remind me of that. Not only do they pressure us like that. I even heard that there is some guy that has been snooping around our base, taking pictures and stuff.

???: I hate those reporters. We are trying to do our job and save them from those savages, and yet here they are messing with us. Calling us genocidal maniacs and the second coming of Nazis.

???: If that is not bad enough, they even say that they feel like we should treat the ghost as if they are people. Ghosts are not people! They are merely beast pretending to be someone we used to know and love.

???: I would love to just punch those reporters to the face if not for the fact that Boss ordered us to stay put.

Suddenly their walky talky start to beep.

Walkie-talkie: Agent P, Agent Q. Return to the base of operation immediately. We are receiving visits from the higher ups.

Both of the agents reply with Roger and hurriedly run towards their van and drive off somewhere. Danny looks at them and decides, he has found what his next prank is going to be.

Part 5

[harryspet]

rough hands, soft chains [4] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, jealousy, DUBCON, oral sex, rafe is HUGE, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

a/n: I posted this drabble about readers' state of mind at the end of chapter 3 if you'd like read it before this chapter :)

In which everything is perfect, it's you and Rafe’s wedding shower, and nothing could possibly go wrong.

word count: 5.5k

rough hands, soft chains masterlist

“I hate this shit,” Rafe grumbled, fumbling with the engraved silver buckle that adorned his belt. You thought he looked handsome. His shirt was crisp and white, his leather blazer a deep charcoal with subtle western embroidery, and his dark-wash jeans looked expensive but well-worn enough to look natural on him. He looked like the perfect cowboy to you. He’d sat his deep brown hat on the edge of your freshly made bed before he plopped down next to it, “We should stay up here. Have Wheezie bring us food.”

"But it's our wedding shower," you murmured absentmindedly, your focus fixed on the precise sweep of your mascara wand. Each coat was deliberate, just enough to make your eyes stand out, but not so much that it overwhelmed the rest of your look.

“I never would’ve agreed to let Rose plan this if I-I …. if I knew there had to be an engagement party, bridal shower, wedding shower, and a rehearsal dinner before we even got to the actual wedding.” 

“But you only get married once, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, baby,” Rafe continued, waving a hand dismissively, “But that’s not the point.”

You spent another five minutes adding blush and bronzer, then you spent a full ten minutes doing your lips, and you topped it off with a fine mist, locking everything into place. Your armor for the day. Rafe had begun pacing but that wasn’t out of the norm, “How do I look?” You asked when you finally revealed your carefully designed look to match the dress you and Sarah had bought together. 

The dress was made of delicate lace, an ivory color, that gave a hint of the skin beneath. The bodice was fitted, hugging your curves, strapless and the skirt flowed softly from your waist, ending above your knees. It was completely romantic, in your opinion, and Sarah had begged you to get it. 

At first, Rafe said nothing. His expression shifted, his brow knitting together, lips pressing into a firm line. His eyes locked onto you, dark and unreadable. He scratched at the back of his head, shifting his weight from foot to foot, a sign that something was brewing beneath his surface. 

“Uh,” Rafe started, his eyes going wide, “Fuck …yeah, baby, you look fucking gorgeous.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face, glossy lips pulled into a curve. You walked closer and Rafe placed his hands on your hips, “You think so?” You batted heavy eyelashes up at him, placing your hands on his chest. You felt his heart beating fast beneath your palm. 

“Don’t do that,” Rafe smirked, leaning down until his breath was fanning over your face, “I’ll keep you up here, I will. Tie you down to the bed.” 

“That will mess up my makeup.”

“Well, I was going to mess up your makeup either way. You can decide if it’s before or after the party.”

He didn’t wait for your response, leaning down to peck your lips. It was brief but soft and warm. You giggled when you opened your eyes, finding his lips glossy in the same shade of pink as yours. 

You liked the version Rafe you’d gotten to know over the last two weeks. It made your heart race with anxiety to even think about him pinning you down on Ward’s desk. But your heart filled up when you thought about laying next to Rafe everyday after that. You felt broken, barely able to pull yourself out of bed, but he stayed with you. He made sure you ate, kept Rose from prying into your business, and brought you flowers nearly every other day, filling the surface of your antique dresser. You did your best to care for them, but only now were they beginning to wilt.

He wiped his lips with the sleeve of his suit jacket and you saw a bit of blush rise in his cheeks. 

You pulled from him, crossing the room to your closet. You picked out the strappy heels that you’d also bought with Sarah. You came back to sit on your bed, leaning down to lace them onto your feet. Rafe rounded your footboard, hand hanging on the wood and upholstery. 

“I’m excited,” You admitted, “I’m, like, nervous still. But it’s exciting.”

You glanced at him, finding his eyes fixed on your exposed legs, his eys trailing up to your thighs. It was a hungry look. He’d grown kinder but his appetite was still there. Part of you worried that his darker side might return, that he couldn’t contain his true nature, and it was a matter of time before he snapped. He held you tight at night, his fingers slipped into the front of your panties, oftentimes when you were still drowsy in the morning. He took your orgasms from you, as he always did, but he hadn’t pushed you again like that day two weeks ago. 

“You should be excited,” He said, “We’re very close to life being exactly as it should be.” 

You gave him an agreeing look. A honeymoon in Florida and then you and Rafe would have a whole house to yourself. A home. You didn’t know what you wanted from life before you met Rafe. You knew you wanted your Dad back but since you couldn’t have that, following his wishes would the next best thing. Maybe this was the best thing your father could’ve done for you. 

“I’m excited to meet Kiara,” You said, finishing strapping your feet into your heels. You stood, taller than before, but still much shorter than Rafe. 

“Kie?” Rafe’s brow raised and your heart stumbled, afraid that you had made a mistep, “What do you mean?”

Sarah had explained that Rafe didn’t necessarily like her friends but you also understood that Rafe didn’t like many things in general.  You'd thought hard about it once. He liked you and Wheezie. He liked whiskey. He liked movies where guys raced fast cars. He liked riding his horse and working with his Dad. You couldn't come up with anything else.

"Sarah’s bringing her as a date," you said, your voice turning a little unsure. "And, um, I think her family is, like… catering the wedding? I think?"

You could feel him thinking deeply, “Interesting.” Was all he said. 

That sounded neutral, right? Neutral was good. Safe.

You smiled, encouraged. "Oh! I was thinking it’d be fun if she came to my bachelorette too! So it’s not just me and Sarah."

“What about Wheeze?” He asked, voice deep and concerned. 

“Oh,” You started, “Sarah thinks she’s too young.”

“Sarah,” he spoke his sister’s name like it was a cruse, “You know she’ll be pissed. And I don’t think Sarah should be planning anything for your day that isn’t appropriate for my little sister. I thought you guys were going to the spa or something.”

You took in all his words, beginning to feel guilty about not including Wheezie, “I can talk to Sarah,” You said, “I just don’t know what most girls do. Sarah seemed to have good ideas about fun things to do. And she said the spa ideas was, um, boring.”

“Sarah’s idea of fun should not be your idea of fun.”

Your brows furrowed. Now you were confused, “But …” Despite the time you had spent with him, you’d yet to learn how to successfully argue with him, “What’s my idea of fun then?”

Sometimes you liked when Rafe filled in all of your blanks. It kept you from thinking too much and overthinking always led to shallow breaths and watery eyes. 

Rafe exhaled, like he’d already worked this all out in his head. “Something that involves Wheezie.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an answer. You nodded automatically. “Okay.”

It was a simple enough request. You’d just have to tell Sarah. And really, what was there to do in town, anyway? It wasn’t like you had a million options.

The backyard stretched endlessly, turing into rolling hills, and groves of towering pines. Edison bulbs twinkled above your head, shining light down onto long, wooden banquet tables. Dinner was over. Everyone was standing now, drinking glasses of wine, and talking in small groups. The Cameron’s knew a lot of people. People you didn’t even recognize from living here all your life. Rafe explained that they were business partners. A live band, one man with an acoustic guitar, the other with a fiddle played softly from a wooden platform. 

You were at Rafe’s side for a majority of the night. A photographer also seemd to follow the two of you everywhere. Under Rose’s direction, you took posed photos under a floral arch with white roses, Montana wildflowers and fresh greenery. In one, Rafe tilted your chin up, kissing you so deeply that you thought your heart might explode. 

The sky had darkened, the party continued to stretch into the night, and Rafe’s attention began to wander. He’d made it to his fifth bud light and now he was loudly talking into his friend, Kelce’s ear, his hand having left your hips moments before. 

You decided to look for Sarah, slipping away because Rafe wasn’t paying attention to you anyways. Some people walked up to you to congratulate you, some to offer condolences, and some just stared. 

You weren’t sure what to say to any of them. The words tangled somewhere in your throat, so you just smiled. Small, pretty, vacant.  You scanned the crowd, searching for Sarah’s familiar silhouette, but all you found were unfamiliar faces, whispering in hushed voices as their eyes lingered on you just a second too long.

Once you made your way back inside, shuffling through servers in their bright white shirts, you found Wheezie standing in the foyer, her eyes fixed down on her phone, “Wheezie, have you seen Sarah?” You asked and she barely looked up. 

“She left.” 

You stomached dipped, “What do you mean?”

“Kiara and her walked out like twenty minutes ago. Think they went to the barn.”

“Oh," You tried to hide your disappointment with a small grin, “Why?”

“I don’t know why Sarah does anything she does,” Wheezie tilted her head, studying you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go look for them.”

“Alone?” She inquired, “Rafe’s gonna come looking for you.”

“He’s busy, I think,” You said, “I’ll be back in like ten minutes anways!”

Although Wheezie didn’t look convinced, she didn’t stop you either. She simply hummed, shifting her focus back to her phone. You walked out the front door, feeling the cool night air on your skin. You decided to leave your heels behind, knowing they’d just get stuck in the mud. Rafe would notice you were gone, eventually, but still your feet carried you forward. 

You recalled the first night you were here, when Rafe walked with you to the barn, and spread your legs on the floor of it. The other building, farther off in the distance, was the ranch hand’s quarters. You remembered that too. 

You heard them before you saw them. Laughter. Sarah’s was unmistakable and you’d gotten used to John B’s voice as well but you hesitated at the barn’s open doors when you heard an unfamiliar male voice. Slowly, you peered inside. You spotted Sarah sitting on a bale of hay next to a girl with light brown skin and curly hair. Sarah had an entire bottle of wine in her hand and sipped from it casually. 

Across from them stood John B. and a dark-skinned boy with a lean build and soft, deep brown eyes. Next to him was a boy whose sun-kissed blonde hair was kept in check by a weathered white cowboy hat. His skin was tanned and his smile was wide with mischief. 

A strong smell hit your nose too, earthy and smoky. You assumed it came from the cigarette in John B.'s hand, or at least, you thought it was a cigarette. 

It was too late to abort, because the blonde had spotted you and, in turn, all eyes turned to you. You wandered into the light of the barn awkwardly, your eyes meeting Sarah’s, her brown one’s lighting up with excitement, “Y/N!” She shouted, handing the wine bottle over to Kiara, and crossing the space to get to you. Her arms wrapped around your waist as she pulled you forward, “Guys, this is Y/N! Y/N, these are my friends I was telling you about.”

The group looked you over with curious eyes, their smiles friendly but tinged with cautious skepticism, as if still unsure of what to make of you.

She pointed them all out. Pope, JJ and Kiara. John B., you knew, of course. “Welcome,” John B. said. 

“Hi,” You waved. 

“You look so good!” Sarah exclaimed and you smelt the wine on her breath, “I was telling everyone how beautiful you are!”

“Thank you,” You smiled faintly, glancing over at Kiara, who gave you a soft, welcoming wave, “...Um, how come you guys didn’t come to the party?” 

“Oh–” JJ started but Pope quickly interjected. 

“It was a little too crowded,” Pope said, offering you an apologetic smile.

You nodded, accepting it, but your eyes couldn’t help but find JJ’s. His gaze was intense, but not in the way Rafe’s could be. It was the kind of stare that took you in without any hidden motive, no pressure. Just curiosity.

“Yeah,” Sarah chimed in, trying to ease the moment. “But I’m glad you came out here.”

“Rafe didn’t follow you, did he?” Kiara asked and you felt the tension that grew between the five of them. 

“No,” You shook your head, “I didn’t say anything,” you assured them, looking at each of them with wide, innocent eyes.

“Good,” Sarah said in approval and your mood lightened. 

JJ, however, seemed unfazed by the tension. He pushed past Pope, whose gaze had hardened slightly, as if issuing a warning that went unnoticed. JJ’s eyes were back on you, and his voice was playful as he moved closer, his grin widening. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” You blinked, feeling a little taken aback.

“Yeah, word gets around,” JJ replied, his eyes scanning you again, like he was memorizing your every detail. You fidgeted with the edge of your lace dress,  “And now I see why. You're hard to miss.”

“JJ,” John B. and Pope spoke at the same time. 

“What? I was just about to offer our guest some refreshments,” He turned to look at them but his gaze was fixed back on you soon. He gestured to the makeshift bar sitting on top of one of the stall gates. A bottle of clear liquor, a six-pack of beers with only two beers left, and a dirty shot glass, “She’s the bride. Gotta make sure she has a good time.”

“You don’t have to drink anything,” Sarah said. 

“She should at least have a shot,” JJ argued, “It’s her party, after all.”

You hesitated, but something about JJ’s easy confidence made the thought of refusing feel wrong. You didn’t want to come off as boring. 

“JJ, don’t be weird,” Kiara spoke, sounding annoyed, “That’s Rafe’s fiance.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Big, bad, Rafe. I’m shaking in my boots,” You didn’t understand and your eyes darted between all of them before they landed back on JJ, “What do you say, Y/N? Celebratory shot?’

It was just a shot. Nothing crazy. Except you’d forgotten to eat in all the commotion and attention, and the alcohol immediately went to your head. Plus, it burned your throat. You coughed but JJ’s smiled wider, making you think that you’d done something right. Everyone else was watching you with interest. 

Moments later, he was pouring you another and cracking open the rest of the beers, handing one to Kiara and then to Pope, “To new friends?” He raised his glass and you glanced around as everyone raised their respective glasses. 

“To new friends,” The others answered reluctantly and tilted back their drinks. You downed the second shot, wincing as it went down, smoother than the first one but still awful. 

Surprisingly, you heard Kiara laugh, “You’re brave for drinking out of that glass, girl.” 

"You’re more fun than I expected, cowgirl," JJ said with a teasing grin, his voice low and smooth.

“That’s mean, JJ.” Kiara said.

“Seriously, you’re cool, how did you end up engaged to Rafe?”

"JJ," John B. warned, his voice a little sharp as he glanced at him.

To your surprise, Pope, who’d been mostly quiet up until now, chimed in with a serious look. “No, I think it’s a valid question.”

You froze for a second. It wasn’t like you could just come out and say, well, it’s complicated and totally a mess. You didn’t even know what was going on with Rafe half the time. You decided to shrug it off, “I’m still figuring things out,” You tried to sound casual, though your heart was pounding, “I mean, we’re figuring things out together.”

“Enough interrogating, guys,” John B. said and you were grateful.

You’d been gone for too long, anyways, “I should get back to the party. It was really nice meeting ya'll.”

“We’ll see you around then, Y/N,” Pope smiled at you and you couldn’t help but feel warm. Or maybe that was just the alcohol.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You turned to Kiara, “Kiara, I hope you can come to my bachelorette.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” She spoke in a way that made you think she might be coolest girl you’d ever met. 

“Alright,” As you walked pass, Sarah grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. The warmth of her touch felt like a promise, like you’d just been accepted into something new, something different than what you were used to.

When you were back in the night, clear of the barn doors, you heard Pope’s voice loudly erupt, “Are you a fucking idiot, JJ?” 

Back inside the house, you searched for Wheezie, wanting her to break the news to Rose that you wanted to retire for the night. The party could certainly go on without you seeing as you knew barely anyone here. Your eyes felt tired, and honestly you felt a little bit wobbly, “Wheezie,” You whispered, as you peaked around corners and opened all the downstairs doors, hoping to find her on her phone, “Wheeeeezie.”

You made your way upstairs next, deciding to check her room. The teenager’s room was completely empty and you let out a tired huff. You just needed to lay down for a second. As soon as you turned on your heel, Rafe appeared, tall legs hurrying up the stairs. 

“Y/N,” His voice boomed as heavy as his steps, “Where you been?”

You tried to steady yourself but you stumbled backwards, “What’s going on, baby?” He caught you quickly, his voice softening. He held your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You leaned against the wall, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I just …wanted to get away from the party,” You spoke slowly, your head swimming, “I’m fine. Just sleepy.”

Rafe studied you for a moment longer, his brows furrowing as if piecing something together. He looked down at your feet, “You went outside. Where’s your shoes?” 

“Downstairs somewhere. I guess I lost them,” You smiled weakly. 

“Hmm,” He leaned down to kiss your lips and you accepted, your tongue dancing with his.  

He pulled away, his eyes darkening, “You taste like vodka,” he murmured, his voice low and quiet. “Cheap vodka.”

“It’s a party, right?” You asked softly, “Our party.”

“I know they weren’t serving whatever you’ve been drinking. Tell me, what have you been doing? And with who?”

“I feel like … I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

His hand reached up, cupping your face with surprising tenderness. “I won’t be mad at you,” he said, his voice reassuring, though his eyes betrayed something darker. “But I need to know, darlin’. And I need you to be honest.”

You faltered, struggling with your words. “I don’t want you to be mad at anyone else either. Can we just go to bed?”

His jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. “Sarah,” he muttered, his voice low. “She gave it to you, didn’t she?”

“Wha–” You froze as Rafe’s jaw tightened, “It wasn’t her–”

“And you smell like fucking weed,” His face scrunched up and his voice turned low and painful. 

"I smell like... a weed?" you asked, confused, the words coming out in a dazed haze as you tried to process his words.

“Fucking Pogues,” Rafe cursed and you yelped when his fist pounded against the wall beside your head, “Stay here. I’ll deal with this.”

You reached out to grab his arm, your fingers trembling against tense muscles beneath his skin, “Wait. No, no, no, stay here with me.” 

He grabbed you next, and lifted you off your feet as he dragged you across the hallway. You tried to pull away, to get him to let you go, but his grip tightened. "Rafe, please!" you cried, struggling to free yourself, but it was futile. His hold on you was ironclad.

"Stay the fuck in here. I’ll be right back," he commanded, his voice colder than ice as he forced you into his room. The door slammed shut and then there was a wall between the two of you. The click of the lock followed and you stumbled back, your heart racing. 

You heard his footsteps retreat, a few heavy thuds followed by the faint sound of him calling out to someone. You pressed your ear against the door, straining to hear anything, but it was quiet for a moment.

You hurried towards the window, pressing your palms against the cool glass as you looked down toward the front of the house. Through the dim light spilling from the porch, you could see a trio of men walking in a purposeful, determined line away from the house.

He’ll be right back. You doubted that. You should’ve laid down then. But you did your best to undo the zipper of your dress, needing more room to breathe, before you wandered into Rafe’s closet. You pushed a mountain of clothes to the side, settling in the corner, and cried your makeup away. 

How did you manage to mess up everything with Sarah, her friends, and Rafe all in one night? Why did you have to ruin everything?

It wasn’t the first time Rafe had blown up at Sarah. She often stood in the way of everything he wanted in life. Ward loved her more than him, for some unknown reason that baffled Rafe the more he tried to understand it. This night was about him and you and yet Sarah and her pogue friends had to crash their party. Rafe couldn’t have one thing that was just his. Now she was trying to corrupt you, his sweet and clueless bride. 

“Where’s the rest of your friends?” Rafe asked when he and his friends found just John B., Kiara and Sarah in the barn, “They run? Huh?” 

Sarah rolled her eyes, hard, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t mess with me, Sarah.”

“What? Did you snort too many lines tonight?” 

Rafe imagined his hands around her throat. He squeezed his fist tight, examining the scene before him, assessing what exactly he could get away with in this moment. Soon, someone would notice that both Rafe and his future bride had disappeared from their own party. He was on thin ice with Ward already.

Kiara shifted, stepping in front of Sarah like some kind of shield. “Back off, Rafe.” Her voice was steady, but he could see the way her hands clenched into nervous fists.

Rafe let out a cold laugh, pointing straight at his sister, his gaze razor-sharp. “I’ll make every last one of your little Pogue friends miserable, you hear me?” His voice was low, dangerous, a promise rather than a threat. “I’m gettin’ the company, the money, the influence, every goddamn thing. Cameron Ranch pays all their fucking bills, and you know it. You think Heyward’s could run without us? Kie, your parents buy their beef from us, same as every other rich asshole in this town. Y’all survive because we let you…and you …”

Rafe turned towards John B., “You know better. No one else in this town would have you on with your history. And your friend, JJ, if I find out he put one finger on her. I’ll fucking kill him.” His voice dropped to a whisper, seething with a quiet rage. 

It was a promise. His blood boiled at the idea of JJ’s eyes on you. He would’ve killed him if the pogue hadn't been smart enough to run. That’s why he left you in his room, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he saw him. 

“That’s enough!” Sarah shouted, her expression twisted in frustration, “Stop, Rafe. You got your point across.”

“Nothing even happened, asshole,” Kiara said. 

“Like he should believe that,” Topper scoffed, speaking up, “Dirty pogues.”

“Let it go,” John B. said, “Before you do something you regret, man.” 

Rafe nodded, jaw tight. He considered them lucky. Damn lucky. They were on his property, his land, trespassing, he had every right to go after them, “Keep your friends away from Y/N,” Rafe said to his sister, “I’m serious.”

“You can’t control who she’s friends with!”

“I promise you won’t like it if you push me on this one, Sarah,” With one last glance at Sarah, he turned on his heel, heading back toward the house, back toward something far more important, back towards you. 

Rose ripped into him, of course, after the happy couple completely abandoned their own wedding shower. He would’ve preferred his father’s yelling over hers. She cornered him in the foyer, before he could climb the stairs, and Rafe started to feel a headache coming on. It was then he remembered the beers and the fact that he was not even close to sober. It wasn’t his fault the night ended in disaster. He’d done his part, networked, kept up appearances, and even posed for a million photos. The Pogues showing up and manipulating his fiance into getting drunk was out of his control. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Wheezie peaking from the bannister upstairs. She was eavesdropping, of course. He apologized to Rose instead of raising his voice. She continued. He apologized five more times. She didn’t accept, he didn’t expect her to. She threw up her hands in exhaustion, said she was going to talk to Ward, and then stormed off. 

With a heavy sigh, Rafe climbed the stairs.

His nosy little sister asked, “Why is Y/N crying in your room? She sounds like a kicked puppy.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. Great.

“Ask Sarah,” Rafe spoke curtly, annoyed. He reached into his pocket for his keys. 

“Sarah?”

“Goodnight, Wheezie.” Was all he said before he unlocked his bedroom door, pushed inside, and slammed it shut. 

He understood immediately what Wheezie meant by you sounding like a kicked puppy. You weren’t where he expected you'd be but it didn’t take long to narrow down where you were. He gave himself a few minutes to collect himself, bracing for your torrent of emotions, bracing for the anger you probably felt towards him. 

Being mad at him would be useless in the end. Rafe had decided the two of your belonged together. He certainly didn’t believe in soulmates but he understood ownership and possession. Whatever it was, the two of you would work for it, because you belonged to him. 

He found you, head in your hands, shaking like a leaf. He kicked off his boots, lowered down to the ground, and moved next to you, “Y/N?” 

“I’m sorry,” You said immediately, your voice pitiful. 

“You’re sorry, baby?” It wasn’t the reaction he expected from you but he leaned into it, “You’re sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for,” You hiccuped, “For drinking. I don’t know why I did it. I just …” 

“You want Sarah to like you,” Rafe filled in your often incomplete thoughts and you finally looked up. Despite the streaked mascara and smudged lipstick, he thought you looked gorgeous. 

“Yeah … I shouldn’t, right?” You asked hesitantly, "You know, sometimes it feels like everyone knows what’s going on except me. I think she thinks I’m stupid and she’d be right.. I can’t even take care of myself.” 

“Look, I’m not happy with Sarah but I know she doesn’t think that,” Rafe assured you, but made sure to add on, “And you shouldn’t care what she thinks. She hangs out with a bunch of lowlifes. She’s going nowhere. You, baby, have so much potential. So what, you don’t know everything, but you don’t need to take care of yourself. How many times do I have to tell you? That’s my job.”

Rafe watched you nod your head, eyes still watery, “My Dad wanted it.”

“He did,” Rafe agreed, “I don’t like to see you like this …things will be better when we have our own house. Our own family. I know it will.”

“Was she upset?” You wiped your own tears, “When you went out there…” 

“You’re too sweet for your own good.” 

He was watching you closely now, scanning your body language, gauging whether you were on the verge of a panic attack. This moment, it was an opportunity for him. Somehow, despite everything, he wasn’t the bad guy in this situation. Maybe it was the trust he’d built with you over the last two weeks, maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers.

“C’mere,” He reached for you, fingers wrapping around your wrists, guiding you toward him. You shuffled forward onto your knees, letting him pull you closer. His hands slid to your hips, gripping firmly as he positioned you over his lap, your legs straddling his. Now, you were right where he wanted you, face to face, eyes locked, nowhere to hide.

“She was upset,” he admitted, his thumbs smoothing slow circles against your sides. “But not as upset as me.”

You blinked, lips parting slightly.

“It wasn’t just the drinking,” he continued, voice low and steady. “It was who you were drinking with. You were with them. Without me.” His jaw tensed. “Knowing that those dirty Pogues got to look at you, be near you-” He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re the most beautiful thing in my life. I don’t think it’s selfish to want you to myself.”

Shame flickered across your features. 

“I wasn’t thinking,” You murmured and part of Rafe’s mind, the sick part, rejoiced, “I’m so sorry.”

A weak smile tugged at his lips, “I forgive you, baby. I’m not mad anymore. At all. “

He kept his voice reassuring, his words gentle, but his touch was anything but. 

“What makes them so bad, Rafe?” You asked curiously, your voice barely above a whisper, “They didn’t look that dirty to me.”

“Not tonight, I don’t want to talk about them,” Rafe ran his hands over your thighs, traveling beneath the skirt of your dress, before he gripped a handful of your ass in his hands, “I wanna teach you something.”

“Mhm,” You hummed as Rafe leaned into your neck, kissing you softly. You were so responsive, even in this fragile state. 

“I know how you can make it up to me.”

Rafe felt you tense when you felt it, the growing hardness that was currently being restrained by his zipper. Barely contained. He leaned his head down, just as he moved his hands to your breast. He squeezed tightly, savoring the handful, “Rafe …I-I–I don’t know.” 

He did wonder how far he could push you before you couldn’t take it anymore. But he remembered how much further he’d gotten with you being a little more gentle, “Don’t worry,” He assured you, “I’m going to teach you how to use your mouth on me. It won’t hurt at all.”

“It won’t? But …. But  it can’t fit in my mouth.” 

Patience, he reminded himself. 

“I’ll show you,” Rafe pressed his thumb against your soft lips, “Open, baby.”

Rafe saw it in your eyes, the hesitance, the fear but he kept his touch soft. He brushed your tongue, “Suck on my finger,” You closed your mouth around his finger and when he felt your teeth scrape his skin, he added, “But don’t bite. No teeth. That’s lesson number one.”

He moved his thumb slowly in and out of your mouth, allowing you practice. The way your wide eyes were fixed on him, looking for his approval, was probably the sexiest thing he’d seen you do. And you were his, “Good girl, darlin’” he praised, and your lashes fluttered at the words.

He promised to take it slow and was a man of his word. He gave you plenty of practice before the real thing. You were right, he couldn’t fit inside your mouth. Most of him. But he taught you how to hold him, how to stroke him, how to keep touching him in the moments where your mouth got too tired. That was lesson two.  Just the tip this time, you could handle that. He had been holding off for two weeks, and it wouldn’t take much.

And when the moment finally came, when his release spilled hot and thick onto your tongue, Rafe taught you lesson number three.

“You never spit, baby,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your swollen lips. “My cum is your reward for all your hard work. You swallow all of it.”

And when you did, although your face scrunched at the unfamiliarity of it, Rafe pressed a slow, claiming kiss against your lips.

hope you enjoyed!!

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 2 forever teen Danny adopts post-JJ Tim. Tim accepts he has a new dad.

[Pt 1: here][pt3: here]

Tim has known Danny a month, and he can say it has had a positive effect on his life. He's super understanding and accepting of all Tim's weird quirks. And when he ran away back to the Bats (which was a train wreck. B and Dick seemed relieved for 2 seconds, then tried to throw him in Arkham. Between him not selling out "Phantom" and still having JJ traits, they found him unacceptable.), Danny let him go, understanding, before accepting Tim back as easy as breathing when he came crawling back. He helps Tim break into Drake Manor directly after, revealing the invisibility and intangibility Tim thought he hallucinated to get clothes, toiletries, his phone (there's 20 missed calls, 5 are Dick, 2 are Bruce, 2 are Barbara, 1 is his parents, and the rest are his school.), his photographs, camera, and the card linked to the allowance his parents send every 2 weeks. Tim took the last thing because he doesn't want Danny to suffer for taking him in and help with expenses, Danny frowns before giving him a lecture about that not being Tim's responsibility when he finds out. Tim still buys groceries and gets them both new laptops when Danny isn't looking.

Danny modifies any electronics to be untraceable, showing Tim the whole process, so that Tim can contact his school with a fake doctor's note, a fake kidnapping story (some thugs heard what Joker tried to do with Robin and tried their own hand at it. Harley squawked about the JJ thing and how a new meta called Phantom killed Mista J, so it's all over the news. (A fake police report magically appears in the GCPD)), and how Tim won't be able to physically be at school for a while and if they could please send his schoolwork over. Tim holds off on contacting his parents, curious to see if they notice anything, and can't find it in himself to be disappointed that they don't (not even when they stopped by the manor a few days ago, they texted him exactly 1 time to scold him about the lack of food in Drake Manor).

When Tim's physical injuries are mostly healed, Danny moves them from the shitty 1 bedroom apartment to an equally shitty 2 bedroom apartment, still in Crime Alley. Tim feels slightly guilty about Danny refusing to let him sleep anywhere other than the bed, taking the floor or couch before he moves a second bed into the new apartment. Tim isn't sure what to do with the level of care Danny showers him with, but he loves it.

Danny, while disapproving and disliking Tim wanting to continue being a vigilante, doesn't actually stop him (something about being a hypocrite if he says no?). Tim designs a new costume since he can't be Robin, and Danny helps create it! Tim isn't sure how Danny got the nearly indestructible materials that need specialized cutting and sewing materials, but it's awesome!

The costume's base is black. Black cargo pants, an armored turtleneck, black domino mask. But he decides that since he unfortunately can't get rid of all his JJ traits (the laughing fits, the scars, his hair is growing green??, the (bipolar depressive/) manic episodes, etc.) and the Bats won't accept him anyways, so why not lean in. Over the black base, he adds a gothic tailcoat vest. It's very dark purple with bright Kelly green lapels and buttons. The lenses on his mask and his combat boots are the same shade of green. He feels like the green ties his new vigilante look to Danny's ghost form. He also finds the whole fit awesome and a giant fuck you to both Papa J and the Bats.

This does lead to his current dilemma. He needs a new name before he debuts his new vigilante identity.

"I refuse to be Joker Junior!" Tim huffs at Danny, who's calmly making dinner.

"Like I've said before, then don't be."

"But what should I call myself? I can't use a bird or bat name either. I've never had to think of a name for if I was an independent before!" Tim flops on the floor. The kitchen and frontroom is basically one room, so Danny can still see him being dramatic without Tim getting underfoot.

"Name yourself a ghostly name."

"Huh?" Tim sits up to look at the slightly blushing man trapped in a child's body.

"I mean, you're already connected to my ghost form, since everyone is going to connect you to your old vigilante identity, so why not pick something ghostly or supernatural." Danny turns to do something Tim can't see, but Tim knows he's just trying to hide how embarrassed he is about sharing the suggestion. "You don't have to. You could pick something more personal, like Shutterbug or Mania or something."

"Huh... That would work. It'd really rub in the Bats' faces that they basically killed 2 Robins." Tim mutters before twisting himself into a pretzel. "Any suggestions?"

"Depends. What do you want people to get from your name? And what annoyed do you want people who know both your IDs to be? Phantom was a literal pun off my lastname."

"How is Phantom a pun off of Kronokori?"

"Kronokori is Jazz's last name, mine's Kronoyios."

"Huh??"

"And those are our lastnames because Clockwork, or I guess Kronos, adopted us. Our original lastname was Fenton."

"You got adopted by a god?"

"Basically, yeah. Don't worry about it. It's probably one of the least weird things to happen during that time, but that's for a different time. What do you want from your name?"

"Uhhh..." Tim takes a moment to really think about it. "It should be something loud and chaotic, but not necessarily good or evil? I don't really care if it would make people eye roll or groan if I share my ID. Maybe something that is angry? I definitely feel angry."

"As you should." Danny affirms and thinks a second. "Wraith? It's a vengeful spirit seen shortly before or after death."

"Mmm... No."

"Sprite? It's a-"

"No way!" Tim pauses and thinks on his violent reaction. "... Sorry.. It just feels childish and like I'm a 2 dimensional game sprite. Not something that can grow with me or demand respect."

"It's fine, Tim." Danny flashes a reassuring smile. "How about Bashee? They scream to warn someone death is near."

"Aren't they all women?"

"Not necessarily. Kinda like selkies, there's more myth about the women, but there's men too." Danny starts plating the food he made. "Apparition? They're closer to an after imagine of the dead."

"But are they loud?"

"Not usually...hmmmm" Danny hands Tim his plate while scrunching his face in thought. "Let's see, Dullahan, Kelpie, Sphinx, Shade- Oh! Oh! I know! Poltergeist! They're loud, chaotic, usually malicious, they bite and scratch and slam things! It also doesn't sound childish, so you can keep it for as long as you need."

Tim munches on his dinner while thinking it over. "I think that would work. Hehe! A Poltergeist under the care of a Phantom."

Danny smiles, "Glad to help, kiddo."

Tim sets his mostly empty plate down and launches himself at Danny. Danny used to the behavior, quickly gets his own plate out of the way and catches him in a hug.

"Thank you, Danny." His tone indicates he's thanking him for more than just the name.

"No problem." Danny kisses the top of Tim's head. They stay like that for a moment before Tim pushes himself up.

"I think I should talk to your sister." He grabs his plate and sits near Danny on the couch. "I don't want someone to trigger me with a dumb comment or something."

"I'll tell her tonight." Danny says, "She's been wanting to meet you. Mostly because she wants to know her new nephew, but also because she likes to psychoanalize hero types. She finds us fascinating, but is still usually chill about it. Unlike when we were teens."

"What happened when you were teens?" Tim asks curiously.

"So Jazz has always wanted to be a therapist, and unfortunately, that means she knew a lot on the topic, but had none of the tact in implementing the knowledge." Danny looks absolutely fond. "She'd corner me to try and force me to talk about my feelings. "You can't keep it all bottled up, Danny." "You're hurting yourself and others by not talking." It was very annoying for an angsty teen to hear. She was right, but her methods needed work. And she's definitely put in the work since then."

"Any chance she's going to be anything like Harley?"

"Not a chance. She hates clowns and isn't one for jokes that aren't well thought out. You have to be really clever to even get a chuckle at a pun." Danny explains, taking their empty plates to wash them. "She isn't opposed to dark humor, but only if she knows the reason for it and knows it's not your only coping skill."

"So you got in trouble with her a lot, didn't you?" Tim teases, knowing Danny still uses dark humor as his main coping mechanism.

"All the time, but I started listening to her advice when I was.. 30? 32? Somewhere in my early 30s." Danny admits. "I got really tired of wanting to die all the time. And her advice has definitely helped minimize the want, unfortunately, mental illness doesn't truly go away."

Tim thinks about that. He knows you can't cure the types of mental illness he has, and Danny has been very open about his own issues, but he can't help his disappointment.

"Hey, on the plus side," Danny speaks up as if sensing Tim's thoughts, sometimes Tim is positive the man can. The man isn't facing him currently, so it's definitely not because Tim was making a face or something. "You're legally a person, so Jazz can get you meds. At least for your bipolar. I know you've been struggling with the whiplash between your extreme emotions."

"That's good..." Tim stares at the back of Danny's head. "You're not legally a person?"

"Nah. In the eyes of the government, I'm dead. It's why I've been hiding out in Gotham. The government has no place here, and as much as I hate the guy, Bats keeps the people hunting me down away." Danny pauses. "You know, I wonder if they think I faded? I haven't made an appearance in nearly 20 years. Then again, Harley snitched to everyone in existence, so I might have to start dodging ghost hunters again. At least the Anti-Ecto Control Acts got repealed, so I won't be taken to a secret government lab to be experimented on again. Shout out to Amity Parkers for clawing their way into office."

"The dad lore of your life is extensive." Tim jokes.

Danny chuckles. "Being a lab accident made ghost child vigilante with a portal to the infinite realms in his basement and ghost hunter parents and the government after you and the other ghosts visiting your town will do that. You'll have your own out of pocket stories to tell your kids one day, well, if you want kids. Otherwise, shocking friends is just as fun. Just imagine telling someone about the last 2 months. "Yeah, hi! My name's Tim! I was the 3rd Robin because a furry couldn't get his act together and then the Joker kidnapped me and I got adopted by the dead guy who showed up and killed him!""

Tim giggles. "I don't sound like that!"

"Maybe, maybe not, but it's still something you could say." Danny grins at him, drying his hands. "Do you need any help with your homework?"

"Yeah, there's a chemistry problem I don't understand-"

Tim loves living with Danny. It's everything a Tim pre-Batman would daydream about. Just a dad taking interest in his life and interests and taking care of him.

[girlfromflor]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | supersoldiers!141 x f!reader

“what?” johnny is the first one to say something audible, simon made a “huh?” noise that sounded more like a grunt whilst kyle remained silent.

“yeah, well… apparently a young soldier has been showing really good results and the general decided she would be moving to our unit.” john answers, almost as incredulous as he was when he first got the information, but keeping it together in front of his men.

“she?” simon asks, calmer and softer than he initially intended, but still a bit shocked – he blamed the confusion clouding his mind. johnny backs him up instantly, furrowed brows and crossed arms as he adds, “it’s a woman?” 

“yeah,” john sighs, taking a big breath. they all knew that women in the military were usually grouped in women-only task forces because they usually shared different tasks than men – it wasn’t like they wanted to be surrounded by entitled men anyway, so they did their own thing. so to know this soldier was getting sent to their unit said a lot about who they were as a person. “it is a woman.”

“when is she going to get her dose?” kyle mumbles, talking for the first time since he walked in the room, voice clear but enveloped in uncertainty, “we should know how much time we have, so we can get to training as soon as possible.”

and of course kyle would say that out of all of them, training as a unit before taking a dose was essential, the almost in sync rhythm had to be settled before the dose forced them into an unnatural harmony. taking a designated dose without training together was said to be bothersome and even painful in some cases. the mix of unwanted sensations eats the team up constantly because of their lack of bond – their lack of knowing how to deal with one another. the boys never got that problem, but kyle wanted to make sure that it wasn't going to happen.

“so… remember that weird, gnawing feeling from last week…?” price voices out, and the boys already understood what he meant.

simon couldn't hold himself back, barking out his words in a demanding tone. “they gave her the dose four days ago? we don't even know each other,” his exasperated tone matching the stress building on their shoulders. 

“i know, and i’m not happy either. but the only thing we can do now is try and make it work.” john says, more to himself than to calm his men. it was already a problem that they would have someone new to the team, having to share their emotions and sensations without proper preparation had to be the final straw. “if it will be bad for us, let's just think how bad it’s going to be for her taking a dose for the first time and having to deal with four new incoming sensations all at once.”

captain took his time sharing what he knew with the boys. to prevent big problems – like sending some of them into a mental spiral or something similar –, the woman was going to stay in her own place – nearby theirs – as they started training together. he said that they’ll meet at the base and that john will have full responsibility over their time together. it meant that no higher ups were going to stick their noses where they didn’t belong – which was a relief. he didn’t have much information about the soldier other than the fact that she was skilled enough to earn a spot on their team – probably something else too, because no ordinary soldier was grouped with supersoldiers with just ‘good enough skills’. 

john wasn’t stressed, and that also calmed the boys a bit. five was the limit of people within a task force and long passed the time that they were told to hire someone to fill the remaining position, but to know they were obligated to do so was excruciating. their defiant nature was just begging them to dismiss any and all possibilities of working together with the new addition. they worked as a united force, someone new coming in was only going to disturb that harmony. simon was already thinking ‘how will i see her face everyday and keep the boys at ease without making it hard for her’. he couldn’t help it, he already felt some type of empathy for the woman – he knew it was probably his captain and kyle’s fault, they had too much nurturing instincts to fight off. johnny also was thinking what could he do on his end, since he knew the experience was going to be intense already, it didn’t help that he was also and naturally an overwhelming being. he already felt how he’d have to neglect himself in order to make her feel comfortable – but then again, all of them felt that way. 

somehow, in between this new challenge and their usual work, the boys found within their group an ever stronger bond. the need for comfort to deal with the arrival of the recruit willed them to seek each other more – even if they didn’t meet her yet, it was like she was part of them in some ways, which was weird. they started acting like she was part of their routine already, leaving a spot on the table where she would sit during meals, buying more food, and cleaning the house more often – assuming that as a woman she’d like things to be tidy.

kyle started wordlessly moving to price’s room after dinner, where they’d sleep in each other's arms and somehow they seemed to dream the same fulfilling scenarios where she’d do the same. when they’d wake up, price was still with his eyes closed when he whispered “morning,” while his hand sneaked under kyle’s shirt to touch his waist. the sergeant was also with his eyes closed and he’d mumble “how’d you know i was awake?” to which the captain would just shrug. call it wild guess, they call it connection. simon and johnny were like one, literally. when simon felt like drinking water, johnny was already opening a bottle and handing it to him. when johnny felt a bit cold, simon would get up from his spot on the couch and close the window – and when john questioned why, simon simply replied with “johnny is cold,” even though he hadn’t spared johnny a single glance.

it eased their nerves, how they worked together through the uneasiness of having a new member. but then an uncomfortable, saddening feeling started creeping up their neck. simon is the first one to acknowledge it: insecurity. but it’s captain price who voices it out of their heads, “everything is going to be alright, lads, no need to worry.”

johnny only shrugs, and looks at kyle. kyle nods, answering for the both of them, “don’t think that’s us, cap.”

simon agrees, humming under his breath. he turns to price as he speaks, “think you know it too, right?”

“aye,” john answers, taking a pause. it was weird – to feel things from someone they didn’t know yet. “just wanted to make sure.”

“she seems precious,” kyle says, to which johnny lets out a laugh. “what? it’s true,” but he’s laughing as well. “think she’s shy, though.”

“aye,” is johnny who replies, his voice sounding as dreamy as kyle’s. “do ye think she can tell us apart?” then he grimaces, tilting his head as he adds, “mentally, i mean…”

simon snorts, but they know he’s thinking about it too. he looks at his captain then, and john hums in agreement, making a point of saying, “also don’t think it’s good to dwell on it, but i know… we all hope she does.”

you were always a bit of a nuisance, you thought. from a very young age you were sent to EDI which was short for “extra disciplinary institution”. it worked like an extension from school, you often got sent there for a week or two once you completed 12 years of age. it wasn’t bad, nor was it punitive. mostly, it was a place where you let out most of your pent up energy – something you had a lot growing up, and that often came out as defiance. their way of treating the kids depended on what it was that the child lacked control over the most. you invested your time in intense workout routines and logical reasoning exercises, to pass time and get distracted when you felt overwhelmed by your own thoughts – it worked for you, but a boy the same age as you who displayed the same traits spent his time painting and taking music classes.

police wasn't something that really existed anymore, neither did prisons. over the years “police” slowly morphed into SAET – security against external threats – and prisons were completely erased, along with most types of heavy crimes. SAET was only preoccupied with – obviously – external threats to civilians, they never really needed to intervene in crime within the city because that didn’t really happen anymore. robbery was still common, although the robbers were usually sent to work for the state in non-important roles where they could be attentively watched and still live life normally. kids who seem problematic or that caused too much commotion were sent to EDI for a while – never for too long, two weeks max in a row – to get enough attention and work their offenses against their lifestyle and sorts. you never caused actual problems, but you often skipped school and talked back to authoritative figures. lucky for you, you quickly found your place at EDI and by the age of 16 you started willingly going there. when you turned 18 you were recommended to work as a tutor and at 21 you were offered to be in charge of a whole class of kids sent there for the first time.

as the months passed by, you were offered a spot in SAET, but you declined. you didn’t like the idea of being stuck in your city, you wanted to be able to cross the border, study new places and see the remains of old civilizations on the wide places with empty concrete buildings and stray, wild animals. so when you got an informal visit from a general saying that he heard about your results and overall work at the institution and casually asked if you'd like to join the army, you thought ‘why not?’ and accepted.

SAET's whole purpose was to protect civilians, that's why they never moved beyond the border. but the army – huge thing that it was – worked as an active force against unknown targets beyond the city. they were the ones with the work on the field – actual action –, even though wars weren't a thing anymore. most threats came from mutation of wild animals and uncontrolled machines from failed experiments – sometimes both at once. the soldiers usually worked on search parties and rescue missions – when an injured animal was found somewhere too toxic or too hostile for it to survive. it wasn't a secret that all people who became part of the army had to be injected and experimented on. most of the time it was supposed to simply amplify their communicating skills, a way of improving their performance whenever they were inserted in their respective groups. although, a rumor that certain soldiers were kept somewhere far away from the city's edges – bordering wild life – started being more and more heard by you as you made your way through military life – two years was enough for you to come across all types of stories. they had too many years of training and became an extension of nature itself – faster, stronger and more willing to be protective towards the things they tend for. they also had a way to communicate that was unknown for human kind, it was more like when animals shared crucial information in order to survive.

you first learned that they were – in fact – real during a regular exam, when the doctor pointed an unusual response from your body to the usual procedures soldiers were subjected to – turns out you were one of the few people who “mutated” with the injections. you quickly learned that only one group of supersoldiers worked for this state at the moment, the other two task forces were working somewhere else around the world. you also learned that there was no way you could go to a normal task force because it would disturb the harmony of the group. it was best for you to work with task force 141, since it was where you’d fit in the most – it was where you belonged, naturally.

what you didn’t learn – or, better, what they didn’t tell you – was that task force 141 had bonded to a telepathic level. when you got your dose you didn’t question the fact that you had yet to train with them – to know them –, you felt different but nothing more. you thought it was mostly in your head, until you realized that you were growing closer to the day you’ll meet your team – yet to be team, actually, but you call them yours already. you couldn’t help the shadow of anxiety and insecurity that starts to drown you, and when a sudden – overwhelming – sense of confidence and tenderness washes over you, you start to pull the pieces together.

sometimes, over the first four days after you’ve taken your designated dose, you felt some things that didn’t feel quite yours – a thought would pop up out of nowhere and you’d think ‘the hell? the dose is making me think like a man’. after that, it doesn’t take too many days for the official meeting to happen. you had already moved to your new house and started what you called “dosed soldier training”, which was just an upgraded version of the training you used to do – it was the same, but adapted to your modifying body and improving skills.

it’s exactly eight days and 6 hours after you’ve taken your dose that you meet your soon-to-be teammates. when the boys see you they are nearly speechless. they are so lost, price has to slap the back of johnny’s head when he starts getting too lost in his imagination – which earned him some alone time with simon when they got home and kyle the beginning of a hard on. they watch you as you leave the car and move towards the entrance of the main building on base, where they stand completely entranced by how pretty you look – how well you already seem to fit with them. when you stand in front of them it's clear that you’re avoiding eye contact.

price clears his throat. “nice to meet you, soldier. captain john price.” he introduces himself, extending a hand. you take it in yours, shaking it a bit hesitant as you say your name. price looks to his right where a very pretty man stands, and he's quick to start talking.

“i'm sergeant kyle garrick. you can call me gaz,” his voice is calm and polite, but he doesn't put his hand out. you only nod, not having time to say anything because the man on the left side of john starts speaking as soon as kyle stops.

“john mactavish, i'm also a sergeant. most people call me soap, ye can call me johnny,” he finishes his sentence with a wink. he talks a lot, you notice, but it doesn’t bother you – if anything it eases the tense mood. different from gaz, he takes your hand in his in a small greeting and you give him a small smile as he does.

lastly, you look at the man standing beside soap – a very tall and masked man. you exchange a glance in a beat of silence before he says in a low tone, “ghost. lieutenant.”

you have to fight the urge to smile at him, unsure at how he’d receive it from you. you simply nod and turn your attention to the captain, waiting to follow them inside. john talks a bit about how the base works as you walk inside the building and into a meeting room. once inside the room, you are the first one to sit down, ghost taking a seat by your left and kyle moving to your right. you don't like it at first, but you feel less on edge when price and johnny settle on the table across from you. for most of the meeting it is price and soap who talk the most, telling you what you should know about their routine and how training will be from now on. they talk for a few minutes before the questions start, and then kyle starts to pipe in, asking a question every other moment. as you grow comfortable, you allow yourself to question a few things, settling in a nice, pleasant atmosphere – as the basic information about you is slowly being worked through. 

as most important things get sorted out and you reach the end of the two hour meeting, price stands up. “have you eaten already?”

it takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to you, swiftly nodding as you watch the others stand up too. ghost gives you a look – you couldn’t possibly think of what was going through his head – and you feel pressured to elaborate your answer. so you glance back at john, taking the chance to look at your feet as you stand – to avoid eye contact – as you speak, “i’ve, hum… i had lunch before arriving, sir.”

“good, we already had lunch too,” john answers, moving to the door where he rests a hand on the doorknob. “we can go straight home, then.”

you follow them outside, expecting to have a car to pick you up and take you to your house. imagine your surprise when kyle holds the back seat door open for you, watching as your feet halt and you stop walking, making you chuckle nervously. and at your delayed entrance, johnny pops his head out of the window from the other side of the car. his voice is a bit too strained when he calls you out, “c’mon, get in, lass. we’ll drop you at your place.”

you clean your sweaty palms on the fabric of your pants in a nervous habit, climbing inside the car with your head low. johnny gives you a smile when you settle by his side, and kyle simply mutters “put your seatbelt on,” when he takes the seat to your left, closing the door as he does.

you spend the ride towards your house hyper-aware of how both your arms brush against johnny and kyle’s, whenever simon takes a turn on a high speed and your body sways towards one or the other. johnny has half a mind to grab your thigh to keep you from being pressed against his body whilst kyle is – nearly – purposefully manspreading to squeeze your smaller frame between the two of them. john has to turn to look back at them every once in a while, regretting not making you ride shotgun. hi keeps on squirming in his seat and he’s not sure if is simon’s hurry in getting home – his thoughts kept on betraying him and bringing him back to johnny’s reverie – or if it was from johnny and kyle who were fighting for their life at being so close to you so soon.

you, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the men’s inner dilemma. your mind was traveling towards the future as you tried to ignore the warmth radiating from the men sitting by your sides. should you invite them over? give them a tour of your house? maybe offer some tea? or should you just thank them and leave? you’ll see them in the morning alright, no need to fuss over their company—

“we’re here,” it’s price’s voice who snaps you out, and you look up from your fingers to realize that you’re already in front of your house. the lack of movement around your place is soothing – knowing it was always like that also soothed you, you kind of hated crowds.

“hum, thanks. for the ride…” your words are not as shaky as you thought they would be. you undo your seatbelt and turn to johnny’s side to leave the car. you two exchange a glance for a bit too long and kyle has to face his window in order to keep composure – johnny and simon keep on feeding into each other’s arousal, and it was making them all struggle. but, instead of being intimidated – like they thought you would – you laugh. maybe from the nervousness running through your veins, maybe because it is funny that you’re both kind of frozen.

“can you move? so i can leave…” you ask johnny, a smile still adorning your lips and johnny has to bite his cheek to refrain a – whimpered – ‘no’ to leave his lips. because no, he didn’t want you to leave just yet, but he also couldn’t stand being next to you anymore – oh, the perks of sharing deep emotions with your teammates. 

so he simply nods, brows knitting together as he whispers out an, “sorry.” he opens the door and steps out, not giving you a hand as you mimic his movements – but honestly you think nothing of it.

when you move past john’s window he calls out for you, “we live in a house ten minutes away, in that direction.”

he’s pointing towards a more remote part of the region, the beginning of the woods starting to cover the edges of the road. you make a face, questioning “ten-minute walk or drive?”

“drive,” his smile catches your attention, and you don’t even realize it brings one of your own.

“huh,” you nod, contemplating. “good to know.”

his smile increases, and suddenly he feels johnny’s urge getting at him. he mentally curses how easily they get in tune sometimes. he watches as you walk towards your front door, unlocking it and stepping inside without looking back. “i swear johnny, we ain’t gon’ last a week if ya keep this up,” he says once simon re-starts the engine.

“sorry, cap. couldnae help it,” he says sheepishly, moving to take the seat you were in just a minute ago.

“can’t blame him, luvie’s got a thing about her,” simon is still focused on driving as he speaks, his voice echoes all their inner thoughts. 

“aye. thought i’d lose it at how she smiled at johnny before the meeting,” kyle adds, his thigh brushing over johnny’s now that they’re side by side.

“fuckin’ hell,” john mumbles, a hint of amusement on his tone. “we’re fucked.”

a/n: thought it was dumb, then i realized it's a sci-fi fanfiction, i have all the rights to make it dumb. let me know what you think! | taglist: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @little-mini-me-world @bath1lda

[mylordshesacactus]

Okay, I didn't want to clog up the notes of someone else's post with something tonally different because that's rude, but. I Need to elaborate some more about no-kill vs open-intake shelters because I feel like some people still don't get it.

I'm gonna use an example here: My cat, Nepenthe, came from a small municipal open-intake shelter (I don't use the term "kill shelter" because I think it's obscene and cedes ground to ARA fuckwits for no reason) in an area with a NOTORIOUSLY awful stray cat problem.

She was on the euthanasia list. She was next in line on the euthanasia list.

They would never have been cruel or manipulative enough to say it that baldly, of course, but...I can read. Status was "at rsk", with two days' grace before ticking over into "extreme risk", the red zone. The ones who have had the most time, the most chance, if the shelter ever runs out of cage space.

I have gone the fuck off on people who hear that and immediately assume I will tolerate them bashing or insulting that shelter.

Because here's the thing about Penny. She is my baby, my darling, light of my life, and if I hadn't come along, euthanizing her would have been not only necessary but an ethical obligation.

She was neurotic, traumatized, and unpredictably aggressive--not "I'm bad at feline body language and ignoring her subtle back-off signals" unpredictable, I mean "we showed footage to a professional feline behaviorist and their immediate reaction was 'oh that is NOT normal'" unpredictable. "Actual legitimate psychological problems" unpredictable. The previous three times she had met with potential adopters, she attacked them unprovoked and had to be recaptured by a vet tech wearing a bite sleeve designed for aggressive dogs. She was the textbook definition of unadoptable.

She could not be fostered. There was absolutely no way she could live in a home with small children, or older children, or an elderly person with thin skin, or anyone who would get upset if they were clawed in the face without warning every few days.

Now, here's some math for you, keyboard warrior writing up a condescending screed about how there's Never Any Excuse for euthanizing a healthy animal:

The average length of stay in that shelter, for a healthy cat, was roughly two weeks. Which means, on average, assuming fast turnover, a single cage space in that shelter can save the lives of 24 cats every year.

Penny, when I met her, had been there for 43 days. A month and a half. Three times the average length of stay.

I love her. She has improved my life immeasurably and there is nothing I wouldn't do for her. Her life is not more valuable than the lives of the other 23 cats who might have been saved by the slot she was taking up. Euthanasia, if space had run out, would have been the only ethical option.

(Yes, obviously I DID show up and I DID choose her. But frankly? I was a grad student with a psychology degree, studying to be a therapist, living alone, no plans to have kids, a private room where she wouldn't have to interact with other people or animals, de-facto engaged to a professional animal behaviorist; I was ACTIVELY LOOKING for an edge-case project cat, and could calmly and intelligently articulate my understanding of the seriousness of her behavior and my plan for helping her. You can't count on that happening. I was a fucking unicorn.)

No-kill shelters have the INCREDIBLE luxury of deciding who to save. They have the luxury of having all the time in the world to wait. And in the meantime, what exactly do you think is happening to the other animals? The ones they DON'T pick? The ones there's no room for? Do you think they magically don't need to be surrendered anymore? Does Santa Claus find them a home, perhaps?

You can't reduce the life of an animal to math. Good, ethical no-kill shelters can be wonderful resources--either taking highly-adoptable animals from open-intake shelters to free up space as efficiently as possible, or else taking in behaviorally or medically complicated dogs who need more time to find their perfect match than open-intake shelters can give.

But if you're going to shit on open-intake shelters, you don't get to be a fucking coward about it. So here. Prove how much smarter you are.

You've run out of space. Every cage is full. The cat cannot be fostered. You've filled all your available foster slots with other cats, to buy her time. The "no-kill" shelters are full--they pulled the cats they thought they could save, and the scruffy, psychologically-unsound, adult black domestic shorthair with chronic herpes? Nobody wants her. In this world her unicorn's not coming.

She's had three times as long as every other cat here. You have given her every chance, wrote her a lovely bio, moved other cats to other shelters to keep space open so you didn't have to make this choice; but she mauled someone else today and there's a sweet, cuddly, highly-adoptable tabby with no problem behaviors being checked in right now. If you can't put that new cat somewhere it's going to be euthanized without even being given a chance, even though it is extremely adoptable and would likely find a new home within a week.

You don't have a magic wand. You can't wish a conveniently empty second shelter into existence. Every option has been exhausted.

Look me in the eye, and tell me which one dies.