#like wow. every night is just more and more Feelings

[lynnsartsworld]

Hi Lynn!!💓💓

Some questions for April:

1) What’s your favorite thing about Poppy?

2) What’s your favorite memory?

3) What’s your family like?

Love, myokk💓💓 (can’t send messages from a sideblog😆)

Question for One:

April’s Reaction:

April’s cheeks flush with a warm smile as she reads the question. Her fingers brush over the words, and she giggles softly, looking a bit bashful yet delighted. “Oh, I love this question! It’s so sweet! Of course, I’d love to talk about Poppy.”

April’s Answer:

“My favorite thing about Poppy? That’s hard because there’s so much I love about her! But if I had to pick one thing, I’d say it’s her kindness. She has this gentle, quiet way of caring for everyone around her, like she just knows when someone needs a bit of extra love or support. It’s one of those things that makes you feel safe and understood, you know? And she has this wonderful way of making any moment feel special. She’s truly one of a kind, and I’m so grateful to have her in my life.”

She pauses, smiling to herself as she thinks of Poppy, the fondness clear in her eyes.

✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱

Question for Two:

April’s Reaction:

April’s eyes light up as she reads the question, and a soft, nostalgic smile spreads across her face. She takes a moment, lost in thought, before a memory clearly surfaces, making her eyes shimmer with happiness.

April’s Answer:

“My favorite memory? Oh, that’s a tough one because there are so many wonderful moments. But if I had to choose, it would be this quiet, cozy night with Poppy. We’d been out all day, just exploring and enjoying ourselves, and by the time we got back, we were exhausted. We made hot chocolate, curled up under a big blanket, and just talked for hours. It wasn’t about anything grand or exciting—it was just us, being close, laughing, and sharing little secrets. It felt so special and comforting, like time had slowed down just for us. I think those simple, heartfelt moments are the ones that stay with me the most.”

April sighs softly, hugging her arms around herself as she recalls the warmth of that night, a sweet glow of happiness lingering.

✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱

Question for Three:

April’s Reaction:

April’s face lights up with warmth as she thinks about her little family. Her eyes soften, and she places a hand over her heart, clearly filled with love and gratitude.

April’s Answer:

“My family… where do I even begin? Poppy is just everything. She’s my best friend, my love, my anchor. She’s so caring and thoughtful, always knowing just how to make me feel safe and cherished. And then there’s Evangeline, our little light. She’s curious and sweet, with a smile that can brighten any room. I see so much of Poppy in her—the same kindness and spark. The three of us together, we’re this wonderful mix of love, laughter, and the occasional chaos that comes with raising a little one. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. It’s… home.”

April’s smile widens, and she glances away, her cheeks slightly pink, as if she’s still amazed that this is the family she’s built and the life she’s been blessed with.

✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱

April lets out a playful sigh of relief, a little grin on her face.

“Wow, I think that’s a wrap for now!” she laughs. “Those questions really made me think, but I loved answering every single one. It was like this little chance to share my heart, you know? And honestly, if anyone has more questions, I’d be happy to answer them. This was fun!”

She glances around with a bright smile, already eager for whatever else might come her way.

[mad-hunts]

in response to the other's answer in regards to what jervis would prefer on his toast, jack simply nodded. he'd found himself at a loss for what else to say even though that was actually quite rare for him. maybe it was the idea that barton could be outside at that very moment, listening in, that made jack suddenly feel like a fog had rolled into his mind; making it so that he could protect himself without even knowing for sure that there was a threat in the first place.

barton didn't like talking about julien - he'd pretty much stowed away every single picture but one the family had with him in it, in fact. for it still hurt him too much to look at them. therefore, especially considering his father's history of not being able to regulate his moods well, jack might have to perform 'damage control' if that were the case. but crossing the bridge if he were to get there seemed to apply quite well here. so, the farceur chose to move on and it turned out to be wisely, too.

jervis did look very tense lying there with jack visibly appearing to want to curl up into himself and never come out. after going to the nearby trunk in the room, he opened it. this was done as a means to distract the both of them from succumbing to the weight of their own differing circumstances. though there was certainly a good cover reason for jack to, ❝ oh, wow. ahh... i almost forgot that its supposed to get down into the forties tonight so you might need this. its going to be cold, after all, ❞ it was also hitting sundown at that moment as well.

jack could tell by just looking through the crack in the curtains of the one window in the room. while gnawing on his bottom lip, he pulled out the plush blanket inside of the chest only to shake it out a bit. now, as jack tossed the blanket up just enough to cover jervis's body without touching him? something matilda told him a few years ago echoed in his mind during a conversation they had late at night: 'you know, i know you'd like nothing more than to get rid of all your feelings sometimes - but i hope you never change.'

jack just remembered looking up at the tent he was in that day of camping afterward, as he decided he should probably get to sleep. but it felt validating in a way he couldn't explain as well even now. because jack's first instinct upon seeing jervis was that he was struggling, so he should help him; though one could definitely say that sense of responsibility had made him suffer in the past. thank goodness sucking in a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaling could allow jack to quiet his mind then.

he tilted his head at the other's words and squinting his eyes, deep in thought. of course if jervis didn't believe in one, that was fine, but it appeared like he might. these sorts of concepts could trigger whole debates for a reason, however, as spirituality was something that jack affiliated himself with. but religion? he wasn't so sure, so he more than understood when jervis settled for saying his loved ones being at peace was simply something he wanted to believe in. with jack's sudden exit came the arrival of a much less benevolent figure, to say the least, and barton couldn't say he blamed jervis for seemingly somewhat disappointed that his son left.

jack was easy to get along with, and with just a little bit of time spent with him, he might just win someone over with his compassionate nature. barton knew this well along with the reality he had to learn other people's behaviors throughout the years to appear at least 'semi-normal.' how that was going for the doctor would often depend on who you asked, though. barton could only snort derisively at that, ❝ funny. just remember, you'd be in arkham right now if it weren't for me and my daughter. ❞ he pointed a sharpened nail in the direction of jervis as he proceeded into the room.

the same crack in the curtains jack had once looked through was soon closed with a quick 'swishing' motion. barton was personally raised with a very limited exposure to faith, as neither wesley nor winslow were particularly religious father figures. but barton could admire those who participate in it regardless of their level of involvement in it. though it could be used as a force of evil as much as it could be used for good, a lot of humanity existed in shades of gray.

so even if they were under the threat of suffering through something like eternal damnation after death... in barton's mind, it was only a matter of time before someone used a widespread thing like faith to their own advantage. and maybe this was bad of him but thinking about wesley being in such a place somewhat brought him a sense of twisted satisfaction; because at least barton would be getting a form of justice for every fearful moment wesley put him through that way. barton only blinked as his eyes trailed from jervis's face to the teacup that jack had presumably brought him.

shockingly enough, all he felt when he discovered that marty's father was a powerful figure was an incredible amount of disbelief for a moment before it fizzled away. barton was used to things getting worse even if he couldn't have seen this coming. plus, he'd gotten frighteningly good at treating human lives like this police captain's more as obstacles than actual beings. it remained to be seen which one jervis was to barton. he squinted his eyes before standing up and ultimately finding out that, yeah, he had done that too quickly.

barton felt like he was green around the gills all over again, ❝ that is one way to put it, jervis. but don't worry. you just reminded me that, although we're going to have to get creative, there are ways of getting away with it. i'd say pinning his murder on someone else might be the best. ❞ he uttered after swallowing thickly, making a 'turn around' gesture with his finger towards the other. barton talking about murder as if it was light dinner conversation said everything that needed to be said about how he felt about their current predicament.

maybe it was because he was still feeling a lot of malaise, but no part of it bothered him in particular. the doctor was more worried about jervis becoming queasy because he accidentally saw the scars where he'd stitched on yves's arm to his own body, ❝ uhh, just in case you didn't get that, turn around. i'm going to change my shirt. ❞ once that was done, barton slipped his current bloodied one over his head only to replace it with the other. he slumped down in the chair to the table opposite of jervis and looked over the tarot cards laid out before him.

barton, too, knew how to interpret them. ❝ what were you two planning on doing with these? a 'past, present, and future' reading? because i can do it while my son's gone for you. ❞

Jervis gave the barest of shrugs as he glanced at Jack through his bangs, the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the slow drip of the IV, and the faint shifting of the cards against the tabletop the only sounds piercing the air. "Either one sounds perfectly agreeable. I defer to your good judgment." A ghost of a smile, pale and wan, tugged at his mouth for an infinitesimal moment.

Call it the lingering pangs of paternal instinct or projection, whatever you felt was most appropriate, but some flicker of warmth—worry mingling with concern—stirred within Jervis' breast; softening the veneer of exhaustion and discomfort that clothed him like a second skin. Like an invisible cancer that had latched onto him, draining his vitality—a slow-acting poison decades in the making; only this time, the source was external, a reflection of Jack's own unease radiating across the space between them.

Jervis drew in a shallow breath, feeling the tightness in his chest not as his own, but as if their nerves had blurred and grown entangled. He tried to focus, willing his own breath to steady, his hands to unclench. A low chuckle escaped Jervis' chapped lips at Jack's query. The medications in his IV coursed through him, cold and prickling, sending a frisson over his skin as goosebumps rose in response. And yet, somehow, it eased the deep ache within him, dulling the edges of both pain and nausea. He could feel the weight of his discomfort receding, just slightly, as though the medicine were smoothing his raw nerves; coaxing him toward a delicate, unfamiliar calm.

Not quite like ketamine.... not like the cozy, blithesome feeling that coursed through his veins with each dose. Even when most of his prior consumption of the drug hadn't been consensual—thick enough to cut his teeth on, it ensured small pockets of blissful ignorance hardening into a dissociative shell, like callus. (God bless those poor, ministering angels at Arkham... only a trace of spite and animosity there, rage bleeding with sorrow at how his autonomy and consent was completely ignored, snatched... one wrong move, and he was left cowering in a crumpled heap, or otherwise dead to the world... but now? Would the scales be tipped, if they managed to drag him back there? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that answer.) If Odysseus and his crew had been desperate to escape the Lotus Eaters only to stumble unwittingly into the clutches of Polyphemus, Jervis felt quite the opposite.

For better or worse, the ketamine had left him numb to everything.

The pain, the grief, the anguish that tore gouges in his heart and mind; lacerated his psyche to shreds, in conjunction with the ECT. Somehow, he compartmentalized it... gravitated to the cannabis as an alternative upon his discharge, once he'd regained his center of gravity and emerged from his self-immurement; the fractures left by his losses and lessons grinding him to the bone. Everything it cost him and what he'd earned in exchange. Simon. Arabella. His time in Ireland. Sylvie. The flood. Alice.

The lengths he had gone...

And so Jervis chuckled; the sound dry and hollow, barely touching his eyes. He met Jack’s gaze, his expression tightening as he mulled over the question, tasting the irony in it.

“An afterlife…” he murmured, his eyes drifting. Thoughts and memories broke the surface like apples bobbing in a bucket: Simon and Stephen putting aside their differences over the blessing at Passover; his and Arabella's quiet, but spirited discussions of Heaven and the saints and catechism, the differences between the Old and New Testaments as they strolled along the shoreline. Stories of the witch trials in Ireland, of John Calvin and his legacy in Scotland.

All the old beliefs he’d grown up with circled back and hit like a tidal wave, tied as much to memories of family as to the concept of religious faith itself, all its beauty and diverse forms, yet it left him feeling frigid now. For a little over three decades, he'd told himself that he could appreciate the mythology of it all, even found it strangely comforting at times, but belief? That had always been a different thing entirely.

Jervis' mind tugged him back to reality. He could sense Jack’s curiosity pressing at the edge of his own awareness, a secondary presence so strong it was almost rendered a physical form. "That's.... a complicated notion, from where I'm standing.” He let out a slow, careful breath; curled his fingers back around his necklace as he dissected the question. “But... yes. I'd like to think our loved ones are at peace."

He could map it all in a dozen lines, right down to his own lived experiences, the rules he tried so hard to follow, the ideals that always seemed to warp and fray. There was karma, consequence, perhaps even the lingering shadows of what people might call a curse. But the idea of any higher being calling the shots? It gnawed at him like an old wound. And so Jervis looked back at Jack, almost apologetic, the faint sting of an old ache flickering beneath his words.

He was spared from elaborating with Barton's sudden appearance; lurking on the threshold like a wraith. Poor Jack's confidence and ease withered like a hapless petunia caught in the dead of winter. A few quiet words of dismissal and a pat to the shoulder were all that heralded the reluctant, leery departure of his one potential ally in the wolf's den.

'As phantoms frighten beasts when shadows fall.' Jervis sighed, slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, looked Barton in the eye; as well as he could, anyway, with the lingering gray spots and his missing glasses still impeding his line of sight. “Maybe we each make our own heaven—or our own hell.”

Perhaps that was petty or harsh of him to say out loud... though that was the truth of the matter. Jervis didn’t need religious belief to drive him, after all; he needed only his own peculiar code, that precarious balance between curiosity and cynicism, and the sense of duty he still felt for a daughter who had deserved something far more stable, more secure; safer than the patchwork life he had known. Whatever his flaws, his faults, some small part of him still respected the right to believe—what faith meant to others; its power to inspire, to build, to destroy. The cause and effect of human history, the double-edged promises of faith. And maybe that was the root of it: faith could be a tool, a guide, a balm.

But then the stark, often bitter truths he’d learned through survival would come rushing back. Besides, he reckoned, Barton likely wouldn't give a damn about any of his prior train of thought. In any case, on the topic of hell, Jervis never pictured the vast, cavernous expanse of fire and brimstone that Jonathan Edwards had once preached about in the summer of 1741. No. Hell always conjured up fevered images of a frozen lake in the deepest, darkest part of the center of the earth, untouched by light and warmth and life—the last of Dante Alighieri's nine circles.

'I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.'

He was torn from the thick mire of his thoughts, yanked back outside his mind as if caught in a sudden hurricane at Barton’s next revelation. Jervis shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then reached for the cup of tea Jack had brought him. The liquid within was a warm, golden amber—like sea glass he’d once collected as a child in Bermuda, or the bits Alice would gather along Gotham’s coastline on their rare visits when she was little.

How simple those days were...

"Well." Jervis' voice was completely flat, his brow creasing with incredulity and disgust. Barton’s outline weaved and blurred before his eyes like a will-o’-the-wisp. No more, no more… no room, no room. He felt completely hollow. "Trading one problem for another, are we?" His scarred knuckles bulged as his fingers curled around the delicate porcelain; his grip hard enough to produce a faint, foreboding crack.

He would weep, if he had anymore tears left to shed over their predicament. For Marty and his partner, for the trouble Jack and Matilda had been brought into by association… but none for himself or Barton. He wasn’t certain he was worthy of it; and Barton had no qualms over their actions, he’d freely admitted it at that bistro earlier. Jervis’ hands tingled, as if they were still covered by the bloodied gloves he wore when he dispatched the driver in order to retrieve Alice’s rabbit, wielding his hatpins on pure impulse; there was no premeditation involved, but there was no discounting how surgical his actions had been in their efficacy with each targeted nerve cluster and artery. He wasn’t indulging in self-pity, oh no… nothing so shallow or solipsistic. Not like that at all. Just a pure ant mill of growing dread and horror and regret, one that couldn’t be encompassed by words alone.

His teeth sought the gouges in the corner of his mouth from where he’d previously bit himself in the throes of his nightmares, worrying at the cuts till they began to sting anew.

‘Despair has its own calms.’

[texashippiecowboy]

bridge

[chalkscrub]

revisiting my roots as an artist - never sketching, never planning, and going straight to the inks. and also drawing traditionally again. with some digital colours

speaking of my roots as an artist, so many people say my art is cute/storybook/wholesome vibes which is funny cause i started off drawing a lot of bloody evil gorey demon things. 14 y/o me would not be happy with me for going down the route i ended up taking - i wanted to be edgy.

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

pata hai last kuch din i was very busy with my project kyunki final dena tha and binding karni thi etc to wo karwayi then i went to the bookfair bekaar tha then parso submit karne jaa rahi to subah accident hogaya (bhai ki bike skid hogayi and we fell down) and now i have a big ass blue bruise on my upper thigh and my parents don't even know lmao and kal ek science conference thi to i had to sit in an auditorium for 6 hours listening to accomplished people speak. that's what you missed now your turn

omg i knew everything in this except for the accident cause i stalk your blog vigorously everyday are you okay!!!!!!!!!! did you get tetanus shots!!!!!!!!!! also on your upper thigh oh no that's where future jiju is supposed to write MINE na as per our beloved song guilty as sin?

[carcarrot]

9 people i want to get to know better tagged by @bawnjourno thank you pal!!!!! 💖

last song: my baby must be a magician - the marvelettes

favorite color: purple!!!

currently watching: cheers (new) twin peaks (rewatch) night court (new) and movies every dayyy

sweet/savory/spicy: sweet!! if i don't have a sweet little treat i pass away actually

currently playing: not a gamer but im playing a game called august where i make it through every day of august

current obsession: the latest addition to my assortment of goofy guys, slowly collecting vintage clothing and books, even more slowly working on my film screenplay (and documentary idea. and tv show idea .), very very excited for my upcoming vacation to california for the 3rd time in a row! and if i ever repair the dvd drive on my laptop im gonna start making my own dvds of movies with embedded subtitles that dont already have them on a dvd release bc i cant hear!!!

tagging @footnoteinhistory @bicolumbo @starringvincentprice @mariocki @eddie-rifff @jefffreybeaumont @seaofreverie @jellojellyroll and @crystalblast !! no pressure if you dont wanna!

[frecklystars]

I love that all of my friends who have watched Crazy Stupid Love with me will point at Ryan Gosling's character and say "ohhh I see why you like him... he's like your other F/O, Barney Stinson :) except he kinda respects women a little bit more" and I'm like... what. oh... huh.

I see.

[incorrectquotesideas-deactivated]

Person A: Do you want a beer? I’m paying.

Person B, going through the restaurant’s menu: No. Ugh, where’s the good stuff?

Person A, half jokingly: I thought you were an alcoholic.

Person B: Exactly. I’d need at least, like, four beers — without food — to get slightly buzzed, and my stomach can’t fit over 2 beers in it. I’m small. I’ll have a rum, neat.

[cetoddle]

okay what i have to say is lowkey embarrassing but i wanna bitch and it’s probably only embarrassing to me bc im shy about this stuff anyways the moral of the story is i wanna bitch and u should probably just ignore me. god bless

[vampireddyke]

hey! I'm 26!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various images from the past year or so... posting my evil little photo diary collections once again..

[verdantmeadows]

I have GOT to learn to go to bed by 8/9 pm before The Horrors hit (intense sadness, depression, and suicidalness)

[6mayhem]

anyway i need to hang out with my brother again he is the one person who i am pretty sure knows literally everything about me so he's the only person i trust that i can absolutely not disappoint. nothing i can do could be worse than the sum of everything i've been doing to that poor man (and him to me) the past 19 years

[excusemebutiquit]

I wanna say thank you to all these people on reddit. Thanks for making me feel less alone.

[flowerdough]

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[this-is-private-go-away]

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