#now do what you will with this information

[zhelin-thames]

Now pay interest - 10% per year

Masterpost

As the Bat-family processed what had just happened, Jason was already plotting.

“So,” Jason began, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “does this mean we have a ghost King in the family now? Because I’ve got so many questions.”

“Focus, Todd,” Damian snapped, though his own curiosity was evident in his furrowed brow. “That... entity was clearly powerful. Father, why did you not inform us of this connection sooner?”

Bruce didn’t even glance up from his computer. “It was irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” Dick exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “A glowing ghost guy just popped out of a portal in our cave to collect a debt, and you think it’s irrelevant?”

Tim, typing furiously, pulled up the mission logs from Bruce’s early years. “Okay, I think I found the mission in Prague where this all went down. It says here... wait. Danny wasn’t just some guy you ran into. You trained with him in the League of Assassins?”

Steph leaned over Tim’s shoulder to read. “Wait, what?! He’s an assassin ghost King?”

Jason let out a low whistle. “This just gets better and better.”

Duke raised his hand, hesitant. “Uh, just a thought… if he’s the Ghost King, doesn’t that mean he has control over, like, all ghosts? Including... uh, Lazarus Pits?”

Everyone froze. Slowly, they all turned to Bruce, whose expression darkened slightly.

“Yes,” Bruce admitted reluctantly.

“Holy crap,” Jason said, leaning back with a stunned look. “He’s the reason the Pits freaked me out after I came back, isn’t he? I thought it was just the resurrection thing, but you knew he was tied to them!”

Bruce’s silence was answer enough.

“I want to meet him,” Cass signed firmly.

“Seconded,” Duke added. “He seems cool.”

“No,” Bruce said, finally standing and cutting through the rising chatter. His tone was firm, brooking no argument. “Danny is not someone you want to get involved with.”

But before Bruce could elaborate, the room was bathed in green light again.

Danny reappeared, now sitting cross-legged in mid-air, holding what looked like a spectral clipboard. “Forgot one thing,” he announced casually.

Bruce’s glare could have burned through steel. “What now?”

Danny smirked. “I want interest. Fifteen years is a long time to wait for sixteen bucks. So let’s say... ten percent per year?”

Jason cackled as the rest of the family broke out into laughter. Even Damian couldn’t entirely suppress a smirk.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I’m not paying you interest.”

Danny shrugged, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to stick around until you do. Hope you’ve got extra space, because I’m moving in.”

The Batcave erupted into chaos. Jason and Steph cheered, Tim frantically calculated how much Bruce technically owed, and Bruce’s patience reached its breaking point.

“Fine,” Bruce growled. “But you’re staying in the guest room.”

Danny floated down, looking entirely too smug. “Deal. Now, who’s up for pizza? I’m starving.”

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 4)

The man you stumbled into is bleeding out. And he's distractingly pretty.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 (current)

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, mentions of blood, fluff, you panic bc of his lethal face card, valid reaction tbh, 10/10 would do the same

Interacting directly with a beautiful man reduces you to an idiot, you realize.

You’ve met attractive men before—had crushes on such men. They weren’t necessarily easy on the eyes, but there was always something they said, did, or had that made you feel some type of way about them. The seventh-grade classmate who shushed your chattering peers during your presentation. The corner store clerk with pretty hands. The college senior who made you feel welcome at your acquaintance party. The tall guy who unknowingly saved you from getting squished by the sardine-packed commuters on the train.

Sure, your next interactions with them made you hyper-aware of their presence for a time—hanging on to their every word and unknowingly seeking them out in the room. But you think you remained fairly casual and blasé with them, as you do with most things.

Unlike right now.

As your mind begins to clear, you register that you’re stripped down to just your base layer. In the middle of winter. Your puffer jacket lies damp on the ground, and your sweater—now sporting huge splotches of blood—is folded haphazardly against the man’s abdomen. (You try not to let the sight of the dark liquid summon the remains of your dinner.)

Your gaze flickers between his ruined shirt and your clasped hands, cupped by his much larger, warmer ones. When you look up, you’re taken aback to find his intense garnet eyes already locked on you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the deep, velvety timbre of his voice compelling you to straighten up unconsciously.

“Yes,” you splutter, air barely making it past your throat. Then, your eyes widen. “Are you alright?” you stress, gesturing wildly to the concerning state of his abdominal area.

He chuckles. “Never been better.”

You gape at him. “But you’re bleeding!”

He glances down at his bloodied clothes. “It appears so.”

You like to think you have a good head on your shoulders. You always stay on the correct side of the sidewalk. You tidy up your table as much as you can at food joints. You try to abide by city recycling guidelines to make life easier for sanitation workers. And you’re decently vigilant, thanks to the countless true crime documentaries you’ve crammed into your brain.

But alas, it seems a beautiful man is all it takes for common sense to call it a day.

“Okay, so I actually won some groceries earlier, and I think I have some first-aid supplies in there,” you babble, missing the knowing glint in his eyes. “My house is just a little further down the street. If you want, I can treat your wound there?”

He’s still holding your hands. You realize your palms must be clammy from cold sweat—and his blood. You politely pull your hands back with a laugh you hope sounds natural. (It doesn’t.)

“Oh wait, you probably need a hospital,” you blurt, mentally berating yourself for not considering this first. You start fishing for your phone in your jeans pocket. “I can call the emergency hotline for Akso Hospital. I work there. Um, I can even ride with you in the ambulance if you’d like?”

The man laughs, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“I appreciate the help, sweetie, but you shouldn’t be so quick to give out personal information to people you just met.”

Heat creeps up your neck. He’s right. You’re basically handing him a free pass to rob your place. What if he’s a serial killer?

As you feel yourself spiraling further, he begins to stand, grabbing your dropped jacket as he rises. You instinctively lean back, mouth agape at his towering height and the fact that he just stood up—quite gracefully—despite clutching his wound mere moments ago.

“I’ll have your sweater washed and dry-cleaned,” he says, folding the soiled fabrics neatly into compact squares. “Know that your assistance back there is much appreciated.”

“Oh—! It was nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

A single snowflake lands on your face and you blink, nose twitching at the gentle melting sensation. Looking up, you notice the sky is now a beautiful backdrop of powdery snow, falling softly around you.

“It’s getting late,” he observes, also gazing up at the scenery. “Let me walk you home.”

Before you can protest, he drapes his coat over your shoulders. You’re immediately overwhelmed by the scent of fresh linen and something distinctly masculine that has you instinctively relaxing into the warm confines of the comically oversized garment.

“But aren’t you cold?” you ask, unknowingly tucking yourself further into his coat.

“No,” he responds with a hint of laughter, pressing a hand to your back to gently guide you toward the park entrance.

The short walk to your house is surprisingly comfortable. Aside from occasionally fumbling over your words and avoiding his gaze (his face is distractingly handsome, and his impressive height and physique make you strangely self-conscious), you manage a decent conversation.

You learn he was taking a casual stroll when he had a “squabble” with some old business partners. You can only stare at the back of his head at this revelation. What kind of squabble leads to a wound like that? And how is he acting so fine now? If it weren’t for the bloodstain on his expensive-looking high-neck top, you’d think you hallucinated the whole thing.

You also learn he’s visiting the city on a business trip. After hearing this, the rest of the walk is filled with you recommending your favorite places: the food spots you’re yet to use your lifetime vouchers for, the cat café with the snooty caracal you love petting, and the old arcade where you’ve won most of your plushie collection. (You make sure to share with him a few secret tricks for mastering the darn two-pronged claw machine.)

Belatedly, it dawns on you that such activities might hold little interest for a man like him. Flustered, you open your mouth to undo the torrent of nonsense you’ve been spouting, when he suddenly stops and turns to face you.

“Your recommendations are duly noted,” he says, eyes glowing with amusement. “I’ll be sure to try them sometime.”

You’ve arrived at your house. You're surprised by the unexpected pang of disappointment you feel.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

He hands over your now-drier puffer jacket. “It was my pleasure. Now go inside before you turn into an icicle.”

“Oh—your coat,” you exclaim, beginning to shrug it off. But he stops you with a raised hand.

“Keep it,” he tells you. “I’ll get it back when I return your sweater.”

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Then, as if recalling a secret you’re not privy to, he smiles softly. “I trust it’ll be in safe hands. You seem exceptional at caring for things.”

Before you can unpack his words, he turns and starts walking toward the main road.

“Wait! What’s your name?” You can't believe you haven't asked till now.

He pauses before glancing over his shoulder.

“Sylus,” he finally says.

“Sylus,” you repeat, liking the way it rolls off your tongue. “It’s a pretty name.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, eyes widening in horror. Why not tell him he’s hot while you’re at it, doofus?

As you fumble for an apology and prepare to sentence yourself to a blabbermouth timeout, he chuckles.

“Indeed it is.”

You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a trace of melancholy in his voice that stays with you.

With a wave, he walks into the snowy dark, his figure gradually fading.

And that’s when it hits you.

How did he know which house was yours?

note: seeing the love this series has gotten has been surprising! the comments, reblog captions, and tags you leave are honestly hilarious and i had a blast reading through them 💞

tag list: @thepotatoislost, @xxfaithlynxx, @browneyedgirl22, @vorfreudevortex

[wowbright]

I have seen this post, along with reblogs containing massive amounts of misinformation, cross my dash many times. I have ignored them, thinking "what's the use of getting into this on Tumblr"? But I have finally hit the tipping point. seeing mutual after mutual reblog this along with "only ecofascists believe in the concept of human overpopulation; if you even consider arguments about overpopulation, you are sliding down the slippery slope to eco-fascism" commentary, apparently without questioning the content or the source, is disturbing to me.

The tweet above and the statements about eco-fascism are not factual statements. They are propaganda. Now, I don't think propaganda is in itself a bad thing. But it not being bad depends on people being able to identify it and critique it. You need to be able to evaluate the content and the source in order to weed out the objective information from the subjective. If you can do that and you still agree with it, more power to you.

In this super long post, I am first going to address the tweet. After that, I will talk a little bit about eco-fascism and overpopulation discourse.

Let's address the source first. Here are some other opinions you can find on the Hampton Institute site (quotes are from x):

There was no evidence of Russian interference in any U.S. election and any investigations into it are pro capitalist political theater

Go ahead and let Russia have Ukraine

Cornel West is not socialist enough

"We need to understand that electoral politics are both a time suck and a dead end if the goal is to win elections, assume office, and enact legislation. Therefore, campaigns should only be used to educate, agitate, and form counter-hegemonic and liberatory institutions and organizations."

"liberal identity politics" are a sideshow; capitalism/class is the ultimate root of all oppression

"Democrats are not anti-fascist; they are just as much a part of the transition to overt fascism as Republicans are."

Bernie Sanders sold out the working class by endorsing Biden (among other sins)

Every single report of sexual violence conducted by Hamas during the attack on Israel on October 2023 is false. (Not just that there were misreportings or it's difficult to pin down numbers, but that not a single incident happened.)

It's a waste of time and capitalist shilling to critique communism/historical communist systems

If there's anything in the list above you wouldn't take at face value, then why take the tweet at the top at face value?

As for the content, let's look at the numbers:

7.7 billion --it could be more, it could be less. It's close enough. I'm not going to argue with this.

95% of people live on 10% of the land-- where does the statistic come from? What is it even saying? Is it saying that, of all the land occupied by humans, 5% own or occupy 90% of that land? Is it talking about all arable land on earth? Is it talking about all land on Earth? Because if you look at statistics for arable land use, there is not a single inhabited continent where arable land use is less than 25%. That is, of all the arable land that exists, at least 25% of it is being used for agriculture (cropland or grazing land). Worldwide average is around 35%. That is way more than 10%. If you single out cropland alone and don't count grazing land, because you want to look at how a vegetarian diet might change land use, you will find the cropland takes up less than 10% of arable land in parts of the world. But in europe, the us, argentina, mexico, china, India, Pakistan, Kenya, and a bunch of other countries, more than 10% of arable land is used for crops, with some countries having as much as 50 to 70% of their arable land used for crop land. x

We produce enough food to satisfy 10 billion people -- I'm not going to argue with this. There are plenty of studies that support the argument that this will be possible soon if not already x (but no one should be surprised that it includes the assumption of shifting to a more plant-based diet, which does not line up with actual food consumption trends x)

We can double how many people we feed in a more sustainable way -- another point that sounds nice, but what does it even mean?

Okay, Now we move on from the Hampton Institute to the ecofascists. Wow, what a fun way to spend my Saturday afternoon!

True claim: Eco-fascism argues that overpopulation is the ultimate root of climate change and environmental destruction. x x x x

True claim: Eco-fascism is racist, white supremacist, and genocidal. (See links above.)

Unprovable claim: Overpopulation is inherently and only an eco-fascist myth/arguing point. That is actually something that you will need to decide for yourself after you research the issue. But here are a few starting points: Isaac Asimov and Jacques Cousteau had concerns about human population growth and its effects on the environment. Are they necessarily ecofascists? Are white people living in Western countries who support immigration and reproductive freedom worldwide being eco-fascists when they make a personal choice to have fewer children because they are concerned about the effect of population growth and land use on their local ecosystems? Is it inherently fascistic to draw a mathematical correlation between number of people and amount of land used for agriculture and habitation? Is it fascistic to think about what the worst consequences of human population growth could be, in order to figure out ways to minimize or eliminate negative consequences while allowing human population growth to continue? Is it possible to use the concept of overpopulation in a non-misanthropic way, i.e. as a tool for identifying numbers that would be unsustainable under current conditions, and figuring out how to change things so that those numbers would be perfectly sustainable?

No conclusion here. I'm not going to tell you what the interest to those questions should be.

To show my hand, I don't think they necessarily have a single answer. And that is what led me to spend way too much time on a Saturday writing about this post when my sinuses are stuffed and I can't even think clearly. Because every single reblog I've seen of it gives off the impression that this is a closed discussion, that there is a single right conclusion that everybody should come to, that all the statements made are objective and supported by fact, and that everybody but an eco-fascist would agree with the whole reblog chain.

It's Tumblr and i shouldn't care because no one will take the time to read this anyway. But hey. I have a cold and I'm not thinking straight. Have a great day.

join the praxis discord - sign up - github

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 9 - Death

summary : maybe it is time for reader to move on from patterns that are now useless and reconsider things

content warnings : some angst, then some comfort, then more angst, then more comfort, some crude language an mentions of harassment

word count : 6.1k

author's note : okay i think i might write my old bg3 requests still sitting in my inbox after this but!!!! im excited to write the next chap

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world <3

masterlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt

You had spent your Saturday recovering, not without frustration. It was a waste of time, you thought. You could have taken advantage of a day without any classes or work like that to study and make more progress, but Selene had come to visit you, worried.

She officially met Sky, who had always admired her since her first lessons with her. Selene had come to your bedside, placing a gentle hand on your forehead for a moment, then letting it slide down to your warm cheek. She sighed, familiar with your overworking habits.

She asked Sky about your night, about the prescribed treatment, and Selene couldn't help but exchange a knowing glance with you when Viktor was mentioned, especially for such chivalrous deeds. She smiled a playful ‘see, I told you so’ which made you pull your cover over your head in annoyance.

When she left, Sky came back to you, bringing you a chicken broth to restore your health, which she hoped you'd consume to the last drop.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this and calling them, calling him. But..." She sighed, watching you finally eat something with relief. "You were working yourself to death, and with such a pace, you probably wouldn't have been able to pass the exams at all if you'd kept going."

You swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, a small knot of shame and regret tightening it. You'd been so obsessed, so fixated on outdoing yourself and winning back your number one spot from Viktor that you'd become nothing more than an information-gobbling machine.

You didn't even need it, you'd just decided to get ahead on the next year's syllabus in the hope of impressing in the papers and showing your dedication. How could you be so stupid? 

"Your state was deteriorating visibly..." Sky reflected, looking down at her hands before only meeting your gaze for a moment. "You really scared me, you know."

Your heart split in two. You placed your lunch tray on your bedside table, taking Sky's hands in yours and seeking her gaze despite her bowed head.

"Hey," you murmured in your tired voice as you smiled softly at her when she looked back at you. "You did the right thing, Sky. Without you..." you sighed, thinking back on your stupidity, "I don't know where I'd be right now. This was going to eat me alive until there would be nothing left of me but a white chalk outline on my desk."

She smiled softly, squeezing your hands. Her eyes glistened, her chin trembling slightly as she took off her glasses.

"Oh, Sky..." You pulled her into your arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry."

You couldn't imagine how tired she must have been, seeing you wasting away like that, not listening to her, not hearing her. She had her own revisions, her own things to do, and you had made your problem hers.

You could feel her forehead wrinkling, her hands trembling slightly around you as she twitched.

Since when did you become such an important part of someone's life that they cared that much about you?

What would have happened if, for one more year, you'd never had a flatmate? And if that flatmate hadn't been Sky, would she have had even an ounce of patience like your friend?

You'd fucked up and nearly gone off the deep end, and Sky had done everything she could to avoid it.

"I promise you to never do that again," you vowed, pulling away from her to run your thumb over her cheek and wipe away the tears. "Please, don't cry on me. Cry on... I don't know, Heimerdinger's hairstylist."

Don't cry for me, I'm not worth a waste of tears, not yours.

She laughed nervously, her eyes going to the ceiling. "I don't know why I'm crying, really, this is..." she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "this is stupid."

"No, it's not," you smiled, "It's good to cry."

She raised her eyebrows, wiggling her nose and shrugging. "Well, you never do."

"That's because I sold my lacrimal glands," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood by joking.

And it worked - she laughed, the sadness slowly evaporating from her face. "So you have no tears, but you still have your heart, right ?"

You closed your fist, banging it against your chest. "It's a dusty engine, but it does its work."

"Well," she stood up, "I hope it can still feel something."

You observed her for a moment, picking up a saucepan and filling it with water. No doubt to make coffee, or at least tea to ward off your addiction and prevent your mechanical heart from overheating under the caffeine. No amount of Piltovian gold could offer you anything like Sky's sweetness.

"My heart's full of room for the very few friends I have." You picked up your bowl of broth again, its warmth cupped against your fingers. "Its aorta is named after you."

She turned to you, smiling, her eyes filling again with tears as she breathed in. 

"You can't just say things like that and not expect me to ruin a box of these," she described movements in the air with her hands in ridiculous, exagerated swirls, "silk-soft tissues they have here."

"Their toilet paper is so thick and soft it feels like we're using pillows," you sneered before blowing on the bouillon.

"Right?!" Sky exclaimed, "It's only been like, a month and a half since I've been here and it all feels so fancy. Everything is so... clean."

"I know!" You laughed, "It's infuriating. The streets barely have a scratch, the buildings have colours straight out of a kid's colouring book, and they have trees."

She sighed, visualising the vegetation the city had before her eyes fell back on yours. "You never get used to it, right?"

You swallowed your mouthful of broth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Never."

She leaned back against the worktop, watching you for a moment. "Seriously though." She tilted her head to one side. "Don't ever do that again."

You smiled, bringing your forefinger and thumb to your ear and pressing on the lobe. 

It was a custom in Zaun to pledge your word. In the Undercity, you pressed your lobe as if you were piercing it, to imaginatively seal in the skin a ring other than the one on your finger. However, everyone knows that if you pull too hard on a piercing, you can tear the flesh, and find it difficult to retie the skin so that it can be pierced again. So the promise was made with a symbolic ring, anchored in the skin, that the promise would be kept.

"May my flesh tear apart if, by misfortune, I betrayed," you recited.

During the rest of the last week of classes before the exams, you resumed a much more normal revision routine than the original, much to Sky's delight. You'd revise with her in the afternoons outside class, asking each other questions about the subjects you shared while you were trying not to die laughing from the stupid ways you looked with your facemasks during skincare time.

When Friday came around, you decided to go to the library again. Unconsciously, it had become a ritual. With Viktor or without, you intended to surround yourself with knowledge as immense as possible.

You went and sat down at a table, alone, while many students who had come for the same reason were already crowding most of the available ones. You took out your things, rereading your index cards for the umpteenth time until you were almost ready to recite them by heart if the need arose.

You couldn't help but lose concentration when you heard your name spoken in the distance, coming from voices that weren’t familiar to you, further behind your back.

"And to say Viktor got put with her on Heimerdinger's subject," one said, chuckling.

"I wonder which of them pulls their hair out more in each other's company."

You tried not to think about it, but since, for once, the conversation wasn't all about the walking street lamp, you couldn't help but let your ears hang close to their mouths.

"Did you see her the other day? A vision of the apocalypse. Hollow cheeks and dead eyes like she hadn't eaten in a month."

"Gotta have hollow cheeks to suck the teachers better," her classmate sneered.

Your jaw tightened, trying to ignore their remarks. This wasn't your first time hearing such things - the previous two years hadn't been as gentle as this one, even if Viktor had caused a few problems with his arrival.

"Can you believe what she did to Tyler?"

"She's an animal." They both laughed, causing you to sink back into your chair.

"How do you think Viktor handles her?"

"He doesn't, she's just a handicap to him and he seems to have an embarrassing enough one as it is."

You inhaled. Someone will probably tell them to be quiet so as not to disturb the peace of the library. You hoped.

"Who's a handicap?"

Your eyes widened as you suddenly turned around. Viktor was standing there, facing them, both students suddenly looking very confused and ashamed.

"Viktor," one of them laughed nervously, "this was just a joke, she..."

But the student didn't have time to come up with an excuse. Viktor raised an eyebrow before speaking.

"She's an incredible person who no one can defeat," he informed them, the latter two lowering their eyes on their notes suddenly invested in their revisions. "Except me."

He punctuated his sentence, turning away from them and meeting your gaze. He seemed surprised, not expecting to find you there, at least not doing nothing when such needlessly cruel nonsense was uttered in your name.

Inevitably, of course, he moved towards you.

Except me.  The phrase made you roll your eyes for a moment before you tried to read information from your notes that hadn't needed reading for a long time. 

He sat down opposite you, keeping his hand on the pommel of his cane. "Your name seems to be on everyone's lips, Miss."

"What can I say," you sighed, "the obsession they have for me is an undying addiction."

However, Viktor didn't seem amused at all.

"Why do you let them say such things about you without lifting a finger?"

You bit the inside of your lip, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you as your eyes scanned uselessly over your revision sheets. 

"It's not the first time I've heard that kind of comment about me," you confirmed without much interest, "I'll survive it."

"So you spend most of your time worrying about the injustices other people experience but you push your own under a doormat?" Viktor summed up, not seeming genuinely thrilled at the idea.

"If I could push the injustice that Tyler is by his very existence off the face of this world, I'd be stepping on some rich blonde aristocrat every time I left and returned from home."

But Viktor still wasn't laughing, far from it. When your eyes finally met his, they were dark.

He sighed. "Are you trying to punish yourself for something by neglecting yourself so much?"

I'd like to forget more than anything else in the world. The thought was taking over your soul, eating away at you like a gangrene with an insatiable hunger.

"Of course," you chuckled, exaggerating a falsely happy tone.

"Stop this." His tone was firm.

"Stop what?" you questioned.

"Trying to make something funny out of this."

You frowned, raising an eyebrow. "What? You're not feeling in the mood for our ritual chit chats?"

"Do I look like I'm joking around right now?"

His eyes had the same gleam, carried the same weight as when he'd held you in place in your bed just a week ago. You almost gulped, speechless. Why was he reacting like that? Why was he worried about you?

You lowered your eyes, licking your lips as you returned to your notes.

"Fine," you admitted, dropping your sarcastic tone. "I guess I owe you for saving my life, anyway."

It didn't sound like it, but it was probably the closest you'd come to a ‘thank you’ for him so far. He seemed surprised that you were finally cooperating in the conversation, that you were at last sending him a very subliminal magic word.

His shoulders slumped, as if the idea of being angry with you was stupid.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.

"I'm no longer sick, if that's the question you meant to ask."

"It was, but also," he brought his cane up between his legs, clasping both hands on the pommel as he came to rest his chin on it, "I just wanted to know how you are doing."

Why are you doing this? You were thinking back over the last few weeks. His questions during the power cut, the attention he'd paid to you, staying awake all night by your side to make sure you were taking your medication properly, and now...

"Well," you swallowed, these thoughts unsettling you for a moment and sending a foreign warmth into your belly, "the exams are approaching and I think you've had quite the close look on their effect on me so... yeah."

He considered you, tilting his head to the side until his cheek was the one pressed against the back of his hands. He scanned you, his gaze sending a warm wind up your spine.

"You're still on the treatment, right?"

The horrible powder you had to mix in a glass at least twice a day wasn't the moment you were looking forward to most in your daily routine, but you did it anyway, under Sky's sharp eyes.

You remained silent, just to see how Viktor would react and whether, as he had dictated, he would make sure you stayed in bed no matter what.

Faced with your silence, he raised an eyebrow as he straightened up, finally wrinkling his forehead as he frowned.

"Right?" he repeated, almost menacingly.

"Relax." A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm taking it."

He sighed in relief at the news, while you shook your head in confusion.

"You're putting all this effort... for me? Why"

The phrase sounded alien in your mouth, as if you weren't worth the time or energy of such dedication. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes roving over your index cards.

"You know why."

"Because you can't have your best rival go against you while she's sick?" you recited.

"Because I don't want to be your rival."

You found this answer profoundly absurd.

"What do you mean-" But he cut you off, annoyed.

"What do you want, hmm? To become Heimerdinger's assistant?"

Of course, you thought, but the way Viktor had said it sounded... easy, too easy. Or at least, too easy for you.

"I don't intend to be his assistant, and I'm going to tell you why."

He stood up, walking around the table until he was beside you and leaning in slightly.

"Because I've already been his assistant, and I stopped."

The words echoed inside you, like the cracking of something you thought was indestructible. Your lips parted in shock, watching him with huge eyes as he straightened up.

"In any case. I wanted to make sure that you'd be back in good shape." He began to walk towards the library exit, turning one last time to give you a playful look. "And now that I'm sure you'll be in full shape, I know I don't need to hold back, hm, rival?"

He turned away, heading for the big door, leaving you with a short-circuited brain. What did he mean by "already been"? What did he mean he had stopped? How had Viktor ever been Heimerdinger's assistant?

When the sentence finally reached your mind after a long travel from your ears, you gathered your things in a flash as the questions began to fly and you almost ran to catch up with him. You caught up with him in the corridors, under the astonished gazes of all the students.

"What?" you asked, out of breath from the sudden exertion and the gust of wind the news had knocked from your chest.

He turned to you, slightly surprised that you'd practically chased after him. He'd probably expected you to sit at your table, mulling things over until the questions got too much for you and you decided to come and see him after a day or two of mental torment.

"You've been Heimerdinger's assistant?" you repeated, adjusting the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.

He shrugged, turning away from you. "Yes."

Was he really just going to leave like that? Leaving you in agony for answers you wanted more than anything? No, it wasn't going to be like that.

You grabbed his wrist, much to his surprise, and pulled him with you into an empty adjoining corridor. Once you were out of sight, checking from one end of the corridor to the other to see if anyone was there, you finally regained his gaze.

There was something in his eyes, like a hint of something that kept his lips parted until they closed and his eyes lowered to your hand still gripping his wrist.

You let go, the heat of shame spreading across your neck and cheeks for a moment as you took a step away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"When were you his assistant?"

He leaned against the wall, sighing as he stared at you.

"You do remember Jayce's trial, don't you?"

How could you forget? You hadn't been present at the trial. Selene had invited you to come as it concerned your friend, but you were too afraid of the aristocratic eyes and the pressure they would put on you.

The story remained vague. Due to special circumstances that remained under the security and secrecy of the administration as to the extent of Jayce's activities, he had been allowed to stay at the academy.

"Yes."

"By then, I had already been Heimerdinger’s assistant for a month.."

You now were certain you'd never seen him before. It was just one month into your summer holidays, and you had gone to Zaun to find Eris. Your chances of running into him were almost nil, no doubt about it.

"How did you get to become his assistant?" you quizzed.

He shrugged, and that simple movement made you want to scream. "I suppose he must have liked my assiduity enough to take me on. That and the fact that, with his little legs, I was bound to walk at his pace," he joked.

You held your breath in your lungs for a moment, before releasing it. He didn't seem to be lying, at least about the only serious part of his sentence. He was undoubtedly the best choice for Heimerdinger in any case.

However, it seemed to you that it wasn't so much exasperation that you were feeling - you were trying to understand what the feeling was... a relief, but not really about the fact that the assistant's place was free, no, a relief about Viktor that you couldn't really place at the moment.

"Why did you stop?" There was no longer any frustration in your voice, just a new-found curiosity.

Viktor seemed taken aback by your new intonation, straightening slightly against the wall. "It didn't interest me anymore."

What could he have found that was better? The thought, at last, that Viktor's aim was not to be an assistant for the rest of his life, crept into your mind. Viktor seemed to pick up on it.

"See? I told you we didn't have the same goal."

You finally realised what that feeling of relief was: you didn't have to hate him any more. You no longer had a reason to try to outdo him, no longer had a valid justification for becoming number one again. But why was it such a relief? There was rarely anything more gratuitous than hatred in what you knew, and it should have been the same for Viktor, so why was it such a relief not to have to hate him any more?

Hating him served no purpose, no motivation. It was useless, and what do you do with useless things?

You took half a step towards him.

"The truce you suggested, have you come up with any clauses?"

His eyebrows rose, his eyes widened. He lifted himself off the wall.

"Um no-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Find some, and I'll consider them."

And with that, you took off, leaving Viktor speechless. 

You moved quickly, trying to get home as fast as possible. You were afraid that the street air, so pure and fresh, would wash away your conclusions and fuel a hatred that no longer had any reason to exist.

But you didn't go home straight away, making a diversion to Emeline's shop. As soon as you entered her shop, she didn't hesitate to jump on your neck and give you a hug.

"My little lamb," she enthused as she squeezed you until your ribs broke before cupping your face as if to examine you, "are you feeling better? You gave me quite a fright, you know! When your friend came to visit me and told me you were ill I nearly closed up shop to come and see you myself."

"Everything's fine," you laughed, squeezing her arms, "I've almost completely recovered!"

You'd decided that, after your chat with Viktor and all the effort you'd put into your revision, you deserved a little something to comfort you.

After a little chat with Emeline, she packed two pastries, one for you and one for Sky. Of course, she didn't forget to fill you up with an extra small packet of sweets that would have gone unsold during the day.

When you returned home, you greeted Sky with a smile and raised the two bags of treats to your head. She smiled in surprise.

"To what do we owe this feast?" she asked.

You shrugged. "Let's just say I've made resolutions for the better."

You'd been laughing all evening, stuffing your faces with these delicacies as you both took a well-deserved break from studying.

Your eyes turned to your tarot deck, you'd forgotten to draw any cards lately due to your revisions, so after wiping your hands full of sugar, you took the pack in hand.

“I see you pulling one almost every morning,” Sky remarked, lying on her stomach on your bed while you were cross-legged. “Why do you do that?”

You pulled out your cards in your hands. “To have a leitmotif to follow during the day. Although to be quite honest I don't follow their advice every time.”

She laughed softly, knowing by now your stubbornness like no other. “That doesn't surprise me at all.”

“Yeah well,” you smiled in turn as you shuffled the cards, ”some of them are not the best cards to wake up on to in the morning.”

So you cut your deck as usual, and looked at its underside. You raised your eyebrows.

“Just like this one.”

You showed Sky the card: Death.

She winced, her eyebrows furrowing as her mouth formed as if she were pronouncing the letter x.

“Okay, I get it,” she said, shaking her head. “Is it literal? I hope not, right?”

“Nah it's pretty safe.” You laughed. “The description of its meaning is in the little booklet.” You pointed to it with your chin, and Sky grabbed it, flipping through until she found the Death page.

“Transition. Underworld. Flux. Occultism. Letting go. Evolution requiring liberation. Metaphorical death.” She read. “Off to a great start apparently.”

You chuckled, observing the card as she continued reading. “Death moves across a field with a slow, steady march. A king lies dead. He represents the old systems of order cast aside. A bishop begs for mercy, a young girl turns away in fear and only a curious little girl looks up to greet death. She has not been taught to fear it.”

Your thumb passed over the little girl's drawing, your heart clenching. 

“A ship sails away, heedless of death's march. A sun rises between two towers to reflect resurrection and new beginnings. All endings give way to new possibilities. Transformation leads to renewal and growth.” She raised her eyebrows. “Ain't as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Yeah,” you considered, thinking back on your day and the fact that the cards were pointing you in the right direction, ”indeed.”

Exam week was over. You'd had absolutely no trouble at all with any of the exercises. All the subjects were in the bag and you were finishing virtually ahead of schedule in every exam room.

Today was the day of results. The teachers had spent the weekend correcting everything, and the results boards had finally been displayed.

You woke up feeling lighter than you thought you would. Since realizing that there was no longer any point in chasing Viktor to victory, you'd relaxed.

You went down the hall with Sky, passing the student mailboxes for a moment so you could check if either of you had received anything.

You opened the metal door to a single letter, sealed with a metallic black wax seal you knew all too well: Eris.

You took the key to your apartment, using its teeth to open the envelope and take out the letter, which you brought to your nose.

Her letters always smelled of the essential oils and herbs that constantly appeased you. Without further ado, you unfolded the paper and read its contents.

My sweet friend,

I thought you were a lost cause in friendship, but I guess this year the wheel is really turning on your side. I'm delighted, and I imagine the same goes for Selene. I'd love to meet her, that Sky, she sounds absolutely charming. I'm guessing, though, that the day with your Five of Wands must have been no picnic, especially if - from what I understand - Emperor Viktor is to blame. But I'm sure that the Immeasurable Grandeur of the Prestigious Piltover Academy will crown your success.

You giggled to yourself as your eyes passed over the elegant, forced curves that Eris had taken care to add in response to your own inky bows.

I miss you so much. You know how the days are here in Zaun; I open, sell and consult, and close in the evening before any trouble starts. I'm paid with golden trinkets, new flowers to dry and other plants from other regions. I have managed to get some new customers, though, and not the least important ones. Renata Glasc herself has been to my shop.

You'd already heard of Renata Glasc, an ambitious woman who was growing in influence on the streets of Zaun. She wasn't a Chem Baroness, but at the rate she was going, it looked like she was well on her way to becoming one.

In fact, it's through her that I'm hearing about worrying things here. Common for Zaun, you may say, but I can't help thinking the worst. I'll tell you about it myself when we meet. I'm planning to come here around December 23, so let's meet at the usual bridge at three o'clock. I'll be staying with you for a few days. I can't tell you more. But I've lit a candle for you, wishing you success and good health.

I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest trouble,

Eris.

What could she possibly be worried about? The situation was invariably complicated in Zaun, but what could it be that she was worried about?

You carefully tucked the letter into your bag, heading out to the shuttle stop.

“Not too stressed?” Sky asked.

You huffed, a cloud of warmth rising into the air. The cold had been gaining in intensity for over a week, and all the students at the academy had donned their scarves.

“No.” you replied, confident. “You?”

“A bit,” she admitted, her breath trembling slightly.

“Hey,” you pressed your shoulder against hers as she turned to face you, ”you've got this. I know you do.”

She nodded, smiling at you as the shuttle arrived. The journey was swift, some students over-excited at the prospect of their results, others apprehensive about what was to come.

As you arrived at the golden gates of the academy, you noticed that neither Viktor nor Jayce were in sight. Perhaps they had decided to go to the academy later?

The group of students walked up to the scoreboards, an army of others already huddled in front of them.

Sky went in search of her name, while you breathed in, waiting for other students to pass before you.

You didn't know what awaited you at the top of the board, which name would be at the head. Did it still matter? Yes, it probably did, or it didn't. Did you want it to matter? Probably not. But did your mind keep wandering? Endlessly.

What if Viktor was still number one - would you be disappointed? What if you were number one - would you be satisfied? And if neither he nor you were number one, would you be revolted?

“Look who it is!”

That voice alone was enough to make you frown, raise your eyebrows and lower your eyelids in boredom.

Tyler.

You turned to him for a moment, him seeming pleased that you responded to his voice as you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“What do you want, blondie? Searching for a new name on the boards to torment?”

He chuckled, stepping toward you. “You don't change a winning team, darling. Have you found your place at the very bottom of the ranking?”

It was your turn to chuckle, turning to face him. He had no idea about your academic results, it seemed. 

“Tyler you have as many neurons as you have eyes, and they're both fighting for any kind of connection.” You turned to the bulletin board, stepping forward slightly. “Do them mercy and close your eyelids for all eternity before we have to deal with a rain of fire and the horsemen and...”

But you didn't even finish your sentence, the words dying on your lips as your eyes came to rest on your name.

First place.

You were back in first place. Eyes and mouth wide open, you kept blinking to make sure your vision wasn't failing you. And the name underneath... 

Viktor.

Your scores were almost equal, yours barely beating him.

“Told you I wasn't going to hold back.”

You turned towards the voice, the tinkle you now knew too well of his cane echoing on the floor. He stood there, serene, a small smile on his face before his lips pressed into an inverted grin and his eyebrows raised.

“You fight well, Miss.”

You couldn't help it - you cracked a smile at him. And Viktor seemed astonished, as if he'd never seen such a thing happen. No stupid remark, no pettiness behind your drawn lips, just sincere amusement and joy.

“What the...” Tyler's voice died in his throat as he took in the bulletin boards, turning to you. “How did you...”

You turned to him, his sole presence now not even enough to ruin your happiness and relief. “As if you could reach me,” you replied with a triumphant smile, walking out of the crowd to join Viktor.

Once you got away from all this tumult, he nodded. “You got first,” he remarked, “congratulations.”

You observed him for a second, his posture reflecting a sort of disappointment. Was it from losing? Or was it from the fact you seemed so happy in your rivalry with him? You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Quit it,” you pronounced with a smile, shaking your head slightly. “We share this crown, and you perfectly know that.”

He said nothing, just gazing at you for a moment. There was this gleam, the tickling of a smile ready to be born on his lips as the satisfaction that, maybe, these ink duels you were both fencing would wash away and let something different be born from them. 

He was apprehensive about saying something, but Jayce came towards you both.

“Ah, Jayce, exams went well?” You asked, knowing without a doubt that he didn't have to worry about his results.

“Oh yeah, perfect.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting from yours to Viktor's, surprised that you weren't quarrelling. “Say, hum... can I talk to you guys for a minute?” 

Viktor and you exchanged a confused look, before ultimately following him.

“A masquerade?” you repeated, as if the word had never grazed your lips before.

Jayce had brought you to a room in the Academy where you could all talk without hearing the multiple cries of students as to their result. And considering what he had to discuss with you, he'd done the right thing.

“It's this thing Mel is invited to,” he explained nervously. “All the people of high aristocracy will be there, counselors, lords and ladies... Please, can you both accompany me to it?”

“As your dance partners?” joked Viktor, frowning.

“No, Mel's already my partner. But, she said that there would be no opposition for you both to come as well. You're the,” he seemed to search for words for a moment, ”croom dé la cram?”

“Crême de la crême?” you suggested.

He pointed at you, glad you understood. “Yeah, that. La crême de la crême of the Academy. Such prestigious students as the both of you sharing the top of the board deserve to be in such an event.”

“So you want us,” you pointed repeatedly between Viktor and yourself, ”to come to this event because you're too nervous to go there by yourself?”

The interested party scratched the back of his neck, sniffling before looking at you both with puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah?”

“Aren't you supposed to have a partner to come to a masquerade?” Interrogated Viktor.

“I thought you two could... go together?”

You chuckled, your mouth hanging open. You exchanged a bewildered look with Viktor, who didn't seem to be too upset by the concept.

“You're joking, right?” you asked.

“Please just-” he didn't finish his sentence, “put your bickering aside for one evening. You don't even have to show up together if it suits you better.”

“I don't see any problems with it,” Viktor shrugged, indifferent. “When is it?”

"Tomorrow night."

“Tomorrow night?” You exclaimed. “Jayce, if it's a society gala, I've got nothing to wear.”

He reached into his own wallet, pulled out some bills and handed them to you.

“Here, I'm sure you'll find something convenient with this.”

“Jayce,” you remarked, looking at the fresh bills, “what the hell.”

“This is not much for you to get a decent gown for the gala. Keep the rest, if there is any, to get some fancy accessories.” He grabbed your hand, placing the cash in it. “Truly, this is the least I can do.”

You knew Jayce's patrons were the Kiramman’s, but to have money to give away like this? Since when was that the case?

“Vik, I think it's time for us to go.” Jayce finally remarked before leaving the room, leaving the two of you.

You both stayed in silence for a moment, both digesting the information that had just been given to you.

“What a way to celebrate your victory,” Viktor finally sighed.

“I've seen worse celebrations than a masquerade,” you remarked, observing the tickets for a moment before folding them up, “but I think I've had better experiences than being in a room with nobility sipping glasses of champagne with petty innuendo in every exchange.”

He huffed in turn. “I suppose the next area in which we must excel in no time is the art of conversation in high society. Although, considering our usual conversation,” he leaned his head to the side with a smirk, "we'll fit right in."

“How exciting,” you raised your eyebrows sarcastically, letting silence take its rule back on the room before you finally decided to break it. ”Guess I better go and find myself something to wear. See you tomorrow, Viktor.” 

“Wait,” he called to you, seeming hesitant about what he was going to suggest, ”would you like us to get together first and go? Or...”

“Let's meet directly at the party,” you assured him.

He nodded, his lips pressing in a thin line as you turned away. “Oh and...” you turned back to him at his words, his eyes piercing. “Don't forget the mask.”

You nodded, leaving the room.

You had today and tomorrow to find an outfit, and get used to the fact that Viktor was no longer a threat to be eliminated. Easier said than done. 

But still… What a way to celebrate a rebirth.

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

[heavyhitterheaux]

Love Bites (NSFW)

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You bite your husband out of affection that leads to something else

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Did… baby…. Did you just bite me?” Joe asked as he glanced over at you noticing that you had now moved your position and was laying your head on his shoulder.

After you had bitten it of course.

“No.”

“Then what did I just feel on my shoulder? You know… the one that you're laying on?”

“I don't know. Beats me.” You replied as Joe was still eyeing you.

“I don't believe you.” He told you as he turned back to the movie that was playing on the television.

“Okay? And what am I supposed to do with that information?” You asked him as you picked your head up to slowly bite down once more. This time on his upper arm.

“BABY!”

“I can't help it! You look so biteable today! Well everyday but I have to stop myself because I would literally bite you for hours. I watched your presser and went FERAL.”

“You literally go feral from the moment you open your eyes. And is that why you sent me a text calling me a whore?”

“Says the person who got me pregnant. And yes those are MY ARMS not anyone else's!” You told him as you softly bit down again except this time leaving a kiss on the same spot in your path.

Joe didn't say anything in response except slip his tank top over his head and throw it across the room as he eyed you.

“Get over here and sit on my lap.”

“Oh?”

“Are you going to continue to stare at me or do what I told you?” Joe asked as you felt a light smack to your ass since your body was already slightly turned towards him.

He didn't even bother waiting for you to move before he literally pulled you onto his lap.

Several kisses were placed on your lips as he reached underneath the t-shirt that you were wearing and started to play with the waistband of your thong.

To give him easier access, the t-shirt was pulled over your head and added to the pile that Joe had originally started. Seeing you weren't wearing a bra, Joe smirked and began to place kisses on both of them, but before he did, little bites were placed on your sensitive skin first.

The wetness between your thighs began to increase and you knew on days like this that you needed for your husband to give you his undivided attention.

Joe's mouth found its way back to yours as your thong was pulled to the side and his fingers started to lightly graze across your folds making you moan as one of his fingers was placed inside.

He wasted no time in breaking the kiss and telling you to stand up so that he could get rid of the rest of his clothes along with the last piece of clothing that was covering you.

As he put you back in your original spot on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck as you slowly eased your way down making a moan escape from both of your mouths.

When you got into a comfortable pace and began to ride him, Joe took this opportunity to leave small bites accompanied with kisses all across your body where he could reach.

“Mmm, baby.” You breathed out as you threw your head back in pleasure and Joe held onto your hips tighter.

He then placed one of your nipples in his mouth and bit down lightly before he began to suck on it making the moans escaping from your lips grow louder.

“Shiiiit.”

“You better ride me and act like you want it. How bad do you want to cum, baby?” Joe whispered in your ear and your only response was riding him faster.

“That's what I fucking thought.” He told you as you felt another light smack to your ass.

Joe could tell you were tiring out and decided to help you from underneath. After a while his movements became sloppy and both of you hit your peak at the same time.

Your arms were still wrapped around Joe's neck as you were trying to catch your breath and moved to rest your head on his shoulder.

As he was rubbing small circles along your back, you lifted your head to kiss him, but as you did, you also bit down at the same time and could feel Joe smirk as you continued to kiss him.

“If this is the result of me biting you, I need to do it more often.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby. Now lay down because I'm nowhere near done with you.”

[tanadrin]

I would love to hear the rant about social media doomerism and conspiracy

I’m on my phone right now but the summary version is something like:

Humans are bad at integrating information into their worldview accurately bc of various cognitive biases

Social media incentivizes us seeking out content that excites fear or anger or irritation

Social media thus causes us to form negative impressions of the world bc it mediates so much information consumption and discourse these days

This general negative affective impression is subject to high confirmation bias and ppl in general are really bad at divorcing an affective impression of a thing from their dispassionate reasoning abt a thing

(Bc one of the functions of an affective impression is to “cache” our conclusions about a topic to save time and effort later)

(In general if you are a cynic and pessimist you can fall prey to these biases w/o social media but I think social media makes more ppl susceptible to them)

People don’t want to be dupes so they seek refuge in cynicism. We treat cynicism as wise or worldly when in fact cynicism makes you a dupe and an easy mark for grifters. Cynicism and low trust foster conspiracism, paranoia, and antisocial politics

(This is why so many congenitally contrarian folks seem to flit effortlessly between the far left and far right; it’s not horseshoe theory, they’ve just cooked their brains on this stuff)

This is a world where populist anti-social politicians like Trump and the AfD thrive, bc they will lie about how everything is terrible and people will nod along, bc it explains why their social media is full of awful stories of, like, immigrants eating pets and shit

But it doesn’t just have to be insane lies only a moron could believe. It can be any impression about a fact in the world that it is difficult to personally check and which is vulnerable to being swayed by anecdote

This is how we get a word where people think crime rates are higher than they’ve ever been when in fact crime is falling

Or child predators lurk around every corner when in fact children are safer than ever

Or the American economy is in a recession when in fact it’s doing historically well by just about every available metric (now with full employment AND low inflation!)

Because in a big world even where things are in general good and getting better you can always produce infinite individual examples of shitty things and pipe those in a steady stream into people’s eyeballs, and then point to that and leverage people’s low trust attitudes and their cynicism which tells them they are smarter than the experts and go “statistics is just a fancy way to lie! The world is secretly terrible! Every bad thing is even worse than you thought and every good thing is a lie!”

(Nevermind the whole phenomenon where anything that is complicated or that someone does not themselves understand gets treated like it’s actually secret and a conspiracy.)

And here I know I have to include some disclaimer about how this is not to discount individual cases of suffering or struggle, which are real, or that there are indeed some really awful things happening in the world right now, which there are, but you know what?

I’m tired of doing that. People with reading comprehension operating in good faith ought to be able to deduce that general statements do not obviate particular exceptions, and people who cling to their doomerism as a kind of emotional life raft do not generally argue with me in good faith.

Sometimes doomerism is a load-bearing pillar of their politics, which I think is dumb—I think you can be a leftist or a progressive without being a doomer! In fact I think doomerism is antithetical to useful politics!

Sometimes they are just depressed and treatment-resistant. Sometimes they are just angry misanthropes who want to feel justified in their misanthropy. Some doomers are themselves in bad circumstances and feeling hopeless about that—to them I am enormously sympathetic. Though a lot of doomers will admit they personally are doing OK—this does not seem to be most doomers.

But I think in general cynicism and doomerism and a worldview dominated by a general nebulous air of Everything Is Awful and by abstract nouns with threatening auras is not conducive to wisdom or understanding or useful politics or leading a happy and fulfilling life.

[argonautsoul]

“Oh, to be able to be admired, cared for, loved, without needing to do any other thing than existing. No need to fight. Just to care, and nourish one and each other...”

Love isn’t something you feel, though. It’s something you do. And so,

loving someone is loving who they are.

When people feel that they are not understood, it frequently is due to not enough empathy going both ways...

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

Here, one is actually saying: “I was in love with the fantasy relationship I wanted him/her to give me, but s/he wasn't offering me that; (I didn't like the way s/he was treating me)”.

Whatever you understand about your partner is your perspective. It is not what s/he really is. Whatever you attribute to your partner is in relation to you.

True love is based on accepting each other as they are... and you can't love something that you actually don't like... you can't love the other one if you don't actually enjoy the way s/he makes you feel.

Preferences are more about us than the other person, so first, try to give yourself what you are seeking from your date or partner.

Love isn't about trying to change someone to fit our idea of perfect.

What's more,

Forever, one can not fully understand the other one at all. This is the beauty of how they were created. Therefore, there is conflict between them.

Even within ourselves, there are/can be some deep-seated subconscious behaviours and beliefs that we don’t understand.

It is about accepting the whole person, even the parts you don't fully understand or agree with.

People's personalities change and grow over time. As you go through life together, you'll see new sides of each other. True love allows for that growth and accepts the ever-changing nature of your partner, even as their outer personality shifts. 

Any relationship is in a state of change, part of which is continuous knowledge of the other.

“Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like struggle. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now.”

 — Fred Rogers

And hence, constant effort is needed to accept and adjust themselves to keep up with the changing lifestyles along the way with the changing society.

It takes time to grow together. And we want the maturity in a relationship that comes with time, the emotional connect that develops over years, that sense of belonging when we barely even know the other person... Apparently, nothing is worth our time, effort, and patience. Not even love. Relationships, however, require energy and participation.

Cognitive biases can be particularly damaging because they distort our perceptions and interpretations of our partners' actions and motives.

Cognitive bias is so difficult to acknowledge, understand, or be aware of within ourselves because we actively protect our beliefs. Sometimes, this means denying truth or new information that comes to us (a la cognitive dissonance).

In addition,

Depressed people don’t have the energy, and if they are caught up in the very common mode of isolation because of their depression they are definitely not participating... sometimes, there is an element of mental illness involved in this arena in general.

Lastly,

We don't really need an intellectual twin who can finish our sentences.

And that level of interconnection isn’t necessary. As long as they treat you appropriately, even if they don’t understand you completely, you can still have a very fulfilling relationship.

Love is a commitment, not about the mushy gushy feelings.

Let the commitment be the beginning of understanding. 

══════☸☸☸══════

Too often, in this culture, we cloud the picture, overanalyze, fear those conscious efforts, and insist that love means something very definable and ultimately acceptable — don’t get sucked into the madness, stay in your true path and please, please find a partner who is similar to you (i.e., hold similar values), who cares about your thoughts and feelings, and genuinely enjoys your company.

And read “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. It’s eye-opening to realize that someone may be figuratively shouting their love from the rooftops — but you aren’t “hearing” it. Communication is key, as long as you understand your partner’s language.

.

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

[theambitiouswoman]

Forgive yourself for what you didn’t know before you learned it, but now that you do, you have the responsibility and ability to act differently. Knowledge changes your perspective and equips you with tools to make better decisions. The past is a space of unawareness, but the present is an opportunity for growth.

The reason it makes a difference is because on a conscious level now your brain has processed new information, rewiring neural pathways to create awareness and understanding. This awareness allows you to consciously choose actions aligned with what you now know and giving you different results based on your actions as it aligns with the information.

Neurological Reason:

Your brain’s neuroplasticity lets it rewire and adapt when you learn something new. The prefrontal cortex helps you plan and act with awareness, while the hippocampus stores this new knowledge for future use. Over time, this process weakens old patterns stored in the amygdala—where guilt and shame live—and helps you focus on growth. By forgiving yourself, you quiet your stress response and make space for positive change.

[nanenna]

This Group Chat Could've Been a Meeting

Sleepy King AU masterpost

Yeah... don't expect me to keep churning these out. I was just excited to share "god egg" lore with y'all. UwU

-----

Batman made no comment as Clark sat down next to him, angled ever so slightly so he could read his screen. Diana, likewise, was leaned over so she could read the group chat Clark had started to keep everyone in the loop. Batman was already archiving the transcript of their conversation.

Young Miss Fenton’s frustration and apparent determination to do things herself were a little worrying. Amity Park was currently an information black hole to them, they had no idea what she thought she could do. Perhaps it was youthful naïveté, perhaps the girl actually had something up her sleeve. Either way they could only hope the JLD came to a solution before she became an additional issue.

Danny tilted, slumping gently against Clark’s side. Clark looked guilty as he gently patted Danny’s head with the hand the boy wasn’t leaning against.

Batman could understand, this situation was incredibly stressful. They could only hope the boy would be understanding and forgive him for this deception after they found a way to pull out and banish the Ghost King without killing Danny in the process.

“Oh my god,” Dr. Fate hissed faintly, “it’s a god egg!”

Batman had no idea what a god egg was.

From the way Zatanna and Marvel tensed they did know. “You can’t be serious,” Marvel whispered harshly.

Batman glared at them and held a finger up to his mouth. Clark was doing likewise before he turned and reminded Danny to keep eating. Batman typed out a quick message.

Batman: Use the group chat. Batman: And define “god egg.” Constantine: The hell you mean god egg? What?@

Batman held up a hand as everyone save Clark had held up their communicators. He cleared his throat and added a glower to get their attention, then pointed at Fate. He had brought up the term, it was up to him to explain. Fate typed a message as a different kind of tension filled the room.

Dr. Fate: It’s a slight misnomer as it’s not just gods, but rather any being with god-like powers. Dr. Fate: But when a mortal is about to Ascend or a godling is about to mature into their powers, sometimes their elders will seal off an area to isolate the would-be god. Dr. Fate: This can be to protect a child from threats while teaching them to use their new powers, or it can be to give the would-be god trials and keep them from “cheating” with outside help. Dr. Fate: Often it’s both, so the child or mortal don’t get given trials they can’t possibly overcome on their own. Dr. Fate: Amity Park is a god egg, and this boy is the chick. Dr. Fate: THAT is the block preventing us from being aware of Amity Park until now, and continues to block all attempts to look into it.

Zatanna frowned down at her communicator before she furiously tapped out her own message.

Zatanna: Shouldn’t the chick be Phantom? Constantine: Bloody hell you can’t be serious! Zatanna: He’s the one who’s photos won’t show up on the internet no matter what. Constantine: If this kid is the chick of a god egg we need to get him back down there yesterday. Cpt. Marvel: How were we able to find any information on Danny if he’s the chick? Dr. Fate: I don’t know, I just know what I could scry. Constantine: It don’t matter! Zatanna: It seems odd for Danny to be the chick when we could find so much information on him but not Phantom. Raven: Are we sure it’s Danny and not the Ghost King who’s the chick? Dr. Fate: There is a high chance it’s the Ghost King, yes. Constantine: We need to get this chick back to it’s egg before a bunch of angry gods come looking for their godling! Cpt. Marvel: Are we sure we want the Ghost King to Ascend? Isn’t he already a tyrant?

Batman bit back a groan as the chat sped up. While he liked being kept in the loop, this was getting to be a bit too much like his own family’s group chat. He got Diana’s attention and nodded towards the door. She nodded back and stood up, herding the magicians out of the kitchenette.

Batman got up and started the eclectic kettle, then went looking through the cabinet, finding the instant hot cocoa mix. Once the kettle finished heating up the water inside, Batman made a cup of hot cocoa, which he handed off to Clark, who gave it to Danny, before sitting back down.

It was just the waiting game now, it was up to the magic experts to decide what to do with this new information. For his part, Batman set about updating the mission file as well as the personal files of all beings involved. This included starting a new one on Phantom, since Zatanna had brought up a good point.

He was beginning to suspect far, far more had been going on than they had assumed, even more so than just a whole town in distress no one had known about. After all, they had images of Pariah Dark, and the entity they’d seen last night didn’t match that description.

They also had no description of Phantom, though what few bits of information they’d found on him described the ghost as appearing to be a teenaged boy. Oracle had found one particularly poetic fan of the ghost boy who described him as having “hair made of starlight” and “piercing peridot eyes” that could describe the entity they’d seen last night. Batman got Clark’s attention as he went back to the currently silent group chat.

Batman: Are we sure Pariah Dark is still the Ghost King?

Clark’s eyes grew huge as he read the message. He whipped out his own communicator and tapped out a message he didn’t send, but held up the screen for Batman to read. “It sounds like at least one of them choked out there.”

Batman nodded, it was the base assumption this whole fiasco was hinging on. But if Pariah Dark had managed to escape from and be sealed back into the Sarcophagus of Eternal Slumber without a single magic user being the wiser, was it not also possible he lost his crown in the process? And if the new king, likely Phantom, hadn’t been officially crowned yet even if the title had passed on, again how would anyone know? And if he is in fact the chick of this god egg, could not that simply have been one of his trials?

Wonder Woman: There is a strong possibility that Pariah Dark lost his crown to Phantom, who is the actual chick of this god egg. Wonder Woman: That does not change that he is currently asleep in Danny and can’t be removed without killing him. Batman: Since Phantom wasn’t in the Sarcophagus of Eternal Slumber, are we sure he was asleep? Constantine: It doesn’t matter! Constantine: We need to return the chick to it’s egg. Constantine: I’m sorry for this danny kid mate Constantine: I really am Constantine: But we can’t risk a bunch of gods being pissy about a missing chick. Cpt. Marvel: If I remember the brief earlier, isn’t Phantom a good guy? Cpt. Marvel: I doubt he’d want to hurt Danny if he can help it. Batman: We don’t have enough information to draw any conclusions on Phantom.

Clark held up his communicator with another message tapped out but not sent. “They’re doing a vote and a debate right now, half are for just sending Danny home and half want to find a way to get the king out of Danny.”

Batman sighed then, the dangers of having an even number of people in a mission. Sadly neither him nor Clark were knowledgeable enough to be taken seriously as the tie breaker.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her. 

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow. 

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” 

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down. 

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch. 

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels. 

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers. 

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?” 

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…” 

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark. 

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work. 

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room. 

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged. 

Rio would’ve made it prettier. 

Patience, she reminds herself. 

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait. 

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue. 

Nothing. 

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down. 

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration. 

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room. 

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food? 

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you. 

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room? 

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now. 

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do. 

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked. 

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do. 

And finally you think of something. 

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear. 

It rings three times and then there’s a click. 

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?” 

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.” 

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?” 

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.” 

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off. 

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one. 

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling. 

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink. 

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly. 

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear. 

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss. 

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?” 

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!” 

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?” 

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?” 

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.” 

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.” 

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes. 

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone. 

“New perfume?” She mutters. 

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death. 

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die. 

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours. 

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited. 

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire. 

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused. 

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information. 

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one. 

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag. 

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up. 

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you. 

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.” 

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.” 

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim. 

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you. 

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you. 

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door. 

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat. 

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there. 

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.” 

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called. 

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple. 

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it. 

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences. 

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?” 

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.” 

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look. 

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?” 

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?” 

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.” 

“What does a spiral look like for you?” 

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.” 

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?” 

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.” 

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?” 

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of? 

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?” 

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.” 

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?” 

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind. 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something. 

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?” 

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?” 

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair. 

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked. 

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?” 

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively. 

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?” 

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased. 

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks. 

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?” 

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?” 

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.” 

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.” 

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated. 

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off. 

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?” 

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything. 

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.” 

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with? 

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic. 

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” 

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?” 

This gets her attention. “What did you see?” 

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how. 

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. 

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration. 

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.” 

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?” 

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.” 

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.” 

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out. 

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks. 

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it. 

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing. 

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching. 

A purple wolf. 

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel. 

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand. 

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked. 

How did that happen? 

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time. 

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line. 

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

[nefariousnemesis]

okay, so. OP i hope you don't take this as me getting upset, i just get super passionate about pokemon and need to explain to everyone in the audience why most people did not think to do this.

first is the most obvious thing like. it came down to arrogance right? the leaders before this were some of the biggest pushovers in pokemon history. falkner and bugsy. another point is that a lot of people don't really want to use pokemon from past gens unless they REALLY love them.

any way it's time to go over the type of team most trainers would've had at this point. you got your starter, you got your pikachu/mareep, free eevee, flying, and bug poke.

now. here's the problem: barring chikorita (who takes not very effective) and totodile/eevee (takes regular damage), EVERYONE on this team is weak to rock. also who would've guessed a gym leader would have type coverage?? actually. this is a good time to bring up the crown jewel: this ABSOLUTELY ingenious setlist and break it down:

Stomp: a 65 base power move and 30% chance to flinch. not only that, but it's a STAB move making the moves power closer to 98. yeah.

Attract: a status move that has a 50% chance of working every turn. to make things worse, your starter (who would normally be doing the most heavy lifting) is very likely to be male.

Milk Drink: basically just recover/soft-boiled/roost (ok so roost is a bit different) which is VERY GOOD. 50% of max health is even better than any potion you would have access to at this point. also wanted to point out but if you slapped whiney's clefairy before she had a chance to heal it, that means when you FINALLY managed to whittle milktank's health down, she could just heal it with her two potions as well but. why would she at that point when she's got MILK DRINK.

ROLLOUT: oh god. so. it comes to this. here is all the numbers and information on pokemondb.net which i will post now and we can all boggle at the absurdity of these numbers:

so yeah. as you can see the big problem is even when you switch out your pokemon into another one, even if it's something with high defense, as long as the move hits, it has a chance of a OHKO.

(btw in hgss miltank is level 19 instead but in exchange holds a lum berry. just in case you wanted to like. paralyze it or something you gotta do it AGAIN)

miltank is a pokemon that does not evolve so i guess the best way is to describe it is that pokemon with no evolutions have some pretty strong base stats compared to ones that have yet to evolve fully.

here's an estimation of what the machop you would trade IF it was the same level as miltank:

and here's quilava (the starter i chose):

ok, not bad-

NOW THIS IS MILTANK:

as you can see, even if your pokémon were a few levels higher, they're still at a disadvantage here. machop has some low base stats so unless you train and evolve it, its STILL going to be a battle as a turn 4-5 rollout can most likely oneshot it. this is why, for speed runners or nuzlocks the beginning is almost always the hardest just in terms of your options being severely limited and shit like this.

an way just to close this out but this post really unlocked another interesting memory in me. you need drowzee to trade for the machop and like. drowzee in joto was MY FIRST shiny pokemon and i captured it on route 34. i didn't know what it was, but it LOOKED special. reading this post, i wonder if i was looking for drowzee specifically for this purpose?

idk about y'all but when i was playing pokemon as a baby, i did not know defense and special defense were separate. or attack and special attack for that matter, i just saw a move and clicked on it. flame wheel looks cool on quilava and has a higher number than ember, so im keeping it. even though it's attack stat is the weaker of the two. so yeah. machop is the closest to a "hard counter" we would've had for miltank but fortunately whitey's strategy really only works the one time. the best thing to do was level up your pokemon or catch a heracross or quagsire. for full transparency, whitney is the only time i've ever been bested by the game's AI (not counting battle frontier...) but i think that's awesome. it taught me to become more diverse and creative with my movesets. any way i just think breaking stuff down like this is a lot of fun, and i always find it interesting when a community of people all had the same experience.

wait hold on yall didnt just use the machop that resists rollout, is immune to attract from female pokemon, can ko normal-types in like two hits if you just train it a little, and is basically given to you for free in the very same city you fight whitney????

[simp-ly-writes]

To Be Someone To You

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.8)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You started your new life, got a new job and making new friends yet it seemed no matter how hard you tried to forget about him- Jayce's presence always lingered in your life and it seems that even he himself is not ready or willing to be out of it- he begs you not to be stranger, we only want to be someone to you.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective! jealous! grovelling! Jayce, some emotional angst but a LOAD of fluff (potentially cheesy) and mutual pining, kissing, teasing, sharing clothes, intoxication, a side-OC, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,814 | PART ONE | PREV PART | NEXT PART

─ · · A/N: THEY ARE JUST SO UGH, I NEED IT- PLEASE 😩‼️

─────── · ·

─ · · The carriage continued down the road and into a neighbouring region. You were shocked to see various members of the local guard awaiting your presence and helping you out of the carriage before leading you towards their parliament buildings. To your equal shock people waved and smiled once seeing you, what the hell did Jayce do now? You ask yourself standing in front of the prime ministers desk. "We have been expecting your arrival Miss (last/name). Councillor Talis had informed us..." you zoned out for the rest of his speech nodding along until Ximena Talis squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality, "...we have a few professors and scholars in the area that would love to work with you if you are interested Miss?"

You smile and nod, "I would love to take that opportunity, thank you." An assistant suddenly comes in running, "this way, ma'am," they lead out of the office and back out onto the street, pointing you in the direction of the university before the parliament doors shut behind you and seemingly on your old life.

─────── · ·

─ · · In the next coming days that turned into weeks you worked alongside Evren, a professor and active researcher at the local university as his new lab and teaching assistant. It felt great to meet new people, be back in the lab space, and to see all of Evren's students, you loved your new position getting to work with the next generation of scientists and develop their skills yet it always surprised you how excited they were to talk with and learn from you.

─ · · You could scoff remembering your first day sitting in Evrens' office as he walked you through the learning material and basic questions students commonly asked that you could filter for him. You were beyond anxious to mess something up or to have a hoard of students calling after you yet Evren only taught the upper years and from having such small classes he really only needed you to grade work and developing new material with him.

─ · · Evren always made sure you were comfortable and confident before leaving you with the students or in the lab when he had to take a step away. He even helped you to move in to your's and Xiema's new apartment and bought a wine bottle for you all to share while building furniture (class was cancelled that next morning as you all stayed up way too late laughing and sharing stories).

"Do you know I was married for a year?" he asks you, cheeks flushed red from the booze in his system as he fixed his glasses- an anxious tick. "No way, really?" you asked, leaning forwards in your seat with wide eyes as Xiema scoffed mentioning she was heading to bed as you two waved her goodbye for the night. "Yeah, high school sweetheart turned out not so... sweet. Stole all my work and designs I had yet to publish."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Evren," you say, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he shrugs, fixing his curly brown hair. "Well," he begins in a matter-of-factly tone, "I actually thanked her for doing so since I came up with a better idea the next week." You throw your head back laughing as his dry commentary, your heart racing remembering how Viktor used to talk to you like this. You face soon falls remembering the man Viktor connected himself to... Jayce.

"Hey, everything alright?" Evren's face falls, green eyes looking into yours with concern as you pull away and look distantly through the window. "Just... remembering past things," you try and move conversation, feeling anger, pain, and sadness starting to boil underneath your skin the more you think about it. "Favourite book?" Evren asks into the dead air as you look at him with relief for not asking any further questions- he seems to silently understand what you were going through internally and you were thankful for it.

"Asking all the hard questions aren't you now," you tease before burying yourself into the blankets on the couch as he throws you a pillow, "don't fall asleep on me now-" Evren begins to say seeing you ready to doze off. A wave of deja vu flashes over you and see Jayce's eyes looking into your own before blinking them away to see green again. Evren now looks exceptionally concerned, "I wasn't going to press earlier but I am worried about you, friend."

You smile at the term, something you both established at the beginning as many of the students "shipped" you two together. "I just hate that I miss him. Hate that I always check the death lists coming from Piltover- wait to see his name as they study corpse after corpse. I just feel disgusted with myself for..." you fail to continue your sentence, confused as to what to say next.

The thought of Jayce Talis made your heart race and equally ache, he made your blood boil and yet when you flipped through one of the few journals you packed, you broke down at the messages and jokes he wrote to you in the margins, you couldn't help but cry for everything you had lost. You swore to see him sometimes between the ailes of bookshelves in the library, at the market, or out of the corner of your eye. But when you would walk closer, you would either just walk right through the mist of him or just blink him away like another fleeting thought.

You were bitter towards that fact as you regretted your final moments together. You knew your feelings were in the right but looking back, you would have made the same choices that Jayce did. Trying to play into that fantasy future you both could have had for as long as possible... knowing the inevitable. Giving yourself that peace to enjoy every moment no matter how short as if nothing could come in between you both. It pained you with want just pleading with your past self to step back into that council room and just hold him, go against your pain and your anger and just have lived a little moment longer.

Evren holds out his hand and seeing that you don't take it he gently flicks the side of your head, "It's okay to be frustrated. You hate them because you loved them once, nothings wrong with working through emotions at our own pace."

"Thank you Evren... I really needed to hear that," you respond, closing your heavy eyes. "Goodnight, (name)," he whispers before you hear the door lock closed behind you for the night.

─────── · ·

─ · · Your daily schedule continued as it usually did yet today felt different and the title of todays paper only concerted that, 'councillors working together to build stronger cities'. Piltover and Zaun were combining resources to rebuild- your heart ached remembering this is what Viktor and Jayce worked so hard towards... and now they wouldn't be able to see their vision finally coming to life. Near the end of the newspaper it noted that the final list of the deceased would be out by the end of the week, and still not sights on the name Jayce Talis.

─ · · You stumbled into Evrens office later that day holding coffees for you both as you apologized for being late, the shock of the headlines still ringing through your head, "shit sorry I'm late, did you get a chance to read the news yet- its crazy I never thought this day would..." you slowly stop talking once not hearing Evren respond, hanging up your jacket over his as he stares at you, leaning against a windowsill with an apologetic look on his face before walking over and pulling you in for small hug.

You pat his back, "bad day already?" you mumble with a slight groan not looking forwards to it. You feel Evren shake his head before another voice clears their throat from behind you both. You feel as Evren jumps in your arms before he pulls away and grips your shoulders, forcing you not to look just yet. "I promise you that I had no idea, if I had I would have screened you first and this was not my choice and-"

You take a deep breath before looking over and your heart drops seeing... "Jayce?" sitting behind Evrens desk glaring at the other mans hold on you before catching your eyes and smiling anxiously. You can feel the world slow, your vision tunnelling to his smile and the shake in his hands he tries to hide by holding them together. Blinking away tears, as he slowly nods and stands, you hold out your hand, silently asking him to stay in his spot. "Am I seeing things, Ev?" you ask in a small voice, unsure.

Evren takes his time to respond, "that is Councillor Talis," he confirms before starting to move out of the room to give you both space yet you reach out and grip his hand for support. You look at Evren, "thank you, I'll be in lecture soon." He nods, giving your hand a squeeze and shuts the door softly behind himself.

"I know you must be confused but please allow me to explain-" Jayce begins before you cut him off with a heated glare. "No, Councillor Talis. You will fucking listen to me when I say you shouldn't be here after what you did to me. You said you were going to die, going to leave me, and yet you have the audacity to stand before me and plead?" You watch as Jayce's expression falls, his shoulders dropping as his head lowers apologetically, shuffling on the spot as if you kicked a puppy- your heart aches and you only become more frustrated.

"No Councillor you don't deserve to be moping around after the utter shit you pulled trying to play hero. I won't thank you, won't get on my knees and worship you- no. Do you understand how many nights I held myself sobbing to sleep, thought to see you- to hear you, desperate to feel you?" you are vibrating with anger, electricity flowing through your veins power by the passion in your heart.

"I do understand," Jayce's tone is firm, a warning to your heart for what is to come. You watch as he walks over and stands before you, his head tilting down and cocking to the side as he looks over your features distantly with dark eyes- you hate yourself for blushing.

"When I got stuck in the rune, I was forced to see your dead body before you consumed my every. waking. thought. It was your voice that called me back to you, that allowed me not to feel the pain in my leg, the ache in my ribs from starving. The thought of your touch against my body propelled by every step. I didn't stop- wouldn't stop until I knew you were safe... and you know what happened afterwards," Jayce allows a smirk to form across his features once seeing you subconsciously bite the inside of your cheek before taking a few steps back as you let out a breath you didn't know to be holding.

You walk after him as Jayce moves to leave against the desk. You stand in front of him before slapping him straight across the face. Jayce flexes his jaw, licking away the taste of iron building in his mouth. He looks back at you with wide, remorseful eyes and press lips- your blood boils, "I fucking hate your face."

"Mhmm?" Jayce hums, imploring you to continue getting your anger out. You take a step closer, standing in between his legs as you grip the lapels to his coat, knuckles turning white, "I hate that I'll always listen to everything you say and desire your touch. Hate that I still care about you, that I still want you. I hate myself! Hate my weak heart and yet I still let you have it- I fucking hate that I can't move on. Can't function a day without thinking to see you. I HATE YOU- hate that I love you, Jayce!" You punch and sob into his chest, utterly tried and longing for him to comfort you in a way no one else could as large warm palms hold you closely and tightly to his chest.

His beard tickles the top of your head, ruining your styled hair and yet you can't find it in yourself to care about anything. You feel sick with yourself for almost moaning when he kisses the side of your head and hums his apologies into your hear. You are embarrassed with yourself as you shake your face into the crook of his neck.

"I'll do anything for you to be mine again... and if you can't accept that just yet or even ever... I just want to be someone to you- just not strangers, never strangers... please," Jayce begs, squeeze your hips once feeling you starting to pull away but letting go once seeing your puffy eyes mirroring his own.

"I would say yes to everything now, Jayce. But I know that wouldn't be good for either of us knowing what happened last time," you explain as Jayce lowers his head into a nod, "I love you," he speaks softly.

"I know, I know," you respond, taking a deep breath before picking up your notes and learning material, "and thats why you are going to leave me alone for awhile... just so we both can sort though ourselves and come back with clearer minds." Jayce chuckles a little, "what part of me do you need a clearer image on, sweetheart?" he teases watching as you groan and huff your way to the door.

"Goodbye, Jayce," you twist open the doorknob only to feel a hand on your shoulder, holding your movements, "not goodbye- never again," Jayce says while looking into your eyes sternly. You raise your chin, "of course.... see you later then?" you try and say yet it comes out more like a question. Jayce smiles, your heart skips a beat, "better, see you later," he leans forwards to kiss you but ends up kiss air as you flee down the hallway smiling to yourself. Jayce sighs, watching as you turn down the hall and out of sight, back to square one.

─────── · ·

─ · · You feel bad that Evren paused the class as soon as you appeared, checking over your face and telling you to spin three times to ensure you were a-okay. The rest of the students fell into a hysteria and all you wanted was for his lesson to continue and for life to move on. "I'll beat of that councillor if you need me to miss!" "Would you ever consider going back?" "If he were ugly he wouldn't have gotten away with all of the shit he pulled!"

"Silence!" Evren ordered as everyone fell back into their seats and reopened their journals, you looked towards your friend with thanks, seating yourself beside him as you finished marking the papers before you, inputting the grades into your tables to help take your mind away. The class went by more quickly than you thought once zoning out, "how about a nice long lunch break this afternoon?" Evren asks, holding out your coat with a smile.

"Is coffee included?" you ask, offering a small smile watching as his grows, "of course it is."

─────── · ·

─ · · "So tell me, am I going to have to hire another assistant?" Evren asks, stirring the sugar in his coffee while watching your expression tick with annoyance. "I'm not jumping his bones as soon as I see him, at least not again after thinking him to be dead." Evren kicks his feet in laughter, the table jumping with the movement as you kick his shin, mumbling for your friend to, shut the hell up.

"I mean... I would jump his bones. Did you see that oxford shirt?" Evren groans, twirling his non-existent long hair as you roll your eyes. "And here I thought you had my back?"

"I do! I do, but after him threatening me... I think I questioned my sexuality-"

"WHAT?" it was your turn to yell as other cafe-goers looked between the two of you in question. You sunk down into your chair, embarrassed yet eyes demanding to know the answer as you took a sip of your coffee. Evren regretted his words not wanting to stress you out further but every time he would try and change conversation... you would only ask him again.

"Well... I think someone told him the wrong information about our relationship. I walked into my office not expecting anyone yet as I sorted through our schedule on the board and then next thing I knew a hand was being clamped down on my shoulder, the other on my hand in a tight shake..." Evren continued to recall the story of their interaction with Jayce who appeared to "size him up-" you scoffed.

"...and then he said to me," Evren lowers his tone watching as you shake your head at him, "...'I've killed gods and came back from the dead. If I hear that you've done anything against her- know that there isn't a place on this planet I won't be able to find you'."

"He said that?" you ask to confirm- Evren nods his head, chuckling, "He was so jealous saying it- I would have laughed if I wasn't so scared shitless."

"Oh god," you sigh out.

"Oh Jayce!" Evren mocks... whatever we're you going to do?

─────── · ·

─ · · It had been a few weeks since you had last seen Jayce. He had been sending flowers to your apartment with little notes attached that you kept in a box underneath your bed. Jayce also donated a very generous amount of money to your universities department and event sent service people to help fix your leaking sink and shower.

─ · · Jayce was very conscious about keeping physical space between the two of you just like you had asked. Even though it pained him listening to you talk in lecture as he stood at the back of the hall and when he stared down at the tattoo on his arm.

─ · · Everyday was a new challenge for you both not running to one another- it posed a new hurt that you both needed to feel mutually as you jotted down what you wanted out of your future the next time you both were to talk. Jayce on the other hand swirled your ring between his thumb and index finger, reminiscing on past dreams that if he waited just long enough could become his future.

─ · · Jayce always made sure to tell you when he was headed back to Piltover and for how long he would be gone since he was still needed at the Council as they rebuilt the cities and reestablished their trade routes and partners. As a parting gift, he offered you a shirt of his or left his jacket behind somewhere in your apartment when you were out a work and he visited his mother. Evren would also laugh when seeing you practically live out of the large jacket as you glared at him, daring him to say anything.

─ · · In one of his attached notes to a new pair of boots from the Zaun cobbler you liked he noted down Viktor's final words to you and worried for your letter back. You thankfully took the information well... or at least he couldn't see any tear stained pages or furiously written text, just thoughtfully exposed words in a mature understanding of the events. A part of you did wonder for a moment what a future with Viktor would have been like before realizing you both argued more than you agreed on things and the little moments you both shared were only possible because of meeting Jayce... Jayce, your heart heart longs for... and how could you refuse his affection when you wanted him just as much?

─────── · ·

─ · · A part of you was worried that your presence and relationship with Jayce was keeping him away from spending time with his mom but when you and Evren came back from the bar one night totally hammered, your drunken self was almost made sober by the shock of seeing Jayce open your front door for you once hearing you struggle with your keys.

"Had a good night there, sweetheart?" he asks in a loving and equally teasing tone as you fall into his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Wow, you're really here! Hey handsome," you giggle, feeling as his back muscles flex as he holds you up in his arms. Evren mumbles something about heading into your kitchen but all your groggy mind can think about is pawing at Jayce.

You stand on your toes, trying to kiss him. Jayce remembers your words of wanting space and moves his head to the side, your soft lips fall upon his beard with a huff, "mean! I wanted to kisss you since I misss you~" you slur your words together, suddenly becoming interested in your glimmering heels in comparison to Jayce's dress shoes, "I love how much bigger you are to me, always so warm and huggable," you giggle, feeling giddy with yourself before stepping away and running after Evren, "Ev! you should really get a hug from Jayce! He gives the best hugs!"

Evren picks his head up, eyes squinting to the dim kitchen lights to look at you and Jayce who watches your every moment, hands extended and ready to catch you as you wobble on the tiled floors and towards the fridge in search of a snack, oooh apples!

You turn around, fridge slamming behind you in search of a cutting board and blade. Jayce's heart drops as he wraps his arms from behind you, gently taking the knife from you and doing the job for you.

You lean your head back, smiling softly at the man before you- touching his clenched jaw with fascination, "you trimmed your beard, it looks good."

"Thank you," Jayce smiles before presenting you the plate. Removing himself from your touch as he looks around to hide the knife from you. "Are you sober enough to get home? Or should I put a fire on in the living room?" Evren points at himself as Jayce nods, "yes, you."

"I've been sober the whole time to watch over that one," Evren points over to you as you wave cheerfully back, snacking on your apple slices and offer one to him in which he accepts. "None for me?" Jayce teases as you shake your head, "No," you state coldly. Evren laughs, "You ready to get to bed?" he asks you.

You look between Evren and Jayce, "Get your mind out of the gutter," he shoves your shoulder as you laugh, pushing Evren on his back as he pretends to stumble over into the wall, "if you start shoving me, I may just have to report you to the dean," he teases as you narrow your eyes. Jayce crosses his arms watching as you two rile one another up. "You wouldn't dare!" you point your finger in his face.

Evren puts his palms up and shrugs, "Hey, I know that you're leaving by the end of the year anyways- what difference would a few months make?" He asks looking over at Jayce expectedly.

Your gaze also turns towards Jayce, eyes softening as you fall into his side. Jayce holds your upright, thumb gently rubbing the side of your arm. "Are you saying I can't hold a grudge?" you ask, feeling as Jayce fixes your hair our of your face.

"Well, I was trying not to say it like that-" you scoff as Evren treats you with a deadpan stare looking between you and Jayce expectantly. "This means nothing right now," you say, wrapping Jayces arm around your front and playing with his fingers. Jayce stiffens staring down at you yet you look forwards- having a silent conversation with Evren who sighs, "okay, goodnight you two. I can trust you to make sure she makes it to the couch, right?"

"Of course," Jayce says, squeezing you against him for a moment as you smile and wave goodbye to your friend, listening to the door close behind him before stepping out of his touch. "Did you... really mean that?" Jayce asks, not expecting a confident answer since you still appear under the influence.

"No, just had to stick it to him," Jayce chuckles before saying something he hopes you will not remember in the morning, "I miss you, so much... I just want you back but I'll wait... forever if I have to but I'll always live with hope." You look at Jayce for a long moment before heading towards your bedroom. Jayce stands there in the kitchen wondering if you even heard him before hearing your voice whisper-shout down the hall.

"I miss you too... I just want to make sure its more than that first."

─────── · ·

─ · · In the morning you her Xiema in the kitchen, the local news radio ringing through the apartment as you groan and place a pillow over your head, I really have to start saying no to nights out, I'm getting to old for this feeling...

─ · · You startle at the sound of a knock at your door, but Xiema's in the kitchen? Jayce sighs from behind the door, gently opening the door but not looking in as he calls to you, "Morning sweetheart, my mom told me to come and wake you up. Evren wrote in saying you both were..." Jayce contains a laugh, ""sick" this morning." You mumble something incoherent that Jayce only picks up the end of, "...come here."

─ · · Jayce opens your door fully before walking over to your bedside and crouching down to look at your face as you smile at him lazily. Pulling your hand from underneath the covers to hold his cheek, feeling as he nuzzles into your touch- closing his eyes as he drinks in the moment not knowing when the next time would come... if ever, he feels his heart drop as you watch his expression become pained. Guilt gnaws at your chest as you roll yourself over underneath the covers before patting at the empty spot.

Jayce opens his eyes, eyebrow raised as if to confirm. You nod your head and extend your hands to welcome his warmth to your side, intertwining your legs together as you rest your head on his arm and press a kiss to his chin, "I love you," your murmur, not confident enough to look at him in your soberness with the confession.

Jayce gently tips your head back in his direction, his other hand massages your thigh as you hum at the feeling while looking into his eyes filled with nothing short of pure adoration, "I love you too, princess."

You swat his chest before trying to crawl away, "no! you don't get to say that!" you yell into your pillow, holding it to your face once feeling his heavy arms wrap around your torso, touch calling you back to him. "Say what? princess?" he teases, purposefully using his groggy morning voice while taking away your pillow- you kick your feet. "Stop it," you huff, hair sticking up in all positions as you sit up and glare at him watching as his arm flexes from behind his head as he looks up at you, "I love watching your cheeks flush for me."

Your jaw drops as you are at a loss for words, "Jayce-" you warn feeling your heart rapidly beating in your chest. "I love hearing my name from between your lips." You throw yourself out of bed, "and I love you in my clothes."

"This is too much now, Jayce!" you plead for mercy (though you love it) as you run out down the hall and towards the kitchen as Jayce chases after you. "Morning Xiema!" you chime watching as she turns around to see Jayce hugging you form behind with a large smile that matches her own, "Good morning to you both, now who I made a few options..."

─ · · You all sit at the kitchen table together, passing food and the coffee pot. Jayce places an arm over the back of your chair, playing with your hair as you look apologetically towards his mom who just smiles brightly seeing you both together again.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: thinkin' 2 more chapters? 🤔 or... idk, I love these two together so much but I don't want to over do it! 😅

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123

[mejaemin]

nonchalant- jeon wonwoo

wc: 0.9k

summary: clingy wonu /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

warnings: streamer!wonu, writer!reader, fluff, not proofread !!!

an: i can think of so many ways to make a pt.2 to this… will i? nope!

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

the letters on your laptop’s keyboard are surely to start fading any time soon, but it’s worth it. especially right now. there’s yet to be a single time where you’ve felt this much inspiration in your entire career, so you refuse to let this go to waste. your eyes flicker to the notebook sitting next to you, information on the paper translating in your mind and being typed out into coherent sentences on the document.

you’re really proud of what you’ve written so far. you had your boyfriend read your unorganized thoughts you had set out for the plot and what not, and he thinks it’s good too. once your brain felt ready to start writing the real thing, your fingers were flying. you slipped your headphones on, essentially blocking out the entire world as you worked. you started when it was still light out, and you’ve only gotten up to use the bathroom, really. it’s dark now, and although he’s not working quite as hard, you can still sense your boyfriend moving around the house, making commentary as he pre records gaming content.

he’s left you alone so far. he’s not the type to nag you too much about taking care of yourself, especially when he’s already learnt his lesson about interrupting you when you have one of these moments of inspiration. not to mention he has times like this too, even if it was for something like a long term livestream. still, he treats you how he would want to be treated in the same situation. by that he means undisturbed… with the occasional interruption, of course. he likes to have his game time but if he isn’t filming he still wants to be with you.

your phone is on do not disturb, keeping wonwoo’s obnoxious friends and their instagram reel notifications from disturbing your work, so when a message notification dings through your headphones you know who it is.

won🖤: Are you almost done yet?

won🖤: I’ve finished recording.

you: no, sorry love :( i still have some left in me.

you: just a little more, okay?

won🖤: Just a little more. I try not to be that guy, but you really should stop soon. Eat something

you reacted with 👍

setting your phone down, you crack your knuckles with a sigh. you were reaching the end of your inspiration spark, so you really wanted to rush to get whatever you could in. it’s extremely rare that this happens, and you couldn’t stress it enough. you’ve got deadlines to meet, and for this to happen to you was literally perfect. you’re basically set, and might even be able to take a day off tomorrow.

you’ve gotten back onto your groove, putting the music on high while you work. you’re typing word after word, paragraph after paragraph flawlessly. everything you’ve been mapping out for weeks is finally coming to fruition, and it’s doing so perfectly. you’re so zoned in that you don’t notice when wonwoo comes in, only taking note of his presence when the weight shifts on the bed and his head lands on your shoulder.

you pause, pulling the headphones off your head. “do you need something?” you ask, hand instinctively coming to brush through his hair.

he looks up at you, and you’re sure he doesn’t notice the way he’s pouting. it’s rare that he’d be like that voluntarily. “how far are you? you’re almost done?”

“mm, i don’t think so.. sorry. i really need to make the most of this or else i’ll never get this finished.” you kiss the top of his head, and as soon as you put your hand back towards the keyboard he grabs it.

“you’ve been sitting here all day.”

“yeah, i noticed. but i’ll do just a little more, ‘kay?” you kiss his crown and return to work.

you finish the second to last plot point you had mapped out, and now you’re just revising what you done so far. even by your own standards you’ve done enough, and since wonwoo is indirectly begging you to spend time with him (in his own way) by clinging to your side, you suppose you can stop for now. it hasn’t even been that long and you can see him looking from his phone to you every three seconds. it’s cute really, how he’s trying so hard to be nonchalant about it when he wants to spend time with you so bad. every time he wants your attention, he sort of hovers around you and stares at you until you give it to him. he’ll never say it out loud, but he’s definitely going to be obvious about it in other ways.

you shut your computer and set it on the night stand, turning towards him fully. the corners of wonwoo’s mouth twitch as he tried to hold back his smile, but you know he’s happy that he’s won.

“you’re done now? are you gonna go back to work, or are you really done?” he asks, sitting up and readjusting his glasses.

you giggle at his cuteness, kissing his cheek. “yes, nonu. you’ve got my full, undivided attention now, ‘kay?”

he’s already up before you are, rambling about how excited he is to spend the rest of the night with you, even if it’s already late. he’s walking into the kitchen to make ramen for you, talking about eating it together while watching something, and then stopping to ponder about what to do after. you trail behind him, a smile on your face. your nonchalant, black cat boyfriend who uses very few words will throw it all out the window if it means getting your attention and keeping it for a good moment.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[rogueemmy]

OKAY - I had a whole ass revelation in the shower today on this exact subject.

Set the federal minimum wage at the federal poverty line...divided by 20 hours a week. (Yes, I'm fully aware that the poverty line is an antiquated number made from factors that no longer are relevant. Work with me, we aren't reforming that in this example.) So $15,060 a year, at 20 hours a week, is $15.69, roughly. Let's agree that 15 thousand isn't enough, okay, but since many, many social programs base eligibility on the poverty line, this is great. Because now we are requiring employers to pay what the government says is what it costs to live.

Cool. Now we've taken a hearty number of people off social supports - or cut what it is that they need. Not entirely, you see, because most families are not one person, young kids do not work, some people can not work - but this lifts a whole lotta people. This cuts a whole lot of corporate charity. And if you are working a full 40 hours at that rate, according to the government, you meet the poverty line for a family of four.

This is not a fix-all, buy any means. But it cuts some of the insanity out of requirements for full time employees and the corporate need to have you average 29.5 hours a week to avoid benefits.

Step two is training the dogs to behave the way you want. Make a list of socially appropriate non-profits who are tax deductible and set no limit. (Not all non-profits. I may have a church to donate to, but a corporation doesn't - or shouldn't - have a religion.) Wally World wants to donate 4 million to local food banks, the musk man wants to support stem clubs with $5 billion - cool! Write it off. Want to donate to the musk-makes-a-million group? Nope, no write off there!

And step 3 is my favorite! Require payroll information to be part of a corporation's stock disclosures - force them to list total C-suite salary, total Director and above salary, and everyone else...and express that number as a percentage. People may want to invest more in companies where the front line workers have a higher percentage. Oh! C-suite is 15 people who make 225% more than the 3,000 other employees combined? HUH. I don't want to invest there. I may not shop there, either.

You can not control what companies do, but you can regulate them towards the behaviors you want to see. Punishment doesn't work, but make it a strong financial choice?

[devildomwriter]

Final Lesson Takeaways

Today was sadly the last lesson. There is much that won’t be answered in game but can be theorized. Based on the ending i am more convinced the sudden ending of the games was not planned. There was clearly far more content planned as well as the finale lacking a serious impact other than a bittersweet gut-punch.

• Asataroth reveals the moon is getting too close to the Devildom. A serious issue which Diavolo wasn’t alerted of after the news stalled among the House of Lords

• Solomon immediately realizes it has to do with MC’s magic which increased significantly because of their pacts forged in the past. However for the sake of not destabilizing the timeline their traveling to the past has to be kept a secret though Solomon knows eventually it will get out.

• The moon is revealed to contain more magic than all the lands of the Devildom and getting closer to the Devildom greatly increases the power of all living creatures. Low-tier demons suddenly gaining immmense power could be catastrophic so it must be stopped. Diavolo cannot stop it as he runs the risk of destroying the moon.

• Using their power of protection, MC summons a demon of their choice to help shield the entire Devildom. The moon attempts to absorb their magic but since it’s magic affinity is too different from MC’s it shoots the power back in the form of a crystal. The brother MC summons is hit protecting them and falls into a coma.

• MC worries about the brother and reminisces of them while the others do their best to comfort them. These chapters are particularly short since your choice of character changed the chapter entirely.

• Serun informs everyone that the results of tests run on the comatose brother have arrived. Using their magic, MC helps awaken them and they reunite.

• At RAD raphael and thirteen reveal their year is up the following day and so everyone decides Rm throw a farewell party.

• At the party it’s revealed Simeon has been invited back to the Celestial Realm and he will most likely get his wings back. Everyone is excited for him.

• Solomon realizes he’ll be alone at Purgatory Hall now and invites MC to stay with him which everyone simultaneously rejects.

• An after credits scene reveals an unknown character telling MC he will take them where they are most happy and the brothers will always be waiting for them

• In the hard lesson Little D. No. 4 reunites with his brothers. Diavolo and Barbatos wish them goodnight and Barbatos comments how the z celestial realm is still interfering in their business. He comments under his breath that MC will surely side with the Devildom and doesn’t tell Diavolo what he said when asked. This hints at possible conflict between the two realms brewing.

• In the side story you can go to a festival with all the brothers or on a trip with a single brother. This depends on the choice the make in the final chapter. Unfortunately the brothers are the only options but this sleekest satisfies a “route” for brothers as you have a lot of options for a specific brother in the final chapter.

The Game ends

Ask me anything you want to know about the games or things that weren’t clearly addressed and I’ll tell you what I know as well as what I believe happens/happened

[venuslarkspur]

Batsis And The Concerning Dating History

Summary: Some incorrect quotes of Batfam finding out about Batsis!Reader’s dating history.

Warning: Minor NSFW.

————————

Bruce: Are we gonna talk about it?

Batsis: about my date with Diana? Yeah it went well.

Damian: No sister, your peculiar dating history.

Dick: Yeah, remember when you dated the Green Lantern?

Batsis: Wait before we get into it, which one?

Jason: Tf you mean which one?

Damian: I agree with Todd, what do you mean by that sister?

Batsis: Which Green Lantern?

Batfam: …

Bruce: Y/n how many Green Lanterns have you been with?!

Batsis: Well technically, two.

Jason: I'm sorry, technically?

Batsis: Well yeah, I dated Hal Jordan, hooked up with-

Jason: YOU SLEPT WITH KYLE!?

Batsis: I was about to say Guy but sure Kyle was coming next anyway.

Bruce: I am appalled.

Batsis: And don't ask about John, I still think about him sometimes.. *literally starts tearing up*

Dick: Awh you miss him that bad? :(

Damian: What's even happening anymore?

————————

Dick: How was your date with Diana?

Batsis: Good thank you! It's nice to have a supportive person in the house. It went good but I think we are just gonna keep it platonic.

Dick: Okay, fair enough.

Batsis: But on a serious note I think Roy and I are going to give it another go. 

Dick: Did he bait you with Lian?

Batsis: No but it doesn’t hurt that she already sees me as her mother, no to mention Roy and I do this crazy posit-

Dick: Too much information!

———————

Tim: Why is this in your room? *holding up a dusty, button up shirt.*

Batsis: Oh shit, I think it’s from when I was dating John Constantine, you know him right? He must of left it here.

Tim: I would ask but you’ll probably go into too much detail for my liking.

Batsis: Oh my gosh the things we got up to in here Tim-

Tim literally traumatised: I’m leaving now, *plugs his ears*

Batsis: … Good I thought he would never leave. *starts messaging Roy asking when she can come over*

———————

Goodnight everyone <3