#would you believe me if I told you that while I was struggling with this one I completed another one of them

[detective-wraith]

“Well, honestly I’d be more confused than anything.” I responded honestly. “It would probably take until at least the third time it happened for me to actually attack the person.”

The Mimic gave me what I believed to be an incredulous look. “That says more about you than it does about us.”

I shake my head in disagreement. “You lot have probably had strangers reaching down your throat since the day you were born. It’s honestly more of a surprise that you aren’t used to it by now.”

The mimic is shaking its… head? Body? I can’t tell the difference, but it doesn’t matter right now. The mimic shook itself in disagreement, and then told me an honestly surprising fact; “it really doesn’t happen all that often. Only people who do it are rude adventurers.” It shoots me a meaningful look that I take to mean it classifies me as a rude adventurer.

“In my defense, you had every opportunity to clarify that you were not a chest before I tried opening you. If you don’t want people to think you’re a chest, don’t act like one!”

The Mimic was getting agitated. “I WAS ASLEEP YOU DIM-WIT. I NEED TO SLEEP IN ORDER TO STAY ALIVE, JUST LIKE HUMANS DO! IF YOU WANT TO TRY DOING ANYTHING ANIMATE WHILE SLEEPING, BE MY GUEST,” it shouted, sending reverberations off the walls nearby and nearly deafening me.

“Whoa there! Calm down before you try to kill me,” I said placatingly.

The mimic, on the other hand, didn’t seem to want to listen to reason. Its words were becoming harder to decipher as it spoke faster “CALM DOWN? YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STUCK THEIR UNWASHED HAND IN MY MOUTH! I SHOULD KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!”

I backed up warily. “Trust me, that’s a bad idea. I don’t want to have to kill you.” I stated in a calm voice, moving my hand to my sword at my waist in preparation for any sudden attacks.

This turned out to be a good move, as the mimic suddenly lunged at me. I swiftly drew my sword and chopped it in two, right where the hinges would be if it was a real chest. This unfortunately did not stop its momentum, and 2 halves of a still twitching mimic rammed into me full force, knocking me onto my back. As I struggled to get up, the rest of my party finally walked through the door.

As our healer looked at me, she failed to hold in a laugh. “You’ve been in here how many times? 200? More? And you still can’t deal with a mimic.”

The other members of my party were being far more helpful, pushing the mimic off of me. As they did, I saw they were laughing too, just much quieter than our healer. I let out a curse, then stated in a matter of fact way: “I hate all of you.”

"MIMICS CAN TALK!?" "Of course we can, you idiot, we're not mindless monsters." "Then why do you guys always attack adventurers?" "You'd attack a stranger too if they opened your mouth and stuck their hands in it unwarranted."

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 24

masterpost

“We should make H— Jason spend some time in here,” Danny said. He was good with the rest of the name now, but he still struggled with with Jason. He was trying. “He could use the reason to relax.”

“I do not believe that Todd is capable of relaxing,” Damian said with a little frown and Danny was pretty sure meant Damian was uncertain, but other people tended to think that it meant Damian was judging them.

“Sure he can. He makes a great pillow too,” Danny said. He leaned over and bumped his shoulders against Damian’s. “Totally bet if you just just sat down and leaned against him, he wouldn’t do anything.”

“Tch.”

“Okay, sure, half of that would be because he’d be too shocked, but really. He’s secretly a cuddler but, like, in a totally different way than Dick. Jason is more like Cass is.”

Damian’s brows were knitted together, but he gave a considering little nod at that.

Danny was glad that Damian went through the door to the hall first. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, exactly, but being out of the apartment now felt wrong and bad and… scary. Danny knew that had delayed them taking him to the Manor and was making some of them anxious, but Danny just couldn’t… it was hard to shake, even if everywhere they went had been safe.

“How were the kittens, Dandelion?” Jason asked. He was leaning against one wall and Lacey stood next to him, looking at something on her phone.

“Pointy,” Danny said with a little smile, “and very cute.”

“We are going to go see the dogs now instead,” Damian said.

“Okay,” Lacey said with a smile. “Your brother and I were talking about what might work for you. I think we have a few options, but I actually have someone in mind for you to meet first of the bunch. She might not work at all but… I have a hunch.”

“As ludicrous as it sounds, Ms. Lacey’s hunches do often play out,” Damian said. “Which dog are we going to see?”

“You haven’t met her yet. She just came here from another shelter because the last one didn’t have the space for her. Before that she was out in the suburbs where she had been adopted, but she kept trying to herd all the other animals and children. They got her from a shelter where she had been surrendered by her owners because they moved to a new apartment that wouldn’t let a dog like her in.”

Danny frown grew as Lacey talked. “Oh, wow… she’s been through a lot of homes, hasn’t she?”

“She has, and it’s really not her fault. She’s only a year and a half old, so she’s still a bit of a puppy and will need training, but she’s a real sweetheart and I think she just needs the right person to love her back.” Lacey paused in front of a door and opened it to some sort of waiting room. “Now, she is a large dog, so I’ll keep her on a harness when I bring him in and you let me know when you’re comfortable for her to come close, okay?”

“Okay,” Danny agreed. He knew he had told Damian not small, but he was suddenly a little concerned by how large was large.

Jason must have been able to tell, because he led Danny over to the small couch to sit down with him while Damian scooted the chair he chose closer to Danny’s open side.

Very, was the answer to how large was large a few minutes later when Lacey brought in a huge dog. The bright red harness barely visible through the mass of black fur that seemed to stand straight out from the dog in a massive mane.

“Okay, come on girl, down,” Lacey said, drawing out the words.

When the large, deep black eyes turned to her, she pointed purposefully at the ground. The dog huffed and settled on the floor looking like some avant guard throw pillow. She snuffed curiously at the group and shuffled forward a few inches on her belly before peering up at Lacey to see if she was noticed.

“Stay. Like I said, still a puppy,” Lacey said fondly.

“What breeds do we suspect she is?” Damian asked.

“She’s definitely a large part chow,” Lacey answered. “She has the black mouth and everything. We’re guessing black lab maybe as some of the rest or some other sporting dog. From those breeds, and her behavior so far, she’s going to be loyal and protective. She will need to be exercised as specially at this age she’ll have a lot of energy, but I know you have the yard to let her run. Fetch or retrieval games will be great stimulation for her and walks can probably be kept pretty short, but I know that Damian could help you train her. Do you want to come over here and let her smell your hand? Or we could just let her settle in and wander the room.”

“I’ll, um…” Danny trailed off as he moved to sit down on the ground at Jason’s feet. He leaned forward and offered his hand, stretching out as far as he could.

The mass of fluff crept forward a few inches, then a few more, and the last few to where she was close enough to sniff at Danny’s hand. The curly tail started to wag before the dog gave Danny’s hand a lick.

A small smile lit up Danny’s face. “Oh, you’re just a big fluffy sweetheart, aren’t you?”

“She really is. She gives me the biggest puppy dog eyes every time someone passes her and doesn’t give her attention. She really wants nothing more than to be with people or other pets and part of a family,” Lacey said.

Danny watched the dog snuff at Danny’s hand before he decided that it was probably okay to move forward a little more so that he could pet the dog. His fingers sank into the thick black fur and the curly tail started to wag.

“She’s kinda like a big teddy bear,” Danny said, completely missing the look that Damian and Jason exchanged behind his back at that statement.

“Chows are like that.,” Lacey agreed. “They get a bad rep because they can be really protective of their owners, so if she’s the dog you go with, you will need to work on socializing her. Taking her to the dog park or things like that would be a good step.”

“It will help that there is such a large amount of family and acquaintances coming and going from the manor,” Damian added. “But if she is the dog that will be yours, we can easily set up a plan for socialization.”

“I, um, I’ve never adopted a pet before. How do I know if she’s the right one?” Danny asked.

“Seeing if you get a long is a good start. With a big dog like her, I think you should walk him a little and play some. We can try some tricks too and see how she listens to you,” Lacey said. “We have a two week trial window where if you think she’s the right dog, she’ll go home with you and you can see how it all works out. If it doesn’t, she comes back here no issues.”

Danny took in a calming breath and let it out. “Okay, let’s see how it goes.”

The dog was a lot. There was no doubt about that what with her size, but she did seem very eager to listen. She apparently walked very well with Danny, even if that was almost sandwiched up against Danny’s side between him and the road. It reminded him of how Jason always walked, as if guarding Danny from the world.

There back at the shelter now. Danny buried his fingers in the dog’s thick fur, ruffling it idly.

“What do you guys think?” he asked his brothers.

“I think that she will be a loyal dog for you,” Damian said, “and that training her may also be beneficial for you.”

“That,” Jason said, “and that she likes you already just like you like her already. I think the only real question is what’s her name going to be?”

Danny looked down at the almost bottomless seeming brown eyes that were staring adoringly back up at him. “Ursa. Her name’s Ursa.”

-

Ursa took to the Manor immediately— or at least took next to being by Danny’s side in the manor. His bed seemed much smaller with her laying next to him, but he had a feeling it he woke up that night with a nightmare that it wouldn’t last long.

His fingers tightened in her mane as he took a breath and hit send on the text message to Babs.

Her name is Jasmine Fenton.

[gibberishfangirl]

WINDBREAKER | i crumble completely when you cry

Synopsis ✰ you caught a bad case of the blues

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Mitsuki Kiryu, Jo Togame

Contains ✰ sfw!, crying, them trying to comfort you, lots of hugs, kisses, established relationship, bottled up emotions, reader is stressed/sad, seasonal depression, reader has self doubt, anxiety is implied, angst with a good dose of fluff, boyfriends are boyfriending

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

man… you’ve been so mean to him all day. ‘what’s her problem’ sakura couldn’t help but ask himself that question on repeat. the way you shoved him off whenever you walked past him, avoiding eye contact, and ignoring him whenever he tried to talk to you. he was tired of it, you’ve been like this for days. he could feel himself getting more frustrated the more you shut him out of your life. he was going to talk to you today if it was the last thing he’ll do. “hey can we talk?” “no.” you curved him with a harsh reply as you walked past him once again. five. that was the fifth time you did that this day. you disappeared out of his sight while he processed the amount of times you shut him down.

sakura let out an exhausted sigh as he continued to walk down every street looking for you. where could you even be at this time? he was getting hungry and it’s late he just wanted to make sure you at least got home safe at this point. he considered going into your guys’ favorite diner to catch some food and see if you were around the area. he eventually figured why not and made his way over there only to be stopped in his footsteps as he heard soft sniffling and sobs coming from the small neighborhood park. he felt his heart drop at the sound as the whimpers sounded too familiar to his ears for his liking. he hated that sound. mainly because he hated you being so sad.

he felt like an idiot. you were sad not angry this whole time and he couldn’t tell the difference. Sakura quietly made his way into the park when he spotted you crying on the swing set all by yourself. he took a seat on the swing next to you before opening his mouth “you okay?” you instantly recognized his voice but couldn’t respond from the choked up sobs you were letting out. the most you could do was shake your head no as you tried to stop crying. Sakura rubbed small circles on your back as you continued to sob and choke on your tears struggling to catch your breath. you rubbed your eyes with your sweater as an attempt to stop the tears.

“c’mere it’s okay.” sakura guided you off the swing and into his lap as your sobs reduced to small hiccups. sakura would be a liar if he said seeing you like this didn’t break his heart or make him feel sad as well. he hates to see you not be yourself. nonetheless he accepted your affection as you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled into him. “‘m sorry i was so mean to you.” your voice cracked as you apologized. sakura continued to massage your back, “it’s okay, y’know you could’ve told me if you were just feeling down.” “i-i-i-knowididntnwant-wan-you to-worry.” you blurted out as fast as you could in between sobs. to anyone else it might’ve just sounded like gibberish but sakura understood what you were trying to say. “i’ll always worry about you regardless.” sakura admits with a blush, slightly thankful you couldn’t see it as your head was buried into his neck. he consoled you for as long as you needed never breaking the grasp he had on you. he didn’t want to let go until he knew you were ready.

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

of course Ume knew something was wrong. he’s a lot more observant than he leads others to believe. especially when it comes to you, he notices everything about you. he knows you better than he even knows himself. which is why he couldn’t stand the way your eyes were swollen and puffy from the previous nights you obviously spent crying. despite trying your best to conceal it with make up or fake smiles he knew. it made him feel bad to think there was something you wouldn’t want him to know about. of course it was your right to choose what you wanted to keep yourself but it still hurt him to not be able to be there for you the way he wishes he could be.

if you didn’t want to talk, that’s okay. he’d never force you to if you weren’t ready, it’s not his right. for now he’d accept being there for you as he laid on the hammock with you on his chest. you both sat in silence as he listened to your faint heartbeat and small inhales and exhales. he grew worried when he felt your breathing become unsteady. he took a moment to stop looking up at the sky and tilted his head down to you. your hair was covering most of your expression so he tucked some of it behind your ear to get a better look at you. “there you are~ my pretty lover.” he coo’d at the sight of your face while you scoffed in response. “wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” he gently asked you unsure if he should’ve asked at all. he slightly regretted it once he saw tears prickle in your eyes. the way he could visibly notice giant tear drops gathering at the bottom of your eyes.

“don’t know what’s wrong with me. i might just be crazy.” you mumbled against his chest as tears streamed down your face. “ah don’t say that you’re not crazy. it’s normal.” he reassures you, playing with the strands of your hair just the way you like as he slightly massaged your scalp. “doesn’t feel normal.” “doesn’t mean it’s not okay.” “i’m just sad.” “it’s okay to be sad sometimes, just gotta talk through it and fight it okay? don’t let it swallow you whole.” “that’s hard.” “yeah… well that’s why you have me. i’m always here to help.” Ume gently reassured you before placing the softest kiss on the top of your head. it was so soft you almost missed it.

“you don’t ever wish you were with someone more normal?” “and miss out on someone as amazing as you? nah.” “i think you could find better.” “what a silly thing to say.” Ume couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his mouth. in his perspective it truly was such a silly thing for you to say since it didn’t get better than this in his eyes. you were the best that he could ever find in this world and he has no intention on letting that go ever. “it’s not funny!” you’d pout finally looking up at him with tear stained eyes. “you’re right, it’s not. you should never think i could possibly find someone as perfect as you are.” he agreed with you but not in the way you thought he would. Ume couldn’t help himself as he pulled you up closer to him so your faces can align. he placed a kiss on your lips, another two on the corners of your mouth, another two on each side of your cheeks, one near the corner of your left eye, another near the corner of right eye, and lastly one on your forehead. Ume would kiss your tear stained face for as long as he needed to in order to stop those evil thoughts from entering your head.

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

Suo couldn’t really pinpoint what was wrong. despite him being pretty well at reading people and understanding where someone is coming from he couldn’t tell what was happening. had something happened recently to cause such a change in you? did he do something wrong? all he could do was watch you sadly as you poked around your ice cream barely consuming any of it. it took you forever to finish it, and it was your favorite ice cream. normally you would’ve finished it quickly while telling him a funny story that happened between you and your friend. the date night between you two was spent in silence for the most part despite his attempts to perk up the conversation. maybe you were done with him? maybe you were finally over the relationship? his mood was going down the drain the more he wondered what was this tension surrounding the two of you.

“you okay suo? you seem upset.” the sound of your soft spoken voice snapped him out of thoughts. he looked at your eyes and now that he thought about it… he’s never seen you with such sad eyes before. your eyes were drained and had no light in them yet here you were asking and caring about him. you reached over to feel his forehead “mm’ your a bit warm. we should get you inside you can get sick.” you insisted taking him by the hand and leading him back to your home. once the two of you got to your place you laid in bed together and you asked again “you sure you’re fine? i don’t want you feeling bad.” while cuddling closer to him. all the negative thoughts Suo was thinking earlier vanished. of course you still loved him, you wouldn’t act this way if you didn’t. but still… you weren’t happy and he didn’t know how to help.

“are you okay?” he finally asked. “huh? why wouldn’t i be?” “your eyes. they look sad.” “oh…” you could feel your own face heat up, you didn’t think he’d notice but of course he did. Suo noticed everything. “i don’t really want to talk about it right now.” you sheepishly admitted. you felt a bit cowardly about not being able to open up about the random sadness that tended to pain your chest every once in a while. you always struggled with opening up about this situation and never knew how to word things which is why you tended to avoid it as much as you could. “that’s okay. we’ll talk when you’re ready. i’ll just hold you for now if that’s okay.” “that’s more than okay.” you sighed in relief, glad he didn’t push the topic further. you felt the tension that had burden you all day lift off your shoulders for that night. having someone who can understand you in silence and comfort you was all you could wish for in that moment. sometimes you didn’t want to talk, you just wanted to be held.

something Suo would always do for you: he’ll hold you and never let go. some people couldn’t handle silence but you were glad suo was so understanding and understood it in the same way you did. words couldn’t describe the amount of relief and comfort you felt once you woke up in the morning to find yourself still in suo’s arm. his grip on you never weakening as your eyes met the soft sleeping expression worn on his face. it felt nice to snuggle into him and listen to the bass of his heartbeat knowing he’d never leave no matter how hard things got. it filled you up with hope that bad days don’t last forever and that they will go away.

Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

he couldn’t stand the way your eyes puffed up from the amount of crying you were doing. he hated to see how sad you were like any other good boyfriend would. he would wipe your tears carefully as he held your face. he’d take in your facial expressions as you sniffled and rubbed your eyes. you avoided any type of eye contact with him, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about how wrong this hang out went. the two of you were at a party, you thought it’d help cheer you up but you ended up getting overwhelmed. Kiryu was the first to realize you were upset and took you outside for some fresh air. he knew you were at a vulnerable place and kept you perfectly hidden from sight with his body. you didn’t want anyone else seeing you like this. “you okay love? wanna leave? we can go home.” Kiryu wasn’t sure of what exactly triggered this response from you but his utmost concern was getting you comfortable.

“yeah. let’s go, wanna go home.” you replied shyly still avoiding his caring gaze. Kiryu guided you away from the scene, he didn’t even bother saying goodbye to anyone. once the two of you got home he grew even more worried considering the fact that you hadn’t stopped crying. the only difference was your cry became more silent over time. you sat on the bed as Kiryu helped undress you. carefully taking off your jacket and shoes, he treated you like a fragile porcelain doll. you didn’t fight back his help and laid on the bed to cuddle up with a pillow. he’d sit on the edge next to you as he pushed your hair out of your face. he’d trace the sides of your face with his gentle soft fingers. “want some hot chocolate? might make you feel better.” he’d offer. he assumed from your complete silence you didn’t want to talk about it so he moved on to doing anything else he can to cheer you up. you felt like your voice would give out on you if you tried to respond so you settled with a small nod.

“kay, be right back in a few minutes.” he’d press a gentle kiss on your cheek and wrap a blanket around you before heading out. just like he promised he was back within a few minutes with a nice cup of hot chocolate. he sat back on the edge of the bed and softly blew into the cup wanting to make sure it wouldn’t be too hot for you. he was relieved to see you more calm, your hiccups and soft sobs were gone as you gained the energy to sit back up. he brought his hand behind your back to give you a small massage while he used his free hand to bring up the cup to you. the sip of the hot tasty substance really helped you calm your nerves. “thank you.” you mumbled with a blush finally meeting his eye. the small gesture of you meeting his eyes had Kiryu smiling. he was glad you finally were able to meet his gaze after all this time. “of course. let me get you some pj’s” he offered already getting a set out for you from his closet.

“c’mon lemme help you.” he insisted resting his hands on the buckle of your jeans. he wouldn’t pursue action without your full consent. “i-no! you shouldn’t. that’s… embarrassing… isn’t it?” you blushed furiously. this whole conversation was almost enough to make you forget about your previous crying session. “embarrassing?? no. it isn’t why should it be? i want to take care of you.” he giggled playfully. his voice and loving eyes cracked a small smile out of you for the first time this night. especially with the way his voice was laced with pure genuine love. “oh… okay then.” you weren’t used to others going out of their way to care or cheer you up the way Kiryu was doing right now. it felt nice and comforting to know someone like this would be in your corner at all times. Kiryu’s love goes above and beyond for you even if you were in dark times. he’d help guide you back to happiness and care for you each step of the way. he wouldn’t push on the subject until you were comfortable.

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

Jo can always get the hint when you’re feeling down. hes very observant so it’s easy for him to catch any small detail about you even if you assume he didn’t notice. so when he noticed your blues coming in and your distant behavior his first thought was wondering if someone did anything to you. but when you never came to him for help he figured it wasn’t that. you knew if someone was giving you problems you could always get your boyfriend to handle them so it had to be something else. maybe it was something he couldn’t understand? he’d bring hell upon anyone who unsettled you so he didn’t know how to handle when it wasn’t someone. you were typically the more outgoing one than him in the relationship so he hated seeing you mope about. he’d come up with ways on how to cheer you up even going as far as asking Choji for some advice. who better to ask for advice? you were his sole reason for finding the motivation to get out of bed everyday, if you were feeling sad he’ll do anything in his power to make it better.

you sulked in bed for most of the day waiting for Jo to get back home from work and running errands. you almost called it night until the door gently creaked opened revealing your tall handsome man. in all honesty Jo was tired after a long day of work but he still wanted to make this night special for you even if it meant dragging his tired feet across every store to find your favorite flowers, snacks and movies on dvd so the two of you can have a movie night. curiosity struck you fast as you quickly removed your covers waiting for him to show you what was in the bag. Jo let out a chuckle at your quick reaction, “hey pretty girl, got you some stuff.” he’d take off his dirty black work jacket before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. the two you spent the night chatting about his day for a bit before cuddling and watching the movies. it was nice to get your mind distracted from the thoughts that were haunting you lately.

“do you want to talk about what’s wrong?” Jo asked as the first movie ended. “not really, guess i just felt a bit down.” you tried to shrug off. you weren’t the best at expressing yourself during these times especially when insecurity was eating you from the inside out. Jo raised a brow up at you already knowing you all too well to know it was more than just “feeling down”. “i was a little insecure.” you mumbled quietly hating the way it sounded so foolish out loud. Jo felt a bit taken back at your response a small part of him was waiting for the punchline but it never came. not that he thought it was funny in the slightest, but because in his eyes you were as good as life itself got. he wasn’t sure how to respond at first, he wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t feel that way but he felt like that wasn’t a good move. he can’t force you to feel differently but he wished he could make you realize that you were perfect. instead of responding he tilted your head up at him and kissing you straight on the lips.

“what was that for?” “for being you.” Jo mumbled before interlocking your lips once again. he figured it would be better to show you how beautiful you were instead of only using his words. even if that meant having to show you every single day for the rest of his life. he’ll do it even after you realize you’re the only one for him. you could expect many cuddle sessions and more to come from Jo anytime you felt the slightest bit of insecurity or doubt creep into the back of your mind.

a/n <3: i’ve been feeling pretty down recently so similar posts like this are coming soon 😭 sorry but i hope yall still enjoy! also i am a FIRM believer that jo is the type of man to work all day just to provide for the both of you and still make time to create special moments for you each and every single day. he’s just such a lover boy sorry i don’t make the rules.

[iichfilwypj]

all equestria girl | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of ares! reader ღ warnings: none! ღ wc: 558

“I’m not gonna let you fall, ok?” Percy tried to free his hand from his girlfriend's tight grip, but she didn’t seem willing to let go. She looked down at him, eyes wide with terror and fear.

She looked beautiful, though he wouldn’t tell her that (he felt he’d probably get a punch if he did in this situation.)

“Do you trust me?” he giggled while he rubbed her leg, watching as she nodded her head from side to side. 

“No!” 

Just a few weeks back, they’d gone on a small mission that required them to fly on the winged stallion… She’d ended up with a concussion and a broken rib. That says enough.

He’d begged her to learn to ride Blackjack. Or, at the very least, any regular horse. Percy felt it was up to him to make sure that next time, she’d be prepared to manage it –you know, horses are his thing.

She’d waved it off, saying she only panicked and would be totally fine next time. But he insisted. 

Ha, ha. Funny. 

Once she got on, she was convinced that falling from that height would be the end of her. Also, something told her the horse was jealous of her. He wasn’t looking in her direction and she could swear he was struggling not to push her to the ground.

And then Percy told her he’d let go and tell the horse to take off flying. 

What? Who does he think she is, Zorro? 

“Percy, if you let me go I-”

The horse snorted and shuffled a bit. Percy looked downright offended, gave Blackjack a pat on the back, and said: “Hey, is my girlfriend you’re talking about!”

“What did he just say?” Yes, the horse hated her. It’d probably take off and dive headfirst or pull some stunt to get rid of her.

“That you’re stunning." He left a small kiss on her leg and patted it, slowly backing away.

The horse gave another sharp snort. Percy rolled his eyes and patiently continued teaching the girl the basics.

Not long after, he felt confident she’d be okay and gave Blackjack the green light to start flying. The horse rose into the sky, and Percy smiled. 

But that smile faded when he heard his girlfriend’s screams and saw the horse disappearing among the clouds.

How lovely, they both seemed to get along... just fine.

“How– Oh wow”

Percy watched as the girl nearly crashed to the ground when the horse landed, stumbling backwards as quickly as she could. Her hair was a disaster, completely covering her eyes and puffed up to an absurd degree.

The horse didn’t look any happier, stepping away from her and shaking itself, as if she were some kind of contagion.

Everyone stayed quiet, not sure what to do or say.

Percy walked slowly toward his girlfriend, lowering his head to meet her eyes. She raised her head sharply, pointing at the horse with an accusing finger, which looked at her in surprise.

"Mrs. O'Leary is way cooler than that bitch!" 

"I like Rachel better than her." She only heard a sound, but seeing Percy’s expression, she instantly knew it wasn’t a compliment.

She attempted to move toward the horse, but her boyfriend pulled her back by the waist.

"What did he say? What did that awful, nasty furry monster say?" Blackjack spun around, kicked up some dirt, and began to walk away from them, leaving them covered in dust.

Percy was beyond surprised, struggling to believe that for once, he wasn’t the one acting foolish in the relationship.

"Okay, maybe next time we'll try with Porkpie," he shouted, making sure the horse heard him while giving his girlfriend's arm a pinch. "I suppose he'll be more civilized than you two!”

“Shut up!”

“Shut up!”

hi hello hola buenos días! how are u all? WEEKEND IS HERE!!!!!!!!! this is very very random. me with who??

[zigdirty]

By the time I got off work this year, I’d already seen that the election had been called. I already knew the results.

Normally I have the tradition of watching this spectacular film every Guy Fawkes Day, November 5th, so I can enjoy it all over again, but also do I am always aware of how easily fascism can take over.

The irony of this Election Day being on Guy Fawkes Day, and the stakes of said election, were not lost on me. Not in the slightest.

But having been unable to watch it before I went to work Tuesday, I planned to at least start it before the end of the day. That is, until I saw the news.

All I could hear in my head was the speech broadcast across the emergency channel:

Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquillity of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, whereby those important events of the past, usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, are celebrated with a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the fifth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well, certainly, there are those who are more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. They were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic, you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night, I sought to end that silence. Last night, I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago, a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words; they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest that you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me, one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.

This has played on repeat in my mind since I learned of the election results, searing itself into my psyche.

We are now at that place. We are now the people to whom V was speaking in the movie.

I cannot bring myself to rewatch this marvel of live-action film. I do not believe it would bring me joy any longer.

We have no one else to blame but ourselves.

And we have a long road ahead of us out of hell.

V for Vendetta (2005)

[centrally-unplanned]

Let's see if I have one more election take in me:

I am deeply sympathetic to Sam Kriss's rage against the Democratic corpo-political shibboleth, and not just because we are both deeply enmeshed in the grand tradition of dissident Oxbridge-style cantankerous internet rants. He is right that Kamala was a weak candidate, for one. But more importantly, I still feel what he feels deep down. I remember the starry idealism of my halcyon youth, of believing that conviction, that vision, that the zeal only a platform birthed from authentic principles, tempered by struggle and sweat, would carry the day over crass, paint-by-polling-numbers incrementalism. When he describes Harris thusly:

"She’s a machine politician. She wants power, but not for any particular reason. It’s just that life is a game, and the point is to reach the highest level."

I see my own reaction to her when she first stepped into the 2020 limelight, and low-key hating her for it. I feel his heart, for it is my heart.

But it is not my brain. Because I am not a teenager anymore, and his critique is fucking bullshit.

He says all this stuff like:

The reason Kamala Harris lost is the same as the reason she was the candidate to begin with: the Democratic Party is allergic to democracy.

And how the electorate is seen as but ants from inside the towers of the Machine, like the Dems just invented "not running a primary" this time as a lark. As opposed to neither party in America ever having primaries against incumbent presidents! Because they are normally popular, and it would be a waste of everyone's time to do that! Could you imagine, launching a real primary against Obama in 2012? And possibly sabotaging his brand a bit for absolutely nothing? It is a reasonable policy, particularly when incumbents used to have an advantage for being so. Now they clearly don't, Biden was unpopular and too old, and the Dems took too long to realize it. A costly mistake, but it is a purely strategic error. Big orgs have inertia, and the Dems fucked up. It has nothing to do with an "allergy to democracy".

And Kriss can go off summarizing how the Harris campaign was offering voters nothing:

But for some unaccountable reason, among the general public, ‘Kamala: You Already Like Her!’ was not the brilliant pitch it seemed to be. [...] Another option would be to actually offer something to the voters.

Which sounds neat, but he made it up! I remember Kamala's actual campaign speeches, ads, and platforms, which she repeated so monotonically in her tightly-scripted campaign appearances: protect abortion rights, expand the welfare state, provide better child care support, lower the cost of housing. And most importantly, she ran on Biden's record of a strong economy and promised to deliver more of it. What does even mean for this to not be a real platform? Beyond not having some synthesized, totalizing "Critique" of modernity that packages it all into a beautiful, systematizing little box.

Because I promise you, voters synthesize jack shit. None of this is why Harris lost - voters have made that pretty clear:

You can find other data ofc, this or that point varies, but the story is not opaque. They didn't like Biden! They didn't like his inflation. They didn't like immigration, or they didn't like his liberalism, and they thought Kamala was too similar. She had too much policy baggage. And she wasn't charismatic enough to dig herself out of that hole - no disagreement from me on that front.

Though even then, by that we mean she lost an election by ~3-4% margins after getting subbed in at the 4th quarter while down by ~8% in the polls. That ain't bad!

None of the voters who matter share Kriss's sensibilities, and he cannot hide his disappointment in that. So he pretends that Donald Trump, the guy who promised 20% tariffs on everything to fight inflation, is giving them a real vision:

That’s what Trump did: he offered an enemy to blame and the prospect of doing violence to them

I don't know man, I think swing voters just don't like the last four years and think 2019 was better. I don't think the promises of orgastic violence against democrats are why Trump won! Actually a bit of an unforced error on his part.

But since Kriss presumes to value democracy, that thesis can't hold - so the lack of reality delivering on what his vision for democracy should be is displaced onto Harris's mistakes. The voters can never fail you. You can only fail to elevate them with the right candidate. Which, tactically? Sure, why not. But you can leave the moralism at the classroom door.

This ties into our dreaded media discourse debate, so it is time to bring in another explainer, by Michael Tomasky:

The line-by-line isn't interesting here; instead I want to focus on this quote:

Weren’t they bothered that Trump is a convicted felon? An adjudicated rapist? Didn’t his invocation of violence against Liz Cheney, or 50 other examples of his disgusting imprecations, obviously disqualify him? And couldn’t they see that Harris, whatever her shortcomings, was a fundamentally smart, honest, well-meaning person who would show basic respect for the Constitution and wouldn’t do anything weird as president? The answer is obviously no—not enough people were able to see any of those things. At which point people throw up their hands and say, “I give up.”

To which the immediate reply is: my dude, what are you talking about??

A 56 percent majority of Americans say Trump is probably guilty of a criminal conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election results through false claims of voter fraud, including 40 percent who believe he is “definitely guilty.” Republicans are less united than Democrats. Nearly 9 in 10 Democrats believe Trump is guilty, while nearly 7 in 10 Republicans think he is innocent. Among independents, nearly twice as many think Trump is guilty as think he is innocent.

You know how when you ~13 years old, and you have that friend who is just old enough to start taking Dungeons & Dragons books filled with splash art of succubi into the bathroom with him, but not yet old enough to get that "talking to girls" is an acquired skill? And they are blatantly, openly salivating over the first chick in the 7th grade class who discovered what power the combination of a camisole and a push-up bra holds over the male gaze? And she just completely ignores his faltering attempts at ~casual conversation~, so his brain script-cycles through its backlog of tween sitcom plots until it lands on, "Hey, what if I confess to her? Then she will know about my feelings!"

And you have to pull him aside and gently explain that, bro. She knows. That is not your problem.

Kriss is too intelligent a thinker to not understand this, but our dear Tomasky - and so many like him - has stuck his 14-year-old head in the sand over this. Swing voters know Trump is a scumbag! They know he lost the election, they know he raped a few women in his day, they know he is a serial fraudster. Even a bunch of those Republicans who, in polls, go "oh it's all a Dem conspiracy"? They know too; they just have the decency to lie about it. How could they not? Every media outlet in the country has been repeating it for a fucking decade! I might think voters are morons but even I won't stoop this low; they have eyes and ears, they aren't illiterate.

They just don't care.

Not enough at least, not enough to make it the only thing they consider. And here is the rub, here is the grand mistake Kriss & Tomasky are making - they are at least somewhat right to not care. The height of the Democratic privilege is that they get to play this card because they don't have to deal with it being turned against them. Kamala is a political chameleon but she is a decent person. She would never take a bribe from a foreign government, she would never assault a coworker, she would never, ever, deny a free and fair election.

Which means you don't have to choose between voting for a rapist and voting for someone who is going to shove a bullshit interpretation of the 14th amendment down your throat via a stacked court to ban abortion nationwide, forever. Pro-life people think abortion is genocide against babies! Why are you surprised they aren't voting for the pro-baby-genocide person because she is nice? How sure are you that you would do the same when that is reversed? I guess those boycott-Harris-because-of-Gaza people got some cred, but I think we all agreed they were dumb, right?

This is the rub of why outsiders always have so much difficulty understanding how people like Berlusconi, Trump, Le Pen, etc, get so much vote share - they have no stake in the political struggle beyond the vague idea of democratic norms. It is easy to say "Italy, choose a non-crook!" when you don't have to live with the policy programme of the other guy. From the inside the price of those principles is far, far harder. It isn't shocking that most choose not to pay it.

This isn't to give voters like a moral pass - Trump's conduct is truly disqualifying, I would vote Republican if the shoe was on the other foot in this case. My point instead is that they generally won't as a simple fact of life, and blaming them is futile. If you have wound up in a situation where the political system has taken its pool of hundreds of millions of potential candidates and narrowed it down to two for the voters, and one of them has "launched a coup but will say go to hell to the inflation guy" as a bundled package, someone fucked up and it isn't the voters.

You need political elites to do their part in the system - Republicans never should have let Trump be their candidate in 2016. Open primaries with no organizational thumbs on the scale are a mistake, actually, allowing arbitrary minorities to generate subpar candidates. The decision to let Biden run again was, fundamentally, born from the same impulse - the Democratic Party had no leadership capable of telling him no, because they outsourced that job to "primaries". The Dems are not "allergic" to democracy; democracy is allergic to too much of itself.

But the cat is out of the bag now! These changes happened for a reason after all. Which I won't dig into here - I will keep my point as focused as something as sprawling as this can be. Voters will not save you, and you should not be disappointed when they don't. It was never their job.

[2danesand1cat]

The themes of regret, grief, and guilt have been in my mind lately, particularly regarding my sweet angel child-Damian.

It’s a pretty consistent theme in the comics that Damian believes he is not good enough, he’s a monster, that he’s not like his father or siblings, and that he’s full of uncontrollable anger, malice, and spite.

And while of course each batkid (and especially Bruce) have their own unique experiences with guilt and regret, I can’t help but imagine what all of that must feel like to a kid so young, who is incredibly skilled and highly intelligent, yet also very naive in a way that a child is about the world and their place in it.

Damian is frustrated when people don’t understand his harshness and his intense motivations, as it creates a barrier in the way he relates to his family. Additionally, he is barely able to step out of his own perspective as a child, preteen, and even young teenager to understand other people’s ways and motivations. This would certainly be incredibly isolating, having this drive and intensity you were tortured to develop and that you are now being told is wrong even though that’s all you know. But more than anything, he just wants to please someone, and it feels like they just keep misunderstanding him. This, of course, is not to say they didn’t try. Dick, Alfred and Bruce are his heroes for a damn good reason, but it took a great deal of time and constant redirection.

Even now, as an early teen, he’s still struggling with maintaining all the work he’s done on himself to reframe his self image and control his emotions. YOU KNOW HOW DIFFICULT IT IS FOR A 14/15 YEAR OLD TO CONTROL THEIR EMOTIONS?!?!

Do you know how much guilt and regret that must take, to keep him on track?

His desire to please is so strong because each small bit of praise that he earns reinforces this very feeble idea that, maybe, just maybe, he is good, and is doing something right. Each time he hears these things, it slowly erodes that constant weight on his tiny little shoulders of the guilt he carries everyday.

I can’t help but think of all the times he pleaded with himself and some high figure or something to “please, make me good like Richard. Help me be better. Help me be like Father. Please, please please” as silent sobs gripped his tiny frame and tears poured down onto his pillow.

Or all the times where he is sketching or training or just trying to exist and is hit with a wave of guilt as he has a flashback about his time in the league or even his early days in Gotham. Those are the days when his sketches get crumped because “it’s not worth it to even try to create something beautiful” in those moments. And how he refuses to wrap his hands as he hits the punching bag over and over again, feeling a small bit of relief at every spilt knuckle because “I deserve this pain” is all he can think.

Still til this day, as nightmares come and go, he lies there in bed and repeats to himself that “yes, that was me, i did kill, i did slaughter”, and even though what he just experienced in his dream wasn’t real, it was all at one time very, very real.

There were times when he wouldn’t eat breakfast after he lay up all night, coming to terms with his past self, reasoning that breakfast is for people that deserve it. He must instead punish his body for the its sins. Seeking comfort to placate his conscious was weakness as well. He did his best to hide his guilt and suffering from Dick and Alfred and Bruce, as it was not their cross to bear.

What he forgets, and still often forgets, is that he is and was just a child. And what he is trying to learn is that everyone has regrets, but we are not our past, we are our efforts to create a better future self. It gets a little better each day. He is trying.

At least now, he has given himself the permission to seek out the love and comfort he so desperately craves. When he silently pads into Bruce’s room at night, Bruce understands. They don’t speak, not then at least, but Damian no longer constantly denies himself the goodness that he is learning he deserves.

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar : Hangman's shift at the Hard Deck

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: language, fun banter, physical altercation

words: 4,2k

Summary: Jake finally pays his bet debt and works a shift at the Hard Deck. But he also gets a surprising chance of redemption...

a/n: I couldn't end the story without seeing Jake struggling behind the bar. We're even having a full-circle moment that might come as a surprise to you guys but I felt like it was needed. Enjoy!

Link to my masterlist

“The liquor is in alphabetical order. Measure cups are over here. The beer goes in here. Oh, you’re gonna be responsible for re-stock tonight. Gotta take advantage of having a strong man in the house”, you explained to Jake the layout of everything behind the bar for his shift tonight. “I try not to take that personally”, Jimmy commented as he walked by the bar circle. “Sorry, Jimmy”, you called after him and pulled a face.

It was finally time for Jake to pay his bet debt. It was a Thursday night, nothing too crazy but also a demanding shift. You didn’t want to make it easy on him as he has been such an ass the first time you’ve met.

“It’s not rocket science. I got it”, Jake rolled his eyes at you with his hands on his hips, throwing you a condescending look. “Okay, Mr. Rocket Science. For every glass you drop, you get a Dollar out of your paycheck”, you told him. “I get a paycheck?”, his head shot over to you. “No. Which means that you owe Penny money. So, keep it together”, you said and patted his back.

“Ha-ha. Very funny”, he said in a dry tone. “What now?”, he asked as you had ended your little tour. “It’s 30 minutes till we open. So, how about you stack the cooler and cut some limes”, you told him. “Right at it”, he said and walked out of the bar circle. “And while we’re at it, how about you call me ‘boss’ tonight?”, you said and leaned on the counter. “After all, you’re my little bitch tonight, remember?”, you added with a smirk and wiggled your eyebrows.

Jake came back to the counter and leaned on it as well, your faces very close together. “I think, we need to talk about that bitch part again”, he said. “That bet was made a long time ago. Should have negotiated your terms back then. But you were too sure of yourself”, you lectured him and patted his hand that was placed between the two of you. In a quick motion, he grabbed your hand and pulled you even closer.

“And what do I get for playing along?”, he asked in a low tone and his eyes fell down to your lips for a moment before he looked at your eyes again. A smirk started forming on your lips while you contemplated.

“Maybe you should do a good job first before we talk reward”, you told him and as a tease, let your lips glide over his without giving him a real kiss. “Calling me boss would be a good start”, you added as you stood up straight again. “And now get that case of beer and get to work”, you told him.

“Yes, boss”, he said with a grin as he pushed himself off the counter to walk towards the storage room. “Oh, I like the sound of that”, you said and smiled to yourself. This will make for a very interesting shift.

As motivated as Jake was at the beginning, he quickly became overwhelmed with the influx of customers with every passing hour. He was rushing around the bar circle, trying to fulfill the orders. You always kept an eye on him, making him do the ground work. Opening bottles, collecting empty glasses and clearing the tables.

And just like you had predicted it, Jake had dropped some glasses within the first hour. It was impossible not to. You knew that even though he didn’t want to believe you at first.

Your favorite patrons, Ping-Pong and Bert, made an appearance again. “How are my favorite men tonight?”, you greeted them as they sat down in their usual spots. “I don’t know how they are, but we’re good”, Bert said and sat down with a huff. “The usual?”, you asked and they nodded at the same time.

You grabbed two beers from the cooler and opened them. “Jake, we need another case of beer”, you told him as you noticed the few bottles that were left in the cooler. “Right on it, boss”, Jake said and sounded a little out of breath as he had just arrived from another round through the bar, collecting the empty glasses and bottles. “Good boy”, you told him with a wink and placed the two beers in front of Bert and Ping-Pong.

“Got a new bartender?”, Ping-Pong noticed and watched Jake as he rushed out from behind the bar and weaved his way through the crowd towards the storage room. “I’d say more of an intern”, you commented and wiped down the counter close to them.

“He looks a bit…stressed?”, Bert noticed. “Yeah, well…I feel kinda bad for him as he’s clearly in over his head but he didn’t wanna listen, now he has to feel”, you told them with a smirk. “Couldn’t you have just made him sleep on the couch if he pissed you off?”, Ping-Pong asked after taking a sip of his beer.

It was no secret that the two of you were together. Ever since Jake’s big gesture of climbing onto the bar, asking you out in front of everyone and your date, the two of you were pretty open with your affections and pretty much inseparable when you were both here. Jake would sit at the counter a lot, watching you work and distracting you with lingering looks and some inappropriate comments.

When everybody was over by the pool table, you would linger a little longer than usual, stealing kisses from him before you got back to work.

“He’s not in the doghouse, he’s made a bet with me some time ago and that debt is now being paid”, you explained to them. “Don’t be too hard on him. He’s clearly head over heels for you”, Bert advised you. “That’s what I’m counting on”, you said with a wink, but felt your cheeks burning up. “He only has until midnight then he’s free again”, you told them. “Look at you navy guys looking out for each other”, you said and grabbed a fresh little bowl of peanuts to place in front of them. “What are we supposed to do? We made an oath”, Ping-Pong said and put a hand over his heart which made you chuckle.

A little while later, your favorite group came into the bar.

“What the hell happened to Hangman?”, Fanboy asked as he watched Jake hurrying from one side of the bar to the other, trying to fulfill the orders that were shouted at him. “Yeah, where’s the cocky asshole that makes our lives miserable?”, Payback added.

“Tonight, there is no Hangman. Tonight, he’s only Jake, the guy behind the bar”, you told them, looking over your shoulder at your colleague for the night. All of you watched him drop another glass, the sixth one of the night. “Yeah, he’s not really in his element back here”, you told them as you turned around.

“I hate to say it, but I love the sight of this”, Phoenix said and watched Hangman moving around hectically. “Bullshit, you hate nothing about this”, you told her and she shot you a devilish grin.

The others took a seat at the counter as well. They all wanted a first-row-seat to the show tonight. “We would like to place our order”, Fanboy said and had a grin on his face as well. “Sure, what can I get you?”, you asked him and then looked at the others to place their orders.

“No, no. Not you. Him”, he said and pointed at Jake, who was handing out beers at the other end of the circle. You felt a little sorry for Jake. But back when you made the bet, you told him that he would be your little bitch and you were a woman of your word.

“Hey, new customers on the other end. You’re specially requested”, you patted Jake’s back to get his attention. He turned his head towards the direction you nodded at and when he saw who the customers were, his whole face dropped. “Of course”, he mumbled. “I’ll take over here”, you told him and gently pushed him in the right direction.

You quickly took the orders of the people in front of you and started to hand out their drinks while you had one ear listening to what was going on across from you.

“So, what you guys want? 6 beers? Coming up”, Jake said as he was standing in front of his so-called friends. You had a feeling, they weren’t tonight.

“No, I’m not in the mood for beer tonight”, Rooster said and rested his elbows on the counter. “Yeah, I’m in the mood for something more sophisticated”, Phoenix chimed in. “How’s your old-fashioned?”, she added after a second of contemplation.

“And I would love nothing more than a Martini. Extra-dry”, Payback placed his order with a sly grin. “That sounds good, I’ll take that, too”, Fanboy said. “I’ll take a Manhattan”, Bob ordered his drink and looked proud of himself. “And I’ll have a Sex on the beach”, Rooster placed his order as well.

“You guys are absolute shitheads”, Jake commented. “Is that a way to talk to your customers?”, Rooster asked playfully offended. “Yeah, not looking good for a tip with that attitude”, Phoenix shook her head.

“I’ll take a beer”, Coyote chimed in from the end of the line. “Coyote, my only friend”, Jake said and immediately handed him an opened bottle. “Alright, Hangman, chop-chop”, Payback said and clapped his hands together two times to get him to move.

You were listening in from the other side and decided that it was time to save your intern. “Alright, two Martinis, extra dry. An old-fashioned, a Manhattan and a Sex on the beach for our favorite mustache. Coming right up”, you announced and started collecting all the ingredients you needed.

“Jake, give me that tall glass over there and a tumbler from above it and three with the stems…No, not that one, the one next to it…Yes, perfect”, you told him while you started mixing the different alcohols in a shaker and ordering Jake to bring you all the right glasses.

You prepared one drink after the other in a speed that had Jake drop his jaw. You handed them out from left to right. “Not as easy as it looks from the other side, huh?”, you told Jake as you pressed by him to place the drink in front of Phoenix.

“I know. I’ve learned my lesson. Can I go now?”, he asked in a whiney tone like a little kid. “Go? Dude, your shift ends at midnight”, you told him with a raised eyebrow. “At midnight? That’s another 3 hours!”, he exclaimed. “I know, I can tell time”, you countered and had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from laughing at his facial expression. “Oh, drinks and a show”, Phoenix commented and took a sip from her drink.

“And now go and collect some empty glasses and bottles”, you said and handed Jake a trey, nodding in the direction of the tables. He looked at you for a few moments with furrowed brows, but you didn’t break eye-contact until he gave up. “Ugh, fine”, he sighed, grabbed the trey and walked out from behind the bar circle.

“If you don’t wanna do this, be better at pool next time”, you called after him which made your group chuckle. “I love this”, Rooster said with a bright grin while he looked after Hangman. “Not as much as me”, you told him and wiggled your eyebrows.

About an hour later, you and Hangman were standing behind the counter, talking to your friends. The bar was well crowded, but everybody was served at the moment and you had a somewhat quiet minute.

“Don’t be so mean, he’s doing a good job”, you told off your friends, leaned against Jake and rubbed his arm. “No, I’m not, but thanks, babe”, Jake said, turned his head and pressed a kiss to your head which made you smile.

“Hangman's in love”, Fanboy mocked him with a bright grin. “We're not there yet” you waved it off with a shake of your head and stood up straight again.

“We're not?”, Jake asked surprised. “We are?”, you asked in return, even more surprised, looking up at him.

“Whoops”, Fanboy said, pulled a face and quickly took a sip of his drink.

“I don’t think this is the time or place for this kind of a conversation”, you told him and grabbed the dish towel to wipe down the counter. You needed something to do with your hands all of a sudden. Jake looked at you for a moment before he nodded his head. “Yeah, you’re right”, he agreed but you saw how he clenched his jaw. You really weren’t ready for this conversation, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “We’re good, baby. Don’t worry”, you told him, looking for eye contact to see if he believed you. “I know”, he said and shot you a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You were annoyed at Fanboy that he kind of forced you to do this but you could not get through the rest of your shift with Hangman thinking that you weren’t heading in this direction.

You pushed him a step back, away from your friends and stood between him and the counter as you looked up.

“Jake, baby. When I tell you that I love you for the first time, it’s definitely not gonna be in the middle of a shift and just because Fanboy made a stupid comment, okay?”, you clarified. By the way his eyes lit up, you saw that he noticed that you said when and not if.

“And now, it’s time to get back to work”, you told him but couldn’t keep the grin from appearing on your face by watching him smiling at you brightly. “Yes, boss”, he nodded. “Mhm, I really like that. Maybe we should take that home”, you commented and his smile turned dirty real quick.

You hadn’t noticed it yet, but the guy that had insulted you and his friends showed up at the bar. When they saw Hangman behind the counter and how he was with you, they came up right next to your group. They didn't know that they were your friends.

"Good god, Hangman. How did you end up on this side? Did she wear you down in the end?", the guy said and laughed at him. His voice made you turn around and your whole body stiffened. Jake looked up as well and the smile immediately dropped from his face. Instead, he shot him a stern look.

"God, that guy sounds worse than Hangman", Phoenix mumbled towards Rooster, but you heard her, too.

"I need you to apologize to Y/N about what you said last time", Jake said and stepped around you and closer to the counter, putting his hands on it.

You couldn't move a muscle or say anything, you were frozen in your spot. "Y/N, are you alright?", Phoenix asked as she noticed the state you were in.

"I don't know what you're talking about", the guy laughed it off. "You know fucking well what I'm talking about", Jake spat at him and got out behind the bar circle, walking up to him.

"Last time, you were in here you talked shit about her and that wasn't okay. Even worse that she had heard you. So now, you're gonna apologize to her", he demanded.

"Oh shit, that's him", Fanboy was the first to make the connection. Coyote had told the group about the “incident” that caused you and Jake to fight back then.

"Or what, Seresin?", the guy took a step closer, squaring off with Jake. That was the moment Rooster got off his chair and took a stand behind Hangman. The guy's friends positioned themselves behind their friend. You noticed your other friends getting up as well.

"Or I'm gonna make you", Jake almost growled at him. “Look at you defending her all of a sudden. Last time, I didn’t hear a lot about that. Didn’t we, Coyote?”, the guy said and looked over at Coyote who clenched his jaw at his words. “And that was a big mistake. I know that now and I apologized to her and will, as often as she’ll listen”, Jake told him.

The life finally came back to your body, making you able to get out behind the bar circle as well and walking over to Jake.

"Jake, it's okay", you told him to stand down and put a hand on his chest to hold him back. He looked down at you for a moment and his features softened.

"Shit, Hangman. What the hell happened? Did she save your life or something? Or is this Make a Wish?", you heard behind you.

Jake's eyes shot up again, glaring at the guy. In a matter of a single second, a lot of things happened simultaneously.

Rooster took a step forward at what he had just heard, just like your other friends, opening their mouths to defend you. Jake was about to jump the guy. But most surprisingly, for everybody including yourself, your fist shot forward and hit the guy right on the chin, making him tumble backwards into his friends.

It took you a few moments because of the adrenaline but then you felt the pain in your hand. You had never in your life hit someone.

"FUCK! That hurts", you said and pulled a face. "Are you okay?", Jake asked you and took your hand in his to inspect it. His eyes were big, equally surprised as you were about what had just happened. He gently pushed you down on a bar stool, your hand in his.

“This bitch is crazy”, you heard behind Jake’s back and the guy stepping forward, seriously trying to come at you.

Jake turned around in a split second, his fist shooting forward. His punch to the guy’s cheek sent him flying to the floor. The guy’s friends wanted to get in on the fight but Rooster, Coyote and Payback held them back while Jake stepped over the guy.

“And now you’re gonna apologize to my girlfriend or I’ll punch you out of this bar”, Jake growled at him. A circle had formed around them.

“What the hell is going on here?”, Penny appeared out of the crowd, taking in the situation. Her eyes flew from the guy on the floor to Hangman standing above him to you sitting by the bar and holding your hand.

“Russ here was about to apologize to Y/N”, Jake said and took a step back. Penny also knew about what had happened at that night at the bar and she remembered the face of the guy that was now looking up at her from the floor. “So? Let’s hear it”, she said and nodded at you.

Russ looked irritated to say the least. His friend helped him up and he held his chin. A bright red bruise was forming on his cheek.

“I’m sorry for what I said about you”, Russ finally spoke. “You can do better than that”, Jake commented. “It’s okay. Thank you”, you said and nodded, accepting his apology.

“Okay, now that that’s settled, you guys get back to work”, Penny told Jake and you. “And you are not longer welcome in my bar. We respect each other in this place. Something you’re clearly not capable of”, Penny told Russ and showed him the door.

Instead of moving, Russ glared at you. “Are you guys gonna leave now or should we take you?”, Rooster stepped forward, Payback and Fanboy flanking his sides.

“We’re leaving. There are tons of other bars. We don’t need this shithole”, Russ spat into the round and finally left with his buddies.

“The show is over”, Penny announced and urged everyone in the bar to get back to their drinking and chatting.

“We need to put some ice on it”, Jake said when you both were back behind the bar. He grabbed a fresh dish towel, spread it out and put some ice from the big bucket on it. He wrapped it up and put it on your hand.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”, Phoenix asked. Your friends had taken their seats at the counter again. “I’ll be fine”, you waved off but hissed at the paint that shot through your hand as your tried to wiggle your fingers.

“That’s gonna swell up good”, Rooster commented. “I’ve never punched someone before”, you said as you realized again what had just happened. “For that, it wasn’t a bad swing”, Payback commented. “Thank you, guys, for standing up for me”, you told your friends.

“And you”, you turned to Jake. “I never had someone throwing a punch for me. And as much as I don’t condone violence in any form…that was kinda hot”, you confessed. “He had it coming”, Jake told you and grabbed your hips. “And I’m also sorry for what happened back then”, he said and apologized for the umpteenth time. “I think you’re done apologizing. You can never top that anyway”, you told him.

You put your good hand on his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

When the bar had closed and everybody was gone, you and Jake stayed back to clean up. Because of the ice, your hand was a little better but you knew that you will really feel it tomorrow, like Rooster had said.

After the altercation, you two had gotten back to your shift and Jake had gotten back to being overwhelmed by being behind the bar. And you had become limited in your ways of helping him with your bruised hand.

Right now, he was putting the dirty glasses in the basket for the dishwasher and you but the bottles in the recycling bin.

“I feel like I don’t need to ask you but I’ll do it anyway. How did I do tonight?”, Jake asked. You looked over at him for a second and bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing before you continued with the recycling.

“Uhm, let’s just say if this flying thing doesn't work out, we at least know now that bartending isn't an option”, you assessed. When he stayed silent, you looked over and found him looking at you with a raised eyebrow, which made you chuckle.

“Flying thing? I'm a naval aviator. I fly million dollars fighter jets”, he explained in a stern tone, clearly upset that you had called his job the flying thing.

“I know, my little honeybee”, you playfully pouted while you walked over to him and patted his cheek like you didn’t believe him. He furrowed his brows and shooing your hand away like an annoying fly.

“I'm excellent at my job. And don't call me little honeybee”, he countered. “Look who doesn't like nicknames all of a sudden? It's not that fun when I pull the uno reverse card, huh?”, you said and loved how upset he got.

“I like nicknames, just not this one”, he shrugged his shoulders and looked away from you like an upset little puppy.

“You're so cute when you pout”, you told him and grabbed his face with your good hand, squishing his cheeks with your thumb and index finger on either side.

He shook off your hand and crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, biceps bulging. Your eyes darted down for a second.

“Does this bee want some honey?”, you offered, your fingers traveling up his arm. His eyes narrowed at you. “Really?”, he asked intrigued.

You shot him a flirty smile and a wink and walked out behind the bar circle.

“I think the last time we were here alone, I said something about a bar stool and getting bent over it”, you reminisced out loud and slowly wandered over to a bar stool, pulling it away from the counter.

Jake came out behind the bar circle as well, his eyes glued on you as he wandered over to you.

“Too bad it’s not raining”, he commented. You took a seat on the stool as you looked over at the big windows. As it was dark outside, you only saw your reflection in the glass with the bar circle as the only source of light around. That’s how you saw that Jake was just two steps away from you.

“I’ll think we manage”, you said as you turned back to him and pulled your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the ground. You leaned back a little and beckoned Jake over to you with your finger.

You didn’t need to tell him twice as he quickly closed the gap, grabbed your face and placed his lips on yours.

a/n: I still can't quite let go of these two, so there will be a a little epilogue for me to wrap things up.

[hiyashortking]

Lucifer's Jealousy

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Premise: Lucifer has a tough time with jealousy, but you’re tired of waiting for him to settle down on his own. It’s time to talk!

On the first day, you told yourself Lucifer is entitled to his feelings. You’d known the devil to struggle with jealousy based on his unnecessary conflict with Alastor. Even on the second day of pouting, furrowed brows, and mumbling to himself, you had patience. But on the ninth day, you wondered how you ended up in hell when you had the patience of a saint.

“Lucifer, honey,” you begin, settling down next to him on one of the couches in the lobby of the hotel, where he sat with his arms crossed, fuming. His eyes turned fully red a few days ago. His horns came out sometime last night while you slept.

You could see how physical touch helped to settle him. Some of the tension in his face and body seemed to dissipate when you snuggled up against him. You sometimes tried to make yourself seem smaller than him, even though you weren’t, because when you did this he switched from bumbling dork to nurturing daddy. You hoped that’s what would happen but you hadn’t seen the reasonable daddy from him in days.

And why was the King of Hell so upset? At first you worried your casual flirtiness would offend him, but you’d been yourself since y’all started fucking and though you’d seen some challenge in his glare, it didn’t seem like jealousy to this extent. You saw each other every day. You took turns doting on each other. Him with his money, power, charm, and experience. You mostly with your words.

You: Sweetheart, what can I do? How can I help you get through whatever is troubling you?

Lucifer, sighing: I’ll be fine. Thank you for checking in with me.

You: But wouldn’t it be nice if we figured this out together? I hate seeing you like this for so long. I want to see you smile again.

Lucifer softened a bit more. Were you finally getting through to him, or was he only just becoming exhausted by his feelings?

You: Can you please at least tell me what happened?

Lucifer sighed again. With every sigh, you could feel him loosening up against your body.

Lucifer: I’m sorry I’ve been so unfair to you this week.

You didn’t add that this was his behavior last week as well.

Lucifer: I don’t know what it is about her, but I just can’t stand it when–

You, against your better judgment, since interrupting him when he’d only just started to open up was not your best idea: Her? Her who?

Lucifer: Huh? Charlie, of course.

You: Charlie?!

Lucifer: Yes, I don’t understand how Lilith-

You: LILITH?!

Lucifer: Yes, and the bus boy-

You: ALASTOR?!?!

Lucifer: Wha- yes, honey. Are you feeling well?

For nine fucking days you thought his pouting was about you! You thought he was so madly, obsessively in love with you that something strange and minor, something you didn’t even notice yourself, drove him into a jealous rage. Once the shock and, what, disappointment? had their turns in your head, you started laughing.

Lucifer: What- what is happening right now?

You, holding your stomach as you laughed: This whole time, I thought you were jealous over ME.

For as many millennia as he’d been alive, Lucifer’s ability to process hadn’t evolved at all. He sat dumbfounded as you laughed at yourself and how foolish and self-centered your thinking had been.

You felt him put his head on your shoulder and an arm around your back. You heard him sigh again, though did it sound a little happier? You wiped the tears from your eyes and looked at him resting against you. His horns were gone. His eyes were closed.

Lucifer: “You make me feel so safe that even when I think I would normally get jealous, I just trust you and feel happy for you instead.”

You: “Wha-”

Lucifer: “When you flirt with people, I just somehow believe that you’ll still be with me a moment later, and you have been so far. I mean- I get my hiccups here and there, and I think sometimes I even like getting possessive over you, but it’s been mostly sexual. With you, I don’t stay up at night wondering if you’ll kick me out or leave me, I just … sleep.”

You: “Lucifer …”

Lucifer: “Just one more comment and I’ll shut up. Seeing you laugh made me feel so much better. I want to make you laugh as often as I can.”

This sweet, tender little man was going to destroy you.

But also, NINE DAYS JEALOUS OVER CHARLIE AND LILITH, AND CHARLIE AND ALASTOR?

Now it was your turn to act like a baby for days.

[mad-hunts]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lengths he had gone...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How simple those days were...

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

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

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

‘Despair has its own calms.’

[mokeonn]

Before I go to sleep I leave you all with this piece of advice: sometimes you don't actually have to answer big political questions, sometimes you can just say "I am not smart enough to know that, I just know the small things I do to help." Like you can often times completely avoid making a fool of yourself if you just say you don't know.

[lilikitsune18]

Officer it’s this one right here he crashed my drawing program and refused to cooperate

@neodracunyan here’s the criminal the one who broke my drawing program so bad I’m going to have to archive everything and clear its data again and it hasn’t even been 3 months since I last did that for spring cleaning. I love how he came out in the end but he crashed my program 5 times while I was working on him and has caused it to lag and crash constantly ever since. I adore this boi but I will always have hard feelings for his reference sheet. He looks so smug about it too.

Below the cut is my usual ramble as well as the sketches and shape study for this one. (He has taught me many things completely on accident)

So let’s talk about this.

I started by sketching up a kickin that will never see the light of day fate just looking up my reference images and eyeballing it.

That kickin was really really ugly.

I know saying these things about one’s own art can seem degrading and derogatory but believe me when I say I got a second opinion and they agreed that chicken was ugly.

And they didn’t even know I was showing them my own art so I know it’s true.

So then I did the shape study and figured out why this wasn’t working the same as the others.

Then came a lot of trial and error of pushing different combinations of these shapes and builds together until I got a siluette that seemed to work (this was the one I used for the final version of kickin)

Then came the face which was also a matter with which I struggled but eventually figured out.

Despite all of these setbacks I do really like how kickin came out in the end (especially the side profile view) and once all of the struggles were through I really really ended up liking how he came out .

So let’s actually talk about this design now shall we?

Let’s start with the kickin hawk design. This design benefited from the fact that I knew who kickins partner is before choosing colors so I decided to make his grey clothing pieces blue toned in the same shade as bubba. It’s not super noticeable in the reference sheet because it’s surrounded by its complimentary and cross-complimentary colors (orange and yellow) making it look far more desaturated than it actually is. My intent is for the rest of the dark critters to have this same partnering motif from here on out in their color palettes (bubba will get kickins yellow, Bobby will get craftys cyan/teal color, and picky will get something green for hoppy) this will add a sort of visual synergy between each partner set making it more clear when they’re together as a group who the usual pairs are. (Instead of redoing catnap and dogday to fit this rule lets just say that their synergy thing is the red smoke bc when I designed them I didn’t know they were going to be put together as an individual pair instead of being with the rest of the critters as a group.) the idea for how kickin hawks weapons work is that they’re magnetic (either the holsters or a specific point on the weapon itself) and depending on which weapon it is will attach to a different point on his belt (think like polarity the nunchucks won’t attach to the spot where the guns go because the poles in its magnets don’t match the ones for the guns to attach to. This also means that if an enemy has a huge magnet they are guaranteed to never get all of kickins weapons because some of them will have opposing polarity and be repelled by the magnet instead of attracted to it a.k.a science is cool sometimes) The mask is for similar reasons to dogdays because of the fact that bubba uses lots of chemicals and gases similar to catnaps when fighting and kickin doesn’t want to deal with the loose gases effects (at that moment at least I feel like kickin would absolutely be bubba Guinea pig whenever he has a new variation to test) I also dyed some of his feathers with streaks of the reddish orange color because I feel like the moment he got the freedom to choose his appearance he’d go and change it. And uh yeah that’s about it for kickins ramble but if you have questions about the design choices feel free to ask ( while some of these guys may bite I won’t!)

[adore-gregor]

my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni

[tender-rosiey]

yoo rose I started following you a little while ago and I really liked you. I saw that your requests are open and I would like to ask for a scenario where Nanami arrives drunk and his wife takes care of him while he talks about how he loves her I liked all your stories with my businessman <3

unsteady love — nanami kento x f!reader

a/n: so glad that you do, love! <33 hope you like this one too 🫶🫶

kento stumbles slightly into your house, catching himself against the wall before you steady him, “kento… you’re drunk.”

he blinks down at you, the usually serious expression on his face replaced by something softer, more relaxed. there’s a faint flush coloring his cheeks, and he lets out a low, rumbling chuckle.

“I am not drunk,” he declares, his voice slurred just enough to betray him. “I’m... just—” he waves his hand vaguely in the air, searching for the right word. “...enlightened.”

you suppress a smile and guide him to the couch, sitting him down gently. “sure, ‘enlightened.’” you shake your head, amused. “stay put, I’ll get you some water.”

as you move to the kitchen, you hear him muttering to himself. “can’t believe I’m drunk,” he grumbles, almost like he’s scolding himself, “what kind of a husband does that?”

when you return, cup in hand, he’s sitting with his head leaned back against the couch, his eyes half-closed. but when you approach, he perks up immediately, watching you with a soft, slightly dazed look.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says. his voice is quieter, more sincere, and it catches you off guard for a second. nanami isn’t exactly shy about how he feels, but this is a side of him you don’t see often.

“drink,” you instruct, handing him the water to avoid the sudden rush of emotions his words bring. he takes the glass without complaint, but even as he drinks, his eyes never leave you.

after a few sips, he sets the glass down on the table and leans back again, sighing contentedly. “you take such good care of me,” he says softly, almost to himself, “I don’t deserve you.”

you chuckle at the sudden sentimental turn. “kento, you’re acting like I’ve just saved your life. you had a few drinks. you will be okay.”

he shakes his head, looking at you with those hazy, half-lidded eyes. “it is serious. you’re always here for me. always... my constant. my…” he trails off, struggling for the right words in his drunken haze, “you make everything better. I love you.”

his words are raw, unfiltered by the usual restraint he keeps on his emotions. there’s a vulnerability in the way he says it that makes your heart tighten.

“I love you too,” you reply, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

but before you can pull away, he grabs your wrist gently, pulling you closer. “no, you don’t get it.” he’s more insistent now, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that’s surprising given his state. “I really love you. I think about it all the time, all—the time.”

you laugh softly, though his words tug at something deep inside you. “you can tell me all about it when you’re sober.”

he doesn’t let go, though, his grip still gentle but firm. “I mean it. you make the worst days worth it. you... you’re everything.”

a soft laugh escapes you, touched by his sincerity but also aware of how much the alcohol is loosening his tongue. “I know, kento. you’ve told me before.”

nanami pouts—a rare expression that looks so out of place on his usually stoic face. “but I don’t say it enough. you deserve to hear it.”

he blinks sloppily as he stares at you before murmuring, "I need to marry you."

you let out a soft laugh and kiss his cheek, "we are married, you silly man."

in a once in a lifetime incident, your husband stares at you, eyes wide, face reddening by the second. he looks down at his feet for a few moments, then you see him hum, "that's nice."

his seriousness is almost comical given the state he’s in, and you can’t help but tease him a little. “y'know, you’re awfully chatty for someone who insisted they weren’t drunk.”

he lets out a sigh, leaning his head back again and releasing your wrist, “fine, fine. maybe I’m a little drunk. but it doesn’t change the fact that I—”

before he can finish, he shifts too quickly and almost topples off the couch. you rush to catch him, but you fall with him, and he blinks, disoriented, before breaking into a lopsided smile. “maybe a lot drunk.”

“yeah, maybe,” you say with a laugh, helping him sit back up. “come on, let’s get you to bed.”

as you help him to his feet, he leans heavily against you, his arm draped over your shoulder. you guide him down the hallway, his weight familiar but the situation still amusingly foreign.

normally, he’s the one doing the taking care of—you can’t help but relish this rare moment where the roles are reversed.

once you’ve managed to get him into bed, he pulls you down next to him, refusing to let go of your hand. his eyes, though heavy with sleep, remain fixed on you with that same soft, adoring look.

“you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion and sincerity, “we have to go to malaysia together.”

“sure,” you smile, brushing your fingers through his hair as his eyes finally flutter shut. “goodnight, kento.”

just as you’re about to pull away, his hand tightens around yours once more, and he whispers, half-asleep, “I love you.”

his words are softer now, less dramatic than before but still brimming with emotion.

you watch him for a moment, his features relaxed in the dim light, and feel a warmth spread through your chest. this side of him—unguarded, affectionate, and a little silly—is one you cherish just as much as his usual seriousness.

as he drifts off, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, letting his words linger in the air, “I love you too.”

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[inkskinned]

even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.

they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!

when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.

if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.

at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.

it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or are there demons affecting my behavior.

but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.

and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."

it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.

someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.

more often for me, life was a drowning.

[nexus-nebulae]

i really really wanna write a story at some point that starts out as one of those cliche YA novels where a normal human character finds out about an entire magic world they didn't know about- except the character is some form of mentally ill with paranoia and delusions, so the story revolves around how much more difficult it becomes for this person to percieve the world while also dealing with whatever Magic Bullshit is being thrown at them