#you have every right and reason to hurt right now

[menacingpolkamusic]

It's social justice telephone. "Trans men don't have all the privileges of cis men" -> "all men are oppressed for being men." "If you refuse to acknowledge that patriarchy also hurts men, the most vulnerable of them are going to go somewhere that actually listens to their problems and violent misogynists are going to give them the wrong solution" -> "if you were a little nicer to that catcaller he would change."

Because people hear "men" and the first thing that pops into their head is "my abuser." Most of us (there's always gonna be assholes in the conversation) are not talking about their abuser. We're talking about vulnerable men who have legitimate issues with patriarchy. There's a reason people are passing around bell hooks.

We're talking about men who truly want to be allies but are intimidated by women's valid frustrations, such as this man on the Chewed Gum show talking about his feelings on the man/bear question. Alyssa Ljub had a great response at 34:30 (abridged version):

[...] My brother [...] struggled a lot with being a very like sensitive, emotional kind of guy and that manifested as being angry and defensive when he was a teenager and through his more younger adult years, now he's 32 and a full adult and he's really understanding that what he's wanting to express is a more full range of emotions, but he didn't feel comfortable doing that because he was falling into that same mental pattern of that's not manly, men don't cry [...]

In the process of writing the TED Talk, I had given it to my brother to read and he went over it and [...] he encouraged me to look at it again and every time I referred to these like really atrocious things that had happened to women throughout time [...] he encouraged me to look at it and really consider [...] is "man" the word that I want to use, is it because men did this or is it the patriarchy, is it this system that we've created.

And at the end of the day, he was right because we all are victims of this same mentality, like this patriarchal mind space is the reason why [...] you are not super comfortable expressing a full range of emotions or it took you a long time to get there, similarly with my brother and similarly with how we all [choose the] bear and then we have a hard time understanding how men can't see it.

It's all the same system, it's the same machine and so there's a part of me that's always sort of like, it feels good to join in other voices that are able to say "bear and fuck the men who don't understand and that's not my job to teach them" and blah, blah, blah, like there's part of it that will always feel like turning the knife and it feels good for that moment but that's not actually a productive conversation and [...] that's not helping anybody.

And so the other part of it is, okay, [...] we're in this dialogue and [...] oh my gosh, men don't actually see it, they don't really understand why we feel that way and if they can't really understand it and they're in the same system that we are, it kind of is our responsibility to explain because if we don't, we're leaving them to their own devices to figure it out and when they're left to their own devices, they're at the hands of the same system that's telling them to shut down their emotions, be defensive and ignore what we're describing as physical risk that we feel with with strange men and that's not helpful, that's not helping anybody grow.

And so it's frustrating to some women, [...] "I shouldn't have to explain that" and I 100% get that, that's so valid but I think in this conversation, when we talk about how we move forward from how we have pushed men into being a specific type of person that is fitting into [...] this prototype [of] being really tough and minimizing emotions and unable to be vulnerable so that they can appear strong, when we've put men into that space, what pulls them out of it is vulnerability and softness and care and saying it's actually okay for you to want to be emotional in this time and it's actually completely okay that you're hearing this argument where people are saying bear over and over and you're like, "what the hell, I worked so hard to be the kind of man that people would be comfortable around and [...] I worked so hard to undo everything that I was inundated with as a child, like, and you still said bear?"

[...] I would encourage anybody who's listening who has that reaction of like, "I don't want to have to explain it to people. And if they don't get it, that's on them." I would encourage them to also consider how productive that conversation is. And if you, in that very moment, wanted to be productive. Sometimes we're like, "this is not worth it, I don't feel like having this conversation," whatever, that's fine [...]

I feel like that's the biggest thing that is inhibited for so many men in this system. They're not given the permission to feel everything that they want to feel and have a safe space where there might be an adult or a therapist, whatever, whoever is around them to say, "it's okay that you feel that way. And at the same time, the reason why women are saying bear is because even though you're a safe space, the information that we have, the statistics that we have about how many men are not is enough to make me say bear."

But I think at least in the way that I've experienced this conversation, especially with someone close to me, like my brother, where I've grown up with him obviously, and I've known him my whole life and seeing what made the biggest difference for him was allowing him to feel vulnerable and feel the full range of his emotions and actually process them through. Like actually see [...] "these are all the things I'm feeling and this is how we're gonna resolve it. And now I've learned something because I've actually resolved this feeling."

Notice how the person in question is her brother. It's not the catcaller who's feelings she's trying to look out for, it's someone she wants a relationship with. She could have written him off as just another angry cis man when he was a teenager, but she didn't. And now he understands a little of women's perspective and will hopefully try to reach men who wouldn't listen to women.

She recommends bell hooks as well.

Nooo mutual don’t put that “men fall down the alt-right pipeline bc women/feminists are too mean” post on my dash nooo mutual don’t try to say women need to be nicer when dealing with misogynistic men nooo mutual nooo

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 4

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3

TW: one instance of homophobic language (internally), fear of violence due to homophobia (which doesn't occur).

Chrissy would have never expected Steve Harrington to be full of such soft, gooey feelings, but with every letter she helps him right, he only gets sappier. The latest is so sticky with sap she’s afraid it’ll stick to her fingers.

Part of her, the smallest, niggling part, wishes Steve really was her boyfriend, and all those little niceties could be for her. But, that wouldn’t be fair to Steve, anyway. There’s nothing there; he’s just Steve—the platonic ideal of a best friend.

So, she wears his last name on her back, helps him write his little notes, and hopes ardently that she’ll find someone she cares that much about for herself.

“What are you doing?”

Chrissy’s fingers stumble at the unexpected voice, Steve’s latest letter fluttering to the dirty ground. Someone else beats her to picking it up. She watches, mouth in her throat, as one of Eddie’s friends unfolds the note. He squints down at it, eyebrows raising higher and higher until they’re almost meeting his hairline by the time he reaches the sign-off.

He folds it up carefully before handing it back to her. She clutches it to her chest, but the damage has already been done.

“Aren’t you dating Harrington?” Jeff asks.

Chrissy stumbles over her words, only getting out an, “it’s not like—” and a “I wouldn’t do—” before sputtering into silence.

They stand there, staring at each other for an endless moment, neither speaking, before Chrissy finally spins around, shoves the note into Eddie’s locker, and flees as fast as her tired legs can carry her.

He doesn’t follow.

Practice had run long, and she’d just wanted to leave the note and get home. Now, home is less of a relief and more somewhere that she can stew in the repercussions of what she’s done. Jeff’s Eddie’s friend, he’ll tell him without hesitation, and where will that leave her and Steve?

With that in mind, she goes looking for Jeff bright and early the next day, hoping boys’ propensity for not talking on the phone means that they’ve yet to speak.

“Did you tell him?” she asks when she finds Jeff spinning the dial on what must be his own locker.

Seeming entirely unbothered even as everyone around them stares, Jeff continues unlocking his locker at a leisurely pace. Only once he’s pulled the lock down and swung his locker open does he turn to meet her eyes.

“You mean, did I tell my best friend that Chrissy Cunningham has been writing him love notes?” Jeff asks. Chrissy shifts her eyes around, relieved that no one’s close enough to hear Jeff’s quiet voice.

Chrissy nods, something weighty sinking into her stomach the longer he goes without responding.

He turns back to his locker with a huff to dig around on the top shelf. “No,” he says, but before the relief can hit her, he continues, “I don’t want you to hurt him, and I think you will.”

“It’s not—I don’t—“ she stumbles in an embarrassing reenactment of last night. When he turns back to her with that same judgmental look, she shores herself up, clears her throat, and finally eeks out a full sentence. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Jeff’s expression doesn’t change as he asks, “so, what? You’re going to leave Harrington for him?”

Her silence must speak volumes because he slams his locker shut, and turns to walk away, calling, “that’s what I thought” over his shoulder.

She stands, transfixed, as he walks away.

His dismissal niggles at her, until she finds herself seeking him out again before the end of the day. He’s walking out of the bathroom, still shaking his hands dry as she rushes up to him, matching his stride down the hallway step for step.

“I’m not dating Steve,” she says.

It’s the first time she’s said it aloud, none of her friends close enough to confide in. But, here she is, telling the best friend of one half of the reason her and Steve are even doing this, entirely unprompted.

Jeff looks at her sidelong. “Did you tell the rest of the school that?”

Chrissy sweeps her ponytail over her shoulder as she rolls her eyes. She’d never told anyone her and Steve were dating. All it’d taken was her wearing his letterman, and that confrontation with Jason, and everyone had been convinced, no lying necessary.

“It doesn’t matter to me what they all think.”

It does, but she’s been spending too much time with Steve, and his aloof indifference to his image has been rubbing off. She’s glad.

“But you’re telling me, because what?” he asks, still skeptical. “You have a big crush on my best friend?”

He throws finger quotations around the word crush that would be insulting if he wasn’t right. She does like Eddie. He’s weird, but nice unless provoked. But the thought of kissing his dry lips makes her nose wrinkle.

“It’s not like that,” she says again.

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

He walks into his next class without another word. Chrissy continues down the hall, barely making it in time for her own.

It doesn’t get better.

Jeff’s dislike, visible in his eyes anytime they cross paths, cuts at her. She finds herself seeking him out, explaining again and again, or trying to without saying anything at all.

“It’s really not like that!” she says, finally frustrated enough to raise her voice. “Steve’s handwriting is atrocious so I was just—”

She cuts herself off, hands slamming over her mouth as she realizes what she’s said. It’s just, Jeff was making that face she hates again, that one with the raised brows and judgmental smirk, and she’d gotten mad.

“Steve’s handwriting…” Jeff murmurs quietly, eyebrows now lowered and furrowed in thought.

She might’ve been able to play it off. But the silence has lingered too long, and Chrissy’s never had much of a poker face. She knows the guilt and panic in her expression is damning; she still can’t seem to wipe it off her face.

“The notes…” Jeff starts, trailing off like he can’t bear to say it, “are from Steve?”

Chrissy clenches her hand tighter across her mouth like she can somehow retroactively shove her words back into her throat, stop Jeff from having the realization that might get Steve–who’s quickly becoming her best friend–killed. But, he keeps just looking at her. So, she nods, movements jerky and scared.

“Shit,” Jeff says, finally breaking eye contact to bend over and squeeze the bridge of his nose. “That explains so much.”

Unable to stop herself, Chrissy bursts into tears.

***

Eddie heads to his locker first thing in the morning. He’s been buzzing since he dropped off the last letter, hoping against hope that she’d check there again. And there, like an answer to his prayers, is an envelope resting atop his neglected Biology textbook.

Eddie’s ready to become a believer if all his hopes and dreams keep coming true. He’ll drop down on his knees and repent for all his sins if it means these letters keep coming. In fact, he’ll do it here and now, envelope clutched between sweaty palms as his knees smack into the unforgiving floor of the hallway. All the peons around him give him a wide berth as he smacks his palms together and sends up a prayer like he’s seen people do on TV.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jeff asks, squinting down at him like this is the weirdest thing he’s ever caught Eddie doing.

“Nothing!” Eddie replies, resisting the urge to shove the letter into his mouth. He hasn’t even got to read it yet, no way is he squandering this opportunity just because Jeff’s butting his nosy little nose into his business.

But when Eddie meets Jeff’s eyes, he looks so squinty and weird, and un-Jeff-like, that Eddie’s almost worried. He stands, bruised knees aching as he shoves the envelope—gently!—into the deep pocket of his jeans. Jeff watches the paper until it’s entirely out of sight.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, hand reaching out to cup Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff shakes his head like a dog after a bath, finally looking away from the ass of Eddie’s jeans. “What?” he asks, before shaking his head again, and it must help shake a thought loose because the next thing he says is, “I’m fine.”

Eddie keeps his eyes fixed on Jeff, wondering if it’ll be enough to break him, but all Jeff does is clench his jaw and straighten his shoulders, a warrior ready for battle.

“All right,” Eddie says, reaching his finger out to boop Jeff’s nose in that way he hates. “Keep your secrets.”

Then, he turns and walks away. He smiles as Jeff sputters behind him, calling out, “I don’t have any secrets!” just as Eddie pushes into the bathroom.

There’s a few freshmen in there, but they scatter as Eddie enters. Even still, Eddie rushes into one of the stalls and locks it behind himself. This is about as far as a lit candle and mood lighting as one can get—Eddie smells the hints of the shit the last guy in here must have taken and the fluorescents are bright enough to drill a headache into his skull—but Eddie can’t wait any longer.

He tears into the envelope, as gently as he can with impatient, shaking fingers.

  Eddie —

  I know you don’t like them, but I like sports. There’s something about depending on your body to get you through a hard work-out, you know? But, I don’t know if it’s my thing, like Dungeons and Dragons and music are yours. Maybe I don’t have a thing. Is that weird?

  My favorite color is yellow, like the sun, and sunflowers, and all those happy, bright colors. I’d love to see you in such a bright color one day, even if I do love all the black and red. It suits you.

  I’ve never dreamt much, but when they’re good, they’re usually about you, so your hopes just might come true.

  I know your handwriting, and what you yell about for the world to hear, but I don’t know as much as I’d like. I want to know everything about you. What’s your favorite color? Do you have happy dreams?

  Yours, Always

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. Maybe put it in Romeo and Juliet this time, the edition with the tear in the cover.

Here, tucked away in this shitty bathroom in this shitty school, Eddie Munson smiles. He’s got another note to write, and another book in the library to find.

*** 

“I have some bad news.”

Steve’s barely stepped out of his car before Chrissy’s ambushing him. He takes a startled step back into the beemer, as he meets her gaze.

Chrissy’s wringing her hands together, anxiety wafting off her. Just behind her shoulder, a guy Steve only recognizes as one of Eddie’s friends is stoutly avoiding his eyes. Whatever this is, it’s got Steve’s gut sinking into his socks.

“What happened?” Steve asks hesitantly.

His mind’s ticking away, and coming up with all the worst case scenarios. Eddie’s in trouble, or hurt, or worse. What else could bring these two together?

“Jeff knows about the letters!” Chrissy cries, words all jumbled together in her rush to get them out.

Steve takes a step back, pressing his spine uncomfortably into the metal roof of his car, instinct against an unknown threat.  No one steps after him. It’s hard to take his eyes off Jeff and Chrissy, but he does. The parking lot’s crowded with warm bodies pushing between cars, desperate to make it to class on time.

Just moments ago, Steve was one of them.

“You told him?” Steve asks, eyes locked on Chrissy.

For her part, Chrissy’s eyes look big and shiny as she nods. She takes a step forward, and it takes everything in him not to step back. It’s just—he’d thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, tears finally pouring out of her eyes.

Steve watches, stagnant, as the person he was starting to consider his best friend, cries. He wants to hug her, wants to scream at her, wants to run the hell out of here to lick his wounds in peace. But, Jeff takes a step forward, scowl on his face, and Steve takes two hasty steps back, tumbling painfully through his open driver’s side door and sprawling uncomfortably on his stick shift.

The few students nearby turn to look at him, saying snide comments to one another, barely polite enough to talk in whispers. He hardly notices, eyes locked on the main threat. Jeff’s face softens as he stops his forward momentum, foot still raised in the air for a step he doesn’t take. No one moves until everyone stops watching the spectacle and begins walking away.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the stand-off, voice quieter and gentler than he’d expected. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.”

Steve stares him down, still sprawled uncomfortably in his car. He’s right, but a small voice in the back of Steve’s head is wondering if they should do this at all. He wants to cut his losses and run. But, Chrissy’s still crying, and if his secret is going to be spread around the school, he’d rather have a head start out of town.

He crawls out of his seat, limbs feeling more ungainly and awkward than they have since he was prepubescent. It feels like every eye in town turns toward him as the sound of his closing car door echoes through the rapidly emptying parking lot.

“Follow me,” he says.

Turning his back on them feels like a show of trust he can’t afford, but he’s not following either of them off school grounds. The football field will be empty at this time on a Friday, especially with the rain coming down.

None of them are wearing coats, so he leads them beneath the bleachers. The rain still drips between the rafters, but there are a few dry spots big enough to stand in.

“Make-out spot, Harrington?” Jeff asks, mouth quirked up as he leans against one of the metal support beams despite it being wet and cold.

Steve’s intestines squirm around in his stomach at the way Jeff and Chrissy stay standing next to each other, a united front against Steve.

“It’s not like it’s Skull Rock,” Steve says, proud that his voice doesn’t shake. “Now, say what you want to say so I can go home.”

“There’s still school,” Chrissy hiccups out, as if he cares at all about that right now.

Jeff straightens, small smile dropping off his face as he eyes Steve. Chrissy’s face is wet. Steve’s just glad he can no longer tell what’s raindrops and what’s tears.

“I was being a dick to her,” Jeff says.

“No, you were—” Chrissy starts before Jeff talks right over her.

“All she said was that your handwriting was bad, and I put the rest together.”

A small part of Steve is soothed that Chrissy hadn’t told him on purpose. Accidents happen, he can understand that. But—

“Eddie told you about the letters?” Steve asks. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, Jeff and Eddie are always occupying the same spaces. They must be close.

Jeff shakes his head, but it’s Chrissy that speaks first, “he saw me putting one in Eddie’s locker.”

“Oh,” Steve says, slumping into himself.

They’re both staring at him now.

Steve’s never been good with silences. When his parents are gone, he leaves the TV on in the living room all hours of the day. At school, he surrounds himself with warm bodies, all making noise. In his car, there’s always a tape playing in his deck.

“So, should I start fleeing town?” Steve asks, trying for a joking tone, but his voice cracks tellingly on the last word.

“No!” Chrissy cries.

She rushes forward, wrapping the entirety of her small body around his like she can shelter him from any harms that might come for him. Steve stumbles back, barely stabilizing before they both go tumbling into the dirt.

He wraps his arms hesitantly around her, patting her back awkwardly as she undoubtedly cries into his shoulder. She’s short enough that he can put his chin on her head, so he does. She feels right in his arms—good and warm.

Why couldn’t he like her instead?

“It’s okay, Chris,” he says, but she’s too short to hide in, and he’s got a perfect view of Jeff, still in his original spot. “It’ll be okay.”

It feels like a lie when it comes out of his mouth. He meets Jeff’s eyes, surprised when he finds them warm.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Jeff says.

It’s only then that Steve realizes how haggard his breathing had become, like he’d been running suicide’s in the gym, not standing stationary fighting the fears of his own mind.

He sucks in an unencumbered breath, the stone constricting his lungs ground down to almost nothing. Steve nods, arms still wrapped around Chrissy like she might be ripped away from him. He couldn’t have expected anything better, not in Hawkins. Except, what’s the likelihood he gets this lucky again?

He’s two for two with good reactions, what’s the likelihood the third won’t play a nice game of smear the queer?

Except, this is one of Eddie’s best friends, and does “anyone” even include him?

“Even Eddie?” Steve asks, that same damning quiver back in his voice.

Jeff shakes his head, and before Steve can begin to panic, Jeff speaks, “I think you should tell him, but it’s your secret man.”

Steve tries to find any sign of a lie on Jeff’s face. The other boy just looks placidly back, waiting his scrutiny out.

“Thank you,” Chrissy and Steve say at the same time.

They collapse into each other, giggling like fools as the adrenaline leaves them both. Behind them, Jeff’s smiling like he finds this whole thing charming.

Three might be a crowd, but Steve’s never liked being alone. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

PART 5

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate Chapter 24

Trigger warnings: Angst, murder, blood, assault, violence, *bring tissues*

A week went by and Y/N didn't speak to Chan. A week went by and Chan had left to meet his friend. A week went by and Hyunjin and Y/N worked on options to use their dark aura to stop Ateez. A week went by and the wolves were divided. Seungmin and Felix sided with Y/N believing her experience of living there would help them solve this problem, but the rest of them chose Minho, the annoying ridiculous beta who acted like the head alpha. It pissed her off the way he was taking charge. She couldn't stand to stay in the same room as him, despite Jisung trying to comfort and reason with her. Jisung did see Y/N's side, but it was Minho's stubbornness and his politics that made him difficult to challenge. Minho was an elder wolf. Now what that means was he was above all wolves. He was the law of that council. Minho had spent years training at the werewolf sanctuary to become an elder. He spent years learning the skills and crafts of one. Minho had the power to connect with his ancestors and others. That is why Minho had high self-esteem and confidence. His biggest weakness is not being an alpha but his rapport with the werewolf community gave him that power, so when someone disrespected him, he became agitated, especially when someone he cared about disrespected him.

Y/N and Minho had been clashing all week. It started with ignoring him and purposely leaving the room when he was there. Then it escalated when Jisung said she was being mean causing him to get shouted at, which lead to Minho trying to discipline her but the same remark of 'you're not a fucking alpha's came out. Chan had even alpha commanded her to apologise which led to her ignoring him. But today the omega had high opinions as she stood there in the living room arguing with Jeongin while Changbin and Jisung sat there behind pillows with a mixed look. Changbin was shitting himself in fear but his fear resulted in him laughing while Jisung was amused. Jisung was curious to see how the new alpha would handle the situation and he was handling it quite well. Jeongin stood there with a stoic face watching the omega shout profanities at him, knowing the beta was next door listening. None of them knew what was going on anymore but all they knew was she was upset but her words were becoming spiteful. "So what he's a fucking elder. He should know how to listen to people and understand all options." Y/N yelled at the alpha. "Y/N. Listen to me." Jeongin called out in a commanding tone. He was getting frustrated. He understood her anger and fear. He understood her projection was coming from her inner trauma and he allowed her to express that but insulting the other wolves he wasn't going to tolerate it, especially a wolf who worked day and night to save her, the least she could do was be grateful. Jeongin tried to reason with her, but she wasn't having it and he could feel his anger start to bubble inside of him. "Y/N. If you-" "Like you know anything. You're just a baby alpha who thinks-" "Go. Upstairs. Now. I don't want to hear your pathetic little whines." Jeongin alpha ordered, his eyes glowing red as he looked at her. His actions caused her to shudder. His words bled deep into her veins, forcing her up the stairs. On the way she saw Minho sat on the floor in the kitchen crying. His body jolted with every breath as he tried to stifle his cries. What have I done? "Y/N!" Jeongin shouted causing her to run up the stairs and straight into her room, her eyes glowing blue as she tried to calm herself down. I made him cry. It was all falling apart left right and center. Minho was a sobbing mess in the kitchen as he heard her hurtful words. They cut him deeper than he expected. He was listening to her. He had spent hours pleading with the council. He even disrespected another alpha on the council for her. Minho didn't understand why it wasn't enough for her, he felt sick. Jeongin was livid and kicked the back door open so he could phase. He hated the power it gave when he ordered her. He felt like a monster. 

While all this was going on, Chan had met up with his friend Jaebeom who helped him before when things went bad. Chan wanted to create a plan with him so he went to meet him in the woods, but something was wrong. The more Chan walked deeper into the woods to meet Jaebeom, the more he felt something was off. Chan felt incredibly uncertain about stepping on this side of the woods. He knew Jaebeom but he hadn't actually spoken to him since he was seventeen. "I'm surprised you came alone. You're not a smart alpha, are you? Christopher." A dark voice stood behind him, taunting him. The male laughed at him, well, more like cackled at the alpha like a madman. "Hongjoong," Chan whispered. His heart dropped as he heard the voice. "Come on Chan, let's talk like alphas." Hongjoong taunted. Chan slowly turned around to see Hongjoong standing there with his arms crossed with three other wolves. An alpha, a beta and an omega. He guessed the alpha was Wooyoung, but the other beta he wasn't sure of. He didn't recognise this beta, nor the omega. Chan couldn't believe Hongjoong brought an omega with him. Did he expect the omega to fight? Chan couldn't fight an omega. No, he couldn't. Y/N adored those omegas. They set her free. They helped her escape. He couldn't take one of them out.

Hongjoong watched Chan's eyes study his wolves. He was calculating them. "Come on Christopher. There's no point in sniffing my boys out. I can introduce you if you'd like. This is Wooyoung, Mingi and Jongho. Seonghwa is hiding in the woods somewhere so if you run, he will attack." Hongjoong laughed. "What do you want Hongjoong," Chan asked, his eyes glowing red. "To kill you, obviously. " Hongjoong stated. "Did you really think that I would let you win after everything you have done to my pack? You had me exiled. You stole my alpha. Then you stole my omega and then had my beta killed. I had to let you think you had a chance with those council members. I will say your Minho made a great case against me. Trying to use maleficium against me. He's a smart wolf but not smart enough to realise my father is on that council too. How humiliating. I hope he's not too gutted about it." "She is not your omega. She never was." Chan growled stepping forward. "No, she wasn't." Hongjoong stepped forward, "but Joshua helped me get her." "What?! You're lying." Chan growled as he looked at the mad werewolf who laughed. Hongjoong in the midst of laughing signalled Mingi to attack.

Mingi was quick on his feet and grabbed Chan who took the blow, but he was quick on his feet. Chan managed to disarm him for a brief second but lost when Jongho phased and scratched the back of Chan bringing him down. Chan could smell the fear of the omega who didn't want to appear in the fight but acted on command. Chan pushed the omega off of him when Mingi shifted and pinned Chan down in his human form, biting in his shoulder, ready to rip his arm off when Chan phased into his grey wolf. He allowed his wolf to take over as he attacked Mingi, biting and snarling at him. Jongho pounced and dug his teeth into the grey wolf's tale, almost snapping it off, but he stopped. The blood of Chan fell out of his mouth and he panicked, but the shouts of his alpha forced him to fight and destroy. Chan managed to break free from Mingi and shoved Jongho into the tree, before heading towards Mingi. Chan got hold of his back leg and ripped it off carelessly. Chan didn't care. He needed to get back home to his omega.

As soon as he made the mistake of thinking about her, he felt a white-hot pain pierce through his leg. Wooyoung had phased and tackled the head alpha, dragging him by his tail before shoving him into the tree. Chan whimpered but tried to get back up but the two wolves attacked him. Chan managed to lock his jaw onto the beta's neck to snap his neck. Killing him. Wooyoung raged in anger at the death of his pack mate and charged forward snarling in rage as he tried to get the omega to help him, but Jongho couldn't get up. The omega was petrified. Chan used this against Wooyoung and pounced on him, biting into his leg and dragging the wolf harshly. Wooyoung tried to call out to Hongjoong but the alpha stood there in frustration as he watched Chan destroy them one by one. "Alright. Stop this." Hongjoong yelled. He needed Wooyoung. "I won't kill you. Go to that fucking whore. You can have. She's been used quite well, but I will say this, don't trust Hyunjin near her. Hyunjin is obsessed with her."

Chan didn't care but took his chance to retreat running as fast as he could back home. Chan didn't care about the pain in his body or the blood, he wanted to go home. He wanted his pack. He wanted her. Nothing else mattered, but Chan was struggling to continue. His vision was starting to blur as he ran, occasionally stumbling over. Chan got up again and kept pushing himself until he could reach his home or at least the clear, but he couldn't, his legs caved out and he fell to the ground, crying. He couldn't make it back. He couldn't go on any longer. I'm sorry Y/N.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim

[revelboo]

I love to check you blog every day when I get up and when I go to bed and it's funny that you posted the shockwave fic literally before I got into bed, just after I was thinking of whirl and shockwave while getting ready to sleep. 🥺 Can't wait to see more tfp shockwave around here

A bit of serendipity 😊

This one’s 18+ 💀 but not for fun reasons, rather dubious, horrific science on Shockwave’s part

Point of Extinction Pt 4

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• Even if you can’t see what’s going on in the lab from your opaque box, you can’t shut out the sound. A high pitched bleating that just gets sharper, more awful until you’re pressed into a corner of your box, knees drawn tight to your body and your palms pressed against your ears in an attempt to shut it out. When that soul wrenching sound abruptly ends after what feels like forever, you’re shaking uncontrollably and sick to your stomach.

• “Experiment fourteen. Failure,” Shockwave growls at the drone placidly hovering and recording. Every failure brings him closer, though. Step by step to creating a new home. A fail safe in case Cybertron can’t be revived, but progress is almost painfully slow. Terraforming organic life much more erratic than he’d like. Flicking the end of his cannon at the drone to end the recording and go charge, he turns back to his other experiment. “Come, Thirteen.” Leaning closer to find you huddled in a corner, trembling.

• Your head comes up at the sound of Shockwave’s voice, panic seizing you as he reaches into your cage, his servos wet with blood. “Don’t.” Shoving back tighter into your corner when he makes to pick you up. Terrified you’re next. That you’re about to suffer whatever it was he just did to some poor animal. Hoping it was an animal not a person making that sound. Freezing, Shockwave stares at you, that unreadable face dipping to look at his hand like he’d forgotten. Servos trembling slightly as he pulls away, disappearing from sight.

• Don’t. You can’t do this. Moving to cleanse his hand, for a moment his processor is tangled in the chaos of a memory that isn’t truly his. Hands on his arms, seizing him against his will. Dragging him… somewhere. The memory shreds when he tries to pull it close. Screaming. He remembers screaming when they took his optics. No, he only has one. He’s only ever had one. He’s not sure, though. Servos of his one hand shaking, he turns his attention to the cannon his other arm ends in. Sometimes he swears he can feel those nonexistent servos. They’re like the memories that aren’t his, but are. Wrong, hurtful things that snare him. Turning back to your cage, he leans closer bothered by the way you shake. “Thirteen.”

• He’s back and you shudder as he reaches for you again. His big hand is clean now, still wet, but you can’t make yourself go to him willingly. But you can’t make him angry either if your survival depends on being good. Being cooperative. “You’re not going to hurt me, right?” You ask, eyes burning as you stand and walk over to him. Putting yourself in his servos.

• Carefully curling his servos around you, he lifts you free. Something about how insubstantial and warm you feel in his grip skitters through him. Trusting him when you probably shouldn’t. He can’t even trust his own memories, how can you trust him? “No,” he says. Comforting your fear even though it’s illogical. It doesn’t, shouldn’t, matter, but it somehow does. You make a sharp sound, staring at fourteen and you start shaking harder.

• It was a deer. At least you think it was. Why he’d thought a deer should have that many, spidery legs or a skull that split open to house awkward looking mandibles is beyond you. It’s a half formed mess of flesh, fur, and metal. The bones partially warped with liquid metal and twisting out of its rib cage, viscera shiny and wet spilling out. Dry heaving, you press your face against his servos. Don’t want to see what he’s done. What he might do to you. “Why?” He hasn’t hurt you, so you’d convinced yourself that you were safe. But this? He’s not safe and definitely doesn’t actually care for you. He’s a monster.

• Rooted to the ground, he stares at the failed experiment. Something uneasy in the back of his processor whispering that he should have cleaned it up before retrieving you, but it hadn’t occurred to him that the sight would bother you. The way you’re shaking in his hand is clawing at him, twisting in his spark. A feeling he can almost remember, an emotion that he doesn’t have anything more than a dull echo of and can’t understand. Illogical even as he brings you closer to his chassis, turning so you can’t see the mess anymore and running a trembling servo along your arm. Needing to understand. To remember.

Previous

[kizzer55555]

Alternative idea. They are chasing Danny ‘the betrayer’ down and as they follow the leads and clues and leftovers of where he’s been, they start slowly piecing together the mystery of who Danny is and why he’s doing this. And they find out just how deep the betrayal went. Because it was the Justice league that made the first move.

They finally catch up with him and he’s decoding something and he just snaps at them to leave him alone. He’s cold, not even acknowledging at them, this is nothing like the Danny they knew. They try to talk to him and when that doesn't work it breaks out into a battle. But Danny knows all their moves and weaknesses and they don’t know the first thing about his limits. He’s ruthless and efficient, not showing the barest hint of emotion on his face like this battle against his ‘friends’ means nothing to him. He doesn’t even have to reveal his powers. And once they are all completly immobile he whispers “I never wanted to hurt you.” Someone scoffs. “You have a funny way of showing that.” Danny rolls his eyes. “It’s your own fault. You really should have seen this coming.”

“Oh really?” A hero speaks, venom dripping with every word. “Is it really that easy to betray your friends? To betray the ones you trust?”

Danny just laughs without any emotion behind it. “Trust? Nah, I never trusted you. Let me tell you something, when my home town was invaded, we called the Justice league. But they never came. When we were besieged every. Single. Day. By monsters and demons and entitled government agents that had no regard for casualties, they never came. Do you know what it’s like? To always have to look at the sky in case something comes down a snatch you? To hide behind a trash can or alley wall and pray that skin peeling cyborg will pass you by? To be scared of the very food you eat wondering if it was poisoned or the meat was going to attack you? To wake up realize no one is moving and wonder if your friends and family will ever wake up again? We called over and over but they never came. So we had to find our own way to fight back. We had to build weapons to protect ourselves and our children. We had to fight tooth and nail just to make it to tommorow and finally, finally we figured out a system. We managed to push them back enough to breathe. And it was only then that your people arrived.

You abandoned my town to face their death. You took me from my home. You locked up my family and tortured them.” By now, Danny was screaming and crying. His eyes looked absolutely devastated. “How…can you possibly ask me to trust you after that?”

Danny doesn’t even explain himself and his reasoning. That’s how little he thinks of the heroes. He doesn’t care if what they think he’s doing is right or wrong or if it’s justified. Some think he’s doing some sort of master plan to take over the world rather than just rescuing his parents which makes even more devastating to them when they find out what he’s actually doing.

It’s a race against time and by the end, Waller launches a strike against the heroes and it ends up being Danny that built a counter solution to the anti super weapons. He still doesn’t care about them but he was a protector at heart. He always will be. He just didn’t need someone’s ‘permission’ to do so. When he finally frees his parents (possibly dragging in the help of his classmates for a break out) they stand and Waller says that they’ve lost as they are surrounded, no weapons, and all the heroes/former villains powerless because of machines specifically designed against them. And that’ when Danny looks her right in the eyes and says that there’s one thing he forgot to mention.

He has powers too.

Danny held up a large sign from the background like a man at an airport as thier leader, Robin, gave his report to this "Justice League". The first sign said, "Help! I'm surrounded by daddy issues!" Earning a laugh from someone off camera. He then pulled the next card out from behind the first one.

"Can you send air fresheners? It smells like teen angst in here"

This one got a cackle from someone on the Justice League side of things. Score. No one here really wants to laugh. They're all edgelords and Danny is suffering. He didn't really want to be here, but things in Amity had ended in a way he never expected.

Both he and his parents had been arrested.

Not by his worlds government, mind you, but by the government of another Earth. This Earth that he was currently on to be more accurate. Who knew that so much of the stuff he and his parents had been doing was super illegal and wouldn't ya know it? He was in the middle of doing something really sketchy looking in his parents lab when the feds busted in.

Thankfully, the Justice League presented him with a deal: they take him out of Juvie and the reformation program he was in, and in return, he joins a team of former teen/child villains and anti-heros.

Figuring he had nothing to lose at this point he agreed.

He was not expecting to be surrounded by angry angsty teens. His fault really. He should have known better. Thankfully it seems like nobody knows about Phantom and he'd like to keep it that way.

Psaro was his calm in the storm. The other boy was proud and almost as arrogant as Robin, but he had been proven to be very kind and reliable. If Danny ever needed advice or if Robin was getting a bit too much, he could just knock of Psaros door.

The last time Robin had a fit and was starting a fight with someone, Mr. Pointy ears stepped up and told Robin that his outburst was undignified, especially for someone of a higher class like Robin seems to be presenting himself as. He also said something about there being a big difference between a king and a tyrant, but Danny had been trying to rush Robin's victim to the medway and didn't hear all of the convo.

Psaro was some kind of half demon prince who was also from another world. He didn't have a superhero name yet, but the program was brand new, and to be fair, Danny didn't officially have one either.

Some lady called Raven was supposed to be coming in to help Psaro and convince him to embrace his human half and help him with magic and...something about a curse? What did Danny get himself into???

[joelsdagger]

i’ve made and deleted this post quite a few times over the last couple of days. and at first, i wasn’t going to say anything because this doesn’t even cover what i wanted to say by even a little, but ultimately, seeing a few others make similar posts encouraged me, and i really just need to get this off my chest, and if it resonates with one person, then i’m happy. this is not coherent at all, but like many, my brain is mush, so forgive me, and here we go...

as a (closeted) queer palestinian american woman, a daughter to immigrant parents, living in a fairly conservative state, i’m fucking terrified. i don’t have faith my rights are protected here. i don’t have faith that my parents and my sisters will be safe every time they step out of the house (in true typical arab fashion; i am white passing, they are not). my family has been targeted and met with violence numerous times since october of last year, and it's only going to get worse. which brings me to my next point.

i also don’t have faith that the genocide in gaza (that has now expanded to south lebanon and syria) is coming to an end, an end where palestinians can live and thrive in their native land anytime soon. and seeing people turn on us — so fast, spewing hate in saying “fuck palestine”, “fuck boycotting” and “you don’t care about my rights, so i don’t care about yours,” is incredibly saddening, disappointing, and infuriating. my grief, anger, and anxiety are at their peak and have been at their peak for well over a year now. and i don't have the brain capacity to say what i really want to say about the hatred and misplaced anger being directed towards arabs, but for now i will say this: 

now is not the time to turn on one another. now is not the time for infighting within marginalized groups. now is not the time to be selfish. to care about yourselves and not others, makes you no better than them. that is why this country is so divisive in the first place. that is how we got here. having that mentality — that ideology is dangerous and destructive. you are doing the work for white supremacists. you are perpetuating white supremacy. and it isn’t going to serve any of us because essentially our struggles as oppressed groups are deeply interconnected. we need to look out for one another. take care of one another. it will get worse before it gets better. and we’re only at the tip of the iceberg.

the fight isn’t over; we’re just getting started. and i know you’re tired; i, for one, am at my breaking point. but we cannot let them win. so let yourself feel whatever it is you need to feel right now: grief, anger, sadness, hurt, whatever it is; it's all valid, and believe me, you are not alone. take the time to feel it. and then let it fuel you and your ambitions.

i also want to reiterate that this is a safe space for all. except anyone who believes trump is a good man and voted for that racist, fascist, rapist piece of shit. y’all can fuck right off. the rest of you: disabled people, chronically ill people, queer people, aro-ace people (i’m specifically pointing you out because i know how we're treated in queer spaces, and it is not fair nor is it right), trans people, women, people of color, sexual assault survivors — if you're reading this and you're unsure of your place, please stay. i need you. i care about you. this place and this world are better with you in it. you are welcome here. you are safe here.

i’ll be here for anyone who needs it, whether it’s to chat about silly little fandom things — it’s imperative we protect this space and continue to encourage the creation of art around here. it’s imperative we stop normalizing the censorship and policing of fandom spaces (because that's another reason how we got here). fandom spaces are communities, and very often they are the only spaces where people feel safe. for most (myself included), it’s all we have left — or whether you want to vent about how much you hate the state of the world — you'll always have a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on in this tiny little nook here. seriously. my inbox and dm's are always open. 

hold each other close. protect one another. the only way we’re going to get through this is if we stand together and continue putting in the work, because it’s times like this when the real work begins.

i’m sending you all so so much love. forever and always.

noelle xx

[snownorites]

Some disjointed thoughts on Sua and her sister that I had yesterday cause I've seen some people on twt being really adamant that Sua was in the "loved before anakt" category and I don't think that's what the point of Heavenly Garden is personally

For one, I don’t think she's actually looking out for Sua here. (using WhataFruit's translation)

I think her intention was to make Sua feel bad about herself. The word choice is extremely deliberate: "you're so unkempt" "that is unseemly" "you're already dumb enough as it is". That last one is obvious but those first two I think are super important to understanding the kind of competitive environment "being" a doll must have fostered. She's trying to put Sua "in her place" here and make her feel like she doesn't actually deserve any of the favouritism Nigeh gives her because she's "stupid" and can't even play her part properly.

And Sua has every reason to believe what her sister tells her. Outside of her cruelty she's so nice, so gentle, she even plays with her and tickles her. Ofc Sua would assume that she has the best intentions and to me that's the point of why her sister acts that way. It's not about affection or love really, it's something closer to bullying. This way every insult, every instance of belittling however small stays with her and hurts her. Her pity of Sua may be "genuine" but it seems to be more mocking? Saying that she loved Sua to me feels a bit like buying into the performance.

The framing of the comic to me is also very interesting because the contrast between Mizi and Sua's sister is telling us that we need to consider their affects on Sua in relation with each other. Sua did not feel loved before she met Mizi.

Her saying this is supposed to show that her sister was all she ever knew in terms of human connection. "Back then" as in before meeting Mizi.

Sua thinks that her sister was actually the pitiful one all along but something really interesting is that it's not because she finally found self worth or because she knows that her sister was wrong about her being unkempt or "stupid", it goes right back to love. Her sister is pitiful because she didn't know love.

That heavenly garden, Mizi, loving and being loved. If Sua felt love before anakt I don't really see why it'd be framed like this.

And the thing is that love is a super big theme in Alien Stage. You could very well argue that this is just how her sister shows love and since we don't have her pov the way that we do Io's or Ivan's there's absolutely no way to refute that the same way there's no way to prove that. But to me including Sua in the same category as Mizi and now Till feels really disingenuous. Mizi and Till felt loved before anakt and carried forward that love in all their actions. Sua did not and her actions reflect that.

I think that Sua's feelings of self hatred are a pretty important thing to also consider when analysing anything to do with her (and I'll probably have to do a seperate post about that because this is already so fucking long lmao) People don't pay enough attention to this and how a lot of it comes from the bullying she experienced

Before Mizi, Sua was objectified by everyone around her, humans and segyein alike. And maybe her sister was different and we'll see that in another comic but to me heavenly garden's intention is to reinforce that this bullying wasn't just the very overt kind that's shown above. Like with the new Till comic, all the material we get builds onto each other, Heavenly Garden gives context to just how sinister the bullying was.

And I don't say all this to say that people are wrong about her sister potentially loving her, maybe she did, but Sua did not feel loved or experience that love. It's weird that I'm seeing more justification and rationalisation of her sister's behaviour than people actually taking Sua's narrative into consideration and trying to understand how her sister fits into it.

[originaltravelerfun]

my biggest problem with hazbin hotel writing after everything

guys do you notice how badly vivzie doesn't want to directly mention the theme of morality?

its always there, it flashes everywhere but she chooses to walk on edges. the redemption, extermination, falling in hell, god we literally have hell vs heaven war with these themes. and after everything the question "is this the right thing to do?" just exists like small stream of wind.

never in the show charlie asks herself "is my redemption plan is right?" she should know that there are very bad people who can also badly hurt others because she is there for a long. but this knowledge never brings up and we have to accept the fact that charlie is just an infantile and too stupid to comprehend evilness despite also knowing what good means. its really weird how the princess of hell who should already know the hellish history and society acts like she for the first saw someone like valentino being evil. SHE DIDNT LIVE FOR LONG IN HEAVEN (what could explain the blindness towards evil nature), SHE LIVED FOR LONG IN HELL, FUCKING HELL. how after many years she cant deal with the evilness of her people and instead just believe in a power of friendship? WHERE SHE WAS SO SHELTERED TO GET THIS MINDSET IN THE END?

its very weird how every theme that is revelant in this show, is literally connected with defining good vs evil BUT vivzie never, never makes us think about that. we just should accept the writing telling us what happened is good or bad, or even worse, doesn't matter and it was just for funnies (like that rpe joke with Sir Pentious).

the reason why this morality thing got in my mind is that im afraid what season 2 brings to us. im afraid that they will never mention elephant in the room: possibly irredeemable people. and hearing another doubtful information makes me scared that viv goes to the route "actually, there is no evil people and it just fault of some metaphoric disease that makes people evil!". and im very afraid of this happening in the future because it seems to be that everyone just ignores the existence of Irredeemableness. like doing evil doesnt really matter and there is just winners/losers side of history.

for some reason Sir Pentious in the past got in hell because of him ignoring the situation. let me mention he is the first to be ascended of all sinners and this backstory makes him pitiful for a reason. of all backstories, they chose the most depressing one. where he is a shut-in who had no will to change the inevitable situation. bro do not tell me you didnt do this to make another point of "innocent sinners"

emily. if not for emily, i wouldn't writing this. she is the angel version of charlie who also promotes "sinners deserve redemption" but also ignores existence of serial killers, rpists and another kinds of "that evil" people. the same problem charlie has but i can understand it at least.

I am not scared for saying this. viv seems to be not mature enough to even explore the concept of her show if she is afraid of exploring complete monsters (like exploring undoubtable evil AND NOT MAKING IT CONTROVERSIAL LIKE WITH VALENTINO AND ANGEL) and just stays on the line "of pure good (every main character) and wrongful revenge (VVVs, Adam, Lute and other exorcists, not gonna be surprised of Lilith adding to this group)".

of all characters, i only feel sympathy for lute (and also sir pentious with how he was handled throughout the show). sera was just stupid and wanted bloodshed because of her special placement in an angelic hierarchy. i dont believe this bullshit of her caring about well-being of her people when she went with extermination as it was nothing. all she should have said is that there are very horrible people and hell is not worth of being a threat to her lovely power. well, they didn't go for this route for some reason. now sera got in wrong too and she got in the first group with everyone.

TELL ME

TELL ME WHY NO ONE STILL POINTS ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM AND WE JUST ACCEPT THAT HELL IS JUST MISUNDERSTOOD

This is why I only care about Lute now because she is the only who has brain to acknowledge that there's monsters in hell

im so done with this show bro

[lewkwoodnco]

Okay I’m just so proud of this edit I just havee to talk abt some of the scene choices hehe🙈🙈

Mon, pine - ngl i completely forgot this scene existed until I randomly stumbled upon it while looking for some other screencaps and thank god I did cuz it fits SO WELL??? Lucy’s possessed by Annabel who’s talking abt someone else obviously but just LOOK at Lockwood’s face half of him wants to snap Lucy out of it/make sure she stays safe and the other half is just mesmerised by the sight of her looking at him like that. And the dialogue??? YOU LOVE ME, DONT YOU????? And he so obviously does but can’t say it/ is too scared to and it’s frightening to see lucy like this but he can’t look away he’s drinking in the sight like a man starved 😭 just the juxtaposition of lovkwood’s pining and the cheekily on-the-nose ‘you love me don’t you’ line creates this delicious tension ARGH the writers were sick SICKKK for this

Tue, long - as soon as he first laid eyes on lucy it’s like he can’t help but let his gaze linger over her and even though she’s the candidate being interviewed the way he tries to impress her as he gives her the tour (the basement training area, the ‘high security’ storage room, her room in the attic) it’s like you can tell he’s already desperately hoping that she’ll join as if he’s longing for company like hers

Wed, ache - love is nothing if not pain like other than the obvious physical pain of being in such close proximity to a flare explosion etc bro is HURTING with regret for putting her (and george) in danger just cuz he insisted they take the case and now they’re in so deep and its all his fault but also he just wanted to fix the 62 sheen road fallout keep his agency open (it’s almost like he wants to prove to her that he/lockwood and co. is worth sticking with) but it’s all gone so wrong and he’s just drowningggg in physical and mental anguish only love can hurt/ACHE like this frfr

Thu, sigh - but at the end of the day lockwood is still a 16 ish year old boy who sucks at expressing his innermost feelings and doesn’t know how to deal with jealousy in any way other than being moody about it/suppressing it and this scene is like yea these are kids fighting ghosts night after night but for five minutes they get to be regular angsty teenagers and have the air between them hang heavy with unspoken words and it’s all so dumb and frustrating but also they’re teenagers what ELSE are they going to do HHHHHHH like look at his face!!! bro is befuddled. dumbfounded. bamboozled even. (what do you mean you’re going out with Kipps i thought we’ve been playing house tgt what)

Fri, lament - as funny as this scene is it’s oddly sweet how he’s ranting so openly to Lucy and like the way she tries to reason with him (he probably signed the same NDA we did) and he STILL stomps around throwing a fit aurgghh it’s so adorable just kiss already

Sat, crave - just look at him. bro is down bad for every single part of lucy it’s like he can’t get enough of her, he’s not even hiding it here like look at him watch her like she’s the most precious thing in the world ughhh

Sun, yearn - ooh this scene is like the breaking point of all the accumulated hidden feelings and thoughts between them and he’s messed up so badly atp even lucy is properly pissed (where’s that incorrect quote - my girl is mad at me I am going to KILL myself) but he’s just too paralysed by 16-year-old-boy syndrome to respond to her (tho he finally gets his head on somewhat right in the next scene) so he just stares at her and takes the scolding wondering how things got this bad when all he had done was care and love and yearn for Lucy (can’t you see his heart clawing out of his chest to get to her)

Also I think it’s so hilarious that in the scene in the top gif he’s talking to lucy aka the very person that has him BOOKED AND BUSY with longing 😭😭

a week in the life of London's youngest agency head (insp.)

[itstheval]

Telling the Truth

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why would I?"

"What? We're your-"

"Friends, yes, I know, but think about it. Think, with me. First thing I could tell you is 'We're guaranteed to win'. Cool! Blinding great. Except you'd know that winning was costing me my life. Something that seems to have upset you, even AFTER the fact!"

"Well, yes, that's because it's your LIFE! We didn't…we don't want you to die for us, Siffrin!"

"Even if it meant saving all of Vaugarde?"

"…"

"We did NOT save Vaugarde without that wish. I can tell you that with a straight face. In whatever magic realm of make believe where I don't wish, we're all standing still as statues right now. I knew that as SOON as I knew that I'd made a wish. You don't need that choice in your mind. Especially not when I'm the one who's dying…If I'm the one feeling it, it should be my choice, shouldn't it?"

"Siffrin…"

"You said first thing you could tell us. Implying there were more things." Odile's voice was stern. Cold. Steel. Good, she was the one person who could understand without her heart weeping. Maybe, just maybe, she could convince the others.

"Oh, there were plenty more things to tell you! Like how the end of the King wasn't the end of the loops? How we were trapped here, by whatever this was? Would you want to know that? That every time we won, it was just washed away like a kayak too far at sea?! Or how about everything I'd failed to do, would you want the list of that?"

"Yes."

The word cut through everything else. Her stare was impassive. Almost empty. Somehow, colder than before.

"Well, I didn't want to tell you about it. It was over a dozen loops before I found that out, and can you imagine having…having THIS conversation a dozen times? Two dozen? Watching your heart break every single time? Watching Mirabelle sob, watching Isabeau practically shut down? Just so I could have a scrap of comfort?! Any Siffrin that would do that to you is a Siffrin that wouldn't have wished at all. Any person who would destroy all of you, who would break all of your hearts, just to have two days of understanding, that person's on the path to being the next King."

"Siffrin. This was…" Odile, of all people, having to choose her words carefully. She was close to understanding. She was close to breaking. It was in her pose, her words, her face. "Not a matter of emotions, beyond a certain point. While I believe you, and your kind heart does you credit…You clearly, fundamentally, could only follow one path at a time. If you had shared your knowledge, you could have been done many loops before…We could have helped you."

"No. You couldn't."

"Oh?"

"The books that told the truth? The books that explained how bad I'd blinded myself? Written in a language only I could read! And that was AFTER I killed myself trying to speak it! The wish, to make the Head Housemaiden tell us what happened? None of you could've believed hard enough! Yeah, I could've asked you about staying together…If I'd had any reason, at all, to think that's why I was looping. NOTHING said that! That wasn't the wish I made, I wished to stay with Mirabelle. I could do that even if you all split up. It would've blinding HURT, but I could have! Nothing. Nothing at all you could have done would save me. Not until the end. Not until you DID."

"You have some proof of this?"

A thud. A book, borrowed from the House…stolen, truly, but no one there could read it, and what good was a book no one could read? A book, laying on the ground between them, the sound of it having shocked the other two from their emotional stupors.

"If you can read this…If you can tell me the title of this…I'll admit I was wrong."

Odile's hands were shaking. Odile's hands never shook. Not with the tremors of age, not with exhaustion, but now…With her fingers outstretched to the book, she was trembling. Cautious. Like it would bite her. She picked it up, turned it around, and stared at it.

Her eyes widened. Then narrowed. Flicking across the title. Opening the book, and her eyes darting back and forth. Looking for something, for anything, as even the steel in her soul bent under the weight. Her back hunched, her brow furrowed, and the signs of a headache were obvious.

A flip of the page.

Another.

Then, a scream of rage, as she tossed the book into the campfire, and fell to the ground, clutching her knees. She sobbed. The Madame, the great Odile, unflappable, steel-spined and sharp-eyed, sobbed like a lost child. It felt like the most damning victory imaginable.

"That's why I didn't tell you. How you're feeling right now. I'd do that to you, every time, for NOTHING." They had to understand, by now. Looking around, at the shattered wrecks of the three, hearing sobs and seeing blank-eyed stares, they did.

Now, only now, could the healing actually start. Now that they believed. Now that they knew. Now that they understood what hat happened, and what impossible choices there were to make. Now that it wasn't 'Silly Siffrin got mixed up in emotions, isn't it cute?', now that it wasn't 'We can talk about whatever happened, Feelings Buddy!', now that it wasn't 'Oh, your fee-fees, your ling-lings'.

Loop said to tell them the truth. They knew how much it would hurt when they said it.

Well, let's see how that works.

[unknown-cold]

I can't believe what I saw a post where someone said that Jinx never saw love why because Ekoo and Vi give up on her and didn't accept her new killer personality, well they didn't give up on her for no reason Ekko tried to save her and bring her back but she didn't care and hit him and she killed his friends late and tried to kill him too.

As for Vi, she tried to save her many times and she didn't give up on her easily, but Jinx went too far in her actions and she didn't want to be saved. She doesn't want to be normal. She wants to be the crazy girl who kills others and she wants Ekko and Vi to love her like that. Because Ekko and Vi are good people and don't want to hurt others for no reason. And they have every right to give up on her. Imagine if your brother or sister was a murderer. Would you really be with them and defend them!?

But far from all of this, I'm sure that this kid will somehow return the humanity of Jinx and make her realize it’s not easy being a big sister.

Jinx now having someone else to care for, I believe she’ll finally be able to better empathize with Vi. She will understand and respect Vi and the amount of pressure she was under. And she will know how hard her sister tried

[nyapollo]

here's a hot take: as a buddie fan, I don't hate tommy kinard and the intense hatred towards him honestly kinda annoys me

was i rooting for tommy x buck to be endgame? absolutely not. but i didnt hate the guy

i understand the tommy hatred in the lens of his past racism because. that was for sure... odd! and although i can say, "well, hen & chim clearly forgave him for allat and if he hadn't changed then there would have been more backlash to eddie & buck casually hanging out with him," i feel like that's not the major reason most buddie fans hate him.

this is, again, repeating the cycle of having a favorite MLM ship being "broken up" by a love interest of one of the guys, causing massive fandom hatred. but, of course, they can't hate someone for no reason, so they nitpick every line that the character has said and try to find something slightly off that is at least *a* reason to hate them.

at the end of the day, i could really care less if somebody hates tommy. i mean, yeah, im writing a whole tumblr post about it right now, but this isn't going to effect my life in a major way. the biggest thing that actually bothers me is that a lot of tommy haters are just straight up calling lou ferrigno jr ugly (but in very mean ways).

i haven't seen it on tumblr as much as i have tiktok, but my personal favorite (its not) is them calling him a dinosaur. this is where it crosses the line for me. is it likely that lou ferrigno jr will see these tiktoks and be sad? No. but this contributes to a problem that i see so incredibly often, which is: people don't understand how to seperate the actor from the character, and see actors as nothing more than people on their screen rather than real human beings.

actors are real human beings. even though they probably won't see your post about how you think they're ugly as shit, other people will. maybe other people who have the features that you are calling ugly as shit. i also just think its incredibly inhumane to start nitpicking every single little thing about one person because you don't like the character they play on tv.

hate tommy kinard *as a character* all you want, it doesn't hurt anyone. what DOES hurt people is when you start critiquing people's looks and calling them ugly. i really didn't think i had to say this out loud, because i thought everyone had come to a consensus on this but.. i guess not!

tldr: as a buddie shipper, i never really liked tevan as a ship, but i hate the constant hate on tommy kinard because it goes back to the era of "hating every female love interest that gets in the way of your gay ship" and additionally, people not being able to seperate the character from the actor.

[shyshyshyz]

Unbreakable Until Broken

Summary: A widening rift forms between you and Vi as you choose different paths in the struggle between Piltover and Zaun. When you confront each other, words meant to protect end up driving you both even further apart.

W: Angst, heartbreak, implied violence, emotional distress, themes of betrayal and hopelessness

a/n: requests are open!!

The streets of the Undercity are quiet tonight, cloaked in a stillness that feels unnatural, almost haunting. You’d spent countless nights in these shadows with Vi, once thick as thieves, in sync with every look and movement. Now, the silence feels like a knife pressing against your back, sharper and colder with each passing moment.

And then you hear it — the unmistakable sound of boots against the cobblestones. Even before she rounds the corner, you know it’s her.

Vi steps out of the darkness, her face half-lit by the sickly glow of a nearby street lamp. She’s a silhouette of tension, fists clenched, jaw tight. Her eyes, once so warm when they looked at you, are hard, unforgiving. You stand your ground, feeling the urge to look away but forcing yourself not to. If this was the end, you needed to face it fully.

“Thought you’d show up here,” she says, voice low and gravelly, carrying the hurt she’s tried to hide beneath layers of anger. “Couldn’t leave things unfinished, could you?”

You swallow hard, steeling yourself. “I came because we need to talk, Vi. You know that.”

“Do I?” She takes a step forward, the hurt flashing in her eyes as she looks at you. “Seems like you’ve been talking plenty with them,” she spits, bitterness lacing her words. “You’re practically one of them now, aren’t you?”

You flinch, feeling her words dig deep, sharper than any blade. “This isn’t about sides, Vi. It’s about Zaun. It’s about the people suffering while we get stuck fighting each other. You and me — we were supposed to be different. We were supposed to protect them together.”

“Protect them?” Her laugh is hollow, laced with disbelief. “Protect them by siding with those Piltover scum? They’re the reason we’re down here, fighting for scraps. They’re the reason my family’s dead, that Vander’s dead, that… that you’re about to be dead to me too.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You’ve faced danger together, you’ve faced heartbreak together — but you never thought you’d face this. Her words leave you raw, exposed. Part of you wants to lash out, to make her hurt just as much as she’s hurt you. But you hold back, knowing that adding fuel to the fire would only burn the last fragments of what you still had left.

“Vi, I’m not your enemy,” you say, voice wavering. “I did this for us. For the people down here. I thought — I thought if I could work with them, if I could find a way to ease the tension, maybe we could finally get some peace.”

“Peace?” Vi snarls. She takes a step closer, fists shaking. “You think they want peace? Piltover doesn’t care about peace. They only care about controlling us, using us. They’ll smile to your face, make promises, and then gut you the second you turn your back. And you… you’re just letting them.”

You’re trembling now, the anger and heartbreak boiling over. “So that’s it? After everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to see me as a traitor?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and the silence is louder than any of her words. She looks away, as if unable to meet your gaze. “I don’t know what I see you as anymore.”

The pain in her voice is like a dagger. “I’ve given up so much to try and do what’s right,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I thought if anyone could understand, it would be you.”

Vi’s face contorts, her expression a mixture of hurt and frustration. “You didn’t have to give us up.”

“I didn’t give us up!” you shout, the anger and desperation spilling over. “I fought for us. But you left me no choice. You wouldn’t listen. You were too blinded by your hatred to see any other way.”

Her eyes narrow, and you realize your words have only made things worse. She’s furious now, hurt boiling over into something darker. “So this is my fault, huh? I was the one trying to protect Zaun — protect you. And this is what I get?”

“Maybe you should’ve been more worried about listening than protecting,” you fire back, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “You’re so quick to fight, to throw punches. But you never stop to think. To ask if maybe, just maybe, there’s another way.”

Her face falls, and for a moment, you think you see a glimmer of the girl you once knew — the girl you loved. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a mask of indifference that cuts deeper than her anger ever could.

“You’re right,” she says softly, voice hollow. “I don’t think. I just fight. And maybe that’s all I ever was to you — a fighter. Someone to throw herself in harm’s way while you played at diplomacy with our enemies.”

“Vi, you know that’s not true,” you whisper, but your voice sounds so small, so insignificant. She shakes her head, looking at you like she’s seeing a stranger.

“I don’t know anything about you anymore,” she mutters, her voice breaking. “I thought I did. But maybe I was wrong.”

You reach out, desperate to bridge the gap between you, but she pulls away, the movement tearing through you like shrapnel. “Please, Vi,” you plead, voice choked with unshed tears. “Don’t do this. We can figure this out. We can still fix it.”

But she shakes her head, turning away from you. “I don’t think we can, (Y/N). I don’t think I can.”

You stand there, frozen, as she walks away, each step echoing in the empty alleyway. A part of you wants to chase after her, to hold on, to make her understand. But another part knows that it’s over, that something vital has shattered between you, something that may never be repaired.

As her figure fades into the shadows, you’re left alone, the silence pressing in on you, colder and emptier than ever. You’d once thought that nothing could come between you and Vi, that your bond was unbreakable.

But as the echoes of her footsteps fade into the distance, you realize that some things, once broken, can never truly be fixed.

[mvpsychic]

"Zoro would betray the crew" "Zoro would kill anyone in the crew if Luffy asked him to do so" And if I fucking kill YOU then what?

HE MOST CERTAINLY WOULD NOT ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN WATCHING??!

How HOW can you watch this anime or read the manga and still believe Zoro could be evil and have a scheming plan all along to betray them?

He would take one look (ONE) at Choppers little shiny eyes and crumble completely if he ever were to betray them (HE WON'T, STOP THIS MADNESS AND DON'T PISS ME OFF)

He is literally DREAMING of impressing Chopper. He loves that little guy. He would never in a million years hurt him like that.

He took all of Luffy's pain for himself, and when Sanji offered to do so himself and be the sacrifice instead, what did Zoro do? knock him out. To take the burden himself.

He promises Luffy he would never lose again until achieving his dream, while acknowledging and treating Luffy's own dream as a reality. To him, the sky is blue and Luffy is, or will inevitably be, the king of the pirates. (without even knowing what Luffy's dream actually implies)

He bows his head to the same man he vowed to defeat for the sake of his captain and his crew (lets remember for a second that the reason he and everyone in the crew trained was NOT to achieve their own dreams, but to see their captain achieve his and be there to witness it).

He offered Kaido to smash his head instead of Luffy's when he knew he was not strong enough to defeat him just to buy Luffy some time.

AND LOOK AT HOW HAPPY HE IS TO SEE LUFFY AFTER, IDK, A WEEK WITHOUT SEEING EACHOTHER! how can you look at that expression and think "yeah he is a traitor and he secretly hates him and his crew so much" HUHH???

He looks at Luffy, a small brained stupid little lovable stretchy guy, with admiration. Look at that face. He would never wish REAL harm upon any of them. He wants to cut Sanji on the daily, but that doesn't really count.

He was ready to cut his feet off for their sake, and he was halfway there too! and he is always looking out for them. And just like these few examples, there's many more. So, yes, I refuse to ever engage the thought of Zoro being a traitor.

Besides, I do not believe Zoro is smart enough to pull something like that. That man is not that intelligent. "He could be deceiving us" huh? US? the readers and audience who know his every move, phrase and thought? really now?

Also, LUFFY WOULD NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS ASK ZORO TO DO SUCH A THING?? He picked his crew himself. He cherishes his crew like the treasures they are. He would die for them in a heartbeat. He is literally alive right now thanks to them (he would have lost himself after THAT otherwise). Every time a crew member "betrays him" he doesn't believe shit. He doesn't care as long as they come back to him unharmed. He wants his friends to be free, be happy, have adventures, achieve all of their dreams and eat to their hearts content.

He would rather eat every cherry pie in existence than have any of his crew members in pain, yet you believe he would go around just asking people to kill them?? you need psychological help if that's the case.

Now, anyone who genuinely believes that Zoro would ever do something like that, please don't even continue on watching the show or reading the manga, you CLEARLY are not paying attention and you are not enjoying shit.

I ask you to stop polluting this beautiful series and friendship with your nonsense.

[liesmyth]

any tips for motivating yourself to start running?

This is about a week late and I'm so sorry! I have a comprehensive post here but my biggest tip is to not overthink it. Just tie up your shoes and go. When I started running I gave myself the objective of 15 minutes every run, and then I could stop. It's been a few years and I still fall back on that if I'm going through A Day and I find that I am Dreading going on a run, because sometimes spending that much time without external stimulations, all up in your head, can be daunting. Just give yourself a small time frame, get out there and go.

Another reason why I started running is because I had just finished doing physiotherapy for persistent knee issues that I had had for years, and I found it crazy that now I could run and it didn't hurt. I think physical exercise should be about celebrating the things you can do with your body — it doesn't have to be an intense run, or long, or "look" like you're doing it right. It's really just about moving.

tldr: good shoes. small time limit, after which you check in with your body if you're fine to keep going. run/walk or taking it easy is fine. just get out there <3

[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.’