#shagginglesbians

           “ ------ Sleep walking.”

Probably. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure at this point, but it didn’t seem worth going into when he had other things on his mind. She could sort itout on her own. At least -- she’d told herself she could. Obviously she wasn’t, or she’d have sorted it out already and she would have fadingbruises instead of bold, new ones. 

“Oh yeah? Let’s put that to the test. You say abracadabra, and I’ll shoot you in the face and see what happens next.”

Damn mystical mumbo-jumbo types. Like any other Gothamite worth his ( or her ) salt, he’s got a higher tolerance than most for general weirdness, but he doesn’t buy into all this hocus-pocus stuff.  Weirdos who just like to dress up as animals don’t faze him. Even people who can do freaky shit with paintings and mirrors and have rings that make giant boxing gloves and eggbeaters and twelve-foot-tall glowing green dildos aren’t that far removed from the realm of what he’d consider normality. But the very existence of what they call magic flies in the face of any kind of sense. 

He knows it’s real, of course. He’s seen it in action with his own two eyes. It just pisses him off that there’s no reasonable explanation for it- and this is coming from a guy who lives in a literal haunted house, and not five minutes ago made a joke about the fact that even though his girlfriend is a literal banshee, she doesn’t scream while they’re fucking. 

Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”.

For all the nightmares and uncertainty that filled Liv’s life,there were days where she woke up feeling utterly settled.Determined. And able to take a breath. They were, of coursedecidedly rare, anymore, hidden among desperate, exhaustingnights and a scramble for some sort of security. 

          "-- cat's not gonna talk back, guy."

♛: One kiss upon your hand.

Time’s out of joint in that mirror.

       That mirror. That fucking mirror.        Fuck that mirror, honestly. Liv couldn’t       describe her anger towards it if she tried. 

                                          She’d watched it before. She’d lost track of how                                          many times. She got lost in it, listening to the                                           fire and waiting for him. For Jasper. All she                                          wanted was a glance — just a whisper, just                                          something she could take and hold on to so                                           she could say she knew his face. But he never                                          looked up. Why the fuck didn’t he ever look up?

                    Every time she left, and then inevitably came back,                     she found herself standing in front of it. Waiting.                     Like it would give her some sort of direction. It didn’t.                    It never would. He couldn’t speak through it. Now                     wasn’t any different. But it was starting to become                    painful. There was a loss gathering in her chest like                    a hole. And the few glances of Jasper she got didn’t                    patch it, they just tore into it anew until her lungs felt                    tight and she started to ache. He was her father. Didn’t                    he owe her some sort of direction? Something? 

It took her a minute to realize John was next to her.Actually next to her, not reflected in the mirror. Shesaw him in it enough. Reflected back when he wasn’treally there. She knew he watched it sometimes too.But she couldn’t bring herself to ask him about his loss. He’d cut her off whenever she’d asked before.Maybe it was a hole that just wasn’t meant to be opened. Clearing her throat of the tears that lodged themselvesthere, she gathered her hand in his, whether he wantedit or not — and squeezed it tightly. If he wouldn’t talk aboutit, he could at least give her something to hold on to. Justfor a moment. Lifting her grip, she tucked his arm underhers, averting her gaze from Jasper’s reflection finally topress her lips to the back of Johns hand.