#also just in case anyone notices: there ARE two 10s

[tia-shay]

Astro Observations 2.0

Thank you all for 222 followers! <3

Take these observations for what they are: personal observations.

Super duper long because I love you all. :)

Aries moons tend to always be on the move. Often times, these natives have something energetically "off" at home which results in them not even wanting to be there. They're the type to always be at work or at their friend's place. May have parents they want to get away from. At least one of their parents leans toward a more masculine energy.

You cannot be in your feelings when you talk to a Virgo moon. Their love language is literally telling you all the ways you can improve yourself. It's not necessarily that they're trying to make you feel some type of way, they genuinely don't think there's anything offensive about it. They're naturally attracted to "fixer-uppers" and they love a good project. Only problem is, people are not your projects and your loved ones are allowed to be flawed.

On the note of Virgo moons, they also have a tendency to be permanently unimpressed. My mom has this placement and my sister and I always wanted grand reactions to the stuff we did as kids, but we never got them. Even to this day, my mom is the queen of giving absolutely nothing extra energetically lol. They literally look like this emoji --->😐. Unless they have fire placements, they tend to be the definition of stoicism.

I've been studying the relationship between Scorpio moons and their mothers for a while now because it is such an interesting dynamic. I noticed in the past, that Scorpio moon natives may experience a rather controlling mother figure, but I've recently noticed that this controlling nature goes both ways. Yes, their mother has control over them and their actions, but they have just as much control over her too. They're almost like puppets to each other. It's an incredibly intriguing dynamic that honestly leaves me speechless. Makes you wonder, in these specific situations, "Is anyone here truly the victim?"

We've talked about how moon signs can manifest and what your mother may have taught you, but what I have yet to touch on is how your moon sign reflects your mother's pregnancy experience. I've studied this a bit and I think my mom is the perfect example! My sister and I have opposing moon signs: Cancer and Capricorn. I've spoken to my mom in-depth about both her pregnancies and here is how she describes them:

-Pregnancy with Cancer moon: she was overweight, gained 50+ lbs during her pregnancy, used food to cope with her abusive relationship, was on bedrest, too depressed to do or go anywhere, spent most of her days in the house crying.

-Pregnancy with Capricorn moon: she was in amazing physical condition, gained less than 20 lbs during pregnancy (10 lbs of that was baby), had endless energy, worked out every day, worked overtime at her job, was broken up from my dad, lived alone, was in her bag.

Opposite moon signs and two completely different pregnancies!! Crazy, right?!

I've heard the theory that Capricorn moons are the eldest child, which is true in many cases. However, in my experience as a Capricorn moon, I'm the youngest and my eldest sister is a Cancer moon. But that doesn't debunk my "big sister" energy lol. My sister has always referred to me as her "big little sister" and when we were younger and my mom left us home alone, she always left me in charge. My Cancer moon sister was known for her big emotions and ability to quickly lose control. This dynamic has always been funny to me. Ex. We had a tornado watch (super rare where I live) and my sister was running around the house screaming and crying. While I was calmly in my bedroom playing dolls keeping it kosher. 🤣

God really did give his toughest battles to Virgo, Scorpio and Capricorn moons. No one else is doing it like us! We came equipped with everything we needed to handle ALL the bs in our families.

Don't scorch me fire moons, but where is the personal accountability? I've seen water signs talk their way out of some situations, but the way a fire moon will dance around the truth really needs to be studied. I made this observation before and a Sag moon came for me which is how you know it's true. 😭

Moon sign compatibility is so real y'all. As an earth moon, I mainly form deep connections and bonds with other earth moons and *some* water moons. The other elements just don't do it for me. Even with my fire placements & degrees, I still struggle to understand fire moons.

I've read before that Leo moons have a tendency to be selfish, which I concur depending on the situation. But I think the reason why some of them act like this is because often times, they are either the only child or the favorite child. So they literally don't know what it means to compromise or not get their way. I've only met 2 Leo moons (that I know of) years apart and they both had the same tendencies and personality. Let me know if you've had a more positive experience with this moon sign!

Fixed moons may have mothers who are very controlling over their lives. Their mothers have a “fixed” idea of what their child’s life should look like. They have a tendency to have a puppet & puppeteer relationship. I’ve noticed that because of this, these natives tend to have one area of their lives that their mother can’t control and they spiral out of control in that area. Kinda like a “look mom, you can’t control me in EVERY way” type thing. The most common areas I’ve noticed this in is their sex lives and drugs/alcohol use.

Of course the above note is based on personal experience. I’ve heard quite a few mothers of fixed moons say to other people: “I made them do this” “there was no way I was gonna let them not do this…” like the kid has no choice in the matter.

Okay, enough about moon signs. For now...

This may not be too popular with the astro girlies buttt I believe we have a tendency to attract the versions of signs we speak into existence. For example, when I first started studying astrology, I was sick to my stomach to see that I was a Sagittarius rising because I had back-to-back experiences with Sagittarius suns stabbing me in the back, so I told myself they were the worst. In time, I wanted to accept all of my chart which included my own Sag placements. I had to heal my understanding and perception of them to see them differently. Now, I attract the funniest and kindest Sag suns! It all started with me. This is your sign to heal your trauma with that placement. 🤍 (yes, this is also a message to myself). What you see won't change until you change what you see!

If there's anything a mutable rising is gonna do it's change their physical appearance.

Earth risings, rising at earth degree, or chart ruler in earth house: these people are less likely to take bold chances and risks with their appearances. Not really the type to dye their hair crazy colors, although they are quick to get visible tattoos.

Virgo in big 6 appears naturally put together. They don't really have to get ready because they stay ready. And they expect the same from you, especially if you're their romantic partner. This is amplified if they have Libra or Leo placements.

I’ve noticed Virgo suns and risings are much less likely to wear makeup. I see them with it maybe once a year and even then it’s like one coat of mascara and some highlighter. One thing I have heard a lot of Virgo women say is that they literally don’t know how to do their makeup which may factor into why they don’t wear it. Virgo moons however do tend to wear makeup.

Aries and Scorpio placements are very protective of their loved ones. One wrong look in their direction and they're ready to pounce.

Gemini-Sagittarius axis: if there's one thing these placements are gonna do it's laugh at absolutely nothing for an extended period of time.

Taurus and Libra placements, do you really need that new blouse? Or that new stationary knowing dang well you have more than enough? No, put it back. Aht! PUT IT BACK. And keep your receipts, so when you get home from that impulsive purchase, you can bring it right back where you got it from.

Something about Virgo, Scorpio, Sagittarius and Capricorn placements in dark academia that really does something to me chile...dark academia was made for us!

Saturn rules teeth. Saturn placements and aspects can describe your teeth’s appearance and health. Saturn aspecting Jupiter may have larger teeth. Aspecting Mercury may result in the native having smaller teeth or possibly getting veneers. Saturn aspecting Venus can manifest as the native receiving many compliments on their teeth/smiles. In the case of harsher aspects, the native can feel their teeth directly hinder their perceived beauty.

I’ve noticed people with prominent Gemini/Virgo/Mercury placements are much more likely to have gaps in between their front teeth. Often times, this is a result of their teeth being on the smaller side.

Virgo placements (esp. moons) can have naturally “perfect” teeth that don’t require braces. But upon closer inspection, you can see their teeth are not perfect, but rather, the imperfections are so minuscule you have to truly look to find them.

Libra Suns typically go for either the relaxed look (very natural appearance, not much makeup) or all the frills (makeup, couture, luxury). I have yet to see an in between. Libras with Scorpio/8th house influence enjoy darker colors and go for a much more relaxed look. More likely to portray a dark feminine embodiment of Venus or a more natural feminine. Especially if they have Virgo placements.

Aries suns (males and females) are the BIGGEST sweethearts and I don’t see enough people praise them for their pure hearts. 🥹

DO NOT under any circumstances copy, paste, reword, rewrite, translate, or repost my work.

All Rights Reserved to astro-enthusiast.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Dp x Dc Crossover

Danny and Ellie somehow get tangled with Cadmus and frozen for study later. Obviously it comes to the JL’s attention and they all go ‘oh no another clone’. Anyone’s choice of who they think it is or if it’s a collection of people they took DNA from and meshed together to make these two sassy children.

Would be funnier if they came to DC universe by accident and didn’t have time to really learn about it before capture. The result being they have no idea superheroes are a thing and the heroes just thinking ‘these kids were traumatized and held captive, they don’t even know who Superman is!’ and cue another layer of hilarious misunderstanding.

When confronted about the whole clone thing, Danny immediately defends and protects Ellie. Obviously. Then they notice he was not defending himself, to which Danny goes ‘I’m not a clone!’ The heroes look at each other in clear doubt. ‘Oh he was in denial or seriously didn’t know who he was made from. That will make this harder.’

I may have started something though…

They found a discrete laboratory hidden in plan sight, underneath an office building. When researched, they found connections to Cabmus.

Considering the last encounter they had with the organization, they wanted to be prepared. Hence why when the small team noticed Batman walking down the stairs, Superman followed behind with a tight expression.

“Report.”

Red Robin stepped forward.

“Two cryo-stasis containers holding two nearly identical people. The first a male, approximately 13-14 years of age. Stable. The second a female, younger, approximately 10-11 years of age. Also stable, but her stats are lower than the boy’s.”

“What do you know?”

“Virtually nothing,” Connor says casually. “There are no documents left behind, digital or physical, and there are zero labels on these things.”

They arrive toward the back of the basement where the two frozen containers were sitting upright. One unit obviously smaller than the other most likely holding the girl. Batman has to peer down into the larger unit to see the boy’s face. Frost collected on his eyelashes and black hair like a forgotten doll. No movement from either forms, not even breathing.

“So we don’t know who they are made from,” Superman pushes, clearly displeased.

Batman keeps looking at their faces. The curve of their noses, the shape of their jaws, the positioning of their cheekbones. They didn’t look like Connor. No, they reminded him of someone else.

“We suspect hybrids of some sort,” M’gann contributes. “A mixture of different heroes if I had to guess, but there is no way of knowing with our lack of information without waking them up.”

“Can’t you look into their minds?” Clark questions.

M’gann squirms at the directness and Connor steps forward to defend her. Tensions rise.

“No, sir. They are frozen so there is hardly any brain function except to keep them alive. They aren’t even dreaming.”

She looks them over sadly, obviously distraught with not being able to connect to their minds in anyway.

Batman turns to Red Robin, the younger already watching him.

“You see it too, right?”

Batman grunts. Yes, he saw it.

“Is there a way to move them?” Batman brings back the focus.

“The containers are connected to the buildings power and then a back-up generator in case of emergencies. We’d have to switch the power to something mobile and there’s no telling what kind of effect that would have on the kids,” Connor explains, against the idea of moving them.

“It’s six in the evening. Most everyone in the building above as gone home for the day,” Red Robin helpfully adds.

“Evacuate the rest. Then call a medical team.”

“Wait,” Superman interrupts as the three younger heroes jump to do as instructed. “You’re not thinking about waking them up now, are you?”

“You have a better idea?”

Batman doesn’t even look at him as he studies the stats on the old screen connected to the nearest pod. This one holding the boy. He’ll be the first one out seeing as he’s the more stable one.

“They could be dangerous. They could try to attack us.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Batman deadpans. He didn’t state the obvious that they were children who had been frozen for who knows how long. If anything they’ll need reassurance that they were safe, not weapons in their faces as soon as they wake up.

Clark was not happy with his decision, but as long as he didn’t antagonize them Bruce left him alone.

It wasn’t long before they were ready to begin. Three medical personnel stood several yards back behind the heroes. Red Robin begins the defrosting procedure and they have to wait maybe an hour before the door slides open. There is a breath among them as they wait for his eyes to open. Instead they hear a cracking of thin ice and the boy falls forward without the door holding him in place. Connor is the one to catch him before he hits the floor face first.

Superboy turns him to lay him flat on the floor, the boy’s body still stiff with cold. Frost makes his hair and eyelashes brittle. His lips are a faint shade of blue.

“He isn’t breathing,” Connor informs quickly.

One of the medics push forward first, oxygen mask in hand.

“Bring the thermal blankets. We need to get his core temperature up,” the woman urgently instructs.

They get to work quickly in warming up the boy who is too small and fragile. After several minutes of the medics squeezing air into his mouth and rubbing his limbs and chest to get the blood flowing, the boy takes a breath. Then another. He coughs roughly, his throat scratchy, and starts to shiver.

“There we go.”

He whimpers and tries to move his hand, but the action is jerky and unpracticed.

“His eyes,” M’gann informs them, finally able to get some brain activity. “He can’t open his eyes. The ice-“

Connor takes a water bottle the medics brought and poured the room temperature water over his eyes to melt the ice holding them together. The boy jumps in surprise and tries to turn his head away but Connor continues until he can manually wipe away the ice and water from his eyelids.

Blue eyes. The boy has bright sky blue eyes. They aren’t the Krytonian blue, but they were still familiar.

He blinks and squints and looks around, breathing picking up at the people surrounding him and the unfamiliar environment. M’gann, sensing his distress, kneels down and sets a warm hand on his leg.

“It’s okay. No one here will hurt you. You’re safe now.”

He doesn’t relax, but he seems to at least understand her. He studies their uniforms and then her face before his eyes flick to something behind her and they widen. His breath stutters in his chest, making him wheeze out on the exhale.

They look behind the green skinned girl to see the smaller pod still holding the little girl, no change in her status.

The boy reaches out a shaky hand toward it, scraping against the cold concrete in his lack of energy to lift it.

“She’s okay too.”

He opens his mouth to speak, licks his lips, tries again.

“-ou-,” he rasps. His breath hitches and he’s coughing again. They help him onto his side.

“You want us to get her out?” Red Robin interprets.

The boy squints through the tears from the lack of oxygen at the hero. His expression is scrunched in discomfort and worry. As enthusiastic as he can manage, the boy nods.

“Okay, we can do that. You just have to wait, she needs to thaw out, just like what we did with you,” Red Robin explains to the boy.

He nods again in understanding, his eyes glued back to the girl in the pod. He still shivers harshly and his breathing isn’t regular but he’s not panicking and in no shape to attack them, so it seems like they were in the clear with that one.

While the girl is thawing, they get him more comfortable with warm blankets and get him to drink some water for his throat. He still wasn’t moving much except to curl up on his side and breathe on his colorless fingers. Every time he swallowed he cringed like he was drinking acid, so talking was off the table for now.

The boy was fighting sleep by the time the container door slide open. Connor was there and holding her before she could fall like the boy had.

Superboy lays the girl down close to the boy, seeing the pale hand reaching for her. As soon as he backed away the medics were on her to get air in her lungs and warm her body same as they did for the boy.

The boy watches, quietly holding her hand. Siblings it looks like it. Seeing them side by side was startling. They seemed to be clones of each other, one just younger and the opposite gender, but they were the same.

It was concerning as the number of minutes increased and there was no change. She didn’t breathe or move. She looked dead.

“Get the defibrillator,” the medic ordered, urgent.

The boy surprisingly wasn’t panicking, instead he held a hard determination that made some of the heroes curious.

Pushing himself up onto his elbow, he leaned over the girl and started weakly pushing the blankets out of the way. Thinking he was just helping to make the medic’s job easier, M’gann helped until her torso was exposed.

“You need to back away so they-“

She stops when she sees him tug at the girl’s white shirt to get into direct contact with her skin, hand pressed to her chest.

“What are you-?”

He narrows his eyes in concentration.

Red Robin unconsciously takes a step back when the boy’s blue eyes change into a glowing toxic green, illuminating the girl’s face, frost shining in the light. The hand pressed to her chest also starts to glow the same green until it seeps into her skin like she’s absorbing this weird energy. It reminded them of Starfire actually.

The green in his eyes fades as soon as the unknown green energy is lighting up her entire torso just under the skin. He pulls away and looks expectantly at the medic holding the defibrillator. She flinches into moving, setting the machine down and charging it. She’s hesitant to touch the green energy but the boy nods in encouragement, not looking concerned for anything but the girl’s health.

“Clear!”

It takes one shock for the green energy to disperse through her body and cause her to gasp. The girl starts coughing harshly and the boy pulls her to lay on her side facing him. Connor quickly helps the boy to cover her in blankets. The boy goes as far as tucking them around her and taking one of his own blankets to pile on top. He was moving more easily now even if it was sluggish.

M’gann gasps quietly just as the girl starts sobbing, whining when the act of crying hurt her throat. The boy pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her under his chin so they could barely see her. They watch as he calmly comforts her until they are both eased into unconsciousness.

Batman give Superman a pointed look as he passes him. Clark doesn’t respond.

“Get them to the Watchtower med bay,” he orders.

It’s Superman who picks up the pile of two children tangled together and wrapped in layers of fabric, nearly throwing them at how light they both weighted. The three younger heroes follow behind, Tim mumbling about “Lazarus pits” and “Jason”, M’gann twisting her fingers in anxiety, and Connor keeping a close eye on the two kids being carried by his original.

It’s unsurprising that it’s Connor who volunteers to say with them when they are settled down in the med bay, still clinging to each other in sleep.

[anomaly-hivemind]

Keep Quiet!☆ Sae Itoshi x GN! Reader| Kinktober Day 10

Summary: After a victorious match, everyone decides the best way to celebrate is with a good old-fashioned party. You're not one for parties so you spend most of the night with one of the other somewhat anti-social. 

Word Count: 1,222

Tags: Public spaces, Accidental Stimulation, Dry Humping, cumming in pants, Gender Neutral Reader

Happy Birthday Sae Itoshi!!!!!

The music was blasting throughout the house and you had found the perfect spot where the music didn’t seem to be echoing at its loudest volume. You take a seat on the two-seater couch and hold your water bottle close to your person not wanting to mistake it for someone else's.  Then you silently watch Itoshi Sae take a seat beside you and then you both just sit without a word and just people watch the other people who were more actively celebrating. 

But you wanted to break the silence so you turned to speak to him. But your voice doesn't convey well over all the other party noise.

“What?” He yelled he leaned closer so you try again. You also moved closer and your legs were pressed against each other. 

“How's the win feeling?” You repeated.

“Oh, pretty good I guess,” He replied leaning closer. You nodded, not really knowing what else to say. You had only started working as an assistant athletic trainer for the team recently so you weren’t too close with anyone on the team, Sae especially since he kinda kept to himself.

The both of you sat not talking until you began talking again. “Hey Sae, It looked like you pulled your hamstrings earlier, are you feeling okay?” You asked.

He pressed down on his upper thigh feeling around a bit. “Only when I’m applying pressure, but it really doesn’t hurt that much anyways,”  

“May I?” he nodded and you began feeling around for where the pain might be centralized.

“Here?.... What about hear?” you asked, shifting your hand and pressing gently in other places. Sae shook his head until he simply took your hand to guide your hand. At the same time a rowdy group of you fellow party-goers came up laughing and swaying to the music clearly inebriated. One person tripped over the side of the couch, tripping and crashed into you. You and Sae were pressed up together as the person let out a left baked apology before shifting to take a proper seat on the other space on  the couch.

When you realized where your hand was it was too late, you had already been pressing your palm against it for a few seconds.

Sae was looking at you with wide eyes and his face was quickly growing red. You quickly took your hand off his crotch. 

“I-i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to touch you like that,” You explained, shaking your hands.

“No it’s okay.” 

“I’m going to- um… I’ll be right back.” You said getting up and playing hopscotch over peoples feet.  After wandering around for a moment you finally found the bathroom. You splashed your face with a bit of water before taking a deep breath.  Get it together! It was just an accident, you didn’t really mean to touch his dick. You tried to push away your embarrassment.

Once you had come back to the couch you noticed it full of other bodies, where you were once sitting. You walk over to Sae to ask him if he wanted to talk somewhere else, so you could sit back down together. When you lean over to talk to him, someone bumps aggressively causing you to stumble over into Sae.  he quickly made the effort to catch you, his arms holding you in place as you were basically in his lap.  

“Sorry again about that. I really didn't mean to.” you try to keep eye contact.

“It's fine, I know it was an accident,” he said plainly, then you both just looked at each other in silence. You get ready to get up from his lap when he stops you. 

“You can stay here until the couch clears up again.” He lets go of you, to get up anyway if you want… but you don't. 

“You sure?” You ask, concerned about his little… issue. Just in case he was just trying to be nice to get rid of any remaining awkwardness. He just gives you a nod.

You tried to shift to a more comfortable position. But you stopped moving when you heard Sae groan. You look back at him with a look of worry, his head was down into your shoulder. 

“Oh I'm sorry, is your leg hurting?” you shift off his leg and imvertanly Into his center and that only got another groan out of him. 

“No just, stay still is all,” he gripped your hips and held you in place. You shivered but you got the memo that he was trying to keep you from squirming too much.

But his hands on your waist made you artsy, his fingers were so warm and he was holding you in such a firm yet gentle way.  You shifted back once more and he tightened his grip. He hissed out a curse as he felt you move right on top of his cock, he was getting hard beneath you and his face turned red as his hair. 

“Um Sae.. do you want me to move?” You asked, feeling hardened under  you.

“No.. just stay here,” He said with shaky breaths, holding. his arms around your waist and burying his face into your back. He is tightening his grip around you. 

You let out a shaky breath, you could feel Sae's erection pushing against lower parts. You lean against him letting yourself lay back on him.

Sae began shifting his hips under you. Since he was so close to you, you could hear his hushed groans; however the music was far too loud and many people were far too drunk to hear anything. It would be when he started to move his hips up into you that he fully knew what he was doing. You part your hips into him, matching his own movements. You have to bite your lips in order to not let out a moan, and Sae let out hushed groans into your ear. It was turning you on so much that you had to keep yourself from turning back and kissing him.   

He dug his hips into you and you felt yourself melting into his throbbing cock by each clothed stroke against your core. You wanted to know what he would feel like striking into you for real that the idea causes you to let out an audible moan. Sae was quick to cover your mouth. 

“Fuck…you’re ass feels so good,” He whispered to you, his breath hitched as it had become ragged. 

You keep your hips as still as he grinds his hips into you again and again. His breath came out as pants as he quicked his subtle pace. He still had his head on your shoulder but as he got closer to ruining his pants he kissed your neck. He had a vice grip on your waist, as if he was afraid you were going to get up and leave him wanting. Although the sadistic amusement that ran through you like a chill at that idea being a fun one you don't want to do that. 

 He comes undone with a string of whimpers and you feel like you've also come out of this ordeal breathless.

“Damn. wanna get out of here?”

“Yes…”

[kedreeva]

Okay, I haven't wanted to talk much about the peafowl lately, been just kinda dealing with Stan's passing, but! I have news I don't want to keep quiet, so here we go with a little announcement.

I've been helping a friend of mine with a bunch of peafowl genetics work lately, as he's trying to prove out a really neat phenotype of speckled and white peafowl that showed up in his breeding stock, and he just spent tens of thousands of dollars importing two new morphs from Europe: European violet (aka, my dream morph) and Ultramarine (pretty and only otherwise being produced by TWO breeders in the WORLD). When Bill heard about Stan, he asked if I was going to go to a large farm auction that's a few hours from my house. I don't, normally, since it's a few hours from my house and the auctions usually make me kinda sad when it comes to peafowl (they stress out SO MUCH) even though it's cool to see how much they're going for at a wider audience auction.

Then he told me he would be going, and that if I wanted to come down the day before the auction, he'd bring me another male, to replace Stan. I had already made plans to hang onto Bismuth, at least for a few years, and to pick up babies from Indie x Arcana/Eclipse this november, including a male, so I didn't really need another male, and don't have the cash for one anyway. He said no, he meant one of the split EUV males from last year's first-USA breeding. For free. As a thank you for helping him.

To put this into perspective, importing the birds is a ~$10k affair, per bird. I had fully resigned myself to never even SEEING one of these birds in person, much less ever owning one. Even if someone else got them imported, they would remain thousands of dollars for the first few years, and quickly become mixed with other stuff, potentially even be lost by people breeding to purple. He went in on a group import with another breeder and they have both just started selling the full-color birds for over $2k apiece (alongside Ultramarine, which before their import was bred by TWO people in the WORLD, and babies from that are going for almost $7k each, but EUV is more widely spread). Splits (like the one I will be getting) are being let go for $750. This is also the color I have desperately wanted since I first saw them 8-10 years ago (though I believe they've been around slightly longer), but that I had resigned myself to never actually having.

To put it mildly, I'm probably going to burst into tears when I see Bill and this bird. It's going to be super embarrassing. And then I'm going to have to build more pens. And then I'm going to have to get as plain-blue, pure-indian blue hens as I can find, and become one of the most serious curators of plain pure EUV in the US, because I know the other two who have them currently will be outcrossing to other patterns/colors immediately and the people buying them will likely be doing the same, and everyone will be clamoring to make them into high Spaldings ASAP, or won't know not to cross them to purples and wreck the color.

Here's the sire cock, the one imported:

You will notice that this bird is purple in full sun, from the sunny side. That's the main difference between European violet and US purple- a US purple looks blue until you get the right angle on the sun vs the bird vs the camera, and you have to get the bird between you and the sun, so the purple is often in the shadow side- visible to the eye but not the camera. EUV is just purple. Even from the sunny side!!

And the Ultramarine, in case you were wondering about their color:

(pics reposted w/ permission from Bill)

The breeder is Spring Creek Peafowl, and in case anyone is secretly a peafowl breeder or knows other peafowl breeders with too much money that want in on a new color morph, he DOES have UM pairs and EUV hens (and more split males) for sale currently, for less than the only other person in the US that has them. They're still pricey, but cheaper. I WISH I had the extra to have my friend add on an EUV hen, but alas, I will have to wait to make my own in a few years. Even just the opportunity to do so is something I never expected to have!

[nothorses]

I hope this is okay to ask but I’m pretty desperate and googling stuff has failed me, so do you or one of your followers have recommendations on how to deal with the BO that comes with taking testosterone? I never had BO that couldn’t just be managed by showering enough and putting on just any deodorant but now that I’m taking T I sweat a lot and I smell bad and I nothing I do seems to fix it. My boss has politely mentioned it several times now despite all my effort and it’s so mortifying and embarrassing.

Things I’ve tried and am currently doing include so many different deodorants which I bring to work and reapply, putting baking powder in my shoes, on top of general basic hygiene. But none of it seems to make a dent and it doesn’t help that I can’t really change clothes or shoes throughout the day. I have to wear closed toed shoes and a lab coat and my job is pretty active, plus it’s 10 minutes walk from the parking lot and it’s over 100F or 40 C right now so when I arrive at work I’m already pouring sweat. I also have a large chest so it all gets under my bra and soaks into it and by the end of the day the bottom part of my bra reeks.

I know some ocasional BO on a busy day can’t be helped but none of the other people at work including other male coworkers seem to have the same issue at all, so there’s got to be a solution but I haven’t found it. Im thinking of trying antiperspirants but I also know I need to sweat and I would rather not put my health at risk. So if anyone has something that works for them please let me know bc im really desperate here.

First I want to say: you're not doing anything wrong. You probably just sweat more than some other folks, and that's not your fault, and you shouldn't feel bad about it. I'm gonna give you some ideas to try if you haven't yet, but I don't know how much you've already tried, and it sounds like you've been through a lot already.

I also have always had terrible BO, and the only thing that helped at all pre-T was "prescription strength" deodorant. I honestly have had less of an issue since starting T, weirdly enough, but part of that is also that I physically cannot stand to shower any less frequently than every single morning (not necessarily a good thing lol), and I also started using antibacterial products on my armpits when I shower.

Currently I use benzoyl peroxide body wash on my armpits, which can be drying, but it hasn't caused me issues so far (just look for Panoxyl, other brands have caused irritation for me and my partner both). I used Betadine surgical scrub before that for a bit (you collect weird shit when you work with horses 🤷‍���️) and that worked well, too- plus it's less likely to irritate skin.

I also find that certain shirts cause me to sweat there more, and those also tend to be the more form-fitting shirts that get up into my armpits. That skin def needs to breathe.

My partner has had trouble with feet/shoes in the past, and he's used cedar shoeforms to mitigate that (cedar is also antibacterial!). He also makes sure any shoes he gets are breathable (not leather), and if they are leather, he gives them at least a day or two between wears. Probably good practice if you notice any kind of smell on any of your shoes.

You mention baking powder, and I'm not sure if you meant baking soda and just mixed them up (which I do all the time lmao) but just in case: if you are using baking powder, the one you want is baking soda.

I don't have much advice for chest sweat, except that you may want to consider bringing an extra bra (and maybe an extra pair of socks if you're noticing it before the end of the day) to change into midway through the day. You can also look for more breathable fabrics in general, especially athletic-wear, which is already designed to help wick sweat and mitigate those issues.

Lastly, I want to stress again that you're not doing anything wrong. Some people have more trouble with this than others, and if you're really struggling in a way nobody around you is, it may be that you've got something going on in your body that they don't have to deal with. This could be a medical thing as well (like acne!!), and there's no shame in seeking medical solutions for it. Talk to your doctor if you can; it sounds like it's causing you distress, and you deserve to be comfortable.

[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name

Danny tries to discreetly combat the ghosts suddenly showing up in Gotham without anyone finding out his secret, find out exactly why the ghosts have decided to follow him like lost ducklings after his narrow escape from his hometown, keep under the radar of both the Bats and his parents, not melt any more than he already has, and not worry his new and innocent friend Tim. Who knew that running away from home would be this stressful?

Wordcount: 1,620

Chapter 1/10

Can be read on AO3!

This fic has art from the wonderful and talented Luca!

---

Tim was just exiting his favorite coffee-shop when he was suddenly tackled by a shouting woman. “My baby! There you are!”

He watched his innocent cup of quintuple-shot espresso sail through the air and splatter across the sidewalk at the same time as he registered her muscular arms and the clear press of several weapons strapped to her body. Not a normal civilian then.

Right. Priorities.

The woman kept her strangle-hold on him as she continued, “Thank goodness you finally managed to get away from that terrible ghost!”

Tim twisted to get his attacker off him. Then he noticed that he wasn’t held in any of the multitude of restraining holds that he had been trained to escape. No, it was something a lot stranger than that. It was a hug.

“I think you have the wrong person,” he managed to get out as he tried to ease her off him, finally registering her earlier words and mentally readjusting the scenario towards a case of misunderstanding rather than an attack. Hopefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a villain took a roundabout way of getting to him, even if he had to say a hug was quite a nice way of going about it.

And that was the moment he noticed the frankly ridiculously big man bounding towards them with a wide smile and tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t slowing down. Oh shit.

He patted the woman on the back to get her attention since she seemed completely unaware of their impending doom. “Um…”

She only squeezed him harder and said, “God! It’s been so long! We were so worried!”

Tim’s bad feeling turned into dread. “… We?”

Then the man slammed into both of them with a wail of, “Danno!” 

The air rushed out of Tim as he was squashed between the two strangers. He might have been robbed of his morning coffee but he couldn’t deny that he was wide awake by now. Cass would be proud, and laugh her ass off. Tim vowed to never let her know about this.

After what felt like an eternity and what was surely a few cracked ribs, the woman disentangled herself from the hug with practiced ease that would put Catwoman to shame. She somehow managed to get the man to let Tim go and after a few seconds of struggling to breathe, Tim managed to wheeze out, “What's a Danno?!”

Then he was staring down the barrel of a gun. He tried to quell his instinct to kick it out of the woman’s hands, but it was the middle of the morning rush, and they were standing on a fairly well trafficked sidewalk, where even if people were smart enough to give the gun-wielding-maniacs—ergo, possible villains—a wide berth, it didn't mean they weren't staring.

Tim slowly raised his hands in a disarming gesture as he thought of a way to get out of this. So far they hadn’t made any demands. They also hadn’t harmed him (except his coffee and his wounded pride). Tim just wished he knew what this was about. So far he had been hugged twice, then had a gun aimed at his face. A gun that glowed green, emitted a worryingly high-pitched whine, and was very clearly home-made. Wonderful.

As Tim looked between the woman and the man he noted how both of their expressions had gone from relief and love to cold and hateful in the blink of an eye. He tensed, ready to disarm her, no matter the people around them. He refused to get himself shot before lunch.

The woman’s hands were steady—even though Tim noted that one of her hands were wrapped in bandages, and how both she and the man looked like they hadn’t slept in days—and her voice was flat as she said, “Phantom might still be overshadowing him.”

Tim frowned as both of them looked intensely into his eyes and after a few tense seconds the woman gave a satisfied nod. “The ghost is gone. You're safe now.”

She lowered the gun but Tim’s frown only deepened. “Ghost? What ghost?” 

The man and woman exchanged looks which only served to confuse him even more. 

“Honey,” the woman said in a soft voice, holstering her gun before placing a hand on Tim’s arm. He shook her off. “Honey, you were kidnapped by Phantom. It overshadowed you. You’ve been missing for a long time! That's probably why you can't remember anything.”

The man nodded along. “We’ve followed you to several cities. You must be exhausted!”

They seemed genuinely distraught by what they were saying but that didn't change the fact that they were absolutely insane.

Tim shook his head. “Look, you’re clearly confused. I’m not—”

He didn’t get to finish before the big man patted Tim on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “Come on, now. It’s time to go home!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Tim bit out, his patience running out. He was almost certainly late to his meeting by now, he didn’t have his coffee, and these two seemed allergic to making any kind of sense. “Who the fuck even are you?”

“Language young man!” The woman with the gun admonished him at the same time as the hulking man shook his head with a disapproving, “Is that any way to address your folks?” 

“My what?!”

These people were absolutely crazy. He already had one unstable parent which was more than enough, thank you very much. He had to get away from them. He took a few steps backwards. The big man stepped with him.

“Son. We know you must be scared, but—” 

“Why would you think I'm your son?!” And what kind of parents would be so ready to pull a gun on their child?

The man slammed a meaty fist into his other hand. “Is this something Phantom put you up to? Oh, when I get my hands on that ghost I’ll—”

The woman grabbed Tim’s arm in a startlingly strong grip. “Are you sure you’re okay, honey? Did that pesky ghost mess with your head?”

“I’m not your son!” Tim exclaimed with increasing desperation. He slapped her hand away. “And stop touching me!”

At this she paused, wide eyes fixed on him, before they narrowed sharply.

The man’s eyes fixed on the side of his neck as he slowly said, “What happened to your scar…?”

The woman finally drew back from him. “Daniel would never hit—”

“Wait a minute…” the man said as he pointed an accusatory finger at Tim. “You're not Daniel!”

Tim groaned as he dragged a hand through his hair. “That's what I've been saying the whole time!”

“Oh!” The woman tilted her head with a calculating look in her eyes that made a shiver of discomfort crawl up Tim’s spine. “But you really do look similar. You both have dark hair and blue eyes.”

Tim waited for more attributes that he shared with this mysterious Daniel, but nothing else came. That was why they had mistaken him for their son? His hair and eye color? …Shouldn’t they be a bit more familiar with what their own son looked like?

The man rubbed at his shin. “Did we have another son?”

“Ha!” the woman laughed, “Of course not, honey. We wouldn’t forget that!”

Tim wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t want to risk starting another argument with these people. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly said, “So, I have to get going. It was… interesting meeting you.”

“Yes! Right! We need to keep looking!” The man straightened up and then screamed at the sky, “Don’t worry, son! We’re coming for you!”

Tim winced, both at the volume and at tomorrow’s headlines which he could already see in his mind’s eye. ‘Wayne Enterprise’s young CEO Tim Wayne caught roughhousing in the streets’. His family would not let him live this down for weeks.

“So sorry for the inconvenience,” the woman said as she lowered goggles over her eyes and took out what looked like some sort of tracking device from somewhere on her jumpsuit. She didn’t sound sorry at all. She continued under her breath, “Phantom should still be in the city… We won't let it get away again.”

And Tim was fairly certain that they should be more focused on finding their apparently missing son than hunting down some ghost, but who was he to judge? And he really didn’t want to get involved in this situation any more than he already had.

The man didn’t even try to apologize as he, once again, slapped Tim on the shoulder with enough force to make him stagger. “It was nice meeting you, young man! And remember; the only good ghost is a dead one!”

“Aren’t all ghosts dead…?”

That made the man boom out a laugh loud enough to make Tim wince. “I like your humor! If you ever get into any trouble with the undead just give us a call!”

Tim didn’t even know their names, but didn’t have time to ask before the woman exclaimed something about a reading and they both took off down the street on a run.

Whoever their missing son was, Tim hoped he stayed far away from them.

His eyes landed on his spilled coffee and Tim heaved a sigh as he turned back towards the coffee-shop. He would have to call in late, but he refused to face any more of this day without caffeine. 

He had more important things to focus on than Bruce getting some competition in the adoption-department. Oh, well. He probably wouldn't see them again.

At least he could console himself with the fact that ghosts aren't real.

[slut4sugu]

𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍- (spencer reid x fem!reader)

𐙚˚ including: toothrotting fluff, Spencer being a sweetheart as per usual, Spencer’s hands omfg, season!10 reid>>, a little suggestive towards the end . 𐙚˚ authors note: didn’t really proof read much, and kinda got lazy towards the end hope y’all like it tho!

Dr. Spencer Reid, Pretty Boy, Kid, boywonder.

But to you? A sweet heart, though Morgan was on the dollar with pretty boy. Puppy dog eyes, a mess of curls, and his hands- dear god Spencer’s hands. Before you two even started dating you would tease him alongside Morgan and prentiss on occasion. Calling him cute or sweet was the norm between you two, over time however those words began to have some underlying meaning to them. Anyone taking a glance at you two wouldn’t have suspected romantic feelings were starting to develop, however the way your voice would soften when you called him Spence was telling to say the least. You two also didn’t make it exactly secretive when you practically jumped into Reid’s arms after coming back from a few days off after a mentally taxing case.

Rossi and Hotch both picked up on you and Reid’s shared closeness first, Hotch occasionally asking about you to Spence in private. Who would answer generally though the unmistaken dilation of his pupils hen your name was mentioned was a dead give away.

It wasn’t until you both walked into the bau months later hand in hand when you made it official to the team. (Who lets be real already knew about your relationship.) Penelope was even more cheery than normal on this day, promising to find you two the cutest couple mugs and matching keychains, plushies, anything and everything. JJ and Morgan were messing with Spence about how he even managed to ask you out, though when you revealed to the team that you made the first move a look of “yeah that checks out.” Was shared among the team.

times like these spent at Spencer’s apartment always managed to make you feel safe and so so loved. Sitting in silence together as Spence would read his 5th book of the night whilst you giggled at whatever rom com was on that night. The feeling of Spence’s body heat was almost like a melatonin, making you want to melt into him. Occasional kisses to your head and cheek would make your heart flutter and a dumb smile tug at the corner of your lips. Nights like these made you fall inlove with him even more. Recently however one certain thing about your boyfriend cemented this fact for you, his hands. His pretty veiny slightly toned hands, the way his fingers scanned the passages of the book was unreasonably attractive.

After a few minutes the couple bickering on the tv no longer had your attention rather it was your pretty boyfriends distracting hands. You noticed his forearms were veiny as well, the silver watch that clinged in his wrist was just the cherry in top. “Do you want me to read to you love?” Reid asked with a witty chuckle, thinking you were actually intersected in the contents of his novel. You hummed in response, “mm you can baby, but I was just looking at your hands, yknow you really are a pretty boy. You say calmly, not even realizing the words that came out of your mouth until you heard his adorable laugh. “My hands?” He asked with a smile, taking a glance at his own hands with a slightly amused look.

Sitting up you mentally cursed at yourself, burying your face in his neck. Amused and curious, Spencer put his book down on his nearby wooden nightstand. Taking a mental not on the page he left off on before admiring at your flustered state with a grin on his face. “They look pretty t’me..” you mumbled. You really didn’t how adorable you could be, it’s almost like you would purposely tease him with that sweet voice or yours and your child like mannerisms. Everything about you drove the fbi against insane, your laugh, your hugs, your sweet goodbye kisses, the way you’d run your fingers through his hair. You were his Eden, his safe place, his sweetheart. He smiled down at you before asking, “Why are you hiding angel? I would like to see your beautiful face.” Spencer admitted softly, which then prompted you to pull back and look at him shyly after a moment, “There she is, hi sweet girl.”

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered at the look he gave you, his eyes so full of love and admiration. A hint of teasing? Sure, nonetheless it made you feel giddy. Even more so when he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “you like me hands huh?” He asked teasingly you could feel his breath on your cheek as his voice softened, yet the way his words fell past his lips made you feel hot. “Shut up, forget I ever said anything.” You mumbled once more before feeling Spencer shift next to you, now laying on his side as he pulled you back into his warmth. His arms wrapping you up in a gentle yet loving hug, “How could I ever? Every word you say is like a sacred poem only I get to hear. Also it’s actually quite normal to be attracted to your partners hands, studies shown that women tend to prefer or even solely be attracted to a man with more rough hands because of the apparent sex appeal-.” You let out a giggle, as you heard your boyfriend catch himself in the middle of his sentence. “You okay honey?” You loved messing with him, this was just too good. You could almost heard the connection he made into figuring out what was so fascinating about his hands. “My hands aren’t rough.”

You let out a laugh into his chest, Spence could really be unfairly cute and not even realize it “Pff- that’s what you take away from this?”

“No, we can address how you’re turned on by the apparent veins on my hands at a different time.”

“Unless you rather discuss that now-?”

“Sometimes I hate your hot little nerd brain.”

[aly4khq]

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ - on time. - ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

- ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ -

----------------------------------------------

warnings: kissing, swearing (once)

rushing through the roads of Linkon on your motorbike, your mind was cursing at you violently. time was not on your side today, you were late to work by 5 minutes, your mission pick up was late by an hour and now you're late for you hospital appointment.

that wasn't anyone fault. you did all that an hour ago but what really got you distracted was the new beverage shop that opened down the road to the Hunter Association's Building. The flavours were absolutely amazing to the point where after you got your drink, you went outside to stare at the new drinks that were in the shop.

bubble tea....blue raspberry slushy with your choice of candy...cappuccinos with a side-

you were taken out of your daze by the sound of a notification coming from your phone, at first you didn't care. it was probably one of those 'lower your volume!' messages. but your heart dropped when you noticed.

'2pm doctors appointment, Akso Hospital...' late!

2pm? 2pm...? rushing for the time again, the numbers 2:05pm reached your eyes as you jumped onto your motorbike and sped off.

normally if you were late, you wouldn't stress but still obviously apologise and give them a summary of why you were late but this wasn't just any boss, or any doctor in this case.

not any cardiologist. your husband. the same one who prepared your overloaded schedule and helped you in the morning to get up nice and early and be refreshed.

sprinting through the doors of the hospital, you made eye contact with yvonne, she sighed in relief as she quickly typed on the computer. she called you forward as she chuckled a little checking her watch before showing you the time.

"10 minutes late. oof. good luck." giving you the band around my wrist, she smoothed it but as soon as she stopped, you were lifted over someone's shoulder.

"hey!- what the fuck?!-" a hand was rested below your ass so you were firmly pressed against their body and didn't fall, but you knew who it was by the size of the hand and how high you were.

before anything could escaped your mouth, he interrupted you.

"i want an explanation as soon as we get into my room." you whined against the height, why was he so tall. but you also whined at his tone, he was strict.

"baby, come on! it's not my fault!" you practically begged him to hear you out. opening the door and making sure you didn't bump your head, he shut it behind him before throwing you onto the chair.

he went round to his desk, typing on his computer before staring at you. "a good 10 minutes late. what on earth were you doing?"

his finger went up, silently shushing you.

"and no lying either."

scoffing, you rolled your eyes, quickly apologising after he gave you a cold glare.

"listen, it wasn't my fault! there's this new coffee shop down the road and i got distracted! it's really good..?"

you knew he was already concerned about your new addiction to coffee ever since your co-worker gave you some. it's been your new favourite thing.

"but! it's actually very healthy and doesn't have much sugar? so that's nice."

he tried to hide his smile before getting your attention by standing up and telling you to come around his desk. obliging, you went around before you were pinning against the table. but he wasn't kissing you, or anything. he was doing his normal doctor duties. checking your heart beat, the pulse. your eyes.

his fingers rested on your neck as he stared at your eyes, hypnotised by the sight in front of him. his hand creeping up your hip as your leg rose to his waist. your hands touching his chest, caressing it slowly.

your lips slowly approaching each other, love in the air. your eyes closing...hands grabbing and fiddling until-

"hey zayne? i was wondering if-"

you two stared at greyson, his shocked yet chuckling face as he covered his eyes with his hand. slowly backing out of the room before rushing down the hallway to the other doctors room.

"that man!-"

about to rush after him, zayne grabbed your arm, bringing you closer and kissing your lips passionately. "remember-" your tongues shifting around the other before he let go. turning you around slightly and giving you a soft tap on your ass before laughing.

"be on time."

----------------------------------------------

do not steal any of my work even tho they are trash!

date made : 22/04/24

[wannaeatramyeon]

Fem!reader Isekai in Lookism ?

Anon, so sorry I'm answering this exactly 3 months later. You're my last request from May and I was soooo close to deleting it because I have had exactly zero ideas. Then I got partly inspired by @honeyhotteok fic here and now I'm running on less than 3hrs sleep in work and it's your fault. Oh yeah, and I've completely twisted the ask as well. It's not even close. So all that wait was for nothing 🙇🏻‍♀️

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 2

There's something wrong with people your age these days.

Everyone seems to be either in a gang or up to some shady shit. Seriously what is going on. Is this all a big joke that only you aren't in on?

Just the other day you swear you saw a group of guys in boiler suits punch through some walls across the street. Like what the fuck? What did the wall ever do to you? And then someone apparently called Tabasco starts chanting something about Burn Knuckles and oh my fucking god it's 11pm please shut up.

Oh course you never said that, you still have some sense of self preservation.

And how does anyone even have the time for all this. Between school and this part time job, you barely have enough hours to sleep.

You miss Daniel, the coworker who you haven't seen for a good year but used to gossip into the early morning with. He always seemed a bit nervous and fidgety when you voiced your concerns and observations, but you just assumed he was a nervous and fidgety kinda guy.

There would have been some fun stories to share. Instead now you work the graveyard shift on your own.

.

.

Case in point, the guy standing in front of you looks like one bad conversation away from a mental breakdown.

And really you're not in the habit of checking out customers but he cuts a striking figure. Every exposed inch of skin besides his face inked, and (you silently ask for his forgiveness for the objectification) the biggest chest you have ever seen. What even is this guy eating? What is this guy injecting? Lifting?

The question is almost out of your mouth but then you see the look in his eyes and slam your lips shut.

Nevermind. You ring his purchases through and tell him to have a good night.

.

.

You're restocking the shelves when you notice a guy with a scar across his lip and nose, dripping blood from god knows where all over your freshly mopped floor.

Which is alarming in itself but come on man. Look at the floors. You're making it so fucking gross.

He notices you watching him, gives you an apologetic look and says he'll take care of it.

He makes a quick call and in comes 26 guys, one after the other and they line up in front of him.

You know it's exactly 26 because you counted all 26. And you've also watched all 26 pairs of dirty shoes trample over your previously nice clean floor.

The blood drippy guy asks politely for the mop and bucket and you think this must be some sort of prank because why the hell is this even necessary. 26 guys to share your one solitary mop and bucket and to clean a goddamn floor that you managed in 10 minutes.

"Get out." He blinks at you, taken aback by your tone. "Or I'm calling the police."

.

.

"You can bring your pups in!" You call out to the emo teen lurking outside.

Health and safety be damned because look how fucking cute these dogs are!

He hesitates but then the rain grows heavier and all three rush in.

You miss the suspicious glance he gives you, too fixated on how adorable the dogs are. You don't even mind their wet fur or muddy paws because look at these little babies!

And huh, this guy must really love them too with his, you squint, God? Dog? hoodie on. D'aww that's so stinking sweet.

.

.

Damnit, you knew these two would be trouble the moment they stepped foot into your store.

The tall blonde just gives off a distinct creepy vibe and the shorter one has his entire eyebrows shaved off.

Shaved. Off.

You couldn't help but stare when you put their purchases through and noticed some regrowth and stubble. Is this a trend you missed out on? Either way you're glad because there's no way you're shaving off your own eyebrows.

They converse in Japanese, not even saying a word to you. No thanks or anything, which is fine you suppose. But then they pay you in fucking yen.

They're out the door by the time you see the cash and fuck. Your boss is going to go apeshit when he finds out.

.

.

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

A new blonde guy addresses you tonight and for crying out loud, you just want a quiet shift.

What do you think of his white suit? With the garish LV logos? That it's tacky as fuck. That anyone with any sort of taste would never ever wear that. You keep your actual thoughts to yourself and instead just say it's fine.

That does nothing to subdue the blonde. He does stop talking to you though, and just mutters bitterly under his breath. You catch the words blind and tasteless.

His partner smirks at your response.

And isn't that a whole other kettle of fish because it's currently 2am and you're indoors and who the hell wears sunglasses right now. You think he's a douche of the highest calibre.

The smirk is wiped from his face when he asks for cigarettes and you ask for ID. He doesn't have it on him.

"No can do. No ID, no sale."

He leans aggressively into your space, and reveals his eyes peering over his sunglasses.

My god, what is up with this duo? One with the tacky suit, and this one with the ugly black contact lenses.

You don't budge and the guy is dragged out by the blonde cackling.

Ugh. That laugh gives you a headache for the rest of your shift.

.

.

You really wish customers would stop involving you in their conversation.

This one, who looks exactly like how you would imagine a SoundCloud rapper that has their mother following them and no one else, asks you to listen to his music.

He insists that he's good as the blonde girl rolls her eyes.

You listen to about 10 seconds and make up your mind.

He's wrong. He's very wrong. You want to suggest he gets checked out at the doctor because clearly his ears aren't working properly.

Instead, you mention you like Duke Pyeon, he's more your taste. Has he heard of him? It's the wrong thing to say though because this guy looks angrier than you've ever seen anyone.

"Don't start Vin, I've seen you listening to his music." The girl scoffs.

'Vin' shouts in indignation and storms off with his friend trailing closely behind.

.

.

"Can I help?" You ask with your customer service voice and customer service smile.

He has been standing in front of the hair dyes for a good ten minutes as his friend looks increasingly bored and you can't blame him.

"No thanks, I'm just browsing," he responds and you tell him you'll be just over there if he needs anything.

You kill some time playing on your phone, look up, and both of them are still in the exact same spot.

The one with the H on his neck looks about ready to tear his hair out.

"Come on bro, just pick one!"

"No Warren, this is important. I need it to suit my new aesthetics."

You shrug and return back to your kitty kat restaurant game.

.

.

"Cool glasses," you tell the guy walking around the store and he looks affronted at first before realising you're being sincere and gives you a small smile instead.

You wonder if you can pull off orange tinted glasses too or whether you'd just look like an idiot. It's probably the latter you decide when you ring up his energy drinks.

"I'm a boxer," he offers, as if you're judging the amount of caffeine he's going to slam down.

"Ok?"

"I need it for my training."

"Sure."

You've seen weirder purchases and weirder combinations. The people coming in looking frantic and buying a single plunger or pack of toilet paper never fails to make you chuckle.

To be honest the amount he's buying is a bit nuts, and you wonder if he's going to drink it all in one go. You probably wouldn't sleep for a year if it was you.

"Enjoy your training," you say, heaving and handing over the bag of 19 cans.

.

.

A mute blonde gestures at you

You try to use some sign language, but he looks at you as if you're crazy. At least you think he does but you can't see his eyes.

Somehow you're able to decipher he's lost his dogs. Four. Golden retrievers. And he asks if you have seen them.

(Huh. Do you have telepathy? Do you have the gift?)

You tell him no and he sprints out.

You spend the rest of your shift trying to move things with your newly discovered psychic powers.

Spoiler: you have zero powers. Zilch.

.

.

You think you might be having a stroke.

Because on what planet did this K-pop idol think the disguise would work. Cap and mask on but tufts of pink hair poking out and dressed completely in white.

It's like he's asking for attention and for people to ooh and aah over who that could be.

As he leaves, you shout that you can't wait for his next album. He turns around in complete shock that you recognised him, as if you solved the world's hardest puzzle.

It's a good job that DG has such a pretty face because what an idiot.

.

.

You hear two voices mention the words Daniel Park and your ears perk up, wondering if it's about your old colleague.

Nah. You're just being silly. It's not an uncommon name at all and too much of a coincidence.

"I haven't seen Daniel in ages! Have you heard from him, Zoe?"

"No," you see her friend shake her head from the corner of your eye.

The brown haired girl tilts her head in thought, "I wonder how Zack is doing too. I haven't seen him in so long."

"Ohhh~ you miss him!"

"O-of course I do! He's a friend!" She blushes bright red and you chuckle to yourself.

'Friend', sure.

For the rest of the shift, you reminisce about how you used to tiptoe around your feelings with your boyfriend, Taehoon, too.

[misty--nights]

So I'm watching the show yet again (usually I struggle watching shows, I don't know how I've managed to watch it twice already and still want to watch it a third time), and here are some things that I've noticed in episode 1, after the read more because it got longer than expected.

Charles calls himself the brawn and the protector of the two, but it's Edwin who goes all serious and says "I would not let that happen" when Charles asks what they'd do if Death came for them. I'm sure/concerned that he'd try to fight her if she ever came to take them...

Edwin knits!! When they are wearing their disgusses to get the demon out of Crystal he knitts while Charles reads the newspaper. Granted, you can only see him doing for a short moment, so I don't know if he's doing it properly, but I like to think he is. I have many thoughts about this, but it would take over the whole post. I'm still willing to make a whole post for it if anyone is interested but yeah. Bottom line is, Edwin can knitt!

The tone of voice that Crystal uses when she first wakes up in the Agency and in her walk with Charles is really different to the tone she uses the rest of the season. In hindsight, it's pretty obvious that is her mean girl tone, but still, I just think it's a nice detail.

Edwin takes Crystal's coffee cup when she takes the mail? We've just stablished he's not going to drink it, so is he just being petty? Is he going to throw it away or hide it just to be a nuisance? Is he investigating what she got? This boy, I swear...

I know people have pointed out all the Clue boards in the closet, but there's also a ouija board there? Hilarious. Maybe some ghosts prefer communicating with that instead of speaking? Or Charles got it because he thought it was funny and then never got rid of it?

I like that the thing that convinces Edwin to take the Becky Aspen case is Charles asking if he's going to let a little girl die. But more importantly, the title card right after that says "three flights". I've had this question for a bit, but what do they do during those flights? Do the boys spend those just standing in the hallway next to Crystal's seat? Do they sit in the cockpit? Do they hide in the bathroom until someone comes to use it? Do they hope for empty seats they can use? I don't know, every possible version of their trip is so funny to me. I know ghosts don't get tired like alive people, but the idea of them just standing awkwardly off to the side for more than 10 hours is hilarious.

No big detail here, I just love Crystal's purple coat thing she wears in this episode. Never really noticed that it has like flowers embroidered at the bottom, and the color of the whole thing is so nice.

"Maybe he's our fucking demon now." Crystal I love you, that is one of the funniest lines in the episode. I also really like that she gets to be angry and scared. Even if later Jenny talks her down from the worst it, it's not her anger that she points out, it's the fact that people are just like that and how the boys act is nothing personal. Her anger is not directly attacked (except by Edwin, but that's just him being petty), because she gets to be angry about all that's happening to her.

The flashback to Edwin's life at St. Hilarion's changes the video aspect (is that the proper term for that? It makes the screen square like in older films is what I mean.) Also he card for that flasback specifies "Edwardian England" even while having the date at the bottom. I don't know, it made me chuckle that they felt the need to clarify the era even while having the date there. They don't put "modern day England" for Crystal's flashback.

With the way the cat reacted to the sardine, I'm willing to bet he would have told Edwin everything without the binding spell if Edwin had a few more fish for him.

When they're talking behind the shop and Crystal says she gets angry, Charles looks down and takes a bit to respond. I think this is the first time he relates to her. The first time he can call that pull twards her something more than mere attraction. He has this very vulnerable look when she says it and then immediately shows her his parents and tells her something he's never told anyone before? This boy saw his anger in someone else and thought maybe it's fine for him to be angry too.

Is it a trick of the light in the scene where she meets Niko, or does Crystal have a septum piercing?

"If you're sticking around, you gotta let us in." Charles, I love you, but you are the last person who should be saying this. Specially after that sad look he gets when Crystal says it must be hard not being able to talk or hug his parents. You just agreed to what she said, as if that were the truth of why you check on them, what do you mean "you gotta let us in"? (I do get that they haven't known each other for long so he's not going to open up about all his trauma, but precisely because of that, it's wild for him to expect her to do it.)

I never noticed Charles quickly returning the mirror to normal when Edwin comes. I'd noticed the audio cue for the mirror changing back, but I never noticed Charles moving to do it and he looks so panicked about it.

Considering how Edwin is about touch, the fact that he lets Crystal take his hand when she tells the that the case matters is huge.

Why are they planning down at the shop when they have Crystal's room all to themselves? Besides the ambiance, of course. I think Jenny's reaction is completely justified.

Esther leaves her turntable on when she goes to the post office. Is it for Monty? The atmosphere? Did she just forget?

Not a new discovery, just a reminder of something I really like. There's this very specific editing thing (like the quick cuts between the instruments and then the opened lock, I don't know what to call it) that they do pretty much every time Charles picks a lock / opens a door, and it makes me very happy each time. The sound they use for it is perfection.

Edwin's attention to detail is insane. The fact that he can recall one cupboard is further forward than it was in the plans is really impressive.

Charles sounds so done when he throws the magic backpack. "Put her in the bag-of-tricks backpack." Man, I can hear the eye roll in that sentence. Good to know Edwin isn't the only bitchy one in this relationship.

And that's it for episode 1. I think I might do this for the others as well as I watch them. It was really fun to do, and it forces me to pay attention to the details, so I think it's worthwhile.

[antebunny]

Babysitter from Hell

Jason changes his mind on never associating with any of the Bats ever again because of one Stephanie Brown. She had absolutely no intention of changing his mind about anything, she just showed up and started talking until Jason begrudgingly accepted his fate as the “I’ll kill for you” member of a “live for me” family. 

(That’s a lie. He’s gotten over 10% of anything that’s ever happened to him in his eventful albeit painfully short life. But he’s working on it, okay?)  

Before Jason knew any better, Steph reminded him of Dick. A cheerful, upbeat personality, a flagrant and equally cheerful disregard for Batman’s orders, an overconsumption of sugary breakfast items, a love for bright colors, and an annoying distaste for brutality, considering both are (technically) violent criminals. 

Really, the main difference he saw was that Steph fucking hates his guts. 

Jason is still sure that Dick will, eventually, after Titan’s Tower. He put his plan to give his Replacement a beat-down on hold after the Bats discovered his identity. It’s hard to maintain his level of hatred for the Bats when they keep soft-speaking at him like he’s some sort of victim they’re rescuing. That’s also why he keeps avoiding Dick. The guy treats all of Jason’s threats against the Replacement like one big joke. Who would’ve thought that the “getting pissed on the Replacement’s behalf” job would fall to his ex-girlfriend?

In summary, Jason thought Steph was a purple-clad, blond-haired female version of Dick with no emotional attachment to the second Robin, and a personal relationship with the third Robin. An enemy, in other words. Someone with every reason to be ideologically opposed to Jason for the rest of time. 

Still, she’s a kid. Jason has promised himself to be nice to all vigilantes, no matter how sanctimonious or annoying, so long as they’re only fifteen years old. So when he finds her perched on a rooftop corner, doing recon on a case that he is working on, he mutters a curse to himself and doubles back to find a good spot to grapple to her rooftop without anyone noticing. He doesn’t want to get in a fight with a kid, but he doesn’t want anyone to think they’re on friendly terms, either. Better that no one knows.

Spoiler notices him coming at the last second and rolls to her feet. Too late if he was actually trying to kill her, and she’s also giving up her position. How sloppy. Jason can’t believe Batman’s letting her out like this. 

“Go run home to daddy,” he growls. “Before I make you.”

That should be enough. Jason has a gun. (A lot of them). She can’t have more than two years of training. She clearly has been instructed not to engage with him, if the way she quietly mutters O, it’s Hood, yes I’m leaving immediately pinky promise means anything. Which is why Jason is utterly floored when she snaps back at him.

“My dad’s in jail, where he belongs,” Spoiler retorts.

“What.”

That’s all Jason can manage when Jason_Todd.exe stops functioning. Several rebooting attempts fail as they run into Bruce is in jail??? then no, obviously not Bruce then I don’t even care if Bruce is in jail then who is Spoiler, anyway? If Jason casts his mind back to who he thought Spoiler was before all this happened, he would’ve said roughly middle class, most likely orphaned, and probably had a parent that was the head of Gotham’s social services before being brutally murdered by some Rogue who hated anyone being nice to orphans. It would’ve been on par for the course, at least. Bruce’s parents were good up until they were good and dead. Same with Dick. Barbara’s dad, despite being the chief of police, was somehow the one non-corrupt cop in all of Gotham. Jason was the only unlucky one.

Or so he thought.

“So unless you’re gonna put me in jail,” Spoiler prompts. “Which would be pretty hypocritical of you, considering–”

“What the fuck is he locked up for?”

Okay, he could’ve said that nicer. And he said he would be nice to kids. But consider: Jason is just not very good at keeping his promises.

Spoiler stares at him blankly in a way only someone wearing white-out lenses and a lower face mask can. “For…being a knockoff Riddler? Ever heard of Cluemaster? I guess it’s understandable for your average citizen to not but like, this is your job, dude. How can you not–”

“Cluemaster?” Jason interrupts again, even harsher than before. He vaguely recognizes the name from the long list of minor villains that came and went while Jason was away. “Arthur Brown?”

“Yep!” Spoiler springs forward and extends a hand. Belatedly he realizes that he hasn’t lowered his gun. “Stephanie Brown, nice ta meet ‘cha!”

And that’s how Jason learns Steph’s name. 

Jason finally does lower the gun, only so that he can bat her hand away and look frantically around the rooftop for anyone who might’ve overheard. “You can’t just tell me your secret identity!” He shouts, careful to not repeat her name even when he’s losing control over his volume. “That–what the fuck! That’s Vigilantism 101!” 

Spoiler–Stephanie–picks up his hand and shakes it vigorously.

“What the fuck,” Jason repeats blankly while his hand–or more accurately, blood-stained glove–is shaken by an overeager fifteen-year-old idiot. “What the fuck. I’m a–a Rogue. I’m your enemy. How the fuck did B let you out in a mask.”

“Okay, first of all, B didn’t let me do anything,” Stephanie corrects, affronted about all the wrong things. “I was the one running around trying to stop my dad’s–Cluemaster, in case you already forgot–plans. Second of all, I know who you are, I’m not an idiot. B got a hell of a lecture on how it’s very not pogchamp to keep important secrets from us. I wouldn’t just tell anyone. Third, I thought you already knew? Aren’t you obsessed with Robin? How come you didn’t already know?”

Jason steps away from her, mind reeling with memories of two-bit criminal Willis Todd and his reign of terror in that shitty, one-bedroom apartment deep in Park Row. He would bet his (second) life that long before Arthur Brown took to the streets, he took whatever it is that’s so fucked up inside him out on those closest to him. His family, the people that needed and trusted him the most, the people that could not just walk away. 

How many times has Jason thought of Willis Todd and burned with resentment whenever the Bats preached about all criminals getting second chances? They wouldn’t get it, he’d told himself; a hollow comfort, clearly, when Stephanie is standing right in front of him, as bright and cheerful as ever, happy to be working with the Bats even while she spits on her father’s memory. 

(Not memory. His name. He’s alive, albeit rotting in prison. Just one more abuser that Batman refused to kill for someone he l–someone under his protection). 

“I know now,” Jason drawls. “Should’ve listened to their lectures on secret identities. Now leave, little girl.”

And maybe it’s the insult, or O (whoever that is, because Jason does not, in fact, know) telling her to go, but Spoiler gives him one more affronted look and leaves.

It’s not the last he hears of Spoiler, of course. Though someone clearly gives her the mother of all lectures afterwards, because she avoids him for a couple weeks. That gives him the time to do his own research. 

Stephanie Brown lives in the Narrows with her mother, a mere hop and skip from where Jason grew up. She went to public school up until last academic year, whereupon she got a scholarship from Wayne Foundation. She attends Gotham Academy, like the Replacement, like Barbara, like Dick (like Jason before that too was stolen from him).

She’s surprisingly similar to Jason. (He swears he’s not just drawing comparison for his own ego). Her mother is still alive, so she received a scholarship instead of being adopted by Bruce. But both fathers were a joke to the very idea of fatherhood. (Both mothers failed to protect them from the father). Both grew up in poor, dangerous neighborhoods with violent, criminal fathers. 

The thing is–and Jason surprises himself with the revelation–he wants to mentor her. Jason is very sure that he understands, better than any of the Bats, what she has gone through. The same soft streak which hates to see kids on the streets wants to take her under his wing.

I don’t understand, Little Wing. What did he do to you?

It’s impossible for so many reasons that it doesn’t bother stating. Jason isn’t a Bat (anymore), and the lack of trust is mutual even if the hate is not. Really, the most important reason should be the fact that Steph hates his guts, except–

“And I know he means well, but he’s just so…overbearing sometimes, y’know?”

Jason slaps another pancake down on her plate. “Tell me ‘bout it.”

They’re a farce, the two of them. Eating pancakes at midnight on the only clean kitchen counter (the other is littered with disassembled guns) while Jason is half-dressed in military-grade gear. Steph, meanwhile, speaks with her mouth stuffed full. Maple syrup drips onto her fluffy white crop top (Jason didn’t know they made fluffy crop tops), and she brushes crumbs off her purple sweatpants. 

It feels like a joke. The remorseless murderer, glowering at his mixing bowl and the teenage vigilante, resembling nothing so much as a chipmunk. (It feels a bit like having a family again).

“Like, it’s like he’s showing off how many friends he has,” Steph continues, oblivious to Jason’s inner monologue. “Which I know he’s not, but seriously. He’s been doing this so much longer than any of us, and then he gets so excited by someone new and tries to introduce them to everyone and it’s like–he’s friends with Starfire, and all the original Titans, and half the Justice League and half of Gotham’s Rogue gallery, and goddamn Superman. And he has B wrapped around his little finger and doesn’t even know it!”

Jason’s pancake suddenly tastes bland and weirdly mushy. “Yeah. Sucks ass but kinda funny.”

Somehow Jason’s attempts to look after Steph on patrol, to make sure she isn’t too injured, turned into this. Steph bursts into one of his apartments of safehouses at random hours of the day, raids his pantry, and complains a mile a minutes about anyone and everything.

“You gonna answers his calls?” Steph side-eyes him. “I know he keeps getting your number somehow and you know he really misses you.”

Which is not to say that all Steph does is complain and talk about herself. She’s all too happy to prod Jason about his (nonexistent) personal life.

“No,” Jason answers shortly, and throws another pancake on her plate. “Eat or get out.”

Steph shrugs and attacks her new pancake with gusto. She doesn’t push or pry, unlike some people Jason could mention, though she always asks. A Bat who is capable of just letting it go. Jason thought he’d never see the day.

If Jason were an “asks question” type of person instead of a “bottle everything up until you choke on it” kind of person, maybe he’d ask about her father. About what really happened with Black Mask, not just what news reports speculate. (Ask how she can stand to love the Bats when they’ve failed her so terribly, when her abuser draws breath, when her murderer walks free, when the Bats sleep easily knowing both of those facts and have no intention of changing either fact even though they claim to l–)

Jason isn’t an “asks question” type of person.

“Hey, can I bring Tim next time?” Steph asks, just shy of casual. “He’d–”

The wooden mixing spoon cracks in Jason’s hand. “Unless you wanna get him a couple’a broken bones,” he says evenly, “I’d suggest keepin’ that little parasite far away from me.”

Steph scowls, suddenly remembering that she doesn’t like Jason. “I don’t get why you hate him.”

Why wouldn’t he. The Replacement represents everything Jason loathes. It’s almost too perfect, how hateable he is.

“I don’t get how you dated him,” Jason retorts, which is maybe a little beneath him. Whatever. 

“Oh, we are not talking about my dating history,” Steph hisses. She shoves her stool back as she stands, fork clattering to the counter. “Bros before hoes. You’re the hoe. Tim’s my bro.” 

Jason is trying to decide whether or not to take offense while she produces a takeout box out of nowhere. For her next trick, she disappears all the remaining pancakes on her plate into the box, seals it smartly, and disappears the box. 

“Thanks for the food. Asshole.” Steph scowls, upset at her own manners and upset at Jason for not simpering for the little leech who wormed himself into Jason’s f–the group of people Jason would’ve once called family. 

Jason is no expert, but when someone makes pancakes for you at midnight, it’s an act of love. Or something. He could never say it out loud, but Steph gets it. She knows what going on here, beneath Jason’s harsh words (and threats, and firearms, and–you get the point). 

It almost feels like having a little sister, or a weird little cousin. Steph isn’t remotely scared of him. She inexplicably wants to spend time with Jason, as rough and unpleasant as he is. Jason doesn’t believe for one second that the other Bats don’t know about her visits, so somehow, they’re fine with it too. The only thing chasing Steph away and flaring Jason’s temper, is, once again, the fucking Replacement.

The next Bat to successfully land a standing invitation to Jason’s (nonexistent) dinner table is also one of the first. Barbara Gordon rolls up to his doorstep one night, armed only with whatever rocket launchers she has installed in her wheelchair (which probably doesn’t sound like “only” to anyone but Jason). The arched frown she levels at him from over her glasses is so familiar, so lovingly judgemental, that Jason tears up a little.

He slams his front door closed and starts dumping his gear, back to Barbara, so he can hide his face until the wetness around his eyes goes away. When he turns around, Barbara is a little closer and a little further to his left, by the kitchen counter stools.

“Hey Babs,” says Jason, at a loss for what else to do. “What the fuck happen’a you?”

“Nice to see you too, Jason,” Barbara replies dryly. “Or should I say long time no see. Since it’s been years.”

Jason meanders toward the kitchen counter, noting a few new visible scars on Barbara’s face and arms. When she leverages herself out of her wheelchair and into one of the kitchen chairs, he realizes just how much taller than her he is now. In his last vivid memory of her, he looks up to her free-flowing red hair, her smirk. Now he cants his chin, staring her down as she laces her fingers together and raises an extremely judgemental eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were alive,” Barbara demands. 

Jason shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t. ‘N’ then I was and you didn’t care, so.”

Barbara scowls, an action so perfectly familiar that Jason tears up again. What is up with him tonight? Just seeing someone that he knew years ago is enough to make him lose it. Jason busies himself with the cupboards, once again hiding his face from her.

“That’s not even remotely funny, Jason.” 

Somewhere underneath the lecturing is genuine hurt. Shame she can’t admit to it, maybe then their conversation would be easier to swallow. (Shame Jason can’t, either).

“How would you feel if you grieved someone you cared about only to find out years later that they were alive and never bothered to tell you? I don’t think I’ve seen Dick smile once since w–”

Jason slams a half-drunk can of soda down on the counter. He’d meant to find something better in the fridge, but right now he can’t even remember taking anything from it. 

“‘Course this is about fucking Dick.” Jason loses sight of Barbara’s scowl as his vision swims in radioactive green. “You never gave a damn ab–”

“Just because I love him doesn’t mean I don’t care about you!” 

Barbara’s interruption is the sort of truth that couldn’t be tortured out of Jason. Despite everything, he smiles. Just a quick tug at the right corner of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless.

“You tell him that?”

“Shut up.” At least Barbara sounds exasperated, not mad. “His ego’s big enough as it is. Don’t try and change the subject. I don’t get what sort of game you’re playing, letting Steph stay over while running Dick and Bruce and ragged, and avoiding me and Alfred, and threatening Ti–”

Just half-mentioning the Replacement’s name floods Jason’s head with violent green rage. The can of soda crumples in his hands. Whatever soda was left spurts onto the marble countertop, fizzing sadly. 

“How can you even pretend to care,” Jason challenges, “when the Joker is still alive?”

When Jason’s vision clears fully, Barbara is watching him knowingly from across the counter, over the plastic frame of her glasses. It’s almost pitying, but Jason knows her just a little too well to believe that. 

“Why do you think,” Barbara asks, “I haven’t killed the Joker? For what he did to me. It wasn’t even about me. It was all about getting to Bruce.”

For the first time since Jason came back to Gotham, he falters. There’s so many right answers to that question, but none of them feel like Barbara’s answer. Life-changing injuries, for vigilantes, strip away their identity, their sense of worth. How do you remake yourself in the aftermath? How did Barbara do it without ever seeking revenge? Jason genuinely has no idea.

“You didn’t die,” Jason answers gruffly, feeling every ounce of asshole he is.

“There were times I wish he’d killed me,” Barbara counters calmly. 

Biting, helpless fear that Jason has not known since he saw his mom’s last needle billows in his lungs. Not Barbara Gordon. Never. She means too much to too many people. She’s survived too much to just give up.

“Fuck that.” Jason grabs two cans of soda from the fridge and slides one over the counter to her. “Don’t let that sack of shit win.”

Barbara cracks open her can, then lifts it to hide a tired smile. “You know that’d be what Bruce killing the Joker would do. Letting him win.”

“Fuck that.” Jason places both palms flat on the counter so he won’t spill this soda. He breathes deeply as the green surges. “They’re not fuckin’ comparable. What Joker’s done and just killing the Joker are not the same. That’s not sinkin’ to his level or whatever bullshit, that’s doing this damn city a favor.”

“Let me ask you a question.” Barbara rubs one hand underneath her glasses, scrubbing a loose eyelash off her face. “I’ll probably never fight again. There’ll be experimental technology holding together my spine for the rest of my life. Do you think he should kill the Joker for that?”

“I’d kill him for you,” Jason answers unthinkingly.

(The thought, if Jason had taken the time to think it, is this: Jason can never say I care about you out loud. Todd men love expressing love through acts of violence. Wayne men love unflinching righteousness and devastating justice. Jason is a little too much of both). It’s the truth, though. There aren’t many people he wouldn’t kill if they’d hurt someone he cares about and if said person would appreciate it. He has a short mental list of people to kill for Dick if he ever thinks it would make Dick feel safer and wouldn't make him feel guilty. He’ll kill all of them before returning a single one of Dick’s calls. 

“So. Yes.” Barbara taps a finger against her soda can. “So he should die for causing someone Bruce cares about severe injuries. Then he should kill his old friend Harvey Dent, for what he did to Dick. And Black Mask, for what he did to Steph.” Her gaze drops to the red bat defiantly splayed across Jason’s chest. “The Joker, for you. And then he’d kill you, for what you’re planning to do to Tim. And then himself, for killing you.”

He’d kill you for the Replacement. 

Time stands still in that little apartment. Gunpowder, Febreze and sticky sweetness emanates from the sweat-slick surfaces. Jason struggles to breathe, but for once, he doesn’t see green. For the first time, he regrets telling them his ruined plan to teach the Replacement a lesson. It made them change the security of Titan’s Tower, for starters. And it makes him sound like a monster. 

“It goes nowhere.” Barbara spreads her hands. “It never ends. Please, Jason. Stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting all of us.”

You know he really misses you.

Please, Little Wing. Come home.

Please, Jason. Stop hurting yourself.

Finally, Jason raises his soda can. “To not letting that sack of shit win.”

“To not letting that sack of shit win.” Barbara quirks a crooked smile and raises her own soda in reply.

They throw back their heads and start chugging in unison. Barbara immediately doubles forward, coughing and choking on soda. She slams the can down on the counter and wipes her mouth clean with the back of her free hand.

“Where’d you find this, the League of Assassins? This tastes like ass.”

“Fuck you! It’s a delicacy!”

So maybe Jason can accept his fate as the “I’d kill for you” member of a “live for me” family. It’s more bearable than the alternative: being alone while they worry over him from afar. He’ll even put his plans for the Replacement on indefinite hold.

Steph continues crashing his midnight angst sessions. Barbara adds him to the system she has set up and makes him swear to call for backup if he needs it. (He agrees, but need is a strong word). Jason doesn’t apologize for not telling them he was alive–he doesn’t know how–but he makes up for it by visiting Dick out in Blüdhaven. He even agrees to meet with Alfred in a popular cafe and returns with his head ringing and an armful of teas and snacks.

Best of all is the (unintentional) chokehold he has on Bruce. All he has to do his bat his eyelashes and say something wistful about never graduating high school and Bruce is falling over himself to make him fake identities. The others are all too willing to keep Bruce out of his business. It’s the perfect set up. Jason never would have guessed, when he first came back, that there was family–new family–waiting for him in Gotham. But between the comforting steadiness of Barbara, her willingness to ream him out, his begrudging fondness for his new hellion little sister, and his tumultuous relationship with a brother he loves, Jason thinks he just might stay. 

Sometimes Jason even thinks he might forgive Bruce for not killing the Joker. Maybe not soon, and not for many other flaws that Bruce has yet to sort out, but maybe. All his recent musing on Willis Todd and whether that man ever loved anyone has forced Jason to reconsider his stance on love as violence that he didn’t even know he had. 

Maybe he and this crazy family idea will be alright. Maybe he’ll forgive his dad. Forgiveness or lack thereof aside, they’ll always be some kind of father and son, for better or worse. 

But the one person who Jason will absolutely not forgive is the Replacement. 

Jason still has to deal with the Replacement occasionally. By ‘deal’ he means, of course, that he went to the Replacement’s ugly-ass manor house just to mess with him. Being on good-ish terms with Dick, Steph and Barbara doesn’t mean Jason can’t have some fun. He won’t go through with something like Titans’ Tower, not anymore, but he still can’t stand that arrogant, selfish, entitled little rich brat that wriggled his way into Jason’s family, alright? So he’s going to see for himself just how self-deluded that jumped-up Replacement of his is, sue him. 

No matter how entitled, the Replacement still has school. He goes to Gotham Academy, the school Jason died attending, and he’s in the grade Jason never got to finish. It’s not until about 4 pm that the Replacement actually gets home, so Jason shows up at 6 pm, expecting to find the Drakes having dinner. Instead, the parents are absent, and the Replacement is eating takeout in one of the many living rooms, while in the middle of a game of cards.

“Ooh! Burn a card! Burn a card!” The Replacement taunts his opponent, a girl Jason just barely recognizes as Bruce’s newest adopted kid. 

The girl–Cassandra, Jason thinks, though he hasn’t learned what her traumatic backstory is yet–scowls and slides a card from the bottom of her hand to the bottom of the pile on the rug.

“Your turn,” the Replacement adds.

Cass plays her top card without looking–an eight of spades–and Tim places a ten of diamonds. Then the game accelerates to a pace Jason struggles to understand. There’s a lot of slapping involved. Mostly it looks like they’re just playing cards one after another, until Cass slams her hand down on top of the pile.

“Wait, what?” The Replacement pushes her hand away and checks the top cards. A three of hearts and a three of spades. “Damn, you’re right. Double.”

This time Cass smirks as she scoops up the whole pile. Jason should probably stop spying from the doorway now. He only came to harrass the Replacement a little, not meet Bruce’s new kid. But then she turns her head and stares directly at him, so Jason shrugs mentally and saunters into the living room. He dumps his gun (one of them) on a comfy looking armchair as a sign of peace. 

“So. Bruce’s new kid, huh?”

Cass nods once.

Jason plonks himself down on the coffee table. Legs sprawled, his shoe almost touches their playing cards. He ignores the Replacement staring at him in something akin to awe. It’s in turns enraging, confusing and uncomfortable. 

“Lemme guess. Dad was an ax murderer, Mom died when you were young?” When Cass just stares at Jason blankly, the faintest hint of embarrassment creeps up on him. He tries again. “How’d you end up with this band of lunatics?”

Cass shrugs. She looks at the Replacement.

“Her bio dad is David Cain,” the Replacement explains, having the audacity to look something akin to sternly at Jason. “Her bio mom is Lady Shiva and she gave her away at birth, but after she escaped Cain–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jason snaps, through the roaring green the Replacement’s stern look conjures. “What are you, her social worker? She can tell her own story.”

“Right,” says the Replacement, looking satisfyingly ashamed. “Yeah, of course.”

After a beat of silence, with both boys staring at her, Cass raises her hands. It takes Jason a beat too long to realize she’s explaining her story in ASL. Though explaining is a strong word. She makes the sign that Barbara came up with all those years ago, a combination of the sign for bird and the sign for bat, to mean broadly the Gotham vigilantes. Batman, Robin, all the bats and birds who call Gotham home and each other family. Then she makes the sign for good. 

Bats good, Cass says. Then she gives Jason this dead-eyed stare that feels like it’s poking around his soul and seeing all his cringe-fail moments, and asks: Why are you so–? But Jason doesn’t recognize the actual adjective. 

“She’s asking why you’re so angry,” the Replacement supplies, since he apparently knows more ASL than Jason does. A fact that Jason definitely does not care about at all. 

“I’m not angry,” Jason says, you know, like a liar.

[fbfh]

Curiosity is a Wonderful thing ch. 10

wc: 1.8k

genre: slow burn, little angst, childhood best friends to lovers

pairing: slow burn bff!ben x fem daughter of alice!reader, previously audrey x ben, mal x ben???? yikes!

warnings: political lore and descendants world building from yours truly lol, I think that's it??? minor angst???

summary: determined to figure out what's going on with ben, you remember that many paws make light work.

song recs: dirty paws - of monsters and men, hartebeest - yaelokre, a world of my own - kathryn beaumont

a/n: HI HELLO DADDIES HELLO MY DADDIES HI HELLO also I started watching it's always sunny and every goddamn thing out of charlie's mouth is a vocal stim. I can't go more than two seconds without going HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY. LOOK AT ME GIVE ME EYES. COOL YOUR JETS. NOW GET OUTTA HERE. I love him.

ALSO!!!!!!!! happy 23rd b-day to meself!!!! does a little jester dance while I simultaneously give a thumbs down from the king chair, opening a trapped door and throwing my jester self into a deep dark pit full of lions and poorly made iced americanos.

tags @yesv01@magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @dustyinkpages @inejsknifes @tulipmagnoliaisme @ev3ningrain @yokolesbianism lmk if I missed you and I'll add you to the tag list yell at me in the notes /j (also my dearest yokolesbianism!!!!! thank you so fuckin much for the feedback!!!!!! based on your tags I assumed you'd wanna be tagged?? just shoot me an ask or message if this is not the case lol <333)

You haven’t given much thought to anything besides your research since it began, but if you had, you suppose you would notice you’ve been holed up in the library for every hour it’s been open for a few days, at least. Each waking moment has been spent pouring through text after text, desperately seeking anything that could prove useful in answering the question of Ben’s behavior. 

The first few books proved to be utterly useless for anything besides sharpening your researching skills. You slam the most recent book closed and lean back in your chair, letting out a sigh of frustration. As much as you hate to admit it - even to yourself - you must begrudgingly admit that you need help. 

You let out another sigh, and stand up. A good long sigh seems to be your only weapon against the inconsolable frustration burbling within you turmoilously. You stretch your aching legs and arms, hoping your blood hasn’t stopped circulating entirely, and throw the window open. You take in a big, deep breath of spring air. 

The scent of gardenia and hibiscus floats along the breeze and into your chest, and you glance down at the flowering culprits below the window. 

Your mind wanders and races in a blurry stumble. There must be some way for you to get information, to get some extra hands on this without getting anyone else directly involved. You never expected to find yourself facing such a fragile, treacherous situation, much less having to navigate it yourself. Without Ben. 

You rub at your aching head, trying to make heads or snails of all this. Your mind reels in a blurry stupor at the dangerous situation your country has found itself in without even realizing this to be the case. You take another big, deep breath. 

“Alright.” You tell yourself with a note of finality, like perhaps if you say it enough things will be just that. Alright. 

There are two heads to this chimera of a situation you’ve found yourself in. Firstly, you have to figure out how to monitor Ben. His words, his actions, if he suddenly decides to shave his head and run about nude. Whatever it is, you must be the first to know. Perhaps if you find a way to stay on top of whatever his next erratic decisions will be, you can find a way to smooth things over, to fix things before they have a chance to snowball wildly out of control. 

The other thing you must consider - arguably, of more importance - is why? Why is he acting like this? As much as you resist confronting the feeling, you can’t shake the sense that this is some sort of political sabotage. It wouldn’t be the first time Ben was caught in the crossfires of political unrest. There was a very tense 8 days when you were both nearly too young to remember where Ben had been kidnapped by a group of radicalist former henchmen. They were convinced that Chernabog was sending them secret messages, and were responsible for the next villain uprising.

This, of course, was untrue and Ben was returned unscathed. The henchmen were understandably sent to the Isle, and Chernabog’s whereabouts are still unknown. There’s some debate over the nature of his crimes, if he’s truly evil or just appears to be scary. You and your mother know right where you stand on the issue - while he appears terrifying, and has incredible amounts of power, you have yet to find any evidence that he wants to cause harm. 

You understand why Overlandians are so quick to fear what they don’t know, but one cannot control their size nor the strength of their power, so your mother has urged the Auradon government to let sleeping gods lie. Besides, Chernabog hasn’t been around for half a century, and won’t be seen for another half century at least, so it’s really the least of anyone’s worries right now. 

You snap from your train of thought, returning to the matter afoot. You must keep tabs on Ben, and find some explanation for why he could be acting like this. You already have so many bites that are far too big, and you have no clue how you’ll chew your way through this by yourself. You’re about to go back when you see a bluebird sitting on the tree branch outside the window. She preens her feathers, enjoying the warm sunlight dappling through the lush green leaves that partially hide her from view. You lean out of the window, your sleeves rippling in the breeze. 

“Excuse me!” You call out. She chirps inquisitively as you get her attention. 

“I do hate to bother you, but I’m stuck in quite a muddling lurch. It’s all quite convoluted you see, and as much as I hate to admit it, I fear I’ve reached a point where I simply don’t have enough hands to handle it all.”

She quirks her head at you, hopping a little closer and lending an ear as you begin to explain the whole kerfuffle. You try to be as concise and clear as you can, but you take after your mother quite well. You get a little sidetracked here or worked up there, and find yourself rambling a great good deal more than you would have liked to. 

By the time you’re just about through with your explanation, you’ve had to pull out a lacy embroidered handkerchief, then soon after, another one for the bluebird. She’s grown quite invested in your woes, and it feels so good to be able to weep wetly over this with someone who shares your feelings. You try in vain to dry your eyes, and she holds her hankie tightly with her feathers, blowing her beak with a loud noise. 

“So you see, this whole thing is quite unusual. I just don’t know what to do, or how to fix things.” You look at her compassionate face, nodding and chirping in sympathy. 

“Do you think…” You begin, “Do you perhaps have any friends that could keep ears and eyes open for anything odd, or relating to all this? If you could possibly keep an ear to the ground - or sky - and let me know if there’s anything unusual, I would be most grateful.”

She nods, tweeting in agreement before you can even finish your proposal. She fluffs her feathers and wrings out your hankie, sprinkling salty tears onto the walkway below and hangs it up on a  branch to dry out. She salutes you, and you wave at her as she flies off to spread the word. 

“Thank you!” You call after her. She chirps back at you, and you watch her land a few trees over, discussing the topic with some other birds in the branches. You grip the windowsill resolutely. This is good. This was a good plan. Animal communication takes a great deal of work on both ends, so as long as no particularly gossipy stoats or chickadees get a hold of this, you’ll be alright. 

Besides, animals generally tend to prefer gossiping with other animals rather than humans. Overlandians never seem to understand the gravitas of the social politics of the forest. Despite the word traveling fast, you can’t shake the feeling you need more. More eyes, more ears, more furry feet and paws and claws spreading the word. You straighten up abruptly, returning to your table. You scribble a hasty note on a piece of paper, and prop it up against your stacks and stacks of useless - in this instance, anyway - books. 

gone for tea, be back in three 

You’re known for ducking in and out for tea now and again, and you’re sure this will come as no surprise to the librarians. You rush down the steps and out of the library, into the grassy courtyard. It feels like forever since you’ve been outside, and you miss leisurely strolls and reading in the dappled sunlight. But regrettably, now is simply not the time for leisure. You walk around for a few minutes, searching and looking until you see a cat lying on a garden wall, bathing in the sun. 

 “I beg your pardon,” you start, and the cat opens one sleepy eye. You take a breath and begin explaining the situation all over again. You’re pleased to find a little bit of the sting is gone this time. Just a little. Soon you have his full attention, and his tail flicks in sympathetic irritation for you, for having gone through all this. 

“So if you could spread the word to some friends, keep me informed on anything you think might prove useful” You ask hopefully. 

He pretends to consider for a moment, then agrees, hopping down from the wall and arching his back in a big stretch. He scurries off to spread the word as you make your way into the gardens for similar reasons. You traipse through the hedge maze, feeling a momentary solace in becoming lost so quickly. Soon you find just what you’re looking for, and after a similar conversation with a mother rabbit, you allow yourself to return to the library. 

You return to your research with more gumption than you had had before. You feel a sense of reassurance - a much needed one, at that - that all these kind animals and their friends and relations had agreed to help you and your cause. Soon after, nearly every cat and rabbit are doing reconnaissance for you. Dozens of bluebirds follow students and linger by windows in hopes of overhearing something useful. With all these ears to the ground and sky, you lose yourself in your fruitless research once again. 

When the words begin to look jumbled and meaningless (and not in the good way) you know you absolutely must call it a day. You close your books and place them neatly in the return cart, scratching out titles from your list of Potentially Helpful Books in your journal. More and more pages have become dedicated to this heart aching mystery, though you have few clues, and fewer leads. You ruminate on this as you begin to head for your dorm, nearly tripping over a speckled rabbit. 

He thumps his foot loudly to get your attention, and you startle. “Oh, hello,” you say apologetically, crouching down to speak with him. You listen intently to what he tells you, your stomach dropping in the early evening light. 

Ben and Mal are on a date at the enchanted lake as you speak. 

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

I know you've been a fan of Jimin for a while and as someone who only became a fan in 2023 I wanted to ask you a question about this:

https://x.com/moonlightkive/status/1831725500626030765?t=4WIxob-Fc9xmk510LqQbmg&s=19

Even in the short time I've been a fan of Jimin I learned not to always trust what armys say about him. So I'm not sure what information is true and what is exaggerated or even completely made up. I've seen this dieting subject be brought up before when it comes to Jimin and it seems that the general concensus in the fandom is that Jimin struggled with that more than the other member, but is that actually true or is it just another case of armys's double standards when it comes to Jimin? Like, I've seen people mention him doing extremes diets, something about him not eating for 10 days, about him passing out multiple times, starving himself, being concerningly thin back in 2016 or 2017 (I don't remember what year exactly they were talking about and looking at him during time I didn't really notice it myself), and a bunch of other stuff. Is any of that true? What I'm guessing is that probably only some of it is true and possibly exaggerated, but I can't be sure. So that's why I'm asking you, cause I figured you'd at least know more than me. Cause some people seem convinced he had an ED, and I don't know how I feel about people diagnosing him with something serious like that.

Yes, it's 10000% an exaggeration.

Jimin never showed or gave anyone reason to believe that he struggled with an eating disorder. Everrrr. I want to give people the benefit of the doubt and say that maybe Jimin's talked about it the most through the years so everyone has the wrong idea, but I can't even say that. I can't even say that Jimin's talked about skipping meals more than the other memebers, because it's just not true.

The only thing that's happened is army being stupid, honestly. That's really it. Their tunnel vision and their inability to put two facts of someone together and make that someone a complex, real person. They look at Jimin (and all the other members) as if he's a fiction trope. And they keep talking about a nonexistent eating disorder because it fits the trope they've made up of him; frail, skinny, gay, cute, too nice for his own good, defenseless.

Yoongi has legs like toothpicks and he doesn't get eating disorder allegations. Why? Because it doesn't fit the musky-perfumed, whisky lover, smoker, granddad idea of army. I'm pretty sure last year he also said on live something about eating one meal a day.

You can see Jungkook literally binge eating in every BTS content ever filmed. After binge eating he starts talking about how he needs to lose weight and shouldn't eat anymore. Every. Single. Time. Eating disorder allegations? No, because he's got pecs and like two defined abs. Eating disorders go both ways. Binge eating as a habit is ALSO an eating disorder. And for the record, I doubt Jungkook binge eats like that 365 days a year for all meals, but if he did, it would be an eating disorder and army still wouldn't say anything as look as he "looked" healthy.

Some recents comments about food/eating that BTS members have made:

Jimin:

And I'm pretty sure there's one from last year too where he told a fan to not skip meals.

It really is just army's tunnel vision.

They've chosen this career and they've always known what it would entail. Dieting and fasting before schedules is something normal to them. It might not be normal for you, me, or some dumb armys but it is to them the same it's normal for bodybuilders and people like Michael Phelps to eat 12k calories a day -which also isn't normal for like anyone in the planet-.

If dieting is an eating disorder, then I think we should go ahead and say all idols have an eating disorder including the other six members of BTS.

[dropthedemiurge]

Love for Love's Sake | Things You Didn't Notice #6

Translations and comments for Episode 6 (I have ADHD don't come after me, I was too invested that I bingewatched episodes yesterday and now I need to rewatch the 3 and 4 to make thorough comments on the dialogues). I was prompted by @lurkingshan to pay more attention to the movie posters :D Please let me know your thoughts after!

At first, I wanted to say that the movie titles were translated (at least, in my version of subs) and there was nothing behind them beside obvious but I decided to research more and indeed found somewhat interesting things! (the post will be long so I'll pile screenshots together)

First thing we see – Myungha has agonizing thoughts about "I can't believe I am on a date with a guy (when I'm supposed to be just an NPC/Player in this game)" next to the movie poster with an interesting title "The Guy Who Will Give a Kiss for 10 000 won"

This movie doesn't exist :D However! The title and poster style is clearly based on the old manhwa from ~2006 that's called "The Guy Who Will Give a Kiss for 5 000 won" (lmao they doubled MC's price that's inflation for you).

The note at the bottom says "Top Secret Disclosure: Kissing Method" aka MC is the guy who promises to teach you how to kiss if you give him some money, and the same note is shown in the LFLS poster. I thought the guy on the poster looked similar to Myungha but I think they actually got Taevin (the actor) to pose for this fake poster xD

Which leads me to the first thought that these posters were born out of Myungha's imagination – come on, we just got the scene between him and Yeowoon where they kissed for the first time and Yeowoon asked Myungha to give him time to practice and improve kissing (Myungha with his slightly better experience probably feels like a mentor with some "shady" intentions who eventually falls in love xD) Coincidence? I don't think so.

The second poster on the wall is also about a non-existent movie but before diving into that, here's how Yeowoon comes into the picture.

Two things: "Wonderful Ghost" huge poster on the wall behind him and the caption on the wall next to him.

In case you haven't paid attention, it says "If you come at four in the afternoon, I'll begin to be happy by three," which is a popular romantic phrase that definitely reflects Yeowoon's feelings atm, aww.

Meanwhile, Wonderful Ghost movie (also called as "The SOUL-mate") actually exists! But it's not new, it was released in 2018 and the story is about a guy done with his life after tragic events who becomes haunted by an energetic ghost that changes his life and mindset. (I did phrase this summary deliberately non-specific to make you feel another connection to the current story of LFLS.)

The caption on the poster also says, literally translated, "Let's do it together until the end of the world". This movie has other poster versions with other captions as Google shows but this is the version shown in Love for Love's Sake. Actually, while we're on the topic – I have no idea where "Love for Love's Sake" title came from, does anyone know? Someone in my previous posts speculated about the story based on this title but the Korean title of this series is "연애 지상주의 구역" ("Dating Supremacy Zone", or just "Dating Zone") which is the term that comes up in alert whenever Myungha is close to Yeowoon.

Anyway, back to our zombies, gorillas and demons. The movie Myungha and Yeowoon actually went to watch on their date was "Zombie Gorilla VS Demon Crocodile". The caption on thte poster says "Who will protect the world?"

Again, this movie doesn't exist. Why would they make such a point of showing Myungha crying and experiencing genuine emotions (when he only shed tears after he got scared by the full-scale system error and when his grandma got into hospital)? Well, Myungha explains it to Yewoon by himself.

"Well, it was the first time I see someone crying for a zombie gorilla." "Do you know how epic this movie is? The crocodile was actually an extraterrestrial. He met the gorilla here and joined him to save the world." "The plot is really strange." "It was very emotional."

Does it ring a bell? I don't think I need to add any words. Myungha = someone who came from another world and joined Yeowoon to save him and complete the game with happy ending. Myungha relates a lot and cries. I just find it funny thinking about how "The plot is really strange" and "You have a very strange taste" can be also said to all the viewers of LFLS (well, we all are very invested in this a bit confusing mysterious story as well, aren't we?xD)

I also love how we keep being reminded about the "unreality" of the story, how system can experience bugs and things in the world can glitch and Myungha is never immersed in this new life or his new love story to the 100% (cue all the 'choose anyone but me, go date a better man' and patronizing way he treats all characters around him, instead focusing on preventing them and the world from bad events following author's instructions)

I don't think I have much to add to the rest of the episode, I mirrored the haters articles and messages which were written for the show but the comments are quite generic (I couldn't read all of them but I didn't notice anything unusual). One thing, the DM to Myungha technically says "Die, Tae Myungha".

All I can say is that the online anonymous bullying is really prominent and a huge problem in Korea that leads to celebrities' depression and sometimes suicide. All influencers (and there are a lot of them in SK) are held to unimaginable 'perfect' standard and forums often have anonymous commenting which makes messages even more cruel (but later they addressed the issue and I think at least under news articles in Entertainment/Celebrity section the anonymous function was turned off, still, there are a lot of ways to ruin someone's life online). It happens in every country, of course, but stalking/online bullying is something that can be understood very easily by Koreans because it's often on the news and in the community.

Another little detail – even though Myungha does talk to students who are technically "younger" than him by one school year like he's old and wise, he doesn't use the word 'kid' nearly as much as you'd think xD (but the subs are doing the right thing anyway because how else are you supposed to show that subtle cultural difference between saying Cha Yeowoon and Yeowoon-ah, or Myungha calling Sangwoon by his name when he's frustrated with him instead of cursewords or titles?)

In the phrase "Get it together, kid!" Myungha actually uses the word 새끼 (saekki) which can be a curseword (like 'asshole, bastard', used by school gangster in previous eps) but it also literally means 'a child' that can be used by grandparents for their grandson or by parents, for example. So basically, think of 'son of a bitch' which can be used both as cursing and have literal meaning. Koreans have the same (개새끼 - son of a dog) phrase.

But it doesn't have an affectionate connotation when said by teenagers or adults (unless it's said to close friends without heat), and I am sure Myungha says it with more of "Get it together, you brat!" meaning. I just used this screenshot to tell you about Korean cursewords, he-he.

+ bonus: there is no translation or anything, but since we were talking about posters, I just found it funny and adorable how Yeowoon visually replaced here the poster behind him xD

[lutorao]

Zou

personally , I think there are a few moments what worth paying attention

After they separate, Luffy enters the depths of the forest where he meets the Heart Pirates, we learn from the dialogue that the crew wasn't much informed of what law was going to do, Law just left them aside and took it all on himself until he met Luffy, exactly how long after the meeting? In 10 minutes?! he offered an alliance

A small but quite cute and interesting point here is that if you look carefully at the tone of the dialogue, you can feel the shy and soft tone of Luffy's conversation, he also smiles gently during the conversation.

......I mean .....

hello? since when is Luffy shy when he is talking to someone, Luffy was the one who made the princess cry on fishman island , just because he was very direct and rude?!

wasn't Luffy the one who beat up momonosuke ? the shogun of Wano ? but that's not the same case with Law's crew (oh Luffy)

and then he mentioned Law by his name, not by his nickname, but by his name, that means that Luffy knows his name but prefers to call him by his nickname "Traffy" or "Torao" (which he doesn't really do with anyone else, his crew doesn't count :xDDD)

he is so cute

let's keep going

then luffy followed Minks to see his crew, and Usopp sees Luffy and thinks that the Minks are going to eat him.

but this man

After that Law leaves Luffy and meets his crew, he mentions that the person who defeated Doffy was not himself but Luffy, I think that at least this shows his respect towards to Luffy, he doesn't even mention that he himself inflicted quite a lot of wounds on Doffy, he is only talking about Luffy

(guys help I love them sm )

Law was very rude to his crew at this moment, but let's not ignore how excited Luffy was to see Law's entire crew, and how Law's crew wanted to get to know Luffy, but he just take his bf away, "we have to talk "

I want to mention one more silly thing from law , let's have a small flashback on Dressrosa

law was against the idea to defeat Doffy , his only goal was to pit Doflamingo and Kaido against each other , but the stupid thing here was that if he didn't defeat Doflamingo, how was he going to get out of the bird cage?!

but later on Zou, when he find out about the attack by Kaido's subordinates, Sanji and Big mom, he says exactly the same thing that Luffy told him on Dressrosa

Ummm.... OK honey

And the exactly the same face that Luffy had

Towards the end, I want to mention one more important and I think interesting moment. After the straw hat pirates came to Zou, we know how terrible the situation was, it is very pleasant when this part of the straw hat pirates who were on Zou and the heart pirates were trying to save this island and Minks , and later on Wano, it is noticeable how friendly these two pirate crew are with each other, don't miss their joint banquet (I think they were celebrating the engagement of their captains :xDDD)

(btw Nakama tell me what kind of posts you'd like to see, more ships ?! fics? and if you have some other fav ships share it shishishishi )

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 17) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Chapter 17

When you get to the supply cache, Giran is waiting for you, leaning back against the door of the storage unit and smoking a cigarette. It’s not his first one, either – the ground around his feet is scattered with the remains of five or six more. He notices you looking and smirks. “Seems like I’ve been littering, Saintess. Are you going to absolve me?”

“Only if you want me to,” you say. “Do you have what we ordered?”

“Cash first.”

“We paid in advance,” you remind him. Giran holds out both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Was any of it hard to get?”

“Only what you asked for,” Giran says. “For the others, I’ve got replacement parts for Compress’s arm and Toga’s gear, more of those gloves for Shigaraki, gauntlets for Spinner and Twice – you sure you don’t want a set? They were buy two, get one free.”

You’re not sure if he’s joking or not. “That’s everything for the others. How about for me?”

“Of course.” Giran sets the crate with the rest of the supplies aside and pulls out a smaller box. “I have to say, I was surprised when you asked for this. I didn’t think the League’s resident angel would have any interest in a gun.”

“I’m interested in defending myself,” you say. “Open it.”

Giran opens the box, revealing a gun that looks like any other gun you’ve seen, not that you’ve seen many guns up close. “You don’t know enough to specify, so I chose something beginner-friendly,” he says. “This is a .22 caliber handgun. It’s designed for minimum recoil, so as to avoid knocking you back on your ass when you try to fire it. It’s also designed to be quiet, but I’ve thrown in a silencer free of charge.”

“Thanks,” you say. “What about ammunition?”

“Also included, but I’m charging for that. Thanks to the Americans and their mass shootings, it’s hard to buy ammunition in large quantities anywhere else,” Giran says. “Call it a convenience fee. Additionally, the trigger on this model is known to be fairly sensitive, so trigger discipline is going to be key. You know what that means?”

“I know.” You’ve been researching. “Safety on and fingers off unless I’m planning to shoot someone.”

“The instruction manual’s included,” Giran says. You scowl. “Ask Twice for help if you’re confused. He knows how to shoot.”

“Twice with a gun. That sounds safe.”

“Safer than you,” Giran says. “Running around with villains is one thing. Murder’s something else. I don’t think you have it in you.”

“Then I’ll hand the gun off to somebody who does.” You pick the crate up, grimacing at the weight, and Giran shuts the box with the gun and sets it down on top. “Thanks for getting it for me. Stay safe.”

Giran laughs at that. “Try ‘get lost’ next time. It’ll make you sound more intimidating.”

Your costume is a veil and a crown of thorns, and as of right now your weapon is a backpack. Intimidating is a lost cause. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll be in touch.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Giran lights up another cigarette as he walks away.

You unlock the storage unit and step inside. This is a supply cache you haven’t visited before, and you can tell Mitsuko’s the one who set it up, because there’s a box of condoms prominently perched atop six or seven cases of bottled water. You and the others have a water source right now, and while your medical supplies are dwindling, you don’t need a refill just yet. What you’re short on is food. You set down the crate, followed by your backpack, and open them up. Then you start filling both of them with prepackaged food.

Energy bars are the most efficient, space-wise, and they at least make a gesture at containing any kind of nutrients. Unfortunately, the League of Villains is full of adults with children’s tastes in food, and they wouldn’t know a nutrient if it walked up and introduced itself. It’s taken almost a month into the effort to batter Gigantomachia into submission for them to admit that eating nothing but calorie-rich, nutrient-poor food makes them feel gross. If you could get them real food on a regular basis, you would. But it’s almost never feasible, not with the tiny amount of downtime Tenko and the others are working with. It’s packaged food or nothing. They need to eat.

You pick out a variety of items and stuff them into the crate and your own backpack, text thank-you to Mitsuko while pretending you don’t see her message asking if the condoms were the right size, and head out. There are a few more things to buy before you can head back to the others.

As the medic, you’re responsible for the team’s health, and you’re worried about Tenko in particular. He’s exerting himself more than anyone and resting barely at all, and when he does get to rest, it’s all you can do to convince him to eat a few bites of anything before he passes out. The caloric input to output imbalance has stripped him of any remaining body fat, and when you touch him now, all you can feel are hard ropes of muscle and prominent bones straining beneath his skin.

The caloric imbalance is bad enough, but you’ve seen everything he’s eating, so you know he’s massively vitamin-deficient as well. If he won’t eat enough to get the amount he needs, you’ve got another way to do it. The clerk at the drugstore looks askance at the number of pill bottles you’re carrying. “These aren’t cheap, you know.”

“I know,” you say. “I’ll need a bag.”

The bag plus the crate and your backpack are stupidly heavy. You’re struggling as you head for the train station, gritting your teeth against the pain in your arms. You’ve been more active in the last month and a half than you’ve ever been in your life, and there’s not a day when some part of you isn’t sore. You pause at the bottom of the stairs to the platform and stare dismally upward. This one is going to hurt.

“Do you need help with that?”

You almost jump out of your skin, and almost drop what you’re carrying in the bargain. There’s a girl standing next to you, and you recognize her. In fact, you know her hero name, her real name, her quirk, and her blood type, courtesy of Toga. “Ochako?”

Uraraka Ochako, hero name: Uravity, looks shocked. “You know my name?”

“I remember you from the Sports Festival,” you say. It’s not so much that you remember watching the Sports Festival and more that Toga watches clips of it on YouTube to fall asleep. “You were really good. I liked your plan a lot.”

“Oh, thank you! I just wish it had worked,” Uraraka says ruefully. She gestures at the boxes you’re carrying. “Do you need help with those? I can make them lighter for you.”

You were going to say no, but if all she has to do is touch them – “Thank you so much. That would be really great.”

It’s much easier to get up the stairs when the stuff you’re carrying is lighter than air. Uraraka follows you up. “Do you live nearby? I can help you get them home.”

You shake your head. “I have a really long way to go.”

“I’ll stay until your train gets here,” she decides. You protest that your train’s running late, and she probably has somewhere to be. “My internship is right around here, and I’m off for the day. I don’t mind.”

You sort of mind. You’re on your way to hook back up with the League of Villains and you’re carrying what feels like a literal kiloton of contraband. You have a hard time believing that the word VILLAIN isn’t stamped on your forehead. But you can’t be rude, the crate really is heavy, and Toga will kill you if she finds out that you had the chance to talk to Uraraka and didn’t take it. You struggle for a topic to raise, and your brain suggests the Shie Hassaikai raid. “I saw in the paper that you helped rescue that little girl.”

“That wasn’t me. It was Deku,” Uraraka says. “I helped with other things, but he was the one who saved her.”

“Do you know how she’s doing?” you ask. “Is she okay?”

“She is! She stays with Aizawa-sensei and the other teachers and we all love her so much.” Uraraka is beaming now. “She’s okay even though the League of Villains kidnapped her. I can’t believe they just gave her back.”

Not ‘dumped her’, not ‘threw her away’. Gave her back. Your heart lifts enough that it’s a struggle to come up with the appropriate civilian response. “She must have been so scared. Did they hurt her?”

“That’s the weird part. She says she wasn’t scared,” Uraraka says. She frowns slightly. “She said they were nice to her. They gave her this blanket and this dog plushie. Aizawa-sensei keeps trying to swap it out for a cat plushie, but she won’t let it go.”

“Weird,” you agree. “Are you sure it was the League that got her?”

“She described them all. Shigaraki, Toga, Dabi – everybody.” Uraraka’s frown deepens. “And one we hadn’t heard of before. One nobody had heard of before. Saintess.”

You were hoping Eri wouldn’t remember, but it sounds like she does – and she knows what you look like. Did she describe you, too? Is that why Uraraka won’t leave? You struggle to stay calm. Physically, you don’t stand out. There are probably thousands of people who match your physical description, and Uraraka isn’t acting like a hero who’s just cornered a suspect. Heroes don’t play it cool. She thinks you’re just a random civilian with a bunch of boxes to carry, and she’s helping out. Which is – nice. Heroes aren’t usually nice like that.

“Saintess,” you repeat. “That’s a weird name for a villain.”

“Right?” Uraraka’s frown shifts into confusion. “The whole thing is weird. They’re villains. It’s easier when they just act like it.”

Huh. You don’t spend a lot of time around full-fledged heroes, but when you were Kazuo’s girlfriend, you spent a lot of time around heroes in training, and you don’t remember any of them ever saying something like that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean –” Uraraka pauses to think for a second. “Shigaraki tried to kill us at USJ. The League of Villains attacked us and kidnapped one of my classmates. It’s weird that they’d draw the line at hurting a little kid.”

“Villains have lines?” You fake confusion. “I thought they didn’t care who they hurt.”

“Some of them don’t. The one Deku fought to save Eri definitely didn’t. I guess the League does.” Uraraka looks uneasy. “That doesn’t change anything.”

It does, though. You can see it in her face. The fact that the League let Eri go, that they took care of her while they had her, is challenging her worldview to a degree she’s not comfortable with. You need to ease off, switch the topic before she doubles down – and before you can slip up defending the others. “I’m glad she wasn’t hurt, and that she’s doing better. It sounds like you all care about her a lot, and everybody deserves people who love them.”

“They do.” Uraraka’s smile returns at last, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You got her to agree to that statement in the middle of a conversation about the League. That feels less like a narrow escape and more like a win.

Your train arrives late, and you bid Uraraka goodbye and thank her for her help. Then you climb onto the train with your crate full of supplies and check the time on your phone. If you’re lucky, you’ll get back just as the fighting’s dying down.

At first you thought Gigantomachia could keep fighting forever, but it turns out that his strength and stamina aren’t infinite – just more than sufficient to outlast any normal human. He can fight for three days at a stretch, hibernate for less than three hours, and pick up right where he left off. There’s no hiding from. Wherever he is, he’ll seek Tenko out, and while Twice’s copies of Tenko can keep him occupied for a short time, three and a half hours is the longest break you’ve ever seen Tenko get.

It’s not enough. Not even close. The fight against the giant is destroying Tenko, and there’s nothing you can do except try to make sure he eats something before he falls asleep – and try to make sure that whatever sleep he does get is as restful as humanly possible.

The train gods are kind to you. You get back on time, meet Compress just outside the small town nearest to where Tenko and the others are fighting so he can contain the supplies and make them easier to carry, then head towards the base camp that’s been set up for the hibernation period. Compress’s phone rings as the two of you hurry along. It’s Twice, and you can hear him shouting even though he’s not on speaker. “Do you have her? He’s going to want to see her.”

“I’m here,” you say. No matter what, you make sure you’re there when the fighting pauses. It’s the only time you get to see Tenko these days. “How is he?”

“This was a rough one,” Twice says, but he says that every time. “Better hurry.”

You pick up the pace until you’re practically jogging. It’s been three days since you saw Tenko, and you’ve missed him a lot more than you want to let on to the others. You know they don’t question your commitment to the League or your devotion to him. You just don’t want them to know how far it really goes.

You reach the base camp a few seconds before Tomura and Twice do, and it’s just enough time for Compress to release the supplies and for you to set them down before Tomura collides with you. You realize instantly that Twice wasn’t kidding – instead of his usual limp exhaustion, Tomura’s shaky, and when he hugs you, you can feel his heart beating through his ribs. The level of adrenaline in his system must be absurd. He’s not getting to sleep like this, and if you wait for him to crash, he’ll be exhausted by the time the fighting picks back up again.

You piece together a plan on the fly, a plan that will hopefully net you some time to make sure he eats and get him at least an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Tomura’s trying to put on his gloves without letting go of you. You step back out of his embrace and take hold of his wrist. “Come with me.”

You don’t tell Twice and Compress where you’re going or what you’re doing, but you have a feeling they can guess. As much as that makes you cringe, it’s not enough to stop you. This is important. You have to calm Tomura down if you want him to sleep at all, and even though it’s selfish, you want a chance to be close to him again. Tomura puts on his gloves clumsily as you walk, his hands shaking too badly to fasten the Velcro around his wrists. You stop walking, turn, and do it for him. Then you take both his hands in yours and pull him forward into a kiss.

Tenko kisses you back with enthusiasm, in spite of the fact that his lips split and bleed instantly, that his hands are shaking so badly that he can barely hold onto yours. You nudge him a few steps backwards, and a few more, until he’s leaning against a tree. You’re not pinning him, exactly, but it’s close. “Hey,” Tenko mumbles against your mouth. You don’t want to interrupt him, so you switch to kissing his neck, conscious of just how little time you have. “Where did you go? Twice said you left.”

“Supply run.” You pull his jacket down from his shoulders, then tug the neckline of his shirt aside to kiss him there. “I made sure I’d be back in time. I wouldn’t have risked not seeing you.”

“I know.” The affection in Tenko’s voice is direct and obvious enough to make you blush. “We’re making progress. I’m wearing him down.”

“You’re a wreck.” You ignore the insulted noise he makes, a noise that turns sharp when your teeth scrape along his collarbone. “Something happened today. What was it?”

“Twice doubles you, sometimes. In case I get hurt and the others aren’t close enough to help.” Tenko’s grip on you is bruising. “He didn’t tell me he’d done it. That thing got to you. It threw you –”

And he wouldn’t have seen the copy dissolve, the way all of Twice’s copies do when they take too much damage. He’d have thought Gigantomachia killed you, and he probably wouldn’t have believed Twice when Twice told him it was just a clone. “I’m okay,” you tell him. You bite his shoulder lightly to underscore the point, making him shiver. “I was a long way away from this.”

“I don’t want you a long way away. I need you – here –”

You slide your hand under his shirt and run your fingers along his flank, swallowing alarm at just how prominent his ribs are. Then you trace downward, finding the waist of his pants. Tenko goes tense. “What are you doing?”

“I need you to relax, or you won’t be able to fall asleep in time,” you explain in between kisses to his neck. “This is the best way.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No,” you say. “I miss you.”

“Me, too. No, you, too. I mean – fuck, I miss you too.” Tenko fumbles the sentence, but that doesn’t surprise you. Underneath the adrenaline rush, he’s exhausted, and you did just stick your hand down his pants. “Fuck, that feels good –”

“Good.” You tug his pants and underwear down to free his cock. “Relax.”

Tenko slumps, half against the tree, half against you. “What about you?” he mumbles.

“Don’t think about that.” You kiss his cheek, the corner of his jaw, and begin to stroke his cock in earnest. “Let me take care of you.”

It kills you that this is the best you can do – one quick hookup in the forest, before you feed him whatever he’s willing to eat along with a bunch of vitamins to make up for the nutrients he’s not getting and try to get him to fall asleep. But you’re never anything but pleased to have a chance to be close to him, and it amazes you how completely Tenko gives up control. His legs shift apart to make more room for your hand, tilts his head to one side so you can go back to kissing his neck, moans when your lips move over his scars. One hand is scrabbling for purchase on the trunk of the tree you’re leaning against. The other is glued to you, struggling to work its way under your jacket and shirt to make contact with your skin.

You told him not to worry about you, but you’re going to have a hard time walking back to the others like this. Your face is hot and you’re way too wet for the fact that you barely kissed him. This is Tenko’s fault. It’s his fault for going from too embarrassed to let you see his face when he comes to letting go of any sense of shame, and it’s your fault for finding it really hot. Are you really this addicted to being wanted, needed? When it comes to Tenko, absolutely.

The two of you have been together long enough now that you know when he’s close, just by the way his breath catches and his hips jerk. You pull away, ignoring Tenko’s protests, and sink to your knees in front of him. When you glance up, you find him staring at you, jaw dropped and face flushed. “It’s not as messy,” you say by way of explanation. You steady yourself with one hand on his hip and lean in to take his cock in your mouth.

Blowjobs aren’t your favorite thing in the world, but you’re a big fan of the effect they have on Tenko. You’ve gotten better at handling your gag reflex, and you never have to handle it for very long. Tenko lasts maybe thirty seconds before he gasps out a warning and his hips jerk sharply forward. You don’t let up, even when the taste of his cum fills your mouth. You don’t just need him calm, you need him relaxed to the point where he can barely keep his eyes open, and drawing back by degrees, lavishing attention on his tip as your hand closes around his length, is the only way you can think of to make it stick.

Tenko squirms but doesn’t tell you to stop, and a few small spurts of cum paint your tongue. You stop, draw back, and swallow a few times. Then you look up to see the results for yourself.

You’re sort of worried you might have killed him. He looks semiconscious, his chest rising and falling rapidly, lips split and mouth open to pant for breath. You pick yourself up off the ground, bringing his coat with you, and he pushes it away in favor of struggling to pull up his pants. His free hand slides almost absentmindedly between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans, and you’re so turned on that the sensation makes you gasp.

You struggle to stay focused. “We don’t have time.”

“It won’t take long.” Tenko’s eyes are barely open, but his mouth tilts into a crooked grin.

Once he’s got his pants up, he goes after yours, one hand down the front of them just like you did to him. His fingers brush your clit, then dip lower, and when you try to pull away, his other hand seizes your hip and pulls you against him, too tight to pull away. “Tenko,” you protest again. “There’s not enough time –”

“Not with that attitude.”

Your attitude isn’t going to matter all that much. Just like you’ve gotten to know his body, he knows yours – which means he probably knows how badly you want his fingers inside you and how frustrated you are that he won’t stop teasing your clit. But your attitude doesn’t matter, and you need him enough to take what you can get. It’s been a month since you were together like this. You miss him too much to say no.

His touch sends sparks through you, and you bite back a gasp. It’s hard to spread your legs wider when you’re standing, but you give it your best shot, and Tenko slides two fingers inside you. He mimics the shallow thrusts that drive you insane when you have sex, only this time, he’s been teasing you too long for you to hold out. You bury your face in his shoulder as his languid, barely-enough touches tip you over the edge.

When he speaks, he sounds triumphant – or maybe smug. “Told you it wouldn’t take long.”

You don’t know how much time Tenko just burned through. Too much. “Come on. We need to go back.”

“Say I’m right first.”

“Fine. You’re right.”

“I know.” Tenko yawns. “Love you.”

You kiss him instead of responding in kind, your mouth coming away bloody. “Let’s go.”

If Twice and Compress know what you were up to, they have the sense not to comment on it. If Dabi was here instead of off cultivating an ally, you’d never hear the end of it. You sit Tomura down next to the fire Twice must have built and dive into the supply box, coming up with food and water and the collection of vitamins you sorted out on the train. Tomura shakes his head. “I’m tired.”

“You need to eat.” Your plan might have worked a little too well. You hold two energy bars out to him and he grimaces. “Okay, fine. If you won’t eat, at least take these.”

Tomura makes an even worse face at the sight of the pills. “What are those?”

“Vitamins,” Compress says from across the fire. “Saintess has decided that we’ll get our essential nutrients one way or the other.”

“That’s right. I don’t want to have to treat any of you for scurvy,” you say. Twice snickers. You return your attention to Tomura and pull out your only remaining weapon, other than a whiny-girlfriend guilt-trip. “If you won’t eat and take your medicine, you can’t use me as a pillow.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You already did,” you say as quietly as possible. Tomura tries to glare at you, but the effect’s spoiled both by his mouth twitching as he tries to hold in laughter and the enormous yawn that swallows up whatever retort he was going to come up with. “Just eat a little bit. Please.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Tomura mutters, and you know you’ve won. You pass over the water bottle, followed by the pills. “Otherwise this would be annoying as hell.”

“I’d be a bad sidekick if I didn’t take care of you,” you say. “And I’d be a bad medic if I let any of you pass out from vitamin deficiency.”

“Or get scurvy,” Twice hoots.

“Scurvy?” Spinner and Toga are back, Spinner to relieve Compress and Toga to continue her mission to collect some of Gigantomachia’s blood. It hasn’t worked yet, but it keeps her busy. “Who has scurvy?”

“All of us, according to Saintess,” Twice says, cackling. “She’s gonna make us take our vitamins.”

“That’s right,” you say, as Tomura downs a handful of pills and chases them with half the water bottle. You’re worried you’ll have to fight him over the energy bar, but he peels back the wrapper and takes a bite without prompting. “Twice, get over here. You’re next.”

“So the supply pickup went okay,” Spinner says, coming closer as you hand Twice his vitamins. “You didn’t run into any trouble with Giran?”

“He gave me a hard time for not being a real villain, but that’s it,” you say. “He found the gauntlets you and Twice asked for. And the spare parts for your gear, Toga.”

“I can fix it while we’re waiting,” Toga says brightly. She peers into the supply box, then emerges immediately with a gasp. “This is a cute little gun! Who’s it for?”

“Me,” Spinner says at once. “I need a ranged weapon until I get better at throwing knives.”

You wonder if Spinner knows he’s covering for you. You can ask him later, once Tomura’s asleep. Toga doesn’t look convinced. “You need something bigger,” she says. “You have muscles. It’ll look silly if you’re holding such a small gun.”

“I’ll tell Saintess to send it back, then,” Spinner says. “Quit messing with it. It might be loaded.”

You’re pretty sure it’s not loaded, but your internet gun safety research made sure to point out that even if the gun looks empty, there could still be a round in the chamber – and Toga’s having a little too much fun pointing it around and striking poses. You need to put a pin in that, and you’ve got just the thing. “If you don’t quit messing around with that, I’m not going to tell you who I met today.”

“You just met Giran,” Toga says. You allow a smirk to cross your face. “Wait, who else? You have to tell me!”

“Put the gun away. Then I’ll think about it.”

“Saintess –”

The sound of a wrapper crumpling up yanks you clear of Toga’s whining, and you glance over to see that Tomura’s eaten both energy bars and finished the bottle of water. He looks even sleepier than before. “Okay,” you say. “How do you want to do this?”

Over the last month, Tomura’s tried out a variety of positions for using you as a pillow, and his favorite involves him sprawled out on top of you with his head on your chest. Your favorite is when he’s got his head in your lap and you can mess with his hair, but you’re not the one running a potentially-deadly sleep deficit. You find a rock to lean back against, and Tomura flops down on you. Usually he rustles around a bit, trying to get comfortable, but this time he’s out like a light as soon as his head hits your chest. It’s a deeper sleep than usual, which is good. He needs every second.

It’s not until you hear snickering that you realize where one of Tomura’s hands has landed. “I knew the boss was a boob guy,” Twice crows as you move Tomura’s hand off your breast, cringing the whole way. “There’s no way to go wrong. No, bullshit! The ass is where it’s at!”

Spinner shushes him, looking about as uncomfortable as you feel. Toga, meanwhile, drops down next to you. “I put the gun away. Tell me who you met. Was it Izuku?”

You’ve met Izuku. As of today, you’re two for three on Toga’s hero crushes. “I met Uraraka.”

“Ochako?” Toga squeals. Thankfully, Tomura’s too deeply asleep to stir. “That’s even better! How did she look? Was she wearing her school uniform or her costume? Say it was her costume – no, her uniform! We’d look so cute if we matched, don’t you think?”

You think Uraraka wouldn’t have been nearly as nice to you if she’d known you were going to report back about her to Toga. “It wasn’t her costume or her uniform. Civilian clothes. She had this pink coat –”

“Like mine?”

“No, puffy,” you say. Toga nods, beaming. She gestures for you to go on. “Um, and she had a hat that matched. With a white pompom on it.”

Toga looks like she’s going to faint. “Did you talk to her?” she asks. You nod. “Did she mention me?”

You don’t want Toga to have a heart attack, but you also don’t want to lie. “She mentioned Tomura and Dabi and you,” you say. Toga blushes. “I asked her about Eri – I figured even civilians would know about that, since her picture was all over everything – and she said Eri mentioned you specifically.”

“Wait, she remembers us?” Spinner looks alarmed. “How much?”

“More than I thought she would,” you admit. “But apparently it’s good. She remembers that we took care of her.”

“Ochako told you that?”

You nod. “It seemed like it was messing with her. The idea that we’d treat a kid we kidnapped well.”

“It shouldn’t mess with her,” Twice says. “We kidnapped the explosion kid and we were nice to him, too. And he wasn’t even cute.”

“I don’t like him. He’s mean,” Toga complains. “We should have stolen Izuku instead. He looks so cute covered in blood – I know you’d like him, Saintess –”

“I met him.”

Toga’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of her head. She swats you on the shoulder. “When?”

It takes her fifteen minutes to forgive you for not mentioning that you handed Eri off directly to Midoriya himself, and another fifteen minutes for her to interrogate you for every detail of that interaction, too. “You’d tell me if you met Tsu, right?” she demands, looking like she’s this close to drawing a knife on you. “You wouldn’t hide that from me. You wouldn’t dare.”

“I haven’t met her,” you say. “If I do, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

“Which one is Tsu?” Spinner probably wishes he’d left this conversation half an hour ago, but for some reason he’s still hanging on. “The pink one?”

“No, look!” Toga’s downloaded every UA Sports Festival video to her phone. She pulls one up and shows Spinner. “I love her big eyes and her hair – and she’s so mean! She says we’re not friends, but I know we are –”

“You have a crush on a heteromorph?”

Toga gives Spinner a weird look. “You can’t have her, she’s mine. But you’d have a crush on her, too.”

“That wouldn’t be weird. I’m a heteromorph. But you –” Spinner stops, shakes his head. “Forget it.”

“It’s okay.” Toga pats his shoulder. “Love is just weird like that. It doesn’t care about the stuff we care about. Like Tomura-kun and Saintess. Tomura loves her and he says it all the time. She loves him too but she never says it back. I would hate it if someone did that to me! But they don’t mind, so it’s fine.”

She gives Spinner a meaningful look. “I don’t mind, so it’s fine. Besides, I’m a heteromorph, too.”

She is, technically speaking – her amber eyes and almost-fangs are far enough from the human standard to count – but it’s a tone-deaf thing to say to someone like Spinner, who can’t hide who he is. You can tell it bothers him, but he stays put, and Toga eventually gets up to repair her support items. And Spinner stays. It occurs to you that he might want to talk to you. Alone.

He doesn’t speak up until there are twenty-eight minutes left on the clock, when it’s just him leaning against one side of the rock and you with Tomura fast asleep in your arms on the other. “How come you don’t say it?”

“What?”

“Toga’s right. He says it all the time, but you never do.” Spinner is cringing, like he can’t believe he’s saying this. You can’t believe he’s saying it, either. “What’s the deal? Do you – not?”

“Why are you asking me that?” You don’t mean to sound as defensive as it comes out, but you’re honestly confused. Then it occurs to you why Spinner, the person in the League who’s least likely to comment on anybody else’s life, is bringing it up. “Did he say something?”

“When? In between trying not to get flattened by Machia and sleeping for two hours at a stretch?” Spinner can’t make eye contact with you. He keeps looking away. “He said something one time while we were hiding. Asked if it was normal that you wouldn’t say it, like I know anything about girls.”

You think Spinner would probably do okay with girls once they got to know him. “If anything goes wrong with you two, it’ll snap his focus and he’ll get us all killed,” Spinner continues. “I want to see his vision come true and I don’t want to die. So I’m asking. That’s why.”

“I do,” you say. Spinner looks relieved, but he doesn’t look surprised. “I don’t know why I don’t say it. It feels like – a lot. Like something will happen. I don’t know what.”

Spinner gives you a curious look. “Something bad?”

“Just something.” This is making you feel stupid. “I do, though. I thought it was obvious.”

“I mean, it is.” Spinner gestures awkwardly at the two of you. Tomura’s still dead to the world, and maybe drooling a little bit. You must be really far gone, because you think it’s sort of cute. “Like I said. I don’t know anything about girls, but I don’t think someone who didn’t love somebody else would put it on the line like this. It was just a question. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You want to stop talking about this, and you’ve got a question for him. “Why’d you cover for me earlier? You must have known the gun was mine.”

“It would have freaked him out.” Spinner doesn’t have to say who he’s talking about. “He thinks it’s his job to protect you, since you’re his sidekick. And his girlfriend. And if you’re using a gun, you can commit actual crimes. The kind people get put away for. I don’t think he wants that.”

You’re pretty sure you’re already going away if you get caught. You haven’t directly participated except in the attack on the CRC, but that was probably enough to put you within Kazuo’s search parameters, and if your interaction with Uraraka told you anything, it’s that the villain named Saintess is officially on the heroic radar. But Spinner’s got a point. Right now you can only be charged as an accomplice to the League’s crimes. That charge carries a significantly lighter sentence than whatever you’d do with a gun.

Still – “Tomura can’t be everywhere,” you say. He stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. “I can’t have him getting distracted trying to look after me, so I have to be able to look out for myself.”

Spinner doesn’t answer, but you know he knows you’re right. “Don’t tell anybody I have it,” you say.

“I’m not going to lie to him.”

“Don’t lie to him. If he says “hey, Spinner, does my girlfriend have a gun”, tell him the truth.” As far as you’re concerned, it never needs to get that far. “Just don’t tattle on me.”

“Don’t say tattle. Say snitch,” Spinner corrects. ‘It sounds more – villain.”

That’s the second person today who’s knocked you for not being villainous enough. “Fine. Don’t snitch on me.”

“Deal,” Spinner says. It’s quiet for a moment. “Do you ever think about what happens when we win?”

“You and me come up with a new world that doesn’t suck?”

“Besides that,” Spinner says. “Like what has to happen for it to count as a win. We don’t all have the same answer. Toga thinks it’s a win as long as the stuff she likes makes it through. Twice probably thinks it’s a win if Toga makes it, and Compress probably just wants to do the same stuff he’s always done and not get arrested. Who even knows about Dabi.”

“He’s got a mission,” you say, and Spinner snorts. You’re starting to see where he’s headed with this. “What about you and me?”

“We win if we build the new world,” Spinner says. He glances down at Tomura, whose hand has migrated back to your breast in his sleep. You move it off again. “And we lose if he’s not in it.”

You blink, taken aback. “I don’t have another best friend,” Spinner continues. “I can’t replace the one I have. And you can’t replace him.”

“I know,” you say. And then, without thinking: “I tried.”

Spinner stares at you, opens his mouth, but before he can say a word – and before you can backtrack straight to Yokohama – your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. So does everybody else’s, plus Spinner’s watch and your stupid laptop, which is shut and supposed to be off in your backpack. The clamor sends a jolt of pure fear down your spine, just like it does every time you hear it. It’s your timer, synced to everyone else’s. Gigantomachia’s awake.

Tomura lurches awake, in command from the second his eyes open. “Twice, send out a double to buy us time. Make it run.”

“It can only run as fast as you can –”

“I’ve gotten faster. Send it to the hills. He’ll have a harder time with the terrain.” Tomura gets to his feet, and you scramble after him. He turns to you. “Get clear. We’ll drop a pin once we have a new campsite. Will you –”

There’s not time for that question, and he should know the answer. You silence him with a kiss. “I’ll be there.”

He’s already peeling off his gloves, fastening on his family’s hands, scanning the horizon. “I love you.”

You remember what Spinner said. The question Tomura apparently asked him. How just showing it might not be enough. That you shouldn’t expect it to be enough – but you can’t get the words out. You need to try something else. You grab his hand, careful to avoid his fingers, and raise it to your lips, kissing the heel of his hand, the center of his palm, the ridges of his knuckles. His hands have so many scars now. He’s being hurt, and you can’t help him. There’s nothing you can do.

Tomura’s grip on your hand tightens, index fingers raised. The ground rattles slightly beneath your feet, and he lets go. “Run.”

Compress has already contained the supplies; Twice has stomped out the fire. He and Spinner have their gauntlets, and Toga’s support item is fixed. They’re ready to go, and so should you be. You spare one more glance for Tomura, then turn to flee, bolting into the woods alongside Compress as Gigantomachia’s silhouette appears over the horizon.

The two of you shed your disguises at the outskirts of the same town, uncompressing the supplies to reorganize them. “Spinner forgot his gun,” Compress remarks. “Shall I hold onto it?”

“I will,” you say. “We’ll see him at the same time, and nobody’s going to search me.”

Compress nods. “I’ll be getting some sleep. I’m three days behind. What about you?”

Your phone pings with a fresh text, and your heart sinks when you see the number. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of. Keep me updated.”

Compress nods again, and the two of you split. He heads down the street, probably aiming for the capsule hotel you scoped out on your way into town, and you go in the opposite direction, towards the train station. You don’t check your messages until you’re waiting on the platform.

You texted Kazuo a few days ago, asking him a question, ordering him not to look unless his health allows it. You’ve been anxiously awaiting his reply, if it comes at all, and now you’ve gotten six texts from him in a row. Your heart races as you open them.

Kazuo: Yoshimi is in remission. Mitsuko and Ryuhei are supporting her in your absence. All three appear to be doing well.

Kazuo: Their involvement with your friend has not been noticed.

That’s good news. You’ve been thinking about her. And about them. For a moment, you’re almost suffocated by a wish that you could celebrate with them. You gave up your old life, your old friends. And you miss them even more than you thought you would. You swallow hard and keep reading.

Kazuo: Your codename has appeared on the official roster for the League of Villains. They are attempting to track you by quirk and criminal history, and therefore coming up empty.

Kazuo: I’ll keep you clear as long as I can, but if they sufficiently alter their questions, I won’t be able to.

Kazuo: I was able to look into the question you gave me. It was specific enough to instantly rule out all other answers, so I thank you for that.

Kazuo: The answer is yes. Congratulations.

Your eyes go blurry, and a second later, your throat closes off. Your train arrives, but you don’t get on it – instead you sit down on a bench, staring down at the floor between your feet, trying not to cry and furious with yourself for wanting to cry at all. You asked Kazuo to use his quirk and see if you – you, identified by your birthdate, blood type, height, career, and city you were born in, for all the specifics he could ever need – have a latent quirk. You trust his word over the doctor’s. His quirk isn’t wrong, ever. You told yourself that you’d accept his answer as the truth. You were hoping he’d say no.

Instead he says yes. You do have a latent quirk, something that’s been hidden your whole life because the conditions necessary to awaken it have never been met. They’ll probably never be met, and your quirk is probably worse than useless, but the fact that it’s latent means you’ve spent your whole life being treated like you’re quirkless when you aren’t. You should feel cheated. Instead you feel betrayed.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. If you don’t know what it is, it’s like you don’t have it at all. Nothing needs to change. You don’t need to tell anyone. You tell yourself that, but it doesn’t make much of a different. The doctor knows, and so does Kazuo. So does All For One.

The next train arrives long before you’ve calmed down, but you get up and shamble aboard anyway. Nobody looks at you – not for long, anyway. Most people go out of their way to avoid seeing others’ pain. When your eyes have cleared a little bit, you take your phone out and start looking up firing ranges. You might not be able to be useful to Tenko and the others with your stupid, latent quirk. But you can definitely be useful to them with a gun.