#and off i go to work!!! have fun with this information

[starlight299]

I am a firm believer that Steve will never, ever, admit to being sick/injured/whatever, he’d rather die than have to either ask for help or have someone look at him with enough concern to then ask him if he needs help. He did not like people caring for him because it reminded him that his parents didn’t.

He almost gets away with it, when he had shitty friends that would pester him into going to a party with them while he actively had a headache, but that stops working after he met literal monsters. He got away with pushing it all off the first time. He never went to the doctor, and nobody asked him to. The second time he wasn’t so lucky.

He gets through the kids awful setting a tunnel on fire plan and then, once back in safety panics about the kids taking care of him and how absolutely uncool and pathetic he must’ve looked. He argued with Joyce and Hopper about going to the hospital because he’s fine, it’s not his first fight, and he can handle it. He had a serious concussion. Hopper takes him to the hospital and orders him to give his teachers all the doctors not banning him from reading while it heals. Steve tried to argue but Hopper said he’d call the school if he didn’t, so Steve gives the stupid note to the teachers but then does all the reading anyway because Hopper didn’t say he had to listen to the doctor just that he had to hand his teachers the note. His teachers all looked at him weirdly.

He thought that would be the end of it but Hopper started asking him to come around the cabin and cook for El and stuff like that. Hopper knew about the migraines and Steve wanted to bury himself over it. Especially when he told El all the signs to look for and she, bless her, told the rest of the kids because she wanted to be sure Steve was taken care of. Steve did not want to be taken care of. Nobody used to care, it was all too much way too fast.

When his father forced him to get a job at the mall his headaches got even more frequent, the lights there seemed to bother him super efficiently. The first time he got a full on migraine at work Robin he was hung over and made fun of him, he rolled with it. She didn’t need to know. Then of course she got involved in all the upside-down bullshit and of course the kids blabbed to her about Steve’s previous and present head problems while the paramedics looked over them. (At least he didn’t have to go to the hospital since it was literally out of commission due to the mindflair.)

Robin did her own research on migraines plus all the information the kids gave her and she always forced him to take breaks or go home when she got them a new job at family video. At least they were less frequent there than they were at the mall. When Eddie joined the party Steve once again tried to keep him absolutely unaware of the less pretty side of Steve’s life. Robin blabbed about the migraines anyway.

Steve was never going to win. He still hated it when his friends tried to take care of him. He was used to handling himself or ignoring but for whatever reason his new friends were completely against that. The only thing he had left in hiding his pain was pretending he didn’t get nightmares at least three times a week because despite Robin’s pestering he was not allowed to stay overnight at her house. Her dad would shoot him. Unfortunately, he could stay the night at Eddie’s. At first sleeping with someone else seemed to help the nightmares, but eventually, he had to get one. Edie cuddles with him first an hour afterwards, despite Steve insisting that he was fine.

Truly the last thing he had left, was that nobody knew when his birthday was. Not even Nancy, she never bothered to ask, he knew hers though. Unfortunately for all of Steve’s friends a birthday wasn’t something they could figure out by observing or sending him to a doctor. He could keep that secret. If they threw him a birthday party he’d probably cry. He hadn’t had a birthday party since he was eight and they weren’t even for him, they were his parents party’s with family, his parents friends, and some of his dad’s coworkers. Steve wasn’t allowed to invite other children. He could not handle a birthday party. Robin and Eddie pestered him about it every now and then but Steve wasn’t breaking anytime soon.

[hoiststowline]

second meetings [aka, the day after you first met w/ ultra magnus, cliffjumper, sideswipe & hound]

ultra magnus’ impromptu arrival is initially more for business-purposes, hardly pleasure for him nor you. it isn’t until after this meeting that he would come to realize he throughly enjoyed your company, entranced by your input and easygoing nature. yet, when he first arrives, it’s to complete sweeping amounts of documents, information about you that he would require for more paperwork later. you’d actually laughed, thinking he wasn’t serious, but quickly understand that magnus is the kinda guy to poke fun, at least in this regard. hesitantly, you step upward and into his proffered cabin door, but calm down instantly when you find that his words paint him a better picture: intelligent and trustworthy. you’d end up chatting for hours, conversation drifting away from a formal tone to somewhat casual, magnus so uncharacteristically distracted he doesn’t realize the time until blaster is radioing him. “perhaps we can resume this another time,” he tries, uncertain of your reaction to such a suggestion. “I’d like that,” you respond, a much calmer posture adhered to your body language, sincere. magnus hadn’t wanted to depart so soon, but opts to let this one go here, knowing that it would pick right back up where it left off whenever he had the opportunity to meet with you next.

upon arrival back from work, you come to discover the red beetle parked in your driveway, headlights dimmed out. briefly, you can recall cliffjumper mentioning swinging by to check up on you the following day, but you hadn’t taken his words to heart as he appeared so indifferent to such an idea. yet, even if he was the one who suggested it, it hadn’t seemed like something he’d actually follow through with. carefully, you exit your own vehicle and begin up the concrete, jumping slightly as his headlights blink to life and the passenger-side window rolls down. “hi.” is all he says at first, to which you pause before offering a short wave. “ratchet sent me to check on ya. you’ve been gone for a while.” swallowing thickly, you nod before answering. “I had work today. I’m sorry,” even though you can’t see his eyes, it’s as if he blinked confusedly at you, perplexed by your answer. “you don’t have to be sorry. ‘m the one intrudin’.” eventually, the conversation would spin off into other topics, and simultaneously cliffjumper had slowly begun to shed his tough-guy armor. with each passing moment he recognized a growing fondness over you, though not quite dropping his armor entirely. you weren’t all that bad, admittedly, though silently impressed by your sympathetic and friendly demeanor.

sideswipe’s visit is all pleasure, the exact opposite of ultra magnus. the red sports car rolls up to your curb and waits for you to come outside, engine thrumming loudly and impatience high. but he doesn’t want to startle or scare you, so eventually when you do cross the lawn, his window rolls down immediately to better address you. “you came back?” you ask, not out of annoyance, just plain confusion. “of course I did! we had a good time yesterday, didn’t we?” while at first you wouldn’t call it fun, sideswipe had shown his true colors from the start: he’s a lighthearted guy and pretty laidback. your personalities meshed well, and the red lambo couldn’t quite get his mind off of you since he dropped you off back home. “yes, yes we did.” you breathlessly laugh, impressed by his enthusiasm once more. “to what to I owe the pleasure?” you follow up with, and that question momentarily stumps him, but his surprise is well masked. “I dunno. do you wanna go for a drive or something?” he offers, passenger door swinging open before you can even reply. he’d enjoyed your company immensely, and would like to learn a little more about you, if you’d have him. after a brief pause of contemplating, you nod, a small smile brimming as you maneuver into his cabin and sideswipe now finds it increasingly difficult to contain his excitement.

out of any of them, hound’s visit was more for peace of mind. both yours and his, as he lingers, tucked away at the end of the street to observe your house and surrounding areas. just to make sure you were safe and unharmed, as he was now terrified of something happening to you on his watch. you need not to worry as long as you were his charge, but that didn’t mean his unease would deescalate any sooner, still moderately afraid. after an hour, he swallows his nerves and risks his chances, rolling forward as you exit your home to collect your mail for the day. “hello.” he warbles, but is quickly mesmerized by your simple wave and small smile in return. “jus’ makin’ sure you were alright,” hound confesses, never quite able to pass as a believable liar. “i’m fine, thank you. how are you?” the exchange ends up moving locations twice, first to your driveway, and then your garage as it begins to rain. he had attempted to leave you be once the storm started, but you had politely asked him to stay if he had the time. and who is he to deny you, especially when you’d been so forthcoming and understanding regarding the whole ordeal? he wants this to last forever, but knows he must return to base once the storm lets up, a disappointing revelation. hound had been so nervous and worried about protecting you, when there was so many positives to this situation, including your kindness and companionship.

[balkanradfem]

To make a pond + Earthworks!

I've been enamored by the idea that I could build my own pond in the future, but when I started looking into it (typing 'how to build a pond into youtube'), all people did was put a big plastic tarp into a landscape and add water inside. That wasn't what I wanted. I wasn't about to bring a plastic tarp in my environment, and it was obvious that once the tarp gets damaged and punctured, the water would drain into the soil and the pond would be no more. That's no fun.

Unable to immediately find a better way, I turned to my own brain to figure this out. There were natural ponds in the world, and somehow they didn't need a tarp to hold all that water in. Artificial lakes existed, and for sure there weren't any tarps holding the water in. Rivers don't drain easily, and they usually have a lot of sand on the bottom – but sand is a very drainable material, so that's probably not it.

I stumbled upon an interesting piece of information when I was learning about rocks. By some definitions, ice is also a type of rock, so there was a lesson on icebergs. I found out there that sometimes icebergs split apart and travel in the water, and when a huge chonk ends up in a non-icy landscape, it eventually melts and it turns into a lake. There were pictures of lakes that looked like they had no business being in that landscape, but were there because an iceberg had melted there. The water didn't drain or ran off, why? I assumed it was because the iceberg was so heavy it compacted the soil underneath, and the compacted clay was enough to hold the water in.

So I started playing with the idea that if I locate a soil with high percentage of clay, and then dig a pond, and then line the bottom with the highest-density clay I can find, and then I redirect all water from the landscape to go towards that pond, maybe I could make a little pond in there. Possibly it would dry out during the summer but for the rest of year, having a natural pond would be very nice. I wasn't sure if this logic would hold but then I also couldn't see why not. Clay doesn't drain easily and there's lots of it deep underground. I would grab a shovel and try.

I got an additional piece of information reading a book about collecting and filtering rainwater to make it drinkable; the book recommended before you do anything about this, you need to learn about 'Earthworks', a system of modifying the earth's surface to keep as much water in as possible, and to redirect it to where you want it. I immediately liked this, because I had already planned to do that, but I was interested in tried and true methods. So I looked it up, and one of the first videos I've found, was of people deciding to make a natural pond in the forest. They found the most dense clay-rich ground, dug to see if it was super dense and non-draining deep in. Then they created a dam to stop water from flowing past the pond, and redirected all rainwater that would fall into the forest, towards the pond. And it worked. It filled out within a month or two. It wasn't draining away.

I felt so vindicated, the logic I had put together in my head was real and I could see how other people did it in real life! And I learned about berms and swales; they're methods of making your ground uneven, so it could take in and hold more rainwater. Berms are little hills you make that have good drainage, and swales are shallow canals you make inbetween the hills; they hold the rainwater, stop it from flowing away from your property, and redirect it to where you want it to, for instance to irrigate a garden, fill a pond, or to water a big tree you want to grow.

The methods of keeping rainwater from evaporating are currently relevant, because the climate is getting unstable, and rain is no longer as consistent as it has been in the past. I've noticed that we now get tons of rain in the spring, winter and fall, but next to none in the summer, creating a drought. The forests and the animals feel it too; they struggle to survive the summer, and a lot of plants and animals die from lack of hydration, which they didn't need to deal with beforehand. There's also less ground covered by old resilient trees and foliage that keeps the water in the landscape; clean cutting forests means dry ground, water evaporating, streams and canals drying up, trees drying up because of no water supply.

The people who were building a pond in the forest were not doing it for fun and giggles; they noticed the natural streams of the forests have dried up as a result of cut areas and lack of consistent rain. The forest was in danger of drying up. So by building a system of swales (or trenches) to redirect rainwater, and ponds to store it, they've managed to revitalize parts of the forest. The forest around the pond was visibly greener within months, wildlife was multiplying around the pond where it could get water, new flowers and native plants were flourishing next to the pond.

Slightly modifying the landscape to keep water in is something people do to prevent the spread of deserts; digging half-moon shaped holes in the ground to hold water has enabled trees to grow even in the driest, sun-heated areas. I've been fascinated by the methods of growing trees in the desert! And right now we need to make sure other livable  green areas don't start turning into deserts, because the climate is threatening it, and the animals are unlikely to survive it all on their own.

And if you build a little pond, you're gonna have more birds in your backyard. There's gonna be little frogs and turtles and tiny critters coming to drink from your pond. Maybe a little lizard or a snake. You're gonna be able to plant flowers around it, your trees will be happy, and if you want a great big willow, she's going to enjoy that water too, and purify it with her roots. I'm still putting it together in my brain if I could make a little swampy area and plant rice in it, that would be the ultimate success.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Creature Craft

hi! your writing’s cool :) do you have any analogical fics in the works? (my fav is queerplatonic comfort/fluff, but anything is good!) – amateurmasksmith

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: analogical

Word Count: 1848

It's a strange service. It promises to help bring out the best in you by showing you your worst so you understand yourself better. Or at least that's what he understood from the drunk rambling phone call when his friends needed another person to sign up for it so they could all get the discount. *** Virgil finds himself an unwitting participant in one of the newest magical fads: a personal spell that will create a creature just for you. The service claims to offer each participant an insight into how they fit into the world's magic, what their strengths are, what their weaknesses are, areas for improvement. The process is...more than challenging, the outcome...perplexing.

It's a strange service.

It promises to help bring out the best in you by showing you your worst so you understand yourself better. Or at least that's what he understood from the drunk rambling phone call when his friends needed another person to sign up for it so they could all get the discount.

There's a confirmation email that explains a bit more about the program. Basically, the magic is shaped over two trial periods and the spell is completed by the end date. Everyone gets together to send out their last approval and spend the rest of the night drinking and gossiping about what fun it's going to be.

A small envelope arrives two days later.

He opens it up and tips the contents into his hand. A small seed falls out along with a scrap of paper. The sees is small, innocuous, almost a rock instead of a seed. He turns the piece of paper over to reveal a small printed note that just says 'Plant Me.'

"Hello, little one," he whispers as he holds up the seed, trying to figure out what it is, "may I look after you for a little while?"

He takes the seed to the store, asks what it could be, what it needs. He gets no clear answers but recommendations. He goes from store to store, and when even that doesn't help, he turns to the internet.

He never learns what seed it is, but resolves to try his best.

The others get plant seeds too and he learns about how beautiful their plants are. He's still waiting for it to sprout, but eventually, he gets a little green shoot. He sees the pictures the others send of their plants—vibrant colors, incredible blooms, vivid green leaves. He asks what they're doing and they give him answers like: oh, I just stuck it in any old soil and water it when I remember.

I prune all the ugly parts until it looks good again.

I told it it'd better grow well and it did.

He doesn't do any of that. He waters it when it looks like it needs more, the right amount of light, eventually it begins to grow more and more and the others start clamoring for pictures. He hesitates before sending them.

Maybe you just got pranked, they say, it looks ugly.

There are thorns everywhere, oh my god.

It's monstrous.

He doesn't mind not really. He tends to it just as carefully, whispering that it's okay, you don't need to be pretty, I'll still take care of you. It grows a little more.

Then, three months after it first arrived, the plant is gone and he has an email informing him that phase one is done.

Then, a crate appears on his doorstep.

He brings it carefully inside, looks at the label from the company and the simple card. He opens it to reveal the words: 'Take Me Home.'

The box hisses.

He carefully opens it, bit by bit, only to have his eyes almost scratched out as a blur of fur comes up and out of the box and off into his apartment.

Learning how to live with a feral cat is not easy, especially one that refuses to let him see it. He quickly tarted keeping his door closed to his room and asked a local pet shelter what best to feed the cat. He kept the food open on the floor—dishes were a no-go—and did his best to set up a litter box.

He didn't learn quick enough to hide his breakable things from the cat's wrath. He lost more than a few photos and vases. The cat hisses at him, scratches him bloody, and turns the house upside down.

Still, he tries to be patient.

He moves everything dangerous out of the way. He feeds the cat, cleans up after it, and respects its space. It's claimed an old closet and drags its prizes there, camping out like some army protecting its position. It's scared, he understands, it's just trying to feel safe.

The others, who are bragging about their own impeccably trained animals, say he's just doing it wrong.

Then one day, he's cleaning the kitchen when the cat bolts along the counter and knocks off a glass. He lunges forward, just managing to catch it, as water spills everywhere. He lets out a breath and turns to set it down.

As he turns, his elbow hits his favorite mug and knocks it off. It falls to the floor and shatters.

Slowly, he sets down the glass and sinks to the floor, burying his head in his hands. All the frustration and irritation about the cat, the seed, his friends for roping him into this, all of it starts to come out ion bitter tears. Soon he's sobbing, fists pressed to his eyes.

He didn't want to do this. He didn't want this, didn't want to care for a plant that grew to be monstrous, didn't want a cat that hated him and tore his house to shreds.

But how could he hold it against them? They didn't ask for this either.

For long minutes, he sits there and cries, refusing to take it out on anything other than himself, as cold tea drips to the floor.

Then something soft brushes his leg.

He moves his hands, eyes widening when he sees the cat nosing at his leg. It looks at him and does it again, for once gentle and seemingly unafraid of him, tail swishing back and forth.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out to offer his hand.

It sniffs it delicately and rubs its head against his palm.

"Hello, little one," he croaks, "may I look after you for a little while?"

The cat purrs.

Slowly, slowly, they learn. He gets off the floor and cleans up the remains of his shattered mug, throws it away and watches the cat walk off towards its den. It stays where he can see it that night, eating in front of him.

They navigate each other's space, understanding how to move around. Things begin to return from the den, back to the rest of the house. It begins to use the litter box, spending more time where he can see it. Sometimes he messes up. He gets scratched for his efforts but he never retaliates, always bandaging his wounds and making sure not to do it again. The cat is always wary for a while after those moments but forgives him when he leaves.

Then, one night, as he settles on the couch, it curls up in his lap and purrs.

He lowers his hand to its back slowly, as if at any minute claws will dig into his legs. But they don't and he brushes soft fur, feeling the purr intensify.

"Good kitty," he whispers, and the cat looks up at him, blinking real slow, "thank you."

He's almost sad a few days later when he comes home and the cat is gone, his apartment as though it had never been there—his favorite mug still broken, though, when he checks somewhat hysterically to make sure he hadn't imagined the whole thing—replaced with an email that says phase two is complete.

His friends are all excited, saying how they can't wait for their rewards at the end of this, ow much they've been looking forward to it. They look at him and his monstrous, feral magic and whisper that it won't end well for him.

When the final day comes, he learns that he can't make the scheduled appointment at the place because he's been called into work for an emergency. The company understands when he sends them an apologetic email, telling him that his spell needs a bit more time to settle, they were going to contact him saying as much anyway. The night before, he curls up in bed and lies awake for a while, staring at the spot on his windowsill where the plant once sat, where the cat would lie. There are deep grooves int he wood from its claws.

Despite how rough of a time he's had, he does find himself missing their presences just a little.

When he gets home from work on the day the others have their appointments, he looks at his phone and balks.

Mine tried to kill me, a friend says, it was awful! Like I would only listen if I was pinned against the wall!

They were horrifying, they had big pus filled things and warts all over them, says another, they looked like something out of a horror movie!

They stared at me and called me ugly!

They tried to order me around like I was their servant!

Thy tried to hurt me, said I was being misbehaved!

They were so mean to me, I wanted to cry.

I'm suing, they fucking ripped us off.

What happened to the nice flowers and animals? Didn't we do a good job training those?

I want those back. Those were nice. I could handle those!

He puts down the phone with shaking hands. He feels awful, the thought of his friends having to go through that, hearing all that abuse hurled at them. No one deserves that. Is it true? Is the spell a scam? It was always important to read though things first, but…

There's a smarting suspicion in the back of his mind that something more is going on here.

As he gets ready for bed that night, a horrifying thought crosses his mind.

If the others grew such beautiful plants and had such perfect animals and had spell results this awful…

…what on earth was his going to be?

Sleep doesn't come easily that night.

The company never specified when his spell results would be in, so he's caught completely by surprise when he comes home one day.

There's someone sitting in his living room.

They turn to look at him as he walks in and he breathes in sharply.

They're…they're really pretty.

Their hair is short, swept up off their face. They have glasses. They're dressed in a Henley and dark wash jeans. They look at each other in silence for a moment before he swallows, suddenly feeling terribly under dressed in his old hoodie and sneakers.

"Are…are you here for me?"

They nod and stand up.

God, they're tall.

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself to be insulted, hurt, even attacked, squaring his shoulders and setting his backpack on the floor.

They stop in front of him and he tries not to blush at how intensely they're staring at him.

….they're so fucking pretty.

Their hand moves.

Then the other.

Slowly, so slowly, and with enough tenderness that it almost threatens to make him cry, they cup his face and smile.

"Hello, little one," they murmur softly, "may I look after you for a little while?"

[kero-cure]

1 Year anniversary of Boonboomger episode 1 premiere, The series that I never had any single thought that I gonna love them that much when I saw them at first

This time of last year, My life was pretty good. I enjoy my multifandom fangirl life as always, Taking with local friends, Discussing with western friends on discord, Playing some games, Building gunpla, It was a normal life but good. For tokusatsu that I love (and usually have a main focus on Kamen Rider) for more than 10 years now, I was on the hype train of Kamen Rider Blade 20th anniversary event. It was so happy that my favorite series had a spotlight again and still love by the communities. But in fact, I was pretty much on a faraway position from toku fandom since a long while now. I knew that Kingohger was a peak (I have some goods too) And Gotchard came to the half of series. But that time I was too faraway to ride on the hype train. Maybe because toku fandom wasn't my main focus fandom like I used to be. I was just enjoy some information about them when it come to my timeline and go to check if something fun happen.

When I heard a news about Boonboomger at first. I laughed a little from how funny the name is and made fun a little. Like Boom Shakalaka or Boom-Boom Shake (I'm in D4DJ fandom too). After I made a joke, I went back to my main focus fandom again because I thought "Well, Nothing gonna change. Know some news and look at them from far place like always. And my focus in toku fandom are usually Kamen Rider anyway" And when they appeared officially, People laughed at them because how funny the tire heads are. I was surprised too. Yeah... It was crazy design. But I always think that design isn't the most important thing. The story are. So I was waiting for the next information. Then February 18th, The cast revealed. I giggled again, For the third time. Because how the character name are too literally car-related names. Tire, Chassis, Mirror, Lock, Work site. But yeah... Still a normal thing in anime or media that sometimes the character names will bring from something that match the theme of story. So I was like... Okay lol. But the casts visual are so good. I admit.

Finally, First episode premiere. I looked at them from faraway position as usual. I knew that people still so impressed of how Kingohger was that much epic. So I assumed that Boonboomger that go back to simple way might not able to catch their attention that much at first... Or maybe not? How Sentai decided to go back to simple way after all of the craziness for many years might be a good thing, Let us rest for something more simple like a good old days. And after I checked a feedbacks, I was surprised and happy that how the audience like them after many laughs on them. Well, Simpleness aren't bad thing at all. But I will end up just checking on them from faraway again, right? Well, On the same day production blog was update too. As I checked a feedback from audience on Twitter, One tweet that captured one part of that blog caught my attention and it tickled my curiosity. That sentenced said that the blue "loves" (大好き) the red. Since I'm also long time fujoshi for many years that have lots of ships in toku fandom too, I was wonder a lot. Why they put that word so blatantly? Normally about shipping in toku, Just put something like have a strong bond, Strong interesting on other, Or trust that person a lot, is enough to gain an attention from fujoshis. But "Love" Huh??? This caught me off guard. I was like "Well, I'll keep check on them because I'm so curious right now"

So, I went back to main fandom like I always do. But keep checking on Twitter and Facebook every week after the on-aired. I found that they really keep caught me off guard. Outside of how normal but fun to watch story. The dynamics of the characters that interesting. And as my curiousness was on that certain blue boy, It kept escalated lmao. The "Unfair", "Trust your judgement", "Don't leave me behind" all of them came after the word "love" on production blog. They caught my attention and won't let me go because my fujoshi sense was tingling so bad. And his character settings have lots of my favorite tropes too. That time I still thought that "My interesting on them might be not that hard". But then, My local friend that I knew for many years but didn't talk to each other that much for years started addict to Boonboomger. She drew lots of BBG fanart. And of course since she's fujoshi like me, She drew fanarts and spicy fanarts of red and blue too. And those fanart kept come into my timeline. Lots of male friends joking about them too. Everything was too perfect for me to... Maybe comeback to toku fandom again? One day on May, That local friend decided to make a first Tiremeter doujishi. And when I saw that announcement, Even though that time my interesting still wasn't on the super high level, But I was like "I have to get one!" So I DMs to her since many years. We reconnected from the love for them. And then after that for a bit while the plushies was on sale and I decided to bought it. That time I was like "Well, Point of no return for me. Maybe I love them now."

I went to Japan for Kamen Rider Blade 20th anniversary event on August, But I enjoyed Boonboomger stuffs too like watched the on-air real time, Went to eat at Sentai Restaurant and buy some merches. After that I checked on the latest episode every week and enjoy the overall aspect of the series. The lovable characters, The simple but fun story. And they lit my fire to back to toku fandom for real since that time current main fandoms was on stable (and had too little things to enjoy) status. So yes, Toku fandom became the main fandom again since many years. And after that Gavv was able to caught my attention from the design and how cute Gocizos are too so, Fever time! I connected to lots of friends who have the same interest. Even in JP communities too. Since that local friend help me (or drag me) to this rabbit hole, I have to help her access to JP communities to buying doujinshi too. And with our power, It was successful (But our wallet are completely defeated)

The fire that Boonboomger lit inside me wasn't only the feeling of excitement since long time, But my development and improvement too. I already got lots of confident boost about my drawing from previous fandom. When I saw my friend made a second doujinshi, I said to her that I wanna join drawing the extra pages too. That was a first time in my life that I could break the limit of my drawing and the old thought of "My work will never be able to sell" and I was so proud when I saw my arts as a form of doujinshi in my hand even though it was just an extra pages. After that my will to improve my art skill became stronger and I keep on going until now. I even think about what if I revive my fiction writing skill that I left it dead for 8 years too? Well... Maybe. And another one is... Yep, Me came back to Tumblr because I wanna yap about my bois! This maybe a little improvement of my English skills.

I, Who usually mainly attract to Kamen Rider and enjoying Super Sentai from a bit far away compared to Rider (I grew up watching early Heisei Rider before knowing Sentai for a pretty long while so), Finally found Sentai series that I really love, Found actual oshi that I stan a lot, Found OTP that made me excited and brainrot so damn bad since Build. (As I said before that I'd never into toku ships that hard since the best match bois) Found the 3rd IRL person that I stan a lot since last time that was 10 years ago. And I feel really thankful to meet them and everyone that came to my life because of them.

I'm a person who have to take lots of time to like something a lot. But if I really into that thing I'll keep into it and never change. Since my fever time on Boonboomger still strong so maybe I need lots of time to find another series that made me crazy like this again. I don't know if Gozyuger gonna be another wave of my craziness again or not since I need a time to know them a little. But I think I'll enjoy a new series from a little faraway position like always. And I'll never forget how Boonboomger changed some parts of my life. Because a fire of passion inside me already lit.

I'm really glad to meet you guys, Tire person.

[cherubcameron]

Igual Que Un Angel

Chapter Seven

Synopsis: Sofia is pregnant, and the last thing she needs is for Rafe to find out. It’s her dirty secret, it’s not like he’s barging down her door to speak to her. He looks as if he’s done with her for good. Will outside forces, force Sofia to confront the situation at hand. Or will she be able to keep this secret up? Not like, her belly isn’t growing everyday or anything.

Authors Note: thank you so much to @beautyinsteadofashes for the graphic!

MASTERLIST

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Two 1/2 months later

At first, he hadn’t realized she’d been missing. His business deals were becoming more and more complicated. The land he wanted to turn into a building complex, the owners wouldn’t sell. So he had to bite back his losses. He’d been too busy with that, to realize Sofia hadn’t worked in weeks. Months actually. —Not only that, he’d been so busy helping Sarah with her new baby. Little JJ was a hassle. Always crying, always needing to be fed. His diaper changed. Rafe didn’t mind it. But he hadn’t realized how swiped up he’d gotten into all of it. Especially since they were still in a custody battle with Rose. There was a lot on his plate.

He also barely had been showing up to the Pelican Yacht Club.

“Hey Phil.” Rafe says, leaning against the counter. Phil turns, regarding Rafe with a polite smile.

“Hello Mr. Cameron. Do you need anything today? A drink? Foo—”

“I’ll like to know where Sofia is.” Rafe says, a firm smile on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Phil looks around the bar, his eyes reverting back to Rafe.

“She’s not working today.” Phil says, his eyes keeps adverting from Rafe and Rafe can’t help but feel agitated.

“Yes, Phil. I can see that. I’m asking you where she is. Not if she’s here or not.”

Phil sighs, “That’s confidential information, I’m sorry. I can’t give out information like that to patrons.”

“Phil, you’ve known me since I was five. Come on.” Rafe raps his fingers against the counter, but still Phil doesn’t budge.

“Not with this kind of stuff, Rafe. I can’t, I could get fired.” He places back down a saucer he was holding.

“Don’t see it like that. If it’s just between us.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not risking my job. I have three kids.” Phil moves around the counter, walking towards an elderly couple.

“Phil—”

“Rafe, I mean it. Let it go.”

“You have to Sofia! It’ll be so much fun! It’s just a baby shower.”

“Lupit—” Lupita cuts her off, Sofia purses her lips.

“Oh come on, you’ve been hauled up in your house; since you’ve been on maternity leave. You deserve to have some fun too.”

Sofia sat back, gnawing at her bottom lip. She finally met lupitas eyes through the screen.

“Christmas just finished, I don’t want anyone thinking I’m trying to munch off of them. Plus New Years just passed. I don’t want anyone feeling obligated to get me anything. Plus I have—literally no friends. And you live so fa—”

“Well…”

Sofia brows furrowed, she finally sits up. A little bit of a struggle, now that her belly was fully round now.

“Lupita. What aren’t you telling me?” Sofia eyes narrow, as Lupita’s smile widen.

“Guess who’s coming to Kildare?”

“No fucking way. Lupita don’t play with me right now.”

“I’m not! I promise, I’m going to be there soon.” Sofia squealed, Lupita let out a laugh.

“Te extrañando muchísimo.”

“Yo también. Te extrañé muchísimo.” Sofía smiles at her cousin through the screen.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone anymore.” Sofia couldn’t help but feel a huge weight lift off her shoulders. “So come on! Baby shower! Baby shower! Baby—”

“Okay, okay!” Sofia laughed, shaking her head. Sofia puts a hand on her stomach, feeling the baby kick. She’s been doing that a lot more lately. Which Sofia was grateful for. It felt nice to have a reminder that she was in there.

“Plus I can help you plan it!” Lupita says, through the screen Sofia can see her shaking with excitement. “You don’t have to even lift a finger. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty; as you open your gifts. It doesn’t have to be a big thing.”

“Hey, I’ll still like to help in some way. What day do you come here?”

“In two days.” Lupita says, grinning. “Oh! I keep forgetting to ask. What’re you naming the baby?”

Sofia stared down at her stomach, “Well, since she came into my life unexpected. And completely turning it inside out.” Sofia hand caressed her swollen belly. “She’s brought a light into my life; that I desperately needed more than anything. I’m naming her Aurora, it means dawn.”

Lupita breath hitches, “Wait, that’s so cute. She’s like the sun in your life.” Sofia eyes prick with tears, nodding as she does so.

“She’s my little dawn. My Aurora.”

Sarah tapped her leg gently as she rocked her baby back and forth. Little Jay, as John B called him, slept soundly asleep against her chest.

“She’s going to use, your past drug addiction against you in court, Rafe.” Sarah lightly patted Little Jays back.

Rafe leaned against the kitchen island, “I’m clean now. Doesn’t that like— amount to something— I’m not on any drugs.”

“I know, I know.” Sarah says, still patting Little Jays back.

Rafe scratched his head, he stared out towards the sliding doors. “This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“Well, you can’t exactly snap your fingers and suddenly we’ll have Wheezie. They’re going to look at everything Rafe. They’re trying to make sure we’re fit to take care of Wheezie.”

Rafe tapped his fingers against the counter, his eyes squinting in thought.

“Am I really the only big factor if we get Wheezie or not?”

Sarah gave him an exasperated look, Rafe rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up.

“Plus your past behavior of violence doesn’t make us look good.”

Rafe eyes squinted, “Look I get it—”Someone opens the front door of the house, they both snap their necks to see Kiara coming in.

“Hi, came to see Little Jay.” She has a warm smile on her face, her eyes lighting up as she spots the little bundle of joy in Sarah’s arms.

“Oh my gosh, Kie! I’m going to pretend like you’re here for me instead of the baby.” Sarah practically glows as she sees her best friend.

Kiara laughs, “Can’t help it that he’s so cute and makes me want to pinch his cheeks.” Rafe regards Kiara with a simple glance. Before walking to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of water.

He turns, he does a double take at the way both Kiara and Sarah are gawking at him. Mouths wide open.

“I drink water, okay.”

“Me when I lie.” Kiara says sarcastically, causing Rafe to glare at her.

“Okay, I don’t need to take your shit today.” Rafe pours himself a glass of water. Kiara rolls her eyes, as Sarah delicately places Little Jay into her hands. Kiara cradles him into her arms, her eyes now focused on him.

“Rafe.” Sarah scolds. But Rafe keeps drinking his water, agitated now that Kiara is in his house. Rafe continued to roll his eyes, he knows he’s acting childishly. He knows this is the kind of behavior he was trying to change from. But sometimes bad habits died hard.

Plus he was still agitated that Phil had completely dismissed him. Where the hell was Sofia? A part of him knew he shouldn’t care about her anymore. Not after the whole Groff and Hollis situation. But it was nagging at him, that something deeper was going on.

The stress from knowing something was going on. And he had no knowledge of what it was—it was killing him. Then the Wheezie custody battle with Rose.

Then his business deals going south. Rafe rubbed his head, placing the cup of water down briefly. Stress was an understatement on how he felt. He just needed to focus on the things that mattered. Like little Jay, Sarah and getting Wheezie back. His mind briefly wanders to Sofia but he shakes his head.

His thoughts were cut off as Sarah spoke.

“Oh uh Topper told me—”He doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to know what Topper told Sarah. He doesn’t even let her continue as he walks out the room. They’ll talk about Wheezie another time.

January 12 2025

Sofia hugged Lupita, her arms circling around her cousin. Lupita hugged her back, trying to not hug her too tightly. Sofia was starting to secretly dislike how everyone treated her like she was fragile. Thankfully, Jane was such a big help in making her feel comfortable. They talked on the phone a lot more. Sofia always seeking her advice. What kind of diapers do newborns get? What kind of clothes to? From where? Where were the cheaper options? When could she go back to work to take care of her baby?

Sofia let her cousin go, Lupita placed her bag down onto the floor. Lupita scanned Sofia, her eyes going to Sofia’s rounded out belly.

“Your baby bump! Sofia, she’s getting bigger everyday!” Lupita says smiling, her hand going onto Sofias stomach. Lupita giggles as she feels the baby kick.

“She kicks like crazy too.” Lupita shakes her head in glee. Lupita sits down on Sofias bed, staring around.

“You’re doing okay, Sof?” Lupita asks, she pauses briefly, “Your dad—has he come around.”

Sofia stared out her door, “He uh… offered to built me a crib for the baby. From scratch.”

“So he’s warming up to it then?” Sofia shrugs, sitting down carefully on the lazy chair she brought herself.

“He’s coming around to it, I think. He’s been talking to me again. But he doesn’t really mention the baby.” Sofia hand rests once more on her swollen belly. “But a start is a start right?”

Lupita nods, “Oh that reminds me. I already made the flyer for the baby shower. Let me use your email so I can send it to the people you know.”

“A flyer? Lupita, why a flyer? Why emails? No one is going to open those.”

“Please most of our family is old fashioned. I know you and my mom send emails back and forth. And Tia Cassandra too. So hand your phone over.” Lupita gesticulated for Sofia to hand it over. Sofia placed her phone into Lupita’s hand. “Let me just send it to you first and then I’ll send it out as an email to everyone else.”

“Okay.”

Lupita pulled out her phone and began to send the email to Sofia. Then she began to send it to everyone that Sofia had on her email list; on her phone.

“Okay, that’s everyone. The fact that you email our family members is weird, Sof.” Sofia cheeks felt like they were burning.

“Shut up.” She said, ducking a little as her head went inwards. Lupita laughed.

“You freaking nerd.” Lupita approaches her, placing Sofia’s phone back into her hand; kissing her cheek. “Te amo mucho Sofia. You’re going to have the best night of your life. I promise you.”

Sofia smiled up at her cousin, happy that she finally felt less alone. Lupita had a way of always lighting up any room she was in. As childish as her cousin could be. It was nice to know someone had childlike wonder.

“Te amo también.” Sofía lips pursed into a gentle smile. “Now, let’s go see the crib my dads been making in the garage. Come on.” Lupita helps Sofia up from the lazy chair;the both of them; headed towards the garage.

Ruthie sat on her bed, trying to find something to watch on her laptop. She was sick and tired of Topper bitching and moaning about Rafe. It was all he could talk about.

Her laptop pings with a notification from her email. Probably having to do with something she probably didn’t care about. She was tired of her dad trying to get her into his business. She wasn’t one to care about those things. She preferred to just shop, host the galas that she always did. And call it a day. She rolled her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. She groaned, “For fuck sake, can’t I just get a damn break from this shit?”

When she finally clicks on the notification, her eyes widen in surprise. Then narrowed in suspicion. Why was Sofia sending her a email? She hadn’t needed her to cater for her again.

Then she sat up, “Holy fuck.” She can’t help the grin that spreads along her face. Can’t help but feel almost triumphant. “Well that explains so much.” Ruthie grins, “Sofia, Sofia, Sofia. Looks like you have one hell of a secret you were trying to hide.” A malicious laugh leaves her lips, she shakes her head.

[currentfandomkick]

Edit: HEY tumblr ate half the post. Just noticed so. Here’s the rest.

—

“Nah. She’s one of my best friends back home and gets both sides of the mask. Like Batgirl and Robin are better off as friends than dating—though Cass and Babs have granted me honorary Batgirl Rights a while back. We do spa days and movies nights.”

“And we’re not invited because???”

“Not a batgirl or honorary; as declared by Oracle.”

“And that matters as…” Greta baited while Cissie shook her head.

Tim paused his calculations to turn to his friend. “First Batgirl gets to decide, duh.”

The group erupted at that.

Tim smiled. Just a bit. Baby steps with reveal and all. Hopefully the Ivy alliance overshadowed the ‘ability to hear plant speak and learning to use it.’

He loves them, but its just. A lot of anyone wants to help with his abilities and how to compensate. Telling Virgil most of it had been a pain, and easy enough as he was a teammate but not. Not Just Us, not one of his chosen family members he'd switch sides for.

He still can’t quite articulate how it makes a difference, just, that it does. The degree of separation and long term personal investment and stakes are just. Lower with Virgil than most Titans, let alone Tim's team.

Virgil helps with exposure therapy, sure, and Tim listens to him work through what to do with his family. He’s the emotional support Robin, but this time its mutual.

Its also fun to see how his pitch can affect Static’s control and vice versa. Tim is working on more compensation tactics for long range combat not relying on his weapons.  And Virgil smiles more and ruffles his hair on occasion.

The two did agree that given Dick’s own habit of… hallucinating Jason, it was better to not tell Dick about Jazz and the cause of his narcoleptic tendencies with his insomnia is a red head dream-walker who was his older sister in a prior incarnation.

Too much of a chance Dick would try to steal his sister for his ginger allies and ex’s club, they agreed.

—

Dana raised an eyebrow as a teen that was not her step son came in through the window.

The boy was unfazed by her being there.

“Is Tim here? It took ages to track him down,” the teen complained.

Dana hummed, wondering how to answer the red head around Tim’s age in front of her.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Oh, right. Tim is my Robin." the boy offer his hand. "Anarky. Or Lonnie. I bet you heard a lot about me!”

Dana came to understand Bruce’s adoption habit at the way Lonnie had a clear mask of false bravado.

“Not much, he keeps what happens in his Mask to himself and tells us small anecdotes here and there. He did mention you a few times though.”

She idly wondered how her husband would handle her potentially adopting a former rogue to their semi-retired vigilante son.

“Cool, cool… so he’s not here now?”

“I’ll see when he’s on his way and let him know you’re here.”

“Okay, okay… can I get your WiFi while I wait orrr….”

Dana passed him the sticky-note with the information.

Not even five minutes later Tim rushed in and Lonnie perked up.

“Found you! Now you have to help me!”

“That is not how it—“

Dick Grayson barged in next, looking at her son and potential second son with a wide grin.

“You got you’d. By a rouge.”

Lonnie stuck his tongue out at Dick.

Tim looked up at the ceiling, clearly calling for powers that abandoned Gotham long ago.

Dana did laugh when Lonnie babbled about a plan to take out another corporation dumping into the harbor. Why he hadn't handed that off to Ivy, she didn't know.

She hummed, grabbing a snack for herself and putting on Star Trek. If the boys present were going to talk about things outside of her jurisdiction, that was a problem for them.

Tim shushing them as she picked which iteration, made her smile.

“Uh, is it okay to help with this one?”

“Online or in person?”

“Online! Just the hacking part! No in person vigilantism like we agreed,” Tim threw his hands up in his defense.

Dana texted her husband code yellow-green.

He agreed to be home to discuss the issue of how involved Tim would be with Lonnie’s scheme in an hour. They did know this could happen, given the early signs of a new alias' construction.

Dick had the courtesy to buy them all takeout using one of Bruce’s cards, while laughing at Tim.

It was good to see him being less tense, more relaxed now that things were in the open. And if she finds Lonnie’s situation lacking, they do have a spare guest room. Lonnie would just be required to stick to this ‘hacktivist’ thing rather than bombing buildings once he moved in until after college or trade school.

Doxxing would work just fine, in her opinion. So would reporting their tax fraud to the IRS if what she’s seen Tim try to do to a number of people, given he can’t fight them as Robin or another alias again quite yet in Gotham.

—

Tim feels like he should have seen Bernard and Darla walking in on him and Lonnie mid-hacker fight against Black Mask as a bad thing.

Instead Bernard asked if Tim wanted any more info and Darla just hummed at him until he and Lonnie got what they wanted.

Irrefutable proof that Black Mask is Roman.

Once they got out, Tim kept grinning and Lonnie was cackling beside him.

Tim half wished he could tell Stephanie about it right then and there, but she’s patrolling right now.

He’s also tempted to find the new player in Crime Alley and see what the newbie does with this information. So far his moves have fascinated Tim, and amused his father.

Bernard toyed with Tim’s additional “protected by” pins. Harley and Ivy merged territories. So new pin for both of them. Being Harley’s “duck boy” was more than what he expected. But her actively helping him find a discreet therapist for former vigilantes in Gotham is nice. Stephanie decided to throw her own pin at him a while back, and Oracle nearly branded his stuff with her call sign.

Anarky still has Two Face’s pin, and Bernard is running around with a Penguin one recently. Darla was pin-less, but her necklace made it clear which crime family she was from.

“So. Whose life are you ruining?”

“Exposing Black Mask,” Lonnie damn near crowed. “Now it’s how to release it, and when.”

“Hm, gala party, or when he’s on TV?” Tim mused. The goal is the reveal being done when he can’t run away; pinning him physically until less corrupt authority figures arise… and preventing their intervention.

“Isn’t he visiting Metropolis for Lex’s thing,” Lonnie asked while scrolling through Roman’s calendar events.

Tim hummed. “If we drop this as a tip to Superman…”

“You mean you,” Lonnie clarified. “I’m still on probation. Legally speaking.”

Tim shook his head. “Fine, I’ll go and pass it on to Superman through his inbox and spam him until Roman’s arrest.”

“Excellent!”

“Do we even exist when you two have a project?” Darla asked.

“There are voices, but not helpful ones to the cause,” Lonnie answered.

“I’d be more offended,” Darla glanced at the multitude of computers between them. “But I don’t think I can be here.”

Bernard hummed in agreement, wrapped around a content Tim, high off a case’s major breakthrough.

“So, how big will the shake up in Gotham : underground be?” Bernard asked, eyeing Darla.

“Pretty monumental given Roman’s hands in everything. Power vacuum will suck. Think the Newbie can use it? Guy has been listening to the working girls before profit,” Lonnie muttered. "and good with environmental protections."

“That would mean poking Bat’s latest fixation…" Tim leaned into Bernard's embrace like a cat into a sunbeam. "And probably able to absorb a decent chunk of the areas near the Alley, and hopefully take out more of Mask’s lieutenants. If we can get Oracle in on this, maybe save more victims too.”

Lonnie whooped.

Bernard got that mad look in his eye that reminded Tim his friend joined multiple pain-cults on his own out of boredom.

Darla leaned over to grab at Tim too. “Save the world is over, now it’s mall time. Your mini can come with.”

Lonnie doubled over at that. “Thanks but no. Enjoy your date!”

“We will!” Bernard answered as he and Darla dragged Tim away.

Jack yelled to “wear protection!” While Tim protested his friends calling their hangouts dates lately. Only when it was the three of them however.

He could feel Jazz laughing at him and something about history repeating. Still no idea which history she means, or why it’s so funny.

Bernard and Darla did continue to refer to Kon as his ‘bi-awakening’ and stated they can wait for him to get over the "situation-ship of his life," but are retaining joint-custody of him.

Tim is fairly certain they’re just being supportive, and joking about the legalization of polycules in Gotham… right?

The Aquista family member tailing them did tell Tim not to “break her heart” only for Darla to shoo them off as “oh, he’s processing this is a thing still.”

Bernard did laugh as Tim blinked owlishly at the pair and the guy giving him a… platonic shovel talk? Darla hummed, stating regardless of if the three date romantically or platonically, Tim is Theirs Now, no returns.

Tim did his best not smile at that, and failed miserably as Bernard agreed.

Bernard grinned and dragged him into the middle of one of the growing group hugs the three end up in.

Harley perking up mid-robbery when she spotted Tim passing by and teasing him about his dates with Darla and Bernard, the pair proudly nabbing his hands as “some of us aren’t scared to take them” did confuse him further.

He came home to the Poly Pride flag slapped onto one of his cactus pots. At least it was painted?

Jack reminded Tim about maintaining his group and individual relationships with Darla and Bernard.

—-

Tim showed jack his latest design for a new vigilante ID—the one he wanted to transition into.

Phantom Shriek.

He still had leaps and bounds to go on training with Static. Dick caught them in an exposure therapy session and took to giving Tim stickers.

He later caught Tim and Ivy practicing his scream and plant speak.

Nightwing did not stop hugging him, and said something about his brothers all being alive and different but its okay and kept babbling.

Ivy knocked him out for Tim, and he called Wally to pick up his best friend.

Ivy said she already figured him out a few weeks after their lessons began, and had known about Dick for almost a decade.

Tim did his best not to laugh hysterically. He failed and screamed for a bit.

She helped him minimize the damage.

Wally came in on that and agreed to give Tim “bat berth”.

It reminded him weirdly of Amorpho and his deal back in Amity. Ancients, he missed it like a phantom limb some days.

Finding out that the more danger he’s in, the more abilities he has, had been a Time to work out with data sorting.

Harley helped with triple checking his numbers. And consoled him mid-break down.

—

Tim gave the info to Clark Kent while visiting Metropolis with Dick.

Clark gave him a look before asking Tim if he and Conner had a fight.

When Tim answered Kon had been avoiding him and he didn’t know why, but he was giving his clone boy the space he made clear he wanted.

Clark froze.

Dick adding Tim had a girlfriend and boyfriend too now, so Kon must be jealous of Tim for bagging two partners and showed off pictures Dick got of their “dates.”

Clark must have had some realization as Tim pointed out that “it’s just Bernard being Bernard and Darla going along with it. They’d have to ask me out first, and Bernard is into Darla. And Darla is my friend, not girlfriend, or, the kind you and Kori are Dick.”

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that Timmy,” Dick answered while Clark kept an eye on Tim as he wandered off to give Lois more scoops about corrupt multi-billion dollar companies and debate which tactics to destroy them systematically before the rats can jump ship.

—

Luthor invited Tim to the very event that Roman would be exposed at.

Lois grinned at him when she saw him with his Dad vibrating in place while going over a particular artifact's importance to showing signs of civilization, while Dana chimed in with the healed broken bones as better proof.

Tim did side with Dana, but argued settled civilization’s best sign was yeast-y pottery for bread and beer.

Lex brought out Kon during the discussion. Kon who froze when he saw Tim.

Tim waved awkwardly, message well received Kon didn't want to see him, before Cassie ran over with Cissie and the two began interrogating Dana and Tim and Jack in turn.

Kon didn’t approach him the whole time. Which.

He’s had less painful vivisections, if he's any bit honest with himself. The bear trap was easier to deal with.

He doesn’t know why that rejection hurt as much as it did.

Cassie ran off to check up on Kon while Cissie grumbled about cowardice and took to bugging his dad over various ‘hunting projectiles’ used in various areas and their methods. It was as good a distraction as any, his dad's voice soothing something that smarted something awful.

Tim kept his growing glee off his face as the pings went off and the cops poured in. Black Mask was exposed as Roman. In Metropolis. After his local allies had been picked off earlier that week, one by one.

And his arrest and trial are outside of his political connections and strongholds, while Lex is in one of his ‘PR parent’ moods.

The man is cooked.

Cissie looked at Tim, sensing him shedding his attempt to look sane. He put that mask back up quickly.

Tim feigned innocence while Dick barged over to “check” on Tim and Cissie over the shock.

When things settled down, Kon and Cassie returned with Kon freezing at the sight of Tim, who decided to see if the poor houseplant wanted a larger pot. At least the plant would talk to him, and he had chosen to be out as a meta with his parents' help over the last few months.

As Tim Drake, he was going to admit to being capable of speaking ‘plant’ and hearing them since the JJ incident. Which is public knowledge, and trauma induced meta gene activation is well known.

Cassie flipped Kon off and dragged him over the rest of the way, while Kon kept his eyes on Tim’s ‘barely noticeable now’ scars around his mouth. Like those were all that mattered and all Tim was now.

Like the portal accident with Sam and Tucker checking his pulse daily all over again.

“Tim, uh, how you holding up?” Kon tried, obviously not wanting to be around a tainted Tim.

“Okay.” He wouldn't force Kon to talk to him when he clearly doesn’t want to be around him. “I think we’re leaving soon, I should do my goodbyes. Good to see you.”

Cissie shot Tim a look as he escaped.

Kon grabbed his arm. Too tight but Tim is a fast healer. “So. Virgil?”

Tim blinked slowly. that was what Kon wanted to talk about after limitless radio silence? His frustration seeped into his tone. “Helps me with the triggers. And I listen to his.”

Kon almost let go at that. “Oh, oh,” he spoke too softly.

Tim tried to pull back. Kon let him.

“Anyways yeah,” Tim put more distance between them.

“Say hi to your dates for me Timmy!” Cassie yelled as he left and waved her off.

Tim missed the panic in Kon’s face, already turned away.

The rest of the gala did not. Gossip was brewing.

“I’ll send them your love Cassie!” Dana yelled back with too much teeth.

Jack looked between his son, Kon and Dana’s too-knowing look he’d come to trust when it came to emotions.

“How is my son’s life a soap opera. How," he muttered as he herded Tim and Dana to the car.

—

Okay! Let me know if i forgot tags and if you want another part as this is a lot of fun to write.

Pt2 reincarnated Tim gets the Wail aka Phantom Shrike

Part one here

Virgil let Tim in, leaning against the wall as Tim looked about his room, clearly searching for where to start as his head looked everywhere, largely at the walls and floor, but not directly at Virgil.

“So," Tim began as he wrung with his hands awkwardly. "I’m going to guess you noticed the early reflexes thing and flinching when you use your powers or Nightwing lights up his escrima sticks?”

Vigil raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t need to be a detective to see that a mile away.”

Tim took a seat at last, settling the urge to scream as the beanbag chair engulfed him. “So, Dick told you all about the uh, JJ incident, or do i get to explain that?”

Virgil moved back to his desk, moving his project to the side. “Just that it was bad.”

“It was.” Bad enough to revive a former lifetime and activate his meta gene. “Kind of shot him, but not me? He’s still in a coma from it.”

Tim waited for Virgil’s reaction. Virgil merely turned to face Tim again, sitting backwards in his swivel chair with an unusually neutral expression.

“I, uh, always had a thing with electricity before that.”

Tim fiddled with his hands again. Counting taps in twos and threes. Dad mentioned it after his last anger management session as a grounding technique. Tim found it… useful. For other things. Largely subduing shrieks, and kicking his trauma triggers in the nuts—when he was certain it was rude to break out tetris anyways.

“Mom called it ‘soul memory hugs’, and not to look into it when I was a kid.” Tim continued, tapping out one of his favorite songs in a modified version of morse code.

He remembers going to Janet in the middle of the night, asking where the nice red head girl went, and why she was crying when he got shocked in his sleep and everything went green. Janet just soothed his concerns and reminded him that the Talons don't go for society kids, but maybe the little girl lost someone and Tim reminded her of him. That he was not responsible for the girl and to let her come to him on her own terms, but to keep a few back ups prepared "just in case" and had him sleep with salt in hand and an iron bracelet.

“Didn’t stop the flashes of," he still couldn't adequately describe the flickers of his pre-Tim life. Of a realm made of ectoplasm the way theirs was made of carbon. The sentient food, watching people walk off injuries that should have crippled them, or the Fenton Driving Watch for the weather. Tucker's laugh and his varied PDAs, or Sam's smile promising someone pain. Dani's joy when she stabilized and befriended Val. Val's everything. "Of something,” he finished lamely.

It'd all been so difficult to pin down back then, as it was too vague without the rest of his memories giving context. A hand holding his. Someone protecting him, other times being punched in the arm or patted on his shoulder almost in condolence of some sort.

“Usually just a warm feeling that uh, stuck if it was static, no pun intended!”

Virgil shook his head with a smile, leaning into the cushion of the chair. “Sure thing Rob, keep going.”

“But when I started going out as Robin," it began a bit before, when he was gathering more evidence of Bruce as Batman to validate his threat of exposing Bruce's secret identity if that was the only way to the man to stop and get help. The sense of dejavu and the stray thought of 'Wes is rolling in his grave' that he never could explain away…

"As Robin," Tim repeated after a beat of silence. "and got hit anytime? It, it changed." his taps stopped being to any song at all. Mouth pulled to one flat, Tim continued. "Flickers of something," he leaned his head to one side, before moving it to the other as he spoke. "Became more and bits of something else.”

Virgil leaned back minutely, face starting to tinge with pinches of worry. “Do any of the Bats know about that?”

Tim shook his head. “B wasn’t, uh,” Tim fiddled with his hands more, not taps or morse code. More hand wringing and flexing phalanges. “In any state to even recognize I wasn’t Robin the Second when I started,” he confessed.

Virgil seemed frozen, like he was mentally recoiling as he moved from his chair to perch on his bed to see Tim and be closer to him for some reason. And now far more attentive than the earlier lull.

Tim shrugged off his concern, as it wasn't like anybody was unaware of how badly Bruce took losing Jason, or how badly Batman took flying solo. People are excellent at ignoring inconveniences to them. and a compromised bad was inconvenient to the GEL.

“No one noticed in the field as Robin was still who he called. My job was to deescalate him, not the other way around.”

Virgil pinched his brow. “So your mentor was violent, and you mentored him rather than mentoring you.”

“Yeah, for most of the three years I pieced him back together. He had me go through the ringer and work under a lot of mentors for combat. Some villains too.”

Tim briefly wondered if Lady Shiva’s offer would extend to helping him take out Joker… And if he could live with himself if he did. Joker killed Jason and was a contributing reason to his parents' hesitation to letting him take up a mantel again in Gotham.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, trying to push that thought aside and the relief of it out of his mind. “Didn’t really tell B things until it was mandatory or necessary. And I wasn’t Robin like Dick and Jay were. I wasn’t and won’t be his son. Just the kid pulling his ass out of his own head and enforcing his old code on his ass. With whatever weapon I need to keep others safe.”

“Hey, Rob?" Virgil interrupted. "You do realize what that sounds like out loud, right?” Virgil's form radiated tension.

Tim could only give a strained smile in return. “Dad and Step Mom lectured me on it and not sacrificing myself for someone that can’t even see me, not the people they wish I was.”

Virgil shook his head as he leaned back. “No wonder you’re off patrol in Gotham.”

Tim let out a long exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Dad sort of wasn’t around until after Mom died, and uh, fixed his priorities.”

“Deathlike do it,” Virgil muttered to himself bitterly.

Tim tactfully ignored that as he knew it was something for Virgil to reveal to his family (not being dead) not Tim’s brand of meddling.

“So uh, Dad always knew about the memory hugs, and more recently the uh, flickers? I've been calling the longer and more detailed memory hugs that. A lot of people get flickers of previous lives and shit, so no need to tell Bats when he frankly couldn’t tell ass, elbow and knees apart.”

Virgil whistled long and low. “Cool, cool… so what does that have to do with the Joker Incident and the extra sensory shit you’ve clearly got going on.”

Tim took a deep breath. “Joker uh, used electric shock repeatedly as a way to torture me. Tried to re-write my memories to be his kid, not B's."

Virgil froze.

“Which is ridiculous. If anything, B was my kid." Tim curled his toes as the memories tried to creep back in. He wished that etiquette allowed him to play tetris right now—to distract him from the phantom sensations.

"Same thing happened in the last life and it," he struggled how to articulate the change of impressions and images to the meshing of time and emotional intermingling. "It stopped being flickers."

He bite his inner cheek and could feel the barely noticeable mouth scars pinking as he bit down. All while Virgil's eyes watched his every move. "More, more like flashbacks, I guess. A lot of time being tied down with an asshole demanding I kill my dad and join him as his evil apprentice. Sometimes it was bleeding memories and superimposed images of people I knew then onto people I know now. And it uh, kicked my meta-gene into activating.”

Virgil finally moved, visibly tabling most of what he said. The tension in his own shoulders dropped when he realized he wouldn't have to go back to that horrid laughing place in his mind . “What kinds of activating, and how’d they emerge?”

“A few my step mom clocked—I could hear better and had a larger pitch range that my voice cracking couldn’t hide. Mostly on their own but the uh, scream one is uh, a work in progress on emerging still.”

“So you can hear people coming from further away?” Virgil surmised.

“Not exactly. Its uh, complicated<" Tim let his shoulders and hands do the talking again. "A local eco-terrorist and meta is helping me with where it overlaps on her turf. Apparently plants can hear a lot more than we thought and have opinions on my singing skills. Mainly, that they suck.”

Virgil took a deep breath and looked up. Tim waited for him to give the okay to keep going.

Virgil waved him on once he was done pleading to the ceiling for something to make this more bearable.

“So uh, Ivy is teaching me how to understand plant languages, in exchange for beach cleanups and something I already planned to and had in the works.”

“A rogue is teaching you about your powers, and the adult who you were monitoring in hindsight has no clue.” Virgil rubbed his face before looking up. “And Dick, he looped in?”

“Not yet, I uh, want to know more before becoming a pet project for the extended Bats, you know?”

Virgil conceded that much.

“And its only one aspect the rogue knows! She helps a lot of metas hide their abilities and teaches them how to cope and work with it on their terms. B knows about her doing that and doesn’t interfere with that part of her work. Everyone knows about her doing it.”

“But not regarding you?”

“Its," Tim scrambled to find the right word. "Its complicated.”

“A lot of things with Bats are.”

“Look," Tim held his hands up in surrender. "My dad will go down for attempted murder, if not murder one, if B is around me anymore. I don’t know what they said, but Dad found out about Robin a few weeks after I escaped the JJ incident…”

Virgil paused, face loosening as something clicked. Shoulders slack, he muttered, “you almost died, didn’t you?”

Tim bit his inner cheeks and scars, tapping a littler harder than before. “Legally dead a few times during it, and uh, got to relive the times I died in my last life.”

“How Bad?”

Tim could feel Maddie cutting into him, could see her comparing his insides to Ember’s.

“Mad scientist parents found out I stopped being fully human. It, it was, it was bad.”

“Shit.”

Tim swallowed dryly. “Yeah. Uh, I was hoping, no pressure or obligation, if you’d be okay helping with exposure therapy with electricity. Yours doesn’t sound the same as, as,” Tim felt that urge to scream grow in his throat. He clamped his hands over his mouth and used that trick from Fear Toxin.

“Tim?!”Virgil stood up.

5 things he could touch. His mouth, shoes, ground under his feet, the chair he was sitting on, his clothes.

4 things he can see. Virgil, door, poster, desk.

3 things he can hear. His breathing (too quick), Virgil’s static field, hum from the lights.

2 things he can smell. Stress and BO.

1 thing he can taste. His teeth.

Tim dropped his hands as his throat loosened to safe speaking levels as he repeated the steps. “Sorry, just uh, some stress requires screaming now and it, its not safe to be in the blast radius.” Tim ran a hand over his face. “Learning pitch control still and the screams tend to uh, level things. Missions are fine, the, the flashbacks…”

Virgil nodded slowly. “Not far off from Canary then. Talking about JJ triggers it?”

Tim nodded with a hard swallow. “Talking about the, the memories from the life where my parents uh, killed me and the dying by them after half dying from fixing an invention of theirs and having multi-dimensional portal kill and revive me simultaneously multiple times does it too.”

Static opened and shut his mouth. “Flashbacks frequent?”

“Yeah, kinda. Telling my body we’re not being strapped down and vivisected is uh, not something it likes to believe. And survival first, questions later. Fear gas is so much easier to handle,” he complained.

Virgil nodded slower this time. Tim knew it was a lot to take in.

“So, a Canary Cry?” Virgil began once the silence began to stretch to uncomfortable.

“Kind of?” Tim read her file enough before just in case, and he had clear add-ons she didn’t have. “Enhanced hearing too, but I can use infra sound and hear it if I tune into it. Also can hear the weather more than usual.”

“More than—you could hear the weather before?” Virgil stared at him.

“Assumed it was the autism,” Tim dismissed. “Could be both now.”

Virgil shook his head, possibly grumbling about 'white boys' under his breath. “Any other metas in the family?”

“Not that are still around. Dad’s cousin had a similar voice ability,” Tim talked around the issue of Black Canary Senior being his disowned cousin. “But never met her. Fled long before I was born on Dad’s side. Mom’s is a mystery in general unless you ask for someone specific about a specific event or topic.”

Virgil shook his head. “Okay, but are you sure nothing else has gone on, anything unusual?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Broke down Batman’s resistance to me being Robin using what Mom taught me about destroying my enemy’s mental fortitude, so… I don’t think so.”

“Think on it. And I can help with the exposure therapy thing if you want, but getting any help for all of this besides me?”

“Step mom, Dad, and Ivy. Robin’s supportive but doesn’t know any specifics… I think. She caught me during training on a surveillance mission, only knows some powers. Dad, step mom and me are the only ones that know about all of them.”

Virgil sighed. “Bats can’t know?”

“Not if we want my dad to stay out jail.”

Virgil looked up at his ceiling. “Planning to your tell your friends?”

“…When I have a better idea of how to control the screaming part. They were already convinced I’ve been meta since we met.”

“Might have been.”

Oh, Tim had not thought that part through.

“…maybe? I’ll have to work that out at home… and thanks. I mean it.”

“No problem man, just try not to mix me with anyone you knew last life, or not too bad.”

“You’re safe. More worried about mixing current friends with my dead ones.”

Virgil shooed Tim out.

Tim relaxed, just a touch, before going back to cases in the commons and catching Stephanie up on Titans BS with everyone chiming in.

It was good to be home.

—

Tim knows, logically, he can tell his team about being murdered by his parents in his last life. He also remembers meeting Greta and knowing she wasn’t truly Dead, which is something he can’t explain fully still…

Virgil might have had a point about being some sort of meta (or maybe magic?) long before the JJ incident. Most kids can’t evade Batman and Robin for years just to take pictures of them mid-flight.

Maybe a sound nullification ability or something to that effect… he can bribe Ivy to help experiment with it later.

The problem is he doubts Kon wouldn’t lead the charge with his dad to summon and beat up said former filicidal parents. And he knows that the whole team would be on board if they knew.

He would rather not see Maddie or Jack again. Especially while awake. Jazz showing up a bit different in his dreams and complaining about his broken sleep schedule making it harder to visit was something he remained on the fence about telling anyone.

Possibly harass Captain Marvel about it as that guy said nothing about people’s shit unless it becomes a game of which plane of existence you can stay on… but even then, tracking him down without bat-tech is a game of whackamole.

There’s also the complication of Tim being very aware he likes Kon, and not necessarily as a friend alone. Which. He doesn’t have time for the additional sexuality crisis on top of his varied identity crises at the moment and the media’s questions about the two Robins and if Robin was gender fluid, flux or only out as a girl in Gotham and a young man elsewhere. He cannot add ‘crushing on a teammate’ to his list when he and Stephanie only broke up a week before the JJ incident and are just now easing back into their old friendship. He doesn’t want the amputated feeling of losing a friend again because he keeps catching feelings for them, and is 10,000% certain he should not touch romance until he’s in a better mental state.

He has Problems on his plate, and it’s already overflowing. He’d rather not break.

And he loves his friends. But he has no doubt that Cassie would set up the pitchforks rather than stop any of the retribution his father was undoubtedly planning. He can’t gift-wrap his friends as minions in his dad’s crusade to fuck over the Fentons across dimensions, spacetime and afterlife status.

He did manage to make a small list of oddities for himself about his capacity to do things that were vaguely ghostly or similar to powers he’d pieced together.

So far potential intangibility or density shifting, invisibility, faster recovery rate than non-metas yet slow for a meta—speed seems dependent on how likely the injury is to kill him. His high tolerance for the cold was making sense the further in Winter he got and the more he’d see flickers of Frostbite training him in his last life.

Whatever an ‘ice core’ is, seems cool. He may have taken to playing with discarded freeze guns and be reworking them to be smaller and more compact. Possibly to add to his future vigilante ID, or to be a general weapon as a civilian given non-lethal status and his ability to add a melting rate adjustment knob of some sort, and call 911.

Bart saw him with it, grinned manically, and joined in helping him improve and adjust it. Slobo joined them both.

Cassie took one look at them and declared it ‘not her problem if they freeze themselves’ while Kon was out on another press tour thing.

Tim pretended not to note those had increased lately only on days Tim was staying with Just Us for non-mission things and Kon’s increase in excuses to avoid him in general.

If Kon wanted distance, then he’d get it. Even if it stung. Kon’s time and his life to spend as he pleases. And clearly, Tim displeases him. /worthless. Monster. Failure. Stand-in. No wonder you’ve always been a loser—/

“So, for Robin time or outside the mask?” Greta asked when she caught the three near the end of a schematics debate.

“Not sure yet,” Tim admitted. “Rogues are weirdly chill with me in civvies lately. But that could be Ivy being Ivy.”

Bart and Slobo’s debate died at that. “Ivy?”

“Uh, Poison Ivy’s plants outted civilian me for something i was dealing with. She’s decided she’s helping with fine-tuning my control on it and gave me one of her ‘protected by’ pins.”

Greta hummed, floating nearer while Bart was buzzing in his place.

“and its a good thing?”

“Other than her shipping me and my ex? Parents approve of the additional support and it’s made intel gathering easier. She was right about the hearing range increase being a bitch to deal with daily.”

Cassie came in with their takeout then, and everyone dispelled to their usual nonsense.

“So, Ivy ships you and your ex?” Greta began with innocently enough.

Tim debated banging his head against the table.

“My civvie self and Gotham’s Robin,” he clarified. “And only enough to throw cuddle pollen on her and lock us together in… varied situations. And laugh about it.”

Cassie blinked at him slowly. “You are being teased by a Rogue who ships civilian you, with a vigilante.”

“… to be fair I am getting plant speak lessons, but yeah.”

“Rob, what the fuck,” Cassie shook her head.

Tim shrugged. “Its Ivy. A safe distraction for the minors she fights is her preferred MO. if it’s just Bats she can and will use sex pollen. If kids or unclear on minor status are involved, cuddle pollen galore.”

“Uh huh.” Cassie and Greta share a look. “So you dated girl Robin, before she became Robin?”

“She was Spoiler first, and I gave her tips on managing Bruce’s ass when I uh,” Tim still didn’t know how to explain ‘forcibly removed from vigilante activities as his dad worried about him dying in a cape like the last Robin, so Tim was forced to pass the buck of Bruce’s mental instability onto his ex-girlfriend and close friend, Spoiler, and coaches her in Bruce Wrangling at a distance’.

“Forced semi-retirement?” Cissie suggested as she stole a slice of pizza, cringing at Tim’s. Which was all his as Bart didn’t care for it. Sucker’s bet on keeping their slices safe from speedster snatching. Amateurs; clearly they never went to boarding school.

“That,” Tim took a bite of his Canadian bacon and pineapple goodness. “And also she’s officially Oracle’s Robin," he swallowed. "Just B’s for combat scenarios. Dad has decided to threaten B’s living status for her too.”

“Rob,” Slobo interrupted. “The fuck.”

“…in my defense, she asked me out a week after almost killing me the first time.”

“Your dad, not other Robin!”

“First time?!”

“She prefers bricks as her projectiles.” Tim wiped his hands clean after his first slice, humming as he went over the blueprint… how should he compensate for his screams and Wail?

“Oh, and she aimed at my head. She’s into three section staffs lately which is a lot less deadly.”

“Rob. She asked you out after almost killing you?” Bart clarified.

“… not on purpose but yeah.”

“She asked you out by accident?”

“No, almost killing part. She’s gotten better aim since, and is following the no killing until you’re not a bat-affiliate rule.”

His team shared looks he didn't bother to check. The urge to analyze could spiral into another screaming attack if he didn't nip it in the bud.

“So not getting back together with her?” Greta clarified with a smile that screamed Gossip Detected.

He let her have either way, even with the looks Cissie, Bart, and Cassie shared.

———-

Let me know if i missed any tags ^^

[artharakka]

Beautiful, But Broken

[elegyofthemoon]

can someone remind me to write up my thoughts about gallagher and the enigmata later or at least compile them somewhere i want to share it but also my Goodness i am sleepy as heck today and i have work tonight 😔

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I feel like if one wants — and is trying to give themself — a mental disorder by using the label of “transid,” then they are probably already disordered in some other way that they are in denial of; because it‘s more stigmatized, or “less interesting” than the neurotype they’ve chosen to mimic… which is sad because they’re masking in two different directions at that point: one to hide their illness, the other to create an illness… which will lead to more illness. Bleak, to be honest.

[riotmightbelucky]

It’s so funny how like everything, every interest you have, every class you take, every experience you live through, everything can build and build and suddenly you’re doing some totally new thing you’d never consider before

[wriokitty]

“Did you know—”

“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).

But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.

(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).

“It’s a warning,” you hum.

He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”

Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.

You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.

“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.

“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.

“We just mated—”

“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”

“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”

“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.

Sukuna is tired.

(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.

Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.

If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)

“I’m not tired,” you hum.

“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.

“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.

He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.

It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”

“You bit my fucking nipple.”

“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.

(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.

He doesn’t like it.)

“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”

“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”

You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.

“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”

“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.

Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”

“Night.”

“I love you.”

“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”

[sirfrogsworth]

First, the pervasiveness of this litter box thing is ridiculous. I think it has been debunked like a thousand times.

And the *actual* reason schools have cat litter has nothing to do with students identifying as cats.

"Columbine High School has been stocking classrooms with small amounts of cat litter since 2017, but as part of ‘go buckets’ that contain emergency supplies in case students are locked in a classroom during a shooting."

But I actually want to talk about the Tootsie Roll Pop gender thing.

They are trying to criticize a child psychologist, Dr. Diane Ehrensaft, who works at a gender clinic.

I'm sure a lot of their audience who see "gender minotaur" or "gender Tootsie Roll Pops" will completely write off this woman and claim she is a nutcase.

But conservatives and Fox News love to omit context and nuance.

Here is the document all of this stemmed from...

The implied Fox narrative is that Dr. Ehrensaft is creating silly genders and then labeling kids as minotaurs or smoothies.

In reality, she is describing all of the creative ways young kids and teens use to explain how they feel about their gender.

These kids probably don't have a lot of information or the vocabulary to express themselves in more traditional terms, so they've come up with analogies to help adults understand what they are feeling.

That doesn't seem ridiculous at all.

And I actually think these kids are quite clever.

So these conservatives are basically making fun of kids who are confused and seeking help to understand themselves.

Real classy.

And if these kids learn adults are making fun of them, they may feel embarrassed to use these communicative tools—making it that much harder for their therapists and doctors to help them.

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@making-you-in-spore

Incredible works of art from a limited medium, the blog favors quality over quantity and I am always in awe when a dancing creacher in Spore [2008] crosses my dash.

His spores often take him multiple hours to create, and he will go through astounding amounts of effort to commit to the bit. He made his cull poll in spore and then blew it up. Hes also super responsive and active and seems really eager to share his creation techniques and spread the joy of making things in spore [2008]. His blog almost singlehandedly sparked a significant resurgence in interest and playerbase of a 16 year old game that most people see as nothing but a meme. Hes just a guy who likes spore [2008]

i say vote for making you in spore because seeing them blow up their opponents after they win is hilarious

[quecksilvereyes]

oh my god do not click links in emails that tell you to verify your data or your bank account gets locked or click links in messages telling you your safety protocol is ending, like, tomorrow, you will get SCAMMED SO BAD AND YOU WILL LOSE A LOT OF FUCKING MONEY never ever let anyone pressure you into giving away login information especially to your online banking by creating a sense of urgency oh my GOD

some things to look out for

1. spelling mistakes. do you know how many rounds of marketing and sales experts these things go through? if theres a spelling mistake dont click it

2. not using your name. if an email adresses you with "dear customer" or, even worse, a generic "ladies and gentlemen", it is most likely not actually targeted to you

3. verifying or login links. even IF your bank was stupid enough to send these to customers, dont EVER click those. look at me. they can legally argue that youve given your data away and thus they dont have to pay you anything back DONT CLICK THAT FUCKING LINK

4. creating a sense of urgency. do this or we lock your account next week. do this or your ebanking stops working tomorrow. give us all your money in cash or your beloved granddaughter will get HANGED FOR MURDERING BABIES. no serious organisation would ever do something like that over email or sms. ever. hands off.

5. ALWAYS CHECK WHO SENT YOU THE EMAIL. the display name and the email adress can vary a LOT. anyone can check the display name. look at the email adress. does it look weird? call the fucking place it says its from. you will likely hear a very weary sigh.

6. if its in a phonecall, scammers love preventing you from hanging up or talking to other people to have a little bit of a think about whats happening. there should always be a possibility to go hey i wanna think about this ill call back the official number thanks.

7. do not, i repeat, do NOT a) call a phone number flashing on your screen promising to rid your computer of viruses after clicking a dodgy link and b) let them install shit on your computer like. uh. idk. teamviewer.

7.i. TEAM VIEWER LETS PEOPLE USE YOUR COMPUTER HOWEVER THEY WANT AS LONG AS THEYRE CONNECTED. IF YOU DONT KNOW FOR FUCKING SURE YOURE TALKING TO ACTUAL TECH SUPPORT DONT GIVE ANYONE ACCESS TO YOUR COMPUTER.

fun little addendum: did you know a link can just automatically download shit? like. a virus? an app you can't uninstall unless you reset your entire device? dont click links unless youre extremely sure you know where they lead. hover your mouse over it and check the url.

thanks.

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 1 | masterlist

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“I’m not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,” he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve got a busy schedule and his mom isn’t in the picture. I need a real commitment.”

You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is you’re doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; you’re somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position. 

Yet, it seems like that’s what he’s looking for, based on the information he’s told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a mess—toys strewn across the baby’s bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that it’s become something of a requiem to single fatherhood. 

“So, a nanny?” you ask.

He hems and haws over that for a bit. “Bit too fancy for my tastes, but that’s more like it. It won’t just be watching the baby—I need someone who can help out around the house as well. ‘Used to run a tight ship before him, but cleaning’s not been my highest priority these days. Sure you’ve picked up on that.” He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache. 

“Well…” You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish. 

“I work odd hours, so I’ll be gone a lot; you’ll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think that’s something you can handle?”

A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. It’s not that you don’t think you could handle the job. You’ve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income. 

“You’re military, you said?” you croak out instead.

He nods, hums. “Bit of a glorified desk job these days. They don’t put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.”

You frown at that. “You’re not that old.”

That gets him to cock an eyebrow. “Love, I’m over twice your age, easy. I’m plenty old for a first time father on top of that; should’ve already been an old hand at this, but I’ve been married to the job for too long.”

You don’t ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. It’s none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. It’s just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air. 

“Well, I think—” You chew on your words and then backtrack. “—I can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I can—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and I’ll go over my schedule this week with you.”

The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. You’d put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, you’re still forced to look up at him. 

“Sure can, Mister…—?” You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that he’s about to become your boss. Already is your boss. 

“Price. But John works just fine,” he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic. 

You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt. 

“Well, thanks for the job, John,” you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

His words seem like a bellwether for something that you can’t yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you. 

You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.

Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance. 

You don’t know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad’s coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.

“Did you hear the Captain’s looking for a babysitter?”

“For what? To bang?”

“No, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.”

“No kidding. The Captain?”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ say that?”

“Price, you mean? Captain Price?”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Yeah—Price.”

“Christ. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.”

“Give it a rest, it happens all the time. That’s why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone that’d be up for it?”

And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities don’t knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. It’s more than you expected. More than you deserve, if you’re being honest. You’re retroactively grateful that he didn’t ask you to name your rate because you wouldn’t have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.

It’s a straightforward gig. John doesn’t work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. He’s only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job. 

You know better than to put up a fuss. You’re already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. You’re learning all sorts of things these days.

To your credit, he could’ve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. It’s a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before you’ve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but it’s worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.

Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysitting—or rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not have—might not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so you’ll be ready bright and early the next morning.

Babies also smell better than anything you’ve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guy’s head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When he’s cradled in your arms, you can’t help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. It’s some good shit. 

You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John might’ve otherwise missed. 

“He started babbling today,” you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You haven’t felt this excited in ages. “Look.” 

He’s still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him. 

“See?” you gush, mooning over him. You don’t have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment. 

“Yeah,” John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. “Ain’t that something.”

If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you don’t pick up on it.

On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, he’s remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesn’t nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesn’t scold you the day your car breaks down and you’re forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that he’s invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.

He shrugs when you bring it up. “It’s got a lifetime warranty anyway. I’ll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.”

Unflappable. That’s the word for it. It’s like as long as he’s able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone. 

Your only qualm—and it’s hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observation—is that John is more of a physical person than you are. 

When he wants to move you, he does—two big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you. 

You don’t hold it against him though. You haven’t spent much time around groups of men, but you’ve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, he’s gentle with you. 

It’s just that—and again, John’s the first adult man you’ve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopic—you’re not completely sure whether it’s appropriate for your boss to be so touchy. 

You don’t mean to insinuate that he’s being inappropriate. It’s just that—and again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and he’s done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, but…—sometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesn’t take no for an answer.

You’re never in any rush to leave. There’s not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. It’s nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what it’s like to go hungry.

Maybe that’s why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. You’re subconsciously mortified that you’ll eat his food when he’s not gone but not when he offers it to you.

At least dinner feels like something you’ve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking. 

Not to mention you’ve developed something of a rapport. There’s always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (“back when you weren’t even a thought in your mum’s head,” he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations). 

The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, they’re the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, you’re estranged from your family and you’ve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too. 

Then there’s the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.

“Go put something on,” John tells you, a warning look in his eye. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” you whisper before slipping off into the living room.

You can’t relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadn’t even heard him coming; he’s light on his feet for such a big man. 

The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that you’re afraid you’ll buzz right out of your skin. 

For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.

Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap. 

Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs until—

You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind. 

“Sleep well?” John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before you’ve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams. 

“Not bad,” you squeak. 

You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.

As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.