#because the purpose of that one was to draw with zero fucks given

[miru667]

A selection of Audrey Grace ballpoint pen doodles from January until now! 😊 I tidied them up digitally and added colour to the first one as you can see. Click the readmore below for the original sketch!

It felt really nice to do my beloved sunset lighting again... ;w; The bg was inspired by A Plague Tale: Requiem (has anyone else played/watched that game!?)

Thanks for clicking the readmore! :D Original meme: [link]

[floralfractals]

I don't know anything about measure theory, re: f(x)=x on [0,1], what's the deal with integration?

ohh well i guess i did kinda say that without explaining huh. let me elaborate

measure theory is all about sizes of sets, in a generalisation-of-probability-way. the probability of event A is 0.5, the probability of event B is 0.8, the total probability (of any outcome happening at all) is 1. or the measure of set C is 2, the measure of set D is 0.002, the total measure (of the ambient space) is infinity. whatever.

but what is integration if not calculating the space under a curve? is that not dependent of the measures of the sets underneath them?

lets first talk about "regular" (Riemann) integration. basically, suppose you have a function f: R -> R. it has some kind of fun graph, and youd like to find the surface between the graph and the x-axis. one way to do that is by approximation through rectangles. yknow, draw some rectangles of fixed width, put their heights either just under or just above the graph of f, add up their surface areas and bam! you have a numerical method of approximating the integral. or you could make the rectangle width smaller and smaller for exact results. thats integration. heres a visual.

ok cool so problem solved right? we know the area under the graph? surely this holds for every function?

well, no. suppose we have a really fucked up function. for example, let f(x) be equal to 1 if x is rational, and 0 otherwise. the above method wont be able to determine if the area is 0 or infinity, or something in between!

thats where measure theory comes in. we give sets a measure (notation: m(A)). this measure is not negative, and if you take the measure of two sets that dont overlap with each other, then their measure is the sum of their separate measures (in notation: m(A ∪ B) = m(A) + m(B) if A and B are disjoint. this is called sigma-additivity (the sigma means that it works for countable infinitly many sets as well)). easy! now we can define something called the indicator function 1_A(x), which is 1 if x is in A and 0 otherwise, and we define its (Lebesgue) integral to be ∫ 1_A dm = m(A). usual linearity applies for finite sums (so if a and b are numbers, and f and g are functions, then ∫ af + bg dm = a ∫ f dm + b ∫ g dm) (wacky things happen when sums are infinite: they might become infinitely large, or infinitely negative, or not converge at all).

this solves the issue of our crazy function f we just defined: notice that f(x) = 1_Q(x), where Q is the set of rational numbers. thus, ∫ f dm = m(Q), which (in one of the most natural measures, called the lebesgue measure*) is zero. done!

now for your question. the function f(x) = x on [0,1] (for our purposes: f(x) = x if x is in [0,1], and zero otherwise) cant be written as a finite sum of indicator functions. that means that our newly defined Lebesgue integral wont do without a bit of work. as it turns out, we can take limits in the Lebesgue integral, as long as our sequences increase (in math notation: if (f_n)_n is an increasing sequence with limit f, then lim_{n -> ∞} ∫ f_n dm = ∫ f dm). thus, we need to find such a sequence.

it's probably best if all functions in our sequence are finite sums of indicator functions, since we know how to integrate them. one such sequence with limit f is given by f_n = Σ_{k=0}^{n-1} k/n 1_{[k/n, (k+1)/n]}. that looks kinda scary, but if we let n go to infinity, this turns out to be equal to f almost everywhere (some points are counted twice since the intervals [k/n, (k+1)/n] and [(k+1)/n, (k+2)/n] have some overlap, namely {(k+1)/n}, but we dont need to worry about that since m({(k+1)/n}) = 0). heres another visual.

as you can see, though, when we go from f_2 to f_3 we have some parts that increase and some that decrease. that sucks because now our limit trick wont work! to solve this, notice we dont have that issue when we go from f_2 to f_4, or from f_4 to f_8. thus, the sequence (f_{2^n})_n would work, since its limit is also f!

now we can do a big calculation. please bear with me (its just this paragraph i swear)! we have ∫ f dm = lim_{n -> ∞} ∫ f_{2^n} dm, so lets solve ∫ f_n dm for any n first. we have ∫ f_n dm = Σ_{k=0}^{n-1} k/n m([k/n, (k+1)/n]) = Σ_{k=0}^{n-1} k/n^2 = (n-1)(n-2)/2n^2. we can work with that, so were ready to take the limit: lim_{n -> ∞} ∫ f_{2^n} dm = lim_{n -> ∞} (2^n-1)(2^n-2)/2(2^n)^2. that looks scary, but luckily its equal to the slightly less scary lim_{n -> ∞} (n-1)(n-2)/2n^2, and thats just 1/2.

therefore, ∫ f dm = 1/2. which is also the value of the riemann integral ∫ f(x) dx, by the way.

you see that we needed a lot of calculations, so its probably not surprising that i needed an entire whiteboard to do this.

maybe this would make you think that lebesgue integration is inferior to riemann integration. however, as it turns out, most applications of this rely on proving that a lebesgue integral ∫ f dm is equal to some riemann integral ∫ g(x) dx, and we can just solve that with our calculus skills.

also, since the integral relies on a measure, we can do some silly shenanigans with that. for example, the ergodic probability measure related to my sickly son (lets call it n to avoid confusion with our earlier measure m) has n([0,1]) = 1/2, and n([1,2]) = 1/4 (in general, n([k-1, k]) = 1/2^k). i used this in my thesis to integrate the function floor(x): turns out that ∫ floor dm is infinite, but ∫ floor dn = 4 :)

hope you enjoyed doing some measure theory with me :>

*: the lebesgue measure is probably one of the more intuitive measures. an interval [a, b] has lebesgue measure b - a, so m([0,1]) = 1. this also means that a single point has measure m({x}) = x - x = 0, and a countable union of singletons (like Q) therefore also has measure m(Q) = 0. however simple this measure is, it also gives rise to some wacky crazy properties! for example, there exist sets that cant have a measure, but you can only construct them using the axiom of choice. scary!

[loki-zen]

I’m not gonna do a point by point @discoursedrome because this is starting to get unfun for me as a discourse topic but tbh i think you’re weirdly focused on defining ‘disabled’ and i don’t really see why that’s necessary. Like when I say people are kidding themselves that disabled people are far fewer than they really are all I mean is they’re kidding themselves that their mental model of Standard Human Being Who Needs No Help Or Accommodations Ever is a fair approximation of far more of all of the people than it really is.

And I think you’re way too dismissive of the ways in which a single accommodation can vastly increase accessibility for whole swathes of people.

Take for example a doctor’s office committing to communicating by email as well as telephone. This accommodates Deaf and Hard of Hearing people, people with sensory processing issues that make it hard to hear people on the phone, people with anxieties affecting their ability to make phone calls, people who speak English as a second language and find it easier to read and compose text at their own pace, and also people who just for a host of other reasons can’t randomly make or receive phone calls during the working day. It even automatically creates a record of what was said so that people who are forgetful and/or have low executive functioning resources to spare - whether because they’re ND or just Like That or because they have a full time job and two kids under five - can check back on it.

Or take the automatic door at that same doctors office. If you’re in a wheelchair you need it. If you’re pushing a pushchair, or have a baby in your arms, or have one arm and are carrying something, or have arthritis and it hurts to push doors open, or have weird autistic extra-tasks and crossing-thresholds problems, or are germphobic and don’t want to touch door handles, it’s invaluable.

If you thought about any of these things only in the narrow terms you’re promoting - only in terms of what benefit there might be to people with one specific issue that definitely is ‘a disability’ and not anything else - they would seem totally not worth it, probably. And that’s why that sort of framing is harmful.

I think you’re also underestimating the potential benefit of having the staff at the doctor’s office trained to expect that people trying to use the doctor’s surgery are quite likely to have disabilities - it’s a doctor’s office after all - including ones that might produce needs that haven’t been specifically accounted for, and then the staff would be given the flexibility to make adjustments on the fly and praised for doing so.

As opposed to the status quo where pretty much all frontline staff in anything ever increasingly have zero discretion about how they do anything and will get in trouble if they deviate from The Script.

The Script is based on the idea that there’s such a thing as The Consumer, basically. And what’s important is that people learn that that’s at best an abstraction and, mostly, a lie it’s just a lie; the healthcare system for instance is set up for the convenience of a Healthy Patient who isn’t even a majority of the ‘at least 51%’ kind for most practical purposes bc surprise, Perfectly Healthy people go to the doctor less, but also fucking c’mon man it’s not okay to take just anyone’s/everyone’s (delete as appropriate for your country/healthcare system) money and dispense a service that’s ‘cost efficient’ bc it can treat the most ‘normal’ and ‘textbook’ and ‘no other problems having’ ~80% of people really quickly and cheaply while throwing everyone else on the garbage heap to die.

Like in my ideal world other stuff would be accessible too (maybe it would even be different mechanisms that wind up making this happen*) but essential services first.

It legit doesn’t matter where you draw the lines. It’s just important to recognise that there’s no essential difference between glasses and a wheelchair. Hell, there’s no essential difference between a wheelchair ramp and a road. (As a society, we have put vast amounts of resources into accommodating assistive technology that allows humans to overcome their endemic disability of not being able to walk 30 miles in half an hour.)

*I kind of remain flabbergasted that pure market forces don’t seem to have incentivised the existence of one pub/restaurant/cafe in a given city distinguishing itself from competitors by actively striving to be (and marketing itself as) ‘the place you can actually hear your friends talk’, which would also make it uncommonly accessible to people like me with sensory sensitivities and/or auditory processing problems.

Even aside from the draw for totally non disabled people, I feel like while there probably aren’t enough of us by ourselves making money to financially support this, when you add in the fact that if somewhere like this existed i would always go here with all of my friends and my family and their wallets pretty much any time I went to town, (and if I knew about one in another town I would go there every time I went to that town, and honestly be much more likely to visit that town because I would know there was somewhere I could socialise with people) and I would win all arguments about which place to go to because of the reasoning, and people diagnosed with stuff like I have are disproportionately likely to have pretty well off families, it kinda seems like a slam dunk that could surely find ways to compensate for the inability to make people drink faster by turning the music up.

I mean, tbh, late capitalism and all - for all I know this totally would be viable and make shit tons of money but can’t exist bc it doesn’t sound good to a few wealthy investors

[aranciafiamma]

If you tried to replicate Tsuna's character, beat for beat, trait for trait, I feel like it'd be easy to see that for a Shonen Jump character - Tsuna was so incredibly passive.

"Tsuna never said yes but he never said no" KHR in a nutshell. I feel like a lot of what Tsuna ends up growing into is a lot "he never said yes and he never said no". And I think so much about how... his coming of age story happens so Very Late into his own story.

The first time Tsuna sincerely and seriously rejects his tutor, Reborn, is when Tsuna refuses to believe that Reborn will die. This is followed through with him actually reaching out, gathering his allies, and acting like a boss. And that is in fact because Tsuna actively says "No", that Tsuna actively says anything at all. This happens in the finale.

Let me repeat.

THIS HAPPENS IN THE FINALE.

All prior chapters had people pushing and prodding Tsuna into doing things that he didnt want. There's only two other instances where he does speak up, but those get swept aside by the BBEG of the arc, so there's a lack of follow through - a lack of opportunity for Tsuna until, and I cannot emphasize this enough, until literally the last few chapters of his series.

Incident 1 was the Vongola Trial. Hibari trapped him. He's dying. But even outside that, Tsuna and co. are in the future with no known way home. Tsuna should be desperate - absolutely desperate - for any kind of power to combat this new threat. And he was. He is clearly shown as agitated and anxious about getting everyone home. And here was the Vongola ring telling him: "Here is power. Take it." Except there's a litany of screams and anguish in the background of that seductive whisper for power.

Again. Tsuna was on the brink of death. He's alone in a sensory deprivation ball from hell. He should be for all intents and purposes, as well as visually shown, as scared out of his goddamn mind.

What does Tsuna do?

He rejects that power.

Even if it means that his family could be in greater danger as a result.

Too bad there's like fucking ZERO follow through. This scene was brilliant and it remains to this day one of my favorite KHR scenes bc Tsuna shows his fucking spine. Which again, rarely does he show that. Even when he's fighting Xanxus or Byakuran, it's mostly a product of circumstance and not because Tsuna woke up that morning and chose violence.

This is the first time Tsuna says "No", if for no other reason than "he does not want to".

Unfortunately, destroying the Vongola doesnt matter in the present arc, so we table that little resolve until the next arc. When... we meet Enma and the gang.

Incident 2, Tsuna says no to the Ninth.

Of course, crafty bastard that is the Ninth:

"It's not that I've given up"

So Tsuna can say "No", but Ninth hasn't accepted that "No" yet.

I would like to draw the attention to the further context of this "No". Because here's the thing, if Tsuna doesn't inherit, the Vongola get to live. Incident 2 is not the same as Incident 1.

Incident 1 (the destruction of Vongola) can only happen if Tsuna inherits. If Tsuna refuses to inherit (Incident 2), then there can be no destruction of Vongola. In a way, Tsuna is walking back from his first resolution because he found a fire exit and he will take it, thank you.

"I'll destroy the Vongola, but only if I have to, and if I don't have to, then see you never."

Then the rest of the arc happens and again, Tsuna's "No" is tabled.

Again and again, the two times Tsuna speaks up, the narrative never allows him to follow through with his decision. The BBEG is there to distract him. He doesn't get to follow through on his word of either destroying Vongola or walking away from Vongola. And a word without action is just empty sound.

Tsuna's greatest and brightest shining example of follow through and execution on his word was saved for the finale. THE FUCKING FINALE.

KHR was such a tease for showing us how Tsuna finally grew a spine and used it to make everyone bow theirs at the very end. We never get to see if Tsuna makes good on his word for the only two times he stated clearly something that he wanted to do.

And again going back to my original point: if you tried to recreate Tsuna's character beat for beat, trait for trait, you'd have a hardass time. Because good characters have character motivation, have drive, have goals. Tsuna's character was pushed into situations where others gave him his goals. Tsuna was pushed into getting a family then protecting it. He never said yes but he doesnt say no!!!

And the only times he gets his "I Want" moment, those get skipped over in favor of another battle royale. And then! And then! The one time it's not? THE FUCKING SERIES ENDS!!!

I have been cockblocked by this series for nigh on 12 years. TWELVE YEARS!!!

I think one of my favorite things about Hitman Reborn is that when you look at the three Sky leaders, Tsuna, Xanxus and Byakuran, Tsuna is the only one who doesn’t want his position and also didn’t want any of his ‘mafia family members’ at first. Xanxus grew up believing that he would be the next Vongola boss, and all his subordinates joined him believing that to be true. Byakuran was given the Mare Ring, said sweet deal, and then proceeded to gather up a family that wanted him to succeed in his goal because he gave them hope. But Tsuna? The only member of his crew he wanted was Kyoko, forget everyone else. Practically everyone but Kyoko showed up because they heard that Tsuna was a mafia boss and Reborn was his teacher. Man was given no chance or choice, they just showed up and he was forced to deal with it. And in the end, they became the best thing to ever happen to him. And for some, he was the best thing that ever happened to them.

[thygoddessouijathicc]

Little Patchwork Heart Thing To Explain

Ok, so PH does not exist yet, but it’s characters do, and there’s something I want to explain about the main cast.

The main cast is designed so that each one of them to a degree could function as horror creatures, specifically in a horror game because they are more suited for games than movies as none of these creatures could be the main threat.

My art style is cartoony so it’s hard to tell what they’d really look like looking at my drawings, but there is an answer. Fucked up.

Faria is a grotesque and disheveled monster with weird proportions.

Sapphire’s skin is weirdly pale and shoddily stitched together.

Katia is a cute little girl able to mutilate her body any way she wants for the purposes of extreme body horror. Seriously this small child is the greatest body horror creature I’ve ever made and I’ve made a lot.

Infinity is a rotting corpse that limps around trailing an endless supply of slimy congealed blood, and is frequently going to be shown vomiting up blood, worms, beetles, and maggots in order to talk, so he’s just really disgusting.

The twins are 16 feet tall with siren head esque bodies and masked faces. There’s also two of them so in a horror game you’d have to watch out for both at the same time which I think would be cool.

The only exception on the main cast of characters I’m willing to divulge by this point is Zero who really isn’t that scary. He’s weird looking yes, but Zero is made of felt, more cool looking than scary, purple and glowing, lacks eyes teeth or even a digestive system with his “eyes” and “mouth” just being holes in his face he creates so he has one. I guess he fits as an eldritch horror? The only way he could function in a game would be as a minor enemy mostly just there to block paths.

So basically all the PH characters are supposed to be functional horror enemies one way or another. Each is given their own way of killing that functions for a horror game, their own gimmick, a generally kinda fucked up concept, and a design that in the right style and context could be reasonably scary

Just a lil thing I did for fun.

[sneezemonster15]

Did you see the new art from Boruto team? I know it is not canon but Anime team laughs at SS in this art. Sasuke looks there so angry, disgust and not happy when Sakura tries to feed him. SS now scream that he is shy, he chews food (wrong because three pieces of food has been taken from Sakura’s cart, one has Sakura on her plate, second has Sarada and with third Sakura tries to feed Sasuke) or he opens his mouth, yeah sure with grimace face... But what I have noticed is that Sakura and Sasuke are so far away from the others. Typical behaviour from Sakura to keep Sasuke for herself and what’s more Sasuke didn’t want to eat because his plate and cup is empty not like with Sakura and Sarada’s case. Sakura was serving the food and drink because she always does it in canon so he had to say no but she can’t take no so she tries to feed him. I also thought maybe she did it on purpose not to serve him food on his plate just to feed him herself like she did in gaiden with the kiss but the empty cup says sth different, he just said no to her food and drink. SS were so happy with this art but now they changed Sasuke’s lips so he looks normal xd I can’t with them, what is your opinion about this art? Why anime team do sth like that? They would have draw Sasuke with a normal face but they chose to make him so angry.

Hey.

What I noticed is that none of the other couples is facing each other, rather they are involved in the picnic or whatever drug induced hallucination lookalike this is. They are celebrating with the group, or they are just enjoying themselves. Sakura and Sasuke are the only couple where one spouse is seen as interacting solely with the other, ignoring everyone else, ie, Sakura trying to act cutesy with Sasuke, where Sasuke looks his usual self when he is with Sakura, distressed and disinterested. This is pretty consistent with so many other times in canon when she acts the same way with Sasuke, blushing or looking cheesy cute. Sasuke is also being his consistent self with her, entirely disinterested and dejected. Sakura is also sitting right between the boys.

Damn, I feel so bad for the poor man. No matter how much he tries, he just can't shake loose that woman he treats like a bacterial infection he desperately wants to get rid of. If there were a medal for being annoying and exhausting, Sakura would have gotten at least twenty already. What a pest.

Look at Ino, enjoying herself. Look at Karin, spurned by Sasuke, chugging on her drink like her life depends on it, Karui, Temari and even Hinata serving food or being busy with others. But Sakura is like a 'girl forever in love', as coined by Ino, like a blushing bride, who was never able to cross over the initial stages of her infatuation and obsession with Sasuke. Sasuke wouldn't let her close, and she won't quit.

Now this art isn't canon, but the anime team wouldn't stray so far from the canon characterization, so as to blatantly go against Kishimoto's portrayal of his characters, he is the creator after all. Kishimoto has consistently portrayed Sakura as being crazy addicted, in a bad way, to Sasuke despite his lack of reciprocation, Kishi has said it out loud multiple times in his interviews, he has laughed at her, mocked her. The anime team would of course pick up on that, heh.

But look at Juugo man. So zen, like he ain't even there, being openly asocial. Zero fucks given. I feel ya Juugo, I feel ya.

[seijorhi]

Rabid.

The brainrot was real, guys. Hope you like it :))

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

tw blood, violence, implied minor character death, non-con, smut, nsfw

There’s blood splattered across the back of his hands the first time you make the unwitting mistake of catching Kyoutani’s attention. He usually can’t be fucked wasting time wrapping his fists; the skin across one of his knuckles is split and raw from his last job, but most of the blood isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

But he wouldn’t have noticed – it comes with the territory and he’s never really given a fuck whether there’s blood on his clothes or not – if it hadn’t been for that tiny gasp.

That soft, sharp little intake of breath, and like the rabid dog they claim he is, he snaps to the threat.

Nobody else at the table notices, and you seem to realise your mistake, freezing up the moment those honey brown eyes flash and zero in on you. Your throat bobs unsteadily – you look like a deer caught in headlights. Startled. Terrified. 

Kinda fuckin’ adorable, if he’s being honest.

“I– I’m sorry, sir,” you mutter, ducking your head as you set down his drink with a tremor in your hand.

Vaguely, he registers Makki’s choked snort at the honorific – nobody’s ever called him sir before – but he can’t really find it in himself to give a fuck that the two of you have drawn an audience.

Not when you’re still frozen, hardly daring to draw breath at his side. 

You’re new, that much is painfully obvious, but not stupid. You know who he is – who they are, and despite his reputation, he’s never been one to get off on fear or some fucked up version of a power trip; Kyoutani simply likes the feeling of lashing out, beating the absolute shit out of some asshole just because he can.

Because it feels good, gets his blood pumping.

Nobody would lift a finger to help you if he decided to take offence to your little slip up. And truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit – he’s used to people being on edge around him and it’s not like you’ve reacted any other way than how you’re supposed to. 

It’s natural for you to be startled, scared even. But not here, not with them. Here you should know better, because here is filled to the fucking brim with men like Kyoutani. Oh sure, they might be prettier, polished and charming like Oikawa, but you’d have to be a goddamn idiot to think the man hasn’t stepped over bodies he’s put in the ground to get where he is. 

At least Kyoutani never has to pretend to be anything other than what he is.

But a little blood in a place like this shouldn’t raise an eyebrow, and the way you’re staring at the table, eyes cast down and wide; Kyoutani can almost hear you cursing yourself out for your own stupidity. And it strikes him as he stares at you, drinking in every subtle shift in your body language, wondering why you don’t just tuck tail and run off like you so clearly want to, that you really don't belong in a place like this.

“Something the matter, Mad Dog?” a silken voice purrs, and he tears his eyes away from your trembling form to glance back at his boss, sitting at the head of the table. The brunette’s smiling idly, appraising the two of you and Kyoutani feels you stiffen beside him. 

You don’t dare open your mouth, don’t so much as twitch, not even as Kyoutani returns his attention back to you. By now the entire table has quietened down, most if not all of the gathered men staring at you and you – pretty eyes filling with tears, hands clasped together and trembling in front of your dress – look like you just want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. And somewhat selfishly, there’s a part of Kyoutani that wants to keep you there like that.

Not afraid, exactly. Just… there. 

He can’t explain it, doesn’t know why he hasn’t just told you to fuck off back to the kitchen, dismissed you with a grunt like he would have if any of the other servers had made the same mistake. He has bigger shit to worry about than some perceived fucking offence, but he finds himself pausing, drawing this little moment out for a lifetime before finally putting an end to it, “No.”

He jerks his chin, breaking the moment between the two of you to reach for the drink you’d set down before him, but still you don’t move, glancing between him and Oikawa like you’re afraid to move – as if you’re terrified that you’ve read this situation wrong and one wrong step and you’ll just make things worse. It’s so fucking endearing that he almost snorts, but it takes Oikawa’s voice, calm and level and almost kind to shake you out of your frozen state, “Run along now, cutie.”

You scamper off without a backwards glance, and if anybody notices Kyoutani watching you out of the corner of his eye while he nurses his drink, they have the better sense to keep their mouths shut about it.

And honest to god, it’s the last he expects to see of you. He’s not so stupid as to think you landed the job because you genuinely wanted it; people don’t end up in places like this because they have choices, they end up here because somebody somewhere along the line fucked up. 

This city’s filthy, full of irredeemable pieces of shit like him and it takes innocence like yours, chews it up and spits it out. If you were smart, you would have left after your little run-in with him, so why the fuck are you right back in their private room less than a week later, nails biting into your palm and resolutely refusing to meet his eye?

Oikawa’s busy rattling off a list of drinks he wants, but this time it’s Kyoutani who’s frozen in place, staring at you with a scowl that has you shivering even as you nod at the Oyabun. He knows Iwaizumi at least is watching him with some kind of morbid combination of curiosity and concern, can’t find it within him to care as you try and slip from the room, giving him as wide a berth as you can without it seeming rude–

Not wide enough. Before he even registers that he’s moved Kyoutani’s reaching out to grab your forearm – his grip not tight enough to hurt, just to stop you from running off on him again. And the little squeak that leaves your soft looking lips sends a ripple of something electric jolting down his spine, but you know better than to try and pull away.

God, he can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin, every terrified thump of your heart. It’s addictive, he thinks, the feeling he gets just from touching you. 

“Gimme a beer,” he grunts, waiting until you finally meet his eye.

The nervous little nod you give strokes some part of him he hadn’t realised existed. Kyoutani likes you like this; all timid and obedient. A little too much, maybe. 

There’s a sharp elbow in his side courtesy of Yahaba, and he reluctantly releases his grip on you, leaving you to scamper away once more. Cute.

Yahaba makes some snarky comment under his breath and he barely fucking registers it, fixated instead on the skin of his palm; still warm and tingling from your touch. His hands are rough, scarred and calloused, the skin over his knuckles split from another job last night, a little red and bruised – even as he tightens his fingers into a fist they sting just a little.

Guns have their purpose, he’s not against a knife if he’s feeling particularly fucking vindictive, but Kyoutani’s favourite has always been his fists. There’s something about the feeling of skin and muscle giving way beneath his blows, taking all that pent up rage and aggression and letting loose with his fists. It’s a kind of euphoria he’s never found anywhere else; not in women or men or drugs or alcohol. Nothing comes close to the feeling he gets straddling some pathetic piece of shit and beating the absolute fucking crap out of him.

Sometimes if he goes a few days without a fight, he gets a little jittery. Not like the tweakers do, it’s not withdrawal so much as… a building up of restless, rabid energy. He gets on edge, snaps more, lashing out over petty shit until some poor asshole makes the mistake of looking at him the wrong way and Kyoutani just fucking looses it.

He feels it now, that same burning itch under his skin. He’s never thought of his hands as anything more weapons, but touching you, the warmth of your skin, how smooth and soft it was–

Kyoutani wants to do it again. Wants to touch more of you. And he’s not so fucked up yet that he doesn’t realise how twisted this all is, how a guy like him doesn’t belong within a thousand miles of some sweet, cute innocent thing like you. But the world ain’t fucking fair; you’re here and for whatever reason Oikawa’s taken a liking to you and so whenever they’re at the club, you’re the one management send to make sure they’re happy.

And Kyoutani wonders, golden eyes burning a hole into your back as you hastily clear away their empty glasses, whether you realise that if any one of them asked for a dance or for you to get on your knees and blow them, you’d be expected to do that, too.

You might as well be on Seijoh’s payroll now, just be thankful that as far as that side of things go, they’re not the monsters that the rumours make them out to be.

Not that he hasn’t noticed Mattsun’s gaze drifting to your ass when you lean over the table to grab something, the older man shooting him a salacious wink when he notices he’s glaring.

Not that he hasn’t let his own imagination take hold, leaning up against the glass wall of his shower first thing in the morning. His fist pumping along his throbbing cock, wondering what it’d be like to see you on your knees, those pretty eyes full of tears, staring up at him as you swallow him down like the good girl he knows you are.

The thing is, he’s never made all that much of an effort to hide his feelings from the others. He doesn’t give a shit if it makes him the butt of their jokes, doesn’t care what they think about the way he watches you – his attention snapping towards you the moment you slip past the door, purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Not that it ever does you much good. 

Oikawa hasn’t said shit, and that’s enough of a go-ahead as Kyoutani needs. It’s none of their fucking business anyway. 

You’ve managed to get under his skin, push him to the fucking brink when he goes more than a few days without seeing you. He knows you don’t want any part of this; that you’re still fucking terrified of him. Kyoutani’s never been one to chase after somebody who wants nothing to do with him – there are plenty of women more than willing to spread their legs for Seijoh’s big bad Mad Dog if he wants an itch scratched. There’s no good reason why he can’t get you out of his head, why you’ve sunk your teeth into him and refuse to let go – even when it’s clear that that’s so fucking far from what you intended with the blonde.

It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t change shit; you’re his, whether you’re willing to acknowledge that or not.

And maybe he’s just living with his head up his ass, but he doesn’t quite realise how fucking inadequate this whole arrangement is until he needs a piss one night and ventures out into the club only to see some asshole trying to cop a feel and tug you down to his lap, his friends drunk and howling with laughter as you try to politely escape them. 

Distantly he registers that he recognises the piece of shit as some low level fucking drug lord who’s been all but sucking Oikawa’s dick trying to get a bigger piece of the pie, but in that moment, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck who he is.

Kyoutani just sees red. 

Nostrils flaring, steam practically pouring from his ears, he storms over. And adrenaline’s surging through him with every pounding beat of his heart, every synapse in his body’s electrified, ready to lay into this piece of shit for daring to lay a finger on what’s his.

He wants to beat him bloody, wants to fuck up his face – to whale on him until muscle and bone give way and there’s nothing left but bloody pulp where his head used to be. Him and his fucking friends.

But Kyoutani has his priorities, and he reaches you first, grabbing you by your elbow and ripping you away from them, a muscled arm curling protectively around your waist. And he’s deaf to whatever protests you have, to the excuses the pieces of crap in front of him offer up, can’t hear a goddamn thing over the pounding in his head as he fixes them with a snarl and all but drags you back to their room, shoving you less than gently in through the door.

“Stay here, don’t move until I get back,” he orders, and he loves you, he does, but when you open your mouth to argue, something inside of him tightens and snaps. He grabs you by the jaw, jerking your face up as he crowds in over you, golden eyes ablaze, “Not a fucking muscle, understand?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, crashing his lips down on yours to steal the kiss he’s been waiting fucking weeks for before stalking back out. 

Kyoutani is beyond caring about ramifications, Oikawa’s always given him a fairly loose leash to do as he pleases and if this is what puts an end to that so fucking be it; he’ll take you and go. But he hears Iwa and Mattsun on his heels and neither one of them are trying to stop him as he storms back towards the drug lord and his little cronies, so he figures the boss ain’t too fucking bothered with what he’s about to do.

And maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he might’ve found it funny how quickly the floor clears when he vaults the couch, grabs the asshole by the front of his silk shirt and heaves him forward, sending him careening face first into a table full of drinks. 

With the taste of you on his lips, the memory of this piece of shit’s hands all over you, Kyoutani doesn’t hold back. 

The others are gone by the time he, Iwa and Mattsun return, it’s just Oikawa casually leaning back in his seat, you sitting rigidly in the one beside him, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair. 

Kyoutani’s eyes flicker tensely between the two of you – he’s still on edge, still not right. He needs something more to feed that rabid fucking monster lurking beneath his skin, and his Oyabun knows it. 

Oikawa smiles genially, patting your knee for just a moment (and oh, how Kyoutani hates the flash of jealous rage that rears its ugly head when he leans over and whispers something in your ear) before standing up.

“Mad Dog,” he says, eyeing him with a shrewd look he recognises all too well. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He nods at the two behind him and without another word the three of them exit, no doubt to try and smooth over the mess he’d just made.

Leaving Kyoutani alone with you.

And there’s a part of him that’s pissed off, because this was always gonna happen, but fuck, he was gonna make an effort. He’d wanted it to be nice for you… romantic, or at least as romantic as somebody like him was capable of.

You deserve that much.

His blood’s still thrumming, remnants of blind fury and jealousy and possessive need still burning through his veins. The fight wasn’t enough to sate him; it should’ve been – he’d left them in fucking pieces – but then again you’ve been toeing this line for a long, long time, and Kyoutani’s patience only goes so far.

He should at least take you back to his apartment, try and salvage this disaster of a night, but he knows deep down he can’t make himself walk out of here with you without taking what he needs.

He’s still not entirely in control, breathing hard as he stares at you, watches you fiddle with your hands in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze. “Stand up,” he says, his voice a rough growl.

On shaking legs, you obey, eyes flickering towards the doorway behind him, and distantly he wonders what you’re thinking. You’re foolishly naive, he’ll admit that much, but he doesn’t think you’re stupid. You know where this is going, and you must know that there is nobody and nothing that’s gonna stop what’s about to happen. Not even you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and now he’s the one to draw in an unsteady breath. “Strip.”

You blanch, eyes widening in pure panic. And there’s a part of him that feels guilty, that knows he’s scaring you right now and hates himself for it, but any chance of rationality winning out fled the moment he saw somebody else put their hands all over you.

“Strip,” he repeats when you make no move to start taking your clothes off. “Or I’ll rip that pretty fucking dress off myself.”

Kyoutani adores that little catch in your breath, the way you bite down on your bottom lip as you give in, meekly reaching for the zipper at your back.

You’re so fucking beautiful, every mouthwatering inch of you. Tentatively, you glance up at him after your dress hits the floor, as if you’re hoping that that’ll be enough, that he doesn’t want to see all of you. Any other time, and the sight of you in your matching set of lingerie might’ve been enough to calm him, but it’s not what he needs tonight. 

His scowl deepens, and you’re clever enough to read between the lines. Your bra goes first, pretty lace panties joining the small pile of clothes on the floor a moment later. 

Good girl.

His eyes darken as he stares, hungrily taking you in. Soft tits, nipples pebbling under the cool air, he’s dying to touch them, suck on them, mark them up nice and fuckin’ pretty. The gentle swell of your ass, smooth, supple thighs he can’t wait to get his hands on, and that cute little cunt of yours, all his. His to play with, his to tease, his to claim. Fuck, this is better than all the images he’s conjured up of you in the heat of the moment, stroking his cock to get off with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He wants to compliment you, tell you how perfect you are, how cute you are – trembling naked in front of him, but he’s beyond words right now, hanging onto his control by a fucking thread as his cock twitches in his pants, all that blood rushing south.

You look like you’re about to burst into tears as you swallow, taking in a quick, hitching breath. “Kyoutani,” you begin in a soft, tiny voice–

And that last little thread snaps.

He’s on you before you can stop him, spinning you around and roughly slamming your hips up against the table. There’s no time to be soft or gentle, no time to even take off his pants, he just shoves them down to his thighs and reaches for his cock.

Fuck, he’d wanted to eat you out, to stuff you full of his fingers and make you cum on them first, get you nice and stretched out, but he’s still too wound up. Kyoutani needs to be buried inside of you, needs to fuck you – he’ll make it up to you afterwards, he swears it.

He’ll treat you like a fucking princess, just be good for him now. 

And the scream that shatters that calm night air should tear at him – he doesn’t want to hurt you, not ever, it’s his job to protect you – but he can��t focus on that when your pussy’s clamping down around his fat cock, a dizzying heat enveloping him as your walls flutter and squeeze against the unwanted intrusion.

It feels like fucking heaven. Kyoutani’s hands are everywhere; your tits, your ass, squeezing reassuringly at your hip when a broken sob leaves your lips. And he’s kissing at your shoulders, nuzzling at your neck even as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, desperate to be as close to you as he can as his hips draw back and he pounds back in, grunting like a beast in heat.

He fucks you savagely, your hips slamming against the table with every thrust – there’ll be bruises no doubt, but he’ll look after those too. He swears to fucking god, he’ll take such good care of you. You’re gonna be his girl. You are his girl.

It’s easier than it should be to drown out your agonised cries and pleas for him to slow down, to chase his own pleasure within your tight, wet heat, his cock ramming up against your cervix with every stroke. 

He loves you, loves the feeling of being inside of you – fuck, Kyoutani doesn’t think he ever wants to leave. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, a shudder wracking your body that almost has him seeing stars with the way your pussy tightens and convulses around him in response. He loses his rhythm as he nears his end, hips jackrabbiting into your poor, abused cunt as his balls tighten.

You’re slick now, cunt drooling around him as he fucks you hard and fast, lewd slaps echoing out with every brutal thrust. Kyoutani knows he’s holding you too tight, knows it’s probably hurting but he can’t fucking care when he’s so close and you feel so fucking good–

His teeth sink into your neck as that blinding pleasure takes hold; his entire body seizing up, abs tightening as his orgasm slams into him. Kyoutani cums with a hissed snarl, crushing you against him as thick, warm spurts fill your perfect little cunt right up. He fucks you through it, a slow, lazy grind of his hips against yours as he milks his orgasm for all it’s worth, pressing gentle, soothing kisses along your collarbone while you sniffle and sob pathetically.

“Love you,” he grunts quietly – truthfully – letting your exhausted body collapse back against the table. And it’s now he regrets not having taken you home to do this on an actual bed, just so he could lie you down somewhere soft afterwards and curl up beside you. 

Still, there’s not much he can do but try and comfort you as best he can, rough fingers running soothingly up and down your back as he waits for you to calm down. He pauses after a moment though, staring oddly at his hands.

There’s blood smeared across his skin, caked under his nails, splattered up his tattooed forearms. And Kyoutani can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips as he leans over to kiss your shoulder again, his cock still stuffed inside of you. 

Most of it isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

[padawansuggest]

I do enjoy the show. I also care more about fanfiction than any show ever or your feelings. Read the room lol I don’t give a fuck about anything im just here to write fics. All canon material is made with the purpose of me seasoning it on my fics like for the flavor.

This post wasn’t me complaining. This post was because im smart enough to draw mental connections between scenes and I think some ideas are cool.

It sounds to me that you didn’t watch (or maybe just didn’t understand) the Mortis Arc if that’s the conclusion you are drawing right there. You’re right, there is no light and dark, there is balance, and instability. That’s all there is, but my post isn’t about them being the light or the dark, it’s about the three force gods that lived on Mortis, the Father (balance) the Son (darkness that lives in us all) and the Daughter (the light that helps bring us back to balance) and me saying that these three were directly paralleled with them, which leads me to say ‘hey, the fucking world between worlds looks like the arena in the Mortis arc, wouldn’t it be fucking cool if they used that to bring a bit of it back into view cause that shit was fucked up and I loved it’ and you come in here complaining that I. A person who is here to enjoy things. Is not properly. Enjoying this show. Because I had a silly little idea in my head and decided to share it with the world.

But no. I’m not allowed to enjoy the show. Because. I mentioned? Fix it fics? I didn’t mean fixing the show you nitwit I meant fixing it so the fuckall sequels (which I think shouldn’t be a part of SW canon cauee the 1: made zero sense and 2: even the actors thought they made no sense and 3: they were written by a man who hated SW so idk maybe he shouldn’t have been allowed to write them lmao????) don’t have to happen because I happen to like THESE characters and think THESE ones should have a happy ending but idk maybe you thought I meant fixing the show.

No. I liked the show. Because as much as I hate the sequels I’m smart enough to realize if you DONT like something (like this goddamn post that you actively chose to reblog and post shitty comments on) it’s not actually for you. As much as I hate the sequels. Not everyone does. And they have the right to like them. But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to want or write fix it fics.

Maybe. Think about what you say next time because you sound ignorant.

Btw. A headcanon is something that isn’t NOT canon because it hasn’t been disproven in canon. Which means that if my post can be considered a headcanon (which it likely isn’t and tbh idk if Obi-Wan will show up at all he likely won’t and either way we’ll know next week) then your entire comment is bullshit because it’s either right or wrong. A headcanon can’t be disproven. Like I could tell you point blank Obi-Wan Kenobi is asexual and you can’t tell me he isn’t because there is evidence in canon to point that he might be but nothing to prove that he fucks nasty so idk why you even upset.

Anyways. I hope you step on a Lego. Let me enjoy my shit the way I want, instead of telling me to enjoy it in complete silence without having ever once given an opinion or excitement over it, because that’s going too far for your poor wittle brain to handle other pewples opinions on things, much less parallels to other things it reminds them of 😥

Jumbled thoughts so I’m bullet pointing

Ahsoka is in the World Between Workds with Anakin

This overall idea was first shadowed in the Mortis arc when Ahsoka died the first time

They didn’t GO there but the fighting arena between the brother and sister looked like it

Brother. And. Sister. Sorta like Ani and Soka.

There have been countless theories that Obi was meant to be the father’s replacement and that’s why it failed, but I personally always liked Obi replacing the sister cause him and Ahsoka interchangeably represent both balance and light but it’s Dave’s Special Girl so obviously she represents light where that’s concerned

Supposedly both are dead tbh idk but if they throw evil force ghost Ani at us I’ll personally kill Dave myself

But if not. Obi-Wan should show up and tell them that none of them are light or dark but it always should have been balance between them all, or maybe they really are going with Ani as Brother, Soka as Sister and Obi as Father

Could the placement of them both there actually be foreshadowing Ghost Obi-Wan???? Idk lol

Either way. I can already pinpoint 17 fix it fics that stem from this exact moment thank you

[summerwritesfics]

🔥❄️🥀One Look Could Kill, My Pain, Your Thrill

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 4455 Words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: Dom/Sub, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Blindfolds, Oral Sex, Orgasm delay/denial, Nipple clamps, Bratty Sub, Sending nudes, Nude photos, Face slapping, Rough sex, Rough oral sex, BDSM, Restraints, Bondage, Spitting, Enemies with benefits, Slight praise kink, Aftercare, Biting, Marking, Begging, Kuai is a little shit, Kuai really living up to the name SUB Zero here SubScorp Week Day 4: Lust

SubScorp Week 2021 Masterlist - Hatefuck Masterlist

Notes: Given the response to the last porn oneshot I posted all I have to say is this fandom is relentlessly horny... so, y'know. This is set in the same timeline as two other fics I've written, "Hatefuck" and "Poison", though you don't need to have read them really. All you need to know is by this point Kuai and Hanzo have established an "enemies with benefits" relationship. Tomorrow brings more smut, of a softer and more gentle kind, so if hardcore bdsm isn't your thing and you want some porn with feelings tomorrow is your day :) Title is from "Poison" by Alice Cooper, yes I did just write a fic to this song a few weeks ago but it's too good not to further use lyrics from.

With all the work he had to do as Grandmaster, Kuai Liang had very little free time so to speak of. It felt like he was constantly on the go. So when he got a moment with nothing to do, it was like suddenly loosing all sense of purpose.

And that led to extreme boredom.

He lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a frown. It was a strange feeling, being bored. He hated to admit it, but he almost hoped someone would be stupid enough to lead an attack on the Lin Kuei just so he would have something to do.

He reached for his phone, figuring he'd text Johnny to just get some form of interaction. He did a double take when he noticed he'd had a message from Hanzo he'd missed. It was unusual for Hanzo to text him, usually his enemy-with-benefits would call him instead. He clicked it.

[Hanzo said: I am currently in a meeting about Takeda joining a special forces team that Johnny is setting up and it is the most asinine meeting I've ever had the misfortune of being in.]

Kuai raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly though a little bit confused as to why Hanzo was texting him about this. They weren't exactly friends, no matter the uneasy truce between their clans and amazing sex they kept having. Granted Kuai liked to think they weren't quite enemies anymore, rivals was feeling more appropriate lately, but the moniker of enemies-with-benefits had stuck for now. Maybe he'd talk to Hanzo about upgrading their relationship slightly at some point. Rivals-with-benefits had just as nice a ring to it, in his opinion.

[Kuai Liang said: Sucks to be you, then, doesn't it?] [Kuai Liang said: Why are you texting me about this?] [Hanzo said: Because if I don't text someone I'm going to start murdering people and you are the only person in my phone who isn't currently in the room with me.] [Kuai Liang said: I see. What can I do to help then?] [Hanzo said: I don't know, send me something to distract me.]

Kuai sat up, staring at his phone. Distract him? How? He looked away from his phone and glanced around his room looking for ideas. When Kuai had fuck-all to do himself he wasn't entirely sure what he could talk about to distract him. His phone vibrated again, only this time it wasn't Hanzo but Johnny texting him.

[Johnny said: Out of curiosity, are you the person Grandmaster Grumpy Face is texting?] [Kuai Liang said: Yes. He is. He wants me to distract him. Have no idea how.] [Johnny said: Eh, you could send him something so out there it completely throws him off guard? Serve him right for texting when he should be paying attention. 😡]

Kuai considered this, wilfully ignoring Johnny's hypocrisy. What could I send to make him loose his nerve? His eyes landed on his set of draws, eyes widening and a smirk coming across his face when he remembered a certain item that he knew would keep Hanzo's attention. He sauntered over, slipping off his clothes as he approached. Naked now, he opened the drawer and pulled out the trusty pair of lace stockings. He wasted no time in putting them on, and making his way back to his bed.

He lay back on the bed, grabbing his phone and opening up the camera. He brought his leg up to his chest, hooking his arm over his knee. He held out his phone, low enough to tease but not enough to reveal all. He threw a peace sign for the hell of it as he hit the button. Uncurling himself, he checked the photo, smirking at it. Oh, this is going to distract him alright. First he clicked back to Johnny.

[Kuai Liang said: Right, I am about to send him something. 😈 Please send me a detailed play back of his reaction, because I have a feeling he will not be texting me again for the rest of this meeting.] [Johnny said: Okay dokey!]

He flicked back to Hanzo, found the photo and hit send. Resting his arm behind his head, he felt a strange vindictive pride in what he'd just done. Seconds later Johnny texted again.

[Johnny said: HOLY FUCK DUDE!] [Johnny said: WTF did you just send him??? That reaction was AMAZING!] [Johnny said: He was mid-drink when he got it, so he ended up spitting his drink everywhere, then choking, and now he's trying to regain semblance of composure by fanning himself.] [Johnny said: My dude I have never seen him that red before holy shit.] [Kuai Liang said: Mwahahaha 😈😈😈 My work here is done!] [Johnny said: Holy fuck, thank you so much, you've made my day.] [Johnny said: I need to know what you sent!] [Kuai Liang said: Ah, just something I know won't leave his head for hours ☺️] [Johnny said: Wait. omg!] [Johnny said: DID YOU SEND HIM A FUCKING NUDE?] [Kuai Liang said: 😇😇😇] [Johnny said: HOLY FUCK YOU DID OMFG YOU ABSOLUTE MAD MAN!] [Kuai Liang said: Hey it was a tasteful nude, give me some credit Jonathan.] [Johnny said: This explains why he's now crossing his legs 😂😂😂] [Kuai Liang said: 😂😂😂] [Kuai Liang said: If you could text me when the meeting is almost over, I'd appreciate the warning, since I believe I'll have a visit from him the second he's dismissed and I'd like to be prepared 🙃] [Johnny said: Will do!]

Kuai tried to stop his cackling but it wasn't easy. The image of Hanzo sitting red faced and crossed legged was just too funny to him. As he suspected, he didn't get a reply from the Shirai Ryu grandmaster. And it was only a few minutes later that he got another text from Johnny.

[Johnny said: Meeting coming to an end. Prepare for impact.] [Kuai Liang said: Thank you ☺️] [Johnny said: Good luck!]

Kuai smirked at the message, placing the phone down on the bedside cabinet. He settled down, trying to get into as seductive a pose he possibly could. It was only moments later that a tornado of flame materialised in front of his bed, dying down to reveal a very unamused looked Hanzo.

"Nice of you to drop by, Grandmaster Hasashi," Kuai purred, delighting in just how red Hanzo's face was.

"You are the worst person I know," Hanzo growled, and Kuai had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing in the mans face.

"Aw, did you not appreciate my gift?" Kuai teased, a strange pride overcoming him when he saw Hanzo's eyes narrow. "You asked for a distraction, not my fault you didn't specify how to do that."

"I didn't think I'd have to specify not to send me a nude photograph of yourself while I'm in a fucking meeting." Hanzo crossed his arms. He was angry yes, but Kuai could tell it was the kind of anger born of sexual frustration that only he could inflict upon the ex-wraith.

"So I can send you nude photographs when you're not in a meeting?" Kuai said, seeing Hanzo's eye twitch at his blatant attempt to miss the point. "Well, clearly I've upset you," Kuai started, spreading his legs a little, feeling accomplished when Hanzo's gaze was fixed between them. "Maybe I can make it up to you, I mean that-" Kuai pointed at Hanzo's crotch, his erection clearly visible through his clothes, "looks like something I can help with."

Hanzo mouth quirked, before he held up a single finger, gesturing for Kuai to come towards him. Kuai bit the inside of his cheek, slowly crawling across his bed, until he was at the edge. Hanzo took a few steps forward, reaching to grasp Kuai around the throat. Tight enough to be a warning, but not to cause any damage or effect his breathing.

"How many times do I have to teach you not to tease me?" He snarled, giving a quick squeeze and loosening his grip again.

"Hm, I think it's going to take at least one more lesson," Kuai claimed, enjoying the way Hanzo rolled his eyes.

Hanzo released his grip on Kuai's throat, reaching for the headband he was wearing instead. He untied it, holding the yellow piece of fabric in his hand. He then grabbed Kuai's wrists, tightly binding it around them. Once his hands were bound, Hanzo reached to tangle his fingers in Kuai's hair, tilting his head up. He lent down to claim Kuai's lips, the kiss rough and possessive and when Hanzo drew away there was a line of saliva between them.

"I'll put you in your place," Hanzo muttered, a promise Kuai knew the other man would deliver on. That didn't mean he wasn't going to push his luck as far as he could.

"Hm, and which porn film did you borrow that line from?" He questioned. Hanzo sharply yanked his hair, causing Kuai to giggle.

"You never learn do you?" Hanzo let go of Kuai's hair, and instead walked away. Hanzo stalked over to a set of drawers, opening it up while seeking out the secret compartment within, where Kuai kept his secret sex toy stash, away from the prying eyes of nosy students. Hanzo muttered to himself as he sorted through the assorted toys and tools within.

Kuai watched with interest to see what Hanzo was choosing. Hanzo placed the bottle of lube on the top of the drawers, before he pulled out a blindfold and nipples clamps and put the drawer back in its proper place. Kuai couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, it seemed a little lacking, he knew he had far more heavy duty items in there. He had a feeling Hanzo had more up his sleeves that he was not yet revealing.

Hanzo was suddenly besides him, the blindfold, lube and clamps in hand. He placed the lube and blindfold down on the bed. Fingers pinched one of Kuai nipples, and Kuai suppressed a moan as the first clamp was put on. Hanzo observed Kuai's face for a few minutes, clearly trying to assess if it was too uncomfortable. After deciding it wasn't, he reached for the other nipple, securing the second clamp in place too. They stung a little, but it was a good sting, even more so when Hanzo curled the little chain attached to them around his finger and gently tugged them.

Hanzo reached over for the blindfold, covering Kuai's eyes with it and plunging his world into darkness. Unable to see, he could only focus on the sound of Hanzo shuffling and the sting on his nipples. Still this all seemed very tame so far, and Kuai was still on edge of what Hanzo could possibly be planning for him.

He felt Hanzo grab his bound wrists, pulling him forward and off the bed. "On your knees," he commanded. Kuai attempted to, clinging to Hanzo's arms for balanced as he did. He folded his legs under himself, not bothered by the cold stone floor beneath him.

He heard more rustling, and the sound of something metal hitting the floor. Seconds later, a hand stroked his cheek, while he felt something being pushed against is lips. He smirked slightly, knowing exactly what it was.

"Open your mouth," Hanzo demanded yet again. Seeing an opportunity to continue being a little shit, Kuai refused to follow the order. The hand on his cheek drew away, before it roughly slapped him across the face. Kuai laughed, even as his cheek grew sore. The hand roughly grabbed his chin, once more something was being pushed against his lips. "Open."

Kuai continued to resist the order, making sure his mouth was tightly clamped shut. Hanzo gave a frustrated growl, as a hand clamped over Kuai's nose cutting off the airway. The other hand was digging into his jaw, trying to pry it open. Kuai knew he could have breathed shallowly through his teeth but he figured he'd pissed Hanzo off enough for now. He opened his mouth, immediately feeling Hanzo's cock being fed inside. Kuai choked slightly, but was thankful when Hanzo finally let go of his nose. He took a few breaths to adjust.

"That wasn't so hard was it?" Hanzo remarked, thrusting his cock further into Kuai's mouth. Kuai closed his lips around it, running his tongue along the length. He heard Hanzo groan, both hands now grabbing the back of his head. "You're a lot less frustrating to deal with when you've got your mouth full and can't talk back."

Kuai gave a low moan in protest, cut off when Hanzo's cock hit the back of his throat. Hanzo held him there for a while, before pulling back. The next thrust was a lot more powerful and almost caught Kuai off guard. Before he managed to prepare himself, he found Hanzo was once more pulling away before driving back in. He slowly started to get used to it as Hanzo began a fast but steady rhythm. Sucking as Hanzo was thrusting in, he occasionally lapped his tongue against the shaft and but for the most part Kuai did his best to just ride it out.

Hanzo began to push in further, Kuai relaxing his throat so he didn't choke. He felt his nose push against Hanzo's pelvis, Hanzo's hands keeping Kuai's head still as he swallowed around Hanzo's cock. Eventually Hanzo let go, allowing Kuai to pull away and spit Hanzo's cock from his mouth. He took several deep breaths, feeling spit and precum drip from his lips and down his chin.

Hanzo grabbed his jaw again, and must have bent down to be level with him if the hot breath hitting his face was to go by. The other hand was on one of the clamps, twisting it and making Kuai squirm in place.

"Are you ready to start behaving?" Hanzo asked with a snarl.

Kuai's mouth quirked into a small smile. He wasn't ready to behave, wanted to keep goading Hanzo on until the other man fucked him so hard he would be completely wrecked. Besides if he didn't want Hanzo to be so rough, if he wanted to quit at any point, there was a set of words he could use. Between them they'd only had to use them a handful of times, and right now he had no need.

So, his answer came in the form of him spitting in the general direction of Hanzo's voice. He wasn't sure he'd hit his target, but given the disgusted sound Hanzo made he assumed he'd accomplished his goal. Hanzo's hands let go of him, before delivering another slap across his face.

"Very well, you brought this on yourself."

Hanzo grabbed him around the waist, hauling him off the floor. He was practically thrown back onto the bed, letting out a small "oof" as he hit his mattress with enough force he bounced slightly on it. He squirmed, trying to sit himself up until he felt a hand grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. Hanzo fiddled with the bonds for a minute, before finally letting go. Kuai tried to pull his hands back down, only to tug and find them now tied to his headboard.

Hanzo's hands trailed down his torso, stopping at his nipples to once more pull on the clamps and make him arch his back. They were let go, he could feel fingers delicately trace his abs. No doubt Hanzo was admiring having someone so strong so helpless before him. Hands reached his hips, a single finger running along his cock. Then those warm hands were on the inside of his thighs, pushing them apart. Hanzo stroked his muscles through the lace, giving an appreciative hum.

"God, your bratty behaviour is worth putting up with just for the sight of you in these stockings." The hands squeezed down, and then let go.

There were a few moments where there was nothing, all Kuai could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Then he heard a pop, before something that sounded wet. Next thing he knew, something slick with lube was pushing against his entrance. He gasped as a finger slowly slid inside. He shuddered, feeling Hanzo's free hand pushing down on his hip to keep him still. The finger pushed in as far as it could go, feeling around inside before being pulled back. A second finger joined it this time, Kuai gave a hiss at Hanzo's impatience but it didn't really hurt.

Hanzo twisted his fingers, using them to search for something. They pressed against a certain spot, and Kuai felt a jolt of pleasure letting out a moan. Hanzo gave a low chuckle, as his fingers continued to probe at his prostate. He trembled, Hanzo's fingers rubbing in circles. Without sight, all he could do was focus on the maddening sensation. The fingers retreated slightly, only to this time be joined by a third upon reentry. They immediately sort out that same spot, that sensation now joined with the feeling of being stretched.

The fingers slipped out. There was another wet squirt, before he felt his legs being lifted and hooked over Hanzo's shoulders. And then there was something else, hard and hot, pressing up against his entrance. He whined as Hanzo's cock slowly opened him up. Kuai's hands strained against his restraints, feeling Hanzo's weight pushing down on him as his legs were pushed further up to a point they were just about touching his torso.

Soon the pushing stopped, Kuai feeling Hanzo's pelvis resting against his ass. There was a long moment, presumably Hanzo was letting Kuai get used to the feeling. Finally Hanzo pulled back, before slowly entering again. Kuai whimpered, it wasn't like Hanzo to be so slow. Was this Hanzo's way of getting revenge? Because it wasn't like Kuai found slowness as torturous as Hanzo did.

It was after a couple more thrusts where Hanzo finally managed to hit his prostate that Kuai realised what he'd been doing. Kuai moaned involuntarily, and the dark chuckle that came from Hanzo revealed that might have been a mistake. Before Kuai could even think about complaining, Hanzo jerked his hips back and drove back in with such force there was an audible slap. There was no reprieve, a constant onslaught of thrusts straight into his prostate, and every time it hit Kuai could not stop the noises escaping his mouth. He was suddenly very glad that the walls of the temple were quite thick. If any of his students heard the lewd noises he was making he wasn't sure he could look them in the eyes ever again.

"What's wrong, Kuai Liang? Where's all that bravado gone, hm?" Hanzo mocked between his laboured breathes and grunts. Kuai wanted to reply, wanted so bad to make some smart remark, but completely in the dark with only the sensation of being penetrated he could barely come up with a single word.

"F-fuck you," was about the most eloquent thing he could get out of his mouth, that wasn't an incomprehensible noise of pleasure.

"Fuck me? No, I think you'll find I'm fucking you," Hanzo chuckled, giving a particularly hard thrust that practically had Kuai screaming.

Kuai could feel his orgasm fast approaching, every time Hanzo drove into his body he felt himself approaching the edge. He was at breaking point, just a few more seconds and...

Hanzo came to a stop.

"W-What?" Kuai blinked behind the blindfold, the fabric soaking up the tears that had been forming in his eyes. "Why did you stop? W-What's going on?"

"Close, weren't you, hm?" There was a harsh yank on the nipple clamps, and Kuai jolted. "But bad boys don't get to cum and I don't think you've earned the right yet."

Kuai's eyes widened. He knew that Hanzo had to have something else lined up but this was the last thing he'd expected. He'd pulled orgasm denial on Hanzo a few times, but he never imagined the situation to ever be flipped like this. Hanzo was not patient enough in the bedroom. Or at least, that's what he'd thought.

"You've got to be kidding me," Kuai got out through gritted teeth. He yanked on his restraints again. "Move!"

"No," Hanzo claimed, pulling on the clamps again. "Not until I think you've learned your lesson."

Kuai gave a frustrated huff, squirming in an attempt to fuck himself on Hanzo's cock. All that accomplished was Hanzo pushing down on him more, now completely doubled over himself, and trapped under Hanzo's weight. He could feel Hanzo's hot breath on his face again.

"Bastard," Kuai growled under his breath. Attempting to twist out of Hanzo's grip but getting nowhere. "Shirai Ryu dog!"

"Lin Kuei scum," Hanzo countered, before cutting anymore of Kuai's complaints off with a kiss. Kuai trembled, uncomfortable from both the position he was in and the damned cock in his ass that wasn't fucking doing anything. Hanzo pulled his tongue out just before Kuai could bite down on it in retaliation. "You want to cum, then you're going to have to start begging, snowflake, because until you start showing me respect you will get nothing."

"Fuck you!" Kuai growled again, "fuck you! Fuck you! Fucking fuck me you coward!"

Kuai's hopes that the insult would relight the fire of Hanzo's anger were dashed when all Hanzo did in return was laugh.

He felt the heat of Hanzo's breath hit his ear as the man nibbled his lobe. A low whisper rumbled "beg for it."

Kuai closed his eyes, taking a few deep breathes, "please, Hanzo, let me cum."

"That was a request, not begging," Hanzo muttered, pressing a kiss to the side of Kuai's neck, "request denied. Now beg. I know you can."

Kuai whimpered as Hanzo grazed his teeth over a sensitive area. Begging. Kuai could do that, knew enough of Hanzo's preferences to know exactly how to do so to his liking. He bit his lip, opened his eyes despite that doing nothing.

"Please, Master," he started, Hanzo giving an approving moan into his neck from the use of such a title. "I'm sorry for being a brat, thank you for taking time to teach my my place. Please let me cum Master, I'll be better for you."

"For only me?" Hanzo snarled, mouth now grazing a familiar spot upon Kuai's body where a particular scar that matched Hanzo's teeth lay. A scar that would no doubt be reopened before this was done.

"Yes, only you, I'll only ever be yours Master, no one else could ever fuck me like you do." He felt relief when Hanzo finally rolled his hips.

"Good boy," he whispered, and those words alone brought a strangled whine from Kuai's lips.

Hanzo began thrusting again, softly as first, but it didn't take long for him to rock back into that same brutal pace from before. Kuai was close again, so close.

"Han- Master," he corrected, "please, I'm going to-"

"Cum for me," Hanzo demanded, "cum for the only person who can fuck you this good." Finally an order that Kuai was more than happy to oblige.

His orgasm was sudden, practically screaming himself hoarse with it as he felt a wetness over his stomach. In the dark of the blindfold all the could see was little pinpricks of light as all his other sense went into override. So overwhelmed he barely noticed how he clenched around Hanzo's cock and the mans teeth sunk into that spot on his neck. He only registered what was happening when there was a final thrust, Hanzo's cock far in as it could go and the sudden feeling of being filled with warmth.

In his daze, he felt Hanzo withdraw, his nipples finally being freed from the clamps, and next thing he knew a hand was hooking under the blindfold and slipping it free. He blinked a couple of times, readjusting to the light as his hands were freed. He finished blinking, staring up at Hanzo.

"Do you need anything?" Hanzo questioned, and as Kuai opened his mouth to speak, he realised how sore his throat was.

"Water," he croaked out. Hanzo gave a nod and was off.

He waited a few seconds before he went to push himself to sit as he heard the tap running. He winced at a sharp pain from his backside as he moved. Still he managed to get himself upright enough to slump against the headboard. Hanzo came back in, glass of water and what looked like a pill of some kind.

"I figure you might need some ibuprofen as well," he mumbled, appearing almost embarrassed by that fact.

"Aw, sounds like you're worried about me," Kuai giggled, Hanzo just rolled his eyes as he held out the two items. As Kuai went to take the glass, he noticed how hard his hands were shaking. "Oh," he muttered, offering Hanzo a sheepish smile. Hanzo instead gave Kuai the tablet, which he put in his mouth, before holding the glass to Kuai's lips. Kuai drank enough to wash down the tablet, and a couple more gulps for good measure before Hanzo pulled it away. "Thank you."

Hanzo nodded, placing the glass down on the bedside cabinet before sitting on the bed next to Kuai. The Lin Kuei grandmaster instinctively rested his head on Hanzo's shoulder. His neck stung from where Hanzo had yet again laid his mark.

"You really have to stop opening that bite wound," Kuai mumbled, "one of these days it's going to get infected."

"I won't let it get infected," Hanzo confidently declared and Kuai laughed slightly.

"You sound like you're going to try beat up an infection," Kuai said in disbelief, Hanzo just huffing in response. "Maybe mark me somewhere else next time? The other side of my neck. My shoulder. My thighs."

"I will keep that in mind," Hanzo stated as an arm wrapped around Kuai Liang's shoulders protectively. A soft gesture for people who were meant to be enemies with benefits.

They sat in a comfortable post amazing sex silence for a few minutes, so peaceful Kuai could feel his eyes start to droop, exhaustion coming to finally claim him. This had definitely been one way to cure his boredom, that was for sure.

"I'm keeping the photo, by the way," Hanzo announced before Kuai could fall asleep.

"You'd better, I'll be offended if you delete it," he mumbled half asleep. "Am I going to have to send you more at some point?"

"I would... appreciate that," Hanzo admitted, his embrace tightening slightly. "Just please don't send anymore of them when I'm in meetings."

Kuai smiled against Hanzo's skin, "fair enough."

⋞ Previous Fic ≛❀≛ Next Fic ⋟

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

Castlevania Season 4: I’m not mad, just disappointed

Season 4 is poorly written fanfiction, which is...better than a lot of things could be, I guess.

Spoilers below the cut.

Content warning: trauma, sexual assault, psychological manipulation

The Gods Have Had a Change of Heart

Or, “Season 3 Blocked and Ignored”

Season 3 felt like the fabric of the universe had been twisted just to inflict additional pain. Season 4 overcompensates in the other direction; trauma evaporates, and good things happen for no other reason than to make our favorite characters happy.

The Season 3 finale left two characters in particular totally devastated: Alucard and Hector. Alucard is violently betrayed in a horrifying sexual assault by the first two people he’s spoken to since Trevor and Sypha left. He ends up killing them in self-defense and puts their bodies on stakes outside the castle, alluding to his father’s habit of doing so and potentially hinting at a turn toward evil. Hector is seduced by Lenore and then enslaved using a magic ring.

Yet at the start of Season 4, it’s as if these things never happened. Alucard is troubled, but not totally devastated, certainly not evil. Taka and Sumi are referenced in exactly one conversation with new character, Greta, in which she says the rather tactless throwaway line, “I had a boyfriend and girlfriend at the same time once. But they never tried to kill me.” Hector is nominally imprisoned, but immediately seems highly agentic, perhaps even more so than before. He studies, lays traps, and makes secret plans with other people. Furthermore, his relationship with Lenore is completely transformed. From falling to his knees in abject horror and despair at being enslaved, he suddenly switches to light banter, in what is apparently a basically okay, mutually enjoyed romantic/sexual relationship. Manipulative, selfish Lenore is now a sympathetic character struggling to reconcile her own role and feelings with Carmilla’s plans.

The events of season 3 happened, remaining canon in the most basic, literal sense. But the emotional weight attached to them has disappeared into thin air.

Not gonna lie, I did breathe a sigh of relief when I saw that Alucard and Hector were okay. I’m soft-hearted! I don’t like seeing characters I like suffer! I mean, conflict is important, and I can deal with (or even enjoy in a certain sense) seeing characters suffer if it makes sense and serves a narrative purpose. But as far as I can tell, the season 3 finale was nothing more than lurid, meaningless violence. I probably wouldn’t have continued watching the show if it devolved into nothing more than finding novel ways to torture the characters.

Still, it doesn’t feel quite right to pretend like nothing happened either. Or, really, not that nothing happened, but that those things didn’t matter, didn’t hurt, didn’t leave lasting scars. That’s...almost kind of worse.

But, I thought, I can sort of forgive this sudden shift in the stars, given that there may have been some sort of change in creative direction relating to Ellis’ decreased involvement with the show.* Plus, season 3 was insanity. It’s not like it was full of great writing choices, so if we quietly ignore some of them, maybe that’s for the best.

*I only later learned that Netflix actually chose to continue with Ellis’ season 4 scripts. It is not lost on me that maybe Ellis doesn’t know how to write about the lasting effects of traumatic sexual experiences or how power dynamics can make a sexual relationship problematic because he doesn’t understand that those things exist.

Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening

Pretty Pictures, Not Much Else

Unfortunately, the disconnect between seasons 3 and 4 isn’t the only problem with this season. Although I felt that season 4 was a bit less boring than season 3 (I particularly enjoyed some of the earlier episodes of season 4), it suffers from the same basic problems of Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening.

None of the characters experience any significant development, let alone any sort of coherent arc. Sypha has changed slightly, becoming more rough and jaded. I did really like the scene where she talks about becoming the kind of person who says “shit.” I think it really speaks to how entering into a relationship with someone means taking on aspects of their lifestyle, and how that can change you in ways that you can’t predict and therefore can’t exactly “agree” to. Sometimes those changes are good, sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re neutral, and sometimes it’s difficult to know. But you have to accept that you’re sacrificing some aspects of the person that you could have been if you chose to live completely independently, or with someone else.

Trevor really hasn’t changed since season 1 when he first decided to take up the mantle of hero again. Likewise with Alucard. Hector and Lenore change, as previously noted, but that change is sudden, jarring, and occurs completely off screen in between seasons 3 and 4. Carmilla dies as exactly as she lived: bitter, angry, and violent. Saint Germain just kind of...gets fucked over in a nonsensical subplot, which is its own whole can of worms.

We also get several new characters in season 4, none of whom have developed personalities or motives, nor do they develop any of those things over the course of the season: Greta, Zamfir, Varney, Ratko.

And nobody. Does. Anything.

Trevor and Sypha spend the entire season trying to explore and aid Targoviste, which comes to absolutely nothing. They’re unable to help anyone, Zamfir dies, and they end up just jumping through a magic portal to the actually relevant subplot in the finale. Carmilla literally does little more than draw maps until she’s ultimately killed. Hector plays a minor role in Saint Germain’s extraction of Dracula from Hell; otherwise, he and Lenore basically just exchange banter. Saint Germain does sort of do some stuff? But it’s often unclear how he’s made his connections, who the people who are helping him are, or what exactly he’s doing in terms of his magic beyond “whatever it takes to get back to his lover.”

Sure, there are fight scenes, but they feel meaningless. There’s no context, no stakes. There’s also a LOT of dialogue, and it is. Not well written. Exposition is embarrassingly clumsy at times, and the philosophical musings are cliche at best, muddled and confusing at worst. There’s just not all that much going on.

That is, except for Isaac. But more on him in a second.

What Kind of Show Is This?

When the plot line adapted from Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse ended with season 2, the show struggled to establish a new identity.

Despite nominally dealing with themes like whether humanity is inherently good or evil and how to cope with wrongdoing and loss, seasons 1 and 2 ultimately boiled down to a pretty generic action-adventure/fantasy plot with found family/power of friendship elements. Main characters Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard don’t really wrestle with big philosophical questions or suffer any major defeats. They know that they have to take down Dracula for the good of the world, and they work together as a team to do it, with a little character development relating to their various backstories sprinkled in.

Then season 3 happened, and things got weird. The trio is broken up for what feels like a pretty trivial reason—Alucard has to protect the castle and Belmont hold, I guess? And the result of that decision is that the dynamics for the three main characters are completely unbalanced.

Ellis openly admits that he basically went feral with the writing of season 3, and it shows. The messaging in seasons 1 and 2 was cliche, but consistent. The message of season 3? Anyone’s guess.

Season 4 reversed the darkening of tone from season 3, but shares its inability to pick a story and tell it.

Isaac is the Main Character

Always has been.

While I can’t say that his character or arc are perfect, I can say that he actually has a character and an arc. He starts off motivated by his fierce loyalty to Dracula, then has to struggle to find his purpose once Dracula is gone. He goes from subservient to agentic. He goes from fully endorsing the genocide of humanity and not caring about his own life to seeing some worth in humans and genuinely wanting to live. He has an interesting moment that deepens our understanding of what night creatures are, while also serving as an exploration of the meaning of one’s fundamental nature. Most importantly, these changes happen naturally over the course of the show. They never feel forced or out of the blue, and while I feel like even more could have been done with Isaac’s character, there’s a lot to appreciate about what is there.

If there’s any thread holding Castlevania as a single, coherent work together, it’s Isaac. Not only is his character the best executed and the most coherent over the course of the show, his character explores themes that are larger than himself and relevant to the show as a whole, like those mentioned earlier: misanthropy versus a belief in the value of humanity; the ability to go beyond one’s “nature” or initial circumstances; and how to respond to being wronged or losing something important to you. Exploring the individual lives of characters is great, but really good writing usually requires going beyond that to reflect on broader questions and ideas. Isaac is the only character here that serves that larger purpose.

Sorry...I Just Don’t Buy It

The season 4 finale is crazy, although in a different way from season 3′s.

Varney being Death makes no sense on several different levels. I’m not going to spend a lot of time picking that particular plot twist apart, but I will talk about why I think it doesn’t work at the largest scale, and how I think season 4 might have been done better.

Last minute twists with zero foreshadowing are rarely a good idea, and this is no exception. Why introduce this “Death” entity at the last minute to be the most important battle of the season? The finale of the entire show, even? Besides the lack of logic or emotional buildup, this robs the show of the opportunity to make use of the antagonists that it already has. Since Dracula died, Carmilla has been the obvious choice for a new big bad. Why hasn’t she done more?

Season 4 feels crowded with characters and plot lines that amount to nothing. Why not bring some of these characters together? If Carmilla is the main antagonist, how come she never meets any of the protagonists (except Hector, who is a pretty minor player in this ecosystem) or even affects them in any way?

Season 4 feels like maybe it was trying to make something out of season 3 and the model that it presented, but it ultimately fails to do so. The writers throw the trio back together at the end anyway, so why not have them rejoin sooner and work together? Maybe Sypha and Trevor’s past experience with Saint Germain could have helped Alucard and Greta piece together what he was plotting sooner, rather than all four of them being completely blindsided by it in the penultimate episode. (Sypha and Trevor know that someone is trying to resurrect Dracula, but they fail to find out any actual detail about the plans, despite their supposed attempts.) Have characters actually do stuff, figure stuff out, advance the plot!

Likewise, maybe Carmilla becomes aware of Saint Germain’s scheming, sees it as a threat, and tries to take him down. Maybe she tries to get involved and somehow use alchemy or the Infinite Corridor to her own benefit. What does it look like when power-hungry Carmilla, who wants to rule the world, finds out there’s an entire multiverse out there? That could easily set her up to be a foil to Saint Germain, causing him to realize that what he’s doing is wrong.

What actually ended up happening in the show feels disjointed and often empty. In particular, most of the events that happen in the last two episodes just don’t really work for me. I didn’t like Trevor suddenly sacrificing himself to this random, new, super powerful enemy, or how the gems and dagger that he found just happened to be the perfect weapon to kill this new enemy, or how he inexplicably returns from the dead.

This kind of thing is what I mean when I say that this season feels like fanfiction. Trevor comes back from the dead for no discernible reason other than that it would really suck if he died. Greta as a character seems to literally only exist to be Alucard’s girlfriend and support him so that he doesn’t have to continue to be alone and potentially turn evil. Alucard’s trauma from Taka and Sumi and Hector’s trauma from Lenore are both conveniently erased. Even Dracula and Lisa are resurrected somehow and get their happy ending. And it’s like, I guess I prefer deus ex machina to the opposite (Does that have a name? When everything is going well but then something terrible happens for no reason other than to make things worse for the characters?), but they’re both bad writing.

God. This isn’t even getting into what happened with the Council of Sisters. And I don’t even really like those characters, but that doesn’t mean I want to see their characters handled poorly.

I’m not sorry that I watched until the end, but I can’t in good faith recommend the show as a whole. If you’ve yet to watch Castlevania, just stop at the end of season 2. While there are some shining moments in seasons 3 and 4 (4 more than 3), it’s just really not worth it.

[tonystarktogo]

Could I pretty pretty please get some more on the time travel crack au? Maybe when it gets out that Steve, Bruce, andThor are technically from the future?

As much as I’d love to jump to that part, I think it’s funnier necessary to cover a few other tidbits first. For example:

Tony misses whatever discussion follows Thor’s -- hah, got it right in one, he hasn’t lost his touch completely yet -- arrival before the god carries his brother off towards a containment cell with the sort of cheer that causes Tony to carefully keep at least two people between himself and Thor, lest the asshole tries to hug him again.

Not that it can be that big a loss considering they all -- sans Loki -- end up back in the command center of the helicarrier, where Fury glares balefully at the most recent invader of his precious aircraft that clearly isn’t meant to stand in the way of gods.

A glare Thor aggressively doesn’t notice. Likely because he’s too busy partaking in the on-going discussion on what to do next.

And by ‘what to do next’ Tony doesn’t mean the expected we-were-invaded-by-a-mindcontrolled-alien-nutbag-and-there’s-probably-more-out-there-seems-like-the-kind-of-oh-shit-situation-we-should-plan-for. No. That would be reasonable and expected and Tony’s spent all of three hours in the company of the esteemed Captain America and already he can tell you that Rogers is none of that.

[Which, not cool, Capsicle. Dazzling and befuddling people with crazily brilliant ideas is his job.]

[continues under the cut]

So far, Tony’s been paying attention for ten minutes. In that time, Rogers and Thor have gotten into an argument over how to handle Loki -- which holy shit, that went from a calm, rational discussion to a battle to the death between two superhumans on a sugar high in zero point four seconds -- that Tony is so not gonna touch. [Nope. Let some other fool [i.e. Rogers] throw himself head-first into norse god family drama, Tony’s own feelings concerning his family are complicated enough.] That conversation devolved into a not-openly-fighting-while-totally-fighting stand-off between Rogers and Banner over a way too bitter comment from the latter [something about ‘you’d know all about choosing one brother over the other, wouldn’t you’ which what?], which in turn gets derailed by Banner needling Thor about the merits of beheading over stabbing.

Romanoff had the good sense to disappear -- probably to interrogate Loki while his apparently protective big brother is distracted, now that Tony thinks about it. 

Unfortunately that still leaves Tony stuck here, having to play the role of the mature adult because no one else fucking will. Tony hates being responsible. It’s like being back in high school and being left to do all the work on your own in group project.

[Tony failed that project. Got a straight up zero on purpose because spite is a wonderful motivator. Which, now that Tony thinks about it, doesn’t say anything promising about the current situation.]

Tony leans even further back in his seat, only balancing on the backlegs of the chair, to give Fury a very sharp, very judgemental look.

These are the people you’re betting Earth’s survival on, that look says.

Fury’s already pissed off expression darkens further, which brightens Tony mood substantially. That one of the suit’s sensors flashes green twice in quick succession less than a minute later really just makes for a delicious cherry on the top. Or more precisely a good excuse to ditch this trainwreck of a match-making attempt.

“Whoops,” Tony says, clearly audible but not too loud to draw real attention from the three [still arguing-while-pretending-not-to] stooges on the other end of the room. “Looks like I gotta take this call.”

He jiggles his fingers at Fury. The guy rolls his eyes -- probably jealous that he doesn’t have an excuse himself, that bitch face doesn’t fool Tony -- but no one tries to stop him.

“Alright, J, what do you have for me?”

*

Tony pretends not to notice the shuffling footsteps. Glances at the disturbingly normal clock on the wall that is so not up-to-date with the rest of the technology in the room, it must be an inside joke. Tony would love to meet the SHIELD agent behind it -- it can’t be easy, being the only person with a sense of humor in an entire agency.

30 minutes.

Well. That’s longer than Tony thought he’d get. JARVIS still hasn’t cracked the last layer on SHIELD’s really fucked up dirt -- and given what he’s already found, that says a lot -- but it’s only a matter of time now. Besides, Tony’s got a job to do.

“To- Stark.”

“Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t turn. Neither does he stop typing.

“What are you doing?”

Tony scoffs. He’s not in the mood to pander to inferior minds -- not when they’re so fucking frustrating, don’t make any sense and worst of all make him do all the work. 

“He’s tracking the Tesseract, using the scepter as a point of reference,” Banner says after taking one look at the screen over Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Banner’s credentials clearly don’t do him justice -- and they were pretty damn good to begin with.

“Huh,” says Rogers.

Thanks for playing. Now buckle down and make yourself useful or fuck off, Tony wants to snipe but doesn’t get the chance to because the gods -- this god at least -- just aren’t on his side.

“Even without my brother’s help, a weapon of the tesseract’s might should not be underestimated,” Thor speaks up. “Should we not make haste and collect it?”

"Great idea.” Tony’s voice is dryer than the sand dune he crash-landed in back during his fun little trip to Afghanistan. “If only I’d thought of that instead of inventing fifteen new algorithms to try and get a read on SHIELD’s precious magic eight ball while you were busy defending your brother’s honor. Speaking of, I’m pretty sure Romanoff is a greater danger to his virtue than Captain Shockfreeze over there, so why are you still here?”

Okay, maybe poking the hornet nest that is godly family isn’t his smartest move [didn’t he just say he wasn’t gonna touch that?!] but damn if Tony isn’t curious. And also too annoyed to care about unimportant, subjective things like good manners and tact.

He sort of regrets his cavalier attitute a little when Thor sobers. At least there are no tears in sight. Tony is the last person on Earth who should be left unsupervised around crying people. It just never ends well.

“Ah.” Thor sighs heavily, stems his body against an unfortunate table that creaks dangerously. "I’m afraid I can’t afford to see my brother right now.”

It’s the way he says those words, the weight they carry more than anything that tells Tony he needs to drop this issue right now. Talk about one huge trigger button.

Must be inconvenient to have siblings. Tony totally can’t relate.

“Well, in that case, unless you have a magic trick with which you can pull the Tesseract’s position out of your sleeve, how about you sit as far away from these delicate instruments as possible and don’t touch anything while I work my magic, hm?”

Tony doesn’t let his gaze linger on the crushed edge of the table. Thor hasn’t even seemed to notice. He’s too busy lighting up at Tony’s snappish response. Which is surprising. Tony’s aware he’s a bit of an asshole right now. In his defence, he’s an asshole most of the time.

Rogers leaps across the room -- almost crashing into the previously mentioned delicate sensors as he does so -- to slap his palm over Thor’s mouth.

Tony stares. [How quickly can you develop a new habit again? Because this starts to feel like a new habit.]

“That sounds like a great plan!” Rogers beams at him, so wide and fake it must be physically painful for the epitome of all that is good and holy. At least Tony hopes it is. The supersoldier his father worshipped is still clinging to their resident god of thunder’s face.

It’s.

Tony resolutely turns his back on both of them because their madness doesn’t seem to come with a refund-ticket and if Tony doesn’t finish this program, no one will.

Not even Banner -- whom Tony had been kind of hoping for. Speaking of, the man’s been awfully quiet for a while now.

“You alright there, Brucie-Bear?” Tony turns around -- a little because it’s polite to face people when you talk with them and mostly to have an excuse not to watch the ongoing doomed wrestle-match between Blonde 1 and Blonde 2. His awesome nicknaming skill doesn’t get so much as a twitch.

To be fair, Banner is so busy staring straight ahead with the most epic rendition of the World’s Most Thoughtful Expression™ Tony has seen in a while that it doesn’t seem like the man heard him. At all.

Until he suddenly speaks up.

“I think we’ve forgotten something.” Behind Tony the impromptu wrestling comes to a sudden halt.

Probably something negligible like how to focus on a mission, the sarcastic voice in the back of Tony’s mind drawls. Though it should be noted that Tony’s consciousness only comes in sarcastic or not at all. Sorry, everyone, all the other flavors are out.

Banner’s frown deepens. “Something- Something important.”

Right on cue an explosion rocks the aircraft.

*

There’s a bit more tension in this part than the previous ones. On Tony’s side it’s because he’s smart enough to pick up on Something Is Seriously Wrong, both consciously and subconsciously and also because he feels the pressure what with everyone else apparently not taking this whole thing very seriously.

[Excluding Natasha who, believe me, takes Clint’s fate very serious indeed.]

On our time travellers’ side, they experience the frustration of being unable to talk openly, surrounded by people they don’t trust, trying to play along to the script of a movie they watched like 12 years ago and never revisited. Needless to say they’re failing horrenduously.

[presumenothing]

first: do no harm

(AO3)

Dr. Mensah’s attention zeroed in on me like a well-tuned surgery bot arm. “You have medical training.”

I was going to deny the hell out of that. I really was.

And then I said: “Not recently,” instead of no or even more accurately I frankly don’t think the company’s education modules count as training by your standards. (As far as I was concerned, the only thing worse than those modules was the one on breaking bad news, but what did I know. Maybe humans actually felt comforted by those tactics they described.) (No, I didn’t think that was likely, either.)

Which reminded me of a necessary addition. “The company won’t cover liabilities related to any non-security tasks you assign me to, if that’s what you’re intending.”

Mensah made a sound that was both grim and viciously annoyed at once, which I immediately saved for further analysis and replication. “Then we’ll just have to not make any mistakes, won’t we?”

–

I hadn’t exactly been thrilled with getting assigned to this mission. Not that mining installations were much of a walk in the park, but this was just asking to turn up memories that were better off buried (preferably forever) in my organic parts.

I don’t usually pay attention to mission briefs, as you may have noticed, and I wouldn’t have this time either except that my half-assed scan turned up the fact that the team weren’t science-doctors on a survey like I’d initially assumed, but medical-doctors. On a medical mission.

Of course they were.

(I wanted to say that someone had allocated me to this on purpose, but realistically speaking the company didn’t give enough of a shit, and the universe disliked me enough that this could totally be pure chance.)

Considering all that, the mission so far had been… much less worse than it could’ve been. Though the bar for that was admittedly very, very low. Possibly somewhere in the negatives.

Anyway. Up until the whole thing with Bharadwaj and Volescu getting almost-but-not-eaten, the task of making sure no one died had mostly been the clients’ job for once, which was a nice change since they were actually competent at it.

I still didn’t care enough to read their background info, but it was pretty clear just from observing that these doctors had experience with working in less-than-great conditions, even if Ratthi did sometimes sigh wistfully about equipment they couldn’t have in field hospitals. It meant that my job had pretty much amounted to patrolling, lurking visibly around the supplies storage in case anyone got ideas about that, and helping to fetch various medical items when I happened to be there and it wasn’t Gurathin asking.

It wasn’t terrible. I’d even got some media-watching time in.

(There might have been the vague thought that things could’ve gone much better if I’d been deployed with a team like this instead of Corporation Rim fuckery that literally bled payment from patients, but part of the reason medical-use constructs had been developed in the first place was so that hospitals could draw up forty-hour shifts and other assorted fun without worrying about doctor and surgeon unions, which told you everything you needed to know about our existence.

Also, the thought was inherently depressing and I already had enough of that in my head, thank you very much.)

The contract was more than halfway through. All I had needed to do to avoid awkward questions was continue making sure no one noticed that I was weirdly well-versed in all this, which wasn’t difficult since they only seemed to have theoretical knowledge about SecUnits at best.

Then the fauna happened, and poof went my cover.

Now all of PresAux knew I was – whatever the hell you called a catastrophically failed MedUnit who got turned loose onto security, because at least if I screwed up here the press wouldn’t be as bad. And that wasn’t even getting into the hacked governor module.

Even constructs didn’t have a term for all that.

–

Of course, none of that stopped this from being a Very Bad Idea. Even if apparently no one except Gurathin (ugh) seemed to agree.

“I’m a SecUnit, Dr. Mensah. I scare people. Patients are harder to assess when they’re running away.” I thought basic logistics might work here.

“You had better bedside manner with Bharadwaj and Volescu than many doctors I’ve seen. Human ones, might I add, and not actively injured themselves at the time.” Mensah’s tone was brisk as her pace – which wasn’t difficult to keep up with either, given my vertical advantage, but impressive nonetheless. “And no one wants to be around Pin-Lee when she’s holding a scalpel. That’s what the sedation is for.”

It’s because SecUnit hasn’t seen her in court yet. Trust me, it’s much scarier, Ratthi chimed in over the feed, with the text signifier for “amusement” but not “joke”.

Pin-Lee just smiled.

It was terrifying. I wasn’t even looking directly at her.

“I don’t have a valid license.” That’d been a part of the legal fallout from the disaster on RaviHyral, though no one had actually bothered with adding malpractice charges or barring me from ever doing medicine again. (Just another side effect of being considered as equipment – I doubted the company would’ve even secured licenses for constructs if not for their paranoia about covering their asses on all fronts.)

But it was a last resort argument, and I knew it.

Mensah knew it, too. “There’s special dispensations for that, especially under the current circumstances, as long as a fully-licensed doctor is in the vicinity at all times. It’s not like any of us can actually get out of each other’s hair in this base anyway.”

Mensah had stopped in a less-chaotic corner and turned to me, not that she could see anything behind the faceplate. I fixed my gaze a generous distance to the left and let my drones do the looking.

“I’m not going to make you agree. You perform a valuable function as our security – far more than I had initially expected, to be honest, and we would all be grateful if you kept doing that. But with Bharadwaj down for the count and Volescu still recovering, we could do with the help.” Her expression was still steady as ever, even though she probably knew better than I did the risks of continuing to operate shorthanded like this. “It’s your decision, SecUnit.”

Right, just the very thing I didn’t need to hear.

I kept most of my sigh internal. “Triage and first-aid only, between patrols. No procedures, and I won’t be responsible if any patients freak out.”

Mensah nodded. “Of course. Gurathin’s on receiving duty today, how about you work out a roster with him?”

I knew it. This was a bad idea.

–––––

You’d be my guardian.

Yes. The education opportunities – most of us were trained on Preservation, if you’re interested in learning and getting your license properly this time. Or not. You can do anything you want.

–––––

ART barged its way into my feed. You’re exhibiting a mildly elevated temperature and respiration rate. Though it could of course merely be a sign of inferior processors rather than emotional distress.

Do you talk to your clients like that?

Do you? ART retorted right back, but obligingly brought up the documentation for its MedSystem before I finished the query for it.

I ignored ART’s attention (with some difficulty) as I flicked quickly through the top few files, taking in the glaring disparities from my existing data. The notable lack of suggesting costly procedures that no-one actually needed, for starters. I’m assuming some of these are your improvements on standard procedure?

I am the cutting edge of medical research, ART proclaimed. You couldn’t accuse it of humility if you tried.

I still wasn’t sure what I wanted, and I still didn’t want anyone to decide it for me. But moving towards the one thing I did want (at least in the short term) had ended up with me running into what was very possibly the most advanced and opinionated diagnosis-treatment AI currently in existence, because that was just the kind of luck I had.

I didn’t have a medium-duty surgical suite in my arms anymore, since that was the entire point of modular Unit construction, but neither did Mensah.

And I didn’t think I wanted to stop doing security, anyway, since it turned out I might not be completely terrible at it; having actual medical knowledge that was MedSystem-malfunction-proof couldn’t hurt.

Plus, overwriting those shitty education modules seemed like a pretty great fuck-you to the company. I was always interested in that.

I tagged some of the more emergency-related files, then added a bunch of the weirder injuries I’d seen on contracts, and prodded ART. Tell me about these?

[everything-withered]

Tony in this and Bucky just bluescreens

I would like to solemnly remind you that this is your fault.

---

Basic lab and workshop safety dictates everything from protective googles and clothing, but when Tony can bend the rules, he does.

It's partly because, after the bunker, Extremis was pumped into his veins and he's now, against his will, indestructible, and isn't a hundred percent cool with it. But really, the main cause for his flippant approach to basic safety standards is for the look on Bucky's face when he's expected to be in for a maintenance session.

It's not really necessary. Shuri isn't the type to make anything that would require regular sessions, but well, Tony's not really complaining.

At least now he wasn't.

When Bucky had first arrived, Tony ranted and raved about the weekly checks Bucky's arm needed, loudly and often, but Shuri, who has sat through endlessly boring meetings with dignitaries since she was in diapers, had the stamina for it and the kind of unimpressed expression only royalty could master. Tony never stood a chance.

And Bucky, as a result, wouldn't either.

Because see, Tony isn't upset that he's being forced to make nice with his mother's killer. That's. For therapy. And BARF. And about a dozen other healthier coping mechanisms to deal with. No. Tony's annoyed because Bucky's been flustered and embarrassed and is always really really sorry for being an inconvenience, and Tony doesn't know how to deal with it.

So, he doesn't.

He acts like a little shit because that's his default setting, and turns up his personality to feign as much nonchalance over the whole situation as possible.

At first it's with the fancy suits and the tech and the busy schedule.

Bucky's eyes widen and he flushes again, and he's definitely a little impressed. Just a little.

It's glamorous and flattering until it isn't. Until it rubs wrong and rings of arrogance and breeds resentment because that's what always happens, that's what everyone thinks eventually.

Bucky is not everyone.

In fact, his apologies for the inconvenience he's causing Tony get more earnest, and it makes Tony's skin fit wrong when Bucky starts asking very seriously if Tony's taking care of himself properly what with all of Tony's other commitments.

"Especially with all the work you already do," he'd said, a concern furrow in his brow. "I don't want to put you out, the arm can wait, really. I don't want to be a bother. Have you eaten yet? I can get you something. When was the last time you rested because there's really no rush on the arm, we can reschedule, I don't mind."

And not enough people care to care about Tony when he's got that particular mask on that Tony can't maintain it. Not in the face of Bucky's sincerity and genuine concern.

Tony still thinks it's some kind of ploy though so he turns to Plan B: He gets comfortable.

The suits are exchanged for well-worn jeans and band t-shirts. The only product in his hair is engine grease, and he doesn't bother to hide the gleam in his eye when he gets really caught up in his work.

Tony looks the part of the manic genius, and waits for Bucky's concern to morph into hesitation and then annoyance because Tony doesn't have the time or consideration for the trivial matters of mortals.

Tony doesn't miss the softening in Bucky's expression though Tony can't say why there's an answering ache in his chest for it, so he takes to teasing and making off colour jokes and saying things he'd usually only ever say to the bots and Rhodey.

Bucky, to Tony's surprise, is entertained and amused, and to Tony's horror, very similar in his humour if more charming and polite about it. That Bucky remains persistently thoughtful about Tony's general well-being is particularly awe-inspiring considering how many people in his life have come to just brush his disregard to his health as an eccentricity.

Not that Tony has much time for that thought when he's still caught up on how it shouldn't be so attractive to him that Bucky gets his sarcasm and wit, and how the considering look in Bucky's eyes never seem to falter, only change and evolve with every new side to himself Tony reveals to him.

But all of it, Bucky's interest, Bucky's care, is tugging at something Tony hasn't given himself time or emotions to consider since Pepper, and Tony really does have the worst luck.

When he complains to Shuri -- because she brought Bucky to his doorstep so clearly she is to blame -- the princess gets a look in her eye, and says smugly, "I knew you two would get along."

"What makes you say that?" Tony scoffs to hide the little bubble of hope that's risen in his chest like a hiccup.

"Well," she says, casual as ever, "he hadn't stopped talking about you ever since I introduced him to the internet about a week after the defrost." Then, like an embarrassed younger sister, scoffs, "Fanboys."

And that.

That is an interesting revelation.

A revelation worthy of scientific inquiry.

Something Tony is more than happy to probe at if Bucky is amenable to a collaboration in their shared. Interest.

They don't get a chance, unfortunately.

The Rogues come back, and Rogers is determined to draw battle lines, with Bucky firmly behind his regardless of Bucky's opinion on the matter.

Bucky, for his part, seems resigned to Rogers' attentions and mostly ignores him, though he tenses when Rogers invites himself to Bucky's check-ups.

For the next few weeks, just as when Bucky and he were first starting their appoingments, Tony finds himself donning armour again: suits perfectly tailored and sharp enough to cut on sight.

It has the desired effect of putting off Rogers with the added benefit of distracting Bucky.

Tony doesn't miss the way Bucky watches him after all, like he's a piece of art to be admired, coveted. Bucky, Tony realizes, has always looked at him that way since he came to the Compound.

"I don't know why you're putting up a show in those get ups of yours. This isn't a fashion show," Rogers says one day, finally putting together how Bucky zeroes in on Tony the way he does. Then, purposely bland but challenging all the same, Rogers says, "Isn't there a proper dress code for a lab?" Like Rogers of all people would know; would care enough about Tony's safety to bring it up at all.

Bucky's teeth grind, the hypocrisy evident even to him.

And Tony would be angry too, but Rogers has stopped being worth his anger a long time ago. His pettiness, however, well. That's a different story.

With a smile of too many teeth, Tony says, "You're absolutely right, I don't know what I was thinking."

On the next visit, Tony hears Bucky's intake of breath before he actually sees him.

"Tony," Rogers is protesting, sounding scandalised which is when Tony turns around for the money shot, and oh, it's glorious.

Rogers is red in the face, practically turning puce when he reads want Tony's vest says. He thinks Rogers' brain is going to melt out of his ears from the anger of it all.

Bucky, on the other hand, is experiencing some kind of system reboot because his face goes blank and his eyes go dark, and --

"Problem, darling?" Tony drawls with a faux Brooklyn twang.

"Not a bit," is Bucky's garbled reply before he's urging a little softly, "Could you...uh, turn around again, I wanna.."

"Bucky," Rogers hisses which succeeds far enough in getting Bucky's gaze to clear and his cheeks to pink, and oh, that's adorable, Tony internally cooes.

Aloud, Tony purrs, "Anything for you, Sarge."

Which makes Rogers' head swivel between he and Bucky like he's on the verge of short circuiting, something that may actually happen when Bucky steps forward, sweeps Tony up in his arms and walks off.

"Bucky, why are you --," Rogers is protesting behind them, stopping short of chasing after when Tony flings off his vest. He figures the message on it is explanation enough: because fuck you, that's why.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Another One?!, Part 5

First > Previous > Next

It turns out that people with access to military-grade equipment are not the type of people you want to dislike you.

Really, the only reason she was still alive was because being Ladybug made her marginally more lucky than the average person.

From people in holding randomly getting out from time to time and somehow managing to get their hands on a weapon, to getting shot by ‘malfunctioning’ firearms, to constant bomb threats, to the one time someone actually tried to drop an anvil on her head, things were just not looking good for Marinette.

And, it turns out, being a boss is just a hard thing in general. When they weren’t attempting to kill her, they were coming to her with questions. She spent most of her day in the office, scanning through manual after manual. She got basically zero breaks, because even when she had a sign on her door saying she was eating lunch they still came in to ask her things.

And then, at the end of the day, she’d get home… things weren’t great there, either.

Barbara had moved in after a year of dating Dick (Marinette had been stunned to learn that their relationship was actually real but that had quickly been dropped when she realized that Barbara was actually a responsible adult that could take care of herself). She had banned caffeine in the house when she’d seen Marinette and Tim’s coffee habits and, unfortunately, everyone else had been perfectly happy to enforce this for her.

This meant that she only had about four hours when she got home to patrol before her exhaustion caught up with her and she’d be forced to go home and collapse on the couch.

On top of that, tensions in the house were high. It turns out that one of the biggest problems with avoiding your problems for years is that emotions get pent up inside and it gets harder and harder to ignore. No one had completely snapped yet, but even the densest person in the world would have been able to recognize that it was coming.

It didn’t help that she no longer had time for baking, which was her normal way of relieving stress…

And let’s just say they were lucky none of them were going on patrols together, those kinds of high-stress situations do not help.

~

Adrien needed sleep.

He worked ten hours a day, which isn’t that much longer than average but was still emotionally taxing considering his job was teaching.

Then, he’d go on patrol for a few hours. He liked patrol, beating up random people is great for stress, but it was physically exhausting.

Then, he’d come home.

And he’d have two kids and an adult to keep alive.

(Barbara had the night shift, which meant that Adrien was alone for this. He swore it was on purpose.)

He’d go to his room and find Dick swinging around on the indoor gym they’d had installed (they were getting tired of him breaking light fixtures and had given in and put little hand and footholds on the ceiling for him to climb around on).

And then Dick would fall asleep, often hanging from the ceiling still, and Adrien would pick him up and take him to his room and tuck him in.

He’d rush back to his room, desperate to get there for just a second of sleep, only to find that, no matter how quick he was, Jason would already be on the bed. You would think that Adrien would be able to sleep. After all, Jason would be reading a book... that’s supposed to be a quiet thing…

Well, you see, the problem is that Jason reads books like people watch soap operas. He’d curse out characters and call them stupid, tell Adrien contextless jokes, and occasionally close his book to vent about what was going on.

And, eventually Jason would sleep. Adrien wouldn’t move him because a) it would wake him up and b) on the very small chance it didn’t wake him, Jason sometimes half-joked that when he woke up alone he feared that they’d left him behind…

So, yeah, Jason got to stay in the room.

Adrien would blink and then he’d find Tim in the door with his computer.

Tim, it seemed, would actually wait to see if Adrien was okay with it if he came in. He always stood in the door, hugging his laptop to his chest, and wouldn’t dare come inside until Adrien said he could.

Of course Adrien would sigh and nod his head yes, making a joke about how his kids were sleeping in shifts to annoy him, and move over on the bed a bit to let Tim on.

And then Tim would do homework or play games on his computer.

Adrien hated the sound of clicky keyboards. He’d had no clue he was alone in this until one day he complained about it and everyone in the room had stared at him like he was crazy.

But, yeah, the keyboard made him want to die. He just wanted to sleep...

And then Barbara would poke her head in after a long night’s work to tell Adrien that it was time for him to get ready for work.

Sprinkle in one or two probably life-threatening accidents and you’d have a typical night for him.

Now, you might be thinking, why doesn’t he just fall asleep on the couch?

Beyond the fact that the kids would just… follow him there, Adrien was also a rich kid growing up. He couldn’t sleep on couches. They’re uncomfortable.

No, now his only saving grace was the fact that Barbara didn’t have a way to monitor the coffee machine at his work.

… Oh kwami, he had become what he’d hated.

~

She dropped onto the bed -- she’d had enough energy to make it all the way there for once -- and glared at the mostly empty bulletin board on Antony Agoura. The man was smart, unfortunately, opting to keep his identity a secret as much as possible. He used a fake name. He wore gloves no matter what. He used solely cash…

And it wasn’t like she was going to be able to lure him out again. That had been an intimidation tactic, a way of saying ‘leave it alone or you’ll see exactly what I can do’.

And, as much as she hated to admit it even to herself, she was a little bit scared of him. For the first time since Zucco, the person she was facing knew who she was as a civilian, and she hated that she’d lost that advantage. Even if her family was better trained in self-defense than most, they weren’t invulnerable and they couldn’t be careful every second of the day.

Part of her was tempted to pack up and go on the run like they had done with Zucco… but the situations were different. With Zucco they knew they would eventually be able to catch him but with Agoura...

She closed her eyes, unable to look at it any longer.

Fuck. She was really screwed this time, huh?

She felt someone sink into the bed next to her and reached out for them. She didn’t really care who it was as she buried her face in their shoulder.

Sleep…

Less than a minute later, her phone buzzed to tell her that it was time to start cooking everyone’s meals for the day and she mumbled a curse before peeling herself away from the person. She squinted a little bit in the dark to see who it was. Tim.

She yawned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Want to cook with me?”

“I’d burn the house down.”

“Probably. Want to stand nearby and make sure I don’t fall asleep while cooking so nothing burns?”

He shrugged a little bit. “Don’t see why not.”

They both crawled out of bed and she used him for support as they made their way down to the kitchen.

~

Adrien had been on patrol when she’d appeared.

And ‘appeared’ was definitely the way to describe it. He’d been relaxing on a rooftop, giving himself a few second break to just breathe in silence for once… and then he’d felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

He fought the urge to jump or lash out, his head whipping around to look at the person who was shaking him.

It was… a girl?

Actually, she looked about Jason’s age, so maybe a woman?

It didn’t matter. She looked terrified. Her eyes were so wide it looked almost exaggerated, her lips drawn into a deep frown.

The more he took in about her appearance the more concerned he was. Her stance was wide, which likely meant she fought often. Her clothes were ratty and torn. The little parts of her skin that weren’t caked in dirt were split with cuts that were either infected or about to be infected.

He rested a hand over hers as gently as he could and looked at her. “How are you up here? Actually, that doesn’t matter. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is your family hurt?”

She waved her free hand around frantically. Wordlessly.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Do you not speak English? Or are you mute? Deaf?”

He realized all these questions weren’t going to get answers and he sighed. Crap, what could he do?

He mulled it over for a second before snapping his fingers. He held up a finger for one minute, then held up his hands and made a tiny ‘stay’ motion with them just in case, and then ran to the nearest convenience store.

He didn’t care enough to detransform. It got him through the line quickly, at least.

He found a pen and a pad of paper and returned to the rooftop…

She wasn’t there anymore.

He sighed, a mix of frustration and concern coursing through him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He should get back to patrol. Maybe he’d find her and/or whatever situation she was trying to get his attention for…

He opened his eyes and actually did jump this time. She was right in front of him. What? He hadn’t heard her…

He shook off his growing unease and handed her the notepad and pen.

She frowned, her face a little more than confused. Had she never seen a pen and paper before? Surely that couldn’t be right…

Still, he gently took the paper and pen back and wrote a tiny question mark.

He handed it over again and she looked at the mark like she’d never seen it before. Maybe her language didn’t have question marks…?

Then she started doodling.

Well, his plan had been for her to write whatever it was down and he would see if his phone would translate it, but he guessed this would work, too.

The first drawing explained some of the girl’s problems with communication. It was a little doodle where the mouth and ears had been X-ed out. She couldn’t speak or hear… or, at least, that’s what he’d figured.

He searched his memory for his old sign language lessons. Unfortunately, though, sign language is something that has to be practiced. All he could do is fingerspell “U O-K?”

She didn’t seem to understand.

Fair enough. He was pretty sure he was using LSF, anyways, and he didn’t exactly know for sure how close that was to ASL… or whatever other language she could have known. He couldn’t really tell much about where she was from, her skin was covered in dirt, okay?

She started doodling the rest of her life story and he nearly punched something. Probably would have if he hadn’t been scared he’d startle her or scare her off.

Whoever her dad was, he was committed to killing him if he wasn’t dead already.

He smiled at her and tried to think of a solution. He couldn’t take her to the police. Even with Marinette in charge, there was only so much she could do to keep the kid safe. An orphanage wouldn’t accept her because he doubted she was a legal US citizen.

He sighed. Marinette was going to kill him…

He reached out a hand to her to tell her to follow and blinked in surprise when she actually took it. Wow. He trusted her.

He tried not to feel proud as he led her home. He probably should have been scared that she was a spy or lying, but he found himself trusting her…

Weird, but he had bigger problems.

He detransformed a little bit outside the house and slowly walked to the door. He pushed it open and cringed when it creaked. Please don’t be home…

Marinette shifted under her blanket and opened an eye to look at him.

He quickly pushed the girl behind himself and smiled at his wife. “Wow, it’s you. You’re home. Wow.”

“Yeah, amazing, right?” She rubbed her eyes and gave him a tired smile. “How was patrols?”

“Great. Uneventful. Definitely good.”

Her smile dropped into a frown. “You’re acting weird.”

“What? Me? Acting weird?”

“Yeah… are you coming inside?”

“Uh… no. Actually, I think I’ll go back on patrols.”

She clicked her tongue. “You’re hiding something. I’m too tired for this, Adrien. Fess up.”

He cringed a little bit and slowly led the new adoptee inside.

The girl clutched Adrien’s shirt sleeve anxiously. He did not think this was a good thing.

Marinette stared at the girl in front of her for a while before a way too wide smile crossed her face. “Adrien…” She began slowly, before shaking her head. Her smile widened, somehow. She looked up, her voice sickly sweet: “Hey! Sweeties! Come down here.”

The reaction was instantaneous. There was a mad scrambling noise and they appeared in the doorway, expressions frazzled.

“Whatever happened, it was Dick!” Said Tim before anyone could speak.

Dick gasped. “No! It wasn’t!”

Marinette gave a pleasant laugh. “You’re not in trouble. Boys, could you help her get cleaned up for me, please?”

“Why is there another kid? Why does he have another one?” Said Jason incredulously.

When neither parent answered, they started ushering the girl away.

She grabbed Adrien’s arm when he tried to disappear through the door with them. “Not. You. Transform, we’re going out.”

He tried not to look too scared as they both transformed. She kept a way too tight grip on Adrien as they made their way through the town, as if she thought he was going to suddenly run away.

Fair enough. He was absolutely considering it.

But he didn’t. That would only make things worse.

They stopped at a relatively abandoned part of town and she turned to him, letting go to cross her arms over her chest.

“Explain.”

~

Did she feel bad for the kid that Adrien had adopted? Sure. No one deserves that kind of life…

But that didn’t calm her down in the slightest.

She was trying to relax herself. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she heard him out to keep herself from yelling or interrupting, her nails dug into the skin of her palms to keep her grounded…

Adrien finished with a sigh and a “I don’t regret it, she was in trouble and it’s our job to protect civilians.”

She didn’t know why those words made her anger worsen. There was some sense in them, and yet she had to strain to keep her voice level when she spoke: “Just once, could you actually just own up to a mistake you make?”

“I’ll own up to a mistake when I actually think it’s a mistake!”

“Whatever.” She thrummed her foot on the floor. “We can’t keep adopting random kids, Chat, there’s only so much we can do!”

“They need our help!”

“Bullshit! You need them more than they need you! Newsflash! Helping a bunch of kids isn’t going to make your own childhood any better!”

Adrien flinched and she felt a twinge of guilt finally poke through the anger, but before she could apologize he was jabbing his finger in her chest.

“At least my terrible coping mechanism helps people! You want to pull trauma into this? What about the fact that we still can’t say Lila’s name? What about the fact that you refuse to make friends with people our age because you fear them leaving you?”

She winced and her face reddened. “Okay, but does that inconvenience you? No! At least mine is only self-destructive! Yours is going to drag the entire family down with you! We’ve already fucked up these kids for sure, but you just keep making it worse and worse by spreading our limited time thinner!”

“Shut up! What do you know? You hardly ever talk to them anyways! You’re always at work or asleep!”

“Really? And whose fault is that? If you’d just stuck to the actual plan B instead of going out and attacking all the cops in the GCPD there wouldn’t have been as much attention on what had happened!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’VE ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT I HAD TO DO THAT! IT WAS TO KEEP EVERYONE AWAY FROM THE SECURITY ROOM TO KEEP PEGASUS SAFE!”

“PLEASE! NO ONE WAS GOING TOWARDS THE SECURITY ROOM! YOU’RE JUST AN IMPULSIVE DICK!”

“ARE YOU REALLY CALLING ME IMPULSIVE?!”

“YOU ADOPT KIDS LIKE THEY’RE POKEMON! OF COURSE I’M GOING TO CALL YOU IMPULSIVE!”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ALWAYS GETS IN RANDOM FIGHTS BECAUSE YOU’RE NEVER CAREFUL!”

She groaned and fought to make herself relax enough to speak without yelling. They were in a relatively abandoned part of Gotham but that didn’t mean that there was no one around. The last thing they needed on top of everything going on was to have their fight end up in the papers.

Adrien was clearly doing the same, because he was quiet for a long time before he spoke in little more than a whisper:

“Do you not want to be a part of the family anymore?”

She opened her mouth to say ‘of course I want to be a part of the family’, but no sound came out. She wasn’t sure why she was even hesitating. She cared about them, obviously. She wouldn’t be working so hard if she didn’t…

But it was definitely a lot.

She could only handle so much at once. Beyond the powers she was just a human, and supporting that many other people is hard. Especially considering she essentially had two jobs to keep up with, as well…

The longer she went without answering the more tears spilled over his mask. Still, he was waiting for her answer. He was waiting for some kind of verbal confirmation that she couldn’t do it anymore.

She reached up and gently cupped his cheeks, wiping his tears away with her thumb.

“Chat, I…” She swallowed thickly. “I don’t know how much more we can do.”

He hesitantly brought his hands up to rest over hers. “I know. I just… I can’t just leave them. They always look so sad.”

She’d fallen in love with Adrien for his kindness and now it was the thing that was threatening to tear their marriage apart.

But he’d fallen for her because of her problem solving skills. And she was determined to not let this be the one problem she failed to solve.

The problem wasn’t exactly that he was getting more kids. Marinette loved kids.

The problem was that they didn’t know if they could raise kids without messing them up too badly.

Part of it was that everyone in the family had had one or more big events that had traumatized them, and it looked like it was finally time that they started getting past it.

Could they even get past it at this point? It had been over two decades since Marinette and Adrien had originally gotten their traumas, what if it was too late? What would happen if they somehow did get over it? It had been a part of them for such a long time, what would they be without it?

And then there was the kids. Could they even get them to go?

It was worth a shot, at least...

And the other change they needed to make was to make more time for their kids.

Neither of them were going to give up their day jobs (Adrien wouldn’t and Marinette, unfortunately, couldn’t just yet). That meant that they either needed to get caffeine in the house or give up vigilantism…

Well, cross of the giving up vigilantism thing automatically. On top of just not being able to give up on the city they were in when there was still so much to fix, they knew it would only be temporary. They’d already tried to give up vigilantism. They simply couldn’t bring themselves to.

So that left trying to get caffeine past Barbara. The kids (outside of Tim) were very much against caffeine and they worked very hard to make sure neither Marinette or Tim ever managed to get their hands on it. From purposefully making sure Marinette and Tim couldn’t go anywhere without one of them to monitoring the break room camera at her work to make sure she didn’t drink any, the kids were determined to make sure Marinette couldn’t get her hands on anything.

But Adrien could. No one would suspect him.

She bit her lip. This wasn’t going to go over well. Getting Adrien to therapy AND make him get caffeine? Man, this was going to suck.

“Chaton… I might have an idea… but you’re going to have to hear me out…”

~

He and Marinette were arguing again, though this was far more light-hearted.

“We are not opening another portal. We’re already lucky enough that this dimension hasn’t collapsed on us, we aren’t testing it.”

He rolled his eyes and stopped scratching runes into the wall to glare at her. “Would you rather we let a girl-woman-female-you-know-what-I-mean room with a guy?”

“What about we give her Jason’s room and let Jason sleep with us? He comes into our room to sleep either way.”

“Jason still uses his room to store things.”

“This is a bad idea, Chaton…”

He grinned. “Mhmm.”

“This is what I meant when you said you’re stupidly impulsive.”

“Would you rather do it?”

“Sure.”

He rolled his eyes. “And that’s what I meant when I said you don’t care about your own health. It’ll be fine.”

She clicked her tongue and motioned for him to go on.

He finished scratching the last rune and sighed when he saw some weird tentacle monster slowly unfurling itself on the other side. He got to his feet quickly and raised his staff to fight it, only to cringe when he heard Dick and Jason scream downstairs.

“I’ll deal with that, do you have this taken care of?”

She winced. “Sure. Where exactly is the portal, to be sure?”

He pointed it out and then ran downstairs.

Jason was currently not having a good time, it seemed. The bottom half of his body had been swallowed by a hole in the floor and he was struggling to get a hold on the slick floors.

Dick was also there, screaming incoherently from one of the ceiling lights.

Adrien ran over and grabbed one of Jason’s arms and started slowly pulling him out of the portal. After a bit Dick snapped out of it and scrambled to help.

The three were panting by the time they managed to get him all the way out.

“What the heck what the heck what the heck what the heck --,” Dick mumbled, holding his heart.

Jason, though just as shaken, seemed to be getting over it quickly. “How do we fix that?”

“Don’t remember, ask your mom,” mumbled Adrien as he crawled over to the portal on the floor and peered down.

It was a tiny group of people crowded around a computer.

Wait, what the heck were they wearing? Were they cosplaying as vigilantes? They definitely had the tacky outfits down if they were but Adrien didn’t know who they could be. Well, it had been a long time since they’d visited the Justice League, maybe he just didn’t know them…

He cleared his throat awkwardly and flashed them a blinding smile.

“Um… sorry about this, we’ll fix it as quickly as possible.”

“Was that… was that Dick Grayson?” Said the tallest of them.

Was he dressed as a bat? Why was he dressed as a bat? Dressing up like animals wasn’t technically their thing but on the other hand it was absolutely their thing. Adrien was almost offended.

Wait, he’d said something. He tried not to go pale when his brain finally processed it. This wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted the world to find out their identities…

“What kind of name is Dick Grayson? Ha! Lame!”

Dick sent him an affronted look from where he was on the floor. Adrien gave him an apologetic smile and a shrug.

Jason came back down with a baking pan. “Mom said to drop something through, so…”

“What’s that?”

“Brownies.”

“You’re dropping our brownies down there? Are you trying to kill them?” Asked Dick.

Adrien blinked once then sighed. “It could have worked for once. Be nice.”

Jason scoffed. “It didn’t. She forgot sugar. That’s why we’ll give it to them.”

“Sorry about this!” Said Adrien as Jason dropped the pan through the portal.

As promised, it closed now that something had been sacrificed.

The three looked at each other for a few seconds before Dick looked away and said, “So… pretend this never happened?”

“Yep.”

~

She cursed as she fell back on the couch, never mind the fact that Adrien was already laying there. Her husband made a quiet ‘oof’ sound as she dropped on top of him. She was hopped up on caffeine and ready to bond with her kids but the problem was that the kids, in fact, had lives.

The little time that Marinette and Adrien didn’t have work was taken up by patrols, by Jason’s homework, by Tim’s extracurriculars, by Dick’s job...

“There’s still not enough time.”

“We might have to stop being vigilantes for a bit…” He said, though he sounded reluctant. “Or rotate off by day…”

She didn’t like the idea either, but it didn’t seem like they had much choice in this if they wanted to be better for their kids. They’d already had to cut back on vigilantism because of their jobs and need for sleep, could they really cut it out of their lives entirely? Just like that?

No, there had to be something they could do. The city was still the most crime ridden city in the world. They couldn’t give up on it.

But then what to do…?

She watched Tim stumble in with a dislocated shoulder and squeaked, pushing herself off of her husband and rushing over.

“Shit! What happened?”

“I… might have messed up a boomerang-horseshoe-thingy catch and it might have hit me in the shoulder.”

She clicked her tongue. “Right. I’m going to reset it on three. One, two --.”

Tim gave a grunt of pain as she pushed his shoulder back into place.

“You should have told someone, how long were you fighting with a dislocated shoulder?”

“A little while…”

She shook her head and glanced at Adrien to give him the ‘kids, right?’ look, only to find him lost in thought.

He snapped out of it and flashed her a grin.

“I think I have an idea. How do you feel about going back on patrols with partners?”

~

He stretched across his family’s lap as they waited.

Adrien, Marinette, Dick, Jason, and Tim all sat in a therapist’s office for family counseling. They would have invited Cass but the whole ‘not speaking’ thing made therapy difficult. They actually had invited Barbara, only to get shut down because apparently she didn’t want to ‘deal with all that mess’.

So, it was just them.

Well, I say ‘just’ like five people isn’t a lot of people to have in a single therapy session. The poor therapist looked like she was going to have a heart attack when she saw all of them waiting for her.

Good thing they'd chosen the shortest session...

“Um… Agreste?”

“Yep!” Said Dick, far too brightly for a therapy session but whatever.

“Cool… right this way!”

His family glanced at each other before shrugging and pushing Adrien off of their laps in unison. He pouted up at them from his new place on the floor, but no one seemed all that guilty about it.

Marinette did reach out and pull him to his feet by the back of his shirt, though, so there was at least that.

They filed into the therapist’s room and took a seat on yet another couch.

Dr. Quinzel smiled at all of them. “Okay, does anyone have anything they’d like to start us off with?”

The family eyed each other warily. They were here as civilians, so they had to make sure not to slip up and talk too in depth about most things…

“Jason keeps calling me ‘Replacement’!” Said Tim, finally.

Marinette and Adrien frowned at Jason, who was attempting to sink into his hoodie.

“Well, we definitely didn’t know about that…” said Marinette.

“Of course you didn’t!” Said Jason. “You’re hardly ever around!”

Tim sighed. “They’re just busy.”

Adrien flinched. That was way too close to the excuse he used to make for his own father for his liking. Were they really that bad? Sure, he and Marinette were definitely not around as much as they’d like to be, but they were making an effort… did that really matter, though?

“No, Jay is right. We’ll try and do more. We’ve talked about how we’re going to free up time for you guys recently, actually. We’re hoping to include you more in our...” He glanced at Dr. Quinzel. “... hobby. Do more things with you in general, really.”

Marinette nodded her agreement.

She glanced at the boy’s faces and then clicked her tongue. “Anyone have problems they want to share?”

“No, our family is perfect how it is!” Said Dick brightly, his gaze fixed on the window.

Adrien followed his gaze to make sure nothing bad was going down on the streets and then sighed. “Dick, there has to be something. You’ve been just as tense as the rest of us recently.”

“Nope! Everything’s great!”

Everyone else exchanged skeptical looks but they couldn’t really feel comfortable pushing --.

Dr. Quinzel frowned a little bit. “Okay. We’ll come back to you when everyone else has had their say, then. Hopefully you’ll be more comfortable then.”

Dick gave a charming smile. Dr. Quinzel didn’t seem all that perturbed as she turned to look at Marinette.

His wife pursed her lips tightly as everyone else’s eyes went to her and she smoothed out the front of her dress. “We’ve already talked about this one-on-one, but… I think Adrien could maybe think a bit more before doing things. Or, at least, he should tell me when he makes major decisions like adopting kids.”

Dick’s smile dropped instantly. “Are you really complaining about not being told things? You guys tell me nothing! I have to figure everything out myself!”

Everyone startled a little at the sudden change of heart and gave each other wary glances before finding their way back to Dick.

The man in question had pushed himself to his feet (Adrien whined a little bit about losing the person to lean against) and started pacing. “You even ask Barbara things before me! It’s like you think I’m stupid!”

“Sweetie --.”

“Dont!” Dick sighed and came to a stop. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s fine, it’s just… don’t you trust me?”

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other before nodding.

“Of course we do,” he said gently. “We’ll talk more about this at home, okay? When we’re not in the present company?” He looked at Tim and Jason, but he meant Dr. Quinzel. That was a hard subject to tiptoe around.

Dick took a seat on the armrest, likely so he could get up again without disturbing anyone.

Dr. Quinzel nodded. She looked at Adrien, and he fought the urge to try and hide behind Jason. She looked way too smart for his liking, it felt like she knew just by looking at him exactly what was wrong with him...

“I…” He struggled to find the words in French, let alone in English. “... think I try and get a lot of people in the house so I never have to be alone for long. I used to be alone all the time. I can’t do that again.”

Dr. Quinzel nodded thoughtfully. “It seems that all of you feel excluded or lonely in some way. Thankfully, that means all of you are the solution to each other’s problems. But, also, I suggest branching out some. Family is good, but so are friends. Everyone understand?”

They all gave each other wary looks, but they smiled all the same.

“Great, we can have a session again in a month or two to check your progress. That’ll be $7000 --.”

~

Marinette met her husband’s eyes and they exchanged nervous looks before walking into their room. As expected, Jason was already there. He was ready for bed, it seemed, with his pajamas on and his book out.

They took seats on either side of him and each took a hand.

“Jay…” Began Adrien. “We don’t love you any less because you’re not the newest kid anymore.”

“I know…”

Marinette bit her lip and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “We’re not lying. And you don’t have to, either, just tell us why you think that.”

Jason looked at both of them warily before sinking into his shirt. It didn’t work as much as it did when he was wearing a hoodie or turtleneck, but it still worked surprisingly well.

She looked at Adrien nervously and he took the lead again:

“The reason we tend to focus on the newest the most is because they usually have the freshest problems. When we first got you we focused on you more than Dick because you were still struggling with old habits you picked up while homeless, and he was mostly over what had happened with his original parents.”

Marinette nodded. “And when Tim came in we focused on him because he was dealing with realizing his parents weren’t great and adjusting to a family who loved him. Now we have Cass, who…  will definitely need some extra care…”

Jason sniffled a little and nodded his understanding. “I know you have to, I just… it feels like you don’t want me as much anymore...”

“No way!” Marinette said, squeezing his hand tighter. “We love you, sweetie, you’re just as much our kid as any of the others.”

Adrien smiled. “Exactly. You’re stuck with us, whether you want to be or not.”

Jason gave a wobbly laugh before slowly drawing them in for a hug.

“I love you, too, guys.”

They hugged him back.

“... and I’ll go easier on Tim.”

“Thank kwami, I didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing it up, but… yeah, be nicer to Tim, please,” said Adrien half jokingly.

Marinette grinned. “Maybe give him a nicer nickname, at least?”

“How about Timbers?”

“Uh…”

“Timberly?”

She clicked her tongue. “How about just Timmy? Or Tim?”

“No, no, I think I’m on to something.”

~

Adrien stared in disbelief.

“You… you did what?”

Dick fiddled with a Rubix cube. Adrien wasn’t sure if that was just to help stay concentrated on the conversation or so he could more easily avoid eye contact.

“I joined the mob two years ago because I wanted to be more in the loop…”

Adrien and Marinette exchanged exhausted looks.

“Don’t be mad! I’ve been rising in the ranks for years now, eventually I’ll be close enough to Agoura to help you guys!”

Marinette sighed lightly and shook her head. “Sweetie, we aren’t mad.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “Yes we are.”

“You’re right. We’re mad. But we’re going to let this one slide.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“I can’t read minds!” She said, then she shook her head again. “Look, we just want you to be safe.”

Adrien nodded. “The reason we don’t tell you much isn’t because we don’t trust you, it’s because we don’t like involving you guys in dangerous things when we can avoid it.”

“But Barbara --!”

“We asked her about her opinion on one thing. She actually gave the same answer as you, and we turned her down, too. We’re sorry that you felt like we didn’t trust you, though, that wasn’t ever our intent.”

“And, besides,” added Marinette. “You have a tendency to snoop. We always figured you’d learn everything on your own.”

They took a seat on either side of Dick on the couch and wrapped him in a hug.

Dick beamed as he hugged back.

“... you’re still in trouble, though. That was stupid and dangerous and neither you nor your siblings can never do that again,” said Adrien.

Dick started whining.

~

Marinette bit her lip anxiously as she looked at her phone. All it would take was one click to call, but…

Adrien sighed beside her and reached over. He took the phone and pressed to call, then tossed it back at her.

She panicked, juggling the phone in her hands as it dialled. Nononononononono don’t pick up don’t pick up --

“Hello?” Said Nygma.

Fuck!

She looked at her husband anxiously.

“This or the Justice League,” mouthed Adrien.

She squeaked and brought the phone to her ear. “Nygma! Hi!”

“... Hello?”

“Hey! I’m a bit bored, so… I was just wondering if, um, you want to do something as…” she wheezed. “... as um… as…”

“I don’t really have anything prepared right now, I’m still waiting on that shipment of penguins...” The Riddler seemed confused, which was a first.

Was she a little concerned about whatever Riddler was doing with penguins? Sure. Then again, this is Riddler she was talking about. What was he going to do? Steal one of her ninja kids and then tell her exactly where they were? Whatever.

“No no! Like um…”

“Friends?”

“Yes! That!”

Adrien rested his head in his hands with a deep sigh. She flipped him off despite knowing he couldn't see it.

“I guess my schedule is free until the penguins come in... Sure! Want to go try an escape room?”

“No, I do an escape room every time I see you. I’m making you a new outfit.”

Adrien and Riddler both groaned.

She smiled.

~

He hesitated, messing with the strap of the bag over his shoulder.

“The city might need me --.”

“The city will be fine for a week,” said Marinette.

“The kids might need me --,” he tried, only to get silenced by a kiss.

She pulled back a little bit later. “It’s one week. Besides, we’re all doing what Dr. Quinzel said, and you’ve stalled long enough.”

He sighed. “For good reason! It’s a week alone! I’m going to go insane.”

“Chaton, we’re murderers. I think we crossed over that line a while ago.”

He cracked a grin, weak as it was, and pressed another kiss to her lips. “Are you sure --?”

“Yes! Oh my kwami! Now go!” She gave him a playful shove.

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “It almost feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“And it almost feels like you’re stalling.”

She waved down a taxi for him and he couldn’t help but cringe as they took the bags from him. It made it feel much more real…

“I love you, Chaton, I’ll see you in a week.”

“I love you, too, M’lady.”

He waved at the kids long after they had disappeared over the horizon and he sighed as he sunk back in his seat. He knew it was for the best, he needed to learn how to function as a person on his own, but…

It was only a week. Only a week.

Besides…

He looked down at the coordinates of the last known location of David Cain (it was amazing what Tim, Barbrara, and Marinette could do when angry enough).

He wasn’t going to be bored, at least.

~

She turned away from the cake she’d been decorating and nearly screamed when her eyes landed on Cass. She hadn’t even noticed her walk in.

Marinette forced herself to relax.

She glanced over the tiny girl in front of her and bit her lip. She was wearing a mix of different shades of black which…

She suppressed a shudder. The outfit was okay, if she was being honest, but it definitely needed a splash of color.

“Right, that’s it, we’re finding you some new clothes.”

Cass looked at her blankly.

Right. She didn’t speak language. Marinette pursed her lips as she tried to think of some sort of movement that would convey what was going on, then settled for reaching out a hand for Cass.

She couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face when the girl took her hand. She trusted her! Score!

She hesitated for a minute before yelling: “SWEETIE! I mean… JASON! COME ON WE’RE GOING SHOPPING YOUR CLOTHES ARE GETTING SMALL FOR YOU!”

There was a few seconds’ pause before Jason poked his head in. He glanced at the two of them and frowned, sinking a little bit into his hoodie. “You noticed?”

“I… don’t even know how to respond to that. I’m a designer, of course I noticed. If you want to keep going for the grunge look that’s fine but you need to up your size.”

Jason nodded.

She rested her arm around his shoulders (something that was very hard for her to do now that he was both taller and wider than she was) and pulled the two kids out to the mall.

Jason was getting used to buying things for himself. He still resisted a little bit when people spent money on him or asked what he wanted, but he was making progress.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and handed him a credit card. “Buy what you want. Remember the PIN?”

“Mhmm…” said Jason. He sent a wave over his shoulder as he made his way over to the men’s section.

She hummed lightly as she walked through the girl’s section to look for things for Cass. The girl was short and skinny for her age -- she was determined not to think about it for too long -- and she could easily fit in kid’s clothes…

But no kid of Marinette’s would have a shirt with the words ‘Girl Power!’ or ‘I love tacos!’ on it.

She helped pick out different shades of black shirts and jeans for the girl, mulling over the different colors she should give her. Yellow and red matched her skin tone but she doubted the kid wanted anything bright…

Marinette settled for giving Cass a blue scarf and some gold accessories.

She smiled and offered them to Cass, only to pale when the girl burst into tears. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck --

Cass hugged Marinette around the middle and buried her face in her chest and Marinette was just very confused.

Jason came back with two bags of new clothes and he blinked a few times as he took in the new situation.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know!” She hissed back, waving her hands vaguely. “She’s crying and I can’t even ask what’s wrong!”

“We need to teach her a language,” mumbled Jason.

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“Fuck off, Watson!”

She was getting judgemental looks from fellow shoppers now. Great. Amazing, even. She rested an arm around Cass and then used the other hand to flip them off. How dare they judge how she parented her kid she just met.

She waited until Cass was done to pull away and lean down to check her face. Even if she couldn’t really speak, her expression should be a good gauge of what was wrong --.

Cass gently took the items from Marinette and flashed her a blinding smile.

Damn it. Now Marinette was going to cry. This kid was so cute.

She leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Cass’s forehead.

HER kid was so cute, she reminded herself as she led her along to .

She helped her wrap the scarf around her neck. Was it kind of hot out? Yes. Was Cass super cute with her mouth hidden behind the fabric? Also yes.

She glanced at Jason, who was also smiling a little bit despite not having all the attention.

His smile dropped at her next words, though:

“I know you still have my card. Hand it over.”

“Fuck.”

~

It turns out ASL is hard.

It also turns out that teaching ASL, while you’re still learning it yourself, to a person who doesn’t even comprehend language is even harder.

Weird how that works out.

They started with simpler things. Everyday objects, basic emotions, the first letters of their names so she could say who she was talking about. It was a slow process, especially because they often would take two days per lesson because of everyone’s conflicting schedules.

But it was a process.

And he thought the family was doing pretty well, too. It probably helped that Cass was, at least so far, the nicest person in the house and none of them wanted her to be sad or lonely.

Look at that. They were working on making her not feel excluded. Progress! Dr. Quinzel would be proud.

~

Marinette paused her walk to the kitchen when she saw blonde hair. Adrien had blond hair, but he was still out on patrols with Dick so…

She turned and looked at the person on the couch with Tim. “Please, kwami, tell me he didn’t get another one when we just started making progress.”

Tim barely even looked up from his computer. “No, just my friend, Steph. She’s here because she thinks I’m sad my parents died.”

“Oh, oka --.” Marinette took a step back. “Hold up, what?”

“Yeah, they were killed by this guy in Haiti. I was sad about it for a while but then I was like ‘wait a minute! I can just kill him back!’ Anyways, it’s all good now.”

Steph didn’t seem all that perturbed about the murder thing, so she brushed past worrying about their identities or, y’know, her kid getting prosecuted...

Marinette pulled out her phone. “Yeah, Dr. Quinzel? I’m going to need to schedule another appointment…”

Tim frowned. “I’m fine, Mari.”

“Oh! Yeah! This isn’t for you… but, Steph, he doesn’t have anything going on Friday night, right?”

“I’ll make sure he’s free.”

She nodded. “Thanks, sweetie. Want anything to eat?”

“Guys! I’m fine! I got my revenge! I feel great!”

“Of course, you do, Timmy. And… waffles?”

She continued her walk to the kitchen to finish up scheduling and make Steph waffles.

~

Listen, at this point Cass having a miraculous was a given.

He might as well make sure it was a good one that would come in useful. And, it kind of matched her fighting style of predicting people’s moves to have one that allowed her to go five minutes into the past. She’d be even better at predicting people’s movements if she’d seen them before!

Besides, she liked the color blue. Perfect fit.

Marinette had agreed to train her, but Adrien was the one to take her out on patrols with him.

It was good to have people with different fight styles together, it made solving problems easier. Adrien paired with Dick and Cass, Marinette tended to pair with Jason, and Tim would tag in on either side since he had no real consistent fight style (he liked to change based on his opponent).

Besides, with group patrols they got to spend more time with their kids! They were nothing if not efficient people.

He and Cass sat on the rooftop across from the building Agoura had asked to meet Dick in. There was a low chance it was going to get violent, there should be no way that he’d know anything was off (Marinette and Dick had been publicly fighting for the past year to make it seem like they were on opposite sides), but it was better safe than sorry.

He watched Dick wave to Agoura and head off. Adrien and Cass watched carefully for any sign that they were suspicious, that they were going to do something underhanded, but Agoura just turned and started heading off into the night.

When his oldest son came up to sit with them, he had a thought. He glanced at Cass and made a swiping motion on his wrist.

She nodded her understanding.

They waited for Dick to transform before following Agoura and his goons. Five people were with him, but that wasn’t actually that bad by Agoura standards, so...

“Y’know, if he gets suspicious of me because of this, I’m never going to forgive you,” said Dick.

He shrugged absently, then broke into a wide grin when Agoura turned down an alley. “Living hotel to hotel wasn’t that bad back in the day.”

“Hm. I disagree, but…” The three of them exchanged grins as Cass activated her power. “Let’s do this.”

Dick brought his flute to his lips and played a high-pitched note that made Agoura and his goons stop in their tracks. Duplicates of each vigilante slowly spread out over the rooftops, as well as a replica of Dick.

The vigilantes and their fakes dropped down to surround the group and Cass suddenly reached out and jerked Adrien’s hand. He almost complained but then a bullet soared past where his head had just been and he went pale.

He squeezed her hand once as thanks and then pulled away so he could activate his Cataclysm.

Doubles went after the goons while Cass went to work disarming people. It was kind of creepy how she disappeared into the shadows without any help from Dick, but no one said anything because it was useful. She would pop out of shadows and break arms and legs to put goons out of commission.

Dick was giving himself an alibi. The fake lawyer ran into the action, only to get taken out by a fake Cass.

Agoura was making a run for it. Too bad, really, that he couldn’t exactly see anything that was going on. The world in front of Agoura was a mess of dumpsters and trash bags that he was struggling to run around. Adrien, who knew for a fact that everything was either fake or light enough to brush away with his staff, followed after him at a calm pace.

He grabbed Agoura by the back of his tailored suit and smiled at him.

“Agoura! Buddy! Where are you going? I just want to chat!”

“Nice one!” Yelled Dick from somewhere in the chaos.

“Thanks, Robin!”

He tipped his head to the side and regarded the man in his grip. It was clear he didn’t really know that much self-defense, but he must have some kind of weapon hidden on him…

Cass seemingly materialized out of the wall nearby and threw herself at Agoura, a blur of blue and black, and the man was nearly knocked out of Adrien’s grip by the force. Then she pulled away with a gun and a few knives.

Adrien raised his eyebrows a little bit before sending her a smile. Yeah. It was definitely a good thing that he’d given her that specific miraculous...

He turned his attention back on the mobster, who was beginning to look a little pale.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not here to kill you. You deserve way worse,” he said brightly.

He pressed his hand to the man’s wrist. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on just dissolving the wrist. It was kind of hard to do with the mobster screaming his head off. Kwami, you’d think he’d be quiet so Adrien wouldn’t dissolve him into nothing but apparently not…

The hand popped off and he let go instantly. He looked down and winced at the black webbing its way under the glove.

He glanced at the mobster nearby, who was still screaming, and rolled his eyes. He punched him as hard as he could and smiled when he fell to the ground in a heap by the hand. Good, now that that was dealt with...

He scrunched up his nose a little bit as he slowly peeled the glove off of the hand and then his face split into a wide smile. Thank kwami, he hadn’t ruined the prints.

He turned to his kids and found them waiting for him amidst a pile of bodies. He didn’t know if the henchmen were alive or not, but when he saw the tiny scrape on Cass’s cheek he decided he didn’t care.

He waved the hand at them.

“We got him!”

~

Listen, Marinette had considered staying commissioner…

For approximately two seconds.

The vigilantes had made their point in getting Agoura arrested (they gave him about four days before he ‘mysteriously committed suicide’ in jail thanks to either underpaid henchmen or old victims). They were done. It had been way too hard to even think about doing it consistently. No, murder was definitely the way to go.

She glanced over at Nygma. “Thanks for helping me pack up.”

“Well, I figured it would be nice to visit again.”

She nodded slowly and looked around her old office. Tomorrow there would be someone else in that chair, someone likely far more corrupt…

“Got a knife on you?”

“Obviously, but why?”

She shrugged and took it from his outstretched hand. She knelt down by the chair and sawed on one of the legs until she had taken off a tiny piece of it. She pushed on the chair and giggled a little when it wobbled. Yes. Perfect. That would be so annoying.

She tossed the piece of chair leg in the air and then caught it, sending Nygma a wink. “The budget here is terrible, it’ll take at least a few months to get a new chair.”

Nygma rolled his eyes and took his knife back from her. “Hm. And they say I’m the evil one.”

They each grabbed a box. His was full of personal items, hers was full of files on every person currently in the GCPD and every mobster and goon she could think of the name of.

“You owe me one escape room.”

She groaned as they slipped out into the halls. “Why? Wasn’t it enough to spit on the floor?”

“Nope! Spitting on the floor was payment for me showing up, you’re making me do manual labor so I get one hour of escape rooms with you.”

“Don’t you know every solution already?”

“A new one opened up across town!”

She clicked her tongue irritably but shrugged. “Fine. But only because I owe you, not because we’re friends.”

He rolled his eyes and then looked down at the box he was carrying. “Wow, it sure would suck if all these pictures of your kids just… fell.”

Her eyes widened. “You ARE the evil one!”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And… you’re also my friend.” She made a retching noise. “Kwami, I’m going to die.”

“What?! No! Only one of my traps is allowed to kill you!”

“Too late! I’m dying. I’ll never recover…”

“Nooooo…!”

~

He raised an eyebrow at the girl on his couch. He was pretty sure she was Tim’s friend but… she was definitely around a lot…

Whatever, he might as well at this point.

“Hey, how many parents you got?”

Steph didn’t even glance up. “Zero, thanks to you.”

He went still. Wait, was she saying this in the ‘my parent(s) was evil and you killed them’ way or the ‘they were civilians and they got caught in the crossfire and I blame you’ way?

“Um… did you like them?”

“No, he was a dick.”

He allowed himself to breathe. Cool. Great. That would have made everything difficult…

“Want to be adopted?”

Steph laughed a little and shrugged. “Do I get to be a vigilante, too?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Then... yeah, whatever.”

~~~

Taglist

@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats @golden-promises @sassakitty @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladythugs @moonlightstar64 @dahjokester @jjmjjktth

[pluckyredhead]

What's the top 10 worst things about HiC

Oh god, it took me FOREVER to narrow this down. There are so many bad things about it!!!

Literally I’m not even going to address all the little talking heads therapy sessions and how thoroughly riddled with continuity errors and godawful characterization they are, because there’s so much else wrong with the book. Just trust that they’re a mess, even if King is trying to be Intellectual (TM) by putting them in a nine-panel grid. WE GET IT. YOU’VE READ WATCHMEN.

I’m also not putting “they killed Roy” on the list because it’s comics, characters die. The fact that this book was a slaughterhouse is a problem (see below, #2), but the fact that one of those deaths happened to be one of my favorite characters is a bummer but not necessarily evidence that the book is bad. (The book is so bad.)

But okay, so the rest of it, from least-worst to worst-worst:

10. That Poison Ivy cover: Clay Mann draws beautiful people but for some reason he decided that the cover to #7 should be a dead Poison Ivy on her stomach, cleavage pressed against the floor, her spine arched EVEN THOUGH SHE IS DEAD in order to lift her ass in the air so that the reader can see both T and A at once. This was leaked and then ultimately pulled before it hit stands and Tom King tweeted that he'd never liked it, but it’s very telling to me that either literally no one noticed how gross this cover fetishizing a dead woman was before the internet protested, or DC actively planned to use a sexy dead woman to sell comics. In their book that was supposed to be about trauma and mental health and recovery.

10b. Babs, a theoretical protagonist of this book, sexily peeling her pants down to show her bullet scars, which shouldn’t even look like that due to all the surgery she’s had: We get it, you’re only interested in women’s trauma if it’s sexy. She doesn’t even get to talk on this page.

10c. The full splash page of Lois in her underwear, saying “What do you want me to do?” like she’s inviting the reader to bone her in the middle of this story about death and trauma: Stop!!! Just stop!!!

9. The laziness of everything having to do with Booster: Okay yeah, I’m gonna be fannishly self-involved about another one of my faves here, but Booster is legitimately one of the main characters of the series, along with the Trinity, Harley, Babs, and Wally. And yet the “trauma” that places him at Sanctuary was part of a hastily shoehorned-in Batman arc directly before HiC that writes him deeply out of character (he carelessly changes the timeline when despite the fact that he’s spent 15 years protecting the timeline, including the Superman arc he starred in literally directly prior to the Batman one), instead of anything endemic to the character (because spoiler, Tom King doesn’t actually know anything about the character). The series then entirely fails to address it, hanging Booster’s emotional arc instead on his friendship with Ted...a friendship that explicitly does not exist in the Rebirth timeline. The Ted/Booster friendship/marriage is literally my favorite relationship in the entirety of the DCU, but you don’t get to rest a protagonist’s entire arc on a relationship that was retconned out of existence seven years prior and then retconned away again. Do the work. Don’t copy Keith Giffen and J. M. DeMatteis’s papers from 31 years ago.

8. Interpretive hand jiving through the pain: You know how some people have to leave the room when characters do something very embarrassing on television? I’ve never been like that, just Jesus Christ I had to read this page between my fingers. Y i k e s :

7. Harley beating the Trinity in a fight: Come on. Harley couldn’t take a single one of them on her own, let alone all three. Don’t warp the characters to make your MC look more badass and keep the plot moving. (King also wrote Catwoman beating THREE SPEEDSTERS in his Batman run, which again: no. Absolutely not. Stop it.)

6. That Watchman reference: See above re: being so embarrassed for someone you have to read through your fingers. If you haven’t read Watchmen, the line “I did it 35 minutes ago” is extremely famous and absolutely a mic drop moment. It’s not a mic drop moment here. The characters are completely different and talking about completely different things. The only thing Heroes in Crisis has in common with Watchmen (besides copying the use of the nine-panel grid, like I said before) is that it’s about how heroes are fucked up, I guess? Which is hardly a bold statement in 2018; it’s actively cliche now, in fact. The only purpose referencing Watchmen serves here is to let the reader know that Tom King has read Watchmen, which is both pretentious because it is Art and ridiculous because it’s one of the bestselling comics of all time and millions of people have read it.

5. The abysmal “journalistic ethics” on display: There are so many characters literally and figuratively assassinated in this book that it’s easy to miss that Lois is one of them. But here’s a tip: when someone’s medical information is leaked to you, it is not in fact your obligation to share that with the world, no matter who they are. That is not information meant for public consumption, which we might assume Lois knows, since she doesn’t usually share the private business of her husband or her son or their cousin or any of their friends that she is also friends with. But suddenly she’s forgotten that because it’s on a zip drive? Not only does that show horrifying journalistic ethics from both Lois and Clark, who seems to think she had no other choice, it’s also ableist as hell - what, if someone has mental health problems or experienced trauma on the job they’re automatically a danger to the public? And despite the attempt to make this feel like a big twist, there’s actually zero point to it, because a) we never see civilians reacting to this information and b) there are literally zero consequences to publishing it in this or any subsequent comic. It’s never even mentioned again. If a tree publishes all of a superhero’s medical information and deep dark secrets in a forest and no one reacts to it in any way, shape, or form, does it make a sound?

4. The actual premise: I do sort of believe that Bruce would think “go to the middle of nowhere surrounded by robots wearing creepy robes and masks and tell your secrets to cameras which are then wiped and interact with no one” = therapy, although if that’s the case I don’t know why he keeps bothering to put people in Arkham, which at least allows them to talk to other humans. But under no circumstances do I think either Clark or Diana would go along with this horrible, horrible idea, that offers no genuine help to anyone. Not only does the fact that it’s implausible undercut literally everything that happens within the framework of Sanctuary’s existence, it’s just one of many examples of how almost everyone acts completely out of character all the time in order to keep the plot chugging along.

3. Bruce’s terrible detective skills: The World’s Greatest Detective spends like six issues seriously thinking that either Booster Gold or Harley Quinn is the killer. Booster or Harley! Booster has neither the temperament nor the ability to kill on that level and Harley would never hurt Ivy, plus neither of them are a match for Wally (who is believed to be dead at this point), and Bruce should know that. Again, weak characterization all around, but it’s especially egregious given that King wrote Batman for A HUNDRED ISSUES.

2. Wally’s character assassination: This is a three-parter:

2a. Logistical: It makes no fucking sense. Wally got his own corpse to the crime scene by traveling five days into the future and killing his future self. Everyone sees the corpse. Then Booster, Ted, Harley, and Babs talk him out of killing himself. But...he already did that and everyone saw the corpse, so now we have a paradox that’s never addressed.

2b. Moral: The comics have tried desperately to walk Wally’s actions back in the past two years, emphasizing that he didn’t mean to kill TWELVE PEOPLE, including one of his best friends. It was an accident! But he still framed Booster and Harley for literally no reason except to create a whodunnit, set them on each other which could have easily ended fatally for Booster, and then sent everyone’s private information to the media (which again, the comic frames as somehow noble and necessary, but which is actually deeply unethical). So you made this beloved 60-year-old hero into a villain...why, exactly? Just so it would be surprising? Cool, great work, Captain Edgelord.

2c. Metatextual: This comic spins out of Rebirth Special #1. The New 52 erased Wally from continuity and then brought him back as the younger, biracial Wally (and this isn’t the place to get into fandom’s response to that and DC’s response to fandom’s response so let’s just say they are both YIKES MCGIKES and leave it at that). Rebirth Special #1 brought him back, and the return of the “real” (white) Wally (again: yikes) heralded a new universe that was lighter and happier and contained way more fan favorites. It was literally branded as a gift to fans, embodied in Wally West.

In Heroes in Crisis, Wally is crushed by the weight of everyone being so happy he’s there and loving him so much while he’s struggling with grief and depression, and that’s why he snaps. It’s the metatextual equivalent of having Wally look at the reader and say “You’re happy I’m back and comics can be lighter now? Well, FUCK YOU, YOU RUINED EVERYTHING.” It essentially blames the reader for having Wally go evil, because the reader loves Wally too much.

King, what the fuck?

1. The overall message: Heroes in Crisis was sold as a thoughtful exploration of mental health and trauma, instead of just another bloodbath. Instead, it killed a dozen characters in its first issue and dicked around for another seven with an uninspired whodunnit before throwing a beloved hero in the garbage. But in the meantime, it manages to say:

Trauma is unavoidable.

But therapy doesn’t help.

Trying it does more harm than good.

If you’re struggling, you are a danger to others and don’t deserve privacy.

Good luck with that.

Therapy literally saved my life. This comic enrages me. This comic is harmful. Superhero comics as a whole have a lot to answer for when it comes to discussions of mental illness, but at least some random issue of Batman where Bruce thoughtlessly throws another “looney” into Arkham isn’t billed as a sympathetic take on PTSD. Our culture already discourages asking for help, and we don’t need a pretentious funnybook miniseries helping with that.

(If you made it all the way to the end of this post and you are struggling with trauma, depression, PTSD, whatever...please do look into therapy. I promise you it’s nothing like this comic.)

In conclusion, Heroes in Crisis is bad and it should feel bad.

THE END.

[sugar-petals]

BTS Tarot Reading ➝ What Kind Of Porn Do They Watch? (18+)

↳ NOTE - due to several requests, a steamy and detailed one. ☕️ we’re asking the cards about the erotica they fancy in a wider sense. 

warning ⚠️ 18+ // bdsm mentions, worship, kinks left and right. we’re going graphic in all types o’ ways, lads.

♡ DISCLAIMER // tarot is speculative, there is no guarantee for accuracy. believing in the cards is a choice. all portrayals are fictive and for entertainment purposes only.

SPREAD #1:

yoongi

⌈ THE WORLD ⇁ Jesus... Someone’s obsessed with girls in the nude. That card has a stark naked woman wrapped in very little satin on it so you know what our funky little guy is up to. Luscious aesthetic fotos might be just around his corner. Big duh, he’s a photography major. These folks are all about body appreciation. He’s also on a personal vendetta against lingerie 😂 Yoongi won’t get hard looking at even the most HD panty and bra ads. Only the skin in its full splendor will do, no editing. He loves pictures of nipples peaking through shirt fabric, it’s all over his phone. Yoongi likes his gals without underwear 24/7 just like he dislikes underwear himself. If we’re talking porn, the woman on the card is holding two very long rods so may I connect the dots: Threesomes, handjobs, blowbangs, spitroasting. Friction, friction, and more friction. To Yoongi’s brain, handjobs are a great um new version of holding hands. Sex standing up also, keeping it vertical. Yoongi doesn’t care about girth, inches count. Nice and elongated with a perfect plunge, something to hold onto. Yep, he’s pretty deliberate when searching that up. Yes, he loves the look of it. However, and you’ll be surprised: Even if he likes poly porn, it’s still nothing too extreme. This card is more about pleasure than pain. If a guy likes rough and degrading sex, you get swords and wands in his spread. THE WORLD is more about perfected skills and success. So, he likes the more accomplished porn stars. With a preference for curly blondes and redheads, that’s sort of the hair color on the card. Natural B or C cup. Medium height, not too curvy. Oversized booty not needed. In terms of nationality: We have three representative animals on the card. Eagle, lion and bull, plus a light blonde man’s head. So, anything that America/Germany/Albania/Mexico/Namibia (and so on, lot of countries with eagles as their national bird my dude), England, Spain and Scandinavia have to offer. Honey sugar is going international, baby.

hoseok

⌈ QUEEN OF WANDS ⇁ Did I just mention that guys who like rough sex in porn get wand cards in their readings in Yoongi’s segment? Well, there we have our candidate, with a very obvious card since it’s a court figure. Now, the thing is, this is not the guy being rough. The QUEEN OF WANDS is as notoriously femdom as can be. The very fiery and raw and fun version. So, with a degree of lightheartedness, but still being very fit — even buff — and hands-on with the sub. If you get the QUEEN OF SWORDS, that’s the more cool and calculated domme who signs you up for torture and humiliation, and she really looks like a domme. She’s all over the internet because she has the grit. Now wands combined with a tarot queen... it’s more about the stamina and she is approachable. Hobi does not like watching cruel girls, he likes challenging ones. Upbeat porn stars who can take a lot but most importantly dole it out assertively like pros are Hobi’s schtick. He’s unapologetic about that. With him it’s like, please not the local newcomers that turned legal a month ago. The queen cards are all about mature women. Mommy kink, hint hint. The kind of mommy who’s gonna whip out the spreader bar or cane (= wands again) and give a playful type of punishment. See how desert-like that imagery is, Hobi wants to sweat big time when he gets off to this. Now since wands also make for a damn good pole to dance on, go figure. This whole card has me wondering if, well alright, he is a Cardi B hard stan 😅 If Hobi blasts Money to get in the mood, I’d not be surprised. Anyway. Back to pole stuff: If you go through his youtube search history, you will find astounding things. I think he watches the more professional and athletic performers in competition though. High production value is key. Finally, an interesting card detail: There’s a sunflower on it. This is definitely his kind of tarot imagery.

jimin

⌈ KING OF COINS  ⇁ This card always looks like a scene from a medieval movie so you might have an erotic film enthusiast here. The more chaste type of genre, pentacles are very grounded and not hypersexualized. The intimacy is slow and more about security and pleasure. It’s graphic and detailed, but gives you a sense of relaxation. With a bit of romance in the plot, that might absolutely be Jimin’s thing. Castles and wine and nobility. Interesting type of erotica. Historical and classy. As expected of a prince, mind you. He might enjoy books of that genre also. And we know Jimin is an avid reader, right up there with Namjoon. Now, even with more risque and contemporary stuff that he googles up, we have similar dynamics going down on screen. With Hobi we had femdom because it’s a queen card, now with Jimin we get the classic male dom type of porn because that’s how the King usually rolls, unless it’s the KING OF CUPS who’s touchy-feely and subby. Meanwhile, the KING OF COINS is your local sugar daddy. Leaning towards being a soft dom, he’s not aggressive. And Jimin surely has a little crush on that concept. Ye know, if all the other members have female cards and Jimin gets the sugar daddy, we might be dealing with mxm action. Because if this card was a porn star, he’d be a really, really rich producer and a bear who’s done this since the frickin’ 90s. He’s treating his subs very gently and lets them sit on their lap, the imagery is sort of like that because the King is balancing a pentacle on his left thigh. Sex and comfort all in one are life for Jimin. A sexy detail I only noticed at a second glance, the King also has a shortened golden staff with him, which has a rounded tip. If that’s not a butt plug… whenever I see props like that in tarot, I interpret it as a sex toy. So, good vibes in here. And a bunch of aphrodisiacs, the KING OF COINS is a foodie. Which you know, might just be a food porn type of reference. Jimin’s taste in sexy things is quite something else.

jungkook

⌈ THE EMPRESS ⇁ If there’s one thing I like, it’s the Tarot giving me the important archetypes during readings of that kind. The Queens, the Kings, the Major arcana (see Yoongi’s and Jin’s segment). You can really draw a lot of hints out of it. Now with the EMPRESS you have a similar case to Hobi’s, just a lot more softcore. Jungkook has a refined and pretty vast taste in erotica, if not the most refined in Bangtan next to Jimin who likes that kind of dignified touch to it as well as we saw. Jungkook knows his stuff when it comes to searching things up, he is a first class netizen in that regard. In terms of genre: The EMPRESS is your highkey feminist and wholesomeness legend, so — you won’t find any super creepy things in some hidden file on his PC, and things by female producers instead. No slut-shaming or name-calling here, everyone gets their pleasure in their own right. Thanks to online sex ed, Jungkook has a map to the clit and he’s not afraid to use it. He’s the type to watch solo videos ad nauseam. He’s fascinated. Masturbation until it gets all messy with the juices flowing, and you bet he wants to see the girls buzzing themselves off lying on their back. Maybe even outdoors in a field. Cum play is a must, cunnilingus is a must, he loves unprotected sex and creampies, he loves breast massages. And yes. Anything that involves sex with pregnant and chubby women. Similar to Taehyung, it’s all about the focus on the girl, he doesn’t bother much with the guy performers. And given Yoongi’s reading on top of that, we have three members in BTS who are all about worshipping the female body right here, breasts over ass, and he likes blondes, too. The EMPRESS card is like… the entire porn industry who does the MILF and BBW genre is financed by Jeon Jungkook’s website subscriptions. Cue GOT7, with Jungkook it’s girls, girls, girls. The thirst is going strong, and he’s unashamed times ten, sex is sex. 

➝ we also have members who don’t really bother with erotica or have a complicated relationship with it.

SPREAD #2

taehyung

⌈  ACE OF WANDS reversed ⇁ He’s not about beating off until the world ends. Taehyung gets bored by porn or heated literature and doesn’t feel very motivated to search it up. He would rather come up with his own ideas to write but doesn’t have the energy. Sex drive: On hold, even if he tries to look something up it doesn’t feel very fulfilling to him. Most of it fails to turn him on, it’s not his kind of taste. He gets frustrated when he masturbates and would rather rest, dream, and doze. The only thing I can see him watch somewhat frequently — hold your horses — is lesbian porn. I’ll explain. The ACE OF WANDS is pretty much your most glaring handjob symbolism card. A hand gripping a stick. Yoongi’s THE WORLD card has very similar imagery, I mean even two wands and a girl, bisexual explosion much. He would be a big fan of the upright ACE OF WANDS card lmao! But the reversal is like, um no silly guys jerking off in here, pls. Keep your cum to yourself. That means: Zero dicks in Taehyung’s zone, girl-on-girl stuff is his very last resort for quality that he is desperate for but cannot find. And not the stuff where the producers just replace the guys with heavy arsenal sex toys, double-ended dildos, fucking machines, endless strap-on action without any clit stimulation on either side and whatnot. Taehyung is like ugh, cherie, why, give me the juicy stuff, give me the basics. What he wants is just pure scissoring, fingering, oral, little gentle bites, a lot of caresses and kisses. And slow, slow sex. Probably the amateur kind. He hates how brutal and exaggerated most things online are. Tae is looking for softness, a lot of lesbian action is what delivers in that regard so he takes all he gets. And it goes further than that, Taehyung knows the finest yuri recommendations, I’m telling you.

seokjin

⌈  THE STAR reverse ⇁ The opposite of Yoongi: not keeping it very naked in here. The upright card shows a nude woman pouring water from two cups. Hence a strong connection to the card of sexuality, TWO OF CUPS. Everything is very gentle and positive in that scenery. But then, the reversed card rather shows us that Jin doesn’t feel too thrilled watching other people film or write or photograph sex. Like in Tae’s case, he becomes bored, it’s all the same to him. Nothing’s ever new to him in porn. He feels negative and guilty rather than refreshed or entertained. He also doesn’t like a lot of kinks that very literally connect to, well, the pouring water. Squirting, cum play, watersports, sex in the pool or showers, lube overuse, creampies, bukkake, fake cum — Jin is rolling his eyes at that, he thinks it’s a circus. He’s surely given it a try, but ended up feeling worse and even more pent-up or dissatisfied. At best, you will find him on unknown websites looking for the most amateur videos there are. Because: THE STAR quite unequivocally hints at porn stars. If you reverse the card, it becomes someone not very well-known. He roots for the underdog. Accordingly, Jin’s reaction to mainstream videos goes this way: ‚Pipe down, you non-artists!’ ��� Cause maybe, he does do it better aye, without the awkward angles anyway. He doesn’t want the body cult, like, put that airbrush and silicone out of my face bro. Not because he’s against surgery, but the idea behind sexual extremes and the shady high standards. It’s too polished for him to get turned on. And robotic/staged. Likely because he’s had an IRL sexual experience (gasp!) that set a different ideal to him, so the more glossy porn feels off. Home video has all he needs instead. I think it’s especially because you get so see more body hair there. The woman on the THE STAR card is all sleek, so the reversed card is the opposite, Jin wants that unshaved goodness.

namjoon

⌈ EIGHT OF CUPS ⇁ Now you’d think — and I thought, kinda — we’d get the master of erotica right here. And he’s had one hell of a reputation for that. Think of the ever-infamous Yaman TV interview where BTS were super upfront and revealing about their taste and what they watch privately. With especially Namjoon having the lion’s share. But this card says otherwise if his current state is concerned. The EIGHT OF CUPS shows a man wandering off into the night, leaving eight cups behind him. I think what that means is, he’s moved on. Namjoon’s cravings aren’t as strong as they used to be, nor does he have the time. He knows it won’t fix his loneliness or answer the questions of life. He might be on the search for different things to fulfill him, or ignore much of his hormones in favor for his career. Not that he didn’t dabble in it, he sure did, but that chapter is slowly closing and what’s next he doesn’t really know yet. He thinks about family and being a father, so the smaller and more risque pleasures become less significant. Desire, too. Ye olde soul syndrome is kicking in. The card is also centered around introspection, a quest for self, all these higher topics that aren’t the most grounded and don’t leave much space for being horny. Joon is simply to preoccupied and on the move. He sees porn as a distraction from his real self at this point, and he’s not the type to feel satiated after masturbating to something, similar to Jin and Taehyung. Instead, I think he carries that energy elsewhere, hence the wanderer going from A to B onto a mountain. In short, Namjoon naturally grew out of it by becoming more, well: Namjoon. He’s left a lot behind, he’s choosing self-development over temporary fun, and he will ponder a lot on the topic, the hows and whys and whats more often than not. So, he’s passed the baton to Yoongi and Jungkook if you will, and keeps a low profile as of now. 

tarot mlist | ko-fi

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