i love the idea of the batfam wearing each other's merch cause like. i know they'd be petty about it. usually they'd wear their siblings merch in (kinda) equal rotations, but they'd change it up depending on sibling squabbles or sibling favours.
Tim, walking into the kitchen in a Red Hood shirt:
Dick: TIM!?
Tim: what
Dick: it's Tuesday. you always wear Nightwing merch on Tuesdays.
Tim: oh.
Tim: you stole my last granola bar, last week.
Steph, looking for something in Jason's room: JASON WHY DO YOU HAVE EVERYONE'S MERCH BUT MINE?!
Jason, peeking into the room: i have your merch. in the trash.
Steph: WHY
Jason: you hit me with a blue shell in mario kart last game night. i'm never forgiving you.
Damian, sporting a full-on Red Robin hoodie:
Tim: woah. what brought this on? you usually only exclusively wear Batman or Nightwing merch
Damian: you helped me take that splinter out of Alfred's paw yesterday. Richard on the other hand has recently messed up my painting palette.
Dick, from the other room: IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!
Damian: he'll get over it.
Cass, wearing Nightwing merch for the 5th day in a row:
Jason: goddamn. what did Dickie do to get in your good graces like this?
Cass, smiling: he made me a flower crown
Jason: ... that's it?
Cass: it was a very nice flower crown.
Dick, buying seven Signal shirts: One for everyone.
Duke, behind him: Dick, you really don't--
Dick: shhhh, sunshine. everyone will love your new merch.
(they all wore exclusively Signal merch for a week straight)
Bruce isn't allowed to change up his rotation or not wear someone's merch because he immediately gets accused of playing favourites. He'd rather keep some of his sanity, thank you.
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Randomly thinkin about Chilchuck today, and how he tries sooooo hard to self sabotage
like for example, other half foots on the island think that he's a greedy asshole who only cares about money, and he does nothing to try to disprove that
but then there's this omake at the end of book 9 that shows that people treat half foots fucking TERRIBLY and chilchuck started a union to protect them
and then in the bicorn chapter, he doesn't want Marcille to keep digging into his personal business so he tells her he CHEATED ON HIS WIFE
but he just COMPLETELY fuckin lied about that and made himself sound so much worse than he is bc he's afraid of being vulnerable with people and would rather everyone believes he's a shitty person so he can keep them at a distance
and the thing that's memed so often is that he refuses to help with fighting most of the time because it's not part of his contract
but if you take this lore into account (not gonna add those particular images to this post simply bc I've used them in so many posts already LMAO) along with this tidbit from the world guide:
then it's like. yeah he has to keep his weight low so if he gets killed or severely injured and has to be healed, that could be really dangerous for him. and even if he was healed at that point he'd end up being a burden to the party after that point, he would be too dangerously thin/sickly to be able to help.
Like, Chilchuck has so many things about him that APPEAR to be character flaws, but every single one of them has a very reasonable explanation. He just leans into the mischaracterization bc he's emotionally withholding and can handle people thinking he's an asshole more than he can handle opening up to anyone. he's such a well thought out and interesting character
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ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.
soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)
interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?
"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."
soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.
"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.
soap nods. "ah'll be there."
"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."
yeah, he'd hate to have that.
soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.
maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.
"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.
simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"
soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."
the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.
you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.
"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."
you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."
your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-
"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"
he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.
"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."
you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.
"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"
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