#so i know pictures have been taken of it before

[bullet-prooflove]

Shawnstown: Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Reader - The Map That Leads To You

Tagging: @kmc1989 @akotafi @yousigned-upforthis @fadeinsol @cowardlycandy

The premise of Shawnstown...

Summary: Freshly released from prison Pope decides to start his new life in honor of the woman he lost.

The reason Pope ends up in prison isn’t because of a botched job. It’s because of a woman, two of them in fact.

One he was very much in love with and the one that murdered her on the steps of the courthouse they’re supposed to get married in.

He finds that out after his arrest, when he’s dragged to the station and he catches a glimpse of the television the cop in the custody suite is watching. The three o’clock news is playing and that’s when he sees Dylan’s face plastered all over it.

The victim of a random shooting they report.

They show a picture of her from the CCTV footage, wearing a white dress, holding a bouquet of tangerine roses. She was waiting, he knows, waiting for him to finish up that job with his brothers so they could run away together with the one million dollars he’d stolen from Smurf’s storage locker the night before.

He knows in that moment what his mother has done, that his incarceration and Dylan’s death are a simultaneous punishment.

This is what happens when you go against the family. They drive a knife into your chest, carve out your heart and then crush it in their fist right before your eyes. He knows because he’s always been the one doing the carving, the one who gets the visera on his hands, the one who buries the bodies.

At least he was that until he met Dylan, and then everything had changed. She’d made him see that he was more than the animal his family had turned him into, more than just the attack dog they kept tethered on a chain, waiting for the moment they needed him.

He had softened and that’s the thing his mother didn’t like, her monster gaining back some of his humanity, starting to want things that the family couldn’t give him.

The wife, the baby, the house on the beach.

But Pope, he doesn’t get to have those things not after all the horrible shit he’s done. He understands that now.

He had some so fucking close to hanging himself in that prison cell after her death, to succumbing to the beatings, the torture, the humiliation but it didn’t because there was always Dylan’s voice right there in the back of his head whispering.

Don’t let them destroy you Andy, promise me, you won’t give into that darkness.

Those three years in prison should have broken him, obliterated him but somehow she had kept him hanging on even from beyond the grave.

“All you have to do is tell Smurf where the money is and all this, it stops.” The guard had whispered into his ear as he was spitting blood into his pillowcase. “Just give her what she wants.”

He’d laughed then, a loud manic sound that echoes through the walls of his cell making even the man who was determined to ruin him flinch at the sound of it.

“She’s already killed the best thing about me.” He’d snarled as the hand on the back of his neck pressed his face deeper into the pillow. “I haven’t felt  goddamn thing since she died.”

They give up after that, leave him to rot in his cell for the next year because you can’t get blood from a stone, not when you’ve already bled it dry.

Now he’s in the desert in the middle of the night, digging a hole out with a shovel he’d purchased with a portion of the gate money they gave him for serving out his sentence with a stolen car idling a couple of metres away. The high beams are on, shining on the exact spot where him and Dylan hid the money three years ago.   

It’s taken him over eight hours to get back here. By tomorrow morning his family will know he’s out, and that’s when they’ll start looking for him.

A glimpse of navy blue fabric appears in the dirt, the flash of red from the logo on the side as he ploughs the shovel into the dirt around it creating a buffer of space so he can yank it out in one go. He hauls the bag out of the hole, setting it down on the on the hood of the Buick. He unzips it and surveys the cash, still bundled together just as neatly as the night he’d stolen it.

His heart tears at itself because sitting on top of it all is an envelope containing two new identities, one for him and one for Dylan, and the map they had spread out across her table when they were trying to choose where they wanted to go.

He picks it up his hand shaking because he still can’t believe he’s doing this without her, that he has to find a way to live out their dream all by himself. He unfolds the rumpled paper, using his palm to spread it out across the hood. There circled in the red is a township alongside Lake Siskiyou, you’d barely know it was there unless you squinted.

Shawnstown, it’s called.

The place where Andrew Pope is about to start his new life.

Love Pope? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[cvldbones]

okay so not to sound insane but im convinced beyond all belief that one of langdon’s kids has to end up in the ED at some point……with mel treating them as abby and langdon have it out, of course. it’s just something ive been marinating with because Everyone Else Of Significance to these characters has been shown (becca, jake, jake’s mom whose name i cannot remember) and what better way to show how On The Rocks their marriage is than by a family reunion in chairs! july….no school……a case of dehydration at summer camp? i can see the vision so clearly

okay so i included something like this in my emotional infidelity fic because the idea of abby being in the ER is sooo juicy to me (especially if they're having issues and langdon is pretending everything is Totally Normal)

but i'm picturing, like, frank's been put on chairs for the morning because it's not like he can administer medication anyway, and that feels like the safest, smoothest entry point for him. (bonus: it pisses him the fuck off. the rational part of his brain knows that this is not, in fact, a punishment, but it does sort of feel like robby's just rubbing salt in the wound for no reason.) he's paired with one of the new med students who keeps asking about whether he's ever seen or performed an amputation (??) so he's already in a foul mood and it's not even nine a.m.

and then he hears a voice that is way too familiar, bright and excited. "daddy!"

frank whips his head around and, sure enough: there is tanner, sitting with his arm held close to his chest, tears streaking down the dirt on his cheeks. abby is sitting next to him filling out paperwork, a frown pinching between her brows as she follows their son's gaze. she pales a little when frank strides forward, trying and failing to repeat all those mantras he learned in therapy about balance and finding your zen.

"hi, buddy," he says, running his hand over his son's head. "what happened?"

"i hurt my arm," tanner tells him, wincing a little when he tries to lift it. "i was running too fast, and - "

"i told you his cleats were too big," abby says under her breath, and frank glares at her.

he turns to the med student. "go get dr. king," he says, and the student looks at him for one beat before doing as she's told and heading back through the double doors.

frank picks tanner up, mindful of his arm - probably broken, he thinks with an internal sigh - and gestures for abby to follow. there are mutterings from the other patients in the waiting room that he chooses to ignore, leading his soon-to-be-ex-wife and son onto the floor.

dana spots them first. "tanner, buddy! what the heck happened?"

"i hurt my arm," he repeats with a pathetic sniffle. dana smiles at him.

"that's no good." to frank, she adds, "mel is ready for you in central 8."

he gives dana a grateful smile. true to her word, when they get into the room, mel is already there with the med student, looking through tanner's chart. (he was born in this hospital, actually. always a weird thing for frank to remember.)

"dr. mel!"

"tanner, what did you do?" she asks, mock serious, and tanner puts on a very brave face to recount the story for the third time, gesturing with his good arm. something about trying to steal the soccer ball from the other team, and tripping, and hearing a scary noise. frank is only half paying attention. he loves his son, but coordination is not really his specialty. they should've put him in art camp instead of soccer camp, he thinks forlornly.

abby makes some sort of noise, which reminds him: "why didn't you call me?" he demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

"i was going to," she defends immediately. mel is doing a commendable job of keeping her focus on their child, distracting him by asking him to sing his favorite ms. rachel song for her. loudly.

frank is going to owe her, like, fifty dinners after this, probably.

"you shouldn't have been waiting," he continues. "we could've taken care of it as soon - "

"frank, it's not that big a deal," abby protests in a quiet hiss. "can we please not fucking do this in front of your coworkers?"

"it's just mel," he says without thinking, and abby raises an eyebrow. it's just mel had been a refrain he'd been using since the first time she visited him in rehab, and abby has long since grown tired of that particular turn of phrase. he pauses. "i mean, just - "

"oh, i know what you mean," abby says harshly. she fixes the back of mel's head with a sunny smile. "i'm going to try and find a cup of coffee. i'll be right back."

frank runs a hand over his face. when he looks up, mel is peering at him over the lenses of her glasses. "having a good first day back?" she asks, teasing.

he snorts. "yeah." when she smiles, he pretends he can't tell the way his chest lightens. "perfect first day."

[wannabepoeticischiya]

until there's nothing left to lose

ao3: until there's nothing left to lose pairing: mydeimos x f! reader genre: angst wc: 1.6k status: one shot

He swore to you that if you waited—patiently waited with all the love in your heart then he'll be back before you know it. He would be gone for a little while, just like how he'd always been all these years... but he always returned.

He always came home.

Always.

Many had called you stupid. Idiotic for tirelessly waiting for someone who was never going to return. But how could waiting be foolish when it's for someone you never stopped loving?

Someone has to leave first. It's a very old story.

"This is Mydeimos, Crown Prince of Castum Kremnos, Son of Gorgo—why must you have such a long title?" someone sighs on the other line, the once proud declaration rupturing to shards of exasperation. "No one told you to recite it all," another voice cuts in, weaving threads of barely contained mirth with the tapestry of someone's laughter. "Leave a message after the 'There is no word for that in the Kremnoan Language'—hey! I was just teasing!"

There's a strange sense that comes with losing someone you love.

"Hello, De... um," a breath stutters in the air, clouding in the little space where the light couldn't paint the walls golden. "Happy... Happy birthday, De. And uh..." footsteps echo in the darkness, bouncing off the faded walls and the upturned picture frames. "I know you're not around to hear this but I'm still waiting—" a choked sob cuts through the silence, tears painting the dusty carpets—and if someone were to listen keenly, the rumble of her scattered heart would resound in the never ending soundlessness of suffering.

In the far side of the room, another teleslate is alit, with the face of a smiling woman casting a glow against the ceiling.

Another breath is taken, careful and tightening... as if someone was pulling at the threads so a heart may not come undone. "You would have been far older today, and we um—we would have finished the pancakes." Pulling and pulling until the seams are dyed with the ichor of the sun god, until all the grief that threatened to flee would still remain where the ache continued to fester. "And I'm just so proud of you for being strong, and kind, and brave... and for being the one to drive the tides away."

Someone crumples to the floor, clutching a fading red robe embroidered with patterns that only ever looked great on him. "You know in a few days I'll probably be calling you again... to talk to you again." A broken exhale shatters the air. "Because that's the day you died."

One moment he's there; he's alive, and he's well and he's smiling. He's smiling—that big, daunting, happy smile he withholds like an oath. He's laughing at the dinner table, telling all about how his mother tongue has no word for such a foolish thing. He's across the room, or down the hall, maybe even hanging the clothes to dry at the balcony.

He's here.

He exists.

He’s okay.

"And in a few days... I'll still be waiting. And even more after that, I'll still be here."

One day he ventures out to protect your world—to protect you.

"But right now... right now I hope that wherever you are," you hold onto his clothes tighter... like it could somehow chain you tighter to the feeling of him. "I hope they have the best parties," you whisper, curling tighter into the space where you could pretend his warmth still existed. "And if they don't, you can always come back... and we'll have one here."

And there you catch yourself thinking, I wish things were different.

"I love you... and I miss you... a lot."

As if all the time the universe had to offer could never be enough... it was never enough.

Because now, the Titans have to break apart the framework of forever just to make room for the rest of eternity… because grief took everything for itself.

So here I am begging you to return, begging you for at least one more moment, one more touch... one more hug. But I can't...

Because one day—one day, there was someone at the door. And there you once cradled that fragile hope that he had finally returned. There was someone at your door, knocking.

Yet when you opened it—when you swing it open in hopes that he's finally home, you see someone in a medical coat or a police uniform, back then you weren't really sure because another thought, something you could hardly believe could come true, had taken root in your mind.

You knew it then, even before anything was said.

And before you know it, you're standing behind a glass wall, getting questioned if the person before you is someone with the same name as him. And you wanted to say no—no that can't possibly be him.

Because he promised he'd return.

He swore to you that if you waited—patiently waited with all the love in your heart then he'll be back before you know it. He would be gone for a little while, just like how he'd always been all these years... but he always returned.

He always came home.

Always.

So how could it be? That someone with the same shade of hair was lying on the cold slab of this godawful place? How could his markings be etched on this lifeless person's skin? How could his promises drift away like the lives he had fought so valiantly to keep?

The head healer asked you again, although you knew exactly that she was privy of the truth: he had broken what he had promised to you. But saying it out loud felt too much like bringing the weight of reality down to your frail, breaking hope—hope that he'll be waiting for you after you return from whatever the hell this was.

You don't cry and you don't falter... because you might as well have laid right there next to him, because all of you had died the moment you nod your head to say that it's him.

I understand. I don't understand. And still, you'll hold your hands over the ears of your heart, so that you will not hate him.

When the day settles into the hours of descent, you return home, saying the words like spellwork 'I'm home' but only the harrowing echo of your own voice greets you back.

For a moment, you're unsure of where you stand; if you're freefalling into the hands of Thanatos or you're stuck in a loop by the chains of Oronyx. Only one thing ever remained: silence.

It was strange not having to brace yourself for the chaos about to unfold at the other side of the door, that you wouldn't have to gather every atom of your patience for what awaited you. How the thing that should have annoyed you the most became something you wished to hear—to see just for one last time.

Because you don't lose someone once. You lose them in all the ways you used to love them.

You search for his stubbornness, for his grit, and his resolve. You look to the skies for his warmth, for the sun to mimic even just a fraction of his comfort—a mirror of his love. You look to the crowd for his voice, his firm, daunting, and commanding call. You tether yourself to his promises—the ones he had always kept until he broke them all at once.

Yet no matter how earnestly you hope for him to be there, to be at the center of ten thousand people, across the vastness of the world—all that remains is the silence of his absence, existing in the space he used to occupy.

You lose him for every moment you wake. You lose him in every breath, every thought... every heartbeat. You lose him when someone speaks his name. You lose him in every scenery, in the laughter he would have loved to join. You lose him infinitely. Grief would take him from you time and time again, over and over until you're grasping for the memories: his laugh, his smile, his face, his warmth, his voice—desperate to have even the slightest reminder of him... even if it would hurt you unendingly.

He was everywhere… except right here. 

The space beside you remained cold, free from him. Devoid of the daylight that lingers around him. Forever an empty space he could no longer fill.

Time was the longest distance between two places. That he exists somewhere out there, untouched by the light of the sun you see now. And you exist here, where he is so far out of reach.

Before long you'd find yourself asking: were his eyes an everlasting shade of red like the flowers that bloom on the outskirts of the city? Or were they yellow, a mirror of the sun that continued to rise even after he was gone? Or gray... like how the world looks like after losing him.

You will never stop losing him, even if there was nothing left to lose.

You began counting the days since he left; then you realized that you would continue counting until there were no more days left to count. You would keep the flame outside the door of your house in a world he abandoned. Until even Thanatos, who had so cruelly taken him away... would clap in his awful way for how you held onto a flickering ray of hope that had already ceased to exist.

Many had called you stupid. Idiotic for tirelessly waiting for someone who was never going to return. But how could waiting be foolish when it's for someone you never stopped loving?

He seems to follow me everywhere I go: in the pancakes we used to share for breakfast, the children I see in the Holy City, in the gentleness of silence he loved so dearly.

I did a great job never once breaking down at the sight of his demise... but calling him and never hearing him answer is ripping me apart.

I'm happy to have had you... that the universe let me have you for a while. They gave you early—in its grandest mercy so it seems... because it knew that I wouldn't grow old with you.

“Happy birthday, De…”

not me writing this on notepad in light mode with my dimming bedroom light at 3 AM listening to sad songs because my brain struggles greatly with identifying emotions and that's been killing me for the past week and a couple of years or so 💀 writing is sort of like a safe space where I can depict it in the way my brain sees it and helps me practice with recognizing the patterns. also my heart absolutely shattered when my sister told me what happened to mydei (no I haven't gotten to that part yet, I deadass teared up in front of her and began to cry and she just stared at me 😭) and I'm constantly bracing myself when I do the hsr quest but somehow it never really prepares me for what's gonna happen 💔

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Smitten to the Stars — Ch.2

PAIRING — Midoriya Izuku/F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — friends with benefits to lovers, angst, mutual pining, smut (safe+beach sex+quirk use during sex), characters are in their 30s, izuku smokes+has one for all+possessive+jealous, no use of y/n SUMMARY — If merely having you in his life means enduring heartache and concealing his true feelings, then so be it. At least, that's Izuku's grand plan until life forces him into the one thing he dreads the most—confessing.

➥ AO3 LINK // ➥ AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥ TUMBLR CHAPTER LIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS — n/a

WORD COUNT — 6.5k

“Really, Mom? That restaurant?” Izuku groaned into the speaker of his phone, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“Izuku, honey, you see, while checking for a nice place for your blind date, I kept hearing—“

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard the stories too,” he interrupted her before she went on a tangent about the couples that supposedly came together while dining at this fancy, rooftop restaurant.

The restaurant in question caused quite a stir when news broke that a pro hero had supposedly found his ‘soulmate’ there. Izuku was acquainted with both of them, but it was an open secret among insiders that the couple had been together long before the story hit the headlines. The rumors spoke about how they wished to keep their relationship a secret, but it ultimately failed when their cover was blown while having a romantic dinner. To save face and spare themselves a scandal, they came up with a whole story the public ate up without question. As consequence, the restaurant’s popularity skyrocketed as there were many hoping to strike similar luck.

“Quite romantic, don’t you think? Ah, I truly wish this works out,” his mother continued.

And he wished to tell her it wouldn’t work out. This was doomed before it even began. His heart already belonged to you.

“Mhm. I still think it’s way too formal for a…blind date.” He made a face in the mirror as he tucked his dress shirt into his jeans, its short sleeves feeling rather tight around his biceps.

“Izuku, please give this a chance,” he heard his mother say with a slight plea. “She’s a wonderful lady. Plus, she works in the hero support field so I think you might have some things in common, with you being a hero and all.”

“Mom, I love you, but you need to stop setting these dates for me. I’ll say it now—this is the last time I’m indulging you with this.”

She sighed so heavily it sounded as if his words bore down on her very soul. “I just want you to be happy, and I know how busy you are, so I just want to help you. You’re thirty, Izuku—“

“I’m fine, and I have plenty of time to settle down.” He interrupted her for the second time, feeling a twinge of guilt twisting his gut, but he needed to do this. “So please, no more of this. I mean it.”

Silence took over the conversation for a long moment.

“Alright, but only if you promise not to make up an excuse and leave like you always do.”

His hand clenched into a fist. “Sure. I’ll do my very best to stay.”

“Make sure she gets home safely.”

“I’ll make sure to call her a cab.”

“Izuku…”

“I’ll get ready now. Talk to you soon, Mom.”

He chucked his phone on the bed and sighed, long and weary. Ever since he broke up with his ex-girlfriend four years ago, as a consequence of the scandal involving you and him, his mom had been constantly setting him up on blind dates. Given that his ex was the first and only woman Izuku introduced to his mom, in her eyes it was a big deal so the separation came as a shock; his vague reasoning contributed to it, no doubt. He, too, thought it might lead to something more, but you stumbled into his life.

Two pictures of you in his arms, taken the day he met you, was all it took to spark rumors. Izuku’s initial thought upon finding out was how on point your words were as if you had first-hand experience. On an impulse, he took it upon himself to look into it, finding nothing of sorts besides your personal information. Guilt gnawed at him for prying like this into your life. It was wrong, more so when you no longer were a fleeting thought; day and night, you resided on his mind, messing with it and his heart.

Soon enough, things escalated as the press caught wind of it and began to report with speculative headlines. The range was insane, from “Coincidence, or more than meets the eye?” to straight up “Is Deku cheating on his girlfriend in plain sight?” It wasn’t easy for his PR team to keep things somewhat under control, especially when the press agencies tried to score an interview with you so they could twist your words however they saw fit.

Needless to say, his reputation was on the line and your side of the story became vital in sorting the whole ordeal. Although Izuku was well aware of what the next move would be, when his manager provided him with your phone number and the message you sent him which read, “You got me in this mess but I’m willing to collaborate. Call me, but not without a solid plan,” he was mortified.

And he had every reason to be because you stirred his emotions and pried his heart open to one harsh truth that Izuku couldn’t even deny if he wanted to. His love for his ex girlfriend was affection in disguise, and he settled for her because there was history between them, friendship and familiarity.

It was nice, what they had. Easy, even. However, that “what if” in the form of regret drove them toward trying to be more than just friends. It worked, somewhat. However, something always felt like it was missing, and Izuku could never put his finger on what it was. Heck, even Kacchan pointed it out at some point, and he was the last person to involve himself in Izuku’s love life.

As he gathered his courage for the big talk, Izuku pictured the worst-case scenarios while drowning in neverending guilt, parts of him withering away for hurting someone who was a close friend. His then-girlfriend had every right to be upset. To blame him, to hate him, even to cut contact. She didn’t. With tears streaming down her face, she confessed to a similar sentiment, expressing her fear of losing him as a friend if she were to make the move of breaking up.

They had cried in each other’s arms and she had thanked him for being brave enough to take that step for both of them, promising him that for as long as they lived, she’d be there for him as his friend.

“She’d scold me so much if she knew…” Izuku muttered, slipping the smartwatch on his wrist.

As he took one last look in the mirror, disappointment twisted his insides. Dressed like that, he should have been on his way to a date with you. Instead, he was about to meet up with someone he had no interest in. All because he feared this magical connection he had with you would disappear. If you felt nothing for him the way he did for you, how were things supposed to stay the same?

*

“In case you didn’t notice, I like polka dots,” the woman in front of him said, pointing at the polka-dotted summer dress she wore. “What about you, Deku?”

Izuku smiled politely at her, unsure whether she was echoing his earlier request about telling him a random thing about herself, or was asking if he was into polka dots too. “Polka dots are great,” he settled on saying, turning his head to look for the waiter responsible for their table. He needed that glass of red wine if he were to go through with this.

The woman smiled brightly, her pearly white teeth glinting in the warm light of the expensive restaurant as she continued to stare at him, tracking his every movement. It was the first thing he noticed about her, not the reddish hair with split ends or the mascara clumping her lashes. She ogled him, confirmed by her bold comment about how his white denim jeans “hugged him so right.”

Years ago, this sort of comment would’ve been the right setup to end up having someone keep his side of the bed warm for a night, or better said, sweaty. But not in the present time. No way. Izuku was too smitten with you. One mere mention of your name sent his heart into a frenzy of dizzying pitter-patter.

So what the hell was he doing here with a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember?

“Your freckles kinda look like tiny polka dots,” she said.

“I don’t think so.”

His swift retort caught her off guard for a moment, brown eyes widening a fraction before giving him a coy look.

“Then what do you think they look like?”

Izuku never got to answer. The universe was kind enough to grant him the chance for the topic to be dropped in the form of the waiter arriving at the table. He thanked the man with genuine gratitude as the glass, half full of red wine, was placed on the navy tablecloth. He wasted no time in taking a swig from the glass as soon as the waiter left.

His passivity increased as the crimson liquid, tinged with a dry sweetness, slid down his throat. He was wise in choosing not to drive to the restaurant; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to indulge his annoyance like this, as smoking wasn’t an option.

“You seem to really enjoy a good red wine. What else do you like?” she spoke up again, her hand resting flat on the table, manicured nails playing a quiet rhythm on the covered wooden surface.

It wouldn’t hurt if he gave an honest answer, right?

“I’m into sweets” was his response, and Izuku regretted it when her gaze drifted below his chin. Maybe he should’ve fastened his shirt all the way to the last button and not allowed a peak at his chest.

“That’s rather unexpected. I guess appearances can indeed be deceiving,” she told him and sipped delicately from her wine, glancing at him over the rim of her glass. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Is that really the truth? You seem rather stiff.”

“Apologies. Had a rough day.”

“Ah. I understand. Being a pro hero must be difficult.”

“Not necessarily. It has its ups and downs, but overall it’s great. Dare say, satisfying.”

She laughed quietly, covering her mouth with a hand. The sound held a certain raspy quality to it that his brain replaced with the silvery sound of yours, and her laughter suddenly sounded like yours. A pang went through his chest. What were you doing? Were you already on your way home from the work appointment you had?

Izuku took another sip. It was ridiculous, really. He tried to stave off the burning longing, but all he succeeded in doing was to make it worse. He missed you, terribly. Wanted to break the promise to his mom, stand up from the table, and ditch the blind date. He was ready to bolt out of the restaurant and sprint to where you were.

Or maybe not, because you came to where he was.

His breath caught, and his yearning heart stuttered. A few tables away, a waitress guided you to a seat. You weren’t alone. There was a guy with you, a stranger, smiling politely. However, his body language gave away more than professional interest when he pulled the chair out, helping you get comfortable at the table, and his hand brushed your shoulder.

Whatever the woman across from him said fell on deaf ears. Something in him darkened. Something wicked reared its head. From the ugly depths of his soul, nauseating possessiveness arose. It corrupted his rationale. His fists clenched, pulling the scarred skin taut over his knuckles.

Fuck.

He almost rose to his feet, fully intending to make his presence known. His mind was already working on the best way to use the fact that he knew you as a means to pry into the identity of the guy waving his hand dismissively at the waitress. As the guy lowered his hand, your face entered his line of sight. Neutral at first, twisted into surprise a moment later when your eyes caught his, only to become devoid of everything upon noticing the woman he was with. Izuku could almost hear the scoff you held back when you yanked your gaze away and focused it on the guy you were with.

Were you for real?

No. That wasn’t right. Was he for real, reacting like this? What right did he have? Izuku wasn’t your boyfriend, only a close friend. Well, a close friend who came with added benefits like how he knew your body in the same way he knew his. No one would reach the same level of knowledge because no one would watch every reaction, listen to every sound, feel every movement. Nothing escaped him, absolutely nothing. When Izuku touched you, he made his mission to please you so well you couldn’t put two thoughts together.

He burned with cold fury and bitterness.

"Deku, is something wrong?" the polka-dot lady asked. He reluctantly dragged his attention from you.

“Hmm? No, everything's okay. Would you like to order something to eat?”

Two hours later, Izuku downed his third glass of wine after finishing the meal he ordered, while he continued to intently converse with the polka-dot lady. Like a predator stalking its prey, he waited for the opportune moment to pounce, answering questions as if he was interviewed—vaguely, and even asking some of his own; none had any substance to them.

Eventually, it happened—the long-awaited moment of you excusing yourself from the table, subtly glancing at him. Your purse dangled from your fingers as you turned around and left for what he assumed to be the restroom. Izuku hummed in response to whatever the lady said, his gaze transfixed on your departing figure. Not only was his control hanging by a thin thread due to the jealousy poisoning his heart, but now his pulse quickened at the sight of you walking away in that tight, medium-length skirt.

"Please excuse me," he said abruptly, cutting off the lady mid-sentence. To hell with waiting another minute; he had no patience for that.

Willing his legs to not stomp on the hardwood floor, Izuku followed in your footsteps, passing table after table after table, hearing murmurs and whispers in his wake. He didn’t look at anyone, didn’t grace a single person with his usual politeness and smile. At that moment, he knew nothing but you.

As he approached the restroom, Izuku spotted you entering and marched in right after, throwing caution to the wind. If someone saw him enter, tough luck. You rounded on him when he kicked the door closed, looking not in the slightest surprised until his mouth opened to demand, “Who's that guy?”

“Shouldn’t you worry about your date? She’s your blind date, isn’t she?”

"Who is he?" He punctuated each word as he closed the distance, imposing himself in your space.

“A client.”

“A client? You have dinner and a drink with clients?”

"Yeah. Sometimes it’s part of— Your answer was cut short by the sound of approaching heels as he took action. Without warning, he hauled you into the furthest stall, hushing you. As he locked it, the door to the restroom opened and someone walked in.

The space was small, but he was grateful that the walls reached from floor to ceiling. Sighing quietly, Izuku ran his fingers through his hair and locked his gaze on you. Your eyes were wide, shining with incredulity and irritation. With one skipping heartbeat, he was captivated, acting on the impulse of his feelings. He cornered you, pressing a forearm against the cold, tiled wall, and leaned in, his gaze flitting between your pretty eyes and soft lips, hungry or starving—he wasn’t sure; probably both—to kiss you.

“You look crazy,” you whispered.

“I feel crazy.”

"Why? Because you saw me with a man?" You hooked a finger into his open shirt and tugged, your nail grazing his chest. He almost shuddered. "Do you have any idea what this looks like?"

“Yeah.”

Silence followed his response, spilling in the closeness between you. Beyond the door was noisy. The stranger kept smacking their lips together and rummaging through their purse. Your head tilted toward the sound, your lips twitching with a smile. Izuku had to agree it sounded funny, but amusement had no place in the pool of emotions he felt. Jealousy, in particular, chipped away at his sanity by whispering darkly to his heart about how seeing you with another man would repeat eventually and next time, the man might not be a client, but someone you might want to date. Date? A potential boyfriend? Someone who wasn’t him?

He bit his tongue. Despair rose with the force of a tidal wave and pulled him under. There was no mercy, only agony when his mind began to spiral with random stills, snippets, clips of you with another man.

You would laugh at another man’s jokes and smile sincerely whenever you saw him, lighting up his whole world. He would hold your hand, kiss your knuckles, and rub affectionately circles in the space between your thumb and forefinger. You would hum one of the tunes you love so much as you twirled around the kitchen, spatula in hand occasionally stirring the food. He would listen and watch and hug you from behind, nuzzling in your neck.

His hands would be on your body.

His lips would taste you.

His gaze would map every inch of your skin.

He would learn you, and feel you, and listen to your sighs, moans, cries of his name—

Izuku’s fist slammed against the tiles behind him. They cracked and fell to the floor in shattered pieces, like his mind was well on its way to doing so.

“No. I can’t accept that…I—Damn it,” Izuku gritted, his fingers tightening on the back of your neck.

“Izuku—”

“Please, listen to me. You need to go back there and end your dinner with that guy. We really need to talk, and I can't wait any longer.”

His hand was about to leave your neck, but when he felt your pulse pounding underneath his fingertips in the same way his heart did, Izuku went still. You didn't give him a chance to look at you or search for the source of your distress in your eyes. Instead, you pressed your cheek to his chest and wrapped your arms tightly around his back. Your nails dug into his shoulders, shaky breaths hot against the fabric of his shirt, the scent of your fragrance dizzying as he inhaled.

What were you doing to him? His emotions were going haywire. Jealousy, possessiveness, love, adoration, want. He slumped against the wall, pulling you into him. Arms draped loosely around your waist, Izuku tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, lightly bumping his head on the cracked tiles. It was too much, this chaos. He cocked his head to the side to glance at you.

Temptation tugged at his nerves.

“Your heart is beating like crazy. What are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

“Nothing that matters right now.”

“Tell me…” You met his gaze. “Or I’m not ending the dinner.”

"Not the best move to blackmail me when I'm on edge," he warned.

Your only response to his warning was to hook your fingers into his belt loops and draw closer.

He exhaled harshly, then in one fluid movement, Izuku turned you away from him. His arm pinned you to his body as he dipped his head to your ear. “Calling me stubborn when you’re no better. You want to know?” A pause. “I was thinking of…the many ways I could take you. Right here.”

“Were you really? Or was it your jealousy?”

“You’re pushing me, beautiful.”

You were and he was so weak when it came to you, so greedy. Izuku gently grasped your chin and angled your head so his lips could attach themselves to your neck. From below your ear to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, he placed open-mouthed kisses, recommitting the taste of your skin to memory. You gripped the arm around your waist, sighing and shuddering and pressing harder against him.

“Touch me,” you breathed, taking the hand grasping your chin and bringing it to the hem of your skirt.

He lifted his head and glanced over your shoulder at his hand resting on your thigh. It began to sneak its way higher, hitching your skirt along. Then abruptly stopped and gripped your inner thigh.

“No,” Izuku denied your request vehemently. He wanted you, but the conversation needed to happen without further delay; seeing you with another was the last drop that finally made his glass overflow.

“We need to talk. Now. So let’s go.” He took a step back, putting some space between you, and turned around to adjust himself, huffing at his own touch.

“What about your date?” you demanded.

“What about it? I’m ending it, of course, making it very clear I have no interest.” And breaking the promise he made to his mom. He took a hold of your hand. “Come on.”

“Wait. We’re leaving together?”

“Any reason we shouldn’t?”

You took a long moment to respond. “…None.”

He cracked the stall door open and checked if the person left. It was empty. Hand in hand, fingers intertwined with each other—as they should be—Izuku left the restroom with you. The murmurs and whispers from before returned as he passed all these strangers. This time he heard them. While he knew before it was all about him, now it was all about you and him, again, because he was certain he heard someone say “Isn’t she the woman from four years ago?”

As Izuku approached your table, he noticed the guy lifting his eyes from his phone, his expression twisting into surprise at the sight of him. The surprise didn’t last long, though, as Izuku stared him down, tension latching onto the atmosphere.

“This is a surprise,” the guy remarked, rising from his seat and facing you, his gaze briefly flicking to your intertwined fingers. “I didn’t expect you to be so well acquainted with a pro hero, let alone Deku himself.”

Izuku felt you stiffen and withdraw your hand. “I’m sure it is. We’ve been…friends for a while—”

“Do you happen to have the contract with you?” the guy interjected.

“I do. But we have yet to discuss the—”

“I’ll sign it right away if Deku agrees to attend the exhibition,” the guy interrupted again, turning to Izuku with a smile that spelled business proposal. “To give you a quick rundown: My company produces support items, and we’re about to publicly display our latest technology. I’d very much like to have you present. As one of the more popular pro heroes, we’d benefit from it. And you would too. So, what do you say, Deku?”

It took everything in him to refrain from narrowing his eyes and glaring at the guy. Every word the guy spewed pushed Izuku’s irritation into dangerous territories. Twice he cut you off, displaying a dismissive attitude toward you that very much felt like belittlement. Izuku was fairly sure he read the situation correctly—this guy decided not to sign the contract with you if Izuku denied the proposal. Was this guy serious?

Izuku glanced at you, hoping to gauge your feelings about the whole ordeal. If you weren't okay with it, he would deny the proposal and try to make it up to you if you lost the contract. But he stilled. Your gaze was lowered to the ground, your hands tightly clasped—your entire posture screamed insecurity. He would know that; it was his default once upon a time.

Anger settled deep in his belly at seeing you like that, realizing that he, Deku, put you in an uncomfortable position.

“I apologize, but this is not a decision I can make on my own,” Izuku said, retrieving his wallet and handing a business card to the man. “Feel free to take it up with my manager.”

The man blinked, his mouth twisting downward as he accepted the business card from Izuku and returned the polite smile.

“One more thing,” Izuku began, aware he was about to overstep a boundary. “Apologies in advance, but there's an urgent situation, and I need to take her away. Does that pose a problem?”

“…Not at all. Please, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Izuku turned to face you, swallowing dryly upon seeing the embers of fury in your eyes. He gestured behind him, saying, “I’ll let you gather your belongings while I deal with the other issue.”

“Sure. Should we meet outside?”

Reluctantly, he nodded and turned on his heel, not bothering to bid any sort of farewell to the man. As he returned to his table, the polka-dot lady peered at him, a bored look on her face. Good, she should be bored with him.

“Is everything alright? You took some time…” she said, checking her phone.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Please don’t misunderstand it as you having a problem. This is all on me.”

She frowned. “This oddly feels like you’re dumping me.”

“I guess I am.”

“Is it because of her?” the polka-dot lady asked, to his surprise, and subtly nodded in your direction. “I noticed you kept looking at her, and then you disappeared when she did. Now you’re back telling me this.”

“It is. She’s…important to me.”

“I can tell.” The lady stood up and patted his shoulder. “As much as this sucks, allow me to tell you this. You’re brave as a hero. Be brave as a man too, Midoriya. Now, who’s the guy she’s with?”

Her sudden encouragement and the use of his last name, when the entire time she called him Deku, caught him off guard. It managed to make him feel bad for internally having a crappy attitude toward her. He was about to apologize when he realized that it would only give away his real thoughts and make this entire ordeal more awkward than it already was. So he held his tongue and chose to glance at the business guy instead, answering her question.

“I have to warn you though. There’s something off about him,” Izuku said.

“There’s always something off about business people,” she replied, stepping forward. “Why is she here with him? Business or…?”

“Business. They met to discuss a contract.”

“Hmm. How about I get him to sign it for her, as apology for ogling you the entire time?”

He gaped at her for a moment. “Uh…sure? Thank you?”

“Leave it to me. Now, go get your girl.” She waved him off. “Oh! And by the way, I’m looking forward to the headlines so make it a happy ending, okay?”

Izuku gave her a curt nod and laughed nervously before he sprang into action. There were many times in his life when he had to rush to places, but never did he bolt as fast as he did now, deeming the open terrace of the restaurant as the fastest exit. His quirk activated, green lightning flickering around him as he leaped over the illuminated, glass railing, leaving a trail of gasps and screams behind him. Despite the years of experience and training to minimize the damage, he still managed to somehow crack the pavement upon landing. Another round of gasps and surprised squeaks reached him from the passersby whose way he disturbed.

He ignored the surrounding commotion, his focus drawn to you standing a few meters away, fidgeting on the spot and clutching the strap of your purse tightly. In that fleeting moment, Izuku took in every detail of you, as if seeing you for the first time, and all he could think of was how breathtaking you were.

As he came to a halt in front of you, his quirk deactivating, you pointed upwards with a frown. Izuku shrugged nonchalantly and then grinned proudly; there was no shame in choosing the fastest route.

His fingers intertwined with yours as he spoke. "Let's go."

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can talk. Do you mind if I bring you to my—“

“The park. There’s one nearby. Let’s go there.”

He studied you for a moment. Why was it that your suggestion unsettled him?

“…Sure. Wherever you want.”

*

This was really happening? Confessing to you?

Izuku's heart hammered in his chest, nervousness reaching overwhelming levels. His skin felt clammy, especially his hands and the back of his neck. Your silence only added to his anxiety, and the fact that you kept your distance didn't help either. He tried not to dwell on it too much, but it was already messing with his nerves.

The entire way to the park, you remained silent. Not a single word escaped you in the humid summer air, nor did you make any other sound. It worried Izuku, leaving him with a dreadful feeling of foreboding. Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, not daring to fully face you, he observed. He searched for anything that could clue him into what you were thinking or feeling, but it was in vain. You looked the same as usual, as if nothing was wrong, but the surrounding air told a different story—a story that undermined his courage.

Walking into the moonlit park, scarce with people, was more nerve-wracking than he thought as past insecurities broke through the surface. Fear, disgustingly metallic, coated his dry tongue. Was he doing the right thing? Was he about to ruin everything? Was he about to lose you?

No. No. No.

Anything but that. He’d do anything, give you anything, if it meant keeping you in his life. Rejecting him? Sure, he could somehow deal with that. Losing you forever, however? That was something Izuku would probably never recover from.

“Here should be alright,” he heard you say before you stopped, turning to him, an odd expression on your face. “So? What is it that we need to talk about?”

The trees rustled above, leaves quivering with your directness. Izuku clenched his fists and opened and closed his mouth multiple times. The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, but his tongue felt numb. This was not good. His muscles tensed and locked in place, sweat gathered on the back of his neck and slid down, stomach churned with nausea.

Stupid him.

What did he expect? That he’d get over himself in the blink of an eye and not fumble for hell knows how long?

“You’re brave as a hero. Be brave as a man too, Midoriya.”

The polka-dots lady’s words echoed in his mind. She was right. He needed to be brave as a man too because that was what he was, right? An adult, who had seen and experienced a lot of the good, the bad, and the ugly of the world, not a naive teenager who used to drown in the impossibility of his wishes until a miracle happened.

You were his wish now and no miracle would come his way. He wanted to be with you? Wanted to be yours? He had to speak up. His overwhelming feelings couldn’t get in the way. Gasping for the air that was you without allowing you to either let him breathe again, or asphyxiate him, wasn’t the solution.

“I’m sorry for the way I reacted. I got…jealous and didn’t think straight,” Izuku admitted, finding his voice. “It’s not an excuse, and I should’ve thought about how you’d feel about it and the position you’d be in.” His head lowered. “I’m really sorry.”

“What are you doing, Izuku?” you asked, sounding almost terrified. “Jealous? Why? Because we hooked up one too many times?”

He opened his mouth, but you raised a hand, stopping him.

Your gaze hardened. “You caught feelings?”

“Yes” came out of his mouth, his heart stealing the reigns from his overthinking mind. “I’m in love with you. Been for a while now. Long before we blurred the lines.”

The temperature seemed to drop at his confession.

“What—” You staggered back, your hands raised in a defensive gesture. “No. Not with me, no. You can’t be. You can’t be in love with me. I don’t want you to be in love with me!”

His heart felt like it stopped, and numbness spread through his limbs.

“W-why are you saying that?” he stammered. “Why can’t I?”

You shook your head stubbornly, tears welling up in your eyes. It was clear to him—you had no intention to answer. Sheer instinct drove him to close in on you and gently push your arms away so he could cup your cheeks in his palms. That same gentleness turned firmer when you attempted to push him away.

Izuku stubbornly held on because, in your watery gaze, he found a profound ache, a fearful insecurity that left you drowning.

“Do you love me?” he asked softly, causing your eyes to widen and avert. “Tell me. Please. Do you?”

You bit your quivering lip and squeezed your eyes shut. Tears broke free, wetting your lashes, your cheeks, his fingers. A whimper escaped your throat, piercing right into his soul.

“It d-doesn’t matter. I’m not—I’m not worthy of you, Izuku.”

Worthy? What were you saying?

“What are you talking about? How can you not be? You’re everything I—“

“Someone like you shouldn’t want someone like me.”

Hearing you say that, with such certainty, as if you and him were taboo, rattled him to his core. He began to tremble with your name whispered on his lips. “I need you to explain what you mean. And please, please, be honest about it.”

You sniffled and shook your head. “I can’t be with you, I’m sorry. You’re amazing, in ways I could never be. You deserve so much better than…this.” A pause. “I was selfish, and I’m so sorry for being like that. I shouldn’t have indulged in you and stuck to being just friends. But I���I wanted you.”

“And I was lucky to have you, even if temporarily,” you continued. “Me, a quirkless person who’s just trying to survive this world.”

Thus, silence fell.

And Izuku realized he was crying.

Quirkless? You found yourself unworthy of him because you didn’t have a quirk?

It cut him, ferociously deep. Made his chest hurt. Brought ruin to his heart. Ripped the air from his lungs. Knees weakening, he crumpled in front of you. Too much—it was too much. He clawed at the front of his shirt. Sobs tore from his throat, raw with emotions.

He had to tell you he didn’t care about it, never did. It didn’t even cross his mind once in the four years he’d known you. You needed to know that, and how much he cherished you—cherished that beautiful soul of yours.

“I was q-quirkless once too,” he blurted out, and heard you inhale sharply above him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. Ask Kacchan. I’ll even dig up the medical records from when I was a kid if I have to.”

“Katsuki? Really? He’d take your—“ You began to say but seemed to change your mind, likely realizing how crazy it sounded to say Kacchan would take his side in a lie about something like this. “How’s that…possible? People don’t just suddenly wake up with a quirk.”

“It’s a long story that I’d gladly tell you, but right now…”

You knelt in front of him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I love you—“ Your name, spoken in despair, escaped him. It made you drop the purse you clutched so tightly and press a shaky hand over your mouth to cover up the way you choked on your tears. “I love you for who you are, not for what you have or don’t have. You’re worthy, so worthy. Let me you show that. Let me love you.” Placing his hand on top of yours, he pleaded. “Give me a chance. Just one.”

He didn’t know how long he waited for your answer, only that the pain in his heart deepened with each tear of yours that fell to the ground. If Izuku knew his love would hurt you like this, he would’ve kept his mouth shut and bear it for as long as he could. Then break and put himself together somehow, and continue. After all, he was great at it—breaking himself. What was it they said? That old habits died hard?

Still, maybe this story wasn’t meant to happen the way he wanted it to. And he couldn’t blame you for it. Izuku knew all too well how the absence of a quirk felt, what it did to him when everyone around him had one. The void he felt, the constant 'why me', the sense of incompleteness, and the judgmental looks from others—all were forever ingrained into his heart.

Unlike you, whom he thought of as one of the strongest people he knew because of how resilient, stubborn, and ambitious you were in the way you navigated the world, his quirkless self was weak, an escapist escaping in the pages of his notebooks.

“I need some time to think about this,” you said after what felt like an eternity.

His heart skipped. You didn’t say no. You didn’t outright reject him. Hope…there was still hope…

“O-of course. Take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

“Okay,” you breathed and reached for your purse, averting your gaze from his. “I’ll head home now. Gonna take a cab so…please don’t insist on bringing me.”

On shaky legs, Izuku rose at the same time as you, forcing his arms to stay at his side. Silently, he watched you brush dust off your skirt and straighten your back, reaching into your purse. Taking two tissues out, you handed him one before patting your cheeks dry.

“Will you…let me know you arrived safely?” he asked, careful to not crumple the paper sheet in his hand.

“I’ll text you,” you replied, though Izuku noticed a hesitation in your voice; there was more you wanted to say. “Um…I don’t want to say goodbye or anything, so…I’ll just go, okay?”

“…Okay.”

One, two, three seconds passed in silence, each moment an eternity as you peered at him with teary eyes. Izuku remained motionless, not even daring to breathe, hoping for just one more moment with you. Too soon, you sighed, and murmured “okay” once more before passing by him, your hand grazing his. Instinctively, he reached out, but you were already out of his reach, leaving his hand hovering mid-air.

“Please.” His voice trembled as his vision blurred with unshed tears. “Choose to stay, even if you…even if you don’t l-love me.”

And so, that broken whisper of his, held together by a hopeful despair, dissolved into the quiet stillness surrounding him.

[coraniaid]

I'm pretty sure I've said this before, but -- rewatching Season 1 as I am -- I've been reminded of it again so I'm saying it again.

The more-than-slightly flexible canon of Buffy (and the writers generally not wanting to waste time having new characters need to get up to speed with what's going on in Sunnydale) kind of has the (unintentional) side-effect of making Giles seem pretty terrible at his job.

In Welcome to the Hellmouth Giles initially doesn't know that Sunnydale is on a/the Hellmouth (he merely "believe[s] this whole area is a center of mystical energy": it takes Buffy relaying a message from Angel about 'the mouth of hell' for him to figure out more than that). But this fact obviously sits pretty oddly with the rest of the show, where multiple Hellmouths are common knowledge (at least among Watchers and people familiar with the supernatural). Giles did not know about the Master until this two-parter either, or at least didn't know the Master was trapped under Sunnydale.

In Angel, when Buffy realizes that Angel is a vampire, she goes to Giles for help. Giles -- who apparently had no inkling at all that the mysterious stranger called 'Angel' lurking in the shadows might have been a famous vampire -- tells Buffy that "there's nothing about Angel in the texts[!], but it suddenly occurred to me that it's been ages since I've read the diaries of any of the watchers before me." (OK, that last part just makes Giles sound pretty bad at his job regardless of context.) Compare this to Kendra, in Season 2, who on being told that the vampire Buffy was kissing is called 'Angel' immediately responds "Angel? You mean Angelus! I've read about him: he's a monster".

On a similar vein, until School Hard Giles has never heard of Spike, and needs Angel's help to figure out who he is. (He also, if you want to take later retcons about Spike's origins seriously, gets Spike's age pretty badly wrong: suggesting he's "barely two hundred" when Fool For Love establishes he's actually been a vampire for less than 120 years.) And, again, compare this to the Watcher in Checkpoint who tells Spike she wrote her thesis on him. How can a vampire be simultaneously famous enough that trainee Watchers are writing academic thesis about him, and yet so obscure that the current Slayer's actual Watcher hasn't even heard of him?

Giles also doesn't seem to have heard of Drusilla until Season 2, but the evidence for that is a little more tenuous: when Buffy sees a picture of her in Giles's papers in Lie To Me and asks who she is Giles identifies her immediately (although he wrongly claims that she's dead), but he describes her as "a sometime paramour of Spike". Obviously if he didn't know who Spike was until School Hard he can't have known Drusilla was connected to him, and if he knew about her link to Angel (or anything else about her) that's a very weird way to describe her to Buffy. (Also, in light of those Spike retcons I already mentioned, 'sometime paramour' is a weird way to talk about Spike's actual sire?) So presumably he learned about Drusilla recently, while investigating Spike. Except ... Angel describes his treatment of Drusilla as the worst thing he ever did: how did Giles research Angel in Season 1 and not learn about her? [I mean, yes, the answer is "the writers hadn't invented her yet", but ...]

And, sure, the Doylist explanation for all of this is: Spike and Drusilla and Angel and the Master weren't meant to be well-known to the Watchers in the seasons they were introduced, but retroactively became so as they became more prominent in the show's mythology.

But the Watsonian answer, assuming you want there to be a single cohesive reality that the show depicts over seven seasons, is ... what? Giles has been studying to be a Watcher since he was ten years old, according to Never Kill A Boy On The First Date. But he doesn't really seem to have taken much on board when it comes to learning about famous vampires his Slayer might one day have to face. Practically every vampire the show introduces comes with a scene of Giles spending all night researching them: even the Three somehow get this treatment. Even the Gorch brothers, maybe the least impressive vampires they show will ever introduce, get dealt with this way in Season 2. The only vampires Giles seems to have researched in advance are Kakistos (who he immediately identifies when Buffy mangles the name in Faith, Hope & Trick) and Zachary Kralik (the vampire the Watchers use for the Cruciamentum in Helpless).

Maybe there's a reason he doesn't get invited to the fancy Watcher's retreats, beyond snobbery or the fact he's actively training a Slayer or resentment about how his family connections helped him escape consequences for the whole Eyghon fiasco. Maybe you only get invited to those if you can remember the names of famous vampires who've killed multiple Slayers without having to check your books and ask a friendly vampire for hints. Maybe it's not enough to just memorize facts about the vampires whose names start with a K.

[pantiesandpamperssissypart2]

"Diaper butt." Those were now the two most important words in Kevin's vocabulary.

In fact they now defined his existence, at least in the town of 10,000 where he'd taught community college English for the past five years. Well, on the internet too, but that only meant another, what, 5 billion people or whatever?

He'd been SO good at hiding his perverted desires from everyone in his life and in the town. Sure, at home he liked to tape himself into his Pampers and jerk off into them, but no one knew about that. He told folks he was just looking for the right gal to meet, not that he had a one-inch clit that could only shoot sissy shampoo when encased in crinkly diapers. And the one time he went to a professional domme he drove eight hours away. Made sure to maintain his anonymity.

And then, one weekend, when he had to finally indulge his need for some public humiliation, he made sure to drive to a mall a whole four hours away where absolutely no one would know him. He had on his thick diapers and tight leggings and posed for some pictures outside his car in the parking lot.

Then he really got brave and worked up the guts to waddle into the big mall in the city. He then got exactly what he desired: snickers, smirks, smiles, outright laughter and a few verbal taunts like, "Fucking diapers," and "Your Pampers are full."

But it was the folks who didn't see who were the most important people in the mall that day. How was Kevin supposed to know that Kristen Johnson and Alicia Berry, two sophomores in his English class, both of them loud-mouth, arrogant party-girls, had taken that weekend to visit Kristen's cousin in that very same town four hours away. They'd spent the weekend partying at the four-year college in town and before heading back home had hit the local mall.

That's where, as they ate in the food court, they saw...Mr. Jensen? Their English prof? Wait...is that him? It is! Oh my god! And is he...wearing diapers?! Yes, look at that diaper butt. Holy shit! Holy shit. They secretly followed and recorded him waddling around. They recorded people reacting to him. They recorded him adjusting his shirt to make the diapers even more fucking obvious. When he started walking toward them they avoided his glance and recorded his diaper crotch as well. What in the actual fuck. For 20 minutes they recorded this diaper faggot waddling around and then followed him out to his car and watched him drive off. Of all the things.

The next day in class neither could contain their laughter. They'd talked for about 24 hours straight about what to do with the video and the knowledge. Kristen, a bit more evil of the two, suggested blackmailing him. But eventually they decided that everyone needed to know about the diaper-wearing weirdo in the town. First they’d have some fun.

When they walked in together with Kevin clearing the chalkboard Kristen said loudly, “God why does it smell like a fucking diaper in here? Who filled their pants?” Alicia laughed while Kevin stopped writing. No way they knew. Maybe someone had farted before the two walked in. Ten minutes into class Kevin asked a question and Kristen raised her hand to say, "Well, Kevin, I think..." and Kevin stupidly interrupted to say, "Um it's Professor Jensen, Kristen. You remember."

"Oh," she replied, acting confused. "Okay, if you don't want me to call you Kevin I can call you by your real name. Professor Diaper Butt."

Alicia burst out laughing while the rest of the class was confused. Kevin stared slack-jawed. Seconds later Kristen uploaded a YouTube link to the class's Slack channel. "Kevin Jensen, aka Professor Diaper Butt, walks around in Pampers."

There it was. A 20-minute clip of Kevin waddling around in his thick, humiliating diapers, exposing himself, humiliating himself. Soon enough the class erupted in laughter and "holy fucks." Kevin checked the Slack group. Watched three seconds. He heard the calls of "Diaper Butt" from other students

Soon enough they'd tell their friends about Professor Diaper Butt. The administration would know. The townsfolk would know. The internet would know. Everyone would know about his diaper butt. His defining feature. The only thing that now mattered for a diaper butt faggot who'd gotten exactly the humiliation he thought he wanted...right up until he didn't.

[lt-riley83]

Here's a rough timeline for 09 Ghost that my mate @idk-i-just-write-tings and I worked out together based on the comics for a fic he's writing. We needed Riley as young as canonically possible, so we set his enlistment age at 18 (though I think he probably joined a bit later than that.) Comic panels (all sfw so no torture shown don’t worry haha) are at the bottom for evidence/examples of certain events. Hopefully they upload in order. Let’s go:

Start of timeline: 1983 — Year of birth no rank / 0 years

2001 — Enlistment after 9/11 happened *picture 1* pvt / 18 years

2002 — Out of basic training, possibly already aiming for SAS pvt / 19 years

2003 — This is the earliest he could've made it into the SAS. Any rank he earned during this time will therefore have been reset. pvt / 20 years

2004 — By now in the comics he's been promoted to Cpl as seen by the rank on his shoulder *picture 2*. (As far as I know this doesn't make much sense timewise, but this game sucks with ranks anyway.) Cpl / 21 years

2004-2006 — These are the years that he takes leave to go back home and fix his family. Within these years he kicks his father out and helps Tommy, who soon marries Beth. Cpl / 21-23 years

2006 — Here we had to begin theorising a little more. To be a liutenant he'd need to be commissioned, which means he'd need to undertake officer training. Usually this takes 44 weeks, however there is a shorter course for experienced soldiers, and since half a year has passed already for Tommy's marriage, *picture 3* let's put him on the 8 week course. Under Officer / 23 years

2007 — By now he will have finished officer training entirely and be a commisioned officer. 2Lt / 24 years

2009 — This is the year he gets sent to Mexico. By now he’s a Lieutenant. *picture 4* Usually it takes 3 years to reach this rank from 2nd Lt, but exceptions are made for certain officers if the higher ups deem them ready for a promotion. He’s captured early November of this year. Lt / 26 years

2010 — He remains captured until July of this year (9 months) although no specific date is given. His teammates escape moments before he’s taken to be buried alive. He digs himself out and manages to get across the border into Texas about a month later (August). Between then and December he’s in recovery. By December he wants to go back, but isn’t allowed to yet. *picture 5* Very soon after this is when his family is killed and he becomes Ghost. He goes back to Mexico and takes out Roba before Shepherd (I think??) finds him. Lt / 27 years

2011 — This is where the game COD 4 MW takes place. He's not in this campaign, we just thought it'd be useful to include this date. Lt / 28 years

2016 — Finally, this is the year that MW2 is set, five years after the first game. Here we finally meet Ghost in game. Lt / 33 years

That's it! If you find any mistakes please let one of us know!! We’re not perfect. Neither of us entirely agree with the ages in this timeline (we both think he joined later than 18), but for the sake of Shroom's fic we were trying to keep him younger than Cpt MacTavish whilst keeping it as cannon as possible. P.S. thanks Shroom for helping me with this! — Zip

[justlike-awoman]

IG misinformation alert!! 📢❗🚨

It has been brought to my attention (thanks so much @riaaanna you're the best ❤️) that an IG account has reposted MY fanart without permission: 🚨

^ this is MY digital art, definitely NOT a photo taken by Brian May, and you did NOT have my permission to repost the picture on Instagram! YOU HAVE LITERALLY CROPPED OUT MY ORIGINAL WATERMARK.

link to my original post, where I first posted this (in 2023): https://www.tumblr.com/justlike-awoman/726750186933764096?source=share

^ I have all the original .psd files of the process, this was literally MADE by me.

^ Lets go through all this shall we??

Yes, I used Photoshop, because that is the program I like to use FOR DIGITAL PAINTING.

Yes, I used references, obviously, because that's how (hyper)realistic painting works!! It's NOT "PHOTOSHOPPED", it's literally painted, using photos as REFERENCE!

(Do you honestly think that if I was just going to Photoshop an image i would've used such dogshit resolution? Please. It's small and grainy as hell bc that's how I work when I PAINT. FOR FUN.)

While i used references, I can promise you I didn't use them for Roger's FEET.... ⛔💀 girl those things are like just 20px across in the picture anyway.... 😭

TL;DR:

- DON'T REPOST ORIGINAL CONTENT YOU DON'T OWN OR HAVE PERMISSION TO POST!!

- "FOUND ON PINTEREST" IS NOT A VALID SOURCE!!

- USE YOUR BRAIN & READ THE POST YOU'RE PLANNING TO STEAL BEFORE CLAIMING AN IMAGE AS "TAKEN BY BRIAN MAY" 😭 that text was there just for the bit...

A thousand thanks again to @riaaanna for spotting this & letting me know, you're a real star 💖 All IG screenshots kindly provided by her 🙏❤️

[notreallymyselfrn]

Filthy, disgusting and ugly, I'm sure.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So I really love k-pop demon hunters especially Rumis character development and I've had an awful day and somehow got this idea. I didn't feel like adding a new oc into the story so it's just an interpretation of kpdh. That means IT DOES NOT FOLLOW THE ORIGINAL STORY. (Also I want to make sure that you know young Rumi was not overweight, at least not in an unhealthy way.[I grew up believing some pretty messed up stuff just because of my "unfortunate" genes and hormones that basically made me a bit overweight between the age of 8? And 12. I was just fucking growing but well to late body image issues already in the system<3])

TW: body image issues, anorexia, bulimia, self hatred, self harm, suicidal behaviour, angst, happy end tho, bad parental figure lol, traumatized writer, first time writing anything, English not my first language.

SUMMARY:

Rumi struggles with her self image. As an idol she has to be always perfect no matter what. Since she grew up as a "bigger" child under an ex idols watch she knew exactly how bad she looked. "Cover more up" Celine would say before any public outing, "we don't need people seeing how you truly look". "Why are you doing this to yourself"- dinner time. "Look at all those kids, why can't you be more like them?"- casual walk at the park. "I just want you to be healthy"- whenever Rumi cried.

Rumi never went out with the girls if it meant they'd see any part of her body. She didn't want to risk them seeing who she truly was. Luckily enough her idol persona was built mostly around wearing oversized and rather comfy clothes so on a daily basis it wasn't hard to hide. When Huntri/x first debuted her image was a huge controversy but later on the fans became to love the diversity.

Mira and Zoey simply never questioned it. They were her friends, their job was to support and love her. But once they become close enough to notice how Rumi avoided hanging out with them at certain moments they couldn't help but feel a bit hurt. And even though they really tried to include Rumi they couldn't help but leave her behind a bit. So when they become an official couple she couldn't help but break a bit on the inside again.

'not enough for them'

No one seemed to ever notice how serious Rumi's condition was. How Rumi always stiffened when they mentioned the pool or beach let alone the bathhouse. How she never went shopping for clothes with them and how her smile flattened a bit when she opened some sort of a gift only to find a piece of clothing. How after each of their "feasts" she'd disappear for as long as she could. How whenever Celine was coming over for dinner she'd barely touch her plate saying that she didn't feel quite alright that day. How she absolutely hated having her photos taken and how she almost never looked into a mirror although this one she hid pretty well.

But in between those moments she seemed normal, almost cheerful. She was their Rumi. They truly never thought she'd be suffering so much on the inside. I mean she might have not been a fan of water, shopping at the malls where fans could easily recognise them and getting clothes instead of dreamt gifts. Maybe she just liked to take looong naps after eating? And we all know that Celine was strict just as a mentor let alone a parental figure, no wonder Rumi was getting nervous around her.

Yet it wasn't the moment Rumi's friends started dating she truly broke. No it was the one post from Twitter that she found while scrolling on a casual Tuesday night. She and the girls were sitting in their living room, some turtle videos in the background, the couple snuggling while Rumi was trying not to stare at them. And then she saw it. The picture, the message.

===

*picture of young Rumi* *Rumi while eating backstage*

'Rumi is definitely a plus size idol which is a big thing I don't know why people aren't talking about this.'

Comments

-> yeah really love to see a representation.

-> probably why the girls are dating each other while she is left alone lol.

===

She couldn't help but feel the tears threatening to fall. She got up abruptly mumbling an excuse about the headache and needing to lay down and quickly went to her room. The girls exchanged confused and worried looks. The moment Rumi closed doors behind her she fell down to the ground shaking. She wasn't crying. Not anymore. She learned quite early on that crying was rather a selfish act- begging for help. She read somewhere that humans are a herd species that communicate their needs through expressing their feelings in ways such as crying or shaking. But it still seemed too selfish and too useless.

Rumi felt her lungs closing down and her hands instinctively pulled on her collar. Her clothes felt too small on her body, her skin too tight and too big at once. She needed to hide, to disappear so no one especially herself wouldn't find her. She looked desperately around the room freezing on the reflection in the mirror.

Filthy, disgusting, ugly. Those words burned into her mind from a young age. Always somehow surfacing throughout her life. Now she found them too, in the comment section. She didn't even realised when she took off the hoodie and then her sweatpants. Now she was stuck with her own reflection. She looked at her stomach, thighs, arms and everything in-between. The slightest stretch marks below her hips, the dips from cellulitis, the too short torso and legs. Too wide arms. Too small chest. Too much yet too little.

"filthy..." Her fingers hovered above the storm-like pattern on her thighs. "...Disgusting..." Her other hand squeezed her stomach digging her nails into the soft skin. "I'm ugly." The words seemed to break something inside of her. Maybe it was the part of her that still fought the thought. Maybe now she could say that she hated herself and do not feel this stung in her heart as if something was screaming that is not right.

She didn't know how long she was staring into the mirror but when she heard light knocking on her door she needed a moment to come back to herself.

"Rumi you there?" Soft and worried voice of Zoey was a stark difference from her own. She froze not knowing how to answer. In the meantime the youngest of the group already opened the door slightly.

"We just wanted to check on you before going to sleep." Why was Mira's voice so delicate? She usually was the harsh, grounding one.

The noise that escaped Zoey once they could see her in the light from the corridor was something between a gasp and cry. At that Rumi only hugged her legs closer to her chest. Her body was covered in scratches, hands and forearms in bite marks that definitely hurt. She didn't even realized that she was doing all of that.

Mira was the first one to react. She kneeled down in front of Rumi covering the mirror with her body. Then Zoey sat down and slowly as if trying not to scare her put down her hand onto her back that seemed to be the only part of her body that wasn't damaged somehow. Mira slowly took Rumi's hands into her own and teared them away from her legs. She softly kissed them and then took the leader's face into her hands with such care and delicateness that healed broke Rumi in another completely new way. Zoey kissed her cheek then nose, forehead, temple, hair that was still in her signature braid. Finally Mira pulled the girl onto her laps shifting their position so everyone was comfortable and Zoey could easily snuggle to them.

No one really knew how long they were sitting like this before Rumi started crying. And even then when she was so filthy, disgusting and ugly the girls didn't pull away. If so they hugged her even tighter. They kissed every stretch mark, every bite mark, every part of Rumi that she felt ashamed of. They didn't speak. No, not really. And Rumi wasn't magically healed. But she was safe and not alone and she was loved. And the voices finally seemed to quiet down a bit.

====

AUTOR'S NOTE:

Yeyyy! You got to the end. I know that it's not the best but I'm writing it at 2 am trying to pretend that I'm asleep. I tried to leave enough room for your own imagination as in if you see Rumi here as a bit bigger then the usual idols go for it and if in your mind she is idk anorexic and extremely skinny, sure why not. I think that I'll write a bit more about how Rumi was growing up because I want to share my own experience and colour it up a bit. If you see any mistakes you can GENTLY point them out, I don't mind I know I'm still learning. Also I know I put some stuff in TW that wasn't exactly described here but well you can imagine what was going on in Rumi's head. I know that this topic is hard for many people and I wanted to make sure that everyone knew what they were getting themselves into.

[deifyruby]

HI HELLO I LOVED NEMVEVO'S NEW VIDEO ON BLISS.

<can i trust minecraft's most evil player?>

this is a crosspost/compilation of all my freak outs/little ramblings about the video as i livetweeted it. 🫶🏻 i also expanded my ramblings a little more as i have had time to digest the contents. feel free to follow me on twt under the same un!!! i am more active there. :D

that was mugm's profile picture (on twt for a while). 🥀

something so so so ahhhhhh to me about how during prog 1 the brotherhood strived to become 'good' players, redeem themselves in the eyes of the other server members, just to have people (nemvevo) still doubting their morals, and to have other server members warn them about the brotherhood. and we know how it came to be like that, how they failed to unstain their image, but still. it was so futile. ^_^

wtf eas this ddisc shhjq78zyd8qt2o289c7eo2j3ikej????!3(?

THOSE WERE VILLAGER NOISES RIGHT 😭😭😭

WHICH GOOFY MF DID THIS 💔

also ecorridor spotted in chat. 🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻

every time i see them i just think of nemvevo cheating on dolphin with gopg 😭😭😭😭😭 i'm sorry that was just so fucking funny

my first impression of nemvevo btw

whatmax is such a spirit animal

(note: i don't remmeber why i said this but i trust myself)

PukiTV was smashed by Mugm_

this ur brotherhood? 🥀

"i just don't understand how The God Mace Guy is going to help someone else get a god mace."

😁 good question wyll. as dolphin's video is not out yet, and nem's didn't really focus on dolphin's own motives, i can't really say much. i just gotta guess, and i wanna make an educated guess before dolphin drops their monologue on the sitch!!!

dolphin doesn't really acknowledge this provocation. they go, "yep", and leave it at that. there is a possibility that this actually does get to them, given the little response wyll and napa receive in return. the great, feared mace user dolphin, scrambling at the powerhouses' beck and call to be able to get their hands on a mace one day— that is what wyll tries to provoke them with. but that guess is heavily reliant on how dolphin themselves see the brotherhood. in what light? do they harbor animosity? is it a neutral feeling given their allyship? but, i think it is a safe bet to say that dolphin sees through the attempt to poke at their pride, and deems it unworthy the effort to engage them in any way deeper, that is— until wyll starts engaging nem, their teammate. which brings me to the next little rambling i made.

"if he (mugm) loses nem then he loses me too."

FUCK MY DUO SHEJAJKQKQKWOWL DIE DIE DIE THEY NEED TO DIE (it's been 16 hrs and i still feel unwell about dolphin nemvevo duo).

at this point, dolphin fully locks in this verbal spat to defend her teammate. wyll essentially calls nem a expendable pawn to the brotherhood, whose worth does not measure up to dolphin's in their eyes. this implies that one day, some day— dolphin will ditch nem for a 'mightier, better' team: the brotherhood. in a place where being less skilled means you have less leverage against other players, there is nothing nem can do if dolphin ever decides to leave him for bhood. nem visibly pauses, the sound of the click of a photograph being taken; wyll's words forever clipped into his mind, becoming slow acting poison. he becomes quiet, unsettling music that conveys his dread starts playing. nem only chimes in one "yes" to dolphin defending his place in the brotherhood.

nem then gets in a vc with dolphin and confides his worries, tells her that he believes what wyll said was realistic and, to his apprehension, possible. dolphin really fucking locks in here and reassures nem in the best way possible. the unsettling music is still there, nem still has that conversation running in the back of his mind like repeating tapes, but there is nothing he can do about it, and he needs to move on.

but, OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOD it's being called an expendable pawn, and your teammate saying that if you are abandoned, they will leave with you. it's them leveraging their own 'value' in order to protect you. it's having someone willing to ditch a comfier, better, more reputable place to be with you, and it's being expendable to everyone but the one who actually matters!!! his teammate!!!!!! I HAYE THEM I ONLY HAD NEM AND DOLPHIN DUP BUT 12 minutes (16 hrs as of crossposting) BUT IF SMTH HAPPENS TO THEM IM KILLING EVERYONE AND THEN MYSELF

i'm sooooo normal about dolphin and her relationships with her teammates across different servers. very normal. i hate her!!! YOU ARE INDEED MINECRAFT'S BEST TEAMMATE. ☹️

also, napa and wyll defend their allyship with whatmax and lezy by saying that they came to them because they hated the brotherhood, and that they didn't recruit anyone. but that is just like nem and dolphin, who came to the brotherhood in the first place because they had grudges with the rest of the server, who had killed and jumped them time and time again. that's why it's so ironic, and let's you see such a beautiful cycle.

(this is the part where i put a disclaimer: i forgot about a lot of the bliss videos i watched, i could be 100% getting sum wrong rn. feel free to correct me, be kind about it. <3)

i think it really goes to show that no one's really 'sinless' in this place. you are all just as guilty as the next one, it's just a never ending cycle of killing and blaming. because someone needs to take the blame, someone needs to be the villain to the hero, because this server thrives on conflict. conflict is rewarded. which ties into the brotherhood's attempt at redemption really nicely. 😁 they were trying to appeal to people who had sinned just like them.

i feel like. forgiving and redeeming the brotherhood would have meant acknowledging their own faults as well. but uhm i don't know what i'm talking about i may be yapping a whole lot of nothin but that's okay we ball ♥️

also i will forever love this tug of war about mugm's morals. it's so fascinating to see mugm from other players' perspective because their own biases and circumstances and just, the role that mugm takes on seems to influence their conclusions at the end of the video. and it begins again. people still question, people still test. for someone so infamous— many people wish to see the good in you. ^^

and i think in part, the server contributes to it too. this tug of war is a byproduct of the server's circumstances and happenings that aren't necessarily related, but all tie into the story in some way or form. this server needs an antagonist, needs that conflict like blood runs through their veins.

i'm yappin too much eueueueu. mugm is such a creature i'd keep him in a jar to study if i could

also the god forsaken poppies omgg soomeone take poppies away from these guys.

bro has 0 ping.

these guys always get caught xraying for the dumbest shit 🥀 wdym coal and zombies.

the fire alarm 😭 r we being deadass .

what the fuck . a talking gem . bro.

W animation though. big big fan of them looks at kaboodle and boomie videos.

lezy deadass has the survival instincts of NOTHING.

the way i see myself in his shoes 💔💔💔 my survival instincts are just not there either i got cooked so bsdly last time.

?

anyways.

i do wonder why lezy did this. was this a suicide mission or a psychological tactic

2It was BAIT IT WAS BAIT NEMVEVO PLEASE Lock TF IN

holy arrow cannon it took my goat out. </3

we lock in again, because throw back to the conversation with wyll and napa— here, nem's suspicions peak. but nem is helpless to it, to the rhythm of the game and the crushing waves of their tsunami. he resigns to it, sticks it out anyway. here i thought about 'the sunk cost fallacy'. you've already gone too far, stained your image too much. sticking it out with more powerful people is your only option. good luck with that, nemvevo. ^^ is what i said, and it worked out for him!!! yay!

anyway holy yap holy yap i really loved the video if u couldn't tell. <3

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Liveblog: TMNT 1987 S4 Ep29: What's Michelangelo Good For?

The soul, that's what! But considering his expression in the thumbnail...Please don't let this episode be sad, please don't let this episode be sad, please don't let this episode be sad, please-

Who’s Pete?

Donatello’s been slacking on the Turtle Van tune-ups? I never thought I’d see the day

OH PIGEON PETE

I had no idea he was an ’87 character too!

Aww, the tiny little mask!

“Pete’s wing’s totally perfecto” which is why you put him…back in the box? XD

Nepotism in zoo culture, alrighty then

Ngl seeing all those pigeons descend I got war flashbacks of Birdemic: Shock and Terror

“They messed with our wheels! They answer to us!” It’s a universal constant that Raphael takes messing with his wheels very personally

RIP another bō, Donatello just can’t catch a break

“Our turtles”, Splinter called them, his and Michelangelo’s, that’s so cute 🥺

“I’m not the turtle to handle this, Master” You’re the only one available so yes, you are

It might have been reassuring if Splinter tagged along though

“Incredible” is one word for those mutant creatures, “uncanny valley” is two

The elephant tiger is SUCH A NOPE

Should’ve known that zoo nepotism tidbit would come back around

“Don’t you just love the way he delivers those noble speeches?” Yes, yes, I do XD And you’re not kidding anyone, Raphael, I know you admire ’em too

This lady’s really here trying to womansplain to Michelangelo over creature to creature communication smh I think he'd know better

Turtles supposedly can’t talk to pigeons but rat voiceovers can be heard by unaffiliated humans, I see how it is XD

Pizza makes you smarter, kids. So says Donatello

They have a dentist? (Is it Raphael? He expressed an interest in a previous episode lol. Wouldn’t put it past him to say “This won’t hurt a bit” right before going to town on the teeth)

Grappling hook for the win again

“I thought you deserted me” ???? What’s a turtle gotta do to earn a little trust around here?

“Nonsense, Michelangelo” MA’AM. Again: what’s a turtle gotta do to earn a little trust around here?? He just saved your life! You just agreed somebody’s out to get you!

I’m curious why we didn’t see Raphael’s reaction to Michelangelo’s supposed demise, I expected to see him just as pissed as Leonardo. Maybe he was just too shocked to speak

Don’t apologize for giving him a hug, he deserves a hug!

“Docette” Just add an “-ette or -oso” to anything to Michelangel-ize it

“I know I’m irresistible” Wheeeeeze

“Michelangelo? Smart? Boy, has he got the wrong turtle!” Raphael, please. You better take that back before the end of the episode

He finally gets to put the Tarzan yell to good use XD

WHOA WHOA WHOA MILESTONE ALERT It's the first diminutive of the show!! It's taken 106 episodes (including the Europe side season) and now Donatello just shortened “Michelangelo” to “Mike”! <333 I know it was just because he was doing a gameshow host bit but it feels monumental, that caught me completely off guard

Picture proof of this unique occasion

Edit: Never mind, not the first one, I guess, but the first one I remembered which makes it more meaningful to me

Speaking of Donatello, just a cute little quirk I’ve noticed that his voice actor pronounces it “Raph-ee-el” instead of “Raph-ai-el”. Makes me think of the Dons and Mikeys in other iterations calling him “Raphie” <3

SIC ’EM TIGERPHANT (It’s giving polar bear vs. Zlatko in Detroit Become Human)

Phew, okay, this was way more cute than sad, I really enjoyed that :D You were right to talk up this episode, it was a lot of fun! And I'm choosing to believe that offscreen the other turtles (*cough* Raphael *cough*) gave Michelangelo props for his daring, determination and more importantly his cleverness in getting past those defenses to rescue them! And a little more appreciation for Pete's contributions too

[claraoswalds]

#mrs flood who are you: time lord edition

[starheirxero]

[rez anon]

EARTH WHEN I FUCKING GET YOU

'oh we made sure he knew we still loved him' yeah fuckin sure Moon the definitely felt the love when you left him fucking homeless.

'He's developed several bad coping mechanisms'

OK THEN FUCKING HELP HIM?!?!? YOU HAD BAD COPING MECHANISMS TOO?!

'Oh he said it was an accident but we don't know if it was a one time thing so we're gonna kick him out to protect the kids'

Moon was it a one time thing when you let killcode out to kill? You think you're ANY safer???

'I will always be your brother, I will always look out for you.'

Aint that the same fuckin thing you told Lunar? Cus you sure as he'll didn't follow up on that.

Gond fucking forgive Lunar act like Eclipse

Ill talk more later

WATCHED THE EP U SENT THIS ABOUT JUST NOW AND YEAH. YEAH.

I AM... JUST. BAFFLED. I AM SHOCKED AND APPALLED. THERE'S NO WAY THIS HAS ALL BECOME "FOR THE KIDS' SAFETY." The way Earth just immediately understood why they kicked Lunar out is just,,, augh. Yes Moon I'm sure Lunar felt the love just dripping from your statement of "you're lucky you're still even considered family." 😭

YEA THE WAY THEY TALKED ABT HOW LUNAR'S WAS COPING MESSED ME UP ACTUALLY. Like, the whole interaction of,,, "He's hidden so much from me." "That's just how he is." "I don't like how he is then." LIKE OH,,, OH. OW!!! YK??? LIKE FUCK. On one hand I am so painfully aware of the celestial family's perspective on this, and I know that Lunar has avoided proper help before. But on the other hand THAT FEELS LIKE SUCH AN UTTERLY CRUSHING THING TO SAY.

It just feels like,,, you got a look under their cheery little mask for the first time and saw all the gross anger and unhealed trauma underneath and you decided that's just... it? Earth, who stuck out for Eclipse, saw anger and resentment in Lunar and said she doesn't like who they are anymore??? Like. Am I reaching here or does that feel unfair?!?!!!

AND HONESTLY THE KILL CODE POINT. YEAH. Like again I get it. Yes it would suck to risk having repeats of this incident. But also like. The other family members have shit too that could be regarded with the same weird caution and it's like. cmon. I'm starting to wonder if it really is just a matter of Lunar being too astral to fit in with their entirely robot family, yk???

Like. Idk. Vague hand motions. Nexus fans I'm sorry I never understood you until now HSJABDJSN

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

Yall literally leave him alone. God forbid he grows up and figures himself out. Jesus Christ.

[ripcarrotchan]

taro buys jiro a weird-looking kitty plushie

(this is a scene from my fic about taro and jiro going to the park and jiro getting a plushie! ;;w;;)

[coridallasmultipass]

It took me, ugh, MONTHS (2), to get to cleaning the two shrimp tanks I have... I had IRL issues going on that would have made it extremely difficult to do a water change especially while injured, and I just had to keep putting it off. It's just shrimp, so it wasn't like, the worst situation, especially since I have established plants and the tanks are a couple years old. There was just a lot of algae build-up on the glass, and, well... Let me just say it was not contributing to my mental health and well-being while the tanks were in that state.

I tested the water before I started cleaning and the parameters were fine (like, I could have left the tanks even longer if I would be okay with selling my soul to the Algae Collective), and the plants and shrimp look fine, too (I mean, I've obviously been keeping an eye on the tanks bc I sit right next to them). Actually, I'd wager to say that the plants are looking really great (the lilies haven't died off [yet? This is the longest period of time I've seen them stay... foliage... fol... foliated? Idk.] and the cryptocoryne in the 10gal is fucking huge and needs to be rearranged, just not right now). That fucking algae was a motherfucker to get off the 10gal (it's a plastic tank and I think that makes the algae grip harder than the glass 5gal).

[Also, fyi, depending on the tank's needs and stability, recommended water changes are a small one every week or every other week. My parameters don't seem to do anything dramatic, so I usually aim for a 20-30% water change every third week (just depends on how much vacuuming needs to be done and how cooperative the shrimp are with moving aside). So 2 months is still a lot. I still did the normal 30% ish amount, since doing more will risk the shrimp's well-being if there's a sudden change in everything, and my water parameters indicated a change was unnecessary - but I don't test for more than the minimum freshwater tests, so there could be a buildup of some mineral I'm not testing for, which is why the change IS actually necessary regardless of what my test kit says - because these tanks were evaporating a lot in summer, it condenses the minerals added with each water addition, even tho I usually top up with R.O. water.]

My back is fucking killing me lol. It has been killing me since spring when it 'went out' for the first time, and I'm not getting any relief, it sucks. But this had to be done.

The 5gal is looking pretty cloudy still, since the filter was super gunked up and I accidentally spilled gunk back in, so I may need to retest the 5gal parameters tomorrow just to make sure I don't have to do another water change, but it'll probably be fine, right? Shrimp love mulm and detritus. I did give both tanks a big ole algae tab for their trouble, tho. (I need a fuckening dish for the big tank. I really wanna clean off that white quartz rock again, but being white means it's an algae magnet, and it's just gonna go green again after a month or two.)

Anyway, shrimp tax:

I lov thees widdle oange bebies.

Wish I could take better pictures rn, but I am. Like. Dying. My recommendation: never live in an A-frame style room if you have the option. The wall above my tanks is slanted, and NOT fun for my back to bend underneath the wall for maintenance. (My only flat wall in the room is for my TV/PC.) Also, treat your back nicely, in general. I unfortunately have not had the option to treat my back nicely since spring (fall now), because 'when it rains it pours,' and heavy shit that needs to be moved will not move itself. Once I get a few more things in my room in order, I will hopefully be done with the IRL chaos, bc I have Halloween socks to knit, and I'm not putting that off for another year. (I'm still mad that I couldn't make the ones I planned last year. And I found more Halloween yarn I forgot I bought, so I'm gonna try to make multiple socks.) And I just really need to fucking chill and knit and stop having panic attacks and meltdowns.