#the fact she was more than willing to sacrifice her life and safety for the city. Oubgh Okay

[wasabijean]

movie would’ve been better if she had a gun

#osmosis jones #leah estrogen #leah #fanart #my art #thrax #hes also there lol #if she had a gun on her thrax wouldnt even be a problem. #movie would’ve ended 30 mins earlier #“what are you waiting for? shoot!” okay. Okay. Im nomrla #the fact she was more than willing to sacrifice her life and safety for the city. Oubgh Okay #Im So Normal #number one leah estrogen fan thats me #okay no more rambling in the tags byeee guys ^_^ till next time

[fuck-hamas-go-israel]

No matter what, don’t lose your humanity.

I see this rhetoric very often, that if you call for the release of the hostages and condemn Hamas terrorism and the atrocities they’ve committed, then you automatically “must support the death of Palestinian civilians”.

Conversely, those who claim to care about the Palestinian civilians don’t seem to call for the release of hostages, never acknowledge the rape, torture, and murder of civilians on Oct 7. In fact, they seem to celebrate death of who they perceive as “Zionist”.

I saw this play out before my eyes on TikTok. A singer named Cat Janice was dying from cancer, and she asked her audience to use her song in their videos as she had willed the proceeds to her young son who is not more than 7 or 8 years old. People labelled her a Zionist because she apparently was following an Israeli account on Instagram.

It was a very tragic story and her family was going through a hard time dealing with the aggressive cancer that was slowly weakening her body.

But as we’ve seen:

They don’t care about people who are suffering from terminal illnesses and will harass them anyway.

In her videos of her giving updates on her situation and pleading with people for empathy for her young son, they flooded her comment section with spam:

Unfortunately, Cat Janice passed away, BDE. But that didn’t stop the harassment. In fact, some celebrated her death and even lauded it as a good thing as there is “one less Zionist” now.

Yes, there are people like this out there. This shouldn’t come as a surprise as they’ve been violent, they’ve been sending death threats, they’ve been chanting for violent “resistance” and “intifada” and the death of Jews and Israelis, as well as their allies. They celebrate violence in the most disgusting and dehumanising way possible.

Just look at the comments in this video of a Jewish creator saying that in Berlin, a Jewish student was attacked:

Meanwhile, we chant “Am Yisrael Chai”. We call for life, we focus on saving all lives, no matter who.

As the leaders of Hamas said in an interview, “The Israelis are known to love life. We, on the other hand, sacrifice ourselves. We consider our dead to be martyrs.”

Every innocent death is a tragedy, Israeli and Palestinian. Death IS a tragedy. The killing of Hamas terrorists, albeit deserved, is a tragedy because of the terroristic path they chose in life and what horrific crimes they had committed in order to warrant death as a means of justice.

As much as I wish that one day, those people who have spewed those vile, antisemitic, inhuman things will feel guilty for what they have said, I doubt they will. The perceived safety and anonymity of social media coupled with their complete absence of humanity, compassion, and empathy evaporates any drop of guilty conscience they may have. All we can wish is that fair and just consequences for their actions will be meted out to them one day.

But my fellow Jews, my fellow zionists, my fellow allies, please never, NEVER stoop to that level. It goes against everything we are about.

Once we lose our humanity, we’ll become dulled to the suffering of others. That’s not what we want, and it directly goes against the spirit of Judaism and Israel.

Continue to mourn the death of innocents, continue to get angry and weep for tragedy and injustice, continue to celebrate new life and lives saved. Continue to feel like a human being. Don’t be like them.

Don’t. Lose. Your. Humanity.

#i stand with israel #israel #am yisrael chai #pro israel #average terrorist sympathiser #average palestine supporter #stop hamas #hamas #jewish #judaism #your antisemitism is on display #end antisemitism #antisemitism awareness #stop antisemitism #palestine

[a-really-cool-blog-name]

Thinking about how messed up Splinter's backstory is in rise. Especially his relationship with Big Mama, I feel like we don't acknowledge the fact that Splinter was literally in an abusive relationship enough in this fandom. Like he loved this woman so much that he was willing to spend the rest of his life with her and she turned around and forced him into a literal death fighting ring for ten whole freaking years and at the end of it he was so done with it all that he was willing to accept the proposition of being experimented on as long as he didn't have to fight anything.

How did Big Mama treat him while he was fighting for ten years? Did she still treat him all lovey-dovey as she talks to him in the future using pet names? Was she more violent with him? How much manipulation did Splinter go through?

All of that on top of his whole childhood of constantly being told to sacrifice his life to prevent some old tale he didn't even believe in as well as constantly training, and that's not even talking about the whole situation with his mother.

Not to mention the fact that he was literally mutated into a rat as a Japanese man which is probably the worst thing a Japanese man could be mutated into. Also him needing to shun himself and his newly acquired sons out of society for his and their safety immediately after finally getting out of the death ring after ten years. (Seriously, ten years. That is such a long time, that is 3 years shorter than Mikey's entire life at the start of the series.) And especially the fact that after being in the Battle Nexus for ten years (Seriously, he missed so much, he missed multiple presidents, the Y2K panic, the 9/11 attack, and the fricking turn of the millennia.) he immediately gets thrown into Parenthood (Of FOUR children, might I add.) and having to survive off the streets.

Splinter's definitely not the best parent (pretty neglectful as the got older not going to lie) but looking at all the stuff that's happened to him yeah pretty much explains why he's that way, he's very depressed and probably has PTSD.

Man, I started ranting there. But Splinter is just such an interesting character in Rise, I'd say one of the most interesting takes on his character throughout the TMNT series (don't get me wrong there are plenty of other good ones) and I feel like it's talked about, but rarely truly acknowledged within this fandom.

#thinking about how messed up splinters backstory is in rise especially #His relationship with big mama #The funny thing is I originally was just going to keep this at but nope the rant started coming and it wouldn't stop coming #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #Splinter #lou jitsu #hamato yoshi #rise splinter #Big mama #tmnt #rottmnt #a rare original post #tmnt splinter #splinter tmnt

[skrhana]

“Sasuke didn’t care about Naruto or Sakura”

I HATE when I see those type of comments being made. In fact, it’s concerning how many times I’ve seen someone make a comment along the lines of, “Sasuke didn’t care about his team”/“Sasuke hated Naruto”/“Sasuke hated Sakura”, etc etc. Sasuke may seem ‘cold-hearted’ and ‘emotionless’, but he clearly and consistently shows his care and affection towards his teammates and friends.

It was Sasuke that first offered Naruto his lunch. Out of the whole team, it was Sasuke that first took in the lesson of teamwork.

Despite the fact that Sasuke didn’t even want a team to begin with, believing that they would get in his way, it was Sasuke that first showed that he was willing to die for his team. He was willing to throw away his goal and his own life for Naruto’s sake.

Sasuke saw that Sakura was feeling under-confident, he actually noticed she wasn’t okay, how she was feeling, and made sure she felt confident again. Look at how he smiles to her and to himself when he sees that he restored her confidence. (Won’t forgive SP butchering this scene)

Look at how Sasuke is willing to, once again, sacrifice himself for both Naruto and Sakura. He’s willing to put himself in danger, risk his very life for them as their safety in that moment is his top priority.

Before Itachi’s came back to kidnap Naruto and mindfuck traumatised Sasuke even MORE than he already was, Sasuke prioritised his team above all else. Ever since the massacre, he had dedicated his life to avenging them and taking down Itachi, but he was willing to throw away that goal and his very own life if it meant keeping Naruto and Sakura safe.

Like how they butchered the scene with Sasuke making Sakura feel better, I also feel like they don’t properly convey Sasuke’s emotions in certain scenes which gives him a more ‘emotionless’ feel.

Anyways, I just wanted to make a Sasuke appreciation post. He was one of the characters who went through the most pain, the most mental torture, the most heartache, but despite that, after the massacre, he was still a boy with lots of love on his heart.

ANYWAYS HE’S SO PRECIOUS AND HE LOVES THEM SM

#naruto #sasuke uchiha #pro sasuke uchiha #pro sasuke #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #kakashi hatake #sasusaku #pro sasusaku

[andreal831]

If Elijah had to choose between saving Hayley and Klaus, with absolutely no way of him being able to sacrifice himself for the both of them, who do you think he’d save and why? Let’s pretend in this scenario the one he didn’t save would die no matter what.

No matter what he did, he would regret his decision for the rest of his life.

But his decision would all depend on when it was happening and why it was happening.

For instance, if Hayley was still pregnant, he would save her over Klaus without hesitating. Elijah shifts a lot of his focus after Hope is born from Klaus to keeping Hope safe, even at times betraying Klaus for it. This gives Hayley added protection. Even if Elijah hadn't been in love with her, he still would have protected her first because of Hope.

After she had the baby, it would depend. If the threat was something that Klaus had directly caused, he would prioritize Hayley's safety and attempt to rationalize it as 'Klaus brought it on himself.' But he would always hate himself for not saving his brother.

Now, more likely, because the show loved to torment Elijah, it would be a consequence of Elijah's own actions that came back to haunt him. This would destroy him no matter what he chose. He would have to choose between the woman he loved and wanted to plan a life with and the brother he had been closes with for a thousand years.

I honestly don't know what he would choose, but I think he would save Hayley. She was young and hardly got to live whereas Klaus had lived for a thousand years and had very little to show for it. He would also think of it in terms of Hope. While Hope would be sad to grow up without Klaus, she needed her mother. Hayley was always the one making the hard decisions and parenting Hope.

I'm more confident that this would be his decision in season 3 and later because Klaus would also support this decision. This is the growth I loved to see in Klaus. In Season 3, he began to put Hope and her needs first. They would both understand how important it was for Hope to have Hayley growing up. The Mikaelsons forgot what it was like to be human and Klaus never truly understood what it meant to be a wolf. Hayley would be able to teach Hope all of that.

Also, Klaus dying would have the added bonus of taking out a lot of his enemies, if the sire line was still in tact. This would give Hope more safety, something Elijah would prioritize.

I know I am mostly analyzing it from what Hope needs, but that's what Elijah would need to do because choosing between Hayley and Klaus would be impossible to him. He would rather die himself. So he would need to try and logic his way through it.

I could see Elijah choosing Klaus if it was something happening very quickly and he out of habit saves his brother. But again, it would devastate him. It broke him that he didn't save Hayley when he didn't even remember who she was. So if he had to actually make that decision, he would be searching for that white oak stake so fast. The only thing that would keep him alive would be if Hope needed him.

Most of my logic comes from the fact that Elijah was willing to kill Klaus in TVD for throwing their siblings into the ocean. I truly think he would have gone through with it if Klaus hadn't said their siblings were safe. I know TO/fandom makes it seem like Elijah prioritizes Klaus over everyone, and at times he does. But the fandom also loves to hate on Elijah for "betraying" Klaus and prioritizing others. Yes, Elijah is very codependent with Klaus, but he has also made a lot of decisions throughout the show that put others over Klaus. While he wanted Klaus' redemption and wanted Klaus to be able to raise Hope, he understood that his family had lived longer than they should.

It may just be my biases because I hate the idea of Hayley dying, but I think it fits his character.

Thanks for the ask! This was really hard to think through, but I enjoyed trying!

#elijah would be devastated no mater what #after hope they are the most important people to him #but hayley deserved to live longer #tvdu #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #the mikaelsons #elijah mikealson #klaus mikaelson #hayley marshall #haylijah #klelijah #anon ask #fandom asks #tvd anon ask #tvd ask #fandom answers #tvdu metas #metas

[deadfishisyeq]

Ive thought of an au where bolas is an actual cult, they worship the goddess of death and live in the woods near a neighbourhood on the outskirts of the city

They are known as the Rojas Cult (or Bolas Rojas but most people refer to them as the Rojas Cult because it sounds less stupid).

Philza, the leader, (they call him the Crowfather when they want to be edgy) knows the goddess of death personally and can pass through to her world freely. Both him and the goddess of death think that messing around with cults and murder is fun, they are literally just messing around. Phil didn't want it to go as far as it did but he isn't exactly complaining either.

After the death of Charlie's daughter, he had a dream where the goddess of death visited him with Juanaflippa and then she told him that she could keep bringing his daughter back if he just did a few small things for her. Those small things got bigger and bigger and caused Charlie and Mariana to get more and more distanced from each other because Charlie kept burning things that were more and more valuable. Eventually, he met Phil and they went out into the wooss together.

Jaiden's a pretty normal woman if you ignore the shrine to her dead son. After Bobby died, the goddess of death brought Bobby to see her and asked Jaiden what she would give up for Bobby. Jaiden said anything, she said she would give up anything for him and so the goddess took that and told her to make a shrine, to sacrifice something to that shrine every day by placing the item on the shrine and then letting a few drops of blood fall on it. Jaiden did this in secret for a month or so before she met Phil. She was led into the forest and is having so much fun!

Cellbit is a serial killer on the run. Well, actually, he managed to escape Brazil where he was wanted with some random guy, two of the people he escaped prison with and the security guard he thought he killed in prison. Either way, he made it to where he is now and- Yep! They adopted a child as a group because Pac thought he was cute and refused to give him up! Aside from that, Cellbit is a pretty normal guy until the government realises it's him and tries to arrest him. He ends up in the woods and meets Bolas Rojas. Charlie and Phil know nothing about him but Jaiden saw some stuff about him online and invited him to join them. Jaiden even lets him live in her and Roier's house when he isn't living in the woods. Bolas Rojas actively makes him worse and he's entirely willing to kill for the sake of the goddess.

They are all entirely convinced that Carre was sent by their goddess. He appeared one day with nothing, no one knows who he is or why he's here but they love him. He also randomly disappears from time to time. Phil isn't entirely sure what's up with him but goes with what the group thinks because it's easier that way.

Baghera's a pretty normal woman if you ignore her entire childhood and the way it's affected her entire life and the fact that if she tells anyone, she will die. But other than that, she adopted a child with some of her friends and moved somewhere nicer with them. She was visited by the goddess of death, who told her that she could protect Baghera, she could ensure her and her child's safety for eternity just as long as Baghera gave up someone's blood every day. It could even be her own blood if she wanted to do that. Eventually, she met Jaiden and they talked about the whole death goddess thing together and Jaiden led her into the woods where Baghera began living.

Foolish was only there to talk to Bad, to visit him for the first time in a hundred years because Bad was stupid and wanted to train his child grim reaper in training on Earth first. Foolish didn't expect to arrive at night, watch a guy kill someone, make eye contact with him and then smile. He also didn't expect to watch Philza walk out from behind the guy and stare at Foolish. And Foolish ended up joining them because hey, he was bored and he needed something to do.

At this point, Jaiden suggests the gas mask thing as a statement. She thought they needed something to make them stand out from normal people, to make them truly Bolas Rojas. Gas masks looked cool and kinda fit the dark, edgy theme they had so they all started wearing them.

Etoiles was a little bit concerned with Baghera's sudden interest in disappearing into the forest for days on end before returning for a day or so. She always returned different, she was never the same person. Etoiles needed to know what was going on so he followed her and found the cult. He knew Phil and trusted him and hey, he never said he had many morals when it came to killing anyway. It was fun and he didn't mind worshipping a goddess that had been kind and merciful to him time and time again.

Roier was curious what was going on and one day when Jaiden and Cellbit were home at the same time for dinner, Roier asked them what was going on. They both thought that one of them had told him and they ended up explaining everything to him. He said he could join them if they needed him at any point and they immediately said yes. That night, they dragged him out to meet everyone and initiate him.

Mouse walked into the woods to explore because she was bored, met the cult, Baghera was having a breakdown and initiated Mouse and Mouse sort of just accepted it. She's a demon, cults are fun, these people are nice to her and do crazy things for fun. She has no reason not to enjoy it.

Bagi is a detective. She found her brother in Brazil in the prison but lost him. She kept investigating even after. The government contacted her to help them catch Cellbit. Little do they know, she's only helping them so she can find her brother and run away with him. She's incredibly confused about the cult because she recognizes Cellbit's kills but they aren't normal kills and they're somehow connected to a random cult, which is all incredibly strange to her.

Team Soulfire is living in a big house near the woods. They're pretty normal people and also Bolas Roja's new targets. Black feathers are being left around the outside of their house and they aren't exactly happy about it. They also aren't scared because they have Bad. (I haven't really thought of a lot to do with them aside from the main plot but don't worry they're important!)

Bad has one child and then also adopted the child that he found crying that her parents had gone off into the woods. He actually did meet Baghera that way and they talked and she said that he could take care of Pomme and Etoiles said the same thing. That was also how Bad found out about the whole cult thing. He regularly bugs them, steals their food and has almost set the forest on fire a few times. It's all in good fun, or at least, he's having fun.

Tubbo is an engineer, his crush is a government worker who occasionally visits him and randomly went missing. He's having fun, he likes fighting with Etoiles, Roier and Cellbit who have all tried to kill him several times. He isn't exactly sure why they want him dead but they do and he's kind of just enjoying learning how to fight back properly.

Tina was honestly just trying to live in peace but then Bad and Tubbo found her and she was happy even without peace. Anyway, she got invited to hang out in the woods by a stranger through a text and went out. Bad called her stupid but she had seen him walk into the forest and come back relatively unharmed so she wasn't too scared. She walked in and had a pretty good time with everyone until they started talking about eating people, which is when she left. Bagi is her sort of girlfriend, they flirt, Bagi visits Tina a lot (she makes the excuse that it's for work but it definitely isn't) and will often get her flowers or some sort of pastry and Tina will have tea ready and waiting for her every time she visits.

#qsmp #long post #bolas rojas #team bolas #tw child death #i genuinely dont know why i wrote this much for this #i'll probably write something real for this at some point #or i'll just talk more about it #whichever one happens first i guess

[otomes-and-tears]

i'm just obsessed with your fic! erika/nevra would be great parents, Karenn would be a protective aunt. Imagine the drama if Nevra's parents found out about the pregnancy?? if you can make any droplets around this story, i would love it! thank you.

Oh, Nevra would be very against visiting his previous clan after his child was born. He’s only open to do it in life or death situations. And he’s even less willing to let his wife (even if she doesn’t know it yet) and his child be put in a situation he just knows is going to be dangerous for them.

It doesn’t matter if people in eldarya nowadays perceive Erika as an Aengel (and a Martyr) more than a human. He knows that the fact that she was raised on earth and still has mostly human blood coursing through her veins means that she’s in active danger when parading around a vampire clan that still uses her people’s blood as the basis of their nutrition. Being introduced as his mate and having Karenn act like her bodyguard might keep her physically safe, but being immersed in a culture where she knows that her, her people and even her child are still only seen as a fulfilling meal isn’t really bound to do good things for her psyche.

Nevra is intensely concerned about Erika’s safety, even if she jokes all the time about the amount of times she has died and was brought back to life, Nevra had to live seven years grieving her loss and seeing her corpse stuck inside the crystal, peaceful, never aging, while he grew older and had to figure out how to live with her gone.

He has just gotten her back.

And not only that, but he’s getting the life he once dreamed about having with her.

Nevra knows that the second there’s a life or death situation, as the crystal’s chosen she might not have a choice, and might need to sacrifice herself again. At the very least he wants to avoid putting her in more life or death situations if he can help it.

Not to mention, his child is a human hybrid. He is NOT putting them in danger or letting his sweet baby hear all the nasty shit that’s going to be said about them.

If his mother sent a letter asking for help, he’d do his duty and go help them. If yaqut vampires had to move to HQ? He’d do his duty to help them.

But no one is going NEAR his kid without strict supervision.

By the way— Erika, at least in my AU, still loves and deeply misses earth. She respects her culture and wants her baby to know where their mom came from, because there’s a very high possibility that they’ll never get to know earth aside from her and Mathieu’s stories about it.

So her kid is going to grow up with a lot of pride about being part human! Even if there are a lot of faelians who don’t see it as a source of pride.

#I think Nevra would try his best to stop news of erika’s pregnancy from leaking #but that’s kind of impossible #he’d sit Erika down while they’re discussing parenting styles and open up about his culture and their treatment of humans #he’s kind of torn because he doesn’t want his kid to not know where Nevra came from #but he doesn’t want the more toxic aspects of his culture to affect his child too much #Erika is very understanding about it and they plan around it :) #an unsung melody au #Nevra #Eldarya

[redsandspirit]

What is the devil's nature anyway?

Let's talk about what the so-called "devil's nature" is and what traits are inherent in devils. We know from the manga that devils usually have some sort of instinct to dislike humans. That's all by now. The problem is that devils are just as intelligent beings as humans (perhaps more intelligent, considering that Darkness Devil has gained some great wisdom over his long life, I don't know). They are capable of learning and drawing conclusions based on their experiences and knowledge, and they are not animals following their instincts, because if that were the case, Chainsaw Man would be a completely different manga. In general, devils here have the same free will as humans.

I've seen a lot of people convinced that devils are some kind of plain evil, devoid of any kind of virtues simply because that's what they are, despite the fact that this is completely contrary to what is shown in the manga. Compassion, remorse, selflessness and love are called by many as something alien to them.

We have Angel Devil, who blamed himself so much for the deaths of people that they appeared in his nightmares, and who formed strong bonds first with the villagers and then with Aki. Then we have Power, who we were able to fully watch go from the point where she didn't care about anyone, including herself, to the point where she desperately does everything she can to save the person she cares about. Nayuta was also willing to sacrifice himself to ensure the safety of a human she loved. Makima shows some degree of remorse, despite the fact that her environment wasn't even dispositioned to develop such feelings (I don't think she could have been insincere in the beach scene, since Aki and Angel Devil were already under her control and it didn't make sense for her to manipulate them). In fact, it's in regards to Makima that I most often come across nonsense like "well, they're devils, obviously they're inherently bad" as fandom struggles with the idea of her not being universally evil, but that would also mean that characters like Power and Angel Devil are no different, and I don't think the same people would like that. Now that we've got that out of the way, how can all these traits not be an integral part of the "devil's nature" if devils have the natural potential to develop them?

It's also a common idea that devils are killing machines obsessed with genocide, but in Nayuta's example, we see, we see that devils may not even like killing at all. The manga often shows that even unfriendly devils' first reaction to humans isn't always to kill them.

Finally, we come to the individual devil's nature. Like I said, disliking humans is literally the only known thing the devils can share with each other, according to the manga. So I roll my eyes every time I read something along the lines of "wow, Nayuta chose Denji's happiness above her own, she defeated her Control Devil nature". I mean, what do we even know about the "Control Devil nature"? Some attribute Nayuta's innate tendency toward dictatorial behavior or possessiveness, but I don't see the point in considering it anything more than fanfiction until the manga itself points out that such things take place. What then is Famine Devil nature? Eating sweets for five? It's more like people jump to premature conclusions on their own, and then when they don't match reality run to write nonsense about "nature vs nurture", an idea that has already been horribly twisted by fandoms.

Yes, of course, devils in general are very dangerous for humans, and in the war with them (part two calls it that), countless numbers become victims. Still, devil characters in manga are just as complex as human characters, and I find it very reductive to try to simplify them in this way. The author has already humanized the devils enough for us to ignore it.

#chainsaw man #csm #csm meta #csm spoilers

[decarbry]

Noooooo but what's the UA staff and kids reactions to seeing nomuzawa? Like my heart low-key is breaking for them bc the teacher that just fought for them, with no regard to his own safety, was not only taken from them after stalling long enough for backup, but now he's a nomu and fighting them? And mic? Midnight? Allmight? Ughhhhhhh????!!! (But no o love this au so so much lmao)

I'm saving the actual Nomu reveal and reactions to it for later once I decide on a storytelling format but here are some initial reactions to the abduction

all of the students naturally share some level of guilt, even though they only knew Aizawa for a handful of days. nature of heroes in training and good hearts, plus, yeah, they watched this man sacrifice himself for their safety. this version of the event definitely impacts them harder than it does in canon. Not quite their Oboro moment but boy it's the closest so far any have had

Midoriya is Midoriya and is smart enough to know that in the end his (lack of) ability would never have been able to change the end result but still lets the failure riddle him for the rest of his life. Definitely still in crying mode this early on

Bakugou is left shell-shocked by this, possibly to an overreaction. As a tactician he also knows deep down he did his best (as a kid that has been in hero school for literally just a few days) but isn't willing to accept it. He should have been able to do something more. But we all know Bakugou and this is just fuel on the fire

All Might is understandably guilt-ridden as well, since he's "never failed to save someone after arriving", but the situation isn't as straightforward as one would think. It's one thing if a student is hurt/killed/taken but a pro is another, and Aizawa knew what he was getting into by jumping into a 1 v 40 combat scenario. That's just what pros sign up for. All Might is ready to leap into action the moment those investigating need assistance or have a location and certainly does some of his own investigating on the side as time allows

Thirteen feels frustration in herself initially but is able to take solace in the fact that she and Aizawa did what they were meant to do, and knows that Aizawa would be feeling the exact same way

Nezu makes only a single public statement out of respect for Aizawa's dislike of his name in the press, it's short and sweet and truthfully paints Aizawa as a hero that did his job and saved the lives of 20 students. He does commit the school's resources to assisting authorities in recovering the teacher but unfortunately that's where it ends since he needs to focus on the safety of the students as priority and UA can't just go around playing police (until the government makes them lmao)

Midnight was among the majority of the responding faculty that decided to arrive together in a show of power and so didn't witness Aizawa being taken, but is understandably very upset that one of her remaining high school friends is now gone. She's able to steady herself as a rock for Mic out of necessity (unhealthily suppressing her own more-volatile reaction for his sake) and is really the only reason Mic didn't just up and run out to do something unhelpful and reckless. In the hours after the event she cannot leave his side for fear of him running off

Mic is, naturally, the worst impacted. He refuses to wait for the teachers to gather into a group and ran in after All Might but before the rest, and so was the only pro/faculty to get a front-row seat to the abduction as All Might was distracted by the Nomu. He immediately wants to go guns-blazing but without any hint as to where Aizawa was taken or what they plan to do with him, is forced to sit by and wait. He ends up walking away from the school out of frustration after about a month without answers, but no one blames him and they're honestly just shocked he had the self-control to wait that long

#Yabureme Aizawa AU #nomu aizawa #boku no hero academia #text post #not art #haha if you read this whole thing you get a cookie

[peakyswritings]

Transaction

Tommy Shelby x OC (Edith Johnson)

MOODBOARD

Summary: How naive of Edith to think that she could marry for love.

Warnings: arranged marriage, mentions of death, angst

A/N: I’m back with a new OC! In this one, Tommy never married Grace. This wasn’t requested, but an anon sent me a request which was similar to this thing I was already writing. I hope you like it!🤍

Gif credit

Standing in front of her mirror, Edith found it hard to even recognise herself. Her sunken face was fixed in an expression of intense suffering and her eyes, which used to sparkle with happiness and joy, now seemed to have been drained of all life. Her tailored-made white dress had become way too large, and her mother had to secure it with safety pins, artfully hiding them where they couldn’t be seen. She mumbled some reproaches, but Edith didn’t have the will nor the energy to listen to her.

She let her eyes wander through her bedroom, focusing on every little detail. She tried to recall the feeling of safety and intimacy that embraced her every time she entered her room, hoping that she could absorb a bit of that feeling and take it with her, but all her efforts were in vain. That house had stopped being a home a long time ago.

Edith would’ve been glad about leaving it for good, if only it hadn’t meant leaving her whole life behind. If only it hadn’t meant leaving that part of her life behind. The man she loved.

His name was Samuel Brown. He was kind and caring, and he was good. Too good, sometimes. But he was an ordinary working man, and Edith’s family would’ve never accepted him.

She didn’t care that he worked in a factory, she didn’t care that he would never give her financial security. She loved him, that was enough.

But her father wasn’t worried about money. He had more money than he would need in a lifetime, he would’ve been able to grant his daughter the lifestyle she deserved even after marriage. His main concern was power. Samuel was a nobody. Hence, he was an inconvenience.

How naive of Edith to think that she could marry for love. It was never her destiny. Deep down, she knew it, though. She was aware of the fact that she would’ve married whoever her father wanted as an ally; someone from a rival gang, perhaps. Someone powerful. It wouldn’t have been above her family to marry her off to some fifty year-old creep just to secure their place on the top of the criminal underworld.

As much as Edith had tried to keep Samuel out of her life, he had slowly made his way into her heart, and before she knew it there was no way of getting him out.

At first, they met in secret, and their encounters were rather brief. She brought him lunch during his break, waiting for him at the back of his workplace, where no one could see her. He would steal her a kiss, from time to time, when it was just the two of them. Then they started to take trips to the countryside, little getaways from their life in Birmingham.

But if Edith had to choose the best place to meet with her lover, it was his small flat, their little piece of heaven. They would spend lazy mornings in his bed, when she managed to sneak out of her house, cuddling and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. She would place tender kisses on his calloused hands, enjoying the feeling of his loving gaze on her. And she understood - home was wherever he was.

But just like all beautiful things - that wasn’t meant to last.

It was June 1920 when Edith met the love of her life. On November 1922, she lost it forever.

It was a rainy morning when her father called her into his office and gave her a long speech about the importance of family, or, more exactly, about the importance of being willing to make sacrifices for family. A few hours later, he introduced to her future husband, Tommy Shelby. He had to secure his business with the local gangster and in order to do so, two families had to become one.

However, Edith and Samuel - young and blinded by love - were sure that they could prevent it. That same night, they had everything ready. Two suitcases and two train tickets was all that they needed. They were supposed to meet at the station at 2:00 am, where they would’ve secretly taken the train that would’ve taken them out of England.

Samuel never came.

His body was found in a ditch three days later, with a bullet hole in his forehead. He was gone, just like that.

Edith felt like somebody had pulled the rug from under her feet. The last time she saw him, she was in such a hurry that she didn’t even kiss him goodbye. She didn’t even turn around to look at him one last time. Now she would never have the chance to do it again.

If someone had ripped an organ out of her body, she would’ve felt less empty.

If Edith focused hard enough, she could almost see Samuel in the mirror, right by her side with his reassuring smile, like it was supposed to be. He was the only man she wanted to wear a white dress for.

“Mum…” she whispered, holding back her tears. “What are you marrying me into?”

Margaret Johnson raised her eyes from the dress, meeting her daughter’s gaze in the mirror. Edith could almost see some compassion in her expression, for a moment, but she was quick to hide it.

“The Shelby family is not that different from our family, love.”

Edith knew what her family did, she wasn’t a fool. She just hoped she would get out of that world, some day. Samuel’s death had taken that hope away from her.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with that man, mum.” She pleaded, letting a few tears fall. “Please, do something.”

Margaret gently grabbed Edith by the shoulders to turn her towards her and wipe away her tears.

“Do you think I wanted to marry your father?” She proceeded to fix her daughter’s hair. “It’s how it works. Business before feelings. Family before feelings. I’m happy now. Maybe one day you’ll be as well.”

But Edith could see no happiness in her mother’s eyes. It wasn’t hard to figure that was just a lie she had been telling herself for years in order to stay sane. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d end up like her. In that face so similar to hers, it appeared to her that she could see her future, and it was terrifying.

“Smile.” Margaret instructed. “And keep your head high. Never make the mistake of making your husband think that he can walk over you.”

That was the last advice her mother gave her. A month had gone by, and now Edith was married to Tommy Shelby.

Much to her surprise, he didn’t seem as ruthless as people described him. If his hard eyes had intimidated her when she first met him, now she had grown to understand that his cold behaviour was just his way of presenting himself to the world.

He was decent, and he had never disrespected her in any way. There was no love nor affection between them, they stayed in different bedrooms and rarely spent time together, but Edith didn’t complain. She had expected much worse.

And if she had to be honest, she was the main reason of their detachment. She was distant, and sometimes rude. Whenever he tried to have a conversation with her, she would find an excuse to just go away and be by herself. She was still mourning, and his face was a constant reminder of what she had lost.

Edith had given up of her initial plan to make his life hell, though. That situation was not his fault, after all. If she hadn’t married him, her father would’ve married her off to someone else, and she wouldn’t have been that lucky. She could have ended up with an alcoholic, or a wife-beater, or a man who was twice her age. Sure, she was in her twenties and Tommy in his thirties, but it wasn’t a big deal. Again, it could’ve been much worse.

That night, they found themselves sitting together at the dinner table. It didn’t happen often, Tommy was always out at that hour. He never came home before dawn, he usually shared his nights with his whores. Edith knew it - people talked, after all - but she didn’t really care. Except for their wedding night, she had always refused any kind of contact with him. One time felt wrong enough.

She could feel his eyes on her as she played with her food.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s good.” She mumbled. “I’m just not hungry.”

Silence fell between them again. It was so awkward that for a moment Edith considered running upstairs to lock herself in her room.

“I have a charity event, next week.” He spoke. “I need you to come with me.”

“Why?” Her voice came out harsher than she intended. Tommy didn’t falter though, and kept talking with his unfazed expression.

“Because it’s time we start to act like husband and wife, at least in public.”

Edith furrowed her brows, letting her fork fall on the plate. “I don’t want to go.”

Tommy sighed, rubbing a hand on his face. It was clear that he was trying to keep his composure, but the risk of failing miserably was becoming bigger and bigger. Edith wasn’t exactly making it easier for him.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, love.”

“What, are you going to drag me there?” She provoked him. If there was one thing that got on her nerves, it was being told what to do.

“Stop acting like a child, Edith.” He blurted out. “I’ve given you time and space, but we can’t continue like this. We’re married, it’s time to come to terms with that. I didn’t want this either, but some things just need to be done.” He spoke calmly, but his tone was stern.

Tommy’s words made something snap inside Edith.

“Don’t you dare compare your situation to mine.” She raised her voice, pointing a finger towards him. “It’s completely different. You’re a man. You’re free, you’ll always be free. You can marry me and keep on living your life as you please. It’s entirely different for me. I don’t get to do that. I don’t have that choice. And this marriage has already taken everything away from me.”

Her last sentence was a little bit over a whisper, but Tommy heard it nonetheless. She sighed, resting with her back against her chair. Attacking him wouldn’t solve anything, but she couldn’t help it. All that anger had to go somewhere. She fought back the tears that threatened to fall, hating herself for not being able to have an argument without crying.

“It saved your reputation, Edith.” At the sight of her teary eyes, his voice softened. “I know why your father married you off. I asked him, and he had to tell me.”

Edith blinked, raising her head to look at him. “Yeah? And what did he tell you, exactly?”

“You were messing around with some man. People started to talk, and he left.”

“What? That’s what he told you?” She scoffed, shaking her head.

For the first time since she had known him, Edith saw him falter. He frowned, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. “Isn’t it what happened?” He placed the cigarette between his lips.

“Samuel didn’t leave. My family killed him.”

Tommy froze with the lighter in mid-air. He slowly took the cigarette out of his mouth to say something, but Edith didn’t give him the chance to talk.

“The reason why my father married me off was the same reason why you married me. Business.” She stood up from her chair, intending to put an end to that conversation. “I’m tired, now. Good night.”

Edith wrapped her robe tighter around her body, looking out the window. Some nights, when she couldn’t sleep, she stared at the green fields, imagining how it would feel to run up those hills and towards her freedom.

Truth was, as much as she hated to admit it, she was freer in that house than she was back home.

A knock on the door drew her attention away from her thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, Tommy entered her bedroom. Edith didn’t turn around to face him. She had been unfair to him, earlier, he had done nothing to deserve her anger.

She heard his steps coming closer, until he was standing next to her in front of the window. They stood there in silence for a while. Edith could sense that he wanted to tell her something, but for some reason he didn’t utter a word.

“I’m sorry.” She eventually spoke, glancing at him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know what had really happened. You’re mourning, I get it.”

She looked up at him, taken aback by his comprehension. Tommy didn’t seem the type to be understanding; but maybe she just hadn’t bothered to get to know him.

“You know, I had a girlfriend before France. Her name was Greta Jurossi. She died of consumption.”

Tommy’s gaze seemed lost in distant memories, and Edith thought she could see a hint of melancholy in it.

“Does…does it get better?” She dared to ask.

A part of her didn’t want to feel better. Maybe it was because she was afraid that it would mean forgetting Samuel, or maybe because she wanted to punish herself. The other part just wanted the pain to be gone.

For the first time, Tommy directly looked at Edith. Her nose and cheek were slightly red - she had probably been crying -, and her hair was a bit ruffled. He had never seen her so vulnerable, and he found himself wishing he could take a bit of that pain. Despite her sharpness, he had started to grow fond of her. He didn’t know her and they barely talked to each other, and yet he cared about her. Probably what caused his feelings was the fact that she reminded him of himself. He had recognised in her the same anger, the same stubbornness and the same determination. The same pain.

“After her, I thought it would be impossible for me to love again.” He admitted. “But then I met Grace.”

“What about her?”

Tommy scoffed, but there was no trace of genuine humour. “She was a spy. She tipped me off to the police and went away. Now she’s married to some rich banker.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the point.” He shook his head. “After Greta, I fell in love again. I can’t tell you that it’ll stop hurting, but I can assure you that it’ll get better. You’ll learn to live without him without even realising it.”

Those weren’t just words of comfort, he was reflecting. He wasn’t just saying that to make her feel better, he truly felt that way. It gave her hope.

“I blame myself everyday.” She whispered. “I knew I had to keep him out of my life, but I’ve been selfish. And now he’s dead.”

Tommy gently cupped her face with his hands and for the first time, she didn’t flinch at his touch. “It was not your fault, Edith.” He said, looking right in her eyes. “You have to convince yourself of that. Stop trying to punish yourself. It won’t take him back. Trust me, I know that.”

She let him hold her in his arms, melting in his embrace. It was beyond her comprehension how a stranger could understand her more than her own family. He run a hand through her hair while she sobbed against his chest, letting everything out for the first time. He waited for her to calm down and move away.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, embarrassed, wiping away her tears.

“Don’t be.”

Silence fell in the room again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was almost comforting. Edith understood that she had judged Tommy too fast. He wasn’t a bad person. Sure, he did bad things, but that didn’t make him cruel. He was sensitive, soft, even. His hard exterior was nothing more than a shield. She had the feeling that he felt more deeply than any other person she had met.

“I don’t want to force you to do anything, Edith.” Tommy said, leaning against the wall. “I just wanted you to know that I’m willing to make this marriage work. I’m not asking you to love me.” He assured her. “I’m not even asking you to act like a wife. But since we’re bound to spend the rest of our life together, we can try to get along.”

Edith could see that he meant every single word he was saying. And he was right. Getting along would have made everything easier.

For a moment, Edith wondered if she could ever love him. The possibility didn’t seem so absurd, now. It was too soon, though, she couldn’t do it, not with Samuel’s face still imprinted in her mind. But she could find a friend in the man in front of her.

“I don't want to rush you into making a decision.” He clarified. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just know that I’m here. Whenever you’re ready.”

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fics #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic

[practical-tactical-brilliance]

I’m Willing to Wait for it (Part 4)

Aaron Burr x f!Reader

Summary: you get married! Contains sexual themes and implications.

A/N: the vows are taken from what colonial Anglican priests would have read out for marriage ceremonies of the time. It was also typical for only one ring to be presented for the bride.

————

Later, when the dense snowfall of that year’s harsh winter melted away to a temperate sunny spring, you and Aaron were wed in the Schuyler mansion with the generosity of the family. While working for the British helped keep your home safe from the frequent raids, you knew that a wedding party, would draw too many eyes for it to be a suitable venue notwithstanding the fact that you were marrying a known American colonel.

It was scary how much you realised you loved him and the sacrifices you found yourself willing to make so that you could be with him.

As much as you wanted to continue your work as a spy, living together with an American Colonel jeopardised your position after much consideration with Mulligan, you withdrew altogether from the operation while simultaneously securing the safety of your home against raids through negotiation with your former British employers.

Eliza fussed with your hair as she tried to get you ready for the ceremony, quietly humming a cheery tune as she worked. You had dreamed of this moment would come many times in your room lying alone in your vastly empty bed while Aaron slept just next door, so close yet so far from you. But now that it was here, you found yourself jittery with nerves.

You wanted him badly, but you felt unprepared for what married life would surely bring. Was it normal to feel this way? Would you be ready if he got you with child? You wondered if Eliza had the same thoughts in her mind when she was married too.

Almost as though she could sense your nervousness, told you “go on, ask away. I know you want to, and you look pale as a parchment!”

“Were you ever worried that you weren’t prepared to become a mother when you married Alexander?”

“Oh! Of course I was. I was so scared the first night; about the pain, and getting pregnant. I felt so worried that I wouldn’t know what to do if I had a child that I didn’t let him lay with me that night until the morning!” She grinned at the memory, smiling fondly as she continued.

“I don’t think anyone is ever truly prepared to be a mother, I still don’t feel ready, but, life has its ways and if it happens, you will learn how to adapt to it.”

Resting her hand on her belly, your eyes widened with the realisation.

“Eliza, you’re expecting?!”

Bashfully, she nodded, “When I found out, I wasn’t even concerned, I just felt… overjoyed!” You couldn’t help but embrace her at the news, squealing with excitement.

“Congratulations! Oh, Alexander must be ecstatic!”

“He doesn’t know yet, I don’t plan to tell him just yet. It’s still early days.”

“Not even when he returns today? You ought to tell him,” you begged, “make him think of not only you, but his child when he is not by your side. It’ll do him good!”

“Maybe, I shall think on it!” She chuckled, resolved.

————

There were more guests than you remember inviting when you came out to the converted living room with your father on your arm. The Schuyler’s had themselves invited their own friends in high places to bear witness to your wedding. Acquaintances that you and Aaron would both make. Acquaintances that would aid you in years to come and would become your closest allies. It was, in their own way their family’s wedding gift to you, someone they considered to be part of their family. You were nearly in tears at their generosity, but what broke you was the sight of your love at the altar, waiting for you.

Dressed in a fine blue suit, he was the very picture of a perfect husband that anyone would dream of. Seeing you coming around the corner of the stair, he could barely mask the joy in his gasp. Each step toward him felt like a lifetime passing by until your father, smiling, gave you away and you were stood facing the man who was your husband to be.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…”

All those years of writings, flirting and hopeful promises were culminating in this single moment, you thought. And the priest said the words that would bind you together in marriage, you thought back on your own life. Had Mulligan not chosen that particular bar to exchange intel with you on that fateful night, you would never have the opportunity to meet Aaron. But you had met him and now your life was changed forever and for the better.

“Wilt thou obey him, serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“Yes, I shall.”

Yes, a thousand times over. If only he could know that you would cross oceans and stand on the battlefield in his stead if it came to it.

“Have you a ring for your bride, Colonel?” The priest prompted, and Aaron, with a stupefied look on his face, tore his gaze from you, turning slightly red as he took out the little box and presented it. In its satin lined case, a delicate gold band rested and on the inside, you could make out the faint outline of words.

“With this Ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” Those practiced words were all that saved him from becoming a jumbled mess as he slipping the ring over your finger.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Barely any announcement was needed before you felt yourself being swept up in his strong arms and into a long kiss. You hardly registered the warm applause from your audience. For the first time in your life, you felt a wholeness that was never there before and with Aaron standing by you, you knew you would be ready for whatever life would bring you.

————

The festivities left you feeling energised and the adrenaline rush from all the dancing and games you had during the day remained even after all your guests bid you a blessed night. Now, you were alone once again, going through the night’s ablutions with a bath before you slipped into a thin nightgown.

A quick tap at the door was accompanied by the familiar voice of your husband. “Can I come in, Y/N?”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you went and unlocked the door for him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked tentatively, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance so vigorously in my life.” He chuckled.

“Marrying you really does a person in, especially after all those years of tiptoeing around each other. Besides, at least they’ll know how happy I am to be wed to you, even if I did make a fool of myself out there in front of high society. It was worth the embarrassment though.” You chirped derisively.

“A fool? You were the most rapturous creature on the floor that I had ever seen! You looked stunning today. The young bachelors there were all watching you with envy from the side of the ballroom, I could practically feel their jealousy burning at the back of my head when we danced together.” He said smugly.

“It’s just as well that I’ve found myself a husband who is kind and gentle and patient, isn’t it? At least he is not a domineering brute.” You tapped him on the nose playfully.

And with that he caught you in his arms in a crushing hug and his lips were on yours once again. He kissed you all over, each punctuating his sentences. “I can be domineering brute. To anyone who dares insult you. You’re my love. My wife! And I am proud to defend your honour even against the heavens!” He proclaimed with conviction.

Your surprise quickly melted into a passionate fervour and with each kiss you eagerly chased his mouth with yours, wrapping your hands around his neck as he embraced you. “Not so fast, lest the heavens strike you down for your insolence! I just married you, I need you by my side for all my years yet!”

“I promise to be there for you always. Through sickness and in health.” He smiles into your cheek. “Forsaking all others.”

Slowly, you could feel his hands start to roam up and down your back and to regions that made you gasp into his mouth with the feeling and intimacy of the whole experience. The fears that you harboured that morning were gone. The rationality of your mind was gone. The only thing that you could concentrate on was the feeling of him pressed against you.

That is, until you started moving. You could feel him slowly corral you towards the bed in a slow dance that he led. As he pressed you down slowly into the mattress, in a sudden fit of panic, your mind caught up with you and you blurted out, “I’ve never done this before! Stop!”

And just like that, he was no longer over you and your heart ached at the loss of his touch. “That’s ok, we don’t have to do anything. Can you move under the blankets?” He asked, ushering you to the centre of the bed before slipping in beside you. You flinched as he wrapped an arm around you and he reassured you with a low voice. “Let’s lie here for a little while, until you’re ready. We don’t have to consummate tonight.” Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to relax beside him. “Really?”

You could feel his laughter echo through his chest and into yours, “I’ve waited this long already, I can wait for longer. Besides, I’ve been granted the greatest gift of all; you. What more can I possibly want? I would never force anything on you.”

Feeling reassured, you rested your head in the crook of his arm. You felt full, surrounded by the safety of his scent and warmth as you snuggled under the blankets. For the first time, you could feel every curve and bump of his body as he held you close.

“Can I show you something?” You nodded eagerly.

Gently, he took your hand in his and attempted to slide off your wedding band. “What are you doing?!” You exclaimed, pried your hand out of his grasp. You weren’t about to take off this ring without a good reason to, even at the insistence of your husband.

“Please? I want to show you what’s on the inside.”

Warily, you let him remove the band and holding it up to your eye, you noticed your names engraved on the inner surface. “No matter where I am, you’ll always have me close by. I’ll always be yours, no matter what happens.” And you believe him with your whole heart.

Drawing close, you kissed him deeply. “Can you show me what to do? I’m ready.” You whispered bashfully.

When you finished, you lay beside one another, legs all tangled up, listening to the sounds of heavy breathing and racing hearts pounding. Your curiosity and desire were sated at last and you found yourself staring into the blank-faced look of satisfaction on your lover.

“Are you ok?” You asked. You’d never seen him so completely listless before.

“What?! More than ok, that was better than anything I could have imagined!”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t imagine it myself too when I lay awake in bed.” Teasingly, you let your fingernails just glance lightly over his chest, making him shiver involuntarily before you laid it flat over his heart.

“Is that so? And did you enjoy how it felt tonight?”

“A bit more than I was expecting.” You squeaked as you felt your cheeks burn at the confession.

“Just a bit? We can’t have that now can we?” He nibbled the shell of your ear hoping to get a rise out of you. “We still have all night to make it more than just ‘a bit’ better!”

#aaron burr #aaron burr x reader #burr x reader #hamilton musical

[writer-room]

The Anomaly of Jonathan Samuel Kent

AO3

Summary: Damian Wayne was, above all else, adaptable. If there was something he didn't understand, he'd learn it, or he'd work around it. This included all aspects of his life, and while some have proved more difficult than others, there was never a challenge that he couldn't overcome. He simply hadn't been trained to allow it.

Until, that is, he had the great misfortune of befriending the biggest wrench there'd ever been in this meticulous, perfected planning of his.

It all fell apart here, in the blink of an eye, because of one Jonathan Samuel Kent. And it was driving Damian mad.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Damian is not too proud to admit that he doesn’t understand people.

Logistically speaking, that statement is untrue. He knows people. He knows what options they’re most likely to pick in a panicked situations, where their major arteries are, a handful of their languages and the intricacies each requires, that many will sacrifice their safety for another (which was a horribly inconvenient trait, and one his family excelled at), and that there were a million different ways for them to lie. Oftentimes, the only way to catch a lie was to know the one way they tell the truth.

Those are facts, though. Knowledge on expected reactions are realities that anyone could learn. Not as skillfully as him, of course, but they could still always know the basics.

What Damian meant was that he simply didn’t…understand how they worked as people. Individuals.

He knew that an angry mob was more like a flock of sheep than anything else. Knew that they would follow whatever the majority was willing to do, and more often than not, it would trap itself in an echo chamber of violence, quickly spiraling into a brutal turmoil.

Contrary, he did not know what to expect from an angry Jason Todd. Because on the surface, he’d agree that an angry Todd was most likely to break everything in sight, or murder someone. Which he still sometimes did.

The problem was that, as he had learned, there were different kinds of anger.

There’s a Todd that’s angry at the Bats for stealing the last oreo he was saving and deciding to headlock whoever was responsible. There’s a Todd that’s angry he was woken up at a perfectly reasonable hour to deal with a serious problem. There’s a Todd that’s angry at the whole family and getting into screaming matches before departing with something smashed or stolen. There’s a Todd that’s angry at a villain for assaulting one of said family members and tearing Gotham apart to find that villain in a bloody manhunt.

This was true for everyone. As Damian has learned, there are different ways to feel a certain emotion. And, try as he might, he can’t trust that every time will be the same as the last.

As individuals, he’s learned that Drake will get horrifically testy when being bothered at times that no one else seems to understand, but completely fine during others. He’s learned that some days, Cassandra will add a fair number of words to a conversation, and some days, she’ll barely care enough to sign. He’s learned that Richard loves trapezing from roof to roof, high over the ground, but some days he’ll twitch and fret when someone else tries to follow.

But, Damian is adaptable. So, as he learned that things are not always the same, he’s learned how to recognize and adapt when they’ve changed.

When Drake doesn’t wish to be bothered, the lights of his room are often completely off, not even a single flashlight, just his computer screen. He walks stiffer, stares off into space more often. It’s a change that is usually gradual, but will sometimes happen in the blink of an eye, despite being perfectly fine a moment ago, and Damian’s learned to leave him alone and draw attention elsewhere when it happens.

Communication is far more of an effort on Cassandra’s part than it is for most people. She was hardly ever taught it, so she finds it mostly unnecessary. Some days are more tiring than others, and even moving her hands will be strenuous. These days, she prefers when no words are spoken to her at all. Though, she very much enjoys the company, even if one is sat on the other side of the room.

Richard has a complicated relationship with heights. He loves his tricks more than anything, he would never trade them, but sometimes he’ll see one of the others dangling high above the ground, and, on a truly bad day, will see something that had already happened, had already become an old tragedy. It’s best to stick to lower-level work for those nights and just let Richard take the high road.

These are things he still doesn’t quite understand, not on a personal level, but he knows how to work with them. What Damian doesn’t understand, he twists around so it works in his favor again, until it looks like he knows what he’s doing. At the very least, until he understands how to readjust with it.

A difficult thing he’s had to live with is that, sometimes, he won’t understand. Ever. Sometimes he won’t ever fully grasp what’s right in front of him, and it will be the most frustrating thing in the world, and he’ll lose sleep and simple brainpower trying to comprehend what everyone else seems just to get. Most times, he’s convinced it was all a ploy to make him look like a moron, and he hated it even more, because that meant it worked.

Damian is not used to emotions being different. If he’s annoyed at his hair being ruffled, he stays annoyed, even if it doesn’t make his lip curl like it used to. If he takes satisfaction out of breaking the face of a goon while they were down, then he stays satisfied, even if he’d rather just tie them up and go home. If he hates Drake for being a risk towards his title as Robin, then he will hate him in every word he spits, even if there’s no more bite to his tone.

It’s simple. It’s straightforward, it removes complications, it makes sense. More sense than anyone in the entirety of Gotham. It’s a rule he can stick to.

Perhaps, just maybe, this is why he is surrounded by people who make no sense at any and all times. Maybe he’s subconsciously giving himself a challenge. It wouldn’t matter if he was, he could handle something as pointless as this. If anything, it’s prepared him for any undercover missions he may have in the future. The ability to work with this unknown complication of people was a skill he had vastly under-appreciated until now.

This, he could live with. Grudgingly, but he’d live. He could carry on and pretend he understands everything he needs to, and he’d make it. He was Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, raised as an assassin, as a vigilante, as an Heir, as someone born to be the biggest threat in the room, if not the country. He didn’t need to stress over such matters, because for the most part, he had it handled.

The problem is that simple little word: most.

The problem is that, no matter how hard he tries, how much he works, how many times he looks at those ridiculous videos online that claim they have all the answers to his questions, it never makes sense. He’s begun to worry it might not ever, and it’s still as infuriating as it is every other time.

The Anomaly, as he has deemed it, is many things. It’s a complicated mess of this issue multiplied by an extravagant degree, all shoved right in his face and unable to let him rest at ease for any hour of the day. It shatters every little circle and box he’s painstakingly made to create a world that makes sense, and if he had any shred of a would-be-assassin in him, he would’ve cut his losses and gotten rid of it by now.

The Anomaly is summed up in three words, which really was a pain, because three words felt like it didn’t properly encapsulate how much of an issue it was. What kind of major blockage could be summed up in three words?

But they were the only words he had, so he had to stick with them. Until further notice, they were all he had.

The Anomaly, to put it simply, was this; Jonathan Samuel Kent.

 .

 “You really are like a grandpa with these things, aren’t you?”

“It’s an online tracking device poorly disguised as entertainment.” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I hardly think this is of great importance. Why would I bother myself with such intricacies?”

“You can just say you’re terrible at tech.” Jon snickered, glancing down at Damian’s phone with a raised brow. “Which, yeah, you are.”

“You are just picky.”

“Your display name is Damian Wayne,” Jon said, still looking at the screen, “your handle is ‘real Damian Wayne’, your description is just ‘Damian Wayne’ again, and you don’t even follow your family.” Jon listed off, raising his head again to give Damian a very amused, if unimpressed expression. It was obscenely well-fitted to him.

“Why, in the name of every deity there is, would I want to do that?” Damian scrunched up his face.

“This might be a lost cause.” Jon hummed, flopping on his back down onto his bed and lifting Damian’s phone up, finger scrolling. “I may have to give up on you.”

“You’re needlessly dramatic.” Damaian scoffed, loosely crossing his arms. “You cannot care this much about it.”

“Oh, no, I don’t.” Jon said easily, looking over with a casual smile. Which was almost every smile, because he could just do that, apparently. “But Kon was saying—”

“And you decided to go along with whatever that moron was spitting?” Damian scoffed. “Good grief, did Brainiac hit your head harder than we thought?”

“That was three months ago.” Jon groaned, leaning his head back and returning to scrolling through Damian’s feed. “And Kon wasn’t coercing me, or anything, just mentioning you were, like, an internet dead-space.”

“What a big word for you.” Damian drawled. “Did you look that one up?”

“In my English class.” Jon agreed proudly, because of course he did, he was always genuine about that, tapping and flicking the screen. “For the paper we’re writing on Gatsby, remember?”

“I never would have guessed.” Damian muttered, who had not, in fact, forgotten. “What are you doing?”

“Hm?” Jon blinked at him, pausing in his tapping.

“You’ve been looking too long.” Damian narrowed his eyes. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” Jon said, eyes darting from the phone screen, then back to Damian.

“I know you’re not staring at a black screen. I can see the light.”

Jon waited. Damian held out his hand, silently asking for the return of his phone. Jon eyed his hand, then Damian’s face.

Slowly, Jon moved to hit the home button.

“What are you looking at?”

Damian made a lunge, one that Jon squawked and tried to roll away from, tucking the phone closer to his chest. Kryptonian or not, it was a horrible move, and Damian honestly would’ve thought Jon knew this by now.

Damian rolled right with him, ending up on his other side, where he was facing, and jamming his hand between his arms to grab at his phone, fingers grasping the edge.

“You’ve no right,” Damian growled as he shoved at his chest, Jon protesting and trying to pull back, “to misuse this!”

“I wasn’t misusing!” Jon insisted, either forgetting he was gifted with ridiculously inhuman strength, or knowing it was a lost cause, and released Damian’s phone with a flash in his eyes that he caught too late.

It turned out to be a tactical move. Because Damian had still been pulling when he did so, and the momentum wound up in him rolling straight back and off the side of the bed.

The fall didn’t hurt, not even a little, but landing in the small sliver of space between the wall and Jon’s bed startled Damian into jerking about, which nearly made his head collide with any of the solid objects around him as his back hit the floor.

Jon broke out into laughter before Damian had even fully landed. 

Damian settled in the crevice for a moment, glaring daggers at the ceiling, already ticked off that he could tell, without even looking, that this was the kind of laugh he used when he was awfully smug, because he had a plan, and it turned out right.

Like he said. People were different in every emotion. He’d been trying to catalog them.

“You,” Damian growled after he’d processed his life choices, untangling himself and springing up from the floor, hand gripping the bed sheets as he glowered a hundred daggers, “should be fearing a visit of Kryptonite laced in your breakfast tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jon wheezed as his laughter subsided, one hand partially over his face as he waved the other. “It—spur of the moment! I just had the—c’mon, I had to—”

“You had to do nothing!” Damian hissed, Jon only grinning wider, and it was annoying, that's what it damn was, which is why he looked away, and why he remembered he still had his phone in his other hand.

He frowned and looked over the screen, realizing it was on the camera app. He squinted, confused, and switched over to his photos.

And was greeted by a photo of Jon’s face. It was bright and upturned in a half-smile, right in center-frame, like he was taking a selfie that was meant to be in some magazine, or a poster raving about Metropolis's favorite golden boy, hyping him up to a ridiculous degree.

And most certainly not taken by an iphone that had a slightly cracked screen. Jon wasn’t even a photographer. Realistically, it shouldn’t look that go—

“I saw you saved pictures of us.”

Damian jerked his head up, blinking, realizing only then how close he’d brought his face to the screen, both hands clutching his phone. He was quick to lower it much further down, for some reason he didn’t feel like explaining.

“Excuse me?” Damian repeated, and he meant for it to be accusatory, but the hint of real confusion must have shown, or Jon was smarter than he let on (he always was, stupid thought), because Jon just grinned.

“In one of the folders.” Jon said simply, crossing his legs and putting his hands in his lap. “You have pictures of ussss.” He sang, leaning forward a bit with a shit-eating expression. “I knew you saved those selfies I sent you.”

“And why are you snooping on my phone?” Damian snipped, very hastily shutting it off and reminding himself to change the password again. Even if Jon would somehow figure it out within a few weeks, because he always did.

“Well, I was trying to find something better for a profile picture.” Jon defended, though he had the sense to look sheepish. “And then I saw your recent photos were some really blurry messes, so I tried to see if you had anything better, and I saw you had our pictures and I was like, ‘hey, if he’s saving these pictures, I’ll give him a surprise when he looks again!’”

And here is where those emotional things come up again. Because Jon was rambling, and, as Damian knows, rambling is often associated with fear. People frantically talking to save their hide, or to bide time before their demise. Thomas often rambled due to the latter, Brown the former, albeit that was a tactic she used on purpose.

Jon sometimes rambled when frightened, but while he had been caught, he was not rambling due to that. More often than not, Jon talked quickly when he was excited, either about any matter he enjoyed, or something he had fun explaining.

This was one of those times. Where Jon’s eyes (much too bright, really, they were impossible to ignore, and it was astounding it wasn’t all anybody stared at) flickered to follow the movement of his own hands as he talked, as though he could see his thought process playing out in a physical show. 

His hands blurred somewhat as he spoke, just at the edges, a hint of powers beyond that of a human. He remembered how Jon had to be more aware of his hand movements when they were younger, trying to avoid someone looking a little too closely at his hands and noticing they were much too fast.

Damian honestly thought it was a lost cause, something easier to let slide. No civilian was smart enough to watch the hands, he would know, and it simply wasn’t Jon if he didn’t talk with his body.

Cassandra had a field day whenever he visited, unsurprisingly.

“I hardly think it would’ve been a surprise.” Damian said instead, carefully slipping his phone into his pants pocket. “And your original mission was woefully unsuccessful.”

“But I accomplished something!” Jon pointed out, as if he truly believed that was a worthy alternative. Damian knew very well that he did. “And anyway, the fact you don’t have the clearest pictures known to man is way more interesting than some selfie you took years ago.”

“Richard has started a game, of sorts.” Damian said, knowing very well what he was talking about as he cautiously sat on the edge of the bed again, turned sideways. “He’s called them ‘fail moments,’ or something similarly asinine.” He huffed, giving air quotations, if only because Jon always snickered when he tried. “He likes to compile pictures of the Clan making mistakes or looking ridiculous on patrol to laugh at later. I suspect Barbara was the one who put the idea in his head.”

“How come Oracle’s the only other one you don’t use her last name for?” Jon raised a brow, and Damian almost snorted as his insistence to almost never use the first names of half his family. Said it felt odd, or something.

Jon had asked this question about Barbara before. Granted, it was reasonable that someone would forget such a thing.

Damian, however, wasn’t a moron, and he was hit with a very sudden remembrance of previous instances. 

“I’ve told you this.” Damian frowned, turning more fully. “I’ve told you this twice.”

“I know you have.” Jon said, betrayed by his smile suddenly becoming closed-mouth, teeth hidden. Know how they tell the truth, and you’ll catch the tell of a lie. “I just forgot what the specifics were.”

“Have you, now?” Damian drawled, eyes narrowing as he leaned closer. “I know very well you’re not the smartest of people, Jon, but you are not that forgetful.”

“A guy can’t forget a story or two?” Jon tried again, inching back a little. Now his eyes darted to the side in nervousness. He only glanced up if he was joking, and now he glanced down.

“You’ve asked me to repeat the names of the eastern red bats in the Batcave,” Damian began to list, raising a hand to count off his fingers.

“I just didn’t want to forget—”

“We had marathoned multiple animated films of The Three Musketeers only a few days before they were named, I know you couldn’t have forgotten the similarities.” Damian cut in. “You’ve asked why I pick different perches during night patrols, you’ve asked about the specific ways in which I sharpen any of my blades, you’ve asked which pencils are superior compared to the others, to which I have always said that it depends if its for writing notes or actually drawing, and then it depends if its for outlines or for details—”

He caught himself going off on a tangent, if only because he’d started doing that hand-wavy thing Jon did when he rambled (Richard said it was rubbing off on him, but Damian thought that was more improbable than the sun turning green), and because Jon was getting some sort of…of sappy expression, head tilted slightly to the side as though he could listen for—

“Regardless,” Damian snapped, forcing himself out of his ranting and bringing his hands back down, one on the bed, the other pointing towards the startled hero, “you are not this forgetful, and it’s not only a lie, but a habit. Is there some point you’re trying to prove here?” Damian growled, lip curling slightly.

He meant none of it, because Jon has proved, time and again, that he hasn’t the patience, maliciousness, nor tact, for such matters. To act like he forgets the smallest of things to feel a sense of importance, like the other means so little, that they will only remember what they deem worthy enough, good enough. His Mother had once spoken of an ally who used such a tactic for those ranking lower than them, but those never worked as well as they thought they did. That ally wasn’t a League member, anyway.

Jon never thought he was better than anyone. And, most certainly, if he thought he was, you would know from the start.

Even still, he asks.

“Prove?” Jon blinked, confused. “What would that even—? No, of course i’m not proving anything—”

“Then what’s the point?” Damian demanded. “Do not tell me you need the details, I know very well you don’t.”

“You an expert, now?” Jon mumbled as he looked away, clearly not hoping for an answer. Damian almost wanted to say that, frankly, he still knew far too little to be comfortable, because if he was an expert, he wouldn’t be asking questions. But that was revealing a hand much too early, a more reasonable time being just a little beyond absolutely never.

Jon didn’t say anything more for a moment, head turned to the side and down to the bed. He was shifting a little, back a tad hunched, and Damian wanted to tell him to fix his posture on instinct. 

There were foxes yipping somewhere else in Metropolis, and he tilted his head slightly towards the noise, if only because he knew whenever he and Jon heard such creatures there was a high chance they’d run out and take a look at them. 

Jon was usually the one to hush Damian and let him listen and hear the animals themselves, his super hearing proving it could be a blessing, and he’d always have a wide grin when he knew Damian was going to drag them both out to hunt the critter down.

Jon glanced towards the window of his room at the same time Damian did. He looked a little hopeful, eyes darting as though Damian would let the matter drop.

He didn’t. He kept his glower on Jon, and, frankly, he was starting to get more annoyed than he was in the beginning, because now he was being deprived of nighttime foxes.

Jon gave a shy smile, hunching his shoulders and looking down to fiddling with his sleeve.

“I don’t forget,” Jon admitted, twisting the fabric around, “I just like hearin’ you talk about things you like, is all.” He mumbled, ducking his head a little. “‘It’s kinda nice hearing your reasons that Nightwing and Oracle get their first names.” A pause. “And the other things.”

And here, you see, is truly where Jon is classified as The Anomaly. Everything before now was part of the reason, little snippets that added onto the biggest force. But this, right here, was one of, if not the, main reason that Jonathon Samuel Kent had this title.

Damian can deal with someone who likes a food one day, but not so much the next. He can deal with Brown, who can flip from sarcastic to genuinely annoyed on what could almost seem like a dime if you weren’t paying attention. He can deal with Thomas, who thinks everyone is crazy when he himself has done equally senseless things of his own free will. 

He knows that sometimes, a food doesn’t have the same texture one liked, or they simply grow tired of it. He knows that Brown is bothered by a lot more than she says, and she gets right pissed when a joke is taken too far at another's expense. He knows that Thomas came from a semi-normal background, and that when among equally insane people, it’s understandable that he’d think he was the only one with common sense.

He knows how it fits. Knows that some people don’t like routines, that sarcasm can be used to hide genuine dislike, that those who have not been exposed to something will not always react positively.

He doesn’t know how Jon fits. He doesn’t know what is gained. He knows that friendship is important because it brings allies. Knows it's important because, to many, it's some sort of emotional balance, not that he’d ever use it as such a thing. Knows that people are stupidly attached to their friends, and that was why it was imperative to differentiate which enemies were allies with one other.

He doesn’t know what's gained from…talking. Listening to him talk. In what world, or universe, is there something to be achieved from listening to him talk? What is possibly so entertaining about him speaking of the same thing over and over again? So emotionally freeing?

He decided to risk it.

“And you’re not bored out of your skull?” Damian huffed, pulling his head back a bit, beginning to look away before he steeled his gaze back. Jon would notice.

“Sometimes, yeah,” Jon shrugged, looking up with a tilted smile, “but you like talking about it, so I don’t mind. You don’t make it all that boring.” He nearly giggled, as though he said something funny, waving a dismissive hand like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And that answered…absolutely nothing.

Damian put up with boring conversations because they were important to the mission at hand, or he couldn’t afford to start a scene just yet. He put up with boring nights of patrol because there was always a chance something may happen, and he couldn’t risk it. He put up with boring video-taped lectures he was forced to watch for home-schooling, despite knowing most of the material already, because he knew his Father cared enough to want to make sure he didn’t forget.

Jon put up with Damian talking endlessly about things he found interesting…because he liked hearing him talk? Had he not just said it was boring? How could he like hearing him talk if he could get bored about hearing the same thing over and over? Did he think it was necessary to put up with it?

He almost asked. But Jon was giving him one of those amused, touched looks again, the kind he got when he thought it was kind of funny he didn’t understand something that was seen as commonplace, as so completely normal to the other.

If Jon thought it was normal, the chances that most everyone else did, too, were exceptionally high.

And Damian was nothing if not an expert at quieting down and deciding he understood enough. Something his infernal family hardly got sometimes.

So he shut his mouth slowly, nodded tightly, and promptly looked behind Jon’s head.

The game was lost from the start. He couldn’t look at Jon’s face and stay entirely focused on claiming he knew what he was doing. He took it back, he got why people could stop staring at Jon’s eyes. It was because if they didn’t, they’d never win anything.

He could see Jon’s face shift out of the corner of his eye. Changing to something he wasn’t going to look back and check. Instead, he continued turning his head as though he were doing a sweep of Jon’s room, finally landing on the clock by his bedside table.

“Your father is going to have his dreaded ‘disappointed talk’ tomorrow if we yap on much longer.” He said instead, noting it was five minutes past one in the morning.

Jon whirled his head around towards the clock. Damian barely resisted a snort when he saw how wide his eyes got in realization of the time.

“Oh shoot!” Jon hissed, scrambling upright and nearly tripping over his own feet as he got off the bed. “Oh we gotta hit the lights—you didn’t bring PJs, did you?” He looked over his shoulder.

“I did not bring sleepwear, no.” Damian drawled, the edge of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “You were the one who summoned me. You did not specify how long.”

“Bull.” Jon puffed, rolling his eyes and hastily sliding open drawers across the room. “You’re prepared for the world turning into a black hole. You were just lazy.”

“I’m insulted that you would insinuate I could be such a thing.” Damian said simply, almost genuine. He hadn’t been lazy, it was a choice. Perhaps he was in a rush and didn’t feel the need. 

“Wait here.” Jon said, uncaring of Damian’s retort, bundling the pajamas in his arms and pulling open his bedroom door, darting out so fast Damian caught him hovering slightly over the ground.

“I wasn’t leaving.” Damian said anyway, because there was a chance Jon was still listening. He could imagine Jon responding to the blank wall, expecting Damian to talk back, and he nearly snorted.

And then the near-smile fell.

Jon wasn’t just an oddity because Damian couldn’t understand him. No, that was an issue, clearly, and he’s been told one should have some understanding of their best friend, but that wasn’t all. 

Damian wasn’t sure where Jon fit in all the overlapping circles he’d created, and, likewise, wasn’t sure where his own overlaps were supposed to fit. He knew how to respond to Wilkes hitting the wall and collapsing in sobs, he knew how to respond to Maya’s horrible jokes and rough teasing. He didn’t quite understand them, but he knew how to react.

How the hell does someone react to a person like Jon?

That had been a question since he first realized Jon wasn’t as much like Superman as he thought. Oh, sure, they were still the poster boys, they were all good and pure and the special little scouts, they were still everything a textbook would call a true superhero.

But Clark wasn’t Jon. And, likewise, Jon wasn’t some blend of his mother and father. Nor of his grandparents. Not even of his half-brother (of which Damian is grateful). 

He was just…Jon. Which gave Damian insight to some things, but not everything. Because Damian always felt like he had the answer in his grasp, the circle he could place all his reactions and comments in whenever Jon said or did something strange…and it’d slip away.

No, he’d let it fall. That’s what he would do. He’d have it, and he’d look back at Jon, and he’d decide it wasn’t good enough. That whatever Jon was worthy of could never be this. These plans he’s made for people that were so different from him.

It was a problem for others, sometimes. How he knew the basics to respond to Richard’s teasing to minimize it happening again, to change the tides, but more often than not, he’d give right into the reaction Richard was hoping for without even thinking about it.

Slipped through his grasp. Given up before he could go through with it.

It was annoying when it was with his Clan. It was borderline appalling when it was with Jon.

He was sure he could pin down every reason that was. Why this change was different with his family than it was with Jon. He’d probably lie to his mind and say it was just that; his family wasn’t Jon. But he knew that wasn’t it, that couldn’t be it. No, it was something far different—to decide that how he, Damian Wayne, interacted with Jon had to be perfect. Up to standards.

He just desperately wished he could figure out what those standards were. Cassandra was right (never a surprise); the rules made up in minds truly are the most agonizing.

A body stumbled through the door.

Damian lifted his head, a bit too quick to be natural, to Jon stumbling in and muttering to himself, hastily shutting the door as though his father couldn’t hear their very heartbeats. Couldn’t look right up to where they were and lazar them in a blink.

“And honestly,” Jon was saying, apparently having some sort of conversation with himself as he opened a different drawer, ignoring the one he’d left open earlier and rummaging through it, “I don’t even have school tomorrow because of the holiday, so it still sucks.” He muttered, looking over to Damian like he’d agree. “You look like a statue. Did you even breathe?”

“It’s even more of a reason I fail to see why your father cares so much about this ‘curfew’ of yours.” Damian agreed, as silently asked of him, ignoring the other question. He moved to sit in a more dignified posture—one leg out, another bent, hands braced back.

“I mean, so long as I sleep a healthy amount, he doesn’t mind that much.” Jon said, going back to the drawer. “My mom is the one who keeps the curfew, which is dumb, she stays up later than anyone. I meant for you, really.” He said, scooping up a handful of clothes in his hands and standing. “Aren’t you busy tomorrow?”

He was. He had to get up at a very early hour for a stake-out at the docks regarding an illegal drug shipment they’d been planning around for weeks, and this may be their last chance until they could track them down again. He should’ve been spending his last few hours sleeping, or otherwise preparing.

But, then, Jon had texted him, at exactly three-thirty-two, that he forgot tomorrow was a holiday in celebration of something some villain defeat did ages ago. Which meant he was entirely free, save for the homework he was ignoring.

Damian had shown himself to Jon’s window at exactly four-fifteen upon request (well, partial. Jon had asked if he was doing anything, or if he wanted to call. Damian had texted back a yes, then told him to wait. Jon really shouldn’t have been that surprised to see him perched outside). 

It was tactical, really. Jon was also free this Sunday, but Saturday was booked for when he was accompanying his father to a quick meeting with the Green Lantern’s that the super thought he should witness as some sort of preparation. They couldn’t stay up late on a Sunday night.

And, perhaps, Damian simply wanted to come by. Even if he had to break a few technical-rules to accomplish it.

“Not very.” Damian waved it off, which was kind of true, it was the only thing he had to do.

“Ah, yeah, you’d never dare complicate the plans.” Jon said in a dramatic voice, enunciating the last word by haphazardly tossing the clothes towards Damian’s face.

To which Damian leaned down and ducked, expression unchanging, and the clothes promptly hit the wall behind him and slid down to the floor. He assumed his unimpressed aura was acknowledged by Jon slumping and blowing a raspberry.

“Sleep in your clothes, then.” Jon muttered, entirely abandoning his drawers and instead moving to mess with his clock.

“That’s sleepwear?” Damian raised an arm and twisted around to look back at the clothes on the floor. “Isn’t that yours?”

“I have so many old pairs from my grandparents, dude.” Jon said, casual as ever as he began tapping at the buttons on his clock. “And my aunt.” He added, almost an afterthought. 

“There will be consequences if it’s as ridiculously worn out as some of the attire I’ve seen you own.” Damian warned, turning fully and snatching up the clothes from the ground, holding them up.

“It was tempting.” Jon admitted, frowning as he somehow changed the clock to military time. “But I wasn’t hoping to get my fingers bitten off. And none of my good stuff is small enough for you.” He added with a particularly smug look Damian’s way.

“Consider yourself still in the dangerous zone.” Damian growled, glower seething as he tried to smooth out the clothes on the bed.

By all accounts, it really was quite plain. Black sweatpants with a hole in the knee that looked like it was chewed by Krypto and a faded blue shirt that was frayed in only a few seams.

The shirt actually appeared as though it may be a little big on him. But he refused to acknowledge it, instead tossing them over his arm as he slid off the bed.

Jon hit some random button on his clock, causing the radio to turn on. Which, of course, meant music blared all throughout the room without warning. 

Jon jumped, resulting in him remaining hovering off the ground, and Damian sprung out of instinct with curled lips and hands reaching for blades that weren’t there.

“Shut up, shut up!” Jon yelped, frantically hitting the buttons on the clock to turn it off.

Damian’s eyes darted to the door. He wondered how long Clark was willing to pretend he couldn’t tell they were both still awake. Or if Lois was willing to let it slide.

The infernal radio finally stopped, Jon sighing in relief, slumping in the air. Damian kept up his glare.

“What, in God’s name, are you trying to do here, exactly?” He demanded in a loud whisper, slowly uncurling from his position. “Bring the whole house down?”

“I was just trying to turn off my alarm!” Jon whisper-yelled back, throwing out his arms. “I don’t want to wake up at seven in the morning when I don’t have to!” 

“Learn to use basic technology, then!” Damian muttered, sliding towards the door, gripping the handle to pull it open.

“‘Learn to use basic technology’— you don’t even own basic technology!” Jon shot back somewhere behind him. “It’s all dialed up to eleven!”

“I’ve never been so incompetent as to need it.” Damian sniffed, slipping out.

He could hear Jon complaining again, so he just darted in through the open bathroom door and shut it before he had to respond. Again, he was sure he could, and Jon would hear anyway.

He just rolled his eyes, tossing the clothes onto the sink before changing. Honestly, he wouldn’t have cared to come all the way to a different room, one tends to lack modesty when changing on-the-job or on quick notice was the norm, but Jon had moved first, so he followed.

Which was a sentence he was certain his Mother would find downright embarrassing. It was bad enough he outwardly cringed, seeing it in the mirror as he glared at the sleepshirt in his hands. Good grief, Damian Wayne didn’t follow. Least of all a wannabe super.

He grumbled words not even Jon would make out, tugging the shirt on over his head. The pants were baggier than they were probably supposed to be, but it still appeared semi-natural.

He’d barely thought about the strings coming undone along the hem, the left sleeve, and the collar (all things he was prepared to complain about) before he glanced in the mirror to take in how plain he must look.

He stopped. Leaned closer to the mirror.

And slammed the bathroom door open. Before catching the door handle to stop it from hitting the wall, because if he made any noise, least of all slamming a door, he would kick himself out before anyone in the house could on principle alone.

Jon was definitely listening, though, because as soon as Damian stormed into the room, he was already hovering higher over his bed, sitting upright like he was expecting a scene.

Instead, Damian bared his teeth, scowling up at him with hatred that was only possible from a Wayne.

Jon stared back. Blinked.

And nearly made Damian’s entire effort to keep the door silent worthless, if him doubling over midair and nearly bursting into uproarious laughter was any indication.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Kent?” Damian snapped, remembering only at the last second to shut the bedroom door so they wouldn’t be entirely in the open.

“I didn’t—” Jon tried to gasp out, covering his mouth with one hand, arm wrapped around his chest. “Dude, I swear—oh my God, I totally forgot—”

“Jon!” Damian nearly barked, keeping it down, storming closer. “I am not wearing this, are you downright insane—”

“But—oh, come-come on!” Jon wheezed out, lazily flipping in the air so his head was level with his body, grin bright and blinding. “It-it looks so cute on you, Dami!”

Damian seethed. That was the word for it. He knew no other, he seethed.

The shirt was just a tad too big on him, as expected. It hung too much, and he wasn’t as wide as Jon was, not even close, which only made it worse. It was a little low on his chest, and no matter how many times he would mess with it, it would likely always look crooked.

And, right there on the chest, because Damian had apparently been looking at the back earlier, was a horribly stitched, shoddily made, red S symbol with halfway-completed yellow outer-stitches along the edge of it.

His only condolence was that no one but Jon was here to witness this. The son of Batman, here, in a shirt too big for him, with Superman’s insignia shittily stitched on the chest.

He wanted to kill everything that led to him being here.

“I’m getting another shirt.” Damian gritted out, turning on his heel.

“Aw, but it looks so good on you!” Jon protested, still giggling like a madman, suddenly appearing at Damian’s side and floating around in front of him on his side, blocking his path. “I’m not gonna wear that shirt anymore, you could totally have it.” He grinned, like a prick. He noticed Jon’s eyes doing a quick once-over again, lighting up in an almost fonder expression.

“I have an astonishing supply of kryptonite.” Damian warned, leaning closer, glare never letting up, ready to snarl. “Enough to render every Kryptonian on this infuriating planet dead before the days end.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you’ll make us all sorry, I know.” Jon easily waved it off, lax because it was Jonathan Samuel Kent, and he never learned to not bite hands holding pitchforks. He instead pushed a hand to Damian’s chest as he moved closer, making Damian lean away. “How about we go to sleep before my dad gets mad at us both and calls Batman, yeah? We’ll call the shirt a bonus.” He teased.

It was truly ridiculous. If they really wanted to keep Clark from noticing, they were out of luck. It reminded Damian of its pointlessness now, glancing at Jon's fingers loosely lingering over the insignia he was sure he’d tried to stitch with his own hands.

Damian had been trained in slowing down his heartbeat, enough that one would have to press quite intently on a pulse point to find it, but you couldn’t hide one from Superman.  

He’d mentioned this to Jon, once. In turn, Jon brought up the idea of synced heartbeats; a lie that could trick anyone who wasn’t listening too intently. Damian had decided it wasn’t an outrageous idea and took Jon’s wrist to feel for his pulse. Jon had struggled throughout it all, so Damian had given up and instead felt for his neck.

He remembered them crouched there, Damian staring off behind Jon’s head and focusing on the thrumming under his fingers, Jon unnaturally quiet and staring off, even further away from Damian’s face. Above all, he remembered Jon’s heartbeat being ridiculously fast.

“Calm down, already, would you?”

“I am!”

“Clearly, you’re not, I can feel—”

“Kryptonian’s just have weirdly fast hearts, alright? It’s an alien thing.”

Damian was fairly certain that had been a lie, and a rather blatant one. Kryptonian’s had, on average, faster heartbeats, but even a resting speed would’ve been easy for Damian to focus his efforts on. Jon’s was far too irregular, spiking and leveling every few seconds.

But Damian had called it a lost cause and went on with their day. He knew what fast heartbeats meant. Brought on by adrenaline, of which was often kicked in during times of excitement or fear. There was nothing particularly exciting about the event, but—

His best friend was not scared of him. Not constantly, at least. He could believe it was brief, even if that ‘comfort’ sent him to the training equipment in the Batcave to burn off steam. Perhaps it was a sign of how pathetic he’d gotten to wonder if that confidence Jon held was always truthful, if he’d misjudged what the sign of honesty looked like on him.

“Get out of my face.” Damian growled, to which Jon only rolled his eyes.

He stuck out his tongue, leaned closer to Damian’s face, of which Damian was about to bite his nose for, feeling something that had to have been indignation rising at his face being so close, before Jon gave up completely and removed himself from Damian’s personal space.

“Never a happy moment with you.” Jon tsked, floating over to his bed. “Just boss, boss, boss.”

Damian felt the lack of weight on his chest, raising a hand to where Jon’s had once been. Kryptonian’s ran warm, he knew, but he didn’t think they ran warm enough for him to take such notice of the absence. 

“It hasn’t negatively impacted us yet.” Damian muttered, tugging at the shirt and trying to readjust it. From what, he wasn’t sure, but it felt better than, well, not messing with it. 

“I beg to differ.” Jon said, dropping right out of the air, back-first on his bed.

“Then beg.” Damian sniffed.

“Make me.” Jon challenged the ceiling.

Damian thought about it. Squinted his eyes in thought and tilted his head, eyeing Jon splayed out across his bed.

He took a running start.

Jon’s head snapped up when he heard it. He yelped and scrambled back, hands flailing and shouting incoherently.

Damian pounced. Jon rolled to the side and was spared, if only because Damian knew if he actually landed on Jon they would make enough noise for Clark to tell Damian to go home, and half his body instead clipped Jon’s side.

“No, no, stay back you vampire—!”

Damian landed in a crouch on the bed, grin sharp-toothed and predatory. Jon scurried back up to the head of his bed, glaring a warning.

“You told me to make you.” Damian said casually, inching a hand forward in a prowl. “Beg.”

“You’re gonna have to kill me first, and my dad will kill you before that happens.” Jon puffed, defensively raising a leg, ready to kick. “Don’t. Do not. Dami, don’t.”

Damian did. 

He made a fake-out lunge to the left, Jon’s leg kicking out prematurely. He didn’t exactly have the best grip on a bed, but he managed to only get a graze by his shoulder before he sprung and landed his body on Jon’s.

Jon made a rather undignified noise, flailing as his bed creaked and he shoved his hands at any part of Damian he could reach. It was a mild annoyance for a few moments as Damian pushed his chest flat down on the bed and hovered over him, knees on his hips, but it got aggravating when those hands started hitting him in the face.

One of Jon’s fingers got too close to his mouth, and, really, it was embarrassingly easy for Damian to bite down on it.

“You dick—!”

Damian smothered Jon’s mouth with his hand. Jon tried to punch him in the face, instead getting his collarbone. It was only barely measured enough to not send him across the room.

“Quiet,” Damian hissed, leaning down to Jon’s face and warily eyeing towards the door, hand remaining over Jon’s mouth, “your mother has threatened to make us sleep in the shed if we continued our sparring in the house.”

“Oo ‘it me!” Jon muffled around his hand.

“Should’ve remembered to stay invulnerable.” Damian said impassively.

Jon’s hair was a tangled mess (It always was, and Jon insisted it was ‘windswept’ but Damian had met the speedsters, and Jon’s wasn’t windswept. He just never brushed it) around his head, halfway on the pillow. He’d been trying to grow it out recently, and it was currently in the phase where it looked awful. Black bangs that nearly obstructed his eyes no matter how many times he pushed it back or tried to hook it behind his ears, far too close to a mullet for Damian’s liking, and it might look tolerable if he took care of it.

It wasn’t exactly a halo around his head. His hair wasn’t long enough, and they’d struggled so much that it was mostly stuck to one side, making him look more like he was some deranged boy who’d never known basic civilization.

It wasn’t a good looking image in the slightest. And his thoroughly annoyed expression, smothered by Damian’s hand, shadowed by a head over his own, did nothing to improve it.

Still. Damian thought that if Jon needed to be summarized in one image (well, first of all, that wouldn’t be possible, Jon couldn’t be described in one image. Damian had no care for the ones that could be) this would be pretty close. 

It wasn’t all that bad of a view, really.

Until it was, predictably, ruined by Jon himself. In the form of something warm, slimy, and very wet dragging across Damian’s palm.

“Jon!” He barked, springing back and winding up sitting on Jon’s legs as he snatched his hand back, staring aghast at his slick palm and Jon, the bastard, smugly staring him down, tongue hanging partially out of his mouth.

“You said we gotta be quiet.” Jon said snootily, wiggling his shoulders a bit as he sat up.

“You cretin!” Damian accused, an actual growl coming to his throat as he proceeded to launch forward again and smother his licked palm into Jon’s face.

“Eugh, gross! Take your punishment already!” Jon protested, jerking back down and shoving at Damian’s chest, finally getting him off. 

“You were the one who started this whole thing!” Damian snapped back, pushing himself up onto his elbows in the same moment Jon dropped on top of him, wrestling with his arms.

Damian gave up trying to subdue the damages. He instead resorted to snapping at Jon’s arms when they got too close and, when he couldn’t get close enough, slammed his head against Jon’s.

Well, he tried to. What wound up happening was Jon noticed what he was doing, and instead of actually using his full super strength for once, he instead reared up at the last minute, and Damian’s head instead thunked against his chest.

“Stay down.” Jon grumbled, attempting to go ragdoll and nearly fold Damian in half.

“You licked me!” Damian hissed, kicking out his legs against the bed and shoving Jon upwards a tad.

“And you bit me!” Jon snipped back.

Then, he froze.

Damian almost decided to give it up completely and heave Jon off the bed and onto the carpeted floor. But, alas, he was not that stupid, so when Jon sensed something was wrong, he went still right with him.

Thump, thump.

It wasn’t loud. But it was audible enough. Footsteps on the stairs, heavy with the weight of something bigger than them. Just a tad forceful enough to clue into notable displeasure. Which was something everyone seemed to do, a horribly stupid idea, really, because the League was smart enough to know you should be extra quiet when you were annoyed. Gave your enemy less time to run.

But now, Damian was grateful for it.

His eyes shot up and met fearful ones staring back. Damian was not afraid, but, well, he’d rather not incur the wrath of a thoroughly annoyed Superman who, unlike Jon, did have to wake up at a reasonable time tomorrow.

There was a brief moment of stillness. Information passed between Damian and Jon’s eyes, which was best summed up as: evasive maneuvers.

To Damian, at least. To Jon, it was probably something like we’re so dead or equally useless to aid their situation.

Jon threw himself off of Damian, who shot off as soon as he was free.

Jon nearly fell right off in his haste to get to the bedside lamp, something he would be mocked for at another time. Damian snagged the covers in the same moment, yanking them back so they weren’t trapped under anyones legs.

“Down, down, down!” Jon whispered as soon as the lights were out, plunging them into darkness.

Damian attempted to start wiggling himself under the blankets only a moment before Jon nearly kicked him in the head. Damian growled something unintelligible at that, limbs from both of them going every which way in their mad dash.

In the end, Damian gave Jon one last shove before burying himself underneath the covers on the right side of the bed, twisting around so only his head was visible and he was facing closer to the window and door, eyes prematurely shut. He could hear the footsteps getting closer.

Jon struggled a little more, yanking on the blankets more as he settled somewhere to Damian’s back, neither touching the other. Damian had the thought of kicking Jon with his leg when he realized Clark may be hearing their racing hearts only a millisecond before the doorknob turned.

Damian sunk himself down further, somewhat burying his face in the blanket and forcibly relaxing his muscles, as much of an oxymoron that was. He felt Jon turn stiff from where his foot was halfway tangled with his leg. 

Through his closed eyelids, Damian saw light fade into the room as the door opened. He focused everything he had into his heartbeat, which was very difficult when he couldn’t take deep breaths or risk blowing his cover.

“Boys?”

It sounded annoyed, tired, and just a tad resigned. Which was a very common combination with Damian’s own father, but Batman had a distinctly more Silent Judgment approach than Superman did.

Damian, wisely, didn’t move an inch. Jon, however, gave a small shift, and then a groan.

Damian was about to rear his leg back and kick Jon right in the pelvis anyway for being a moron— until he heard shifting, and, he could only assume, Jon raising his head.

“Yeah?” Jon mumbled, and he truly wasn’t that good of an actor, but he had to hand it to him, he did sound like he was putting in an effort to have that sleepy, half-aware drawl of someone barely awake. “S’there a call?”

“There’s no call.” Clark assured, though his tone didn’t change. “Jon, what are you two doing?”

“Sleepin’?” Jon mumbled, more shuffling, and Damian felt a slight bounce in the mattress as Jon flopped back down. “It’s, like, one in the morning, Dad.”

“I know.” Clark sighed, the tiredness winning out. “It’s almost two, actually.”

“Already?” Jon muttered, shifting again.

“Jon, just because you don’t have school tomorrow—”

“You’re gonna wake up Dami, Dad.” Jon groaned, apparently waving an arm around, because his hand lightly lay on Damian’s shoulder for a moment and nearly made him jump. “I wanna sleep.”

Clark let out a long, suffering sigh. The hero himself apparently decided that this was a battle not worth trying to win.

“Goodnight, Jon.” Clark relented. “Damian.”

“G’night,” Jon hummed, settling back down, hand slipping off Damian’s shoulder.

With that, Clark muttered something only Jon could hear under his breath, and the door shut with a click.

Damian waited a moment. Two, three, another five…

“Your acting skills need work.” He said, eyes opening to stare at the dark wall across the room.

“Hey,” Jon huffed, rolling over until he gave a soft push to Damian’s back, “my dad didn’t yell at either of us, and we’re not in any trouble. My acting skills are the best.”

“Your father is smart enough to know it’s pointless to argue with you when you’ve dug in your heels.” Damian muttered, hunching a little. “Clearly, he’s smarter than I’ve given him credit.”

“Hardy har, pot meets kettle.” Jon snarked, giving another shove before Damian heard him roll again. “Now shh, or Dad’s gonna come back.”

Damian huffed, rolling his eyes and shifting to a slightly more comfortable position. He was still too wound up to consider sleeping, so he instead crossed his arms over the pillow and lay his head in them, turning it slightly to spare a look in Jon’s direction.

His back faced him, hair even more tangled. Damian let his eyes go half-lidded, watching Jon settle in to rest. He found it odd that Jon could complain about nocturnal patrols every time he had one, but when it came to staying up all night on a weekend, he was suddenly full of energy.

Drake was similar, but he always said he preferred staying up over at-home work than patrol-work. Something about work at home being more fun (and safer) than running around outside.

Maybe that was the reason. It was just more fun to be at home than to galavant across rooftops with a snippy Robin. An understandable thing, really—

“I can hear you thinking too hard.” Jon gruffed, Damian stiffening up in surprise. “Go to sleep, Dami. Maya says you shouldn’t trust your brain after nine.”

“Maya fought you because you wouldn’t sit still for nail polish.” Damian snorted.

“She wanted me to be stone!” Jon protested, rolling over so fast it gave no time for Damian to change to his position, instead staying very, very still as Jon glared. “I would’ve happily sat for that nail polish, but noooo, Rao forbid I tap my foot.”

“Then be better at staying still.” Damian rolled his eyes, pushing his face into his arms, covered up to his nose, voice muffled and eyes half-lidded. “I think perfectly fine after nine.”

Oddly, Jon didn’t reply to that. Instead, he stopped. 

Damian raised a brow, tilting his head a bit. He watched Jon’s eyes flick over him, expression oddly…open. Gawking? Maya probably would’ve called it cute, but Damian had no such words in his vocabulary.

He almost lifted a hand to his own eyes. He knew they had a slight illumination to them in the dark, some side-effect from living a decade around the Lazarus Pit. Nothing more than that, as far as he was aware (he was still too young to determine if his slightly above-average healing speed was unnatural or not), and entirely forgettable when next to Todd’s. A faint glow when squinting just right was one thing, two beacons shining out of someone's face in the black was a whole other.

Even still. He knew many found it…unnerving.

Except he stopped himself, for obvious reasons, but also because Jon had seen his eyes like this before. Numerous times. He commented on it every other night patrol they shared, teasing and calling him a cat.

“What?” He hissed instead, shoulders bunching.

Jon blinked, acting startled. Damian almost snarked “did you fall asleep with your eyes open?” before Jon abruptly cleared his throat, needlessly loud, and straightened.

“Just, uh, spaced out,” Jon mumbled, words quick and gaze darting from what Damian could see in the dark, “nothing, er—yeah. Night.”

And immediately rolled over, facing the opposite wall.

Damian stared. Blinked, slowly. Waited another second, in case Jon was pulling some joke.

“...right,” He eventually said, gingerly rolling over himself, back facing Jon’s, “goodnight.”

He was almost inclined to frown and wonder whatever the hell had gotten into Jon. But apparently Jon could ‘hear him thinking’, so that was a no. Just in case. He’d have to look into it.

He instead stared at the opposite wall, focused on the dark shadows, and on the moon gently shining through the window. If he listened just close enough, he could hear racoons chittering somewhere, echoing in the night. Which reminded him he’d entirely forgotten about the foxes that had been out there, and that was plain annoying, now he’d be thinking about whatever else he may have forgotten—

Damian glanced at the door. To the light no longer shining through the bottom of it, because every sensible person finally went to sleep.

He left his clothes in the bathroom.

He resisted a sigh, instead pushing the covers higher over his head. There’d be too much talking if he got up to grab them. Clark might notice. And, well, it was annoying, but he could just do it later. He could still feel Jon only inches away from his back.

That was another thing he didn’t understand about Jon, moreso in how it reflected on himself. Just how long it’d taken him to finally trust and allow his family to hover at his back, to shove and stand behind it without him whirling around in a hiss, defensive of a vulnerable position, and how it compared to the speed in which he allowed it from Jon.

It took two years before he didn’t even stiffen up when Richard was behind him. It took ten months before Jon was giving soft punches from behind in greeting, and Damian was giving a small flinch (even with his family, he’d never trained himself out of it) before punching him back. 

He shut that analysis down before it could kick off. Thinking too hard.

He listened, for only a moment. Jon’s breathing was slowed, resting. Not asleep, but getting there. A hesitation before the end. He heard him huff and shift a bit, waking, coming back from that edge.

Damian almost asked why he woke himself up like that, a deliberate stretch instead of slipping unconscious.

He just stared at the floor, silently exhaled, and buried his face in the blankets, eyes shutting.

He had to get up early tomorrow.

 .

 As expected, he didn’t so much as “wake up” as open his eyes a moment later, wondering why his brain was fogged and limbs heavy.

His first thought was that he wasn’t in the Batcave, or a medical ward, or the manor. That assessment had him tensing his arms and preparing for a kidnapped hostage situation before he took in the poster of some shooter video game on the wall.

He relaxed again. Jon’s room. He knows this place.

Sunrise was streaming through the window. He checked the clock: five thirty-two. He had exactly one hour and thirteen minutes before the stakeout officially kicked off, one hour and eight minutes to get into position with all of his gear on and weapons ready (because his family got anxious afterwards, or something), and roughly twenty-eight minutes until someone started to wonder where the hell he was. 

He was still at Jon’s.

Damian resisted a sigh, sitting up. 

Jon’s breathing was deep and steady behind him.

He was silent in his movements. Opening the door, grabbing his clothes from the bathroom, checking that his phone was alright, decided it would be more disgusting to change back into his old clothes and he’d just have to take the more secretive ways back home to avoid being seen in his horrendous fit, and noted that from the faint sounds downstairs, Lois was awake.

Unsurprising. She was almost always up the earliest. He was only grateful she didn’t have super hearing.

It took approximately seven minutes for him to gather everything necessary, which was poor form, he’d normally be able to do it less than half the time, but he didn’t wish to risk Lois hearing, or Jon waking up. He always complained when he was dragged out of bed before, or during, sunrise. It’s why he only ever really saw a sunset with Damian whenever they were on a later patrol.

Clothes in arms, he cast a quick glance back to Jon. Still sleeping soundly, and apparently turned over in the middle of the night, as his face was now visible, at ease. He’d curled himself into a ball, and Damian had once criticized him moving so much in his sleep, and how these positions would give him a horrible back when he was older.

And Jon would always insist half-Kryptonian’s didn’t get back problems, they were too powerful for that, and Damian would always mention the half dozen times Clark had complained or stretched his back during work, or even just in the house.

Jon, predictably, scoffed, and said that was just a thing dad’s were known for. That, Damian couldn’t protest.

Jon was still, now. Only a very faint rise and fall as he breathed, slowed and dulled. Quieter. Barely noticeable.

Damian wasn't quite sure when he was on one side of the room and when he was by the edge of the bed. But it happened, and he was setting the clothes on the bed, reaching forward with a hand to Jon.

Then, slowly, if only because he had once been thought about it, and stillness just wasn’t common for Jon, he brushed a hand over his cheek. By his hair, curls falling, knuckles coming to his neck.

He pressed the pads of his fingers by his throat, feeling the pulse point.

Expectedly, it was faster than a normal heart rate for an average, sleeping human. A couple beats speedier, a constant rhythm. A regular, waking beat would be a few ticks faster than this, just a tad quicker than someone normal.

Still, it was not as fast as the first time he’d felt his pulse. Not even close. It, too, had been another lie.

Damian lingered longer than was strictly necessary. But more data was never a bad thing, so he allowed himself a slow retreat, eyes watching Jon’s face for any sign of waking up as he let his hand fall, brushing more bangs away with a flick.

He was gone out the window before Jon could even risk waking up.

#dcu #dc comics #dc #super sons #damian wayne #jonathan kent #clark kent #damijon #fic #ao3 #writing #fanfic #miscommunication #feelings #fluff #dorks #sharing a bed #misunderstandings #kryptonian logic #introspection #thoughts

[darkpoisonouslove]

First Episodes of Winx Ranking

I've ranked the Winx finales, I've ranked the Winx seasons and I've ranked the Winx canon ships. This has been long overdue. So without further ado:

8. Season 7

The crux of the episode is Winx being defeated by a bird. Not only do they have the Dragon Fire transformation now (which should be the strongest one by default), but they've also defeated a ton of actually threatening villains by that point. And they still... lose to a bird.

If that wasn't bad enough, Stella is made a complete clown once again, who is selfish, inconsiderate and the burnt of the - at this point dead and turned to ash - gag of her designing terrible outfits before making beautiful ones.

Now I am not the biggest fan of Roxy but I have to say... It is idiotic to leave her behind to watch Kiko when the victim of an attack is a fairy animal and the perpetrator is another animal. Honestly, Roxy using her powers on Kalshara is the biggest missed opportunity regarding her character in this season, which says a lot considering that she was robbed of Butterflix despite doing everything that Winx did to get it.

The only saving grace of this episode is the kangourmet sequence as the sugar-crazed kangourmet is more threatening than the actual villain of the season, and the following moments with Faragonda taking care of it and being amused by Bloom and Stella's silent argument are fluffy and funny.

7. Season 6

This episode singlehandedly destroyed Daphne's character. For that I should banish it not just to the end of the list, but to oblivion. However, I simply cannot put losing to a BIRD (can you tell I'll never recover from this?) over the fight against the Beast of the Depths. At least its design is better and there is some - mind you, just some - sense of suspense there.

It is, of course, tragically undermined by the Winx' search for the Inspiration of Sirenix and the musical number at the end. The idea that Winx would be the Inspiration for a transformation that has existed for centuries is, frankly, laughable. And I would be laughing if the whole point of the episode did not rest upon it.

Daphne, as the Nymph of Sirenix, certainly would not have needed Winx to inspire her. Like I said, her character is completely butchered by the bad writing and the childish prism through which she's viewed. Even her finally taking action by trying to sacrifice herself to save everyone else from the Beast is a complete misinterpretation of her character from the first seasons. Daphne did sacrifice herself for Bloom's safety, and the Dragon Fire's, but she did that because it was the only option left. She went down fighting! Despite the trauma she's been through and her recovery, the only plausible way to write her amidst a new crisis would have been to let her fight tooth and nail.

Still, I can sympathize with her despite the writers' best efforts. Partly because my love for her is indestructible and partly because I can see a lot of potential for crafting a truly awesome arc of recovery and reclamation of her life if she'd been treated like the character that she was in the first seasons. For that I am willing to place this episode higher than the very bottom.

6. Season 4

This episode had the difficult task of continuing a series that should have ended, and expanding beyond Enchantix. Considering all that, I can cut it some slack but that doesn't change the fact that it is extremely poorly constructed (which you can tell by how low I've placed it on the list).

Frankly, the Winx are unlikable during half of the episode. They are shoved into a role that they're unsuited to as teachers. Their course is chaotic; they lack any structure, discipline and professionalism in a way that isn't charming and meant to make the young fairies feel at ease. They are all riding on the fame of being the girls that saved the universe three times, even if the only one that's called out on it is Stella. I fully blame for that the fact that the writers knew that this job would be a one-time thing and didn't bother with making the Winx seem like they're actually putting effort in it and it instantly brings down the whole episode.

Besides that there's the way that all the Winx act towards Alice. Yes, they think that her prank could have killed Flora but the girl looks so upset and desperate to convince them of her innocence and none of them ever consider the possibility that they're in the wrong, especially Tecna, who had an episode (2x09) devoted to exploring her rash decisions. It truly comes off as if they believe they are always right and their methods cannot fail them, which just confirms that fame has gotten to all their heads.

The plot is barely hanging together, too. Believix is introduced for absolutely no relevant reason other than that the writers knew it would be important later. And if that weren't insult enough to Enchantix, then we have the fight scene with the Wizards, who are brought in in a truly mind-boggling way, summoned by... the unveiling of a painting. They toss Winx around as if Enchantix is a joke, which is simply bad form as it undercuts the first three seasons without which this episode would not have existed. It's bad all around.

The only positive I can think of is that the Wizards come off as strong and ruthless but their exit leaves something to be desired. Sure, they have no interest in the WInx anymore but they just attacked Alfea and left like it's no biggie. This could actually be considered another point in favor of how unbothered they are by the mere idea of facing opposition but it doesn't say much about the state of law enforcement in the Magic Dimension.

Oh, hey, I like the Winx deciding to pursue the villains for once instead of merely reacting to being targeted. That and the little moment with Griselda and Clarice towards the end are the best parts of the episode.

5. Season 8

This episode's biggest fault - barring the art style - is that it's pretty lowkey for the most part. That and the fact that Obscurum does not convey a sense of immediate threat in the beginning of the episode. However, that is mitigated by the "monster" that was shown to chase Twinkly and the fact that they are saving the reveal of Valtor's return for later.

Everything before the fight sequence is serviceable. Twinkly's introduction and the involvement of the Specialists are functional. There's nothing wrong with having a somewhat chill opening to the season and the Winx' willingness to help Twinkly is heartwarming. There are cute moments sprinkled throughout the episode and I love the fact that Stella and Tecna get to be more central in the interactions with Twinkly and, therefore, the introduction of the main plot.

The battle is... actually good. I love that Faragonda gets to do something (although we could have used more from the other teachers). And for once they have the excuse that only Stella's powers actually work to explain why no one else gets to do anything (it still doesn't check out fully but it's better than the usual logic of "Winx simply are better than everyone and get to do it all even when characters that should be more competent are around"). I love the way that they make the star yummies actually somewhat threatening by showing that most of Winx' powers don't work against them. The decision to solve the problem through a team-up between Stella and Twinkly was also solid as it makes Twinkly useful and pretty powerful.

Topping it all off with the threat of starlight being stolen until the stars go dark makes this first episode solid enough to place in the middle of my list.

4. Season 5

This episode is surprisingly good where openings are concerned. It starts out pretty chill and immerses us back into the Winx' lives on Earth. I love that it takes the time to show us the Winx and Specialists spending time together. The subplot about the Pendant of Eraklyon was completely unnecessary but I did like the talk between Flora and Sky. Finally a Specialist and a Winx that aren't a couple interacting again!

There is a sense of suspense also introduced with the oil platform, however, and a grandiosity injected into the episode by the coronation. I am not a fan of suddenly inventing a king of the oceans and replacing Tressa as heir to the throne. The attitude towards Tritannus before he's even done anything is also extremely off-putting and could have made him root for him if he'd been better written. That and the way that he ends this episode doesn't really sell him as the big bad of the season but it leaves enough ominous intrigue to promise more action during the rest of the story.

Once the action hits, the story really is at its best. There is suspense. The Winx actually use their powers instead of solving everything with a single convergence (although, in the end they do just that and I hate it but at least it's more minor). The Specialists actually help them out and most of the action is happening in the air and underwater, which is a more rare environment for a Winx action sequence and sets up the rest of the season. And Layla gets an individual moment to shine! All in all pretty good.

3. Season 1

This episode is all-around solid, especially for a pilot episode. Bloom is a little quick to decide to go to Alfea and her parents' reactions are somewhat nonexistent but everything else works well.

We get a sense of Bloom's frustration with her life, of her being drawn to the magical. Her discovery of her powers works well. Knut and the hunting troll are pretty threatening on their own and we are shown that there are puppeteers behind the curtain, promising to escalate the action soon. The boys work without coming off as too competent and save the day. Alfea is introduced.

Honestly, the only minus here is that the other Winx are not introduced yet. I understand that they couldn't have been considering the construction of the plot but the Specialists are introduced before them, which I find somewhat iffy.

2. Season 2

This episode opens on such a strong note. Layla is introduced as a protagonist. She is shown to be determined, brave and very loyal to those she considers friends. Along with that we get to explore Shadowhaunt a little bit and are introduced to Darkar's quest to find the location of the Codex (albeit in a somewhat roundabout way). There is action, there is suspense, there is fear for Layla. Darkar comes off threatening enough even if his obsession with the pixies and inability to break them does him a bit of a disservice.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the Winx returning to Alfea. There is a sense of new along the sense of returning back to something familiar. We are reintroduced to the girls and given a little information to bridge the gap between this season and the previous one. Bloom stumbling upon the secret archive is random, unnecessary as of yet, and an oversight on Faragonda's part (for not moving it once it becomes clear what Darkar's after) but it does cement the pixies as an intended part of the season instead of just a plot device to introduce the villain's goal and the stakes.

We are reacquainted with the Specialists as well and they get to spend some time with Winx. We witness the group dynamic and the heartfelt bonds between all of them only for Layla's reappearance to act like a gut-punch. It sets up an ominous and foreboding feeling for the rest of the season and elevates the impression that the episode leaves upon the viewer.

1.Season 3

This truly is the best opening episode. It takes the time to focus on Winx who are preparing for summer vacation while at the same time focuses on the Trix' fate. It's an amazing way to build the tension as it leaves you anticipating the trouble that the Trix are going to stir while the Winx have every intention of chilling only to, surely, get interrupted by a new crisis.

However, the episode doesn't rely on that to be the only point keeping the viewer's interest. Instead of meandering through small, directionless interactions, it sets up things for the girls to do. Each of them has her own plans but the announcement of Stella's ball is a very natural way to keep them all together even as it's time for them to separate for summer vacation.

Stella's personal life and emotional state are instantly put in the spotlight in a way that truly focuses on her character rather than only on setup for what's coming. Because of that, the conflict with Chimera has more weight. It seems to be the one cloud on Stella's sunny sky, the thing that's ruining her perfect vacation and her upcoming Princess Ball as well as the restoration of her family.

The episode keeps cutting back to the Trix to focus on the consequences of their actions in the previous season, acquaint us with more of the Magic Dimension (a prison world in particular) and kickstart the plot. These sequences remind us of why the Trix have gotten as far as they have. They are smart and ruthless and still powerful, which sets up Valtor extremely well because he is obviously leagues above them. The team-up between those four is bound to bring headaches to the Winx, which is instantly demonstrated.

By doing nothing more than merely breaking out of prison, Valtor upsets the natural course of the universe and interrupts Winx' plans. Sure, they weather the current problem easily and efficiently enough but not only does it put a hitch in their plans for the afternoon, but completely alters their planned summer vacation by tearing Layla away through trouble on her own planet that is serious enough to warrant her immediate return. And to really drive the point home we are shown how Valtor transforms the Andros mermaids into monsters, takes control of their will and steals their power for himself.

It truly is the first episode that best builds up the threat and stakes that the rest of the season will spend working with. And it does so without Valtor even knowing of any of the Winx' existence yet and vice versa. A magnificent study in starting a season.

#winx club #winx club season 1 #winx club season 2 #winx club season 3 #winx club season 4 #winx club season 5 #winx club season 6 #winx club season 7 #winx club season 8 #ranking

[pleasestaywithmedarling]

Masterlist: Sin of Purity, Purity of Sin

Kiri learned from a young age to keep her head down; Anden knows the key to his survival is to never back down from a fight. But when they are chosen to serve as the next year's sacrifice to the god Vato in the yearly Midsummer's Day ritual, they'll need to work together if they want to escape their fate.

Part I - Kiri is brought before the High Priest Emitis and consecrated to serve as the coming year's Vessel of Purity.

Part II - Anden begins to learn the painful way what it means to be the Vessel of Sin.

Part III - As Kiri is prepared for her first Holy Day procession, she struggles with the knowledge that her actions have consequences.

Part IV - The physical pain that Anden has been made to endure is nothing compared to the emotional pain of public humiliation.

Part V - After a few days, Kiri thinks she's learned the ins and outs of her new life in captivity. She is very wrong.

Part VI - Anden loses a lot of blood and gains an ally.

Part VII - Now that she and Anden are a team, Kiri must decide if she's willing to take a real risk for him.

Part VIII - Escape plans are seemingly underway, but Anden can't keep his morale from slipping when he feels so useless.

Part IX - As she and Anden are punished at the hands of her guard and the High Priest, Kiri questions whether or not she deserves such terrible consequences for her actions.

Part X - Before Anden can accept the fact that he actually cares about Kiri, he makes a half-hearted attempt to scare her off by finally telling her what he did to be chosen as the Vessel of Sin.

Part XI - Kiri's hopes of a future for herself and Anden, somewhere away from the nightmare they'd been trapped in at the temple, are shattered in a single, terrible moment.

Part XII - As the High Priest begins his interrogation, Anden tries desperately to find something, anything he can do to help Kiri.

Part XIII - Kiri's realization that she wants to be with Anden grows alongside her fear that a life with him may be more impossible than ever.

Part XIV - Anden is making progress in getting himself and Kiri to safety, but nights in the temple are growing more dangerous than ever.

Part XV - Kiri suffers through a particularly cruel night, and even her time with people she cares for only reminds her of how much more she's sure to lose.

#whump #whumpblr #whump fic #whump writing #captivity whump #fantasy whump #religious whump #multiple whumpees

[evilbeanieman]

Pokemon Trainer Shin would like to battle!

I hinted at this before, but I have an extensive, complex, and very intricate YTTD Pokemon au that I've been working on for well over a year. I might post about it occasionally, and depending on if anyone's interested, I'll do more and answer your questions. Now without further ado, here are my picks for Shin's Pokemon team.

Starting with...

Miss Voir the Gardevoir

(TCG Artwork by Yu Nishida)

A gift from his mother and the first pokemon on Shin's team. She's rather nervous, but always ensures Shin's safety, as its in her nature and his mother requested it of her. She loves her trainer dearly, as they grew up together.

Aside from the obvious fact that Gardevoir looks fairly similar to Shin, I chose this pokemon to help represent his kind and softer side. Gardevoir are said to protect their trainers with their life, doing whatever necessary to ensure the trainer's safety. I wonder who that sounds like? Additionally, aside from being so refined, Gardevoir are intelligent and poweful pokemon. They may appear dainty and unassuming, but watch out! They can be a real threat when there's danger!

Commodore the Metagross

(TCG Art Competition Entry by Souichirou Gunjima)

Received as a gift from Hiyori, who decided to help Shin overpower his rival. It's very strong headed and calculated, and has an intense rivalry with *******. Shin wonders if it's the nature of how he received it that sparked their competition.

This one is a bit of an interesting pick, but will make more sense the more you know about my au. Metagross are said to have more intelligence than that of a supercomputer, and well, Shin is associated with computers along with his high intelligence. It's said that Metagross use this to critically analyze their opponents and take them out in the most efficient (and possibly cruel) way possible. If it knows it can't succeed, it's willing to even take itself out if that's the only way for victory. Shin, similarly, calculates his every move in the death game, and I don't think I need to explain the rest on why this fits.

Illuso the Zoroark

(TCG Artwork by kawayoo)

Illuso hides himself in illusions and deceit, although in reality he was a timid Zorua. After meeting Shin and accompanying him on his journey, Illuso's learned how to become more brave and outspoken. Still somewhat jumpy, Illuso delights in the tricks it pulls, as does Shin.

Zoroark is literally THE Illusion pokemon, known for putting up facades and tricking others with it's ability to hide behind illusions. Shin already exemplifies this behavior as he hides behind the facade of Sou Hiyori in the death game. Young Zorua often hide themselves behind illusions to ensure their safety, as most are very timid and weak. This pick also makes sense for another reason in my au that might come up later.

Lime the Klefki

(Fanart by Naoki Eguchi)

Shin doesn't really remember catching Lime. One day while traveling, he heard the distinct sound of jingling keys following him. After confronting it, he decided to let it join his team by giving it the key to his house. It's very sweet and likes to hang onto his belt loops. It has even tried to take the key from around his neck. He ended up making a copy of it so Lime wouldn't steal it in his sleep, and although it has no use, Lime treasures it the most.

Okay come on. The Key pokemon. Shin claiming to be the Keymaster. This one is so good. Aside from this, the steel fairy typing is very good as it's a very defensive, and Klefki is known for being a relatively good prankster pokemon in competitive. For those who don't know, prankster is an ability that allows the pokemon to move first when using moves that don't do damage, such as Spikes (sets up spikes on the opponent's field) or Calm Mind (Boosts special attack and defense). Shin tends to try and make the first move and plan ahead, setting up small advantages for himself in works of a bigger goal (such as the sacrifice card placement and his whole ordeal with getting Kanna to work with him).

Coldweather the Glaceon

(TCG Artwork by Gemi)

Originally, Shin had been planning on evolving his Eevee into Umbreon. Though when a trip to get a gift for Kanna goes awfully bad, his Eevee spontaneously evolves into Glaceon in order to defend her trainer. Coldweather has a very calm and collected exterior, though she still loves to cuddle and play with Shin like if she were still a little Eevee. Shin is grateful for her and often ends up being the victim of her affectionate onslaught, and he appreciates her a lot. Even if he ends up having to wear 3 sweaters to hug her.

Shin is said to get cold easily, and aside from this he's known to be incredibly weak. The Ice type is notorious for being a weak typing despite having a lot of great pokemon, so I thought it would be good to pair these two up. Additionally, the plan for Umbreon was to have it represent his whole connection to the moon and the dynamic of the sun and moon he has with Hiyori. Though after thinking it over, I thought it might be interesting to have Shin go through some trial and have one of his pokemon affected by it.

Porygon-Z

(TCG Artwork by Tomokazu Komiya)

The first pokemon Hiyori gifted to Shin. Originally Porygon was fairly neutral to Shin, acting much like a scared cat and hiding behind him when Hiyori was in the room. After evolving, Porygon2 began to show much affection and adoration towards its trainer, as it now understood speech and emotion. It helped Shin aid Hiyori in the strange research project Hiyori recruited Shin for. Undergoing many strange and harmful "training" it finally evolved into Porygon-Z. However this evolution put a strain on the relationship between the two, as Shin refused to acknowledge the corrupted mess that his beloved pokemon became. Porygon-Z was having trouble adjusting to its mutated body, but soon after began to seek the affection of its trainer once more. Shin refuses to use it, and has abandoned the idea of ever naming it.

So this one is another one that will make more sense the more you know about my au. Again, lots of complex and intricate lore. I chose Porygon to best represent Shin and his relationship with Hiyori, specifically before the death game. Porygon is a completely artificial pokemon, made up of code and only evolves when given a disk containing data. Obviously this ties in well with Shin, who learned to code thanks to Hiyori. I like to think its final evolution represents Shin's trauma and how Hiyori affected him, as it's not wrong to say that he definitely left a deep impact on Shin. Poyrgon-Z is obtained by evolving it from Porygon2 using the dubious disk, a disk containing corrupted and malicious data. You can draw the similarities (Will Shin ever reconcile with it? Well, maybe I'll explain how if anyone is curious).

Thanks for reading my rant, and if you couldn't tell, pokemon is one of my main hyperfixations. I hope you enjoyed my picks, and I'm curious to see what you think.

#evil beanie man #shin tsukimi #yttd #your turn to die #kimi ga shine #kmgsn #pokemon

[charmixpower]

Okokokok so I wanna talk about the s2 Tecna/Timmy arc bc brain worms, this arc was really interesting and fun and slightly wasted in some places so I get to ramble about it

Tenca thinks the thing she values most is logic but this is blatantly false, and a fun little character thing because she actually doesn't know what the real thing is any substituting it for what people expect her to value most, told her she should value most, or the cultural consensus of what Zenith values most

There's a lot of examples of her ignoring logic for something else and they show a trend

It's stated that Flora and Musa have the best grades, and that Tecna is the smartest out of all of the Winx. This obviously means that Tecna probably skips class, doesn't do homework, half-asses assignments and more because her grades don't reflect how much she knows. It's implied that she spends this time making new technology

When the Trix have Stella captured in Season 1, Tecna is the most firm in refusing to give the Trix the ring. She was resolute in fighting the Trix, despite all previous encounters pointing to the fact that this was a beyond stupid idea. On top of that episode was to show off Bloom's leadership ablities, because she was able to think about this calmly without being able to rely on Tecna to give the facts

You'd think Tecna would be the slowest to act, waiting on the full information of the situation, but she isn't. In season 1 she shoulder bashed doors so she never had to slow down, girl isn't deliberate. Tecna prefers to work and quickly and efficiently as she can to mitigate future harm rather than understand the whole situation. As seen with the Avalon's Secret episode

Tecna realized that the Omega portal could be closed in a perticualr way, but instead of telling anyone, she decided the fastest way to deal with it was to do it herself. A additional note is that when getting their Enchantix's though sacrifice, Tecna is the one I'd argue had the least amount of emotional reason to act rashly. Her sacrifice is the only one that absolutely couldn't be interpreted as a panicked split second decision. Everyone else made they're sacrifice in emotional turmoil, Tecna walked to hers

From this you can see that Tecna clearly cares more about something else more than the logical decision. When someone is in danger, she usually tries to save them quickly. Prioritizing getting them to safety quickly over the best possible course of action. She HATES conceding anything to the enemy, enough that it makes her too angry to think straight. Tecna is ready and willing to give up her life, without any adrenaline making her act more rashly than she nomrally would, to keep people safe

It's not surprising that she'd be upset at Timmy. When given a similar situation, Tecna would pick die before she'd let the Trix walk away. It's clear that she doesn't know or care that it's stupid, she's too tied up in her feelings

And I think that's the thing that actually made Tecna mad. Tecna at this point was just staring to open up, so she really wouldn't have a way to express how she actually felt. I think she was mad because she thought Timmy wasn't committed to their shared principals and would roll over when someone more powerful than him entered the ring instead of still trying despite the odds

This is how Tecna functions, and it's fairly unsurprising that she'd be upset that the person she's in love with doesn't share this commitment to what she sees as their shared principals

Now, I fucking hate how Timmy's writing was handled and this arc. I hate it so fucking much. It's god awful. Just thinking about it makes me wanna grind my teeth

The consequence of Tecna seeing Timmy as uncommitted is that she also sees him as unreliable. So the show tackles this part of her upset. Which is dumb. Timmy's sudden burst of confidence thats completely contrary to how he acts in the ENTIRE rest of the show will get on my fucking nerves for the rest of my life. They just changed his personality for a few episodes so Tecna could realize she was wrong for thinking he was unreliable

The show takes the stance that Tecna was being unreasonable when she got mad at Timmy, and they immediately undercut this by having Timmy prove himself to her. Why? The show acknowledges the fact she's holding everyone around her to the same exact standards she holds herself to is irrational. So why vindicate her original thought by pulling him ooc and making him prove himself? Leave him alone and have her realize that she's expecting too much on her own, or have Timmy show bravery in a way he'd normally would and when Tecna gets snippy have him explain why her expectations are stupid

Timmy has stood up for himself before, like in s1 when he yells at Riven and Brandon to shut up. Her expecting him to attack the lady that nearly murdered one of your squad members who's the best at combat, is worth standing up for himself. Why they did not take this path I'll never understand

This would also make Tecna's arc so much better. Batting the writers hands away from Timmy. Leave him alone, who are you making him prove himself. He doesn't owe Tecna shit rn

In this argument he'd make her realize that her expectations are way too much, and that it's better to live another day than die and still not win. Tecna would argue back, being unable to let go of her world view, revealing that she holds herself to the same expectations. Expecting this fact to win the argument. Then she'd be hit with something along the line that she shouldn't do that to herself, or something to that effect. Which she can't comprehend. Giving her a complete existential crisis, and then Timmy fucks off bc he hates arguments and is stressed tf out

Looking at all of this makes me think that Tecna was raised with a very strong "cog in the machine" mentality, that stifled both her ability to express her emotions and gave her a lack of self preservation. Which could tie into her arc of learning to express herself, bc then it could be both emotionally and her individuality...

I think I've lost the plot a little bit, but I love Tecna's character arc and I think Timmy shouldn't of had to prove himself to her in s2 bc that's dumb lol

Anyways I like this arc a lot. Tecna just being wrong because she's so caught up in her own feelings is such a good character defining moment. I love her, she's so much fun

#idk if you can tell but i really REALLY love it when characters have big flaws and fuck up. so this arc was vvvv fun for me #winx tecna #winx timmy #winx headcanons #rus chatters #winx season 2 #tecna x timmy #been hoarding this post for a while bc i feel like im missing something but idk what it is #winx club