#types of human teeth and their functions

[dramarnathandentalcare]

Types of human teeth and their functions

Understanding the many types of human teeth and their functions is essential for optimum oral health. The various types of human teeth and their functions show the importance of good oral hygiene and dental care. In this blog, we’ll look at the many types of human teeth and how they contribute to good oral health and overall well-being. Types of human teeth and their functions Human teeth…

[schlong2]

my achilles design drop i don't give a fuck

[mercvry-glow]

Stay with me

parings. michael robinavitch x reader

warnings. age gap (michael early 50s, reader early 30s), traumatic birth, hospital setting, nobody dies, michael is mess and constantly stressed, other pitt characters, reader gets described as pale in a medical sense no mentions of outright skin color or hair type, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. this ones a doosey to make up for not writing for our sad boy! I love this and I'm happy I got to fulfill yet another request from you guys! I love y'all so much, and remember that all feedback is appreciated and to please enjoy!

wc. 3800+

Maybe coming into work at thirty-nine weeks pregnant wasn’t the best idea.

But you were stubborn. Always had been. And despite everyone—especially Robby—telling you to stay home, you couldn’t bring yourself to sit around waiting for labor like a ticking time bomb. You hated the stillness. The wondering. The endless scrolling and anxious pacing.

So here you were, waddling through the automatic doors of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center like you weren’t a day past thirty weeks. Your badge still clipped to your belly, your sneakers swelling tighter by the hour, and your hair pulled into a bun that screamed "I tried... kind of."

“Seriously?” came Frank’s voice before you’d even made it to the nurses' station.

You didn’t even look up. “Good morning to you too.”

“You’re full term,” he said, falling into step beside you, black scrubs hugging his sturdy figure as per usual. “As in, literally any second now.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder, trying not to let the exhaustion show. “I’m fine. And I’m bored. Let me chart for a few hours. I’ll even sit down the whole time. Swear.”

“You know that’s a lie,” he shot back, snorting. “You’ll be helping lift gurneys and running labs by noon. Someone’s gonna find you chasing a trauma bed down the hallway.”

“Hey,” you said with a little huff, rubbing your back with one hand, “just because I’m growing a whole human doesn’t mean I forgot how to function.”

Frank just gave you a knowing look, which meant: we’ve all seen you trying to wedge yourself into the cafeteria chairs.

That’s when Robby appeared around the corner, clipboard in hand and eyes already narrowed. He didn’t even have to say anything—his expression screamed "Really?" Robby frowned, scanning you up and down. His hand hovered near your lower back, not quite touching but always close. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You tilted your head and gave him your most innocent look. “I’m on light duty. Promise.”

“I’d like to point out,” Langdon added, grinning as he peeled away toward the coffee cart, “that I tried.”

You plopped yourself into the nearest rolling chair with a dramatic sigh and swiveled toward Michael. “It’s either this or reorganizing the diaper drawer for the sixth time this week. I think the baby’s fine with me typing a few notes.”

Robby crouched down beside you, one knee on the floor like he did when checking patients, except this time his palm found your knee instead of a pulse point.

“You’re swollen. And your breathing is a little tight.” He raised an eyebrow. “How long were you on your feet this morning?”

“Like… twenty minutes.” You grinned. “That includes brushing my teeth and taking care of the dogs.”

He exhaled slowly, leaning his head against your leg. “You’re going to send me into cardiac arrest before this baby even gets here.”

You carded your fingers through his hair, soft and absentminded, brushing the strands back from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re worried, old man.”

“I’m always worried,” he muttered. “Because you’re always doing something you shouldn’t.”

You didn’t argue. Mostly because he wasn’t wrong. You were already shifting, trying to pull up the electronic charts on the nurses’ station computer.

Michael gave your belly a light pat and stood, arms folding as he watched you with that quiet, hesitant fondness he reserved only for you. “Fine. Two hours. Feet up. You so much as sneeze weird, and I’m dragging you to OB myself.”

“Deal,” you chirped, already logging in.

“And don’t even think about stealing someone’s trauma case when we get slammed.”

“Define stealing,” you replied innocently, sipping from your water bottle.

He pointed a warning finger, but his smirk gave him away. “Two hours.”

“Love you too, Doctor Buzzkill.”

As he walked off, you caught the way his hand reached for the stethoscope around his neck, the subtle shake of his head as he glanced back at you one last time before disappearing toward the elevators.

And for a little while, everything felt normal. The steady rhythm of the hospital, the buzz of the morning shift changing hands, the rolling carts, the beeping monitors, and the casual banter of a team that had become a second home. You rubbed your belly gently, feeling a soft nudge from the baby in response.

Still here, still safe.

You leaned back in your chair and took a deep breath.

You had no idea how quickly everything was about to change.

The morning passed in a blur of keyboard clicks, routine charting, and the occasional pat on the shoulder from coworkers who either admired your stubbornness or questioned your sanity. Probably both.

Danabrought you a fruit cup and didn’t even bother hiding the fact that she was watching your ankles like a hawk. “You know,” she said while leaning against the edge of the station, “we’ve had patients come in for stubbed toes more dramatic than you being full-term and still here.”

You laughed softly, spooning pineapple into your mouth. “I just wanted one more shift. One more day of normal.”

“You’re due in three days,” she said, eyebrows raised. “You know what would be really normal? Not going into labor next to the trauma bay.”

You gave her a half-hearted glare, and she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving along.

By the time the clock read 10:47 a.m., you’d gone through two rounds of vitals checks, one baby name debate with the new ER nurse (“Mikey Jr.” was not happening), and an entire cup of crushed ice. You felt... okay. Tired, sure. Tight across the ribs, definitely. But okay.

The baby kicked again—this time a little stronger, enough to make you wince and shift in your chair. You rubbed at the spot, exhaling slowly as the muscles in your lower back pulled tight.

Normal. Probably.

You stood up to stretch, rolling your shoulders as your bladder reminded you it was still being squished by a watermelon-sized human. With one hand pressed to your back, you made your way toward the staff bathroom, waving off Frank’s dramatic offer to “escort the ticking time bomb.”

Inside, you braced your hands against the sink for a moment, catching your breath. That tightness across your middle was sticking around longer than you liked. Not a contraction exactly... but a pressure. Your reflection looked a little pale, a little drawn.

Probably just low blood sugar. Probably just tired.

You splashed cold water on your face, took a breath, and patted your belly like you were trying to reason with it.

“Let’s not do this here, kid,” you whispered. “Give me 'til at least lunch.”

The baby shifted again, slow and sluggish.

You frowned.

Back at the station, you tried to ignore the small twist of something off. Robby walked by on his way to check in with a patient and paused long enough to give your hand a squeeze. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want him to worry—not yet. Not unless there was a real reason.

But deep in your chest, just under the hum of fluorescent lights and the steady rhythm of the hospital, a quiet unease began to grow.

You went back to your chair, sat down slowly, and propped your feet up on an overturned supply box Dana had dragged over earlier.

“Getting royal treatment now,” you murmured with a soft smile, stretching your fingers across your belly again. The pressure was still there—low and dull, like a cramp that hadn’t quite made up its mind. But you chalked it up to gravity. End-of-pregnancy things.

Michael passed through again, this time glancing at your chart on the screen. “You okay?” he asked casually, but his voice held that little edge, the one he got when he was reading between the lines of your smile.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just tired. Baby’s being clingy.”

He crouched down beside you again, resting his hands on your knees and gazing up at you like you were something fragile and wildly important. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

You shrugged. “I think my blood sugar’s just dipping. I’ll eat something real at lunch.”

Robby opened his mouth like he wanted to press the issue, but then his pager buzzed, pulling him back to the chaos. “Page me if anything feels off, okay?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “Promise.”

He kissed the inside of your wrist—gentle, a little rushed—and then disappeared down the hall.

You watched him go, your heart tugging in that quiet, familiar way. This wasn’t supposed to be dramatic. You were just going to stay a few hours. Get your fill of normal. Go home.

You reached for your water, took a sip, and then—

The pressure in your lower abdomen suddenly turned sharp.

Your breath caught.

It wasn’t stabbing, not yet—but it was wrong. Deep and spreading and foreign.

You shifted in the chair again, trying to ease the feeling, but this time it moved through your back too. A tight, radiating grip like something clenching from the inside.

Your hand instinctively moved to your belly. Still round. Still there. But... heavy. Heavier than before.

You stood up too fast and had to grip the edge of the desk for balance. A strange wave of heat flushed through your chest and ears.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Okay. Not panicking.”

You turned toward the hall, planning to make your way down to OB—just to be safe—when a sudden gush of warmth rushed down your legs.

Your eyes dropped to the floor.

Blood. Not water… 

Not a trickle. Not a few reassuring spots.

A pool.

Everything stopped.

You opened your mouth, tried to call out for someone—Frank, Dana, Robby—but your throat closed up as your knees buckled.

A pair of arms caught you before the world tilted entirely sideways, voices shouting your name, feet pounding against tile.

And somewhere in the distance, your heart broke open in fear as someone screamed for a crash cart.

The world dulled around the edges.

Voices came in waves—too loud, then too soft. The fluorescents above you blurred into a single long smear of white as you blinked hard, trying to stay awake. You were lying flat now, someone barking orders just over your head, hands pressing against your belly. Something cold touched your arm. A tourniquet? IV? You didn’t know. 

You wanted to speak, but your tongue felt thick and heavy. The baby wasn’t moving. Or maybe you couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t tell anymore.

Where was Michael?

You turned your head slightly, reaching out blindly with a trembling hand. “R-Rob—”

And then everything went black.

On the other side of the Pitt the hallway was loud, as usual. One resident talking too fast, an alarm going off two bays over. Robby had just finished checking vitals on a pre-op trauma patient when the words cut through the noise like a blade.

“Code OB! Nurses’ station—she’s hemorrhaging!”

For half a second, it didn’t register. He stood frozen, pen in hand, until Dana’s voice came from behind—sharper now, more desperate as she ran past him.

“Robby—it’s her! It’s your girl, it’s—”

He dropped the pen. Took off running.

The world narrowed to tunnel vision, his shoes slamming the floor with every stride as he turned the corner.

And there you were.

Lying on the floor in a growing puddle of blood, too still, too quiet. Langdon was crouched beside you, white-knuckled and pale, while someone was trying to keep your airway open and shouting at a med tech for an O2 mask. Two OB nurses had already arrived from upstairs, trying to lift your limp form onto a gurney.

“Move—MOVE!” Robby’s voice cracked as he shoved between bodies, sinking to his knees beside you. His gloves were on before he could think.

“Talk to me,” he begged, brushing a blood-slicked hand over your cheek. “Baby, come on—hey, stay with me.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He saw the blood again. The amount of it. His heart seized.

“She was complaining of tightness earlier,” Dana said quickly. “Didn’t think it was labor. She didn’t say anything about bleeding.”

“Placental abruption,” one of the OB nurses muttered grimly, already calling down to surgery. “We need to move now.”

“No.” Robby gripped your hand as they lifted your body onto the bed. “You hold on. You don’t get to—don’t you dare leave me.”

Your lashes fluttered weakly. It was the smallest thing, but it was enough to crack him wide open.

“I love you,” he whispered fiercely, pressing his forehead to yours as they wheeled the gurney away. “God, I love you. Just hold on. Please.”

The elevator doors slammed open, and then they were gone—your body rolling down the hall, trailed by shouting voices and the squeak of rubber wheels.

Robby stood frozen in the blood you left behind.

And he prayed—for the first time in years—that he wouldn’t lose the two people who had already become his whole world.

The observation room was too bright.

Too sterile. Too loud and too quiet all at once.

Robby sat hunched forward on the gallery chair, elbows on his knees, hands laced together so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His scrubs were stained—your blood, dried now—and he hadn’t moved to change them. It felt wrong. Like washing it off would be admitting something final. Like you were already gone.

The OR doors had closed over an hour ago.

Every minute stretched. He counted the seconds between every nurse that walked in or out of the room. Every ding, every beep, every sound made his chest seize like a vise.

“Dr. Robinavitch?”

He shot to his feet so fast the chair rattledagainst the floor.

It was one of the OB residents—a younger guy, fresh-faced, kind eyes. He looked nervous standing at the doorway. 

“The baby,” Robby said before the kid could speak. “Is he—?”

The resident gave a small, quick nod. “He’s stable—strong APGAR, breathing on his own. He’s in the NICU right now, just for monitoring because of the blood loss and delivery trauma, but he’s holding on great.”

Robby felt something like a breath stutter through his chest. A crack in the suffocating weight.

“A boy,” he repeated, voice cracking on the word. He scrubbed a hand down his face, the ache behind his eyes blooming all at once. “And she?”

The resident hesitated.

Robby’s stomach dropped like a stone.

“They’re still working on her,” he said carefully. “There was extensive bleeding. She lost a lot of volume and needed multiple transfusions. The placenta had fully detached. She coded once on the table but they got her back quickly—Dr. Jensen’s still in with her. They're doing everything they can.”

That familiar numbness swept in—cold and full of static. He’d seen this happen. He knew what these situations could look like. How fast they turned.

But this wasn’t just any patient.

This was you.

The woman who’d kept him steady when he didn’t know how to be. Who fought him and loved him and refused to be anyone but exactly who she was. This was the woman who carried his child, who still hadn’t heard that he made it. That their son made it.

“Can I see him?” Robby asked, quietly now, trying not to let his voice shake. “The baby?”

“Yeah,” the resident said, nodding. “I’ll take you myself.”

Robby glanced down at the gallery one last time.

“Hold on,” he murmured under his breath. “Please… just hold on.”

And then he followed, toward the small flicker of hope that looked an awful lot like a tiny newborn baby in a bassinet.

The NICU was soft with dim lighting and quiet beeps—worlds away from the chaos upstairs. Here, everything moved slower. Gentle. Careful.

Michael had scrubbed in without thinking, numb to the motions as the nurse guided him toward the far incubator. She was saying something—about weight, oxygen levels, bloodwork—but it barely registered.

All he could see was him.

His son.

Tiny. Swaddled in a sea of pale blue, a knitted cap covering his head, wires curling like vines across his chest. His skin was flushed pink, his breathing steady and strong, even with the tubes nearby just in case.

Robby stopped short a foot from the incubator.

“Go ahead,” the nurse said softly, nodding. “He’s yours.”

He stepped forward, one hand trembling as he reached out and pressed his now clean fingertips into the hole in the side of the incubator. Then he looked down through the clear plastic, and something in him shattered clean through.

“You’re here,” Robby whispered.

Not to anyone else. Not even to the nurse.

Just to him.

“You’re really here.”

His voice cracked. A tear slipped hot down his cheek. He swiped at it quickly, but it didn’t stop the next. Or the one after that.

“I thought we lost you,” he whispered, pressing his other palm fully to the side of the incubator now. “I thought—I thought I was going to lose both of you.”

The baby stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, his little face scrunching as if to acknowledge him.

Robby laughed—just a quiet breath of it. Barely more than a sound.

“You’ve already got a lot of fight in you,” he murmured. “Just like your mom.”

That cracked him open again. He dropped his head forward, resting it gently against the warm plastic as tears spilled freely now, all the fear and helplessness and love pouring out with no one around to see. No one to judge.

“She’s not out of it yet,” he said, so quietly it barely made it past his lips. “I don’t know how she’s doing….”

He swallowed hard.

“But I need her to be. You need her to be. So you just… hang on in there, little man. And I’ll hang on too.”

He stayed there for a long time. Just breathing. Just watching his son sleep, chest rising and falling with a steadiness Robby needed like oxygen.

And then—

“Dr. Robinavitch?”

A voice behind him.

He turned.

A nurse he didn’t recognize stood in the doorway, eyes soft but urgent. “They’re bringing her out of surgery now. She’s stable.”

Without knowing how long you were out the first thing you felt was the weight in your chest. Not pain—though there was plenty of that, dull and heavy through your midsection—but weight. Like your body had been filled with cement and someone was slowly peeling it away.

The second thing was the beeping.

Steady. Familiar.

A monitor. You’d heard that rhythm a thousand times, but this one felt… personal.

Then came the light. Too bright. You winced.

“Hey—hey, easy…”

A voice. Soft. Hoarse.

You knew it.

Your lashes fluttered as you tried again, squinting against the fluorescent ceiling until a shadow leaned into your frame of view. Hair mussed. Beard teased. Scrubs wrinkled. Eyes bloodshot but still such as deep warm brown. .

Robby.

He was sitting beside your bed, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees like he hadn’t moved in hours. Days maybe. His hand was already in yours.

“You’re okay,” he said quickly, blinking down at you with a thousand emotions all crashing in at once—relief, love, panic, exhaustion. “Jesus, baby, you’re—God, you scared the hell out of me.”

You opened your mouth, but your throat was too dry. All that came out was a rasp.

Robby was already up, pouring water and helping you sip from a straw with gentle, practiced hands.

When you finally managed a whisper, it was just one word. “Baby?”

His lips trembled around a smile.

“He’s okay,” Robby said, nodding, voice cracking as he set the cup aside and cupped your face with one hand. “He’s perfect. He’s tiny and loud and beautiful. They moved him to the nursery this morning but stable. Breathing on his own. He’s strong. Like you.”

You exhaled slowly, your body sinking back into the mattress with a kind of weak, aching surrender. The tears slipped out before you could stop them.

“I thought I lost him,” you whispered.

Robby shook his head. “No. You didn’t. You brought him into this world. You fought like hell.”

You looked up at him then, really looked, and saw the toll it had taken on him—the shadows under his eyes, the hollow in his cheeks, the scruff he hadn’t bothered to shave. He looked like a man who’d been holding his breath for days.

“You stayed?” you asked.

He gave a watery laugh. “I never left.”

And then he leaned down and kissed your forehead. Slow. Long. Like a prayer.

“You scared me,” he whispered into your skin. “More than anything in my life. Don’t ever do that again.”

You reached for him, weak and shaking but needing him close. He didn’t hesitate. He was there in your arms a second later, wrapped around you like a shield, like a lifeline. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, you let yourself breathe.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed after that.

The pain meds kept you somewhere between floating and dreaming, and the monitors were a constant lullaby, but Robby never left. He was always there, holding your hand, brushing the hair from your face, whispering things you barely remembered.

But when the nurse finally came in, smiling softly and pushing a clear bassinet ahead of her, the world snapped back into focus.

“I thought you two might be ready,” she said gently.

You blinked hard, trying to sit up, but the ache in your abdomen stopped you short. Robby was already there, adjusting the bed, piling pillows behind you like he had done it a hundred times.

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’re still healing.”

But your eyes were locked on the tiny bundle being lifted into your arms.

And then—he was there.

Your son.

Wrapped in soft hospital blue, all fuzzy hair and wrinkled skin and the tiniest fingers you’d ever seen. He blinked up at you like the light was too much, his brow furrowed in confusion, and then he yawned—wide and slow—and settled against your chest like he already knew exactly where he belonged.

The breath hitched in your throat.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Oh, hi…”

Your voice broke on the word.

Robby was sitting on the edge of the bed now, his arm behind your back, his other hand smoothing over your son’s impossibly small shoulder.

“You made him,” he said softly, awestruck like he still couldn’t believe it. “We made him.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you gently ran your finger down your baby’s nose.

“He’s perfect,” you said. “He’s… ours.”

Robby kissed your temple and stayed there, his lips pressed against your skin as your son sighed in his sleep and curled closer.

You didn’t say anything for a long time.

There was just the three of you, tucked into a too-small hospital bed, held together by quiet breathing and trembling hands and the kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud to be felt in your bones.

This was certainly worth the pain. 

mercury-glow 2025

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

random turn ons ♡ - lads headcanons

prompt: just some things i think would get the boys in the mood that aren't inherently naughty ;) rating: n-fw, 18+, minors dni cw: slight smut, implied fem!reader, some physical descriptions given (mostly vague, but please feel free to imagine mc however you like, regardless of what i've written!) ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

Xavier: -Lounge wear! -Because it means he can probably convince you to take a nap with him, but also because no one else has the privilege of seeing you wearing that -He likes literally every type of lounge wear, but he is partial to tight fitting shorts and lace camisoles -His hands will wander while you’re watching TV, fingers brushing against the skin on your stomach and your thighs -You: “What are you doing, Xav?” Xavier: “Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just think you feel so soft.” -He’ll make sure to plant plenty of kisses on every inch of skin he can reach, hiking up your shirt to kiss there, too -Also unabashedly into watching you eat anything that could be taken sexually -Ice cream? Forget about it. Popsicles? He’s gonna cream his jeans -He just really loves watching your lips close around certain things -“Maybe you can show me how you do that later?”

Zayne: -Sundresses -There’s just something about the way the summer air billows through the fabric, framing your body, each particularly strong gust showing him the tiniest peak of your ass -If the straps fall off of your shoulder, so help him now he might just have to make a quick detour with you somewhere private -Also loves when you try on his glasses, even though he’s far too pragmatic to admit it -You: “Do I look smart enough, Dr. Zayne?” Zayne, trying to hide the blush blooming on his cheeks: “Smart? Yes, of course. Let’s go with that.” -Will fully make out with you when you’re wearing his glasses, pulling you onto his lap in his office to help him relieve some of the pressure building up from seeing you in them -When you realize this, you make sure to steal them more often, feigning innocent the entire time so that he doesn’t catch on to your schemes

Rafayel: -You know those cliche videos of women getting out of the pool in slow motion? Yeah, that’s what Raf sees every time you go swimming or get out of the shower -Your wet hair slicked back, water droplets clinging to you skin, the glow of the light reflecting shimmery sunshine -Eyes would do that cartoony ‘awooga’ if they could -Pulling you against him, he says, “You got me all wet, guess we’ll have to take off these clothes, huh?” -Also super into your hands -As an artist, he appreciates the nuances of the human body, and you are his forever his muse -He’ll play with your fingers, turning your palm over in his hand, kissing each individual digit -Usually leads to your hands moving to touch him elsewhere, his dramatic ass claiming all breathy that he’s being touched by the hands of a goddess

Sylus: -Putting your hair up The first time you do this is during a sparring session with him in his boxing ring -You: “Hold up, my hair is in the way.” Sylus: “You’re giving your opponent too much time to plan their next move, kitten.” -You bend over to secure the hair tie in place, and when you flip your head back up Sylus.exe has stopped functioning -He rips the velcro on his boxing glove free with his teeth and corners you in the ring -“Distracting your prey is a good move, too,” he’ll murmur in between kisses -Yeah he’s definitely using that hair tie to pull your hair in bed later -Also loves watching you do your makeup -Will stand in the doorway in the bathroom, one leg crossed over the other to hide how absolutely turned on he is watching the way your mouth slightly hangs open when you put on mascara -You know by now to start getting ready early so you and Sylus have enough time for a quickie before you leave

Caleb: -Cute marks on your face -He absolutely gushes over dimples, birthmarks, freckles, or beauty marks -Likes to poke each place they mark your skin and if you get annoyed with him when he does this, he will only laugh and then kiss each one -The easiest way to get Caleb absolutely feral for you is to wear his tshirts or hoodies -You devise the plan when he is in the shower, taking his favorite shirt and spraying his cologne on it, before pulling it over your naked body -When Caleb enters the room, towel already hanging dangerously low on his hips, he stops in his tracks when he sees you -“My favorite shirt and my favorite girl. Do you want to take it off now or should I ruin both of you tonight?” -Definitely going to take you from behind while you’re wearing it, both of your smells mingling on his skin and driving him crazy

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Actinopterygii - Lepisosteiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Order: Lepisosteiformes

Common Name: “gar”

Families: 1 - Lepisosteidae

Anatomy: elongated bodies; heavily armored with ganoid scales; elongated jaws filled with long, sharp teeth; dorsal fins are close to the tail; vascularised swim bladders can function as lungs

Diet: smaller fish and invertebrates

Habitat/Range: much of the eastern portion of North America; found primarily in shallow, weedy, freshwater habitats, though some species can enter brackish water and a few are sometimes found in the sea

Evolved in: Lepisosteiformes in the Early Jurassic, the family Lepisosteidae in the Late Jurassic

Propaganda under the cut:

While represented only by the two living genera of gar from North America, the Lepisosteiformes are an ancient group known as far back as the Early Jurassic, and formerly had a much larger range, being known from almost every continent.

The Alligator Gar (Atractosteus spatula) (image 1) is the largest living species of gar, often growing to a length over 2 m (6.5 ft) and a weight over 45 kg (100 lb), and specimens of up to 3 m (9.8 ft) in length have been reported.

The critically endangered Cuban Gar (Atractosteus tristoechus) (image 2) is known for sometimes traveling through brackish water into the ocean.

During the dry season, the Florida Gar (Lepisosteus platyrhincus) (image 3) can burrow into mud and aestivate (similar to hibernation) through the dry season.

Gar eggs contain an ichthyotoxin, a type of protein toxin which is highly toxic to humans. While Bluegills and Catfish feed on gar eggs, it is poisonous to humans (and crayfish and birds). Gar saw what we were doing to the sturgeons and said “couldn’t be me.” (Though some are still endangered due to habitat loss, overfishing of their prey, and trophy fishing)

[fyuyushia]

Capture Target: You!

Jinah's getting suspicious! She asks why he's suddenly bothering to dress up, Jinwoo argues it's not unusual.

Link to the Masterlist

I'm so sorry for the long drought folks I was suffering from writer's block💔💔

Jinwoo stares at his reflection, scrutinizing every single mishap he notices. Fixing his hair for the umpteenth time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

He didn't peg himself to be the type to worry about appearance too much, but the system. As always, the system, had caused him to overthink this matter too much.

[Tip: make sure to dress accordingly! Lack of care will cause a loss of points. Dun dun dun dun]

Was this enough? Did he look decent? Certainly this won't warrant a loss of points. Hopefully.

This would only be a casual meet up at the park, a moment of respite for you two who've been swaddled with work these past few days. You'd finally be able to pet the bears and he'd finally be able to see you—and by that he means to see how this new dynamic would affect your conversations with him.

Meeting you meant more AP—more AP meant he could clear the quest faster and get the rewards faster(said rewards were skills and a weapon with cringe-worthy names that didn't quite match his aesthetics. But it's fine, Jinwoo's not picky. If what he gets are functional then he doesn't care about the name.)

It's only that. Really. Only that.

He stares. Really stares.

Jinah walks in at just the right time. And she—gasp—sees her brother looking at himself in the mirror. Checking himself out and get this—he actually made an effort to look presentable.

He's fixing his hair and collar and everything—picking apart everything wrong that the mirror reflected back to him.

Jinah thinks it's the end of the world. But does she show it? Of course. Of course she does.

"What are you doing?"

Jinwoo hums, not at all bothered by her presence. "Do you think I look good?"

Jinah recoils—physically, spiritually, and emotionally recoils—like her brother had just bit her and admitted to being a zombie in disguise. She lets out a loud gasp, tumbles backwards five steps, and puts a hand to her chest in a dramatic fashion.

"You... I can't believe it—you actually looked at yourself in the mirror! You're actually trying to look good!" She narrows her eyes, clutching the doorknob to balance herself after the damage the sight had just given her.

"Mom! Jinwoo's being possessed! I can't believe this!" She cries, half teasing half serious.

Jinwoo deadpans. Really now? He's asking very seriously here—he does not want to be met with Jinah acting like it's something that only happens once in a blue moon. He does take care to look decent—just not with this much effort.

The effort he put wasn't even that much—atleast he thinks so. Did he overdo it? He looks at the

"Stop being dramatic and just answer me."

"I can't—" she grits her teeth. "Is the world ending? You've been acting weird lately!"

Jinwoo takes a deep breath, and exhales through his nose. Dealing with Jinah's antics was always a new experience.

He doesn't answer, only stare at her and wait for her to finish her theatrics and give him actually decent advice.

When she finally slows her breathing into a calm rhythm and stands upright once more(it took a lot of time. Now he's worried about keeping you waiting despite it being 30 minutes before the agreed meeting time.) she dons a serious expression—lips curled into a thin line as she furrows her brows.

"You're serious?"

He nods. Straightens his back, and begins to expect her judgement—trusting her to be the more fashion conscious of them two.

Jinah hums, hand on her chin as she scrutinizes him, grading his outfit like a master designer.

"You look..." She pauses, waiting for dramatic tension.

"Decent." She beams. "You look like a normal human being for once. That's the best you can do and that's fine!"

Jinah grins, patting him on the shoulder with a reassuring slap. "You'll be fine. You have your personality. You're a good man—you'll woo whoever you're gonna go on a date with."

Jinwoo stiffens, not visibly, just slightly noticeable. "It's not a date." He narrows his eyes, leaning down as Jinah musses up his hair wait purposeful strokes to allow her easier reach.

"Mhm of course it's not." She did not sound convinced. "You wouldn't be looking like you were trying to impress someone if it was."

"You don't sound convinced."

"That's because I'm not."

Well, that was fast. An exasperated sigh leaves him in the midst of a defeated smile.

"Tell me honestly: who are you going out with?"

And there came the million dollar question.

Whilst on the outside he remained cool and relaxed—every bit the description of level headed. But Jinah knew her brother—and she would not be fooled by any attempts at hiding something from her.

Especially a romantic partner.

"Just someone." Jinwoo says. It's safe. Easy. Normal. At least he thinks it is—he wouldn't know, he's not one to indulge in romance.

Jinah narrows her eyes. He can already feel the clock chiming to his death. "Someone? Just someone?"

He holds his breath. "Yeah."

"And that someone made you actually look at yourself in the mirror and bother looking presentable—which you only do during parent conference meetings by the way—and even bother to ask me 'how do I look?'"

Well, technically it was the system pushing him to look decent—not him. It's not entirely done out of his own volition. "That's not relevant."

"Not relevant? Really?" She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin. "Really now? Really? Seriously?"

Jinwoo sighed, already regretting asking her. He glances at the time—worrying that he might be late to the agreed time—fortunately, he still had at least half an hour before the agreed meeting. And though this meant he was already preparing an hour before the agreed time—we don't dwell on that. Just don't.

"It's just a meet up with a long time friend, that's all."

"Oh really?"

Jinwoo glances at his watch once more—playing the role of someone rushing and nearing the late status in hopes of getting his sister of his tracks.

Fortunately for him, it worked. Unfortunately for him—it only delayed his suffering until much later. Something Jinwoo would come to regret after returning from the da—hang out.

It's a hang out.

"Alright, I'll let you go for now." She emphasizes the last word—making sure he understood that this was not done out of willful ignorance. "But when you get back..."

Jinwoo's already out and about and ready to leave, refusing to dwell where his sister stood out of fear that she might start dissecting everything, he's done that's remotely suspicious in her view.

Jinwoo walks away from his room and bids a short goodbye to his mother—quick to get away as far as he could without appearing too desperate.

Sung Jinwoo arrives just ten minutes before the agreed meeting time.

Perhaps a bit too early, but his mother would approve—it's rude to make people wait after all.

In the meantime, he looks around the park. Open and windy, not overcrowded with people—but it wasn't entirely deserted either.

Letting out his ice bears in an open place is bound to spell trouble. Though they're harmless, the civillians might think otherwise and cause unnecessary trouble by stirring up unease.

Realizing this, Jinwoo summons Beru, tasking him with searching for a less open place that's not too far from the park. Whilst Beru busied himself with searching, Jinwoo occasionally backreads through your messages.

[Note: You haven't finished skimming through old history!]

A window pops out randomly, showcasing a picture of his old phone below.

He quirks a brow, confusion first, then cones recognition.

Ah—the phone he got a few weeks back.

Looking back now, his whole endeavor of bothering to take his old phone to learn what would be the perfect first message to send seems ridiculous. Why did he do that again?

He stares at it thoughtfully. He never did get to finish backreading—too busy talking with you through texts instead. Not reminiscing about history, but creating another memory.

The old phone was left to rot in his inventory once more, forgotten once he had the present you to talk with.

However, clearly that was the wrong move when the system themselves told him to continue reading through it.

Was the content written and kept inside truly that important? A question for the ages—waiting to be answered.

"Ah, Jinwoo!"

Jinwoo looks up, already putting a face to the voice calling. His assumptions are not proven wrong as your figure graces his peripheral, rushing to him with an easy smile.

"You're here early."

He returns your smile, his posture fixing itself when the person he has to impress—for the sake of the quest of course—arrives at last.

You take a glance at your time, then place your attention back on him. "Did I make you wait long? There's still five minutes left so I thought I still had time. Did I get it wrong?"

"No," he answers. "I just got here myself. I didn't want to keep you waiting."

A blink, and you don't deny the little butterfly creeping inside you.

"Ah, is that so?" Offering him a closed eye smile, you ease into the scenario at hand.

[Achievement unlocked!]

[Gentleman series: Don't keep them waiting!

      Arrive earlier at a date before the agreed time.]

Fortunately for the dark haired man, he's gotten used to sudden pop ups induced by the system—enough to not let his eyes drift over it and possibly risk being seen as schizophrenic by you.

Jinwoo feels your gaze sweep over him—and that alone was enough for him to fix his posture and more subconsciously. How silly, it's not as though he'd take your evaluation to heart.

"You look like you're dressed to impress." You comment, tone cheery.

Your words—something he hadn't expected—made him pause. Was that negative..?

He looks at the window showcasing your affinity rate.

[28 ( + 0.5 )]

It doesn't look negative—and he hopes it isn't negative. However, the comment does make him ponder.

He reflects on himself. Hair slicked up, a button down shirt that matched his slacks, and clean leather shoes instead of the usual sneakers he wore to dungeon raiding.

All this dressing up for just half a point?

Ah.

Jinwoo tugged at his collar, heat crawling up his neck as he realized he looked like someone who was about to deliver a TED talk. In a public park. Worse: with bears that weren't quite bears. Even worse: with you as the sole audience.

Closing his eyes, Jinwoo comes to realize that his greatest wish might be to wring the neck of whoever made this wretched system and demand payment for humiliation instead of something grand like saving the world.

"Too much?"

Your brows lift. "Hm? No, no! It's fine—it looks good!" You quickly reply, waving your hands in defense. "It's just—you look like someone trying very hard to impress at a blind date. Or maybe attend a press conference."

Blinking, he brushes off the creeping shame upon noticing the difference in outfit. "That's specific."

Whilst yours remained comfortable and easy to move in, his clothes—in your words—seemed more like him preparing for a formal meeting. Dreadfully enough—even looked like he was preparing for a blind date. He regrets letting the system get into his head—how foolish.

He should've just worn the damn sneakers.

Jinwoo makes a mental note to never listen to the system from this point on.

"So," you bounce on the balls of your feet, hands clasped together in barely contained excitement. "The bears. Where are the bears? Let me see the bears."

"You sure are excited." He quirks a brow, amused by your enthusiasm. "Calm down they won't run away."

"They won't." You nod. "But every minute spent not burying my hands in their fur is a minute wasted!"

You beam. Then promptly pause. Stiffly—robotically—you tilt your head.

"Wait. Do they have fur?"

Jinwoo stills and ponders your words. Did they have fur?

He thinks back to his previous encounters with the ice bears. Their initial form had one—but did their shadow forms have them? He hadn't really called upon them since he had kaisel—but did they?

"They do." I think. He hoped they had one—they better have one.

"Great! More immersion! I was worried they'd just be whispy shadows I can't touch."

"You don't have to worry about that—you can hold them just fine." I think.

My king—I have arrived, bearing forth great news! I’ve located a sufficiently isolated clearing fit for noble beasts such as our ice bears to frolic and for milady to pet their great heads without inciting civilian panic!

Beru's voice rings inside his head like a medieval notification. Without ceremony, he nods discreetly and shifts his attention towards you.

Jinwoo clears his throat. "I found a private spot not far from here—if it's alright with you let's go there."

"Private? Why?" You perk up, tilting your head. "You're not planning on murdering me in broad daylight in the guise of privacy, are you?"

"That's dramatic even for you." He deadpans, flicking you in the forehead—careful with the force.

Yelping, you bite your tongue as he chides you for your overactive imagination. "That was uncalled for!"

He looks at his shadow for a split second, and then back to you, then towards the people lounging and exercising in the park. "This place is too open. Letting my shadows out here would likely cause public disturbance."

You hum, rubbing the spot he flicked with aggression. "That makes sense. If everyone saw just how cute they are it would certainly crowd he park."

"No, I think it would be chaotic for other reason." He deadpans, watching you nod along as if he said something deeply profound.

"Well? Lead the way!"

Jinwoo's gaze lingers on you for a moment made too long. Then, smoothly, he takes his stand beside you.

"Hold still for a sec."

Before you can ask why, an arm already wraps itself around your waist, loose but firm, and effectively bringing you closer to him.

You gasp, reeling from the sudden closure. Heat rose up your cheeks, eyes wide when he wordlessly wrapped an arm.

"Huh?!"

It all happened in a flash. One moment, you were being pulled closer by Sung Jinwoo, and the next, you suddenly felt like you were sinking down the ocean as gravity brought you down the ground. You instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, feeling yourself submerge in a sea of darkness before abruptly rising up on the shore once more.

"You can open your eyes."

A beat—or two—passes before you reluctantly peel one eye open, heart thrumming both from the proximity and the sudden usage of magic.

He pulls himself away, taking a step back further from where you stood(shame). Your legs felt wobbly at first, a sense of vertigo washing over you as you regained your balance.

"What was that?" Came your question after a few rounds of checking if you were alright and not dead. "I feel like a cat who just got thrown in a cold bucket."

Jinwoo—traitorous Jinwoo—tilts his head as if you were the odd one for not adjusting faster.

"A shortcut. The way from here to there was quite lengthy—I assumed you'd appreciate arriving here faster." He pauses, acting like he just realized that ah, maybe he should've asked beforehand. Right—there's such a thing called consent. Truly horrible of him to forget. "Was I wrong?"

"A warning would've been good! And you still haven't answered the question by the way."

"What question?"

You cross your arms, trying to hide the way your knees are still trembling under you. "What was that? I thought you were just going to walk me over. Not whatever just happened!"

He blinks, and then does the equivalent reaction of eureka hitting a genius from the olden times. "Ah—that was shadow exchange. Just a transportation spell, it's nothing important."

Your mouth gapes open. Now in normal circumstances—that would indeed be normal. He's an S rank hunter so of course it's expected for him to have some tricks up his sleeve. However, you weren't a hunter; you were just a regular person who didn't have a lick of mana inside you to use magic. So of course, it surprised you. Immensely.

"Normal? Nothing important? I felt like I was being kidnapped into some sort of dimensional rift!"

A shadow twitches near his foot—Beru, no doubt deeply insulted by your phrasing. How dare you crudely describe something so...marvelous? So skillfull? So majestic?

Though you might own the favor(you don't. Jinwoo tells him it's not like that but who cares. The heart wants what it wants and Beru presumes to know his king a lot. Enough to recognize his yearning at least.) of his king—that doesn't mean you can just crudely word the fantastical prowess of his own master!

Jinwoo ignores Beru's tantrum entirely. In spite of Beru's immature raging, Jinwoo appeared sheepish in front of you.

With a hand rubbing the back of his neck, he gives an awkward grin. "Sorry—I'll make sure to warm you next time."

Next time?

That's implying there'd be a next time, and you don't quite like the way he phrases it so easily. You don't quite like the way your pulse quickens at such simple words either. Traitorous heart.

How dare they feel something? Hope for something?

"Just give me the bears." You huff out, feigning ignorance to your very own feelings.

[31 ( + 2.5 )]

Yet little did you know that all your attempts at keeping things secret actually did little in hiding your bubbling affection.

"Stop talking as if they're illegal goods—that sounds shady."

Jinwoo feigns ignorance at the popping windows. He feigns ignorance to the small skip to his heartbeat that suddenly erupted—chalking it up to simple surprise.

He's anything but straightforward when it comes to his feelings.

Because you were a friend. A dear friend from his past. A dear friend he's pined for in the past—a dear friend who didn't reciprocate his feelings, nothing more, nothing less.

So even when he summons the bears with a sigh when you ask nicely, so even when you quickly swoon and go heart eyed for the roguish looking bears, he only takes a deep breath and sinks everything he feels down the drain.

"Aww cute little bears!" He watches you coo over a bear of your height as it crouches, and twice the more taller when they stand with a deadpan. "Are you hug friendly?"

A nuzzle of their nose on your hand makes you giggle. "Of course you are!"

[34 ( + 3 )]

No, he wasn't smiling. Damn it.

He just found an aspect to exploit to hopefully grind affection.

Taglist: @blackcat-star @daiyanomochi @soft-dots @snowy-violet @kokominari @ssolarsystm @2dmenfr @baby-bread-in @awwwia @coffeeisbehindyou @rai-xxx @sanchann @ilovestarwholock218 @simpingpandas @smellysluna @tanspostsblog @sauerhundz @justanotherweeb666 @stormnightingale @tomiokx @mentaltrouble2201

[bigassmoth]

Sebastian Michaelis' Reaction to Your Period Headcanons:

-For all humans he can estimate roughly where they are in their monthly/daily hormonal cycle by smell alone. Because he pays close attention to you, he knows your menstrual cycle by the day.

-With this^ in mind, he is aware of your period before you are and will have sanitary supplies ready accordingly. If you live in a close enough proximity, he will prep your bed with a towel in case it comes early overnight.

-He gets even more fussy about your diet. A personal challenge for him becomes how many ways can he cook liver for you. And if you hate liver, how many ways can he sneak it into your food?

-Despite being attentive towards your iron and hydration levels, his heart does backflips if you get woozy or dizzy. Will happily catch you everytime (he likes how weak and dependent you are).

-If he can he will have you spend the first day or two in bed/lounging. Easily done if you are within the Phantomhive manor, your meals will be delivered and any and all attempts to work will be quickly snuffed out. But if you are elsewhere and Sebastian cannot influence your daily activities then he will simply write to you imploring you to stay in bed. Naturally he will worry the whole time because you rarely listen to him. Once Ciel is asleep he will check in on you.

-He would make any emotionally charged situation worse by being condescending and laughing at you. He thinks its amusing how sad/angry you are- its not often he sees you so out of control of yourself. No amount of explaining your feelings or reasoning will help the situation. He will also attribute ALL negative emotions to "being on your cycle" so good luck bringing up legitimate concerns during this time.

-Sometimes says/does/brings up something just to watch you cry or get mad because he thinks its cute.

-Gives you massages when your chest swells up to relieve your shoulder and pectoral pain.

-Mandatory homemade herbal tea blend. If he can he will try to brew and serve it to you himself. If he is unable to, he will write detailed and elegant instructions and implore you to drink it twice a day.

-Dismissive of all emotional pains and plights but perfectly prepared and attentive for all of your physical and mental needs

NSFW

-More amorous than usual during your ovulation stage. He is deeply turned on by your high sex drive- pleeeasssee flash him those bedroom eyees

-"Sebastian, I need you", "I am at your disposal, my dear" type

-Torn about eating you out on your period. On one hand- he loves the blood and savagery of it. The mixture of your shame and arousal as he licks you, the look of disgust you shoot him when he AUDIBLY eats a fucking nugget of shed lining-- he practically lives for it. On the other hand- it is messy :(( he doesn't like the clean up afterwards. So it will depend on if he has the time to clean up, although you just need to ask him and he will gladly find a way to wiggle you into his schedule

-Aroused by your lack of bodily control. Demons have near perfect control over their image at all times- for you to be at the whim of your hormones and bodily functions is actually quite charming to him. He especially likes how you try to defy your biology.

-If you are more prone to embarrassment he will seek to use that against you. Asking you to bend over and pick up something heavy, hanging out a dusty manuscript, anything to watch your eyes widen in alarm when you feel a gush of blood between your thighs. He gets off on the idea of knowing why you are so flustered.

-On the topic of intentionally getting you to cry from either sadness or frustration, he very much likes to do this leading up to sex. Especially if you are angry. Bearing your teeth, so frustrated that tears spill from your eyes, your body so engulfed in rage that you aren't even registering the ache in your abdomen anymore. It is a picture of seduction to Sebastian, he can never resist gently cupping your face and shoving his tongue in your mouth. Don't harm your precious teeth by grinding them together! Please, bite his tongue until it bleeds instead.

-Despite treating you to soft and gentle touches, Sebastian works quickly. He doesn't see the point in teasing you and drawing out the experience. You both know what you want and he doesn't have the willpower to deny you while you suffer under your own physiology.

[alilobsessive]

Dreaming of Teeth

2

When experiencing great trauma the human brain will do anything to keep itself functioning, even to the detriment of the other body parts. The harm to your body doesn’t matter, just that the brain feels safe. For every human this can function in many ways, over eating, under eating, over sleeping, daydreaming and in your case alcoholism. You aren’t unaware that your coping mechanisms are dangerous, especially in a city like Gotham. But you can’t bring yourself to care, you’ll take anything then the anger and sadness that courses through your brain when you have time to think. So you indulge in your vices, even if they will lead you to an early grave.

You have done a great job at it too, of course that is until coming home from a party you run into one of the many people you prayed you would never see again. One of your many, many siblings.

Or

I just wanted to see a Batfam and Neglected! Reader fic we’re Reader had AWFUL coping mechanisms when dealing with their trauma.

Tw: Prominent OC usage, unreliable narrator but it’s not super obvious, Under aged drinking, Canon Typical Child Death (Jason), Canon Typical Child Undeath (Jason), Not Canon Typical Child Death (Unnamed Child OC), slight sexual content with unnamed character at the beginning, implied criminal activity, mention of organ harvesting, referenced underaged smoking, unspecified criminal activity, implied homelessness, references to drugs and sex but no actual drugs and sex, okay there is weed smoking, child abandonment, spousal abandonment, child neglect, spousal neglect, cheating, references to Red Hood typical murderers and the people who are usually his victims(rapist, traffickers you know the drill). Probably more things I haven’t realized count as tw or forgot to add. Idk I went into a fugue state at 10pm and when I came to it was 4am and I wrote a good chunk of this. Then spent like two weeks editing this, there might be some spelling and grammar errors, I am very dyslexic.

——————

Lights flashes around the room colorful and bright, your lips tangle with a strangers, back pressed against a wall. Arms wrapped around the neck of someone you have not met before today and someone who you will never see again after. Sitting next to you glancing over every few seconds is your roommate and while you would not call Phoebe your best she is your closest. The young woman isn’t as big of a fan of clubs and parties such as this one, but every night she dutifully comes. Just to make sure you’re safe in the dark Gotham streets. A sentiment you truly appreciate, a type of care and love you have never experienced before her.

You lightly moan as the stranger grinds against you, both your breaths smelling of alcohol. You’re brain muddled, only thinking about how good you feel. Dumb and giggling, not a worry to be had, just like you like it. But sadly before anything could go further, your phone's alarm went off, the most dreaded part of the night. A reminder that all this must be over, and responsibilities must come. With a wet pop as you separated from tonight’s partner and a whine of sorrow you reach into your jacket pocket for your phone, the drunken stranger takes this as an invitation to go for your neck. Leaving feather light kisses across it, with a small giggle you lightly push them back. They oblige with a whispered “aww come on baby” you feel nothing as they say this, but you desperately want to.

Turning off the alarm that normally is a loud blare, but with the mind numbing beat of the music, so loud you can feel it against the wall. With a pout and you whine out “I know” while looking up at them clearly disappointed. “I would love to stay with you longer” you would, you don’t want the buzz to go away. “But I have to go” reaching over next to yourself quietly, your roommate hands your glass over. It’s slightly warm from being lovingly guarded in her hands. You chug the rest of it down, the bitter sting as it goes down your throat a soothing balm to all your troubles, including leaving. “Aaw, at least call me later” they pout, with a drunken giggle and sweet voice “of course!” You say happily and once again press your lips against there’s. It’s a desperate thing, a reluctance to leave their grasp. But you pull away anyway, knowing that the second they put a hand back on your hips you’ll have to be pried off.

The alarm is a clear indication that that's not what sober you wanted. They wanted you out by 10, so you will be out by 10. Stumbling away and then turning back around to blow them another kiss, they wave back almost dreamily before being dragged away themselves by their own drunken friend. Neither of you have the other's phone number, let alone know each other’s name. Neither of you seem to notice or care. Phoebe is already at your side, quietly dragging you out of the club. Once you’re onto the sidewalk you slump onto her. “I wanted to spend more time there” you slur out with a pout, but she only rolls her eyes. The woman was definitely not dressed for clubbing of any kind. Clothing more like pajamas, not a speck of makeup on her face. Glasses perched against a crooked nose that never quite set right after something broke it. Despite Phoebe’s quiet and calm demeanor you can tell she’s anxious, just like you she has her own vices. Issues that she blocks away, but unlike you who drains your sorrows in booze, clubs and one night stands. The far more introverted women drains them in weed, blankets and porn.

“I know” she says softly ending it with your name and a sigh, “but we both have to be up by 6” responsibility, the thing you both hate. The two of you would rather be indulging, hiding from and blocking out the world. Doing nothing but having fun and pretending your issues don’t exist. But you can’t live without suffering, and suffer you must to keep a roof over your head’s, stomach’s full and wine flowing. She leads you to her car, a red mom van Phoebe’s had since before you became roommates two years ago.

But before you're even close enough to open it, you hear a voice, one you haven’t heard in years. He calls out the name of a dead man, almost surprised to see you. You turn to look at him, fear in your eyes at the name. The sight of him alone almost shocks you sober, if that’s even possible. Although it’s been several years since you saw him, you can instantly tell who you’re looking at. Phoebe looks at you confused, but says nothing, not recognizing the name, but understanding what your reaction means. Fear and dread curl up in your stomach, you want to cry, you want to scream. Why, why is one of them here, all you can do is stare at the man in front of you.

Your mother is a wealthy woman, married to an equally wealthy man. The Wayne family owned the biggest tech company in all of Gotham, making anything from cars to grappling hooks. Of course that’s not all they do, even before you were born they practically owned this city. Not just with there wealth, but with how many different types of pie’s they have there thumb in. Your mother loved your Father with all her heart, but Bruce Wayne didn’t love her back. It was well known he was a serial cheater, sleeping with and going out with as many other women as possible. He only married your mother because he needed to, it was to get the board of directors off his back. A wife was perfect to clean up his image, but that wasn’t what he desired. Instead of cleaning up his act and at least hiding his affairs he made them public. Your mother was left behind, neglected and humiliated every day. You were born a year into their marriage, how that even happened you don’t know, nor do you want to.

Neither of your parents loved you, even your mother, the person you were closest to, wanted as little to do with you as possible. The small sympathetic part of you thinks she might have had postpartum depression, but the rest of you doesn’t care why she treated you that way. What she did to you was inexcusable. In your eyes at least. One day when you were three, something inside her snapped. You don’t know exactly what happened, maybe she found out about his secret. She loved Bruce after all, not Batman, finding out that the man you love is nothing but a parsons. The real personality, completely different, both more willing to live in a cave than with you would break anyone. Why she would love Bruce at all given his treatment of her you will never know, never truly understand.

So, that cold winter day you watched as your mother put on her favorite fur coat. How she packed her leather suitcases and anything else she had that could be used as a storage container. She handed you a photo kept safe inside a frame, one that would lead you on a wild goose chase for the next 13 years. It was when you were a baby, just born and sitting inside an incubator, born 3 weeks too early and far too small. You’re Father, staring at you with eyes you have never seen on him before and never will, at least not directed at you. Eyes full of love and affection, a look you will chase for far too long. Then she gave you a pat on the head with her gloved hand, you would follow close behind as she carried her bags and suitcases outside, your small body sat right next to the door as it was too cold and you weren’t dressed for the weather. You watched as she got into a car

and dropped off the face of the fucking earth.

It was like she was retconned out of existence, no traces of where she might have gone was found. You bet Batman could have found her, if he tried. A part of you hates that he didn’t, that he let her pack up her things, take her money and vanish without a trace, took a week before she was declared missing. She’s still a hot topic in true crime podcasts even 20 years later. That woman left you all alone, with a Father you only saw in pictures and a butler that pitted you. There was never love in Alfreds eyes, only pity that you must exist. He looked at your mother with those same eyes, it’s a miracle she hadn’t left sooner. She left you to sit alone with a desperate desire for their affection, something they never gave to you, but so happily gave to others.

Why didn’t she take you? Why didn’t she bring you with her? WHY-

You were 5 when Dick was adopted and not long later became Robin. He didn’t know what to do with you, he spent the first 13 years of his life an only child. He didn’t know how to handle a random 5 year old coming up to him and asking him to play. Tie that in and all his grief and anger at losing his parents, he wasn’t able to be a big brother, he didn’t want to be a big brother. But Dick isn’t cruel, he was polite and kind, but as distant as they come. In a way that was even more cruel.

Bruce loves Dick, maybe not in the way of a Father, closer to that of a much younger brother that suddenly became your ward after the untimely death of your parents. But it is love nonetheless, he took him to gala’s that you would never catch a glimpse of. To patrols, and crime scenes and fights, teaching him the best he could. But Bruce could barely look at you at dinner, if he did it was through you, not at you. How his loving eyes in that photo turned so cold in just a few short months, maybe even days or hours, you don’t know.

That’s exactly the reason you hated Jason, the two of you are much closer in age. He was 14 and you were 11 when he was adopted. It was at a tumultuous time, Dick just left being Robin after a falling out with Bruce, and you had just learned that your Father and brother were Batman and Robin. At first you didn’t get why Dick hated Jason, Jason was the kindest boy you had ever met. No he was the kindest person you had ever met, dispute living an awful life and having to go through nicotine withdrawals when he first moved in he always had a smile on his face. He never let his trauma get him down, or at the very least he never showed it to you. In your eyes he was one of the strongest people you had ever met, you never looked up to Dick quite like how you looked up to Jason the first month he was there. He talked to you, he went along with your games and silly stories, even came to your figure skating competition, he was the closest thing to an older brother you ever had.

That all came crashing down, the day you finally got it, understood Dick’s hatred. For the first time all three of you were in the same room and Bruce gave Jason that look, the look you’ve been striving for your whole life. In hindsight it made sense, who wouldn’t love Jason? All smiles and playful banter and an unending desire to help. But in your little 11 year old brain it felt like the greatest betrayal. You wanted nothing to do with him from that point on, ignoring him no matter how desperately he tried to talk to you. It got so bad that one day, you yelled at him and threw the closet thing next to you at him. You couldn’t remember what you threw but it didn’t really matter, Jason caught it with ease, although he clearly wasn’t expecting it, and you ran. The two of you very rarely interact after that. From what you overheard Bruce talking to Alfred, Jason was getting more violent. Although you couldn’t see it yourself, Jason was just the same as usual, and that love never left Bruce's eyes. He should be happy, he got everything you ever wanted, he was happy, or so you thought.

Then one day he ran away, on some stupid quest to find his birth mother. Why would he even want that when he had people that loved him right here? So what if they weren’t his blood, they were still his family. What did that get him? Both him and his bio mom getting murdered that’s what. You were so angry at him, he wasn’t even there for a full year and he was already gone forever? Just like that? You didn’t even get to say goodbye! You hated Jason, and you miss him so much. To this day your greatest regret is that you couldn’t reconcile, not that you have the balls too. Not once in your several chances have you done so.

Tim was next, you never cared for Tim and he never cared for you. The boy showed up out of nowhere, he’s the same age as you. First going to Dick and begging him to be Robin again, Batman needs a Robin after all. Instead of asking you, he went straight to becoming Robin. Not that Bruce would let you become Robin, and not like you had the desire to become what killed your brother. Tim was technically not a part of the family, but he stayed around so often he practically was. It took a long time for Bruce to love Tim, but he grew on Bruce like a fungus. You didn’t care about Tim, you weren’t desperate for his approval. All you wanted was your Father’s love, that he so freely gave out to everyone else. The man who so freely hurt both you and your mother in the most humiliating of ways, not even acknowledging your relationship with him.

You met Cassandra after Gotham was safe to come back to, thankfully before No Man’s Land

your whole grade was on a week long field trip out of the city. Unthankfully the executive order to activate No Man’s Land came on the first day of the trip. No one could go back home after that, for months a whole high school class was stranded. Many of the school students were members of the elite so they were quickly brought back to their families when they fled. But yours didn’t, you struggled as one of the many Gotham refugees. But dispute this, for the first time in years you felt alive. Admittedly your 16 year old self didn’t make the best choices. You didn’t have a credit card, any identification outside of the school ID, no access to Wayne money. So you did whatever you could to get by. You made friends with people you shouldn’t have been friends with, very quickly falling into the mindset of doing anything to get a quick buck. But being completely cut off from your family for the first time. It made you realize how little you needed them. No, how little you needed him.

So coming back to Gotham after several months was strange.16 years old and suddenly seeing everything so differently, how much of a fool you were for wanting your father's approval and several bad habits you still haven’t beaten to this day. The fact that while you were gone, they had replaced you with Cassandra, pissed you the fuck off. Of course it did, who wouldn’t be angry! But not at her, not anymore, you were mad at Bruce. You hated everything about him, about being reminded of him. But you still loved him, still wanted him to look at you, tell you to your face that he didn’t want you instead of avoiding you and pretending you didn’t exist. Maybe then you could finally move on, or maybe not, you’ll never know. Cassandra was here, just like Dick she was polite but could care less about you. Just like everyone’s favorite hero Nightwing, puller of the Hero community! Who could do no wrong even when he did, all of this pissed you the fuck off

and made you so, so sad.

So you drank and went to parties full of people you barely knew, and drank some more. Getting a fake id in Gotham isn’t that hard, nore was finding clubs that wouldn’t look at it with more than a glance. The hard part was finding ones that also wouldn’t sell your organs. Buy that point you were barely at the manor, barely at school, only just passing most of your classes, sleeping in as many as possible for a variety of different reasons. No one at home cared, not Bruce, not Dick, not Alfred and his stupid pitying face. Every day he gave you that same fucking look, like he was sad for you. If he truly cared he would have tried to help ages ago before you were even born. You wanted to punch that old man in the face, but you didn’t because everyone loved Alfred. He was like a grandfather to everyone else in the maner, even a slightly threatening glare would set them off.

School was a different story altogether. People card there, but most only cared to look down on you or make fun of you. Thanks to your Father's past treatment of your mother and the fact that you're rarely seen in public with them. It’s clear to a lot of people you're not favored, that does mean you’re not kidnapped for ransom every other week like most of your classmates. But it also means all the high society types don’t like you that much, they ignore you at best, openly mock and belittle you at worst. But at this point, you didn’t give a shit, you had entered the dreaded, edgy 16 years old ‘I’m a lone wolf’ faze. Which you would be stuck in for an even more embarrassing amount of time.

Of course as the child of a ‘superhero’ the world's greatest detective, yada, yada, yada, life can never stay peaceful. Or as close to a form of peace Mr. Edgy Too-Cool-For-School 17 year old self could grasp onto. No, in fact there superherodum infected your everyday life, of course it did, there were villains left and right. Honestly your superseded Gotham isn’t a ghost town with how much shit goes down here. But an underrated part of being a superhero is how many times someone can be killed and then raised from the dead. To the point that every time a superhero dies you aren’t surprised when they come back from the dead anywhere from a few months to years later.

For the first time in a long time though, you were surprised. There was man you don’t recognize in the manor’s living room, sitting on the couch, gaze glued to the floor looking deep in thought. Tall, muscular, and covered in scars. He looked like someone you would have worked under during No Man’s Land. Right before you can turn heel and leave, he looks at you, you look back. Face morphing in a mix of shock and fear, his own going from neutrality to his signature sunny smile that’s burned into your brain. Jason calls out the name of a soon to be dead man, with the same glee he did all those years ago. His voice having changed so much over the years. Instead of going to the brother you so deeply missed, who you never stopped mourning, regretting, guilting over. You do what you always do, what you’ve been doing for years in fun different ways

You run

Just like your mother before you, on a cold winter’s day you put on a jacket. Pack as many bags as you can carry, take all the money you saved up and leave. Just like your mother before you, Batman, Bruce Wayne, the man you both desperately craved the love and affection of for so many years. Never comes looking for you, none of them do not even Jason. You’re a coward, same as your mother. You will always be a coward, you have come to accept that fact. That you will never be strong enough to confront them.

Yet you can’t leave this city, you don’t have the heart to.

In a place like Gotham, no one glances twice at a teenager carrying lots of bags in the cold. You don’t look twice at them either. As quickly as you can, you change your name. Not just your last name, your whole name, first, middle and last. With no remnants of your Father and mother left, the Wayne you once were is dead. You are now a new person entirely, at least in a legal sense. Now your name is just yours not there’s, if only you could change more on a deeper, visceral level.

Life was tough, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, got help, made friends. Eventually finding your way into the shabby apartment you live in with your roommate, your closest friend. Now you’re living comfortably, compared to before at least. Of course someone had to fuck it up. We’re-we’re he- Jason, he stands right in front of you, okay not right, he’s a good 5 or so feet away, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to just walk closer. Fuck you haven’t seen anyone in that good forsaken family in person in 6 years! Now that you finally have everything together, finally have a decent life of your own. You’re biggest regret and shame stands right before you.

Phoebe takes a step in front of you trying to protect you from Jason. Like she can protect you from a muscular man twice her size, a former Robin no less, even if it was a short stint, even the most basic of training is fucking brutal. Jason looks amused at her reaction, clearly having the exact same thought. He calls that god damn name again, if you were sober, you would have probably pretended to not know who that is and say he got the wrong person. But you’re not, you’re drunk and scared, and that’s a recipe for disaster. “That’s not my name” you say quickly, but not steadily. “Wa-“ he looks at you confused, then he really looks at you, with the eyes not of an older brother running into their estranged sibling on the street. But as a trained detective, “are you drunk?” Jason asks in a mix of shock and concern. “That’s not-that’s none of your fucknn bugisiness” you slur out, definitely drunk but also panicking. Walking closer Jason continues to speak “I’m your older brother! You getting drunk and running around the dark streets of Gotham is definitely my business!” Instead of responding like a sane and rational person. You grab Phoebe by the arm and yell “GET IN THE CAR!” Then booking it to the car with your best efforts, Jason just stands there watching you, baffled.

Opening the door and shoving Phoebe in the front seat, she awkwardly crawls over to the driver’s side. You then slide in and slam the door closed, already aggressively shaking her saying “drive! drive! drive!” Increasingly panicked, before she can even properly get seated. She lightly shoo’s your hands away as she gets seated and pulls out her keys. Turning the car on and speeding away, both of you unaware that as she pulls away from the sidewalk Jason takes out his phone and takes a picture of her license plate. He put it back in his pocket with a sigh, now Jason was planning on letting you come back home on your own terms. He completely understands the desire to brood away from your family for several years because you’re mad at them. But after seeing that? Well it’s clear to Jason that if he doesn’t force you to come back you never will

and we can’t have that now can we?

Your appointment is small, two bedrooms both just big enough for a twin and a dresser. An open living room and kitchen, with a single cramped bathroom that can’t even hold a tub. The few windows all open to an alleyway with a fire escape that is barely up to code. One of the windows is boarded up, having been broken recently during a Batman chase sequence. The guys your landlord hired to fix it won’t be able to come for another week. Your couch looks like a possum had given birth in it, which might be true seeing as Phoebe stole it off the street with her old roommate before you came into the picture. The tv is so old it’s still a box and doesn’t get Netflix, not like either of you are subscribed to a streaming service. Pirating all the way! Compared to Wayne manor this place is a dump.

It’s perfect

Really most places would be considered a dump by Wayne manor standards. This has been the second nicest apartment you lived in since you moved out. And you don’t even feel like you’re mooching off the kindness of a sweet single mother and her 8 year old brat with this one! Currently your face is shoved into a pillow as you lay on the stolen possum nest. Phoebe stands by one of the windows, having opened it and leaning on the sill. You can hear a lighter being flipped on and off from we’re she’s standing. Then the smell of weed smoke fills your nose.

“So..” she begins “what the actual fuck was that” “I don’t want to talk about it” came your muffled reply. “No seriously what the fuck?” She said, you could hear her footsteps walking towards you. “Out the window!” You point behind your back to the general direction of the window. “Listen I’m all for ignoring your problems and keeping your dark past to yourself” she ignores your previous statement, her voice much closer than before. “But as your roommate I need to know the basics of what I’m working with here. That guy who looks like he works for The Penguin or some shit-“ “Penguin?!” You almost laugh out. “Ya! Like gang shit!” “I know but why The Penguin?” She sputters at that “I don’t fuckin know! He’s like on the top of my Gotham gang leader’s tier list!” “You have a tear list?? The Penguin is on the top of it??” You’re voice filled with a mix of amusement and confusion “We live in Gotham!” Is her defense “Of course I have a tier list!” Phoebe huffs.

You squirm onto your back, face still covered by the pillow. “Hold on, what level is Red Hood?” “He’s not on it, he’s a superhero.” She says it like it’s a fact, “he’s literally not though? He kills people” “please the only people he kills are rapists, abusers and human traffickers. Hero in my book- the point is I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’s not with the Joker-“ that sentence alone made you laugh for a minute straight. Phoebe stood there quietly smoking her cigarette as you cackled violently. Once calmed down you finally say “Jason would rather hunt him for sport then work for him. I can’t imagine any timeline where Jason works for the Joker. That would be so out of character for him.” She hums in acknowledgment. “So this guy- Jason- you’re brother- shows the fuck up out of nowhere, both of you shocked to see each other dead names you-“ “in his defense I changed my name after we cut contact” “right good on you Y/N” that statement made you lower the pillow from your face and onto yours chest. Staring at her from the other side of the couch like she’s crazy.

“Y/N?” You ask “ya, you know like, your name? Y/N” “no I get what you’re talking about” you cut her off. “But why the fuck did you just call me the name placement for an X Reader fic?” She shrugs and takes a drag of her cigarette. “Helped with calming you down, didn't it?” “What? Ugg” you put a hand up to your face, “your distracting me!” “And probing for answers!” She cheers out. “So what about him got you so freaked out, hmm girly pop?” You groan again, properly sitting up, feet on the floor, pillow in your lap. She slides into the now free spot next to you.

“It’s just- we have a super complicated relationship, and he’s the sibling I have the best relationship with, but with him still being in contact with the family… I don’t know, we… we got into a bad argument and before we could make up he… went missing for 5 years. Then he was suddenly found after being declared dead for so long- I… I panicked, ran… ended up here.” You look in the opposite direction of her almost shamefully. The both of you sit in silence for a bit, it’s quiet for a long time before with an almost defeated sigh she finally speaks. “When I graduated high school my grandparents went on a road trip to go to a family reunion in a different state.” She starts, and you turn to look at her “I stayed behind, my relationship with the family wasn’t the best to begin with and I didn’t want to spend several days in a cramped car with people I barely liked. My younger sister on the other hand went, the two of us had a pretty significant age gap, about 9 years. Just a day into the trip they got into a nasty car accident” She takes a stutery breath, and puts her cigarette back in her mouth, blowing on it. “Everyone else, my grandparents, aunts and cousins. They all lived, not her though, she was the only person in the car that wasn’t an adult, the others got serious injuries that needed surgery’s for. But her body was decimated, died instantly, and brutally mangled.” You just stare at her, horror clear on your face. Hers is almost completely blank, not even hear at the moment, mind far off and somewhere else.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask her, she glances over to you before looking away. “You were telling me things you didn’t want to talk about, to remember. So I’m doing the same.” “but yours is way more detailed. I was being so vague! Now I feel bad” “don’t be, I was debating on if i should tell you this anyways. No pressure with going into more detail about your mysterious past.” with a sigh you look down at your feet. Not knowing what to say next, if you should even say something next. Finally after a bit of internal debate you say the first thing that comes to mind “this is not how I wanted the day to go”, Phoebe laughs “me neither”. “He probably won’t be an issue.” You continue fiddling with your hands, “the rest of my family never really cared about me, I was basically just a ghost in their house. Hell I don’t even know if my sister knows my name!” “Yeesh” “ya… he was the only one that really cared, so outside of him probably having already found where we live-“ “what” “we shouldn’t have to deal with the rest of my family” she opens her mouth to speak again. “Or worry about gangs” she closes it “most of my siblings work for are Dad’s tech company anyways. They have no reason to join a gang.” “A family business? In Gotham?” she chuckles “If it doesn’t have ties to some gang or isn’t like 3 generations old or both, I don’t see that place still standing.” now you laugh, if only she knew.

If only she knew.

——————

A/N time!

I have some more ideas for this AU but I admittedly don’t know much more of what to do with it. Like I have a lot of ideas for character relationships but not a lot of plot. I know at some point Reader is dragged back to the Wayne’s but I haven’t fully decided if it’s willing or not.

I do have a few ideas for what Reader’s name was before they became a Y/N L/N. But I didn’t want it to come off too much like the reader is an OC. I also don’t want to pick a name that someone reading this might have. Which is a slim but very there possibility, would be pretty fucking immersion, breaking if the character who canonically change their name to be yours/whatever OC you make already had yours/whatever OC you make is first name. So I’ll probably keep those ideas to myself.

Also if it isn’t clear, I have never once smoked in my life. I'm more of an edible girly myself, more powerful and you're not inhaling smoke! It’s a win win! Also I have no experience writing someone who is drunk or high, so there probably also written poorly. In fact I’ve never once gotten as drunk as the reader does in this. Admittedly I couldn’t figure out how to write the ending with them drunk.

Thinking about making the floor plan of the apartment in the sims, but idk it’s not going to be that important? If I do end up continuing this like I have planned. I’m already working on chapter two! Which expands on things mentioned here and hopefully shows even more how much of an unreliable narrator reader is. Idk I’ve only started the first few paragraphs.

I know not many X reader fics go into detail about the Reader is non from fandom relationships. Which makes sense, it’s called Batfam X Neglected Reader after all, not Reader and the OC gang. I honestly just felt like filling out the world with more non DC or other franchise characters. Don’t worry if I do continue this it won’t be a common trend, Phoebe will be the only commonly reoccurring named OC. If/when I add more they won’t be as prominent or fleshed out as her. She’s very important to the plot I’ve got cookin in my brain :).

Fun fact! Phoebe didn’t originally have a name! She was referred to solely as roommate up till the last minute!

[aryaryxoxo]

04 — [⏮] [masterlist] [⏭]

I'm fucked, aren't I? #soshiro hoshina x lara jean coded!reader ⤷ Sure, why not add accidentally losing the love letters you wrote for your VICE CAPTAIN to the list of the dumb shit you did this year...Why did I even write it in the first place, you pondered. You knew why…writing helps you let loose your overflowing feelings for the vice-captain. But maybe—pray to God. Whoever has the used—to—be—chocolate—now—letter storage tin threw it in the trash you wished DING!

Of course not, I’m fucked—aren’t I?

...

Dear Soshiro Hoshina, I never thought I’d be the type to notice small details, but somehow, I’ve started paying attention to the little things about you, ever since that Honju attack. Like the way your eyes seem to brighten when you talk about the things you care about, or how you move like everything around you is just... natural, like it’s all under your control. I’m not sure when it started, but now, every time you do something like that, it makes me feel... something. I don’t know if it’s just admiration, or something else. Sincerely, Ami

...

…

You find yourself standing in front of his office door, a place that once made your heart flutter with excitement whenever you passed by. Now, though, it feels terrifying. Well, there’s no getting out of this… Just grab the handkerchief and go, you tell yourself, trying to muster the courage.

You knock three times, your knuckles grazing the wood gently.

“Come in.”

At the sound of his voice, steady and low, you take a breath and push the door open.

You’re greeted by the man who once took your breath away—the one who saved you from an Honju before it nearly tore you apart. A memory that has a special place in your heart. But he’s also the man who could very well cost you your job if the truth came out. That’s why you need to keep your distance… no matter how impossible that feels.

“You’re up early,” Soshiro said, setting the morning report down on his desk. His voice was calm, amused even — and when he looked up at you, there was that damn smile. The kind that made you forget how to function like a normal human being.

“Well, you see, Vice Captain, I... um... uhhh—” Why am I awkward? I’m not this awkward. Get it together!

“Yes?” he prompted, one brow slightly raised, clearly entertained.

“I like... getting ready in the morning. Yep. That’s it.” You nodded far too quickly. “Big fan of mornings. Love 'em.”

Totally not true.

You laughed—nervous, high-pitched, and painful—and immediately wanted to slam your face into the nearest filing cabinet.

“Well, good morning to you, early bird,” Soshiro said, reaching into his drawer with that calm demeanor. He held the handkerchief in his hands, but didn’t hand it over immediately.

“I have a question,” Soshiro said. Yup. Here we go. This is it. I’m dead. My funeral will be held at the base gymnasium. Closed casket.

“Why did you ask if you could switch weapons after being recruited?” Soshiro asked.

Your heart stopped for a second. Shit. I did ask. And I definitely wrote in the letters how I wanted to use a sword real bad. LIE.

“Umm, because, uh... you know, the gun is heavy,” you gulped.

Soshiro looked at you closely, then gave a small nod before finally handing you the handkerchief.

“This is your handkerchief. I washed it—don’t worry.”

He held it out casually. You snatched it from his hand faster than you meant to, nearly smacking his fingers in the process.

“Thank you!” you blurted, clutching the handkerchief. You were already halfway to the door when Soshiro’s voice stopped you.

“You’re acting strange,” he said lightly. Soshiro blinked at your reaction, lips twitching as if he were trying not to laugh. "You’ve never been this agitated." Wait, how does he know that?

You turned back around, teeth clenched. “Strange? Me? Pfft. I’m just... well-rested.”

Three hours of sleep and a growing mountain of panic about you finding out and me getting kicked out of the force. Totally fine. Normal. Thriving.

Soshiro looked at the calendar, and a thought popped up in his head. “Oh—is it because—it's okay if you don’t want to reply. If it makes you uncomfortable,” Soshiro said, his voice gentle. You blinked. 

I swear to god this guy wants me dead.

“The end of the month is near,” he added.

Huh? “I’m sorry?” You blinked at him in confusion.

“I meant…” He paused, then gave a small sigh, the smile fading from his face. “I don’t mean to pry. But I am the vice captain—and I’m in charge of your training. Captain Mina mentioned your performance in the field’s been... declining. You’ve been placing last.”

You looked down and gripped the handkerchief in your hands tighter as if it could somehow steady you. Your fingers twisted around the fabric, knuckles white with the pressure.

You couldn’t look at him. Not when your brain was screaming at you: You’re pathetic. You are nothing compared to him. If you weren’t so busy admiring him, maybe you could use that stupid gun efficiently. Maybe you wouldn’t be failing at everything.

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling the sting of your own self-loathing, and forced yourself to swallow the lump in your throat.

Might as well confess up.

You muttered to yourself, your nerves getting the best of you. Taking a deep breath. “Sir—”

But before you could continue, Soshiro cut in, his voice casual, almost teasing. “I can personally train you, you know,” he said, leaning back in his chair, eyes never leaving you.

You blinked. Wait, what?

You weren’t sure if he meant that as a joke, but your heart skipped a beat. 

“W-What?” you stammered. “No, I—what does that even mean?” You wanted to look anywhere but at him, but somehow, your eyes kept gravitating back to that damn, confident smirk.

Soshiro leaned forward slightly, his tone still light but now laced with a hint of something more serious. “It means I can help you get back to where you need to be. No more placing last.”

"But sir, with all due respect... aren’t you an expert with swords, not guns?" you asked, brows furrowing as you tried to make sense of his offer.

Soshiro didn’t answer right away. He studied you, arms loosely crossed, his expression unreadable as always. His gaze moved from head to toe, pausing briefly on your left hand. Tiny scar on my palm.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice calm and measured.

“Yes,” he replied. "My specialty is the sword. But more importantly, I know how to teach. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve got sharp reflexes and fast footwork. That instinct could carry you far."

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to show your nerves. 

"You're struggling with precision, that's clear. But there are ways to train that—habits, drills, techniques." His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of challenge in them. "And I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that can help you hit your mark every single time."

Your stomach twisted. Was he serious? He didn’t have to do this... but the idea of training with him sent your mind spinning in a completely different direction.

“Is there anything in return?” you asked, skepticism lacing your voice, eyeing him cautiously.

Soshiro shrugged, not missing a beat. “No. I’m just a good vice captain.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at his smugness, but... you couldn’t help but laugh instead. The sound felt lighter than it had in days, and it came out more genuine than you intended.

Soshiro looked at you. His heart beat a little faster for a second, as though the sound of your laughter had caught him off guard.

Something in him twisted—something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. He found himself almost... wanting to hear more of it. But his gaze flicked over to the tin can sitting on the table behind you. His eyes narrowed for a split second.

Dear Soshiro Hoshina, My friends say I have a weird laugh, do you think I have a weird laugh? Wait, I’m stupid, you don’t know me. Sincerely, Ami

You stopped laughing, and followed his gaze, and your heart dropped when you saw where he was looking. SHIT. The tin.

How had you not noticed it there? It sat innocently on the table behind you, but now, with Soshiro’s eyes fixed on it, you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

He’s piecing it together. He’s going to figure it out.

Okay, think, think your mind is scrambling. You needed a distraction. You needed to do anything!

Without missing a beat, You cleared your throat and mustered every ounce of confidence you could summon. “I’ve heard someone gave a love letter, you know? That’s, uh, giving teenager, right?” You forced a nonchalant smile, but it felt like your face might crack from the tension. “I didn’t even know love letters still existed. I thought they only existed in romance movies.”

You chuckled, hoping it didn’t sound as fake as it felt. Please buy it. Please, please buy it.

Soshiro raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. Your brain short-circuited from the pressure. And before you could stop yourself, words just happened.

“I could help you find out who gave you the love letters! Since you want to help me with training, I will help you”

Why did I keep digging my own grave?

...

04 — [⏮] [masterlist] [⏭]

...

a/n — well this just got a whole lot more interesting HAHAHHA

taglist — @vaida-talks-about-everything , @madiexuberant @kokoiinuts

Warnings — grammatical errors; timeline is weird, pls ignore it. I’m new to the fandom, hence there are chance of misrepresentation, my apologizes.

[neowonderland]

Addicted || l.jn

Summary: Jeno's the heir to the Lee Corporation but night after night, you find him in your room hungry for you Pairings: Vampire Jeno x reader Warnings: 18+, dark content, implied(?) noncon, smut Wc: 0.7k

Dark Content, Minor please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

“It was your fault, really.”

That’s what Jeno whispered into your ear after the first night he fed on you, his blood stained lips pressed against the shell of ear. That was the first and only time Jeno had spoken to you despite the amount of times Jeno has fed on you since then.

You tell yourself it’s not your fault, that it’s Jenos. It’s not your fault that you had taken the shortcut back home from your work at the Lee Corporation. It wasn’t your fault that you had found a man slumped over on the sidewalk. It’s not your fault you were worried about a man who looked sick and pale. It’s not . It’s not your fault that later the man, Jeno, had showed up inside your home to bite and feed on your blood.

Jeno knows you won’t tell anyone about him, you’re far too isolated and secluded. You care too much about your job and your financial stability. Besides, who would even believe that the famous head of the Lee Corporation had been breaking into your home in the dead of night to drink your blood? 

It used to happen once a month, randomly where you’d be awoken by Jenos weight pinning you down and then the pain of his fangs piercing your throat. Then, once a week. Now, every three days. 

You hate him, hate how he’s disturbed your peaceful life. You hate that you’re burdened with his secret. You hate how he invades your space. You hate the pain he inflicts on you. You hate how he’s so quiet, never talking, never making an attempt to soothe you before or after he bites.

You hate how he forces your legs open, how he never preps you, fucking into you with too much strength. You hate how he pins you down, shoving your head into the mattress as your tears soak the pillow while your sobs rack your body. You hate how weak and small you feel against him, how easily he’s able to overpower you and do whatever he wants to you.

Jeno knows you hate him. You minimize any sort of contact with him when he stops by to supervise your department. You don’t even spare him a glance, avoiding eye contact and being alone with him, doing everything in your power to not give him any sort of attention. You don’t try to speak to him or praise him like the other workers and your boss, instead opting to stay silent and look away. 

Still, that never stops Jeno’s late night visits to your home, nor does it stop your tears from falling when you see him arrive in your room late into the night.

‘You’re not really his type, you’re just accessible,’ is what you tell yourself. ‘He’ll go away once he finds someone else.’

What you don’t know is that Jeno’s secretly addicted to you. 

Your blood is like a drug, sweeter and more addictive than any sweet or alcohol. Just the taste of your blood puts Jeno into a blood-drunk haze, calming Jeno’s thoughts and mind until he’s left with a pleasant buzz. It’s hard to limit himself and prevent himself from coming back to you when he’s not supposed to. He knows humans are fragile, that without enough blood you won’t be able to function. 

Jeno’s addicted to your tears too. He loves the way your eyes become red and puffy, loving the redness of your nose and cheeks and how your sobs rack your body. He loves how you try to suppress your sobs and wipe your teeth and snot, trying your best not to show him any vulnerability. How you try to hide and stay neutral towards him.

Jeno also finds your body cute, your soft sweaty skin against his while he ruts into you. He likes how much weaker you are against him, how easily he’s able to manhandle you to any position. He likes how your hands grip against his forearms, struggling to stabilize yourself. He likes how your nails dig into your palms when he bites you and your bites against the pillow to muffle your scream. 

Jeno’s addicted to you and night after night, he comes back to torture you.

[tinydefector]

Not really a request but more of a ramble. Ive always been torn betweenn Cybertronians not really having any material instincts and just essentially knowing how to function since creation. Kinda like Steven Universe. They can be young and differ in how much knowledge they hold but overall they have the bases of how to function without any caretaker needing to be around. But then I immediately start shaking at the thought of them having even stronger instincts that humans. Maybe closer to animals that have come to accept a human as their own. Just picturing a cybertronain seeing someone who's carrying and immediately is distressed on how little protection our clothes offer. Nows theirs a bot who keeps hissing at those who get to close other humans included. Their plating is ruffled and if they are a seeker their wings are spread in a threatening manner. May you have the patience of a Saint if said seeker has a large trine because now they all share the same feral need to protect. A con that stumbles upon a lost child and immediately claims them as their sparkling.( if you wanted to make it a bit gross I can imagine they do a forced adoption the same ways farmers do sometimes. Where they just kinds cover a stray baby with the fluids of a mother to create that connection. Kinda gross but I can see it being used to further claim a child) They consider the biological parents of the child nothing more than food and shelter for their now sparkling. They try a coo and speak to the child in their natural tongue. A seeker that chirps and clicks its glossa. A grounder that does low hums and songs like a whale. Sorry for the long ramble haha. I just think the ideas of cybertronains either having no idea what instincts are but also the ideas of them drowning in them. Or meeting humans just relights their feral mindsets in any and every way.

I happen to really love both ideas a lot. I enjoy the idea of Cybertronians not understanding family or parental rolls, Forged sparks start off in smaller frames and slowly gain more framing as they get older. Instead, it works more like a mentor and apprentice side of things. They teach you how to do your job, keep your head down like Terminus with Megatron. Their race doesn't have a name for the connection they have so in turn they call each other friend, but intruth it's more than that but they don't know how to explain it or express it, they dont raise the younger one but they are their for special events such as plating ceremonies. To Megatron Terminus is an elder, someone to be respected for his knowledge and teachings. And they both care for each other, when Terminus us gravelly injured Megatron does everything he can to try and help him because he feels like he owes it to terminus for everything the older bot as done for him. It's a mutual benefit of a bond that's isn't family but also is much closer than friendship.

But on the other hand, I look at Optimus and Codexa, and I love the idea that I found this little bitlet and instantly went mother mode. Practically scoops him up out of a hotspot and takes him home with her. She's very attentive and is the one who even names him. In all aspects, he is her son, and she does everything she can to try and raise a good mech, and she does a wonderful job. She teaches him to read, sings to him, and each plating ceremony, she keeps a piece of his old plating similar to humans and baby teeth. She celebrates when he gets his first job as a Liberian because she put so much effort into making sure he had a comfortable job, not wanting him to struggle like so many other mechs less fortunate.

And then there is my headcanon for birthed sparklings, which differs depending on what frame type they are. They experience different behaviours. Grounders are in different sub sections

- Tanks: Megatron, Tarn, Warpath, Blitzwing

- Mine frames: Megatron, Terminus,

- Hauliers : Optimus Prime, Sentinel Prime, Ironhide, Ratchet, Inferno, Kup,

- Emergency services: Prowl, Ratchet, Pharma, inferno

- Battle Chargers: Ironhide, Hound, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Trailbreaker, wheeljack, Tracks,

- Praxian carters: Prowl, Bluestreak, skids, Smokescreen,

- speeders: Rodimus, Drift, Jazz, mirage, redalert, blurr, Tracks,

- mini vehicle: Bumblebee, Tailgate, grapple,

- Vosian Fliers (later Seeker's): Starscream, skywarp, Thundercracker, sunstorm, Nacelle and so on all of the Jets.

- Helimech: Whirl,

- aerial Shuttle: Cosmos, Omega Supreme, Senator Shockwave.

- Combiners: stuntacons, combaticons, constructicons

- Cassettes/ mini bots: Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy, Rewind, Lazerbeak, buzzsaw

- non Traditional frames: Rung,

- Non shifters:

There's a lot more but these just just who I can think off off the top of my head.

____

Tankers and Mine frames don't get the luxury of families or raising sparklings, most of them are cold constructs, and don't get a chance to see life outside of mines or duties they have been put into. But if given the chance they are actually very protective of a sparkling, they will fight to the death for their bitlet even if it isn't their. Their behaviour is very similar to a bear mother with their protectiveness of a child, human or cybertronian.

Megatron's optics focus on the tiny form in his lovers arms. If it were any other situation, people would think he is glaring at the tiny baby being placed again in his Chassis. "They have no plating or outer frame, no protection." He states while looking to his lover. "They are a baby, Megs, human babies don't have anything like sparklings, they are very fragile," they explain with a smile as they watch their child try and grab Megatron's large digits. His optics soften as he watches their child as the baby babbles and giggles up at him. It makes a switch inside his possessor flick. Nothing would ever hurt this child. He would make sure of it. A deep rumble leaves his chassis as he lets them play with his large servos. A laugh leaves his lover as they watch him. "You look like a grizzly bear with a cub," they chuckle as they lean up to press a kiss to the side of his helm.

Hauliers tend to see a random sparkling and go. "You're mine now, I'm going to warp you up in bubble wrap and keep you in my cab so no one can hurt you" Hauliers tend to be very attentive carriers/ Sires to adopted or sparked bitlets. A lot of Hauliers tend to be very nomadic in the rust sea moving inpacks. They tend to behave more like migrating herds when on cybertron, but those who live in the cities tend to make a very homey and comfortable for sparklings. But also they are the ones who panic the most when their child puts something in their mouth they shouldn't have.

Optimus chuckles as he watches his bitlet roam around. Playing with sticks and mud. He sits not far off watching them as they play his optics soften as they giggle and let out little buzzes of excitement as they find a new rock. "They seem to be enjoying their first proper road trip," His lover calls out as they walk their way over to him. Leaning down to press a kiss to his Helm. "They are very fascinated by a lot of things on Earth," he rumbles his optics, meeting his partners. "Can you really blame them, I remember a certain bot being very fascinated with Terra's fauna when we first arrived here," they tease him. Another squeal of delight comes from their sparkling as they begin trying to chew on a rock. Optimus let's out a slight noise of panic as he quickly moves towards them. "No, no, Bitlets, you can't eat that," he states while trying to pry the rock from the little ones' servos. They squeak and squeal in protest before eventually letting go of the rock. Another laugh leaves his lover as they watch the two.

A lot of emergency vehicles tend to not be the best for being parents. Mainly due to their work and just not having the time for a bitlet. But they are very attentive to those who do have them, trying to calm them and make sure that they aren't hurt and can make it back to their parents. A lot of the time, they will put up the disgruntled act of the dad who said they didn't want a cat, but then ends up with a child curled up on his chest as he works.

Praxian carters tend to act very similar to seeker, but with children and sparklings its as if they can feel where they are but have a tendency of paranoid when they can't see their little ones. Their door wings will flicker and twitch when they hear their children and will respond back with soothing little clicks. A lot of the time, they will carry their sparklings on their back between their door wings.

Prowl wasn't impressed with Sunstreaker or Sideswipe. The two young mech burst out into fits of laughter watching him with a human baby strapped to his chest. His wings flutter in dispair as they begin taking photos to send to every mech they know. "Oh Primus Prowl, when did you get yourself a bitlet!" They ask while also fauning over the baby who giggles and reaches out with grabby hands. Prowl let's out a slight,all collection of angry clicks as his optics narrow in on the twins. "I am looking after them as their parent had an important meeting today," he snaps as he begins walking, trying to outpace the twins as they continue shooting questions at him. "But you have them strapped to your chassis like they are battle gear!" Sunstreaker laughs, which earns him a smack up the side of the helm from Prowl. "They are too small and too young to be left to their own devices, and the safest place for them is where I know they are," he grumbles before slamming the door to his office shut.

Speedster are one of the cybertronians who tend to forget their child exist sometimes, having no awareness until they are like something is missing. Oh Primus, where is my Bitty!. They are very live fast die hard kinda mechs and it translates over to their child. They are very much the one who will proudly show off their child who is currently eating something they shouldn't be. But they are also one of the most cuddly with their child. Curling up with them to their chassis as they purr loudly.

"RODIMUS PRIME, DRIFT DEADLOCK WHATBARE YOU LETTING MY BITLET EAT!" their voice boomed as their optics narrowed in on the two speedsters and sparkling. Drift turns around in an instant. "I tried to stop them, I swear, but Roddy dared them," he states. Rodimus looks sheepishly at his lover as their sparkling laughs and shouts. "Told you I could!" The little one shouts in excitement, not carrying about the disappointed look from their other parent. "You timeout, you Decontamination spray Now, and You... I'm not angry, but I'm disappointed, " they state, which makes Rodimus face drop. "Nooo. That's worse!" He shouts only to have his bitlet laugh at his whining.

Seekers are the most parent of all cybertronians to the point that some trines work as a family system. Each seeker is a carrier to one seekling, but also being the sire to another or having one seeker who is the sire to two. But then their is the others who aren't spark bonded to others in their Trine, because tries can consist of siblings, cousins, parents or complete strangers so each trine is different. but the family works to train and care for all of them together. They speak in a pigeoned vosian, which is a mix of chirps, thrills, and other little vocial noises. They are also the most social. With large gatherings for sparklings to meet and also bond with others so that they can eventually find their own trine.

For example, I love the idea of Thundercracker and skywarp being brothers, but starscream is trine bonded with them.

Acid storm, Nova storm being a bonded couple who ended up with Sunstorm who is much younger who try care for as their sparkling.

Dirge, Thrust and ramjet who are all random Seeker's who became friends at a young age and are a trine but aren't together at all, they be the boys who go out on the town and wake up in their flat with a hangover and a random mech/ Seeker in their berth.

Nacelle trills lightly as the little seekers curled up in blankets and pillows. Wings fluttering in delight as he watches the little mechs curl up again each other. His two lovers chuckle softly, watching how me preens and chirps and thrills at his two little bitlets. One of his lovers moves closer to him, resting their helm against his backstruts as his wings flutter again. "They are just sleeping sweetspark you can step away. They aren't going anywhere," they call out to him. "I know, they are just..." he starts before his other lover calls back. "Fresh, I know and very you, but they are here finally, you don't have to stand guard all the time," They tease before leading him into the room towards the fluffed up berth. "I think that's enough playing guard for the night"

____________

Link to second part for Megatron

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[dramarnathandentalcare]

Types of human teeth and their functions

Understanding the many types of human teeth and their functions is essential for optimum oral health. The various types of human teeth and their functions show the importance of good oral hygiene and dental care. In this blog, we'll look at the many types of human teeth and how they contribute to good oral health and overall well-being.

Types of human teeth and their functions

Human teeth differ in shape and function, indicating their role in biting, chewing, and grinding food. Here are the many varieties of human teeth:

1) Incisors

The incisors are the frontmost teeth in the human mouth. They are vital for biting and cutting food.

Functions

Cutting and slicing

Aesthetic role

Speech

2. Canines

Canines, also known as cuspids or eyeteeth, are among the most conspicuous and essential teeth in the human mouth.

Functions

Tearing and gripping

Guiding teeth

Aesthetic role

3. Premolars:

Premolars, commonly known as bicuspids, are transitional teeth located between the canines and the molars. 

Functions

Transitional role

Chewing and grinding

Maintaining occlusion

4. Molars

Molars are the largest and strongest teeth in the human mouth, designed to grind and break food into smaller, more digestible pieces. 

Functions

Grinding and chewing

Maintaining occlusion

Supporting facial structure

Dental Care Tips

Incisors: Brush the front surfaces softly, floss between them, and schedule regular dental appointments.

Canines: Brush in vertical movements, floss properly, and schedule regular check-ups.

Premolars: Clean the biting surfaces, use interdental brushes, and visit your dentist for cleanings.

Molars: Scrub surfaces thoroughly, brush in circular motions, use sealants, and schedule regular check-ups.

Summary:

Recognizing the many types of human teeth and their functions is crucial to maintaining excellent oral health. Each tooth serves a specific function in the eating and digestion process, ranging from cutting and slicing to ripping, crushing, and grinding food. Follow specialized dental care tips for each type of tooth, such as regular brushing, flossing, and dental check-ups, to extend the life and health of your teeth. 

For more information read the full blog : https://www.dramarnathansdentalcare.com/types-of-human-teeth-and-their-functions

[rubrum-aside]

…about the HC reqs, what about Lyle and Sam relationship headcannons? If you don’t do relationships, then just Lyle?

howzabout a bit of both!

Lyle

he/him (he/it sometimes too)

-I mentioned in another post but i like the idea of his metal legs being a mix of his camera tripods and a set of leg braces he used to wear. he also used a cane sometimes.

-maybe Sam took over a few of his shifts bc of his chronic pain and that sparked his admiration for him.

-definitely wore glasses before his mutation too-prob had OK-ish vision but still needed them for reading and small details.

-stutter 24/7, causes him a lot of embarrassment in public but less so around friends.

-his second mouth in his mutated form cant really speak but it does grind its teeth when he's nervous. it has a tongue-his saliva is a bit burny.

-He was running that mazes and wizards game w/his neighbors. i feel like him, Jeanne, Rafta, maybe Eugene? and possibly Edwin(or one of ed's other renters) could have been close.

-speaking of rafta- the shortcut to the 1st floor has been there for a while before the visitor's visit-it used to be for maintenance but it never got closed up properly. Rafta and him would chat pretty often through the hole when they were having a bad day.

-knew Leigh, probably went to her store (maybe they were even coworkers in the past). she always made him nervous for some reason, did his best to be nice to her though(he annoyed her with his fake kindness more than helped though sadly.)

-im all in on the early exposure to The Visitor theory, his reclusiveness was noticed but brushed aside by most of his friends after a few fake coughs. some left him groceries occasionally or talked through the door.

-cursed form is coldblooded(hemolymph and chemical mix) but his machinery warms up when in use so hes still kinda able to self regulate by taking photos often. he prefers not to waste energy or materials on crappy photos though.

-his bad vision transferred to most of his extra eyes. he has to focus really hard to get a good shot with any of them except his main face's and his largest one. his body did NOT generate prescription glass lenses.

-also love the visual of him having apertures instead of eyelids.

-has an extra pair of eyes on the back of his head like a jumping spider-you could look through his head like an actual camera if you were on his back.

-sleeping is very awkward for him due to the sheer amount of legs he has. a hammock(or... web) would be much more suited for him but...

-speaking of webs- bro has 3 spinnerets, prob for 3 types of film-but spiders often have different varieties of silk for different things too so maybe they have different functions aside from photos. like wrapping people up or adhering to surfaces.

-if he is given a new lense or camera he might unintentionally merge with it. his hands are the only things that are safe for handling photo equipment.

-fuzzy lyle. just a bit fuzzy. not the softest but still fuzz.

-i feel like he defo had smth goin on about spiders before all this-maybe he played a drider in MaW or something.

Now for more shippy bits!

-chat, we've all seen the new dialogue about Sam finding Lyle cute right? 'adorable even if he's not human?' we've all seen it? cool.

yaoi is real and alive!

-they need to have a big long conversation about boundaries. I feel like they could work through it though and move on to a much more healthy relationship (esp since Sam lets the shadow hang around after similar behaviour. just talk broooo)

-Lyle is pretty touch averse at first (and still hides in his cloak a lot). he probably never gets over his appearance but gets a bit more comfortable with physical contact over time. eventually he feels comfy enough to disrobe sometimes, never fully though.

-Sam kisses everywhere he can, hands, eye lenses(only once), his actual face(not often bc if his spit being dangerous) and his forehead and cheeks.

-the cloak stays ON during sex-ok joke aside, I feel like Lyle gets more out of the performative/social aspect than the physical. he's a voyeur at heart so just seeing Sam is enough for him . (so grey-ace, sex neutral)

-i have no opinions on genitalia. just. not my thing. it is fun considering about how cursed might reproduce (if at all) after the Visitor leaves though. most seem like they have no genitalia at all letalone the capability to have kids.

-if Sam is also a cursed (ie. flawed ritual, perfect denial, etc) he is still head over heels. depending on Sam's form he might even get more comfortable with his own over time. freak4freak. much more tactile too, though mostly for Sam's sake.

-if Sam were to somehow get transformed AFTER they were already together (via some infectious mutant or object or smth) he'd be super supportive (maybe even a bit too enthusiastic) in helping Sam acclimate.

-hed defo offer to soul-seal Sam into a photo in a moment of desperation if Sam ever got terribly ill or injured. in a good picture of course, not a sloppy one...

-Lyle knows how to sew, just the basics(jeanne taught him) so he makes a few different blanket-cloaks for himself over time. he makes Sam a few too so they can match.

-Sam convinces Lyle to let him sleep on his back/abdomen in lieu of cuddling since lyle cant fit on his couch/bed comfortably anymore.

il leave it off there for now! i hope to the gods that that linebreak worked otherwise thisl be a mess to try and fix...

happy pride freaks, froakes and freakettes

[cosmica-galaxy]

Considering how tooth enamel is stronger than steels they could make somthing very good out of it.. It is definitely weapon grade material in earth bread.. But i bet they could get different uses out of the diffrent parts of the tooth seeing as dentin Is far more flexable than enmale and absorbs pressure far better. Then the tooth plup wicth contains nevers and nutrient. Slurry. sorry if this is gross i will stop taking about teeth if you want me too.

I did think of that as well! Depending on what type of tooth is lost in battle, it would serve a different purpose to cookiekind.

Take this image, for example. Incisors would be very useful as cutting or slashing tools, same with the canines. They would be useful as swords, lances, spears, scalpels, saws, and picks because of the edged enamel that gives it a stronger resistance to shredding things than other teeth. The molars would have multiple functions as well. They would serve as warhammers, building hammers, stakes, (if cut) shields, and grinders for certain items in Earthbread. ++ (Little bit of probably unsavory details ahead, keep this in mind) ++ Now, what if a cookie had enough teeth to use as bones, tools, and weapons? What if they get curious as to what is inside of a witch tooth? If the tooth is able to be broken down and the insides harvested, I think that would be called "witch ichor" and it would probably be used in potions. The pulp inside of human teeth is jelly-like and is known to carry nutrients, blood, and odontoblasts inside of the tooth. These carry various things important to human development, such as DNA or even Antibodies. So imagine this. If an alchemist cracked a witch tooth, harvested the insides for potion purposes, and then gave the Odonto-tonic to a cookie that is sickly, it would probably be able to cure them of their ailments. Splitting the benefits from the teeth and the pulp within, the antibodies inside would be like liquid gold to cookies who are sick or sickly. As it can give them the boost they need to get better or overcome their illness entirely. The development of "witch ichor" potions is probably like the holy grail to cookiekind.

[karmacharmeleon18]

I just went through your AFTG posts and may I ask: what are your feelings about Kevin?

Oooh. Oh. Oh, anon... idk if you're a Kevin Day fan or not, for the sake of things I'll assume you're a completely neutral party so I can tell it how it is without the need to mince words. If this alarms you then perhaps you are a Kevin Day fan and you should stop reading now 😂❤

If you’ve read my posts then you’ve noticed English isn’t my first language, so be prepared for things to make little sense at times😅 I’m trying my best, though, I promise ❤ I’m also autistic and not great at conveying the right tone, especially online, so I’m sorry if I sound mean or rude, it is not directed at you, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings in any way ❤ This is SUPER LONG and I’m sorry if it’s not what you were looking for, but once I get going I can’t stop 😅 I’m not joking, this is literally over 20k words of Kevin Day analysis 🙃

In the shortest possible terms, my feelings about Kevin are... complicated.

I liked him as a character in AFTG, I do not like him now.

This might make no sense to you, but I kind of divide the character into two: AFTG Kevin and the New Trilogy Kevin. My feelings differ greatly between the two. Of course I know it’s always the same character, the brainrot hasn’t gotten that bad lol Nora writes him very consistently, and I noticed nothing OOC for him in these new books.

But the amount of info and insights we get about him is what changed between one trilogy and the next, and that is what made all the difference for me.

AFTG Kevin:

In AFTG I found Kevin fascinating.

An Exy prodigy who in the eyes of the public can do no wrong and yet falls from grace, finds himself in a team of misfits, bottom of the barrel, from riches to rags.

A guy so traumatized he can only function if another person devotes his entire life to his safety.

And yet he's endlessly arrogant, bitchy, self-centered and confident. Confident not as a person, but as an athlete, and for him that's the same thing, you know? He exists to play Exy and he's the best at it, and that's all that matters.

Which is why Kevin is so, so good at ignoring his own hypocrisy.

Because he's acing this Exy thing, so who cares if he's not acing this "being a human being outside of the Nest" thing. You get what I'm saying?

He gives everyone around him a hard time for being less than perfect. But he genuinely cannot see his own failings. Because as long as he's the best at Exy, Kevin Day is perfect and there's nothing you can say about him. You better keep your mouth shut and obey.

Kevin takes, and takes and takes from everyone around him and the only thing he's capable of giving back is his Exy expertise, which he doles out to the others with all the subtlety and gentleness of a rock to the teeth. I’d rather be in the passenger seat of the Maserati with a sugar-high Andrew behind the wheel going 100mph for funsies than train for an hour under Kevin Day.

(It doesn’t help that Waymack indulges him, because he doesn’t really care about his Foxes winning, he just wants them to play and find stability in the routine, the discipline it takes to be Exy players; winning is a bonus; to the anon from the other day, if you’re reading this: I agree with you so much that Coach Rhemann and the Trojans would’ve humbled Kevin real quick ❤ but Waymack just isn’t that type of coach, of person; for him the mere fact that the Foxes survive without killing each other is a miracle, hoping for more is just senseless wishful thinking… until Neil)

In the face of danger Kevin hides behind a guy who's 5ft tall and expects him to put his life on the line to protect him. Neil makes Andrew lift his promise to protect him when he knows he’s about to die, because he doesn’t want Andrew to suffer the consequences of a broken promise, and because he doesn’t want him to get involved and be in actual danger. But Kevin clings to Andrew and will always expect and want Andrew to put himself in danger for him. And when things go wrong, he's a defeatist, he sees no point in fighting, he just drinks. But gods forbid if someone around him indulges in junk food, that’s an unforgivable sin and you’re a terrible human being and a waste of oxygen and how can you sleep at night, go run some drills right now to make up for your useless existence, you worthless piece of--

At any other point in time Andrew would never tolerate someone like Kevin. Someone with a victim mentality (rightfully so, don’t get me wrong) and yet at the same time high and mighty and loud about it.

But Andrew is a giver and a taker. He gives promises and takes reasons to live. He’s always been far more desperate than Kevin. Desperate to have a relationship with his brother and cousin, willing to join the Foxes and go to college only on the condition that they be granted the same scholarship. Willing to endure years of horrible abuse to get a mother out of it. Willing to throw that same mother and all those years of enduring in the trash and go to juvie, all to spare a brother he doesn’t even know his same fate. He is depressed. He is apathetic except he isn’t, but no one sees that until Neil. I’ve never seen a character as suicidal and at the same time as desperate to live as Andrew Minyard. As hopeful – without even realizing it - for something better to come. Considering all he’s been through, Andrew should’ve given up on life a long time ago. And yet he keeps enduring, and he keeps searching for reasons to live and offering people deals that bind him to this existence, because deep down he is hopeful. And in this desolate landscape, Kevin Day is the perfect object to dump all of his protective instincts on. And so he gets a reason to live, and something to focus on, still enduring and subconsciously waiting for something, anything to get better.

What saves their relationship (not even a friendship, according to Nora) is that Andrew is completely immune to Kevin’s tantrums and orders. Andrew is in control, always, and Kevin does not have the capacity to challenge him.

(“If you tell him to submit, he will,” Kevin says of Jean, and the irony is in the fact that he’s exactly the same when it comes to Andrew; but luckily for him most of the time Andrew doesn’t care about submission, he only cares about peace and quiet)

The Foxes are the worst thing that could've happened to Kevin. The golden Son of Exy surrounded by misfits, criminals but worst of all: commoners. Peasants. A bunch of kids as far removed from the Ravens - the elite - as can be. And most of them barely have any interest in Exy.

Only Kevin, Andrew, Neil and Matt will go pro (and even then, according to the Extra Content, Matt will always put his family with Dan first, only choosing teams near her and giving a shot at Court but leaving when juggling two teams takes too much time away from her and their kids). Compared to the Ravens, brutal, driven, ambitious, all aiming to go pro and be Court, Kevin is very much living a nightmare during his first year at Palmetto, where on top of the Foxes being his new teammates, his hand is freshly shattered and he thinks he’ll never get to play again.

Kevin ends up with the Foxes out of necessity, they're his last resort, his last hope. And here's where the parallels with Neil really start. Because for him, too, the Foxes are the only chance he has to play.

But where Kevin is hellbent on making everyone around him miserable, because his whole life he’s been convinced that greatness is born from misery, Neil wants to make everyone around him better for the sake of being better.

Better Exy players, but better people, too. Neil understands you can’t have one without the other. But Kevin is so single-mindedly focused on Exy that he doesn’t care about the people, he only cares about the athletes.

Neil is resigned to the fact that he’s going to die, and he wants to see the Foxes get better for themselves, so that after his death, they can keep playing, keep winning, keep having fun, keep doing the game justice.

But Kevin wants the Foxes to get better for him. Because he is Kevin Day and he deserves a good team.

And that’s why, no matter how hard he tries, he ends up failing over and over again. It’s only when Neil joins the team that things get better, it’s through his meddling, the way he humanizes the Monsters in the eyes of the others and bridges the gap between the two groups, the way he gets Andrew and Aaron to begrudgingly “reconcile” under Bee’s guidance, the way he gets Andrew to care, care about Neil, and himself, and Exy, that the Foxes finally become what Kevin always wanted. Sort of.

Leave it to him and he will always resort to insults and Raven drills and hierarchy and he’s the Queen of Exy and you’re just a worthless peasant compared to him and--… you get it. The Foxes are definitely not at the level he wants them to be. Which is why Kevin is happy when the Trojans win the championship over them (in the Extra Content, which is ever-changing at the moment, so this isn’t canon). The Trojans deserve it. The Foxes do not. If there’s one thing I can say about Kevin Day, is that he is objective when it comes to the game (not when it comes to himself as a person lol).

Kevin’s relationship with Jeremy is fascinating to me (again, not a friendship according to Nora). In my opinion Jeremy represents all that Kevin wants to be. A golden child of Exy who joined an average team and made it the best there is (outside of the Ravens) without the brutality, the abuse, the misery of the Nest. Jeremy made the Trojans great, not a damn red or even yellow card in 4 years of playing a sport as violent as hockey, at a collegiate level. He’s never won a championship until now, but Kevin understands why and forgives Jeremy for it. Because Jeremy will always chose sportsmanship over victory, so of course they can’t win the whole thing. Because in a contact sport brute force and cheap shots will always prevail (if slick and perfected enough). But that’s a line Jeremy will never cross, and despite himself, Kevin admires him for it.

Another interesting relationship is the one between him and Thea. In AFTG and the Extra Content, Thea is a Raven™, a Riko apologist through and through, the type of person to tell Kevin to just get over his trauma and think of the game. On one hand, she’s the worst possible person for Kevin to be with. On the other hand, she’s the only person Kevin can be with.

I know most of the fandom hates Thea, but tbh I never cared about her, she’s pretty much a non-character to me and I don’t care who Kevin ends up with. But I acknowledge that being with someone like Thea means that Kevin will most likely never heal.

Here’s where my opinion differs the most from the general opinion the fandom shares: I think Thea is a victim too.

She too was in a cult. She too spent years in a brutal team were sex was a commodity. She is a woman, a woman of color at that. Her life wasn’t easy. She suffered as much as any Raven, as much as Kevin, or possibly even more, bar the hand.

But the thing about Thea is that she doesn’t see herself as a victim. The way all ex Ravens who graduated before Riko’s death don’t see themselves as victims.

They see themselves as the best, not despite the Nest, but because of it.

And until Riko shattered his hand, Kevin was the exact same.

He grew up in a cult, but he was never injured, never sexually abused, and in general, both him and Riko saw themselves as being above having sex with fellow Ravens. Thea was the only exception for Kevin because she was the best backliner and above all, she didn’t beg, she didn’t try to seduce Kevin to get a number on the perfect Court. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t care less about Kevin, he had to pursue her, and she only accepted to have sex with him because he was attractive and sex is a good way to let out steam, that’s the way things are in the Nest.

People are disgusted by the age difference (4 years iirc) and the fact that Kevin met Thea when she was a college Freshman and he was in high school. But although he was immediately attracted to her, she felt nothing for him. She probably saw him as a besotted puppy following her around, the same way she saw Jean (though I doubt they interacted all that much, she was living under the brutal regime of the Nest, she didn’t have the time or inclination to notice a boy drooling over her). Their “relationship” only started once Kevin was in the Nest, he was 18, and he was the one to pursue her. And she accepted his advances because, again, that’s the way of the Nest.

Their affection for one another comes much later, and will only concretize once they’re both out of the Nest, most likely only when they’re both on the same pro team and actually living their life together (from what I gathered from the Extra Content).

I know that a 4 year age gap feels like a big power imbalance in college, but lets be objective: in the Nest Kevin is the one who has power over Thea.

Jean and Neil were property, the Ravens (Thea) were assets, but Kevin was Riko’s brother.

We know how little brotherhood means in the world of the Moriyamas, but the point is: Kevin never saw himself as a victim. And he never saw the Ravens as victims either. When someone was being abused, he turned his head and ignored it, he didn’t intervene, he didn’t really care because it’s all for the game.

To this day, I don’t know if Kevin considers himself a victim of the Nest. A victim of Riko, sure, because of the shattered hand that almost ended his career. But had that not happened, Kevin would’ve kept training and playing with the Ravens, happily ignoring the abuse around him.

Because here are no victims in the Nest, only great players, and he’s better than all of them.

The only exception is Jean. Jean is property, he is treated as an object, as an animal. For the first time in his life Kevin has to acknowledge just how fucked up the Master and Riko are. He turns his head and ignores the abuse, he doesn’t intervene. But for the first time it takes something out of him. It weighs on him. Cracks start forming.

But he still asks Jean to teach him French, despite knowing full well what the consequences would be for Jean. And he still leaves Jean to die under Riko’s wrath. The cracks finally shatter along with his hand and he abandons Jean to be tortured to death.

So, in AFTG, I found Kevin insufferable but compelling. He is such a good character, and the whole story revolves around him (don’t tell him tho his ego is inflated enough as it is lol). He's Riko's brother, the traumatized prodigal son knocking on Waymack's door with a broken hand, he's the one that chooses Neil and sets the plot for the whole saga into motion. I never liked him as an individual, but I did like him as a character (as all the Foxes, and tbh I think that's exactly the point of the story: they are not good people, but they are compelling characters). Kevin had all the traits of a good character, all the complexities, the contradictions.

But in this new trilogy, I simply can't stand him lol the less I see of him, the better.

New Trilogy Kevin

I honestly don’t want to talk too much about this version of Kevin. That’s how little I like him. New Trilogy Kevin and Thea go hand in hand in my eyes.

They’re still victims of a fucked up system, they’re still doomed to suffer the consequences of their upbringing for the rest of their lives, not only in terms of being victims of abuse (Thea less so, because she’ll never see herself as a victim, meanwhile Kevin sees himself as Riko’s victim, but I still don’t know if he sees himself as a victim of the Nest in general), but in terms of social impairment.

Nora said Kevin doesn’t have friends. Not even Neil and Andrew (or Jeremy, they only text like three times a year, before Jean) count as friends right now, it will take years, when they are all pro and in the national team together. And maybe after he retires he’ll be able to make some acquaintances or even friends at the park or something and be a proper functioning adult. But for now Thea is the closest thing to a friend/companion Kevin has, simply because they share the same type of obsession with Exy.

Neil and Jean are obsessed as well, but it’s not the same type of obsession, and Nora said that Kevin’s betrayal has forever destroyed any chances of becoming friends with Jean. They are acquaintances, and at the moment Jean would like to see Kevin dead, especially when Kevin calls him “brother” after he left him to be tortured to death, especially when Kevin is such a hypocrite, telling Jean to get his life together while at the same time being a barely functioning alcoholic himself.

The Nest fucked Thea and Kevin up. They are both victims, and I still see them as such in this new trilogy.

But for the first time I’ve realized just how little Thea (&allRavens) cares about the abuse that happened in the Nest.

She saw a sixteen year old boy be passed around like a sex doll and she holds it against him, she blames him for the beating that almost killed him because he might have been “up to his old tricks” that he knows the Master doesn’t tolerate so seriously Jean, what were you expecting, what the fuck were you thinking, mh?, she considers him a slut, like all the Ravens do, when he was just a child and he was raped over and over again and was beaten black and blue and forced to play with broken bones and she knew, she knew, and all of them knew and still they blame Jean and think he deserved it and they tell him so.

And for the first time I truly, 100% realized that if Riko had not shattered his hand, Kevin would’ve become a Raven apologist with his whole being, just like Thea, just like all the other Ravens.

Kevin constantly pulls rank with Jean, he constantly acts like he knows better, like he’s owed everything he wants from the people around him. And the worst part is that the people around him bow to him. The narrative indulges him. Constantly. Kevin Day is perfect and if you don’t agree you are the problem.

Kevin likes having power over people. He likes that Jean “doesn’t know” how to fight back with him (or with anyone, in his opinion).

He thinks that’s the natural order of things: he is Kevin Day, the Son of Exy, the Queen of the Court, and you must obey his every order.

For the first time, I truly see the similarities between Kevin and Riko. What Kevin could have become, had he stayed in the Nest. And I don’t like what I see.

Someone please humble that bitch, I’m begging. I need Kevin Day to be humbled or at the very least to shut the hell up. I need the narrative to put him in his place. Instead he keeps getting what he wants, and public praise, he plasters on his camera-ready smile and persona and suddenly all he has done to Jean doesn’t matter (not only in the narrative, this applies to the fandom too, maybe even more so).

So if after AFTG I was like: Kevin and Thea deserve each other because they understand each other like no one else can, eventually they’ll realize they were both victims and find comfort in each other ☹️

now I’m like: Kevin and Thea deserve each other because they’re the exact same type of terrible person 🤢 and even if they realize they were abused, they will still think they are better, worth more than the other victims, because they are Thea and Kevin and if you don’t like it, you are wrong.

And if you are Jean Moreau, sold and shipped off at 14, raped from the age of 16, betrayed by the only man you ever trusted and left by him to die, shamed and blamed by the woman you looked up to, and you don’t forgive and forget, you are wrong.

At the end of the day, Kevin Day is the only one who matters. The Queen is the most important piece. Everyone else is a pawn, and is expendable.

And let me say, the way the fandom portrays Kevin doesn’t help. They water down his character so much. He’s a poor little meow meow that never did anything wrong in his life and everyone would give their life for him and Jean will 100% cheat on Jeremy to be with him and he is the best person to ever exist and the whole universe must bow down to him and Thea better stay away that Raven bitch 🔪

When Nora said that any relationship Kevin is in will have to account for his narcissism. When she’s made very clear that Kevin is a coward and a hypocrite and a traitorous bastard and a bitch that thinks his left pinky is worth more than all the Foxes combined and that will sacrifice anyone to stay safe.

Fandom took all the traits that make Kevin Day Kevin Day and watered them down, made them disappear, created a new, third version of him that doesn’t exist in any book of either trilogy.

Meanwhile Nora took those same traits and exasperated them in the New Trilogy, to the point that I don’t enjoy reading of and about Kevin anymore. I honestly want him gone from Jean’s life.

Jean can never heal if Kevin is around.

And it’s concerning that 90% of the fandom doesn’t care.

In my opinion KevJean shippers only care about Kevin.

😔

I want to reiterate that I don't think Kevin changed in this new trilogy. He's always the same Kevin. Nora is a consistent writer.

But the amount and type of information surrounding him has changed, and shown me a new side of Kevin that I do not like. This is Kevin Day with the sliders set to the max, and honestly? I've had enough of him. I don't want to see him again unless it's to properly apologize to Jean. And we all know that will never happen 🤷🏾‍♀️

Kevin and accountability are strangers.

I’m done, I promise. I hope this was a satisfactory answer, anon. Send me a little message or something if you’ve made it this far ❤

[tsams-and-co-memes]

TSAMS Bloodmoon Canon Info

Updated - 5/27/24

Bloodmoon's likes:

Being in charge

Doling out punishments

Killing for fun

Vampires

Sucking people's blood like a vampire

Mortal Kombat fatalities

Explosions/things that explode

Bloodmoon's dislikes:

Mannequins (they freak out both halves of him)

The idea of something being behind him and secretly following him, completely undetected

The idea of being pacifist

Eclipse

Monty

Lunar (or any of the other celestial siblings, for that matter)

Stitchwraith

Being controlled and told what to do

Miscellaneous:

Bright lights

Ruin

Bloodmoon takes deals very seriously

Both halves of him seem to long for family and desperately want to find someone who understands them

He has the ability to deliver electric shocks (in the mindscape, at least)

His favorite blood type is O Negative

He’s abnormally strong

He was made out of nanomachines like Lunar, before he was blasted by Sun

He sometimes eats rocks to sharpen his teeth

At least one half of him watches anime when they’re not allowed to kill or need to charge. He’s made Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures references, so it might be a safe assumption that at the very least, that’s one that he’s watched

Neither of the blood twins can drive, but they both agree that they’re “qualified to run people over”

He’s very specifically expressed that he hates misogyny

He seems to hate baby dolls more than mannequins

By all technicalities, the blood twins’ birthdays are July 16th

He has very good aim when stabbing and typically aims for vital organs. He also knows where all the vital organs are located, and can avoid them if so desired

Bloodmoon has sent people to the backrooms before

He doesn’t like being hunted, and prefers to be the hunter instead

Seems to have ticklish armpits, but has expressed that he doesn’t like being tickled

Bloodmoon knows how to read, but refuses to do it unless absolutely necessary

He especially enjoys stabbing clowns, because apparently they honk

He really wants to be able to eat food, but was not built/programmed with a processor for it. If he was able to eat, one half of him expressed an interest in trying steak, and the other half of him mentioned wanting to try chicken. Even if these meats are raw, he would still try them

Bloodmoon knows his way around the occult

Bloodmoon doesn't know what Harry Potter is

If you act like you like the idea of being stabbed by Bloodmoon, he immediately loses interest in doing it and acts disgusted

Bloodmoon doesn't deal well with confrontation but says he starts it anyway because he likes blood

He finds dark colors soothing

Bloodmoon's body was built to process blood. He legitimately needs it to function, and all he needs is 12 pints/24 cups. Human blood works better for him than animal blood

He apparently has kaleidoscope vision