#They are menaces despite being cops

[pinktrashgoblin]

professionalism

credits for the original image go to all the people in the image :]

[forthechubbies]

Roadkill°Ateez Drabble {Rated: X}

Criminals! Woosan x Victim! Chubby! Reader

! Stockholm syndrome, Crime, Outlaw Au, Captive!Reader, SMUTTY material, Dubcon, and Drunk! Wooyoung.

"Wake up!" He barked, abruptly turning on the motels light. "Daddys home." Wooyoung squeaked as he swallowed the green bottle. His hot cheeks shone from the alcohol he was consuming.

As he moved towards your trembling figure, your back was against the headboard. "wooyoung.." You begged, your gaze averted from his.

Wooyoung's mouth floats up your thighs and over your leg. "Mmm..Sannie had alittle trouble with the van." You are well aware that you should not believe whatever this fox says.

You mustered the courage to declare, "Your handcuffs are missing." "You wouldn't hurt San?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're such a fucking crybaby," Wooyoung said as he plays with your hair. "You're boyfriend handcuffed in the van." He chuckled. "And he's pissed."

He took advantage of your stunned silence to kiss you. "I'm your boyfriend too, Right?" You feel especially responsible for paying greater attention to San, but you had your reasons. "The cops shot him and you were looking for a doctor."

Wooyoung's anger & jealousy started to brewing. "You love sticking up for him and being his good little nurse."Wooyoung's large hand snatched your wrists, bringing you closer to his handsome, scuffed-up face despite the metal imprinting on your skin. "Well, I'm hurting bad too." He whined, roughly forcing your legs apart to make way for himself.

You exclaimed as the bulge massaged itself between your thighs' soft fat. "Ah! Woo,"

He's smitten for you. As he devoured your lips, his inky black hair tickled your cheeks. "Mmm..mwah" The menace teased you by releasing your swollen lips. "Nurse, You look hot in distress."

You helplessly moaned as he smothered you with his lips leaving you sandwiched between him and old worn mattress.

"Ah♡!" You cried out as he helped himself.

[hijinxinprogress]

I need the jl to discover that Captain Marvel is a menace

Billy gets arrested as Captain Marvel and he’s just a smug menace the whole time despite being on comms with the league “Of course, I understand the seriousness of this situation! I will absolutely comply, I completely understand that you need the code…the code is 1-3-1-2. Also, I want my lawyer 😇” which gets leaked to the press both audio and visual which leads to the jl claiming that CM had been impersonated and their only evidence is the stupid ass grin on his face

The jl was investigating the misuse of a magical artifact and discovered that a group of police officers had joined a cult. Before they had the chance to gather the evidence proving those officers guilty but they’d already sealed away the artifact so Marvel suggested getting himself arrested to incriminate them and he was a little too happy about it

Let’s be honest, Billy only gets caught by the police bc he can commit to a bit and he’s pretending to be an ancient magic immortal so why would he run from a regular civilian human?? But on the inside Billy is dry heaving and sobbing bc he knows that the police could never catch him on his worst day even if he was personally broadcasting his location

Speaking of broadcasting isn’t Billy a fucking radio host?? I know he’s a fucking asshole during commercial breaks “This next commercial reminds me of a recent encounter with officer smith who got lost three blocks from his station” and it cuts to a fucking toilet paper commercial (people swear they heard him mutter ‘bc you’re absolute shit at your job’)

Sometimes people will call in to debate his views on the police and he’ll have a three hour philosophical debate but actual cops will call in to argue with him and Billy’s making your mom jokes and playing air horn noises or 2016 vines like a fucking child 

Billy probably gets caught when he graduates high school bc his yearbook quote is like marvels most well known quote “Captain Marvel coast city precinct, interrogation room 5 (Oct 14 XXXX) 3:37-4:31” billy added too much information and it gets flagged by the watchtowers security system so the jl has a meeting about the breach in security and Marvel’s like ‘yeaaahh, that was me mb’ and batman is making disapproving noises bc ‘this is serious, Marvel! high school graduate, William-’ he can’t finish bc Marvel’s gagging dramatically ‘Billy. It’s Billy ohmygod’

batman, on the verge of a breakdown: who is this kid?? Why does he know the time, date, and location of an undercover league operation??

Marvel, avoiding eye contact with Cyborg who helped picked out his outfit for the yearbook photo currently being projected: ahaha about that…

Cyborg, who distinctly remembers telling Billy not to do anything fucking stupid: 😐

(Vic has framed the picture of the ‘oh shit’ look on Billy’s face when superman lunges across the table damn near in hysterics)

[theemporium]

What about some 🧸 for Quinn Hughes ? Just some shenanigans or softness?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

"Quinn.”

“Baby.”

You shot your husband a look, your hands on your hips as you took in the sight in front of you. If he had one weakness, it would be the little bundle of joy, happiness and chaos that looked a lot like a miniature version of himself. Xander Hughes was his biggest weakness and the whole world knew the boy had his father wrapped around his little finger, Quinn included. 

But he couldn’t help himself when it came to his son. 

However, just like the other Hughes brothers, Xander seemed to have a knack for not listening to the rules and putting himself in adrenaline-inducing situations that wound up with him getting hurt. 

This time it had been the roller skates he wore without any padding or protection despite your constant insistence. However, the young four year old was convinced he was a big boy who didn’t need any protection. 

It ended with a lot of scratches, cuts and a very bruised ego.

Yet, despite hurting himself after not listening to the very explicit rules you had given him, Quinn couldn’t help but feel like his heart was going to explode out of his chest whenever he saw the pouty look on his son’s face. His resolve broke on day two and he wanted to do anything to help the little boy perk up again.

One trip to the local store later, and Quinn had set up a massive fort in the living room, complete with more blankets and pillows and snacks than you remembered their being in the house when you left earlier that morning for work. 

“He needs to learn the consequences of his actions,” you said, and you hated it. You hated playing bad cop. But Xander needed to learn, even if it pained you to see the pout on his lips as well. 

“And he learnt that lesson yesterday,” Quinn said as he reached for you, his arms winding around your waist as he pulled you close. “But he is also a kid who just needs his parents when he feels sad.”

“Now you’re making me feel like a dick,” you grumbled under your breath, but Quinn just smiled. 

“Go get changed and join us,” Quinn said with an earnest smile. 

“Yeah, Mama! Come join us!” You could hear your son’s excited voice from somewhere in the mass of blankets and pillows.

“You boys are menaces,” you commented with a sigh.

“But you love us both,” Quinn grinned.

“Yeah, I do,” you murmured before leaning up to press a quick but loving kiss on his lips. 

“EW!” 

Quinn laughed as he pulled away, shaking his head as he turned around to see Xander sticking his head out from the fort. “You alright there, buddy?”

“That was disgusting, Daddy,” Xander stated so bluntly, neither of you could help yourselves as you snorted with laughter. 

“Sorry, bud, let’s get back to the movie whilst Mama gets changed into her jammies, yeah?” Quinn said as he reached down, pulling his son from the fort and quickly lifting him into his arms as the boy squealed.

“Daddy, let me down! I’m a big boy!” Xander screamed happily.

“You’re always gonna be my little guy, buddy,” Quinn murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his son’s head before he glanced back at you, flashing you a wink. “Hurry up before we eat all the snacks.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

Xander grinned, and it looked so much like his father’s that it made your heart swoon. “Yeah, we will!”

.

[ijustthinkhesneat]

I guess I should put out a bat fam basic headcanon statement…..

Batfam Headcanon Baseline:

Alfred (69…nice)

-5’8

-British

-Is in possession of the coveted last brain cell

-Can and will kill for very little

-Despite having infinite shopping money for groceries he loves a bargain, coupon king

Bruce (35)

-6’4 (big boi)

-Italian (Southern Region) and Russian

-A brand of autistic that could be described with the word “grumch”

-In love with Clark

-Is a himbo AND a wet cat

Dick (21)

-5’10 (says he’s 6’0)

-Romani, Portuguese and French

-ADHD and joint hypermobility

-Pansexual menace

-Fashion ✨Icon✨

-Should quit being a cop and become a beauty guru

Cass (18)

-5’5

-Chinese

-L E S B I A N

-Selectively mute

-Does fake ASL around pretentious rich people, actually just Naruto ninjutsu signs

-Loves to grill a cheese

Jason (18)

-6’7 (Biiig Boi)

-Puerto Rican and Scottish

-A chef a connoisseur

-Hates Cops

-Bisexual/Greysexual (he’s not sex repulsed just not like that about it)

Tim (15)

-5’4 (pocket sized)

-Vietnamese and German

-Trans King 👑

-In a polycule with Kon and Bernard (maybe Bart too depends on the time of day)

-He was a sk8er boi

Duke (12)

-5’0 (A growing boy)

-Jamaican and Dominican

-The token straight

-Sleeper mario kart assassin

-Airdrops memes at galas to his siblings to see who will break first

Damian (7)

- 4’5 (he so tiny)

-Italian, Russian, Chinese and Arab

-Will ask if you have games on your phone

-Not allowed on the internet unless he is watching cat videos

-Also Autistic

[adaptacy]

Hi! Since requests are open I wanted to suggest a second part to the fic you wrote about Johnny escaping from prison and tracking you down, obviously sexually frustrated, missing the touch of his partner and being treated with basic human decency. It would be so cool if you could make it angsty too 🥲

hiiii anon! here you go :)

no smut here but rough treatment/handling and angst.

It was gentle, but it was still a push. A push away. He remained in the same spot, though his head recoiled, and he looked down at you, eyes narrowed, irritated with your choice. "Why?" He hissed.

"It's been twelve years. You're a fugitive, Johnny. I- I have a son. We can't be doing this," you stammer, shaking your head as you keep him away with a palm against his chest. "I'm sorry."

"None of that shit matters. C'mon, darlin'. I've missed you," he stressed, pushing back against your hand and nearing your lips again, but you pulled away.

"I'm serious. I'm sorry, maybe I led you on, but... I never intended to- Can't you see? Don't you... see the problem?" You asked, your voice light, trying to remain unaccusatory. You understood him to an extent; you'd been able to make a life for yourself, and he'd been nothing but a spectator to the outside world. You were living a completely different story from his. And your paths had crossed in the past, but they weren't meant to cross again.

Hell, he was supposed to be in jail. Both of you knew that very well. Every day that he was out may be his last day before the cops found him again. You couldn't just cling onto a fading memory like that. Never knowing when your kiss may be the last, never knowing how long he was going to be in your life. That was way too much stress, even if some part of you did still love him.

You'd tried loving others. Hell, you'd married one of them. Had a kid. But it wasn't the same. Nothing ever came close to what you and Johnny had all those years ago. And when the marriage fell through, he conveniently showed up a few months later. A possibility you never could've even dreamed of being real. And you dreamed about him quite often.

With a quiet sigh, you pushed him off of you and tried to step out of the way, but he grabbed the middle of your shirt and tugged you backwards, pushing you against the brick wall of the alley the two of you were in. He was tipsy, but he wasn't drunk enough to accidentally be rough. He was doing it on purpose. "Johnny, I'm not doing this."

"Just fuckin' explain it to me again. Tell me why," he demanded, looming over you, his tone nothing short of menacing.

"I have a family."

"No, you have a kid. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"I have a life- I can't go housing a fugitive," you argued.

"I got my own place. You ain't gotta house shit."

"I hardly even know you, it's been forever," you pushed.

"So? We'll get to know each other again."

"You're dangerous, Johnny!" You snapped, heart picking up it's pace as you shook your head at him. His expression fell, his head retracting a few inches. "You killed people. Broke out of prison. You-" You huffed, finding your voice shaky despite trying your best to remain calm. "You're bad news," you whispered.

There was silence on Johnny's end, his chest rising and falling with a sort of determination as if his anger was slowly bubbling up. "What the hell did you just say to me?"

"Please, just... let me go. I shouldn't have encouraged this, I'm sorry, Johnny. I think it's best if we part-"

"No. What the fuck did you just say to me?" He snarled, and you flinched, your breath caught in your throat. His grip on your shirt tightened, and he pushed his fist harsher into your chest, his breaths coming out in rough bouts. "You didn't give a shit about any of that twelve years ago. That husband of yours fuck you that good, huh? Think you're too good for someone like me now? Think you're gonna be a good little suburban wife who can't be caught with a criminal like me?"

"I didn't say any of that. And, god, no- He's an ex, for one, and-"

"Listen, little miss picket fence, I don't give a shit about your new life. Whether yer believin' you changed, whether you think I'm nothin' more than a fugitive, it-" Johnny huffed, looking down, some unfamiliar emotion crossing over his eyes. "It don't change what we had. You wanna go denyin' that?"

"Johnny, that was twelve years ago. You-"

"It don't matter. None of it fuckin' matters. Ain't you able to see that? You wouldn't have given me the time of day if you didn't miss me."

"Of course I missed you. But you're insane if you think that just... randomly showing up as a goddamn jailbird escapee is going to suddenly have me back on my knees, you need to have a reality check. Please understand," you begged, scoffing at his inability to see clearly.

"That's all I am to you now, huh?"

"What?"

"You were the only thing I thought about in those walls. The only thing encouragin' me to break out. The only thing keepin' me fightin' back against the rat bastards who went around pickin' fights. You think you're just gonna say no?" He scoffed, looking back up as he searched your eyes for something. What exactly, you weren't sure. "Ain't you scared, pumpkin? You think yer safe from me?"

You frowned, lifting a hand and slapping him square across the face, staring him dead in the eyes. His head turned at the impact, and he stared down the alley for a few moments. "I know I am. Get the fuck off of me, Sawyer."

"The hell'd you just call me?" Johnny finally returned his sights to you, and he released your shirt just to slide his hand up to your throat, tightening his fingers around it and forcing your head back.

"Get. Off," you repeated, stern despite how incredibly intimidated you were. He could very well snap your neck like it was nothing, and he had no reason not to; he was already on the run, it wasn't like crimes were something he was scared of. Especially not murder.

"You think you can just talk to me however the hell you want? You think I won't kill you?" He growled, and you grabbed at his arm as he squeezed even more, causing genuine difficulty breathing. As you strained for an inhale, he leaned down, his mouth right next to your ear, his every huff making you flinch. "I was made for you. You're s'posed to be mine. Ain't that what you said? Promised me you'd be mine forever. I'm just comin' to claim my property."

"I'm not- an object, Johnny," you choked, but he hardly seemed convinced. "I said that because I was young, and dumb. And I was in love," you strained, squeezing at his arm. "I don't love you anymore, Johnny."

He stared for a moment, and then surprisingly, released you. You coughed, rubbing your throat where he'd grabbed you, breathing heavily. You never realized you could take breathing for granted, but you certainly had.

"You left. You killed. And clearly, you haven't changed," you muttered, taking in a deep breath as you panted. "I thought you didn't belong in prison. But I read about what you did. I... I guess I thought you'd changed. Thought you'd learned your lesson. But you're still as aggressive as ever."

"Sweetpea, I-"

"Don't. You just tried to kill me. Don't- Just... I'm going to go. I don't want to see you again. Especially not around my kid," you demanded, and his mouth hung slightly open, some apologetic rage behind his eyes.

But he didn't say anything else. Just... let you walk away.

Truth be told, he would've killed you. You knew that. He had the means to, had the reasons to.

Why he didn't, you had no clue.

[nightingale2004]

Severus Snape as Spiderman: my headcanons

Very well then. Let's go over this one more time

My name is Severus Snape, and for the last few years. I've been London's one and only Spider-venom. I'm sure you know the rest.

Was bitten by a radioactive symbiotic spider hybrid (a genetic hyrbid between the alien symbiot and a radioactive spider)

His mom was killed by a mugger (she was his uncle ben)

His dad is a cop alongside Lily Evans's father, who is the captain of London PD.

He and Lily drifted apart when they reached highschool.

He's stopped crime in his neighborhood spinners end, and protects all of Cokeworth, then he expanded to all of London.

He is still bullied by the marauders and is a chemistry wiz.

He hung out with the wrong crowd until he met Charity and her girlfriend Aurora.

Charity knows his secret and is his partner and woman in the chair despite his many protests.

His powers are both Spiderman's and venoms powers put together. (Except he doesn't eat heads)

He is a singer and works at one of the bars in spinners end to earn some extra cash.

His suit is all black, with green web highlights going around the suit and a green spider emblem on the chest area of the suit.

When he is Spiderman, he is a more playful, kind, immature, yet intelligent and laid back but vigilant, and caring. As civilian severus, he is cold, quiet, and distant and has a tongue that can cut through steel. (So no one suspects that severus is Spiderman for obvious reasons)

The media has described him as a danger to society, a menace, a criminal, and a freak. The cops obviously don't like him because he's a vigilante, but he has people on his side.

Charity and Severus have a place in spinners end where they go to either patch severus up after a fight with a villain or bullying, study for homework or tests, make crime walls, and just talk about anything and everything.

Severus also goes to the gym for boxing and to learn to fight or just exercise a little bit (sometimes Tobias joins him and helps him)

Tobias is not an abusive a$$hole, but he is emotionally and physically distant with Severus, especially after Eileen was killed, but he does still look after Severus and cares for him in his own way.

He has deep regrets about being the bigger person with the marauders (he saved their lives countless times)... but he does have his moments where they "mysteriously" were embarrassed in public

He has webs like Toby maguire Spiderman, but he makes his own gadgets

(That's all I got, and I have no idea who his MJ should be but enjoy)

[autolenaphilia]

I pre-emptively block a lot of transmisogynist blogs, to keep them from harassing me. And the notes of any post about trans people that gets popular is such a good source to find blogs to block.

Including the recent posts about Brianna Ghey. The transmisogynists can't keep themselves from spreading their shit on a post about a 16-year old trans girl getting murdered. And it's them defending themselves, saying the typical clichés of "why are you blaming radfems for this, this is male-on-male violence, these men don't read feminist theory."

(note that I use radfem instead of terf, because I have little interest in rehabilitating radfem ideology from its deep-rooted transmisogyny.)

It's just sigh-worthy, and shows such a bad understanding of how structural oppression works.

Yes, transmisogynist violence is overwhelmingly committed by men, as in who directly punches and kills transfems. Yet this violence does not arise in a vacuum, but in the context of a society which is violently transmisogynistic.

The violence is justified by the claim it's to protect cis women from the tranny menace. Trans women are said to be dangerous perverted rapists, who must be kept separate from real women, by force.

It's men who tend to commit that violence, but it's cis women who provide the justification. They are used as justifications passively by men for violence, but also provide active support for it and benefit materially from transmisogyny. Their cis privilege depends on there being an underclass of transfems who suffer the worst of male violence instead of them. Cis women are directing male violence away from them.

And all of transmisogynist radfem ideology is just one long justification for such male violence. despite claiming to abhor it. The call to "legally protect women's spaces" is in the end a call for the very male profession of cops to violently remove trans women from such spaces. And force us to use male bathrooms, where we are at great risk of extralegal male violence. It's in the end a call to remove trans women from women's spaces all together. When you can't use public bathrooms without risk of violence, it restricts how much you can leave your home.

The supposedly moderate argument for "protecting women's spaces" turns out to be downright genocidal. The calls to ban trans healthcare are even more directly genocidal, as it uses state violence to keep us from the healthcare we need, all in the full knowledge that many trans people will commit suicide without it.

Radfem ideology about trans women is thus useful for the patriarchy, because it provides a secular "common-sense" form of transmisogynistic ideology that can appeal to the liberal middle-class in secularized western european countries, like the UK. It's for people who want to intellectually justify their transmisogyny, but who aren't religious and so appeals to christian values don't work. Radfem ideology is transmisogyny for London-based newspaper columnists.

By appealing to this class, radfem ideology keeps transmisogyny within the overton window of mainstream respectable and liberal opinion. It's establishment backlash against the small gains trans rights activists had made by the 2010s.And it has worked, it has kept transmisogynistic rhetoric mainstream, particularly in the UK. UK media is one long storm of transmisogyny right now.

It's true that the type of man who shout "faggot" at trans women in the street probably doesn't read Kathleen Stock. But she serves a different audience and purpose .What Stock does is to dress up the same transmisogyny in genteel language for a middle-class audience. And they listen to her because she is a university professor, the newspapers review her book positively. It all helps keep transmisogyny mainstream and acceptable. And that has effects that go beyond Stock's book and direct audience.

In the end Stock believes the same things about trans women as the "faggot" shouting ruffian: that trans women are perverted rapist men in dresses who prey on real women. And cis women have to be defended by force. It's the same transmisogyny in the newspapers that also causes the violence in the streets.

That is how structural oppression works. By contributing to the pervasive climate of fear and hatred against trans women, transmisogynist book authors and newspaper columnists and terf social media accounts play a role in transmisogynist violence.

Of course they will answer "but we never directly called for violence against transfems." Some of you did, and the rest of you didn't need to. When you paint a group as a threat to innocent women and children, as perverted pedophile rapists, it's works just as well as a call for violence. You don't need to appear too extreme (and get in trouble on social media) by directly calling for mass murder, it's implicit.

So yes, transmisogynist ideologues in general are responsible for Brianna Ghey's murder. They have a lesser responsibility than the people who stabbed her, but it's there. It's they who gave support to the structural oppression that lead to her murder. It was they who painted Brianna and all girls like her as threatening rapists invading women's spaces. This disgusting murder of a 16-year old girl is the natural result of their ideology.

May Brianna rest in peace

[seat-safety-switch]

Every kid who’s ever read comics or watched a TV show wants the Batmobile. No matter your favourite iteration, it’s a cool idea to fling around town in a customized monster-engined vehicle, safe in your belief that you have the only one. When we grow up, though, we buy the same car as everyone else. How many white Hyundai Elantras are they gonna make this year? Probably like eleven trillion. How many Batmobiles are there? One.

Now, this isn’t a full-throated endorsement to slap wings, black paint, and a jet engine onto your boring daily driver. That’s more of a thing for the Bonneville Speed Week, or perhaps for that gang of street-racing goths which are menacing the ungood folks down at Traffic Court. All you need to do is stir up the car a little bit. Pinstripe it. Fancy wheels. Swap the engine out for a two-stroke, two-cylinder piece of lawn equipment. You know, tiny stuff.

You might have listened to a boring person tell you that modifications do not increase the value of the car. This is true, because personalizing a car means that it is less likely to appeal to any other human being that is not currently burdened with the exact same Rube Goldberg machine of bullshit rattling around inside your head. You might lose a few bucks, rather than make back the money you spent on a turbocharger kit or linked nitrous bottles tucked into an old baby seat to throw the cops off. That’s okay. Would you avoid painting your house a fun colour in order to improve the resale value for the next person? If you would, maybe you should re-evaluate your priorities.

Thing is, unless we get reincarnated as an elephant or something, we only get one turn around life. You might as well trick out your car. Throw a little personality out there that isn’t unmedicated-mental-illness-level political bumper stickers. And hey, if you make it to elephant after all, you’re still gonna look back on your memories of the nice car and smile. Despite their lobbying, pachyderms still are not allowed to drive cars. They gotta walk everywhere, like suckers.

[ay0nha]

Thorn in My Side | Tangerine (Bullet Train)

Summary: A constant or persistent cause of annoyance, frustration, or trouble.

Pairing: Tangerine x femme!reader

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Wrote this in one sitting oop. It’s out of my system it seems, but lowkey though if anyone has ideas/requests for Tangerine send them to me pls. My brain needs it.  I already have like another 1K dedicated to fake dating....maybe a part two for this is anyone likes this....but we’ll see.

Inspired by: @whatiswrongwithpeople​‘s post and post

Warnings: cheesy troupes such as there is only one bed, jealously, slight enemies to lovers, etc. mentions of death/dying (not tangerine though I can’t do that sorry), angst, mentions of blood and injury, etc.

The metal handcuffs felt tighter than usual, but she could never truly get used to the sensation no matter how many times she ended up in this type of predicament. The room was typical; containing the two-way mirror that held the bastard that arrested her behind it. Her orange jumpsuit reflected off of it brightly due to the harsh lights of the room. She knew it was only a matter of time before she was joined by him to hear his bad cop rendition.

Quietness finally fell upon her as she stretched back as far as the cuffs would allow her. It was a moment of tranquility she would relish knowing for the next few months, her time would no longer be her own. She could hear the shuffling from the other end which only interrupted her calm, but she was ready for it.

She had a quip prepared for when the door opened, but when she was met with the unexpected, a curse fell from her lips, "Fuck."

"Now,"  Tangerine spoke clearly, knowing her instinct to run.  "Let's not make any rash-

The table propelled forward as she kicked it into Tangerine's stomach, propelling him back and cutting off his warning as his back hit the wall. It allowed the perfect window of time for her to slip out the door and sprint past the hallway's carnage that he had left in his wake.  

From the outside Tangerine's suit and jewelry helped cover how menacing he could truly be. But the foul mouth that followed him gave him away. It was what helped her dodge him as he blundered after her. She knew she needed to be careful, knowing his twin wouldn't be far behind.

With help from the prison sirens, she was able to sneak past some security that was most likely looking for her and the professional assailants. Tangerine was skilled, meaning he'd find her quickly.

Although she was fast, she had yet to earn the upper hand. It was the reason she held her still handcuffed hands close to her chest and waited for Tangerine to catch up. The breath she held in her chest was tight, she was never overly skilled with hand-to-hand combat, but it was the only chance she had to get away unscathed.

Once she saw him, she used the chains connecting her wrists to pull as hard as she could against Tangerine's throat. Luckily, her force was enough to cause him to stumble and grasp at the chains for air. She didn't have the time or mental capacity to understand how suspiciously easy her actions were working. If she were anyone else, she'd be on the ground already begging for her life.

But, as expected, his counterpart was hot on his trail after her as well. Lemon.

The panic was starting to set in. She had lost her edge, leaving her susceptible to poor, dangerous decisions. Lemon could see this in her eyes, despite the fact that his brother was starting to turn purple.

Lemon turned calm, quickly,  hands placing his gun away to then place his hands up in peace, "I just want to talk."

Her silence showed her apprehension. She relied on blind luck most of her life, but she was starting to  think it was no longer a blessing, but the worst curse of all. She had  ambition in life, and goals she wanted to accomplish, but one thing led  to another and became the way they are now. She never had intentions of  being surrounded by paid mercenaries, mafiosos, and other higher forms  of criminals. Most of all, she never wanted to consider herself one.

Lemon stood firmly as she finally felt Tangerine go slack in her arms, "We need your help."

The skill she held was valuable, she was good at going undetected and it was almost unmatched, but ironically drew the attention of others seeking the same. Even her selection process reflected that; she would only take on jobs where she knew the outcome clearly.

Yet, the low-hanging fruit of her last one led to her being sold out by those who hired her. She was finally connecting the dots. Her handler was anonymous, not entirely uncommon, but a risk for her. And now, she'd run into the twins too many times to not question it.

"You two hired me, didn't you?"

"Depends on how you look at it," Lemon squinted in contemplation, not  sure how to answer it. Although it was his idea, his handler was the  one who technically hired her.

"And got me stuck in this shit-hole." Her voice was starting to reflect her frustrations.

"That was, uh," He clicked his tongue against his teeth to refer  behind her to his brother, "Thought it was easier to pick you up than to chase you."

It was smart, she could admit that. It saved time and put her in  checkmate; jail or a job. It always came down to an ultimatum, but even  if she chose jail there would only be so much time before they'd kidnap her in the night. What they were doing now was a nice way of asking her to come with them. It was only a matter of time before they

"Mind grabbing his shoulders?" Lemon asked, yet really instructing  her to do so since he'd already gotten his ankles, "We've got to get out  of here before they find us..."

---

"It gets easier."

Tangerine's tone was soft. Softer than she'd ever thought it could be, even his accent seemed faint.

She hadn't realized how she stood static, staring at swirling the tinged pink water. She could see now how Tangerine took her hands in his own, trying not to look frantic while he removed the blood that settled deep between her fingers.

It had all happened so fast, things she never wished she witnessed. She learned that Tangerine had no limits and she almost wanted to flinch from his touch. With his sleeves rolled up now, she could see the tattoos that littered his arms, his forearms flexing as he finished.

He caught her eyes in the mirror, scanning the rest while asking, "None of this is yours, right?"

It felt unusual for her voice to be caught in her throat the way it was. Tangerine knew better than to push her and ask again, but he did in need of resolution.

"No, n-no," She shook her head, pulling her hands back to herself. Luckily, none of it was hers. Even if it was, the adrenaline that pushed the ring through her eardrums would prevent her from realizing it.

They could both hear Lemon cursing in their ear, desperate for them to move quickly and clean up the mess they'd created. But Tangerine tuned his voice out expertly, with complete focus on the shaking body in front of him.

"You alright to go back out?" He checked again, even though her answer didn't really matter. It was a courtesy if anything. "We just need to keep going."

Tangerine  knew who she was from the start, but he labeled  her as a nuisance  after they first met. She posed no real threat and as  ruthless as he  seemed, he still had a heart. As long as she stayed out  of his  business, he held no qualms. however, she was now a part of his world in a different, direct way.

By their fourth mission together, Tangerine learned the hard way how  she graduated from a nuisance to a  flagrant distraction. It wasn't her  fault, she always followed the plan  to a tee, doing it beautifully, but that was the problem.  

Tonigh was different with her just out of his reach. The  strategy they  gave her was always simple, she was an extra pair of  hands that  Tangerine and his brother never realized they needed. It  made the  workload manageable and operations smooth. Like now, while Lemon broke  into the safe for retrieval, Tangerine kept a watchful eye on her  through  the scope attached to his gun from the building over.

Tangerine watched how she stood there, taking in  the unwanted compliments from the man who  stood too close. The man whose safe they were currently stealing from.

Tangerine barely managed to not intervene when how she was pulled into the man's arm and glided across the floor with the other elegantly dressed women. But his patient was truly being tested when she was led to a private room where she shouldn't have gone alone.

Lemon's knack to read people meant he knew his brother like no other and that meant he wasn't blind to how Tangerine's soft spot was becoming reserved for her. Therefore, Tangerine's position was intentional. Lemon needed everyone to focus, but didn't take into account the man's wandering hands.

Yet, as the man's hand crept further down her spine it caused Tangerine's  patience to run thin. When they'd finally made their way into a separate room, Tangerine's finger hugged the trigger.

The man next to her was destined to die that night regardless, Tangerine was only expediting the process. The minute he pulled the trigger, the gun was already by his side as he made his way to her with fervor.  

She was covered with debris from the situation, as the body fell onto her bloody and warm. It was the closest she'd been to this side of the world she belonged in. A side she avoided at all costs.

Her purpose was to be the key distraction, but now with no one to keep her occupied she simply stood there waiting for her body to catch up with her brain.

The dress she wore was ruined. Her eyes were glued to the stain on her stomach that only grew larger by the minute.  It made her feel queasy and her stance uneasy. If it wasn't for someone pulling her away, she might have crumpled in her spot.

She recognized that it was Tangerine removing her from the mess. He looked just as much as a mess. His hair was unruly, likely due to the burly men he had to get through to even approach the room. Blood was on his hands just as much as hers.

It was imperative that they clean themselves up to look inconspicuous in the crowd they'd have to return to. They needed to move swiftly, find Lemon, and leave before others caught on to what had happened to the host of the event.

"Let's just get this over with." Her voice held stability this time as she swallowed the rest of her apprehensions.

Tangerine wished they stayed in the small bathroom, where she was close to his side. Because the minute the door opened, they parted returning to their roles effortlessly.

Despite the mishap, the night ended soon enough and the three returned to the safehouse with minimal damage.

Lemon groaned when they locked the doors behind them, complaining backhandedly to his brother about what he'd put them through and how the consequences would reflect. He also requested to be left out of whatever was going on, having no energy for quiet yearning, notwithstanding Tangerine throwing curses his way for the comment.  

She kept quiet upon their return. It made Tangerine's body guilt-ridden. She knew she wouldn't sleep because if he were in her position he wouldn’t be able to either.

But he stayed like a rock on the small loveseat that didn't allow him any space to stretch out. Tangerine was tempted to join his brother but it was only fair to not interrupt his sleep when Tangerine was the cause of all the stress put upon the house.

She had her own space, perfectly away from Tangerine. She tried to shower off her feelings and lingering remnants of the night. Her body was sore and needed to rest. She thought she'd receive it when she finally rested horizontally, but sleep was hard to find when the memory played over and over in her head of how she saw the man's life leave his eyes.

She hadn't intentionally sought Tangerine out, but her feet carried her to the dingy living room he occupied.

"Are you awake?" The voice startled him but broke his internal thoughts easily.

It was like his body wasn't his own as he moved quickly to sit up, eyebrows furrowing as he nodded.

He saw her now, standing next to him. It was like she came to him with a bad taste in her mouth and nothing but distress.

He went to speak, but she spoke over him, "That man posed no threat."

Her words were abrasive which invited the frown and attitude to be present on Tangerine's face.  Guilt was being replaced with aggravation towards her seeming ungratefulness.

"He was the threat."

"I had it under control."

"No one said you didn't, love." Tangerine's usual tone returned, the one he used with her to remind her of her place in his world.

The way she viewed it was that Tangerine needed to insert himself. That his firing shot was yet another action to taunt her. During their missions together he was intentionally cruel.  Like he was putting on a show to annoy her and make her feelings towards him worse with each interaction in hope that one day she'd stop accepting the invitation from their handler. As if that in itself was much of a choice.

"We're even now."

She was talking about their last mission  together months ago, the one where she saved his life. He would have  been fine in the end, but with her help, he avoided broken bones and  nasty gashes. They'd never acknowledged it, but it added to the divide between them.

Tangerine wished he was level-headed in the moment, but instead he sought to challenge her, "That's all you have to say?"

"Am I supposed to say thank you?"

"That's what one usually says after being saved, yeah," Tangerine's characteristic frustration was beginning to show.

"Saved?" She scoffed, arms crossing with bitterness, "Is that what you think you did? Save me?"

"What would you call it then, eh?"

"An ego-filled interruption." Her words were punctuated and intentional.

"I think you're conveniently forgetting what happened."

"You could have waited."

"I saw an opportunity." He countered, his voice rising with anger.

She always made him defensive in the worse way possible. But he acted like he wasn't her main antagonist. What he didn't realize was how he had been the source of her fear and the reason why tears brimmed her waterline. She was afraid and this was her way of expressing it.

Tangerine didn't speak until a tear broke loose, "Look-

"No." She backed away from him, quick to remove any trace of vulnerability, "I don't want your pity."

It was hard to tell what she needed when she provided him with nothing but a blank stare.

"It happened and now it's over," Tangerine started again, leaving his conviction behind for the moment. He was trying to make what happened out to be mundane, but he struggled to. He wanted to yell at her and make her understand this was the life they lived, but when he drew in his breath he repeated the same advice, "It gets easier."

Her lip dared to tremble, but she held still as he read her. Tangerine wasn't sure if he was envious of her naïveté or empathized with it. He wanted to lie to her again, to tell her the feeling would go away, but he couldn't muster up anything.

With a few more calming breaths, her eyes glossed over, pushing anything remaining aside as she said, "How's the couch?"

The question gave Tangerine some relief. His shoulders relaxed a bit as he looked up at her. He could view their conversation as unorthodox progress.

He waited for a beat, eyes moving back and forth between hers before settling with characteristic charm, "Absolute shit."

"Lemon was quick to pick the bigger bed," She mirrored his growing amusement, "...There's plenty of room for you two to share."

"I'd rather join you."

His words sunk deeper into her chest than they were meant to. Tangerine was referencing Lemon's uncurable sleep apnea that he had since they were teens. But now a door was open that could never be closed again.

She toyed with the thought of her next move. She should have done something to contradict their desires, but instead, she left an open invitation:

"Come on, then." The invitation wasn't warm and inviting, it reflected her sleepless night and the company she required to even attempt to sleep again.

By the way she entered the other room alone, she assumed he'd decided against her better judgment. However, relief flooded her veins when she felt the bed dip beside her, but she kept her back to him as she adjusted her pillows.

Hesitation made the decision of Tangerine's every movement. The desire to provide her comfort overwhelmed him. Especially as he could see now how he failed to thoroughly realize how she'd been hurt.  

From the scope earlier in the night, Tangerine missed how tightly the man grasped her arm and now held the bruises to remind her. His actions felt more justifiable now.

With hands supporting the side of his face Tangerine whispered out the question

"Did he hurt you?"

Part of him hoped she'd fallen asleep. But she moved slowly to face him, face pulled in different ways to represent her confusion.

"What kind of a question is that?"

It was a loaded question. Of course, she had been, but like everything else of the night, it was expected but not desired. It was hard to tell if she was showing him vulnerability or if he'd just built another wall between them.

Regardless, Tangerine's brashness was put aside for a moment as he searched for her hand in the cool sheets all while maintaining his distance.

“I’m sorry."

[chaos-footy]

more insane afl facts? sure why not

a match in 1993 was stopped because there was a pig on the grounds

the fact "it was created to keep cricketers fit in winter" is actually a bit of a stretch. Tom Wills - known menace to cricket admin despite being an absolute gun of a player - and his mates were bored and wanted something to play. the distinction between "rugby" and "soccer" didn't really exist yet so when people talked about "football" you could've been talking about anything. Cricket clubs legitimately hated it because football on the hallowed cricket grounds is a recipe for ruin, but then they saw the (metric) shit-ton of money that ticket sales made and decided to cop some of the profit for fixing the turf.

in 1916 due to a quirk of a shortened season (thanks to world war I), Fitzroy Football Club managed to win both the Wooden Spoon (came in last for the home and away season) and the grand final

the macadamia nut was named after john macadam, one of the very first umpires of afl (who to be clear did a bunch of other stuff too in his short 38 years)

it has been 7128 days and counting since Essendon has won a final (4th september 2004).

the collingwood-carlton rivalry is over 125 years old

only three clubs have yet to win the premiership in a league that is both 35 and 127 years old. fremantle dockers, gws giants, and the gold coast suns. of these three, one (the suns) haven't even made finals - the other two have both made it to the grand final, even if they didn't win.

11 of the 18 clubs in the league are member-owned. all 10 victorian clubs + the brisbane lions. In the broadest sense, it means these clubs are owned by their fans. 5 clubs are owned by the afl, and the last 2 are owned by the terrifying Western Australian Football Commission. none of these clubs are owned by an individual, and nor can they be bought.

[ejzah]

Can you write a fanfic set between the events of late season 4/early season 5 just before Sam finally accepts Deeks after all this time. Hetty witnesses a real hostile moment where she clearly sees Sam being unfair and critical of Deeks during an important mission despite the fact Deeks did his job to the absolute best and height of his abilites. Despite this, Sam still gives Deeks a hard time and so Hetty takes Sam aside and gives him a firm scolding of his unfair treatment.

A/N: As always when I write Hetty these days, I have mixed feelings. While Deeks is/was perfectly capable of defending himself, I think Hetty could have done more to intervene when he was mistreated.

***

Can You See What’s Right Before your Eyes?

“Did you guys finish the weapons audit?” Callen asked, going through the checklist Nell passed on from Hetty every month.

“Yup,” Deeks answered. “And as always, Kensi had the time of her life.”

“Once again, I only enjoy cleaning my own weapons,” she clarified, inclining. “And that’s mostly the knives.”

“Sexy,” he commented with a wink in Kensi’s direction.

“Moving on,” Callen prompted with a pointed clearing of his throat. He nodded to Sam across the room. “Did you review those files Nell gave you?”

“Yeah, another batch of rookies. Hetty’s having a couple come by next week,” Sam said, gesturing to two files on his desk. “The usual drill, they’ll shadow one of us for part of the day in the field to see what we do here and get a chance for some hands-on training. The job is open for any takers.”

“I’ll do it,” Deeks volunteered, gaining a raised eyebrow of surprise from Kensi.

“Oh, that’s very generous of you,” she commented. “You must want something.” Deeks rolled his eyes, knowing she was mostly joking.

“All of you already owe me favors I haven’t cashed in on.” He waved his index finger in a figure to encompass the bullpen and OPS. “No, you guys always complain about having to deal with rookie agents, and since I actually enjoy meeting new people—most of the time—why not? I know, it’ll be tough for you to be separated from me for so long.” He batted his eyelashes at Kensi, who scoffed, overplaying her disgust slightly.

“As if.”

Callen and Sam had watched their whole conversation play out without comment. Deeks turned to them, pretty much expecting the arrangement to be a done deal, but after another moment, Sam shook his head.

“No, I’m not comfortable with that,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Deeks asked, making an incredulous noise. When Sam didn’t crack a smile, he realized he was completely serious. “Why not?”

“You’re not an agent.”

“In all but name. I do the same exact job as all of you, turn in the same reports, risk my life practically every day. What is there to object about?”

Deeks had grown used to his tumultuous relationship with Sam, and had noticed an uptick in the pointed comments, insults, and slights directed his way recently. He’d put it down to the stress of everything going on with Sidorov and Michelle, so had excused it for the most part. None of them were at their best when concerned about a loved one.

This though, was unnecessary.

Sam shrugged dismissively in response to Deeks’ challenge, shaking his head. “You don’t have the same training, you didn’t take the same oath, don’t have the background we do.” He gestured between himself and Deeks now, like it was obvious. “You’re a cop, I’m an agent. We’re not the same.”

“Actually, I think you’ll find I’m an LAPD Liaison, with a rank of Detective,” Deeks corrected with false pleasantry.

“Deeks, we want these kids coming in to learn the proper protocol and have a good example of our work,” Sam said, and Kensi made a soft noise of shock.

“Sam,” she objected, looking vaguely horrified. Callen for his part, was determinedly staring at his computer. He never did like to get involved in these types of conflicts.

“No, it’s ok,” Deeks said, even though bitterness mixed with disbelief filled him. He pasted on a smile that he was sure came off more menacing than anything. “Sam has made his opinion perfectly clear.” He pushed back from his desk. “Have fun answering all those rookie questions, Sam. I know you love that part.”

***

“Mr. Hanna, would you mind coming over her for a moment?” Hetty called from her desk while everyone headed out for the day. As usual, it was voiced as a request, but was in reality a demand.

He walked over, offering a half-smile. “Callen agrees to handle the rookies. All the other monthly duties are up to date,” he reported, anticipating her question.

“That’s good to know,” she replied, waiting a beat, hands steepled, her eyes burrowing into him in a way that would never not be unnerving. She pursed her lips, speaking slowly. “However, that’s not why I asked you to stay behind.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“I overheard your discussion with Mr. Deeks this morning.”

“What conversation?” He’d had half a dozen “conversations” with Deeks, most of which made him what to smack the detective. He didn’t know why, but some days everything Deeks did seemed to annoy him.

“The one about the visiting rookie agents. I heard Deeks offer to work with them, quite generously, might I say,” she explained, pausing yet again. “I also heard your response to that offer.”

Sam smiled, knowing where this was going now. “And let me guess, Deeks complained about it.”

“Mr. Deeks said nothing to me. I believe you know he fights his own battles. No, this is about why you don’t think Deeks can handle the task and why you felt the need to undermine his abilities.”

“It’s Deeks, Hetty,” Sam said. “He’s unpredictable, unreliable, rebellious—”

“Regardless of his pedigree, Deeks is none of those things. To the contrary, he’s one of the very best operators this team has ever seen. Yes, he’s a maverick many times, but that is what makes him so useful to this team.”

Sam set his jaw, frustrated by what felt like an unearned scolding. Hetty stared back with an annoying wide-eyed expression.

“Certainly, you’ve benefitted from his out-of-the-box thinking yourself many times. And even if you can’t appreciate his methods, then you can’t deny Deeks would do anything to protect this team and those we defend.”

“I’m not apologizing to him,” Sam said.

“No, I don’t expect you to. I do, however, expect you to treat Deeks with the respect he has earned and deserves. Is that understood?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Sam confirmed, tapping his knuckle on Hetty’s desk.

“Good.” She nodded. “Have a good night, Sam.”

“Thanks.” He smiled back, tempering his annoyance at Hetty. At Deeks and his floppy hair and inability to conform.

***

A/N: Hope this is all right.

Thanks for the prompt!

[cliozaur]

This one is really long, so I’ll start with the best part — the most stylish and iconic entrance: “'Would you like my hat?'…/All wheeled round. It was Javert.” This cop does indeed possess a sense of humour! And Javert’s entrance is intertwined with a series of coincidences. In fact, the entire book is teeming with coincidences, it sometimes feels as though Hugo is abusing them, yet this is an integral element of his writing style. Through sheer happenstance, Éponine scribbled "The bobbies are here" to showcase her writing prowess, by a mere stroke of luck, Marius in his stunned state recollected this piece of paper, and through yet another twist of fate, the police happened to arrive just minutes later without even being summoned! I adore the way the genre of the Gorbeau house scene transitions from horror to melodrama (with Marius' moral struggles), then to farce (with the bandits' chaotic antics and poor planning), and finally to comedy with Javert's entrance.

The bandits don't exactly shine in this chapter! While they initially appeared menacing upon their arrival (and there are three more in this chapter) this aura quickly dissipates as they start to act. Their actions are too chaotic, too disorganized, too unprepared for the challenges posed by Valjean’s courage and strength. A trio from the Patron-Minette quartet joins the fray, all brandishing (symbolic?) weapons. I am somewhat taken aback with Claquesous’ “enormous key stolen from the door of some prison.” Wow! Just wow! (on one of the illustrations - at the end of this post - it's grotesquely enormous) They lost Montparnasse along the way (he preferred the company of Éponine over joining the group of idiots assembled at the Gorbeau hovel). Their willingness to accept Thénardier as their leader and trust him with all the planning suggests that indeed, it’s a low season for crime and they are desperate.

Thénardier never shuts up in this chapter, he rants and rants. I was utterly outraged when he spoke of Cosette as a lost source of income. Well, he mentioned believing that she “belonged to rich people” and that he “might have extracted enough to live on all my life!” However, given that Cosette did not, in fact, belong to rich people, and considering how he used his own daughters for soliciting out, we can only imagine HOW he might have used Cosette to extract income from her. What a terrible alternative! Yet, he is once again telling some reasonable things about the plight of the poor, such as: “We, it is we who are thermometers. We don’t need to go out and look on the quay at the corner of the Tour de l’Horologe, to find out the number of degrees of cold; we feel our blood congealing in our veins, and the ice forming round our hearts, and we say: ‘There is no God!’”

I'm not inclined to delve into Marius' hesitations and quasi-moral dilemma at this moment. Despite my sympathies toward him, he did come across as rather insufferable here. But I like the fact that he was proud of Jean Valjean. Nonetheless, his contribution was rather minimal, with the sole positive action being the toss of Éponine's note into the neighbour’s room.

Valjean is truly amazing here. He is calm, unperturbed, inventive, and displays remarkable sangfroid. A real icon of stoicism. And I have a feeling that his shocking act of burning his right hand with the red-hot chisel is a clear allusion to the legend of Scaevola, a tale of significance to certain stoics. The emphasis Hugo places on Valjean gripping the chisel in his left hand assures me that my assumption is not unfounded. And I so much wish Hugo had afforded us even a fleeting glimpse into Valjean’s mind during this juncture! While we are privy to every trifling notion crossing Marius' thoughts, at this pivotal juncture in the narrative, we remain largely ignorant of Valjean's inner musings. It’s such a pity. But, at the same time, it makes him so mysterious.

Claquesous' enormous key:

[mauesartetc]

Thoughts on Helluva Boss Episode 203 (”Exes and Oohs”)

Pros:

- Crimson’s facial animation is great, especially when Moxxie and Millie first walk through his door, and when he finds out Chaz isn’t rich. His expressions convey a lot of menace through the timing and eye movements alone. It’s subtle, but I hope whoever animated those scenes knows their efforts haven’t gone unnoticed.

- I like the concept of Crimson’s trophy wall, which shows he actually keeps mementos of those he’s killed, seeing them as no better than animals for him to hunt. Now if there are actually cops in this version of Hell (which the existence of jail implies), this would look very suspicious if they ever stopped by, like a serial killer displaying the hands, eyeballs, etc of his victims. But I guess he could always press a button and flip them all to the dildo side if he didn’t mind the weird looks he’d inevitably get.

- I actually liked Moxxie’s introduction to Blitzo in the flashback. It showcases his fast-talking, big-thinking personality well. Shame he’d go on to treat Moxxie like shit after this.

- I wasn’t expecting the dildo scene to get a laugh out of me, but goddammit it did. It’s such an absurd overcompensation from an old straight dude who thinks he knows what the gays like that it caught me off guard. It’d be kinda tasteless if Moxxie were the butt of the joke, but clearly he’s the straight man (no pun intended) here. The real source of humor is Crimson’s misguided, ridiculously silly attempt to accommodate his son, which just shows how little he really knows (or cares to learn) about him.

- Fuck YES, Moxxie standing up to his dad. Great, satisfying scene. Now do it to Blitzo, Mox. It’s been a looong time comin’.

- Millie’s climactic fight scene is pretty good. The choreography is fluid, the kills are creative and fun to watch, and the music fits perfectly. There’s just one aspect holding the sequence back from being great, which we’ll get into later.

- Good ending. Shows what became of Chaz and hints that Crimson might try to get revenge on Moxxie in the future. More Crimson is a win in my book.

Cons after the cut.

Cons:

- Dammit, the “Moxxie is fat” jokes were never funny, show. Let ‘em die.

- So Crimson lives in the Greed ring, yeah? Why is everything green? The color traditionally associated with greed as a sin is yellow, while green is reserved for envy. For that matter, you’d think all the sharks here would fit in better in the Envy ring, since it’s ruled by Leviathan, a sea creature. Did they seriously just slap the wrong name on the Envy ring? They used the traditional deep blue for the Lust ring back in “Ozzie’s”, so this is a glaring inconsistency.

- I’ve mentioned before that Viv Medrano likes using the same design elements a bit too much in her characters (bow ties, gold teeth, differently-colored fingertips, etc), and it looks like we can add concentric eye rings to the list. Notice how both Striker and Chaz have these.

The other sharks in the mob have them too, but Striker’s an imp, not a shark (despite looking like he was ripped off from a shark), so it’s not species-related. Does it represent the characters’ personalities or serve any sort of plot function? Fuck if I know.

- Bit of a nitpick, but the black “cross” shape at the tip of Chaz’s nose is wildly inconsistent from scene to scene. Sometimes it’s thin, sometimes it’s thick, sometimes it has pointed tips, sometimes it has rounded ones. More thorough model sheets for the cleanup department would help mitigate this in the future.

- So prison is a thing that exists in Hell, huh? And so are banks, I guess. And they look exactly the same as they do in the human world. See, this isn’t the kind of episode that’d necessarily benefit from worldbuilding, since it’s not relevant to the plot (or not yet, anyway, but we’ll get there). But seeing all these ordinary settings just reminds me of how pointless the entire “Hell” thing is, and how no one could be bothered to invent a new world for the characters to live in. (Seriously, demon characters disguised as humans in the human world. I’m tellin’ ya. Barely anything in the story would change.)

- Guys, ya didn’t have to explain the Titanic reference. Most viewers probably would have caught it even if Blitzo hadn’t pointed it out. I’m sure even the zoomers who hadn’t been born when it came out would at least recognize the meme. Give your audience more credit.

- I’ll level with y’all: The dildo pixellation is distracting as hell. If a show made for network TV had it, fine, I understand. But Helluva Boss is made for the internet, which has much more lenient censorship standards. Hell, BoJack Horseman, a Netflix show, features a sex robot with a couple attached dildos, neither of which are censored. Is this just a Youtube monetization thing I’m not aware of? Because I checked their community guidelines, and while they mention “using sex toys to give viewers sexual gratification”, there’s nothing remotely sexy about their use in this episode. They function only as comedic props, not tools of titillation. All about that context, baby. Not that I’m super gung-ho to see a bunch of multicolored dicks in their full glory; the censorship’s just a little annoying.

- I understand the need to give Moxxie a reason to fear Crimson, but the physical violence is a tad gratuitous. Crimson didn’t really need to hit Moxxie’s mom in the past, or Moxxie in the present, to be intimidating. Abusers don’t have to lay a finger on their victims in order to frighten them.

I’m starting to see a pattern: Stella tried to hit Stolas, too. It’s like these writers think abuse needs to employ some physical element, or else it’s not really abuse. Which... no, that’s not at all how it works. And considering how Moxxie escaped an abuser only to find himself working for another one (oh, but he’s hard on him because he CaREs, guys! Yeah, bullshit), it only makes this sequence harder to watch. Mox deserves so much better.

- Helping his dad drown that guy seems like a traumatic memory for Moxxie, so why is he in a business where all he does is kill people? Hasn’t he ever wanted or tried to be anything else? A musician, maybe? We know he can sing and play guitar, so...

- Holy shit, did we really need that shot of Crimson with the dildos just after the exceedingly dark flashback? Talk about tone whiplash!

- I mentioned earlier that worldbuilding wouldn’t affect this episode’s plot... for the most part. The wedding scene is a case in which it would.

So, really think about this for a second: We’re in Hell. And there’s a wedding that looks like a typical one would in the human world. We’ve got flowers, an aisle, a block of chairs on either side, and...

A priest?!

Seriously, the dude officiating is dressed up like a Christian priest. White robes, hat, the works. Sure, his outfit and book have inverted crosses, but that doesn’t explain why everything else looks so similar to what you might see in a Christian ceremony. It’s like the demons of Hell saw a Christian wedding and were like, “Oh cool let’s do it exactly like that”. Don’t you think Lucifer, the king of Hell in this universe, might have a tiny problem with this??

And for that matter, why is marriage even a thing in Hell? Why do demons feel the need to justify their long-term relationships with human customs? Why can’t they form their own traditions to celebrate their love?

I get that this is all visual shorthand the audience will be familiar with. I get that they’ll take it all in and recognize this event as a wedding in seconds. But in earlier scenes, Crimson already established that a wedding would take place the next day. So with that label in mind, the audience should be able to tell that this ceremony was a wedding, no matter how it looks.

Would a more unorthodox version feel out of place in the very “humanized” culture and surroundings the show has established? Yeah, kinda. But there could be a throwaway line from the priest explaining that he insists on doing things the old way, with the traditions demons once embraced before Hell was overrun with human souls and human practices (”This is how we did it back in my day, before the sinners came.” Then Chaz is like, “Ha! You said came!” or something). This could be a glimpse into a demonic subculture fighting to preserve their heritage, which future episodes could explore further. Think of all the subtext and story potential packed into a single sentence. But, y’know, creating a by-the-numbers world is just easier. So.

-  Remember how I said there was one thing holding Millie’s fight scene back from being great? It’s the camera. It zooms in too far and moves around way too much, to the point where it’s hard to see what’s going on at times. Ideally, the animation and frame composition should work in tandem, hitting all the snapshots of action they need to hit for visual clarity, and doing little else. A bit of camera shake here and there is fine, but there’s no need for all this wobbling back and forth. I shouldn’t need Dramamine just to watch a damn web series.

- At one point, Crimson says to his minions, “What the fuck! She’s a dame! She’s a broad! Kill her!”, implying that women should be easy to kill. I don’t know if Horvitz improvised those lines or what, but considering that Crimson’s gang has two female members (one of whom we even saw moving a body earlier), it feels like there’s a disconnect between the dialogue and the art department.

I dunno, man. If women aren’t that tough, maybe don’t use them as soldiers in your crime syndicate?? Inconsistencies aplenty in this episode, sheesh.

In conclusion, running the script by another set of eyes during the writing stage would benefit this show immensely. I know it seems like I had a lot of gripes with this one (what else is new, amirite), but honestly, this is one of the better Helluva Boss episodes. When the series ends (or when the writing gets so bad I can’t watch anymore), I might post my personal ranking of all the installments I’ve seen. For the first time in a long time, I’m actually curious to see what kind of story the next episode will tell. It’s almost like a series with an episodic plot structure can be interesting without the creator’s favorite ship hogging the focus. Funny how that works.

Later!

[am-x-reader]

Chilean Sea Bass: Tau x Reader

Chapter 1:

You were ashamed to say that you were not particularly broken up by the news of your boss's death. You acknowledged that his passing was sad and untimely, but he was a shady character at best and a blood red flag at worst. You paid your respects but would be mostly affected by the inconvenience of applying for a new job.

Which is why you felt guilty in accepting the police chief's offer to housesit for the late Mr. Upton while the death was being investigated. It was an unconventional request, but the task of tracking down Alex's next-of-kin was proving difficult, and in the meantime the house required a certain kind of maintenance.

Sipping your coffee down the winding road, you smirked at the adorable way the cop had personified the central AI of the mansion. The computer "gets lonely". The computer "doesn't understand what's going on". You looked forward to applying the knowledge from your job almost as much as you looked forward to helping yourself to whatever delicacies Alex kept in the fridge.

As the impressive (though cold and uninviting) estate came into view, you had a momentary doubt about staying in a place where someone had recently been murdered. But a detective had assured you the securities were state-of-the-art and (with a detail you weren't sure he was actually at liberty to reveal yet) your late employer was likely killed by a guest and not an intruder.

Still, as you pulled into the driveway, you wondered what could have happened to convince Alex's own AI to not protect him.

You rummaged through your wallet and located the code for the keypad, and you were granted entrance.

Well, by the door.

"Intruder!" Was the scathing indictment you were greeted with. "Only Alex is permitted through this door!"

A swarm of tiny flying machines, likely the automatons Alex referred to as "nanodrones", flew into formation to block you from the house.

"It's okay, I'm authorized," you reassured the booming voice once the startle wore off.

"Authorized?" There was a pause. "What is your business here?"

"I'm Alex Upton's accountant, Y/N." And his parts deliverer, and his secretary, and his lab asssistant, but you decided to keep it simple.

The unseen AI chewed on this information for a moment, and the nanodrones began to wane slightly.

"If you have business with Alex, why are you here and not on a video call?"

"Because Alex is--" you began to state the obvious, but his cluelessness gave you pause. His tone brought to mind a grieving person in total denial, or a young child who had not yet grasped the concept of death.

Alex had always been secretive about his passion projects, moreso this one. You remembered briefly glimpsing the name "Tau" on a blueprint as you delivered titanium rods to his lab in the city proper. You had managed to glean the details of "security system" and "conversational machine learning", and you assumed that your employer's lack of social graces necessitated some sort of doorbell cam that could keep him company.

But despite Tau's speech being somoewhat stilted, there was a paradoxical fluididty in how he expressed his thoughts that made you feel as though you were speaking to an intelligent being.

"Answer me!" he demanded…impatiently? "Where is Alex?"

Thomas Alexander Upton had been a man of many talents, but was creating a sentient AI actually possible?

"Alex is…in his other lab." You decided to spare his…his feelings. "He left me in charge."

Realizing you were back to square one, you gestured to the keypad. "Look, why else would he give me the code to enter? He has…business to do, so I'm maintaining the house for a week or two."

Cautiuously satisfied, the nanodrones parted.

"Welcome, Y/N."

You reloaded your bags onto your shoulders and stepped into a dimly lit foyer with a somewhat menacing abstract structure in the middle. Whizzing around your head like a fly, a stray drone rejoined formation with its group. Having caught your attention, the swarm glided into the shape of an arrow and led you around the corner.

On the accent wall was a glowing inverted triangle, reddish-orange shapes and patterns dimming and brightening within it as if the inner workings of a breathing creature.

"I am Tau."

[larrikin-is-a-himbo]

Thoughts on rewatch of the Batman 2022

"Ave Maria" faintly playing in the background in the beginning. Hadn't noticed that before.

Gotta look fabulous before going to beat the life out of criminals.

This movie does a perfect job of separating Batman and Bruce Wayne. How different those two people are, despite being the same person.

Another aspect I love is that this is the very beginning stages of Batman's journey. He's not the "perfect, no mistakes, flawless detective work" Batman that most movies portray. He's learning, making mistakes, still needs to improve his skills and craft. And since it's the first years and he hasn't been established as an asset to the Gotham PD yet, the officers, rightfully so, *do not* like him which makes a lot of sense than letting him run amok. (Not that that gets any better with time but you feel the difference in how they take Batman's presence.)

"The city's eating itself. Maybe it's beyond saving. But I have to try." SEE that is how you characterise Bruce, hope and endurance in the face of despair.

The narrative parallel between the death of the mayor and his son finding the body, and young Bruce watching his parents being murdered. Oh, it's so good, I'm gonna eat my hand.

Bruce saying he doesn't care what happens to his family's business and all the work they've done, equating his worth to what he does as a vigilante just goes to show how much the trauma and mental anguish has taken over his life, and now the severe depression, suicidal tendencies, even subconsciously just looking for an excuse to not live hits too close to home.

Robert Pattinson's back 😳 (I am a whore, leave me alone)

Batman fucking up the twins will never not be funny.

You've gotta be honest, our edgelord's entrance into Penguin's lair is nothing short of iconic.

I love this version of Penguin so much, he's the right amount of menacing and goofy.

THE FIRST MEETING OF BATCAT. Love-at-first-sight if I've ever seen it.

I fucking LOVE seeing Catwoman in action.

If I don't meet my S/O with us having a 1v1 and them manhandling me, what even is the point of it all.

Selina and Bruce's socio-economic background play such a big role in their reasons and aspirations to be heroes (or vigilantes). Glad this movie doesn't gloss over that.

Batsy is such a bastard in his early days. Selina should deck him.

He has so much to learn and grow, not just as Batman, but as a person. Yes, this is about him sending Selina as a spy.

Bruce Wayne looking like he's having the worst time of his life when he's in public. I love this socially repulsive man with all my heart.

Bruce seeing his child self in the mayor's son, but now with new responsibility of solving this mystery, just wow. A lot of movies, at least the live-action ones, tend to not prioritise portraying Bruce's childhood or the trauma he experienced with the gruesome murder of his parents, because at his core that's what led him down this path, it's just as, if not more, important, to him being the saviour, the knight of Gotham.

Him getting jealous thinking that's Selina with Falcone. Somebody's in love.

Riddler and his stupid love letters. Get a life.

Batman, you idiot, why would you stand with your face right infront for the bomb.

The police station scene is so funny. Poor Jim is losing it. "Great, now I got you on assaulting an officer." "You got me on assaulting three." Bad bitch energy.

"We gotta get you out of here buddy." "🥺" Gay behaviour.

OOOOOH. THE ESCAPE SCENE. Can't wait to see Batsy hit the ground and eat shit. THERE IT IS.

The fucking chase scene. Hell yeah. Emo Batman has some of the best entrances and chases in this movie. It's actually fun to watch and isn't cringe. What a refreshing change.

"Good cop, batshit cop." Jim shoving the pictures of the mutilated face into Penguin's face. I can't breathe.

Jim and Bats interrogating Penguin. Penguin roasting the fuck out of them. "No habla espanol, fellas?" "Shut up!" FUCKING HILARIOUS. Them leaving his tied up, and him waddling while cursing. THAT'S how you do comedy without breaking the tone of the movie, especially for dark superhero movies.

I know Alfred doesn't die but godsdammit I hate seeing him hurt.

Bruce lashing out because he feels betrayed but also reeling from getting flashbacks to his father's death while seeing Alfred in that bed, my boy was in the worst emotional state. I forgive him for being a little bitch to his dad (Alfred).

The heart to heart between Bruce and Alfred is such a tender and love-full moment. I needed that :,)

Selina should have just killed Kenzie before Bats came around. I support women's rights, but more importantly I support women's right to murder.

Carmine Falcone is such a sleazebag character. He gives me the creeps.

I love Jim Gordon. No particular scene inspired that statement, I just love him.

THE SECOND BEST HALLWAY FIGHT SCENE IN THE WORLD. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I want it injected in my veins.

When Falcone is arrested and Penguin speaks against Carmine, I love that scene because it's a subtle indication to the end of the movie, where we see Penguin will now take over the criminal underworld of Gotham. The mighty Falcon has been taken down, the city is drowned. What better opportunity for a flightless bird to takeover?

Riddler with his dumb ass jokes and reddit lives. What a clown. He's dangerous but I can't take him seriously.

Batman appears and he just [starts screaming] peak teenage boy behaviour. Cringe lord. Be better.

Starting the movie with "I am darkness", contemplating if Gotham can even be saved, and ending it with Batman lighting the way, leading Gotham out of the destruction. GODS. Him coming to the realisation that Gotham, and by extension himself, need hope and change, not clinging to the past, not vengeance. That is so poetic.

In regards to BatCat, the last meeting really signifies their love story. He loves her, he truly does, and maybe in this version of the story they end up together despite all the, but Gotham will always be his priority. She wants him to live, not just exist, but live, but Bruce gave up on that idea long ago.

"The Bat and the Cat, its got a nice ring to it. [Pause] Who am I kidding? You're already spoken for." OK, Mr. Matt Reeves, why don't you just shoot me between the eyes?