#mostly because she actually does butt heats with them sometimes over issues surrounding their different views on the world

[arolesbianism]

Found another relationship meme so y’all know what time it is. Anyways Softie and the different flower victims woo

[deathsmallcaps]

A talk about Haru

I know a bit about cattle (I live next door to a farm), and the lovely Kayla and Ellen’s @staytogetherpodcast often talks about how the characters resemble their animals in personality and such. So I just thought of some stuff that might interest them and other Fruits Basket fans. This is a bit spoilery (and maybe a little biased) so watch out.

The animal spirit is called an ox. An ox is a male who had finished growing and puberty before being neutered. (A steer is different - it’s done slightly before or during puberty, and they are more even tempered for males. Some people do use the terms interchangeably). That means yes, they do get a little more agreeable, and easier to manage, but they also were pumped full of testosterone once upon a time. So they are actually a bit more stronger (which is why they are used for plowing, etc.), harder to handle, and darker in color.

Darker because testosterone makes their fur turn dark brown/black in most if not all types of cows. Cows can be black but males are darker in breeds that aren’t always completely black. Haru turns into a Holstein (the basic black and white type), so it isn’t as apparent.

The darker the bull is, the more virile and attractive. Which may explain Dark Haru’s more open sexuality.

So I think it’s interesting that his more basic personality, Light Haru, acts more like his animal spirit than Dark Haru does. Light’s more gentle,etc. Was Dark originally developed as his more human side, and then maybe Takaya refitted it into the story in a different way? Idk.

Cattle can be extremely dangerous. The only animal more involved in human death (in America. Mosquitoes are even bigger problems in places with malaria) is the deer. True, we as a country interact with deer and cows more than, say, an anteater, but it doesn’t change the fact that cows are dangerous animals.

The mothers are fiercely protective. I think they beat bears in that sense (though bears can kill cows irl). Depending on the type of farm you live on (factory vs homestead etc) a cow may attack you if you even touch her baby. Assuming she gets to keep the calf, of course. (Dairy farms often take the baby away as soon as it is born so they can milk the mother and make sure there is no bond. This leads to socialization issues for the calves).

Bulls are more easily provoked, due to their testosterone running their brains. But in my inexpert opinion, you’d have better luck with some bulls than a lot of mom cows.

Cattle have hard heads that weigh at the very least fifty pounds. They also have horns. You can get impales and whacked out of the way at the same time. The average small cow weighs more than 500 pounds. They can easily crush your bones. The round bellies are more from their four stomachs than obesity, though they do have a good layer of fat. Possibly worst of all, they can kick their back legs in almost any direction. Horses pretty much just go straight back, but a cow can kick you sideways. And while they only have one row of teeth in the front, their back munchers could bite your fingers off.

So Haru should probably be broader, but his height makes sense. I do think he’s taller and less skinny than the other characters. I realize it was Takaya’s Art style, and all of the male characters eventually become long bois and do fill out near the end.

He is also really good at fighting so there’s that.

Cattle give off a lot of heat - even when they aren’t all fuzzy and long haired like those highland cattle, they are often (not all breeds) comfortable in 40F (five-ish Celsius) and often stand outside in the snow. That doesn’t mean you should leave them in the elements, of course, but they’re tough animals.

Which kind of makes me laugh because Haru is always wearing a jacket and he should be over-heating.

Cattle drink a shit ton of water. One gulp is probably about 2-3 liters. Haru should be chugging all day.

Cattle are like the opposite of horses, with wide barrel bellies, narrow-ish shoulders and hips and butt that slants like a roof in New England. They are hard to ride bareback. They must’ve put a lot of effort in keeping Yuki on top of Haru lol.

Cattle are also very curious, intelligent, mischievous and playful. Even the mamas, when they are heavily pregnant, will still kick around some. Anything they can lift with their horns/head? It goes flying. The steer next door likes to drink half his water (his tub holds about a hundred gallons so it’s huge) and then flip it over to dump out the rest, just so he can knock it around his field. Then he complains very loudly about dying of thirst. he understands consequences, just doesn’t care about them.

His mother was very tricky. But that’s another story.

The steer (his name is Moo, used to be little moo when he was a calf) has horns, and likes to go around to plant life (mostly weeds, because that’s what his owners allow him to play with) and just rip that shit up. He swings his big head around when he gets excited, and when he’s very excited/surprised he bucks around in a circle, just like his mother did. he likes to sneak up to windows when its dark outside and press his nose against it, so when you look out the previously unoccupied space to see a large face smearing itself against the window (cow noses are often wet because they lick themselves and eat their own boogers) at 11:00 at night. just to see you scream and act all surprised about it.

(some friendly cows like to pretend to be scared)

When a cow encounters something new that isnt easily identified a s a threat, they circle it and snuff it and its very cute.

So Haru trying to get a rise out of people just for kicks is very true to cow behavior and I love it.

Cattle are also extremely loving and bond easily. When Moo was born, the only other cow he’d ever seen was his mother, and he was surrounded by miniature goats. So for the first year and a half of his life (he’s 2.5 now) he genuinely thought he was a goat and tried to play with them, even acting like he didn’t enjoy the rain to fit in. Unfortunately for Moo, goats are extremely family based and exclusive of other beings who aren’t related to them/bring them food, so he wasn’t accepted by the goats. (Female Goats are basically a clique - if you try to introduce a doe they don’t know, that doe is shunned most of the time [and often the loners do not band together] but they try to stay with the herd.)

This may be why Haru is so protective of others, like Yuki and Rin, etc.

Unless you anger a cow, they will probably not hurt you on purpose. Cruelty is really only a human/maybe cat thing and sometimes, your foot was just in the way and they didn’t see it. A lot of them don understand how truly large they are. 

Cattle have rough tongues like cats and use them to groom themselves and each other. Moo loves almost everyone he meets, and gives them hugs with his neck (if you stand at his shoulder he’ll curl his neck around you, which is great because then you an hug him back) and stinky, slobbery tongue baths. 

When a cow is grooming you, their already large, round eyes get really wide and they look very sweet and blissed out.

I bet Haru likes to groom people.

Anyways, thanks for reading! I think a good amount of this kind of explains Haru, Also, if for some reason you read this without ever hearing of the Stay Together Podcast, you should check it out! It’s funny and well-thought-out and you can really tell that the hosts are re-enjoying the story. 

If you have any questions about cows, goats, chickens or horses (though I am the least knowledgable about those) let me know!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Frank Castle/Matt Murdock meet Coldwave fic

Set in @jewishfrankcastle​'s domestic AU where Mick and Len have retired to a farm and are villainously herding a small armada of children and animals - all details come from that. For their birthday, @jewishfrankcastle requested Frank Castle and Matt Murdock meeting Len and Mick.

Happy birthday! I hope you like it!

link to ao3

---------------------------

They meet, perhaps unsurprisingly, at the dog park.

Frank's never been to Central before - his work tends a bit more towards exotic or politically influential locations, but there are corrupt cops and murderers everywhere, and that means he goes everywhere.

He's been mostly focusing on corrupt cops and politicians lately, rather than run-of-the-mill murderers - Matt'd made a good point in their last dust-up about how people abusing the levers of powers were full on destroying the systems that most normal people relied on, while random murderers sometimes had reasons.

Never excuses, but reasons.

And, well, in the heat of the moment Frank'd had some sort of pithy remark about how vigilantes weren't really part of the system either, so there Murdock, but after the adrenaline faded, Frank had to give him the point. Frank's always focused mostly on gangs for a reason - institutional power's a bitch - and it seems wrong not to go after the biggest blue-clad gang of them all.

Especially given how often corrupt cop seemed to be synonymous with murderer nowadays.

Anyway, he and Matt ended up settling their differences the way they usually did these days - talking shit at each other till their voices start getting hoarse, then one of 'em making a final call. If Frank thought there was something particularly vile about 'em, he'd end them his way; if Matt was dead on convinced that they were innocent or something, Frank'd let Matt rescue the scumsucker.

And then they'd go off their separate ways, of course, and bicker about it some more over a few cups of hot cocoa back at home.

It is, no two ways about it, the weirdest relationship Frank's ever been in, but what the hell, it makes them both happy. Frank likes things that make him happy, and nowadays he tries to keep life simple.

Unfortunately, simple doesn’t always agree with him about that.

Take this trip to Central, for instance. Frank'd gotten a tip-off about the organized crime in Central (they called them Families here, with chewed off syllables and a grimace of distaste), some offshoot of which was forcing kids to traffic their drugs with their families at gun point, with corrupt cops on the payroll ready to bury any confession by any kid dumb enough to try to turn on them.

Ready to bury any kid, too, and call it self-defense.

So Frank'd packed up his shit (Matt likes to tease him about how many suitcases he packs, but he has no room to talk; Frank's been on vacation with him before and he doesn't even bring guns!) and planned on heading out the way he always did, except Matt ended up being asked to join one of his weird slumber parties ("Defenders team-ups are not slumber parties!" yeah they are) and all their friends were out of town, and that meant there was no one to watch Max.

Which, fine. Frank's used to taking Max with him when he goes out - poor dog's a sweetheart and perfectly happy to stay in a safe place while Frank does what needs to be done, but Frank's starts feeling bad if he doesn't let Max stretch his legs a bit.

Thus the dog park.

Most people there have these dumb little city dogs that they try to keep away from Max, probably because they're bigoted assholes that buy into the whole 'pit bulls are evil' crap, and Frank's just about to drop his disguise sunglasses (Matt thinks they're hilarious, but seriously, the red-glasses-wearing kettle can stop calling the pot black any day now) to glare at the fuckers keeping Max from having a good time when some big ol' fucker walks into the park with two pits and a mutt, none of which he's keeping leashed, and everyone just -

Relaxes?

Seriously, they stop clutching at their Pekingese and Bichon Frises and shit and let 'em go to scamper around smelling each other’s butts, and Max is in doggie seventh heaven or some shit.

The tough guy - six-foot-something with a bull's worth of muscle on him, shaved bald and looking dangerous - looks around the park, spots Frank, and comes over.

Doesn't sit right next to him, no intimidation shit or anything that Frank might be inclined to take issue with, but close enough that having a chat's not a big deal.

If anything, the rest of the park gets even more relaxed.

Guy don't say nothing for a couple of minutes, so Frank decides to start up this ballgame.

"People here sure are friendly," he says.

The big guy snorts. "Sure they are," he says, voice halfway between ironic and fond. "Once they know you ain't Family or a pig of the human variety."

Frank straightens up, kinda insulted. They thought he was a mobster? Or a cop? Him?

"Easy now," the guy laughs. "They know you ain't one anymore, now that I'm here, but you can't blame 'em for being wary."

"Now that you're here?" Frank echoes.

"I hate Family," the guy says. "A lot. And my partner hates corrupt cops - most cops, not gonna lie, but corrupt ones worst of all - and we ain't shy about chasing them outta our parts of the city."

"Your parts of the city?"

"The slums," the guy clarifies. "Where half the population or more's taken a swing by our resident jail cells - that's Iron Heights, here, and I'd avoid it if at all possible if I were you."

"And here I heard the thing to avoid was the Flash," Frank says, unable to keep from commenting on the superhero-shaped elephant in the room. He'd started seeing the memorabilia nearly a hundred miles away, and in Central proper it gets positively overwhelming.

And a little concerning, Frank's not gonna lie. He's used to superheroes like Matt, like Matt's friends - some powers, yeah, but kinda down to earth like. People he could stop with a bullet (or, in Luke's case, a bunch of nets or superglue or something; he's still working on that). He's not quite sure what to do with someone who can purportedly catch a bullet in midair and have Frank on the ground before he's had time to fire the next one.

He's planning on getting his business in town done quick and quiet and hopefully over before he has to make the guy's acquaintance.

"He's easy enough to avoid," the guy says with a shrug. "Especially this time of year; it's gorilla season."

Frank pauses, because he's gotta have heard that wrong.

"Yeah, gorillas," the guy confirms. He sounds tired out just thinking about 'em. "Some lab cooked up a super intelligent gorilla with telepathic powers -"

"What the fuck."

"I know right? Anyway, the Flash ended up tossing that gorilla somewhere in another universe or some bullshit like that - don't ask, you don't want to know -"

Guy's right. Frank really, really doesn't.

"- and it turns out that universe has its own gangs of super-intelligent gorillas, and once a year they manage to open a portal back to our earth to try to invade. That's how you get -"

"-gorilla season," Frank finishes. "Jesus."

"Yeah."

They sit in companionable silence for a while.

"Your big pit's got a lot of scars," Frank eventually observes. The big one's all scarred, while the smaller one's a bit roughed up but no more than a bit of tough living would get him. The last one, the mutt, he's just a goddamn lazy shit, rolling around on the grass and barely getting up to prance around, but he seems fine. "That something we should be talking about?"

The guy shoots Frank an approving look, of all things. "Nah," he says. "We rescued Tony from a Family dogfighting operation that we were shutting down with prejudice, if you know what I mean."

Well, shucks. Look at that. Frank thinks he may have made a friend.

Matt is never gonna believe him.

"Got my Max much the same way," Frank says. "New York gang."

"Fuckers," the guy says agreeably. "The smaller one, Poppy, we got her the same way, but she was new, y'know? Hadn't gotten to too much fighting yet. Well. She fights with the goats - my partner and I own a farm outside of town," he adds, seeing Frank's raised eyebrows. "That's where she gets all those band-aids from."

Frank buys it. Those band-aids are cute enough, but also located just where an exasperated goat might decide to butt an irritating dog away.

"And the mutt?" he asks, nodding at the dog, which seems to have decided to take a nap.

"Turtle."

Frank snorts.

"Yeah, he's always like that," the guy laughs, and that’s that. They sit around, don’t talk, and it’s all nice and domestic and shit until it’s time for Frank to collect Max and go.

Of course, next time they run into each other, Frank’s in the middle of a warehouse with a bunch of screaming children and a lot of dead mobsters, splattered all over in blood and trying to figure out if he should’ve worn gloves because he can’t exactly go on picking up kids with bloody hands, now can he?

Big guy – Frank never got his name – walks through the door, holding some weird sort of reddish gun.

Frank blinks at him.

Guy blinks back.

“Well, that saves me some trouble,” the guy says. “How’d you get tipped off about this before I did? You’re not even local.”

“They picked a kid whose parents kicked her out for being trans,” Frank says. “After all the work she’d been putting in to save their asses from these assholes, too. No idea how she got my number.”

“Guess she was really pissed,” the guy says. He’s as agreeable as ever, even though they’re surrounded in a sea of blood and bunch of dead mobsters. “I probably would’ve just scared the shit outta ‘em for the first offense.”

“I don’t really believe in first offences when kids are involved,” Frank says.

Said kids have also stopped crying and screaming, actually, even though they're still just as traumatized. If anything, though, they're looking at big guy like he's come to rescue them - which, hey! Frank did all the hard work here! One of the kids actually pipes up and goes, “Can you get us home, Heatwave?”

That's the most coherent thing any of 'em have said since Frank arrived, guns blazing. He'd been trying to get words outta them for ten minutes before this.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” the big guy (Heatwave?) says, then looks at Frank. “You need a place to crash while the heat dies down on you for this?”

Frank makes a face. He’d been planning on getting bloody, of course, but maybe not quite this bloody, and a classic Punisher attack will bring the Feds down like nothing else. And Feds mean road blockades, and he’s got Max to think about.

Aw, what the hell. This guy seems pretty cool. Even the kids seem to trust him, and the kids don't trust Frank even after he's rescued 'em, which is clearly a sign of good discernment and excellent survival skills.

“Sure,” he says. Then, awkwardly, he sticks out a hand and says, “Frank Castle.”

The guy shakes (ignoring the blood) and says, “Mick Rory.”

The name pings something familiar, but Frank can’t recall what. His memory’s not the best nowadays.

Rory ushers everyone outside and does a quick check of the area to make sure nobody’s still in there, just in case, and then he takes that dinky little water-gun-looking red thing in his hand and lights the whole goddamn place on fire.

“What the hell,” Frank says. That gun should not be able to make a flame that large. “You know that won’t cover my tracks, right?”

The Feds have gotten to tracking Frank's bullets. Frank doesn't mind - he likes getting credit for what he's done.

“It’s not for that,” Rory says.

Then he stops and waits for something, Frank’s not sure what.

And then Frank does know what, because there’s a goddamn burst of yellow lightning and suddenly there’s a kid in a red suit standing there where he definitely wasn’t standing before. The rumors were not kidding about the Flash’s speed.

“Mick, what are you doing?” the kid says, hands on hips, frowning a little. “It’s not like you to go off without warning anymore. Aren’t you retired?”

Retired? Retired from what, arson?

No, wait. Heatwave. That was one of the Flash’s supervillains, part of that gang, whatever they’re called. Heat-themed guy, cold-themed guy, weather-themed guy…the Rogues or something like that. Frank’d heard decent things about them – rules about no killing women or kids or capes, no casualties at all when possible, focus on the money and even that aim at those that can afford to lose it – so he’d never really investigated.

He had heard that they were in semi-retirement or something, though; they only came out once or twice a year.

“Some Family offshoot got the big idea of getting kids to traffic for ‘em,” Mick tells the Flash, gesturing at the kids all huddled up by the wall.

The Flash looks stricken. “That’s awful,” he says, looking at them. “You guys okay?”

The kids nod. Their faces are all shining bright and cheerful now that a proper superhero’s here.

Typical.

“Any of you undocumented?” the Flash then asks, which Frank is about to take exception to, except the Flash continues, “If you are, or any of your families are, I’ll get the police to sign off on a U-visa for helping stop a crime; maybe get that rushed through for you, make sure you get safe. If you don’t want to come forward, that’s okay too.”

Okay, fine, maybe this superhero kid doesn’t seem so bad.

“I’ll get them home,” the Flash tells Rory, who nods, satisfied. “Was there anyone, uh, inside the warehouse?”

“Not anymore,” Frank says.

The Flash squints at him, then his eyes go down to the skull on his vest and his eyes go a little wide.

“I’m letting him crash at the farm,” Rory says before the kid can say anything.

The kid just sighs, all the steam let out of him. “Of course you are.”

“He’s got a dog.”

“Of course he does.”

With that, the kid rolls his eyes and zips back into lightning speed, taking the kids away one by one.

Rory catches Frank’s eye and jerks his head to the side. Frank follows him, feeling kinda out of his element on this one. He’s not really used to superheroes and villains hanging out all peaceful-like this way.

“We’re retired,” Rory says, seeing his expression. “Mostly only do jobs on birthdays and anniversaries. Rest of the time, we’ve got a deal going that we’ll only act when people are being really awful, like here, and the Flash’ll just handle mop up.”

“That’s an interesting approach.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rory says, waving a hand. “Oh, hey, I’m gonna guess from your comments earlier about the trans kid that any of that stuff ain’t gonna be an issue?”

“Nope,” Frank says. “My, uh –” How does he even define Matt? His boyfriend? His superhero? His nemesis-with-benefits? His person-I’m-in-a-relationship-with-that-neither-of-us-are-characterizing-because-we-are-manly-men-incapable-of-properly-articulating-emotions? The last one’s probably the most accurate, let’s be real, but it’s a bit of a mouthful, and no one deserves to have a shit ton of Frank’s issues dumped on them at first meeting. “I’m seeing a trans guy,” he finally settles on, because, sure, he’s definitely seeing Matt. At least once a day, if he’s lucky. Of course, Matt isn’t ‘seeing’ him, if you want to get technical about it… “And I’m, uh. Nonbinary. Sometimes.”

“Fair,” Rory says, and Frank feels that moment of relief he always gets when he finds out he won’t have to shoot someone who helped him out for being a transphobic dickwad. “Same here, ‘cept my partner and I are married now. Do you mind being around kids? Living space-wise, not rescuing-wise.”

Frank gets that awful feeling in his gut that he gets every time he thinks about his own kids, his Lisa and his Frank Junior, and how they’re not here anymore, but he’s been trying to think of them as good things, trying to remember them as the bundles of light and joy that they were, as more than just the pile of blood and bone they ended up as, and even though that ain’t easy with the way his brain is wired now, he’s gotta try. So he says, “I like kids.”

“Good, ‘cause we’ve got a whole heap of ‘em,” Rory says. “Some of ‘em have moved out, and some of ‘em are shy as anything, so you’ll probably only see a few of ‘em, but, y’know, just fair warning.” He pauses, considering. “Also, my partner Len? He’s got the worst damn sense of humor you’ll ever meet. Want to warn you about that, too.”

“I can handle a sense of humor,” Frank says, and he goes on believing that right up until he follows Rory onto a nice little farm outside of Central and the guy standing in the kitchen – curvy guy, wearing a long-sleeved shirt, a skirt, skinny jeans and socks all together, despite the blisteringly hot weather – turns around and says, “I see you two have been having a bloody good time.”

“Len,” Rory says, sounding long-suffering.

“You know, when you said you were planning on painting the town red, I figured you meant metaphorically.”

“Len.”

“Though, given your company, I guess it’s no surprise you decided to put your clothing through some serious punishment.”

Frank just starts laughing, because that’s the first time he’s ever been compared to Tide With Bleach, and he thinks to himself that he’s going to like Central more than he thought he would.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear you’re gonna like ‘em,” Frank says encouragingly.

Matt just shoots him a seriously skeptical look, like he still thinks Frank is making the whole thing up. And, sure, Frank going on a job and ending up becoming besties with two retired supervillains who live on a farm with a bunch of animals and an even larger gaggle of kids, kids that Frank likes, yeah, Frank can see that being a bit hard to swallow.

But it’s true.

Len even used the words ‘besties’. He’d been dripping with sarcasm and doing air-quotes at the time, but Frank’d figured out pretty quick that the only way to put up with Len’s trolling was to go in with it, full-hog, and after one thing led to another, they were scheduled to have a frilly dolly tea party with Enku and Opan and baby Coral the afternoon after Frank arrives. Having met said kids, Frank figures there’s about a 90% chance of Enku getting bored and walking away after ten minutes (probably after having said something characteristically tactless to Matt; he’s already warned him), while little seven-year-old Opal and four-year-old Coral just watch in fascination as Frank and Len try to one-up each other in increasingly absurd levels of fake-niceness.

Frank’s been brushing up on his sign language just to make sure that Coral feels included in the battle royale. She might be little more than a toddler, but she is vicious, and Frank wants her on his side, hearing or no hearing.

He figures Matt will be too busy having fun with the older kids to mock him for going to a four-year-old for help. Between Basi’s tendency to start fights and Tahmid’s tendency to get into them, there is zero chance that Matt won’t find some way to sneak out to go a-vigilantism-ing with them.

Of course, Matt doesn’t actually have to sneak out – Len and Mick believe firmly in teaching their kids the meaning of the word ‘justice’ and the concept that when the law doesn’t do it, someone else has to make up the slack, but not too much because that'd interfere with the thieving they all like to do – but Matt will enjoy trying anyway. He won’t succeed. Nothing gets past the goats’ notice. Frank tried.

Matt, meanwhile, is looking ahead to where the farm has just barely come into view. “Do they have cows?” he says dubiously.

“And pigs,” Frank says. “And horses, goats, dogs, cats, rats, and chickens. Avoid the chickens.”

“…why?”

“Chickens are dinosaurs, Red,” Frank says solemnly. “Just smaller.”

Matt shoots him a Look.

“Relax, city boy,” Frank says, cracking a smile. “You’ve got superpowers. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t making me more comfortable with this,” Matt says dryly. “Tell me again how we’re going to go visit criminals?”

“Retired supervillains.”

“Which you bonded with over rescuing kids from organized crime.”

“And then we went out and hunted down a dog-fighting ring,” Frank says. He’d been very satisfied with how that visit had turned out.

Matt is rolling his eyes. The glasses don’t hide it as well as he thinks they do.

“And the local superhero may or may not be swinging by,” he says.

“Running by,” Frank says. “I keep telling you, keep the swinging metaphors for the kid up in Queens.”

Frank likes the kid in Queens. He's an asshole. Sure, he agrees more with Matt than with Frank about how to deal with bad guys, but he’d made some snarky comments to Matt about the fatality rates of people with severe head trauma that endeared him to Frank forever. Matt's still sulking.

“Fine. The local superhero may be running by. And – not arresting anyone?”

“They’re very nice supervillains.”

“Why is the superhero running by again, then?”

“Because he’s worried we might start some shit,” Frank explains, very patiently. He’s said it before, but he gets how it could sound weird. “He wants to make sure we ain't messing with his precious supervillains, and it only takes the kid something like three minutes, tops, to run from the city to the farm, check up on us, and head back, and that’s when he’s going at a casual speed."

Matt frowns.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird. Don’t over-think it.”

“It’s too late,” Matt says, frown deepening. “I’m over-thinking it. Just mechanically, how does that work? What does he wear?”

“Low friction spaceman suits.”

“But the effect of his feet on the streets…”

“Don’t think about it,” Frank advises again. “Just…don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“I’m a lawyer. Overthinking things is what I do…how do they even determine the mens rae/actus reus division for someone moving at that speed?”

“Red. Please.”

“But –“

“Hey, look at that!” Frank announces. “We’re here!”

He makes enough of a show of scrambling hastily out of the car that Matt’s laughing quietly to himself.

Lapis, one of the teens, is on the porch, reading something; she looks up with the resigned world-weariness of goths and teenagers, the pinnacle of which can really only be reached by teenagers who are goths (like Lapis).

"Nice to see you, ma'am," Frank says with his absolute best aw-shucks New York military kid attitude.

There's only the slightest flicker of amusement on her lips - like all teens, she enjoys getting 'ma'am'ed in a way that she really won't in about five years - but Frank's pretty sure he can wear her down to in actual smile. Maybe even a laugh; he's feeling ambitious.

Sure, she's probably too cool to go outside the monotone even when she laughs, but a man's gotta try.

"Where're your parents?"

There's a definitely flicker of amusement this time.

"Watering the backyard," she says. "Pleased to meet you," she adds to Matt, then back into her book she goes.

Matt arches his eyebrows a bit, but he takes Frank's arm and lets himself be led in the direction of the backyard. He doesn't need leading, and Frank's already explained that Mick's ridiculously on-point ability to read people will mean that Matt's secret is a sooner rather than later reveal, but Matt insisted.

Sometimes Frank thinks the whole blind lawyer disguise is like a security blanket for Matt. If only Matt would just admit that's the case, Frank would be a whole lot more understanding, but as it is, Matt likes to pretend he's doing it for increasingly dumb reasons that Frank can barely bring himself to pretend he believes and he already knows Matt knows he doesn't.

Eh, they'll get over it. They wouldn't be them if they weren't squabbling over something stupid.

In the backyard, Len and Mick are, in fact, watering the backyard.

"Frank," Matt says, very calmly. "Is it raining?"

"Just part of it. Over the yard," Frank says, watching - no small bit impressed - as some asshole waves his hands at the heat and cold guns Len and Mick are currently wielding and turns them somehow into rain.

"I need another cold front," the guy shouts. It's hard to hear over the miniature sized storm hovering over the lawn.

"I'll give you a goddamn cold front, Mardon," Len shouts back. "You want your torso or your legs to get it?"

"I'm doing you a goddamn favor, Snart!"

"And here I thought you were paying me back for all the times I broke you out of the Heights!"

"I think we've got enough water," Mick bellows from his side of the field.

"Thank God," the guy in the middle, Mardon, says, waving his hands again and making the whole cloud break into pieces until the sky above the fields is as bright and clear as the rest of it. "That’s it; I'm out."

And he goes.

"Come back next week, asshole!" Len shouts after him.

"Frank," Matt says, very quietly.

"Yeah, babe," Frank says, staring. "It’s not just you. He really did just up and fly away."

"...do they grow any form of hallucinogenic narcotics on this farm?" Matt asks suspiciously.

"Nah," Len says, holstering his gun. "Don't need the heat."

"Don't you dare start with those cold jokes again," Frank warns.

"So you're the guy who's been leaving those awful voicemails," Matt says, smiling suddenly. "You're my best friend's new favorite person, just so you know."

Len preens. "And you must be Murdock," Len says. "Frank says good things."

"Call me Matt, please."

"Leonard Snart, but you can call me Len," Len says agreeably. "Want to get the city kid guide to animals tour? Raised in the slums myself, so I know all the highlights."

"I'd be delighted," Matt - who as of literally five minutes and the whole last three weeks had been protesting how much he didn't care about farm animals - says with, as far as Frank can tell, all apparent sincerity.

Len proceeds to swan off, Matt in tow.

"What just happened?" Frank asks the air, absolutely bewildered. He'd kind of figured on Matt and Mick being the ones to get on, given how prickly both Matt and Len could be.

"That, my friend, was a prime example of two world class asshole trolls recognizing a kindred spirit," Mick says, coming up behind him. "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

Yeah, Frank reflects, that sounds about right.

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By the time they go home, the Flash has an invite to the Defenders if he ever wants one, Frank and Mick went after another dog-fighting kennel, Frank and Matt are leaving with one more dog than they arrived with, Matt may or may not be helping one of the kids write their law school admissions essay, and they've already arranged for Len and Mick and some of the kids to come visit them in New York in a few months.

"I can't believe I made new friends," Matt says blankly. "Foggy and Claire are never going to believe me."

"I know, right?" Frank says.