133 posts
Latest Posts by amcssing - Page 3
" aw, supey, y'know i'd do anythin' for ya — 'specially after y'came all this way for li'l ol' me in person but ... "
heels click - clack as they bounce off the ledge beneath. she loves this view, where the city lights look like little stars & the factories are just little candles in the distance. good thing he was willing to bring her; she had hopped right into his arms the moment he said he was here off-duty & begged him to fly. she ain't above begging. 'specially if it means she gets to get lost in the vista, in her thoughts. or ... her doubts ? harley has never been able to read herself like she can others. self - denial & all. right now she's caught in the whirlwind. people weren't exaggerating, from the mouth of superman it's easy to believe anything. he could tell her the earth really is flat & what's she gonna do, say no ? it's friggin' superman. but it's been so long, & last time she had a real patient ... would anyone even take her seriously now?? ever?? maybe it's just a prank, 'cause that one time dinah--
blue meets brown. there's no more masks these days & for a second she regrets it. but his smile is easy, his breathing stable, his gaze steady. warm. he means it, all of it. and even if it said it's because black canary needs a break, she knows just from looking at him what he means: i want to give you a chance, too. to work again, to really help people, to connect with others. to have a place. but----no. if batman & superman can trust her, why can't she trust herself?
" ... okay. let's do it! tell canary i'm in! ohmygosh, i'm gonna be a doctor again !! doctor harley in the house!! i'm really gonna--whoa, can you pinch me ?? i'm a li'l dizzy ... "
LISTENING TO THE GEARS TURNING IN HARLEY'S HEAD DOESN'T TAKE SUPER-HEARING.it's a tall ask ——— it's sudden. several times, the issue came up in the league, and it found itself deferred several times, too. not because of a split decision, though. the world's been on unsteady legs lately [ ... ] there's always another crisis. it hangs over their heads and makes them hesitate to do too much; he can sympathize. every time he laces up the boots, dons the cape, and bears the family crest, he remembers he's a small-town boy from kansas. no amount of super speed or strength made those challenges any less daunting.
&. here he is, asking her to bear a burden far heavier than supervillains or stray meteors. far more important than some of the league's most dangerous assignments ——— mental health is no joke. being bulletproof doesn't protect from the scars, the lingering wounds of trauma that can fester. more than once, he led the charge on mental health, not often met with resistance. he is no man of steel; he is not impervious to sadness and grief. one pants leg at a time, he takes what life gives / he does what he can with his life.
the sunkissed lineaments of his features relax, soft creases crinkling at the corner of his eyes, and never once does he lose his serene smile. it's as soft as the kiss of the morning sun; it embraces and warms. only once does he make his offer ——— he does not insist. he does not attempt to wheedle or push. to put pressure on her in such conditions [ ... ] isn't right. she's entered a new world, far from that man, far from who she used to be &. emerged as something beautiful. not fixed, no, but coming into her own with who she's become for the better. it makes him smile become a grin, a silly one at that, surely. it must be quite the sight of him smiling to himself stupidly while she mulls over such a huge decision. it's clear as day ——— what bruce sees in her, he sees it too: a better tomorrow.
he blinks, once. it takes a moment to regain his bearings and shake off the dizzying radiance he caught in that moment. a laugh, deep and baritone, euphony on gentle chords, leaped from his lips. he sets a hand on her shoulder, offering a polite squeeze. ( not the pinch she wanted, but enough in his eyes. )
❛ dizzy already? and here i was, hoping we could grab some grub. believe it or not, a few hits of sunrays aren't all that filling. guess you could say they're pretty ... a pretty light meal. ❜
@noatherics
When your bestie is hungry…>:)
❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜ brad n harley lalalala
lost the pompt. oops.
she knows. always knows. not like she could be stopped, peppering kisses across her friends' faces regardless. but his is a special target, alight beneath the moon and fireworks. not real ones, magic ones, just for her. the top of the abandoned ferris wheel creaks when they swing a little in the wind, and harley doesn't feel any fear.
only joy. she doesn't need to be this high in the air for brad to give her butterflies, what with all his chaos. everything she loves with none of the hate: he's fun, impulsive, not afraid. but he doesn't leash her, just holds her hand. trusts her to come bakc when she runs away. trusts her to only bite if the bark isn't enough.
trusts her. brad trusts her. harley can count on one hand how many people trust her these days.
the fireworks are on the inside now / a circus in her chest, cheering and drumming. she is a cacophony ! of laughter, of love. she swings her arms around his shoulders and BATHES his face in marks, lipstick that never seems to run out. forehead, cheek, nose, temple, everywhere but----
&&. one planted directly on his lips, sweet, syrupy, overwhelming. she thinks she hears music around them for a second, then she lets him go.
" ain't that s'upposed t'be my line, pretty boy ? "
sweeping sângeros with a single look, smile never wavers, even standing before the counter. senses catch a whiff—— faint lingering attachment—— equal parts magic. neat, worth mulling over for the challenge of it ( but far less important to him than this. ) he slips a ring off gloved finger, a silver band etched with symbols, the faintest glow lingering in engravings like dimming lights. dim, weak, dying.
❛ ciao, bella ! lookin' for a ring like this one. brighter though. uh, hot to the touch. whispers a bit when you wear it. ❜ sometimes secrets, sometimes lies about the stock market. really depends on the day. ❛ figured it could've ended up in a place like this. pawned off, probably. seen anything like that, love? ❜
@amcssing | starter call
𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 actual magic to walk through the front door. It's a lucky thing she's seldom caught unawares by it, given her own magical ability. Even if she didn't have that though, she can smell it on this one. Light- repressed, maybe?- but real.
"Welcome to Sângeros," she hums, perking up slightly from her position at the counter. Her long nails tap a quick beat against the back of her phone case, and then she casts a quick look around- a couple of vanilla wicca girls, more aesthetic than dedication, Nico in the stacks... nothing to worry about.
"What can I help ya find?"
wolverine and batman enders #truth
clean ver.
❛ hey ! i make an honest living—— it's not stealing if you're stealing it from people it didn't belong to begin with. ❜ it makes for a fun challenge, too. a bit of rolling in the mud before appreciating what glitters beyond it. ( although no small part of him prefers the hunt over acquisition. ) it's a game—— a challenge worth puzzling over. by now, well, he'll be able to give the staffordshire hoard a run for its money &. half that treasure wasn't even magical. silver and gold is nice, sure, but enchanted silvers and gold? no contest. ❛ help yourself. it won't be missed, and that one you've been eyeing suits you. although, anything here would. 'sides, i ain't falling for those sticky fingers again. ❜
“ woah, look at all this stuff! ” he's got all kinds of things- things she's never seen before, things she wouldn't consider stealing. she doesn't know where to look first, or what to grab first, take for her own collection. the glint of a gold necklace catches her eye, and she crouches down to get a better look. “ how did you find all of this? do you steal it from people, or do you buy it? ” if it's the latter, he must be rich. / @amcssing ( ♡'d , for brad)
eyes flit from battered pirate to swift-footed protector; a kind air about them—— a charming one, actually. dealing with treachery on the high seas wasn't how brad intended to spend his day; a small cruise to ease the minute sense of homesickness quickly became another adventure. [...] not that you'll find him complaining; between homesickness and boredom, they'll happily take the homesickness &. disregard everything else. ever present grin rests on lips, delight sailing through chocolate brown hues, a light with a sea of curiosity. ( one thing to the next, without fail. )
❛ i know, ❜ acknowledgment comes quick, proud. ❛ not too bad yourself. charmed with words and skilled in a fight—— quite multifaceted. i like people like that. ❜ they'll never turn down praise, no small amount, due to a healthy ego. ( even if it's far rarer for them to give in kind. ) / still, this man did impress him. those purple flames were interesting ! far more interesting than vanquishing such trite foes. this trip might still have some life in it yet, a chance to become his own carnival of viareggio. just down a few floats, but maybe not entertainers.
❛ last minute addition, yeah, sure. ❜ a bit more like a stowaway, with good reason. nothing the crew seems quick to bring up after being saved. ❛ helps i've tangled with pirates before. plenty of experience dealing with them. ❜ &. rifling through their treasures, naturally. ❛ but, life and death battle aside, it's so much more fun to share the stage with someone else. i've been alone for some time, you see. ❜ floating in a space of uncertainty, exciting for the first year—— not so much the second, third, and so on. offers hand in greeting, ❛ bradley, call me brad. the pleasure is yours. ❜
@amcssing (bradley) liked a starter call! (main verse)
"Well fought, my friend!"
Purple flames subside in the wake of a hard-won victory, and Brant lands back on the unsteady wooden surface of the merchant ship, directly in front of the unexpected ally who had been among (but presumably not affiliated with) the merchants who'd hired him.
"These islands have been infested with pirates as of late. I daresay we're lucky you were onboard, otherwise this ship might have found itself in hot water, haha!" He glances around, taking quick stock of the situation. Aside from himself, only Tina and Battier have left Lario to come aboard the smaller ship, checking its crew for potential injuries.
Brant doubts anyone suffered that strong of an injury. While the fight itself hadn't been easy, it had been almost entirely handled by the Troupe and the merchant ship's guest. The Pirates weren't lucky enough to leave unscathed, a scenario which Brant really does solemnly regret—he's been able to call himself many things, but a callous killer has never been one of them.
He exhales a short breath, minor motes of tension leaving his shoulders as he eases more firmly into the role of the helpful guide he's being paid to be.
"You must have been a last-minute addition to this lovely crew, I presume?" Brant asks, gesturing vaguely towards where most of the shipmen have gathered. He catches Tina's eye and nods once, as though telling her to carry on with what she's doing, before looking back towards his real point of interest. "I doubt they'd have hired such a high-scale escort if they knew they had someone so capable aboard."
smears of green, streaks of blue, dots of red like stars, it's a tapestry from within the speed force. wally wonders how much dick could make out; how many of these fleeting instances he remembers? ( wally remembers most, if not all. ) / a single long second, it spans a thousand years, the shifting of body weight—— the familiar warmth, let's say they're both lucky: one misstep &. they're both gonna be joining those smears of color. not exactly the best way to start a reunion / date. he won't have it hanging over his head, not when dick already had plenty to dangle already.
slowing, wind goes from roar to a hushed whimper, all the colors unstretched becoming plain. only stopping when they're alone, only stopping when there's no danger, no risk, no nosey reporters eager for a story nearby. luckily, every hero kept a safe house—— some more private than others, but this one, he knew better than most. eyes glow with faint traces of the speed force, jolts of blue lightning that fade to reveal warm green eyes.
❛ easy ! easy ! gentle with the nose, birdbrain. ❜ head shakes, trying to brush off touch. ❛ half the fun of going out to dinner is enjoying the smells—— whatya gonna do if you hurt this prize-winning asset, huh? ❜ light jest, still, despite reaching temporary destination ... wally doesn't put them down. grip tightens ever so slightly, subconsciously leeching more warmth, eager to stretch one second into thousands. features flush, a faint hint of red against light skin. ❛ i missed you, dick. ❜
CONTINUED FROM HERE. dick & wally. / @amcssing
bad habits die hard; especially when they don't consider it entirely bad. its always been a talent of his, the disappearing act, since he was a child long before he donned the cape of robin. the circus crew had to be good at not being seen, after all. nightwing had to be even better. he tends to forget that there can be exceptions to this rule----even decades later.
he remembers when he reappears, of course. the mild twinge of wally's mouth makes it obvious. the tiniest pang of guilt hits, but it's replaced with an easy smile and a quip. when he opens his mouth again, he nearly swallows air, and his i told you not to carry me like this is quickly abandoned.
------ " your treat ? " he says between the wind, when wally finally slows enough, when his mask is no longer the thing keeping him from going all but blind in the velocity. when it is safe, mis-matched colored fingers lift to poke the speedster directly on the nose.
" since you asked. date etiquette and all, KF. " a dramatic swing of the legs, a hollywood imitation of romcom tropes, though the wave of giddiness isn't fake.
then, quieter, more serious: " meant it, walls. i didn't mean to take off again. "
a bit hesitant to swear it, words linger on the tongue, an unnatural weight—— before she relents. features brighten, unable to hold back wide smile, it goes from lips to gaze. verdant irises shimmer like windswept leaves, a storm rustling trees sending critters scurrying, frolicking, and playing. fist pumps, unable to contain it any longer, a light hop carrying him a few inches from solid ground. still, voice stays hushed, ❛ woooo. ❜ listening intently, browsing features for hints of deceit ( although never finding any. ) / although far from the lie detector others were. ❛ for real? you ain't messing with you me, right? we're not gonna race over there, and you make me into your fall guy, yeah ?? ❜ equal parts joking, equal parts serious. some things were too good to be true, wally often has trouble deciding which were which. ❛ if you're serious ... yeah, man, dude—— sock, hook me up. i'll even owe you one. ❜
" You gotta swear on it ! " A good thing can die quickly due to word of mouth. Not to mention kindness only going so far in this modern day. She sticks her pointer finger in his face for emphasis. Sakura puffed out her cheeks, frowning up at the other. " Alright- there's a lady who I have an in with at WcDonald's." she leans closer, holding a hand up shielding her mouth," As long I buy a meal she'll let me pick any toy I want. Maybe. Just Maybe ! " she furrows her gaze to the other. " I can pull some strings if you're interested " chocolate browns look up to reach his own.
CLARK / @amcssing ——— a blur of azure, a flicker of red, a dash of gold—— it’s the roar of wind, the tearing of sound then the chill of the tundra. crystal shards stacked high, threatening to pierce heaven itself yet … they would never. gently it holds the world aloft, an icy place of solitude and respite, a place where even heroes might rest: a fortress. ears perk, catch the sound of clicking heels, the gentle shift of blonde hair, the sound of plush lips made stern. a boom—— a clap of thunder, the roar that announces the elation of flight before he appears. clark hovers, weightless, blues peering at her with a stars luminosity. warm, inviting, kind. boots tap the ground gentle, no longer content to linger above … no, eager to stand beside. cape swishes, faint traces of wear, a battle fought and won. strong fingers, warm like flame cup her cheeks, forehead resting against hers. ‘I’m starting to think you like the fortress of solitude way more than I do, Emma. Trying to live up to the last name?’
SHE FEELS HIM BEFORE she hears him, sees him, before the wind shifts and suddenly he is here. summer fruits / warm flannel / old folk music / sunsets. her silence interrupted but for once, it is welcome, this cacophony of thoughts running mile - a - minute . the moment her mind can touch his, the rigidness of her shoulders seems to melt.
lashes flutter shut, brushing the cheeks lifted with touch. his hands are calloused----how are they so soft ? questions she'll never ask because she doesn't care for an answer. first time she's had that thought since her arrival, which was, how long ago ? emma loses track of time here with an unnerving ease. or perhaps comforting ease.
-- " can you blame me ? "
it isn't a real question / he would never. he would never blame her for her loneliness, her wondering. and wondering she has been: her curse is to think, after all. to think of her responsibilities, her loves, her life. her failures. broken children, broken heroes. for every time she attempts to protect the metahumans, does she do anything but paint targets upon their backs ? her heart so open, yet caged.
he frees it. instantly. emma looks up into eyes full oif hope and the glacier melts, so does her gaze. a forehead 'gainst chest. something solid to lean against / not violent, but fierce. unmoving. she is diamond, but he is her rock. holding her down to the ground despite his ability to fly. perhaps that's what drew her in, after all these years; someone with a genuine want to hold her without suffocating. protect, not control. an open mind both literally and figuratively, easy to forgive and easier to trust.
his mindsong hums against hers, and she doesn't read them, just listens. enjoys the comfort of his alien mind with hers, his very human embrace.
-- " ... i apologise. i should have had batman inform you i was leaving. you didn't need to rush here so suddenly. "
I wanna talk about aliens. I want to talk to Okarun! I want to talk to Ayase-san! I want to talk about ghosts!
Dandadan Episode 05 - Okarun & Momo + Mutual Pining
“Cass is the perfect fighter and she is always 100% serious in any of her fights. Shes not the hero to be thinking of jokes in a fight”
Cass:
❛ you can spend all the time in the world in here, but if you don't spend enough time out there... you know? ❜ / harley to cass / don't think this is from a prompt?? can't find it, doesn't matter.
bone crunches against bone, flesh bruising and raw, a single blow enough to stagger foe. wind rushing from their lungs, light stolen from their eyes instantly, body crumples as if cut from strings. one blow, a single strike refined again &. again, it's all cass needs. countless hours training, countless time in the dark, violence comes as naturally as drawing breath. ( oh, daughter of shiva, bloodshed shall be your voice. ) / a shadow taunts. metal whistles through stale air, bat pinging off raised forearm, bones rattle—— a throbbing ache spreads—— thug's features going from proud to worry. a blow like that could've done more, ripped a scream from even toughest brutes, yet [...] nothing comes other than a sharp blow 'pon windpipe then the stars. without words, without voice, maybe cassandra forgot how to scream.
she listens to harley even if she does not speak. listening / watching, it's their curse and talent. to watch, to read, to choke on words jumbling inside own throat. she is silence. the swiftest of blows. the sharpest of blades. her strikes hollow, her movements fluid, empty of all except poise and intent. the battlefield speaks to her with blood and gore. it's words an unending story, a tale she read since she was born—— the only honesty afforded her. it intertwines itself with her; it makes her part of that same story, a character scrawled into its margins—— never once the focus, a mere player, a mere second to events before her. [...] she accepts it, for better or worse, that her mother sired a weapon. a tool to point &. aim—— but she chooses for herself now. her family steered her between right and wrong, far kinder, far more helpful, far greater than that woman had been. it's why she knows to help—— and help with every inch of flesh no matter how marred. she is batgirl; protector.
focus shifts to harley, to frantic swings of painted bat, to laughter from lipstick stained lips. she is chaos—— wild and free. she is loud, she speaks with a voice that rings through the night, she fights and fights hard. if battles with cass were full of silence, then harls would be full of fanfare. a violent collage of splatter and laughter. blows come with brutal efficiency. movements fluid if not spontaneous. filled with a subdued sense of glee, an effort to give performance. if cass's story fills itself with gore then surely harley's fills itself with fireworks, violent and hot. ( a storm clad in red and black with painted face ! no less a storm, even wilder than one, perhaps ! ) this woman is no bit player, no character fit for the sidelines—— she owns her story, tragedy and all. she chooses to be more, becomes more and help. she is harley quinn; hero.
both are broken glass, one shattered then reformed while the other continues to crack. jagged deep cracks, spread and spread, only racing towards inevitable—— to shattering. [...] sharp strike from the elbow brings the final goon to knee knees, swift pivot and sharp kick leaves them slumping in place. sirens echo in the distance, the sounds of gcpd racing through gloomy streets, red and blue, cut the darkness like an arrow of light. they'll come, soon. still, cass takes time to turn over harley's words. to consider what she meant, what she means—— to the smile sitting on her lips, to the kindness sitting in her gaze [...] a look that reminds her of those close to her, of when they care. shoulders lower, loosening tension.
❛ i'll ... remember that, quinn. ❜
tires screech as the first car arrives at the end of the alley; it's a split second—— maybe less, but it's enough for attention to waver. when blue hues turn to find cass again, there's no one in sight. she's close, though, watching from the rooftop as harley hurries to put some distance between herself and law enforcement. a smart move, considering. lips curl beneath mask, a bit more at ease, first crack ... beginning to mend.
@metanoen
me being strangled by someone who rightfully wants me dead: lmaooo i can't believe how bad u wanna fuck me
i need to keep a little sticky on my desk that reminds me which muses are cheesy dumb flirts and which ones are clever they blur
What if we were both doctors & shared oranges 🤨
【 loni says | You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? | bg3 party banter , accepting. ( i think this is the right meme i check last night fjlajf )
droplets dart across concrete, puddles of stagnant water forming, small ripples forming with each step. air damp, the faint scent acrid scent of mildew and humidity lingers in the air. it's one long corridor—— well, sewer, honestly. it's one long sewer, a twisting tunnel of refuse / a maze of underground runway and whatever others nasties might dwell within. it's a mess of rubbish, spiderwebs and lost toys. each more sad to come across than the last—— lost treasure not meant to find itself back home again. ( and brad wouldn't change that. )
fingers crackle with magic, the tinny hum of sorcery, the twisting of unnatural forces. hand sits aloft, flames crackling in palm, light chases off shadows—— rats scurry from stomping feet. it's not his usual locale. give him an ancient tomb over some musty, funky sewer, but there's something here. something worth finding, something worth braving shards of broken glass and risk of infection. it helps when neither of those things bother him anymore; a twisted, unnatural body has benefits, far more benefits than cons. dulled sense of smell ... well, that works wonders here. ain't perfect, mind you. small air fresheners drift around them, cutting down on stomach-turning nausea. it gives more time to think, to scout, to consider riddles given. gaze never drifts far from map nor etching in grimy walls. at least, not until she speaks.
voice draws attention, plucking focus with ease. no small feat, mind you ! not many could've managed that much when he's lost in thought, drifting between countless possibilities; it's a moment of grounding. it brings him back to the same plane; it brings him back to her. a ship sent out to sea returning to harbor, again and again. ( always destined to depart. ) / never truly meant to stay.
❛ counter point ... don't fall down here because i literally don't know what you'll land in. ❜ lips pucker, brows knitted together in worry, regarding the trash around them far more consciously than before. head turns to watch her, eyes flickering in conjured flame, something dances in them. something circles in dark hues, a dancer wreathed in flame, a passionate trance only illuminated by fire. ❛ BUT and big but, not your butt, mind you, if that were to happen then i suppose i'll give it a college try. no promises. no refunds. no returns. ❜ a faint laugh echoes off tunnel walls, gentle yet ringing down a treacherous path. a pause, boots slowing to a stop with a firm thud. ❛ ... ❜ free hand reaches for her, fingers gesturing towards her. ❛ hold my hand. that make you feel any better? ❜
@packless
at a certain point i think all brad's relationships are doomed to fail because you're never probably gonna be as important as his next adventure. it's just... not likely. there's always some distance, always some lack of presence on his part, he's never gonna be able to give the attention some need. he's wild. a puff of smoke and gone.
some metas for brad / overhaul information ;
001. the abelli family has deep ties to magic; it's their breath, it's their blood, it's their life. it consumes their actions and mystifies their thoughts; they are a family of wanderers, explorers, and adventurers. their house flits between the material plane and countless others, an ever-changing locale. the multiverse itself a countless sea for them to explore—— for better or worse. their house is a grand treasure for things they collect.
002. bradley, like ancestors before him, have delved into countless unknowns with sorcery. braved the depths of forbidden knowledge, unraveled the elements, looked upon its treasures with greedy eyes. such exposure, such dredging into the arcane, has changed him. magic seeps from his veins; it replaces blood——flesh shed for a mystical body. he is magic. a shell of arcane power shaped as a man with all the volatility of the sorcery.
003. those deep ties to magic give deep insight to its workings. access to secrets is not meant for common sorcerers; it's the result of going too far in pursuing something not meant for mortal hands. power, surely, yet not without drawbacks. a dulled sense of taste, a numb sense of feeling, a lack of emotion towards life's small wonders. a need to seek even more grandiose things. it loosens the mind, it taints the sense of reason, it's having thoughts scattered between one plane and the next at all times.
004. brad sits somewhere on the chaotic spectrum. sometimes good, sometimes evil, never against trickery or deceit. all his schemes are a means to an end, a step towards another grand adventurer. despite lacking physical sensation in some regards, his emotions are present. prone to changes based on mood, quick to reflect external circumstances, dangerous at times. he's the life of the party until he's not.
just some cass metas so i can figure things out ;
001. Cassandra learned body language before language. It became the first and only thing she could understand. Since taking up the mantle of b//atgirl, she's undergoes/undergone speech therapy to improve her speech. Despite being able to speak, she speaks more so with clear intent or prefers fewer words. When she speaks in a longer form, it's with feelings behind them or meaning.
002. I believe this sits as canon for most bat//family members, but Cass teaches self-defense techniques to the women of G//otham on a volunteer basis. Giving them the means to defend themselves from the city's mean streets, she's thrilled to put her skills to use for more than crimefighting. To give her bloodied legacy a far better meaning alongside serving as b//atgirl.
003. Strong silent type. Most problems are internalized, although some are expressed through reckless behaviors in the field. A strong sense of guilt sits inside her from past actions, along with the sting of failure that comes from the past. She throws herself into the field in a way to make up and bury those feelings more often than not. A bit hard to get a read on if you don't know her very well.
004. It's almost impossible to lie to Cass. Reading body language and additional training made her a walking lie detector. The tiniest shift of weight, the subtle twitch of an eye, a quirk of lips tend to be more than enough for her to read people. She doesn't think fondly of liars, especially when they're close to her. On the same note, because her social skills are developing gradually, her mouth reacts faster than her mind to family matters. Reading the members of the b//atfamily, unfortunately, happens all too often. She worries for them; she blurts out what they're trying to hide, sometimes leading to more friction between them.
005. A strong craving for fast food, not necessarily the fondest of sweets.