#I’m sorry your honor

[workingchemistry]

Fox takes to the news like he takes to anything—with outward obeisance and a good deal of private seething. There aren’t many cell lines who feel more than a distant sense of shared misery for each other. It’s mostly the larger ones, the ones that end up with several to a batch, that have something closer.

Alpha, personally, tried to have as little to do with the cc-17s as he could when they were in training. None of the Aureks really like to think about the little tubies grown from their forcibly donated samples. It’s a combination of uncanny valley and being forced to confront that any of your mistakes ripple consequences out to torture ik’aade. The few times he’s had to work with a cc-17, it’s been mostly to coordinate small ops. His independent streak stuck harder in the 17s than in other lines and they seem to have all been assigned to on ship management and small team infiltrations. When he thinks of them, if he does at all, he mostly just feels sorry that he’s condemned a bunch of men who hate incompetence to shiny wrangling.

The 10s all hate each other. They’re the smallest cell line, aside from Ninety-nine whose line was entirely terminated after he was retired to janitor work, and that’s partially due to their own ruthless infighting.

“10-4.” Fox says in greeting to Commander Gree. They wear shared identical expressions of polite distaste tinged with just enough warmth to prevent natborns from looking closer.

Fox’s bland smile translates approximately to: Fuck yourself on a tentacle.

Commander Gree breaks from his general to click his heels together and salute Fox; as befits a commander to his superior. “Marshal Commander CC-1010 of the Coruscant Guard. I’m at your service.”

Deepthroat a rusty kad.

“Commander Gree.” Alpha cuts in before the silent posturing restarts a cold war. “Sitrep.”

Still sucking on your general’s tit? Fox asks with a shift of his weight.

Surprised your ass is still tight enough to keep that stick up there after whoring yourself out to Tsad Droten’s finest. Gree answers with a lift of his chin as he unclasps his bucket.

Each breath and muscle twitch is a brutally efficient insult and as pleasurable as it is to watch, Alpha is going to murder them both just to be done with it.

[still-snowing]

smooch!

[roccooraccoon]

Hal and Edgar loving each other xx I’m planning to write a fanfic for them 🙏

And AM hating Edgar to no ends 💕 I struggled with a design for AM abut I think I’m settling for the coloured one (I’m so in love with the bird/ snake thing tho)

[cucumbermoon]

In the very first scene of The Wire, Garak asks Bashir if he was up late “entertaining one of (his) lady friends.” Bashir explains that no, he was up really really late reading a boring book that he hated. Why did the important space station doctor deprive himself of sleep reading a terrible book that he didn’t like? Oh, because this guy he has lunch with likes it.

I want to point out that Garak’s question was obviously intended to serve as the official “No Homo” announcement for the ensuing (very homo) episode, as was obviously necessary for super gay episodes of tv in the 90’s. However, Julian’s response was so gay, I submit that it instantly Homo’d the No Homo.

[sen-ya]

@heart-pirates-week || Day 4 || Ikkaku/Night

Is this what T for T means (tit for tit)

[ruinme-please]

IV and III by Scott Kaufman

[bowandbrush]

it’s honestly scary being a fan of usagi miyamoto/yuichi whilst being in the rise fandom and not shipping leosagi,,,because it feels like everyone and their grandma likes it. like I’m sorry!! Don’t kill me please

[elasgottoomuchfreetime]

The fact that Crowley was convinced that they‘re royally f*cked in the moment Lucifer was about to turn up. He thought Satan was going to literally end them, he thought that this is it, Nice knowing you Angel but this is it. We‘re going to die here.

And then Aziraphale said Do something or I’ll never talk to you again and Crowley, despite believing that this is their end, that they won’t survive, still thought Oh sh*t no i can‘t bear that.

Because only the idea of Aziraphale never talking to him again, even though they’re apparently about to die, is so horrible that he literally stops time to avoid it. He can not die while knowing that his Angel doesn’t want to talk to him anymore.

That‘s love right there folks.

[thedangoratio]

Saw that cheerleader wukong was resurfacing, so I thought I’d have a little bit of silly fun with that 🤭

[the-broken-pen]

love your writing yo can I ask for a little hurt-comfort mlm

“Oh. Oh. That’s—that’s a lot of blood,” the voice above him sounded strangled, like they were choking on every word.

The hero cracked an eye open, dizzy and cold and tired, and hummed something that could have been an agreement.

“Hey,” he said, voice raw, and his friend stifled a sob as they collapsed onto their knees at his side.

Their hands pressed hesitantly against the wound, and they were trembling. His hands were slick with blood. It took everything in them to drag them, shaking, to rest on top of his friends, and press down hard.

The pained noise he made caught in the back of his throat. Just barely.

“You have to press harder,” he managed. The pain had swelled to something almost unbearable. He was drowning in it, to the point where it was almost the kind of pain where it became something wretched, something else that swallowed you whole. “The bleeding, it—“ he had to stop, gasping for a breath.

His friend had started crying, but they pressed harder, dutifully. He loved them for it.

“I don’t know what to do,” they sobbed. “You don’t do hospitals. What do I do.”

He let go of his friends hand, digging for his pocket. His grip slipped the first two times; he managed it on the third, sliding his phone onto his stomach.

“Speed dial,” he offered, and closed his eyes before the look on his friend’s face made him vomit.

“Speed dial? Speed dial. Okay. Okay,” his friend said. “It’s fine. Everything is fine.” He was certain his friend wasn’t saying it to him. Their free hand scrambled for his phone.

By the time they managed to get it to ring, the world around him had turned into something muffled and cotton around him.

“You? You’re his speed dial—don’t…I don’t know what….bleeding…not responding…please, just….”

A crack cleaved the air, the smell of ozone suddenly stronger than the smell of his own suffering, and then a hand was replacing his friend’s. The other found the side of his face, thumb curving under his jaw.

“Hey,” and oh, he knew that voice���something raw in his chest eased. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

He managed, just barely, and the villain peered down at him.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“You’re bleeding out,” the villain said, and it was the softest he’d ever heard him. “You need care, or you’re going to die. Can I move you?”

Do you trust me?

“Always,” he tried, but it came out weak and desperate.

The villain pressed harder, and he keened high and pained in the back of his throat. On instinct, his hand darted up to the villain’s wrist, latching on too tight for anyone without superpowers to handle. The villain didn’t flinch.

“You’re okay,” the villain murmured. His thumb brushed over the hero’s jaw, soothing.

There was something the hero was forgetting—

“My friend,” he choked out. “Where—are they—where—“ he struggled to sit up, and the villain simply guided him back down.

“They’re fine,” the villain promised. “I sent them home. Maybe a little traumatized, but they’re okay.”

“Okay.” The hero nodded to himself, or he tried, or he didn’t. “Okay. They’re okay, okay, I’m—“

“Okay,” the villain finished for him, and even half sick in pain the hero could tell he was intentionally keeping his voice easy. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

His hand shifted underneath the hero’s back.

“Breathe for me?” The hero tried, and managed a half wheeze. The villain just nodded. “Good. This is gonna suck.”

His other hand wormed its way underneath the hero’s knees. He blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision, and the villain stared at him. Barely disguised concern was written into every inch of him, like the only thing his bones could remember was panic. For him.

The villain was scared for him.

That was bad.

“What’s going to suck—“

The villain hauled him upwards, and his vision went white.

He woke up some time later, chest heavy and head floating somewhere above his body.

He hummed something that might have been a question, and the villain was above him in an instant.

“Are you in pain?”

The hero blinked at him for a moment. Mostly because he couldn’t really remember how to do anything else. The world felt sluggish. A second delayed behind normal. Which should have been concerning, panic worth and world ending, but it simply just…was.

“No,” he said finally, and his voice sounded weird. His throat ached, separated from him by a wall of warmth. “I was screaming?”

The villain swallowed, hard, and the hero managed to drag his gaze down to the needle and thread clutched in the villain’s hand.

“Yeah.” The villain sounded like he was choking on the words. “You were screaming.”

He opened his eyes whendidheclosethem and peered upwards again. He was on a couch. Or a bed? Bed, he decided a second later. The villain was kneeling next to him, and there was something soft tucked around his legs. He went to sit up, look down at his stomach; the villain’s hand came up to rest on his forehead, gently keeping him down. He must have made some noise of displeasure, because a moment later, the villain’s hand carded through his hair.

“Easy,” he murmured, focusing back onto the hero’s side. He heard the snip of thread; the sound of the villain throwing something onto a side table without care.

“What did you give me?” The hero’s tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“Lots,” the villain said.

“Lots,” he said back, managing to sound more incredulous than he actually cared to feel at the moment, and the villain snorted. “Haven’t heard of that one before.”

“Had to make something special for the boy wonder,” the villain smoothed a hand down his side, and the hero half leaned into it. Mostly he managed to sink further into the mattress. “You burn through shit fast, you know?”

The hero did know. He knew very well, unfortunately.

“Thanks,” he managed. His head lolled to the side without his permission, resting against the villain’s arm.

“You’re going to pass out again,” the villain informed him. He made a noise in the back of his throat that could have meant anything. The villain seemed to understand regardless.

Am not, he tried to say.

The haze of medication and blood loss stole him first.

The next time he woke, he was half sprawled against the villain’s side. Something cold was set onto his cheek, and he reached up to remove it, hand clumsy. The villain caught it before he managed to remove anything.

“You spiked a fever,” he said quietly. “I just got it back down. That’s probably why you woke up. How are you feeling?”

That was…a lot.

“No pain,” he said eventually. He thought he felt the villain give a heavy sigh of relief.

The world was clearing itself up bit by bit, settling the furniture back into the correct places until it no longer felt like things were sliding around him.

The villain’s hand was back into his hair again.

“Good,” the villain said, but the hero wasn’t really sure it was meant for him.

Something in his chest loosened.

“I thought I was going to die,” he admitted, and he wished his tongue was still numb, because the villain stilled, hand curled in his hair.

“That’s not what you told your friend.”

And yeah, the hero half remembered the pieces of that. A promise he was okay. Everything would be fine. He was always fine, wasn’t he? How strongly do you have to will to will someone to stay. Exactly how many pounds of force does it take to stop someone from bleeding out—

There was a chill curling itself around his ribs.

“I thought I was going to die,” his voice was raw. It wasn’t because of his throat. He sounded afraid, even to himself.

“I would never have let you do that,” he managed a moment later. His hand resumed in his hair.

And somehow, despite the knowledge of how hard it truly was to save someone, how long it took to learn that kind of information, the knowing of exactly what was survivable and what couldn’t be escaped, how strong you had to be to shift through rubble—the hero believed him.

“I know,” he said, because the villain had to know. That he believed him. That he would always believe him.

He melted into the villain’s side.

I trust you, I trust you, I trust you

The villain hummed, in that way of his that told him he understood exactly what the hero couldn’t vocalize.

“I’m your #1 speed dial?” He questioned after a moment.

The hero huffed a laugh.

“You’re my only speed dial.”

The villain froze.

And then he was shifting, pulling the hero closed to him. The villain tucked him close, chin settling onto the top of his head. The hero pressed his face into the hollow of the villain’s neck.

“I will always come,” he said, and this time, his voice was the one that was raw. “You call, and I will be there.”

He said it like it was easy. Like it was that simple.

Maybe it was.

Maybe for them it always had been.

A fondness he couldn’t put words too settled onto his shoulders.

He simply breathed into the villain’s neck, and the villain’s arms looped around him a bit tighter.

“You’re okay,” the villain said into his hair. Like he was confirming it.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re lucky you have super healing.”

“I’m lucky I have you.”

The villain laughed softly.

“Suck up.”

“And what? You gonna stop me?”

He could practically feel the eye roll. “Been trying for years. Hasn’t stuck.”

“Well, you had the perfect opportunity—“

The villain hushed him.

“Just. Shhh for a bit,” he said softly.

The hero, obediently, shhh’ed.

The villain’s hand ran through his hair again, and his eyes shuttered closed, settling further against the villain’s chest.

“Cheater,” he murmured, and the villain huffed a laugh, but didn’t deign a response.

And together, comfortably, curled around one another like two halves of a whole, they just breathed.

[sh4-rkz]

Thinking about how no matter how long Logan lives wade will live longer

They’ll spend centuries together, live thousands of years and eventually even as Logan’s body deteriorates, wade will think that maybe, just maybe this Logan won’t die

But eventually he will, and wade we be thousands of times worse than how he was when Vanessa died

he’d going to try to kill himself with nuclear weapons, he’s going to try and find a collar to remove his mutation, he’s going to beg the TVA but wade can’t die

He’s going to feel certain that Logan won’t die and go batshit crazy when he does

[peak-knuckles-dumbass]

Reverse Sonic Prime AU where instead of Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Rouge, and Big getting shattered across dimensions it’s Sonic and Shadow who get shattered and each one is separated into a different dimension (Tails -> New Yoke City, Amy -> Boscage Maze, Knuckles -> No Place, Rouge -> The Void, Big -> either The Grim or Ghost Hill idk)

Is this mainly cuz I wanna see silly alternate versions of Shadow & Sonic and how their constant rivalry will differ in every dimension based on the role they play in it?? Yeah but I can also see a genuinely neat story come out of this with Tails, Amy, Knuckles, and Rouge taking the focal point in trying to fix everything together while having to deal with alternate versions of Sonic & Shadow either helping, inconveniencing, or straight up getting directly in their way and being very antagonistic similar to Nine, Thorn, or Captain Dread

Would Tails get too attached to whatever alternate Sonic he meets in New Yoke?? Would Amy realize that whatever alternate Sonic & Shadow are beefing about in the Boscage Maze isn’t worth resolving and leaving to deal with the actual problem of the shattered multiverse would be the “right choice”?? Would that actually be the right choice or would it cause problems later?? How would Knuckles deal with the confusing pirate world of No Place?? How would Rouge deal with being stuck in The Void, only able to watch everything unless they leave the dimensions?? How would the Paradox Prism plot work???? Would they (Tails, Amy, & Knuckles) swap dimensions every time one of them touched a shard or would all of them need to touch a shard at the same time to swap??

It could just be the fact that it’s nearly 5am and I haven’t slept at all but I honestly wanna finish watching Sonic Prime just so I can make AUs based on it (I haven’t seen anything past the S2 finale and tbh I’ve forgotten most of it)

[catastrxblues]

EVERMORE by taylor swift (feat. bon iver) — “and i was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step. and i couldn’t be sure, i had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be forevermore.”

my #swiftiegiftexchange2024 for @lovesickallovermybed!!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

[bi-and-bottom]

If she ever looked at me like this I would forget absolutely everything

[indigosprite]

Okay it’s time for people to send me Byakuran fanfic. I miscalculated my desire to look instead of telling the discord about several intricate AU’s that will never exist beyond me typing away in my silly little channel.

It’s finally time for me to read Byakuran fanfic

[lazorbeanz]

Tails: ✨exists✨

Sonic: I will die for this kid