#at the core of her

[imhereformysciencefriends]

Day 6: Galra Allura

Tags: @loturaweek2024 Species swap, alien culture, Galran Empire, helping someone you dislike and hating it the whole time, deep seated propaganda/brainwashing, touch starvation

Read on AO3

Prince Lotor was an embarrassment to the Galra name and species. Everyone knew that. To even touch him was to risk being polluted by the filth that tainted his bloodline and made him soft, pathetic, vulnerable. To associate with him? Was to practically volunteer to join him at the bottom of the pecking order. He was alive only because he had half-inherited his father’s martial prowess (and how powerful was the mighty Emperor Zarkon, that even half his strength should best any Galra that challenged Lotor!) and because Galran custom forbade even Zarkon from ridding the universe of his own child.

Allura knew that.

Allura was a good, dutiful, honorable, hardworking Galra. She was proud, as all Galra were proud, she was fearsome, as all Galra were fearsome. She was cutthroat and coldhearted—and maybe that was a lie.

The smell of blood was not foreign to her. She’d spilled plenty of it, herself. His shouldn’t move her. It was good, she justified to herself, that she concerned herself with the wounds and wellbeings of other Galra, for Galra were all as one, united under their glorious emperor, and to uphold and uplift the Galra around her was to uphold the empire as a whole, she self-rationalized. But Lotor was only half Galra, his blood tainted with Altean genetics, she shouldn’t care if he bled, if he ached, if he hurt, if he gasped as he rolled himself onto his knees and hand, the other wrist too damaged to put his weight on.

Really, she would be doing him a favor just for walking by. If she just strode past him and the unconscious bodies strewn around him, hell, she should be concerned about them, not the one left standing (or, well, kneeling. Getting there).

…Maybe, since he was half Galra, it would be alright if she half-cared?

She didn’t ask or offer, simply walked up to him, got his good arm slung over her shoulders, and lifted. He growled at her, and she growled back, not exactly happy about this either (damn her soft heart! A Galra should be better!), but his anger settled into confusion when she merely pulled him to his feet.

“...To what do I owe the honor?”

“Can it,” she snarled. “Let’s just get you out of here before any of these fools wake up and try for a round two.”

Because yes, that was it, they were the fools. Everyone knew Prince Lotor inherited half the emperor’s strength, it was their fault for thinking that they could best even that.

As a group.

Against one man.

She grit her fangs. Life wasn’t fair. Of course Galra didn’t play fair. It wasn’t honorable, exactly, but she doubted this was an official challenge for anything. And how did a prince get picked on this much anyway!? It was embarrassing for him.

“I rather must admit, I had thought when you approached me you intended to finish what they’d started.”

“If you keep chatting so much, I just might,” she snapped, with less heat than she’d intended. The line of his arm across her armor was distracting (it was always distracting) (she had yet to shake off the childish need to be touched outside of battle. Shameful). It was distracting her. This was a distracting situation.

“...Thank you.”

“Please,” she muttered quietly, “don’t ever mention it.”

And, see, again, Allura was distracted, it was a distracting situation, she wasn’t thinking about where she was going, because she’d just finished her shift and had been heading back to her apartment, and in lieu of actually taking Lotor somewhere her body just. Finished the trek home.

She stopped in front of the door to her room, very clearly in one of the residential halls, very clearly embarrassed with herself, even with her downturned ears hidden by her helmet and her blush underneath her fur.

He laughed, damn him, a soft, breathy, barely-there sound. “And where, precisely, has my valiant savior taken me?” Lotor asked, teasing and very knowing and sounding quite amused, the bastard. She shoved him off of her into the wall.

“You know I’ve had about enough of your sass!” she snarled, fangs bared, and he laughed again, louder, though his eyes were sharp on her, treating her like a threat. Good. She was one.

“Forgive me,” Lotor said, still sounding amused, if cautious, “I’m afraid my mouth has played the culprit in many of my altercations. I just can’t seem to control it.”

“Perhaps you should learn.”

“Perhaps.”

She crossed her arms and huffed, then. Well. Conceded in looking away first. It bristled, to be the one to look away from Lotor, embarrassment of the Empire, but she could admit she was being just slightly ridiculous (she’d been the one to bring him here, after all), and even if he did take advantage of the deliberate show of weakness, she doubted he could do much against her, down a wrist and limping like that.

“Your breath seems caught enough,” she muttered, still turned away. “You can make your own way from here. I’m going to rest.”

She slammed her hand down on the ID pad and her door slid open for her, allowing her to storm in.

“Wait!” Lotor called, soft but urgent, and she stilled in the doorway, cocking her head to look at him and her lip lifted just enough to snarl with one fang.

“Please, at least tell me your name.”

“...Allura. Now go away.”

The door didn’t slam behind her, just neatly closed like it always did, and she found herself resenting the emotionless metal for its lack of force. Good riddance. She was supposed to be enjoying a varga or two of personal time before she slept and went back to work the next day. Not dealing with stupid princes and their stupid faces and their stupid injuries and their stupid, breathy, lilting laughs that sounded so soft and inviting and their stupid smug faces and stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

Her face burned as she stripped off her armor, flinging it roughly at the armor stand. Whatever! She hoped she never saw him again!!!

(Except she did, she did, she wanted to see him. Stupid. Pathetic. Weak Allura).

[kensatou]

i'll let phie-san say it:

[ophanim-vesper]

A short-ish fancomic poem thing about my hc for Zelda

(best read from left to right)

[perplexingly]

I kinda wish they bonded over their dead man walking like behavior…

[ribbittrobbit]

these kids are incredibly stressed out

[hugs-and-stabbies]

The self-awareness on this guy 😞 someone pls send him an "are you bi?" quiz STAT

[clouvu]

Father-Son bonding moment ✨

[bluerosefox]

Uncle Damian Mode ACTIVATE

Twins Danny and Damian but! They both know where the other is (Damian going to Bruce and Danny being sent to the Fentons on a mission at a young age), has kept in touch and all that.

They just...never got around to telling anyone about the other.

That is until Danny comes interrupting Damian on patrol one night in a panic, pushes a bundle into his arms and hurriedly says "Read our texts! It'll explain! I gotta go, got a fruitloop on my tail! Be back when I can!"

And rushes off. When Damian looks down at the bundle in his arm, ignoring the yelling on comms and Nightwing rushing over, he is stunned to see a almost identical face to that of his brother staring back at him, only he can tell its female from the more delicate features.

When he later reads the texts his brother sent during his patrol... well he's tempted to go fruitloop hunting but he has a niece to take of... and inform his father of his granddaughter he's currently holding.

[suchscary]

skelly girls

[spicyraeman]

more lae'zel doodles. I am nothing if not predictable

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[noxcheshire]

Back at it again with my Danny is mom coded au’s, but this time it’s because of Clockwork that he suddenly has a whole ass teenage kid.

Clockwork had been bored or maybe he was playing a game against an opponent, or even lost a bet, whatever it was, he stepped in right as Jason was searching for his biological mother.

The DNA that would have registered itself as one Sheila Haywood, confirming Jason’s mother, glitched a terrible green across the screens of the batcomputer.

In those few moments of chaos Jason’s heart beat rapidly as he tried to figure out why the computer wasn’t working, wondering if his only chance to find his mom — his blood mom — would never find success.

Then as suddenly as things went wrong the DNA settled and pinged.

Jason watched, his chest tight, as one Danny C. Works, formerly Danny Fenton appeared onto the big screen.

Danny looked a lot like Jason, short cut black hair more straight than the subtle curls of Jason’s own; deep blue eyes, tired in a way that spoke of long days and nights, but with a warm happiness that made the familiar smile — the one Jason would see on himself every time he looked into the mirror — even more striking.

Jason didn’t linger too long on the male identifying gender, nor the fact his mom leaned more towards a masculine name or clothing.

There were plenty of male to female, and female to male leaning individuals that lived in Crime Alley. He had seen it enough to not even bat an eye at it, even now. After all, in Gotham you minded your business least you find yourself in business you can’t leave.

On a different monitor information of Danny C. Works piled for Jason to quickly browse through.

Danny was a senior engineer, no intimate relationships, and with no close connections to family outside of the tentative calls from Jasmine Fenton.

Danny was estranged from Jack and Madeline Fenton, a falling out that had occurred just a little before Danny’s high school graduation. If Jason calculated it correctly that would have been — around the season Jason himself would have been born.

Okay, so no grandparents then but I might have a maybe aunt. Jason scrolled further and stilled.

Twin toddlers: Dante and Danielle Works.

Jason had baby siblings.

He doesn’t let the sting of younger siblings consume him, doesn’t allow the whispering thoughts of why he had been given up when his younger siblings had been kept and so very obviously loved.

Jason took deep breathes, he didn’t have time to linger here. He had a family to get to, and a family he would get to.

It took almost all night to reach, the starlight night sky slowly and surely fading into cloudy wine as the sun rose, but Jason made it.

And when the door opened to his hesitant but firm knock, Jason was unable to speak. His mom — dad, maybe? Did they want to be mom or dad? — stood in the doorway, brows furrowed in confusion.

It was when Danny spoke his vigilante name did Jason only just realize that he was still dressed to the nine’s in his Robin costume.

[b0tster]

having too much fun making ravenlith renders so instead of flooding ur tl with a billion images heres a collage lmao

[gent-illmatic]

Intimacy 💗

[thisischeri]

instagram: cheri.png

[caffichai]

Toddifons! (and bonus version w/o tanktop)

Working in the shop on a hot summer day is, well, hot

Hey, since you're here, check this out!