#don't ask me why i wrote this

[thatonebirdwrites]

Cheating Death

Each breath cost her another second. Each step another half second. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, and her vision narrowed to a point. She gripped the railing and pulled herself up another step, one hand pressed against her side. Blood oozed and soaked her blouse.

Another attempt on her life, but this time she doubted anyone would come to save her. Why would they?

She'd burned those bridges in the flames of fury and pain. Her heart, the betraying organ, still pulsed for one person, the one who had lied to her, betrayed her trust, used her. So she'd used her in turn. Lashed out in fury and pain. Each time her former best friend did something kind to "make up" for her betrayal, she ignored her traitorous heart.

She'd followed through, except now that she had Myriad. She'd screamed and yelled at Kara, unleashing all her pain and grief.

She should have stayed at the well defended bunker, but Eve-Hope hadn't finished boxing up the equipment. So she'd left Myriad in a safe and portaled back to the lab to carry some of the boxes herself. She'd tried to plan the move before she tricked Kara into taking her to the fortress, but Leviathan kept mucking up her plans.

Their attacks had accelerated everything.

But she'd badly miscalculated today. Her mind had been too focused on her fight with Kara. The look of pain and grief on Kara's face when she left haunted her, but she'd set the prison to last only long enough for her escape. Kara would be free now, recovering likely.

She took a shuddering breath. Pain clawed up her side at the muscle use, the wound searing like the sun.

She hadn't expected the attack to happen.

But then she had stole something from Leviathan. The stupid medallion which should have been hers not Andrea's. She laughs, bitterly, and her vision splinters. Darkness mocks her, but through sheer will she forces herself up another step.

Her project, her work to build a future where no one could hurt another like Kara did -- all lost because Eve-Hope had given her life to save Lena Luthor.

"Get down, Miss Luthor!" Eve-Hope had shouted. She pushed Lena against the floor, turned, and sprinted at the assassin. Bullets rained down, and the horrible thuds as they hit Eve's body echoed in Lena's mind. Just like when she'd shot her brother.

Eve-Hope swung her make-shift weapon, a piece of a chair, and clubbed the assassin. Both tumbled into the stairwell. Lena rolled herself to her knees and staggered to the door, her side burning. The assassin grunted and punched Eve-Hope. The other stumbled at the blow, which gave the assassin a clear window to Lena. She took one last shot, but again Eve-Hope stepped in front of the pistol.

She fell then, unable to stay upright, and Lena in a fit of rage slammed her body against the asassin's. They'd hit the wall, both scrambling to grab the pistol that had clattered to the floor a few feet away.

Lena had won. One shot, and her attacker was motionless.

But she'd also lost.

"Miss Luthor," Eve-Hope whispered. "It was an honor."

Lena had wept yet again that day.

No human cared for her. Only an AI who saved her, and now, like a fool, she'd staked everything on Hope's calculations. She'd gotten too cocky and forgot to hook her to the backup this past week.

She watched as her project died in a human body. She closed Eve-Hope's unseeing eyes and hunted for her phone.

The screen had cracked during the fight, and her fingers slicked with blood couldn't unlock. Her own phone was not in her pockets, fallen somewhere in the fight.

Whatever the assassin had done blocked all signals as none of the bars showed in the corner of the malfunctioning screen. She had throw Eve's phone in disgust, the screen cracking further when it hit the wall.

Eve died for Lena, and what had Lena done for her? Forced her AI Hope into Eve as punishment for her betrayal.

Today was her punishment for her hubris. She'd cheated death far too many times, mostly thanks to Supergirl. But she'd burned all bridges with Kara.

No, no one was coming. She had to save herself. So she'd started crawling up the steps, desperate to reach where she kept a spare phone.

Half the blood on Lena's clothes was from Eve, the rest from the bullet deep in her side.

She could press the button on the watch Supergirl gave her. But after what she did? Encasing her in Kryptonite?

She regrets it. Now that death laughs in her face, she regrets her actions. Regrets everything. She'd been so focused on her pain, her anger, that she'd failed to see what lay right in front of her.

She loves Kara. She had always loved Kara. She tried to remind herself of the truth: the one person she loved the most had stabbed her with her lies, and yet her mind teases her with memories of Kara's confession, her tears, and her desperation.

"I was selfish," Kara fiddled with her glasses, her tears streaming down her cheek. "I was so selfish. I'm sorry, Lena."

Tears stung Lena's eyes. She tried to wipe them away, but only succeeded in wiping blood across her cheeks.

"Selfish," she muttered with a sour laugh. She pulled herself up another step and paused at the pain.

Kara Zor El Danvers had kept her in the dark because she was a coward. She was afraid to lose Lena. She wanted to be just Kara with someone. She'd been selfish.

At the time, Lena had put Kara in the same category as her mother and Lex. People who claim to love her but used her when they needed it with no regard for how Lena felt.

But now, as death danced along her spine, she reviewed her time with Kara. All those moments of laughter, of cuddling on her sofa, the movies they watched, the lunches shared. How gently but firmly Kara hugged as if afraid Lena would vanish if she let go.

No, her selfishness differed from Lex, who used Lena like a chess piece. Dangling brotherly love only to snatch it away. Lifting up Lena and her work, only to destroy it. She couldn't escape his legacy, how everyone tied her to him. Even when she fought to repair the damage of his legacy.

Even in death he haunted her. The brother she'd killed for Kara and their friends.

Kara had acted like a jerk sometimes as Supergirl, judgmental and aloof, but she'd always shown up when Lena needed her. Like a fool, she'd done the same unable to stay away. Both of them had given and given. Kara had broken the law for Lena just because she wanted to help Lena feel better. All the times Supergirl saved her, the desperation in her expression before she schooled her features into aloofness -- how Supergirl claimed it was "Kara Danvers believes in you."

No, it had been Kara that whole time. Trying to tell her and yet not tell her.

Here at the end of everything, she finally understood why her brother kept the truth from her. It was yet another chess move. He knew she'd react with anger and pain, where she'd burn her bridges. He wanted her isolated, and even in death, he'd taken from her. Taken the one good thing in her life.

She screamed and pounded her fist against the stairs. She was so close to the lab now.

But the pain wrapped around her chest. Her memories tumbled in her mind as if caught in a spinning vortex.

Over and over Kara's face appeared with increasingly urgency.

Even as she bled to death in a stairwell, her traitorous heart couldn't let Kara go.

With slippery fingers, Lena pried open the watch's face. She had no hope that Kara would come.

No, pressing the button won't bring her relief. She was giving Kara one last chance to say goodbye.

Blood smeared across the watch. On her second try, her fingers finally pressed the button.

She collapsed in exhaustion against the stairs, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the darkness.

/end of part 1

[veronicaphoenix]

all that's left | noah sebastian

noah sebastian x reader | tags & triggers warnings: pure angst and pain, mentioned car crash, mentioned coma, implied death | words: 900ish

͢ all that's left

Jolly sat in the hard plastic chair, staring at the floor, tracing the same crack in the linoleum with his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. His fingers twitched in his lap, restless with the things he still couldn’t make sense of, the things he didn’t know how to say to her.

It had been two weeks since the accident. Two weeks of waiting for her to wake up, to open her eyes and remember. Two weeks of trying to accept reality and trying to find the right way to tell her the truth—truth that he still couldn’t accept himself. 

A deep, hollow ache tugged at him as he glanced toward her motionless form in the bed. Machines hummed softly around her, cables trailing from her body like vines trying to hold her down to this world. Her face was pale beneath the harsh hospital lighting. It was hard to reconcile the vibrant girl he remembered with the frail figure lying in front of him now.

He hadn’t left the hospital much since the crash. Couldn’t. Her uncle hadn’t come, as expected, but there had been friends and other relatives that had come to check on her, that had cried when they’d seen her, that had cried even before stepping into the room, once the news had reached them. 

None of it changed a thing. 

A faint groan, barely audible, broke the silence in the room. Jolly’s heart leapt into his throat as he snapped his head up.

Her eyelids fluttered.

For a moment, he froze, unsure if he had imagined it. But then her fingers twitched, her lips parted in a faint gasp, and her eyes—those eyes—opened, unfocused and wide with confusion.

He pronounced her name in a questioning tone. Jolly leaned forward, his voice shaky but hopeful, like it might shatter at any moment.

She blinked slowly, trying to focus, her gaze darting around the room in a frantic haze. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts. Her body seemed stiff, uncooperative, like it wasn’t hers anymore. She stared down at herself, at the tubes snaking into her arms, the bandages, the bruises, the weight of her broken body sinking in.

“Wh–where…?” Her voice was raspy, as if it had been buried somewhere deep, far away. Panic flickered in her eyes as her hands instinctively pulled at the wires tethering her to the machines.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jolly said quickly, standing now, reaching out but not touching her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re fine.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, her gaze finally locking onto him. But there was no recognition there, only fear.

“J-Jolly?” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

He nodded, forcing himself to breathe, to stay calm. “Yeah, it’s me. Hold on, I’ll get the doctors.”

He stumbled to the door, calling for a nurse, for anyone. It wasn’t long before they flooded the room—nurses, doctors, people in scrubs with voices too loud and movements too fast. They surrounded her, checking vitals, speaking in hushed tones meant to reassure, but her confusion and panic only deepened.

Jolly stood back, hands shoved into his sweats’ pockets, watching helplessly as they worked. This was it. This was the moment he had dreaded, and it was happening too fast. He wasn’t ready. But it wasn’t about him—it was about her. And Noah.

After what felt like forever, the doctors finished their examination. One of them—a tall man with kind eyes—placed a hand on Jolly’s shoulder as they left.

“She’s stable. It’s good that she’s awake. Take it easy, okay? She’s going to be confused and disoriented. We’ll be back in a while to check on her again. ”

Jolly nodded mutely. Easy? There was nothing easy about this.

The room was quieter now, just the two of them again. She lay back against the pillows, her brow furrowed in confusion, but calmer. She turned her head—even that simple movement hurt like hell—. Her eyes landed on Jolly.

“What… happened to me? Why… why am I here?”

Jolly took a slow breath, pulling up the chair beside her bed. His hands were trembling slightly, but he tried to steady them as he clasped them together. “You were in an accident,” he said softly. “Two weeks ago. A car crash.”

She blinked, processing. Her gaze dropped to the cast encasing her leg, the bruises staining her skin, and the machines still connected to her. She swallowed hard, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. It made sense, even if it didn’t feel real. 

“Two… weeks?” she whispered, almost to herself.

Jolly nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been in a coma. But you’re awake now. You’re going to be okay.”

She didn’t respond right away, staring down at her hands. Her face twisted as if she was trying to pull memories from the darkness, but it was like sifting through fog. Then, slowly, she looked back at him.

“Jolly…” Her voice broke a little. “Noah… He was with me. He was in the car too.”

Jolly’s heart clenched, and he felt the blood drain from his face. 

He opened his mouth, but no words came. Just the crushing weight of what had to be said, pressing down on him as he tried to gather the courage to speak.

Her eyes widened as the silence stretched on, and the air between them growing impossibly heavy as her heart succumbed to the most horrifying panic she would ever experience; her eyes, unblinking, filling with tears. 

“Jolly… where’s Noah?” 

[slutty-d1saster]

Omegaverse Dark Souls got me drinking from that Estrus Flask

[reallygroovyninja]

Puppy Love

Clarke quivered with anticipation as Raven finished setting up the bulky camera on its tripod in the snow before the cozy log cabin. Her tail whipped back and forth wildly, carving trails in the sparkling white powder behind her. It was almost time for their special Christmas photo shoot! 

Clarke loved getting her picture taken, especially when she and Lexa got to dress up. She turned to Lexa with a doggy grin, taking in their matching outfits – bright red scarves wrapped jauntily around their necks, contrasting beautifully with their golden fur. 

Lexa sat serenely beside Clarke, though her tail also swept little furrows in the snow. Her mouth was open in a smile, her pink tongue lolling out the side adorably. Her eyes shone with joy as she gazed at her beloved companion. Clarke trembled with eager excitement, practically bouncing up and down on her furry haunches. 

“Okay puppies, look here!” Raven called, and Clarke's head whipped around, her ears perking up. As Raven held up a tasty treat to get their attention, Clarke stretched her neck up with utter delight, a goofy golden retriever smile plastered across her friendly face. She glanced sideways to see Lexa elegantly lift her head, showcasing her sleek profile, Lexa's eyes smiled too, full of love for this wonderful time of year with her most special friend. 

Just as the camera snapped, Clarke couldn't resist planting a big, wet, sloppy kiss right on Lexa's muzzle, catching her by surprise. Lexa snorted, wrinkling her nose, but was quickly powerless against the onslaught of Clarke's puppy love. Her tail wagged happily despite her mock protests. Raven laughed at capturing the perfect Christmas scene – Clarke's unrestrained affection and jolly spirit contrasted with Lexa's composed grace, all framed by the quintessential snowy cabin and evergreen wreath behind them. 

As they snuggled together on the steps afterwards, Clarke continued to smother Lexa with kisses as Lexa indulgently accepted them, wrapping a paw around Clarke. Their matching scarves and the peaceful snowfall made it a truly memorable holiday picture, sure to be printed and framed for Christmases to come. 

[vampirepuppygirl]

Hhhh

Ghuuuuh

Hnnnmmmggg

Ghaaaaa

Uhguuuuu

Transgender.........

[flurry-bace]

one day, in the far future, you'll be sitting on your porch in a rocking chair, and a few young kids will go up to you and say, "hey, what's Crush 40?" and you can pass on your legacy

i hope i am not only a mutual to you but also someone you can point at a fictional character and go "oh shit that guy on tumblr is super fucking mentally unwell about that one" about

[shxxtteredfantasy]

"I may have done some questionable things, am completely evil and will probably never be forgiven....

"But I have big tits and a nice ass and I think that makes up for it, honestly."

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[fearandhatred]

the rapture

it's a holy thing, in theory, a glorious celebration, where those who believe rise to meet the lord in the air. it's a day of joy, in theory, and maybe even of vindication for those who have always believed.

but no one thinks about how it's like to see the dead rise again—bodies clawing their way out of bolted wood and six feet of packed earth, bodies decomposed and maggot-feasted, nails stained with rot and dirt. no one thinks about the violent lurch of their bodies being jolted into the air by the stomach, gravity flinging their heads back down to earth as they struggle in vain to find footing on molecules and gas. no one thinks about those who don't make it.

no one thinks about the screams.

crowley hadn't thought about any of these things. he certainly hadn't thought about the angels that would be called back to heaven along with the believers.

here they stand dead in the middle of absolute ruin, the promise of heaven the only thing left to look forward to on the wasteland of this earth. the sky has opened up like the eye of god, watching over her people for the very first time, and crowley's black wings against the beams of light only remind him that he doesn't belong up there with the rest of them. crowley wraps his arms tight around aziraphale, squeezes his torso like he can maybe keep aziraphale with him through sheer will or, laughably, demonic intervention. like love could ever be enough. like love could stay.

around them, the cacophony of wails and mockingly exaltant trumpets scorch the earth in their intensity, clashing and agonising even—especially—for them, and words make no sound. but they hold on to each other, even as they shrink into themselves against the noise of the undying. i don't want to leave you either, aziraphale doesn't say, but his hands dig into the cotton of crowley's sleeve, and crowley hears the words through his fingertips.

he feels a stronger upward resistance against his embrace now, and he clings tighter, steadfast, even as aziraphale's grip falters. but he knows he can't hold on forever. he knows that nothing ever lasts.

trembling with something unspeakable, he lifts his arms from aziraphale's torso and covers the angel's ears with his hands. he feels more than hearing aziraphale's resulting sob, and he spreads out his wings to wrap them around their bodies. a shield, a comfort, a goodbye.

it's okay, the gesture says in silence. i'll see you in another lifetime.

[my-name-is-bunnyfoxy]

Wasn't really gonna explain but meh why not I'm bored.

There might be some people confused so I'ma explain a little. Sadly it won't be in full detail but Jason Biggs, the original VA for 2012 Leo before he was replaced, had from 2012-2014 been making controversial tweets such as sexual jokes about Ann Romney and Janna Ryan in response to the 2012 Republican National Conventio joking about the missing Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 in 2014, joking about Malaysia Airlines Flight , which was shot down later that year, and mocking the death of The Bachelorette contestant Eric Hill.

Several calls have been made to Nickelodeon asking to fire Jason for this and eventually he was fired around 2014, with episode "Of Rats And Men" being his last episode he would voice Leonardo and would later be replaced by Dominic Catrambone.

MM Fans: With all the controversy, we’re worried that Leo’s voice actor will get replaced!

TMNT 2012 Fans:

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

Arthur Lester searching up Sex With An Elder God on Ye Ol' Porn'ub in hopes of some sort of instruction

[genderqueerpond]

Jamie McCrimmon stumbles into a faerie circle.

He looks back, he hesitates, but the fae won't let him go.

He leaves the real world, and sees wonders beyond imagining and horrors beyond description; experiences love and loyalty beyond measure; becomes the perfect consort of the faerie king.

Many days pass, uncountable. Perhaps months, perhaps years -- forever, because this is a realm where time has no meaning. Long enough that he is changed, utterly and irrevocably.

Other courtiers come and go. Jamie McCrimmon endures, ever by the side of the faerie king.

Jamie McCrimmon is pushed out of a faerie circle.

He fights it, but the fae are stronger than him.

Jamie McCrimmon is home. No time at all has passed, and nothing has changed. None of this ever happened. He is who he was, which is not who he is at all.

He is left with nothing. Nothing but a vague yet all-encompassing sense of loss which never leaves. And all that was once good is ash.

[mannatea]

this is how the love letter scene went, right

[jesteringbug]

Wow! Your Ignihyde redesigns are so fucking ugly! So hideous and uninspired, and their ugliness is only amplified by your very poor drawing skills and even uglier art style! And it's laughable how you really believe that you did better than the official designs, never do that again, you can't design or draw for shit.

too late i'm already planning a heartslabyul redesign lmao

[casscainmainly]

Please please please do a Duke chart

The Feelings About Duke Thomas Alignment Chart

Jason, Tim, Cass, and Dick versions. Duke unfortunately suffers both from a lack of comics and a lack of interesting interactions - I am extrapolating a lot for everyone on the right side, and some placements are due to personal preference. All I know is that everyone loves him <3. Open to change!

[gauloiseblue]

[TW: implied non-con, somno, stalking, horror]

There's something strange going on in your apartment.

It had been going on for a while, but you've only noticed it recently.

Your sleeping schedule wasn't healthy per se, but there'd be the time when you felt so sleepy, you almost passed out on your way to the bed.

At first you suspected it was the calming tea you bought, but the drowsiness still came, even when you drank something else.

It happened at the same hour, too. Because the moment you hit the bed, you saw the same exact numbers on your clock.

8:00 PM

You rarely had a dreamless night, but somehow you always did when it happened. It's almost like you're sleeping like a rock, only to wake up, feeling groggy, and strangely sore.

Your neck was hurt, your shoulders were tense, and your hips felt like they'd been bruised.

Sometimes you found some strange bruises on your body. When you took a shower, you saw one in your inner arm. And later one, you discovered more on your inner thighs. You weren't that reckless to get a bruise in such places, so it was very confusing at that time.

Of course you've checked yourself to the doctor, but the result was nothing out of the ordinary, so there's nothing you should be afraid of. Though the doctor said it's possible that you've been sleepwalking, which would explain most of the odd things that's been happening.

After a night of heavy sleep, you woke up to find something that's out of place. You swore you didn't use that much tissues, but somehow they filled up your bin. You vaguely recalled putting your phone beside the pillow, but you found it on the nightstand the next morning.

One time, you felt so sleepy after a bath, that you didn't pay attention to your clothes. But you knew you had your shirt right, so why did you find it backward the next day?

There was a lingering smell that was foreign to you. It's almost like a musk, but not strong enough to be distinct. So you shrugged it off and thought of it as the remnant of your sweat. Which, you didn't know why you did, but you sweat a lot that night.

One or a few times, you stirred from your sleep and found yourself unable to move. All your limbs were heavy, as if something was weighing you down. And when you slept on your stomach, you often felt restrained, as if a large snake had wrapped itself around you.

It should've been obvious to you that something was wrong. Something was off about your apartment.

The first time you had a hunch was the moment you saw the CCTV of your floor. It was when you lost your spare key for the second time, and the security asked you to fill the form at the office. There were multiple screens in that place, which monitored each floor of the building. You glanced at the section of your floor, and saw your neighbor entering his room. The blond man has a room right across you, on the right side from the lift.

When you came to your floor, you noticed the security camera at the end of the hall was pointing at the lift. You looked back to the closing door, before your eyes went back to the small black dome on the ceiling, staring at the red dot.

It didn't click in your mind that something's off. Which you blissfully ignored as you stepped into your nightmare.

That night, you fell on the bed with your top only. Because you didn't have the energy to put on the rest of your clothes. And when you rose up from sleep the next day, you felt a cramp in your stomach. Your hip was so sore that you had trouble walking.

That's when you began to suspect something.

You had no idea what it was, but there was something in your apartment.

You tried to stake out for the night—once or twice every week, but nothing happened. Nothing was off about your room. You did doze off on one of the nights, but you didn't wake up sore the next morning. You're just… a little cold.

That was three days ago, and now you're preparing for another night.

You're drinking a glass of water when you glance at the clock. It's 7:58 PM, and it shouldn't be long before the lethargy seeps in. You finish the drink before you put the glass down on the table.

Yet it slips out of your hand before you could place it.

The glass rolls away under your bed, and you try to search with your hand, before you kneel down by the bed.

The sleepiness has taken effect on you, and you almost fall on your face when you try to peek into the darkness.

It's hard to get your eyes to focus, as you squint your eyes to locate the glass. It's near the hand of a mannequin, and you reach out to get it from under your bed.

But the hand is warm to touch when your knuckles brush against it. It was… too warm… too veiny for a mannequin.

It's not until its finger twitches, that you're hit with a delayed warning.

You don't own a mannequin.

Your body stumbles backward, as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream. In your mind, you were shrieking, it should be loud enough to alert the neighbors. Yet what comes from your mouth is a whimper.

You scramble to get on your feet, but the floor feels like sinking sand whenever you take a step.

The door is heavy when you pull it, before your knees give up, and force you to crawl into the small gap. The skid sound of your skin is drowned by the ringing of your ears, further disorienting you from getting to the front door.

Yet the moment you're close to the exit, your body collapses under its own weight. You fall flat on your stomach, with your eyes threatening to close at any time, pulling you down to your slumber.

You stretch your hand towards the door, which is a useless attempt since you can't reach the handle. The world seems to grow bigger, while you just turn smaller and smaller.

A heavy footstep awakens you from your daze, and you muster your energy to drag yourself away. Though it's no avail, since you can no longer feel your limbs.

And right before you succumb to your sleep, a pair of hands slip under your arms, before pulling you up with ease. You whine as his arms find their way around you, caging you with his strong embrace.

As your consciousness slips away, you hear him murmur something before everything goes dark.