#he called it an 'enrichment activity'

[marshmallowloves]

Oh look - all your F/Os got together to make a super special marshmallow birthday cake just for you! 🎂💕💕

Happy birthday! Hope you have a wonderful day! 🎉✨

Ohh!! 💜 Thank you so much, I--

wait

did you say. all my f/os

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE, CORTEX

[spacedace]

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

[yesthefandomfreakblr]

Ripred is not above being a sugar baby but he'd be a really shitty one.

[gladiatorcunt]

- # LEMON SUGAR !

flew like a moth to you (sunlight)

cw: weird pet play, reader has a vagina, large age gap (reader early 20’s & logan is…. not), HEAVY PISS KINK, dirty yucky icky gross vibes, xmen 2 coded logan, dad (father figure) bf talk and behaviors (old man, kiddo, dad, essentially lifestyle dom-ing you) anal plug mention, praise kink but one usage of ‘bitch’ and ‘toilet’, reference to a canon scene with jean but in this au she was just clowning on him as a friend, scogan crumbs, mentally ill & unhinged!reader, self objectification/dehumanization (?), reader: “i wish a/b/o was real :(”, pt.2 to . bc the dynamic might be confusing, implied unaware mutant!reader

do not copy, translate, or feed this work to ai

1k event. / please consider commissioning me

Logan doesn’t slap his tip against your cheek more than a quick initial love tap (if a tight awkward handshake from a man decades older than you was a sexual act) but he loves to force your head against his crotch and really massage it into your skin. His other hand holds his dick like he’s aiming to piss, a slight scowl twisting his lips because he’s trying to concentrate. His cigar hangs out of his mouth and his bulky hips swivel as he grinds his precum into your face, cheeks, around your eyes, lips, check check check.

He doesn’t even necessarily want you to suck him off that bad and he’s not even trying to cum. orgasming is a slower pursuit for him these days anyway. He just wants to dirty his puppy up a little, enrichment and whatever the fuck. Maybe you can make a game of trying to catch the salty droplets on your tongue, see if you can spot them when they’re about to gush out and trickle down.

An activity can both be a perverted parlor trick and a form of indulgent self care that trivial things like ice rollers or under eye patches couldn’t replace.

“There we go, atta puppy.” Logan chuckles and ruffles your hair when you manage to lick away a bead of precum before it can drip down out of your reach.

“Daddy, don’t tease. ‘m trying to focus, that’s rude.” You give him a good shake, smiling wildly.

You’re already drunk and loopy just huffing the pure musk emanating from his uncut cock. You hum as the salty tang of his juices taint your tastebuds, luxuriating in the aftertaste like you were chowing down on a dainty macarron. He doesn’t really believe in eating or drinking anything special to make his crotch and the things it produces taste better. You couldn’t be more happy about that, the whiskey sour twang riding on the flavor notes were much more preferable than some biblical concoction of milk and honey. If only it was more acidic, that way it could burn a hole through your tongue and your cervix. Marking you so thoroughly from the deepest parts of your soul, you’d always be empty and every pang of pain would call for the man that caused it to soothe your burns with his saliva.

Intimacy with Logan feels like you’re reconnecting in whatever version of the garden of Eden can exist on Earth. Why can’t it be here? With you on your knees so close to barking into the skin of your old man’s cock, a fancy cushion settled under you with little golden tassels hanging off the corners. You are always so willing to be the best you can be for him, but he’ll never allow your service to come at the price of individual pain. Your eyes flutter and you take one of your many breaks to plunge your nostrils into his thick bush.

Wooden and spicy, your favorite perfume that is undeniably raunchy yet sensuous and romantic. Natural. You never thought you could be so in love with how a man’s pubes smell, but you can’t say that you thought that any part of this would have become your life’s purpose in more ways than not. Logan chuckles and pats your cheek, enamored with how clearly you seem to be enjoying suffocating yourself in his groin. He sharply inhales through his nose when you move up to trail your tongue along his happy trail, lapping at the thinner hairs because you adore each one just as much as every part of him.

“Bet you wish you could live off my dick, don’t ya, bunny?”

Of course you nod and moan as you let yourself be pulled back to where you’re supposed to be, the mothership calls you home and you answer happily with your phantom tail wagging all the way.

You pant, digging your nose bridge into the crease where his hip bleeds into his inner thigh, “Mmfh- hah… tastes good, Daddy. I could die here…”

You wanted to cut your voice break of ‘Daddy’ short, but you haven’t arrived at that particular station in your subconscious to shed your skin entirely. You’re having trouble forming a coherent line of thought and finishing your sentences now, but you feel sheepish about how easily he can box you into going nonverbal, so you clamor to stay afloat.

You forget that Logan knows your game by now, every step and caveat and every miniscule and complicated rule. It’s cute how you’re still ashamed of letting your dear old dad see you in all of your bunny-puppy-deer-kitty pet glory, when he clocked that shit the minute your shaky eyes fixated on his truck’s glove box rather than make a second of eye contact with him. You’re fucked up, there’s something fractured deeper in you that you keep under a diary shaped lock and key, but all these jagged edges have bows teetering on their precipices.

You’ve let him put them there, with a fond eyeroll and heaps of head pats. Thank your lucky stars that there’s something fucked up with his psyche too, buried under all his other baggage, because that first ride home with you didn’t end in tears and your nipples caught in his canines. You got to be a bunny settling down in their deserved cozy den instead of a rabbit relying on their prey instincts to throw the predator chasing them off their twitching fuzzy cotton tail.

You don’t get to hide and shrink in yourself. Not when the curled up needy angel hidden under the layers of you makes his jaw ache so ferociously that it’s borderline bestial.

Baby, you’ve gotta know that if he could, he’d pick you up with his teeth by your scruff so your feet would never have to touch the ground and grow ripe with callouses.

He takes a puff from his cigar and shakes the excess ash over your shoulder, out of your view because he also knows that you’d try to swallow the unhealthy specks down too. It’s a constant thing on his mind, the never ending job of pulling your leash enough to wean you off of engulfing whatever weird shit into your mouth you can see out of the corner of your eye. And if it comes from him or was in contact with him? Hell, the stuff might as well be damn catnip to you.

He thinks he feels the same way about you, that’s what he gets for being stupid enough to have an inch of his heart unguarded. You found a way and wormed your way through his arteries, and now he’d rather go sober cold turkey than let you squirm away. Which is what you try to do by pulling back and settling soft hands on his hairy and beefy thighs.

He’s got you hook, line, and sinker when he clasps a burly hand around the base of his thick cock in the poor imitation of a knot. He even squeezes in short pulses, bringing to mind what it would look like swelling up and pumping you full of potent cum. Breeding you with all the love of a man who wants more of you in the world because that might make him believe in it again. He wags his length in his hand to you, wordlessly offering you your favorite snack because you’ve been so very good for your old man.

“Come on, hun, want your treat? I know my puppy wants this big dick in their cute fuckin’ mouth.” He grumbles, stubbing his cigar out on his arms without even flinching or gritting his teeth and tossing it on the floor.

The burn’s already healed by the time you’ve gotten yourself and obediently let your tongue hang out of your mouth. He grunts, pleased, and dabs his sticky tip on the center of your tongue. It gives you the taste you crave while simultaneously depriving you of having your mouth filled like you desperately need to be able to get through the day.

You whine, Logan’s lips split on a wry smile but he doesn’t laugh this time. Nah, he’s too busy feeding his throbbing cock into your mouth, cutting off your whining and reducing a thunderous sound to a muffled crack of lightning.

“Theeeeeeeeere we go, kiddo, relax.” He says a few inches in, because your gag reflex is already tickling the back of your throat.

You breathe through your nose and distract yourself by playing with the hairs on his legs, drawing little hearts and stars as you take more of his length. Tears well up in your pitiful eyes but you brave through it. They eventually bubble over as your lips are forced to stretch, but Logan’s rough thumb dutifully wipes them away just like how you’d attentively cleaned his tip.

His head falls back with a slight crack and his sweaty pecs heave, “Drank a whole lot for you today, ‘m all nice and backed up just waitin’ for a pretty lil’ thing to relieve myself with.”

Suddenly you’re a bunny hopping off on a mission, no god could pull you off of Logan’s musky cock as you swallow around him. You don’t really feel like bobbing your head and humming today, you’re tuckered out from how late he kept you up late last night. He’s not going to just fuck your mouth without being asked, as much as he cares about you, you’re impossibly cute when you’re forced to do the tiniest bit of work.

If your mouth wasn’t so stuffed full of dick you’d pout, and the raised eyebrow Logan gives you means he knows that. You’re a good pet though, so you work yourself off of his length, take a deep breath, and immediately slide back down to the hilt. His full balls press against your chin and you rub the heavy sacks with both hands.

“Oh, fuck.” Logan groans, his fingernails dig into your scalp like he’s the one that needs to stay grounded. “Your gonna make your old man jizz his pants too quick if you keep fuckin’ playin’ with my balls like that.”

You don’t mind that at all, but there's still something else you’re after. You didn’t think much of how many bottles of water and glasses of alcohol he had thrown back today, maybe it was some sort of mutant thing that you just didn’t understand. Super dehydration or whatever, but the fact that he had been preparing a little surprise for his piss thirsty puppy made you want to give him your bloody heart right out of your chest.

His moans and growled promises of rewards and declarations of the rawest form of love a person could feel fade into the background. You hollow your cheeks and go for gold, wet ‘schlop!’-ing sounds bounce off the walls as you fuck your throat with his girthy cock. Not the longest in the world, another one of your blessings (you’ve heard mutterings about mission showers and some guy that shoots lasers out of his eyes taking that prize), but the way it fills up the space in your mouth to the point it could burst gives your clit tachycardia.

“Yeah, fuck, are you ready to drink up, bitch? ‘m gonna use you like a toilet, gonna cum too- god fuckin’ damn-”

You give his balls a solid squeeze as the golden shower pours down your throat and past the seam of your lips to the floor. You don’t stop your ministrations, you actually speed up your pace and bring your wrists into it. Your hands bumping against his imitation knot-hand as you move them in circles, jacking him off while your plush lips glide up and down his cock.

You’re rubbing your pussy against the cushion, it has corduroy buttons that send a tingle down your spine when they catch your clit. The emerald green fabric drags and moves as you hump it while you put your all into making your dad-boyfriend-everything cum. You’re outright bouncing his heavy balls in your hands now, they’re so full you know that one load isn’t going to be nearly enough. So you tell yourself to lock in and hum, sending vibrations down his dick.

Determined puppies get extra treats, and you’ve never gone without them. So you push yourself to make eye contact, flicking your eyes up to stare at Logan as you ruin your own throat via his dick like it was nothing more than your toy. You think it’s the sheer and essentially licentious mannerisms and the glaringly obvious truth that there are men who are not immune to watching a pretty pet posturize themselves on an altar of their own making just to paw at their owner’s legs.

“My baby bunny, too damn sweet to me, yessssss-” His mouth wrenches up almost in pain as he clings to the back of your head and pounds your throat on his own for the next minute.

“Drink it all up, let me feel you swallow it down f’r me.”

You purposefully yank yourself off of his mid stream and duck down to bob his balls on your tongue, lathering them in that pungent scent. You rotate your wrist around his tip, coaxing him to empty everything he has in him and give it all to you. Your hand becomes just as scent marked as his balls and the divots in your collarbone where drops of his piss and cum are forming tiny pools.

He groans at the sight, “Doing so fuckin’ well, collectin’ Daddy’s juices and hoardin’ ‘em all for yourself.”

Your mouth envelops his twitch dick once more, most of what Logan keeps cooped up for you belongs in your growling tummy.

“You better not hiss at me when I have to wash your mouth out later, baby.”

Thus, your perfect record remains intact, you beam around his still hard dick as you float in a starless sea of white and yellow. A coat rack for cock fulfilling its duties.

His piss isn’t too orange-y, you’re glad you don’t have to nag him about cutting back on the booze this time.

Sadly there’s no blood sticking to your scalp from his nails, but you embrace the sting their indents leave behind. They’re almost as breathtaking as the plug buried in your ass, Dad always likes to keep your holes stretched out and ready.

—————————————————————————

“Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan. They don’t bring him home. They marry the good guy.”

With you, he was that good guy. Whatever it meant to be one after all these years and invisible scars. It’s indescribable, how much meaning you can find in having to gain the strength to take care of someone else completely. Be their Atlas and shoulder the world so they can waltz around you, their wings spread wide. He’s glad, deep down, that your wings don’t extend past the small house he’s stuffed you in.

Logan Howlett deserves a nice thing or two every once in a while, and he already got a bottle of scotch from Scott. Fucker thinks he’s so clever. You’d do just fine being the second nice thing. A shame that the nicest thing you probably have is that slick stained cushion, he’s not anybody to write home about. But you seem to have stitched your sides together when he wasn’t looking, sewn your identity into his until you had emotionally fused into one being.

It happened way too fast and when he thought he wasn’t meant for loving a little pup like you, but he’s tired of being some old grump about it. You’d probably snap and try to beat him to a pulp with the bats he keeps in the closet (for you to use in emergencies since you don’t leave), and he’d have to hunt you down through the

Anything else other than you meant about as much to him as a pile of cigarette butts.

And some time later when the dam bursts for the first time and you’re trying not to fall off that cliff, sisyphus-esque struggling through recurring hoarse sobs because Logan is uncomfortably stroking your back gently as if you were a person and not a corpse, you’ll start to feel the molten hot gold seeping in and filling the cracks.

Maybe one day you can tell him about the v-shaped scars on your back, the ones that look like they were created when something was ripped away from you. They’re slanted craters, almost, hard material resembling bone jutting out from your back. Hooks lacking their ornaments.

Hell snatch up your old fashioned grocery list (written with an almost completely dried out ink pen from the bank on a flimsy college ruled sheet of paper) and make a quick run while you heal more than just your body, submerged in another acid trip of a dream.

You wanted to make a lemon cake before the summer ended, it’s always been your favorite.

[httpvomitello]

Helloooo, can I request something for the 2018 turtles (ROTTMNT)? The reader arrives with the guys to show them the softshell turtle they got as a gift at a school science fair. Since they're not very sure how to take care of it, they go to the guys for help. And the turtle... it looks just like the one from The Amazing World of Gumball. I just think it would be fun to see the turtles (especially Donnie) interacting with the evil turtle haha 😭

OMG NOT THAT FREAKING TURTLE 😭😭 When I learned that Donnie is a softshell turtle, my mind immediately went to that turtle from Gumball. Like... Seriously??? That turtle is the reincarnation of evil, that's for sure. Anyways ~ i hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Leo is so pumped when you show up with a turtle

He’s already imagining the epic sibling turtle bonding he’ll all have, and he’s definitely scheming ways to turn your new buddy into his own personal sidekick

But as he leans in to get a better look, he catches the turtle giving him a super intense, villainous stare

"Uh, why is he looking at me like that?" Leo laughs nervously, tapping the glass of its little tank

The turtle does not break eye contact

In fact, it somehow looks like it’s plotting something

After a long, intense staring contest (which Leo loses), Leo's more hyped than ever

“Oh, we’re keeping him. This little guy’s got edge.”

He decides to call it something like "Sidekick Jr", and he tries to train it to glare on command, thinking it’ll be perfect to bring it to battle with him

Obviously you don't let that happen.

Raph’s eyebrows shoot up the second he sees the turtle

“Whoa. That turtle is… cute.”

Lying is not Raph's focus

He is all in for helping you take care of it

But as soon as he leans in, the turtle levels him with a stare so intense that Raph is slightly taken aback

“This guy looks like he could plan a heist,” he jokes, but he’s half-serious

He’s convinced the turtle has some secret agenda and will not let it out of his sight

Raph takes pride in helping you build a “fortified tank” to protect it from any “potential escape attempts.”

He even draws up “exercise drills” to help it “build character.”

He ends up calling it something like “Lil’ Warrior”

The turtle's name is Bob

And he spends a suspicious amount of time training it to recognize commands, because “A turtle like this needs discipline.”

Donnie’s reaction is extreme caution

Like... wtf? How is this turtle so ugly?

(He completely forgot that he is also a softshell turtle)

He’s thrilled you came to him about turtle care, especially because this guy is a fellow softshell

But then he notices the turtle’s… ominous glare

For the next ten minutes, Donnie just stares back, analyzing every detail

The turtle doesn’t blink

It feels like a showdown

"This isn’t just any turtle, you know," he mutters, more to himself

He immediately runs diagnostics on it, pulling out his tools to test its temperament and intelligence level, just in case

Donnie takes the turtle care seriously, sets up the perfect tank, gets the optimal UV lamp, and is constantly researching enrichment activities, but he still doesn’t entirely trust it

You catch him putting up tiny lasers around the tank "just in case."

And he insists on renaming it something like “Professor Menace” because, in his words

“Look at that face—he’s clearly up to something.”

Mikey’s reaction is pure delight. “Aw! Look at the lil’ guy!”

He immediately wants to hold it, but as soon as he picks it up, the turtle gives him a side-eye that could curdle milk

Yes, the turtle is judging Michelangelo

He tries everything

Offering lettuce, sweet-talking it, giving it little pets, but the turtle just stares, expression unreadable but somehow… sinister

“Why does he keep looking at me like that?” Mikey wonders, confused but determined to win the turtle’s affection

He’s convinced it just needs a bit of “good vibes,” so he tries playing calming music, talking to it about his day, and even painting a little flower on the tank

Despite the turtle’s apparent indifference

(And slightly ominous glare)

Mikey’s convinced they’re best friends

He starts calling it “Lil’ Grump,” swearing it’ll warm up eventually.

[campredwood-if]

genres: Cosmic horror, thriller, semi-romance

CALLING ALL LEADERS!

We are very excited to invite you to CAMP RED WOOD! A summer home-away-from home where you'll find plenty of opportunity to learn outdoor skills and form friendships with an amazing cast of people!

Please find attached the application form to join our Camp Counselor team!

Camp Red Wood is a Lovecraftian horror based Interactive Fiction, based upon the Delta Green TTRPG system. You will take the role of a Camp Counselor for the next two weeks, helping not only to entertain a flock of bored children, but also keeping them all sane and alive for the summer! All while keeping your own sanity too, and maybe- just maybe- you'll figure out what is really happening at Red Wood Point Park.

FEATURES

Create your own Camp Counselor; customisation varies from appearance, gender, pronouns and personality; to skills, camp background and counselor role!

Interact with a cast of character, form friendships over your short summer, and maybe even fall in love!

Face the horrors!

YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE

Discover the mysteries of the bay and participate in camp activities!

Die.

ROMANTIC OPTIONS

Drew Winters

HEAD CAMP COUNSELOR

19 . Sagittarius . 5'3

Drew is a young, compassionate and determined lady. With rusty brunette hair, plaited down the side and often draped over her shoulder, she give of the air of someone meant to take the lead. She works well with the campers, creating a fun and enthusiastic atmosphere that we value for a Head Counselor.

Though we've observed that she often has issue with a few of her fellow leaders to the point of conflict, this has yet to be proven detrimental to her ability as Head Counselor.

Tobias "Tobey" Oak

ARTS AND CRAFT-TICIAN

18 . Cancer . 5'9

Tobey is a young, enthusiastic and amenable man. With dirty blonde hair, dyed green with chlorine from his time often in the water. Frizzy and untamed. He is returning for his second year as a leader. Though this time, taking the role of our Craft-tician rather than the Water Sports counselor position he had last year. Tobey is known to be liked by the campers, creating a personal and warm environment that we expect from a Leader.

Though, the boy is known to be quite distracted, and we suspect he is often under influence of cannabis, which we do not endorse, nor encourage.

Joem Masri

HIKING AND SURVIVAL SPECIALIST

17 . Virgo . 5'6

Joem is a new addition to our cast. A carefree, though quiet young man. With dark, silky hair he often has half tied back in a small pony-tail or bun. He has applied for the Hiking and Survival Specialist counselor position, with experience with rock-climbing, abseiling and quite the enthusiasm for our native flora.

For now, we'll just have to wait and see how he is with the campers.

Unfortunately this is, however, his first experience in a leadership position, and it is unclear how he will handle the role with the younger campers.

AND SIX MORE TO COME!

Join us for these two weeks, or one night, and experience enriching opportunities you wouldn't find anywhere else!

* The email is real, send through your application!

[rungssparemodelpieces]

Enrichment

Takes place in @tinydefector Merformers AU either as a side story or separate continuity! Thank you for the inspiration!

The scent of salty brine filled the air as it was just another quiet day at the marine centre. With few eyes to observe the Oceanides at the center, be it for research or recreationally, a pair of blue eyes decided to take up the mantel as Rung observed the few humans that were wandering around, finding their interactions quite assuming as he liked to compare how similar their behaviors were to Oceanides. He liked watching people and would sometimes try to mimic some of their mannerisms such as a hand wave or a grin though these have been met with mixed results or confusion from the caretakers feeding or observing him. He knew from experience furrowed brows weren’t a good sign but he was still trying to learn how to at least communicate back in a way they could understand.

With Rung being an older Mer, he would stay back more at the center, balancing the solace he got in his alcove with hunting and interacting with his pod. Though he didn’t seem like the most active member, he did show a habit of decorating his area with an odd array of trinkets, some assumed to be from previous hunts such as large and unknown bones or manmade items like used car parts or toys that were either lost or dumped into the ocean. The marine centre has tried to remove or replace the pollutants but Rung has been rather shown to have an attachment towards these items. To counteract this, you were instructed to work on finding other items for him to collect and display that were found in his natural environment.

It was enrichment, or so that’s what Dr. Quin called it and for an Oceanides so old, it was a good way to keep his skills sharp and to give him exercise while staying around the area. When Rung went out hunting with his pod, you would dive in and scatter these trinkets for him to find. You’ve even buried or hid a few to see if he could find them and problem solving how to get them out. Rung seems excited to find new treasures for his trove, chirping and showing you when he found one before going back for more.

This arrangement has been your personal project for months as others focused more on the lone baby and the next generation of Oceanides. So far you’ve found success with shells, bones, coral, and oddly shaped rocks but it seemed as of recent, he was struggling to find items that were near him or even in plain sight, feeling around until he eventually found the object in question. In light of this new problem, you’ve been taking the day to observe him, wondering what you could do to help his decline in his quality of life here.

It seemed the answer was closer than you speculated as while adjusting some rocks around Rung’s sleeping area, a small splash caught his attention as he saw a strange piece of plastic flutter down, swimming over cautiously as the object hit the sandy floor with a poof. Once the sand settled, he noticed the item was an odd contraption he noticed some humans wore on their faces, perhaps to assist with their vision or to distinguish one from another.

Carefully, Rung picked up the glasses and out of curiosity, placed them on his face. It took a few tries as the sides of the frame poked at his gills but eventually, he was able to place them comfortably on his face. Looking through the clear glass, it became very apparent to him that the theory this device helped with vision was correct as he looked around, seeming the lagoon around him in better detail.

The stones and shells that lined the sand became more defined and he was able to notice more of the colorful details the small fish that fluttered in and out displayed. With this realization, Rung started to happily swim around and look around the lagoon with a new, clearer perspective.

~~

Meanwhile, you were helping an intern at the marine centre pick up some papers as she bumped into you, barely able to see over their own papers. The fledgling intern, Donna, squinted hard as she tried to find all the notes that had scattered in the collision.

“Is something wrong?” You asked as she seemed to be panicked, scrambling to find something more important than her notes.

“I- I can’t find my glasses,” Donna muttered as she tried her best to find them, her searching more erratic before she turned towards the open water, fear clear on her face, “I think- I think they might have fallen in when I bumped into you.”

You gave her a pat on the shoulder in an attempt to reassure her there was nothing to worry about. “It’ll be fine, we can get them back, Shrimp’s easy going and won’t mind if we pop in to retrieve them.”

With that, you leaned over the railing briefly, trying to get a hint of where Shrimp was before noting the flash of orange and white darting the water below, deciding to call out to him to see if he would respond or if he was in distress.

“Shrimp!” With the call of his name, Rung poked his head out of the water, his blue eyes appearing much larger due to the glasses he was wearing. A small chuckle escaped your lips as you called him over, finding the image quite humorous.

“It seems Shrimp decided to try on your glasses,” you commented to Donna before leaning down closer to Rung’e eye level, a bittersweet smile on their face as you held out your hand. “I’m sorry I have to ask but I need those glasses back.”

Rung dipped his head mostly in the water at this request, not wanting to lose this tool that he was just starting to enjoy. A rumble of his gills caused the water to ripple out around him as he pouted in disapproval.

“Look, I’ll ask Quin if we can find you another pair but Donna needs those back so she can see,” you asked him, the Mer still not relenting as a burb of bubbles left his mouth as if sighing.

“I promise I’ll get you another pair, you have my word.” A few moments later, he conceded, handing the glasses back before retreating under the water before you could thank him, obviously sad about returning the glasses but seemingly understood that Donna needed them back.

Returning the glasses, Donna thanked you before scurrying away, your focus returning to the lagoon for a brief moment before returning back to the facility proper.

~~

“You’re requesting glasses, is that correct?” Dr. Quin attempted to clarify as she looked at your request for numerous pairs of waterproof glasses. The request was odd, to say the least, but she wanted to hear you out first before making her decision.

“Yes,” you stated before explaining yourself, “Earlier today, Donna’s glasses ended up near Shrimp in the lagoon and looking the video feed from that time, it seemed he not only enjoy playing with them but benefited from wearing them. He was swimming around excitedly and interacting like he could fully see his environment! I think giving him the option to choose and wear some would help him greatly… and I did promise him I would give him another pair to wear.”

You rubbed your arm nervously, knowing it was a long shot, but seeing at least one Mer so happy, especially with priorities being with the future generations of Oceanides, it made you feel like you could at least help one in the long run, a minor victory on the road ahead.

“Then we better find him a pair that works,” Dr. Quin stated as she signed her name for approval, a hum in her voice before being cut off by a hug and thank you from you, a pat on the back signaling you to lighten up on the embrace, “And besides, I don’t want you to break a promise.”

Excited, you thanked her once more before starting the process of finding glasses that might fit an Oceanides more comfortably.

~~

Rung poked at the sand that lined the floor of the lagoon, prodding under the dark blur he assumed was a rock or perhaps an clam before he heard you call him by the nickname you gave him, curious as it wasn’t feeding time yet. Perhaps it was another medical check, especially given his age.

Either way, he swam to the surface to find you kneeling down by the shore, a strange box in hand and an excited look on your face. “Hey, Shrimp, remember that promise I made about the glasses? Well, I kept it,” you mused before handing him a pair, “I hope these work for you.”

Upon realizing what you had, Rung excitedly took the glasses, putting them on and… frowning it seemed these frames made his vision worse, taking them off as the blurriness hurt his head.

“Oh, it seems those don’t work for you,” he mused, offering a different pair to him, “I have a few pairs until we find the right ones for you.” Through some trial and error, it seemed he found the perfect pair, big blue orbs staring at you as he swished his tail happily, the air being filled with a few melodic hums of excitement.

Though through your eyes, Shrimp was excited to see clearly again, Rung was ecstatic that the first thing he saw clearly again was your face. The way that your hair clung around your face, the light crisp from the sea water, the smile on your lips, slightly chapped from working outside and in the water, it was all so incredible to him. You were incredible to him and it made him feel something, something deep and primal that stirred inside him as he trilled in thanks before diving back down to the depths. He was searching for something, something that would interest you, something that would show he had interest in you, and maybe, just maybe, be able to communicate what you mean to him.

[glitter-stained]

In which I am perfectly normal about the Todd Family

One thing I really really love about the Todds (their og post-crisis introduction, not the flying todds or whatever bs recent comics have pushed through) is how they challenge us to question not only our classist prejudice and the way it frames our judgment, but also the moral weight we put behind concepts of abuse, neglect or crime.

Look. The Todds weren't "good parents". Maybe they used to be, when he was little; but there was a point after which Willis Todd didn't take care of his son because he simply was not there, and Catherine didn't take care of little Jason, instead parentifying him and putting an extraordinary pressure onto him as her caregiver. They both criminally neglected Jason and Catherine's death under Jason's care must have been pretty traumatic, after which he found himself completely abandoned.

But what does it mean to be a good parent? Is it to be a good person who is also a parent? Is it to be good at parenting skills? Is it to not abuse or neglect your children and provide enrichment and a good environment to grow in? Is it to try your best with what you have, and hope it's enough? Willis became a criminal because he needed money to feed his family and that landed him in jail, unable to care for Jason. Catherine, whether she died of overdose due to her substance use disorder or cancer or ODed as an attempt to self-medicate the cancer pains with heroin, was unable to care for Jason because of an illness (in the US, which has a horrifying medical system which is systematically violent to everyone but the ultra-rich) and had to rely on him for caregiving until her death. Does that mean they were bad people? Bad parents? Was Catherine a bad mom who tried her best, a good mom in an impossible situation, a good person who was neglectful and/or abusive but never wished to be? Does the concept of good parenting even make sense? Here's a secret about abuse: abusive parents very rarely wish to be. They often don't consider themselves so, explain their actions with justifications regarding their intent to give their child the weapons for a better life, or explain away the responsibility. But they're not wrong: if you're raised in a culture that tells you that beating your children is the way to help them get a better future, it's justified to blame and criticise the culture that told you this, and can you really be called a bad parent when you were only trying to help? Neglect is more frequent amongst the working class, and that statistics is neither a moral judgement nor a classist stereotype: it's merely the logical consequence of a system that fabricates scarcity. Of course you're not gonna feed your child if you don't have the money to feed them -and if you need to feed them and steal the money (or earn it by working as a gangster) to do so, it's a crime, and then you get caught and get sent to jail and can't feed your child anymore. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Jason, upon his introduction, is a stereotypical "bad boy", a young criminal, who steals and doesn't go to school. And tiny baby Jason, from his twelve years and three apple tall, sneers in the face of anticipated moral judgement and says fuck that you don't get to say that, I'm only doing what I need to survive and there's nothing wrong with it, I didn't have any other option that wasn't degrading and dehumanizing. And this is why I like Batman #408 so much: this character, who is so young and funny and cute and goddamn sweet, is introduced committing a crime against Batman; as an alternative to doing crime, Bruce puts him in a school/group home that teaches its students to do crime. How perfectly cool that is as an origin story? It's a literal school that makes criminals (and punishes you violently when you refuse to comply). Bruce was completely well-intentioned, he just wanted to help a wayward child, but when the system itself is fucked up, when the system is actively trying to produce crime, what option does Jason have but to escape again, and go right back to committing the same literal crime? And of course, Jason's trust in Batman-the system-the adults- is broken, to the point where he doesn't expect Batman to believe him and intervenes at the robbery himself.

So is Jason a criminal? Are the Todds neglectful? Yes. Does that make him a bad kid? Does that make them bad people? What about bad parents? How much easier is it to be a good parent, when you have the money to do so?

Anyway I love the Todd family I love the themes and critique they pose I love Ma'Gunn both as Batman's foil and Jason's introductory antagonist I wish Jason's Robin Run carried on exploring these themes I love you Catherine and Willis and Jason Todd I love you Batman #408.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

The wildest thing about the whole Moo Deng situation to me is (and of course I make this about cetaceans) the insistence that everything here is fine, there’s no mishandling, Moo Deng is a spoiled princess, how dare you accuse her knowledgeable zookeepers of being anything less than perfect… by the same people who decry any and all cetacean captivity as horrific abuse.

Moo Deng getting her bum smacked is cute but an actually cute video of a dolphin playing in an aquarium is abusive. A random zoo guest is to be trusted when they say Moo Deng’s zoo is great (and to be clear I don’t know enough about this zoo to make a judgement call, all zoos have issues), but someone who’s actually worked at SeaWorld is either a liar or delusional (actual comment I received) when they say that no actually, their animals are not abused.

Yep all of this!

Honestly there seems to be a whole range of people on the defensive- from people who just like the zoo to people who made Moo Deng meme their whole personality.

I have to say it’s been really really weird actively criticising a zoo when I’m usually defending them.

But at this point my thesis of the original post is on full display. That groupthink plays a role in perception of animal welfare and people will pick the side that makes them feel the most comfortable.

For whatever reason people want to believe that a baby Pygmy hippo needs to get regularly grabbed, poked, chased and harassed because that’s what this one guy does and he has experience doing it so it’s fine?

But some of those same people saw a documentary once and decided that they know more than people with hundreds of years of combined experience with orca husbandry and care.

The people that are accepting of a challenge to that perception are willing to accept some discomfort because they’re more concerned about welfare.

When that reddit post came out (with experience including: goes to the zoo, maybe knows some history of the keeper?) it was immediately snatched up and ran with.

Since then I’ve seen the same comment of “net zero information” multiple times, the same accusations of racism and the same lines of “he’s so experienced he knows what he’s doing”, “the mum’s fine with it” and “it’s desensitisation” (that one hurts to read every time ngl

It’s like they just are copy and pasting someone else’s thoughts. Just parroting it verbatim without any sort of thought.

Not a single question asked about how this person knows this information, no demanding of qualifications or where they work… just happy acceptance of information that allows them to continue to enjoy their meme.

it’s wild to see the notes popping up in my notifications of “but he’s so experienced! He has so much training!” About this one zoo keeper that has multiple videos of him deliberately sneaking up on his animals, hitting them and blasting them with a hose.

Like damn I wish people would go to bat so hard for zookeepers all the time. Except maybe the ones that don’t harass their animals for clout?

Of course it’s kind of hilarious watching this unfold as a former dolphin trainer that regularly was called an abuser for… let’s see… training dolphins with positive reinforcement in the ocean.

Is it the intelligence thing? Do people think Pygmy hippos are too dumb to need enrichment and decent habitats? Or that because this guy raised hippos before he is completely incapable of making a mistake or using outdated practises?

I had someone genuinely saying that Pygmy hippos “just behave differently” to other animals. As if a fight or flight response behaviour looks totally different in this specific species of animal.

As if they are not ungulates who are herbivores and do absolutely get predated upon and are not immune to the stress response or somehow is incapable of feeling a smack that they very clearly startle from.

Idk the mental gymnastics people are doing to justify shitty animal husbandry must be exhausting.

[pokemonshelterstories]

I understand that gyarados are extremely high-needs pokemon that require a ton of resources, training, and enrichment, but they still seem like such cool pokemkn to me that I always find myself kinda wishing I could care for one even though I'm not cut out for it lmao

Anyway, I was going to ask if you had any fun facts about the evolution line to share? Learning weird facts is my way of coping with how many pokemon I'll never have the chance to meet lol

I understand you probably don't have a lot of interaction with them though, given you mostly work in a shelter

i have had the pleasure of meeting with the cascarrafa aquarium's gyarados keeper a couple of times and getting to meet the gyarados he trains! part of my preparation for my dragon handler's license was learning about non-dragon types that often get grouped in with the dragons. they really are incredible pokemon.

gyarados are what you get when one of the world's hardiest pokemon evolves into a tremendous pokemon capable of surviving treacherous environments. unfortunately, due to the way this changes electrical patterns in their brain, evolution also causes them to become extremely aggressive. because they're able to handle environments unfit for many other pokemon, they aren't particularly cautious about maintaining the integrity of their territory, which contributes to their ability to completely devastate the area around them during an aggressive fit (often called a "rampage"). these rampages are difficult to control, and a lot of gyarados training is focused on giving them the proper outlets for their energy without encouraging them to get worked up or to feed into that aggressive tendency. the keeper i met with has specially reinforced pokeballs as well as potent tranquilizer on hand in the event of an emergency. in the wild, these rampages have been known to occur in clusters of activity lasting as long as a month, but thankfully good management and training goes a long way to preventing them.

i'm particularly fascinated by their powerful jaws, which are often seen gaping open as they swim or fly. gyarados have both lungs and gills, and they can push several hundred thousand gallons of water an hour through their mouth and over their gills while swimming. their bite force has been recorded at an incredible 22,000 psi!

[illubean]

ooo idea for the unaligned experiment!reader (same guys as last time)

so reader gets bored during a job and wanders off once they know their favorite free meal human isn't going to die or something.

they go outside and find a stray cat, and when their favorite human comes to find them reader unprompted says "you're like this cat to me. you'll die before me and you'd be easy to kill, but I don't speed up that process because i like the fuzzy feelings you both give me. plus you're both kinda cute. :3"

like that's kinda just reader's usual rambling but it does cement that:

reader's actively thought about how easy it'd be to kill him

they don't do that because they (on some level) like being around him at this point

they're consciously aware they'll outlive him

they think he's cute

Also possible angst/comfort at the thought they've gotten bored and left him. also the reminder that reader's fully willing to wander off without him if they're not provided enrichment, but then they find out they consciously decided to stay where they could be found because they (on some level) grew to like him.

Unaligned!OP!Reader pt. 2

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

Couldn't really think of a hurt/comfort aspect because of these characters' personalities...

Warnings: mentions of death, a little angsty? idk

Illumi Zoldyck

Illumi of course already knows that you could easily take him out

it's why he kept you around in the first place

he originally only kept you around as some sort of Zoldyck super weapon

but YOU are beginning to develop FEELINGS? for HIM???

he probs just uses that to his advantage tbh

Illumi is worried when you wander off though, because what if someone else finds you and you take a liking to them? what if you leave him?

he doesn't care all that much about it from an emotional standpoint but he can't afford to lose such a valuable weapon

so he would accept your affections if it meant keeping you under wraps

you're willing to do whatever he tells you if it means keeping him around

since you don't really want him to die soon you're quick to attack anything or anyone he asks you to

even if you don't completely understand your emotions and even if it's one sided, you decide to stick around

you couldn't have your favorite human be lonely, could you?

Chrollo Lucilfer

he lets out an amused chuckle at your revelation

he too often thinks about his own mortality and that of others

so he's not as put off by your comment as he should be

"Maybe you're a lot more human than you think you are."

and his statement offers you some peace of mind

even though your immortal and were quite literally created to be a ruthless killing machine it felt good to know that you could actually experience human emotions

after this you are a lot more willing to express your affinity for him, weather physically or verbally

and you don't wander off as often as you used to

you still don't really grasp the concept of love but Chrollo understands what you mean

since you know you'll outlive him you become very protective over him

you decided it's better to keep him around as long as possible

so...I guess Chrollo did kind of get what he wanted

you were like his personal guard...dog? demon? idk you were his guard something

I'm not sure he would develop any sort of romantic feelings for you (at least not very quickly) but he does care for you to an extent

he doesn't have to worry much about losing you since yk you CANT DIE

but he does like seeing you happy :))

Feitan Portor

he's not sure how he feels about being compared to a cat

normally he would be offended but his brain skips over all the morbid parts and is like wait did they just call me CUTE!?

HIM? CUTE? HE IS A KILLER

he's mildy flustered by this but he plays it off as annoyance

but also he's offended that you think he's so weak

he knows he technically can't beat you because you're immortal but like...give him some credit

it wouldn't bee THAT easy to kill him

he could give you a run for your money

he probably just scoffs and tells you to shut up before walking away

even when you do wander you still end up finding and following him in the end

Feitan would never admit it but he enjoys having you around <3

[allister-the-procrastigator]

Heyaa mod Duck here again 😼

This blog is almost COMPLETELY based on headcanons besides the info given on the official character card ☝️so please respect that I cannot be canon adjacent

Allister is liiike.. 15-16 I would say ☝️

Allister Gator is the slacker of the Nightmare Critters. He possesses a laid-back attitude and is often coerced by his friends to participate in activities, but he lacks drive and ambition. If given the chance, he would happily loaf off in a body of water and do nothing productive for a full 24 hours. He is a firm and devout believer of the philosophy: "Good things come to those who wait". The only time Allister puts effort into something is if his friends actively force him to.

WARNINGS:

This blog may contain cursing and heavy topics such as Violence, sensitive topics, and stuff simular to that. Mod is a Minor, so sexual topics will be kept to a minimum 🫵

Role-playing and symbols:

"This is Allister. Hi."

[This is actions and/or thoughts!]

and this is how I'll speak through text! though I mostly speak in the tags

other SC blogs:

@the-cool-chicken

@the-crafty-unicorn

@bubba-bubbaphant

@picky-piggy

@hoppyhopscotch1

@acat-foryournap

@bobbybearhugs-blog

@dogday-shines-bright

@bearhugs-from-bobby

@the-cat-that-naps

@bubbabubbaphant-blog

@baba-chops-emo-sheep

@simon-the-dragon

@rabie-baby-bat

@poe-the-crow

@chocosharksnack

GO FOLLOW THEM!!

Plus my other blog: @that-sunny-pup

ART:

current status: also reviving!! you can send asks again

headcanons under the cut:

The other critters sometimes call him Alli as a nickname

His favorite cartoon show is the wildkratts,, he would 100% just float on his back in the water with an IPad and just binge all of it

I cannot imagine him with a girl so. gay🫵 Allister Gator? more like Allister Gaytor

very protective of his fellow nightmare critters. The smiling critters on the other hand, he couldn't give less a shit about.

Nature enjoyer

ADHD

Actually just a chill guy but he can be an asshole when he wants to be

He hoards random junk and throws it into his pond for enrichment

he can and WILL beat your ass at ANY videogame

quite naturally strong (as a Gator character probably would be) he just doesn't show it off

He is narcoleptic, meaning he is constantly very tired throughout the day no matter how much rest he's gotten

The scent of sandalwood is used traditionally to relieve stress and anxiety, so I like to think the other nightmare critters like to hang out with him when they're stressed

[list will be updated as I come up with more]

[the-adventures-of-dave]

I feel like I should clarify bc this is tumblr- I do entertain Kepler more than with just fetch and backyard time. Sometimes that’s all I can manage in a day, but we’ll do other activities too (puzzle feeders, interactive toys, hikes, “scavenger hunts”, etc). He still gets into things on occasion, and if I don’t play with him enough he’ll start bothering Dave, but because of his high energy he is thankfully incredibly easy to entertain. Everything is a toy to him, it’s great.

Bengals are high energy and require a differnt approach than domestic shorthairs, but it rubs me the wrong way to see people suggest that you shouldn’t get a bengal (or siamese, or osh) because of their high energy. The energy level was a selling point to me because I wanted a hiking buddy, and I don’t really think it’s very productive to tell people they shouldn’t get a pet because of the attention they might require. People get border collies and huskies for the same reason, so what’s wrong with a bengal or siamese? It’s definitely important to let people know that bengals are high energy and require more attention than some pets, but they aren’t going to burn down your house if you don’t give them hours of wand-toy play sessions each day. Enrichment for them doesn’t need to be something that is draining to you, and you don’t need to be on call for entertaining your cat 24/7, either.

I have depression. I also work full time. Sometimes it’s all I can do to drag myself to work, then climb back into bed as soon as I’m done. And you know what? Kepler is fine.

[finisnihil]

Do you have any jingluo rambles or headcanons :3

I'd like to know more ☺️

Oh hi thanks for the ask! I don't typically talk about my more fanon ideas because I usually like to do analysis/theories of the canon material, so most of the time I write my headcanons and stuff into my fics or whatnot but! I'm totally happy to talk about some of them!

-More so a theory I'll die on the hill of but I do think Luocha is an Emanator, I have a post explaining my evidence here! It's not the most fleshed out because it was one of my first posts on here but yeah!

-One of my big Luocha headcanons is the flowers blooming out of his hair according to his emotions. He's considered an Abomination of Yaoshi, a term only really used for Mara-struck, and the Mara-struck typically have mutations of like ginkgo brances/leaves growing from their bodies. I think it'd make sense if Luocha also displayed Mara symptoms in his own weird way!

-I like to think Luocha can kinda "eat/digest" Mara. To me, Mara reads like a weird combination of rabies and chronic wasting disease. Vultures are a favorite bird of mine and they have extremely strong stomach acid, strong enough to digest rabies. They help manage the spread of rabies because of this and I can see Luocha's body functioning a similar way with Mara. Something percieved as scary or gross (Emanator of the Abundance/a scavenger that eats predominantly dead animals) but being essential to the managing of a healthy ecosystem because they perform a thankless task.

-Jing Yuan has crows feet. Even though the Xianzhou people don't really age past a certain point and their bodies stay that way no matter what (see: Dan Shu and her explanation of disabilities on the Xianzhou which is incredibly interesting) he is 721-ish years old and he smiles a lot. I think it'd be sweet to see evidence of that, that despite everything he still can smile so much it leaves little lines of joys in his face.

-Jing Yuan to me is more of an acts of service guy (His being General shows his love for the Luofu because taking care of its people is the ultimate act of service). I think Jingliu was also more of an acts of service person because to her fighting was all she lived for, for a while, so her showing love is wielding her sword for somebody (like wielding it against Baiheng to free her). I think that's a way Jing Yuan kinda embodies her yaknow? As for Luocha, he's more a quality time person. He's a traveler who doesn't really have anywhere permanent to call home so he likes to soak up as much time with the people he loves as he can before he's forced to move on again. He also likes receiving gifts because they're momentos of those people he can carry with him.

-I think Luocha would like to garden but he's never had a permanent place to do so, so when they get together he just takes over Jing Yuan's garden (which is suffering due to Jing Yuan's busy schedule) and rules it with an iron fist. The neighbors are jealous.

-I saw this post propose that Jing Yuan might be half Foxian and I really love that idea so that's something I like to chew on

-Both Luocha and Jing Yuan are strategic people and Luocha is one of the few people who have successfully outsmarted Jing Yuan so I imagine their enrichment is playing strategic games together. Western chess (my beloved), General's chess, Go, etc. I imagine Luocha is better at western chess and Jing Yuan at Go and General's chess, simply bc those were the games they were raised with.

-Luocha runs cold and Jing Yuan runs hot. Adding to that, if Luocha is an Emanator, he's probably stuck in this pseudo-death limbo so I imagine he's cooler to the touch. Meanwhile, Jing Yuan is very alive and pretty active, therefore warmer to the touch. Jing Yuan likes to nap resting on Luocha because it's like having a cool pillow and Luocha likes it because Warm. He would also like to tease Jing Yuan by putting his cold hands on the back of his neck or something and make Jing Yuan jump due to not expecting it.

-Being General is a demanding and exhausting job. I can imagine Jing Yuan doesn't really spend a lot of time on self-care in that aspect. He has a planet-ship to run after all so he probably doesn't care too much about what shampoo or soap he uses. Luocha is appalled and uses his connections as a merchant to acquire quality stuff (some of which is better for foxian hair types) to systematically switch out when Jing Yuan isn't paying attention. Jing Yuan obviously notices but he doesn't particularly care, later noticing his skin is less dry and his hair is way softer and healthier.

-Jing Yuan can cook but it's a 50/50 on if it actually ends up eatable. His job can be tiring and I imagine sometimes he's just too dead tired to stay awake and the food burns or whatever. After him and Luocha get together, Luocha will cook or he'll check on the food for him.

-I've been pinging around the idea of Jing Yuan having narcolepsy

[suusoh]

(repost because the og was bugging out ToT)

girlie are you are one of the top mommy johan fans rn and i am HERE for it!. Anyways have 13-ish paragraphs of me rambling why calling a man "mommy" is revolutionary and hot actually.

(tw: mommy kink, forced mother-daughter dynamics, infantilization-ish?)

the obvious ones of course being he does everything. I mean everything for you. Bathes you, brushes your hair, dresses you up by himself, hand-feeds you, etc. Will not let you do anything for yourself if he can help it. Even recreational activities, like watching TV or reading, he is finding a way to make it with his intervention such as holding the remote and he reading the book for you.

not an exact point where this stems from, but I have a small vision of Johan curiously played with one of his sister's baby dolls one time, or growing up with a mother and a sister (in some alternate universe where miss vera cerna got to raise the twins by herself), so maybe some of those things have passed onto him without him knowing.

You are his baby. that goes without saying. He'll call you baby from time to time, but not in a cutesy-couple petname way that one would imagine your average boyfriend would say it. He'd recite it like a healthcare nurse would. Won't be used as a common petname, it would come out when he feels especially a bit more motherly. other examples:

- clinical mutterings to himself ("baby needs to rest, they've been crying all day.") - maternal reflex and musings ("hm? no it's alright. baby doesn't need to worry about that, okay?") ("and why is my baby feeling sad today, hm? tell me.") - accidentally being condescending ("baby, you know that's not good for you.") - the last one is so weird to hear from him because the way he says baby isn't lighthearted or lover-y at all. it's so blank and emotionless. 💀

I think the tendencies are gradual. I love to headcanon that it starts out as your friend johan being a bit too doting at times. you even joke about it, groaning and calling him "mom" when he's being a bit too overbearing. Over time he becomes your boyfriend, one that coddles you a lot to an almost concerning degree (that's... normal right? people always fuss over their loved ones...). Next thing you know he's lulling you to sleep, conditioning you to to associate your sleepy time with his lullaby.

I don't think he's being fully delusional about it? He knows damn well that he's a grown man and you're a grown adult as well, unrelated with each other, and you guys are nowhere near any semblance of a mother-daughter. But that doesn't mean he won't impose the dynamic on you anyway. Thinks it's beneficial enough for both of you: he gets to care for you and you get to be taken care of. It works so well that it might as well be your permanent dynamic. (Or so he says. You crying and feeling yourself slowly lose a major part of yourself tied with your autonomy is just a natural part of sudden "changes".).

So he won't infantilize you to the point of actually getting baby stuff for you lol. he just wants to be your mother <3 and mothering also includes maybe discussing some topics over tea to see what your beloved daughter has learned today and seeing what you made today; a new painting? a new crochet project? making another science diorama? tell him. tell mom what you're proud of these days <3

WOULLDDDD wear the blonde wig maybe at times. Not that he associates long hair with motherhood. but it's just a thing he tries from time to time. maybe he's trying to emulate his mom to get more in-tuned with motherhood? Norman bates style? hot.

has a set schedule for you. reading time, feeding time, daylight time, etc. Though he can be flexible, your bedtime and eating time is a non-negotiable. you need your sleep and your food. Though I think he'd love it if you can't think for yourself and depend on him for everything, I think he'd still try to enrich your brain. So there's a time of day for mind exercise and studying: Reading together, watching documentaries, little games and puzzles to bond over like a good mother-daughter <3

speaking of food: endless spoiling duh. I think he'll even love it when you gain a few pounds from how well he's feeding you. it's another sign that he's taking care of you well. From takeout, to cooking for you, to filling he pantry full and giving you a snack every hour or so; he is stuffing you until you're full and sleepy. Will never let you go hungry. ever.

nsfw:

maybe.... maybe makes u latch onto his nips. breastfeeding and all that. hehe. will train you to start sucking on his nipples as a habit for you to calm down. Lets you suckle on his tongue as well if it'll help you go calm down <33 it's his substitute to a baby bottle. it's mortifying to you when you're sad and upset then you suddenly get the tingling on your tongue to just... orally fixate on something. it means it's working.

WOULD absolutely research how to induce lactation in men lol <3

loves loves loves using making you cum over and over again to leave you dazed, soft, and unable to be feisty. I think sex will definitely become a means to fix you whenever you become a bit too... "fussy" for his liking. Makes you cum over and over again until you're crying and pleading for no more, until you're passing out and unable to move your legs. He decides how many orgasms is enough already or if you need another round. And from what he sees? baby needs another leg-shaking orgasm from how cranky they were this morning.

overstimulation his beloved <3 thoroughly believes that sex is a form of taking care of you and making you feel good. and why wouldn't he want his baby to feel anything but good?

WILL fuck to sleep every night. sees it as the best way to get you to have the best sleep over (aka: you passing out to the point you might even wake up in the late afternoon). Vibrators are his best friend.

cockwarming. cockwarming. cockwarming. aaaaaaand- cockwarming. all while he's cradling you into his neck. will playfully rock his hips into you from time to time to enjoy the feeling of you squeezing around him for more. further proving you're always craving for his care.

~ that's all i got so far hehehehheeh hope u enjoy!

[redsrooftopprincess]

Pumpkin Sugar (Part 4)

Raphael x GN!Reader - Established Relationship

Part 1 . Part 2 . Part 3 . Part 4 . Epilogue (🌶️Fem!Reader)

Based on this ask by @gornackeaterofworlds

More of a question to expand on than a detailed request, but would raph help a teacher reader grade papers?? Would he get invested in gossip on the kids??

I was zoning out and somehow thought about elementary school teacher readers, coming back to the lair with papers to grade, Donnie getting angry over the lesson plans you have to use, etc. And then, like always, raph thoughts(I am unbelievably gushy to raph x lil sweet cheery readers) Being oh so sleepy tired but still having work to do. Grading papers, getting activities printed and cut, weekly plans. I'd like to imagine he helps to get you to sleep faster, all the while listening to the venty yapping about which kids are troublemakers

Special thanks to @the-cauldron-witch . The best brainstorming buddy I could honestly ask for. Could not have written this without you. 😁

"I'll give you one Hershey bar."

He shakes his head, ruffling his sandy hair.

You usually didn't negotiate with terrorists.

"Two Hershey bars," you offer.

He shakes his head again.

Okay kid, you wanna play hardball...?

"Two Hershey bars and I won't tell your mom about Cheez-it." You cross your arms, knowing you've got him when his eyes widen in terror.

About a month ago, you found an... let's go with the term "unsanctioned classroom pet," living in Avery's desk. Evidently, the kid had found the mouse at recess and proceeded to keep it and bring it back and forth to school so that his parents didn't find out.

When you found his "enclosure," you couldn't even be mad. It was impressive. The mouse had everything he needed. Food, water, enrichment, even light! Avery actually did a bang up job taking care of the little guy. Which is why you didn't tell his parents. Instead, you helped him release it behind the playground. There were sniffles, but no tears. He really loved that little mouse.

But all's fair in war.

You raise your eyebrows, looking down at him expectantly. He begrudgingly holds out his hand, and drops whatever it is into yours.

You open your hand and freeze.

....

Raph sits on the couch, head in his hands. Either she's got it, or some punk kid does, and either way, it's a fucking disaster.

Either he's spending another year making another ring, or...

There's no way out if it. if she found the ring, it was happening today.

He's not ready.

Fuck.

He's not ready.

"This can't be fucking happening...."

...

The experiment went well, and all the kids loved it, but you were only half there the whole time.

A ring..?

You tried thinking back to your commute, someone you may have bumped into, anyone that may have dropped the ring. Maybe, if you see them on Monday, you can return it to them. It looks special. It feels special. And it's gorgeous. It even has your favorite...

Woah, no. Pump the brakes. That's not what this is.

On the astronomically low chance it is his, there is a simple explanation. He probably found it and was going to hand it to April to pawn. They do that for extra cash when they find something valuable. That's all this is.

But the notes... Some annoyingly hopeful part of your brain whispers, and for a turtle, he was being real squirrelly...

No.

But maybe...?

No. It's not.

But what if it is...?

"Shut up..." You groan aloud at your brain, head dropping to you hands, spinning with the clash of hope and reality.

...

By the end of the day, you're still no closer to figuring out an explanation that isn't... that. With all the Halloween activities the school had planned, you haven't even had a chance to call him. But what would you even say? You can't even say the word. It's so far beyond the realm of possibility it didn't even bear mentioning. Right?

Better to ask in person. Casually. Don't make a big deal about it. If that isn't what this is, you'll just embarrass yourself.

But you want it to be. You really really want it to be. But that was up to him. You'd already decided to be together until the sun burns out, so "together forever" was kind of understood. You didn't care what it's called or what it looks like. You love him. So, so much.

You can't exactly shout it from the rooftops without alerting every enemy in the city, but you would be more than happy to do it in front of all your friends and family.

And he does look damn good in a suit...

Stop it.

...

His heart is pounding. You'd be home any minute and then he would know.

You never really talked about it. You never brought it up. He didn't even know if it was something you wanted.

Fuck.

What if you don't?

What if you don't want to get married?

What if he really really fucked up?

"Incoming!" Donnie shouts as he sees you arriving on the monitors. Your brow is furrowed and you seem almost lost in thought.

When they hear the vault wheel begin to turn as you're entering the lair, everyone except Raph dives into the lab, leaving him alone in the middle of the room, abandoning him.

Dicks.

You step into the lair and set your things in the corner. He's attempting to look casual as you walk over to him, and failing miserably. You feel almost as terrified as he looks.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So, um... There was a ring..."

Fuck.

He cringes, "Yeah... You, uh... weren't supposed to see that, yet." He shifts uncomfortably, cheeks darkening, looking away. "I just finished it yesterday... That's why it was even on me in the first place."

"Finished it..?"

"Yeah... Well... I uh... I didn't want to give you a stolen ring... And I sure as shit wasn't going to give you one I dug out of the garbage... I figured... If I was gonna ask you to marry me... it'd have to be special." He clears his throat, still looking everywhere but at you.

You inhale, but can't find your voice. All day. All day you'd beat down that desperately hopeful part of you. You'd almost can't parse what's actually happening.

"Marry you...?"

He takes a deep breath, now or never. "Okay... so... this isn't how I wanted to do this, but here we are, so... I guess I'm doing this." He closes the gap and takes your hands is his. They're shaking. "Okay, so I know we never talked about this, and um..." he meets your gaze for the first time, "a-and if this isn't something you want, it's fine, really..." he says, sincerely. He had to give you an out, he's fine with not being married, as long as he doesn't lose you. "But I love you, and... and I kinda want everyone to know... and I know that it can't really be an official thing, but um... Do you think, maybe..."

He sighs. Fuck it. If he was gonna do it, he was gonna do it right.

He drops to one knee, and you're already crying. He looks lost for a second, "Um... do you have...?"

"Oh, right!" You say, and you quickly pull the ring out of your pocket and hand it to him, both of you laughing or crying at this point and neither of you are really sure which.

He takes a deep breath, laughing nervously, before looking back up at you, "Y/(full)N... I've loved you since the moment we met, and I would really, really like to spend the rest of my life with you... Will you m-"

"Yes!!!" You don't even let him finish. You pounce on him, knocking him on his ass and kissing him fiercely. "Yes!," you say between kisses, "Yes! Of course I'll marry you!!!"

He's laughing and hugging you as Leo, Donnie, and Mike tumble out of the lab. You're on his lap on the floor and he's slipping the ring on your finger as he's kissing you. It fits perfectly.

Mike is the first one to reach you, sliding on his knees at the end to be on the floor with the two of you, and wrapping his arms around you both. "Welcome to the family, sis!!!"

"She was already part of the family," Donnie says, smiling down at you.

"You were in on this, weren't you, fucker." you accuse Donatello. He laughs heartily, confirming your suspicion.

"Congrats, guys," says Leo with a warm smile.

You can't stop smiling as you look around at your soon-to-be unofficially official brothers-in-... law? in spirit? You're not entirely sure what it would be called since they legally don't exist but YOU DON'T CARE YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED.

You throw your arms around your fiance's neck and snuggle into him, laughing. Holding you tightly, he breathes you in and doesn't plan on letting go for a long, long time.

...

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo

......

Part 1 . Part 2 . Part 3 . Part 4 . Epilogue (🌶️Fem!Reader)