#he can't do it

[dirtytransmasc]

imagine if Aeron and Davos survived the burning of the mill and had to witness the merciless carnage of the Blackwoods against the Bracken's after Daemon orders Willem to turn the Bracken's to Daemon's side.

imagine them finding each other in the chaos. Davos cannot stand for it, because he loves Aeron, and these are Aeron's people, and they are but women and children, even if they're still Bracken's. they could be his aunt's or little cousins or even nieces or nephews. hurting his family feels wrong.

Aeron is angry, his people are being pillaged and tortured, women and children are going missing and being slaughtered in their homes, in their beds. his lovers kin is doing this, they're savaging his people for holding strong.

and then they find one another. Aeron is blazing with fury, even as the flames lick at and singe his still healing wounds. Davos, usually the one itching for a fight, for the spill of blood, looks pale at the scene around them.

Aeron throws a punch, not giving the Blackwood a chance to attack him and move onto the next victim, not able to see anything past the others red clothing and Blackwood sigil, but Davos catches it, hiking the other's hand gently.

"Babe killers, all of you, you- why are you doing this?" comes Aeron's agonized cry, unable to free his hand, choosing to swing with his non-dominant hand, aiming for Davos's chest. Davos lets him, before taking that one too. "you stoop so low to attack women in their beds, spill their and their children's blood on their very own sheets, steal our food, all because we had honor?"

he's teary eyed even as his face flushes with anger, his ears tinge bright red, his beautiful hair hanging in his face, in his eyes. his lips look like they're red from crying and biting. it's still torn, like the high of his cheek. he favors one leg over the other. he's still wounded from battle.

Davos can see that he is beautiful, even in a moment like this, and his kin are tarnishing that beauty.

"I'm sorry," is all he can say. he squeezes Aeron's hands in his own. "I'm sorry, I-" what does he say? what could he say? does he betray his house and apologize for their actions? would he even be believed? would that hurt Aeron's heart more?

he doesn't say anything else, not yet, just drops Aeron's hands so he can take his face, holding just tight enough that Aeron can't pull away. he doesn't kiss him, just looks in his eyes, lets their pain and fury wash over him.

"this is wrong!" Aeron cursed

"I know."

"can't you see it's wrong?"

"I do"

"why won't you stop them? why won't you make it stop?"

"I can't."

"can't? or won't?" his eyes were dark now.

"can't. if I stop them, try to stop them, they will put a blade in my heart, it will have been for nothing."

"then you're a coward." it felt like a punch. it was true. even if he could stop this, he wouldn't. he was afraid. he could not stand between his kin and the Bracken's.

"I am... but if it were the other way around, would you?"

Aeron sighed, the fight leaving him. he leaned into Davos, their foreheads coming together.

"no."

Davos was not angry at the answer - they were just boys and this was war. they were boys and their people had been fighting for longer than they could comprehend. they were just boys and they were afraid- instead, he just kissed him softly, praying no one would see them, or if they did, then they would just strike them down here where they stood, that they would let them die together, tangled into one.

"they had honor. they would not be forced to pledge for another simply because they were afraid of death. their honor was meant with depravity." Aeron whispers through tears now.

Davos nodded. they did have honor. more honor than his own kin had.

"I'm sorry."

Aeron didn't speak again, just held onto him, wrapping his arms around his back, taking hold of his cloak, balling it up in shaking fists. Davos moved to copy him, threading one hand into his soft hair, gently smoothing it with his thumb, and the other wrapping around his waist.

they stayed there. through the screams and the cries and the smell of smoke and the calls of animals being herded from their fields. they were together, two boys hiding in the forest as their houses slaughtered each other.

[swan2swan]

Whoever conceived and animated this moment, I hope they're doing well and thriving. This is S-rank romance stuff here.

[ladychlo]

Motaz Azaiza interviewed by Ajstream after fleeing Gaza, please do watch the whole interview...

[marypsue]

Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.

All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.

[lazylittledragon]

enrichment for the baby rogue

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

It's just guys night talk! Don't worry about it!

(Read Tiger Tiger and shake this man awake so he can finish that thought!)

[sabertoothwalrus]

it's nico the catboy's birthday but I just had the flu (fine now)(got my flu shot a couple weeks ago so it was mild) so nico has to suffer with me

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

evan's motive is "belonging"???? what if i cried right now

[bi-writes]

mmmm ;) simon has got a special eye on single-mom!reader, doesn't he? (18+, lactation kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, dark content !!!!)

it's your first day back after maternity leave. you already look different, simon notices this immediately. the way you fill out your cargo pants--fuck, there's no way your arse has ever looked so fat. no way your thighs have ever been so plush--ngghhh...

fuck, you've never been prettier. motherhood suits you. your hair is longer. your eyes are a little brighter. and fuck, your tits look so heavy, can't keep his eyes off of them, can't fucking focus, fuck, fuck, fuck--

you look so cute patching him up. pouty bottom lip between your teeth as you string his lacerated skin back together with a practiced stitch, standing between his spread legs as he sits in a chair in your office. he nicked his shoulder real well in training today, and fuck, is he grateful for johnny's heavy hand because you're standing over him, and he has a front-row seat to the greatest view of his fucking life.

christ, they practically jiggle with every movement you make. you pop the cap off some disinfectant, and the little bounce of your chest makes him chub up immediately, and he doesn't trust the buckle of his belt anymore because you're so fucking hot. and god, it isn't fair, this isn't fair, you must be teasing him--because as he's staring shamelessly at your pretty, perky nipples, he notices the fabric of your shirt beginning to grow damp.

you notice his line of sight after you tie off his wound. you look down, gasping, your hands dropping your supplies to come up and cup your breasts and cover the wetness of your shirt.

"god--dammit," you breathe. you haven't gotten a chance to pump today, it's been so busy in the clinic, and god, they ache.

you're his sergeant. his pretty little soldier. he just wants to help you. he's just helping you, isn't he? that's what this is when he draws his big hands up, shifting your shirt until it nestles below your nursing bra. he's just helping you when he unlatches the strap with ease, drawing down the soft material and baring your tits for him, his eyes bulging when he sees how wet the skin is, how they glisten.

his mouth is so warm. it's the perfect relief after such a long day. his tongue is soft and careful, swirling in heated circles as he soothes the ache in the throbbing fat there. you're so wet--soaking your panties, you know you are, your hormones firing wildly as he pulls back, opening his mouth and catching just a dribble of the warm essence that leaks from one breast. finally, finally--fuck, he's so good at this, his mouth latching onto you again as he groans loudly. he's so sick, it's so fucking lewd, but god dammit, it's just what you need, you need this, you need this.

he likes you like this. he likes you fat around the hips and leaking from your tits and spilling sweetness into your panties. he needs to keep you this way. he needs to keep you pretty and aching and starving for the relief that he knows he can give you.

he doesn't care whose kid it is, he wants to keep you this way. he'd let johnny or gaz fuck you stupid after this if it meant plugging you up and making you full and beautiful and round again. he's never wanted kids anyway, he knows he probably shoots blanks, it's why you got pregnant so fast after he shut the door on your relationship and refused to open it again, isn't it?

nnghghhgh...

fuck, his pants are already shoved low, just enough that he can pull himself out. he's so heavy, balls so full and aching so badly, he's hardly slapping against his stomach. you slip your own trousers off, eager to get back into his lap, practiced pretty girl sinking down onto him and riding him for her life in the dark of her office.

he buries his face into your chest. they're bouncing every time you smack your hips back down against his, and he can't stop the noises he's making as he suckles your tits in his mouth and uses a firm grip on your ass to meet your thrusts with force. fuck, he'd forgotten what a nice cunt you had--he'd forgotten how nice and soft you are, how messy and wet you get, how whenever he fucks you, his entire pelvis is always soaked with the slick of you because you can never stop creaming on his cock.

"so big," you babble, just like you used to, and he grunts as he aims for that little spot inside of you that makes you cry. he wants to see those pretty tears falling down your face, but all it took this time was his tongue sucking on your achy nipples to make you pouty and sobbing.

fuck, you've always been good at taking him, you always were such a good girl, but now he's overwhelmed. your body is so different and yet the same, and he likes it so much more--fuck, there's so much to grab onto now, the smacking of your skin is loud, and you've always been such a wet girl, but now you're positively dripping. he grits his teeth as he looks down finally, watching the way you've wet his trousers, his boxers, your thighs, the goddamn chair. he can't wait to lay you down after this and put his head between your thighs, can't wait to get those tits back in his mouth and make you cry again and again and again and again--

yeah, yeah, yeah--fuck, fuck, fuck--

you collapse after he cums. whimpering, taking two of his fingers and fitting them into your mouth so you have something to suck on, something you always used to do for comfort. he hisses a little as he pulls out just a little, globs of cum dribbling onto the seat before he eases you back down again. you whine, clinging onto him, your eyes shutting as he shoves his cum practically into your stomach.

yeah, fuck--he's gonna make his little sergeants take you nice after this. he needs you to stay like this, needs to keep you fat and pretty and swollen. don't mind the chunky babies you'll have, he'll take care of you, sweetheart, he'll be the daddy that son of a bitch never gave you, yeah?

he grabs the phone nearest to him to check the time as you settle on wobbly legs into the seat next to him. it must be your phone, because there's a picture of a smiling baby as the background. his eyes flicker to yours, and when you catch his gaze, you swallow hard. there's a giant chubby baby you're holding in that picture.

with blond hair and dark eyes (;

[brainrotcharacters]

the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[molotovgrifter]

this made me feel ill. chapter 2 vs chapter 6.

[gamora-borealis]

need a spray bottle or something for every time dan says "i'm so sorry" to a phannie who tells him that his content has been significant in their life. like bitch cringe is dead and you made our lives better, just say thank you!!!

[lazylittledragon]

more domestics to warm the soul <33

[atlaslovesspiderman]

More mr crawling bc he's all I can think of

[mingyuskim]

MINGYU LALALI, 2024