#peace and love to the rest of you Critters with half a brain

[wenamedthedogkylo]

If you're gonna go into a public forum and argue that the temple of the Dawnfather in Hearthdell was actually totally cool and chill because they bought the land fair and square and were "just spreading their faith", and what they did was "actually expansionism rather than colonialism" which is totally fine because "it's just like that time a mosque was built in my town and we got used to them! we didn't murder everyone there for no reason!"...

Then I'm gonna spend an hour and a half going through old episodes to fact-check and writing a 1k explanation of why you're fucking wrong on every count, including the "they bought the land with money" bit.

I won't add that you're a moron if you think expansionism is somehow remotely better than colonialism, because even a cursory google of the two terms will show you they are very closely linked. But it will be heavily implied and I will be thinking it hard at you through the screen the whole time.

I would say "this is a threat" but I already did it, so it's more of a warning for future reference.

[sebsxphia]

Sebbie?? I swore I was gonna wait, I tried, really I did, but my brain is a feral little animal that has almost no hope of being tamed!!! (lol).

I know you're probably sick of the Preacher!Rhett thoughts/thots but this one could probably work for just about any of Lew's characters (take your pick if you will, it's all yours, lol).

I have this really, really weird thought of you and Rhett getting ready for the birth of your first child together. You didn't want to go to the hospital knowing that you're preacher husband's been in and out of them a little too often to counsel patients who are going through alot (Rhett's toughest one yet was a firefighter who had third degree burns on him after a backdraft had blown the door off its hinges in a burning building). But Rhett told you that for as much as he hates being in and out of hospitals, if it ever comes down to it, he'd bring you.

Everything, surprisingly enough goes as smooth as possible. Cecelia, who comes from a really long line of midwives, is with you and Rhett the whole time just in case something comes up while Royal offered to take Amy back to the farmhouse up the path (Perry had already been kicked out of the house and Royal had a court issued no-contact order for the whole family after you and Rhett took custody of Amy). You're a little bit freaked out when the pain gets to be more intense but Rhett's done this before with the other farm critters so he's alot calmer than you initially thought he'd be.

"You're doin fine Lamb, no need to worry," he assures you, rubbing your shaky legs that are spread wide apart. "I've gotcha."

You do exactly what Rhett and your mother-in-law tell you to do even though you're cursing up a storm. It's not long before your little one falls into Rhett's hands, taking her first breaths in the presence of her family. Rhett is so overjoyed at the arrival of the little one as he puts her right into your arms, holding the two of you as close as he possibly can.

A week and a half later, you, Rhett, Amy and the rest of the family and your close friends are in the church as Rhett baptizes your new daughter, Hannah Cecelia. It's a beautiful spring day, warm enough for the windows to be open, the grass and the trees already having flowered. You're wearing the pretty pale blue spring dress you made while you're holding your new baby daughter in her little white gown, the same one that Amy had worn when she was a baby and that had been passed down from Rhett.

The whole family and your friends gather at the house, including Mrs. Daly, the elderly neighbor who often joins you and Rhett for Sunday dinner at the house. While you and Rhett are standing on the porch, you can't help but notice that a few of the flowers in the beds have already begun to bloom and what should spring up, but the Edelweiss that Royal's mother had brought with her when she left Switzerland at the end of WWII (I have a hc that Rhett's Oma Heidi was a member of the French Resistance but that's a story for another day). You and Rhett can't help but pick a few, making a pretty little crown for the newest edition to your family and when more and more and more of them bloom in the garden, you both find yourselves on a peaceful afternoon weaving them into her little wicker sleeping basket.

Once again Sebbie, this is what happens when my brain wanders all day long (lol).

aaaaaaah! oh my love this was so so dreamy and perfect to read, and think about 🥹 goodness, thank you so much for this! 💌💗

[obutsuwrites]

salt water (seamonster!shiggy x f!reader)

summary:  “Of course not! I like talking to you.” Inky black tentacles twitched under the curtain of waves. ‘She’d cower. Make herself as small as she needed to be; pathetic and crawling.’ Tenko grinned at the thought. She was nothing more than meat on a slab.  xxx or the time i write monster shiggy ft. ocean imagery warnings: dubcon, drowning, mind control, tentacle sexey times, vore, smut, oviposition word count: 4,468 taglist: @kaccatus @sadjealouswhore @tenaciousgothstudentauthor masterlist | tipjar | twitter | commission info

The ocean lapped against her knees in gentle waves. It was refreshing and cool; a morning breeze she wanted to submerge herself in and never leave. This was her sanctuary, her home. The ocean -- in its inky blackness -- was almost like a lover. The waves were little arms that entangled around her ankles and upper calves. Simple, harmless flirting until the woman finally took the plunge and allowed the ocean to swallow her whole. She would only tread lightly; growing up in a little sea-side shack carried the reality of her lover; silent waves could shift and evolve into violent tides. 

She squinted as the afternoon sun pierced her eyes. It sat high in the cloudless, cobalt sky. An orange giant that radiated such intense heat, despite the forecast claiming otherwise. The sun was hot against the small of her back; skin exposed and soft. The woman allowed her body to sink further into the salty brine. She shivered at the chill, but it was a welcome distraction from the humidity. As she waded further into the deep, bits of seaweed danced around her legs. Slimy and unpleasant. The woman shoved down her discomfort, it was only temporary. 

She swam apathetic laps. Her body was now accustomed to the chill. In the benign quiet, the woman’s mind began to wander. The sea allowed for more than just cooling off; peaceful and cerebral. After several soft loops, she rescinded herself to float atop the navy sea surf. The woman’s lazy gaze was glued to the sky. Her body was delicately rocked, a lullaby she wanted to submerge herself into for eternity. Sometimes, she wondered if the ocean was capable of violence. To her, it was nothing but serenity and placidity. The woman knew tales of drownings and bizarre, awful sea creatures… However, she had experienced neither within her rather mundane life. Fingers grasped at the azure water, eyes shifting to stare into the great abyss. Despite squinting, the woman couldn’t see to the bottom. She wondered if it was so deep that light simply didn’t refract. 

A crackle sounded off in the distance; the beginning of a storm, she noted. Storms were something she knew all too well. Humidity and the frigid ocean mixed together often to form thunderous, dark clouds that beat against her shack. Angry and fierce.  Eventually, the waves would pick up, as if to respond with equal force to the storm, like two lovers fighting. 

Reluctantly, she began her trek back to shore. Perhaps, she could watch the rain beat on her windows. The wind picked up; the smell of the sea working its way into her nose. Salty and fresh. However, seaweed was strong and wrapped around her ankles. This wasn’t unusual for the woman; the sea could be a difficult lover. The shore was still far away, not even within her reach. Her feet hadn’t even touched the smooth surface of rocks. Slight panic wove into her chest, the sensation tight and heavy. Kicking her legs, the woman tried to swim past the monstrous clump of plant matter. She had done this before. Seaweed wasn’t thick like this and despite her best efforts, her legs were still knotted in the dense foliage. 

The woman continued to kick her legs, the movements morphing into desperation and anxiety. This was foreign to her. The sea wasn’t a maze of fear and panic, yet here she was, arms flailing and face red. 

“H-help!” It was a futile scream; the beach today was empty and she was alone. The sea was going to swallow her and she was alone. Her mind raced with images of her barren skeleton nestled between dead plants and sunken ships. A bleak resting place. 

The sky twisted into a dark caricature of itself; bleak with clouds hiding the sun. Her terror was tangible now as sea foam bubbles seeped into her mouth. Coughs and spit erupted from the woman. Static portraits of her life played like a macabre theater. ‘No! Please no! I don’t wanna die!’ The ocean was a lover scorn; waves began to pick up. The woman feared her body would disappear beneath the current, but the seaweed kept her anchored. Safe. 

Her throat grew dry with cries that fell on deaf ears. This is how she would die; crushed beneath azure crests with an angry sky. She gave up and became complacent in her fate. Tears flowed freely down puffy, coral cheeks. 

Suddenly, she felt a long tendril wrap around her thigh. This material wasn’t seaweed, it was different. Spongey. Organic. The coil traveled down her leg and freed her lower form. 

Breath caught in her throat expanded into the salty, swampy air. “T-thank you!” 

Xx

Fire crackled and the air was balmy; the woman was determined to expunge any cold. Overcast clouds brought in a certain chill, which was only compacted by her waterlogged clothing. Her brassiere had started the slow process of becoming solid again; a fuzzy towel wrapped around jittery shoulders. She believed the suction cup lined tentacle was an octopus. 

“They can be quite helpful. Suction cups are made for -- for sticking.” Truthfully, the sentence was tangible and real for a simple reason; it felt more real. It was far too horrible to believe sea monsters had invaded her paradise. 

Xx

She awoke with a start. Electricity already burning obnoxiously in her veins. The thought was a joke at first; throw out food to the anonymous ocean critter that had rescued her. It was fair. She wanted to repay the kindness. No animal was suited for her sea excursionist. Her love was the ocean firstly; everything came in violent crashes next. Purely no room for animals. However, this being -- this animal. She needed to remind herself it was an animal. Animals can just be smart.

xx

“Like octopi. Or maybe -- maybe a squid.” ‘Octopi’ was a new word; something the woman picked up from long study sessions in the town library. The building was a crypt, dusty and decrepit. Relics from before the second war, chalky volumes of history and academics… but they held the most beautiful anatomical drawings. Precise lines formed into a web of a body on delicate paper. She wanted to rip them from their pages and exhibit the art upon her walls. It was a guilty feeling the woman had to bury. Deep.

Octopi were carnivores, which meant they ate meat. Things like fish, sharks -- even birds. On occasion, the invertebrate would drown their prey. She loathed the vulgar imagery of an octopus immersing a bird into her sea -- into the great blue only to disappear under murky depths. The mental painting seemed so far off -- so  distant from her benevolent savior. 

Xx

There was a certain click in her step, her movements jovial and careless. Her limbs were wire and ethereal. After a masochistic study session, the woman felt confident enough to pursue the octopus. The plan itself was half-baked, but she was… hopeful. Her wallet wouldn’t survive otherwise; she was too naive, trusting and allowed a butcher to sell her a suspiciously warm steak. Little flashes of the overripe meat squirming with maggots skipped through her mind. 

“I hope you like this!” 

She threw the steak into the ocean. A smile had eased onto her face. 

After several minutes a bitter call echoed from the sea. “Not this, stupid.” The voice was scratchy and harsh; like a sweater. Goosebumps developed and her lungs burned. 

‘What an unfortunate sound.’

Xx

Tenko wasn’t a beast per se. He was merely acting on instinct, but he wasn’t all bad. That idiot woman carried a delicious fragrance; her pores were just leaking it. His primal instincts demanded Tenko to clamp his beak over her clavicle. He wanted to peak at her flesh until only ribbons clung to her skeleton… but he was lonely. Tenko was lonely and needed a friend -- needed her. The woman’s cries seemed so inviting. She made pathetic little sounds that were like music to him. He decided to play along, in the hopes of revealing in her fear again. 

Women weren’t unknown to Tenko; they were little sacks of meat that nourished him. However, this wench was something entirely different. She didn’t belong within the predetermined hierarchy and Tenko absolutely fucking hated her for it. Her gestures were carefree and swaying; large hips on full display. The woman wench deserved to know her place. 

‘No one else would do it. It has to be me.’

Xx

An uncomfortable silence inched between them, the steak long gone. The realization wasn’t kind to her. This wasn’t an octopus; this was something worse. Something bad that could speak. Her skin felt slimy and dirty now. She rubbed at her ankles. Waiting for a response was becoming a real experience -- complete with the bells and whistles of anxiety. The woman’s back was on the sea. She refused to greet the monstrosity. 

“I’m… sorry. It’s been so long since I had company.” A soft reflection was in the voice; gentle regret. How could she resist? Tenko was being vulnerable now, if not a little sad. But it was necessary. Feigning humanity would lead his prey in with wide, innocent eyes. 

With a back turned, the woman took a step away from the benign waves. “You talk?” She didn’t want to ask anymore -- she didn’t want to engage the abnormality any further. 

A low whistle crept across the oceanic landscape. 

“Yes. Can we be f… friends?” 

Xx

‘Her little brain must weigh nothing,’ Tenko thought, ‘A stupid broad like her is lucky to even be alive.’ The mortal was braindead enough to put trust in him, he didn’t even have to beg. Well, he didn’t have to beg as much as he anticipated. Her vibrating fear could be felt even within the depths of his domain. Tenko found it pathetic, in all honesty, but saliva pooled at the thought of her. Naked. Afraid. All primed and ready to be devoured… ‘Such a delicate body. It’s really a shame I’ll leave blemishes.’ 

Xx

Within a week’s time, the raspy, sea-salt coated voice was the woman’s dearest friend. Her only friend. It was unnatural at first. The ocean wasn’t sentient, it couldn’t have a soul, and yet something would respond to her questions and ramblings. Always patient and kind hearted. She was curious if the voice was even a sea creature.

‘What if you’re the sea?’

Her mouth opened and closed, mimicking a question. She was curious if the voice had a name. There was certainly nothing offered up; the voice had demanded the woman never swim again -- never look into the great depths. At her sheepish request, the voice shook with rage that trembled and quaked in their words. It was the first time the woman remembered that this voice wasn’t human and maybe it didn’t -- maybe they didn’t function by the natural laws of man. 

A wave bumped against the beachfront. Her name carried off of the breeze, followed by a pause, and then, “What was your question?”

“It’s… uh, it’s stupid, really,” she replied, eyes stuck on her modest shack. Confidence was lacking in her voice; the woman now shrinking before Tenko.

The stench of her was in the water now; Tenko scrunched his face in response. Focusing on her was a part of the plan. His desire for the broad would be found eventually, but he needed to bite down any residual lust that floated around. Her smell was so pungent that it made Tenko’s stomach burn and twist. Like a heated wrench. 

He was growing bored. Impatient. Hunting was never a show like this. Hunting was hunting -- killing and eating with bits of flesh mixing with crimson. The sea looked best like that; bloody, a massacre of sin. Tenko should have eaten her a week before. She was stupid and within his grasp… but he let her go. A mistake he wouldn’t make twice. 

“Of course not! I like talking to you.” Inky black tentacles twitched under the curtain of waves. ‘She’d cower. Make herself as small as she needed to be; pathetic and crawling.’ Tenko grinned at the thought. She was nothing more than meat on a slab. 

His words of encouragement were like a shock to the system. Something was in those words, something the woman craved. Her chest tightened and words washed upon shore, “Can… can I see you?” 

It was a simple question, and yet Tenko hated it. He knew this day would come, but he prepared little in the way of comfort. His face twisted into a scowl as little angry bubbles surfaced. 

“Why? Aren’t you afraid? I can feel your tremors from here.” Tenko wanted to squash her curiosity. This game of cat and mouse shouldn’t end so abruptly. He wanted more play time with his food. Fear was a seasoning that couldn’t be wasted. A precious resource only for him. 

The ocean was quiet now, its rage worn down and tired. The woman looked out into the azure water and tried to gather her remaining courage. Tenko’s voice was unlike the kind tone she was accustomed to; his response was harsh and laced with seafoam. This wasn’t her disembodied companion. This was a creature.

“N-no,” she hesitated. Her words were anchored in her belly. She looked away from the azure abyss, fear creeping into her chest. The woman knew nothing of her companion -- only that he saved her. Surely, he couldn’t be some monstrous bundle of tentacles and eyes. He had to be more… human. 

Silence sat between them. Tenko began to impulsively curl his tentacles. He found the quiet annoying and somehow a little frightening. Perhaps his meal was reconsidering their arrangement. ‘You couldn’t,’ Tenko thought while the sun shrunk behind a cloud, ‘you’re too stupid.’ Befriending him -- feeling sorry for such a gluttonous horror was a fool’s mistake. His heart hummed at the thought of her bare and bloodied. 

The death of their conversation was awkward, if not heavy. Truthfully, the woman blamed herself for it. Feet nestled in warm sand; her mind straying back to Tenko. She knew he was beneath the oceanic canvas. Hidden away. ‘Hiding from me.’ Mournful eyes watched the sea. The day was dreary. No clouds. Sun scorned and resting. The sky held a drab palette; rainbows of blacks and grays formed into being. She wondered if the ocean was ever this ugly. 

Tenko came to his great conclusion; ‘I can eat your pea-sized brain now, can’t I? You’re probably stinking with guilt. So worried about your only friend.’ Slowly, Tenko lifted the tip of his beak into the air. Her pungent rot was like driftwood; moldy and earthy. She sickened him, but his body and mind weren’t one. Two muddled pieces that ached for both devouring her whole, and filling her disgusting guts with him. Tenko wanted to breed her -- watch his mewling little mortal stretch with his eggs.

Tenko’s stomach growled. 

“What -- what’s your name?”

His beak quickly retracted back into the salty brine. In his chest was a heart pounding against his rib cage. She was so close. She was so close. ‘Stupid and trustworthy. You’d do anything for a friend. You’d do anything… for me.’ Tenko realizes this and seizes his dinner bell, “T-Tenko. Can you come into the water?” Saliva pools at the back of his throat, “I’m lonely.”

The voice was heartbroken. His Tenko’s vocal cords were raspy, as if he gorged himself on salt water. A certain note of despair lingered in his sentence. The woman gave one last look into the vast blue before plunging her toes into saline waters.

It was as cold as the grave. Yet the coolness of it was relaxing. Hypnotizing. The ocean was calling out to her, its wet claws draped around her ankles, pleading with her to stay. She thought her ears caught a whisper from the depths; “Don’t go.” 

Everything was falling into his lap. First, she decided to trust him. Then she found comfort. Now, she belongs to him. Every chunk of flesh, every spec of marrow -- all his. He would suck her bones dry and drain her. ‘I’m going to devour you in the worst way.’

Her voice trembled with an alien sort of fear, “Tenko…” Water soaked into her dress, the cotton sticking to her shivering form. “Tenko, I’m scared.” Salt water was plugged into her nostrils. The strong scent was almost nauseating. There was a dull twinge in her heart. ‘Magical octopi,’ she chanted, ‘enchanted animal that speaks!’ Despite her conviction, salivation was unheard. The icy water rested just under her collarbone. Its gentle current nipped at her skin. She suppressed a shiver, keeping her legs kicking. The woman waited until something spongy -- familiar -- grabbed her calf. 

“You’re here.” The woman released a forgotten breath. Her chest was unraveling; the feeling of him was… comforting. This was her friend. ‘He wouldn’t hurt me.’ Her salt stained lips pitched into a grin.

Tenko envisioned violently dragging her squirming body. Little bubbles trailing behind, her last breaths. Gentle face painted into horror. He wondered if she would fight back; maybe pitifully grab at his tentacles? Tenko’s eyes widened in excitement, her legs sending waves. ‘Finally you made it, moron girl.’

His words were like a haunting chorus, “It’s okay,” her name was honey in the air, “Can… can you swim to me?” Tenko sounded cautious, ‘He’s worried about me.’ Her one friend -- her one true friend was concerned about her! The woman’s eyes were bright and alive. A smile played on her lips. Tiny butterflies felt like they were gathering in her chest. Tenko needed her. Needed his friend. The loneliness seemed to melt off while her legs worked against the sea, water splashing in every direction. Her body was numb; skin nothing more than drenched. She noted her dress was slowing her down. Tenko was leagues away -- almost impossible. Yet she persisted. 

His tentacle was the thread guiding her home -- to him. The rubbery flesh was a trail behind her. It was a reminder that Tenko was close, somehow obscured under blankets of briny water. Looking into the blue void made her stomach tangle together in a mess of anxiety. There was an unknown factor -- a certain fear to the ocean now.

Tenko held a delicate grip. ‘I can’t squeeze you to death just yet.’ He hoped the woman’s death rattles were soft, nothing like a dying creature. Tenko knew she would struggle and seafoam would kick into her lungs, but a part of him wanted her to coo at him. Make little creamy pleas. Stuck in his mirth, Tenko began to pull. The sensation was lost on his meal; her mind too preoccupied with determination. Her feet no longer tapped against slimy seaweed. Instead, the abyss greeted her. Negative space gathered. Nothing to keep the woman afloat except for her own flailing limbs.

A rather thrashing limb caught Tenko in the beak. Instinct took over as he yanked the woman. Aggressive and without tolerance. His beak was strong enough for her kick, but the accidental assault felt purposeful. Her lungs filled only once; to scream. Blue fluttered into her line of sight while bubbles erupted into view. Water rushed into her lungs. She managed a cough, salt in her nose. 

The woman fought against the pull. Waterlogged fingers slipping. She clawed at the tentacle as her expression froze in open-mouthed terror. Tenko wished he could see it, but the vibrations of her panicking body would have to do. He wanted to eat her panic. Swallow her whole and stare into the bloody waters she’d create. 

“St-stop… struggling so d-damn much,” forming a sentence was hard. This woman -- this squishy little mortal -- continued to fight. Tenko wished she would claw at scratch at him, fear added a certain spice to his meals, but her insensent kicking must stop.

Tenko releases the woman, her little head shooting up and bobbling amongst the current. Greedy lungs sucked in sour sea air. The saline burned down her throat, but she was relieved. ‘I was going to die. Tenko… Tenko wanted to kill me!’ The realization hits like a sandbag. She has to leave now. This creature, no, this monster was nothing but death. 

Before she can will her tired body, a melody drifts into her mind.

“Please don’t go.” He sounded so mournful. Grief laced into every word. 

She looks into the great blue before responding, “I have to.” Tears brim her eyes, making the world glassy. This was her only friend and yet he wanted to harm her. There was something dangerous to this creature. 

Tenko grew impatient. She should simply accept him as he is. This doesn’t need to be unnecessarily difficult… but she was making it difficult. Couldn’t this broad see Tenko only wanted to fill her half eaten, frail body with eggs? It’s a compliment, an implied attraction, and she just had to ruin it. Her little brain cannot even begin to comprehend the damage she’s done. 

With great effort, Tenko continued his heartbreaking colloquy, “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t m-mean it.” It’s burdensome to speak such lies, even more of a bother to project them into such an idiot. However, Tenko knew this woman had kindness tucked into her heart. She had no other choice but to forgive. “You want to see me, don’t you? The curiosity must be suffocating.”

She did… She had wondered what Tenko looked like; her mind’s eye wasn’t content with a mermaid. The woman had to see him in all of his glory. His voice was mesmerizing, like sharp ocean currents beating against rock. Her heart slowed to an acceptable pace. The organ no longer hammered into her. Her pulse wasn’t in her ears and the only thing in her stomach was an airy bit of hope. ‘Tenko probably hasn’t had any visitors before. I’m -- I’m his first.’ There was a strange comfort in being Tenko’s only friend. 

Something hard bumped against her leg. “Tenko?” She asked, voice small and soft. A vortex of salt water swirled underneath her as a head peaked from beneath a crest of waves. Tenko wasn’t quite as she imagined; her friend resembled a kraken more than a man. His beak was half-way submerged, stringy white hair clung to his worn face. He wore a gentle expression. Her eyes softened at his humanity. Tenko was so close she could smell him. The sharp scent of brine and seaweed permeated the air. A certain warmth settled into her belly. 

“Can I… touch you?” 

The woman nodded. His tentacle -- slimy now -- interlocked around her arm. The appendage was spongy and its suction cups held onto her with care. She melted into his touch while Tenko guided her into his bare chest. She looked up at him, big doe eyes that held nothing but admiration for the monster. ‘A pity,’ Tenko thought, ‘You didn’t really struggle, did you? You want to be full of my eggs.’ Tenko asserted this belief as another tentacle found the small of her back. Another snaked up her waist and landed on a clothed breast. She shivered in his embrace, the frigid water now soaked into her bones.

Ancient words danced in her mind, “Give yourself to me.” No emotion was behind her eyes, no hint of a human. Instead she steeled herself -- perfect and waiting for Tenko. She was a gift for him. Roughly, his tentacles roamed her body. His suction cups latched and unlatched onto bits of sodden flesh. She was mushy and delicate, like algae. Tenko could break apart her body, bone by bone, until she was dust stuck in his suction cups. A hushed mewl fell from her lips once Tenko brushed against a sensitive nipple. Her face was flushed and glistening. There was a crinkle in her eyes; a foreign ecstasy. The woman’s body hadn’t experienced such a fiery, electric sensation before.

“Don’t…” She buries her face in his chest, “don’t stop, Tenko.” It was too mortifying to allow such a divine creature see her like this. Body peppered with pink and chest heaving against him. She leaned into his touch. He kneaded her skin, spongy suction cups tweaking her nubs. Tenko could feel himself begin to swell, tentacles fat and aching. He looked down at her, drool trailing down his beak. 

An eager tentacle harshly grabbed her drenched garment and quickly discarded it to the sea. The woman’s body instinctively shivered, nerves still tender. “Stay still,” Tenko commanded as a tentacle slithered down her stomach, stopping at her waistband. 

“Please.” Her eyes are like saucers, innocent and begging. Tenko indulged and a tentacle stroked her wet cunt. The sloppy noise mixed with her insensent moans. It was a chorus of vulgarity. Tenko, however, made no sound. His vocal chords vibrated with animalistic grunts as he explored her body. Another obscene groan finally encouraged the beast; a single tentacle slipped between her thighs. 

Her pudgy walls gripped his swollen tentacle like a vice. “S-slow down, Tenko.” The woman felt violated. Tenko was going too fast, not allowing for rest. His tentacle plunged into her, prodding her womb. “Stop! It hurts!” The woman grit her teeth while trying to stifle a cry. 

“Quit whining,” Tenko sneered, sharp beak biting down on her collarbone. Iron flooded Tenko’s mouth and a whine played on his lips. She was sweeter than anything -- anyone he had tasted before. Her tainted scent was nothing compared to the meat before him. A piercing yelp sounded from the woman. The shrillness of it only spurred Tenko; his beak gnawing at her open wound. 

An orgy of violence and bliss swirled in her mind, twisting into one. Divinity itself was biting into her and marking her as his own. His fat tentacle stretched her to an almost inhuman degree; her face sweaty and mouth open. Drool pooled into her wound and mixed with Tenko’s spit. She wanted to reach up and touch it, feel the feral brand he left. She adjusted to his size, an unfamiliar hotness gathering between her legs. 

“F-faster, please.” 

Another ethereal voice called to her, carried from the breeze, “You want me to fill you with eggs, don’t you? Say it.”

Dribble spat from her mouth, “Tenko, I want -- please make me fat with your eggs! Breed me!” Painfully, Tenko hammered into her doused cunt, pushing against her cervix, the spongy flesh almost like a pillow. Welcoming. Warming. Wanting him. Her pussy fit perfectly around his engorged tentacle, milking him for every bit of slimy pre-cum. 

“Take my eggs, broad,” Tenko growls as a miry egg sloshes into her womb. 

A cry permeates the air. “Too big, Tenko. Too big,” the woman heaves. Her mind swimming with one simple phrase; “You’ll be such a good moma.”

[rocksinmuffin]

I’ve seen some of your Ravage asks and I was wondering would you be willing to right a fic where the liaison sees him as a sentient being rather than a beast? They both can relate cuz some bots can’t help but think Ravage and humans aren’t intelligent enough. I really want to see Ravage and liaison to bond and fall in love. T-T

As far as first impressions go, you couldn’t have made a worse one.

Your first encounter with Ravage occurs when you stop by Megatron’s habsuite for a quick word. He allows you entry, offers that you make yourself comfortable and, when you look around the room for a reasonable place to sit that won’t force you to scurry up the furniture like a woodland critter, you spot Ravage. He’s curled up on top of the berth and you, as your species is wont to do, go comepletely brain dead at the sight of a cat.

“Can I pet him?”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Megatron responds. You think he’s joking.

You laugh as you approach the giant mechanical feline. “Aww, can I give you a wittle petsy wetsy?” you ask in the most patronizing baby voice imaginable, playing along.

Ravage powers on a single optic to regard you, tail twitching behind him in sharp movements. “Not if you’d like to keep your limbs,” he responds, and you are so caught off guard that he can speak that you jolt back, turn heel to toe, and book it out of the room in an embarrassed fluster.

Your second meeting is a little better. Mostly because you ignore your instinct to avoid Ravage for the rest of your life and instead seek him out to apologize. You bow your head and hold out a cube of energon like an olive branch.

“I was half-expecting a saucer of milk.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. You don’t know how to read expressions for someone with a face like his. You don’t laugh.

Ravage accepts your peace offering, paw reaching out to gently slide the cube closer to himself. “You’re not the first human to assume I wasn’t sentient,” he tells you in between laps of energon. “Though, in their defense, when I was sent out to deal with them, it wasn’t with the intent to strike a conversation.”

Your eyes drift to his fangs, then down to his claws. Ravage makes a show of retracting and extending them when he catches you staring.

“If it’s any consolation,” he says with an expression you will one day recognize as mirth, “When I first came to Earth, I didn’t think your species was sentient either.”

The third time you meet, Ravage comes crawling out of the vents as you pace back and forth in your room, seething. Any surprise you might feel at his sudden appearance or any uneasiness at the knowledge that he could enter your room at any time is set aside for the satisfaction of being able to complain and vent with an audience.

Ravage crosses his paws and rests his head on top of them as you tell him of the exchange that soured your mood. How a couple of overcharged mechs had kneeled down and cooed over you, asking you what you were doing there and who you belonged to before Mirage told them to move along.

“They treated me like a child.” Or like an animal, you think, but keep that thought to yourself.

You’re overreacting. You know you are. It’s not the first time a new ‘bot has mistaken you for some exotic pet and it won’t be the last. The Lost Light is as big as a city full of plenty of Autobots who have never been to Earth, have never seen a human before. It’s an easy mistake for them to make and not necessarily one made out of cruelty. But that knowledge does little to quell the humiliation and rage that swells in your chest.

“It’s just so… so…” You struggle to find the right word.

“Degrading?” Ravage suggests with a knowing look.

“…yeah,” you agree. You’re reminded of your first encounter with him again, the way you’d talked down to him. “It’s degrading.”

Ravage’s tail twitches behind him as he lifts his head from his paws. “There are people who are going to look down at you for what you are. People who will underestimate you. And for every person who changes their mind once they meet you, there are many more who will keep their opinion the same in spite of you.”

“I know, I know. And I should content myself with those who see me as I am because those are the people whose opinions matter. I know.”

“Actually, I was going to say you should retaliate by regurgitating and spitting up your fuel in their habsuite.” He settles his head back down on his paws. “But to each his own.”

You see Ravage many more times after that. Enough times that you lose count. Enough times that you instinctually roll over when you wake to the sound of your mattress creaking from the extra weight, knees bending as your body forms a crescent shape so Ravage can nestle himself against your front. Your arms wrap around his body, hand gently patting against his lower back before you catch yourself and bring your arms back down to your sides.

“You can pet me, if you’d like.” Ravage’s voice is barely a whisper but in the quiet of the room he might as well be shouting.

“Doesn’t this sort of thing bother you?”

“Not if it’s someone who knows me.” Ravage presses his weight into you. “Not if it’s you.”

Your arms wrap back around him, fingers making a careful trail down his spine. You press your face against his neck, letting the gentle rumbling of his purrs lull you back to sleep.

[professordrarry]

Drarry, Healer Draco patching up his reckless magical creatures professor Harry after one of those tree critters(botruckle? Bowtruckle? Idek) bit his hand? And harry beind dramatic about it and draco thinking how he loves his dumb idiot boyfriend

so cheesy, and with a full-on ‘fade to black’ because you know, brain not handling smut rn. love youuuuu.

"Draco? DRACO!!! Draco, Draco, Draco…" 

Draco bolted from deep sleep to the plaintive cry of one Harry James Potter, who was certainly not as hurt as he was currently making himself out to be. Harry never came to find him for the serious stuff. Just last month, he'd been in a bad situation with a certain magical civet that one of the seventh years had managed to transfigure, and Draco hadn't heard about it until the next day when he was called to sign Harry out of the emergency ward. 

So no, Harry was most likely fine. 

At least, he was for now. Would he be after Draco had torn him to pieces for waking him up during a break in his 48-hour shift? Possibly no. Depended on how hurt he was already. 

"Harry! Stop. Shouting," he hissed, gently lighting his wand so Harry could see what bunk he was in. "If you wake Munroe too, I will not save you. You're only alive right now because I've decided to be lenient until I decide you aren't near death's door." 

Harry plopped down on Draco's bottom bed and swung his legs up. He held out his wand for a quick silencing spell, then raised his left hand into the light beam. 

"Maggie. She bit me," Harry said with a sheepish grin. 

Draco glared. "You came storming in here, in the middle of the night— while I'm on call — because of a bowtruckle bite?!" 

Harry shrugged and poked his finger in Draco's face. Dutifully, Draco yanked the hand by the wrist under his wand light and examined the tiny pinpricks he found there. He brought the bite to his lips and kissed it.

“There,” he hissed, shoving Harry’s hand back at his chest. “All the medical care required for a bowtruckle bite, you fucker.”

“Had to check. Was worried about...venom.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow. “Oh you were, were you? I really must write a letter to the Headmistress. She should be questioning the qualifications of her so-called ‘magical creatures’ professor.”

Harry chuckled and tucked himself further onto the bed, resting his head against the wall. 

“In my defence,” he teased as his eyes closed, “it really hurt.” 

“Unsurprising. What the hell were you doing bothering Maggie in the middle of the night? Despite all evidence, you do actually know better.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry muttered sleepily.

“Harry—”

“Just. Don’t worry. I’m not bringing it up. I swear.”

“Good. I have nothing more to say about—”

“Even though,” Harry pressed on obstinately, “it is an excellent idea and makes way more sense than what is happening right now. Since we are wizards and distance isn’t exactly a problem. Not to mention that you are spending half your salary on rent every month.”

“Harry, I have already told you that—”

“I told you, I’m not talking about it,” Harry interrupted. He opened one eye and shoved his palm in Draco’s face. “You missed a spot.”

“What?” Draco said, flustered by the hint at the argument they’d been having for almost a week. 

“Kiss it better,” Harry said, his demanding tone undercut slightly by the husk in his voice. 

The dusty vestiges of sleep demanded Draco’s attention; he’d been out on the floor for the better part of twelve hours and he’d been soundly asleep in that way that was not overly peaceful but did at least allow for rest. And yet. 

Here sat Harry, dressed in what was clearly whatever clothes had been on the floor when he’d thrown himself out of bed and down to the greenhouse. A wrinkled Gryffindor cardigan over a dusty black tee, dark grey sweatpants that may actually be Draco’s. Here, hair a wreck, glasses smudged, holding out his palm with that ridiculous, playful look in his eye. 

Gently, he pulled the hand to his lips and pressed the lightest kiss he could manage well still making contact there. Harry inhaled sharply and leaned into Draco’s space, pulling his cardigan off. At that moment, in that instant, he knew. 

Draco loved this idiot, more than was reasonable. 

“You too tired?” Harry whispered, his body pressed up against Draco’s bare chest.

“No,” Draco muttered back, pulling his shirt over his head and guiding him flat on his back. Harry, with more forethought than Draco was capable of at this point, reached out and pulled the bunk curtain closed. “Confident in that silencing?”

“You’ll have to just be quiet,” Draco teased. 

Harry smirked and latched himself to Draco as though a challenge had been accepted. 

—- —- —- —--—- —- —- —- —- —--—- —- —- —-

They laid beside each other in utter silence for a long time that night. There was an edge to it, an anticipation of something more. Draco knew that it was there because of him, but stubbornness mixed with exhaustion and he refused to acknowledge it. He fell asleep instead, which was probably the perfect solution.

Until his wand alarms went off just a half-hour later, making Harry — not yet accustomed to sleeping beside the magical pager system — jolt upright and smack his head on the top of the narrow bunk.

“Stay?” Draco insisted, already ripping the curtain aside and throwing on pants and his robes. “Go back to sleep. I’ve no idea how long I’ll be, but don’t leave, okay?”

Harry nodded groggily, rubbing his head as he lay back down. Draco leaned in and hastily kissed him as he grabbed his wand.

Of course, it was nearly morning by the time he made it back from the emergency ward. The bunks were empty, save for his snoring professor curled into his usual ball in the centre of the bunk, pillow long ago tossed aside. He looked vaguely like a husky when asleep, and it was baffling how adorable that was. Draco hurriedly dragged his robes off and pulled some soap through his hair, only just managing to dry off and pull on some pants before hurling himself back into the darkness of the curtained bunk.

“Everything okay,” Harry murmured, turning so he was pressed to Draco’s back.

“No. Emergency ward. S’fine,” Draco replied. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“It can’t be Hogwarts. I need to be able to Apparate.”

“I know. I said that. Hogsmeade?”

Draco inhaled. “Okay. But you have to promise…”

“Draco, I’m not going to end up hating you.”

He closed his eyes tightly and settled more soundly in bed, as Harry’s warm lips hit his shower-cooled skin and made him shiver.

“You don’t know that. You did once.”

Harry sat up and looked at him. Or at least, he assumed he was being looked at; his eyelids remained stubbornly closed.

“Draco,” Harry insisted. “I promise not to hate you. If we try, and it doesn’t work out, we just go our separate ways. We can do that. I know we can.”

He opened one eye and found Harry’s glasses-free earnestness facing him full on like the force of a hurricane.

“Okay,” he whispered. Harry’s face broke into a giant grin. “But I’m going to insist you learn to take care of your own Bowtruckle bites.”

“Nah. Like your treatment better.”

[autistic-girl-academic]

Cookie Run OCs

gdi apparently one of the cookies in cr kingdom is named licorice cookie so screw it i’m biting the bullet and posting my half-baked (ha) oc ideas now even if some of them have already been taken anyway. sorry there’s no art bc i’m terrible with digital stuff and can’t access a scanner to upload my drawings. there are almost certainly going to be more to come later because this game refuses to leave my brain.

Black Licorice Cookie: The powerfully astringent flavor of black licorice certainly isn’t to everyone’s taste - and that’s just the way Black Licorice Cookie likes it! This daredevil of a Cookie loves nothing more than testing her limits, so she’s always on the lookout for something to get her adrenaline pumping. That doesn’t mean she isn’t without her sweet side, however, which comes out most strongly when protecting her precious little sister. Get between them at your own risk!

Red Licorice Cookie (Sibling): Don’t mess with my little sis if you know what’s good for you!

Mustard Cookie (Trust): Nobody else gets me like Mustard Cookie does!

Kiwi Cookie (Friendly): Hey, I’ve got an idea for some cool bike tricks!

Roll Cake Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride in that road roller and smashing things is such a rush! WHOO!

Initially I had the mental image of her as a Cookie with a web design and a spider pet, but then Truffle Cookie came out, so now I pretty much picture her skill being that she runs a Ninja-Warrior-style obstacle course or something. Maybe her pet could be a black cat instead?

Red Licorice Cookie: Between the fruity fragrance of her signature red hair and her sweet, outgoing personality, it’s no surprise that this Cookie is so popular! Red Licorice Cookie is a champion at gymnastics with plenty of fans, and performing with the ribbon is where she shines the most. She and her older twin sister might be as different as night and day, but their bond is as strong as a thousand strands of licorice twisted together!

Black Licorice Cookie (Sibling): I’ve got the coolest big sis in the world!

Cheerleader Cookie (Trust): Cheerleader Cooke is my BFF!

Yoga Cookie (Friendly): She’s helped me train to be much more flexible for my routines.

Skating Queen Cookie (Admiration): I can’t believe I actually got her autograph!

At first I imagined her as being a sort of epic version of Cheerleader Cookie, performing double dutch with a few friends much like the cheer team. Her pet would be a charm bracelet.

Oatmeal Cookie: Every day at the crack of dawn, this dutiful cowgirl is already hard at work, keeping a watchful eye over her herd with the help of her trusty steed, Raisin. If even a single cow goes missing, Oatmeal Cookie won’t rest until she’s got them home safe and sound. The tricks she can perform with a lasso will certainly knock your socks off! And when the sun starts to set, you can hear the sound of her yodeling from far across the plains.

Peanut Butter Cookie (Family): I’m the luckiest Cookie alive to have such a beautiful gal as you...

Knight Cookie (Friendly): You sure know how to burn the breeze!

Adventurer Cookie (Friendly): Nice hat ya got there, pardner!

Space Doughnut (Tension): Hey, stop spookin’ my herd!

Her skill would probably involve dodging obstacles on her horse while catching some runaway cows, and her pet would be a cowbell.

Peanut Butter Cookie: There’s nothing better for a boost of energy than some delicious, nutritious peanut butter! And forest ranger Peanut Butter Cookie definitely needs that energy, as she spends every day traversing the woods to keep them safe. Whether she’s helping Cookies who have gotten lost find their way home or rescuing woodland critters from danger, you can always depend on Peanut Butter Cookie. She’s especially fond of younger Cookies and enjoys teaching them wilderness survival skills.

Oatmeal Cookie (Family): She and I pack each others’ lunches every day.

Pancake Cookie (Friendly): Be careful climbing trees for those Acorn Jellies, dear!

Cream Puff Cookie (Friendly): I’m sure you’ll get that spell right next time, hun.

Fig Cookie (Trust): They’re always eager for me to tell them stories.

Fire Spirit Cookie (Tension): You keep those flames away from the forest, you hear?

You can probably tell by now that I’ve put like 0 thought into any of my Cookie OC’s skills. Anyway, her pet would be a bear that she helped when it was a cub, who shows up to help her by smashing obstacles.

Coconut Cookie: The Tropical Soda Archipelago has a long history of telling stories through traditional dance. Coconut Cookie comes from a long line of those dancers, and Cookies will flock from every island to watch her perform. Crowned with a garland of bright yellow coconut blossoms, she moves with the utmost rhythm and grace. It’s said that she practices every day so that she can bring peace and good fortune to the islands.

Mango Cookie (Trust): My best friend since we were little - I remember his very first boat!

Ananas Dragon Cookie (Admiration): The Dragon honored my ancestors by praising their dances.

Soda Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride on the waves is the best, isn’t it?

Squid Ink Cookie (Friendly): Poor little thing, there’s no need to be shy.

My first thought was for her to make a sort of bubble shield out of coconut oil, like Lemonade Cookie but without the magnetic effect (maybe slower energy drain instead?) - I’m still undecided about it though. Her pet would be a bunch of coconuts who make coconut milk potions. Also, I picture her being related to Artichoke Cookie, but he’s not in Ovenbreak...YET? (pls devsis)

Honeycomb Cookie: Out in a charming little cottage atop a hill lives Honeycomb Cookie - and her many hives of Jelly Bees. Years upon years of working with the bees has allowed her to understand them so well, it’s almost as if she talks to them! If you happen to arrive on her doorstep, you can be sure that she’ll treat you to some delicious tea sweetened with honey and send you on your way with a basket of homemade treats.

Herb Cookie (Family): My cute little grandson certainly inherited the family green thumb.

Spinach Cookie (Trust): Oh, how sweet of you to bring me a basket of vegetables, dearie!

Fairy Cookie (Friendly): Ah, you’re so small I mistook you for another bee.

Matcha Cookie (Friendly): A bit of a strange one, but it’s nice to have some laughter over tea.

Not sure what her skill would be, but I think her pet would be a queen Jelly Bee that grows from a baby to an adult as you collect more jellies.

Souffle Cookie: A chef famous for turning simple Jellies into extravagant and delicious meals. Though he can come off as strict and a bit intimidating, he truly does care about creating good food for every Cookie who comes to his restaurant. Souffle Cookie is quite the perfectionist, so if a recipe doesn’t come out as planned, he tends to sulk so badly that even his fluffy chef’s hat deflates! But it never lasts long before he throws himself back into his work with renewed passion.

Sparkling Cookie (Trust): My cooking and your juice is the ultimate combination!

Sandwich Cookie (Admiration): To create such simple but delicious meals...C’est magnifique!

Mala Sauce Cookie (Friendly): Just watch, I’ll create a meal more than spicy enough to satisfy you!

Dr. Wasabi Cookie (Tension): I am NEVER using your syrup as a ‘secret ingredient’ EVER again!

Again, not sure what his skill would be, but maybe his pet could be a spoon. Sous-chef Spoon?

Rainbow Sugar Cookie: Sugar Cookie was always painfully shy and never considered herself all that important. However, everything changed when she met Rainbow Puff, a creature who begged for her help in protecting the happiness of Cookies everywhere from the wicked Dark Puffs. Bestowed with a magical wand, she becomes Rainbow Sugar Cookie, chasing away darkness with prisms of joyous light! RAINBOW...BEAM!

Pink Choco Cookie (Trust): The two of us would make a perfect team!

Wind Archer Cookie (Admiration): Wow...what an amazing warrior...

Sandwich Cookie (Friendly): She makes the best toast as a snack on the way to school!

Dark Enchantress Cookie (Rival): I won’t let a villain like you make other Cookies suffer!

Pomegranate Cookie (Tension): Why are you helping the Darkness?

Originally her name was Glitter Cookie, but then Shining Glitter Cookie got announced. In any case, she’d pretty much be an epic version of Wind Archer Cookie, fighting a big ‘boss’ monster once enough little ones were defeated with her magic.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie: Trick or treat! Wait, is it Halloween already? The answer doesn’t really matter to this young Cookie, who loves trick-or-treating so much that they never take their costume off! If you don’t have Jellies to give, then get ready for a mischievous trick! But if there’s one thing they love more than getting treats, it’s sharing them with friends, so don’t be shy and join in the fun!

Candy Corn Cookie (Trust): My bestest trick-or-treating buddy!

Devil Cookie (Admiration): WOW! What a great costume!

Apple Cookie (Friendly): Here, candy apples!

Onion Cookie (Friendly): Trick o- um, please don’t cry...

Vampire Cookie (Tension): Hey, don’t fall asleep when I’m trying to trick you!

I thought I was in the clear with this OC when we got Truffle Cookie for Halloween...but then Pumpkin Cookie was an NPC later, lol. At least the name was an easy change. Their skill would basically be like a slower version of Chestnut’s, where you go up to houses and trick-or-treat.

Candy Corn Cookie: This Cookie used to be a scarecrow who stood in the middle of a big field of candy corn. However, they wanted to travel the world, so one night they wished upon a star...and miraculously, their wish was granted! Bursting with curiosity, Candy Corn Cookie is full of questions about everything they see. They still have a habit of chasing birds wherever they go, though.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie (Trust): This ‘trick-or-treat’ thing is really fun!

Alchemist Cookie (Admiration): Wow, this Cookie knows lots of things!

Blueberry Pie Cookie (Friendly): Ooh, what’s in all these ‘book’ things?

Mocha Ray Cookie (Friendly): Cookies can really live under the sea? WOW!

Carrot Cookie (Tension): Aw, I don’t wanna go back to the farm yet!

Candy corn apparently used to be called ‘chicken feed’, so their pet would probably be a chicken. Again, not sure about the skill.

[lemonsandstrawberries]

Goodbye - Figaro Drabble #14

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Figaro universe, Superfamily (Tony and Steve adopting Peter Parker)

summary: Nothing can last forever and inviting a pet into your life means saying goodbye one day.

warning: pet death (peaceful and after a long life, but still death)

length: 2 323 words

a/n: I didn’t think that I would have to say goodbye to one more of my cats this year, but we tried, we fought, we lost. I couldn’t do anything more for you, just hold you in my arms, as you moved on. I know that we will see each other again and for now, I promise that your bowl, your sleeping spot, and the love I can’t give you anymore will be for another cat you will send my way. I love you and I will miss you, Little Eye ❤. this fic is for you and everyone who ever lost their pets, please, don’t close your heart and homes, it hurts, I know, but the happy moments outweigh the pain. this is not the last Figaro fic, just my goodbye to my cat and my statement. soon will be back on a happier note, just need some time to rest and heal

————

Goodbye - Figaro Drabble #14

It was… horrible to watch, yet everyone couldn't take their eyes off the scene. Even Natasha, who was skilled in hiding her emotions, had a hand pressed to her mouth stifling the sobs matching the glossy look in her eyes.

"Sweetheart…"

A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder, yet Tony curled in himself, a heart-wrenching sob shaking his whole body and twisting everyone's heart.

"Tony… It's… It is okay now."

Tony choked on his tears, holding the bundle closer. It wasn't okay. It never again would be okay. He felt the small frame and lifeless body he was holding wrapped in a blanket and he couldn't stop crying.

Steve looked at the back at his team, unsure what to do. He received no help. No one wanted to interfere this moment, knowing that it was theirs. Even Peter didn't move, his head cast down as silent tears were rolling down his cheeks and falling to the grass. Clint's hand was resting on his godson's arm in the same consoling manner as Steve kept his hand on his husband's shoulder.

Bruce, silent and with a stoic expression, hid the syringe away into the material pouch. As cruel the words were, everything went fine. He passed away peacefully after a long life of happiness and love.

"Tony," it was Rhodey who first stepped out, feeling that if the moments got any longer, Tony won't be able to end it. He knew that Steve was shaken and grieving himself, but it was time to move on. "Tony, he is gone. It is over."

The words were needed but made Tony's pain explode with a whole new force. He curled even more, almost laying on the soft soil, the wind carrying his cries. Maybe not yet. Maybe he still could feel. They couldn't take him away unless he was sure there was nothing left.

Rhodey looked over at Bruce who gave a confirming nod. The first shot was a sedative, to let him drift into a painless sleep. The second shot was the drug, to stop the heart and brain functions. The dose was precise and there was no mistake.

"Tony, give me Figaro," Rhodey asked in a demanding, yet soft voice. He saw how hard it was for his friend to let go and prolonging this moment would be just more scarring.

Tony didn't answer, only shook his head vigorously, tears streaming quicker with the movement.

"Do you want to carry him?"

Tony nodded. Slowly, and with Steve's help, he stood up, carrying his cat's lifeless body wrapped in a blanket. They all moved in silence, in a grim march, to the back yard of Clint's farm, where Steve had dug a grave earlier. Tony kneeled in front of the soft soil and for the last time run his hand over the blanket, dimly feeling the soft fur that in the last week became matted and thinner. He placed the bundle down, next to the old fish on a rod that was Figaro's favorite toy and a bit of dry cat food in a material bag, in case his cat would get hungry on his way.

"Bye Fig," Tony whispered in a broken voice, tears streaming down his cheeks, "I will always remember you," he closed his eyes, seeing it all again. The day he saw the small kitten on the street, shocked, with a broken paw. The squeaky meows during the first night at the new home. The warm weight, covering his whole torso as Figaro cuddled to him, purring happily. The way Tony shook his head each time, he found that one of his best formal suits was once again all covered in black, long fur. The happy moments and the sad days when Figaro stopped eating, not leaving his hiding spot and meowing in distress. There was no cure for old age. He could only help him to move on without any pain. Tony grabbed the small shovel and put the first mound of earth, saying the final goodbye to his long-time friend. Steve kneeled next to Tony and placed the second.

"Bye buddy," he smiled sadly, eyes shining with tears, "we will meet again one day," he stood up, holding Tony with him, as the rest of the team and their son walked closer to say their goodbye. The couple stood in the distance, Tony hidden into Steve and sobbing, not able to stop. Steve kept rubbing his back, knowing that there was no way to stop it anyway. The pain won't go away on demand and only time could heal his heart and let him see again all the happiness and erase the sadness.

Skillfully, Clint placed the big, marble-like stone on top of the ground. Engraved letters 'Figaro - The First Cat Avenger' sparkled in the sun, reminding of happier days.

"You can visit him whenever you want," Clint turned to Tony, putting a hand on his friend's arm and squeezing reassuringly. "Don't worry, Lucky will take good care of him," he smiled as Figaro's grave was next to his dog's grave. Two years ago, Clint had to go through the same ordeal when Lucky stopped eating and lost his strength, not able to walk anymore. He knew what Tony was going through and how painful it was.

Tony nodded his thanks, not able to smile or say a word, not yet.

"Figaro was a mighty, noble cat," Thor rumbled in a low, pleasant voice. "He will be welcomed in Valhalla with opened arms."

Peter didn't join his uncles who went to talk with his dads. He stayed near the grave and looked at the sparkling stone. His dad was heartbroken and he felt the same way. Of course, he didn't remember when as a baby he was adopted, but his earliest memories always included Figaro. He remembered tugging on the cat's tail, and Figaro being remarkably patient with him. He remembered the first time when he was able to lift the almost thirty-pound cat and how proud he was, carrying the cat around when he was less than ten years old, hearing his dads cheering on him. The time he became Spider-Man and how confused he was with his powers and the sudden changes, and Figaro in his lap, purring out comfort and grounding him back. Figaro was Tony's cat, always had been, but Peter loved him equally strong and easily considered his best friend. It was hard to say goodbye, even if Figaro happily lived to twenty years old, which was pretty remarkable for a cat.

"You okay, kiddo?"

He wasn't a kid anymore, but when he looked at Natasha, his eyes were full of tears. Maybe it was the sun playing tricks, but he could swear that there were also tears in his aunt's eyes.

"Come on, let's head back," she said, extending her hand to the teenager, and walking with him back to the farmhouse, the rest of the team already waiting inside. The apple cider was heating up on the stove and they all could have a warm mug of comfort.

The days were passing, and life was going back to normal. Peter observed his dads, and the way Tony was closing in himself, spending more time in the workshop than he should. He could understand it and knew that his father always bottled his emotions by working himself half to death. His other dad, of course, didn't like it but didn't know how to help and let Tony slip away each morning, not stopping him, letting Tony heal at his own pace.

Peter took in his own hands to make them a family again. He looked through many cat lovers forum, reading about people's experiences with losing their pets and the way they handled the loss and emptiness. There was one sentence that kept repeating every few posts, and while Peter felt disgusted at first, considering it cruel and heartless to move on so soon, it slowly made sense to him and sounded like a good remedy.

"You want to adopt a cat?" Steve asked, lowering the newspaper and frowning at his son.

"Yhm," Peter nodded. No cat would ever replace Figaro, but if they could give a home to a cat in need, why not? He missed having a cat in the house and had a feeling that it might help Tony with his feelings.

"I don't know, Pete…" Steve sighed, folding the paper and thinking about his husband. About how dull his eyes became in the last weeks and how nothing seemed to make him happy anymore. Bringing in a cat not even a month after Figaro's passing away, seemed harsh on his grieving husband. "Maybe we should wait until your dad will feel better and ask if he is ready for a new cat."

Peter tilted his head to the side, eyeing his father. "Do you think he will get better?"

"Of course," Steve lied right away. It may take more days, or more weeks or months, but Tony would move on. They both just needed to give him time and support and be patient.

"Pops…" Peter ran both hands through his hair, sounding genuinely distressed. "I am worried. And I read some articles and I think it really might help. Us all," he added in a quieter voice.

Steve's heart broke a little. He knew that not only their small family was missing Figaro, but every resident of the Avengers Tower did too. He missed having a cat. Wakening up with a face full of fur and having to share his bacon with a little, greedy critter. Sometimes he caught himself in the kitchen, holding a stripe a raw bacon while the pan was heating up and waiting for soft paws to come running and a begging meowing concert to start, before he realized that those moments were not coming back and green eyes won't look at him pleadingly, trying to get a piece.

"Alright," he agreed, hiding back behind the newspaper, "tomorrow we will go to the shelter, but I can't promise anything."

It was all Peter needed and Steve could practically see his son's huge smile from behind the newspaper.

Tomorrow came soon, and Steve was mentally preparing himself for the trip to the shelter. He didn't tell Tony about his and Peter's plan, and as soon as his husband took the elevator down to his workshop, they left the Tower and got into the car, not knowing if they would come back with a new family member.

It wasn't planned, but as soon as Peter saw the cat, he knew it belonged in the Avengers family. On their way back, they picked up all necessary things to welcome the newest resident, accompanied by sweet purring.

"Tony, sweetheart."

Tony lifted his head and moved the goggles up to his hairline, stopping welding for a second, when he heard his husband calling.

Hoping that everything would turn alright, Steve walked closer and smiled insecurely. "I and Peter want you to meet someone."

Just then, Peter walked from behind Steve's back, holding in his hands a carrier. Tony's eyes widened when he recognized Figaro's carrier and he looked at his husband, some anger shining in his eyes. Then he heard it. A meow. He opened his mouth to yell, to scold how dared they make this decision without him and that he wasn't ready and no cat would ever replace Figaro, when Peter put the carrier on the workbench and opened it, taking the pet out.

Immediately, Tony lost his voice, eyes not leaving the cat for even a second.

"This is Stella," Peter introduced with a smile, putting the cat on the bench and petting her for comfort. The cat looked frightened and turned her eyes to Tony, sensing a new person.

Tony blinked, seemingly taken aback. It wasn't a kitten, but an adult cat, and was nothing like Figaro. She was short hair and lean, gray and striped and looked like an ordinary alley cat. There was nothing special about her, nothing that would make her stand out from the other cats. What was more, when she turned her face to Tony, he saw milky blue eyes, nothing like the beautiful vivid green of his Figaro. This cat was blind.

His husband and son came back with an old, blind cat.

Tony's heart beat faster, when the cat let out a tiny meow, feeling that her fate became questionable. Gently, Tony took a step closer and extended his hand. Stella smelled it and head-butted the offered palm graciously.

It was their first encounter and Steve watched with a nervously beating heart how it would develop. Peter kept smiling brightly, already knowing.

Slowly and delicately, Tony took the cat in his hands, causing the cat to struggle nervously at first, until he pressed her to his chest and stroked down the short fur, cooing lovingly. Her fur was a bit matted, but on the right diet, she would become even more beautiful.

"She is perfect," Tony whispered, cuddling the calmed down cat, listening to the happy purring. "I already love her," he said in a breaking voice, hiding his face into the cat's fur. Stella turned her head and brushed Tony's cheeks, her whiskers tickling a bit and Tony giggled quietly. "Let's get you some food. And I will show you where you can sleep," he cooed to the cat, heading to the door.

Steve looked at his beaming son, smiling happily, glad that he listened to the advice. Maybe he should give Peter more credit and listen to him more often. Tony was already looking better and it was the first time in weeks he saw his husband smiling again.

"Are you two coming?"

After the question, Peter and Steve quickly left the workshop, following Tony and Stella, who already became best friends. They wouldn't miss Stella's first day in her new forever home for the world.

----------

Little Eye appeared in Meow Cafe series as one of the original cats that were first in the cafe. In the fic she got adopted by an elderly couple who I based on my parents

[aion-rsa]

Lobo: 15 Things You Must Know About The Main Man

He’s been hacked, stabbed, dismembered and blown up. Most recently, in the pages of “Justice League vs. Suicide Squad,” Batman blew his head clean off his shoulders. But there’s just no keeping the Main Man down. Created in 1983 by Keith Giffen and Roger Slifer as a ruthless bounty hunter who hounded the Omega Men, Lobo would eventually evolve into a parody of the stereotypical ultra-violent comic book antihero and become one of DC’s most popular characters during the ‘90s.

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Once again in the spotlight thanks to his upcoming appearance in Steve Orlando and Ivan Reis’ new “Justice League of America” series, DC seems committed to returning the Main Man to his former pre-New 52 glory. Without a doubt, Lobo is back in a big way, so we thought it the perfect time to drop a list of 15 things you need to know about the lovable Czarnian bastich.

SPOILER ALERT! Spoilers ahead for numerous stories published by DC Comics.

ALPHA DOG AND OMEGA MEN

As we can see in the image of our first entry, Lobo may have always been a bastich, but he didn’t always have the best fashion sense. In fact, when he first appeared in 1983’s “Omega Men” #3, Lobo barely resembled the musclebound mercenary space biker we’ve all come to know and love (or dread, if you have a particularly sensitive stomach). Garbed in a sleek yet garish purple and orange leotard, Lobo appears much leaner and less meaner than subsequent interpretations. Who knew Lobo had a glam phase?

In this pre-Crisis version of the character, Lobo’s origin story was also much different. Although he was still the last surviving member of his race, he wasn’t Czarnian, but Velorpian. He became the most feared bounty hunter in the Vega System after the technologically advanced Psions massacred his people, leaving him as the sole survivor. Throughout his early “Omega Men” appearances, Lobo displays the seeds of his more violent future self, but there is a definite softer edge to him as he becomes an ally of the Omega Men rather than their adversary.

THE LAST CZARNIAN

In the now-classic four-issue limited series “Lobo: The Last Czarnian,” Keith Giffen, Alan Grant and Simon Bisley dramatically altered Lobo’s origin story, setting a drastically different tone for the character going forward. Although he was still the lone survivor of his race’s genocide, Lobo was no longer an innocent bystander of the global slaughter. Now hailing from the utopian world of Czarnia, a planet that resembled Earth in many ways, Lobo only survived the massacre because he was its architect.

In most versions of the story (and there have been a few), the cause for Lobo’s dangerous fascination with violence is that he was simply born bad. Although he’d managed to murder half the Czarnian population by the age of 16, by the time he reached 17 years old, he’d unleashed a plague that wiped out the other half and declared himself the Last Czarnian. It was a startling change of status quo that stripped Lobo of his noble origins and repositioned him as the cartoonish, hyper-violent metalhead he is today. No longer simply a grittier version of Superman, the new Lobo was his own man, who became the poster child for silly ‘90s antiheroes.

HIS WORD IS HIS BOND

No matter what version of the character we consider, one of Lobo’s defining traits is his reputation as a bounty hunter who always fulfills his contract. And while his motivations are typically financial rather than altruistic, in this regard, one thing is for certain: the Main Man is the Main Man because he’s reliable. If his interpretation of a contract is a little broad in some cases, then all we can say is… well, what did you expect? The guy’s an interplanetary mercenary killing machine. Morals aren’t his strong suit.

That isn’t to say Lobo doesn’t possess his own moral code. Remember, he kept a vow of peace as the Triple Fish God’s Archbishop (until he found a loophole, thanks to the Eye of Ekron) and even kept a promise to his colleague Vril Dox not to take payment for any bounties he accepted, while a member of R.E.B.E.Ls. So what if that didn’t stop him from taking a freebie contract to whack the cosmic despot known as “Gawd?” The fact remains, Lobo is a man of his word, the type of guy you always want for your team rather than against it.

THE IMMORTAL ONE?

As we’ve already mentioned, it’s damn near impossible to kill a Czarnian by conventional means. By his own words (which doesn’t actually mean much, given his penchant for exaggeration), only a Czarnian can kill another Czarnian. That doesn’t mean Lobo can’t be stopped. Booster Gold outlasted him with a simple force field, while Batman took the much more expedient route of injecting him with one of Amanda Waller’s patented brain bombs and literally separated his head form his shoulders. (Don’t worry, it grew back.)

He also has the vaguely-defined ability to separate his consciousness from his body, when he sustains too much damage and can regenerate himself from a single drop of blood. Even Heaven and Hell couldn’t take him. In 1992’s “Lobo’s Back,” after a battle with Death, Lobo slaughtered his way across the afterlife, tearing through all of the demons of Hell and all of the angels of Heaven. The end result was that he was banned from both regions of the afterlife, effectively making him immortal by default.

SPACE DOLPHIN ADVOCATE

Nobody knows why Lobo loves space dolphins so much, but they are the only beings in the universe he won’t harm. Resembling Terran bottlenose dolphins in appearance, space dolphins are a communal, peace-loving race and pretty much the only beings in the universe that can calm the Main Man down. Lobo loves the critters so much he’s taken payment for completed contracts in dolphin food and has even been shown frolicking playfully with his beloved cetaceans on more than one occasion. His love of dolphins runs so deep, he was unable to fight Aquaman, who he discovered was raised by a dolphin named Porm.

If that weren’t enough, when Space Sector 3500 was inundated by refugees fleeing Lady Styx, Lobo became their spiritual leader as the Archbishop of the First Celestial Church of the Triple Fish God. The role called for Lobo to take a vow forsaking violence, which he only agreed to out of deference to his dolphin pals. He was finally able to rid himself of the troublesome position, when he killed the Triple Fish God using the notorious Emerald Eye of Ekron. Stick that in your blowhole, Triple Fish God!

KILLER RIDE

Lobo’s preferred mode of transportation is his beloved SpazFrag666, better known to the universe at large as “the Spacehog.” Debuting alongside Lobo in “Omega Men” #3, the Spacehog, like its owner, has undergone significant upgrades over the course of its long service. According to the specs provided in “The Last Czarnian” limited series, the Spacehog boasts a miniaturized 17-liter powerplant with triple turbo capabilities and hands-off facility. Its top speed rests somewhere in the millions of kilometers per minute. Thankfully, it runs on Unleaded.

Custom designed by the Main Man himself, the Spacehog is capable of traversing the cold vacuum of space, without harm coming to its riders and can even travel through time thanks to tech salvaged from a decommissioned time hopper. The Spacehog is more than the sum total of its parts, though. Like his ever-present meat hook, Lobo’s ride is a statement piece, a symbol of the Main Man’s adherence to the intergalactic lifestyle that has made him the most feared bastich in the universe.

DESTRUCTIVE GENIUS

Thanks to his rough-and-tumble exterior, it’s easy to write Lobo off as a one-dimensional bruiser, whose only talent is causing widespread destruction. However, underestimating the Main Man’s genius for destruction would be unwise. Lobo is by no means a stupid guy. Let’s not forget it was Lobo who killed off the entire Czarnian race by introducing a killer virus that he engineered himself. And those time travel capabilities built into the Spacehog? That was all Lobo, too.

Lobo’s intelligence isn’t simply limited to devising weapons of mass destruction and advanced interstellar motorcycle mechanics. Despite his brawling fighting style, Lobo is a master of several martial arts from across the galaxy. He’s also an expert tracker and a multicultural, omni-lingual man of the people, who can speak over 17,000 intergalactic languages. His knowledge of thousands of different cultures and planets borders on the encyclopedic and comes in handy on his far-ranging bounties.

RED LANTERN

Before the New 52 effectively gelded the Main Man, Lobo came into the possession of a powerful Red Lantern ring. We know what you’re thinking. Let’s give one of the vilest beings in the entire universe a WMD that fits on his finger. Thankfully, while it was in his possession, Lobo preferred to rely on his other gifts and kept the ring on a chain around his neck. If you’re wondering whose brilliant idea this was, look no further than Atrocitus, leader of the Red Lanterns, and one of the few beings in the universe whose pissy disposition rivals Lobo’s own.

It all happened during DC’s much-heralded but inevitably futile “Brightest Day” event, in the pages of “Green Lantern” #54. When an opportunity to collect a bounty on Atrocitus’s head presents itself, Lobo is the first merc on the scene. The job also pushes him into a battle with Hal Jordan, Carol Ferris and Sinestro, but after a lackluster, half-assed showing, Lobo bails inexplicably. His uncharacteristic retreat doesn’t sit well with Jordan and it’s later revealed the gig was a ruse perpetrated by Atrocitus himself, in order to gain the trust of the other Lantern Corps in the New Guardians. The payment? A red Lantern ring, of course, which Lobo decided to “save for a rainy day.”

SO LONG, MISS TRIBB

While most of us look back fondly on our fourth grade teachers, such was not the case for Lobo. In “Lobo: The Last Czarnian,” the Main Man discovers that he is not the only surviving member of his race, when he accepts a contract to escort his fourth grade teacher, Miss Tribb, to his employer and L.E.G.I.O.N. colleague, Vril Dox. Unfortunately, the contract stipulated the subject had to be delivered alive to Dox, so Lobo was stuck protecting the old bird from all manner of bounty hunter scum, like the Legion of Decency and the Orthography Commandos.

By the end of the series, Lobo had endured a variety of bizarre and humiliating trials and racked up a body count of planetary proportions (the pleasure planet Revel-7, alas, was pleasurable no more), but managed to deliver Miss Tribb to Vril Dox alive and well. Having fulfilled his contract to Dox, he promptly snapped Miss Tribb’s neck like a twig, once again secure in his title as the undisputed last Czarnian.

SUPERMAN STRONG

As the most feared homicidal, genocidal, interstellar chopper-riding bounty hunter in the universe, it only stands to reason that Lobo’s power set is right up there with the rest of DC’s super-powered heavyweights. Not only does he possess a healing factor that would make Deadpool jealous, Lobo’s Czarnian physiology also gives him immense strength and stamina, allowing him to commit countless atrocities without breaking a sweat. In fact, he’s so powerful he gave Justice League members Big Barda and the Martian Manhunter a run for their money, almost killing the latter in the process, no mean feat, considering even Superman believes J’onn J’onzz to be one of the most powerful heroes in the DCU.

Speaking of the big blue boy scout, Lobo is so strong that he’s one of the few beings in the universe able to chuck knuckles with Supes and give him a run for his money. He’s fought the Man of Steel on more than one occasion, with no clear winner and continues to intermittently plague the do-gooder just to see who would come out the victor. After all, there can only be one Main Man in the universe and we all know who that is.

THE MULTIPLE (MAIN) MAN

One of Lobo’s most unique powers is his ability to clone duplicates of himself from every drop of his blood that an adversary spills. Apparently, this is an ability all Czarnians possessed (until Lobo created the pathogen that killed them all), but one that has been ill-defined and rarely used over the years. At one point, Vril Dox even managed to remove the ability until it resurfaced after Lobo was de-aged by Klarion the Witchboy and killed during a mission to Apokolips with Young Justice. Upon his death, a veritable horde of Lobo clones arose from the copious amount of blood left over from his gruesome demise. A massive battle ensued between the rapidly aging clones until finally one adult Main Man emerged victorious. Or so it would seem.

One clone, dubbed Slobo, also survived the disastrous mission to Apokolips, but his DNA was unstable and his body started to degenerate. In a last heroic (and patently un-Lobo-like) act, Slobo sacrificed himself to save his Young Justice teammate, the Secret, from Darkseid’s Omega Beams, which transported Slobo to the 853rd century, where he was trapped in his own honorary statue in the future Young Justice’s lair.

CHRISTMASSACRE

Christmas took a decidedly gory turn with the release of “The Lobo Paramilitary Christmas Special” #1 by Keith Giffen, Alan Grant and Simon Bisley. Within these festive pages, Lobo accepts one of his most controversial contracts to date. Fueled by a long-simmering jealous rage and tired of being upstaged by Christmas, an inebriated Easter Bunny hires Lobo to whack Santa Claus. Never one to look a gift reindeer in the mouth, Lobo readily accepts the job and immediately sets about killing not only Santa but pretty much anything and everything Christmas related.

After slaughtering his way through an army of elf-guards, Lobo throws down with good ol’ Kris “Crusher” Kringle in a vicious knife fight for the ages. Despite an early stalemate, during which Santa gave a surprisingly strong accounting of himself, Lobo decapitates the jolly old thug with one of his own kukris. But if you thought that was the end of things, you’re sadly mistaken. After raining down terror and death from the skies on the homes of all the bad kids in Santa’s stolen sleigh, Lobo closes out the issue by executing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, killing the last of our Christmas cheer with one final bullet.

SUICIDAL TENDENCIES

If one thing has become abundantly clear throughout our list, it’s that Lobo is no stranger to controversy. Whether he’s accepting contracts on “Gawd” or murdering Santa Claus, the Main Man courts controversy with a zeal only matched by his passion for violence. However, controversy comes in many forms. Take DC’s current crossover series “Justice League vs. Suicide Squad,” for example. More than a traditional slugfest between the two titular teams, the six-issue mini also rewrites a major piece of DCU history.

To further his efforts of securing Eclipso’s Heart of Darkness gem, Max Lord breaks out a crew of criminals so dangerous Amanda Waller had them locked up in hidden black site and basically threw away the key. Dubbed the “first” Suicide Squad by Waller, Johnny Sorrow, Doctor Polaris, Emerald Empress, Rustam and the pre-New 52 Main Main were incarcerated because they were too dangerous to risk letting them fall into the wrong hands. The revelation sparked outrage across the Internet, as fans reacted strongly to the seemingly unnecessary retcon. Be that as it may, it doesn’t change the fact that after a lengthy absence, the one, true Lobo was back in action in DC’s new post-Rebirth continuity.

“BETTER TO LEAVE HIM ON THE SHELF”

So, here does that leave the ill-considered, poorly-received pretender that slouched his way into the DCU during the New 52? Well, to be blunt, it leaves him quite literally shelved. Universally panned by fans and critics alike, DC’s attempt to reboot Lobo as a younger, sleeker goth antihero was, to some, the most harebrained move of the entire New 52 relaunch, second only to the prolonged absence of characters like the original Wally West. The publisher only fanned the fires of fanboy outrage when they made a spectacle of goth Lobo killing off the Main Man in the pages of his short-lived ongoing series.

DC’s Rebirth soft reboot provided the publisher with an opportunity to set the record straight and correct its past mistakes. In the most recent issue of “Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps,” the New 52 Lobo is one of many specimens Orange Lantern avatar Larfleeze and Brainiac have collected. When Guy Gardner attempts to free the goth pretender from his jar, Hal Jordan appears in the nick of time stating, “Not that one. Trust me. Better to leave him on the shelf.” Lobo fanboys everywhere rejoiced.

THE MAIN MAN ON THE MAIN STAGE

Did you know that in 2002, Lobo was the star of his own MTV show? Yah, we’d forgotten that interesting little tidbit, too. So we thought it only appropriate to round out our list with a reminder of just how popular Lobo has become since his debut all those years ago in the pages of “Omega Men.” Few characters in DC’s canon have been able to sustain the level of popularity Lobo has enjoyed over the past 34 years and fewer still were created during the Bronze Age of Comics.

Banking on his unconventional, ultra-violent personality and the inescapable nostalgia readers have for the comics of their youth, DC seems to be betting on our unrelenting love for the Main Man. Not only will he be a key player in February’s upcoming relaunch of “Justice League of America,” but the Internet is abuzz with rumors of a potential feature film, thanks to an Instagram post by screenwriter Jason Fuchs that carried the hashtag “#portraitofabastich.” With the inarguable success of R-rated superhero flicks like “Deadpool” proving there’s a market for balls-to-wall ultra-violent comic book movies, we can only hope that Lobo gets his shot at mainstream superstardom.

Bastichs unite! Let us know what we don’t know about Lobo in the Comments!

The post Lobo: 15 Things You Must Know About The Main Man appeared first on CBR.com.

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