#questions are also rough

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[the-mang0tree]

blub blub

their actual colors

[artiquar]

I can't wait to see how they work things out.

[harbingersglory]

Hello, could I have transfem Signora x fem!reader smut? Any scenario is fine, just need dom Signora railing me 😩

{☆} characters la signora {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, dom la signora, transfem la signora {☆} warnings 18+ content, restraints, temperature play, face fucking, degradation, pet play

There's a moment of silence that lingers for far too long, the cold nipping at your exposed skin until you feel shivers wrack your body. You squirm instinctively, seeking out the fading warmth of the thick furs laid out beneath you, yet finding nothing but the cold that chills you to your bones. You can't even see, your eyes covered by black fabric, silk tying your arms together behind your back.

It's almost torturous waiting like this. Your knees sink further into the fur as you lean your weight forward slightly, exhaling a shaky breath. You begin to wonder if Signora left you there– maybe you'd annoyed her earlier and she was punishing you. You hoped not. She wasn't known for being lenient when it came to punishments.

But the brush of her fingers along your jawline squashed that fear, your breath hitching as her thumb glided over your throat, the heat of her skin making you shudder. The contrast of the cold room, of your freezing body, to the unnatural heat that simmers beneath her skin is immense– your knees would have definitely buckled if you hadn't been kneeling already.

"Did you think I'd left you here all alone? You're shaking like a dog." The soft, biting lilt was nothing more than a murmur, but for you it was impossible not to hear the pleased tone beneath the roughness of her voice. Your heart leaps into your throat when her fingers trace back up along your jawline, lifting your head and tilting it back just enough to be uncomfortable.

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are silenced by her thumb slipping past your lips instead– you don't fight back, even though the sudden intrusion catches you off guard enough you almost bite her finger instead. You almost consider doing it anyway, but she's so rarely in a good mood it feels rude to spoil it.

"Pets don't speak until they're told," She chides, pressing down on your tongue slightly and laughing at the way you almost choke in surprise. "And I don't remember giving you permission."

You can only manage a garbled whine in response, your face burning in embarrassment– but it's quickly silenced by the click of her tongue and the creak of the old chair you know sits by the fireplace, her thumb sliding out between your lips to drag you closer. Close enough to feel the rush of heat across your skin as your cheek is pressed against her thigh, her hands resting on the back of your head. You can't see it, but you sure can imagine the smug smile that must be tugging at her lips right about now.

"Let's see about fixing your little disobedient streak, darling." She murmurs, digging her nails into your scalp and tugging you even closer, the furs beneath you doing little to prevent the ache in your knees from kneeling. But you don't complain– you know what she wants, and you want it too. "Open."

Like the dog she seems so fond of treating you as, you listen– you're not as surprised this time when her fingers fill your mouth, forcing it open even further until you can feel the saliva collecting and dribbling down your chin. She doesn't seem to mind, even laughing at how pitiful you probably look, drooling all over her fingers.

But Signora is a hard woman to satisfy, and this will hardly do anything other then work her up enough to really break you in. You can just barely hear the rustle of fabric over your heartbeat, gloved hands tugging you closer and forcing you to press right up against the edge of the chair. It's almost uncomfortable, the way the chair presses against your chest, but she always has you teetering on that fine edge.

"Perhaps you can be trained after all." Signora's voice is like a balm, the heat of her body driving away the cold and urging you impossibly closer, until you feel her hand guide you down just as her fingers slip out of your mouth again– right up until you feel her cock against your cheek. "Show me that you can be obedient, mutt, and maybe I'll let you sit on my lap."

You know she's just dangling a treat just out of reach, but you can't help but reach for it anyway.

Your tongue drags across the underside of her cock, so slow you can hear the hiss that rattles in her chest halfway between pleasure and impatience. You take your time anyway, lingering until you reach the tip and press a kiss against it. You almost wish you could see her face, but she's never been fond of expressing anything outwardly when you can see it– just the idea of her brows furrowed, of her face flush and her lip caught between her teeth..it's enough.

It's not hard to imagine it anyway when the heat grows hotter, nearly turning the room into an oven before she catches herself. You aren't stupid enough to mention it, but your smile must be enough, because a low growl makes you shiver– so you drag your tongue from the base to the tip again, revel in the way it throbs beneath your tongue. For a moment you almost have something like control, your saliva dripping down her aching cock as you lap at it like a mutt.

But you're both growing impatient– the sharp click of her nails against the chairs arms makes you shudder, urging you to lift yourself up just enough to wrap your lips around the head with a muffled groan. You consider dragging it out just a moment longer, just to see if you can get her to whine, but she knows you better then you do– before you can even blink, her hand shoves you down. You, predictably, gag. Your throat burns from the stretch, but it's not unpleasant, eased by the pleasured hiss that tumbles from her lips. Signora at least has the mercy to let you get used to it for a moment before she drags you back up, the emptiness in your throat making you whine before she's shoving her cock back down your throat. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your own sounds of pleasure muffled and garbled as she does it again– and again.

"Finally quiet, mutt?" She laughs, but it's strained– her voice quivers slightly as she fucks your throat like your nothing but a toy to her, drool dribbling down your chin and tears staining the blindfold. "If I knew it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have done it a long time ago."

You so badly want to do something, but with your hands tied behind your back and her fucking your face so rough, so fast, you can barely even think..there's not much you can do but let her, your cunt clenching around nothing. You really hope she wasn't lying about that reward, for once. You're practically dripping on her floor while she uses you, just barely able to squeeze your thighs together for a fraction of friction.

It only serves to make you more desperate, though.

"Fuck– or maybe you're too stupid to know better. You'd just let any pretty woman with a cock use you," Her breathing was getting heavier, more strained, but her grip on your hair didn't relent. Neither did the harsh thrust of her hips, her cock constantly hammering into your throat until you felt dizzy. "You're lucky I'm even willing to train a mutt like you."

Your mind starts to feel fuzzy, the words blending together until she digs her nails into your scalp and forces you down again– and keeps you there. You nearly gag again when you feel her shudder, her cock throbbing in your mouth as her cum spills down your throat, your hands straining against the silk binding them together. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, nostrils flaring and your body tensing– you don't even realize you'd briefly lost consciousness until your find yourself on her lap, rather then on your knees, her hands brushing the strands of hair stuck to your face with sweat out of your eyes.

It's the most gentle she's been all night– and likely as gently as she will be tonight. You lean into her touch anyway, groaning softly and shuddering at the taste of her on your tongue mixed with her cock throbbing against your thigh.

"I'm not done yet, darling. Did you think I'd let you get away with a little light training?" She laughs, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss that's far too gentle to your cheek, the warmth of her body almost suffocating– but you welcome it, like you always do.

So you nod, smiling drowsily and spreading your legs like a good pet should.

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

[evilbitchartist]

while i was playing sword with her my sister like. jokingly said it would be really cute if opal was piers and marnie's granny (since she gets paired up with piers in the galar star tournament) and i didn't really think much of it but. young opal?? hello??

funy joke theory. pier granny

[lokiinmediasideblog]

I called Crimson Peak camp, I don't know what that says about me xD

[kemendin]

They're besties

[sentientsky]

here, have a quick lil post-fall crowley/starmaker sketch before i collapse into bed

[flufflecat]

another day, another addition to my beautiful monster

[maddymoreau]

My F/O’s source never finishing its main storyline was not on my 2024 bingo card . . .

[radaverse]

I might be hiding and cooking something

Smile hd but it's Samurai Jack (PoM au)

Mai as an adult finally having enough of everything and going rabid is sorta a very likely possiblity isn't it

(these 27 seconds were harder to make than I expected)

Starring!:

Roni ( @tireddovahkiin )

Mai

Jack

[thevioletscout]

I have a weird question for the FL community and to be honest I'm not sure I should be asking at all, but I've been having a rough week and I want to get it out of the way.

Spoilers for Light Fingers and a specific ending under the cut.

---

Soooo... How do we feel about fankids with Poor Edward? I ask because for the hell of it I did make a concept of what one might look like in picrew and tbh- I'm kinda in love with her. And I kinda wanna give her a more fleshed out design.

However before I get too excited, there is a LOT that would make this awkward. And I'm just going to get straight to the point; Edward being under the influence of a love potion makes the very existence of a kid kinda questionable. For the most part in the game's canon and fanworks it's easy to look past that since Poor Edward is so villainous by default it's hard to feel bad for him given he's forced the moon milk onto many such as Clara (my friend even mentioned that he was intending to use it on the player to stop their meddling) and overall its just an extension of that villainy since he uses the obsession with the player character to further torment them. So I kinda just wonder where we draw the line.

One thing I can definitely say is if this kid exists she has it rough. At the very least, Edward's been absent due to being stuck in Parabola. At worst though, he's actually had an influence on this kid.

EDIT: Thank you to all the support on this post. It's done a lot to ease my nerves. Since you've all mostly said you're down for this idea, I'll probably be drawing this kid soon just to show you guys what I had in mind.

I also didn't mean to imply that I thought I would get like hate mobbed. I just didn't want to be that one creator that took things too far, ya know?

[rhys-ravenfeather]

So yeah, like I said, I've been rewatching Soul Eater.

And DANG, I FORGOT JUST HOW SAD AND MESSED-UP CRONA'S STORY IS.

Seriously though, this kid needs a hug (and Medusa needs a kick in the teeth).

If you 'like' my art, I respectfully ask that you also reblog it.

[moeblob]

I'm on an OC kick and also super indecisive so I spun a wheel (thank you for choosing for me, RNG).

Ricardo is a body guard and is bffs with Marlo. Ricardo's current job is watching after a celebrity's daughter who the public doesn't know even exists. She's just a teenage girl vibing with her mom and getting texts and calls from her dad (who loves her a whole lot and keeps her out of the spotlight very purposefully) and has this bodyguard and his weird friend. Marlo is just vibing with his best friend.

(Also Marlo would absolutely laugh if he heard Ricardo say "someone called me eye candy and it wasn't you and now I think you should call me that")

[greenerteacups]

Hey GTC, I have always been such a fan of your Tumblr and your engagement with the fandom. However I must say that as of late, the questions you’re being asked most often are essentially variants of “Will X happen?” or “Will Y character do Z like in the book?” or even, “I’m noticing Theme A, will it continue in future chapters?”

A significant element of the fun that you’ve created for Lionheart readers is that we don’t know which elements and events of the JKR texts you’ll preserve untouched and which you’ll turn into the sixth and seventh year Lionheart storylines. I adore making my guesses to which parts of canon you’ll play with and which parts you’ll completely and utterly upend. Unfortunately, questions that ask about canon events in books 5-7 ruin so much of the fun.

Historically, you’ve used the Ask box to provide us with analyses of your own work and characterizations, but I feel as if recently you are often indulging questions about books 5, 6, and 7. I hate to say it, but I even feel that your answers veer into spoiler territory. I used to lurk your Tumblr incessantly, but since I’ve started to see this influx in predictive questions these past couple weeks, I’ve been avoiding the app.

It’s such a gift that we get to engage with your work on such a vibrant epistolary and interactive space as your Tumblr. I know that you can’t control what fans ask, but I humbly request that you please consider refusing to answer questions that ask you to ponder future events. Thank you for your tender care to everyone in the fandom. ❤️‍🔥🦁🧡

Hey, what's up, dude. I hear you. Sorry about that.

The problem is that the line between spoilers and not spoilers is totally subjective, and the line between "spoilers that are fine" and "spoilers that bother me" is also totally subjective. I don't know where you are on it, but we probably don't line up, and that's okay. I just don't know how I'd begin to sort out questions that one person considers "too much" from what someone else just thinks is fun analysis. My hard rules are as follows: I don't answer any questions about future ships, events, or arcs (and I get a lot). I haven't revealed anything that I would be unhappy to discover in a Tumblr askbox instead of a fic itself. True, I've dropped teaser/trailer stuff for 6 and 7, but to be honest, even looking over the stuff I've posted recently — I hate to say it, but I disagree with you. It isn't spoilers. Not to me, anyway.

But that's just me! There's no right or wrong answer here, it's just a coordination problem of how we can both cultivate social media experiences that make us happy. For instance: I like answering questions about my fic. It makes me happy to talk to people who want to know what happens. It encourages me and gets me excited to write about it, and I don't believe that any of the content on my Tumblr spoils what's going to happen. I don't really want to stop doing that, so I'm not going to. If that means you and other readers whose spoiler thresholds are below mine can't engage with my Tumblr, that's a natural consequence of us having different attitudes about media, and it was bound to happen. I'm sorry that that's the case, but it would bring me much more grief for you to injure your reading experience than it would for you to avoid my (largely irrelevant) e-journal full of random metatext. I love my fic, and I love my readers, you most certainly included; I do not, candidly speaking, love my Tumblr account. And for what it's worth, I absolutely do not think anything I've written on here is worth diminishing your experience of a story you enjoy. It wouldn't jive with my philosophy of literature and art.

So here's what I got: I'll continue tagging spoilers about past and current events as [#lionheart spoilers], and if a question makes reference to events not published, I'll use the tag [#prognosticating]. That way you can block the tag, and other readers can enjoy content that fits under their threshold of non-spoilerism. If our thresholds still don't line up, then I think the only solution may really be to block the [#lionheart spoilers] tag altogether. That's probably not the answer you're looking for, but it's the best I can do.