#regenerations instead of just one

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

It’s disability pride month, you know what that means, you are now legally obligated to make all of your favorite characters disabled

[whatsfourteenupto]

I’m sorry I’m sorry I usually don’t ‘liveblog’ things but was ten’s big return in Christmas Invasion supposed to be this goddamn funny? I can’t get off the floor he’s in borrowed PJs. He accidentally started quoting the Lion King. Went from 0-200 words per minute instantly and called himself out on it. Spent several minutes hyping up the fact he was going to push the threatening red button. And I’m sorry but every single word after he gets his hand cut off. I was already in tears over the CGI of it growing back but David Freaking Tennant saying “It’s a fightin’ hand!” like he’s suddenly jumped genres to Tombstone I can’t breathe-

[necrophiliak]

[thesquiddian]

Does the whole 'bigeneration' thing as an introduction for Ncuti Gatwa make anyone else feel icky? Because I definitely feel like they did Gatwa dirty with a botched transition between regenerations because people are getting a liiiiiiittle too nostalgic with the whole RTD/Tennant thing.

Tennant is a brilliant actor, and I'm not trying to downplay everything he's done for the show, but by leaving Tennant alive, they robbed Gatwa of an introduction that shows respect to his iteration of his character, instead leaving him to be the Random New Person while The Real Doctor is yet to come into the completion of his arc.

It's just a disappointing diversion from giving Gatwa's Doctor the focus and development he deserves.

[novantinuum]

XD

I genuinely don't think I'll actually watch the last Doctor Who episode tbfh. I think I'll just pop my head back in to see what's up when Fifteen actually starts his first full episode.

Lol I've just become too tired of tumblr's Tennant obsession (in the "if I have to see his face in a single gif one more time I'll throw my computer against the wall" manner, not in a "I think he sucks as an actor/person" manner, this is an overexposure issue only) to even care about the last special at all. I'm pretty damn sure I got everything I really needed to know from the online cliff notes anyways lmaoooo.

[silverwolf1249]

kryptonians have wings and need them to live au:

Wing au where all kryptonians are born with wings, and can hide or reveal them at will. If they lose their wings, their health deteriorates until they either die from the stress the loss of their wings causes, or they end it themselves.

The Kents are surprised when they find a winged baby in a spaceship crashing in their fields one day, but they love him all the same and name him Clark. They didn't let him out much until he was a bit older and figured out how to hide his wings, it was simply too risky.

As a toddler, Clark's wings were incredibly fluffy and full of down, still growing in. What you could see of his feathers were greyish blues, a rusty tone highlighting the upper parts of his wings. He wasn't able to do much more than flap them about until he turned thirteen, when his adult plumage came in.

That time was absolute hell on all the Kents, his parents not knowing much on how the help the itching and pain Clark dealt with as he molted and his feathers fully grew in. Martha and John poured over multiple books on birds and their wings in hopes that Clark's wings were similar enough for the information to aid them.

Clark had to take an extended leave from school due to an "unfortunate case of pneumonia". It all turned out alright in the end of course, and Martha absolutely cooed at her son's new plumage, vivid dark blue with vibrant red mingling amongst the upper portions of his wings (colors that would later inspire those of his uniform as superman)

Growing up, Clark knew he was different, no one else had wings, and he had been told constantly by his parents to keep his hidden. He learned very early on that it was because he wasn't from earth, but that didn't make his parents consider him their own any less. He later found out about all his other abilities he gained from absorbing the sun's solar energy, but his favorite ability was always the wings he was born with.

Sure, he could fly without them, but why would he? His wings were a part of him from the very beginning, and flying with his wings just felt so much more right than flying without them. When he found the Fortress of Silence, he learned more about his wings from the Jor-el hologram, discovering how important it was to keep them safe. He still decided to keep them out as Superman though, his near invulnerability extending to his wings as well, and he was loathe to fly without them.

Years down the line, and after having been a part of the Justice League for over a year, Superman was suddenly very aware about his wing's vulnerability after another Kryptonite incident with Lex. Superman worried, and ended up confiding in Batman about his concerns. This was Batman after all, he knew all of Kal's other secrets and weaknesses, what was one more? He still didn't know the man's name, but he would trust him with his life, and for now that was enough.

Thankfully, Lex had yet to figure out just how important Clark's wings were to his continued existence, but even if he never learned the truth, any lucky shot to his back could take him out permanently. Batman listened to it all and told him that while he would tell him to put on wing covers to shield them, suddenly having them one day would be incredibly suspicious. There wasn't much they could do other than to make sure Clark's back was always protected.

Of course, this wasn't a long term solution, and it caught up to them not even a few years later. Superman finally got hit with that lucky shot, and Bruce wasn't able to get there in time to shield the other's back. By that point, the core justice league members had learned of Kal's achilles heel, and panicked when they noticed Superman lying on the ground face down, his back torn to shreds and wingless. Batman however, was calm, cold and clinical as he ordered them to bring them to the watchtower infirmary and get a room with two operating tables prepared for surgery.

When Superman, unconscious from the pain, was set up in an operating room, the Justice League looked around, wondering what was next? Only to spy Batman removing the top parts of his armor next to the other operating table. Wondering what the hell was going on, they were absolutely shocked when a pair of wings burst out of Bruce's back, and they were identical to Superman's.

Despite the questions bubbling within them, they soundlessly leave the operating room to let the watchtower's medical team enter and get down to business. Hours after the surgery is over, they visit Bruce to get their answers. He's sitting up in his bed, unable to lie on his back, the two new neatly stitched incisions on his back preventing him from doing so.

Still under the influence of painkillers (not strong enough to cloud his mind of course), he slowly explains. When he learned of Clark's weakness, he did more research into it, using his at the time new connection to the computer in the Fortress of Silence to learn more about Kryptonian biology. He wanted to figure out if there were any ways to prevent Clark's death if he actually lost his wings one day.

Eventually, he did find the solution. On Krypton, wing transfers were rare, but the cases were well documented in the Fortress' database. Whoever sacrificed their wings would die, but so long as the person who had lost their wings received a transplant within 24 hrs, the one who lost their wings would survive with no lasting impact. The wings had to be removed within those 24 hrs as well, or the wings would be rejected, and both participants would die.

And Bruce was the guy with all the contingencies, both for if he would need to take down his allies, and to save them. He sneakily stole a few dna samples from Clark, and did his own research and testing. He eventually managed to replicate Clark's wings, but he knew that unless they were attached to someone, the transplant wouldn't work.

Eventually he made the conclusion that if anyone was to carry the spare pair of wings, it would be him. This was untrodden territory, but thorough testing had shown that Kryptonian dna was compatible with human dna, so at the very least, Bruce wouldn't die if he implanted the wings into himself.

Whether he would die or not if a transplant was required however, was uncertain. While humans didn't need wings to survive, Bruce couldn't be sure how the Kryptonian wings might affect human biology once implanted. Hell, he wasn't even completely sure if the transplant would work. The intermingling of human and Kryptonian dna from the wings could render the wings useless once removed.

There was just no way to tell unless Kal actually needed the transplant, and there was no way Bruce would let that risk fall on anyone else. In the end, it seemed like Bruce's gamble had won, since other than the gashes on his back, there were no other negative effects to his health, and it looked like Kal would make a full recovery as well.

As you can probably imagine, the justice league were not happy with his explanation at all, and neither were his family or Clark when he woke up(Alfred in particular was upset that Bruce had never told anyone what he had done, the batkids were just pissed and terrified for nearly losing their dad and they wouldn't even have known until much later). At the same time however, they understood why Bruce did what he did, self sacrificing idiot that he was. None of them could imagine a Batman without a Superman. Clark though, also couldn't imagine a Superman without a Batman by his side.

They were friends, Clark would even hesitantly call Bruce his best friend, but the incident had changed some things. Clark had always thought that Bruce had reluctantly became friends with him after Clark kept bothering him to be more social when they started the justice league. He knew that Bruce trusted him with his life, he wouldn't have revealed his identity to him otherwise, but the fact that he was willing to die for a chance to save him...Clark had just never saw that happening, until now he supposed.

He just wanted to know why? Why put himself at risk like this when he wasn't even sure he would survive the surgery? When he wasn't even sure if it was possible to transfer the wings to him? So he confronts Bruce one day, practically ambushing the man in the Batcave one night. And Bruce, as emotionally distant and secretive as the man can be, answers honestly, "I care about you." he tells Clark, looking away from the other to hide how vulnerable he felt, "There was no way I was going to let something like this kill you. Not if I had the possibility to prevent it. A chance is greater than none at all."

And suddenly, Clark realizes that he was awfully, terribly, and wholly in love with Bruce. How he had never noticed it before he wasn't sure, but this near death incident had made him reflect on many things, it would of course also make him reflect on his relationship with Bruce as well. And without even thinking about it, he finds himself kissing the other man.

For a second, there's no response, but then Bruce answers in kind. Clark feels his wings, wings that Bruce had risked himself to create and transfer, pop out of his back. They flutter a bit, before wrapping themselves around him and Bruce. And everything feels so, so right, like everything was going to be okay.

It wasn't of course, he and Bruce definitely had to discuss their relationship and how it might affect their current lives, both of them were still recovering from the surgery, and Clark's wings didn't really feel like his just yet, despite looking exactly the same. He was also pretty sure the other Justice League members were going to be ridiculously overprotective over him for a while after being so close to losing him, same with Bruce for being reckless and secretive as always. But for now, he let himself indulge in this one perfect moment.

[deathxproof-archive]

Very much obsessed with the image of just. Adult Mirror Theta & Koschei absolutely hanging off one another in practically any regenerations. If they’re apart in a room for too long they slowly gravitate toward the other like powerful little magnets. Koschei watches Theta enter and leave rooms out of habit. Theta looks for Koschei when they think they’re being especially clever or doing something partially for approval. Constantly having outside conversations about people in front of their faces because they’re constantly sharing a psychic link. Their psychic connection is so tangled up in one another’s that severing it would probably fucking hurt. Unwell. Do Not Separate Them for too long or else something will happen and it WON’T be good for anyone involved.

[dontwanderoff]

i wish they’d just tell us when the next dw episode is coming out bc i think i wanna take the day off work

[starkwlkr]

Imagine helping old man logan with his claws after they get stuck like in the movie. Kissing the space between his knuckles 😭 this is all I can think about after rewatching logan recently

one more kiss, dear | old man logan

an: oh god that scene 😭 old man logan let me give you a hug <3 tried to find a gif with that scene but i couldn’t so here’s this:

mutant!reader (someone said we need more aging reader fics and I AGREE so that’s what this is)

You were folding Logan’s clothes when he stumbled in with his claws sticking out, we’ll sort of. You could see some blood on his white shirt. It hurt to see him like that. He didn’t speak to you at all and you didn’t push him to. Maybe he just wanted peace and quiet . .

He sat on the old bed, watching you as you finished folding his last shirt, that’s when you finally took a look at his hand.

“No,” Logan stopped you from grabbing his hand. Your ability to regenerate was failing like his, he certainly didn’t want you to get hurt. “I’ll do it.”

You weren’t going to take no as an answer. Ignoring Logan, you kneeled in front of him and took his hand in yours. You mentally prepared yourself for the pain. Without hesitation, you wrapped your hand around the claw that was stuck and pulled. Blood started pouring down the palm of your hand, but you didn’t care. The pain in your body seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the claw.

You could hear groaning coming from Logan, which made your heart ache more. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. . .” You whisper to him as the claw moved forward.

After what seemed like forever, you finally got the claw to its place. You stumble back, your body filled with exhaustion and pain, but all you could think about was how Logan felt. You looked up at the old man, the relief and love you saw in his gaze were both heart-wrenching and comforting.

It took a couple a minutes, but the claws eventually disappeared back into his hand. Logan winced as they went back in.

After wrapping your hand in some bandages, you took Logan’s hand again. The bloody knuckles, the wounds, the suffering . . . You didn’t want this life for him.

“I hurt you.” Was all Logan could say as he saw the bandage on your hand.

You ignored the comment, instead you wiped away some of the blood form his knuckles with a rag he had on the table beside the bed. After cleaning up the blood, you let him know you were okay by placing kisses where the claws had just come out.

“It’s okay,” you whisper to him, almost sounding like you were about to cry. “It’s okay.” Even as your own strength ebbed away, you knew your greatest comfort was simply being there for him.

“We’re going to be okay.” You placed one last kiss on his knuckle.

[avocado-writing]

Hi gorgeous could I request a Deadpool x reader x Wolverine smut where it's basically the car fight in the movie and the reader is in it? Reader can regenerate just like them but during the fighting things for a turn? Also female reader :)

sure - I’ve seen a few takes on this, so here’s my brief one too! (I am not an action writer. I am a smut writer. Be kind).

words: 2k

rating: explicit. minors dni. spit roast; oral (reader giving); p in v sex; violence as foreplay; excessive use of the word ‘fuck’; a LOT of dirty talk

If you could trade all your powers for the ability to make Wade Wilson shut the fuck up, it would be no contest. You wouldn’t be a mutant and Deadpool would be silent. 

Fucking hell, how many holes has his mouth dug you into? He’s a dear friend, of course - one you’ve definitely not been nursing a crush on, don’t look at that too deeply - but come on. The guy’s an idiot. You don’t know how he managed to get someone as ruggedly handsome and emotionally constipated as the Wolverine to come along with you (not that you’re complaining, he’s pretty good eye candy too. You’ve had a thing for the idea of him for probably about a decade and, though this particular variant is as rough as they come, he’s still hot) but there has to be a time limit to this success. This is only accentuated when Logan slams the brakes on the Odyssey, throwing you forward from your position in the captain’s seat. 

“Fuck!” you mutter. You definitely just broke your nose from the way you slammed into the cup holder. Turns out seatbelts are made to be worn, who knew? As you focus on twisting it back into place, feeling the cartilage heal and blood congeal, you’re vaguely aware of the argument happening up front. 

Logan’s finally cottoned on to Wade’s bullshit, and it giving a pretty savage monologue about how much of a fuckup he is. You frown. 

“Come on, dude, chill out, he was only trying to —”

“You can shut the fuck up too! You’re just as fucking bad as him! Jesus Christ he may be shoe-in for the world’s biggest asshole but you’re the one trailing around after him with the fucking puppy dog eyes,” Logan snarls. You see Wade frown from under the mask, letting Logan’s vitriol towards you sink in.  

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that.” His tone is serious. Deadly. Logan laughs. 

“Or fuckin’ what, mouth?”

He does not see the sucker punch Wade throws, and then his nose is bleeding. He lunges for your friend with his teeth bared. A wild animal.   

“Stop-!” you shout, darting forward to grab him. An elbow collides with your already sore nose and you yelp in pain. Wade has a knife in his hand immediately and is sinking it into the soft meat of Logan’s thigh, who hisses and extends his claws. One set goes through your calf, the other into Wade’s chest. 

“You fucking cunt!” you scream, grabbing your gun from your belt and unloading it into Logan’s centre mass. The force makes him retract his hand but doesn’t stop him from grabbing your hair and slamming your face into the console. 

“Shit!”

“I told you that you needed a haircut, pookie,” sighs Wade as he shoves baby knife into Logan’s jugular, having to reach over your body to do it. You shoot him in the kneecap. 

“Ow! What the fuck, I’m on your side!” he shrieks. 

“Don’t talk about my hair Wade! It’s a very! Sensitive! Subject!” You punctuate your sentences with fists to the Wolverine’s abdomen. He doesn’t even seem fazed. Instead, Logan lunges for your friend, pressing his groin into your face - and that makes it very obvious that he’s having a… reaction. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper, not loud enough for anyone to hear. 

Logan throws Wade out of the car, the sound of breaking glass a symphony behind you. Some of it decorates your hair. The two of you are left with a second alone; when you reach forward he goes to punch, but when you cup him through his suit he freezes. 

“What…?” Logan snarls, half taken aback, half turned on. 

“Sorry, old man, all the fighting working for you? Surprised you can even get it up any more…” you breathe. From the way his pupils dilate the answer is yes. Pain shoots from your chest as his claws stab you through the heart, but you grin and reach in to lick a line up the side of his face, burying your tongue in his beard. 

“Fuck… you…” he manages, growling when you bite the shell of his ear a little too hard. 

“We don’t have to fight, Lo.”

The door is ripped off Wade charges back in, throwing you into the back so that he can get at Logan. Clearly he mistook your flirting for fighting, when it was definitely the other way around. He unloads a clip into the other man’s stomach, but you grab his arm and redirect, sending a spray of bullets through the Odyssey’s ceiling and grazing your shoulder. 

“What are you—?” asks Wade, but then his face is in your hands and you’re kissing him over the mask. A pause as he registers what’s happening. Then he buries his sword through Logan’s chest to keep him pinned as he wrestles with the fabric, freeing his mouth so that he can kiss you back. 

“I don’t understand,” Wade breathes, taking you in, eyes wide and breaths heavy. 

“Don’t try to,” you argue, pulling his blade out of Logan and cleaning the blood off it with your tongue. Wade clearly isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but from the way his mouth drops open, he’s never been so horny for something so weird his whole life. 

You turn to Logan and kiss him with his own blood on your lips. He grunts beneath you, sinking a claw into your hip to keep you in place. It hurts, but also…

“Fuck. Sadistic old man,” you breathe, sinking your nails into his face.  

“Little fuckin’ freak,” he replies, biting your lip so hard it bleeds. 

“Holy shit, is this happening?” Wade asks. You manoeuvre so you’re aimed towards his lap, grabbing Logan’s arm and forcing it out of you. Your blood spills down your flank. 

“Stop commenting about it and fuck me, Wade,” you sigh.

He looks across the length of you to Logan who gives a curt nod. 

“Put your fuckin’ money where your mouth is, bub,” he hisses. This is all the permission Wade needs. You hear him tearing at the belt of his suit, positioning himself so that he can free his cock. There’s no time to strip. This is going to be rough and dirty and mostly clothed. 

You’ve never been so glad to dress in a two piece in your life. 

Your fingers work with Logan’s at the fly on his suit as Wade’s hands drag your pants down; he traces the cheeks of your ass, kneading your flesh and giving a running commentary of how fucking pleased he is. 

“Holy shit, baby, look at you. Thought honey badger was the kinky one here but you’re dripping wet,” you hiss as he slaps down on the meat of you, throwing a look over your shoulder at him. He shrugs as if to say, what did you expect me to do? Logan’s hand on your jaw quickly guides you back. 

“Eyes on me,” he growls, finally able to pull his cock from the confines of his suit. It bobs in your face, thick and heavy and delicious. The fingers still cupping your face press down, popping your mouth open for him. When Logan’s thumb presses inside you suck on it so hard that his eyes go wide; it tastes of blood and dirt and fuck you can feel yourself leaking down your thighs as Wade rubs his length against your folds. 

No more encouragement is needed as you open your mouth and swallow as much of Logan down as you can fit. He groans above you, hands burying into your hair. 

God, he’s big. Fucking threatens to dislocate your jaw. Oh well, you could click it back into place anyway and keep going. It’s the sort of thing you’re willing to compromise on if you can keep getting him to make those noises - filthy, laboured, desperate. Bucking his hips upwards into your mouth to make you take more of him. You moan around him and the rumble of your throat makes him hiss, pulling your hair so tight he threatens to rip it out. 

You don’t care. 

You wonder why Wade hasn’t pushed inside you yet, and your question is answered when you hear him spit. You’re aware of the feeling of saliva dripping down your cunt, thick and halfway to sordid. Wade rubs it into your clit, marking you as his, before finally sheathing himself with one thrust. 

Ohhhh fuck. Yeah. There it is. 

You moan around Logan’s dick as Wade stuffs you absolutely to the brim. You’ve never been so full. Your mouth is stoppered and so is your desperate pussy, and when Wade starts to piston himself inside you it only serves to force you forward into the older man’s lap. The hair at the base of his cock presses deliciously against your lips and he makes a choking sound that could be your name. His hand, still present, is less strict now. He holds you in something akin to a caress. 

“Fuckin’ look at you…” he breathes. You want to roll your eyes at him pretending this is anything other than gratification. You leave his cock with a wet pop. 

“You just want something warm and tight to cum in, old man,” you say, letting your hand take over for a second while your jaw rests. 

Wade laughs as he holds you even tighter, but there’s something tinging it. Bitterness?

“You should see the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice, pookie. Looks like our Wolvie is smitten.”

You glance up at Logan from where you’ve started kissing the length of his cock, and he looks… disgruntled. Oh shit. Wade’s hit a nerve there. 

“She’s clearly fuckin’ in love with you, you idiot,” he snarls. 

Wade’s hips stutter as he’s pistoning in and out of you, this unexpected revelation interrupting his pace. 

“You are?”

Aww man, this isn’t the time for this, but it looks like it’s happening anyway, huh?

“I like both of you,” you say, simply, because you do. “That’s why both of your cocks are inside me. Now put them to work.”

There’s a beat as they digest this information; then Wade starts fucking you twice as hard, lifting his leg up on the gearstick for leverage, and Logan pulls you mouth-first back into his cock. You make a pleased noise as they fill you, happy to let yourself go brainless for a moment as they use you however they want. There’s a warm feeling building in the pit of your stomach and you can feel an orgasm wanting to crescendo. 

Soon you hear Logan begin to breathe heavily, and you’re pretty sure he can’t be far. You make a show of looking up at him with your biggest, most fucked-out eyes. 

“Cum in my mouth,” you say, pulling back and sticking out your tongue as a target. He is powerless against that, spilling down your throat as you grin at the taste of him. 

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking filthy, so fucking hot, holy shit, holy shit,” Wade breathes, thrusts getting erratic. Suddenly Logan is lifting you up by the shoulders, pushing you into Wade’s embrace.  

“Make her cum or I will,” he says, and you’ve never heard an orgasm be used as a threat before but fuck it does it for you. Wade’s hand scrabbles to your clit and it only takes a few desperate circles to have you coming all over his cock as he fills your cunt with his spend. Logan manages a boneless grin at the show. 

You collapse between them, and they support you. For a moment there is nothing but the sound of breathing and the smell of sex.

For a moment. 

“Are we a polycule now?” asks Wade. You roll your eyes fondly at him and slap his arm where it’s slinked around you. 

“Shut up,” you and Logan say in unison. 

“Okiedokie, guess we can address that if there’s a part two.”

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[pizzazz-party]

based solely on chaos’ design floating around on the internet, i have a theory.

that’s maegara’s body. chaos is literally possessing maegara’s body. (that is maegara’s one bat wing.)

that is chaos’ old design being held in maegara’s hand. it’d be one thing if it looked more like, i don’t know, a snakeskin? like something chaos had naturally shed and sloughed off? but instead it looks like someone (probably chronos) ripped out chaos’ head and spinal cord in battle. and i think that makes sense, that the two of them would have squared off. chaos is not like the fates. they loved nyx, they would have left their realm and fought for nyx directly.

the living fetus trailing out of the head’s mouth tells me this kind of injury is something chaos can naturally, eventually, regenerate from. but in the meanwhile, recovery on their own means being vulnerable. a primordial entity in the shape of a fetus is still a fetus. in the meantime, chaos would need a new body, a temporary vessel they’d be capable of defending themself with.

the only question is if maegara volunteered for this.

but i think she might have.

if this still sounds bonkers, consider it doylistically. chaos’ original design was unique and striking. do you honestly think supergiant would just throw away an excellent character design like that for nothing? for no story related reasons at all?

so my prediction is this: one of melinoe’s quests will involve helping restore (or speed up the restoration of) chaos’ body (which will then free maegara).

[wannab-urs]

Make it Hurt

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant!f!reader

Summary: It’s difficult being the only mutant at Xavier’s school with regenerative powers. There’s no one you can spar with – fellow professors included – that is on your level. Not when you can kill them, but they can’t kill you. That is, until you meet Logan. 

OR 

You spar with Logan and end up fucking on the training room floor.

Warnings: Smut, pwp/plot what plot/porn without plot, pain kink, blood kink (?), idk y’all this one is kinda freaky, sparring, knife play… kind of, reader is a mutant with deadpoolesque powers and likes to play with knives, She also teaches at the school, Logan is probably taller than reader, everyone is super strong here, pet names (baby, one Good Girl), semi-public sex,  no use of y/n WC: 1.6k

A/N: First of all, I’d like to link @eupheme’s fic Tooth and Nail because the setting of that fic definitely inspired this one. I’d also like to thank @pedgito, @pr0ximamidnight, and @chaotic-mystery for feeding my delusions and encouraging me to write this pile of filth. 

Logan Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

It’s difficult being the only mutant at Xavier’s school with regenerative powers. There’s no one you can spar with – fellow professors included – that is on your level. Not when you can kill them, but they can’t kill you. 

When Logan showed up you had thought you finally found your match. The man could regenerate just as quickly as you, and while you were excellent with knives, he had claws. He showed no interest in sparring though, or training with anyone at all. He is many things, but a team player is not one of them. You’d begged him on more than one occasion to go to the mat with you, but he refused. 

Somehow, Charles managed to convince Logan to spar with you. You’ve been nervous all day and now you’re standing in the empty training room waiting for him to show up. Just as you start to worry he won’t, the door slides open. He steps through, closes, and locks the door behind him. 

He makes his way to the mat and you realize how tall he is, taking in the bulge of his biceps on display in his tight white tank top. Logan could do some serious damage to you – temporarily that is. You try not to show how excited you are, bouncing on the balls of your feet and twirling a knife in your hand.

“You really think this is a good idea?” Logan asks gruffly.

“You can’t hurt me, Logan. Not really.”

“We’ll see.”

He lunges for you and you easily step out of the way, slicing his arm with your knife. He groans, so low it's almost a snarl. You drop to the floor and swipe your leg out, knocking him off his feet. He rolls just in time, and your knife ends up buried in the mat instead of his chest. With a frustrated grunt, you yank the knife from the mat and square up with him again.

“C’mon baby, is that all you got? Make it hurt,” he taunts you.

You go flying at him, a blade in each hand now. His claws come out and he parries one knife away, but you manage to sink the other in between two of his ribs. You twist the knife and pull it out, causing him to growl deeply. 

“That’s more like it.” 

He bats away your next attack, sinking his claws deep into your thigh in the process. You groan and kick him hard in the chest with your other leg, sending him sprawling to his back. You throw a knife into his bicep and while he works to remove it, you straddle his waist, slamming your other knife into his throat. 

Logan roars and sinks his claws into your sides before throwing you halfway across the room. You roll to your feet, pulling out another knife. Logan stalks over to you, claws out, eyebrows lowered so that his face looks dark and menacing. You flick a knife in his direction, but he knocks it out of the air easily. You try to stay focused on the fight, but all you can think about is how fucking hot he looks coming toward you like a predator stalking its prey. 

He swipes his claws at your face, but you block them with your arm, using his own leverage against him to impale him on your knife. He keeps driving you backward until he has you pinned against the wall, the handle of your own knife jabbing into your ribs. You grip the handle and shove him back, reclaiming your weapon. He’s on you again in a second, grabbing you by your tattered training uniform and throwing you back onto the mat. 

You slide across the mat, unable to get your footing. He’s stronger than you, faster. It’s the first time you’ve felt like you have an even match, a worthy opponent. Your blood is racing through your veins, heart pumping so fast you can hear it. 

You scramble backward as he makes his way back to you, getting to your feet just as he arrives in front of you. He’s breathing heavily, sweat glistening off his chest and shoulders, but he’s clearly not done with you yet. 

He sinks his claws into your shoulder and uppercuts you with his fist. You fall again, landing hard on the mat, and he follows you. He lands heavy on your body, pinning you to the ground. He stabs two claws into the mat on either side of your neck, the middle one sheathed. You hope he can’t tell how turned on you are.

“Give up yet, bub?” 

You shake your head, causing one of the blades to nick your throat. He drops his head and licks the blood off your skin, the wound itself already healed. You moan and buck your hips into his, finding that he’s in the same state as you – mercilessly turned on. He growls at the contact with his aching cock and grinds back into you. 

He pulls his claws from the mat and cautiously traces the curve of your breast with one instead. He looks into your eyes, obviously searching for something. 

“You want this?”

You pull your last knife from its sheath and bury it in his thigh. He doesn’t even flinch and you watch his pupils dilate. No sooner do you nod your consent than he’s sliced through your training suit, baring your breasts to him. 

He sucks a nipple into his mouth, tongue laving it before he bites down – hard. You moan, grabbing his tank in both hands and pulling until it splits, baring his torso to you. He kisses his way up your throat, licking blood from your skin as he goes. He grinds his hard cock against your mound as he presses his lips to yours. You lick into his mouth, tasting your blood and sweat on his tongue. 

He sits up and unbuttons his jeans, sliding the zipper down. You tug the knife out of his thigh, forgotten until now, and drop it on the mat beside you. You undo the belt on your training suit and start stripping the pants off as quickly as you can. Logan gets frustrated and uses his claws to shred them the rest of the way off you. 

Finally bare for him, he spreads your legs, exposing your dripping cunt to his gaze. He drops his head down and licks up your slick, groaning deeply into your pussy. You whine and bury your hands in his hair, using the tufted sides like handles to grind his face into your cunt. Logan plunges his tongue in your hole, lapping up your slick like it’s water and he’s been stranded in the desert. You ride his face hard and fast, until that coil of pleasure in your belly is near snapping. 

“Please don’t stop. Fuck, Logan. Fuck,” you plead with him as your orgasm nears. He shakes his head as if to say he wouldn’t dream of it and it sends you over the edge, the pleasure in your stomach expanding out through all your limbs, making them shake. 

Logan sits back and shoves his jeans down far enough for his cock to spring out. He’s big, and your mouth waters at the sight. If you weren’t so desperate to have him inside you, you’d beg for a chance to lick the thick vein running down the underside. 

“You gonna let me fuck you right here?” 

“I’m gonna make you fuck me right here.” 

“Is that right, baby?” 

You reach for your knife again, but he pins your arm down. He lets out a low chuckle before lining his cock up with your entrance. He keeps you pinned as he slowly pushes into you, straight to the end of you. It hurts, but it feels so good, the stretch of your walls trying to accommodate him and failing. You clench hard and it pushes his cock back out of you. 

“Fuckin’ tight little thing aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t wait for a response before ramming himself into you again. This time, your walls relax and let him in. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s a good girl. Taking me so well,” he mutters as he begins to rock his hips into you. 

You dig your fingernails into his back, gouging deep lines that heal as fast as you can make them. He groans and bites down on your shoulder until he draws blood. His tongue glides over the indents in your skin that last only seconds. 

His thrusts speed up as you adjust to him, fucking you so hard you scoot up the mat. He buries his claws in your sides, keeping you from sliding away and making you delirious with pain and pleasure. You come hard, clenching around his cock and gushing your slick all over him. He uses his claws to pull you down on his cock over and over until you feel his body tense up and then the hot splash of his spend inside you. 

He slowly retracts his claws, making you groan at the feeling of them leaving your body. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

“Never better, actually.” 

He rolls off you and lands on his back. You both lay there panting for a minute or two. 

“How the fuck are we supposed to get back to our rooms?” You ask, looking over your tattered clothing. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that just yet.”

“And why is that?” You flop your head to the side to look at him, broad chest heaving, still hard cock laying heavily on his belly.

“Not done with you yet.”

[cy-cyborg]

What able bodied authors think I, an amputee and a wheelchair user, would want in a scifi setting:

Tech that can regenerate my old meat legs.

Robot legs that work just like meat legs and are functionally just meat legs but robot

Literally anything that would mean I don't have to use a wheelchair.

If I do need to use a wheelchair, make it fly or able to "walk me" upstairs

What I actually want:

Prosthetic covers that can change colour because I'm too indecisive to pick one colour/pattern for the next 5+ years.

A leg that I can turn off (seriously, my above knee prosthetic has no off switch... just... why?)

A leg that won't have to get refitted every time I gain or loose weight.

A wheelchair that I can teleport to me and legs I can teleport away when I'm too tired to keep walking. And vice versa.

In that same vein, legs I can teleport on instead of having to fiddle around with the sockets for half an hour.

Prosthetic feet that don't require me to wear shoes. F*ck shoes.

Actually accessible architecture, which means when I do want to use my wheelchair, it's not an issue.

Prosthetic legs with dragon-claw feet instead of boring human feet or just digigrade prosthetics that are just as functional as normal human-shaped ones.

A manual wheelchair with the option to lift my seat up like those scissor-lift things so I'm not eye-level with everyone's butt on public transport/so I can reach the top shelf by myself.

A prosthetic foot that lights up when it hits the ground like those children's shoes.

A few additions I remember seeing in the comments on my old account:

holographic prosthetic covers

transformers-style mobility aids that can fold into the shapes of different aids (e.g. a wheelchair that can fold into a cane)

prosthetic covers with pockets/hidden compartments (kind of surprised this isn't a thing already).

find my leg (like find my iphone, but for your legs when you haven't worn them in a while lol)

TLDR: Stop assuming every disabled person would want to be as close to "normal" as possible in your works. Some absolutely would and having options for them if fine, but I rarely see any examples of media showing those of us who don't. start letting amputees in your scifi works have fun with our prosthetics, fix the problems real amputees are already talking about instead of what you think are the issues and make your settings as a whole accessible!

[princeguri66]

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MINORS DNI

Monster!John "Soap" Mactavish (with Poly Monster!141 at the end) x Male Reader

Cw: it starts off with Soap but the rest r mentioned and written but not as much as soap, marking with markers, nothing else I believe lmk

Silly thought but like imagine a monster reader who has crazy fast regeneration. Like deep cuts heal in seconds. Maybe you're a ghoul who just has crazy regen, or something like that.

Anyways,

Wouldn't a relationship between Soap, who loves leaving bites and see the aftermath due to his instincts as a werewolf and you who literally heals in seconds be interesting?

He loves getting fucked by you, but everytime he leaves a bit unsatisfied. It's not because you can't make him cum or anything, hell you can pull multiple orgasms from the guy and you have.

It's just that he can't leave satisfied knowing that he left a mark on you. He has bit you so much but the marks just won't stay. With the other members he can clearly see the marks he left on their neck and shoulders, even with Price who due to his dragon blood heals faster but the marks still stay for a day or two.

So everytime you two fuck, even if his ass if filled to the brim and his balls are empty he still whines because he can't leave his mark on you. You're a member of the 141, his pack, so it pains him that he can't put a claim on you like he has with the others.

So one day you get a bit creative.

One night in your room where he's riding on your cock, bouncing up and down while you lay your back on the bed, your hands gripping his hips and slamming him down on you as you cum. He leans down and bites as hard as he can on you as the feeling of you filling him up makes him cum. Pulling away and only being able to whine because he can't even admire his mark before it fades away.

"Aw, is puppy unsatisfied?" You tease and chuckle. And before he could insist that he was, you reached to the bedside table and picked up a red permanent marker, "why don't you mark me with this instead?" You say handing him the marker.

He huffs out a laugh at your little solution, but it's the best you got since you can't really make yourself regenerate slower. So he indulges, testing the marker on the back of your hand, the ink incredibly opaque so it stands out against your skin. Then he draws a bite mark at your neck then adds "Soap's Claim" in big letters, covering the whole left side of your neck.

He leans back, the bright red against your skin and the obvious letters, he finally sighs a sigh of relief.

It doesn't go unnoticed as well (just how he likes it)

The other members of the task force noticing Soap's eyes seem a bit brighter and his tail has been swaying peacefully the whole day. And that's where you enter, neck bare for everyone to see (it's the least you can do) Soap grins, happy to finally be able to show off his claim on you.

And now they want to have their names on your body too.

It's all color coordinated too now, Price who loves to write across your shoulder blades, with words like "Price's hoard" or just a simple "Price" with a heart next to it, it's simple but huge.

Gaz with a bright blue marker who likes to do it on your lower back (because he can also rest his head on your ass) writing something like "Gaz was here" and likes to draw wings on you. (Wing themed tramp stamp with 141 between the wings anyone?)

And Ghost with either white or black who loves to mark your chest, either a simple "ghost" or "Simon Riley" on each pec. Also likes to draw a ghost doodle on top of your heart.

And if you five fuck together, you aren't the only one who ends up having ink on you, but you'd have the most. And when you wake up to find a big arrow pointing to your dick and ass that says "Property of 141" written in multiple colors, you'd wish you could show it off.

[frownyalfred]

HIIIII!!!

What are your head cannons about Bruce during his league of assassins days??Could be goofy or serious!!!

THANKSSS <3333

Ra’s wanted to fuck him and get him pregnant but since Bruce was male he relented and had Talia do it instead

They killed people a lot, in a variety of different ways, and Bruce developed his no-killing rule after seeing years of it, not just one death like we see in Batman Begins (I think this makes it more powerful)

Bruce learned meditation so strong it actually does promote some cellular regeneration and attacks poisons in the bloodstream

Ra’s gave Bruce private lessons when he realized how much potential he had, and the other resented (and punished) Bruce for this

Bruce has an eidetic memory and picked up fragments of many different languages while training

Ra’s showed him a Lazarus Pit once but didn’t explain what it was. Bruce put it together years later

Legally, Bruce and Talia are still technically married since their marriage was appropriately witnessed in the region’s customs

Bruce broke his nose at least four times during his training years and had to get a rhinoplasty when he returned to Gotham

Alfred didn’t hear from him for those years, and assumed Bruce was dead. But he always hoped, and the day he got Bruce’s call that he was returning, it nearly bowled him over

Gotham is eldritch-adjacent and got noticeably worse simply because Bruce (its Prince) was physically gone from the city for so long

Bruce always thought Talia should lead the League. He didn’t trust Ra’s but tolerated him because Talia was devoted to him

If Ra’s had managed to bring Bruce into the leadership of the League, it would have been bad. Bad.

Bruce missed the anonymity of his training days as soon as he stepped foot back in Gotham. But he learned to embrace fame again as an adult

Bruce put on MUSCLE overseas and Alfred barely recognized him when he returned for a variety of reasons (scars, muscles, temperament, how goddamned quiet he is)

[dcxdpdabbles]

So Danny is just a bunch of good that takes a humanoid shape, and we've seen him stretch and warp himself. What is sometimes he just leaves bits of himself behind. He has restoration so he can heal himself and others so when he realizes he left a foot behind he just grows a new one.

Batman: We've found more of the meta, 3 left feet all genetically identical, either were dealing with a cloning operation or someone using a regenerative meta as an organ farm. The most recent finds washed up between Gotham and metropolis.

Meanwhile Danny: I've gotta visit Dani more Madrid was beautiful can't wait to show Jazz the photos, tried to land and eats it, Damn it I though I fixed this!

Danny loves his new power- he likes to call it "Play-Boo" as a pun on playdough because it allows him to shift and change his body as he sees fit.

It was hard to mentally change his appearance as his core was tied to his idea of himself. Still, he can make his hair longer at will, shift to a younger or older version of himself, and even slightly change his coloration, though that takes a bit more concentration.

Danny is sadly unable to shape-shift into someone else. He thinks being able to regenerate is an okay trade-off. Especially when Danny accidentally leaves bits of himself behind with his new warping technique.

It's not the kind of warping he would like- seeing as he could only go a few yards from his original spot- but he hopes with time and practice, he will be able to fling himself from one side of the country to the other, much like opening portals.

But unlike the portals, he won't have to step into the ghost zone as a layaway.

One day, he'll be able to think, "Star City!" and bam will be there without having to destabilize his whole body or lose limbs. Or some internal organs. Like his left kidney.

Which was currently somewhere in Gotham as his warping has developed to the point that he can send himself to the area within eyesight, and he had traveled to metropolis in this method instead of flying to try to perfect it.

"Shoot," He grumbles, falling into a booth across from Dani. She had asked that he visit the big city with her, do a few sights, and then the two would fly downstate to check out some national parks.

"Lost something again?" She asks, sipping the soda she had ordered while waiting for him. Dani had been in the city for about three days and had fallen in love with the diner they were eating at.

She insisted they meet up there just so Danny could try some of their roast beef sandwiches. The favorite food of the two siblings.

"My left Kidney." He sighs, patting his side. Thank goodness his Play-Boo allowed him to not feel pain. He hated to have to feel every time he lost one of his body parts. "I need to eat my troubles away until a new one grows back."

"I'm not paying for your meal."

"But Dani! I'm down a kidney!"

She snorts. "It'll grow back by the time we leave, and you know it. But fine, you big baby, I'll pay for lunch. You have to cover the diner."

Satisfied, he lets her call over a waitress who quickly takes their orders and vanishes to the back, where the cook will likely make "the best damn roast beef" for him. He leans back, asking Dani about her travels.

She eagerly starts talking about the local art she has taken pictures of. At one point, her travels had turned into photo albums, documenting everything she saw and experienced.

She made some money this way, selling some of her photos, but mostly, Dani preferred to keep them for herself or the family.

As she talked about the light reflecting on some large News building- the daily planet- and the great lengths she had to go to get close enough to capture the sunlight, the door to the dinner chimed.

Two men in suits ushered in, one wearing a dark blue that seemed far cheaper than the deep black of his companion. Danny instinctively turned towards the sound, but he quickly looked away as the two men found a seat in a booth furthest away from him.

"I met this guy, Jimmy, who promised to have my photos submitted for a junior photographer contest. It's to help promote tourism, so it's based on the "Metropolis' beauty," but first place is five hundred!" Dani eagerly tells him, her eyes sparkling.

"I know you'll win. You'll make a name for yourself in no time as the best photographer of our era." Danny smiles at his little sister. He lowers his voice "Maybe with that money you win we won't have to sell my organs for a while."

She laughs, adding to the joke like it's second nature, "But you're so fun to harvest! Side's it's not like Vlad will allow you to walk away from the operation. He already has two more kidney orders from Gotham waiting for you."

Danny grimces. "I just lost one this morning. Why does he overbook me so much."

"I can do it if you-"

"Not on your life. I can regerate. You can only cry."

Dani kicks him hard in the shin. She waves her coffee spoon at him like a wizard banishing a wand. "Are you calling me a crybaby?"

"Well, I'm not calling you a cry-lady." He laughs as she scoffs. She opens her mouth to say something when her eyes lock with something over his shoulder. Her face closes down at once, hardening into someone who has traveled through the roughest parts of cities and towns.

Danny used to be worried that her instance of traveling alone at such a young age would ruin her childlike wonder and innocence, but he knew it would be worse to keep her at home.

Even with Vlad finally getting the much-needed help, the fact that Dani has existed for two years now didn't mean she was comfortable with being tied down.

Twisting around, he doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. The two men are casually eating their meals by the far window- too far for them to hear, the waitress is sitting behind the counter flipping through a magazine, and the chef can be seen through a little window making something at his gril.

What had alarmed Dani so much?

"We have to go," She hisses in ghost speech, eyes never leaving the man in the blue suit. Was it him? He seems to unthreatening with his big bulky glasses and easy smile. "I don't know why, but I don't like that guy's vibe."

Well, he won't argue with her about her gut feelings. Those were never important to ignore. "Let's take the rest of this to go."

She raises her hand, calling over the waitress, flipping open her wallet to leave enough to cover their bill and leave a generous tip. Danny quickly gathers their food in take-home boxes, keeping his body in front of Dani to block the men's view of her.

He's grateful that he had pulled on his hood, as his ears had gotten cold from the warping. With the fact he never turned around once since they walked in and his trusty hood, his face has been kept hidden from the men.

A small victory.

Hopefully, he won't see them again after this.

"Come on." He tells Dani, as she quickly gathers her stuff. "Vlad is going to have my arms and legs if we late meet him. I don't want to be just a torso again."

"I mean, it's your fault for trying to run away." She sighs. "You know how he gets. At least you didn't have to entertain his guests."

"Yeah laying in a dark room hoping to regrow my limbs is much better than letting those freaks touch me." Danny agrees thinking back to the big gala Vlad had invited them to.

To show goodwill and try to move past their hostility, the Fentons' children- Jazz, Dan, Danny, and Dani- had all agreed to go with him, under the condition that they be on their best behavior.

Danny had been running late due to a ghost attack and had chosen to use his wrapping far past the agreed limitation his parents, and Vlad had set for him.

He got to Vlad's castle but none of his limbs had followed him. Mom had been so outraged by his reckless behavior he's been grounded staying in one of the guest rooms without tv to "think about what could have happened!"

Dad and Vlad had merely nodded to their wife's punishment for their child. (And he was still getting used to the idea of Vlad being married to his parents.)

Jazz, Dan, and Dani were left to the gala, where Jazz had intellectual conversations with college professors Vlad was funding or where Dan was talking up some pretty men and women with a drink in hand, Dani as the youngest was left to affluent old ladies pinching her cheeks and giving her backhand compliments on being a "lady."

The Dannies hated being touched by strangers, and those higher-class old ladies had no concept of personal space.

"Don't worry, I'm almost too old soon." Dani chirps, holding the door open for him. "Soon Vlad will have to find other kids to flaunt in front of rich people."

"That would be the day." The two exit the dinner, switching the conversation to the idea of dessert- deciding to search on their phones a local frozen yogurt place.

Neither notice the two men- one whose fork has crumbled in his grip and another who is clicking away on his phone with a look of outer disgust on his face

"Bruce?"

"I'm already messaging Babs. She's following them with the city cameras as we speak. Don't worry, Clark, this "Vlad" isn't going to get away with it."