#so maybe not. but if it wasn't like that I would be a prime blood giving candidate <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[anothermonikan]

saw a post that annoyed me and chose to not rant in tags about it because it wasn't even a fault with the post it was an addition that ticked me off and OP doesn't need to hear all that. I'm god's strongest warrior <3

[wolviensabes]

Logan gets jealous so he decides to make sure you know who you belong to. MDNI

I love jealousy scenarios so much. So here is one with Logan <3 Still figuring out how to write him so keep that in mind too. It came out to be much longer than I thought lmaooo. Possibly will revise later but for now I just wanted to get it out.

Rating: Mature/Smut

Warnings: Afab reader, jealous/possessive Wolvie, brief spanking, fingering, oral (both receiving and giving), deepthroat/throat fucking, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink. Unedited, I worked on this for three days and I'm too lazy.

WC: 5k

The moment you got home, he could smell it. That scent on your jacket, your shirt, your skin. It made his nose scrunch up in a way that was impossible to miss. He glared down at you, his eyes narrowing as that stranger's smell seemed to seep deeper into your skin with every passing second. You, completely oblivious to it all, casually hung up your jacket on the rack, not sensing the tension in the air. As you turned back to face him, you couldn't help but notice the intensity of his stare.

"What's wrong?" you asked, genuinely puzzled by the look on his face, which was now a mix of confusion and anger. His reaction made you take a step back, trying to understand what could have possibly caused such a strong response.

Sure, you weren't stupid. Logan was always protective of you, and maybe it was that asshole in the store who kept pestering you with questions about where certain groceries were located. Maybe it was because he stood so uncomfortably close that his shoulder brushed against yours, or perhaps it was the intrusive hand he splayed on your back. You felt a deep sense of discomfort with his touch, and tried giving him clear and concise instructions, hoping to get the man to leave you alone as quickly as possible. The whole situation made you feel uneasy, and Logan had seen it from down the aisle.

His first instinct was to slice that man into pieces and leave him on the ground, but he couldn't do that. Not in the middle of the grocery store anyway. He could feel his blood boiling and his muscles tensing up as he stared intently at the man walking off, every fiber of his being urging him to take action. You let out a breath of relief, feeling the tension dissipate slightly, and turned back to the shelves, trying to focus on the mundane task at hand.

Grocery shopping was one of your least favorite things. You didn't like being around so many people, and that man was a prime example of why.

With a shaky hand, you grabbed the bag of chips you wanted, hoping that the simple act of shopping would help you regain some sense of calmness. You couldn't help but glance over your shoulder, just to make sure the man was really gone, before continuing down the aisle to Logan's side.

He said nothing about it, so you assumed he wasn't concerned at all. This lack of reaction from him made you feel a little more grounded and reassured. If Logan wasn't reacting, then maybe that guy was just some harmless idiot and not someone to worry about.

You made the conscious decision to stick next to Logan for the rest of the trip, not bothering to split up and go farther down the aisle as you had done before. The silence between you and Logan seemed to confirm that everything was alright, and you found yourself relaxing more as you walked together.

But you were wrong about his outward stoicism. He was fuming inside.

Not at you, of course, but that man who had the nerve to touch you. Asking where something is in the grocery store already annoyed him, the damn aisles are numbered and have the product written above them. He could've just looked at the signs instead of talking to you and touching you.

Logan let out a deep, throaty growl, staring intensely at you now that you two were back home, the familiar surroundings providing a stark contrast to the tension in the air. "That bastard really pissed me off," he spat, his voice dripping with anger and frustration, his eyes darkened with a mixture of rage and possessiveness. "The damn nerve of him to come up and touch what isn't his," he continued, his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Those deadly blades nearly poking out on instinct.

"That guy is what's bothering you?" you questioned softly, understanding how he might feel after witnessing the stranger be so close to you at the store, having the gall to actually touch you too. You weren't happy about it either, but you tried to keep your cool to show him it didn't bother you, even when it did, so he wouldn't react. "Logan, he was just an assho-"

Your voice was abruptly cut off as his hands slammed forcefully into the wall on either side of your head, creating a resounding echo. He was now standing directly in front of you, so close that you could feel the heat of his breath warming your face. The distinct smell of cigar smoke and musk emanated from him, enveloping you in their combined, heady aroma, you could feel your core clench and dampen.

Your heart pounded in your chest at the close proximity, feeling as though it might burst through your ribcage with each passing second. He took a deep breath, the rise and fall of his chest steady and rhythmic, almost hypnotic in the stillness of the moment. His eyes, which were usually dark and troubled, bored into you with an intensity that was both unsettling and captivating. Now, however, they held an expression you could only describe as fierce and feral, a primal emotion that sent shivers down your spine.

"You are mine, princess," he declared, his voice low and possessive. "Clearly, I don't show it enough now do I?" His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and unspoken promises, leaving you breathless as your body was reacting quickly to his words.

His eyes scanned you, running down your body and to your core, his lips upturned in a smirk, "You naughty girl." His voice was gravelly, clearly enjoying the new scent of arousal that he could smell as obvious as a candle burning in front of you. He grabbed you, his calloused hands clasped around the back of your plush thighs and swiftly lifted you up and over his shoulder. He held you still as he turned and carried you effortlessly through the halls and up to your bedroom.

"Logan!" You let out a small yelp as you were effortlessly thrown over his muscular shoulder. He carried you with ease, striding confidently through the room, only to be answered with the quick swing of your body being thrown down onto the bed. You landed with a grunt, the impact bouncing you slightly on the mattress. You looked up at him, standing over you with a commanding presence. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. He reached down, tugging your pants off with a swift motion, letting them drop onto the floor by your feet.

"Hush..." he grumbled, his voice carrying a rough edge as he threw his shirt off with a swift motion. You couldn't help but stare at his chest and abdomen, packed with well-defined muscles that flexed and rippled as he tossed the shirt carelessly to the side. Each movement seemed to highlight his features, he glanced back down at you after he had thrown the shirt off, rolling his shoulders back.

You had seen him shirtless many times before, yet your reaction was always the same. It was as if his physique had a magnetic pull, making it impossible to look away. The sight of him never ceased to leave you in awe, and it seemed each time you saw him like this, you discovered something new to admire.

He lifted his hand slowly, fingers curling tightly to form a fist, and with a deliberate motion, one of his three adamantium blades began to slide out from within him. The slow, smooth sound of it grazing through his knuckles and tender flesh, emerging inch by inch until it was fully exposed, sent a shiver down your spine and made you swallow thickly. The gleam of the claw in the dim light only added to the tension, and you had a pretty clear idea of what he was going to do next.

He leaned down, the claw gently trailing from your knee and up your thigh, moving slowly and deliberately, right up until he reached your center. The sensation was both thrilling and unnerving. Most would flinch at having such a thing near them, the sharp metallic edge so close to their skin, (especially when it came to the person wielding it), but you didn't. You trusted him completely, and while you felt a mix of excitement and slight uncertainty fill you, you stayed still for him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As the claw continued its path until it laid against the center of your panties, you felt goosebumps rise from your skin, each tiny bump cause by the mixture of sensations rushing through you. The cool metal chilled your body, leaving what felt to be an icy trail on your warm skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of your own flesh. The experience was almost surreal, like a dance between fire and ice, and you found yourself lost in the moment, every nerve ending heightened, every touch magnified.

You could sense his intent, the care with which he moved, and it only deepened your trust. He'd never actually harm you, and besides, it was fun to include them. The blade traveled farther up your body, under your shirt until it poked out of your collar near your neck. He glanced at you before jerking his arm back and swiftly tearing your shirt completely in half.

Your gasp was loud and sudden, your eyes widening with shock as you watched him effortlessly rip your shirt off with his sharp claw. He trailed it slowly down your chest, gliding it with a deliberate and almost teasing motion across your body, allowing you to feel its cold, metallic touch on the tender and delicate skin of your soft belly. The claw was lethal, easily capable of inflicting ruthless injury or ending your life in an instant.

But he doesn't, and you know he wouldn't.

The thrill of the danger, the razor's edge between safety and peril, heightened your senses like never before, leaving you acutely aware of every sensation and emotion coursing through you.

You reached down with a deliberate, yet tender motion and gently held his wrist, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingers. With careful precision, you guided his hand upwards to your chest, allowing his large palm to come to rest over your breast. His nostrils flared with a sharp breath, signaling his heightened awareness. Your tongue slowly emerged, and you carefully licked the side of his claw, a metallic taste and cool sensation on your taste buds.

The way your tongue slid over the blade, oh so carefully, made him growl and it retracted once he saw your tongue was safely out of the way. You whined quietly, you were having fun teasing him. "You wanna be a tease, do you?" His voice grunted out, he jerked you up and tossed you to the floor, your knees hit the carpet and you whined.

He paused only for a second, then he fiddled with his belt and tugged it out of the loops in one jerk. The act of that made you quiver below him, blinking up as he harshly unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down and his thick cock sprang out of his boxers. Red and angry, the tip completely blushed and shiny with the precum that had been spread on his tip.

His hand reached for your hair, grabbing onto it and tugging you closer. His cock brushed against your cheek as he used his other hand to position it at your mouth, "Open," he demanded lowly to you. Your jaw relaxed and your lips parted, allowing his salty tip to slide into your mouth.

You swirled your tongue around the blushed flesh, tasting and cleaning his sticky cockhead. He grunted in response, a pleased sound ripples through his throat as he pushed himself farther into your warm mouth. Your tongue was a soft cushion for the underside of his dick, he relished feeling it with each thrust into your throat.

Logan's grip tightened on your hair, his fingers tangling and pulling with a possessive intensity. He growled deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest, and pulled you even closer to him. You made a muffled whine, a desperate sound that escaped your lips, your eyes looking up at him from where you were below, wide and pleading. He almost looked completely feral, his eyes wild and dark with an unrestrained hunger. He huffed as his chest rose and fell quickly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, the tension between you almost palpable.

"You belong to me, princess. I'm going to make sure every single part of you remembers that. Even when I'm done fucking you." Logan growled out, watching his cock disappear in your throat as he thrust his hips forward. The sudden intrusion into your throat made your eyes widen and you gagged, not expecting him to do that.

"That's it, who's cock do you gag on? Mine. Who's cock do you like to suck on, hm?" He angled you more to look at him while keeping himself safely tucked into you mouth, the tip of his dick brushing up and down the fleshy, soft meat on the back of your throat. Bubbles of saliva popped at the corners of your mouth as he continued to thrust in and out of your throat, each time hitting the back and sliding down.

"Ugh, yeah...that's it...take it down, pup," he chuckled and watched you struggle to take him with each thrust, you still did your best to attempt to swallow all of him, knowing how it drives him crazy seeing you choke. "Slobber all over my cock, mine...the only cock that you get."

Logan grunted lowly, the sound vibrated from his chest and through his throat, his eyes closing as he focused and you could feel his dick twitching inside your mouth. "Here it comes, princess, be a good girl and swallow it." His voice was dominant and demanding, you prepared for his thick, heavy load that was soon to coat your tongue and slide down your throat.

His hips stuttered, his hold in your hair tightened and in one swift thrust, he was sheathed in your mouth. His cum began to flood across your tongue, giving you a slightly salty taste as it continued to spill out of his swollen dick. You had to swallow twice before you could finally breathe again, it felt like he was unloading everything he had. When he pulled out, he watched as his cock popped out, a gasp escaped your throat and your face messy from his thrusts. He grinned down, satisfied with how disheveled you were. "Look at you, such a mess."

You lifted your eyes up, swallowing the rest of his spunk and breathing heavily. You were breathless, your jaw ached and your throat felt bruised for sure. He took a step back and took you in, the image of you ingraining in his brain and blood flowed down to his cock. His fingers ran through your hair lightly but quickly tightened again, lifting you to stand.

Your legs felt shaky and unsteady from sitting on your knees for such a prolonged period, and you were still a bit dazed and disoriented from sucking his cock. The discomfort in your legs was matched by a slight buzzing throb in your head, making it difficult to regain your composure. "Ain't no one makes you such a pretty mess like this but me...you won't forget that. I don't give a damn who hears those sweet little noises that come out of your mouth."

He moved you onto the bed again, this time face down, and your belly hit the mattress with a rough huff. Logan's rough hands ran up the back of your bare thighs and over the round of your ass. "Such a sweet peach, princess..." he grabbed the meat of your ass and spread you open, gazing down at your holes.

He leaned in and inhaled your scent, making you squirm and whine his name, he groaned under his breath in response and spit onto your cunt. You could barely register what he was doing before you felt his tongue push inside and he began lapping at you like a starved man. His tongue curled and gathered as much of you as possible, tasting your arousal from the source as his pupils dilate with desire.

You can't help but moan as he ate you out, his hands kneading and groping your ass as he did so, snarling against your core while his tongue effortlessly assaulted and teased your clit. "You taste so damn good, look at you, soaked already..." he sat up and pushed two fingers inside to stretch you out, making you groan loudly from the sudden intrusion. "Logan!"

"Yeah...you like that don't you...feeling my fingers inside you. Haven't fingered you in a minute huh...feels good? You like when I curl 'em don't you...like..." he adjusted his wrist and he curled his fingers against that sweet, delicate spot inside you that makes you cry out in pleasure. "Yeah...that's it," he chuckled with amusement, hearing your pretty little noises. His calloused fingers rubbed mercilessly against that spongey wall and your legs began to tremble. Your fists gripped the sheets and you cried out against them, your pleasured noise muffled by the blankets. "That's what my girl likes..."

"Logan...oh god..." you whined desperately, rocking back into his fingers, chasing that sweet high that was soon to hit you and explode. "I'm gonna cum..." you rasped and did what you could to drive yourself there, the brink was so, so close...but just as he felt your walls slicken a little and tighten around his fingers, he retracted them. Right before you went over the edge, he denied you, making you groan in frustration. "Logan," you cried desperately and with slight frustration, "I was almost there!"

He had that shit-eating grin on his face, loving how desperate you became when you needed to climax. "Not so fast, sweetheart...I am going to fuck you until you can barely take it. And then some." Logan smacked your ass once, sending a sharp sting up your spine. The noise sounded loudly in the room and making you yelp slightly, your face felt hot and you bit your lip. "Maybe I should lay a few of these to ya...for begging so much...you'd like that wouldn't you? You naughty thing," He gave you another spank and you whined at the stinging sensation.

"L-Logan, please...I-I need you..." your voice was so desperate and pitiful, you could feel his hand on the small of your back, holding you still but not applying pressure. He didn't have to, he knew you'd lay perfectly for him, his pretty girl.

"I know...you need me huh? This poor pussy is so needy for me?" he chuckled, "You about broke my fingers with how tight you were. You gonna be that tight around my cock?" he asked, leaning over your body and placing a hot kiss to the side of your neck. The sensation of his lips on such a sensitive spot almost made you cry out. You felt like your body was on fire.

"Please! Please, I need you inside me! Don't tease me anymore...." your voice begged him, you wanted his cock stretching you out so badly...and he seemed to enjoy your desperation enough to give in. His cock head rubbed between your folds, he grinned and shuddered when he felt just how hot your core was.

Normally he'd just shove himself inside you, filling you up in one quick thrust, but not this time. He loved seeing you needy, especially after that bastard at the store had the audacity to touch you. The mere sight of it made his blood boil and his chest tighten with jealousy. He knew deep down that you hadn't done anything on purpose and that it wasn't your fault, but still, the image of it lingered in his mind. It gnawed at him, filling him with an almost unbearable urge to assert himself. He had to prove something to both you and himself. It was as if an uncontrollable fire had ignited within him, his primal instincts demanding him to take action.

He instead slowly began to push inside, his cock stretching your tight hole and you let out a loud whining cry. It wasn't enough; your desire for him was overwhelming, you craved all of him, every part of his being. Yet, he was deliberate in his actions, taking his time and being slow and precise with you, almost as if savoring each moment. His meticulous approach only heightened your instinctive need, making the yearning even more intense.

When he was fully inside, your cries for him grew even louder, your voice filled with a mix of desperation and desire. Your whining and squirming only intensified as you clung to him, feeling the overwhelming sensation of him deep within you. You wanted him to move, to give you the release you craved, but he remained still, demonstrating an incredible amount of self-control.

The way your body writhed against him drove him absolutely crazy; every movement you made sent shivers down his spine. He wanted nothing more than to hold you down, to keep you in place and listen to those beautiful, intoxicating sounds that escaped your lips, savoring every moment of your shared intimacy.

You were utterly intoxicating to him. His hips finally moved, pumping in and out of you with vigor and passion. Logan's firm hold on your plush hips made him groan and growl against your neck, his warm huffs of breath sending shivers down your spine and warming your skin. Each exhale created goosebumps all over the rest of your body, making you respond with pathetic sounds of pleasure. The heat radiating from him was intense, the man ran hot as it was and it felt like his entire body was a heater on high, intensifying the intimate connection between you both.

As his fingers dug slightly into your soft flesh, his deep desire for you became more apparent when he jerked your body closer to him as he continued to pound himself in and out of your tight cunt. "You love this cock don't you princess? Does it feel good...you are so desperate huh?" he whispered in a throaty, guttural voice, his lips grazing your ear as he held you flush against his body.

You felt tears prick your eyes as the intense feeling began to rush through your body, your pussy was so sensitive and he just kept pounding you. "Mhm....nngh yes..." you rasped weakly, "S-so good...so good Logan...y-you're making me bulge down there..." Your eyes widened slightly, seeing the lower part of your abdomen slightly show his dick from when he sunk into your sex.

"Only I get to make you scream and cry like this, hm? Only me. You love when I fuck you like an animal don't you? Do you want that?" he pushed you back into the bed, your arms wrapped around the pillow for any kind of support as you cried and felt him begin to pound into you even harder. The feeling of your slick warming even more from the friction made you scream in delight. It felt so incredible, no man has ever made you feel so fulfilled before...

"M'gonna put a fuckin' baby in you, gonna fill this pretty belly with my cum and watch you swell up. Then no one will touch you. You're claimed, no one will ever come up and touch you again, you're all mine," Logan hissed lowly and angled your hips up slightly, his cock hitting your cervix and teasing it with the promise of his cum.

Your body reacted to his movements by squeezing him, your velvet walls tightened around his dick and tried milking him even more as he thrusted and claimed you as his own. "My good girl...nngh...takin' my cock so good, fuckin' you to tears hm? No one else can get you this way, can they?" he growled against your skin, holding you desperately close as his hips drove into you more and more.

"Logan, I'm gonna cum...please, let me cum," you whined pitifully, tears rolled down your cheeks as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure he was providing your body. Every word that came from his mouth went straight to your clit and you were attempting to milk him before he was ready to climax himself.

"So needy... You really want to? You think you deserve it?" he asks in a low, almost mocking tone, chuckling to himself as he watches you with an intense gaze. Your tears stream down your face, and you mewl pathetically, your desperate cries echoing in the room, each sound seemingly fueling his amusement even more.

The scent of your arousal filled his nose and it drove him into you even more, his His hips stuttered, attempting to push faster than before, driven by a desperate need to increase the pace. Logan groaned deeply, the sound resonating through the room, his arms tightly wrapped around your midsection, pulling you closer. His muscular chest tightened with effort, every sinew straining as he used all the power he had to continue pounding you with relentless intensity. His skin, now slick with a light layer of sweat, pressed damply against your back, providing a heated contrast to the cool air. His chest hair was slightly tousled and damp, scratched along the skin of your back as his hips thrusted.

"Logan, I can't hold it any longer...please let me-" you rasped desperately, your entire body trembling and screaming at you to let it all go. Every muscle was tense, fighting against the overwhelming urge, yet you craved his permission more than anything. You needed to hear him say you could, to feel that moment of release granted by his word...

"Alright pretty girl, come for me, let it out, cum all over my cock...let me know how good I make you feel~" Logan urged you on and his hands roamed up your body, grasping your breasts and gently pinching and rolling your nipples in his index and thumb. That was all your body needed to go over the edge.

You felt an intense wave of adrenaline and warmth spread from your core, radiating throughout your entire body. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you cried out Logan's name, your voice a mix of desperation and euphoria. As your head became fuzzy and dazed, the feeling of pure ecstasy washed over you, filling your senses to the brim. You were completely overcome by the powerful emotions, your body trembling with the intensity as his cock mercilessly continued to pound into you.

"Ohh yes...that's it princess...let it out baby...cream on my dick," he groaned in your ear, the sound making you clench harder, if that were possible. His hips finally began to falter and he leaned over you to let gravity help his rutting. "M'gonna fill you up, til y'r dripping with me." Logan's eyebrows were knit tight and he let out a loud groan as his hips finally stopped, pushing hard against you as he reached his peak.

His cock kissed against your swollen cervix and he unloaded his orgasm deep into you, shooting rope after hot rope of cum until you were so full it began to ooze out around him. The sensation of it dripping down his balls made him snarl, he pulled out just enough to see it slowly coming out of your pretty, swollen pussy before he used his cock to swipe it up and push it back in.

"Keep it in there, sweet girl...keep all of me in you. You love it, being so full of my seed it leaks out of you." He reached around and teasingly wrapped his hand around your neck to give a gentle squeeze.

You, in a complete daze, so high on your climax you could barely think. He hadn't fucked you this hard in so long. You babbled lightly, attempting to form coherent words, but you weren't able to construct a complete sentence. He chuckled softly, his warm breath and lips brushing lightly against your temple. "Atta girl...so dizzy," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did I make you feel good? Hm?" Logan almost purred against you, his voice low and soothing, as you felt the gentle vibrations of his chest reverberate against your back, adding a comforting aspect to the intimate moment.

"Now, now...you just rest. You did so good for me." He placed a gentle kiss to your temple, pulling you to lay on him and reluctantly pulling himself out of you. "We can clean up later...right now, I want you here." He held your body close, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he adjusted a bit to make you more comfortable.

He felt pride and satisfaction when he smelled you, leaning down to inhale lightly. He no longer sensed that awful stench the stranger had left on you from before. Now, it was just his own scent imbedded in your skin, his claim on your was loud and clear to him and it would be to everyone else too. He continued to hold you, his warmth surrounding you, creating a cocoon of security.

You were far too tired to argue. Every bone in your body felt like it was weighed down by an invisible force, and the idea of cleaning up seemed like an insurmountable task. You would clean up later, but for now, you needed a moment to recover from your high and daze. The room felt like it was spinning slightly, and the only thing grounding you was his presence and firm arms wrapped around your body. You were happy laying with him, despite that smug ass smirk he had on his face when he observed you. His eyes had a glint of amusement, and you didn't know why he seemed so full of himself until you saw yourself in the mirror half an hour later.

When you caught your reflection, you were shocked to find your skin covered in dark bruises, all adorning your neck and shoulders. It was then you understood the reason behind Logan's self-satisfied expression. There was no way you could cover these, and he made sure of that.

"Logan!!"

That bastard.

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by leaving a 🧡.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: Original Serial Adopter

When Bruce adopted Dick Grayson the Media was in a frenzy. The billionaire and playboy adopting an orphan after some kind of freak circus accident? Nobody expected it to last more than a month. The media called this action an "Act of Charity".

Then a few years later he adopted Jason Todd. Jason was much more scrappy and after a while some media started calling him the "Wayne Stray".

When he took in Tim after Jason's "accident" they called Tim a rebound. But instead of a relationship Tim was just being used to fill the void that Jason left. The media eventually called him "Jason Todd's replacement."

The media got much more suspicious when Bruce adopted Cassandra and crossed lines with their speculations that resulted in a lot of lawsuits. Though nobody in Wayne's circles believed the rumors for a second, so rumors were wiped out pretty quickly. The least offensive of these things called Bruce a "Bleeding Heart" when the media saw the scars Cassandra had.

Stephanie was never officially adopted - at least legally - but anybody who saw her with the family knew that Bruce had adopted her as a daughter. Like Cassandra she got some negative comments but they learned after the first time. "Another Wayne Joins The Manor".

When Damian came into the picture the media exploded. Comments along the lines of "The Bastard Child" which made Bruce's blood boil but kept quiet. Damian had only known violence and aggression growing up, and while his mother loved him she had exposed him to a life he didn't need to see. Bruce wasn't about to make everything worse by loosing it on the media for being jackasses.

When he fostered Duke the media exploded again. Showing the ugly side of human ignorance but Bruce and Duke were both able to ignore it (while Tim and Oracle found ways to rip every person apart who dared make a comment against them).

Bruce didn't care what they said, because at the end of the day he had children who he loved with all of his heart and was learning to do the best for. Sure, he made plenty of mistakes but he tried to learn from his mistakes.

Though the rumor about Bruce being a "Serial Adopter" was one that would be one that would never leave him.

But he had to learn it from somewhere.

A fact that was ignored until Alfred showed up back to the manor after a shopping trip with a scrawny child walking hesitantly behind him, carrying some of the groceries'. He was prime "adoption bait". Underweight, messy black hair, blue eyes that were just a bit too blue, and bruises that were in view despite the kids best attempt to cover them with his hoodie.

A large hand print bruise around his neck, scraped knuckles, and a bruise peeking out from under his hairline might as well have been ink in the pen that Bruce was going to use to sign that kids adoption papers and sign the receipt for the shovel he would buy to bury the bastards responsible.

After the groceries were put away Alfred properly introduced the kid. His name was Danny and after a series of unfortunate events while Alfred was shopping Danny had been forced to jump in and help him. Bruce thought that maybe Alfred had been in danger and never called them but when it became clear that luck just wasn't on his side and that he was never in danger for anything despite being late it made Bruce even more concerned about the teen that currently was eating his third apple as though he had never eaten anything in his life.

He stayed small, stayed silent, looking around the room anxiously. He clearly kept tabs on every window. Every door. Every exit but hardly paid any attention to the valuables. He was scared but not a thief.

Finally they have to ask about Danny's injuries. Was he safe at home? Did he have a place to stay? Why was he so thin? Did he need them to call somebody.

Danny was quiet for a long time.

"I don't have a home to go to. The bruises are fine, I'm just clumsy. I don't need a place to stay. Thanks for the food and the hospitality but... I don't feel like being kidnapped and tortured by another millionaire so if Alfred doesn't need anything else I should go."

Danny tried to get up and move, the pain obvious but before anybody could say anything else Alfred simply said.

"Sit."

Danny hesitated, then sighed and sat down again.

"You promised you would allow me to treat you before you left. I am a man of my word so as soon as you finish your apple I will bandage your wounds and you will be free to leave if you wish."

Classic Alfred trap.

One that worked flawlessly.

Fresh bandages, a full stomach, warm clean clothes and a cup of hot chocolate on the comfortable couch in the living room was all it took to lull the injured teen to sleep.

Alfred continued this trend for three more days managing to trick Danny into helping him with minor tasks around the manor, offering him another meal because he 'made too much and didn't want to waste it' and countless other things.

It wasn't until day four when Danny seemed to accept his fate and allowed them to help him. Which prompted Cass to point at Alfred.

"Original Serial Adopter."

Making the entire table laugh while Danny just looked increasingly confused.

[songsofadelaide]

"Oh, so the one percenter Officer Hibino and Captain Ashiro were childhood friends?"

You knew better than to partake in office gossip, but it was difficult not to hear things when everyone had been talking about the Third Division's new recruits. They say this year's crop is one of the best, and there was a prodigy in your midst, too, in the form of Director General Shinomiya's daughter, Kikoru. There was no doubt that the girl looked up to her as well.

It wasn't new hearing how many young bloods decided to join the Defense Force because of the cool and level-headed Captain Mina Ashiro, but her astronomical rise in rankings did not come as a surprise to many of the top brass. She had raw yet rough talent— the kind that had to be honed and sharpened like a blade meant to kill.

Ashiro was a genius. A diamond in the rough at first, but now a polished centrepiece of the crown that is the Japan Anti-Kaiju Defense Force.

It's hard to believe now she once looked up to you as her senpai. She still does, but you just don't let it get to your head. While you were glad she overcame her exhaustion ever since Director General Shinomiya took a special interest in her and her abilities, there was no denying that something inside her snapped. She would still rest her head on your shoulder every once in a while when you occupied the baths, and you could find the semblance of her tender, younger self, her lips curved to a small smile at times before she eventually shook it off.

"Does it get tiring?" You once asked her as you sank into the warm baths yourself before the fatigue from today's training further settled in your bones. You could tell that a sigh wanted to leave her lips, but she shook her head instead. "It does, but... knowing everyone gets a night of restful sleep is worth it."

What frustrated you wasn't the fact that she overtook you. It was the fact that she had to be at the top all alone.

They called you a burning star. You reached your prime way too early and burned out fast— and eventually condemned yourself to a fate of mediocrity, never overcoming the wall that both saved you from crashing even deeper and slugged your growth.

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 47%

It was always the same result for the last few years. You try not to look crestfallen when you hear Okonogi encouraging you through your comms. It was no wonder you hit a dead end as a platoon leader. They say people your age should be more accomplished— perhaps a vice-captain... But you didn't dare aspire. Aspiring was for dreamers, and more ideally and realistically, for those just starting out in the force. Old-timers like you don't get to dream anymore.

"I'm not fooling anyone... It's been years since I had my shot at a promotion. I'm not getting any better, either..."

You didn't understand why you were so hung up on the whole thing, either. Ebina was content with how things were, or at least he tried to be... But you would both be lying to yourselves if you said outright that you didn't feel the least bit threatened by the rising stars of the Third Division.

On a particularly warm night, while everyone else was already at rest, you reflected on the events of the day on the base rooftop, your can of black coffee nearly drained as a sigh that gradually turned into a grumble escaped your lips.

"Hmm. Maybe I should consider that fox-faced Vice-Captain's joke and retire early. Even though I know he doesn't mean it... But 30 is way too late to get married, no matter how I look a—"

You were so deep into your self-loathing that you didn't notice the new recruit approach you with his own canned drink in hand. "What? Are you planning on getting married, Platoon Leader?"

"Gah! O-Officer Hibino! Where did you—"

"S-Sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just wanted to ponder a bit but I heard you, uh, talking," Kafka said with a crooked smile and hands raised in defence. "What're you saying, though? Don't you know how much skill it takes to raise your combat power to that level? Let alone maintain it..."

"Maintaining combat power is one thing, but not being able to grow any stronger is another. Every single one of the new recruits is eager to skyrocket to great heights. I'm sure you're no different, seeing as you want to... to stand next to the Captain if I heard you right the last time," you stated with a clenched fist, the coffee can only slightly crumpling in your hand. "Personally, I feel like I've... stopped growing a long time ago. Platoon Leader is all I'll ever achieve and I..."

I feel so pathetic.

"Does it really matter? Where you stand and all... Ranks are good and all, but I think carrying yourself with pride is more important," he answered you without missing a beat. There was a shine in his eyes you hadn't seen in a long time. "I know everyone calls you a burning star, but that's not what I heard from the Vice-Captain and Min— Captain Ashiro."

Hope.

"The Third Division stands because of its pillars, but cornerstones like you are important, too. The Captain referred to you as such," Kafka stated with the same crooked yet comforting smile. You've only had a handful of interactions with him, but you confirmed soon enough that he had a kindness that seemed to melt away your worries. "Besides, a burning star is still a star. It's still a dazzling celestial body, regardless of what people say about it, regardless of how burned out it is."

You had to admit that he was pretty cute, too. Then again, Tae would point out that you've always had a weakness for hard workers, so it was only a matter of time before your stupid crush was discovered— Who the hell does this guy think he is? Giving me hope, of all things.

He was a burning star, too, but he burned so bright that you couldn't look away. Maybe he wasn't a burning star. Maybe he was a beacon. Either way... A burning star is still a star. He said it himself.

"Don't retire just yet, Platoon Leader. You're a cornerstone, after all. The Captain needs you still. Besides, don't you want to see us new recruits storm the floor at missions?"

Hope was the last thing on your mind, but Kafka had an abundance of that shine in his eyes that made it hard to look away.

"Soshiro-kun was right about you," you said with a small smile closely followed by a sigh of defeat. "You're way too upbeat for someone who's only at 1%!"

— The Raid on Tachikawa Base

"Tell me something good, Konomi-chan. How's everyone else on the field at the moment?"

"Platoon Leader! You—"

You could sense the shock in Okonogi's voice even through your slightly garbled comms.

"Y-Your unleashed combat power is—!"

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 53%

While that wasn't exponential growth, that was still growth. The first of its kind you've had in years.

"A-Are you okay, Platoon Leader? Your heart rate is increasing!"

"I-I'm fine, Konomi-chan!" You stammered right back, an uncharacteristic flush on your face that your subordinates swiftly took notice of. They hardly had the chance to tease you about it when you groaned to yourself as you fiddled with your firearm. "What the hell am I getting all worked up for?..."

Your combat suit made you feel steamy all over, the heat reaching your joints anew. The surplus of power coursed through your every vein and fibre and made you surprisingly tactless. "I'm hardly at her level!"

Right from the start, you knew that you were competing with a monolith. A phantom from the past... and the present. Mina wasn't your competition. You made that clear to each other from the start. But when you remember the unusual smile that graced her face for a single moment when Kafka gatecrashed the Presentation of Enlistment Certificate Ceremony with that stupid declaration of his—

You were competing with the shadow of the Captain of the Third Division in this stupid thing called love, of all things!

The static in your comms cleared up, followed by Kafka's voice filling your ears, his tone both solid and encouraging, filling you with hope once more.

"Platoon Leader! Don't compare yourself to her! Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. Just remember that you're Captain Ashiro's cornerstone! You cover for her in places she can't reach, right?!"

Static, again, before Okonogi sends out a command for your platoon.

"We'll need you on the field soon, Platoon Leader! On the Vice-Captain's order!"

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 54%

"Let's get to work, then!" You declared to your subordinates with a smile that did not suit the situation. But seeing your improved numbers filled them with the same hope that theirs will rise, too. "How could I forget that burning star's still a star?"

[alyssa-the-witch]

Misconceptions I've had about Hestia

Whenever working with a new deity, I've learned that the myth doesn't always match the (wo)man. But a lack of mythos adds a whole new layer that I encountered when working with Hestia for the first time. I realized that, because there's not much about her, the little information out there has a high likelihood of not being true. And the few myths about her are maybe 3 sentences? So I decided to share some things that I've learned for input. There's also some general advice, as Hestia is the first goddess I've fully worked with. Coming up one year now, yayyyy!

As always, agree to disagree and please don't start fights!

🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖

1~ Hestia is passive

Ha! Not really! Many people believe that because Hestia is a home goddess and stays on Mt. Olympus, she's passive and unassertive. But from what I've learned, that could be farther from the truth. Despite Poseidon and Apollo's advances, she stayed true to what she wanted. She picked her job, chose what she wanted to do, and she's stuck to it. That's part of why she took her vow to Zeus, so she would have no man to deter her from the life she chose. That, I think, is crucial to hear these days, especially with the rise of trad wives and feminism. She is the prime example that it should be your choice and not anyone else's. Yes, she is calm and peaceful compared to her siblings, but she's also powerful in her quiet nature. There's a power in that.

2~ To devote yourself to Hestia, you have to be completely modest and veil all the time.

This was a hard one for me going into it. I thought that to devote myself, I had to stay true to all her virtues. And I tried to dress how I thought she would want me to. However, I realized that I felt so unhappy and nothing like myself. I was already fairly modest by nature, but I still felt like I wasn't modest enough. I prayed that night, did a little meditation, and I realized something. I don't have to be exactly like her to worship her. I can just be myself. Hestia, as a hospitable and kind goddess, she will take you and love you as you come. Recently, I've gotten myself real veils, but for a while I've just used a red hair tie while doing housework. And again, it wasn't all the time, just while while cleaning or cooking. And that's okay, she won't hate you for it!

3~ She'll be mad if you don't do your house chores on time or if you mess up cooking

This has got to be my anxiety showing, because looking back, there's no way that she would be like this. Cooking and baking are imperfect arts. Things tend to go wrong. And when they do, you just have a second, pick yourself up by your bootstraps, and keep going. If you mess up, Hestia is there for you: she lets you take those moments and guides you to get up and keep going, keep persevering, and finish that casserole. When it comes to chores, those are a lot harder, especially for neurodivergent people (like myself). Sometimes it can feel like that hardest thing in the world. But Hestia knows that, and she doesn't mind. As long as it gets done. Even if the laundry load is so big it feels like a mountain, she'll help you climb it. She knows, and she's there for you.

4~ By family, she means blood family.

Also no. Family is a very different thing than it was in Greek times. Now, family is what you make it, not who you're related to, and if your family is a danger to you, you have every right to not call them family. Hestia, along with being protector of hearth and home, she is the protector of those without a hearth to go to, those who don't have a stable home. She knows that family isn't linear, and I believe she wants everyone to have a stable family, no matter what it looks like. What is a home but the bricks you make it out of?, what is a fireplace but the kindling you put in it?

🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖

So yeah, that's my top four. Feel free to reblog with anything that you've learned, either from Hestia or any other deity you work with and give your input on my thoughts! Blessed be, everyone!

[nothanksjohnny]

Hello! I saw your post on what if transformers saw as weird like guys who eat living things and hunt their friends.

Which was very fun to read, but do you think would happen if they saw a child’s child tooth fall out? Like Raf came up to Ratchet bloody mouth and holding a tooth up?

Id imagine most cybertronains would range from " get me the fuck of this planet" to " humans are disgusting" with a few in-between emotions and reactions. While I've enjoyed the headcanon that cybertronains shed like reptiles or insects leading to scars slowly fading from their permanent finish as well as adjusting to growth and upgrades that has occurred since the last shedding. Although teeth is a interesting addition to out metallic companions. While I've theorized that denta can aid in crushing raw energon and desperate need of fuel as well as just eating normal snacks on cybertron. Like lead sulfide crystals that are described to be quite the treat. As well as rusk sticks and so fourth.

While in the TFP universe if we consider how the team is a bit new to earth I'd imagine understanding human biology isn't something that was confronted. Even with other instances where cybertronains have resided on earth for a long period of time it seems beyond humans going "squish and crush" when you step on us most cybertronains lack any understanding of us and other organic life. Even decepticons have expressed discomfort at how we work. If taking into knockout looking up how we interface gives any window of how they feel.

When Raf was struck by dark energon it caused a great panic within all the bots. I'd imagine it was more that just seeing their companion ill and hurt. I'd imagine it was a new kind of fear. A hopelessness of not understanding, unable to help because your scared you'll do more harm than good. You don't know what's wrong and you can't help but get angry or shut down. Which is shown by Bumblebee who was quick to want to return the favor to Megatron. Ratchet showing high stress and frustration because for once he truly can't help. He can't help the very child who's helped them to many times. He isn't a medic at this momment. He's a bystander and that hurts him. Prime himself upon first sight of Rafael is scared. Rare to show emotion the widening of optics is a rare sight so deep into the war. While giving aid to Ratchet by assuring him being calm is best it's clearly shown Optimus is frustrated of this situation.

With time I'd imagine some instances of humans being humans occurs. Such as loosing teeth. By age twelve most children have lost their center incisors,lateral incisors, upper and lowered molars. Leaving the upper canines to fall out around age twelve. Knowing how teeth seem to love to fall out at the most random of momments id imagine this would be true with Rafael. Maybe after being picked up from school he got hungry and decided to eat a apple until later in the day where he,jack and Mike would be driven home and eat dinner or whatever they could find as a final meal. To give our senior medic and spark attack I'd find it more hilarious if this happened while he was at the base alone with the children. Muscle( what is the equivalent of muscle for cybertronains?) Memorie of everyday activities playing within the bass until a cruch and " oh just lost my tooth" seems to echo within the base.

Maybe it wouldn't have been as terrifying for the medic if their wasn't so much blood. ( cough exaggeration) Now poor Raf is being grabbed like a kitten who's mother is worried and now is being scanned for what's wrong. All he wanted to do was show his last of his baby teeth. The apple being to dense for his gums to be able to hold onto the tooth when he continued to bite. Now he's forced to sit on the medical birth as Ratchet is cursing in cybertronain. Fumbling with equipment as he once again realizes he doesn't have the right tools to help the child. This brings upon early times in the war when sparkling where harmed. Hurt and weeping for their lost or dead sires and creators. Bleeding and so small that it was difficult to get ones servos on the machines or equipment specifically made for them. So many parished. Reliving when all he could do was hold them and coo soft songs as their sparks dimmed and went out. The days when both decepticon and autobot could see the pain in each other's optics. One of the reasons why some became neutral unable to bare either insignia due to the young deaths.

A hurt sparkling meant death. And currently Rafael is hurt. Now Ratchet is holding child sparkling and cooing in cybertronian. Still scanning but slightly relived when he comes to find the bleeding has slowed and is stopping as time passes. Yet as the show has shown. Timing isn't always on their side. The beeping of the need of a ground bridge. Rafael tucked close to his chassis while the other begins ground bridge. Jack and Miko seeing the grumpy medic being so motherly..certainly has made then scratch their head. The action of losing a baby tooth was normal. All that was needed was a tissue and maybe some ice to help the pain a bit. Not to mention how frighten the medic had gotten upon first realization of Raf losing his tooth.

Once the rest of the team was informed of what had occurred a new found fear and respect was given to their human companions. As well as a brief explains from June on how yes it's normal for children to lose their teeth. No a child's teeth shouldn't just all fall out at once. And yes I'll download some medical books for you to read.

[inkyquince]

I'm going to make fun of so many peoole who don't like veilguard. Because....

Veilguard is the spiritual successor to Dragon Age 2

Inquisition is more like Origins, and I would call it the spiritual successor if it wasn't sufficiently lacking in other areas

Now there are dumb fucks out there who only like origins or only like inquisition. It's their entire personality when it comes to dissecting the dragon age games.

I like dragon age a lot because each game is a different genre. Origins is depression melodrama. 2 is a comedy that loves to stop and punch you in the gut every now and then, and shows the prime time when your friends are more your family than blood is. Inquisition is... A political thriller that happens to have magic (and the ugliest graphics. Bruh why is everyone but like three people so deep in the uncanny valley. Why is combat boring). Veilguard is getting to see what it feels like to inherit a situation outside of your control, it's more like an underdog story.

"it has cringy dialogue" and you don't remember origins? You think bioware doesn't dish out cringy dialogue for each game?

"the art style-" is STYLISED. Origins is good looking for graphics that feel outdated for 2009. But it's not realistic looking. 2 had it's budget slashed viciously so it does look wonky especially with their cameo characters. Inquisition, as I've said, feels deeply ugly because there is nothing stylised about it. They went for realistic and now everyones inquisitor is kinda ugly, sorry. People enter the uncanny valley, they always look better in concept art. The three prettiest people we have is Dorian, Cassandra and Josephine. Everyone else enters the uncanny valley of WEIRD looking. It's busted and I'm sorry. Veilguard? Fuckin stellar stylisation. The art, the environments, the magic, is so goddamn pretty.

"you cant control your compa-" yes you can. You can make them attack. Why are you sad about missing out on inquisitions boring combat where you press R. Wow. Amazing.

People have rose tinted glasses for these games. Play them from the first to the last game and I'd say veilguard is FULLY one of the best. I saw some loser on tiktok scream about the iron bull's signature being EXPLAINED in text and not shown?? Saying 10 years and for what?

10 years for a play through, start to finish, took me 55 hours doing ALL of the quests and exploring. From the amazing character creator and the hair physics that inquisition, 2 and origins could never make work. From the beauty of the backgrounds, how each location feels deeply lived in, compared to inquisition where new environments felt plastic and not real. For a finale that had me crying for 20 minutes at the choices I made and knew would make again. For the reveals, for the conversations, for the natural ending for Solas. I only cried in origins after my warden died. I teared up at Hawkes mother dying. Inquisition got no tears from me.

I'm sorry that you're hung up on small details. I have complaints too. Maybe a better fantasy term for trans and non-binary, but honestly the conversations that we're able to have about them? Deeply lovely. I personally wish that one day we can go back to the origins start, where we spend around 20 minutes IN our origin and then go frolicking. I'd kill to see that with the mourn watcher and crow origin so we can be excited when we see them again when we revisit the important NPCS. Personally do want the Lucanis romance to kick off earlier in the game, but he is one of the hardest ones to romance for good reason and it made sense for the character. I miss importing decisions but to be fair, the choices I made in origins wouldn't have shown up that much in veilguard, except maybe Kieran being in the background of some scenes at a stretch, but mostly for inquisition and Hawke. Varric obviously sees a lot of Hawke in Rook (just look at the dialogue wheel) and I wish we got to hear Isabella talk about them.

But these are so little. I have way more complaints about inquisition but I will still play it. I can acknowledge the flaws but if you hold it, or origins on a pedestal, that's just embarrassing for you, that you're stuck on a game, instead of being stuck on the series, in an excellent fantasy setting that keeps being expanded on.

Veilguard let's us say goodbye to Solas in the best way. There was NEVER going to be a happy end for him. Stop deluding yourself that the inquisitor and Solas would have rode off into the sunset. It's frankly embarrassing that themes from inquisition and veilguard flew over your head if you beloved that.

I've seen this same anguish over a sequel and it was for 2, after origins. Now 2 isn't the perfect game. It doesn't even have a proper title. But 2, a decade later, is well loved. It's full of jank, it's got strange coding, but the story has a lot of love. But it wasn't origins, so fans wailed and pissed. But it's a fan favourite these days and Hawke is deeply beloved and remembered fondly to the point that the possibility of their death in inquisition made an impact.

So, basically, get over yourself. None of these games are perfect and yes it took 10 years but I love it. I get to play as a crow for the first time, a faction I've loved since Zevran was able to rizz himself out of being killed. You can play as a Warden again, for the first time since Origins. Griffins are back and they're adorable. Their quest is heart breaking and anxiety inducing. You can play as new factions, ones we didn't fuck around with before, the shadow dragons, the mourn watchers, the veil jumpers. We get several amazing romances, that feel in character. Everyone is bisexual again but have clear preferences. Bellara has a preference for women, Emmerich has a preference for men, Lucanis has Never being in relationship. Taash and Harding might get together, Lucanis and Neve might get together. We get a companion that's trans, we GET to be trans for the first time. In inquisition we have krem but the developers never thought we would want to be trans, so I will happily take what we can get. Could it be better? Always. But I'm not stuck in 2014.

Take off your rose tinted glasses and go fuck that old man and maybe you'll lighten up.

[sabotourist]

Some thoughts on season 19

This is probably going to be one of the most personal things I ever post on social media. But I have some thoughts.

Sarge and Doc died. Doc wasn't even killed on-screen. Was barely even mentioned until the end. He died having only saved two people in his entire career as a medic. Sarge died, and Donut wasn't even there to see it happen.

Was he off grieving Doc? Was he just doing other stuff? I don't know. But he was gone.

Why was he actually gone? Probably for budget reasons. Time constraints. Studio trouble and issues with the engine or model or whatever else. Writing constraints that forced Donut and Doc into such secondary roles. Into dying off screen. Into not even being there when two people you care so much about die.

But like, how much of that was actually in the narrative's control? They had these limitations to write around, and it put these characters in situations where they couldn't be in narratively satisfying roles.

In some ways, it's the most brutal depiction of what life is like.

When I was 14, I lost touch with my best friend. I just didn't keep my phone on me often at the time. He died. I think, if he had lived, he would have gone on to do some absolutely amazing things. He didn't get to. He called me a couple days before it happened. I didn't see it.

Death isn't fair. But it's not the end.

I think, if the story had had more time, these characters could have had better roles. But life isn't always so kind. Death isn't always so kind. We lose people when we're not looking. We blink and people are gone.

Doc, Sarge, Church, and Tex are dead. Wash was in an institution again. Tucker just went through all that. Grif went back to earth.

That's... that's brutal. Why don't I hate it? On paper, I'd hate it.

I think it might be because it doesn't feel like a goodbye, or even the end. There are loose ends. A lot of them. There's so much pain there, so much healing and moving on to be done. Just because Grif went back to earth doesn't mean he and Simmons don't call all the time. Just because Donut wasn't here to maybe save Sarge doesn't mean he won't be there eventually.

Just because Doc only saved two people doesn't mean it didn't matter.

Life is brutal. Death is brutal. Shit happens. Shit that isn't fair. Whether it's people we love dying, or just studio drama fucking a show.

But... that doesn't mean it's the end.

Doesn't mean Simmons is going to be alone, doesn't mean Doc died for nothing, doesn't mean Sarge's sacrifice meant nothing, doesn't mean Wash or Tucker's lives are ruined, or that Caboose can't have a new best friend.

I like to imagine Donut taking up medical studies after this. Doc saved him. He's going to make damn sure that matters. Maybe Blood Gulch becomes something of a boot camp for some future loser rejects in need of a home that Simmons can guide.

Church, in all his forms, may be gone. But that doesn't mean they're going to be so quick to forget. Leave the past in the past. But still look back from time-to-time. It got you where you were.

Sometimes we pass memories down through stories. Sometimes, just in the choices we make throughout our lives.

But just... unfair things happened. To the show, and to the characters in it. To the people running it. My best friend died when he was 14. Monty Oum died in his prime. Life is tragic. But hey, it's not the end. It's just the start of something new.

Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't ideal. Maybe it hurts. Maybe it'll never stop hurting. But it can still be beautiful. it still has meaning.

It may just be a silly show about Halo dudes, but it matters.

Tl;dr: Raven is stupidly sentimental right now

[littlefankingdom]

Everytime something happens in France in a comic, I realize how little researches comics writers do. And like, if they are this bad with my western country, how bad it is with third-world countries they talk about???

In Nightwing (2016), Raptor is from a circus that was near Paris during Mary Grayson's childhood, so more than 40 years ago at least.

In this flashback, they accuse the mayor of Paris of having given leprosy to the romani and of keeping away the meds they need. Already, with our healthcare's system, it's hardly possible, as they would be able to go to a hospital to get the help they need. Do they think "public healthcare" means the state has a direct control on medication, because that's not the case at all. The French gov control the money put into medication, how much is bought, but a mayor has no power over this. I just don't understand how something like this could happen. You can totally write a racist medical scandal in France, but makes it make sense with our system.

But also, Paris didn't have a mayor until 1977, so if it's before 1977, impossible. And, Paris' mayor from 1977 to 1995 is JACQUES CHIRAC, who was the PRESIDENT after. They wrote a story implying that a French President kept medications away from sick people, was discovered and was still elected President. And, yes, the French government is far from good and they have deeply harmed the romani, but like, maybe don't write shit like that. (Also, Chirac was really against the war of Iraq, and stood up against the US, which France is still paying the price for to this day. So I don't really like an USAmerican to criticize Chirac. Like, we can do it, others can do it, but not USAmericans, y'all have done enough) I'm pretty sure that wasn't the goal of the writers. No, what happen is that they didn't do researches about Paris' mayor and so, wrote that shit.

This may be inspired by the contaminated blood's scandal in the 80s-90s, which was worst in France, but no mayor was found guilty, it was doctors who knowingly contaminated patients with a deadly illness. And the French government was held accountable, even if they had no hand in it, as a matter of principle.

I understand it's a fiction, and they didn't literally wrote "Chirac did this", but it's kind of clumsy. (Especially because of everything I wrote earlier about Chirac's politics and how the US is still punishing France for being against killing civilians and destroying Iraq. France was doing the right thing, and the US worked so France would go back in line and treat Arabs like shit. Do not think western countries are free from the US' imperialism)

And in no way I'm saying that you cannot write France being awful, I know my gov's crimes (rn, they have deported homeless out of Paris for the Olympics, the President is refusing to acknowledge the left won the elections and to take a leftist prime minister so we have no prime minister since mid July and fuck democracy I guess, they support Israel's crimes against humanity, and are behaving like the colonizers that they are in New-Caledonia, sending the armies against the Kanaks that have not enough power on their own land), I'm just saying it should at least be believable enough to work. (Easiest way: make the cops racist. Boom. Also, French cops talk like vilains, it's insane.) And also, not about someone touchy like clumsily painting badly a president that was punished by the US for doing the right thing.

[vioartemis]

Alone with you

(Tara carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: After your girlfriend of 4 years got brutally attacked at her house, you're willing to do anything to keep her safe, even if it means putting yourself in danger Request here :)) Warnings: blood, injuries, Tamber (one sided) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You just learnt your girlfriend had been attacked the night before and ran to the hospital to be by her side when she would wake up.

When she opened her eyes, you could say she was relieved to see you next to her.

"Y/n...?"

"Hi baby..."

She started to tear up, lower lip trembling.

"I was so scared..." she sobbed "He- he was wearing a Ghostface costume Y/n... w-what if it's another psycho like the others...?"

You sat on the bed and hugged her, stroking her hair as she cried against you, gripping your shirt tight.

"I'm sorry I wasn't with you... y-you're gonna be okay from now on, I'm here, I'll protect you my love..."

You tried your best to comfort her, and even though you were not the best at it, it was working. She felt safe in your arms, face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Please don't leave me..."

"I won't, I swear. I'm staying here as long as you need me to" you placed a kiss on her head "Do you want me to tell our friends you're awake?"

She shook her head slightly, not letting go of you.

"I'll do it myself, but not now... I want to stay alone with you. Can you lay in bed with me...?"

"Of course"

You took off your shoes and slipped in her bed, taking her back in your arms.

You had no idea who could have attacked your girlfriend, but whoever it was, you were going to make them pay for almost taking her away from you.

Yet you felt that maybe they didn't want to kill her. They could have easily sunk their knife in her throat or in any vital organs for the final blow. But they didn't.

Either it was part of their plan, or they just couldn't.

You hoped it was the first option with your whole heart. Because if it wasn't, it meant the new Ghostface could be one of your friends. Someone that loved Tara so much they couldn't kill her.

If anyone else came to this conclusion, you would be the prime suspect. That's what prevented you from sharing your theory with the police. Your girlfriend doubting you was the last thing you wanted.

After Tara texted Wes around half an hour later, and ten more minutes for them to come here, your friends arrived at the hospital, soon followed by none other than Samantha Carpenter and her boyfriend.

You got out of Tara's bed when your friends arrived, now sitting on a chair right next to her bed, holding her hand.

How many years had it been since you saw Sam for the last time? 5 years? More? It felt like an eternity. She used to babysit Wes, Mindy, Chad and you when you were younger, but you knew her before that, being Tara's friend since forever.

You had always loved her, she was the older sister you never had. Until she left. You never heard of her since that day.

You hoped she had changed and she wouldn't hurt Tara anymore.

"Look guys, Tara's really tired. Maybe we should give her some space" Amber suggested

Everyone agreed and started to leave.

"Not you Sam. I want you to stay"

You gave a last squeeze to your girlfriend's hand before sitting up too.

"I'll text you and be back later in the day" you said softly

"Wait before you go..."

She beckoned you to lean in, and put her valid hand on the back of your neck, pulling you close to kiss you tenderly.

"I love you" she whispered against your lips

"I love you too baby"

You smiled, giving her a last peck on the lips before standing up, cheeks a little redder than usual. Sam looked shocked but didn't say anything as you walked past her.

Once you left, Tara broke down again in her sister's arms. Like you, Sam tried her best to comfort her, hugging her and patting her back.

She tried to make Tara think of something else.

"How long has it been? Y/n and you"

A smile crept on Tara's face as she heard your name.

"Four years, since freshman year"

Sam could see you made her sister happy. The light in her eyes, this little shiny light couldn't mean anything else. She always thought you would make a great couple.

Out of all of her sister's friends you had always been her favorite. She knew Wes had a crush on Tara back in the days, but she never thought she liked him back. Even then, she only had eyes for you.

"You make a cute couple"

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

"Welcome to act three"

So it was her all along? Her that attacked Tara at her house and at the hospital? Her that almost killed the person you loved the most?

You knew she had a crush on Tara. You saw it in the way she looked at her, even though she denied it. Maybe Amber's feelings were the only thing that saved Tara.

Amber tried to shoot Sam but Tara pushed her arm up, making her miss. Everyone split up, running away from the psycho while she dragged Tara upstairs.

"Y/n-!"

You rushed in the kitchen to grab a knife, before heading upstairs as fast as you could. Amber had a gun, you had to have something to defend yourself.

When you found them, Amber was tying Tara up with duct tape.

"Get the fuck away from her"

The brunette paused for a second before slowly standing up, reaching behind her for her gun.

"I really should've killed you when I could." she groaned, glaring daggers at you

She tried to shoot you but missed. The bullet only brushed your arm, burning your shirt and skin in the process.

You clenched your teeth at the pain but wasted no time and rushed toward her, cutting her wrist with the knife enough to make her drop the gun.

She bent down and held her bleeding wrist against her. You took a step closer, thinking it was safe, but her head jolted up before she launched herself at you.

Taken by surprise, you fell to the ground, knife still in hand. You tried to stab her but she stepped on your wrist, forcing your hand opened, and took the knife.

You scream in pain as she sank the blade into your stomach harshly, positioning herself on top of you. Her slender fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing hard.

"You really thought you could steal her from me like that huh? She's mine. Has always been. I've waited long enough."

You tried to push her away, but her grip on your throat was cutting your air off, and her weight on you pushed the knife even deeper in your stomach.

You started feeling lightheaded. Was this really how you were going to die? You couldn't do anything, all your strength taken away by the lack of air.

"Fuck you" you managed to say before a vase crashed on her head

She fell to the side, the impact knocking her out. You took a deep breath and coughed when you tried to sit up, the knife still in your stomach.

Tara sat next to you, concern written on her face.

"Are you okay babe...?"

You gave her a thumbs up, still trying to catch your breath. You would definitely have a mark with how hard she was squeezing your throat.

After a moment, you tilted your head up slightly toward the knife.

"Should we take it out?"

"Wouldn't you get hurt more if we don't?"

"I don't know... but right now it prevents me from bleeding too much..."

"Maybe we should take it out. You know, no risk for anyone to twist it while it's still in you"

She wasn't wrong.

"Okay okay, but you're gonna have to do it my love..."

She gulped, looking at the knife with apprehension. She really didn't want to hurt you. But Amber could regain consciousness at any moment, and this time she would kill you.

"I'm going at three okay...?"

She grabbed the handle with her valid hand.

"One, two-" she pulled it out in one swift motion, blood gushing out of your wound

You swore under your breath, fists clenched. Tara was looking for a towel or something to bandage you up when you saw Amber moving in the corner of your eye.

"Shit" you mumbled, sitting up painfully "Tara baby, we need to go, she's waking up"

You got up as quickly as you could while Tara grabbed her crutches, lying next to Amber's bed. You took the knife and the gun with you, hoping Amber would be confused enough not to chase you right after she woke up.

As you went downstairs with Tara, Richie appeared in the hall.

"Where were you? Where's Amber?"

"Upstairs" Tara said "she tried to lock me up in a closet"

Richie's eyes widen when he saw you were bleeding. He got closer to you.

"She stabbed you"

"No shit Sherlock. How did you figured that out?"

When he took one more step closer, you saw something shiny in his hand. But it was to late to back up now, the blade was already sinking in your leg. You hissed in pain, tears in your eyes.

"She's gonna be pissed if I kill you. But don't worry, you're gonna die soon" he smirked at you "Don't even try to save her Tara, you-"

He turned around but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck"

What happened after that was mostly the two of them explaining their plan to you, once you were all gathered into the kitchen - except for Tara - and some more fighting.

At one point, one of them plunged a knife in your back. You were tired of getting stabbed.

The first thing you remembered after that was Amber getting BBQed alive by Gale and Sidney. Deserved, you thought.

Then, the three of you went to the hall where Sam was slicing Richie's throat.

"Careful, they always come back"

Sam took Gale's gun and shot Richie three times. But as you thought it was finished, you heard a scream behind you. Amber was running toward you, knife in hand.

But before she could harm anyone, she was shot in the head.

"That's for stabbing my girlfriend."

Her sweet voice was filled with anger and sadness. You walked toward her, relieved that nothing happened to her, and hugged her tight, not caring if it hurt you.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

Months after this night, your wounds had healed, only leaving painless scars. Your throat still hurt sometimes, but never too much. The doctors said it was normal after what Amber did.

"Okay I'm leaving, have fun girls!"

Today was your fifth anniversary, and for the occasion, Sam was leaving for the night, giving you more intimacy. You were almost living with them given the time you spent at their house instead of yours.

This year, you settled for a simple date at home; romantic dinner, Netflix and chill. With the recent events, none of you wanted to go out too much.

You spent the day preparing everything with her, cooking, fighting with the flour, laughing together. That was so much fun, knowing you were not the best cook.

Everything was ready now, you just had to change.

When you finally went to the living room, Tara was lighting up the candles. She was gorgeous. You stared in awe for a minute before she made her way to you and pressed a kiss on your lips.

"You okay?"

"Yeah I- You're gorgeous tonight my love..." you placed your hands on her waist "Breathtaking even"

You could see her blush at your words.

"I could say the same to you babe" now it was your turn to blush, making her lips curl up "Come on, dinner's gonna get cold"

That was clearly not the best dinner you ever had quality speaking, but it was the best because you made it with the girl you loved.

When it was time to get the cake - maybe the best dish you had made this day - you took a small box out of your pocket.

"Before we eat the cake, I'd like to give you something"

You handed her the little box across the table, a wide smile on your face.

"Wait I got you something too" she said

She handed you a little box, almost the same as yours.

"We open it together okay?"

"3, 2, 1..."

You opened the boxes at the same time.

You got her a promise ring, physical symbol of your love for her and that you would be there no matter what.

It took you weeks to find the perfect one, but you found it. The color, the shape, it was the one you imagined. You knew it wasn't that important, but finding a pretty ring was a must to you.

When you opened your gift, you saw... a promise ring. You saw this one when you were looking for hers. It was definitely the one you would have chosen.

You were both speechless, rings in hand, and after a moment you started laughing.

"Looks like we had the same idea" you smiled, putting the ring on while Tara did the same "it's perfect baby"

You got up from your chair, leaning forward to kiss her across the table, entwining your fingers with hers in the process. She smiled against your lips.

"A perfect ring for a perfect girl"

[makeucrawl]

I would love to see a Coyle/Eastermen drabble id your still up to requests 🥺👉👈

Maybe Eastermen realising hes not the only guy who thinks Coyle is hot and getting jealous? Perhaps reminding Coyle who owns him (Nsfw)

“ShockTherapy” ship

!!WARNING!!NSFW!!

Dr. Easterman had been sitting at his desk, working on paperwork for what seemed like an eternity. He tapped his pen on the desk, feeling slightly bored. His gaze moves to the screen on his desk.

There was a trial going on, and he watched as Sgt. Coyle stabbed a man in the chest with his cattle prod. The officer looked pleased with how the unfortunate reagent's body thrashed on the ground.

Just as the doctor pondered about visiting Coyle later, he noticed something else.

One of the guards behind the enclosed area appeared to be trying to grab the prime assets' attention.

Coyle appeared interested and walked over to the barrier. The two appear to be having a little talk, leaning dangerously close to one other on the fence.

Hendrick felt nothing towards the situation.

Coyle had always been a dog, so witnessing the officer flirting with someone didn't bother him.

It was only after the guard reached through the chain-link fence to grab the prime asset straight between the legs, did the doctor feel his eye twitch.

Coyle leaned closer to the barrier, a wild grin on his face.

The primary asset was thoroughly enjoying the attention.

He was enjoying attention.

From someone else.

Easterman looks away from the screen when he feels something wet on his hand. He had broken his pen, and the ink was all over his hand and on his documents.

With a heavy deep sigh, he shuts off the screen and stands up from his desk.

Coyle was being taken to the director's office. He didn't mind the chains on his wrists and ankles because he knew they would be removed soon. As they neared the massive doors, he smiled broadly.

He wondered what kind of fun they were going to have.

The guards lead him into the office before leaving the two alone.

"Ya just couldn't wait to see me huh?" The officer taunts and shakes his wrists, which are still tied behind his back. "Ya gonna come over here an take these damn things off or what?"

"What happened in the trial today?"

Leland raises an eyebrow at the unexpected question. "The hell you talkin about?…HEY! You said you saw all of my trials!” Coyle scoffs and continues. "Heh as usual I served justice to those stupid fucks." He puffs his chest up proudly, expecting praise.

"What else happened."

The doctor's dark tone was beginning to dampen Coyle's mood. What was it he wanted the officer to say?!

He started to think about everything that happened throughout the trial.

It hits him.

Easterman notices the officer's expression suddenly changing.

"Dunno what yer refferin’ to." Coyle struggles awkwardly on his feet as the cuffs begin to dig in. "Just get over here and get these fuckin’ things off of me! I am the law!!" He realized he was in trouble and wanted to at least try to defend himself.

As Dr. Easterman rose from behind his desk, the cop began to sweat slightly. "Oh come on! It ain’t a big deal! ‘Sides! It ain’t like you've been payin’ me any attention!”

"Oh? Are you looking for attention?”

The doctor grabs the sergeant's tie, tugging him close.

“Allow me to shower you with attention then.”

Leland was surprised when the other kissed him. It wasn't what he expected, but it was preferable to whatever punishment the doctor had planned. He was really enjoying the kiss the deep slow kiss.

Until he felt the other man begin to bite his lower lip.

Coyle struggles, but it seems to make matters worse. Easterman only stopped when he tasted blood.

"You f-fuckin psycho! T-That hurt!" The police officer stuttered, felt blood forming on his lip. He lets out a painful grunt as he is forced back into the couch. His breathing quickens as he watches the doctor crawling over him.

"Heh I uh..I think I've gotten enough attention.." Coyle smiles faintly, but Easterman simply stares down at him with those dark eyes.

The director loosens the prime asset's tie before working on opening his jacket and shirt. Easterman began kissing, beginning with the exposed bare skin of the other's neck.

Again, he was gentle and slow at first before becoming intentionally forceful and rough.

He works his way down Coyle's neck to his stomach, leaving bites and dark markings in his wake.

"Y-You…fucker!" Leland snaps as he sees what the other has done to him. Not even his collared shirt could hide the marks on his neck.

He watches as Hendrick takes something from his pocket, and when he realizes what it is, he begins to thrash.

It was a bright crimson collar with a big bell on it.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

Easterman effortlessly places the collar around the huffing “dog's” neck. "You're honestly lucky I don't put a muzzle on you." The doctor spoke in a low, deep tone as he tightened the collar.

"But I actually have use for your loud mouth."

Hendrick now adjusted himself, practically sitting on Coyle's chest. He takes off the other man's sunglasses and cap before grabbing a fistful of the dark graying hair. His free hand proceeds to undo his belt and finally his zipper.

When the doctor notices the officer's face getting red, he smirks.

He taps the tip of his cock on the other’s lips. "Open."

When Coyle refused, Hendrick continued to press the tip against his lips and cheeks until he finally did.

The doctor brings Leland's head forward and shoving the entire length down his throat.

Almost immediately, the man choked and his eyes began to water.

He glances up to Easterman, pleading for air.

"Breathe through your nose, Leland."

Hendrick lets out a breathy laugh as he feels the other exhale heavily against his skin.

"So you can listen…”

He began moving Coyle's head, using his hair as leverage. The big bell on the collar loudly jingled with each movement.

"Then listen carefully….You're mine. Do you understand?"

The possessive doctor stares down at the gagged officer.

"You are mine. Y-You are goddamn mine."

Instead of cumming down the other man's throat, he pulls himself from Leland’s mouth before stroking himself to completion on his face.

Coyle clenched his eyes and winced as he felt the warm, thick fluid strike his face.

He groans weakly as he opens one of his eyes and looks up at the doctor. Easterman stood up and got off of the badly humiliated man, tucking himself back into his pants.

Poor Coyle lay there panting and his hard on twitched against his jeans.

"Do you understand now, Leland?"

"Yes..hnnn D-Doc..Cmon..”

The officer whines for his own release.

Easterman just chuckles at him.

"No."

He says this as he approaches his office's big doors. He opens one and addresses the guards waiting down the hall.

“You can take him."

"W-Wait!"

Coyle sat up quickly on the couch, not wanting to be seen this way.

"Goodbye, Sergeant. Have a good night's sleep. Remember what I told you.”

Easterman assists the police officer in standing and kisses his forehead before allowing the guards to remove him.

As they left, the doctor could hear the tinkling of the collar's bell and the guards mocking the prime asset.

Coyle would do well to remember who he belongs to.

[itslouisan]

Some of my Rick Prime headcannons!:

btw shout-out to @darkforze and @imaginary-grandpa that inspired some of my hcs!!

Bigger/major headcannons:

- I like to think Prime wasn't ALWAYS what you'd consider a bad person, while I do think a "toxic Prime" might be real, I like to think perhaps some event in his life or even timeline in general was so major and big it impacted him and his view on others as a whole, perhaps maybe HIS Diane didn't love him as much as other Diane's? Perhaps their relationship was strained and close to an end? Idk maybe it wasn't even related to Diane nor Beth but something else entirely? Anyway I just think he wouldn't be BORN "evil", cause in my opinion that'd just make it so bland and flavorless, wasting potential Prime has as a character

- He definitely ISN'T DEAD (shhh I'm not abusing copium here) cause let's be real, dying so easily and barely having that much screentime despite being SO IMPORTANT to the plot of the show? Cause yeah Prime isn't *that* important to the WORLD of Rick and Morty (even though he did invent portal travel, showed it around to other Ricks and yara yara) but to C-137 mainly, but you can't just deny he could be a big plot point, anyway, in my hc he is alive somewhere outside the curve maybe? Or in a total forgotten reality just doing his thing and ignoring everything and everyone, maybe even with a Morty just to see what the appeal was?

- In my opinion if he did interact with our Morty aka HIS grandson, he'd be SO DISAPPOINTED with how Morty is, probably thinking he is a waste of time and resources, a failure, a disgrace to his genes and blood running in him, honestly I think he'd consider if he won against EMorty and C-137 to just spare Morty and make come with him to see if he could "fix" his grandson

- I like to imagine his favorite thing to do is to dissect ANYTHING, probably for Prime the innards and insides are the most interesting part of any creature and he probably dissects and dismembers other Ricks for the sake of satisfaction since they are so "inferior to him" that the only thing they have the SLIGHT semblance is their insides and guts.

- Probably bumped with Unity once and was a TERRIBLE experience for the hive-mind, probably Prime sees a hive-mind as something trivial but also useful, something that he could break and manipulate, which hey after a troublesome meeting with Uni they're not the biggest fan of Prime and get C-137 hatred in a way

- Views his daughter's job as a waste of talent and skill, Beth clearly is smart as FUCK but to Prime her choice of career would only prove to him how much of a "waste" of sperm she truly was, he disconnected himself from his family and original reality he probably wouldn't even CARE that his Beth died, I mean, he probably thought that he could just replace her, if he even cared enough to think that, though a part of me also hcs he did feel something considering that's his real daughter and in a way, a small link he still had to that dimension

Small/silly hcs:

- definitely an MSI fan (his fav songs would be lights out, shut me up and faggots)

- his favorite movie is definitely human centipede.

- 100% haunts C-137 with a hologram of sorts just to rile him up and create issues and conflict between C-137 and others

- a part of me thinks he has a cannibal vibe but more in the type of drinking blood since we SAW that C-137 does have a little cannibal tendency, just imagine Prime mixing wine and blood for a drink

- def hit C-137 with the "why are you so obssesed with me?" Card in one of his traps

- Danganronpa fan 100%, loves to imagine executions.

- in my opinion his fav alcoholic drinks would be Negrone, lime caipirinha and blood Mary

[cuddlecow]

Not sure how much of a headcanon this is, but Franco seems to be very jumpy, and kind of nervous while he hunts down the player. Whenever he hears a sound from the player he almost jumps as he turns around, sometimes instinctively firing at the direction of the sound. Not to mention he says things like "My dad send you?" or even just "what the fuck is that?". I personally think the tough act he's had to put on his whole life is out of fear, mostly of his dad. I also saw someone say Franco seems more aware of what is happening to him at Mt Sinyala with Murkoff, even saying a few things directed at the "doctors". I bet he's kind of scared being there, maybe he thinks his dad did it?? Murkoff is definitely getting into his head like with Coyle and Phyllis, also. I wonder how much he is really aware of. Sorry for the angst, I feel so bad for him. He needed love and help, not Murkoff.

Ooh, I can definitely see that! I remember he says the one line where he says his father killed his mother when he addresses the doctors! Also no need to apologize, some angst is always good! Thank you for bringing up some cool points!

Author's Note: I'm going to start doing entries called "Franco For Thought" that are more talk-style headcanons or just going more in depth off of some points others make!

Franco For Thought

Franco for sure has trauma from multiple aspects in life. Growing up in a mafia/mobster family, he's had to be guarded and tough at a young age. I believe he chose to keep his head down and stay quiet or not rebel from his father so he wouldn't be cast out or killed. In the comics they did say that the only reason Franco wasn't killed by his father, Salvatore, was because he was blood related.

Franco almost always shoots in the direction of a sound because if he doesn't shoot to kill, then the other person will. Survivability is definitely a huge thing for him especially since he's such a high ranking member and at any time he could be challenged.

Based off of Franco saying "My dad send you?" I think it would be fair to assume this wouldn't be the first time his father tried to send someone after him to assassinate Franco. He whips around so fast once he hears things.

Franco for sure seems the most aware of the doctors compared to the other prime assets. Perhaps he gets into lots of scuffles with the doctors and threatens them, or perhaps he is a bit passive aggressive with it, muttering under his breath.

I think it'd be interesting to see what goes on in some sort of expop/prime asset common room or their interactions/behaviors when they aren't in the trials!

[antispopausandstuff]

Romantic Homicide

.

[ synopsis - a rewrite of 'Don't Go' by Nate Stevenson // 'Taking Control' s5 ep 6 ]

.

for a moment, the hero can barely inhale.

those claws, holding onto her so tightly, that she can barely process anything else. not even her own heartbeat.

she wants to let go.

but then Catra would fall deeper.

would that be her fault, too?

after slowed time, Adora finds it in herself to push up onto her feet, adjusts her grip on the woman in her arms, and walks. it's a strange feeling, to be so sluggish and energized at once. exhaustion. adrenaline.

from fear.

she didn't know when they got to the empty room. an extra space.

"...Catra," she breathes, quiet and ragged. a simple command. no, a plea, to let go. the Magicat's ear twitches once, her hold loosening only slightly, but not setting her free.

Adora sets her down on the bed.

the claws stay.

"let go," she says, unable to be as harsh as she wants to be.

all this time, and she's still soft.

when the hands release her, Adora breathes further.

silence continues as clothes are found and water is given. they don't talk. what could be said at this moment that would change anything, ever, at all? what could be forgotten?

"Adora."

the exit is right there. she could leave. she wants to.

yet, she still stops when that voice calls to her. for her.

looking over her shoulder, blue and yellow eyes stare right at her, something like guilt trapped within them. one that couldn't be trusted, after all these years of pain and suffering, of blood and an unforgiving darkness. one that grew and grew until no room was left.

guarded, Adora slowly turns. "what is it?" she asks, neutral and distant. the distance that was always there protruding and showing itself out in the open without spilling.

the Magicat shifts in her spot.

"i..." a swallow. nerves. "why did you come back?"

come back.

is that how she viewed it?

"why did you come back? we both know i don't matter."

"i can't let you die here."

at the time, thoughts were messy and looking deeper could've cost more than it was going to be worth.

but now...

with bated breath, she stands straight and forward. "i didn't," she replies, states, blunt, direct, and impersonal. as it should've been.

silence hangs over once more.

and she leaves.

.

when she comes to ( from what, she doesn't know ), a hand is on her shoulder, calloused, chipped, bruised, yet gentle and inviting.

Bow.

"you were spacing out again," he explains, lowering his hand to hers as worry settles in his eyes. "is it... Catra?" he asks next, though he sounds expectant.

of course he is.

Adora breathes again. without a word, she nods, and the archer sits by her, hand at her waist as he pulls her into an embrace. she wraps an arm around him in turn, head on his shoulder.

she was exhausted.

.

it was hard, to care for someone you wanted to stay away from.

to hold back against someone who shouted at you.

to keep the words "of course i hate you" in your throat.

she didn't lie, but she wasn't able to speak the truth, either.

all the hero could do was walk away.

"i'm such an idiot."

.

talking to Glimmer was hard.

less difficult than Catra, more difficult than Bow.

but she had to do it. she had to.

"...why was she so nice to you?"

it was a selfish question. she knew that.

but the Queen's eyes showed sympathy anyway.

Glimmer had spoken of her time with Catra on Horde Prime's ship. said she wasn't so terrible, for a time, and even listened to her every now and then until she just... suddenly saved 'her'.

and Adora couldn't help but feel...

envious?

logically, she knew Catra was only out for herself at that time ( maybe all the time ), but it still hurt, somehow, to hear that she was different, if it was only for a time.

why couldn't she be different for me?

"you're such an idiot."

"i think she just wanted to feel better about herself. in a weird, self-pitying way," Glimmer answers.

that was the only answer possible.

because Catra couldn't have wanted more than the power she was given, now could she?

"don't you get it?! i am NEVER going to go with you!"

a hand. warm, almost hot, through the fabric of her jacket, seeping into the skin of her shoulder. "Adora," the Queen called out, bringing her back to the world around them.

for now, reality was kind and bittersweet.

.

Catra's claws were bared.

in the next instance, that hand was pinned to the wall, the grip over it almost vice. the claws didn't go away.

Adora could barely hear the voices around her.

with furrowed brows, her chest heavy, she slowly let go and took steps back. "we're doing this," she declares, unforgiving. "and if hiding from the people you've almost killed will make you feel better, we'll drop you off and you never have to see us again!"

silence.

taking a deep breath, she slowly turns away. "i'll never have to see you again," she mutters, walking across the unstable ground.

but, before she could escape, that damned hand grabbed her wrist.

"Adora, wait!"

looking down, the Magicat was on her knees.

the hand dragged down until it wrapped around the hero's palm, keeping her there.

"please."

a skip. nerves bundled in her gut, an urge in her throat.

let go of me.

those blue and yellow eyes showed themselves.

"stay."

...and she did.

.

it was nightfall, according to Entrapta.

regardless, everyone was exhausted and wanted to sleep.

but Catra didn't want her to go.

sitting on the mattress, Adora fiddled with her necklace. somewhere along the way, the sword transformed itself. maybe it was the anxiety of everything, of Catra being here, right behind her.

the answers were unclear.

many seem to be nowadays.

the voice cut through her thoughts, low, almost rough. she didn't fully hear what was said, but she knew well enough.

everything suddenly felt more closed in.

slowly, rigidly, Adora shifted her position, laying down on her side, one leg in contact with the floor with the other on the mattress. she was facing away.

she didn't want the covers.

the ship was silent.

and the hero didn't sleep.

just listened to the Magicat's breathing turn to snores and hope she didn't wake up to need her again.

[toournextadventure]

Hiii ! I just came across your writing and I gotta say, I’m really liking it ! Especially the Winclair x reader :) I have a suggestion, Winclair x overly protective Reader, finding out reader injured/killed someone because they said something degrading about Wednesday or Enid, or tried flirting/getting with them. Keep up the great writing :]

Bestie I am ALWAYS down to write a feral, protective reader with Wenclair 😎

stunning, murderous little thing

Enid shouldn’t have been surprised when you walked into the apartment bedroom with a bloody smile and dripping, bloodstained clothes. Your smile wasn’t as sadistic as Wednesday’s, but there was a very specific sense of danger behind it. A sense of danger that, truthfully, only you could really muster.

“Who was it this time?” Wednesday asked without even looking up from her typewriter.

“That punk from Enid’s Econ class,” you said as you tried to lick some dried blood off one of your fangs. “You know, the one that called you a mangy mutt that needed to be muzzled?”

“Is he still breathing?” Enid sighed even though, judging by your current state, she knew the answer anyway.

“He’s not dead,” you said indignantly. “He just wishes he was.” You made the move like you were going to fall on the bed where Enid was laying down.

“Don’t!” Enid shouted. Mid-fall, you missed the bed by only an inch before crashing to the floor.

“The fuck?” You asked as you sat up, rubbing your head with bloodstained hands.

“You are not getting blood on our sheets,” she said with a pointed finger in your chest. “That’ll be the fifth time this month.”

“Sixth,” Wednesday chimed in. “Don’t forget the supposed accident.”

“You guys can’t hold that one against me,” you whined, “it was an accident.” Both women turned to look at you with disbelieving eyes. “He’s the one that ran into my elbow.”

“Go wash off,” Enid demanded, “and maybe I’ll consider letting you back up on the bed.”

“Are you two going to help me?” You asked, waggling your eyebrows in false seduction. It was rather ridiculous.

And yet.

“Come on,” Enid sighed even though she was smiling back at you, “before you stain everything else.”

“You coming, Willa?” You asked when Wednesday still made no move to get up.

“My writing time is not over,” Wednesday said simply, “so no.”

Enid saw the sparkle in your eyes before you made your move. There was no time for her to even attempt to stop you before you stood behind Wednesday, primed and ready. Poor Wednesday didn’t even have time to notice your presence before you rubbed your hands down her cheeks and neck, down her bare shoulders and down to her arms, smearing blood across her skin. Wednesday’s entire body stilled, leaving nothing but silence in the apartment.

“Oh shame,” you mumbled. “It seems you need to clean up now too.”

It was impressive how slowly Wednesday spun her chair around to look up at you. She was also, though Enid would never say it aloud, extremely attractive when covered in blood. The dark red really brought out the brown in her eyes, truly stunning.

"You can keep one hand," Wednesday told you, "which would you prefer?"

"You can take the left," you mused as you held both hands up. "I mean, you both seem to enjoy the right too much to lose it."

Enid could feel a migraine forming when Wednesday lunged at you and you screamed, running off to the shower with her hot on your trail. Enid loved you both, she truly did. But you were going to kill her for sure.

After that night, Enid and Wednesday had given you one rule; no killing anyone unless you had their permission. One would think this wasn't such a difficult rule to follow, but you certainly did your best to find every loophole possible.

"What if I only maim him?" You asked one night while Wednesday pretended to not enjoy being the little spoon.

"Only with good cause,” Wednesday mumbled in her sleepy voice that she pretended not to have.

You hummed in acknowledgment and pulled Wednesday closer, trying to keep your cool when she did her best to snuggle deeper into your arms. When Enid came home, she found the both of you fast asleep yet still leaving room for her on the other side. All she had to do was slide into bed and the both of you instantly reached for her, pulling her into the cuddle pile.

The day of reckoning appeared far faster than Wednesday and Enid had anticipated.

It was just a simple day, you were all walking out of your last class for the week which you thankfully shared, arguing and complaining because Wednesday refused to help you and Enid with the homework. Typical, of course, she always liked to hold this over you both as leverage for cuddles or kisses. A usual Friday, actually, you expected nothing less.

And then it happened.

“Hey Sinclair, Addams.”

They never seemed to call your name, Enid realised as the two frat boys appeared beside you.

“You two busy tonight?” The taller boy standing beside Wednesday asked.

“Extremely,” she answered without looking up. You kept turning your head between both boys and Enid could see the gears turning behind your sunglasses.

“You should come to the party tonight,” the boy beside Enid said. He sounded far more genuine. “We’ll pick you ladies up.”

Enid felt your hand brush against hers as the boys kept talking. It wasn’t the gentle touch you usually gave out freely while walking around campus, but a fist. Oh no, she thought when you ran your tongue over your teeth. More importantly, over your fangs.

“Is this a good enough cause?” You asked; neither of the boys even paid you any attention.

“Yes,” Wednesday said simply.

Oh, your smile was terrifying.

“Hey guys,” you said, finally drawing the boys’ attention, “I got an 8 ball in my bag, want some for your party?���

“Hell yeah,” the taller boy answered quickly.

“Come on, let’s go over here,” you gestured your head toward the alley between campus buildings. The business building; no one would suspect a thing.

They followed you without hesitation, without a single care in their little heads. Enid sighed when Wednesday smirked at their disappearance. She dug her shoe into the dirt, drawing little patterns when she felt Wednesday grab her hand. It helped ease her anxiety just a little bit.

You finally came out from around the building with bloody knuckles and no company.

“I feel much better,” you said with a big smile.

“Still can’t clean up properly,” Wednesday said, wiping her thumb across your lips to erase the small drop of blood.

“Are we finally watching that movie tonight?” You asked as you forced yourself between them, holding each of their hands in yours.

“Only if you make the popcorn,” Enid said.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, sugar,” you said with an even bigger smile and a squeeze of their hands.

Your overprotectiveness was getting worse. Good thing your girlfriends enjoyed it.

[multiisketch]

Multi's Ramblings: Sonic 3 and Robot Lackeys

Every version of Eggman likes to have his own lackeys. SATAM had Snively for a time. Sonic Underground had Sleet and Dingo. TAoStH gave us Scratch, Grounder, and Coconuts. Sonic X gave us Decoe, Bocoe, and Bokkun. Sonic Unleashed and Colors gave us Orbot and Cubot (my personal favorites). Last but not least, the Sonic Movies gave us Agent Stone.

The stand-outs from this list are, of course, Orbot and Cubot. Since their formal establishment in Colors they've basically been beside every version of Eggman since. They even got to appear in Sonic Prime! Which is great! I love these funky robots. They'd fit right in at Aperture Science when you think about it. That's how funky and personable they are. They're dynamic with Eggman is especially great. Devious and apathetic to a fault unless a fire is lit under them. Truly a corporate boss/employee relationship.

Side note: Scratch and Grounder used to have this gag in TAoStH where Scratch say something like, "I dunno, Dr. Robotnik he's being pretty disingenuous." And then Grounder would go, "Yeah! And he's not telling you the truth, either!" Orbot and Cubot do this, too! And I don't think it's far-off to say Orbot's design was inspired by Decoe and Bocoe. Perhaps even Orbot's sassy attitude was taken from Snively?

Anyhoo, my point is these guys are great. They have all the best bits of previous lackeys in orb and cube form. Which is also why I think I've really missed having them in the movie franchise...

Now, Stone is great, too, don't get me wrong. His dedication to Dr. Robotnik reminds me a lot of Dr. Starline from the IDW comics. His attitude and style there-in as well. He obviously actually likes Robotnik unlike other lackeys and I don't see him pulling a betrayal anytime soon--no matter how poorly Robotnik treats him. He's in too deep. If anything, he might grow jaded with time. Perhaps become a bit more sassy in his responses, lazy, and--

Hey, wait a minute.

That... That kind of sounds like Orbot...

NOW HEAR ME OUT--

Robotnik loves robots. He loves them more than people. He's said so--directly to Stone--in the first movie. And, you know, with Sonic 3 raising the stakes and everything; Robotnik reconnecting with Gerald, his FAMILY, maybe he might begin to see the value in a certain lackey he's been mistreating so much.

Maybe a certain lackey might sacrifice himself for the good old Doc-Nik.

MAYBE a certain Eggheaded mad-scientist realizes, oh in the very last seconds--reaching out desperately for some vaguely pebble-shaped piece to hold onto--that he can't live without said lackey. But now that lackey is gone. For good.

So... what is this Eggheaded mad-scientist to do?

Well... what he does best.

He builds a robot.

He won't call it "Stone", no. He won't admit that he cared. It's just a robot, after all.

But he'll give it his voice and his mannerism. He'll make sure it knows how to brew coffee and take belittlement with a not-at-all chipper, but satisfied, "Yessir." Maybe he'll even build it a buddy so it won't follow him around like a lost puppy all the time. Someone to be a better friend to him than Robotnik could ever be. And this other robot has to be stupid because that way he can know what it's like to have his own puppy.

And, oh yes, he'll blame Sonic for everything. It's Sonic's fault, somehow, that all this happened. He wouldn't have gotten attached to him if it wasn't for Sonic. GUN wouldn't have been poking their noses where it didn't belong if it wasn't for Sonic. He wouldn't have... well, Sonic will pay soon enough.

Forget blood family, forget men, forget hedgehogs. More robots... that's what he needs.

They're better than people after all.