#thank you anon I love this

[new-revenant]

Danny has a group of rats he rescued from a lab, they follow him everywhere even as Phantom, the group of five become Danny's emotional support Mischief and service animals, his folks even help make service vests for them when they're out and about. The rats have space themed names and alert for different things.

Astro alerts when Danny's about to have a panic attack

Pluto alerts when Danny's heart goes wonky besides ghost stuff

Cosmo alerts before Danny has a seizure so he can alert the others around him

Hailey alerts for pain flares

Orion alerts for tremors

Danny's portal accident messed up his nervous system bad enough that he needs his service animals or someone with him that recognizes when he's about to have a flare up or a seizure.

Well one day Danny gets summoned by the league and his support mischief is on his shoulders. Flash immediately asks what's with the rodents and Danny responds with "Kinda rude to ask someone about their service animals." Batman could already feel the headache that would be the HR service animal refresher course. First though they had a big threat to deal with

emotional support rats 🥺 I love that

how can I add onto an already perfect idea

[blatantlyhidden]

follow up on hockey jere: he’d probably have spent a lot of time in the penalty box - looking at his stats, there’s a year where he had ridiculously huge penalty minutes compared to games played like. girl (gn) wyd

like. on one hand, according to one article, shit talking on the ice was his thing and the team loved him for it! but also bbgirl you’re already very small…

adkskdk help this makes so much sense. i absolutely LOVE imagining this tiny man acting all cocky <3

also love how he already seemed to be the entertainer even back in his hockey days

[oatmilktruther]

fanfic assumption game:

you are whimsical and fun! but also you prize the things that bring us joy, no matter how asinine or mundane they might seem :)

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO SWEET I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!!! AND THIS IS SO TRUE!!!! I LOVE THE LITTLE THINGS IN LIFE I LOVE THEM!!!

[adaki]

Do you draw Nina the killer perchance..

Yes and I end up disliking the drawings every time without fail but I thugged it out to give u this

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[lazylittledragon]

I remember you said you like when people notice the details in your art so:

I'm completely fine over Astarion's face being all scrunched and concentrated looking at his painting and then when Kit comes into frame he COMPLETELY SOFTENS. By fine I mean destroyed. Perfect no notes.

!!! i just think him being able to love and be loved is neat

[starmocha]

Be My Valentines [Sylus + Daughter ★ 926 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus and his daughter get ready for a special Valentine’s Day dinner with you. A/N: This was a very impromptu writing piece so pardon the shortness and rushed editing. An anon sent in a very cute ask and I couldn’t resist. (I will try to resume this series in the coming weeks, along with the other toddler series. Forgive my easily distracted brain lol) I also don’t care that technically the game doesn’t really have Valentine’s Day and they have their own equivalent holiday, Azure’s Echo Day, but I want to use Valentine’s Day instead. :P Tag list: @lavlynyan @miudle @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @yes-no-maybe-soo @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @qyuin 【 request to be added 】

“Almost done, baby,” Sylus said to the little toddler girl sitting on the bathroom counter in a bright red dress as she clutched her Smiley Dino plushie while he fixed her hair. The girl sulked and her eyes darted up to meet her father’s reflection in the mirror, watching as he finished braiding her hair, tying it off with a bright red hair tie that had a heart-shaped decoration.

“Daddy, why do I have to wear this dress today?”

Sylus smirked at his daughter’s pout.

“Daddy’s taking you and Mommy out for a special dinner for Valentine’s Day,” he answered. He helped her stand up on the counter and gestured to the mirror. “Now don’t you look pretty, my little birdie?”

The girl smiled and turned her head to the side to admire the two little twin braids her father did for her. She turned around, her plushie clutched tighter to her body. “Are you going to do the same for Mommy’s hair?”

Sylus chuckled and shook his head. “Mommy will do her own hair and makeup, but Daddy did send a dress down to her workplace for her to change into before we pick her up for dinner.”

His daughter tilted her head to the side curiously. “Is she wearing a red dress like me?”

Sylus shook his head again as he leaned down to kiss his daughter’s cheek. “No, baby, she’s going to be wearing a black dress to match with Daddy’s suit.”

The girl looked at her father’s black suit he wore and her pout deepened.

Immediately, Sylus noticed his daughter’s disposition changing. He playfully pinched her cheek gently, making her giggled. “Now why are you pouting, baby?”

She looked at her father sadly. “I want to match with Mommy and Daddy…”

“You are matching with Daddy,” Sylus responded patiently, gesturing to the bright red tie he had on. “See? Daddy’s tie is the same shade of red as your pretty dress.”

This seemed to appease his daughter, her smile returning.

“Okay, just give Daddy a moment to put on some cologne and then we will head to Linkon to pick up Mommy for our dinner reservation.”

“Can I help, Daddy?” The little girl gave him her best puppy dog eyes complete with a full pout.

Sylus laughed and tapped her lips lightly with his finger. “Alright, enough of those lips tonight, Little Miss,” he said teasingly, nodding once. “Hold out your hands, baby.”

The girl carefully sent her dino plushie down before holding out two small hands with her palms up for her father to lightly spritz some cologne on. She wrinkled her nose a little, unused to the musky men’s fragrance. When Sylus leaned down closer to his daughter, she lightly patted his neck with the cologne, smiling brighter. “All done, Daddy!”

He kissed her cheek again, thanking her before one of his arms swooped around to gather her into his embrace.

“Daddy! Smiley Dino!”

“Oops,” he said playfully and leaned down so his daughter could grab her plushie again. His eyes twinkled in amusement when his daughter hugged her plushie tightly. “Is he coming to dinner with us?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically.

“Hm, I don’t know if the restaurant will allow little dinos into their establishment…”

His daughter immediately looked worried. Her lips quivered and she asked hesitantly, “They won’t?”

Sylus nuzzled his cheek against his daughter’s. “Don’t worry, Daddy will just pull some strings if they don’t,” he responded, adding cordially, “Smiley Dino can come to dinner with us tonight.”

“Yay!”

The father-daughter duo made their way down to the garage where a sleek luxury black car awaited them. Sylus carefully placed his daughter in her car seat in the back, and as he buckled her seatbelt, the little girl piped up, her face furrowed in confusion again. “Daddy, what is that?”

Sylus looked down at the item set next to car seat. He picked up a small crow plushie holding a plush envelope with a pink heart on it. “For my little Valentine here,” he said, handing his daughter her gift, smiling when she gasped excitedly, her eyes darting back and forth between the two plushies she was holding before squeezing them both tightly in a hug.

“Do you like your present, my little birdie?”

The girl nodded happily before her smile dropped suddenly. Sylus looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a present for Daddy…”

“Is that all?” Sylus questioned in amusement. He stroked her cheek gently and kissed the top of her head. “My present is my little girl here. There is no greater gift than you, my sweet little birdie.”

He kissed her again before he closed the door and made his way to the driver’s seat. He glanced up at the rearview mirror seeing his daughter was already happily playing with her two plushies. He turned the engine on and then pulled out into the eternally dark streets of the N109 Zone.

The car drove under streetlights and neon signs, heading in the direction of Linkon City. With his daughter in the backseat, Sylus drove slower than normal, the gentle smooth drive eventually lulling the little girl to sleep.

Sylus snuck a peek at his sleeping daughter in the rearview mirror and smiled again to himself, knowing the bouquet of red roses next to him in the passenger’s seat would never match his wife’s gift of giving him their precious daughter, but he was eternally grateful that both she and his daughter would always be his Valentines every year, just like he was theirs.

[zevrra]

Virgin!Jayce NEEDS to eat pussy he's DYING he's DEHYDRATED

(no bc when i tell you he’s such a munch i can’t ,,,)

like virgin!jayce who’s never even thought about eating out anyone before and when you explain to him what to do, he’s so so eager to please you. watches from down on his knees as you strip before him, eyes sparkling, mouth slightly open as he watches every piece of clothing crumple and fold as you remove it. eagerly waits for you to give him the green light and when you do; oh he’s so tender. he starts by placing kisses against the inside of your knee, slowly moving his lips and hands along your skin, seeking deeper and deeper between your thighs. and when he’s finally, finally, reached his destination he tries his hardest not to pant.

holds his breath, flicking his pretty gaze up to you for one last confirmation, before he’s timidly swiping his thumb through the wet folds of your cunt. watching with fixation as your slick pools around the pad of his thumb and dribbles down his tan skin…and he’s suddenly in love. his mouth waters at the sight as he leans forward to lick a thick trail from the bottom curve of your core to the very tip. and the second he hits your clit, causing you to jerk, jayce is a little scared he’s done something wrong…until he hears you sweetly moan his name.

and then it’s like something comes over him. he’s slipping his tongue right against you cunt, lapping between your slick folds with every shift of his jaw. curling his tongue around your clit again just to hear those pretty, fluttering moans that slip past your lips. all the while the taste of you is intoxicating to him. turns his mind into mush. his brain is practically an empty canvas, colored with only the thought of pleasing you and nothing else; even when he’s hard as a rock he doesn’t touch himself. he wants to, so bad, but the way your body twitches and convulses when he sucks hard against your cunt…the thought of his own pleasure is running down the drain.

he’d only touch himself if you told him to but he’d have to be a good boy first and please you thoroughly.

[corrodedparadox]

You draw fish well. That is a commendable skill and one you should be proud of.

Im reading this in the same cadence as an emotionally distant father telling his son he did a good job at his little league game

[banana-zim]

Don't do this, doctor - please!

[ofbatsandballads]

Yay! I’m so glad you take requests. Feel free to decide if you want to write this or not, it’s fine either way :)

So, I was thinking about Jason dating civilian!reader, and her coming home all disheveled and horrified. Since she knows about him being Red Hood, she can confide in him. She had just killed someone for the first time, whether it was an accident, self defense or whatever, you decide.

I was just wondering how Jason would handle this situation since usually he’s the one doing the killing.

Thank you <3

oh, this is amazing food for thought. I actually think he’d be the very best person to come to in such a situation because he has experience with killing. who’s gonna understand you better than him? literally nobody. had something similar to this in my drafts but now my mind is whirling in a whole host of directions. excellent prompt, nonnie!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include graphic depictions of violence and killing (in self defense), attempted and failed sexual assault, the aftermath of both events (reader’s in shock), hurt/comfort. this one’s got heavier subject matter so please do mind the warnings, folks. i did way too much research of the Gotham Knights map for this, but it’s my favorite depiction of the city so so be it. also reader and Jason live in the Belfry bc i said so (personal hc that i may or may not elaborate on some time). and one last thing! the romanized Arabic at the end is “حياتي ” which translates to “my life”. I love the idea that Jason picked up Arabic terms of endearment from Talia calling Bruce just about every one she could.

Jason wakes up to soft afternoon sunlight shining on his face. He grumbles out a gravelly hum and scrunches up his face in protest against being awakened when he was sleeping so nicely. He reaches out to find the comforting warmth of his beloved beside him, to pull you in and bury his face into your hair so he can hide from the morning for a bit longer.

All he finds are cold sheets and an empty pillow.

He bolts upright. Something’s wrong. You never, never wake up before him. He doesn’t even register the way that the sudden abundance of light stings his eyes. He takes stock of his surroundings, his training executing on autopilot. The open layout of the Belfry lets him get his bearings in seconds. He doesn’t see you anywhere from the bird’s eye view of your loft bedroom. There’s no smell of food in the kitchen nor any mess that would indicate you’d been working in there. The living room space, fully visible below, is empty too. The only enclosed space in your home, the bathroom that’s just around the corner from your bedroom, is dead quiet. No running water, no sweet singing, no familiar coughing from swallowed toothpaste. And without so much as leaving your bed, Jason’s already come to a conclusion that sends his heart pounding and dries his throat. You’re not here.

He’s up and grabbing the 9mm taped under your bedside table in the span of a few breaths. He moves through your home methodically, like he’s clearing one of Gotham’s criminal hideouts. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing’s been disturbed. He’s not surprised by this—barring Wayne Manor, the Belfry is the most secure building in Gotham. That’s precisely why Jason had moved you both here once you decided to live together. He checks the coffee table and sees that your phone and wallet are gone. A different type of fear takes over now. One that makes his heart ache. What if you’ve finally had enough, finally seen that he’s not good enough for you, not worth sticking around for? It makes him sick. He swallows hard and tries to clear the blistering thought from his head. No, that’s not you. You’re not cruel. You’re kind and gentle and loving. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you wouldn’t hurt him.

The sight of gears turning in his periphery catches his attention. He sees the cables pulling and the security panel go green, and he’s running to the elevator doors damn near ready to pry them open. He hastily tucks the 9mm into the waistband of his pajama pants, easily within reach if he needs it. Relief floods him when the huge metal doors grind open and he sees your pretty face on the other side. Then his heart drops when he realizes that that pretty face is scraped and splattered with blood.

Your hair is tangled and wet, dripping dirty water down your neck and staining the bright red of his your favorite hoodie. Your hands, which shake as they reach blindly towards him, are stained crimson and battered too. But it’s your eyes that haunt him. You look broken.

“Jay,” you croak out, unable to summon anything but a plea for the one person who can keep you safe.

The tears fall from your eyes at the same time that you collapse into Jason’s arms. He drags you inside and locks down the Belfry. Jason wants to panic but feels a strange sense of calm about himself. As loathe as he’d be to admit it, he finds himself falling into Bruce’s habit of assessment and action.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, voice steady and assured.

You don’t even hear him. You’re digging your hands into his shirt, clinging on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. He may very well be. He feels you going rigid and cold and he knows he has to get you stable before you descend further into shock.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, adding on and enunciating your name for emphasis.

That sparks some semblance of lucidity. Jason hasn’t called you by your name in months, much preferring you be his baby or his sweetheart or his doll, or simply his. If it jars you back to reality, so be it.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” he demands gently.

It all pours out of you like a flood.

You’d woken up early by chance this afternoon. Normally you’d just close your eyes and snuggle closer to Jason to catch a couple more hours of sleep, but you wanted to do something nice for him. So you’d gotten up and gone to Lemay’s Flower Emporium in Gotham Heights. You’d bought him the prettiest bouquet of red and pink roses, so big that you had to hold on to it with both arms. The taxi ride from the Heights back to Coventry Station went fine. You were almost home. So close that you could see the clock tower where your heart was sleeping peacefully.

Then you stopped at Commerce Avenue Station. You just wanted to get him some pastries from the little bakery tucked away on 3rd Street that you both love. It was a decent walk; you knew that. You also knew that Jason wouldn’t want you to go out of your way by yourself. But it was morning and you were a grown woman and you could handle yourself, right? Well, that’s what you thought until a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulders and yanked you violently into a side alley.

Jason had prepared you for something like this. You’d spent countless evenings with him teaching you self defense techniques in the training area of your home. None of it mattered because the man that had you by the shoulders slammed you so hard into the brick wall that all your thoughts went hazy. Before you could regain your footing, you were shoved to the ground. The bitter sting of your palms scraping open pierced through the fog, as did the crushing weight of the vile man on top of you. Fear shot through you as the man started tugging at his belt and you realized that this wasn’t intended to be a mugging. You tried to scream but a grimy hand clamped over your mouth, hitting your head against the ground and soaking your hair in dirty rain water and blood.

Your eyes darted around in search of someone—anyone. But no one was coming. You felt fingernails scratch against your stomach as clammy hands curled into the waistband of your sweatpants and suddenly you saw your savior. A brick from the damaged alleyway laid within reach. You didn’t even think when you grabbed it, when you swung it as hard as you could into the side of the man’s head. The corner hit his temple and he crumbled to the side. You rose to your knees and hit the man again. And again. All you could remember were Jason’s firm instructions: if someone makes it a choice of you or them, you make sure that it’s you no matter what it takes.

“I don’t r-remember anything else,” you sob into his chest. “There was so much blood, Jason. And his head—oh, God.”

Jason shushes you gently. He holds you tight in his arms like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll fade away on him.

“Don’t think about it, baby. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

“I killed someone, Jason. I killed someone.”

You look at him wide eyed—afraid, horrified, guilty. No. Jason won’t have that. You will not feel guilty over some lowlife scumbag who wanted to hurt you, who probably would have killed you. Jason can’t even stomach the thought. He wants to put a bullet into whatever’s left of that predator’s head. No, the only shame in you killing that man is that you got to him before Jason could.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says, repeats your name again for emphasis. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“Someone’s dead because of me, Jay,” you argue, gripping him tighter as your panic rises.

“Baby, do you know how many people are dead because of me?” he asks. “Far, far more than I’d ever want you to know. Do you think I’m a monster, honey? That I did something wrong?”

He knows it’s an apples to oranges comparison. But you’ve used this same tactic on him so many times that he also knows it’s effective. Every time he demeans himself for something, you ask if he’d treat you the way he treats himself for the same thing. The answer is always no.

“No!” you reply emphatically. “You protect people. You do it to keep people safe.”

“You did it to keep yourself safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. Or ifs. No ands, either, just in case you get any ideas,” he says lightly, brushing a speck of blood off your cheekbone.

You smile at his stupid little comment and he feels the tension in his body release just slightly. As long as there’s light back in your eyes for even a moment, he knows that you’ll be okay. He picks you up, lets you cling your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as he carries you to the bathroom upstairs. He runs you a bath and, after asking repeatedly if you were okay with it, undresses you and washes the blood and grime from your body. He wraps you in a big fluffy towel, dries and brushes your hair, and tends to your injuries before he bundles you up in his comfiest hoodie and pajama pants. He soothes you when your tears make their return and never leaves your line of sight because he knows he makes you feel safe.

The thought gnaws at him throughout the day. It outright scalds him as he lies in bed with you after deciding to skip patrol. He’s failed you. Failed to protect you, failed to ensure nothing harms a hair on your head. He’s failed at taking care of you, the one thing that matters more to him than anything else. He’s seconds away from spiraling into self hatred when your sweet voice comes calling, soft and pleading.

“Jay…please stay with me,” you say softly.

Your eyes are clear and focused again. You squeeze his waist tight where your arms are wrapped around him, like you’re physically trying to anchor him in place in your bed. The look on your face says that you know exactly where his mind was headed. You see right through him. It makes him feel more vulnerable than anything else, and it surprises him how much he loves the feeling. And Jason, as always and for eternity, can’t bring himself to deny you. So he pulls himself together and shoves all his self loathing down. He can deal with it later—you need him more right now.

“I’m right here, hayati. Not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

He kisses you gently and feels some of that self hatred wash away when you chase after him for more goodnight kisses. He feels it dissipate even more when you fall asleep in his arms with a soft smile on your face. It’s all but forgotten as he drifts off too, safe in the knowledge that you’re here with him, that he can feel your heart beating pressed tight against his own.

[0wldn0]

Aww I love the bumblebee/Optimus father-son duo! It’d be really funny if like if the autobots and the suctions had a family dinner, considering your last Breakbee post was breakdown trying to convince bumblebee to meet his family ! Just a thought! Love the art 💕✨✨

BAHAHA OMGG I love the idea of the Earth team all having a family dinner together!! Maltos, Autobots and the Stunticons 😭💕💖Imagine Breakdown convinces his side of the family and Bee convinces his side to make it happen...

I can totally see OP giving Breakdown nasty looks the whole time though 😶 He always supports Bee's choices, but this time, he does NOT approve FDHDFH

It's okay, Motormaster will talk some sense into him. "I understand the yellow one is like your child but those are two whole adults leave them alone thank you."

[x-monochrome-x]

tiny daisuke. thoughts?

hes already so young and impressionable its so easy to manipulate him at this size bro (ft: jimmy being terrible and evil once more)

[mandalhoerian]

I want to pick your brain more about Caleb being the livestock guardian and the wolf at the same time. That part haunts me. Canine imagery for him >>>

That contradiction — the livestock guardian and the wolf — is at the very heart of Caleb. Emphasizing his duality aside, it’s a paradox that exists within him, one that he’s aware of, one that he chooses to live with rather than resolve. Because at his core, he is both the devoted protector and the ravenous beast, and both of them love you. Both of them serve you, in their own way.

The livestock guardian dog is bred to protect the flock, to dedicate its life to something weaker, something soft. It stands between the sheep and the wolves, fangs bared, willing to die for the creatures that will never understand what it’s doing for them. It is gentle with them, careful, soft-mouthed, lowering itself to their level so they will trust it. Do not fear me. I am here for you.

He was raised to be good, to be devoted, to be steadfast. A creature made to guard, to serve, to dedicate himself to something more important than his own desires. A dog trained to protect the flock, to live among the sheep, to love them with a quiet, patient devotion. His purpose has always been clear: keep you safe. Keep you fed. Keep you warm. The world is full of danger, full of wolves with their snapping jaws and greedy eyes, and it is his duty to keep them at bay.

He is yours. He always has been. If you told him to sit, he would. If you told him to stay, he wouldn’t move from that spot until his body gave out. If you told him to die for you, he would do it without hesitation. And he doesn’t think of this as a burden — it’s his purpose. He finds fulfillment in it, in watching over you, in being something you trust. You call his name, and he comes to you. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he stays still so you won’t move away. You let him linger close, let him take care of you, and it is enough. It has to be enough.

But a guardian dog is still a dog. Still a thing with instincts, still a thing that can be pushed. If the sheep do not trust it, if the shepherd does not guide it, if it is alone too long — if it's left hungry for too long, if it's is abandoned, if it loses the reason — then something inside it shifts. It begins to realize that it does not need a flock. That it has teeth for a reason. And then, with time, with neglect, with just the right set of circumstances—

The guardian turns feral. The thing that once protected the sheep remembers that it is, at its core, an animal with hunger, with wants, and it turns on the very things it swore to protect.

Caleb is the dog that never turned. He is the one that still guards you, still waits at your side, still lives with his body between you and the world, because that is what he chooses. But—

There is a wolf inside him. He wasn't born tame. This is the reason why you think he's changed.

It is not a corruption, not a failing, not a sickness. It is simply there, as much a part of him as the loyalty, as the tenderness, as the quiet way he looks at you like you are something holy. The wolf is not cruel. It is not mindless. It does not wish to harm. But it wants.

You have never had to see it because he never let you — but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. You think his hands were made to shield, to soothe, but that is only because he has never let you see the way they were also made to hold, to grip, to take.

He is the thing in the woods. The thing that lingers just beyond the firelight, just past the safe glow of home. He is the thing that wants to rip and tear, but not to destroy — not to kill. No, that would be too easy. He does not want to ruin you. He wants you to remain by his side forever.

And he knows that if he ever so much as breathes wrong, if he ever lets you see the way he looks at you when your back is turned, you would run.

So he stays where you left him. He plays the part he always has. The good boy. The guardian. The one you trust.

But when you press your cheek against his shoulder and sigh, when you curl your fingers around his wrist without thinking, when you whisper his name in the dark, he knows. He knows.

You do not understand what it means to press yourself into the waiting jaws of something that would never bite you but still wants to.

You do not understand that when you lean into him, when you trust him, you are feeding the very thing he is trying to starve.

And the thing is — both the dog and the wolf want the same thing.

To have you.

The dog wants to guard you, to protect you, to keep you safe in the way that all guardians do — by being a silent, unseen force, by waiting in the shadows, by letting you feel free while ensuring you never truly are. It does not control you. It does not take. It is patient, gentle, enduring. But it belongs to you so entirely, so thoroughly, that if you asked it to die for you, it wouldn’t hesitate.

The wolf? The wolf does not beg. The wolf does not ask permission. The wolf sees what it wants and takes it. The wolf does not serve, it claims. It sees you as something that belongs to it — not because it is entitled, not because it is cruel, but because it loves you the way hunger loves flesh. Because the wolf understands something the dog does not:

The only way to truly keep something is to consume it. To take it into yourself so fully that it can never be separate from you again.

But Caleb — Caleb — is the bridge between them. He has the wolf’s instincts and the dog’s discipline. The dog will heel when you tell it to, the wolf will wait because it chooses to, and Caleb is both. It would be easier if these two things were separate, if they hated each other, if they battled for control inside of him. But they don’t. They exist in harmony. They want the same thing.

The livestock guardian watches over you, protects you, ensures that no one lays a hand on you. The wolf ensures that no one takes you away, not even yourself.

The livestock guardian follows you, obeys you, kneels at your feet. The wolf is the reason he wants to.

The livestock guardian loves you. The wolf does, too. But love — real love — is not just something that gives. It is something that takes.

And you know what?

You never had a choice in the matter.

Not because he took that choice from you. Not because he forced you into anything.

But because, from the very beginning, from the moment you met him, before you even understood what he was—

You made him yours.

[frownyalfred]

Combining your Bruce's metal implants post plus the post you made a while ago about Clark's Kryptonian gut biome affecting Bruce:

What if that's how Bruce finds out about how the whole sharing bacteria via kissing and more ;), has strengthened his immune system, fixed old wounds, made him more resistant to diseases, etc. At this point, him and Clark have been together for a while, something happens that causes a metal implant to be removed but Bruce notices he is nowhere near in as much pain as he should be, if there even is any.

Bruce holding three of his titanium implants in his hand, now possessing a full mouth of natural teeth again for the first time in 15 years:

Clark:

Bruce:

Clark: look --

Bruce: do you know how difficult these were to get?

Clark: ....you're welcome?

[chloesimaginationthings]

WAKE UP,

HAIKU BOT JUST REBLOGGED ONE OF YOUR COMICS

BLESSED BY HAIKU BOT ONCE AGAIN

(here’s the post)