#this was sitting in my drafts waiting for you all!

[mixingandmelting]

If it's not a bother for you, can you please write batfam (including Bruce) and superfam getting jealous when reader subtly mentions her ex when they do something similar to her ex bf. (e.g. reading a book/watching a show/an activity that her ex used to love etc.)

Thank you!!!

A/N: Hello Anon! Sorry that this was sitting in my drafts for so long... 😔 I wasn't sure if you were meaning literally everyone in both families (batboys, batgirls, Jace Fox, supergirls, superboys, etc.) which would've made this post even longer and taken more time... If there are characters not written here you specifically would like, let me know

BATFAM FEAT:

Bruce:

Everything he does is subtle. The stiffness in his muscles, the tick in his jaw. All you did was mention how the way he readjusted his Rolex around his wrist reminded you of your ex. But since when did the things he did remind you of the other guy? 

“Must be a thing.” He chuckles, the grip around on his mug tightening as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Bits and pieces of his control over his emotions continue to chip off. There’s irritation building up from sensing nostalgia in your voice when he casually asks about your ex. Under the pretext of curiosity, of course. A scowl set on his face hidden behind a newspaper without him knowing he’s making one. It’s to the point where he fails to school his expression on time when you push down the newspaper. For a moment you stare at him, shock and awe meeting cold and stormy. 

“Playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne… is jealous?” 

His eyes widen for a second. To think he was that jealous to where he couldn’t keep up a facade…

He frowns when your lips curl up into a grin. Let’s just say the two of you made up real quickly afterwards when he suddenly pulls your wrist towards him.

Jason:

Sure, people can be reminded of their ex but come on. He reminded you of yours over how he shakes his hair out after taking off his helmet? That’s way too oddly specific.

“From what? Riding a street bike?”  He snorts, placing his helmet on the bench next to him with a thud from restrained strength. 

His mind knows there’s nothing to think too hard about; your ex is an ex and he’s currently yours. But clearly his heart doesn’t, churning and coiling with awful emotions he’s all too familiar with. He goes to grab a rag and wrench for “extra maintenance” when it’s actually him finding it hard to keep himself cool-headed if he doesn’t keep himself busy. 

“Jason? Jason. Look at me. It’s not what you’re thinking of.”  The only indication that he’s listening is the glance he tosses over his shoulder, still unamused and an eyebrow raised.

“I-,” The eyebrow raises higher from your sigh, “You just do it so naturally and still manage to make it attractive, okay? My ex had to try, forcing a Justin Bieber’s hair flip. That’s all.”

He gets you to break into laughter when he grabs you by the waist and cuddles you, grumbling how you should’ve said so from the start.

Tim:

His fingers hover over the keys for a second. Then he goes back typing. Nothing is amiss albeit the sounds of the mouse and keyboard clicking a tiny bit louder. He’s not bothered. Nope. Even if it was over how he cracked open his can of energy drink with a single hand, he’s not overthinking it whatsoever. 

“Yeah?” 

His voice stays steady, masking his questions as curiosity while in a small corner of the monitor, he’s pulling up and scrolling through the file on your ex. Net worth? Minimal. Job? Mediocre. There’s nothing about your ex sharing this habit or any other habits with him. But he considers that his fault, having brushed the other as unnoteworthy (which he does with anyone who breaks your heart). He can feel annoyance bubbling inside of him from your reminiscence with the other and his inability to pass it off as a simple talk about exes. Wait. Was this why? Because of the one time he mentioned about his past relationships?

“...Tim? Are you jealous?”

“W-what? No.” 

He flushes when he catches your unimpressed expression on the reflection of the screen. Instantly, he’s turned around, surprised to comforted when you start showering him with affection. Later on, he gives in and quit trying to get back at your ex for hurting you.

Minkhoa Khan/"Ghost-Maker":

Many had purposely brought up their exes to him before, trying to poke him for attention or gauge for a reaction. And most often he’d smirk and indulge them, finding the action as “cute”. 

But right now, his lips are set into a straight line. Constantly swirling the champagne in his flute rather than drinking it down. 

“Oh, I reminded you of your ex?” 

Lacking the feeling for empathy or fear, he’s never had found himself feeling jealous especially over an old flame of his partner. Right now? His mind is filled with irrationality and possessiveness. More than peeved for such a small thing to trigger an unneeded memory. 

He’s not one to usually filter or hold back on his opinion.  However, currently, there’s twice as much sass and bluntness as he shares his thoughts on the other in response to how fond you sounded when talking about your ex’s shared habit with him where your eyes widen from how out of character he was behaving. 

“Oh my god, you’re so jealous!” 

He refuses to give you the satisfaction, choosing to stay quiet and finish his glass. But when you don’t stop gloating, his hand slowly makes its way towards your shoulder to have you stop in a more… efficient way.

SUPERFAM FEAT:

Clark Kent:

“O-oh, really? I didn’t know your ex wore glasses…”

It’s bothering him so much. He doesn’t like it  that your ex does the same thing as him with the whole pushing up glasses if they were to slide down ever so slightly. It goes from him clasping his hands in his lap to resting them on his thighs in fists. More from him trying to stop said habit than anything else. 

Frustration and restlessness is how he gets, shuffling every few seconds so he’d at least feel comfortable on the bench he shares with you. His smile more awkward and his voice more strained. He wants to be the good boyfriend that would support you in every way: emotionally, mentally, and physically. So he tries to stay empathetic but his response stays as half-hearted caused by the ugly emotion coursing in his heart and brain. 

“Clark…? You’re not possibly jealous, are you?” 

Instantly flusters, cheeks matching his Superman suit while he denies that he is. 

“No! I’m not jealous whatsoever!” He tries to endure your stare, only to sigh and wave the white flag. “Yeah…. I actually am.” 

He lets out a grunt when you wrap your arms around him, finally breaking into a smile when you call him a silly man and that you’re stuck to him with superglue.

Conner Kent:

He stops and turns towards you, an eyebrow cocked up. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. This?” He flicks up the collar of his leather jacket in front you. “Is a Superboy signature move originating from yours truly.” 

So obviously your ex was copying him.  Not similar or “doing the same thing”.  But apparently, you beg to differ. He keeps brushing his hair back and fiddle with his shades, trying to suppress his irk of you continuing to push that he is similar to the other. Huffing at every point you make and rolling his eyes. 

He just doesn’t get it. Why he’s feeling this way and why he can’t act like normal. It’s not his first time hearing something like this from others, taking it in stride and joking how he’s that amazing that everyone wants to be him. But That’s not what’s happening right now. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, toying with a can near his foot. 

“You’re jealous.”

“No???”

Jealous? Him? No. No way. He’s Superboy, why would he be jealous? Despite his denial, his face starts to resemble his pants as you accurately guess what was running through his mind. At least part of his dignity gets restored when you kiss his cheek, calling him cute to which he cheekily replies with a duh.

Kong Kenan:

The baseball lands into his hand with a satisfying plot while he’s looking at you with a confused gaze. 

“Me tossing baseballs… reminds you of your ex…” He’s careful and slowly enunciating each word, making sure he didn’t (more like he hopes) misheard you. 

He goes back tossing the baseball with pursed lips and blowing air through his nose. It’s only concern. Worry. There’s nothing that he and your ex share in common. So he’d think you wouldn’t stretch it that far about getting reminded over something mundane as tossing a baseball. 

His tosses get harder, his eyes straining from keeping them trained on the ball. He makes an effort to at least voice out that he gets it, quite literally saying exactly that as he proceeds to explain why you’re wrong E.g., he’s smarter. He’s skilled. He’s Superman-

“Kenan, you know you’re jealous. Right?”

He startles, snapping his head towards you.

“What do you mean? I’m just saying-”

Trust for it to happen as soon as he takes his eyes off, the baseball would come falling on his head.  Coiling over, he yelps then scowls with tinted cheeks. At least you comfort him in the midst of your laughter, rubbing circles on his back which releases the tension in him as you promise you have no intentions of leaving him.

[riacte]

being a fan of false/ren/both atm is kinda weird and surreal in these times because you have to carefully tread around in your mind to avoid thinking about upsetting things (which consist of like 50% of the total stuff in your head) and you have to rewire your longtime neural pathways but it’s necessary and doable lol

[midnight-mourning]

Vessel for Your Good Intent

Okay the art's going to be late(r) BUT, enjoy this little thingy I've whipped up for you all. A little peak into one of the au's i'm keeping locked up in the drafts, hope you enjoy! Last one of @divinit3a's January Cafe Prompts

Words Chosen: serpetine, gold, pacts & deals, shapeshifter, precious

Word Count: 1715

"Make a deal with me."

You glance up from your book for a moment, over to the empty mirror. Feeling shy today, apparently. 

You chuckle, looking back down to continue reading. "I've already made a deal with you. Several, if I recall."

"Make another." He drawls, somewhere beside you now. If you had to guess, in the reflection of the clock sitting beside you.

"Why? I have no need for it at the moment." You peek up to see if you can catch him, but the clock holds nothing. "I take it you are then, was that last offering not enough for you? Feeling a bit peckish, love?" 

The tinge of a smirk grows on your face in that moment as the silence lengthens. He never did like it when you used his nicknames back at him. You go to stir your tea, only for a hand to grasp your wrist as you jump. Right. Silver. Reflective as anything else. 

Your surprise slips into annoyance, if only to help hide the racing of your heart a bit better. 

His words are a hiss in your ear now, sharp, a warning. "I don't rely on you, pet. This is just for fun fun fun, you know that."

"Just making sure." He releases you, slipping back into the shadows before you can catch a true glimpse, as usual. 

You reach for your tea again and take a sip, assuming the conversation is done with. 

"I meant it as an opportunity for you." In front of you, from the tea cup's reflection, startlingly you into almost spilling and making a fool of yourself. 

You frown now, staring directly at the small silhouette on the side of your cup. "Again, why? Business is good, my health is fine, what could you have that I'd want?" You wait a moment, then add. "Right at this moment." Given how your previous wording was received, you can tell he's being more particular today, and you have to be a bit more cautious. 

Not that you already weren't with his previous proposition. 

"Because I know you want more, and I'm in the mood to offer it." The small, shadowed figure shrugs. The ray-like projections from his head flit back and forth.

You tsk, setting the cup back now. "Well, I don't. You know that. I would have made a better deal if that was the case."

"That's the best part, though." Back to the mirror, the pale visage of his face sits in the corner, grin unwavering as ever. "You don't even have to give much at all. Practically a steal steal steal, just for you!"

"What's the catch?"

"No catch~"

You snort. "There's always a catch. Always."

The smile turns to a frown, then, a small grin. "Let me weave a story for you."

Your eyes widen. "No, you know I don't like it when—" Too late, his hands are over your eyes and your world is smothered in darkness. 

"Don't worry, I think you'll like this one."

"You say that every time..." You mutter. 

Just a quiet chuckle in response as the darkness starts to shift, lighten, become a scene. 

You've yet to get used to seeing yourself in an outside view like this. You're in your shop, hard at work organizing herbs and other ingredients. It's quiet, peaceful, but tiresome work. A shift. 

Now, you're in a larger space, grander, standing behind the counter as customers pour in and out of the busy location. You give directives to your full team of employees, who answer each order with obedient nods and words of acknowledgement. You're respected, admired for your work. People take pride in being able to visit your shop and buy your products. 

Another shift, a lavish party in some grand parlor, no, now a ballroom. You're the star of the evening, no one else can compare. Everyone there holds you in high regard, they're entranced. The gold and silver throughout the room cannot compare to your own radiance. 

Shift again, a surrounding of gold. Coins and treasures, you realize after a moment. All of yours, more than you can dream, more than you'll ever need. You have nothing to want for. 

Another. You're in your kitchen. It takes a moment to realize you're no longer watching, but living this one. There's the sound of feet pitter-pattering hurriedly down the stairs, a few children suddenly appearing and rushing past you with an exchange of giggles. Ready for breakfast and their days to start. 

As you face the stove again, a pair of arms wrap around your waist, a face burying into the side of your neck to press a kiss there. Some murmured apology you can't quite catch as your hand reaches up to grip one of the arms. The person, man, chuckles, releasing you to spin the two of you into a dance, humming a tune that's familiar and not at the same time. 

The children from before laugh from the other side of the room, sounding further off than that. You have everything you could ever want. Fame, fortune, notoriety, a family, someone who loves you—

"That's enough." You whisper, finally looking up into the golden eyes of the man. Serpentine. Out of place on his otherwise human appearance. "I thought I told you to stay out of my head."

The eyes widen, the smile on his face slipping. "I was just—it wasn't meant like that."

"It certainly seemed like it." You step back, crossing your arms over your chest as a poor attempt to shelter yourself. 

He frowns now, seeming to be thinking as he too, steps back. Leaning against the opposite counter. 

With his focus elsewhere, it all seems to freeze. Even the air itself seems to pause. 

He glances back to you after a moment. "Pacts, deals, bargains, they're... the typical way to be able to express ou-my, desires. They're the only way, for that matter." That last bit is muttered, softer than should be possible for a demon. And yet.

"You could try just saying them outright." You offer with a quiet huff. "Though what more you could possibly want beyond my being, I'm more than just curious about."

He stands upright then, eyes wide. He nods, finger wagging as he takes a step towards you. "There, you've said it there. That's what I want. You. All of you. Whatever you'll let me have. I'll take it." 

"I already told you I have no need for—" You halt as your heart jumps to your throat, words dying as suddenly he takes your hand and brings it to his face, cradling it against his cheek. 

"Not like that. Not how you're thinking. More than that, you mean more than that. Precious. Irreplaceable. Let me prove it. Please." He falls to his knees, gripping your hand for dear life. The scene around you ripples. "Please just, make a deal with me. Please."

You can only stare down at him with a sense of horror and utter disbelief. "I think that's enough pretending, Shapeshifter. You've made your point. You don't need to wound my pride any further."

You knew that if enough time passed between deals a demon would become desperate, but this was absurd, even for the game he was playing. To be down on his knees, practically begging you, the little human bound to him and not vice versa, it was one hell of a way to toy with you. 

"This isn't a matter of pride." The grip on your hand tightens, the scene wobbles dangerously. His next words are seething. "Is it so hard to believe I'm speaking with a sense of genuinity?" 

You look around for anything to pull you out of this fantasy entirely, relying on your words for the moment to keep the tension from falling. "Of course it is! You didn't just ask me that, did you? After all you've done? After what you've—" You find what you've been searching for, the weight of the small bottle heavy in your pocket. You grip it with your free hand, pushing the cork out with your thumb. 

"I, you're not, but I don't, this isn't..." He can't seem to find the words, but it's the, utter devastation in his tone that makes you hesitate then. 

You keep the bottle in your hand, looking down at him with a hardened gaze. "Can you say, with absolute certainty. That anything you've said to me is completely and entirely genuine? That you’ve meant it wholeheartedly, with no ill-intent?"

A moment. You give him just a moment. 

For you think if you gave him anything more you'd hear a response you can't handle. 

You rip the bottle from your pocket and splash the water over him, the effect is near instant. He hisses as steam rises from his form, now cowering against the pain as the scene starts to collapse in on itself. You need to be quick. 

The half-empty bottle smashes to the ground, and you kneel in front of him, picking up one of the broken pieces.

He catches on instantaneously. "Wait, don't—" 

You use it to prick your finger, hovering it above his ever-changing form. Switching between the illusion and reality. 

It takes a moment, but finally, a few drops fall down onto him, and he stabilizes with a gasp. 

The fantasy collapses completely and you suddenly find yourself back in your chair, having to take deep breaths to center yourself again. Once you do so, your eyes dart around the room, looking into each reflective surface. 

Not the mirror, not the clock, not the spoon, not the cup. A flash of fear wells up in you, you don't dwell on it. Come on, where—

"That stung." You turn. 

The window. 

You don't hide your relief, shoulders sagging. "That was the point."

You watch the faint shadowed form, faint, but only because of the light streaming in. Not wavering, not weak. 

"Thank you." He states, disappearing without another word. 

You wait a moment, and realize that he's actually gone this time. 

For now. 

You sit back in the chair, running a hand through your hair with a sigh. Then you pause, pulling your hand back to examine it. 

No mark. Not even the hint of a scar. 

You don't know what to make of that. 

And that's all you get for now, back into the drafts it goes, had a lot of fun writing for these prompts, can't wait to see what comes next :)

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist

[ceslatoil]

Ghost Filbrick AU

So a few weeks ago I was in the group chat and I pitched an idea for a fic (not writing it anytime soon, I have enough projects on my plate for now!) and it’s about the Pines family visiting Ma Pines before she moves to an assisted care facility. Main idea is that Dipper and Mabel meet Filbrick’s ghost who is trying to hinder the move, and the family trying to get him to move on. Lots of family drama ensues.

I wrote like, a scrap of a script draft for it if y’all wanna read it below:

(Scene: The grown ups, including CARYN, STAN, FORD and COOPER, MABEL & DIPPER’s dad, are all up playing cards. CARYN pulls out the Tarot Deck)

Caryn: I call this one “Last Man Standing!” You put down a card and the other player has to put down either the same suit or card number. If someone plays a major arcana card like wheel of fortune or the star, they can switch up the minor arcana suit. If you play death or the tower, the other players draw four. Whoever has zero cards wins!

Dad Pines: Grandma I think you just reverse engineered Uno

Stan: Dad wouldn’t buy us more than one card deck, so we made due with Ma’s tarot.

Ford: I thought it was to keep you from cheating the deck

Caryn: Both things could be true! Now hush.

Stan: … Coop is everything all right with Dipper? It’s not my business but… he seemed pretty cagey with ya earlier.

Caryn: Cagey? The kid stormed out of the room in the middle of dinner! Granted it was *my* cooking, so I can’t really hold a grudge on that front. (*plays a card*) That’s The Fool, so we’re reversing direction.

Ford: … It just doesn’t seem like him.

Coop: … that’s been the norm lately, I’m afraid. I don’t think he’s handling the divorce well, with me moving out and I just haven’t been around as much since then.

Ford: Mabel told us in one of her letters you were in family therapy together?

Coop: We’ve had a few sessions, yes. She loved it, got along great with our counselor. I think she asked a few times about becoming a therapist someday! But Dipper doesn’t really participate much during the sessions. He just sulks in the corner, like he doesn’t want to be there at all.

Stan: He’ll get over it. He’s stubborn, but not the type to hold a grudge.

Ford: I can’t imagine any of this is easy for any of you.

Coop: Weirdly enough, me and Annie— uh, Annie and *I*— have gotten on better than ever. Divorce was the best thing to happen to our relationship, it’s like we’re finally friends again?

Stan: Divorce ain’t so bad, I’ve done it at least six times now!

Caryn: I thought about divorcing your father, but he died before I got around to it. Suit change.

Ford: when did Dad pass?

Stan: … ‘97.

Ford: … I see. (*silence*)

Caryn: … Let’s not talk about funerals right now. God knows I’ve been to enough of ‘em. I’m just glad one of ‘em didn’t count. (*pinches Stan’s cheek.*)

Stan: … me too, Ma.

Ford: … Last Man Standing

Stan: Like hell you are, you shit, draw four!

Ford: … that’s not the tower, that’s a Stan Buck!

Caryn: Don’t tell me you’re still making Stan Bucks! You know damn well that’s not how money works!

(This next part is self indulgent and idk if I’ll include it in the fic proper)

Caryn: Now Stanford… let me ask you a question. Why the hell have you been hiding your left hand in your pocket all night?

Ford:…. I don’t know what you mean— HEY!

(Caryn pulls his hand out of his pocket, examines his second ring finger)

Caryn: Stanford Filbrick why does it look like you have a wedding band on your finger?

Ford: …. (*sighs*) because I have a wedding band on my finger.

Caryn: AHA! Here we are moping about death and divorce and you sit on good news like that! Who is she? Who’s your wife? Where’d you meet her, what’s her family like, what does she do?

Ford:… I don’t have a wife. I have a husband.

Stan: The guy used to live in the dump and now he’s a millionaire inventor running for president.

Caryn: You married McGucket?! Me and the girls canvassed for him this year! Wait till I tell that Janine, that’ll get her to pipe down about her Chiropractor Son-In-Law for once!

Coop: I really like his policies on infrastructure, very forward thinking!

Stan: Eh, I’m voting third party. Nothing personal, I just don’t want a brother in law who’s commander in chief. It would make thanksgiving a nightmare.

Ford: You’re a felon, you can’t vote at all.

Stan: That hasn’t stopped me in thirty years!

Ford: So Ma, you’re… fine with—

Caryn: Sweetie, until this morning I thought two of my sons were dead and one cut all ties. I figured I deserved it. Sitting back while your Father gave you all grief for nothin. I told myself if I ever saw you again I’d take you as is, and I meant it.

[justnatoka]

Letting go

Poly! Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: I'll be honest. With angst, I'm always afraid that it somehow turns out more melodramatic than serious. So writing this was a bit of a rollercoaster. It has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and every time I came back to it, I was feeling different about it. At first I liked it, then not so much, then even less, at some point having no idea if it will even turn into something that makes sense. In the end, somehow it still turned into a fic I actually like. That's just what the writing process is all about I guess.

Word count: 3k

Warning: angst, bittersweet (hopeful?) ending

Prompt: “I’ll survive. Somehow I always do.”

The sudden appearance of a threat from your past forces you to make a hard decision.

It was by pure chance that you caught his scent. He probably thought that the crowds and myriad smells of the boardwalk – the buttery aroma of popcorn, the sweetness of cotton candy, the salty ocean air and the sourness of human sweat – would mask his natural odor. And with good reason. It was the slightest change in wind direction that alerted you to his presence, a lucky coincidence that he couldn’t have anticipated. Had it not been for that, you probably wouldn’t have noticed him at all, not before it was too late. And there were too many instances of it almost being too late. He was a pro after all, he had surprised you before, and each time someone else paid the price. You wouldn’t let that happen this time.

“We need to leave.”

The casual chatter immediately died down around you, four pairs of eyes searching your face curiously. All they could find was grave seriousness with a hint of panic as you anxiously searched the crowd, looking for even just a glimpse of that familiar and dreaded figure.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Are you alright?” Dwayne’s gentle voice brought your attention back to them, their faces full of concern now as they noticed your quick and shallow breathing and shaking hands.

“No, I’m not. We need to go back to the cave. Right now.” Punctuating the last two words, you wasted no time, and headed for the bikes, quickly hopping onto David’s. Your urgent tone did the job as the boys followed close behind. David got on in front of you, your arms quickly wrapping themselves around him, seeking comfort and stability. But you knew you were rapidly losing both.

“We’ll talk about this when we get back.” His tone equaled yours in seriousness, and you felt your skin crawl with the uncomfortable anticipation of what was to come. But that was a matter for later, right now you just wanted to get as far away from here as possible. You couldn’t leave the boardwalk fast enough.

The ride back was tense. No cheers, no laughter this time, no enjoying the speed. They knew something was very wrong, your fear making them unnerved as well. You were stiff as a board behind David, always anticipating something to happen, your head whipping around in a blind search for some unseen danger. On one hand, you couldn’t wait to reach the safety of the cave, your home that you shared with your lovers for almost a decade. It has been so long. You genuinely thought you were finally safe, that you didn’t have to run anymore. And even though you wanted to get back as quickly as you could, the ride home also couldn’t be long enough. Because you knew what you had to do when you arrived. You tried to get yourself ready mentally, but felt like your world was falling apart around you too quickly. Before you knew it, you were slowing down.

After parking the bikes, you made your way down to the cave. Going at the front, you could feel their eyes on your back, you could feel the tension radiating off of David, the anxious energy coming from Paul.

As soon as your feet hit the cave floor, you headed for your nest, the place you shared with your boys. You tried not to think too much about how you have to rip yourself out of that intimate little safe haven as you started packing your stuff together.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, sugar!” Marko’s sound of alarm alerted the others, and the next second a hand grabbed your arm, stopping your movements.

“What do you think you’re doing?” David’s eyes were swimming in emotions as you turned to look into them, confusion chased by a protective urge to eliminate the threat that had you so freaked out. And behind it all, even though he tried to hide it, you could see fear. He was scared that whatever was happening, it would change everything.

“Please let me go.” Your voice shook as you struggled to keep your composure. You didn’t want to break down, not if you really planned to go through with this.

“…are you leaving us? You’re not, right? Right?” There was hesitation in Paul’s voice and silent hoping on his face as he tried to cling to the smallest of chances that they were interpreting the situation wrong. But the moment you met his eyes, he saw the answer in them clear as day, and his expression crumbled, beautiful blue eyes already filling with tears as reality started to register to him. You knew then that your composure was out the window. Your lower lip began to tremble and you averted your gaze, not being able to look at him anymore.

“Why?” Marko’s fists were shaking as he spoke, not knowing what to do with the anger that was slowly boiling up inside him. He was angry at you, but more so at the nameless, faceless entity that caused your distress, forcing your hand to make this decision in the first place. In the back of his mind however, a small and ugly voice reared its head. His voice was a low rumble, thick with emotion as he asked, “Why are you doing this? You don’t love us anymore?”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. You dropped your bag on the floor and rushed over to him, enveloping him in a hug and cradling his head, burying your face in his neck as he desperately clung to you.

“Of course I still love you. I love all of you so much. Don’t you ever doubt that. That’s why I don’t have a choice.” Tears were stinging your eyes, but your voice was strong as you tried to reassure him with all your power, even though you knew you were breaking his heart. Even if it was the last thing you did for them, you had to make sure he understood how much they meant to you.

A hand landed on your shoulder, Dwayne’s voice resonating in your ear. “Please, talk to us. What’s wrong?”

You entangled yourself from Marko, but he was gripping your hand tightly as you turned around, fearing that you would disappear if he let go. You looked up at Dwayne, his eyes pleading with you to explain. He wanted to know the problem, so he can help you solve it, like he always did. Your gaze found Paul, then David, all of them waiting for an explanation. You knew you owed them that much.

Letting out a shaky breath, you began to talk. “There’s a hunter after me.” The declaration made all of them tense up. “He’s been following me for decades, chasing me all across the country. After coming to Santa Carla, I’ve been on edge for months, waiting for him to show up, but he never did.” You breathed out a pathetic little laugh. ”Then I met you guys, and I finally let myself feel at ease. I really thought I managed to lose him this time. That’s why I freaked out when I caught his scent at the boardwalk earlier.” Your voice strengthened with newfound resolve, steeling yourself for what you have to do. ”I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t let you all get caught up in this mess.”

David was listening to you in silence, his face growing more serious with each word. You could feel him slowly closing in on himself.

“But we could help you. There’s five of us and just one of him. With all of us together we can kill the bastard,” Marko argued, ready to go and jump into battle at you’re slightest sign of approval. Paul was nodding vehemently in agreement.

“I’ve heard that before and it never ended well.”

“You don’t even want to try? Are you willing to just throw this away so easily?” Marko was getting agitated, basically yelling at this point.

“Don’t you understand? I can’t afford to try! You don’t think I had tried to fight before? Of course I did!” Your voice was also rising in volume, desperation filling your lungs. “I fought so hard, tried to save every other vampire who gave me shelter before. The only reason they got exposed was because I was there. If I wasn’t, they wouldn’t have gotten caught up in this, and then maybe they wouldn’t have-“

A sob escaped your throat, unable to finish the sentence. You felt two strong arms wrap themselves around you as you started to shake, guiding you to the couch before all strength left your legs. You curled in on yourself as you cried against Dwayne’s chest. Gentle hands were rubbing your shoulders, wiping the tears from your face, running through your hair in soothing caresses, and through the haze of your grief and overwhelming guilt you faintly registered Paul and Marko’ presence next to you.

“I can’t lose you too, I couldn’t live with myself,” you cried in their embrace, their tender attention only making the ache in your chest ten times worse. They were so good to you, even though you were causing them so much pain.

They sat with you, whispering words of reassurance, all the while battling with their own thoughts. They didn’t want to accept this outcome where you had to leave them, even if you did it to protect them. Your presence took up too much of their lives and their hearts to just let this go.

After your sobs quietened to sniffles and shaky breaths, David finally spoke up.

“We can’t change your mind, can we?” He sounded resigned. He already knew there was no turning back to the way things were, even if the others still tried to fight it.

“You can’t be serious!” Marko turned to him vehemently.

“Marko, stand down,” David barked, the frustration evident in his voice. “Our love has clearly made a decision. We can’t force them to stay if they want to leave so bad.”

Even though this was exactly what you wanted, you couldn’t help but flinch a bit at the edge in his voice. So this was it, you thought, he was shutting you out, closing his walls around himself. You tried to ignore the little sting you felt somewhere deep inside you when he didn’t even look at you as he said it.

Marko looked lost as he turned from David to Dwayne to you, searching for any small reason he can still cling to, but found none. And he finally deflated when Dwayne added, “It’s what’s best for them.”

The silence that followed felt heavy with grief and heartbreak, and although you knew it was the best thing you could do, you couldn’t stop the constant fall of tears silently rolling down your cheeks. You heard Paul sniffle behind you where he was resting his forehead against your shoulder, breathing in your scent for as long as he could. Marko was holding onto your hand again, his thumb rubbing your knuckles in a soothing motion. You weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. Dwayne pressed a kiss against the crown of your head where it was still buried in his chest. You all needed a few moments to take in each other’s presence and just exist, allowing yourselves a fleeting semblance of peace before it all fell apart.

“However.” Your gaze wandered back to David, and the look in his eyes struck something deep within you. “We let you go on one condition,” he held up a finger, and you stiffened, sitting up straighter. “You have to promise to come back.”

There was no hesitation in his voice as he said it, his gaze holding onto yours the whole time. You felt the need to blink a few times.

“I can’t promise that,” you looked at him confused. “As long as he lives I can’t come back here. I can’t risk that.”

“Promise that you will come back,” he continued, unwavering. “Do what you have to do, find a way to kill him, then come back to us.”

The way his eyes softened at that last part made your stomach flip. At the small tug on your finger you turned to Marko, his gaze full of emotion.

“Promise?”

“I can’t,” you answered, your voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “There’s no guarantee I would even come back. I can’t make you wait for me for eternity in the hopes that nothing bad happened to me.”

“You won’t make us do anything,” Dwayne took over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You made a choice to leave, so we made a choice to wait for your return.”

You were stunned. You tried to argue with him, but in the end you just closed your mouth. They were ready to let you go, even though you might never come back, even though it was breaking their own hearts. They loved you with all they had and were still willing to let you go so you could protect them. Not just that, they were willing to wait for you.

At that moment you realized you couldn’t run anymore. You can’t just leave, find a new place for a few years to hide then go on when he inevitably showed up again. You couldn’t let this go, couldn’t let them go. You had to fight him. You had to fight him and you had to kill him. It was the only way to come back to your boys, to live in peace without fear. Because even though the souls of the dead had been eating you from guilt, these boys were still alive. And as long as they are, they will be ready to welcome you back with open arms.

You pulled together the crumbs of your hope and determination, and decided to try once again, just one last time. You nodded slowly, the whispered “I promise” hung heavy in the silence of the cave.

It didn’t take long to pack your belongings. You didn’t have much, and what you did have was mostly stuff they gifted to you: a stuffed bear Dwayne won you at a game stall on the boardwalk, a bracelet Marko stole for you off of a tourist’s wrist after you commented on how much you liked it, a mixtape made by Paul of both of your favourite artists, a necklace David gave you when you joined the pack. Your bag was filled with trinkets and memories of your shared life. It gave you something to cling onto even though the future was full of uncertainty.

You desperately wanted more time, just one more day to spend with them, but you knew you needed to move fast. The hunter was already in Santa Carla, he probably already knew you were here. You didn’t dare risk him finding out about the boys too.

They accompanied you to the mouth of the cave. Looking out over the ocean, you took a big gulp of the fresh air and let it out in a shaky breath. You didn’t dare think about how you will accomplish what you had to do, the reality of that weighing heavy in the back of your mind.

Turning around, you let your eyes wander over you lovers once more, knowing that it might be the last time you ever see them. David looked back at you with a serious, determined expression, and you decided to ignore how the shadows seemed deeper on his face than you’ve ever seen before. He knew he had to be strong right now for all of you, and you were forever grateful for it. If he had shown even an ounce of doubt, you were sure you would have crumbled, giving access to the fear gnawing at your mind.

You stepped up to him first to say goodbye. His gloved hand came to rest against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch.

“When you’re done-“

“If.”

“When you’re done,” David continued undeterred, “with what you have to do, we’ll be right here, waiting for your return.”

Tears stung your eyes, but all you felt was overwhelming love for him.

“I will come back,” you whispered against his lips as you leaned in for one last kiss.

Next was Dwayne, eyes full of sorrow. You cradled his face in your hands, pulling him down, so you can press a kiss to the frown between his brows. He let out a deep sigh as you did, and you rested your forehead against his, both of you drinking in each other’s presence before you inevitably had to pull away.

Paul, always smiling, always laughing Paul was quiet. You gently ran your fingers through the messy hair on the side of his head, prompting him to look up at you. The second your eyes met, his lip began to tremble, and you leaned in to pepper soft kisses against it. His hands fisted your jacket as he pulled you closer, his mouth desperate against yours. Your heart broke a little when you pulled back, pressing one last peck on his cheek.

Lastly, you turned to Marko, who was so ready to jump into a fight for you head first, and now looked like he had no idea what to do. Before you could make a move, he threw himself at you, squeezing you against him with all his might. You hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder, and you felt him do the same, inhaling your scent, committing it to his memory. You ignored the slight shake of his hands when he eventually let you go, instead pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead.

“What are you going to do? All alone against him,” he asked, needing some kind of reassurance that you will be alright.

You looked back at him with sad eyes.

“I’ll survive. Somehow, I always do.” It was all you could answer. But for the first time in a long while, the thought didn’t fill you with dread. Instead, something akin to hope was starting to sprout in the back of your mind. It was still a dainty little thing, but you were determined to let it blossom.

Still, as you stepped out into the night, you felt your heart break a little.

Tags: @stinkydove @pandemoniavenus @000-colby @lunarwhitewolf7 @notalwaysa @binightowl @darlingnikkisixxxx @skrimblo-blumpkgo @swagfancroissantpizza2

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Part 3 if it's all over please i loved it

A/n: please no more it’s all over I don’t know where to go with it anymore 😩 /hj

Warnings: There’s smut I think I wrote most of this months ago and don’t remember any of it I NEEDED TO FINISH IT AN GET IT OUT OF MY DRAFTS

Part 1 Part 2

You never should've let him stay, it was a mistake to not hang up on him right away, to even let him into your house in the first place.

You woke up laying on top of him, nuzzled comfortably into his chest with his arms wrapped securely around you. You were both naked and you could feel him still stretching you out, limp cock shoved deep inside of you.

"Morning, sweetheart." He grumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Good sleep?" You groaned softly, your body hurt to much to get up but you had to get to work so you forced yourself to sit up on him. "Where're you going so soon?" He asked, looking up at you with a small pout.

"Work, I have to get ready." You mumbled.

Nikki's hands came to your hips, holding you in place on top of him. "Don't get up, come on."

You let out a heavy sigh and took his hands off of you so you could get up. Your face turned a deep shade of red when you felt his cum literally oozing out of you.

You remembered him having something of a possessive kink and needing to claim you but this was fully him trying his best to get you pregnant, and all you could do was watch as his cum dripped out of you while he lay next to you, smiling at the sight.

He reached out and gather his cum, the drips he could going down your thighs, and pushed it back into you. A shiver ran up your spine and you gasped, it wasn't the same stretch as his dick but it hit that same spot as he curled his fingers.

"Sto-stop, I can't- I can't take it anymore, Nikki, please, I-I have to go!" You pleaded, weakly pushing at his hand. He scoffed and reluctantly pulled his hand away from you, licking himself off his fingers.

You quickly got out of bed, not taking any time to watch Nikki's tongue lapping at the thick, white liquid, how filthy he looked sucking on his fingers and the way he looked your naked body up and down as more of his cum gooped out of you...

Maybe you spared a glance, but that was it, and it was more than enough. You couldn't keep Nikki here.

You showered, cringing while you tried to get the rest of him out of you, you'd get plan B on your way to work.

You were massaging shampoo into your hair when you heard Nikki trying to get in. "Y/n? Let me in." He said, twisting and turning the locked knob. "Open the fucking door and let me in." He was desperately trying to keep his words calm and unthreatening. "Please?" He asked, you could just hear the pout in his voice. "I just wanna see you, you're so pretty and soft... please?"

You couldn't let him in, if you let him in he'd want to stay.

You stepped out of the shower and opened the door for him.

Surprisingly, he didn't rush in. He waited for you to get back into the shower before he walked in and he went straight to the counter, after pushing the curtain aside so he could get a good view of you.

He was still naked, hard cock sitting in his hand. "Give me a spin." He ordered. "And bend over."

"No, you're gonna get in behind me." You grumbled, focusing on getting clean.

He laughed and shrugged. "You know me, don't you?" He let out a heavy breath, rubbing his tip. "Unfortunately, I know you just as well, sweetheart." That made you pause, but he didn't move. He stayed where he was, on the counter, jerking off to you showering. "Can you at least touch yourself? You look pretty when you touch yourself."

You huffed. "You used to say I looked pretty when I loved you." You started washing the shampoo out of your hair. "Unfortunately, I don't love you anymore."

Nikki stared at you blankly until the shampoo was all rinsed from your hair. "You know how to ruin everything, don't you?" He grumbled, getting up and leaving. You heard his footsteps around and a door close, assuming it was the bedroom.

It was cold taking a shower with the door open and curtain pulled to the side but you didn't trust Nikki enough to change anything, keeping things how he set them was safer. You hoped.

You finished washing yourself and got out of the shower, heading back to the bedroom and finding Nikki spread out on the bed, still naked. He held a pair of your lingerie in either of his hands, holding one to his nose and mouth while the other he used to stroke himself.

You tried to ignore him but he looked so good, just like he always did. Strong frame, broad shoulders, those tattoos. He was a football player and a musician and you wanted him inside you, but you couldn't let those thoughts win. You got dressed and headed out.

Nikki, thankfully, didn't stop you, but he made sure you heard him cumming, and he tossed your now dirty panties in front of you on the floor. He swore to himself that he'd get you pregnant this time, you'd carry his child and he'd get to watch your belly swell up with his seed. This time.

You were sitting in your car in the driveway, just about to start driving off, when the door opened and Nikki came out in just his boxers. You could see he was hard again, it was stretching his boxers and making you wet.

You drove off without another thought, other than your mind drifting back to Nikki the whole drive, but you had work to do and you had to focus on that when you got to your office.

Nikki couldn't let you stay away from him for too long, obviously, so he made his way down to your work when he knew you'd get off.

He saw the lights on, the figure next to you, how that man dared to touch your arm. Just in the lobby, just out of reach, how could you do this to him?

Hee watched from just outside, he walked from your house. It wasn’t a long walk but it had started raining about halfway, and now he stood, wet and alone, watching a man flirt with you just feet away.

You laughed, tilting your head as you did so. You caught a glimpse of Nikki’s silhouette just outside before he disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Fuck.” You muttered, smile quickly fading.

[hermitblurbs]

A continuation of my Steampunk AU (7)!

Grian had grown to accept his weird attachment to Scar, if with a bit of hesitance. The other was good conversation in a town where everyone else was incredibly boring. It’s why he stuck around with broken machines so often; there’s nothing to predict about them.

Scar was fixed up, no sign of glitches like in N.P.C or Grumbot, and Grian couldn’t predict him if his life depended on it. Whatever AI in the bot’s brain was fascinating, and the strange logic it followed always managed to keep him enraptured.

It quelled that bored drawl in the back of his mind, on a good day.

Today, even with Scar by his side, seemed to crawl along at a slug’s pace.

The wastes were turning up useless scrap after useless scrap, Mumbo too busy with a commission to entertain him, even the ticking of his wings was the same as ever. They didn’t even ache. At least then, complaining or not, wouldn’t leave him bored.

If he’s being honest, he probably shouldn’t have gone out to scavenge.

Days like these are best kept in line by staying in a place with overarching rules, a guarantee he won’t overstep anything and end up missing more than a chunk of wing.

The wastes don’t have that. They have metal, radiation, rust, and scavengers.

“This is a lot further than we’ve travelled before,” remarks Scar, frayed gas mask making him seem bizarrely human, bizarrely out of place in one of mumbo’s white button up and a false corset. He knows by the whirl of Scar’s fans, that the green metal would be warm to the touch.

He climbs the hill anyway.

There’s the clanging of other scavengers, only two of them at the foot, and they’re pulling something out of a shaking pile that’s large and expensive.

“Ooh, a lucky find for those fellas!”

Grian says nothing in return.

His wings click. Once. Twice.

Take it from them.

He widens his stance, careful not to make a sound on copper and aluminum and iron.

Imagine how excited Mumbo will be.

His wings spread like butter across the sky.

And he jumps. Dives, towards the two.

What should’ve happened was a simple wrap of his hands around the machinery and an arc back into the air and away. What should’ve happened would have been enough to satiate his boredom. What should’ve happened, is that he should have been faster.

What did happen, is that he gets his hands curled around the machine. He’s on the upbeat of his wings, when a hand wraps around his ankle.

He registers the impact. He registers the stars. He registers how the metal crumples beneath him, denting and damaging the scrap.

And then he registers the pain of being slammed into the ground.

“What the fuck, you little asshat!” The nearest one sounds. Their mask is colored the same white as the gleam of a jawbone. They raise a foot and stomp on Grian’s hand, grinding it into the dry dirt with the heel.

He has half a mind to scan the hills for Scar, but the android is lost among the shadows and the piles of scrap encircling them. His heart sinks.

“Hey, dude!” Comes the second one—their mask is layered to look like a growing of fungus. “Take it easy, they’re already down.”

“Their mask is cool,” remarks the third, the one his missed and the one who grabbed him. Their mask is simple and plain, a stark contrast to his own, hooked in the shape of a beak. They’re dressed in dark browns, almost blended completely against the ground.

“That doesn’t matter, they tried to *steal* from us. Why I oughta—“ And they grab his wing.

Something in his mind goes a little haywire. The bones there are fragile, half-molded to metal and muscle, and he does his darnedest to bash their faces in with the prosthetic.

He manages to clip Shrooms across the temple, drawing his knife and lunging at another, but it doesn’t last long. It was never going to last long, three against one. But he gets some good hits in, spills enough blood.

He ends up fully pinned, a boot against his back and his racing heartbeat prominant in the pressure from a steady, constant pull of his wing in a scavenger’s hand.

“What’s going on here?” Comes a familiar voice, and Grian feels like crying. If they leave him alive, at least Scar can get him back to Mumbo.

“Are you with this vulture,” one of them spits.

“I am, and I promised he’s very much learned his lesson—“

“He sliced my arm open,” they growl. And yeah, he did do that. The drip of blood fills him with a cruel pride that they’re going to need to go home after this and waste the day away.

“You deserved it,” he calls back, and is rewarded with a particularly painful tug on his wing.

“Fellas, I promise you that if you let him go, you’ll never see us ever again. Heck, we’ll even leave you little things for yourself to improve profits! How’s that for a deal?”

“How about instead we slice his throat?” And he knows it’s a bluff. Killing someone over a single piece of scrap is ludicrous, and these guys don’t seem insane enough to do it to a first-time offender. They’re farther than typical from their bubble, and while Grian’s had his own fair share of death threats they’ve only ever been serious in total nowhere. It’s got to be a bluff. It has to be.

He’s going to die if it’s not.

Grian looks up, eyes following metal legs to Scar’s face to find the other staring directly at him.

He doesn’t know what Scar sees in him, but he hears his fan kick on just beneath the noise of the wastes.

The android steps forward, steps closer. Grian can’t tell a single thing about what he’s thinking, but he knows his neck is starting to ache from the angle he’s keeping it at to keep Scar in view. Something about the quiet won’t let him look away. Scar rears back a fist.

And then he hears the crack of bone.

The weight falls off his back, his wing, and Grian is left staring into empty space as Scar takes measured steps behind him, and out of view.

The impacts behind him begins to sound wet, like the repeated thump of a hammer against drowned wood.

Grian has dabbled a bit, long before he met Mumbo, in engineering himself. It was more buildings than robots, trains instead of anything that breathes. But there’s one thing he still remembers, clear as day.

A robot may not injure a human being.

So what does that make the thing in front of him?

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

ID: clips of azula set to "caesar on a tv screen" by the last dinner party, emphasizing her ambition and her desire to be loved. end ID.

when i was a child, i never felt like a child / i felt like an emperor with a city to burn

[xxplastic-cubexx]

If i think of horrendous inappropriate things about magneto tonight no i didnt

[bonefall]

Don’t know if this is the right place to ask, but could you talk more about zoos? I’ve seen many people say that zoos are inherently exploitative and that we should instead focus on advocating for wildlife preserves, etc., but I’m not sure what to think of that. You seem to know a lot about wildlife protection, so what’s your opinion on this?

There are folks faaaar better than myself to talk about the issues of zoos specifically and I'll try to toss in some sources so you can go and learn more, but let me try and explain my mindset here.

Summary of my opinion on this: BOTH of these things can be poorly managed, and I broadly support both. They should exist in tandem. I am pro-accredited zoo and am extremely sensitive towards misinformation. I also do think the best place for animals to be is in their natural environment, but nature "preserves" aren't inherently perfect. They can also be prone to the capitalist (and colonialist) pressures that less informed people believe they're somehow immune to.

Because of the goal of my project being to make the setting of WC accurate to Northwestern England, my research is based on UK laws, ecology, and conservation programs.

On Zoos

On Nature Reserves

An Aside on Fortress Conservation

On Zoos

The legal definition of a Zoo in the UK (because that is what BB's ecological education is based around), as defined by the Zoo Licensing Act of 1981 (ZLA), is a "place where wild animals are kept for exhibition to the public," excluding circuses and pet shops (which are covered by different laws.)

This applies equally to private, for-profit zoos, as well as zoos run by wildlife charities and conservation organizations. Profit does not define a zoo. If there's a place trying to tell you it's not a zoo but a "sanctuary" or a "wildlife park," but you can still go visit and see captive wild animals, even if it's totally free, it's a marketing trick. Legally that is still a zoo in the UK.

(for fellow Americans; OUR definition is broader, more patchwork because we are 50 little countries in a trenchcoat, and can include collections of animals not displayed to the public.)

That said, there's a HUGE difference between Chester Zoo, run by the North of England Zoological Society, which personally holds the studbooks for maintaining the genetic diversity of 10 endangered species, has 134 captive breeding projects, cultivates 265 threatened plant species, and sends its members as consultants to United Nations conferences on climate change, and Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit.

Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit ONLY has to worry about the UK government. There's another standard zoos can hold themselves to if they want to get serious about conservation like Chester Zoo; Accreditation. There are two major zoo organizations in the UK, BIAZA and EAZA.

(Americans may wonder about AZA; that's ours. AZA, EAZA, and BIAZA are all members of the World Association of Aquariums and Zoos, or WAZA, but they are all individual organizations.)

A zoo going for EAZA's "accreditation" has to undergo an entire year of evaluation to make sure they fit the strict standards, and renewal is ongoing. You don't just earn it once. You have to keep your animal welfare up-to-date and in compliance or you will lose it.

The benefit of joining with an accredited org is that it puts the zoo into a huge network of other organizations. They work together for various conservation efforts.

There are DOZENS of species that were prevented from going extinct, and are being reintroduced back to their habitats, because of the work done by zoos. The scimitar-horned oryx, takhi, California condor, the Galapagos tortoise, etc. Some of these WERE extinct in the wild and wouldn't BE here if it hadn't been for zoos!

The San Diego zoo is preventing the last remaining hawaiian crows from embracing oblivion right now, a species for which SO LITTLE of its wild behavior is known they had to write the book on caring for them, and Chester zoo worked in tandem with the Uganda Wildlife Authority to provide tech and funding towards breakthroughs in surveying wild pangolins.

Don't get me wrong;

MOST zoos are not accredited,

nor is accreditation is REQUIRED to make a good zoo,

nor does it automatically PROVE nothing bad has happened in the zoo,

There are a lot more Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pits than there are Chester Zoos.

That's worth talking about! We SHOULD be having conversations on things like,

Is it appropriate to keep and breed difficult, social megafauna, like elephants or cetaceans? What does the data say? Are there any circumstances where that would be okay, IF the data does confirm we can never provide enough space or stimulation to perfectly meet those species' needs?

How can we improve animal welfare for private zoos? Should we tighten up regulations on who can start or run one (yes)? Are there enough inspectors (no)?

Do those smaller zoos meaningfully contribute to better conservation? How do we know if they are properly educating their visitors? Can we prove this one way or the other?

Who watches the watchmen? Accreditation societies hold themselves accountable. Do these organizations truly have enough transparency?

(I don't agree with Born Free's ultimate conclusion that we should "phase out" zoos, but you should always understand the opposing arguments)

But bottom line of my opinion is; Good zoos are deeply important, and they have a tangible benefit to wildlife conservation. Anyone who tries to tell you that "zoos are inherently unethical" either knows very little about zoos or real conservation work, or... is hiding some deeper, more batshit take, like "having wild animals in any kind of captivity is unlawful imprisonment."

(you'll also get a lot more work done in regulating the exotic animal trade in the UK if you go after private owners, btw. zoos have nothing to do with how lax those laws are.)

Anyway I'm a funny cat blog about battle kitties, and the stuff I do for BB is to educate about the ecosystem of Northern England. If you want to know more about zoos, debunking misconceptions, and critiques from someone with more personal experience, go talk to @why-animals-do-the-thing!

Keep in mind though, again, they talk about American zoos, where this post was written with the UK in mind.

(and even then, England specifically. ALL UK members and also the Isle of Man have differences in their laws.)

(If anyone has other zoo education tumblr blogs in mind, especially if they are European, lmk and I'll edit this post)

On Nature Reserves

Remember how broad the legal definition of a zoo actually was? Same thing over here. A "nature reserve" in the UK is a broad, unofficial generic term for several things. It doesn't inherently involve statutory protection, either, meaning there's some situations where there's no laws to hold anyone accountable for damage

These are the "nature reserve" types relevant to my project; (NOTE: Ramsar sites, SACs, and SPAs are EU-related and honestly, I do not know how Brexit has effected them, if at all, so I won't be explaining something I don't understand.)

Local Wildlife Site (LWS) Selected via scientific survey and managed locally, connecting wildlife habitats together and keeping nature close to home. VERY important... and yet, incredibly prone to destruction because there aren't good reporting processes in place. Whenever a report comes out every few years, the Wildlife Trust says it often only gets data for 15% of all their registered sites, and 12% get destroyed in that timeframe.

Local Nature Reserve (LNR) A site that can be declared by a district or county council, if proven to have geographic, educational, biodiversity, or recreational value. The local authority manages this, BUT, the landowner can remain in control of the property and "lease" it out (and boy oh boy, landowners do some RIDICULOUS things)

National Nature Reserve (NNR) This is probably closest to what you think of when someone says "nature reserve." Designated by Natural England to protect significant habitat ranges and geographic formations, but still usually operates in tandem with private land owners who must get consent if they want to do something potentially damaging to the NNR.

Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) (pronounced Triple S-I) A conservation designation for a particular place, assessed and defined by Natural England for its biological or geographic significance. SSSIs are protected areas, and often become the basis for NNRs, LNRs, Ramsar sites, SACs, SPAs, etc.

So you probably noticed that 3/4 of those needed to have the private ownership problem mentioned right in the summary, and it doesn't end there. Even fully government-managed NNRs and SSSIs work with the private sectors of forestry, tourism, and recreation.

We live under Capitalism; EVERYTHING has a profit motive, not just zoos.

I brushed over some of those factors in my Moorland Research Notes and DESPERATELY tried to stay succinct with them, but it was hard. The things that can happen to skirt around the UK's laws protecting wildlife could make an entire season of Monty Python sketches.

Protestors can angrily oppose felling silver birch (a "weed" in this context which can change the ecosystem) because it made a hike less 'pretty' and they don't understand heath management.

Management can be reluctant to ban dogs and horses for fear of backlash, even as they turn heath to sward before our eyes.

Reserves can be owned by Count Bloodsnurt who thinks crashing through the forest with a pack of dogs to exhaust an animal to death is a profitable traditional British passtime.

Or you can literally just pretend that you accidentally chased a deer for several hours and then killed it while innocently sending your baying hounds down a trail. (NOTE: I am pro-hunting, but not pro-animal cruelty.)

The Forestry Commission can slobber enthusiastically while replacing endangered wildlife habitats with non-native, invasive sitka spruce plantations, pretending most trees are equal while conveniently prioritizing profitable timber species.

I have STORIES to tell about the absolute Looney Tunes bullshit that's going on between conservationists and rich assholes who want to sell grouse hunting access, but I'll leave it at this fascinating tidbit about air guns and mannequins which are "totally, absolutely there for no nefarious reason at all, certainly not to prevent marsh harriers from nesting in an area where they also keep winding up mysteriously killed in illegal snares, no no no"

BUT. Since Nature Reserve isn't a hard defined legal concept, and any organization could get involved in local conservation in the UK, and just about anyone or anything could own one... IT'S CHESTER ZOO WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!

They received a grant in 2021 to restore habitat to a stretch of 10 miles extending outside of their borders, working with TONS of other entities such as local government and conservation charities in the process. There's now 6,000 square meters of restored meadow, an orchard, new ponds, and maintained reedbeds, because of them.

It isn't just Chester Zoo, either. It's all over the UK. Durrel Wildlife, which runs Jersey Zoo, just acquired 18,500 acres to rewild in Perthshire. Citizen Zoo is working with the Beaver Trust to bring beavers back to London and is always looking for volunteers to help with their river projects, and the Edinburgh Zoo is equipped with gene labs being used to monitor and analyze the remaining populations of non-hybrid Scottish Wildcats.

The point being,

Nature preserves have problems too. They are not magical fairy kingdoms that you put up a fence around and then declare you Saved Nature Hooray! They need to be protected. They need to be continuously assessed. They are prone to capitalist pressures just like everything else on this hell planet. Go talk to my boy Karl he'll give you a hug about it.

"Nature Preserves" are NOT an "alternative" to zoos and vice versa. They do not do the same thing. A zoo is a center of education and wildlife research which displays exotic animals. A nature preserve is a parcel of native ecosystem. We need LOTS of nature preserves and we need them well-managed ASAP.

We could never just "replace" zoos with nature preserves, and we're nowhere near the amount of protected ecosystem space to start thinking of scaling back animals in captivity. Until King Arthur comes out of hibernation to save Britain, that's the world we live in.

An Aside

My project and my research is based on the isle of Great Britain. The more I learn about the ecosystems that are naturally found there, the more venomously I reject the old lie, "humans are a blight."

YOU are an animal. You're a big one, too. You know what the role of big animals in an ecosystem are? Change. Elephants knock over trees, wolves alter the course of rivers, bison fertilize the plains from coast-to-coast. In Great Britain, that's what hominids have done for 900,000 years, their populations ebbing and flowing with every ice age.

Early farming created the moors and grazing sheep and cattle maintain it, hosting hundreds of specialist species. Every old-growth forest has signs of ancient coppicing and pollarding, which create havens for wildlife when well-managed. Corn cockle evolved as a mimic of wheat seeds, so farmers would plant it over and over within their fields.

This garbage idea that humans are somehow "separate" from or "above" nature is poison. It's not true ANYWHERE.

It contributes to an idea that our very presence is somehow damaging to natural spaces, and to "protect" it, we have to completely leave it alone. NO! Absolutely NOT! There are places where we have to limit harvesting and foot traffic, but humans ALWAYS lived in nature.

Even the ecosystems that this mindset comes from rejects it, but this shit doesn't JUST get applied to British people who become alienated and disconnected from their surroundings to the point where they don't know what silver birch does.

It's DEADLY for the indigenous people who protect 80% of our most important ecosystems.

It's a weapon against the Maasai people, stopped from hunting or growing crops on their own land. It's violence for 9 San hunters shot at by a helicopter with a "kill poachers on-sight" policy, as one of the world's LARGEST diamond mines operates in the same motherfucking park. The Havasupai people are kept out of the Grand Canyon that they managed for generations because they might "collect too many nuts" and starve squirrels, Dukha reindeer herders suddenly get banned from chopping wood or fishing, and watch wolves decimate their animals in the absence of their herding dogs.

It's nightmare after nightmare of human displacement in the name of "conservation."

That all ties back to that mindset. This idea that nature is pure, "pristine," and should be totally untouched. There are some starting to call it Fortress Conservation.

You can't begin to understand the criticisms of modern conservation without acknowledging that we are still living under the influence of capitalism and colonialism. Those who fixate on speaking for "animals/nature/trees who don't have a voice" often seem to have no interest in the indigenous people who do.

Listen. There's no simple answer; and the solution will vary for each region.

Again, my project is within the UK, one of the most ecologically devastated areas in the world. There are bad zoos that the law allows a pass. There are incredible zoos that are vital to conservation, in and outside of the country. There's not enough nature preserves. The best ones that exist are often exploited for profit.

I hope that my silly little blog sparks an interest in a handful of people to understand more about their own local ecosystems, and teaches folks about the unique beauty even within a place as "boring" as England.

But, my straightforward statement is that I have no patience for nonconstructive, broad zoo slander that lumps together ALL of them, and open contempt for anyone who tries to sell nature preserves like a perfect, morally superior "alternative." We need them BOTH right now, and we need to acknowledge that zoos AND preserves have legal and ethical issues that aren't openly talked about.

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

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[ 😇 ] — doodle dump from priv

just some smaller things while I have fun w friends and find my groove again :]

Commission Info | Ko-Fi | My Links

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[katabay]

I'm sure that there s a perfectly good reason, but it's just really funny to me that Pompeyo has beef with a teenager (Marcus). What a way to NOT copy Sulla

lmaoo yeah

honestly, it’s very one sided: Pompeyo is trying so hard to get along with Marcus and it’s just not clicking because Marcus distrusts him for being a (former) political ally of Felix.

like, from Marcus' point of view, Pompeyo let Felix fuck Crasso over for his own gain, and fully expects Pompeyo to behave exactly like Felix once Pompeyo fully realigns himself with Crasso. Marcus really only acts civil to Pompeyo because of Publius (who. god. he needs a new name so bad. Paolo? Paris? I might give up trying to pick a name that begins with P and just name him Celestino or something, tbh), and even then. the civility is debatable.

later tho! it takes two events that happen several years apart from each other, but they do come to an Understanding. Pompeyo is actually totally unaware of the moment that Marcus decides that Pompeyo is part of the family.

Marcus still gives Pompeyo a lot of shit, but it's no longer actively hostile. just regular, garden variety fucking around (affectionate) and making Pompeyo's life a little bit difficult on purpose because it's kind of funny.

[hecatesbroom]

Another fic?? You bet! I almost finished this about 4 weeks ago, when I got sidetracked by the Dorothy gets dipped fic, so I finally managed to add the finishing touches here :) it's been in the works for about 3 months (off and on; many different projects got in the way) so I'm happy to finally be able to say it's done! (after that final edit at 3 am I posted about last night lol)

Summary

When Blanche announces that she thinks she's pregnant, each of the girls deals with it in her own way. (They find each other in Rose's bedroom in the end, for one reason or another.) // an exploration of S02E01: end of the curse, and what happens in between

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Sunday doodles