#which one of them is the more feral guard dog

[heartfullofleeches]

PLEASE ELABORATE PELASE

Shout out to you and the anon who wrote this:

[Please elaborate about consensual intox play with Sammy, I miss my masochistic guard dog of a boy <3]

For enabling me-

-

[ (consensual) Drugging, Submissive Yan, mentions of alcohol and weed]

He plays it off as a passing thought- A reoccurring fantasy he knows will haunt him until he hears your opinion on the idea.

"I don't really drink... Everyone I've drank with says I'm a lightweight which some think is funny due to how tall I am.. One beer is enough to get me tipsy.."

Sammy bites his lip hard enough to make them bleed- It's so embarrassing, almost humiliating to speak about his desires aloud. You're the only person he'd ever want to play them put with, so it's better out than in.

"Would you ever be interested in... using me while I'm under the influence?"

There's nothing Sammy yearns for more than being under your complete control. Eyelids drooping as you inch closer, encouraging him to take just one more sip. His fingers unable to properly suction to the glass as his weight slumps against the couch, motor skills lose to a battle he had no hope of winning as whatever you gave him hits his system.

"Having a little trouble, Sam? It's okay, I'll take good care of you. Why don't I help you get out of that stuffy sweater? You're burning up, sweet boy-"

Teasing him more, strip him bare and ravage him to your heart's content. Call him useless, useless without you there to pick up the pieces. He can't do a thing without you in this state - so hopelessly dependant as his lips struggle to form the sentences needed to beg you for all you can give.

All this, but with a Stoner Darling instead-

Sammy writhing in anticipation waiting for the edibles Darling gave him to kick in. Watching them take a puff from their smoking method of choice, wishing they'd force it down his throat in the next breath. Poking fun at him for being so out of his mind from one heavy hit when it takes a trained professional like them several to be as totaled as Sam is. They'd never do that to him, but a man can dream-

"Out like a light, already? We're gonna have to build up that tolerance of yours a bit, Sam. Think you can take another kiss?.... Haha, what am I even asking for? I know you can, Sammy..."

Sammy and Darling having a cute date together with consent established prior- Sam's hanging onto their every word, wondering when they'll make their move when he suddenly begins to feel the effects of whatever they slipped into his drink without him noticing. Darling smiles and laughs like nothings out of the ordinary as they drag their flustered, slurring boyfriend back to the car-

I'm feral for this man.

[beaulesbian]

loved this part of the onigashima raid - where zoro was carrying luffy so they could escape after luffy got attacked, and when an enemy dog tried to attack them, luffy snapped out of it and bit the dog himself

*chomp*

[127rkives]

uhhhh idk if anyone has discussed this before but... miguel likes to eat pussy from the back!!!

like idk, every once in a while, his brain goes brrrr and something short circuits. idk chalk it up to stress but it's more like some feral, animalistic urge. he can’t really explain it. it’s almost as if someone flips a switch, his mind goes blank except for the thought of needing to be with you, under you, in you. he has to stop whatever he’s doing and go find you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

and as soon as he makes it home to find you relaxed on the couch, he's flipping you over, contorting you face down ass up, and he’s nuzzling into your clothed pussy like a dog in fucking heat. when he’s finally spent just enough time shrouded in the scent of you, he's yanking your shorts off. he’s been at this for approximately 2 minutes but there's already a wet patch in the center of your panties. that sight makes his pupils dilate before going in for the kill. his claws come out to rip your panties to shreds right before he straight up nose dives into your pussy, and granted you can feel him, the action still catches you off guard enough for you to emit a loud gasp. it’s just too much too fast. “mig- ohhh!~”

“mmm... mmmf” miguel gets so much satisfaction from tasting you that he releases moans of his own. they would be bouncing around the room and intermingling with yours except right now he can't bring himself to pry his tongue from the slick walls of your cunt. 

“oh my gosh- miguel!”

hearing you raise your voice in alarm while saying his name is enough to make miguel pause for a second. you take the moment of reprieve to look over your shoulder— huffing and puffing— only to be stunned by miguel’s animalistic look. his curls are messily hanging near his eyes which are dark, yet spacey as if he’s on another planet. his lips are parted just enough to show a peek of his fangs as he breathes heavily through his mouth after suffocating himself with your pussy, and a gleaming mixture of his spit and your slick is smothered over half of his face and all the way down to his collarbone.

“m- miggy could you just give me a few seconds?” you ask. miguel tilts his head to the side and scoffs. a curt “no” is all you get before miguel locks his arms around your thighs to drag you back to his watering mouth. you don’t have claws like miguel but if you did the couch cushions would definitely be in shreds from the way you’re gripping them. 

the wet slurps of miguel’s tongue lapping at your cunt are soon paired with two of his thick fingers easily slipping in thanks to your arousal. he scissors them for a moment before adding a third. the speed he uses to pump them in and out and the feeling of his slightly calloused fingers against your gummy walls leaves you floating in the clouds. you’re brought crashing back down, however, when a deep groan from miguel sends sparks up your spine. soon enough you feel pressure building at the bottom of your stomach, only it doesn’t feel like it usually does. in a fit of panic you try to drag yourself out of miguel’s grip.

“ohhh my go- miggy!” it’s all you can do to let out little slurred calls of his name, but it doesn’t matter. miguel’s not stopping until he’s satisfied. your escape attempts are useless, but the wiggling is enough to piss him off.

“querida. don’t move so much. be good.” but you can’t be still. the tingly feeling in your tummy is growing and all you can do let out breathy moans as you thrash around in ecstacy.

“ahh- i can- can’t help it!”

all of your moving loosened miguel’s grip too much for his liking. in less than a second, he's yanking you back towards his mouth and hoisting your hips just high enough to wrap his lips around your cute little clit. 

one hard suck is all it takes before you’re squealing at the top of your lungs. a scream of “miguel!~” is the only thing leaving your lips while your vision goes white and your breathing stops for a second. miguel is unrelenting behind you, switching to messily swiping his thumb across your clit and shoving his tongue back into your pulsating cunt in an attempt to catch every last drop squirting in to his mouth. 

even when your arms give out beneath you and you faceplant into the couch miguel is still lapping at your outer lips like he’s been saved after being stranded in the desert for a year.

and like that, it’s like the switch in his brain flips again. he smooths his hands up and down your trembling thighs and scatters kisses in a path up your back to the nape of your neck. “you okay, cariño?” a weak “mhm” is all you can muster up as you turn your head to flash miguel a floaty smirk. he smiles and chuckles, recognizing the foggy look in your eyes. covered in a sheen of sweat and high off the feeling of him is just one of the times miguel thinks you look the most beautiful.

after ghosting his hands across your skin and giving you a few minutes to calm down, miguel goes to gently move you to his lap. he buries his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling all of you. with the little strength you have, you wiggle around in his lap attempting to get comfortable but something is in the way- 

“ohh~” miguel’s breath is hot on your neck as he groans into it. his fangs graze your skin, his hands grasp onto your hips for dear life and oh...

someone flipped the damn switch again...

[serpentface]

Miniature dog and khait effigies for a Wardi funeral. These are clay figurines that have been painted and decorated with great care by a skilled artist. Both include real hairs from the individual animals they have been modeled after. The dog is collared, showing that it is a loyal pet rather than a lowly feral scrounger. The khait is fully bridled and ready to carry the deceased in their journey.

---

It is believed that the souls of the deceased, once freed of their bodies, undergo a month-long journey to reach rebirth in the lunar lands. This journey is full of perils. It begins in the realm of the earth where the soul is naked and vulnerable and traveling through complete darkness. Evil spirits dwell within this realm and may try to capture the soul or lead them astray, and the way is twisting and obscured in shadows. Even after escaping this darkness, the soul still must travel an arduous and winding path through the realm of the sky in order to reach their destination.

A khait and a dog are traditionally offered as funerary goods (in addition to food, water, wine, clothing, weapons, and other needs) to assist the soul in their travels- the khait will ease their passage in their long journey and carry them swiftly, and the dog will navigate through earthly darkness and dense cloud by scent, and protect the soul from harm.

Ideally, one of the deceased's own living khait and hunting/guard dogs will be killed at the funeral (typically the most beloved of their animals, as who would be better company than that?) so that they can have familiar and loyal helpers in their lonely journey. However, there are tremendous class barriers to ownership and disposability of a khait, and well-bred working dogs (while significantly more accessible) aren't ubiquitously available, and many people do not consider captured feral dogs to be a worthy replacement. As such, funerals with full animal offerings tend to be limited to higher status individuals.

Everyday people still need protection on their journeys, and animal effigies can be appropriate replacements for the real thing. These effigies are usually designed with great specificity to represent known individual animals that have already died (often including the animal's actual hair, as seen here). The soul of the represented animal will recognize the effigy as its body, and can be called into the icon so that it may accompany the deceased. These effigies (along with any other necessary grave goods) will be placed onto the pyre and burned along with the body so that the traveling soul will be sent off with everything they need.

Some folk traditions have semi-legendary local animal spirits who will be represented instead of a personally familiar animal. This often develops around a small community 'sharing' one historically extant animal for their funeral effigies as a matter of practicality, developing a sense of attachment to this animal as an aspect of shared identity, and adding layers of legend to the animal's story with the passage of time.

For example, a very popular legendary guide in the northeastern rural parts of Ephennos is Chisnops-Inreña (which very closely translates to 'Orange Son Of A Bitch'), a legendary livestock guardian dog. The animal was said to have been the biggest, meanest, ugliest motherfucker around, but was an unshakably loyal and fierce guardian, as noble as a dog (not the noblest of animals by any means) can possibly be. He is said to have fought off everything from jackals to lions to cattle thieves in his day, and died protecting his herdsman master from an infamous man-eating king hyena, only succumbing to his own wounds when the great beast lay dead. His spirit was later used as a guide in his master's funeral, and local legend states that the same spirit has been seen following herdsmen and their cattle ever since, as not even death could keep him from his duties. Such a dog would make an excellent guide and protector in the journey to the afterlife, and effigies of him are favored in the funerals of northeastern Ephenni pastoralists.

A lovingly crafted Orange Son Of A Bitch

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 12

James “Bucky” Barnes + Drool/Spit

This is winter soldier Bucky, so imagine he’s wearing that half face mask he wears in the movie. Hes wearing a mouth guard under it, google says that’s what it’s called. Im also taking canon, and throwing it in the toilet for this.

No outright smut in this, cuz it felt a lil weird to add it, as Bucky kinda sees the reader as a very nice and comforting handler. Readers an Avenger 🗣️

2024 kinktober masterlist

Maybe dressing up as a hydra agent wasn’t your… best idea. But hindsight was twenty-twenty. Steves friend was locked up in a hydra facility near where you had just been for a mission, and you knew he was planning a whole thing to get him out. You also knew that it would be a shitshow if it went his way, did he really think it would work just not telling people? It was a good thing Steve was hot, because sometimes his head was full of dirt.

You hadn’t honestly thought it would work, alright? You just assumed you could sneak in, maybe get some info from their tech, see where they kept the winter solider, and get out of there. The documents had said he would be frozen down, so of course you almost shit yourself when he was wide awake and staring at, the same way a starving dog looks at a steak.

So maybe you tucked him under your arm and just ran outta there. Okay, it wasn’t that comedic. You just used your best “hydra bastard” accent and lingo, and somehow got the winder solider, Bucky? Was that what Steve called him? To follow you out. He seemed almost willing, which didn’t make a lot of sense, since well. You were dressed up as a hydra agent.

You just hadn’t counted for the fact that he would see you as his new handler. This was what you were thinking about as you were sitting on the couch in one of your safe houses. One you had bought, not shield or Stark. You loved Tony, you did, there was just something nice about an apartment that wasn’t bugged from hell and back.

Looking down at the winder soldier- you should start calling him Bucky. At Bucky kneeling by your feet. The moment you got home you changed into something more comfortable, just some sweats and an old t-shirt you stole from an ex who’d been a huge baseball nerd.

“so, uh… Buck..y? what do you wanna like, do” you awkwardly said, scratching at the stubble on your chin from the uneasy tension you felt in the air. Feeling you nuzzle against your knee almost made you jump right out the seat. The yell was choked down before it became a reality as you looked down, frows furrowed in confusion as he just seemed to… nuzzle you.

Hesitantly you reached a hand down, approaching him with the caution one would a feral dog on the street. His pale eyes were kinda creepy, with all that eyeblack smudged around them like that, and how they just laser focused on every little movement you did. Bucky’s hair was oily and uncomfortable as you ran a hand through it. Couldn’t really blame the guy though, could you. you couldn’t imagine hydra was the nicest people to work under.

Bucky seemed to arch into the touch when he realized you weren’t trying to hit him, a choked raspy noise leaving him as his eyes almost rolled all the way back. Hadn’t Steve said hydra had this guy for, like, 70 years? Then you guessed it wasn’t weird for him to ache for any kind of human touch. Youd seen Tony after he was brought back from the cave he was kept in. hed been so touchy but also flinched away from everything. And that was just 3 months, you couldn’t imagine what this guy had been through.

You hadn’t thought about how you were rubbing Buckys head as you mulled over your thoughts, your second hand reaching down to rub his ear and rub a thumb across his cheek, right above that mask of his. You also hadn’t noticed the way his eyes seemed to droop, pupils blowing wide as he leant all his weight against your leg, or how something wet was seeping into your sweats.

It took a while for you to finally come back to yourself, having gone on some long tangent in your head about trauma and how to deal with this guy before you could bring him back to the tower. Looking down you had wanted to apologize, only to see how Bucky looked like he was in heaven, slumped against your knee and eyes barely open a crack as he melted under your hands. The big spot of drool on your leg made you realize how long you had been sitting like this.

“Fuck, uh. Sorry dude, didn’t mean to space out like that” you chuckled a bit dryly, finally pulling your hands back, your heart giving a lurch as he let out a raspy noise. There wasn’t much voice behind it, but it felt like one of those scarred fighting dogs trying to whine. It was… kinda cute in its own way, even if it came from the winter solider of all people.

“That things probably real uncomfortable, huh?” you mumble, eyes landing on that mask of his. With little though behind it, you reach down and carefully search for the release mechanism. It took longer than intended, with Bucky trying to nuzzle into your hands whenever they came close. God this guy was touch starved, hopefully the team would know what to do.

A soft amused huff passed through your lips as you finally got the mask of him, strings of drool hanging from his parted lips against the inside of the material. “Drooly boy, aren’t you” you joked, only for Bucky to let out the faintest of whimpers as he tried to nuzzle against you again.

As he panted with parted lips, you could spot what looked like some kind of cover on his teeth. Had hydra tried to silence him in another way? Was that why he didn’t talk, or was it all trauma? You hadn’t thought about your actions much before you found yourself carefully pulling on his jaw, Bucky leaning his head along as he simply let you do as you pleased.

Bucky let out a louder pleased noise as your fingers slid into his mouth, his tongue rubbing insistently against your fingers as if he was exploring. With a shaky exhale you carefully moved your fingers around, trying to grab onto what was covering his upper teeth. The entire time Bucky seemed more interesting in licking at and sucking your fingers. The movements were too messy to be hydra trained, at least that could help a little on the guilt it made you feel.

Spit was rolling down his chin, Bucky not even seeming to think about swallowing it. With a little struggle, you finally got whatever was covering his teeth off, Bucky trying to follow your fingers as you pulled away, finally realizing that it was a mouth guard. Thick strings of drool hung from the mouth guard and Bucky’s lips and pink tongue, making you shudder.

There was no way you were gonna go down that road, not with how messed up this guy was. There was also that whole thing that he might think you are his handler, so that was something you would explore. Instead you put the mouth guard to the side with his mask, and used your sleeve to wipe all the spit and drool of his face, mumbling soft scoldings at him as Bucky tried to lick you again.

“Lets just go get you cleaned up, alright?” you finally sigh after having to pull your hands to yourself, after he tried to catch them in his mouth again. Bucky seemed more than happy to follow you as you lead him into the bathroom, starting to take his outfit off before you even said anything.

Instinctively you wanted to scold him for just doing that, but seeing him step into the empty bathtub and look at you with those softer, but still blank eyes, made your chest ache just a little more. The shower took a while, with you having to scrub his hair multiple times. You caught him drooling during the entire process, as if he didn’t have full control of his bodily functions. You also saw him get hard, his cock pink and twitching, oozing its own fluids from what must be the first pleasurable touches in years.

You didn’t do anything about it though, instead helping him dry off and wiping his chin as he kissed softly at your palm, like his own way of saying thanks. “You’re welcome. Come on, I’ll get you something to wear” you mumble out, voice softer and more careful as you lead him to your bedroom and find something that’ll fit him.

It was a struggle to get him into bed, the man clearly uncomfortable with how soft it was and unsure of how to lay. Bucky only seem to lay still when you laid down with him, and he only settled after you let him take your fingers into his mouth again.

The action of just sucking and licking put him in a much calmer state, Bucky’s eyes drooping as he melted against the pillow, even as he still stared at you with such intensity. Seeing him fall asleep so easily after everything made it bearable that he was suckling on your fingers and soaking your pillow in drool. You would figure this out, one way or another. Even if it meant letting Bucky drool all over you until you did.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 7)

Masterpost

Danny was very happy to be dragged around by Damian being introduced to all of his pets, first outside to the barn to meet Bat Cow and his ducks, and the giant weird dragon creature which was so cute!! It was all over Danny too, obviously liked him. Danny had a feeling if he woke up from nightmares or couldn’t sleep he would end up finding his way back to the barn to cuddle up with these animals. At this time of year it would probably be a bit cold and night but the cold never really bothered him and Goliath was warm. 

Then back into the house to meet all of the pets, the dogs, and snakes, and Alfred the cat, and finally a second cat and her kittens. 

“This one is just a foster,” Damian said, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed in a half lotus as Danny sat on the floor next to the box the mama cat was in with her four little ones. Danny felt like he might cry, it was so cute! The mama was a little wary of him but he was easing her way into her trust and good graces.

“Mhm?” Danny sounded, he was listening but he was scared to move since the mama cat was sniffling his fingers.

“I found her while she was heavily pregnant, feral cats usually have kittens in spring, at this time of year they would have been too vulnerable outside. I’ll rehome them when they’re old enough,” Damian explained. “I was glad I got her to trust me enough that I could be present and make sure nothing went wrong while she had the babies.”

Danny held his breath as he tried to pet the cat. The quiet stretching between them until he felt ready to talk without scaring the cat. “Am I your next pregnant stray,” Danny joked.

Damian gave him a guarded look over. “... I have been told humans don’t like being compared to animals,” He said bluntly, and Danny laughed. 

“Ya most don’t. But you take very good care of your animals, when you’re making this comparison, I’m guessing what you’re trying to say is that you’ll do what you can do be here for me and make sure I have what I need for me and the babies to be healthy and safe?” Danny said, giving Damian a fond smile. 

“Yes,” Damian said stiffly. This was why he usually preferred animals, they could read his intentions and didn’t require him to say such embarrassingly vulnerable things. At least Danny was saying them for him so he just had to agree. 

Danny finished petting the cat and moved to sit next to Damian on the bed. “It’s okay Damian, I really appreciate that. I know handling these emotions can be hard, they feel too big for our bodies and they’re hard to express. I’ll let you in on a secret though, they’re more easy to express physically, and I’m not made of glass just because I’m pregnant. We should spar later.”

“Are you formally trained?” Damian asked stiffly. 

“My mother was an expert martial artist and she taught me, but I’m very strong too. I promise you won’t hurt me Damian,” He promised, bumping his shoulder against the kid’s and giving him a smile. 

“Alright, I will go easy on you.” Damian promised, just as stiffly.

“Until I prove you can’t afford to,” Danny joked and Damian scoffed and shoved Danny’s shoulder. “But really, thank you Damian. It means a lot that you and your family are willing to stick your necks out for me like this.” He sighed, if he didn’t know better he might have wished his parents had been the ones to protect and support him like this, but wishes were dangerous things.

“This family is made entirely of strays, tragedy is a prerequisite. You’ll fit right in,” Damian promised before getting up from the bed, apparently that was enough emotion. “Do you want to train now?” he asked looking back at Danny. 

“Sure, I assume this being the home of the bats and birds there’s some sort of training space?” Danny asked getting up from the bed. 

“Yes. This way,” Damian agreed and trotted out of the room with Danny on his heels, making sure to close the door behind him so none of the kittens could wander out. 

--------

Jason took off his helmet and dropped it on the couch with a sigh of relief before wandering back into the kitchen to grab a drink. So what if he was technically still too young for it? He’d done a lot worse just in the last 24 hours then half a glass of scotch. He had been off grid for a couple of days on a mission and had just gotten home. He was exhausted and half of him wanted to have his drink and go to bed, leaving his phone off for another day so he could get a proper rest. 

But he had responsibilities, both to his gang, his turf, and more recently even to his family, so he turned it back on and grimaced when more than a dozen notifications popped up in a row. Damn, something big must have happened while he was gone. Why could there never be just a quiet day around here?!

He opened the most recent message from Bruce that just said; ‘can you call me when you have the chance?’ which made him sigh. But at the same time, it wasn’t urgent, it was ���when he had a chance’ not immediately or anger about him not answering sooner. So knowing that he scrolled back down to the oldest message so he could get a feel of what was going on.

Cas, 28 hours ago: New brother! 🤗

Oh, well that was a very good start to the context, it seemed that Bruce was in the process of adopting some other poor schmuck. Well, hopefully they’d do better by it then Jason had. And explained why Bruce wanted him to call, he always worried now how Jason would react to new siblings, as if he wasn’t well over that. He’d only been mad about Tim at first but he wasn’t even Really mad at Tim anymore! Ya he felt the urge to attack him regularly, but only the same way Jason did with everyone else in the family now.

Tim 22 hours ago: I’ve got a favour to ask, or maybe a tip for you depending on how much you want to kill someone right now. Vlad Masters brought a pregnant 16 year old to the gala last night. Apparently he’s the baby daddy. 

Oh that had Jason seeing green, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl. That man was good as dead, especially when Jason paused to google him and saw someone who must have been old enough to be the kids Father, if not even grandfather judging by the gray hair! 

Tim 19 hours ago: Don’t rush in! Turns out he’s got superpowers of the magical variety. You’re going to have to prepare for this one, and talk to Danny.

Danny must be the new kid then, the pregnant 16 year old Bruce was no doubt making quick steps to at least foster. Where were the kid’s parents in this? 

Tana 16 hours ago: Please make sure your wards are set up and you have that anti-possession charm we gave you. There is a situation still developing. 

Huh, well, good to know both that she was involved and what sort of powers they might be dealing with. 

Tim 8 hours ago: We have the parents in custody but didn’t have the resources to hold Masters. Danny and his sister are staying at the manor for now. You’ll like her, tough-as-nails red head.

Jason rolled his eyes, he dated one amazon and now everyone thinks the only people he’s into are tough ladies! He likes tough boys too god damn it! Why doesn’t no one get after Dickie about this?! (He knows they do.)

The last text from the family before Bruce’s was one from Damian, which was rare.

Damian: Hello Todd, you should know before you meet him that Danny has also previously died and come back. I believe you and he are quite similar and I do not know if that will mean you get along well or if you will repel one another. You should know that if you hurt him there will be consequences. 

Well wasn’t that just the cutest! Demon brat didn’t usually get attached to new people so soon.

He texted Bruce back: No I will Not call you. But I can be bribed to come for dinner tomorrow if Alfred makes lasagna. 

He checked the messages he had from his lieutenants about business and replied to the ones that needed it. Then the ones from his friends. He was just about to turn his phone off again when he got a text back from Bruce. 

Bruce: Done, we’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry Jay.

Well that was ominous. Jason sighed and turned off his phone, setting it down on the coffee table and heading to bed. He needed to fucking sleep. Whatever the hell Bruce was sorry for could wait until tomorrow.

--------

Bruce had asked Jasmine for a copy of her slideshow, and Tim for a copy of his notes and updated the files on Danny, Jasmin, Damian, and Jason. He always felt a bit odd about the files he had on his own children, but they were important! Both because his memory wasn’t infallible and he needed to remember all this, and because if he needed to tell someone about his children quickly it was good to have all that already typed out and ready.

Not he was just sitting at the Bat-Computer, staring at the cover picture of the slide show. All of them were so young, and all dead or irrevocably changed by the actions of adults around them. His goal, all their goals, had always been to make a safer world for children, and everyone but especially children. And every time he was confronted with the abject failure to protect a child it tore at his heart. If he found who had blocked them from contacting the JL he was going to have very strong words with them.

“You can’t save every child Master Bruce,” Alfred said making Bruce jump. He must have been staring at the computer for longer then he realized, to not notice the butler’s approach. “There are billions of people on the planet, you cannot catch every single one, especially the clever ones who hide it well. They’re responsible for the harm they cause, not you for not being able to stop it.”

They’d had this conversation before when Bruce got too hanged up on the people he’d failed. He knew that wallowing didn’t do any good, and depression got in the way of action, but he couldn’t always help it. As hyper-logical as he tried to be to compensate, he was still human, and seeing these things would always hurt.

“It’s not just Danny and Jazz,” Bruce said, rubbing his face. “It’s Jason too, I’m trying to figure out how… how what Jazz said about liminals and ghost changes how I feel about him. She says they can look like their immoral but it’s always amoral, following their obsession. I feel like I failed him that this is how he came back. And I blamed him so much, and put him down so much. She said their obsessions have to be supported, if they don’t indulge in their obsessions they die.

“No wonder he’s reacted so negatively every time I talked to him about this revenge quest, this thing that he’s doing. Now that I know I wonder if we can compromise, if we can’t then what? I don’t know if I can blame him at all for what he’s doing, but I know what he’s doing is wrong. I don’t know what to do Alfred.” Bruce said, rubbing his face hard.

“Well, it sounds to me you’re putting the cart before the horse Master Bruce. You haven’t even spoken to him about it yet, and you haven’t slept in more than 24 hours. Sleep, then talk to him, then you’ll know how worried to actually be,” Alfred advised.

“You’re right, as usual,” Bruce chuckled and got up, shutting down the bat computer. “What would I do without you,” He chuckled, patting Alfred’s shoulder affectionately. 

“I’m sure you’d be just fine,” Alfred said, in a tone that made it clear he was just being polite and a playful twinkle in his eyes that made Bruce laugh. 

“Thank you Alfie. Let’s all get some rest.”

Next

[adaelines]

afab but gender neutral reader, horny as fuck smut, ada and leon competing for your attention! theyre both in love with you and wanna prove that you should be theirs.. wrote this in one night bc i wanna fuck both of them so bad lmao

To others, working with two people with as much renown as Ada and Leon might seem lucky. Missions with Leon always go easy, he's known for his strength and capability. A mission with Leon by your side is always a good mission, no matter the danger, you know he's there to protect you. Ada is the same, the few that know her naming her deadly, a woman who isn't afraid to do anything she needs to get what she wants. You know that all too well, just how stubborn she can be when she truly wants something.

You've known Leon longer, worked with him enough times to even call him a friend, but you can't deny the immediate spark you feel everytime Ada 'intrudes' on your missions, as Leon puts it. He always seems so bitter towards her, and anytime you're involved, it seems to turn almost malicious. Leon would never hurt her unless provoked to, you know that, but the way his eyes turn dark and he stands between you, almost shielding you from her, you can't help but feel like there's something more going on. 

What you don't know, don't see, is the way they both rush to be the one by your side, the one to help you up if an enemy downs you, the one to defend you. They both want you to see them as someone you can trust, someone you can rely on with anything. 

Leon is more gentle, forward. A soft smile that's reserved for only you and firm touches, a hand on your back whilst he guides you, always stood between you and anything he sees as dangerous, even the woman he currently sees himself at war with. Like a guard dog, willing to do anything if it means keeping you safe, he's always the one backing you up in any conflict and watching.

Ada, however, is more discreet. She protects you just as much, watches and never lets you come into danger that's avoidable, never lets anyone else get in the way of your mission. Defeating enemies before they can see you, before you can see them, locking doors if she thinks what's behind it is too dangerous for you. She knows you can take care of yourself, that you're strong, but she likes knowing you're safe, that she helped in keeping you safe.

Between them, you were very rarely in danger. Even when you did end up fighting someone, usually with no other choice, you saw the way Leon's eyes darkened, like a cornered, feral dog. He's dangerous, and he proves it when you're involved. Ada is the same. You don't get to see her fight as much, you're not partners with her like you are Leon, but there was a time you and her ended up together alone, and you saw just how strong she was, how far she was willing to go for you.

The unfounded, in your opinion, rivalry is how you ended up where you were, practically sitting on Leon's lap as you leant back against him, Ada knelt between your legs with her arms wrapped under your thighs, her grip firm. You were meant to be focused on a mission, but a situation that left you a little too close to danger for their liking ended up with them needing to punish you, as they put it. 

Your shirt was bunched above your chest, shoved up by Leon's hands, currently groping your chest harshly, pinching your nipples and holding the fat of your chest tight. His grip was so rough it left you whining, head thrown back against his shoulder, which gave him the perfect angle to kiss along your jaw, your neck. His affection made Ada hum against your cunt, a noise that told you she was less than pleased. Her nose was buried in the wiry hair, mouth altering between your clit and hole. 

Ada's gaze was overwhelming, her eyes full of fire and utter need. From her place between your thighs, she could see everything Leon was doing to you, and it only caused her to work harder. She wanted to be the one to make you feel good, it was going to be her name you moaned, not some dumb puppy's who didn't know how to treat you properly. 

"C'mon, won't you be good for me, sweet thing?" Ada's voice was sultry, and when you opened your eyes to look to at her, you couldn't help the moan you let out. Her touch, her words, the utter love and affection in her eyes… It was almost too much, and if it wasn't for Leon's sharp pinch of your nipples, you could have gotten lost in her. 

"For you? As if," Leon's voice was gruff in return, teeth gently resting on your pulse, "You still think too much of yourself, it's not going to be you they're good for." 

The whine you let out in response was loud, one hand coming up to tangle in Ada's hair, the other placed on Leon's forearm. Your grip on both of them was tight, tight enough that you knew it would hurt, but you were too distracted, too out of it to even notice, not that they complained about your nails digging into them. 

In response, Leon bit down on your neck, harsh enough to hurt, to leave a mark of his teeth that'll last a while, a reminder of who left it there and the position you were currently in. Ada simply chuckled, a low noise that vibrated against you, and flattened her tongue to lick from your hole up to your clit. She may have been on her knees before you, but she was completely in control over you, owned you, as she would put it. 

Between them like this, the overwhelming attention from both of them, it was so much. You wanted to close your eyes, hide away from them, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away. Leon's large hands on your chest, his mouth on your neck and shoulders, all while Ada ate you out like a woman starved, like she was lost in a desert and you were the only respite.

"C'mon, stop looking at her," Leon's voice was low in your ear, quiet enough that Ada wouldn't hear, "You're mine, right? I own you and this cunt. No one could ever make you feel as good as i can. Prove it." 

"C-an't! 's too much…!" 

Your voice was shaky, an octave higher than usual thanks to the attention you were receiving.

"It's okay, sweetheart, moan my name and I'll stuff you full, you just need my cock, huh? Such a sweet thing, I'll ruin you.."

Ada let out a low hum against your clit, bringing one hand from your thigh to gently press against your hole. Her gaze went to Leon, almost glaring and full of malice, before returning to you, returning to the loving, affectionate focus for you. She couldn't hear Leon, but she could tell he was trying to get your attention away from her, away from her touch and tongue against you.��

Just as Leon moved in to kiss you, Ada pushed her fingers inside of you, harsh and quick enough for you to let out a loud whine and jolt. She quickly cooed an apology, voice almost mocking.

"Aw, I'm sorry, love. Was that too much? Just can't help myself, it's not my fault you're just too cute… I just want to make you feel good, make you all mine…"

Leon didn't react well to that, not by the tight pinch he gave your nipple, the low noise he made against your neck was almost a growl. Calling him possessive would be an understatement, covering you in hickies and bruises that marked you as his and his, even with the woman between your thighs. To him, she wasn't there, she wasn't the one making you feel good, he was, and that's all he cared about. 

Even as you got closer to release, as your pleasure climbed and all you could focus on was humping against Ada's face, holding Leon's arm as tight as you could, you could feel the competition between them, feel that they each wanted to prove to you just who could make you feel best.

Leon's lips were right against your ear, whispering how good you were being for him, even looking so slutty you were so gorgeous, won't you be mine? I'll take care of you, make you feel good, you'll never have to raise a finger again. I'll do anything for you, y'know? all you have to do is cum for me, only for me, you'll be so happy together… be a good whore and cum. I'll fuck you hard, fast, rough, anything you want. You'll be so dumb off of my cock you won't even be able to think about anything else, only how deep inside of you I can reach.

His words, mixed with Ada's attention to your clit, her fingers pressing into you harshly, filling you as much as she could, promises of more, of what she can do for you, to you, quickly finished your off, your back arching against Leon's chest, both hands gripping tightly, one still in Ada's hair, the other still on Leon's arm. Both of them let out their own noises as you came. Leon a quiet groan, eyes closing as he gently pressed kisses against your jaw, whilst Ada moaned against you, eyes closed tight as she drank everything you offered, holding you as close to her face as she could, even when you tried to jolt away in overstimulation.

Ada pulled away, the grim on her face proud, still full of desire.

"What a good little thing for me, you taste so delicious too…"

"Excuse me? For you? No, that was all for me…"

They weren't done with you, with their competition for your affection. It was going to be a very long night.

[diejager]

I loved your hybrid bunny reader:) like imagine any cod characters with Feral! hybrid wolf reader that they found on a mission or something. I don’t really care where it goes from there

(Just deleted it if your not interested)

Wolfie

Pairing: CoD men x feral!Wolf!hybrid!reader

Cw: uh… feral reader? Tell me if I missed any. wc: 1.8k

It was a recon mission, scouring the area for any trap and stragglers, not a scantily-clothed hybrid with sharp ears curving backwards in aggression and the matted and dirty fur on the tail. They were searching the forested area for danger and any surprises, but they hadn’t expected to pick up a stray, a feral wolf huddled into the darkness of a tree’s roots, growling at them from your little hideout between the roots in the pit you dug yourself.

Soap was the first to take the initiative, crouching down to your home, showing you his empty hands and whispering comforting promises to your growling and shaking figure. He slowly approached you, a smile spread wide on his face despite the increasingly loud growls and the raised hair on your ears and tail. His soft smile and comforting hand coaxed you out of your hideout, crawling out on your hands and knees, palms bloodied and crusted with calluses and knees hard with throbbing and irritated skin.

Although you seemed more approachable, Gaz did so from the side, his gentler and more logical thinking had him act more hesitantly towards you, a bit more cautious and fearing that he’d scare you away or make you act out if you were spooked. He’d seen a few hybrids in the past, getting to know some quips and behaviours of a hybrid. He has a bag of peanuts, showing you the unopened packet of salted nuts for you to eat, to which you perked up with curiosity. Gaz’s smile grew much wider when your shaky hands took his gift, sharp claws ripping a hole into the plastic to grab a peanut.

From then on, they kept you, ushering you to their temporary base and having you washed from all the dirt and soot that stuck on you from your days in the wilderness, lost, alone and afraid. They took you in, watching over you with a guarded and protective hold. You moved when they moved, joining them on every flight if they were going to use a temporary base until you were trained in combat and tactics to join them in the field. Ghost personally saw to your training, being hands-on and attentive with you, hands holding you or moving you into the right position or giving you cues.

When you’re qualified enough, Price gave you a proud ruffle, messing up your while he smiled pridefully at your accomplishment. He let you cuddle up with him that night, nose pressing against the skin under his jaw with soft crooning from your throat, bathing him in your scent before you went to the others. It was a ritual you often did every few days, snuggling against them and scenting them.

Gaz in the morning, after breakfast and before he went to do his drill. Soap after the drills and fresh out of the shower, cuddling up to him in the Task Force’s rec room. Ghost in the afternoon, when the place was calmer and him, less stressed and tense from the day's work, tiredly working on some paperwork while you snuggled up to him. Finally, Price when he went to sleep, his bed became your bed during these nights.

You meet Alejandro and Rodolfo on another Joint Task Force Op in Mexico to bust a trafficking ring led by the cartel and supported by many international groups around the world, whom you’ll have to take down one by one in their times. You were tasked with tracking the trafficked people rather than having any K9s, your nose and mind sharper than any dog could be, trained and skillful as well.

You were on edge when you first landed, shoulders squared and head held high, posturing your possession of your team. They stared at you, confused with your sudden change of attitude, from relaxed and grinning to aggressive and protective, until they saw a few dog hybrids and cat hybrids running around. You could smell them from the moment you landed, most were domesticated animals, but there were a few ocelots, jaguars, coyotes and pumas, yet no wolves.

Rudy was openly praising you, welcoming you the moment they saw you pop out behind the men. He thought you were a dog, maybe a husky, so when you snarled at him for touching your ears, he backed away, shocked, but not offended. Price explained that you were a wolf hybrid, coat thicker and courser than the soft fur of a husky, but it could become softer after a shower with conditioner on your tail and ears. Ultimately, you let him pet and touch you after he won your respect, trusting him enough to let your guard down and doze off beside him. Maybe you’d scent him one day, adding him to your pack, he’d like that.

Alejandro’s professionalism kept him at a distance, restraining his excitement and giddiness of meeting the 141’s hybrid, their first one. Unlike Rudy, whose rank was closer to yours, Alejandro had to keep in mind that he was a colonel from a foreign military and a stranger to you. He waited until the first expedition, watching the men depend on your cognitive abilities. You were sharper than the dog or coyote hybrids the Los Vaqueros had, you stalked like a wolf, you hunted, acted and killed like one, fast and ruthless. He could outwardly say that he admired your skills, and how well taught you were (to which you smiled and stuck to Ghost, showing Alejandro that Ghost had been the one to train you). 

By the time the Op in Mexico came to term, you felt dejected at leaving, head lowered and ears pointing downward, you were pouting up until you were strapped down, lips pulled in a frown and teary puppy eyes. Alejandro kissed your calloused knuckles and Rudy brought you in his arms, embracing you, they let you scent them one last time before you left, promising that it wouldn't be the last time you see them.

In an unfortunate - or fortunate - turn of events, SpecGru and KorTac had the same objective, meeting up to form a temporary alliance between both PMCs. Unlike your PMC, KorTac was actively recruiting hybrids for their skill set and abilities, so you clashed a lot with the allied hybrids. You clashed with Roze and Horangi a few times, growling at the cougar and tiger hybrid. You outwardly showed your distrust and aggression towards them, wanting to protect your pack even though you knew they were your allies, you just couldn’t ignore your instincts. Even König, the giant bear hybrid, wasn’t free of your aggression, it was laughable to see the smaller wolf hybrid bare their teeth at the giant bear hybrid - a Kodiak bear. 

Ghost would scruff you, holding you back from jumping at them (although he wanted to let you tear through them) until you calmed down, and when you did, seeing past your aggression and protective mindset, you were great company. The Kodiak bear was a ball of anxiety compared to your more sociable character, nearly flinching back when you popped out beside him, smile wide and friendly as he blinked through his shock. He’s the first you befriend, having a lot in common with your sharp senses and predatory needs, seemingly feral rather than calm like the feline predators in KorTac. You were even tempted to ask König to be a part of your pack, wanting to snuggle up with him and co-scent, letting him drown you in his musk and him in your softer pheromones. 

Horangi was a bit harder to approach, his demeanour much too different from yours, but he tolerated you until he didn’t have a choice but to like you with how often König spoke about you and how much he smelled like you. You were a bit too rambunctious and feral for him, but he managed, letting you sit next to him while he cleaned his guns, head tilted to the side and staring at him like a curious pup would. If he forgot the times you shot and growled at him, he found you adorable, from your little shows of possessiveness to your feral aggression when you ripped into an enemy. He wouldn’t let you scent him like König did, but he wasn’t against the idea of scenting you, marking you as his property.

Even the solitary Roze and Mace warmed up to you, watching you run around the base doing something because you couldn’t sit still and do nothing, you had to be in movement and busy, but still stalking and observant, it helped you stay alive in the wilderness. She would flash a smirk your way when you did something that demanded her approval, whispering with Callisto - a posh cat, feline in her manners - about your job well done. “Comme un petit chiot,” the Frenchwoman would laugh. 

Mace reminded you of Ghost with his metallic skull strapped to his face, something that eased you into liking him, but he was human, unlike the many hybrids you often sparred with. He didn’t have a nose that could smell you from a distance or ears that could hear you stalk behind him, Mace was much easier to get to know than any enemy hybrids. No silent rivalry or competition for dominance between predators, he was simply human and more understanding. 

Working alongside other hybrids was something you had to learn, to hold good communication and trust, good thing wolves were sociable and pack animals. It was a learning experience for you, with Horangi teaching you how to control your ferality, to be calmer and less reckless, and with König mentoring you into using your wildness to hunt better, similarly to how he bulldozes into the enemies and ambushing them with a violent entrance. It was a surprise to see you as dejected to see them leave as you did with Los Vaqueros, fated to go back to being rivals until the time called for another allegiance.   

Extra: 

Nikolai had brought someone from the disbanded armistice back to work with the Task Force, a chaotic and violent man exiled from the KSK. Sebastian Krueger was a man who could and would create chaos and laugh while he did, but he was also rational and intuitive. In other words, Krueger was a menace to society and a perfect match for you. He greeted you like an owner would greet his dog, ruffling you and cooing at you with praises and affection. He was unaffected by your growling and biting, welcoming it with a boisterous laugh while he loomed over you with a veiled face and wide shoulders. 

You’d mistake him for a bear hybrid if you didn’t know any better. With his strong build and violent attitude, he could’ve been a grizzly, but no, he was a human with a grizzly’s behaviour. He was rough on the edge and caring at heart, much like König, but he wasn’t socially crippled, Krueger was a solitary person, preferring his solitude and quietness. That, however, doesn’t stop him from whisking you away to his side, a large hand on your thigh to keep you next to him and manhandling you as he pleased to nuzzle and bite like a chew toy. 

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[moongreenlight]

What if your brain tells you that nurse!reader from the previous fic was on the field with the boys as an on call medic and gets taken as a POW and ghost is losing his fucking mind?? - like actual feral behavior

Ohhhhhhhhhmygod. Hi? I’m in your walls. So mad I didn’t see this before because I’ve been SLAVING over a Simon fic all week and this apparently is the motivation I needed to put some more batshit insane things on the internet forever.

We all know that Simon is a fucking machine. Prides himself on his ability to essentially turn off his humanity on the field. But for some reason his nurse!reader is the one thing that interrupts that ability. Even seeing you treating a few rowdy privates gets him worked up. Lingers around the medbay in his free time for no apparent reason just to side eye your patients and glare at them to make sure there’s absolutely no possibility of you getting hurt.

There was probably an occasion where you were treating a soldier who didn’t fare well with pain. Moaning and crying and thrashing while you did something simple like tuck their arm into a sling, and they somehow writhed around enough to hook you in the cheek with their elbow. Nothing serious, but it left an angry red mark on your cheek for so long that he caught it on one of your evening walks around base. Usually after dark so you could both avoid being found out.

And then the next day you see Simon dragging that same soldier to a different nurse’s bed under the armpits. Explaining gruffly that he went unconscious because he couldn’t handle training. (He made the poor bastard run the track in full tactical gear on one of the hottest days of the year for nearly an hour straight. No water. No breaks.)

You were the kindest, softest thing he’d ever come in contact with. Something he never thought he’d be able to find in this lifetime after so much hate and anger and pain. He couldn’t risk losing you, which is why he was so strict on his saying no to you joining the task force on the field. The shit they did was dangerous. Immensely so. And this brought up two main points for Simon.

One; he wouldn’t be able to focus on the task at hand knowing you were out. He slept with one eye open when you were nestled close to his chest and snoring softly in the comfort of your own home that he’d all but booby-trapped home alone style. No fucking way he’d allow you out into hostile territory with only a introductory understanding of self-defense. He’d be on pins and needles the entire mission. Probably get the entire squad killed because he’d constantly be looking over his shoulder for you.

Two; it would rip him to shreds if he lost you. You were the only person he truly saw as an equal. The first time the two of you met, he was probably being angsty and rude because he did something to land himself in the medbay, and when he refused to take off his tact vest so you could listen to his heart and lungs, you all but held him at scalpel-point and threatened him within an inch of his life until he finally submitted. After that he was fucking hooked. Obsessed with the way you could get brutes like him to roll over and show you their belly like obedient dogs. And you were kind to him. Immeasurably kind. Dealt with his mood swings and took the time to get to know him. Suffered through the impossibly long process of him letting his guard down.

So if somehow his orders were ignored, it was almost certain that you’d be given strict orders to keep your involvement under wraps. Price would have enough of an idea of the situation to keep the two of you on opposite schedules in the days leading up to deployment. Minimize the possibility of you letting slip that you’d be coming along to preserve not only the integrity of his team but also his quality of life.

It would seem like a regular day to Simon at first. Loading into the helo before dawn, sitting between Johnny and Gaz and trying to tune them out while they snarked at one another across him. And then Price would come on looking guilty as sin. You could practically smell it coming off him. Leaning both his arms on the open door and signaling the driver to start the engine for a quick take off in case Simon decided to abandon ship in his outrage.

He’d give some spiel about teamwork and the importance of focusing on the mission and whatever other bullshit he thought would keep Simon the most level headed. Spewing on and on until Gaz finally cut him off with a pointed yawn. At which point he’d give the group one last look, lingering the longest on the ghost mask, before stepping aside to reveal you.

Dressed up in a uniform that looked about a size too big. Tailored as best it could be in the short notice. Pants chopped and hemmed to make them a manageable length, belt pulled as tight as it could go around your waist. Strapped into a vest that was loaded with medical supplies instead of weapons. Two pistols holstered on your either side.

Simon was beyond livid. Spouting steam like a cartoon bull. Staggering to stand when the chopper took off and stalking over to the cockpit where Price sat and tried to look casual.

Gave him a fucking earful. Screaming over the roar of the engine into the earpiece on a private channel for the entire two hour long flight. Bitching about paperwork and dead weight and how it’s just another person he’ll need to look after and he doesn’t want to. It’s almost impressive. Price doesn’t get a word in sideways. Gets shut down immediately if he even dares to open his mouth.

And he’s a monster when he finds out you’ve been taken POW. Circled by the enemy team like ravenous wolves finding a wounded deer. Soap and Gaz both have to pin him down when Price breaks the news. Seeing fucking red.

A large part of me thinks he internalizes a lot of the torture he went through in the comics. Letting it sit and fester inside him like the worst kind of poison that it took him years to meticulously extract from his very being and carefully contain into a small vial. Laying dormant in the back of his mind for a moment like this. He had no idea what the enemy wanted with you, so he had to assume the worst.

Storms their base by himself. Sniffs you out through a maze of bunkers and underground tunnels and infinitely many heavily secured doors. And the rest of the force just watches his six. Stands back feeling a little nauseous, but letting him blaze down his war path. Any and everyone who gets in his way is guilty unless they can prove their innocence- and they don’t get the chance. Runs through all his ammo gunning down countless grunts and privates stationed outside the base of planted as decoys. Specifically demanding that Price be the one to give up his weapons and ammo so he can continue on. And it’s the one time that the captain allows him to snarl orders like that.

Price knows that Simon is, in his core, a fighting dog. Rescued by the force and given an opportunity to channel his aggression into a more productive outlet. And now it seems all his hard work and training is coming unraveled. Watching Simon once again snap his jaws and bare his teeth, killing without rhyme or reason to get you back, is jarring to say the least. So in some last-ditch effort to preserve some of the trust that they’d built, he surrenders. Shows his belly. Shrugs off his rifle with no objection other than the way his mouth drew into a tight line.

Simon kicks through heavy metal reinforced doors without the need for a battering ram. Pushes himself well past the point of exhaustion. Fueled purely off the instinctual need to recover you. He can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t drink. Can’t stop.

He’d mow through the first few ranks of soldiers until they finally found someone that looked like they’d have at least a sliver of useful information and beat them within an inch of their life until they gave up the information that would eventually lead him to you.

In all honesty, you were probably taken with the intent to lure them in. Not anticipating your absence would have such an impact. Kept you bound in a guarded room. Roughed up a bit just from your struggle, but they hadn’t had time to interrogate you before they got word that 141 was coming in wild and sideways.

This would send Simon even further into madness. Body aching, bleeding from his knuckles. His knees and shoulders screaming their protest when he broke down the door, sending it crashing into the room. And the first thing he sees is you huddled in a corner blindfolded and bound with handcuffs that were cutting into your wrists from your trying to escape. He’d be an entirely different person. (I am giggling and kicking my feet.)

He wouldn’t even bother wasting time with the rifle. He’d handle what few guards were left with his bare hands. Possessed by some kind of superhuman strength. Catching a second wind the moment he laid eyes on you. He’d rush over, the rest of the boys standing guard in the hallway, and break you free from your restraints.

And as much as I would want him to be sweet and coddle you and coo over you, he’d probably be riding such a high that he wouldn’t be able to. He’d immediately start in on you, but with significantly less ferocity than he had with Price.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish? Think they’d turn you into a martyr for bein’ a medic on the field? Real original fuckin’ concept, yeah?”

He’d pull you in close to him, giving you an incredibly detailed once over. Inspecting your face and neck and arms legs for any further damage, and once he determined after three checks that all your wounds were purely superficial, he’d allow his hands to shake just slightly when he smoothed your hair back off your forehead.

[whateveriwant]

Hey! I love your writing so much, and I was wondering if you could do 141 HCs with an albino GN!reader? Or a reader with tics but not tourettes? Either or!! Have a lovely day!

I'm sorry it took me a little while to get to this, anon! I went with the second option!

Ghost

Can you say 'twinsies'? Because Ghost definitely can 👯‍♀️

I can totally see Ghost having tics of his own – motor ones specifically, mostly confined to his face, but you wouldn't know it because they're always hidden by his masks

Thus, when he first notices you ticking, he immediately clocks it for what it is and he (almost giddily) thinks to himself 'Finally! Someone who gets me'

Because of this, he quickly becomes your second shadow, following you around everywhere like a little big puppy

Naturally, he'll get incredibly protective over you, especially when it comes to people who stare or make comments under their breath or even outright approach you and ask something rude regarding your tics

If he catches anyone doing anything of the sort, then he goes into scary dog mode real quick: arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side, an intimidating silence as he glares with a gaze so menacing it could melt steel

Price

With a man as sharp and attentive as Price, much like Ghost, he takes instant notice of your tics

And as protective as Price is, he'd probably get fairly concerned about you to the point where he even pulls you aside one day to have a little chat

He knows that… tics, he thinks they're called, aren't necessarily indicative of anything health-wise, but he just wants to make sure that you're okay; that there isn't anything he can do for you

Even after assuring him that you're perfectly fine and healthy and good, that doesn't stop him from looking out for you like you're his own flesh and blood

Similar to Ghost, if he sees anyone staring or making snide comments about you, then he's definitely going to step in and shut that down

However, rather than giving them an I'll tear your spine out through your throat look à la Ghost, he'll mutter something in their ear – the specifics of which you're unsure, but it always has them making a swift, shaky-legged departure

Gaz

While he too notices your tics, Gaz would never ever mention them out of respect for you and your privacy

He would wait for you to be the one to bring it up, should you ever choose to, that is. And if you never do, well, that's a-ok to him. Whatever you're willing to divulge, he'll be there waiting without pressure or judgment

However, if you were to talk to him about it (and thus invite a conversation) then prepare yourself for a barrage of questions

He doesn't ask them meaning to be offensive or intrusive or whatever; he's simply curious. He just wants to get to know you well, and that means knowing what makes you uniquely you

Unlike the other 141 men, if he notices someone bothering you about your tics, he's not going to directly (more like aggressively) confront them over it

Instead he'd harmlessly distract them, drawing their attention onto himself until they've completely forgotten all about their interest in bugging you

Soap

This man, bless his heart, would be totally, astoundingly oblivious of your tics even if they punched him in the face

In fact, the closer you become with him, the more he finds himself unconsciously start to mimic them

Kind of like when you like someone and so you start mirroring their movements/patterns of speech? Yeah, it's like that but with your tics

Of course, if you were to say something about it (and especially if you said it made you uncomfortable), he'd immediately apologize, explain how he wasn't even aware he was doing it, and make sure he never does it again

Like with Ghost and Price, if Soap noticed someone being rude towards you, he'd go into guard dog mode, but he is the most feral by far

He'd be all up in their face, furious, practically foaming at the mouth as he yells to "Mind yer own fuckin' business while you've still got workin' legs to mind with!" … only to turn to you afterwards all sunshine and rainbows like he didn't just tear that person a new one 😇

[thegnomelord]

Additional idea while my brain still works: cowboy/farm TF141 AU;

Imagine you're a cowboy who raises sheep, like huge fucking flock, then one day you go out and there's just a big ass black bull with white skull markings in your back yard. None of your distant neighbours raise cattle and your workers don't know where he came from, you have half a mind to sell him but he turns out really sweet and a good guard for your sheep so you keep him. You're even more surprised when you're out in the pasture he's following after you like a puppy.

Then other animals start appearing.

Soap's a wild Clydesdale draft stallion you adopt after your old mare dies from old age, you're warned is feral as they come(bit off more than one man's finger), but are amazed when he doesn't even try to kick you when you pass his stall. He bucks you off plenty of times before you get him broken in, then he's just a mild headache when he keeps stealing your cowboy hat(and everything else)

Price is a Tibetan mastiff you adopt from the shelter since you decide you need a guard dog and he's so fucking big and cuddly. And he takes his job seriously, guards your sheep from wild coyotes and other animals but always whines to be let inside.

Gaz nearly gives you a heart attack when you walk out and see a fucking cougar, which your government labeled as a 'bobcat', just sitting on top of your new bull and neither of them give a fuck, you're creeped out when it just lays down like a pet cat and demands pets. You try to shoo it away many times but he just sticks around and you don't know how but you end up with a cougar purring in your lap on the couch.

Graves is still a mangy coyote you mistake for a malnuorished and abused dog. You keep him as a house pet until he's back to health then use him as an additional farm dog, thought you get the impression your other animals don't like him a lot :/

They all enjoy having you around, especially as you're so tired at night you sleep like the dead and they have free reign of your house to be pervs. On hot days you best believe they're watching you do mundane shit without a shirt on or Soap purposely splashes you with water so you need to take your shirt off.

Then you wake up one night to find Johnny and Gaz raiding your fridge...

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive

A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.

The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.

-

The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.

"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"

"I'd like to go home, please."

"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"

"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."

"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."

The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Douma/Doma with a pregnant S/O - SFW+NSFW Headcanons

This was requested just after the Akaza version of these headcanons was posted - which you can find HERE - and @alastor96​ requested a Douma/Doma version (´∀｀•)

Obviously Minors DNI 

So! Without further ado, here are some headcanons for Douma/Doma with a pregnant S/O (^○^.) I hope you enjoy! 

SFW:

Genuinely thinks your joking when you tell him your pregnant - “That’s nice dear!” He says with a chirp while continuing his activity (pruning)

It takes two days for it to click that your not joking....

Douma pauses, mid-sermon, eyes blinking owlishly as the gears turn in his head before leaving to find you

Listen sometimes he’s smart and sometimes he’s downright stupid

Very apologetic and very excited!

Quickly becomes one of those men who brags about their S/O and baby

Literally manages to bring you up in conversations every single time he’s talking to someone (and no, they can’t escape)

Whenever there’s a Upper moon meeting Douma will absolutely whine and whinge about having to leave your side - “I want my wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifeeeee,” He whines (pathetically) “ I need to be with my wife and baaaaaabbbby”

Everyone gets sick of hearing him - especially akaza with his equally as pregnant wife (half the time he just ups and leaves anyway) - but they usually put up with it....kinda?

Becomes protective 

Like, SUPER protective - still threatens people sweetly with honeyed words and a saccharine smile if he thinks there too close to you but this time its more feral? politely feral??

He’s not above growling at a person 

“Maybe I should get you a guard dog?” - you don’t know if he means a actual dog or something else and you don’t bother asking cause you just say no and having to deal with his whining as he follows you around trying to convince you that you need one

You have to have at least THREE cult members with you if Douma can’t be - only the strongest members get picked of course - for protection and so you don’t have to lift a finger

When he’s with you Douma is a hover - standing as close by as possible with a new found worry about you, the baby and your body

Everything that could be a hazard to you and the baby gets removed.... very quickly...

All of your cravings are met with ease as Douma makes sure that whatever your wanting gets made - with a taste test from him to make sure that its okay to consume (you once made him cry with how spicey you wanted something)

But Douma will also make sure that your eating a balanced diet that keeps you (and the baby) healthy and happy

Also makes sure that you drink things that are good and keep you hydrated - lots of floral + herbal teas such as chamomile, lavender, ginger and mint greentea

decked out the bed with loads of blankets and pillows so your always comfy - literally went out and found the comfiest and softest materials and brought them home like a penguin bringing rocks for the nest  

Has to be the big spoon when sleeping with his hands cradling your tummy - yes, he has woken up to you shifting and moved you back into position and no, you don’t wake up since you now sleep like the dead

This man has no names picked out 

Douma was genuinely gonna call the baby “Baby” or “Child 1″

Although he does go all-out with the baby’s room - it’s already filled with beautiful items, clothes and toys 

NSFW:

Douma always enjoys fucking you in front of the mirror and that still occurs - with great pleasure

Likes it when you lean and rely on him more

Your naked pregnant body leaning against his - back to his well muscled chest - as his fingers slip inside your plush pussy with ease, leaving your essence to drip onto the bed and coat your thighs

Your form ethereal - skin dewy, flushed and eyes lined with pretty tears

Of course, he’s alot more softer with you

ALOT more

He’s less likely to push your body past its limits like he’d usually do before you were pregnant - no pushing your legs to your ears with his dick bulling your pussy and making it kiss your womb

Vanilla sex is where its at (and he actually really enjoys it) although anal is still on the table....

Takes his time more, all slow + sensual as he purrs and mewls into your kisses - breath mingling together 

Enjoys sex while spooning 

Will make sure that you know just how much you make him horny with your pretty body 

Much like Akaza, Douma does accidentally overstimulate - although sometimes its not an accident and he just anted to bully you - you until tears prick your waterline and make your lashes dewy

Fingers and mouths your pussy til you whine and moan like a whore with your pussy making lewd squelches and gushes onto him

Leaves hickies + bites all on your shoulders, neck and chest (as usual) although this time he makes sure that their more obvious - make it obvious that your his and only his and that you are worthy enough of him

Mouths, nibbles and bites with precision 

Becomes a 100% more handsy with your breasts - loves feeling them spill out between his fingers as he squeezes 

Moans when you start lactating (lust filed hearts filling his eyes when it first happens) - your milk warm and sweet as he sucks and mouths at your sensitive nipples 

Starts to bully your nipples more, until their stiff + sensitive and milk drips out as you whimper

Douma had always enjoyed fucking you raw but now he can do it as much as possible - “Can’t get a pregnant person pregnant!” is his logic 

[mychlapci]

Day 0 for reactive k9 Prowl living with the Prime is Optimus getting Ratchet to take a look at his new “dog.” Ratchet, of course, protests that hems not a veterinarian—until he actually sees Prowl. Sedated and whining on his stomach on a medical berth, optics hazy with drugs and also visible fear. Mutilated door wings hiked as high up as he can manage to tell everyone to Stay Back. Prowl even bares his teeth as threateningly as he can manage, lips curling over his fangs.

“Oh, hell, Optimus,” Ratchet just sighs. The Prime can only nod gravely. Prowl is, at least, better behaved for medical professionals than any other people. But he’s also feral, terrified, and in pain. He manages to bite Ratchet juuuust a little, holding the medic’s wrist almost gently in between his jaws. Looking kinda stunned that he managed to catch it. Ratchet just tilts his head like “really?” and waits until Prowl releases him with an almost sheepish whine. There are some very tiny tooth-shaped dents left behind, but no real damage. Ratchet ends up having to call in a door wing specialist, but the rest of the damage and stressed systems he takes care of. And then promptly prescribes Prowl anti-anxiety medication because the poor mech is so high strung.

In the weeks to come, feeling infinitely better than he can ever remember feeling, Prowl keeps trying to figure out what the Prime wants him for. He has such a diligent, considerate new owner. Prowl needs to behave and perform well so The Prime knows he’s grateful. After a few weeks, Prowl can only figure he’s supposed to be some kind of cross between a guard dog and a companion animal—why else would anyone treat a k9 so well? Sure The Prime keeps talking to him like he’s a people, but lots of civilian pet owners do that… so perhaps this is normal.

Prowl considers himself quite spoiled these days, actually. Everything here is infinitely nicer than at his precinct, as is befitting a Prime. Definitely not because they were giving the k9s the last and least of everything, no sir. But the food here is Good and Prowl can have as much as he wants. The door to the washrack is left open for him to come and go; dogs don’t open doors if they aren’t propped for them. One time he did get trapped in the washracks when the door shut and had to wait until he heard Prime calling him to bark and whine for help. And also. Prime insists that Prowl is allowed on the furniture. This is the height of luxury. His wings don’t send shoots of fiery pain anymore, his joints don’t ache, there is food *whenever he wants it*! Prowl could literally not be more spoiled.

Optimus, however, could cry at seeing how little it takes to make Prowl happier than anyone has ever seen him. This poor mech is clearly intelligent, and he withers without enough mental stimulation. Prowl is perfectly happy to heel and accompany the Prime anywhere. But he won’t get up and walk and he does not form words no matter what Optimus tries. Clearly it’s too soon to try convincing Prowl that he isn’t a dog, but it grates at him. Still, he tries to provide Prowl with as much dignity as he can. And that includes letting him bite the shit out of Jazz, sometimes.

The day he introduced him, Jazz became Prowl’s mortal enemy number 1. Because Jazz refuses to stop calling him Prowler, invades his personal space, teases and pokes at him, and won’t stop casually touching Optimus. All of which Prowl very visibly hates. He growls at Jazz and revs his engine, and the mech just laughs in his face. Sometimes Prowl’s teeth chitter from the force of trying not to bite him. And then, one day, Optimus simply says “if he bites you, it’s your fault.”

Which Prowl correctly interprets as permission to discipline this interloper! This absolute miscreant! Harrasser of working animals and invader of Primal space!!! And so obviously he bites the shit out of Jazz for sticking his fingers in Prowl’s face. Because saying “aw, he wouldn’t do that, would ya Prowler?” in such a condescending tone of voice is obviously a challenge. Ironically, this is pivotal for Prowl starting to learn that he is, in fact, a person. Prowl’s first real word will be “NO!” in response to Prime trying to invite Jazz over. This is both hilarious and also crucial for his development, so they go out for drinks instead.

Optimus is happy that Prowl has started establishing his own preferences and boundaries, of course. But he nearly cries from joy the first time he finds Prowl curled up in a praxian donut at the foot of his berth pretending to sleep. Subtly watching for his reaction, waiting to see if he’s in trouble. Finally, progress.

Owww… Optimus is so heartbroken that all it takes to make Prowl happy is literally the minimum of decency. He’s probably not constantly in pain for the first time in his life, no longer having to wait for access the washracks, he can go and leave as he pleases, energon is left out for him and he can drink as much as he wants, no longer having to sleep hungry just because the enforcers got busy and forgot to feed the units. Optimus does not know where to go from here… Giving Prowl agency was supposed to make him feel more like a person, but he seems to be convinced he’s just getting spoiled… Of course, this means Prowl is doing his best to be good and obedient for his new master, staying quiet and bowing his head to him, kneeling at his side like a good dog, always doing as he says. Optimus doesn’t know how to explain that he doesn’t need anything in return….

ahsjsjwjs I love that Jazz helps Prowl realize he’s a mech with his own boundaries and opinions. Stupid, annoying idiot! He wants nothing more than to bite him whenever he carelessly touches his owner and Prowl. This disrespect towards his role as the Prime’s companion dog is unacceptable… Jazz and Optimus are so proud.

I love to imagine Prowl sleeping at the foot of Optimus’ bed, testing the waters, pushing the boundaries, maybe… maybe showing him that he too, can sleep in a bed, just like Optimus does.

[stoutguts]

My own personal Hybrid AU??? (Also, Omegaverse). Chock full of my own personal headcanons and ideas. Unorganized/kind of rambling, really just trying to put all my thoughts to paper.

PART 3

(wish I could include everything I wrote in one post, but I yapped too much—)

Ghost is quite aggressive and brooding, the recruits fear it, find it scary or unapproachable. The deadliest and most dangerous man in the entire SAS,—no doubt. Downright cynical and impulsive, at worst. This inherent hostility and him always being on guard, this suspiciousness and unease around strangers, was not only born from his traumatic past and childhood,—but inherited from the inner mechanisms of his father’s wild nature,—he’s part wolf after all. Despite that though, the Great Pyrenees in them is just as strong,—(something of their mother’s gentle spirit lives on in them),—affectionate. A total softie, and open-minded. Amicable even, at best. Caring,—to those it trusts with all the broken and mangled pieces of its heart that is. His temperament is truly something special. Truly the definition of hot and cold. 50% wolf, 50% Great Pyrenees, an even 50/50 split between their genes,—according to a DNA test. Unforeseeable, that’s why they’re called “Ghost” (apart from their ghost-like appearance). The 1-4-1 likens it’s personality to that of a cat more than a dog. Although, he excels at just about anything and everything. It can go loud and cause a real ruckus of gunfire and bloodshed, or it can be as quiet as a mouse and strike its unsuspecting prey like a snake. Whether it’s a more “laidback” kind of mission, or he’s fighting for his life, it doesn’t matter,—his sheer adaptability and resolve for survival is enough to bring him out the other side somehow. Its specialities are simultaneously stealth missions and guerrilla warfare. Also, fantastic with knives and is a phenomenal sniper (having unusually good/superb eyesight, which makes for almost perfect aim). Probably the most efficient at getting the job done in the entirety of the 1-4-1,—a damn machine. A grim reaper of sorts. Though somehow he isn’t entirely monstrous. Unfortunately though, their feral side likes to come out more often than not, especially in one particular form.—They become just about unbearable to be around when they get their period, or when their heat comes (as they refuse to take suppressants because it “makes them feel weird”, and that it fucks with their already fucked up hormones). Snapping at every little thing and at everyone,—it becomes essentially impossible to work with it. Not to mention, his mood and temper sometimes gets to be so bad,—that it tends to affect how he performs at his job. If it weren’t (or if it isn’t) for Johnny taking care of them and helping to soothe their nerves, or fucking them colorblind and breeding them until they can’t walk,—they’d probably end up discharged for such insubordination. Leave is practically always mandatory. The worst part is that since Simon sustained an injury to his mating gland, his heat cycles are unpredictable and often random. It’s periods are also a bitch and a half. Though still both are nothing that Johnny can’t handle. Also on the bright side, periods for them are very rare and infrequent, as they regularly take testosterone. Like Soap, Ghost has some extra, pent up energy from time to time, due to the livestock guardian dog in him. Though it’s much more manageable, and not nearly as bad. They’ll sometimes join Johnny in his little escapades around base, racing him in their doggy form. It’ll always gladly join him in working out, and to help to herd their cattle that they’ve got back home. Incredibly protective and loyal as well, as all dogs with herding blood in them are. It also has a very strong hunting instinct, and prefers to catch and eat it’s prey rather than waiting in line at the butcher. They’ll go after and stalk deer or rabbits hiding out in the woodland surrounding their farm. It also has accidentally killed or injured some of it and Soap’s livestock in the past, as it loses control of it’s instincts from time to time. If there is one thing Johnny doesn’t like about his partner, it’s that. He’s always pissed naturally when this happens, because he’s a tried a true herding dog.

Whenever an incident like this happens, he feels like he’s failed at his job, which is to protect their cattle. Simon feeling extremely guilty, and more than happy to repent (in perhaps a kinky way). Despite being an omega, he definitely rivals Soap in terms of strength, and in terms of size,—he’s built like a damn truck. His canine form is huge (bigger than Johnny, though not as big as Yuri), but compact, noticeably bigger the typical size of his species. Pure muscle permeates their entire body, rippling through their fur and bulging from their skin, (perks of having wolf genes, unlike the cons). It’s undoubtedly the most terrifying and intimidating member of the 1-4-1. His bark and growling is also akin to something of a hell hound. A growl so low and deep, you can practically feel the vibrations, and the menacing energy coming off of it. And a bark that is almost deafening, with nothing but pure unbridled resentment and fury in it.

Yuri doesn’t really cause (at least too many) problems. He’s mostly unassuming. Apart from the occasional butting heads with everyone, but especially Soap,—nothing too bad. (Spats are mostly brought on because of his own arrogance and narcissistic tendencies. Though he’s got a particular sore spot for insubordination of any kind, or arguing against orders too, a real stuck up when it comes to the rules and how to do things. Similar to Price in that vein, but even worse. Bossy, even when it’s not his place to be. A hypocrite, because he’s unintentionally insubordinate himself, (at least from time to time). Stubborn as hell too, (sometimes even worse than Johnny). Though he’s a damn good soldier, and steps up to the plate when you need him. Very fast and mobile,—at least, out speeding Simon and Soap. He’s also got the best sniffer in the 1-4-1, which can prove to be incredibly useful in certain instances. (He’s a good man in all honesty, even though he has his shortcomings, (though who doesn’t). He’s got a good heart and moral compass. Values his friends greatly. Good character and can be fun to be around, but equally can bore you to death, and tends to keep to himself. He likes to keep things professional most of the time. Truly a no nonsense type of guy. His dark humor doesn’t go over too well sometimes, but he’s able to crack some more wholesome jokes too. One little quirk of his though is that he’s much more open and welcoming, when he’s under the influence and/or drunk. Most of what the 1-4-1 knows about Yuri, and how they’ve gotten closer to him, is by getting him wasted or as high as a kite. (His negative traits are half to do with his breed as well). But really, the only real problem is,—he’s fucking huge. And he doesn’t know he is either. He ends up unintentionally hurting or injuring other people due to the lack of awareness of his size. It’s in his genes to be massive, more so taking after the/having Great Dane in him and all. He’s only about 5’10 or 11 and weighs around 175 pounds in “human” form, but grows to be around 5’2 at shoulder, 6’4 on two legs, and weighs a staggering 275 pounds when in doggy form. Easily 2 maybe even 3x bigger than the typical size of his breed, and especially a normal dog. He’s even bigger than Johnny and Ghost (in canine form at least), which is nothing to sneeze at, considering he’s only a beta. This wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact he has trouble controlling his shifting. This causes a wide variety issues, but mostly ends up getting them comprised on stealth missions, or when they're trying not to alert the enemy. That, and when Yuri shifts sometimes he can't shift back out of his doggy form, and is occasionally stuck like that for the rest of a mission. It's not that Yuri can't pull his own weight and take out enemy soldiers like that, because he most certainly can, and does it with extreme ease. But, he becomes useless in certain situations, because he's unable to return fire or use a gun. Nor can he just charge out with reckless abandon when there's bullets coming from every direction—He lacks armor or any real protection in his canine form after all. It’s just idiotic to put yourself in danger, and potentially get yourself killed like that. Though despite everything, needless to say, Yuri is one of the 1-4-1’s biggest assets. The team wouldn’t be complete without him, even though he can be a real headache and a mountain of paperwork sometimes. Despite his impressive stature, his cold and calculating demeanor, his formidability,—he’s not all too scary. Despite being such a large dog, he’s higher pitched. His bark is ear-piercing, while his growl is about as intimidating as a Chihuahua’s. The 1-4-1 make fun of him for it all the time, much to his chagrin.

TBC—

[fabiansociety]

I've been following your dicussion R.E Majima and Kiryu and I have a weird observation I want to throw into the ring if that's okay! Not so much a question more me rambling.

I think a lot about how Majima, in particular, falls in love and how this plays out in the games. So, I mainly have to take from Makoto and Kiryu (although....again Love is maybe not the word and I know I'm missing A Certain Person but we know so little about her). What I've noticed and what I really enjoy is that Majima tends to see echoes of himself in the people he attaches to. With Makoto there is a clear parallel between them (loss of sight and autonomy) and a desire for her to be free from it all but also not to be tainted by it. Kiryu as well is so interesting to think about with this.

I always think of that first big convo in K1 and Majima has this really serious moment where he says to Kiryu 'you know, if you keep this up, it's gonna kill you' (paraphrase I can't remember the exact quote dfgf) and coming off Y0 it seems obvious to me that Majima is seeing Himself from Y0 in Kiryu a bit? But crucially what I think it does is trigger this Protective Instinct which is obvious in Makoto but less so in Kiryu. Until I think about the Majima everywhere system a bit too long fgdfg The Majima everywhere system is Explicitly this - Majima making Kiryu stronger so he can survive, so he can Live. It's protection. The mad dog is actually a guard dog who knew fdgfd.

For me though it's not really K1 that swings the Kazumaji for me it's K2/K3 and the messy aftermath. It's the few times we see Majima try to haul Kiryu aside and have a direct conversation with him, offer guidance and advice. It's some of the few times he drops the mask and to me that means more than any flirting in K1 could. Because if Majima in K1 would hate anything it's being vulnerable and by the time your reaching 8 he's telling Kiryu "If you go I don't think my heart can take it".

What this all says about how Majima leans romantically or sexually IDK but I think it's a neat little comparison? For me I'd argue that the sexual element isn't really important and doesn't tend to hold weight? For a game about Yakuza Crime Men they are oddly. IDK. Sexless?

RGG seems to suggest they are bound by fate. The games keep pairing them off in different lives and different iterations and in each and every one Majima loses his shit over Kiryu (which...makes me ponder just how involved Nishitani is in a larger scheme of things)

Sorry I'll stop rambling now apparently I have more thoughts about this than I guessed.

no, yeah, exactly, their relationship is hard not to get kind of feral about if you spend much time at all thinking about it, because it's SO supersaturated with possible meanings and readings and then they just kind of… drift apart? like whatever their feelings are in yakuza 1 and 2, by the time you get to 5 they are mostly symbols for each other, the ideal of what they think a yakuza *should* be, rather than people with an actual relationship. they aren't estranged, they aren't exes, but particularly after 2 it felt like they both had what they wanted from each other: kiryu got to leave the way majima wanted him to, and majima got to protect the tojo clan the way kiryu wanted him to. i think they see a lot of themselves in each other, despite having such wildly different personalities, or maybe just their aspirations, and because neither of them has died they get to carry those messy feelings forward from game to game in a way that nishitani, for example, doesn't

they really should have made daigo a protagonist at some point (maybe in 6?), because the relationship he's supposed to have with kiryu just isn't on screen the same way kiryu's relationship with majima's is. i had honestly hoped that infinite wealth would be split between kasuga and his cast in hawaii and kiryu and his cast in japan, so that you could have party chats where the older folks actually get to talk to each other, you know?