#and/or expand on it more

[shikai-the-storyteller]

There's no doubt in my mind that Madagio will use that energy to destroy the Federation. But today's Tazercraft tweet made me remember an old thought I had. I know the white figure in that photo is probably Cucurucho, but wouldn't it be interesting if it was Madagio who saves Pac?

[ Also on Ao3 ]

—

Madagio felt empathy for Fit, in the end.

They understood what it meant to be robbed of purpose because of factors outside of their control. Although they felt remorse for leaving Fit in the dark (figuratively and literally) for so long, they finally had what they needed, and Fit was no longer a required part of their plan. Success demanded sacrifice, and it was one only Madagio could pay.

The power of Vacuus Island surpassed that of Quesadilla Island's, and once Madagio was willing to utilize it, it was easier to jump Islands than they'd anticipated. The Federation was weaker than before, based on their observations, and the slowly fraying defenses against outsiders only confirmed their suspicions. Infighting and Islander revolts both had a hand in it, but like a cockroach, the Federation always found ways to survive. It was only a matter of time before its leaders stepped in and restored order — through any means necessary.

Madagio planned to deliver the final blow before they could recover.

The sterile white halls were sickeningly familiar. Even after all this time, the Federation's concept of "perfection" remained as stagnant as it ever was. Only a faint beeping and a blip of blue and green on a small heart monitor spoiled the monotonous tour of the Federation's labyrinthine base.

The sight of a familiar figure lying in a hospital bed made Madagio pause as they passed the Federation's hospital ward. Although they'd never stepped foot on Quesadilla Island before now (at least, not in their current form), they'd spent months watching Fit and the other Islanders. They could easily recognize Pac, after so many weeks spent by Fit's side.

(And it was hard to forget the way he'd seen Pac treat his cats with such gentle loving care. It was hard to forget the way his voice sounded when he cooed sweetly at them, or the way he lay still for hours whenever one fell asleep on his chest or lap, purring contentedly. It was hard to forget, because Madagio knew what that love felt like, once. They outlived all others on Vacuus Island, but Madagio could never forget the love that bound them there, or the grief which bound them to their mission.)

—

The reason for Pac's hospitalization was clear: a failed respawn. It happened sometimes, even on Federation-controlled Islands like this. One could even argue accidents like that happened especially on Federation-controlled Islands.

Sometimes residents died, and they didn't come back.

Sometimes they didn't want to come back.

Madagio's mission required speed and stealth, but time is a funny thing when one has lived as long as they have, and they found themself in the hospital room before the impulse could even fully form in their mind.

It was funny – or maybe not funny, but ironic – how Pac looked almost as bad-off as Fit after Madagio freed him. Old bruises and poorly-treated injuries littered almost every square inch of bare skin, and likely didn't stop there. Dark shadows rimmed his eyes, and he looked skinnier than the last time Madagio saw him. He was lacking his usual vibrant blue hoodie, instead sporting black clothes which made him look even more desaturated, as though he hadn't seen the sun in weeks.

Technically, Pac was still alive.

A failed respawn just meant something was preventing his consciousness – or "soul" as some people called it; Madagio wasn't one to ponder the metaphysical – from returning to his body.

But Madagio had seen corpses better off than Pac.

The reason for his soul's reluctance to return was hardly a mystery. Even without their surveillance, Madagio knew first-hand the kind of suffering the Federation inflicted on those under their control. The loss, the grief, the brief hope followed by crushing anguish. Madagio knew that.

And they'd watched history repeat itself as Fit searched vacant houses where familiar faces once resided, desperation bleeding into dread before he found something that stopped him dead in his tracks.

Madagio granted him 24 hours to say his goodbyes.

They sent him back to his world after 5.

It was the only mercy they could offer.

But standing there in that sterile white hospital room in front of the cot that would surely become Pac's deathbed, Madagio realized there was one final act of mercy within their power.

Pac's hair had grown in the last two months. Madagio was careful not to let their claws snag the unkempt tangles as they brushed it out of his face. His skin was cooler than it should be. Madagio could hardly remember the last time they came into physical contact with a person, but they remembered that much.

(They remembered lying with someone they loved, curled tight into a ball on their chest and slowly feeling their heartbeats fade and their skin grow cold. No matter how desperately Madagio tried to warm them, they never woke up).

But that was not the memory they were searching for.

They sorted through nearly a year's worth of memories – memories of others' lives seen through Madagio's eyes. Birthday parties, festivals, a summer wedding under cherry blossom trees, hugs from children and friends tight enough to steal one's breath away, gifts that spoke feelings people couldn't give voice to, confessions over coffee, and promises made were speakers thought no one else could hear. Madagio condensed all these memories and emotions into their purest form as though polishing a gem; hope, joy, compassion, and above all else: love.

...And one final memory of a man standing before five graves (empty graves, though Madagio hadn't known it at the time), enveloped by a grief so powerful it was burned into Madagio's own memory.

And now, it was burned into Pac's memory too.

A long-forgotten instinct prompted Madagio to gently nuzzle against Pac's forehead, barely brushing against the skin as they felt Pac's consciousness return, and with it, his grief. They continued passing memories to him, and although Pac didn't stir, a tear slowly rolled down his cheek and onto the pillow beneath his head.

Pac was a man who loved so dearly and deeply that losses hurt him as severely as a physical wound. Madagio could feel that, and felt Pac's exhaustion as acutely as if it were their own. But they could also feel the hope beneath that grief, the hand reaching up out of the darkness, the desire to live as he clung to the lifeline of memories Madagio offered him. Pac still had a family left. He still had children and friends, loved ones and people who loved him in turn. He still had a reason to live.

The next tear fell from Madagio's own eyes. It rolled from Pac's temple to his cheek, gravity dragging it down until it was indistinguishable from Pac's tear tracks. Memory sharing was a two-way road, though Madagio had hoped Pac's lack of consciousness might mitigate that.

They refused to acknowledge any other explanation for their lapse of composure.

Madagio brushed the evidence away, straightening up as color slowly returned to Pac's face and his breathing became more consistent. He'd likely sleep a while longer, but Madagio had no plans to linger. They'd delayed the inevitable for far too long.

As Madagio stalked the Federation halls, they found their thoughts being drawn back to Fit and Pac. With the Federation weakened as it was, and soon to be destroyed, Madagio had no doubt Pac and his little son and partner would be able to leave the Island. The Tazercraft pair were clever – maybe even clever enough to track down Fit and escape to a different world altogether with him.

Madagio almost smiled at the thought.

Almost.

They would never see a resolution to Pac and Fit's story, for Madagio had their own ending to write, and each step through the marble white halls brought them closer to their finale.

Perhaps there was no ending for Fit and Pac; only new chapters waiting to be told.

And maybe, just maybe, their future could be a happy one.

[bluegiragi]

mutt. (small explanation under the cut)

early access + nsfw on patreon

so. a couple of lore things here.

Roba only took one of the blood vials before he went out to fight Price. But during Ghost's final interaction with Vernon, he smashes all of the remaining ones over the floor. When he finally killed Vernon, the impact of the blow splashed blood onto his hands, which he then used to a) slash Roba across the face and b) literally grab his tongue. So you can kind of assume that Roba's gotten a much much higher dose than he's supposed to safely take.

Also, his symptoms look pretty similar to the transformed state of Konig, no? Rabid, mindless, inability to talk, and most importantly, he's huge. I think my thought behind this is that the way the world used to be, monsters were way WAY larger than they are now. Roba was underselling it when he said that the vial "unlocks what is dormant" - probably a better description is that it strips away any hybrid's evolutionary 'safety cap' so to speak, in exchange for the original being's mind.

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[aitadjcrazytimes]

[liverpepper]

a (little) liverpepper sora comic, for rainy-sunshine days ☔️💛

[angelofdumpsterfires]

so my initial theory regarding how they’d handle the hell arc in tlovm was that they’d combine it with the quest for the dawnmartyr’s plate (bc they both involved a contract to kill a pit fiend and also hotis isn’t a thing in the show)

but upon the trailer i don’t think that’s the reason they go to hell

note the whitestoney design on the casket here, this is percy’s casket

NOTICE THE DISTINCT LACK OF PERCY IN ANY OF THE SHOTS SET IN HELL (especially since percy was such a lead in that arc with his deal with ipkesh and all)

I THINK THEY’RE ON A MISSION TO RESCUE PERCY’S SOUL FROM THE FLAMES OF HELL POST GLINTSHORE

(and the dawnmartyr’s plate is just a bonus here)

[cacaocheri]

something soft for the girlies

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[zephyrine-gale]

deliverance (ft. a little bird that didn’t make the cut)

[here1snyan]

It'd be really cute if Mabel ran a homebrew DD&MD campaign of her own! ✨🌠 to get in on the tabletop fun!

And Waddles gets invited too, of course

This took a long time to finish, so I hope it was worth the wait! I'm very happy with it, i've had this idea since I rewatched the series a week or so ago. and I plan to rewatch it again with friends soon hehe

here's Mabel's DM Screen I drew seperately! (macaroni art was cut for composition purposes oof)

[milesofstars]

this is dedicated to all the people upset about jason in my last art post (heart emoji)

[osteochondraldefect]

fun fact the file name for this is "type of bitch to say ill give you something to have a panic attack about"

[hailsatanacab]

"Well, this is a bad idea," Tim says, hands on his hips as he surveys the mess they’ve made in the cave.

"Nah," Danny replies, twirling his screwdriver in the air in what is probably meant to be an impressive trick to inspire confidence, except he fumbles it and it clangs to the floor loudly, "we good. If a younger version of myself hasn't come forward in time to stop me, how bad can it be?"

"Shouldn't it be the other way round?"

"What?"

"Normally, it's an older version of yourself going backwards in time to stop you, right?"

"Not in my experience."

Danny's grin is impossibly feral and a shiver runs up Tim's spine.

"This is definitely a bad idea."

[tawnysoup]

Transitional phase

[emeedro]

i love community so much but why did pierce have like 7 episodes dedicated to “he’s not that bad!!! give him a chance” but shirley had barely any episodes focused on her?? justice for my queen!

[bunicate]

Wrio with a cute bunny girl who goes into heat that actually makes him go at it like bunnies! >.< so much so that he couldn’t even get hard anymore and reader just whines and pokes it telling his cock to get hard again for more breeding!

i luv this idea eeeek. big domineering man + docile horny bunny girl will always be delish .

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི bunny fem reader ᕱ⑅ᕱ daddy kink. minor breeding ﾉ wc ꒱ 0.5k ﾉ 18+

wriothesley knows that for others they believe rules are made to be broken.

he didn’t necessarily follow that same philosophy. he preferred to run on the straight lines, rarely ever straying, but he knows that many wouldn’t do the same. 

luckily he’s more than capable of adapting and making sure that those who sought to play out of bounds would be dragged back in by his bare hands.

rules are there for a reason, and he couldn’t understand how they slipped from him this time.

he regrets giving in to your every request. he admits it’s because his heart softened at the sight of a creature so precious.

wriothesley is wasting away on the bed with his clothes disheveled and stained while the bunny he loves so dearly, ravaged him.

“you’re so handsome daddy . . .”

there it is again.

the dulcet sound of your soft voice feathered by a petulant whine.

your finger poked his spent cock. it laid wet and heavy on his taut stomach, with some of his cum damp on his chest. he can’t remember how many times he’s fucked you. he was warned about your heat, and nothing could prepare him for this.

he’s fought tough battles, taking on men thrice his size, skirting on the edge of death. they were brutal fights that nearly cost him his life, and somehow that seemed like a much easier hill to climb.

he’s exhausted and drained of every drop of cum he could pump out, and you still weren’t done. you continued to kiss his cock, lapping at it with long and rough strokes. the skin of his leaking shaft was raw from your sucks and the heat from your inner walls.

he could barely muster the strength to speak. his voice is hoarse from commands that fell on your deaf ears and all the groans escaping his lips.

“baby . . . daddy is tired . g-give-give me a second.”

he pulls at your floppy ears to halt your movement, but you only nose at his balls in response. your tongue darts out to taste his sweaty skin and he curses at himself when his body betrays him.

his dick twitches to life from your incessant nipping, and hearts take shape in your eyes.

you drag your soft body on top of his once more to straddle him yet again. your fat bunny cunt gaping and dripping cum hovers over his pudgy tip before swallowing his entire member.

“fuckkkkkk . . bunny, you’re gonna kill me. . .how much fuckin’ nut does that little pussy need ?”

you make a sound, halfway from a moan and a giggle. like a good bunny, you hop up and down until his head kisses your womb filling it with hot seed.

your tits bounce with every jerk of your hips and his hand on your plump ass encourages more of your of passion.

“daddy daddy daddy , I need all of it ♡ love y’r cum so much, hnn~”

there was never a battle wriothesley couldn’t win, not yet at least, but this time, wriothesley forfeits.

he’s accepted that he’s finally lost, and that his sweet bunny girl was the cause of his demise.