#how could they rescue them if not trained

[fussin4nothin]

so worried about elephant care in khao kheow zoo, demonizing thai people taking care of their animals. Now wheres all the twitter threads, the tumblr posts about the flooding in thailand that affected the animals- calling for everyones support to care for these animals.

Elephants, not in KKZ, are dead because they werent trained with the OHH SO BAD TOOLS that saved OTHER elephants in nearby camps, they weren't used to people, they weren't used to the tools used. But yeah, SEA's animal husbandry is not up to par to western countrys husbandry.

You guys can type and theorize, conspire about all these bad things about how SEA or literally just how people outside of europe, outside of north america, outside of ENGLISH SPEAKING ONLINE SPACES.

So concerned about animals that you're not caring for, not knowing the first damn thing about what to do in emergencies like this.

I hope you all learn to stop making this dreaded posts calling for the pulling back support for these zoos. Assuming everything from videos, doing all you can to theorize- yet NOTHING comes up when people and animals are ACTUALLY suffering.

[theforgottengreatpoem]

"Find them Skullcrusher. Find them."

[rain-the-wizard]

just finished chapter 4. screaming crying throwing up. what the hell

[thesinglesock]

just watched the last 2 episodes of Race to the Edge. the quality of the last ep was such a step-up from the rest of the show lmao that was great. the last 5 minutes rly caught me off guard. I knew we were leaving the Edge behind of course we were but it happened so fast. I was also caught off guard by the sudden wave of nostalgia that washed over me. (I started watching this show 9 years ago. man.)

anyways every episodic show should have a wrap-up episode. 5 minutes at the end of a 20min series finale is not enough time to say goodbye.

[rawme-price]

still thinking about marine biologist!reader. come home the kids miss you 🥹

Orca Mer!ghost and marine biologist!reader who runs a mer sanctuary???? Yeah.

Ghost was a new rescue, youve been told. He was found off the coast of a popular tourist spot, and had suffered a broken arm from a boat getting too close. As one of the few on-call staff members with medical experience, you get called in to fix him.

Its...bad. when you first see the mer, thats all you can think. Bad. His arm is limp and cradled to his chest, you only catch glimpses through the tight anxious circles he swims. On his eighth turn you spot two notches and a tag on his dorsal fin. He was one of robas, that bastard.

Protocol states that he should be sedated for the procedure. It also states that you should never even stand close to a tank with an agitated mer. Soap, one of your three permanent patients, had once told you that seeing figures looming over the surface of the water was much more threatening than someone dipping their legs in. when your feet are in water, soap always had the best speech, growing up alongside humans we can see you are human stepping into our territory. We could easily drown you. It is like...submission? I dont know the English word for it.

So, you don a wetsuit and place all the needed supplies by the edge of the pool. The second your feet breach the water surface, ghosts hand is wrapping around your ankle and yanking you into the water. He had crossed the tank in seconds, and you were about ready to accept this would be how you die.

Except, you never feel your back hit concrete, or water filling your lungs. No, ghost just drags you into the centre of the pool then...leaves you there. You tread water as he circles you slowly, silently grateful for all those days spent in prices tank. Just as you begin to think ghost is waiting for exhaustion to overtake you, he pauses his circling and stops directly in front of you. "You..." his voice is scratchy and wavering, clearly unused to english "you...water...why?"

You had been trained on how to speak with mers that had limited speech. They weren't stupid, but you couldn't ramble at them like you could soap. Slowly, you gesture to your forearm, then point at ghost "broken. I'll fix it."

Ghost makes a displeased rumble that you know means danger. "No."

You nod, no need to anger him. "I promise, ill fix it. Can I show you what I want to use? Just so you can see?"

When ghost doesnt say anything, you slowly drift towards the edge of the pool again. He watches silently, and you think youll make progress, only for him to growl when you reach over the sill. "Hey, hey." You put your hands up so he can see them "its just stuff to fix you, okay? Do...do you want to come look? You can touch and ill tell you what it does."

Water sloshes against the sill as ghosts large form swims close. The bandage looks comically small in hid hands. "Those," you explain, careful not to grab at them, "are waterproof bandages. Its to help hold your arm in place when I fix you."

Ghost nods, picks and pulls at the stretchy fabric for a bit before moving on to the next item. You spend the next hour like that, going over each item and what it does again and again. You would spend the whole day here if thats what it took for ghost to feel safe.

You seriously think this will be all the progress for today, content with it even if youd prefer ghost be fixed sooner than later. Youre so caught up in whether his arm could handle another day that you dont register the presence drifting closer to you until a large hand circles your waist.

With a yelp, you're dragged backwards to lie on ghosts chest as he floats belly-up. He just rumbles at you when you squirm, hand nearly as big as your abdomen resting over your stomach. He holds his broken arm in fron of you, "fix it."

...well, you would never say no to helping a mer. So you work with what ghost gives you. Laid back as items are passed to you. He doesnt react when you pull at the bones until they set properly. The hand on your stomach may have been playful were this gaz, but you know its nothing more than a warning. Ghost could gut you if you upset him.

Its slow work, but as the sky is beginning to shift into warm hues, ghosts arm is bandaged and properly set. He startles you against by picking you up with one hand and sitting you on the sill. The second he lets go, ghost is darting to the farthest, deepest end of the pool.

Mildly, you note that he isnt swimming tight circles anymore.

[miryum]

Simon Riley who, when you moved in with him, also had to adjust to your little dog. He loved dogs, as evident by Riley, but your dog was not like Riley. Riley was a war-hardened German Shepard that could sniff out bombs and had survived a bullet wound. Your dog looked like it would pee on the helicopter that was sent to rescue it and bark at the medic before rolling over for belly rubs.

Your dog was all bark and no bite. They were a small, fluffy little thing who you spoiled more than Simon. It took them a while to adjust to Simon, but when they realised that Simon laid heavily on the couch after deployment and was willing to be their personal pillow, your little dog reluctantly accepted him.

As for the dynamic between Riley and your dog, your little pupper was insistent that they were the boss of the house. They barked at Riley when first introduced as Riley just sat there, waiting for it to be over. Soon enough, though, your dog was curled up with Riley, cuddling. That always made you coo and take pictures of the pair, though Simon grumped that he’d rather have you pay attention to him.

Speaking of attention not on Simon, when the hell did your shared bed also become the dogs’ bed? When it was just Simon and Riley, Riley had his own bed and kennel in the living room. And Simon loved you so much. He was so fucking happy when you moved in. Hell, he was happy just to have you in his bed. Waking up with you tucked into his side, protected by him, was something he adored. It was better than heaven. But that heaven was usually interrupted by your scrappy little dog wiggling its way in between you two. He would turn around when you started petting and baby-talking the dog, only to see Riley at the foot of the bed, staring up at him. That’s how both dogs began sleeping in your shared bed.

You adored Riley just as much as you adored your own dog. You loved going on walks with Simon, the dogs on their leashes. Riley was a perfect walker, next to Simon the entire time with such military precision that you doubted the canine even needed a leash. Your dog on the other hand… they weaved all over the path, pausing to sniff and pee every half block. Simon wanted to train your dog like he had trained Riley, but you refused. “Oh, shush. Look at that little face! Perfect already, Si.” Of course, he could never say no to you.

Speaking of Riley’s training, however, Simon could tell that his dog was slowly slipping farther and farther from his strict regimen. With the excessive treats that you slipped Riley, the dog was gaining some chonkiness, just as his owner. As his deployments got further and further apart and his retirement got more and more likely (perhaps because of the ring in his dresser drawer), he allowed himself to stay in bed longer with you rather than getting up to exercise in the wee hours of the morning. You didn’t mind, obviously. You liked the softness that Simon was acquiring and he was always a big man to begin with. Just because his tummy was becoming more squishy didn’t mean that he still couldn’t throw his weight around if someone was bothering you.

Simon, combined with Riley, allowed for ‘scary dog privileges.’ There was a time when a creepy man began following you when Simon was on deployment and you were walking Riley. Your own little dog was getting their hair cut, so it was just you and Riley. You noticed something was wrong when Riley’s ears perked up and his movements got a bit more robotic. You glanced around, knowing Riley’s instincts were never wrong. After seeing the man, you decided to head back towards the edge of the park, where more people were. When the man didn’t give up, though, and got even closer, Riley went full guarddog. He stepped closer to you and turned around to face the man. After a few loud, thundering barks that drew the attention of everyone around, the man scuttled away. Later that month when Simon was back home, both dogs cuddled up to you on the bed, he didn’t know whether to be mad that you didn’t tell him immediately (though he could never get mad at you) or to be proud that Riley protected you so fiercely. Anxiety and fear rushed through Simon, but you calmed him with a small kiss and Riley set his head on Simon’s stomach. Riley definitely earned the scratches behind the ears that he got.

Most dog owners took their dogs out for one last pee before bedtime and Simon was no exception. You always made Simon take the dogs out because you were usually cuddled up in bed or in the blankets all cosy. He never once complained, either tugging on his jacket if it was windy out, or pulling on a hat if it was raining. He would do anything for you, even if it meant braving thick snow that crept into his boots. Riley always went quickly, even though both owner and dog knew that he could withstand the freezing temperatures. Your little idiot, on the other hand, would take their merry time, sniffing and trailing around the yard (which you had asked for when you and Simon moved out of his apartment and into a real house on the outskirts of the city). There were even times when another dog would be walking by and your canine would bark and run after them. Simon was always quick to jog after and scoop the dog up. Once in a while, Riley would give a deep bark as well, as if telling off your dog. Simon would then trudge back into the house, muttering curses under his breath, your dog under his arm.

But, as much as he pretended to hate your dog, there was always a soft spot there. Soon enough, “my girlfriend’s” dog became “my wife’s” dog and then “our” dog.

[reasonsforhope]

"As climate change continues to rear its destructive, uncertain head, canine companions are playing a vital role.

There are conservation dogs sniffing out invasive species in nature preserves, helping to clean contaminated waterways, and even avalanche rescue dogs that save people in the great outdoors.

Most of these dogs are bred for greatness and train their whole puppyhood to work in these roles.

But a recent study from Virginia Tech wondered: Can everyday dogs do the same?

In the study, Virginia Tech conducted a first-of-its-kind experiment to see if citizen dog-handler teams can achieve species detection rates comparable to those of professional conservation dogs.

Over 1,000 dog owners expressed interest in the study, with more than 40% of them having prior experience in sport scent detection or other related activities.

Sport scent detection is a recreational activity in which dogs find hidden scents in training classes, and sometimes, competitions.

Ultimately, the researchers selected 182 canine-citizen teams across the U.S. to participate in their trial to see if everyday people and pets could effectively detect the “elusive” egg masses of the spotted lanternfly.

To eradicate the threat, it’s important to catch the egg masses early, but according to the study’s co-author, Mizuho Nita, “finding them is like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

With their keen sense of smell, dogs can be trained to sniff out the egg masses without disturbing the environment. Professional detection dogs do this with high accuracy, but there are not nearly enough of them to tackle the mounting concern of the invasive species, an article for the university explained.

“What if we tapped into the tens of thousands of dog owners already doing scent detection as a hobby around the country?” the researchers asked. 

So, with 182 citizen scientists and their furry friends on board, researchers provided them with “devitalized” or non-hatching egg masses as a training aid. The participants trained their dogs at home or in small groups with the help of a local trainer to learn how to identify the invasive species.

“Anytime you can stimulate your dog, it’s good for them,” participant Bill Wellborn said, of his 7-year-old Tibetan terrier, Pepe.

“Pepe obviously enjoys it. And it’s a way we can take dog skills and training to help our community.”

Wellborn and Pepe — and the other participating teams — worked in sessions multiple days a week for several months, with dogs eventually tested in two environments. 

In a controlled indoor environment, the dogs had to complete an odor recognition test, in which they identified the box with the spotted lanternfly egg masses from multiple boxes with other items and scents.

The dogs that passed this test then advanced to a field test outdoors, where they were required to find the same scent outside, with other competing smells.

They correctly identified the egg masses 82% of the time in the controlled tests and 61% of the time in field trials. Although the field test number dropped, it’s still a better score than human-only searches.

“These teams demonstrated that citizen scientists and their dogs can play a meaningful role in protecting agriculture and the environment from invasive species,” Sally Dickinson, the study’s lead author, said in a statement.

“With proper training, dog owners can turn their pets into powerful partners for conservation.” 

For the dogs that passed both tests, 92% were successful in finding live egg masses with minimal extra training, according to the researchers.

“There are thousands of people out there doing scent work with their dogs just for fun,” Erica Feuerbacher, an animal behaviorist and a co-author on the study, said. 

“What Sally’s study shows is that this can be more than a hobby — these citizen-scientists and their dogs can be a valuable resource for fighting the spread of an invasive pest.”

The dog handlers agree.

“Being able to do the same thing for the greater good — for citizen science — adds another layer we didn’t have before,” Katie Thomas, a participant, shared about her pit bull mix, Finch.

And now, with a proven concept, the future is bright for dog owners who want to bond with their pets and do a little more good.

“This research is about more than detection,” Dickinson concluded. “It’s about empowering people to work alongside their dogs to protect the places and communities they care about.”

-Article via GoodGoodGood, July 18, 2025. Video via Virginia Tech, July 16, 2025.

[syrecjh]

He was not the type to scroll.

Katsuki Bakugo don't do social media. Not really. He didn’t have the patience for filters or captions, for curated glimpses of lives polished into perfection. He found the whole thing a little cheesy — pointless even. “Chronically online” was a diagnosis he reserved for the extras in life, the ones who needed validation like they needed air.

And yet here he was.

Scrolling through your Instagram feed at 1:36 AM.

He’d told himself he was just checking. That he’d seen your name pop up somewhere — an old class photo from U.A., maybe a tagged post on Kaminari’s story — and his fingers had moved faster than his brain could stop them.

But “checking” didn’t explain why he had now liked every single post you had ever made.

All of them.

From your first blurry freshman-day selfie to the candid sunset shots to the quiet coffee shop photos with books he swore he’d seen in your hands at school. Posts from years ago, tucked between summer vacations and sleepy cat pics. Your smile in golden light. Your face half-buried in a scarf. A photo of a rainy window with the caption “the sky misses someone too.” He liked that one twice before realizing Instagram wouldn’t let him.

You two had been classmates back at U.A., semi-friends in the way that mattered — partners during rescue drills, shared nods in the hallway, late-night training sessions that ended in breathless laughs. But life scattered people like stars, and time had folded in on itself. He hadn’t seen you in years.

But he hadn’t forgotten.

And now… your posts felt like postcards from a timeline where he hadn’t been so damn proud. Where he’d said something more than “good job” after your final match, something softer than a nod before you left the dorms for good.

He didn’t know what pulled him to your page tonight. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was regret. Maybe it was the way he never quite unlearned the rhythm of your laugh.

Whatever it was, it had led him here — to liking every photo like a man possessed.

And the internet noticed.

Because Katsuki Bakugo — pro hero Dynamight, number two on the charts, grump incarnate — had social media?

It was shocking. No, it was suspicious.

His Instagram? One photo. A blurry explosion in the sky captioned, “work.”

His Twitter? A bio that read: “Don’t talk to me.” He followed six people.

His Facebook? People didn’t even know he had one. But he did. No profile pic, no cover photo, just one “About Me” that said: “Still not talking to you.”

And yet, on every platform, your name appeared.

And fans, being the detective agency they always were, noticed. The way he liked all your posts in under an hour. The way he was now following you. The way his most recent “activity” was just… you.

They started shipping. Hard. #DynaReader (sorry for this one hahaha) #DYANMIGHTGOTACRUSH #GirlUCanChangeHim. Edits appeared overnight, videos of you two from U.A. stitched with slow songs and captions like “childhood friends to lovers?”

You didn’t notice it right away — you weren’t one to check notifications obsessively. But when you opened your phone and saw that Katsuki Bakugo liked your entire feed, your heart stuttered so hard it hurt.

And then — as if that wasn’t enough — a message.

Short. Blunt. Typical Bakugo.

\[k.bakugo] 10:44 PM:

Free tomorrow? There’s a new café near the station. You like coffee, right?

No emojis. No fluff. Just an invitation that felt like thunder behind glass.

You stared at your phone for a long time. Wondering what it meant. Wondering if he meant it.

And across the city, Bakugo was staring at his screen too — regretting how abrupt it sounded, how dumb this all was, how he didn’t even like cafés.

But you did.

And that was enough.

[redsray]

I love the hc that Tim never really stopped taking pictures of heroes and vigilantes even after he became Robin. Not even out of hero worship or anything-- he just found it fun. In fact, being Robin just made this hobby easier to do. He has them separated in folders and definitely has blackmail photos included.

The first time Tim met the Justice League one of his first reactions was to sneakily take at least one picture of each of them. Clark vaguely heard a camera shutter but he could never find any cameras or camera owners.

Sometimes Bruce comes to him and asks for specific pictures of members of the JL doing things they shouldn't be doing i.e Barry ditching a meeting cause he was eating Chipotle in the Watchtower kitchen. No one knows how Bruce gets the pictures except for the other Batfam members.

Tim is the god of blackmail right behind Babs. You need older blackmail or videos? Go to Babs. But Good quality blackmail photos? Tim is your guy.

He has at least 4 folders full of pictures of Dick specifically. One for his time as Robin, one for Nightwing, one for Discowing and one for just Dick.

He also manages to have pictures he definitely should not have because how did you get into the cave before you were Robin, Tim, but he refuses to elaborate on those. i.e Robin Jason out of costume, cozily reading at the batcomputer ("seriously, Tim, that's creepy"), Dick when he first adopted Haley ("were you there when I rescued her?!"), Damian training with the League of Assassins ("how the hell did you get that"), Duke back during the We Are Robin movement ("I do not remember you pulling out any cameras what the hell")

[countlessimagines]

Your World [ Wolverine x Reader ]

Summary: your Wolverine was your whole world.

A/N: I like writing angsty stuff and this movie provided me with the best possible scenarios <3 hehehe I love wolverine

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of blood

Marvel MASTERLIST Link here

SPOILERS BELOW

-

It wasn’t an ideal love story that brought you back to Logan.

Being a mutant with incredible healing abilities and a broken heart made it so easy for Stryker to capture you. Your Wolverine had been the one to rescue you from the clutches of Stryker and the horrible fate that loomed over your head. All the days of experiments and cold rooms where you’d be injected with who knows what, it all lead to him.

But you always had to remind yourself that Logan had gotten you out, made you a X-Men, but found the brutal truth of how dangerous it was to be loved by you.

You loved deeply and endlessly, like a void waiting for eternity to be loved and to love. Logan was exactly what your heart desired for years.

Someone who could never die, never leave you.

Fighting alongside each other became a beautiful symphony. And God protect anyone who caused you harm, because Logan would only see red and slice them to pieces. It was a miracle none of the X-men had been torn to shreds, but Scott always came close.

The team would always joke about your relationship, saying how could an innocent soul be in love with such a brute like Wolverine.

But Logan knew the only way he could breathe was to be with you, to hold you, to kiss and love you.

He would always find his way to you no matter the circumstance.

Beast was holding you in the infirmary because he wanted to run tests? Logan was there.

Storm and Jean wanted to have a girls night? Logan was sitting outside the room in case anything happened.

Scott was training you in hand to hand combat? Logan was definitely there.

Your world consisted of him and him only.

And maybe that is why it hurt so much when he let your entire team die, because you had not made them your whole world.

You had been away on a mission by yourself when you received the news of their passing. You returned to a bloodied home, no sign of Wolverine to be found.

Life began to blur after what happened. You had to go into hiding, because people blamed you for what happened, too. And there was no one there to stop you from spiraling into a flurry of self hatred.

Hatred for what you had become. A love sick puppy so consumed with Logan only. Maybe if you had been there, maybe if you hadn’t put so much trust in him, maybe if you could have taken the hits for your team.

And the thought that stuck with you the most, if you had been there, screaming for help - would Logan had only saved you and left the rest to die?

Because the love you shared was slowly becoming so obvious to you that it was not pure or natural, but rather so simple it would have made you and Logan public enemy number one.

But you supposed that had already happened, too.

Your mutant abilities were the only thing you had left, so you consumed yourself in underground work. Becoming exactly what the X-men had fought against.

Shedding your uniform, you had to separate yourself from the X-men because people recognized you too easily. It was hard to find any work where people wanted a tainted mutant.

You tried your hardest to not let every moment be consumed by the thought of Logan. He had never reached out to you after the event, despite the grief between you so overwhelmingly strong. He couldn’t face you and love someone who would have stepped through hell and back for him.

He felt as if he didn’t deserve it.

So time continued to pass as the bond between the two of you was severed so deeply that it was suffocating to be apart.

But it wasn’t until Deadpool showed up to your apartment that you were finally addressing your past.

“Leave, now. I’m not hearing any of your bullshit.” You tried to close your door but he stopped it.

“Please, c’mon. I need you! Wolverine needs you!”

You tensed at the mere mention of him. “If he needed me so desperately, it is far too late for him to come back.”

“But you’re his one and only, for fuck’s sake! Every variant I’ve met of him has had a you stalking around like a lap dog. You know how many of you’s have beaten the shit out of me?” He rambled on, and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t care to understand what you’re saying, so goodbye, Wade!”

Deadpool sighed before kicking the door in and stabbing you through the chest with one of his blades. You stared at him in shock and couldn’t register anything as he flung you over his shoulder into an orange portal.

You landed on a hard ground that pushed the blade out of you. “Wade, you’re a dead man.”

He stepped through the portal and leaned over your body. “Sorry about that, but I can’t die so you’re stuck with not only me, but Wolverine!”

Deadpool giggled and ran off, making sure to rip the blade out of your stomach. You winced but felt your regeneration cells working to stitch you back together.

Slowly sitting up, you spat out blood.

“I tried to tell him not to bring you into this.”

You froze at the voice you fought to forget, willing calm into your fast beating heart.

Sitting up fully only made your legs wobble and your head spin. But you had to look up into the eyes of the man you still loved.

Logan looked different, healthier and happier. It only made you feel sick.

“I’ve been busy.” He said it so casually that it made you want to slap his chest for the lack of greeting. “Wade gave me a second chance. I helped save his world.”

“You haven’t seen me in years and you choose to brag?” You scoffed, removing your shirt to assess the damage Wade had done to your shirt.

Logan sucked in a breath as he took in your battle worn scars. Despite your healing factor, you still kept every scar from every wound you had endured.

He remembered the last time he saw you, you only adorned a few on your chest and stomach.

Now it was littered with them.

“You’ve been busy too, I gather?” Logan said with a hint of sarcasm.

You glared at him. “Why am I here?”

“Wade thought that I needed you.” He admitted it with such ease, like he knew it to be true in his heart.

“And? Do you need me?”

He hesitated before answering. “I’ve always needed you… and I think that’s why I let myself go for so many years. Because I knew that no matter what I did or said to you, you would never forgive me. I would always be the one who let our team die… let you go.”

“Well you’re right, because I never would forgive you. Not after abandoning all of us,” you choked out, the tears beginning to creep into the corners of your eyes. “I loved you fiercely, Logan. All it would have taken was one call during those first few days and I would have been there for you. We could’ve been healing together. But you chose this life of despair for both of us, Logan.”

“I know.” He said, his own eyes watering.

“I despise you.” You said, but your heart was breaking, letting out the true feelings. It was bleeding for him and for him only.

Logan stepped closer and you did not stop him.

“I want nothing to do with you.” You said, your voice cracking.

“I understand.” He said, five feet away from you now.

“I hate you.” You began to weep, the blood in your heart revealing what you wanted truly.

“I don’t blame you.” Logan closed the gap between the two of you, holding you close to his chest. You cried into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. “I’m never leaving you again.”

All you could muster was a small nod, your tears staining his shirt. His own were dripping onto the top of your head.

And in the empty apartment, you and Logan stood, holding onto each other.

Holding your world together.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Anchor

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky is there for you when no-one else is.

Disclaimer: Hurt/comfort fic, little angst, little fluff, Bucky is there for the reader, mentions of missions going wrong and agents getting hurt, quiet comfort. Not Proof Read.

The waiting room was completely empty. Down the hallway, a nurse was signing something on a chart, a doctor was walking to another wing and in the other direction was the Shield agent you’d been assigned to rescue. 

The mission had been tough. Tougher than you’d had in a long time. But you survived. You both did. You got both you and the agent out. 

You’d been checked over three hours ago. Muddy, covered in ash, some dried blood. But no damage. Physically, at least. Meanwhile, the agent was still in surgery for internal bleeding. 

You were trying your best to take some deep breaths. Trying to keep your nerves calm and controlled. But the longer time went on, the harder it was getting. 

That was when he showed up. Bucky Barnes. The one man you’d barely spoken to despite working together for the last six years. It was like he had some kind of special ability to know when you needed someone and…you were always more than grateful that he was the one to show up. 

He didn’t say anything. He was still in his tactical gear so you could only guess he’d finished up mentoring the training module for the day. He just walked down the hallway quietly before sitting beside you. He looked at you. He’d known you for so long, he didn’t need to study you anymore. He didn’t need to read into the microexpressions you couldn’t hide. 

He just knew. 

You barely even looked at him before the tears started falling. 

If it had been anyone else, you would have been able to hold your nerve. You would have forced yourself to talk through it, to tell them what the doctors told you and hold onto the hope they’d tell you to have. 

But not with Bucky. 

With Bucky you were safe. Safe enough to let the walls come crashing down without panicking over how quickly you’d have to pick the bricks back up again. 

His arm wrapped around your back as he held you close to his chest, his hand in your hair. This thumb rubbed at your temple, like it usually would when he laid his cheek on the top of your head. 

He didn’t whisper comforting words. He didn’t tell you that you’d be okay or that you did a good job. He could tell you that later. Right then, you just needed to be held. To be shown you were safe. The world wasn’t ending…not in the hospital waiting room, at least. You’d held your own without even a small break for a long, long time. You didn’t need to hold it anymore. 

Bucky didn’t keep track of time or how long he held you. He would have held you till the end of time if it meant you’d be ten percent better than when he first walked in. 

He could remember the first time he’d held you. 

One of the agents you were close to in your division had been helping the team out for six months. On one of the missions, they’d gotten hurt. Their family had met you at the hospital with the rest of the team. 

Bucky had stayed in the back, watching as everything unfolded. How their mother asked the doctors ten different questions, waited for their answers and five minutes later asked you the same questions, along with, “Why didn’t you help them?”. 

Sam had stepped in, answering that particular question for you. You didn’t know how to answer it. But Bucky could see your mind answering it for you. But it was all a lie. They knew what they were getting themselves in for, and though Bucky hadn’t said too much to them, he knew they wouldn’t want you to be asked something like that; it wasn’t up to you to keep them safe. 

Bucky watched as nurses pulled you aside and told you things before they let everyone else know. He watched as you were asked to sign different sheets of paper and fill in far too much information. 

Eventually, all the questions and voices and tears got to be too much. Whilst everyone talked, you took an opportunity to step away for a moment. Bucky had followed after you. He wasn’t going to let you be alone when what you needed in that moment was the complete opposite. 

He’d found you down an empty corridor trying to force the overwhelming tears and sobs back into your body. 

Even then he didn’t say anything. He just walked towards you and held out his hand, touching your shoulder to turn you. You hugged him without thinking about it and he held you tight. His hand held the back of your head, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth. 

He could feel your fingers digging tightly into his skin, but it didn’t hurt. You were holding onto him like an anchor. 

It was still the same. 

With his arm around your back, your fingers held onto his bicep. Maybe you hadn’t talked much in the last six years. No more than standard co-workers who saw each other maybe once or twice a week. Maybe he wasn’t your best friend. 

But he was your Anchor. 

He was your safe space. 

He was the one person you could turn to and know…you didn’t need to be okay. You didn’t need to be strong and unemotional. 

With him, you could let your walls down. And he never judged. Not for a moment. 

A few hours passed before he eventually spoke. 

“Stay here. I’ll be back.”

He’d wiped away your tears and kissed the side of your head before standing, not letting go of your hand until he had to. He’d walked over to the nurses station and asked for a couple supplies before pulling out his phone as they walked away. They’d brought them almost instantly. He thanked them before walking back to you. 

That was when he crouched in front of you, his hand on your thigh. “I’m gonna clean you up a little. Is that okay?”

You nodded and he opened up the kit before wiping the tear, mud and blood stains away from your skin. He dabbed carefully as some smaller grazes that had been missed. 

“I’m gonna take you home.” He continued talking before you could speak after shaking your head. “I’ve already texted Sam. He’s gonna send one of Barton’s team down here. If anything happens, they can deal with it. You need to rest and get some decent sleep.”

When he’d finished up, he handed the spare supplies back, thanking the nurses once more before returning to you. He’d opened up the passenger side door to help you in. And by the time he got you home, you were already asleep. 

You only woke when you felt your head hit something soft. 

“Bucky?”

“I’m here,” he whispered, softly.

“Stay?”

“Okay.”

Taking off his boots, he climbed on top of the bed and laid beside you. You were asleep instantly. 

Neither of you talked about it in the morning. But Bucky stayed with you all day. When you went back to the hospital, when you handed your report back in and when you came back home. 

After dinner, you sat beside him and he lifted his arm, letting you settle beside him as he continued reading. Neither of you really had to talk. But you knew something for certain. 

For as much as you and Bucky rarely talked, you’d shared more conversations than you could count. 

He was your Anchor. And nothing would ever change that. 

[dream-with-a-fever]

ron weasley did not

come to privet drive to rescue harry from his abusive home after he hadn’t been replying to any of his letters and he was worried

almost back out of following the spiders bc they’re his biggest fear, but upon seeing hermione’s empty seat at dinner, find the courage to go

defend hermione from any and everyone who called her a mudblood

constantly worry about hermione’s workload (especially in 3rd year) and notice that whenever she disappeared

offer to teach hermione his entire family tree so that she could pretend to be pure blood to keep her safe from death eaters

defend harry to everyone (percy, seamus, half the school) when everyone thought he was lying about voldemort’s return

stand up on his broken leg in front of harry and say that “if you want to kill harry, you’ll have to kill us first!” to what they believed to be a raving lunatic mass murderer

gift dobby his newest weasley jumper and the new socks he got given for christmas

stand up against snape when he was bullying hermione (and got a detention as a result)

beg the deatheaters who were torturing hermione to “leave her alone!! take [him], have [him] instead!”

always check up on his friends when he notices something is up, even if it’s in subtle ways

immediately befriend harry on the train in ps and teach him about the wizarding world

write to charlie immediately so he could help hagrid out of trouble (re the dragon, norbert)

encourage neville to stand up to people, and praise him when he actually does it

help harry put on his pajamas after he broke his arm during quidditch

have to be physically restrained from attacking malfoy after he said he wished hermione had died in cos

worry about harry’s preoccupation with the mirror of erised and how it was affecting him

remind hermione to eat her meals and get a good night’s sleep when she’s studying 24/7 for their owl exams

display acute levels of emotional intelligence in the way he interacts with harry and hermione, essentially being the glue that keeps them all together

get splinched almost in half, lose blood and suffer agonising pain but seem more worried about the cattermoles and whether or not they were okay

realise his mistakes & own up to them, acknowledging his role in certain falling outs (especially in deathly hallows)

be genuinely hilarious and fun, and lighten the load in everyone else’s’ lives with the humour he brings to

write to his mother in ps asking her to give harry presents too because he doesn’t think he’ll received any

go to the department of mysteries to help harry without a second a thought

go on the run with harry to hunt for horcruxes without a second thought

run to hermione’s aid when malfoy hits her with a nasty hex outside snape’s classroom and take her to the hospital wing

help hermione with buckbeak’s appeal, spending hours upon hours reading up on the case

extend the first olive branch after fighting with hermione because of scabber’s “death” and apologising, after which she then apologises too

demand to re-try out for the position of keeper on the quidditch team because he wanted to earn it himself with no favouritism or help

choose to stay on the quidditch team despite the bullying from the slytherin team and his nerves about his flying ability

stand up to malfoy at every opportunity, when he was insulting him, but more importantly, insulting his family & his friends

save harry’s life in dh by pulling him out of the lake, and then kill the horcrux

remember the houseelves during the battle of hogwarts and worry about their safety

continue to admire and adore his older twin brothers despite the fact that they were sometimes cruel to him

become almost annoyingly protective of his little sister (ESPECIALLY after the diary situation)

single-handedly out smart and escape five armed and deadly snatchers

try his best to overcome his insecurities and feelings of being overlooked, in order to support the people around him

sacrifice himself without a second thought during the chess game in ps because he knew harry’s survival was more important than his

for y’all to speak on him the way you do. calling him cruel, evil, selfish etc??? open your fucking eyes

[kleptokure]

Deceit's Favorite 🃏

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN!Reader

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

This is bad, you thought to yourself. The outcome of your arrival in Beast-Yeast is far worse than you would have ever thought.

Yes, you expected to encounter the Beast with Deceit engraved into their essence, but within the hour you stepped foot on the foreign terrain? You were not prepared to reunite with your old friend all of a sudden.

Being one of the first cookies to be given a Soul Jam, you assumed going to Beast-Yeast would not be a challenge for you. Yet current circumstances prove you incorrect. Now you wish you stayed in Crispia, where the air is not so bitter.

As much as you would love to rescue Pure Vanilla from his absolute contrary personified, there is an obstacle surrounding your shelter.

You are well aware that Gingerbrave and the gang are accompanying Pure Vanilla Cookie, and a battle of them versus one mere cookie seems like an easy fight. But Shadow Milk is a special cookie, which is known to most who are aware of his being. The beast knows the trauma his main opponent withholds and would not hesitate to use it against him.

Speaking of Shadow Milk Cookie, you are currently pondering over how he located you in the first place. Your expectations were for his full focus to be on his "Soul Jam thief," but it appears your dough, and crumbs, is much more important in his reality.

Surprisingly, his encounter with you was far from destructive. In all honesty, you will admit it was leaning closer to bittersweet.

Shadow Milk Cookie had a lot to say, of course. His words were laced with jeers, flirts, yet betrayal at the same time. Though he did say something along the lines of forgiving you for not standing by his side eons ago.

It comes as hard to remember the exact words, as your mind is fuzzy with all this information. You might be concentrated on the romantic parts of his speech more than you should be.

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt stop, hearing knocks on the front door to your hidden hideout. It must not be so hidden if the one cookie you scurry from has managed to locate you. Shadow Milk seemingly possesses eyes all over the place, though you could have predicted that part.

There is no point dragging out the eventual conversation awaiting you pair. With that said, you pick yourself up and walk towards the door.

Having opened the door with a rigid gaze, you find there to be no cookie to return your stare.

Great, another trick. You should have guessed that. Now what? Is he going to be inside your house when you turn around? Candlelight dinner with an empty seat calling your name?

Before you get the chance to close the opening, a piece of paper finds its way slapped onto the middle of your face.

With dread, you tear the sheet off and hold it before your eyes, reading the text it has engraved into itself.

It's... an invitation? To a show, to be exact. The reading says,

"YOU, yes, YOU are invited to a one of a kind show!

Don't be late, as I’d be very upset if you were.

From your dearest jester. XoXo <3"

You feel a warmth in your dough from the heart included at the bottom of the sheet. You almost tore the paper just to rid of a feeling caused by him of all cookiekind. The weather here has to be the cause of your sickly feelings.

In any other situation, you would refuse without a second thought (that's what you tell yourself). But Pure Vanilla is walking a path of danger, and you will do what you can to change that for your friend.

Even so, the candlelight dinner you expected to occur now comes as more preferable.

Looking further down, you notice the time the show host requests you arrive is a few five minutes away. He was kind enough to give you a step-by-step map to the location.

The short notice matters not, as you have nothing better to do. Spending all this time huddled up in a random shack is not what one would call time well spent.

Gathering yourself up, you take you and your crumbs out into the eerie outside of Beast-Yeast. With the map given, you follow the path, each step closer to meeting the volatile cookie of deceit.

It is nothing less of a short trip, arriving at an isolated place hidden by the trees. The wind brushes by to rustle the decaying leaves. There is no more than 10 seats placed in an organized manner in front of a puppet stage, even though you are sure to be the sole cookie watching his upcoming act. Alongside the marionettes he controls, of course.

Finished with taking in the environment, you walk towards your seat before a familiar voice stops you in your tracks.

"Well, well, well. Lookie who finally decided to show up!"

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. If you had fallen to his side long ago, you would say the sight of him takes your breath away. But that would be silly to even think about at the moment.

"...Shadow Milk Cookie."

"I know, I know, saying it never gets boring, amirite?" He chuckles, floating in his casual manner to give a little twirl.

"The STAR of the show has arrived! Oh, but am I talking about you, orrrr am I talking 'bout me?" Shadow Milk sends a small wink your way. It seems like now that reunions have passed, getting comfortable with you comes natural to him.

"We need to talk—"

"Now, now, take a seat. The crowd is trembling with excitement!" A selected puppet appears next to you, hand pushing you to your spot. A front seat right in the middle. Aren't you just the luckiest?

Even though more crucial topics could arise, Shadow Milk Cookie is determined to get his way. You can do nothing but comply.

You should raise your weapon to save cookies from his future plans. But that all comes to a stutter whenever you see his face; his very pretty face. Your gawking gets cut short when a spotlight is directed on the act before you.

"Once upon a time, there were two cookies. Two cookies who were veeeeery in love, might I add!" He stupidly makes the two puppets kiss, creating a few mwas for extra effect. The brainwashed cookies around all "aww."

If it were a cliche romance story between two unknown cookies, you would not have been bothered. Yet shown by the cutouts he made quite well, the two cookies in specifics were no other than you and Shadow Milk Cookie. Must he make this insufferable to sit through by bringing up feelings from the past?

"They were busy cookies, too. Like, all of the gnats around depended on them!" You dislike the use of the word gnats, your iced eyebrow furrowing.

"But oh dear! One day, a certain cookie got tired of those puny creatures, never appreciative of what was given..." The cutout of Shadow Milk Cookie is seen with angry eyebrows. It's almost laughable.

"Soooo, Shadow Milk Cookie stopped helping out the doughbrains. All of those ungrateful cookies deserved to be crumbled instead!" His voice takes on a more passionate tone. Cheers of agreement erupt from the tiny, feigned crowd.

"Shadow Milk Cookie tried to reveal to his beloved partner the deception in reality, but guess what?" You already anticipate his next words.

Your hands clench into fists; the memories of the exact scene he portrays pouring through your head. Shadow Milk is not the lone cookie whose face comes to mind. The other beasts, whom you were close with, make an appearance too. Their faces of shock at your disloyalty still upset you to this day.

"HEY! Eyes up here, silly! I’m not done yet!" Shadow Milk Cookie snaps you back into attention. Making sure he has your full focus, which he adores, he continues on.

"Ehem. But then... [Name] Cookie BETRAYED ME! Yes, ME, out of all cookies! When I was so loving towards them!" The crowd of puppets gasp, mutters heard along themselves.

"Oh, the terror, the drama, the heartbreak—"

"Shadow Milk Cookie!" You interrupted his sob story, which is when you jumped out of your seat. Listening to his narrative for any longer is not what you would describe optimal.

The jester releases giggles, storing away his puppet show with a poof. His dough in the air, Shadow Milk flies over to you.

"Wooow, big reactions from the crowd! Didja love it? I can tell you loved it." He bats his multicolored eyelashes at you, a twinkle of amusement shining in his eyes.

"Stop with your child's play. There are crucial subjects to speak of!"

"Mmmm, like what—Ooooh! Are you talking about that Soul Jam THIEF? Awwwh, are you offering to help me take em down, maybe? You are just the sweetes—"

"No. You need to stop what you plan for Pure Vanilla Cookie." Shadow Milk Cookie rolls his eyes at your heroic words, showing he dismisses your request.

"Ugh! Honey, are you really siding with HIM?" His tone suggests he believes he is in the right.

"Tsk, I know he'll ultimately turn into me, but why not have the original? HELLOOOO, I’m right here!" His hand waves in front of your face, as if trying to rope you back into reality.

"You'll bring Earthbread to ruins! Your Soul Jam was taken due to your own villainy, Shadow Milk. Leave Pure Vanilla alone," you spoke with a stern tone, like it would ever leave an effect on the cookie floating before you.

"Oh, [Name] Cookie, how they've corrupted your sweet mind..." He looks into the gloomy sky, feigning a face of reminiscence.

"Hmmmmm, maybe, just maybe I'll listen to my dearest star if they apolooogizeeeed!" His words are nothing but lies, but fooling you at least once is his on his bucket list. It wouldn't hurt to give it another shot.

"...Apologize? For what?" Seems like your interest is peaked!

"For what?! There are many, many, maaaany things for you to grovel about, ya goof!" His face is just close enough to catch a whiff of his sweetly scented dough.

"But, I suppose for, y'know, not being there when I got out of that stupid tree!" He decided with a tilt of his head.

"What? I am not the one who sealed you in there, even though it was well deserved," you replied. Shadow Milk Cookie decided to ignore that last part.

"No, no, not that! Don'tcha know how sad I was when I got out of there?! I looked for your face between all those pathetic faeries, but you went GHOST!" He places his hand over his chest like the drama queen he is.

"How could my favorite cookie miss my long awaited return!" He cannot be serious, but deep down, you know he speaks with his crumbs included.

A simple sorry is all you have to say, and it isn't like losing a bit more of your dignity would hurt. For your fellow cookies, you tell yourself.

"Fine. I... apologize for missing out on your reappearance." Shadow Milk Cookie's façade of misery is gone in a snap. Instead, a large, toothy grin covers his face.

"Now, you will leave Pure Vanilla Cookie with his Soul Jam intact, yes?"

"Ah, you don't know how long I've awaited to hear that come from your lips!" Ignoring your question entirely, Shadow Milk nuzzles his cheek against yours, similar to a cat. You yourself are unaware of why you failed to pull away.

"Shadow Milk Cookie," you repeated, as he decided to leave you unanswered. He huffs before giving you a proper response.

"Right, right. I'll leave Silly Vanilly alone, all because you're such a good cookie!" Most of you refuses to believe him, but for now, gratitude will be expressed on your side.

"Thank yo—"

"UNDER ONE CONDITION!" Witches. There never fails to be a "condition" with this cookie. You remained silent, waiting for his next words.

"I. Want. A. Kiss!" With each word, he positions himself even closer than he previously was, the blueberry aroma he carries wafting your way.

He is far from surprised when your mouth remains closed. You can get a little shy at times, he would say. In truth, you really are just that incredulous.

"Earthbread to [Name] Cookie! Do I gotta repeat myself?" He laughs, finding your current expression to be hilarious.

Regaining your state of mind, you find yourself unsure of what to say. Of course you should decline without a second thought. THE Shadow Milk of all cookies is asking you for a kiss! Who in their right mind would say yes?

Oh, but as the case may be, you were never in your right mind.

"I..."

"I, I, I." Shadow Milk Cookie mocks you, yet it is endearing in his own way.

"C’mon, you know you love me! After all, I can recall certain events that would deem us a bit more than the rivals you act like we are," he chirped, making your mental state even worse as the warmth of his hand lands atop your shoulder.

You want to rid of those memories, you've attempted! However, it is much simpler to say than to do when trying to erase experiences with the one cookie you have ever cherished.

This is why you keep your identity hidden, why no one is aware of the power you hold underneath. It would only lead to more questions of the beasts back then, and that leads to prying about Shadow Milk Cookie.

You will admit that your relationship with Shadow Milk was very different compared to now. He and you shared many tender memories. A couple instances were slightly too tender to label you pair as mere friends. However, the both of you were put under too many responsibilities to ever have a chance to change close friends into something more.

Although, that never eliminated the love floating in the air, and it surely did not rid of the rushed kisses taking place in empty classrooms.

While memories from the past appear, feelings from back then aren't too far from showing up as well. You are very knowing of what said feelings were in specifics. Arising emotions can go for both you and Shadow Milk Cookie, but facing that is mortifying.

The sudden movement of your hood being pulled away struck you back to life.

"Pssh, what good will this hood do? I want to see your entire lovely face when our lips meet!" Shadow Milk Cookie brought his levitating to a stop while you were distracted, standing right before you.

"Who do ya really think you’re hiding from in this old hood? Me? Hahaha, that's hilarious! Perhaps I ought to dress you in attire matching my own?" Your stomach feels heavy, and you hate the fact that you cannot discern whether it's with butterflies or dread. Maybe a mix of both.

"You must promise to not bring harm upon any cookie." Now you're making conditions, but you know you only say them to ease your conscience regarding your soon betrayal of the others. Asking the Cookie of Deceit to make a promise has a predictable conclusion.

"I've been trapped in that cursed tree for so long, deprived of touch I longed for from you! Must you make your beloved wait any longer?"

You can't. As pathetic as that sounds, you cannot leave the beast to wait. That being mentioned, you press your lips to his smooth ones, your partner squeaking from your bout of boldness.

Perhaps Pure Vanilla Cookie can find it in his dough to forgive you for your greed. He should come to know that Shadow Milk is a very manipulative cookie.

Or maybe you never put up much of a fight to begin with.

Shadow Milk melts into you afterwards, returning your kiss with more power than you gave. It's clear to see just how eager he was to have you back in his grasp.

His arms hold a tight grip around your neck, putting the entirety of his weight onto you, with one leg lifted into the air per usual. Repeatedly giving you small kisses afterward, Shadow Milk can't help but giggle.

Underneath, he's giddy at the fact he managed to slip under the walls you placed for him, which, if you asked him, such barriers should be nonexistent for him, your dear soon-to-be spouse.

Besides that, now he's certain to recruit you towards the livelier side of the beasts! You might've refused to call yourself such a term at first, but it was inevitable.

He can't wait to show you off to every cookie on Earthbread, to flaunt how you discovered the lies of the world and came into his loving embrace willingly. Your duo comeback will shake every crumb without a doubt.

Pure Vanilla Cookie's face will be priceless! With you here now, the finest performance he has ever hosted can only be awaited.

He hopes those doughbrains are prepared for a major plot twist.

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ husband john price - 03

cw : angst, miscarriage, reader is on the chubby side

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤcollection - prev ⋆ next

as john sat in the middle of his living room, his head in his hands, he thought about everything that had turned to shit in the last few weeks. he was tired, his body exhausted from the deployment, the stress… the heartache. he couldn't go to bed—not when you wouldn’t let him comfort you as you cried. it was too much.

when he arrived on base, he went straight to his superior's office and told them he wanted to accept the desk job. no more deployments for him. he explained that, subconsciously, he had been training simon to take his place—he knew his lieutenant was ready. after hours of negotiations, they had finally accepted. now, he had to tell his team.

over the years together, task force 141 had developed a deep bond. john loved his boys, but he had other little boys waiting for him at home. he knew they wouldn’t be thrilled with his decision, but they’d understand.

to say they had been shocked would be an understatement. they knew john was getting old, but this was sudden. he had never really expressed any desire to leave the field. simon even went as far as asking if his wife had put him up to this, to which john just laughed, telling them you didn’t even know. it was going to be his little surprise when he came home. he also told them about the new baby. they had been excited about the news.

"tryin’ tae build a whole fitba team there, captain? poor missus cannae catch a break wi’ a bear like you," johnny had said, hugging his captain over the good news. john had received a pat on the back from simon and another embrace from kyle. he was going to miss them.

"let's go out with a bang then, captain, yeah?" kyle had said. one last assignment, then he’d be home for good, right?

how could he have thought it would be this easy?

their intel had been a setup, leading them straight into a trap. chaos ensued—the team was split up, communications were cut, and they were deep in enemy territory. they were being hunted. what should've been a quick extraction turned into three weeks of survival. john had been on his own. he'd seen simon dragging an injured kyle, and that gave him hope they were still alive. he'd prayed johnny had made it out too.

what john hadn’t known was that the rest of his team had made it back within days. no word from their captain for weeks, and the higher-ups had been forced to declare him missing in action. mia. three words that sent a chill through every soldier's spine. sometimes, being dead was easier. after the shitshow that went down, command had strictly prohibited any attempts to mount a rescue.

that was why you had opened the door to three men one morning. you had never met them, but you knew. they didn’t need to say a word. if it hadn’t been for simon’s reflexes, you would’ve dropped to the floor, hard. small pattering feet made their way to the front door, drawn by their mom’s sobs. johnny had rushed to them, telling them he was a friend of their father. pulling them outside to play, he reassured them everything was okay. they were too small to notice the tears in his eyes as he gently guided them out.

simon had dropped to the floor, you still in his arms. he wasn’t one for physical touch, but after john’s disappearance, he had needed comfort too. he had never been more grateful for his balaclava than that day. kyle stood in the entryway, quietly letting the tears fall down his cheeks. he had been the one to notice.

blood, running down your thighs.

everything had been a blur to you. one moment, you were happy at home with your children, and the next, your life had completely fallen apart. alone in the room, you had barely listened when the doctor explained that your baby was gone. you had had a "spontaneous abortion, induced by a significant physiological or emotional stress event."

at least your baby was with their father.

at the same time, your husband had returned from the dead. after long weeks of running and hiding, he had found an old radio and fixed it up. he had cried upon hearing laura's voice from communications. a few hours later, he was back on base.

he had been rushed to the med bay—tired, malnourished, with some wounds still healing—but he was home. he asked about his team.

"yeah, they made it home, captain. we were all waiting for you," the sweet nurse had told him before he closed his eyes.

when he opened his eyes again, he was still in the med bay, but kyle was there. the sergeant had a small smile on his face, and john could see tears filling his eyes—just as there were surely tears in his own. he asked about the others, and kyle reassured him that they were all okay. after years together, john knew there was something else. kyle took a deep breath, and then he spoke.

"it's your wife, captain."

that's how he ended up here. on his couch, in the middle of the night. aside from your heartbreaking sobs, the house was quiet. your children were with their grandparents; john hadn’t seen them yet. he had been told that they didn’t know their dad was missing—they just thought their mum was sick and needed to be left alone.

sighing, john made his way toward his bedroom when he could no longer hear your crying. maybe you had fallen asleep. you both had come home today. you’d been told john was alive and well while you stayed in the hospital for a few days. you knew your anger was unjustified, but you just couldn’t move past it. your mind was playing tricks on you: if john hadn’t been away, your baby would still be safe and warm in your belly. deep down, you knew it was wrong to think like that, but you were heartbroken and didn’t know any better.

you stilled when you heard the bedroom door open. the last time he tried to comfort you, you had screamed terrible things at him—things you regretted, but it was too late. as he got closer to the bed, you realized you were longing for his embrace. just to feel him close, his arms around you. so when he got into bed and reached for you, you let him.

you let him pull you toward his body, even though it wasn’t your husband’s body. not the one you knew. he had lost so much weight; it had been years since he’d been this skinny. you hated it. it reminded you of all the things that had happened, all the things he had been through to come back home. you started crying again. the feeling of his arms tightening around you only fueled your sadness. you had been so cruel to him, but yet, here he was.

"shh, my love," john whispered softly, tears of his own running silently down his cheeks. "i promise everything is gonna be alright." if you hadn't been with him for so long, you would have missed the hurt in his voice. more tears streamed down your face.

you had both lost so much, but you trusted him with your entire body and soul. he promised everything was going to be alright, and you believed him.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Man I think there are two Great Tragedies of Tim Drake, and the second is how hard fandom refuses to engage with the first in favor of their own made-up fanon version of angst. There's plenty of angst in the actual text!

Like the thing about Tim -- actual, pre-Robin, training-to-be-Robin, start-of-his-Robin-run Tim -- is that he sets out on his vigilante journey with two things literally no other batfam member has had before. Tim is normal, and he is happy.

Early Tim, you'll hear a lot in some circles, is meant to be a bland self-insert: look at this kid, he's a Batman fan, just like you! Only he's got more money AND more freedom than you, which means that he gets to have the coolest hobby ever, and when Batman gets in trouble this kid can actually help him out. So cool!

Dick, Jason, Cass, Damian -- they all come to vigilantehood after backgrounds that're various levels of implausible, tragic, and traumatizing. Batman, and their ability to don a cape beside him, rescues them. Their lives get better when they put the uniform on.

Tim's doesn't. Through coincidence or fate or force of plot, Tim agrees to be Robin and his life immediately gets worse. Tim's mom (who canonically loves him and he loves dearly, who's gone more than maybe she should be but a good mom when she's there) dies. Tim's dad's in a coma. Tim's life is upended.

Tim gets strangled by Azbats. Tim almost dies of the Clench. Tim gets all the typical vigilante/sidekick suffering stuff. Tim gets fucked with and fucked over by an increasingly paranoid Bruce.

Tim tries to leave to go back to his normal civilian life but he can't any more, because he is the Normal One, he's been the Normal One for so long that he's missed how much he's changed until he has to fit all of himself inside one single box of normalcy. He tries to leave and it follows him. It haunts him. It stalks him. It kills his friend. It kills his girlfriend. It kills his dad.

(That's the Tim that Jason runs into in Titan's Tower, for fucksake. The orphan living alone in Bludhaven, who's been Robin for years, who left it and then came back because nobody else could live up to him, who's been taking care of himself for ages. The one with half his life and identity pinned not on being granted the opportunity to playact as impostor-syndrome Robin -- that's Tim of two or three or four years ago, just starting out, before he started accumulating loss -- but on being Robin, and being damn fucking good at it. Jason thinks Tim stole his job. Tim thinks he's been doing this goddamn job for four years and if one more person tells him that it's not his, he's going to show them why he doesn't need to turn into Gun Batman to be scary.)

His best friend dies. His other best friend dies. 16- to 17-year-old Tim McFucking Loses It, even before Bruce also dies and pushes him right over the edge, but the tragedy of the Red Robin run isn't just Tim's general sense of self-worth and belief in his ability to be loved. It's stepping back, looking at it in context, and realizing that this was all preventable.

Dick Grayson was never going to be normal, before or after his parents died. Jason was never going to be fine. Cass was doomed long before Bruce ever got to her. But Tim chose this shit. Twelve years old, looking at Batman, too smart for his own damn good but in a way that never once stopped him from making friends and fitting in just fine before -- Tim chose. And he kept choosing, until long after it stopped actually being a choice, until it became all he had, all he had left. Tim made himself into the sort of creature of power and grief that most of his teammates and family had no choice but to be.

What a cool story. (What a very Barbara Gordon story, but that's a conversation for another day.) What a goddamn shame fandom would rather give him the UwU Tragic Backstory and comically terrible parents than tell it.

[luvly-writer]

You should be (afraid)

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: This IS the last chapter, damn....Thank God, the next one shot is one I am excited for but babes that gonna have to wat till tomorrow. Imagine Y/n's clothes like this and this but instead of red, it is green. ( yes im an ATLA fan and yes it its inspired by Azula)

Warnings: Language?

Part 1 // Part 2

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You double-checked your hair as you looked in the mirror. The day had come when you would only be known as Y/n Al Ghul, heir to the Demon Head and future Leader of the League of Assassins. It was difficult to grasp if you were quite honest. Per your request, the League had changed headquarters. Nanda Parbat was no longer safe so you had advised of getting one of the old abandoned cities of the League and turning the temple into headquarters with the rest of the city becoming a safe place for all of the servants and assassins. It was surrounded by water and walls with constant surveillance, meaning that no one could get in or out without people knowing. You were never going to forget the day that you came back, the surprise on your grandfather's face as you got to your knees and pledged allegiance to the League. He wasn't convinced at first but came around as you solidified your loyalty. You were no longer a Wayne like Damian. You were an Al Ghul

// "Leave us." Ras's voice carried out across the room. Your mother looked at you and gave you a reassuring nod before she left. As the room emptied, you were starting to feel nervous. Was this the right decision or were you too impulsive? "Explain to me, once again, child. Why are you here?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. You summon all of the courage you had in your body and stand up. "I came to reclaim my birthright as the rightful heir to the Demon Head," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady. "Is that so? Why the change of heart?" I hesitated to answer and he saw right through me. His knowing smirk gave it away. "Tired of being part of the birds and the Bats it seems. It is very curious how only one came back. You and your brother were inseparable. Should I expect a visit from him as well? To rescue his sis-" "No." I interrupted him and he seemed taken back "No?" "I was never part of their…team. My brother formed great loyalty and attachment to them, but I did not. They…" "Go on" "They rejected me the day I arrived, yet accepted my brother. I have been forgotten, ignored, and cast aside from the moment that I became present in that household. I only hold care for one of them and even he wasn't enough to make me stay." Ras stayed quiet for a moment. "So what my daughter has been telling me is correct after all. It wasn't just that she missed you. Well, then. Let me make you a proposition. You have three months to make me believe you are capable of being my heir. If you succeed, you will begin training solely for the purpose of being my successor. Were you to not prove yourself, you would leave at once. Have I made myself clear, child?" Ras never was one for empty threats and promises, so all she could do was nod. "You are dismissed. Tell your mother to meet me here. We have a few things to discuss" he dismissed you, "Oh and child?" You looked towards him hopefully. "It is good one of you came back to your senses. Don't disappoint me" And thus began the most excruciating three months of your life. //

You were surprised at how well you had adjusted to the League after coming back. Sure, those three months were harsh, but they weren't bad. You were thankful that you picked up a demanding sport such as ice skating. You weren't sure how you'd survive otherwise. Your mother would spar with you any time she visited so your skills weren't too rusty. After sharpening what had been there once again, which had taken you a month and a half, you were able to take assassins from the highest of ranks. Once your grandfather was satisfied, thus began your preparation for a leader. You were a natural. Your role was to follow your grandfather, grant him counsel, and even take part in some of the decision-making processes. Once, your grandfather had even gotten close to saying he was proud. Even went to say (in between the lines of course) that you had been able to surpass your brother in preparation. Since then, you understood that you no longer lived in Damian's shadow. A year had passed soon and your grandfather had announced that we would have a special coronation where you would be proclaimed as Heir.

That brought us here, to your coronation day. Your armor was specifically made to tailor you and your comfort for battle. Your hair, which had gotten quite long, was pulled into an intricate braid so that your face would be visible. You felt strong and that brought a smile to your face.

"You look radiant, my dear" you hear your mother say from behind you. "Thank you, Mother" You responded as she stood in front of you and caressed your face tenderly.

"Ma'am, you have some visitors" A voice was heard from outside the door. One of your assistants went to open the door and lo and behold…your family was there.

They entered slowly, one by one. Each suited up. "Beloved, those are not ceremonial robes" your mother reprimanded Damian, but he wasn't focused on her. He was focused on you.

"So, it is true then, sister," Damian asked feeling the air leave his chest. You were there, but it wasn't you. It couldn't be you. You were soft, kind, gentle, and tame, and you never raised your voice, you were you and this wasn't you. You looked stronger that's for sure. He wouldn't be surprised if their grandfather was injecting something into you. You looked like a member, no, scratch that, you looked like the heir. From the way you stood, with a sight upward til in your head, to the way you dressed. There was a sharpness in your eyes that told him that Ras had not been soft in your teachings.

"What is, Robin," you asked steadily. Gone was the girl who cried over her lost brother. Damian wouldn't admit it but he was hurt. Hearing you call him by his alias so coldly stung in ways he couldn't imagine.

"You truly are becoming the next Head of the Demon, Y/n?" This time the question came from Dick. The last months have been hell for all of them after the shock of your departure. It was as if someone had splashed all of them with a bucket of cold water and brought them back to reality. They had all visited your room at least once, would continually watch your ice skating videos, and would look at footage of you in the manor from the last years. They had desperately searched for a semblance of you in the entirety of the manor.

"Yes. What's it to you, Nightwing?" She responded once again coldly.

"Alfred misses you," It was Jason who spoke up this time. It was jarring to see the girl he once treated as his precious princess following the footsteps of someone so wretched.

"At least someone does. I couldn't visit because of my training. Once the ceremony is finalized, I will have more time and I will visit him" "So you will visit us at the manor-" "I will visit Alfred only. I have no other reason to do so," She interrupted Tim, with a heated gaze.

"What about your dreams of becoming a professional, (nickname)? It was all you ever wanted, you worked so hard for that. We all know, we all saw. This is not wh-"

"What do you know of me, Damian? What do any of you know about me?! We both arrived at the same. Time. And it appeared as if only you were there! Everyone favored you over me and why? Because you were fucking Robin and I wasn't? I tried to reach out. I invited you everywhere, I searched for you all everywhere, I asked and asked and the only thing that I ever received in return was disdain and silence. I only wanted to be loved, LOVED DAMIAN! What you got and I didn't! And if I tried to speak out, I was hushed because I had to be understanding of your processes. I WAS A CHILD HONED AS A WEAPON TOO. I went through everything you did too! And did any of you ever recognize that? NO! You stopped knowing me the moment you forgot you had a twin. You stopped knowing me when I came back and all of you were celebrating OUR birthday as if it was only you. You lost me the moment that you preferred seeing Jon over watching me compete at Nationals. You lost me when you left to see the Titans and I had to find out weeks later. You lost me when you decided that the love they gave you was yours alone and that I didn't deserve a fraction of it." She ranted and with her every word, Damian took a step back.

"You were always out training or with your friends-"

"Don't try to pin this on me, Damian Wayne. You all pushed me away." Y/n scoffed. "I invited you here because you are my mother's son. Not because I wanted you here. They were invited cordially because they are your family. Don't mistake my act of respect as an act of love."

"There are other ways, Y/n" Batman tried to intervene. Even if it didn't show, Bruce was hurting. He was deeply ashamed and disappointed at how things had turned out.

A bell sounded, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. Y/n straightened her back and turned towards her mother, a small smile present in her face. That smile, as much as it softened everyone's hearts, hardened the moment she turned to them,

"Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin, I will only say this once. I lack the care and mercy my grandfather and mother seem to have for you, with the small exception of Alfred and my brother. I will take this mantle. I will become the Heir to the Demon Head and I will be the next Leader of the League of Assassins. Those are facts that you will have to deal with. If you are here to cause a commotion, then I suggest you leave. I will not tell my assassins to hold back on their ways. If you'd like to stay, so be it. Enjoy the festivity. Have it very clear. I want all of you out. Of. My. Way. once I am the head. This is my birthright and I want it to have nothing with all of you." She started looking at Batman dead in the eye. "Nothing."

"My lady, everyone is expecting you" Came a voice from outside.

"Well, then. Let's go dear. You wouldn't want to have your grandfather waiting would you? Destiny awaits" said Talia as she ushered Y/n out of the room. She never spared a glance at the five men standing in front of her.

That day, they all watched from the sidelines as their sister was proclaimed Heir. Damian had failed and he was going to make sure he NEVER failed again. He was going to do everything in his power to fix the bridges that had been burnt with his sister. As much as Bruce wanted to reassure Damian that everything would be okay, he couldn't. It became clear to him that from now on when interacting with the League, they had to be extremely careful because his daughter could easily become as much an ally as she could be a formidable opponent. He never thought he'd say it but he was afraid of what his little girl could become.

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Author's note: YES!!! I FINISHED IN ONE NIGHT!!! YESSSSS LAWRD!!!! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK!! I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU ALL SAY!! LIKE AND REPOST! BESITOSSS!!