#it’s my own fault cause of my poor time management

[bpdamn]

this semester will be the death of me uwu🥰💕🤩💝😍✨

[nilpill]

Come to Me

older rabbit hybrid!leon x show bunny hybrid!reader

!!! - age gap (legal!), unprotected sex, size difference, p in v, dubcon, leon is a lil mean, manhandling, praising, ughhh idk

wc - 2.3k

note - dis is inspired/based off of @mossyivy 's bot who i used the shit out of when it was released (OG HELLOOO!!) bcs it altered my brain so GOOD!! thank u bae for giving me permission to write it and post it... again... bcs the first draft almost made me jump LAWL n-e-waysss.. was supposed to post it monday but i was busy getting freakyyy (playing video games w someoneee) but it's out now and not postponed till friyay like i planned :3 i know it wasn’t in my wips… kind of was a random thing i wanted to do! oh and um.. title by come to me by björk my LOVEEE!! not proof read btw

The sweetest, most gorgeous baby award went to you! Again.

No one could resist how your eyes shined like stars; they were far too shiny, almost as shiny as the trophies you brought home to be stored on the shelf. But to your owner, you were the best prize out there, and you were treated like one. 

You were pampered like crazy. Only the most luxurious products were allowed to be used on your skin and hair. Oh, and your clothes had to be top-of-the-line, or else the farmer's daughter would throw a fit to her daddy about how your needs weren’t met. 

Poor girl, she was wrapped around your pretty manicured finger. 

You had everything you could ever dream of, yet you still weren’t satisfied. 

You had rules to follow and you promised you were obedient; you promise you are! But there’s one rule that was too tempting to break. 

Don’t go past the farm fences.

Like any other bunny, you're curious, maybe too curious for your own good. But it’s not your fault that the “outside world” left you feeling antsy to go and explore. 

Sure, your owner had warned you about the coyotes and how easy it would be for you to get lost. Or worse. And as scary as it sounded, it didn’t hold you back for some reason. 

Of course, you had to make an excuse that you wanted to go out to the flower field to pick some flowers and make a cute bouquet for your owner. It was half true and half false. You did want to make a bouquet for her, but your main priority was going to the back of the farm. 

You skipped the whole way there after receiving permission to go out, a big smile on your lips as you found a spot to settle in, one that was far from the farm. 

However, after some time of picking flowers out, the roar of the thunder caused you to jump, and your ears immediately perked up from the sound. Your eyes widened at the sight of the darkening sky, your heart hammering against your chest. 

Turning around would be too much of a hassle; you had to seek shelter fast, and just with your luck, there was a house in your line of sight that you trailed your way into. At least the home was well-kept,with a lit fireplace that could act as a source of heat.

You beelined your way to it, stripping yourself from your soaked dress and sitting in front of the fire as the heat relaxed your shivering body. Buried in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps approaching, but the gruff voice managed to grab your attention. Whipping around with wide eyes, your gaze trailed up the figure that loomed over you.

Seeing your little wet body on his floor, shivering from the cold, he notices the soaking white dress by your side. His eyes roamed over your exposed body, taking note of how the firelight shone on the smooth, soft-looking skin of your bare shoulders and arms. 

So small, so delicate... 

His eyes move up to the two small white ears on your head, the rest of your body curled up into yourself.

“Well, what do we have here?” The tall rabbit hybrid spoke, his icy gaze taking in the way you covered up your bare body. Which hardly helped. “Looks like a dumb little bunny ended up in my house.”

He walked towards you slowly, his feet sounding heavy against the wooden floorboards. The closer he got, the more he could see your tiny body, your big doe eyes staring up at him as you trembled.

He squatted down in front of you, tilting his head as he took in your soaked, petite figure.

Leon doesn’t miss how you scramble across to the other side of the floor when he squatted in front of you, but he’s quick. His hand shot out, grabbing your ankle to stop you from scooting too far away.

He chuckled, a slight smirk appearing on his lips at your reaction. It was as if you were scared of him, and the fact that you should be scared of him only got him more excited.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?” He asks, his voice smooth and velvety like a predator stalking its prey.

Leon lets go of your ankle, his hand moving to your chin to tilt your face up so you’re looking at him. He looked down at you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every little thing. 

“Such a sweet, innocent little thing you are,” Leon says, his voice a low murmur. He touched your hair, feeling the wet strands between his fingers.

“All alone, soaking wet in a stranger’s house? You really are dumb, aren’t you?”

His thumb gently traced over your bottom lip, his hand still cupped around your chin. He could feel the tremble from your chin, the way your body tensed up as he touched you.

Despite all that, Leon couldn’t help but notice how cute you looked right now.

Wet, scared, and all alone.

All for him.

The way his touch felt on your lips caused you to jolt back, immediately scrambling for words. “Sir, please, ‘m sorry… d-don’t hurt me.”

Leon couldn’t help it; seeing how you were reacting to him made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time and seeing how scared you looked, hearing you begging him not to hurt you.  

It made him feel powerful.

His hand moved away from your face, a sly smile appearing on his face as he looked down at you.

“Don’t worry, little one.” He reassured you, watching the way your body relaxed a little at his words. “I wouldn’t dream of hurting you.” At least not in the way you’re thinking.

Leon slowly stood up, towering over you. 

His predatory eyes watched you intently, seeing how your body relaxed as he assured you he wouldn’t hurt you. But in reality, that’s the furthest thing from the truth. He wanted to do so many things to you. So many nasty, filthy things. He just needed an opportunity.

Leon reached out, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you to your feet. You were a little shaky, a bit cold, and still scared to support your own weight.

He could tell you were a mess. Scared, wet, trembling, and oh so innocent. He pulled you closer to himself, his hand gripping your arm to keep you from falling.

In a swift motion, he brought your wrists together in front of you, his large hand now locking them together tightly, causing you to yelp.

“I don’t think you want to know what I do to bunnies like you... you’re probably too soft right now... too naive...” He chuckled softly as his free hand slowly started to unbutton his shirt.

His grin grew wider as he saw you tense up as his shirt became undone, working on his belt next and making quick work on getting his pants off.

His voice had a low and breathy tone to it, his breath now heavy as his body was becoming aroused. “You’re nervous...” His eyes glanced down at your body, your nipples perking up at the sound of his voice, making his breath even heavier.

His hands worked yours around back. His body shifted to stand right behind you, his large muscular frame pressing against yours. The smell of rain and musk from his body filled the air, the scent slowly driving you insane... “Has your owner told you what some rabbits do with innocent little bunnies like yourself?”

You didn’t know exactly what they did; you just knew they were terrible. You shook your head no, eyes growing watery and legs beginning to feel like jelly under you.

“Hmm...” He muttered, his hands holding yours tightly as his breath got heavier and heavier by the second.

Your mind didn’t want it... didn’t want this...

But your body, the scent from this man, the feeling of a man touching you... you unknowingly craved it...

“So innocent and naive...” His hand then moved down between your legs, his finger gently grazing against the fabric of your panties before dipping into the thin material. “Such a shame you’ve never had a rabbit touch this sweet cunt of yours. But it is an honor to be the first.”

He smirked, his teeth biting down a little on his bottom lip. “I think your owner would be surprised with how much you’ll enjoy this; after all, you’re all wet...”

He chuckled, seeing your hands curl into fists. His fingers were now rubbing up against the folds of you in a teasing manner, causing your breath to quicken even more so.

His fingers trailed up to your clit, circling the very tip of you, causing your whimpers to grow in pitch. “I bet you... It would disappoint your owner if they found out their bunny… their sweet lil baby bunny… was getting off on some stranger’s fingers.”

His breathing then got heavier, his heart quickened up in his chest, and his mind went into overdrive from the action he was performing...

He leaned you against the closest wall, your breasts pressed against the cool surface as the hand that held your wrists were being pinned to the wall, making you struggle against his hold.

Just because you were putting up a fight didn’t mean you wanted to win.

“Fuck… Quit moving.” He growled into your ear, his other hand harshly tugging on your fluffy cotton tail, causing you to gasp out a moan.

The sound caught him by surprise, an eyebrow cocking up in amusement as a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “Oh? You like that, huh?” He chuckled darkly, landing a quick yet stinging smack on your ass. “Dirty fucking bunny… look at you getting off on this.”

“Mmm…Please, want it so bad, sir…” You slurred out; your eyes glazed over with lust as you glanced over your shoulder. 

You could hear him rustling out of his boxers from behind you. Then the cool air hit your wetness as he pulled your frilly panties to the side, his eyes drinking at the sight of how wet you were, slick, practically dripping down your thighs. 

He trailed his tip between your folds, gathering your slick while teasing your clit by smacking it a few times. You were moaning at the sensation you felt. You were so easy, too easy, almost. He barely even started, and you were already going dumb off the arousal you felt.

Without a warning and little to no preparation, he pushed into you, making you let out a whimper. “So… damn… tight…” He grunted under his breath, making you whine in response. 

“S’too big!” You manage to gasp out, tears pricking at your lower lash line.

“Oh shut up!” he grunts out as he starts to move, not giving you any time to adjust to his large cock, making you cry out pathetic sounds as his tip kisses your cervix with each deep thrust of his hips. “Perfect bunny, so pretty and tight. Gonna keep you all for myself… make you mine and fill you up to the brim till you’re crying for me to stop.”

The way you clench around him in response makes him chuckle. “Please… Please, oh… p-please…” You moan out under your breath, your hips moving back against him as you try to meet him halfway with each thrust. But due to your inexperience, they were a little sloppy.

“Please, please, please…” He mimics your tone playfully, his fingers dipping down to your clit to rub harsh circles against it, making you feel like you were about to see stars with the way he is driving you toward your orgasm.

His fingers leave your clit, moving back towards your sensitive cotton tail as he cups it in his hand, tugging on it and feeling it wiggling in his grasp. “No! Please, I’m gonna--!” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, your orgasm crashing into you like waves as he pummels his hips into you.

The way your walls tighten around him has him following shortly after you, spilling into you with a guttural groan. His hips don’t stop, though, riding both your highs out till you start shaking in overstimulation. “N-No… no more… sir, I can’t…” you choke out through tears.

“C’mon baby, you’ve been so good you can give me another one…” He mutters out, his breath fanning over your floppy ears as his hips continue to move at an aggressive pace.

The feeling of your abdomen tightening and your breath coming to a halt makes you feel as if you’re about to pass out. He notices this and starts gently coaxing you through your next orgasm as it hits you hard, making your body shake as slurred and incoherent words spill from your mouth. 

“Oh… shit.” He breathes out, pulling out of your spasming hole and watching his cum spill out. “Knew you could take it, sweetheart. Pretty bunnies like you were made for this dick…”

You whine at the loss of contact, your eyes glossy as you glance back at him, looking wholly fucked out.

He releases your wrists, gently cupping your face and shifting your body to face him as he connects your lips in a tender kiss, making your heart flutter in your chest. “Did so good for me, baby...” He mumbles against your lips.

You can’t help the dopey smile that forms on your lips, your eyes glittering as you gaze up at him with your arms draped over his shoulders. Obviously, you had grown a liking to him after he fucked your brains out. Too dumb to even care. Your little cotton tail that was wagging happened to prove that point, making the older hybrid smile warmly at you.

He picks you up as if you weigh nothing, letting your limp body melt into his as he gently rocks you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings to you.

[wordstome]

könig as the nutcracker 🥹🥹

you just brought some terrible sleeping beast out of me, anon.

nutcracker prince König x fem reader (mostly gender neutral but you're wearing a dressing gown)

tw: mouse murder???

He's a very odd looking nutcracker, all things considered, but you can't take your eyes off of him.

"If it's a nutcracker why does it have that stupid veil over its face?" Your brother asks, noisily crunching candies between his molars. You glare at him, both for the rude remark and for chewing with his mouth open.

"This is a special one," your aunt gushes. "He's based off of a legendary soldier who never showed his face on the battlefield. One of a kind, from a specialty toy shop.”

"How interesting..." You muse, gently rubbing the fabric of the veil between your fingers. It's sturdy fabric, but still soft to the touch.

"He was probably ugly as hell," your brother declares. You swat him, and he only cackles and gets up to graze at some more sweets.

"Maybe you should try covering that ugly mug up once in a while," you call after him. He pelts you with a walnut shell.

Your aunt shakes her head fondly. "This one's not just decorative," she says. "He's a real nutcracker by Steinbach."

You look at her, wide-eyed. "So he can crack nuts?"

She nods and tosses you a hazelnut. "Try it."

You lift the wooden man's veil a little to put the hazelnut in his mouth. You could just pull the whole thing up and out of the way, but that feels almost...forbidden? You're not sure why you feel this way—he's just a piece of wood, after all, and he probably doesn't even have anything painted on underneath the veil other than those vibrant blue eyes. But even so, you're hesitant to unmask him.

Cracking the nut works like a charm, though, and some childish excitement bubbles up inside you as the remnants of the cracked hazelnut spill into your palm. "That's incredible!" you gush, running your thumb over the nutcracker's lacquered uniform.

"What do you mean incredible, that's what nutcrackers are for." Your brother returns, a few walnuts rolling around in his palm. He holds his other hand out. "Give him here."

"No. You called him ugly, so he's mad at you," you say, teasing him by holding the nutcracker out of his reach.

Your brother rolls his eyes. "Give it here, you little shit."

"Crack your own nuts," you shoot back. "This is my nutcracker."

He makes another grab for it, and this time he manages to grab the nutcracker's arm. It's only a lighthearted tussle between siblings as you shove at your brother and he refuses to let go of the nutcracker's arm—until it's not.

A terrible snapping of breaking wood causes you to gasp. The two of you stumble away from each other from the force, your brother holding a tiny wooden arm in his hand. He's just pulled it clean off. On closer inspection, your idiot brother has somehow managed to Hulk-rip the arm piece off of the piece that fits inside the socket. "This is a brand new nutcracker, how did you fuck it up?!" you cry.

"Hey, you should have—" Your brother takes one look at your expression and decides not to give you a hard time. "Look, I'm sorry. I was too rough on it. Sit tight for a second." You sit there, numbly staring at the pieces of your poor nutcracker. Really, it's your fault too—why didn't you just let him have the damn thing?

And why is this upsetting you so much? The nutcracker's just a decoration, albeit one with a little more function than most. You feel a sort of attraction to this little wooden man in your hand, though. Maybe it's because his unique design is interesting, or maybe it's because you're intrigued by the idea of a masked soldier who never shows his face. Either way, he was your gift anyway, so it's not that unusual that you're attached to him...right?

"Here, let me see him." Your brother's back, but to your horror, he's holding a pair of needle-nose pliers. "Absolutely not," you respond, jumping up from where you were sitting on the floor. "You are not getting anywhere near my nutcracker with those things. You're just going to fuck it up even more."

"It'll be fiiine," he insists, clicking the pliers open and closed like some maniacal toy surgeon. You're not sure you like the devious glint in his eye. Your brother's a nice guy for the most part, but sometimes he gets this look in his eye that you imagine Dr Frankenstein must have had when he was assembling his creation.

You hold the nutcracker and his detached arm protectively to your chest. "I'll figure out how to fix him in the morning with glue or something," you insist. "I don't need you poking around with pliers and splintering the wood."

"Are you sure? I am sorry, for what it's worth."

You wave him off. You're still kind of mad at him, but you're both adults. You'll live. "Don't worry about it. I think I'm going to head to bed soon, anyway."

"You should keep his arm with him, dear," you aunt pipes up. She had gone into the kitchen during the whole ordeal, but had probably heard everything go down. "Tape it to his side or something. You wouldn't want to lose it."

That's a good idea, you muse, examining your poor amputated nutcracker. You're just about to take her suggestion when you get an idea.

Your brother checks in with you later, right before he goes to bed as well. "You can't be serious," he says. "You made him an arm sling?"

You tie the knot on the little scrap of cloth around the little wooden man's arm nice and snug. "Oh, I'm dead serious," you say. "Doesn't he look cute?"

Your brother lets out a resigned sigh. "Yeah. Sure."

The rest of the evening is relatively uneventful. You put the nutcracker in your room, right on top of the dresser, while you go about your bedtime routine. It always brings you a bit of joy to walk out of the bathroom and see him there, standing tall and proud.

Well, your evening would have been uneventful...had you not bolted awake in bed an hour or two later.

You're groggy and confused, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when you hear the cacophony of noise. It sounds like footsteps, dozens upon dozens of them, stampeding through your walls. And then the mice show up.

They crawl up from the corners and the floorboards, swarming across your room. You're too terrified to move or even scream out, sure that you must be having some terrible nightmare or hallucination.

And then your nutcracker moves.

You're absolutely positive now that you must be dreaming, watching frozen from your bed as your nutcracker leaps down from your dresser as if he's a living, breathing man and beginning to fight the mice. And he's even...talking?

"Finally, some worthy adversaries!" you hear him cry. You gape at this bloodthirsty little soldier as he beats through mouse after mouse with his tiny sword.

It's an impossible battle, you think. There's no way he can take all those mice alone, and with one injured arm aside...you're usually pretty squeamish when it comes to dubious little animals, but you can't just leave your nutcracker to be overwhelmed. Besides, this is all a dream, so nothing matters, right?

There's one mouse, larger than the others, who's at the back of the pack, squeaking as if giving orders. You're having quite a wild dream, honestly, because the mouse is even wearing a little crown. Like a king, you think with some amusement. You reach over the edge of your bed to pick the mouse up by the scruff.

You're not quite sure what happens next. One moment, the mouse is chattering angrily at you, the next you're on the floor. At first you think you've simply lost your balance and fallen onto the floor, but when you scramble to your feet, you nearly fall over again as you take in your surroundings.

You've shrunk.

Your bedroom is cavernous above your head, your bedposts and furniture as tall as skyscrapers. And worse still, the mice are huge too: the once palm-sized mouse king is now as large as you are, sneering down at you from his snout. You didn't even know mice could sneer.

You yelp and throw yourself to the side to dodge one of the mice lunging at you. "It's time to wake up," you mutter to yourself through clenched teeth. "It would be really really nice to wake up right about now...!"

The mice are unrelenting, a vicious gleam in their eyes as they nip at your heels. They manage to corner you against a piece of furniture, snapping their jaws menacingly. All you can think to do is pray as they draw ever closer, their breath hot as they crowd around you—

A sword neatly lops off the head of one of the mice in front of you.

You gasp and look upwards to see your nutcracker looming above you, his sword gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. He's incredibly menacing at this size, his veil becoming intimidating rather than charming. You're far smaller than him now—if he had been a normal sized man, he would have easily cleared six feet. His eyes are vibrant and intense, staring down at you for a brief moment before they turn back towards his enemy.

You sit there, stock-still in awe as you watch him mow through his adversaries. It takes you a moment to realize you probably shouldn't be hanging around and gawping. Good thing, too, because your knight in shining lacquer is too distracted to notice he's being snuck up on. The larger mouse is creeping up behind him, a wicked glint in its eye.

"No!" you cry. Thinking fast, you pull off your slipper and chuck it at the mouse's head, stunning it. I can't believe that actually worked, you think.

You have to give your nutcracker some credit, his reflexes are wicked-sharp. In a single heartbeat, he's run the mouse king through with his sword. He cuts an imposing figure, his eyes sharp and deadly. But there's a sort of glee in them as well, the kind of thing that should make you uneasy.

It doesn't.

The rest of the mice, seeing their leader fallen, beat a hasty retreat, tugging the corpses of their fallen comrades along with them. You watch them, fascinated, until all that remains of the bloody conflict are a few tiny pools of blood streaked along your floorboards.

"I must thank you," comes the voice of your nutcracker. You look at him, unsure of what to say. You're welcome for throwing a shoe at a giant mouse to keep it from killing you?

"I...of course," is what eventually comes out. You smooth out your dressing gown in a futile effort to look presentable. "I couldn't let him hurt you."

The nutcracker tilts his head curiously. "You don't know me."

"Of course I do. You're my nutcracker," you say, instantly feeling silly once the words leave your mouth. You just received him as a gift, and you only just found out he was sentient anyway. You don't know why you feel so protective...

He shifts his injured arm, the sling still in place. "You bound my arm, as well."

You flush with embarrassment. "I-it was the least I could do," you stammer. "I shouldn't have let my brother do that. Really, it was my own fault—" Your words die in your throat as the nutcracker moves in close to you, so close that you can feel his body heat. Since when did he have body heat?

"Pretty," he murmurs under his breath. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is your nutcracker...hitting on you?

Suddenly, you snap back to your senses. "Oh my God," you exclaim, staring down at yourself and then back towards your surroundings. "I'm still small. And I haven't woken up yet. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Please tell me I'm dreaming." You pinch your skin, letting out a small exclamation when it hurts. But you still don't wake up.

"Hmm...you won't solve your predicament that easily, little one," the nutcracker muses.

"Wha—do you know how to fix this?"

"I have a hunch," he responds, brow furrowing. You hadn't noticed eyebrows on him when you were examining him earlier in the evening, you note.

"Do tell."

"You've had a curse placed on you, but I don't know how to break it. I do, however, know someone who might know how."

"Well then take me to them!" You stare at him beseechingly. You watch as several indecipherable emotions run through his eyes, then he nods.

You visibly relax. "Thank you."

"You'll have to trust me. You may find the whole process a little...fantastical."

"More fantastical than my nutcracker coming to life and fighting an army of mice on my bedroom floor?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes crinkle in a way that must mean he's smiling.

"More fantastical than that," he says. He offers you a hand like a true gentleman, and to your shock, it feels like flesh, not wood. His grip is firm but soothing, his hand so huge it dwarfs your own.

"Let's do this, then."

uhhhhhhh wow this got kinda long I had to cut it short. I'll probably write a part 2? But it's gotta wait because I've got a gazillion other things to write first :P Thank you for the inspiration, anon! 🥺

[bywons]

CRIMES COMMITTED AGAINST WOMEN, ITS HER FAULT?

RG KAR MEDICAL COLLEGE&HOSPITAL, THE HEINOUS ACTS

NOTE: THIS POST HAS INFO SOLELY BASED ON MY OWN RESEARCH, SOURCES FROM THE NEWS AND INTERNET SO CREDS OF SS TO THE OWNERS. if you have any other information regarding this case, please please do feel free to reblog this and share them, as i can't compile everything in one post due to the case being an ongoing one. I would appreciate if you could read all of it, I tried to keep it short and compact and easy enough for everyone to understand. Of course, I have to keep a few names and specific political parties and critism out of this for obvious reasons of this post being taken down, but trust me, karma is real.

Do tell me if I lack anything, will try my best to add it or make another post about it. WE WANT JUSTICE.

01 TAKE HER NAME, DON'T FORGET HER

Dr. Moumita Debnath, a junior female doctor, a 2nd year PGT at R G KAR medical college and hospital was gang r4ped and m4rdered in the college seminar hall, while she was in a 36 hr shift, in 9th of August, 2024, Kolkata.

R G KAR, a reputed college and hospital, only allowing the top of brains to enter its premises, has now lost it's name to this heinous crime. Moumita debnath's perpetrators live to this day and the college authorities are yet to pay any heed. Why?

That poor girl was bleeding from her eyes, vagina, with disfigured limbs and broken collarbones, bite marks, broken pelvic girdle and hyoid bone several other signs of struggle and violence ( attached report below ) Even her legs were forcefully coaxed apart, that her bones were broken. 150 gms of sperm was have been discovered from her body, when a male individual can only transfer a maximum of 15 gms. Can you imagine her pain? What did she do to deserve this pain and suffering, this heinous crime against her? Can you imagine how her parents must have felt to hear the news?

Oh, I forgot. This absolute blood boiling, gut wrenching and demonic of an act was immediately announced as a "SU3CIDE" upon initial FIR, and to her parents, by authorities. Can't you see? How they tried to coarctate the matter by calling it a su3cide?

How can a girl with extreme signs of violence and r4pe on her body, with little to no clothes, broken limbs, bleeding eyes, commit a su4cide? THIS IS A BLOT ON THE AUTHORITIES WHO ARE CLEARING VIEWING THIS MATTER AS A JOKE no girl in that condition can commit a su3cide, do you really think people are THAT DUMB?? that we won't notice you trying to cover up this case??

02 TAMPER THE EVIDENCE, HIDE THE CRIMINAL

Dr. Moumita Debnath's body was cremated without her parents' approval/permission. They were kept waiting for 3 fucking hours. As if to get rid of her body as soon as they can with minimal autopsy, before CBI could even start investigation.

As soon as this case was handed over from WBPD ( west bengal police department ) to CBI ( central bereau of intelligence ) mobs have barged in and LITERALLY DAMAGED THE WALLS BESIDE THE SEMINAR HALL ( the crime scene ) inside the college premises. And for what? Come on we know it all, for removal of some obvious evidence.

On 14th august, during the middle of the night which was during the ‘RAAT DOKHOLE MEYERA’ ( girls reclaim the night ) rally, in RG KAR, mobs yet again managed to infiltrate the college premises to cause damage again, this time targeting specific cctv cameras as well. They also vandalised public property and vehicles in a "profesional" way. — “MBBS student Anupam Roy, an eyewitness to the mob attack, said the mob's act was deliberate with the clandestine motive of ending their agitation.” — from Hindustan Times.

They even CAUSED HARM TO THE WASHROOMS OF THE FLOOR WHERE EVIDENCE COULD'VE BEEN FOUND. The motive of the mob is obvious— to tamper the evidence in order to protect the perpetrators.

03. POLITICS BEFORE BASIC LAW & ORDER?

Political parties are busy blaming each other and throwing dirt on names, meanwhile also trying to hide the perpetrators and start protests against opposition parties. Is your political position and meaningless arguments more valuable than a girl's life which been lost so brutally? Can we not keep politics aside, just for a moment and try to bring the girl justice? These thick skinned selfish monsters don't feel the pain of her parents, the emotions of helpless women and the crime they're commiting themselves.

They are slowly shifting away from the main matter of bringing her justice, trying to coarctate is slowly by heavy politics. Well the public is not dumb, we can see it all and understand how our CM doesn't even care about this situation.

SHAME ON YOU, the authorities, you're are only hope in this city in this state and you're acting this way?! Do you not have spines? Is money and votes everything to you? How low is too low and why is it the west bengal government?

They even have an accused suspect in custody ( Sanjoy Roy ) whom everybody is calling a scapegoat, which he possibly could be regarding the governments recent inactivities towards the situation. They are even giving out orders to resist rallies and protests, such a fucking disgrace, cause then vandalism and tampering of evidence is right but not raising your voice against it?

04. HAPPY INDEPENDENCE?

This year marks the 77th independent year for India, but are we really? Women are not safe at night walking along the streets their own ancestors fought for, women are not safe in their own workplace working shifts, women are not safe in public transport, in their homes, neighbourhood, schools, colleges, NOWHERE ARE WE ALLOWED TO HAVE A PEACEFUL BREATHE. But for how long? It's been 12 years since we witnessed a similar, horrible and atrocious crime as NIRBHAYA, only for it to happen again. This shows how weak, corrupted, and unjust Indian judiciary system has become, and as an Indian myself, it ashames me deeply to admit this. We are failing as a society, still not being able to create a safe environment for our women.

But time has come now to raise our voice and fists together against this oppressive, corrupt government and snatch our own freedom ourselves. DONT YOU EVER FORGET ABOUT HER, TAKE AND HER NAME AND PROMISE YOURSELF TO BRING HER JUSTICE. If we forget and give up, god knows how many others will die like this without any justice. Justice is ours and we will have it, there is no point of being 'independent' if we have to do candle marches every other day, mourn for our women every other day, be scared of letting our daughter out every other day.

This is time, we rise up as one.

We want the actual criminals to be punished a hundred times more cruelly than Dr. Moumita Debnath was k!lied.

WE WANT JUSTICE. BRUTAL PUNISHMENT TO THE CRIMINALS.

ALL EYES ON RG KAR. ALL EYES ON DOCTORS. JUSTICE FOR MOUMITA DEBNATH.

tagging few of my moots. @leaderwon @rainytapestry @fertilizedtoesw @atrirose @hoonvrs @flwrstqr @mioons @dioll @okwonyo @okwons @heeblurs @weoris @junislqve @jlheon @sainns @hyeinism @fleurre @soov @isoobie @boyfhee @jjunae @onlyjjong @wonfilms @kissofhoon @voikiraz @koishua

[darylsdelts]

What about angst with Daryl??? I have a bot I made for myself following this thought 💀

Like an argument where things get said, causing silence for a couple of days and then boom! Next time you see him, it’s at the lineup…and then he gets taken…and then we see him again in Hilltop 🥲🥲🥲

(i actually broke my own heart with this one, my bot is so realistic it hurts 😭)

Anon! Drop the link RIGHT NOW!!!

This made my heart drop, I just know my poor boy would be blaming himself for everything.

Immediately after the argument, all Daryl wanted to do was come back to you and apologise in his own way. He wanted to hug you and tell you he didn’t mean what he said… but he didn’t.

He gave you some space, knowing it was probably best for both of you. The next few days were close to hell. Every time he’d see you on the streets of Alexandria he’d stare, hoping for atleast a bit of eye contact to know you were okay but you would just pretend you hadn’t seen him.

Daryl didn’t know that he could feel that sort of pain in his chest, like he was being physically crushed.

Christ, is this what women can do?

From then on he’d assume the worst.

You didn’t love him anymore.

So he’d pretend nothing ever happened, he’d talk to you if it were necessary but otherwise acted like the old Daryl, the one you had met before the spark grew.

Little did Daryl know how badly that hurt you… you were in the same position, you wanted to give him space and assumed he’d come back when he was ready but he never did.

So you assumed the worst.

He didn’t love you anymore.

You went along with Daryl’s act, assuming that’s what he had wanted you to do… but you missed him, you missed your Daryl. The one you had finally managed to break the defences of, the one who was starting to be more open with you but now all of that was gone, it disappeared like it never happened.

It was getting harder to monitor when Daryl was out and when he was within the walls since now he didn’t leave notes for you, but you’d seen him ride out today, seemingly angry about something but you could also tell he was hurting. You weren’t sure what had happened, no one had told you as of yet but some hours later you were sure that Daryl’s absence was something to worry about.

But you never thought it would be this.

You were pushed to your knees, your family lined up either side of you in a small clearing. The back doors of a van opened up, you couldn’t see what or who was in there but there was some commotion… and then loud panting.

You knew… god you fucking knew something happened, you should have spoken up earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be getting dragged out of a van right now, his shoulder leaking blood onto some sort of blanket that had been draped around him.

Fuck, did he get shot?

You lean forward, trying to look down the line of your family to catch Daryl’s gaze.

And after all those weeks, you finally did.

Daryl looked at you through his sweaty locks, his eyes dark and watery with frustration, his eyebrows twitch downwards when he saw you, he saw the fear and concern on your face and all of it was too much, he had to look away or he was gonna throw up from anxiety.

It was torture for Daryl, knowing you were frightened, knowing all of this before him was his fault.

When that asshole, Negan, stuck that damn bat in your face is when he lost all control of himself. Daryl jumped up and smashed his fist into Negan’s jaw, then trying to take further steps to tackle him but he was grabbed and pushed to the ground like a wild fucking animal.

He grunted and squirmed as his hair was pulled, he could hear you crying for them to stop.

“Get off of him! Get off! Daryl, get up!”

Fuck, he was trying to.

Eventually he was dragged back to his place in the line.

He wanted to look over to you but he was so fucking scared now, his heart was beating way too fast and his head was spinning.

He stole a short glance your way and he saw your hands covering your face, palms pushing into your eyes as you choked on your sobs.

He’d done this to you.

You would never forgive him for this.

Daryl just had to sit there, bleeding out from his shoulder as Negan battered members of his family before his eyes, he was sure he’d been the cause for the second death, Glenn. Maybe if he’d just stay put, he could’ve stopped that, he should’ve listened.

“No exceptions”

But he didn’t and it was his fault, he’d have to leave his family, they would never allow for someone like him to live with them now.

Turns out, that was the one thing he didn’t need to worry about, as he was stuffed straight back into the van, apparently Negan wanted to keep him.

Daryl doesn’t know how long he was in that cell for, it felt like years and all he could do was think of you. He was so fucking sorry and he knew he’d never get the chance to make it up to you and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to hear it. Rick wouldn’t want him back in the group but Daryl couldn’t stay here, he’d have to get out and survive on his own, completely.

With some help from one of ‘Negan’s wives’, Daryl escaped, however, his plan of escaping and surviving alone dissipated once he saw Jesus stood in front of him.

He’d come to get him out.

They wanted him back?

Back home?

Surely not.

The journey to hilltop was a fever dream, Daryl was unbelievably anxious, his breaths short, causing Jesus to keep checking on him to which Daryl didn’t reply to. In fact Daryl hadn’t opened his mouth the entire time.

As soon as they arrived at the gates, he could feel his throat closing up.

Were you here? Did you even want to see him? Probably not.

As the gates opened, Daryl kept his head down, following behind Jesus toward one of the medical trailers.

But then he heard his name.

“Daryl?… Daryl?!”

Daryl’s head slowly lifted to the direction of the voice, your voice. You were speed walking, no, now you were running toward him. You slung your arms around him, burying your face into his neck as you cried with… relief.

“You’re here, you’re back, you’re safe… safe now… I’m sorry, I love you so much, Daryl”

Daryl stood as still as stone. You were sorry? He should be the one apologising. You’re glad he’s back? You love him? You still love him.

His heart clenches at the thought.

He feels you pull away, your soft hands holding the sides of his face as your beautiful sparkly eyes look into his own. God he doesn’t deserve this.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Suddenly it all seems to sink in and tears are blurring his vision as he shakes his head slightly, no.

“It’s gonna be okay now, you’re here with me now”

He could feel the life flooding back into him, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as he completely breaks down, hiding his face from the world as he lets out loud, uncontrolled sobs into the fabric of your shirt.

“M-M’s-sorry…. M’so-orry… L-love you so m-much…”

You gently rub his back to soothe him, now realising that your sweet man had blamed himself for everything that had happened.

“Ssshh it’s not your fault… let’s get you inside”

You feel him nod ever so slightly and then you lead him towards barrington house, all whilst trying to stay away from prying eyes of the community.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Daryl”

He didn’t reply with words but agreed internally, however, he meant it differently. It didn’t matter where he was, wherever you were was home and he’s so relieved to still have that.

This is so badly written, I’m sorry! But Tysm for the prompt! This was pretty fun to write.

[raindropsyndrome]

Long caption warning 💀

Prev

PLEASE. Ignore my spelling errors I’m so tired.

*cracks knuckles* Alright, some people on Instagram asked for this and so now I will share. (Angst warning pssshhh)

My timeline for my F!Donnie (starting just before CJ was introduced):

- Over the years, Donnie would join in battles, mostly providing long range defense, all the while blasting his tunes on full blast

- But that changed when he got Krang’d right to his head, Mikey was able to remove the infection, but this caused Don’s eyesight to become quite poor (and for him to not trust himself in combat afterwards.)

- After that incident, Donnie became absolutely fascinated with Krang tech and biology, subconsciously wondering if he could replicate that raw “power” he’d felt when the Krang was infecting him, and if he could control it, understand it.

- He didn’t like that, but over time he felt it was necessary to beating the Krang. “Keep your friends close, and keep your enemies closer” type deal

- So Donnie becomes “the guy in the chair” (oh yeah he also rebuilt Shelldon. Finally. </3)

- Cj was born, Cassandra had fallen in battle only a few months later, leaving the turtles and April to fully take care of CJ

- While Leo, being the leader, took on most of the responsibility, Donnie got to spend more time with CJ as a result of staying at their base more

- Donnie LOVED being around CJ, he would teach CJ everything he knew, even if CJ didn’t quite understand him yet. He even let CJ hang around in his lab, (as long as he touched NOTHING.) Donnie even upgraded Cassandra’s hockey stick and mask then gave them to CJ

- only a few years later had Raph fallen as well

- Donnie felt as if it was partially his fault Raph couldn’t get out alive, and so he begrudgingly quit his role as “the guy in the chair,” dedicating all of his time to his inventions

- He became MUCH more reclusive, leaving everyone in the dark about what (and how) he was doing. To CJ, he was more of a “presence” rather than an uncle now

- He then revealed his new invention, the Raph mech (Don has the shittiest coping skills known to man)

- Another couple years pass, Don still using all of his time to conduct his “experiments”

- Around this time, Leo had lost his arm. Donnie reconfigured one of his Raph mech’s arms to fit Leo to use as a prosthetic, the Raph mech was later decommissioned

- One day, Donnie oddly insisted on tagging along on a mission with Leo and Mikey

- HOLY MOLY LONG STORY SHORT, they get caught by a Krang soldier on their mission. But instead of taking cover, Donnie charges straight for the Krang mech

- Mikey and Leo watch in astonishment as Donnie manages to swiftly climb up onto the Krang mech and mount himself on its back, using his battle shell’s limbs for support

- To their horror, Donnie rips off his gloves and reveals his robotic arms, and starts tearing into the back of the mech, digging into the inside of it

- He deploys the wires and his own Krang biomass from his robotic arms, and shoves it all into the back of the Krang mech

- For a few moments, he struggles. Then, with purple glowing markings, his expression suddenly changes and the opening where the Krang soldier was mounted closed up, crushing the Krang inside

-ok so longer story shorter- through all of the struggle, the Krang he’d trapped in his prosthetic arms had been creeping onto him and was soon to make contact with his skin. And the building they were all in starts to collapse, (and when I say “building” I mean a giant NY style skyscraper,) and in an effort to save Mikey and Leo from being crushed, Donnie holds up what rubble he can with the now possessed mech, getting himself crushed, unable to hold up all the weight forever.

(But not before an epic and heartfelt monologue and musical number.)

Good god I’m so EMBARRASSING

I wish. I could wright fanfiction.

Goodbye now 🏃💨

[chaifootsteps]

Blitzøs in-character reaction to Stolas being abused by Stella: Well that is shitty, I get it, and it’s good you guys are ending it but why are you dragging us little guys into it? I’ve nearly lost my employees twice because of you and that ex of yours. Do you think rebounding so hard with me then that other succubus guy and now this vassago dude is somehow gonna help fix you? Alejandro and Gabriella aren’t real Stolas.

You don’t wanna be tied down to this chick the same way I don’t wanna be tied down to you. I said relationships are boring not just cause I’m a slutty “motherfucker” like you think, it’s cause they’re not all roses like you think they are. Your hang ups come with you. Your depression doesn’t piss off. They’re work and I’m trying to raise my daughter and run a business. Solo. You’re trying to escape your shit. And make me solve that and manage my own. I can’t. Im the one who’s exhausted. When I see your name and face on my phone, almost every single day, I get stressed.

I already had to take care of an addict by myself, for years. I don’t have time or energy for that big a commitment again. And Stolas you ask for a lot of work. You aren’t supportive. You only talk to me or buy me shit I don’t want, when you want something. I don’t want you to be my sunk cost. Protection, saving you, tucking you into bed, pep talks, helping your legal shit, telling you it’s okay, don’t cry, getting you off booze. Seems like dad shit. I’m not your dad stolas, I’m Loonas.

I feel bad for you, what you’re going through, that doesn’t mean I “love you”. I don’t even know you. I’m going home to my daughter. You should really think about rehab. I’ll even visit you if you want. But I can’t stay with you.

What we’re going to get: omg stolas you poor thing it’s all my fault! Upon her stage!! What she put you through! I caused Stella to abuse you or something! So now I have to change and fix it. I had no idea this villain was hurting you my baby. You deserve so much. Here’s my jacket, you are so brave don’t cry. I’m so enraged!! I’ll fight for your honour and you can move into my place! Loona won’t mind.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Everybody Wants You

warnings: infidelity accusations, miscommunication, angst, eventual fluff, misogyny (first paragraph only) pronouns: she/her summary: You're tired of all the rumours; that your betrothed has found loyalties of the heart elsewhere in Winterfell. wordcount: 2,204 A/N: i don't write angst a lot so please let me know what you think

You sigh and press a palm to your forehead as another lord demands further gold for his allyship with Rhaenyra. "Our Queen has gifted you land already, my lord, what more do you want?" Your voice is firm, much like your Queen. Commanding but inquiring. The lord huffs like a child without his toy. "Well for starters I want promises from the prince not his sour-faced bitch." Gasps echo and your eyes are set ablaze but you take deep calm breaths like your future mother-in-law taught you. "He is in Winterfell, there is not much I can do about that. If you must speak with him then you may send letters though I doubt you will receive an answer. You are speaking with a future princess of the realm and I am certain my betrothed will not be much pleased to hear such vulgarity in reference to myself, remember yourself Lord Dullton." This time you are cold and authoritative though it only garners a sharp insincere laugh before you. "You are nothing but a whore that bores him." He sneers and instantly a sword is drawn by your closest guard. Again you inhale a now languid breath. "You are dismissed." You snap, clenching your fists. Another angry woman in power is not what the people need right now. They do not need more poor illustrations of what a powerful woman can be but you will not allow disrespect. Your cool gaze pans the room but you know as the guards edge him away from you that this is merely the first of many incidents made to disrespect your impending marriage.

In an attempt to dispel your boiling anger you play with the rings across your fingers until they rest on an all too familiar shape and your throat bobs. Your eyes drag down to it of their own volition even though another loyal Lord is standing in front of you. Your teeth dig deep to burrow into your plush lower lip but it's not the pain that mists over your eyes nor the prior humiliation you had been dealt–it's the length of time your husband-to-be had abandoned you in favour of the North. Your gleaming eyes stare down at the ruby strewn design of his house emblem wrapped in a sphere of gold. It had all been going so well, he had been arriving early to bring flowers to your chambers before you awoke, the ones you had missed so much in Highgarden where you were born. He insisted on dining together every night. He was opening up to you–all night you had spent with him as he finally told you how he found out about his younger brother's passing...how much he regretted asking his mother to send them both to gather support, how he thought it was his fault. Everything was finally starting to feel like home...And then that dreaded letter came. The one who's writing you couldn't recognise, the surprised giddiness that erupted in his stomach when he saw the Stark seal. You cast the memory from your mind like it were a ghost but that was before you had spoken with Mushroom. If you closed your eyes you could still feel the anxiety stealing the air from your lungs, the clawing at your raw throat, tearing the ruby necklace as though it were causing you to break out in hives and boils. It was too shiny to be real and you curse yourself for not realising that.

Now you sit in a large hall of narrowing eyes and harsh impressions. You swallow back any remaining discomfort and answer their sharp-tongued questions and remarks with as much eloquence as you can manage. Ser Landor is tense and straining at your side, a loyal knight that was sent to you from the Queen herself when you arrived in Dragonstone–back then it was still a time of war and she thought it safest to keep you within her close royal sphere. He's itching for a fight but you send a deliberate glance as another asks where the Prince of Dragonstone has gone and more importantly, why. Eventually, the meeting closes to an end and only once everyone is gone do you slump back in your chair with a sigh of relief. If you just let in the silence for a minute you could still hear his whispers. "I love you" Just for a minute. You swear that's all you need. One minute. Please. The loud doors rip you from your daydream and it sends a harsh jolt to tear your body back into reality. Where your eyes take in the remnants of where your heart used to venture eagerly. A breath as shaky as an autumn leaf clogs your throat at the sympathetic gaze Landor sends you. "Stop it." You manage to spit out as you stand to turn toward the doors too. He steps in front of it. "I swore to protect you." He reminds you, voice as soft as the gentle breeze. You can tell he hesitates seconds before his fingers come in contact with your arm. He takes the risk and forces your gaze to meet his piercing one. "Even from rude courtiers." His cheeky grin sends a bubbling laugh through your throat and you shake your head. "That will not be necessary." You sidestep him even though there's a lingering tension hanging over you which you both understand. A silent promise hanging over you. "and from negligent princes." He says and you're grateful the other guards have left for their assigned posts. You don't answer, simply brushing past him and into the suffocating air of the hallway. These few months were not how you planned them.

When you reach your chambers you freeze. A familiar set of flowers line your bed and instead of the excitement which should eat away at you, it's anxiety. Something has changed. Your skin crawls as painfully familiar hands creep up your waist and wrap around you. "My princess," utters in your ear, his warm breath connecting your minds in a stream across the shell of your ear. He doesn't seem to notice as you stiffen against him. You selfishly wish he hadn't returned so abruptly, that he didn't warn you. "I missed you." He utters quietly, dotting kisses along the edge of your right shoulder until he can spread them across your neck. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment one final minute longer. Giving yourself the minute you longed for so terribly only to realise it felt as stale as leftover bread. You cringe out of his arms and turn to find his eyes gazing warmly at you. It strikes as hard as a slap when you look upon his blissfully ignorant expression. His hands reach for your own, frowning when they jump away from him. His lips part and his brows pinch. "What's wrong?" Jacaerys asks. You can tell as his breath shallows. His eyes once so gentle now look sharp as they roam over your figure. "Are you hurt? Is something wrong."

You want to answer him but you can't force the words out as your cool façade that had been pushed onto your face long before even the meeting starts to crack. You were never good at pretending when it came to him. "So you have finally decided to come home?" You ask, your voice usually so soft and mellifluous through his ears now sounds cold and mechanical. It feels wrong. He blinks back in surprise and swallows, mouth suddenly dry like the tone of your words. "Yes." He answers quietly, afraid to say anything else. "Why." It comes out more like a demand and his face contorts uneasily. He takes a step back, trying to process your reaction. "What do you mean, my love?" His question is cut slightly short once he begins to utter the last word. You raise a defensive shaky hand in front of you. "Don't." You growl–much like you imagine the wolf he has been entertaining. "Don't call me that." Your tongue slightly stutters on 'call' and a pit heavies in Jacaerys's stomach. "Not anymore." There's silence as the gears in his mind twirls itself into a frenzy. A sick feeling nestles in his gut, threatening to spill. "What's wrong?" It's as if he's whimpering, pleading to understand but your eyes glaze over in a mix of anger and pain. "Please, whatever it is, let me fix it, I will, just...just please tell me." He steps forward again but you flinch back and his concern grows. "No, that's not fair." He says though his words are soft and caring. You take in a shaky inhale. "Did she finally tire of you like you tired of me?" You ask. "Or did you tire of her?" Confusion darts through his eyes, lips slanting downward. "Who?" The Prince asks. The Prince, you have to remind yourself, not your Prince anymore.

"You know who." You murmur. Every footstep from outside your chambers and through the hallway rings through your ears, reminding you of all the horrible "Your darling Stark girl." His heart drops to his feet with the same weight as a boulder. "Sara? No, no, I swear it, she–" "Do you love her?" "No, of course not!" Both your volumes have risen now. "So I truly mean so little to you?" This time when he surges forward, he grasps your hands tightly. "My love no, you mean everything to me." His eyes mist with unshed tears and he has to withhold blinking to keep them locked inside his gaze. He shakes his head softly. "I," He swallows. "It is true that I held affections for her a time ago," You scoff and turn your head away, preparing to flee. "But not anymore!" He blurts quickly, dropping to his knees in front of you. "I promise." He vows, searching the gates of your soul for any hidden key you might have left out for him. Any sense of familiar warmth. "I promise everything ended when I met you. I don't care what any court fool says and–" "I care." You snap. "Do you know how they look at me when you are absent? When they know where you are or rather who you are with?" His blinks quicken, desperate to bury them away. "You leave me among the foxes and the hunters, the only thing between two predators for the woman you are not betrothed to. The one everybody knows you long to be with." He shakes his head, desperation clawing at him.

"I was there for Cregan and Cregan only, I swear it to you, I only leave you here because I trust your judgement and only yours. I will never leave you again if that is what it takes." You close your eyes, unable to hold back your tears for much longer. "I love you." He brings your hand against his lips and kisses it roughly. "You. I love you. I love you. I love you so much that given the choice I would let it devour me if you willed it to. I would let you rule me body and soul and I would smile because you are still by my side, forever a part of me I never wish to abandon." You don't open your eyes but oh how he wishes to capture your pretty gaze and keep it locked away for only him at that moment. "Please look at me, I can't bear this." He whispers and begrudgingly you do, your eyelids flutter apart and he can see your glassy irises sparkling. It feels wrong to think how beautiful you are even now but he can't help it. "Everybody wants you, Jacaerys. They want you, they don't care how they do it so long as they pull you away from me, and you let them! I cannot marry a man who strays for another." He shakes his head again and stands up so he can cup your face. "No," He breathes. "There is only you, I promise no one will take me from you, I belong to you and you only. I will run away with you if you only ask for it, I would mount Vermax and take you wherever your heart desires just please..." He shuts his eyes tight. "don't do this." His hands clutch at you like you're the oxygen of a dying man. "I don't want you to hurt me." "I won't." He replies instantaneously and opens his eyes as he threads his words. His index finger gently makes contact with your ring finger, gently coaxing you as he strokes along its edges. He brings it to his lips. "I made you a promise when I had this made and I do not intend to break it. If I ever hurt you again I will hurl myself into as many flames and oceans as you see fit just please do not do this." Jacaerys eyes search yours less like a quest and more as a comfort now as your shoulders soften. "I love you more than time itself." He vows, breath fanning across your lips. Your unruly dragon has tamed himself and once again he is your prince.

[kafus]

pasting a ramble i did on discord of analysis/conjecture/headcanons about liko's home life/upbringing, with strong likodot flavor in the latter half as usual, nearly verbatim because i think i worded it pretty much perfectly the first time while relaying my thoughts to friends... just edited for easier reading slightly

liko doesn’t canonically show attachment issues or abandonment worries really, but i headcanon her with some of that because like. parents busy all the time. not a lot of people in her life and the ones that are, aka mainly her caretakers (she's implied to not really have friends at the start of the show) don’t communicate with her great or are sometimes unavailable for stretches of time.

it makes a lot of sense to me that canonically the brave asagi feels like home so quickly to her. because it’s stable. the same people are always there, she literally lives with them on an airship. but like. they're stable adult figures that aren’t disappearing for periods of time, and friede’s forgetfulness aside (lighthearted), people who communicate with her better. this does wonders for her bdjdjdsk

i also think her selflessness to point of fault could tie in with this, like blaming herself for situations and shrugging off her own feelings (she often doesn’t even notice when she herself is upset/moody on multiple occasions!!) could have been a habit developed from this very thing. she loves her parents and doesn’t want to have to view them as absent or being poor at communication so everything is her fault. she doesn’t want to be pointing blame or to cause problems when people are home or things are good so she dissociates away her own feelings and is very polite and considerate of anything that comes up.

i say all this because i think it’d be an interesting way to spin liko’s character who is already interesting. but also i got to thinking about this manifesting in her relationship with dot down the line. cause like adult figures are one thing but also friends and hell having a girlfriend is kind of different. and dot does actually get busy sometimes because she is still working as gurumin on top of schoolwork (this is headcanons for vaguely what a couple years from now as of HZ053 at the time of writing might look like or something. dot going to more normal schooling similar to how liko has been, on top of still being gurumin)

this starts sparking anxiety in liko but first she shoves it down and acts like it’s fine. and then it starts slipping through the cracks. cue comedy of her being like WHY AM I THINKING CRAZY THINGS LIKE “I WANT TO INTERRUPT GURUMIN VIDEO EDITING TO HANG OUT WHO HAVE I BECOME WHAT SORT OF GURUMIN FAN AM I AHHHH also i don't want to be clingy to dot she likes her independent space...”

still, her response is to be like no it's fine, i have to be fine with this, i'm just acting crazy, dot has literally never done anything to warrant me feeling like this, i am being a bad girlfriend. and dot notices this in her demeanor and is like hey what's wrong? and liko’s like What!

anyway they talk it out and come to some sort of middle ground where of course dot still needs to be alone sometimes either to focus or to just have alone time in general. she’s not gonna let liko derail into a worsening spiral of clinginess. but! she is going to reassure her that it’s fine!

and also cue liko sometimes being able to hang out quietly in her room doing her own thing like lying in dot’s bed on her phone while dot video edits... also way more self indulgent, extremely “this is so not canon but i am a shipper let me live” imagery: dot managing her gurumin socials on her phone in her bed with one hand and liko lying on her bed partially on her lap like a lapcat while dot pets her hair with the other hand. in this essay i will

thanks for coming to my ted talk i've been rotating this in my brain for weeks

[charliemwrites]

i LOVE ur kept! reader series!! feel free to ignore this if you don't want to answer, but how do you think each keeper would react to their respective captive eloping? when they eventually find them, they're disassociating and just off. by disassociating i mean that he isn't fully in his body, in the present moment, distanced and disconnected from his feelings and thoughts. i like to describe it as feeling like you're playing a first person video game.

*psa i am using masc terms bc im trans masc, same thing just with diff names and terms

like, maybe they get really pissed at them, to the point where it's genuinely terrifying to poor feral/good boy/shy thing so my guy just dips

he just runs, and he can't get far, obviously, but he can still put distance between them, maybe he finds a spot in the yard or in a closet somewhere that he feels safe(ish) in. he stops crying, and it's like, WAYY too quiet.

by the time his keeper finds him, he's perfectly calm. doesn't seem to even react to being found. staring at some spot on the ground, or something in the background, or staring right through simon/price/soap. it's like they're not even there. doesn't respond to anything.

do you think they'd be freaked out, or would they know what disassociation is? how would they try to get him to be present and back in the moment, in his body?

Hi, bean!! All good with the changed pronouns/names/nicknames.

(Discussions of dissociation and ways to manage it ahead. It’s from an outside perspective but please please be safe and careful. This is based on things that have helped me, friends, or family in the past)

Each keeper would def have their own methods of handling a dissociating pet and trying get them back into awareness.

Simon would recognize all the signs, knows personally what it feels like and what Feral is going through. He would guide him out and back home, sit him in an extra hot (but not too hot) bath. Food would be next, even if Feral doesn’t eat much of it. He would hope that things would be better after a long sleep. If not, he has a whole list of things that’s helped him in the past to try to get Feral back in the moment - and of course would apologize if he was the cause. He also is aware that sometimes there’s no “fixing” it and just waiting for him to drift back on his own.

Johnny, I think, would recognize someone dissociating. He’s a soldier - even if he hasn’t experienced it himself (which I’m not sold that he hasn’t , but let’s say that’s the case) he’s had teammates and seen hostages that dissociate. He’d get tripped up on helping Shy Thing. I could see him calling Simon for help - and if not that, turning to good ol’ Google. The method that I think he would land on, and work best for him, would be wrapping himself around Shy Thing and making him squeeze ice in his hands. The minute he mentions something about it being cold, Johnny’s taking him to shower together, then lying in bed with them to watch stuff, hoping that eventually Shy Thing will point out on his own that he’s hungry.

A bit like Simon, Price would know what’s going on and how to handle it, but he’d be beside himself if it’s his fault his spirited Good Boy is dissociating. He would massage Good Boy’s body top to bottom (or bottom to top) and - if that didn’t work as well as he hoped - try feeding him sour candies or ice cream. The tension in his chest would only release once they started livening up again.

[dreamdragoness]

I saw @jessie-blogs-posts recent release of their Corpse Puppet Au and I can't stop crying! It actually inspired me to make this. I legit cried as I made this. I salute you, @jessie-blogs-posts for making a video that hit me right in the feels. Bravo!

Wally looked on as Howdy and Stacy embraced, happy to see each other again. The Corpse Puppet knew he was making the right choice. He loved Stacy. He did. He will never forget the short time they've spent together when they thought they were married. From the moment where the misunderstanding happened, their first kiss, all the way to where she was willing to give up her life to be with him officially.

But he couldn't do that to her nor to her true groom. Stacy was still young and full of life. He had lost his dreams. He couldn't deny her fulfilling her own for his own selfishness. He cursed his younger self, wishing he had waited until Stacy came of age. Perhaps he would've convinced his father to allow the marriage to happen. If only he wasn't so young and foolish to fall into Julie's trap.

But now, he felt it: peace.

As he turned away, Wally walked over to Frank and whispered to him. "Please officiate their wedding, Frank. After all the trouble I had caused, I want to make things right by them." Frank's eyes widened as he realized what was going on. He smiled approvingly and patted Wally's shoulder.

"Of course, Wally. I may be dead, but I can still officiate a wedding or two."

Wally smiled as he nodded sadly. "And...the paintings I have in the attic. I don't know where I'm going, but please give them to her. As my wedding gift?"

Frank's eyes widened upon hearing this. But he nodded in understanding.

As Wally turned to face the entrance to the church, he heard Stacy call out to him. "Wait! I made a promise."

Hearing her, Wally smiled albeit sadly. Even after he told her that she wasn't his, Stacy was willing to keep her vows. He turned around and spoke to his childhood friend fondly.

"You've kept your promise. You've set me free."

Stacy's eyes widened as Wally removed the ring that caused all of this and placed it in her hand. He then gently closed her hand, making sure she didn't lose it again. Wally then looked back at her. Her hair was loose and a mess. The dress Sally, Poppy, and the other seamstresses had worked so hard on was in tatters. Only the veil, the pearl necklace, and the bouquet that were thrown aside during the fight remained intact.

Poor Stacy looked like she had been through a war. The sight hurt him. She was a bride. She shouldn't look like this on her wedding day. It was all his fault. But now, he can at least fix something.

"Now I can do the same for you."

As Wally released her hand, Stacy realized what he meant. She was free to marry Howdy. But...it also meant goodbye to her dearest friend and the other man she loved once more. Maybe for good. As the corpse groom walked towards the entrance, she looked at her true fiance.

Howdy could see it. She was happy that they were free to be together. And now that Julie was dead and Stacy's "marriage" was null and void, it was possible. But he could also see the hurt in her eyes. A longing to say goodbye. He then looked at the corpse that almost took the woman he loved. He truly didn't seem like a bad person. He just...mixed up. Howdy looked at Stacy and motioned for her to go to him. Seeing this, Stacy smiled at Howdy in gratitude before rushing over to Wally.

"Wait a minute, Lion!"

Hearing his old nickname, Wally turned around and found himself in a tight hug with Stacy. It caught him by surprise at first, but soon he embraced her back. A proper goodbye this time. But then he felt something small and wet make contact with his shoulder. His eyes widened as he asked Stacy a question.

"Are...are you crying, Cherry Tomato?"

The redhead, hearing her nickname, tightened her grip as tears flowed non-stop from her eyes. She managed to speak, but in a whisper so that only Wally could hear.

"I...I know you have to go. But...it still hurts. I have feelings for Howdy, yes. But I love you, too, Wally. That's why it was easier for me to agree to end my life when I heard he was to marry someone else. You're my best friend. My childhood playmate. And even though it wasn't official, you were my husband. You have shown me so much both in our youth and in the Land of the Dead. I...I can't help but fear that..." She sniffed, trying to control her sorrow.

"...that I'll never...ever...see you again."

Hearing her words, Wally began to cry. He knew it was time. He was ready. But to leave the woman who truly loved him behind and in this state? It was already hard enough. Why did saying goodbye have to be so hard? Amidst his tears, he smiled as he pulled away to look at her tear-stained face. He cupped her cheek, wiping away a tear before kissing her on her cheek.

"I know it's hard. But remember what Barnaby said? 'We all end up the remains of the day.' I'm certain we'll see each other again. But...but live your life to the fullest first. Never fear what's ahead. There is so much for you to experience. Things I could never experience because of my foolishness." He then sniffled as he whispered in her ear once more. "Live your life, Stacy. We may have not been officially married, but I was happy when you became my wife. Even so, know that I will always love you."

Stacy bit her lip as Wally pulled away from her. He was right. She had a lot of life to live. She wanted to explore her passions and live her dreams. Change things so her children will not suffer like she, Howdy, and Wally did. And he was right. They will see each other again. It was just...going to take a long time.

She watched as Wally smiled at her once last time before looking to Howdy. The caterpillar raised an eyebrow but smiled as Wally made a request of him.

"Please take care of her for me."

Howdy nodded as he approached his bride-to-be. He stopped a few steps, allowing the final goodbyes to take place. Wally, thankful, nodded to Howdy before looking back at Stacy. There were tears in his eyes, but his love for her still showed like stars as his body vanished into hundreds of blue butterflies.

Stacy cried more as she saw her friend, her "first husband" evaporate beautifully. She knew he was going to be alright. She just wished she could stop the tears. Suddenly, one of the butterflies turned away from the flock and landed on her cheek, a teardrop soaking its head. Stacy couldn't help but smile. She knew this was Wally saying goodbye one more time. A butterfly kiss to tell her that he loved her and always will.

As the butterfly took off to rejoin its flock, Howdy approached her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Stacy smiled at him despite the tears. She knew she was going to have to explain everything. The only thing she'd keep secret was that she had given Wally her first kiss. That was a cherished memory she'll take to her grave.

The couple watched on in each other's embrace.

One day, they'll see the Corpse Puppet again.

-----------------------------

I kid you not! I legit cried as I was creating the whole thing! From the drawing to the story, tears were non-stop. I had gone through an entire box of tissues already! ToT

Au belongs to: @sketchquill (Get your tissues ready.)

[ridiasfangirlings]

i think by the time u answer this itll be close to/maybe later but happy birthdayy

yata having to do practical work for scepter 4 as an exchange thing and fushimi is forbidden to provoke a fight so he follows him around giving "constructive criticism"

Thank you for the late/early birthday wish (is my backlog that bad ;; Sorry for the long waits everyone). Imagine this like post-ROK, Munakata gets the genius idea that wouldn’t it be nice if the Red and Blue clans switched some members for a week, in order to ‘better understand each other and facilitate improved teamwork.’ Kusanagi is hesitant about this but some of the Homra alphabet have been extra rowdy lately and he has to admit the idea of having some of the more mature S4 members around to help him out is tempting. As it happens while Kusanagi is considering the request Yata accidentally scuffs the bar counter while trying to show off a skateboard trick for Anna inside the bar, and guess who just got himself a vacation at S4 for a week. 

Yata is not happy at being forced to work for the stupid stuffy Blues for a week but Kusanagi tells him it’ll be good for him, and is firm that Yata had better not cause trouble. Yata’s all it’s not my fault if those guys provoke me and Anna comes over and holds his hand, saying she knows Misaki will be helpful. Now that he has Anna’s expectations over him Yata can’t act up, Kusanagi’s warning doesn’t have half the power of Anna’s simple trust and Yata has to live up to it. He still adds that if Fushimi starts something he’s not responsible though, luckily Awashima was also aware of this and has made it clear to Fushimi that he’s expected to behave and not get into fights with Yata Misaki. Fushimi clicks his tongue and says if Misaki starts it and Awashima just gives him a cold look as she’s like there will be no fighting.

So Yata gets to S4 and Awashima immediately starts assigning him tasks, imagine poor Yata’s head spinning as she gives him paperwork to copy and take this book back to the library and please deliver this message. Seeing that Yata is overwhelmed she decides someone will need to help him and of course Fushimi happens to be right there. Yata thinks he’s saved until Fushimi gives this big shit-eating grin and says he will be happy to observe Misaki, to be sure that Yata does everything right. Yata’s all the fuck you’re just observing, help me, and Fushimi’s all tsk tsk Misaki this exchange is supposed to show you how things are at S4, if I help you won’t learn anything. Yata grumbles a curse under his breath and picks up the enormous stack of documents while Fushimi follows easily after him, telling him not to bend the papers. 

Somehow despite presumably having his own work to do Fushimi finds time to follow Yata around for the rest of the day, claiming he is ‘supervising an untrustworthy newbie.’ Yata’s all supervising my ass (well Fushimi’s probably doing that too), you’re just bothering me. Fushimi says he wouldn’t dream of it, he’s giving Yata valuable advice. Yata’s like you’ve just been nitpicking me all this time, Fushimi denies it and says he’s helping Yata become a more worthwhile employee. Yata grumbles that he doesn’t intend to become a useless bureaucrat so he doesn’t need help, Fushimi points out that Yata just copied a stack of fifty papers upside down. Yata swears like you couldn’t have told me that before I did all this copying, Fushimi says learning from mistakes is an important part of teaching. 

Yata’s about to break his promise not to fight when suddenly Munakata just pops up between them, so pleased that Fushimi-kun is taking to teaching this way. Fushimi clicks his tongue and mutters ‘I guess,’ trying to get Munakata to leave, but Munakata feels this is a splendid teachable moment and invites them both into his office to discuss. Two hours later they finally manage to escape, both exhausted from the lecture and Yata’s like Saru your King is so weird. Fushimi’s like don’t think I don’t know that, Yata sighs and asks if Fushimi wants to go get lunch together. Fushimi pauses and then nods with a slight smile. Yata grins and is like all right, lead me to the cafeteria, and Fushimi can’t help but add that after lunch he’ll need to get back to supervising Yata.

[pandoa]

How about Red roses and Sunrise or sunset with Azul?

Red roses ~ “i’m afraid your existence in my life has tremendously done wonders to my racing heart. i may have to ask for yours in return”

~azul ashengrotto x gender neutral reader~

thank you for requesting! here's to the final fic of 2022 <3 i do hope you enjoy!

♡for compensation♡

Azul felt cheated. What kind of contract leaves a man absolutely mesmerized by a certain person’s existence? With no strings attached and one-sided at best?

There he was, helplessly enthralled by your every move that it caused his heart to pound rhythmic drummings in his chest with each stare you gave him. Every word uttered by your seemingly soft-to-the-touch lips left him eager for what beautiful words you would say to him next. Simply a light caress to his arm in carefree interaction would send giddy shivers down the man’s spine. Azul was convinced that these newfound—and quite bothersome—emotions were some sort of price he had to pay from a deal he set with you. However, had that meant that he, himself, was on the losing side of the deal? Or the winning? Azul couldn’t comprehend whether or not he liked this fluttering feeling in his chest every time he’d seen you regularly visit Mostro Lounge. All he knew was that this was most likely a product of a deal he had lost with you. 

But wait. Had you even set up a deal with the benevolent second year in the first place?

This whole arrangement was simply not fair, according to Azul. Because even with the final light of day illuminating onto your gleaming figure like a celestial halo embracing your head, the young man struggled to read your own emotions. And with this struggle, he found it unjust that his emotions bloomed and waltzed within the depths of his stomach with the single thought of you, while you were an unreadable book Azul just could not bring himself to understand. He was left blind to whatever feelings you held for his octopus-like self, and it was not fair. How come he was so clearly infatuated by you, yet he couldn’t see if you were just as infatuated with him as well?

“It has come to my attention that you, dear prefect, have managed to commit a grave offense against my general wellbeing,” Azul said as he guided you to an open spot against the coral green shore of the Isle of Sages. In an attempt to finally settle his blossoming emotions towards you, the Octavinelle second year had called you over to the beachside view of the island at the crack of dusk and thought it wise to at last express the feelings he harbored for you. To say he was nervous was truly an understatement, however. The poor boy could sense trickles of sweat accumulate in the palms of his hands as the sight of you shining underneath the sky’s multitude of colors ranging from pink to orange left Azul breathless. This was precisely why he had felt at such a disadvantage. 

You made his body swell at the mere presence of your being.

Stopping in your tracks on the pale sand of the shore, you halted to properly face the housewarden and his peculiar accusation, “What do you mean?”

“Ever since our first meeting, both my heart rate and blood pressure have increased tenfold, possibly even more.”

“And how is that my fault—”

“I’m afraid your existence in my life has tremendously done wonders to my racing heart. I may have to ask for yours in return. You know, for compensation purposes,” Azul declared as a small tint of rose crept onto his face, hinting he had been slightly flustered at his confession.

“Wait, Azul I—”

“But do not fret!” a single clap of his hand interrupted your stunned voice, “My kindness is allowing you one condition in order for us to call it even.”

You stared at the young man, with your previous shock growing into curiosity, “And what is that exactly?”

“One date. I’m sure that is a reasonable reimbursement for always invading my mindspace.”

“Alright,” a smile then shone on your face, “Deal.”

Truthfully, had you not been standing there in front of him now, the dazed housewarden would have collapsed right on the spot with how bewildered he was with what you had just agreed to. 

He would have to get Mostro Lounge ready for your arrangement. Pronto.

a/n: azul ashengRIZZo

[malware-180]

The unsaid (Tenma x Grimmer)

NOTE: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, SORRY.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

The irritation he felt in his throat gave him no respite day or night; but it did not compare to the mortification of suddenly expelling petals so frequently the last few days.

He suspected what illness was afflicting him, why and by whom. He knew that illness of unrequited love, but he did not believe that, of all the human beings on the face of the earth, he was the one who experienced it. His ability to love was zero according to his own experiences; It was a miracle that he got married and had a son who had died, that outcome made him know how fucking broken he was. For feeling extreme pain?

The opposite, in fact, couldn't feel a damn thing; He did not cry for the loss of his son, which caused his ex-wife to see him as a being without a trace of empathy and warmth.

He was an anomaly in the world, a monster that created Kinderheim 511. It wasn't his fault for having been raised by an experimental orphanage where his childhood was flayed, but he was responsible for managing his own emotions. That was the problem: he didn't grow them successfully, and that made him look like a miserable man in some ways.

The most ironic thing was that when he thought he could never feel like others, he was wrong and, judging by his symptoms, he was feeling fervently.

More unexpected was the reason why he began to feel anemic both physically and mentally. Tenma was a comrade who supported you in any conflict, no matter who you were; Even if you were a scourge of society, the doctor would never look down on anyone. A shepherd who led the lost sheep back to the flock as God commanded.

He had gained a belligerent side after learning that he let Johan live; Germany's monster and Europe's most feared killer. Tenma also bled emotionally, but he never let his spirit be eaten away. What a more ethereal being the Japanese was. It wouldn't be mutual.

Leaving out the fact that Tenma was straight and, even if he wasn't, his reputation would be undermined by their hypothetical relationship; The most important thing is that they were both a pair of melancholic people, aged at heart, exhausted by visceral experiences, and they were not even convinced if loving after all would be ideal. The scalpel would be his savior, he immediately thought. A part of Grimmer wanted to tear his feelings for the Japanese to shreds; The other wanted to delve deeper into this because, even though it was unrequited and began to burn unpleasantly in his system, he felt alive. It would be a whim to remain with this feeling for that banal reason; It would also be to get rid of it to avoid pain.

Choosing to die seemed radical to him, and it was not beautiful as others paint it, not even he was as self-pitying. However, a lump formed in her throat at the thought of concluding her love for the doctor. What else could the poor devil do? The thorns of the flowers touching his lungs overwhelmed him at a certain time of day. He thought it was some kind of signal to hurry up the surgery, and he already knew who was going to perform it.

“You should have come earlier. You know that right? “ His paternal scolding melted his reasoning at this point.

“I know that love is difficult, but there is always a solution for this type of bad things. Anyway, who is she?”

》He, Kenzo. And he is you. 《

He notified his mind quickly, but he did not have the courage to expel this out loud.

“Irrelevant right now,” he urged.

“It's not the kind of thing you go around telling about; You have to respect the privacy and identity of a lady.” Grimmer learned to pretend very well.

Kenzo shrugged.

"It's not a bad thing to fall in love, Grimmer. It's actually a blessing after a turbulent life like yours. I wish I had the same luck sometimes, but you see, no one has come to claim that position. I'm not in a hurry, really; It's not like I want to go through that stage again. I guess marriage wasn't for me. But you, maybe you have time to get married again. Don't waste it.”

Every word he heard translated into a pang against his ribcage. He was assaulted by a volley of coughs that came accompanied by petals, this time blood spurting out next to them.

The Japanese man soon took his friend to the bathroom so he could vomit without restriction. Tenma lightly tapped the opponent's back, as if that action would decimate the ordeal that the tormented man was suffering. After a few minutes, Grimmer was sitting on a grayish sofa with flecks of gold and sky blue. He should have felt comfortable, but he only felt chills invade his spine and his head hurt a little.

"You must get this out of me soon, or I'm going to become insane", he warned to the Japanese when he offered him a cup of cherry-lemon flavored tea. The doctor frowned at the comment.

"You didn't even make an attempt to conquer that woman, what a shame."

He shook his head, but gave him a smile. His companion pondered for a moment, before responding in a half-defeated voice.

"It seems to me that she had someone else, that's why I didn't court her." The German lied again.

“Oh, yes? I'm sorry for that, it would have been comfortable to see you in love” Tenma highlighted, “But you didn't tell me what her name was, come on. Who was the lucky one? Maybe I know her,” he insisted.

The journalist was emotionally drained. He resolved the conversation simply.

"I'd rather keep that to myself if you don't mind, buddy."

He winked, forced by himself.

Tenma agreed.

He then instructed him to ask his secretary to schedule the operation within a few weeks. Honestly, Grimmer's stomach clenched just thinking about it, and he felt the thorns cling to his insides, as if thereby persuading the German to let them reside permanently.

No way.

●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡

It was exhaustive, but it finally happened. The root of the problem was annihilated, but now the former spy felt like a broken shell; he didn't know the result was going to feel so overwhelming.

The regret of not confessing the truth to Tenma suddenly hit him, he had nothing to lose but he acted cowardly. Perhaps it was the unconscious fear of rejection, or of ruining a friendship with the surgeon. In any case, the operation was irreversible and, after a few weeks, his life began to feel stable again. If he had told Tenma the truth. If only he had...

♠︎•♤•♠︎

Tenma buried the withered flowers in his garden; He thought he would be gentler and more respectful towards them, since they were the symbol of the feelings Grimmer once experienced.

Yes, the Japanese was still emotional.

He couldn't think much about it, because his throat began to itch and his insides seemed to breed something peculiar.

[mindingmybidness12]

Tara Carpenter x Gn! Reader

Suspicious Minds Part 1

Warnings: Cursing and swearing... like a lot

You were rushing to an early grave and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It all started when Your alarm clock failed to wake you up on time. This, of course, made him late to work which brought him to where you are now. Tearing down the bike lane of your neighborhood while getting your ass chewed by your boss. 

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!! YOU’RE LATE!! YOU HEAR ME?? LAAAAATE!!”

“Sir, I am quite literally five minutes away. I was only supposed to clock in only a minute ago–”

“One minute is a minute too much! Now you're telling me you're gonna be FIVE MORE MINUTES LATE?? UNACCEPTABLE!!”

He then resorted to even more yelling and at this point you were already over it.You couldn’t help but think about where you're headed at the moment. You were rushing into a dead end job just to get yelled at by your douchebag boss and for what? The pay wasn’t even that good. He was just bullshitting you to believe that nobody else would hire you, when in reality, nobody would really want to work for a jackass like him. Except you did.

Key word here being did. You promptly slammed on the brakes of your bike and focused on the phone call.

"Now you listen here you old ass piece of shit," you started causing him to splutter but you didn't give him the time to recover "I have had it up to here with your crap! You treat me like shit. You underpay me. You're smelly, ugly, fat, and old as shit but you still got the nerve to push me away from the register every time a woman comes by like they're actually here to see your fugly ass! You're fifty years old in a beginner's level karate class! Get on a damn treadmill first! Then after you've had your fill, choke on a bag of dicks and fall down the stairs. Then if you find it in your ugly soul to get back up, then just go all the way to hell !!"

You hung up the phone before he could recovered and started laughing as you did. How's that for a two weeks notice? You started dancing in celebration. You couldn't help yourself. You were finally free from a crappy ass job and a crappy ass boss. Now you could finally turn your crappy life back around. Free at last, free at last! As you were dancing, you hit a quick spin around while transitioning to doing the Dougie you made eye contact with Tara Carpenter of all people. Your jaw dropped and you felt heat creeping up your cheeks from the embarrassment. Still you tried to make a pass at being casual.

"Uh.. hey.. H-how's it going?"

You were not casual.

Tara let out a giggle and grinned at you while returning the greeting with a 'hey' of her own. You had to fight the urge to not grin like an idiot. You tried not to make it so obvious that you were into her. You and her shared only one class but you ended up sitting next to each other and working on an assignment. You had no intention of falling in love with anybody but it just kinda... happened. You cracked one half hearted joke and she tried and failed to hold back a snort. From then on you were always seen together in Biology. Laughing, cracking jokes, and teasing. Sometimes you would even get threaten to be split up or thrown out of class but you always managed to keep this calm before that happened.

As much fun as you two had with each other it would always stay within the classroom. It wasn't your fault or hers, it just how it seem to end up. There were days where she'd ask for you to come hang with her but you were stuck working at a shitty job to help pay the bills as an emancipated adult. There were the rare times that you were free after class but she would be linking up with her own friends. You didn't take it to heart but it kinda sucks that you only saw each other few hours out of the week. Before your thought could wonder off too far, Tara grabbed your attention once more.

"So who was the poor person you went full psycho on just now?"

You rolled your eyes but responded anyways.

"Just my dickhead boss... or should I say former boss? Cause I just quit. I've had enough."

"Oh! Well I'm glad you've stuck up for yourself." Tara congratulated you. You just smiled at her while nodding your head in thanks. Tara smiled shyly while turning her head away from you. While the silence stretch on and you were inwardly trying to think of something to say to get the ball rolling. You didn't know if this silence was supposed comfortable or not but you we're kinda afraid to let it go on longer than this.

"So whatchu doing out out here?"

Tara huffed and then went on to explain how she had plans with one of her friends only for them to bail last minute. You just hummed and nodded along as she vented a little bit to you.

"Well sucks to suck doesn't it?"

Tara snorted while giving your arm a shove. You chuckled back before you started thinking again. Tara's plans were cancelled so she was free. You were free from a shitty poopy job with an equally shitty poopy boss. You were already out and together. Hmm.

Chance!

"Hey, Tara wanna go do something?"

"Like what?" she asked looking up towards you.

"Like... I don't know, hang out? Grab a bite to eat? It's like the first time both of us are free and together right?"

"Yeah... yeah!" She nodded getting excited about finally getting to chance to hang out with you outside of class.

"Alright then, let's go."

A/N: The end for now. Thanks for tuning in and let me know what you guys think of my very first post here. I'll see you when I see you.

[blade-liger-4ever]

Okay, so I’ve been thinking of Smokescreen from TFP a lot, and I’ve decided to share some thoughts/head-canons involving him

First of all, we tend to ignore the fact that Smokescreen is a scarily adept thief. Just think about it: he’s always snitching the Phase Shifter until they allow him to keep it, and he manages to sneak away from the others to the battlefield or elsewhere with no one the wiser. So realistically speaking, Smokescreen is no stranger to sleight of hand tricks and stealth, meaning he likely stole - at least a little - before he was inducted into the Elite Guard, probably in order to survive.

And another thing about Smokescreen that always stuck out to me was how, despite his excitement for joining Team Prime and his insistence on “it being destiny/[he’s] destined to be a great warrior”, every time something went wrong, he blamed himself. He never shirked it onto someone else, or accused them of being at fault (come to think of it, he never pointed the finger at a teammate for anything). Instead, Smokescreen kicked himself for the failure and held himself to an unnecessary degree of accountability. It’s almost like he’s expecting too much from himself, so that, to me, says that Smokescreen thinks poorly of himself most of the time. Additionally, this leads me to think that he’s desperate for approval and acceptance from people, especially Team Prime and Optimus in particular. And I personally believe that Smokescreen’s ego early on is what he holds onto in order to convince himself that he is actually a worthy ‘Bot in his own right and not worthless or a burden.

So that’s left me to a couple of conclusions and theories: One, Smokescreen initially grew up in a darker part of Cybertron (clearly unaffected by the war); two, he was likely used by other Cybertronians for infiltration/recon/courier missions, and three he was often told what his worth was by others, half being condescending and the other half being sarcastic, with the occasional genuine praise from others, specifically his guardians.

And now we come to the real head-canon aspect of this: Smokescreen’s mysterious past (note, this is all from my own musings).

So, I imagine Smokescreen was a kid who grew up in a little known place of Cybertron called the Mithril Sea. Like the Sea of Rust, it was primarily rust and heat, leaving only the strong to survive. An area largely ignored by most for their poor living conditions, the denizens of the Mithril Sea have to make frequent trade and excursions through the various run-down cities and markets to make a living. Taken in by the Axelerators merchant group, Smokescreen was the youngest and fastest of the group. Seeing the advantage of his youthful exuberance, the leader of the Axelerators often sent him to spy and steal from their rivals within the arid Mithril Sea. Despite the lack of empathy by most of the Axelerators, Smokescreen enjoyed the thrill of racing through the streets, jumping across the rooftops, and occasional chases by enemies. He would also get a kick out of pranking some of the better off and vain ‘Bots in the vicinity, or taunting his pursuers when they were unable to follow him into a particularly small passageway.

But this still left him restless. The Axelerators were always just using him for their next deal, for the next undermining of their opponents. It was a thankless and condescending life, but Smokescreen refused to believe that his life would always be so dull. Somehow, he always had an innate sense that he would leave the Mithril Sea and become a warrior - an idea that grew as he learned more about the ongoing Autobot-Decepticon War. He loved hearing the tales that would filter down into the market streets about the great battles, and the glorious cause of freedom for all that the new Prime, Optimus, spoke of. Hearing these stories drove Smokescreen to the knowledge that he was meant to be a soldier in the Autobot army, and he vowed to join their ranks after the passing of his guardian in the Axelerators.

Taking another mission on behalf of the Axelerators, Smokescreen instead stole a week’s worth of energon cubes and left the Mithril Sea. Arriving in Pellechrome, he bought more energon and supplies before searching for the nearest Autobot recruitment center. After pestering and waiting outside for a solid cycle, the sergeant accepted him into the Autobots and had him inducted into the Elite Guard for training. Overjoyed, Smokescreen joined the last unit of young Autobots to be trained under Rocket Plume, herself a deadly stealth agent. Smokescreen soon found that his background made him stand out to the more insecure ‘Bots, who would use him as a scapegoat and target for their actions. This naturally resulted in fights, but to the surprise of many, Smokescreen always came out on top, something that caught the eye of Rocket Plume. Taking him under her wing, Smokescreen’s skills at evasion, stealth, and battle truly flourished, although he was still considered an outcast by his fellow cadets. For that, as well as Rocket Plume’s teaching of changing one’s voice for covert operations, Smokescreen learned to suppress his natural Mithrilic accent to the point that no one who met him for the first time suspected his heritage.

When the war began to escalate, Smokescreen and his fellow cadets were given a hasty and unceremonious graduation, something that would forever disappoint him. With Rocket Plume pulled back onto the front lines, Smokescreen and the other graduates were sent to Iacon to bolster its defenses. Although pleading for a role on the Iacon front, Smokescreen was disheartened to learn that he would be given the position of security detail to Alpha Trion. Initially resenting this task, Smokescreen gradually built a rapport with Alpha Trion, whose grandfatherly nature and care earned the respect and loyalty of the young ‘Bot - especially when he was encouraged to speak with his natural accent. Seeing potential in the young Mithrilic and learning more of future events through the Covenant of Primus, Alpha Trion, under the pretense of old age, regaled Smokescreen with tales of Cybertron before the war, as well as those of Optimus and his past as Orion Pax.

To his great relief - and a certain amount of pride - Smokescreen was an eager learner, absorbing every fact related to Optimus and the battle techniques that Alpha Trion passed on to him. Eventually, the time came for Iacon’s fall, and Smokescreen eagerly waited near the doors to fully embrace and live up to the Autobot cause. Then, of course, Alpha Trion knocked him out and entrusted him with one of the Omega Keys, knowing that he would escape to Earth and help bring the Keys to Optimus.

Personally, I would have given Smokescreen a new human partner, and I’d reuse Tripp Summers from the 2018 Bumblebee film. Their bond would mostly focus on helping Smokescreen relax and realize his worth isn’t in his actions or what he can or can’t do for the team, but in his desire to do good and promote an end to the war. On Tripp’s side of things, Smokescreen would probably help him learn autonomy (I swear, that pun wasn’t intended) and to stop appeasing his haughty peers, whom he tries to please on behalf of his family.

And there we have it - my expanded history for Smokescreen. My boy deserved more attention and care in TFP, although what we got was good, too. To just further elaborate, the names of unknown locations and ‘Bots - Alpha Trion and Iacon notwithstanding, of course - I searched the Teletraan 1 Wiki for these places and expanded on them. So, if you’re curious, you can check them out there.

Additionally, I picture the Mithril Sea as stylized after ancient Persia, with the accent being Persian. The biggest reason for this is because first of all, I’m deeply interested in ancient Persia, the second being that Nolan North had previously voiced the Prince of Persia in the 2008 game. He’d wanted to do that accent for the character, but for some incomprehensible reason, the studio wanted his “Nate Drake” voice for the character.

Yeah, I don’t get that either. But at least this way, not only does Smokescreen have a larger and more colorful history, Mr. North would have the chance to use that accent whenever Smokescreen is agitated, excited, or frustrated by something. Who knows, maybe he’ll come across this and do that accent after all. I know I would certainly love to hear him use it!

See you around, folks!