#they handle constructing the weapons and stuff

[sonadowcentral]

The mechanic

[savanir]

A sister's love

The justice league hurriedly responds to a call for backup at a little in the middle of nowhere place by the name of Amity Park. 

The situation had seemed so simple. 

A Star Sapphire had suddenly shown up on Earth which isn’t immediately cause for concern but she was unidentified, so a lantern was definitely going to have to look into it if only just to make sure that nothing bad was going on. There are two planet side green lanterns, Simon and Jessica. So they responded to handle the potential situation. 

Things rapidly spun out of control when they realized it wasn't just a Star Sapphire. 

"I hate to say this but we're gonna need backup" Simon tells Cyborg, "the Star Sapphire has brought something with her. My first guess was a white martian but..." The other one can do some manner of density shifting, and he can go invisible, but they know ways around that. Whatever this one is doing isn’t that though.

"Why isn't this working!?!" Comes Jessica's slightly panicked voice in the distance, "he keeps just going through my creations! dammit, think think Jess" She tried to contain him with a flamethrower construct but he just ignored it, like he’s seemingly ignoring everything else she’s throwing at him.

"Our constructs have zero effect on the other one, the alien, meta? man I don’t know he’s human shaped" 

"What is the situation other than the two hostiles?"

"Uh we got some government agents who are retreating because of the Star Sapphire wrecking their stuff. And the civilian people here seem to be falling under her influence, so she must be human. She's from here, she needs emotional connection to pull that stuff off."

The people are furious, the violet glow around them clearly indicates that the girl is using her ring to amp them up but if Simon didn’t know any better he’d say this was red lantern stuff.

Well there are more ways to whip people up into a frenzy, by hurting their loved ones for example.

There is a brief moment where it can be heard that Simon and Jessica try to get into a more advantageous position. 

Simon grunts, "dammit, those agents seemed to have weapons that actually worked on the other guy but the Star Sapphire used her violet constructs to shield him and destroy their guns and we've been struggling since" this whole situation stinks, he has a weird feeling about all of it.

"Simon this is really really bad, i can't keep restraining all these civilians, we're running out of energy fast!"

Cyborg tries to get a visual on the situation from his position in the Watchtower while he’s notifying any league affiliated heroes who are nearby and available. 

But all of a sudden he realizes there is just nothing, just a big lap of void where the two lanterns are supposed to be, there is no cctv footage, no cell towers, no internet connection. Just what the hell is going on here.

Then the audio transmission starts to violently crackle.

A new voice laced with static can suddenly be heard, "There you two are"

"Shit"

"Is the justice league coming yet? Are they finally going to do something?" the staticy voice continues.

"Stay back you-"

"Or maybe they still need more of a reason to act" 

The audio cuts out. 

"Jessica! Simon! Come in!" ... "Shit!" 

Cyborg finally gets a clear picture with the satellite cameras and now sees the entirety of Amity Park has been covered with a crystalized violet dome. It’s then that he remembers the story Hal told quite some time ago now about a Star Sapphire who managed to put a whole planet into love stasis.

They are gonna need more help with this one he thinks.

Meanwhile Jazz is still shakily trying to figure out how her new pink powers work, now that all the fighting is over (for now), the GIW forcefully expelled from Amity, and the two Justice league people captured and restrained.

Everything happened so fast, one moment the GIW had knocked out her brother and were forcefully taking him away and while she saw them drive off (she was pretty sure she was screaming) a pink thing just froze her in place, She was pretty sure someone said something about “great love in her heart” and then she was… well she was flying and- and there wasn’t really any time to question things then so she may have kinda gone and ripped into the van that had Danny.

She’s pretty sure she healed him, and then things just completely spiraled out of control from that point on. and now she’s here.

She’s pretty sure this is crazy villain behavior, she’s going to get put on some sort of watchlist and then she’ll never get to be a psychologist but it’s fine.

Her little brother is safe, that’s all that matters. And she will keep it that way.

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ climax ] | sylus

— summary: sylus drags you onto a mission with him for old time’s sake. and you slide into familiarity, almost like there isn’t a wedge in the form of a beautiful young hunter driving you apart. — cw: explicit sexual content, reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, mentions of blood, profanity, mentions of pedophilia, mentions of human trafficking, minor character death, men with guns, reader has a shitty past, self-destructive behavior, reader doing her assassin duties, a little romance sprinkled in between, mdni — notes: inspired by mr. & mrs. smith. thank you so much for reading, lovely! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6 ] — now playing: cariño - the marías — obligatory tags: @withering-dream @an-ever-angry-bi @midiplier @abbylee0710 @picnicthegarden @karespocketboyfriends @chrissy26 @delulusimps @glamouroki @midiplier @celestemcbrim @everywherenothere @ari-shipping-stuff @beewilko @alexhenituse @nim-rose @moonlight-inthe-sea @sunnyf4lls @himiko-omikami @inkonparchment @sillyfreakfanparty @regandoesthings @im-in-different-universe @ravensheart18 @alyyylog @corvid007 (sorry if i missed anyone.)

He wanted to make love. You wanted to fuck.

He wanted you, all tender and pliant beneath him, his name hinged in your throat. He wanted to worship you, to uncover the erogenous zones of your body piece by piece, and to expose you like forgotten treasure buried deep beneath rotting ruins. 

But you reasoned you didn’t have time. You were in a hurry—a hurry for what, exactly, you couldn’t pinpoint. 

Perhaps you were rushing to feel something, in a hurry to please and to feel useful as you tore his shirt from his shoulders, his body rigid and searing between the thick of your thighs. Pleasing is all you know, serving embedded in your chemical makeup, no room to pursue your own desires. 

Your mouths came together so abruptly that your teeth clashed. The counter of his kitchen island was glacial and tacky beneath your thighs. You’d barely divested yourself of your coat before you drew him into an ardent dance of tongues, his abs twitching beneath the artful crawl of your fingers. You tugged at the give of his pants, quietly yet vehemently demanding he take them off. He drew back, wild-eyed and hair mussed, eyes drowsy with want.

“We should slow down,” he sighed, hot and open-mouthed where your shoulder met neck. Blistered down to your collarbone where he nipped, hands roosted on your hips, thumbs soothingly cruising over juts of bone. 

It made you sick, his tenderness. You weren’t glass and didn’t deserve to be handled like it. 

You chuckled something husky and bitter, tossing your thoughts to the wolves. Your fingers raked through his hair. Grabbing the scruff of his neck, you brought his mouth back to yours, trapping any further words of protest in his throat. 

You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want complications. Just wanted to be driven by sensation, tucking your inhibitions into the darkest hulls of your mind. 

You’re a bit of a masochist. You enjoy punishing yourself for misdeeds you’ve constructed in your mind—having feelings for your boss, secretly envying your friend. Your use is slowly running its course, and you’ll one day be thrown to the wayside. 

You figure you don’t deserve kindness. Sensitivity. You don’t deserve a slow love, the steady creep of an orgasm bubbling in your stomach, evoked by the sluggish grind of hips, words of affirmation whispered like the sweetest supplication into your ear.

No.

You deserve to be used, lusted after. You’ve spent most of your adult life with that mentality, your past having engraved that under your skin. You’ve been a weapon for as long as you can remember. A tool. Loveless. Which is why, when the gentleman who’d frequented Lux wanted to take his time with you, you declined, opting for something more ragged and intense. 

He took you hard and rough on his counter at your behest. Left you open, bare, laughing, battling to get your breath under control. You stayed the night to humor him. Let him hold you as he stroked the sweetest compliments of all with ghostly fingers into your skin as the stars in the sky gave way to the gentle spill of sun rays. 

You crept out of his arms and apartment once he sank below the misty shawl of sleep. He’d inquire about your whereabouts later—ask why you didn’t stay. You rarely did. Tonight, you felt weak. 

You’d ignore him until you next needed him. When the urge to forget sunk its talons into your chest, curling around your heart and squeezing. 

You had a mission to prepare for. Sylus’ name lit up your notifications, cryptic as ever with minimal words. You’d deal with your feelings later. 

There was work to be done.

Besides, you didn’t even remember his name. 

How could you face him when you’d uttered someone else’s name while he was deep inside you?

—

You pay for your escapades in the form of pretty petals of blue and green blooming on your neck the following night. Bite marks. 

You rub at the raw skin for the nth time, a hiss forced through grit teeth. Maybe he was a little too rough. Concealer works wonders, coupled with your glamor. Still doesn’t take away the sting, but you suppose the pain is your punishment for being weak.

You stretch, yawning. Shift until the leather of the car’s backseat squeaks. You sense his eyes on you in your periphery, boring down to the marrow. The fine hairs littering your body stand on end. You maneuver again, leant against the door, cheek propped on your knuckles, avoidant as ever.

You try to focus on the scenery unfolding beyond the car’s windshield. Powdery stars spilled over a deep violet canvas. The red glare of brake lights every so often as you approach another vehicle. Try to focus on the driver’s fingers readjusting on the steering wheel, on the fixed hum of the engine, and how it intermingles with the gentle bumps on the road. Home in on your breathing and the thunderous drum of your heart. He’s been watching you like this since you eased into the car—Sylus. 

You get this creeping suspicion he wants to say something. Like he knows all your secrets, having perused through them like they’re the yellowed pages of a book. Nah. He wouldn’t know what kind of night you had. He wouldn’t care. You’re a grown woman, capable of making your own mistakes and reaping the repercussions of them. He has other things on his mind—other people. 

Another yawn escapes you. You curse yourself for not grabbing coffee on your way out. Too busy pouring yourself into your dress, painting your face with makeup, and meticulously tucking your weapons away. 

“Long day?” says Sylus. You jolt the slightest bit at the grit of his voice. How it breaks up the silence and sets your stomach alight with dragonflies. Fabric shifts. His exhale is weighted beside you, thigh brushing yours as he spreads his legs, so very big in comparison to the backseat. 

You force a smile, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress. “You could say that.”

You feel the shift in his gaze. There’s a whisper of bitterness in his tone when he next speaks. “Maybe you should spend less time pursuing your hobbies at night and more time sleeping.”

This time, you do turn. Cut your eyes to him, mouth tugged up with confusion. His expression reads passivity. Mouth scrawled into a rigid line, scarlet eyes fixed to yours, unrelenting. Something’s off about him tonight. You sensed it in the brevity of his call when he phoned you to outline your mission—you’d be accompanying him tonight to a banquet. A glittering, amenable doll on his arm, smiling pretty like murder wasn’t rotting your mind. You’d lure your target away to be snuffed out like a candle’s flame. Slip out without drawing suspicion, and the world would be rid of another shit stain. 

He quirks a brow, wordlessly challenging you. No customary smirk comes this time. Just the air weighted with something tense. Your throat clicks when you swallow. You opt for obliviousness, laughing it off despite the gnarling feeling in your gut worming its way up your throat. Despite every synapse in your brain screaming for you to fire back. You’re reading too much into things. He’s being his usual, detached self, and not because he knows you were up to no good last night.

Right?

“Maybe I should.” 

The tendons in Sylus’ neck pull, jaw tensing. For a moment, he looks like he wants to keep prodding. But he instead averts his gaze when the driver chimes in, announcing you’ve arrived at your destination. 

The venue’s tawny spotlights dance over the windshield as the car crawls to a stop. People donned in expensive formalwear line the sidewalk, animatedly chatting as they await entry. You take some time to admire the historic, art deco architecture before your door opens, the crisp evening air spilling in and fanning over your skin. 

You look up when Sylus offers you his arm. His expression softens considerably, contrasting the wet cat he was moments ago. There’s a hint of a smile twitching his lips. He almost looks boyish, and you can’t help taking him in. He’s dressed to the nines, tucked in a three-piece tux, bow tie meticulously tied, hair swept up into a pretty, alabaster coif.

Your lips spasm. You peel yourself from the seat, gathering up the trail of your dress. Twine your arm with his, allowing him to shepherd you through the throng of people. It almost feels like old times, their voices petering to a hush when they catch sight of you. They part like a school of fish as the pair of you make your way up the steps leading to the venue’s doors.

“Stay frosty,” you joke to dispel your nerves, standing before the heavy, double doors, waiting for the attendees to open them. 

Sylus snorts, his arm flexing beneath the possessive clutch of your fingers. He pinches the bridge of his nose. And the exasperation in his voice makes your eyes crinkle with mirth. “Please, never say that again.”

You slide into familiarity thereafter, almost like there wasn’t a wedge in the form of a beautiful young hunter driven between you.

—

She said something curious to you when you arrived at the airport earlier—Ms. Hunter. You had the time to spare. You wanted to ask why she requested you drive her instead of Sylus. But you didn’t push it, figuring she had her reasons. Maybe she didn’t have the energy for his nagging, his fretting. She should be so lucky. 

She’d be gone for a couple of weeks, swept up in the grueling task of protecting researchers in the mountains from Wanderers. A part of you felt sorry for her. Worried. But she was a big girl. If she could smack Sylus around in Kitty Cards, she could dodge a few teeth and claws, no problem. 

“Need help?” you asked over your shoulder, the SUV’s engine humming idly at the airport’s drop-off point. 

She smiled at you from the backseat. “I got it!” she chirped as she fetched her oversized suitcase from the floor. 

She rounded the vehicle, bowing to your level at the window. Up close, her smile looked more mischievous than usual. Smile lines bracketed her honey-dipped eyes as she murmured, “Be nice to Sylus. He’s trying, ya know?” 

You pinned her with a quizzical look, your mouth working around a retort. She left before you could get a word out. You watched her slip through the crowd of travelers milling about before she was out of sight, leaving you to mull over what the hell that meant.

—

It starts to make sense as time passes what she meant. 

When you’ve gorged yourself on conversation and champagne, nestled between politicians, CEOs, socialites, and people of the like. Fickle, spewing gossip you can’t be bothered to keep up with. 

Sylus rarely leaves your side, only slipping away to chat up old colleagues or to procure you more bubbly. Always has a hand, scorching and possessive, at the small of your back, or an arm slung about your waist, drawing you into the safety his body exudes. He doesn’t correct anyone when they address you as his, giving you a subdued, amused look when you work your mouth into amending them.

You titter shyly, toying with your necklace. Maybe this is a part of your cover—pretending to be his significant other, all pretty and docile at his side. You won’t complain. It’s nice being this close, feeling wanted, and being envied in a different way. Not for your body, but for the man wrapped so willingly around your finger. 

It’s felt like ages since you’ve last done a gig together, so you’ll enjoy his attention, even if it’s all a ploy, while you can.

The evening slides by in a blur of twinkling chandeliers and laughter. 

Sylus draws you into a dance, and the pair of you are swallowed up by the mass of swaying couples and the string orchestra. Your cheeks ache with a smile, your limbs and inhibitions loosened by the champagne. He holds you to him as you waltz, his body rigid and devastating against yours, languorous fingers curled around your nape. He hasn’t stopped smiling, a boyish dimple cratering his cheek. Hasn’t released you from the scarlet stir of his eyes since, and you smoosh your face against pectoral muscle, hiding the warmth splotching your cheeks.  

His heart thrums something steady beneath your ear. Beneath the expensive pleat of his tux. Breaths even, his bewitching scent furling in your chest like smoke. You let him lead you about the glittering marble tiles of the dance floor, feeling like you’re in a dream. Perhaps it’s the bubbly that’s got you toddling through a dreamlike fog, but a fraction of you starts to think, just for a second, you’re more than a cover, and your boss isn’t so detached, shoving you to the back burner in favor of someone else. 

Your breath is sharp when he suddenly peels away, expertly twirling you. You laugh as your dress flutters around your ankles, nearly tripping you up. He dips you as the music dampens, the beautiful scenery tilting and blurring. Swathed in the tawny lighting of the banquet hall, you make out his features, something akin to affection loosening his expression, and the smile slips from your face. 

The world fades away, and only the pair of you seem to exist in this moment. He pulls you closer until your vision fills with red, fringed by dark, wispy lashes sweeping over cheeks mottled pink. His lips purse as his gaze slides to your mouth, breath stirring your baby hairs. You hold your breath as he eases in, appearing like he’ll kiss you, and you’re stricken by something hot. Your mouths but a hairsbreadth apart, he whispers something that makes your heart sink to your feet.

“It’s showtime.”

The magic of the moment falls away as he steadies you. A pout worms its way onto your face as Sylus tangles your fingers together, a chuckle swelling in his chest. He leads you back to your table, still holding your hand, even long after you’ve returned to your seats and the event’s host takes to the stage to introduce a guest speaker.

—

Nikolai is easy to manipulate. To bend to your will. Of course, he is. All men are if you know how to approach them. 

It helps that your glamor erases a few years off your face, giving you the appearance of a young woman barely experiencing the world. His favorite. It only takes you fluttering your lashes, laughing pretty, and flattering him to get him to take you back to his hotel room.

On the surface, he’s a passive, middle-aged man who looks like he wouldn’t harm a fly. But beneath that facade, he’s a scourge waiting to be wiped out. He’s as despicable as everyone else you’ve bumped off, auctioning off girls to nefarious men under the guise of selling “harmless little dolls.” Moonlighting as a franchise owner, using his stores as a ruse to smuggle young girls through the channels of the underworld. 

You take that personally, having once been on the auctioning floor yourself. Memories of a past painted red flood your mind, and it makes your stomach churn with disgust. You were lucky then, having been turned into a murderous tool rather than a fucktoy. So, it makes sense why Sylus was so eager to get you on this mission. Like he knew you’d take pleasure in watching Nikolai’s life drain from his eyes, his blood caked up under your nails. 

Your smile twitches, threatening to screw up into a grimace as you walk at Nikolai’s side, arm in arm. He’s red-faced and cheery, having gorged himself on champagne and merriment at the banquet. You would’ve snuffed him out if four bodyguards didn’t flank you. Not like you can’t take them, but you’d rather complete your mission as quietly as possible without rousing suspicion.

You just have to keep up the act long enough to isolate him so you can make your move. He’s been ruffling Onychinus’ feathers, claiming to be in cahoots with its notorious leader. Sylus, of course, doesn’t like that, not wanting to be associated with the likes of him. This is where you come into play, his ever-faithful watchdog, ready to kill at the drop of a hat.

Nikolai ushers you into his hotel room, where three more guards stand in good form in the living area. You acknowledge them with a seductive smile, allowing one to frisk you. Your smile grows tenfold when he finds nothing, clearing his throat and straightening his tie as if he’s fallen prey to your charm. Someone should be fired.

Nikolai leads you into his room thereafter, the double doors shutting and locking with finality. You offer him a massage, to which the portly man happily accepts, stripping down to his boxers and plopping onto the king-sized bed. He has a thing for pretty, young girls barely scraping the surface of legality. You’ll see to it he’s ushered into the afterlife by one.

Your hair waterfalls from its updo, warm as it spills onto your shoulders when you pull your hairpin free. You ruck up your gown, climbing over his body to roost yourself on his backside, legs bracketing either side of his waist, heels digging waning moons into your thighs. You’re sultry as you ensnare him in small talk, fingers kneading over layers of fat and muscle. Nikolai hums appreciatively, seemingly thrilled to have your company. Just the way you want him.

Your fingers tip-toe up his spine, thumbs smoothing over the notches of bone there. He exhales beneath your ministrations, remarking how magical your hands are. You huff a laugh as your fingers curl around his jaw, the opposing set burying themselves in his hair. 

“Massaging isn’t the only thing my hands are good at.”

With a fluent twitch of your wrists, his neck snaps, the sound barely heard above the gentle croon of the jazz music he queued up beforehand, accompanied by the exhale of a life dying out like a flame. 

You pull his eyelids down, easing off his lifeless body. Stare at his corpse with a faraway look in your eyes, smoothing some hair away from his face. Like he’s a sacrifice to the little girl inside, screaming for revenge. You straighten your dress when the bedroom doors rattle, Nikolai’s men frantically calling his name. Shit. Maybe you weren’t as meticulous as you thought. 

Quickly, you survey your surroundings for a way out. Spot the sliding doors leading to the balcony, and you dart between them, the wispy curtains grazing over your fevered skin. A wintry kiss of wind greets you as you lean over the rail, hair ruffling, and you take in the bokeh of lights glittering on the street below. 

You’re at least eight stories from the ground, so jumping is out of the question. You could very well fight your way out, but Nikolai’s guards are heavily armed. There’s no guarantee you’ll make it out of the fray unscathed. 

You lean back against the rail, adrenaline spuming through you, watching the bedroom doors pulse as his guards kick and shove against them. Fuck! Tugging a knife from the garter belt tucked beneath the slit of your dress, you prepare for a fight, body taut, nerves flaring. 

Just when you’ve resolved to get your hands dirty, something feathery touches your bare shoulder. Gentle and curious in its embrace, and you whip your head around to its source. You’re met with a smoky tendril, speckled with claret orbs of energy, swirling ominously before you. You peer over the railing, a familiar shock of white blurring into frame. There’s no mistaking the upward cant of his lips, and the crinkle of scarlet-spun eyes from this height. He motions to you with two fingers from the sidewalk, wordlessly beseeching you to come down.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, a nervous expression stretching your features. Heights have never been your forte, but you suppose beggars can’t be choosers. “Fuck it,” you relent, gathering some courage and climbing onto the rail. 

Nikolai’s men finally break through, and as they dart in, spraying the room in a hail of bullets upon seeing Nikolai’s corpse, you fall into the feathery cradle of Sylus’ Evol, a yip ripped from your throat. 

You float to the ground like a feather, falling into Sylus’ arms. He looks down at you with something unguarded shining in his eyes, using his Evol as a shield when Nikolai’s men pelt the pair of you with a barrage of bullets.

You lose yourself in the moment. Your lips part, lids heavy with something you can’t quite place. 

“Took you long enough,” you chide to dispel the tension brewing between you, trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll be more punctual next time,” Sylus answers with a chuckle, voice rumbling against your body as he casually walks away from the scene, refusing to put you down, even long after he’s warped you to safety. 

rising action | masterlist | climax 2.0

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Art the Clown x Reader SMUT • headcanons, how Art fucks, what he gets off to, etc

big content warning! contains some stuff that may gross you out; read at your own risk: menstruation kink, piss kink, oral sex, anal sex, object insertion, blood kink, various weapons mentioned, bondage, human hair and bones, butts and what comes out of butts, public sex, cockwarming, mostly dom!Art and sub!reader

🔪 Remember the work desk with all of Art’s weapons and tools on it? He knows you want him to fuck you, but he’s got shit to do (meaning weapons to build) so he lets you sit under the desk, cockwarming him while he works. You’re on the ground between his knees, patiently holding him in your mouth. When he finishes constructing his latest instrument of torture/slaughter, Art pats his palm against his thigh, wordlessly telling you to climb up into his lap and ride him.🩸

🔪 Art enjoys blood and guts, so it goes without saying that during your period, he’s particularly eager to fuck you. He can detect the slight change in your scent, usually aware you’ve begun to bleed even before you know. He plays with your pussy like it’s a new, special toy when you’re bleeding, spreading your lips and tracing his name on your inner thighs in red. Seeing/touching/tasting blood that comes from you is special to Art. It’s the only time he gets to play in blood without it being the result of him hurting someone, so that makes the experience unique for him. He saves your used pads for ‘alone time,’ using them later as a ‘sleeve,’ to masturbate with.🩸

🔪 Art sometimes fucks you with unconventional objects, like the handle of one of his weapons (knife, axe) or the neck of a bottle. If you’ve displeased him but he still wants to fuck you, he might deny you his cock and instead use something else, like the handle of one of his knives or the barrel of an (empty!) gun, to make you come instead of his cock, as a degrading ‘punishment.’🩸

🔪 Art loves bondage. He knows what he’s doing when it comes to tying knots, as evidenced by the multiple victims you’ve watched him restrain. He enjoys the power dynamic of being in absolute control of another person. When that crosses over into sex, you both get off on him tying you up and doing whatever the fuck he wants with your body.🩸

🔪 Art’s methods can border on sadistic at times (I mean how could they not??) but because he wants to keep you around to play with for the long haul, he never pushes you beyond the limits of safety, no matter how many new ways he comes up with to plug every hole in your body. If we know anything about Art, it’s that he’s perceptive. He studies the way your body responds to different forms of stimulation and mentally catalogs the information for later. All of his skill in crafting tools of torture means he’s able to create customized ‘toys,’ to fuck you with. But the thing is, they’re never normal, or sweet; they always contain something fucked-up and sick. Art once surprised you with a whip he’d put together for you. Its strands were soft and felt so good gliding over your clit. You came so hard when Art whipped your pussy till it was puffy and leaking. It would have been a wonderful gift, if you hadn’t realized later, upon closer inspection, that the strands now wet with your cum were in fact strands of human hair. And the custom dildo Art made for you, the one that was so smooth and colored beige/white? You later found out Art had chiseled and smoothed down a human bone to make it for you. The information almost made you sick on the spot. Art found your horrified reaction hilarious, of course, and it didn’t stop him from laying you down and fucking you with it all the same…🩸

🔪 ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL …

He loves to fuck you in the ass. Art’s a nasty little motherfucker when it comes to the stuff that comes out of butts, and I’m not gonna elaborate here, but you can use your imagination to follow where I’m going with this…🩸

🔪 Art has zero inhibitions: he kills anyone, anywhere. Imagine that relating to sex; of course he’s going to fuck you wherever he wants, including places where you might get caught. Sex in public/risky spaces feels natural to Art, because he literally does not give a single fuck. Remember the first time you ever saw him? When you stumbled out the back door of that sleazy little bar in your home town, so drunk off your ass you thought you were leaving through the front? Art was in the alleyway behind the bar, black garbage bag hoisted over his shoulder, not even looking for anyone to fuck up but when he saw you, he knew he’d found a victim for the night. He’d planned to stalk you home and do unspeakable things to you-but as you took the lead and approached him, there in the alleyway, he was caught off guard, his whole plan upended the moment you slid your arms around his waist, stood up on your tiptoes, and placed a soft, sloppy kiss on his cheek. He was awestruck, and even if he could speak, Art would still have been at a loss for words. You walked him backward a few steps, lining him up against a dumpster in the alleyway. You began fondling him through his costume, grinning when you realized his body had already begun to respond. One thing led to another, and within minutes, Art had you bent over that dumpster, with a fresh hole torn in the front of his costume where your bodies were joined…🩸

🔪 No one would associate The Miles County Clown with tenderness, but if they knew Art, they would see a softer side of him only you do. He’s still fucking deranged, don’t get me wrong. But Art also has moments of vulnerability, when there’s nothing he wants more than to hold you. Sitting in Art’s lap, he wraps his arms around you and stays still, so still, just enjoying the soft thump of your heartbeat against his, and the low hum of your breath on his chest. Your nearness calms the monster inside Art so well that sometimes, he forgets he is the monster itself…🩸

🔪 Another benefit of having you in his lap? Art realized he could use his strength to make you stay in his lap no matter how badly you had to get up and take a piss, forcing you to wet yourself all over him. You felt him gradually getting hard under you as you began to wriggle on his lap. Art could see your discomfort, and when you told him you needed to get up and take a piss, he refused to release you. You’d expect him to be smiling at you at a time like this, silently mocking you; but the look in his eyes was deathly serious, pitch black and full of a demented lust that would have had you locked you in place even if his arms hadn’t. Blushing into his shoulder, you accepted the fact that Art wasn’t letting go of you any time soon, and that he really was into this. He wanted this to happen. You allowed your bladder to empty, a soft trickle saturating your panties, followed by a steady stream of hot piss that spread over Art’s lap. His clothes were soaked through below the waist, your piss running down between his thighs and dampening the couch cushion beneath you. Art was rock hard by this point, his wet cock throbbing against your pussy. He lifted you off his lap just enough to reach between your bodies and position his tip against your entrance, then used your piss as a lube to slide inside you…🩸

[insanity6666]

Molten Hearts 3

You explore one of the cities of Nocturne and fulfill an ancient tradition. Accidentally. Mostly.

Warnings: Near-death experience, and all that entails. Nothing graphic tho.

Quick authors note: Stuff has happened between the Office Confession and now, but that's mostly minor fluff-stuff, and I wanted to get this one out since it was gnawing on my brain. Enjoy.

Part 1, Part 1.5, Part 2

The caverns of Nocturne were truly something wondrous. Ceilings, both natural and carved, were so tall you could barely see them, even with the lighting dotted high on the walls. Stalagmites and stalactites reached for each other, some had been broken away while others were used in the construction or used in decorating the cityscape, many bearing carvings or paintwork. Some speleothems were used as columns, reinforcements built around them to better support whatever structure was going to be built around or above it.

You wandered the half-carved streets, the beginnings of buildings, homes, plazas, communal areas, all slowly taking shape. All waiting to be filled with colour and sound and people and life. You felt an almost childlike wonder at it all, at the skill you could see even in the rough hewn stone.

Vulkan had insisted you explore, not wanting you to remain cooped up on the Flamewrought, but had mentioned that the preparations for his home here weren’t quite ready. He had been so contrite, you knew something hadn’t quite gone to plan, and he likely wanted to surprise you with something… again. On top of all he needed to handle upon his arrival, you knew he would be busy. You had offered to stay with him and wait, but he had assured you it was alright, as you would only be bored and he could tell you were eager to get out and move after so long travelling in space. So, with young Kessok as your escort, you weaved through the city. Through markets and back-alleys and up towers and across strone bridges and wherever else your whimsy decided to lead you.

You had come across this area quite by accident. Kessok, a young Space Marine who had not even a year prior had passed his trials as a Neophyte and completed his transformation into an Astartes of the Salamanders, mentioned that expanding the city limits was a slow and often dangerous affair, and that he had not even been born when the work had begun. 

It was currently empty. Most work had been halted to celebrate the return of the Salamanders and their Primarch. You can’t imagine how the people will react when they hear he is courting a mortal.

Salt and Stars, you still can scarcely believe it, sometimes. When you wake or in the midst of your craft, you can’t help but expect to find out that it had all been a dream or some heat-induced imagining of some kind. But no, you turn around and find he’s left a sweet message, or has snuck in to watch you work. You wander into his office or invite yourself into his quarters (something that still rattles you, a little, even after the months since that conversation in his office), leave little gifts of your own or steal a few short minutes or a quick kiss before you are both pulled away by other obligations.

You let your fingers trail over stone, smooth and cool to the touch despite the warmth in the air. There were no lanterns, but the nearby lava flows create a warm, ambient light, and the uneven ceilings and walls of the half-carved cavern caused shadows to come alive and shift in an almost playful dance. 

“How long do these celebrations usually last?” You ask your guide as you walk along a low ledge that traces the edge of a large open area, full of pillars and columns in various states of completion.

Kessok, helmet off and weapons holstered, pondered the question for a moment. He was almost shy, his hesitant words were the closest you’ve ever heard an Astartes come to stuttering, but that reticence had faded over the hours you’ve spent traversing the city together.

“A day or two, on average. Longer if there has been some great victory or happening. Father usually attends these gatherings,” He must have noticed your shoulders droop a little, as he adds kindly, “though I suspect his attendance will be short-lived for this one. The rest of us will have to celebrate without him, I suppose.” The young Marines smile was one of amusement, light and teasing.

You couldn’t help the blush that stained your cheeks at his comment, but you gave a huff of laughter before turning back to the large plaza a short drop below.

“Will the lava… rivers? Be diverted or blocked, or shall they become part of the architecture in some way?” You touch his arm as you point to what you mean, and he gives an understanding hum as he leans down a little to answer you.

“Blocking them would be unwise, as that would only build pressure. Even if the seal itself doesn’t break, the building magma will only find a new exit. We-” Kessok cut himself off and grew quiet. The sudden silence was jarring enough to make you stop in your tracks, gooseflesh prickling your skin as you caught sight of his expression. His eyes far away as he gazed off to the side, tracking something you couldn’t. Everything became still and quiet in a way it wasn’t before. A way that you couldn’t express with words, but something experienced. Felt.

You had enough time to process his look of sudden panic before the world exploded into violence.

Something roared over the cacophony of stone cracking and shattering. Green filled your vision as Kessok grabbed you just in time for everything to upend itself as you were thrown from where you two had been standing.

By the time your mind gave up on trying to process what just happened, you were pushing yourself to your feet; pain a dull warning in the back of your mind as you looked around. Your time on the battlefield served you well in this moment, as you sharpened your focus into something quick and sharp.

You were out in the open. Unsafe. Find cover. Friend missing. Where’s Kessok? Danger incoming. Source unknown. Identity unknown. Find Kessok. Regroup. Find safety. Find Vulkan.

You scratched that last thought as your eyes scanned the area, even as you moved towards the nearest chunk of stone debris that might hide you from… whatever was here. You need to contact Vulkan. Contact anyone, in truth, but some selfish, scared, childish part of you wanted Vulkan. You wanted your husband. He will come. He will keep you safe. You will see him again. 

You held onto that thought as you caught sight of green and gold, half buried under the shattered remains of a half-constructed pillar. You saw his eyes catch yours, blood pouring from a wound on his head, and that flare of relief died a quick dark death as a roar echoed through the chamber.

Unbidden, you ducked lower. With a breath to steel yourself, you rose just enough to glance at what remained of the carved walkway you had been standing on. 

Digging out from the remains of stone and metal, a mass of green and black. All scales and claws and teeth.

A Salamander. A drake. The beast from which the legion had been given its name. 

It was terrifying.

The creature was huge. It easily dwarfed you. You’re sure some of its teeth were bigger than you. You would be dead if it got close, and you have no doubt it would have no trouble doing so. You have no weapons. None but your wit. Kessok has a bolter, but you doubt it will do much here, maybe slow it down. He was half buried, but it looked like he could still draw it, but he wouldn’t be able to get out of the debris easily. He was trapped.

As if sensing your thoughts, the beast turned its ravenous eyes on the pinned Marine. It gave a low hissing noise, pleased at the sight of helpless prey, and began to stalk towards the struggling morsel.

Some latent instinct grew furious at the sight.

Something within you snarled. 

How dare that thing set its sights on your friend? Your son? Kessok was yours. Vulkan was yours and so that meant his genesons were yours. It had no right. You would not let it. 

“Call Vulkan!” You shout as you dart out of your hiding place, sprinting to another pile of rubble.

“My Lady! No!” Kessok yells, but the monster's attention was already on you. It was a predator, you were prey. You ran, so it must chase.

And chase it did.

Maybe it thought you were wounded, or that it registered your shout as the challenge it was, or maybe it saw something running off on its own and followed the urge to pursue. To hunt.

It charged after you, steps thundering, but you didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. You jumped as you neared the stone slabs, and kicked off it with as much force as you could muster. The momentum of your run aided you, landing a small distance away but it was far enough as the shrieking collision of scale and stone and flesh and metal burst out from behind you, and even as you avoided the worst of it, you were still thrown.

Rolling with the force, you shoved yourself onto your feet and sprinted for the next bit of cover: A stalagmite that was large enough that it could hide three Astartes, if they huddled.

Wait.

Stalactites.

“Kessok! Above us!” You scream over the noise. You hope he heard you, but you had no time to think as you see teeth emerge on either side of your hiding spot. You lunge forward, throwing yourself out of the way just in time as you hear the crunch of hardened minerals reduced to sand and dust. No better than gravel. 

A risked glance of your shoulder as you rise from the tumbled roll you executed, and you realise with horror you could reach out a hand and touch it. You move.

You run around it as it flails, throwing the chewed stones about. You trip, but recover, another roll and you're on your feet and sprinting towards open ground where Kessok should have a clear shot. You hear the echoing ‘Bang! Bang! Bang!’ of a bolter firing, but you don’t dare let your focus stray from anything other than survival.

There, on the far end. Another pillar. Larger than the others, it survived the initial assault, it just may help you survive the next.

“Mother!” You hear the terror in the scream, and some instinct bites at the back of your neck.

Drop.

You do.

Stone bites at your skin, covered or not, as you skid across the ground. A sharp hollow snap above you is accompanied by a rush of wind, the beasts bulk above enough bathing you in shadow.

“To me! To me! Go! Run!” Kessoks shouts reach you, somehow, in the chaos of everything. Like a physical barrier, but he breaks through, and you bolt through the opening. Running before you’ve even gotten on your feet properly, but you don’t stop. Don’t dare.

You focus on the sound of gunfire, the flash of the muzzle, and let it guide you until you catch sight of your friend. He’s kneeling, he’s escaped the debris! His bolter is aimed high, shooting at something high above you, but you don’t spare any thought to it as you feel something rapidly gaining on you again.

There’s the echo of a crack, somewhere far away.

You dive into the Salamander Astartes arms as the Salamander beast bears down on you both.

He turns you away, putting himself between you and the lunging maw.

A wet snap and a hollow squelch break through the roaring, cutting it off as the boom of something hitting the ground at speed ricochettes through the cavern. The drag of something heavy across stone, slowing, and-

Stops.

You don’t know how long you sit there, curled against the ceremite, but eventually you hear breathing. Yours. And Kessoks.You feel the shift from his breathing. You feel the press of your lungs against your ribs, from your own.

Alive. You’re alive. You’re both alive.

Slowly, you raise your head, moving just enough to look up at the Space Marine who is looking down at you in uncomprehending wonder.

“We’re alive.” You whisper, gasping every breath.

“We’re alive.” He echoes, relief and triumph in his voice.

Together, you both shift just enough to look behind his bulk and spy the mess that was far too close.

The dead salamander, a spear of dark stone through its skull, laid in a heap before them. Eyes unseeing, but even in the blank stare of death you swore you could see the ravenous hunger and rage behind the glassy veil. You shiver and turn away, looking about at the destruction its short-lived rampage had wrought instead.

‘Holy shit.’ You think, staring blankly at the devastation. ‘We survived that.’ There were gouges in the stone floor from the beast's charge, deep enough you would need help climbing out if you fell in, and the massive stone pillar was little more than a stubborn stone stump now.

You felt the twin rush of pride and triumph, but exhaustion was encroaching and you felt it begin to dig into your bones.

“Do you think this will count as a courting gift?” You ask Kessok, you stares down at you in the Salamanders equivalent of ‘are you fucking serious?’ for several long moments before he threw his head back and laughed. Big, booming laughter that bounced off the walls of the cavern and seemed to beat back the oppressive fear and desperation that had filled the space like a flash flood.

“I think,” Kessok says as his laughter trickles off, “That once my genefather has assured your wellbeing and has calmed down, you will need to move up the wedding date.”

“Kessok!” You chide, giving his armour a light smack even as laughter overtakes you for a moment, completely ruining your attempt at acting upset.

Once you’ve both recovered from your adrenaline fueled mirth, your friend carefully sets you on the stone floor next to him as he shifts with a wince, settling into a more comfortable, restful, position as he does.

“You’re injured.” It’s not a question. His head wound has stopped bleeding, but you’re more concerned by what you can’t see. His armour no doubt hides much, but the way his knee sits concerns you.

“I will heal. May need to spend a few days with the Apothecaries, but I will be fine. I would gladly surrender a limb for your safety, My Lady.” He tries to assure you, but his words only cause you more distress.

“Don’t say that.” You hate how your voice wobbles, fingers tracing along the armour covering his shin, not daring to put any weight on it. You know, logically, that he wouldn’t feel it if you put all your weight on it, but the idea of him being in pain upsets you enough that any prospect of causing discomfort, even accidentally, makes you overly careful now.

Because you know it’s true. You had made friends with many Salamanders before news of your courtship with Vulkan had spread through the legion, and even the ones you never met would have risked life and limb to protect you because you were a baseline human, a member of humanity and the Imperium of Man. It was their duty, but now it was more. They would die for you, not just because you were one of the people they swore to protect, but because you were theirs. You were Vulkans, and so you were the Legions. You belonged to the Salamanders now. 

They loved you. Because Vulkan loved you. Because they loved you. You were kind to them, treated them not as heroes or weapons or lords or symbols, but as people. You didn’t shy away from them, despite their size and strength. You even scolded them when they were being ridiculous.

You remember one night Vulkan had told you, amusement and pride shining in his burning eyes, that he had heard of an incident where one of his captains threatened to tell ‘The Legion Mother’ of his brothers’ behaviour when a disagreement threatened to become a brawl, and they all immediately stopped fighting. You hadn’t truly believed him at the time, convinced maybe he was exaggerating or someone had flourished the details when retelling the story to him.

You believed it now.

Before the weight of realisation -of surviving, of nearly dying, of exhaustion, of the Salamanders calling her Legion Mother and what that really means- Kessok’s head snapped to the side, looking towards the city proper.

You followed his gaze, but knew you wouldn’t be able to see anything for a while. 

However, it wasn’t what you saw that had you sitting up and turning your eyes upward after several long seconds of silence.

It was sound.

The rumble-whirr of aerial transport.

Not even a minute later it was in view, a Thunderhawk rapidly approaching their location. You saw a large shape drop from the ship, and you didn’t know whether to curse or sigh, because you knew what, or rather who, that was.

“I’m not sure he was wearing armour.” Kessok comments idly, “Not that he needs it. Lord Father has defeated the firedrakes of Mount Deathfire with naught but his bare hands.”

“He can’t defeat gravity with his bare hands.” You grumble. You know, logically, that he’s fine. You’ve seen him drop from greater heights and walk it off like it was nothing more than a short ledge, but that won’t stop you from worrying.

You have time to give a fond, if exasperated, look to your guard before your husband comes into view, beating out the Thunderhawk by a good margin.

“Love!” His shout reaches you only moments before he does, closing the space within seconds. He drops to his knees and pulls you into his arms. You go willingly, trying to pull yourself up, close to him, but give up almost immediately and let him fold himself around you even as he looks over you, hands barely daring to brush around the edges of the scrapes and bruises. Afraid to touch you and yet unable to resist keeping you close.

“Oh my heartfire, my treasure, my sweet one.” There are tears in his eyes as he looks at you. Your heart lurches at the sight, and you reach up to cup his cheek.

“I’m alive. We’re alive. We’re okay.”

“You are not okay.” He refutes harshly, a growl turning his voice dark. “Look at you! You are covered in wounds, and Kessok…” He looks to his son, who seems to shrink in on himself under his father's burning gaze. Distantly, you notice his helmet is missing.

“Saved me.” You announce, your voice turning sharp and hard. “I would be dead a hundred times over if not for him. Even with a shattered knee, he didn’t stop fighting.” You didn’t want to fight, but if he tried to blame Kessok for your injuries, for the salamander attack, for anything, you were going to have to.

Vulkans eyes turn soft when they settle on you again. “I do not condemn him. I only wish to note he is also hurt.” You blink up at him, and relax in his hold once more.

“Oh.” You say, “Good. I’m sorry, I jumped to conclusions.” You look over to where the Warhawk is landing, ramp already extended and Astartes pouring out like a green and gold landslide. You see three Apothecaries already making a beeline for your little group, and you raise a brow at your husband.

Clearly he doesn’t feel the need to act like he may have overreacted, because he returns your look with a serious stare. You sigh and lean forward to press a kiss over his hearts, the fabric of his tunic is smooth, and you rest your cheek against it. 

Now that you are in Vulkans arms, all strength has left you, adrenaline fading and in its place the exhaustion in your bones blooms. Making your muscles feel both hollow and heavy, your limbs leaden and like your very core buckles under its own weight, threatening to collapse with every breath.

“Do I need to stay awake?” You murmur, nuzzling into the warm safety of your Primarch as your eyes begin to droop.

“Just a few minutes, my treasure. Just for the Apothecaries to check you over.” He said quietly. You heaved a sigh of ‘okay’ as you pushed against him to sit up properly and face the trio of healers, though one was already attending to Kessok, thankfully.

The pair attending you worked seamlessly, checking you over, disinfecting wounds you didn't even know you had, patching you up, and asking questions that you could only half-answer. The details of the fight were sparse, though a few blurry details were beginning to form, like mist fading in the morning light. Rocks digging into your legs as you slide, the thrashing tail of the salamander beast as it snarled, the hot breath that carried the scent of rotting meat and death, Kessoks determined glare as he took aim…

It was quickly determined that you would need to go to a medical facility to aid in your recovery. Vulkan stood with you in his arms.

“Wait, My Lady.” Kessok spoke up as his brothers helped him stand, intent on also dragging him to a medical facility. Probably a different one, better suited to Astartes. “I think you’re forgetting something.” he says meaningfully, glancing from you to the beast behind them.

“Oh!” You sit up in your husband's arms, pausing to give a grateful smile to the grinning Salamander, before focusing your attention on the confused man holding you. “Vulkan, I formally present my offering to you.” You gesture to the dead salamander beast, “With Kessok as my hunting partner, who bravely aided me in this trial, and your sons as my witnesses, I give you proof of my devotion to you and intent to be worthy of you.”

Vulkan said nothing. Just stared. At you, at the beast, at the decimation of the area. Worry and nervousness began to eat at the edges of your heart as the silence dragged on. You looked to Kessok for guidance, suddenly fearing you had said it wrong. You know there’s no set script, not like with your people, for this, but you’re fairly certain you said the right things.

He gave you a comforting smile, which eased you somewhat, and you turned your attention back to the man you loved.

Finally, he turned his eyes back to you. You felt subtle tremors, fine and hidden, but there. Vulkan took in a slow, shaking breath, before gently lifting you up high so he could bury his nose in your hair. He took deep, measured breaths, those tremors growing in intensity for a moment before settling.

“You honour me. You honour my legion, my people, and I could not be more proud to have you at my side.” He announced, his words were smooth and steady, spoken lowly but you knew his sons heard. You press up into him, letting your hand rest in the crook of his neck.

“But never do this again?” You ask quietly, letting the moment pass.

“Never.” He agrees, fervent and voice heavy with emotion.

“Don’t plan to. How did it even get into the city?” You wonder, settling back down into his arms, letting him carry you towards the Thunderhawk.

“I’m not sure, but I plan to find out. It’s likely the construction caused a disturbance, on top of an increase in geographical activity, much of the fauna may have been displaced, leading to this one wandering too close to the city.” he sighed, “it doesn’t help that the perimeter alarms have not been properly set up yet. Whatever the case, I shall confer with the elders to confirm the cause and do what we must to ensure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

“Hmm.” You hum in understanding, steadily losing the battle to keep your eyes open. You feel lips on the top of your head.

“Sleep, my love. You need rest now.”

“Be there when I wake up?” You mutter, clutching at his tunic even as you sink into the comfortable darkness of sleep.

“Of course, nothing could keep me elsewhere.”

With that, you succumbed, and slept.

***

@incrediblethirst, @kit-williams, @beckyninja, @bleedingichorhearts, @jaghatai-khock, @pluvio-tea, @moodymisty, @thethronezone, @iluminatka16, @runin64, @vithralith, @mooniequeen

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Cells at Work x Eri?

Eri was no doubt scared out of her mind since a bunch of cells started to yell and direct their weapons at her, however the Cells become confused about why Eri isn’t attacking since none of them are familiar with who or what type of bacteria she is or the fact that the White Blood Cells’ sensors aren’t responding to her as a threat

However, when the Bacteria that she came with started attacking, Eri tried to defend some of the cells, only for her Quirk to activate and give the White Blood Cells, Killer T Cells, B Cells, Macrophages and NK Cells a boost in energy while also healing their injuries and tiredness to a minimum

Eri is believed to be a Probiotic, a special type of Microorganism that helps support and boost the immune system by enhancing all the White Blood Cells to work better

She likes everyone, but her favorites are WBC, RBC, the many Killer T Cells, Platelets and the Macrophages (And is willing to help out the Platelets in construction by carrying stuff)

Eri adores the Helpful Bacteria as they’re so cute and cuddly as she shares her snacks with them (Probiotics support Good Bacteria)

-There was mass panic and a fast response by the strongest combat cells when you suddenly appeared, many thinking you were bacteria that was going to hurt them, but as the White Blood Cells and Macrophage surrounded you, weapons drawn, they realized there was no reactions on the White Blood Cells sensors, telling them that you weren’t a threat.

-You didn’t know where you were and you were quickly in tears, your little hands lifting to your eyes as you cried, which got several of the Macrophage surrounding you, trying to console you while others tried to figure out what you were.

-You introduced yourself as Y/N, but none seemed to recognize that name as a type of cell or anything that could be found in the human body.

-You were confused to learn you were inside a human body, and these individuals were all cells of different types, with different jobs and abilities, working together to keep this human body healthy.

-They were discussing on where to take you, since they didn’t know what kind of cell you were, when bacteria attacked, sending Red Blood Cells scrambling and the warriors, Macrophage, White Blood Cells, Killer T Cells, and others, ran in to defeat the bacteria.

-You were scared, unsure of what to do as you watched many of these nice new people being hurt, being blown back head over heels by these powerful bacteria.

-You saw one of the Macrophage get blown back, her weapon flying out of her hands as she landed with a sharp cry of pain and you ran to her, scared for her.

-Your horn started to glow, coming to life to the surprise of everyone around you as your energy surrounded her before moving to the allies, healing their wounds and giving them a boost of energy, giving them exactly what was needed to fight back and defeat the bacteria.

-When everyone was dealt with and cleaners appeared to handle the carnage, the Macrophage held you up as you seemed a bit flushed and tired.

-They decided you were a probiotic, a cell that boosts the power of the immune system, and while you were still confused, you seemed content in your new life, as you got to play with other cells, like Platelets and younger Red Blood Cells, being a normal child and you felt good that you were helping others.

-You did your best in helping where you could, no matter how small, even if it was just carrying paperwork around the offices that oversaw the management of all the cells involved with the immune system.

-Many admired me for your willingness to help, despite not looking as strong as White Blood Cells or Macrophage, and many were quick to adopt you, treating you like their child, making sure you were always safe.

-You’re still not completely sure how you wound up actually inside a human’s body, but being surrounded by so many who cared about you and treated you with respect was nice and you never wanted to leave. You wanted to stay here forever!

[d8tl55c]

well @illmoraineakoi ive switched phones since you asked this, but i have not(!) forgotten. it seems it was a tiny teensy itty bitty bit more complex to discuss than i expected ';3 or i just ran out of steam LOL, tco_physeng_breakdown.png was a lot

but i digress! let's get to it

a TCO power core generates energy via superradiant⠀scattering.⠀

at the part of their THROUGHLINE* that would be considered the upper-torso on a human, a cylindrical compartment holds a tiny spinning object called a black hole.

because the black hole is spinning, the gravitational forces pull spacetime strangely in an oblong region around the black hole called the ergosphere. when electromagnetic radiation (light) enters the ergosphere, it is yanked along by the spinning, amplifying it (in exchange for some rotational energy).

this is a theoretically** extremely efficient method of generating energy, because all you have to do to spin up the black hole again is feed it some kind of mass—literally anything—and the trade results in net positive power.

the superradiance part happens when the light bounces off of the container walls, sloshing in and out of the black hole's area of influence over and over, and constructively interfering with itself, to build frightening power very, very quickly. this is the motivation for developing a material like the superinsulator lining.

if the radiation doesn't reflect, it doesn't build properly.

if the radiation escapes at the wrong moment, it annihilates the entire local physics simulation.

if the radiation builds too much***, the container explodes, even more violently shredding everything nearby into free quarks.

so, above everything else, the compiler and physeng put extra care into these details....

a double-layer superinsulator surrounds the power core. the inner one handles active particles through total internal reflection, and the outer one cuts off the inner components from the outside world. this composite is so effective that it prevents TCO from feeling any sense of temperature in that area, and it absorbs so much ambient heat that it can feel painfully cold to touch them here.

a standard superinsulator lining wraps all the way around the rest of their body, protecting the channels that funnel energy to their limbs, weapons, and flight systems. their coat of feathers overlaps this layer, and both forms of armor protect TCO from burns.

the "weakest" superinsulators are at the hardpoints, where flames and lasers and things are refined and fired. this type of barrier is one-way selectively permeable, which means it allows certain things (like heat) to flow one way, but not the other (so TCO also cannot detect heat on their palms).

notably, the absence of heat sensation does not correspond to an absence of touch sensation.

*(the spine: compiled base code, storage, processing space, et. al.)

**(source: learn more about spinning black holes here!)

***(smaller black holes shrink faster than larger ones, and when spinning objects shrink, they spin faster, and when the black hole spins too fast it yanks even the most tame radiation above acceptable limits, and so there are several monitors and protocols in place to make sure the black hole will not get too small)

(further discussion of this diagram)

_ _ _ _ _ _

in this context, a node is a region with little to no particles or energy or whatnot, and an antinode is the exact opposite of that.

right before using any special abilities, one or more antinodes are formed to provide the hardpoints with enough energy**** to function.

if the raw energy were somehow expelled without first being transformed, TCO could unmake anything they touched. Anything. there is no known material across the Outernet that would survive contact, and they would be likely to dissolve parts of themself in the process.

****(the hardpoints are actually some of the simplest components in this system. if you're a physicist with practically endless energy, you can make amazing stuff happen without a lot of hassle)

⠀

[pyre-of-pages]

Chapter 2 is Up! Only one more to go -- I mean it this time.

Disclaimer: Keep in mind to subscribe to the series, not my profile, if you're only interested in seeing updates of my fandom stuff.

Shallow Roots in Eroding Soil, Chapter 2

Chapter Summary:

The soil where Elur's feet are planted continues to fall away.

Sneak-Peek below the cut:

When Elur heard the knock at the door, she did exactly what her mother had told her to do. She grabbed a knife.  It was late afternoon – too early for her mother to return. Besides, her mother had the only house key; there would be no reason for her to knock. Although the handle of a blade was an unsure fit in her hand, Elur had been taught to slash the palms of any unwanted guests should they attempt to grab her. With the weapon hidden behind her hip, the teenaged elf unlatched the door and opened it enough to peek through. A tendril of cold air reached through the crack and chilled her face, smarting the still-raw skin of her Clanmarking. “Yes?” Elur asked, blinking against the sudden gust of winter air. “Are you the only Wood Elf that lives here?” the man at the door asked without introduction. The emblem of a yellow stag on his chainmail marked him as a member of the Bravil Town Guard. “No?” Elur opened the door further with a slow glide. She’d been told to never be visibly armed in front of a member of the Guard, so she slipped the knife behind her back to her opposite hand and then onto a nearby shelf behind the door. “Can you describe your household members, please?” the guard continued in a casual, almost emotionless, tone. Elur furrowed her brow. “Must I?��� The guard’s expression didn’t change. “Describe your household members.”  “It’s . . . just my mother and I, sir.” The lines around the guard’s mouth creased. “Is your mother at home with you?” Elur shook her head. The cold crept past her legs like a house cat, slipping through the small opening in the door while dragging an icy tail over her shins. “Um . . . she’s out hunting.”  The guard unfolded a page of parchment, looked it over for a moment and refolded it. “Is your mother missing a hand, by chance?” Elur creaked open the door further, uncaring about the heat from the fire getting out – nor the waves of cold getting in. “Her left hand. What is this about?” Without a word, the guard reached into a pocket on his belt and withdrew a piece of worn leather. Taking it revealed to Elur that there was cut stitching around the edges and slightly smudged lettering inked into the hide: “I have a daughter at home. If you are reading this, please retrieve her.” The message was followed by their house address. “I’ve been asked to escort you to Skingrad,” the guard said. “The Guard must speak with you there.” “Skingrad?” Elur asked, wringing the leather in her hands. Her chest thumped. “What is she doing in Skingrad? Oh, gods! Has she been arrested?” The guard cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest, as if trying to look as professional as possible. “There was an incident early this morning, miss. The Guard needs you to identify a body.”

( I welcome constructive feedback! I'm always looking to improve and constructive feedback makes me very happy! )

[acourtofthought]

I don’t know if you have noticed but there is this need for certain parts of the fandom to emasculate Lucien, and it’s kind of annoys me .

Like recently when an elriel posted something about Azriel carrying Lucien and then in the comments another one was like I will never forget that Azriel carried Lucien like a princess. That was clearly rage baiting but I won’t speak on it, and it can be funny all good and fine.

But they often do it all the time where they emasculate Lucien just to make Azriel seem more manly or hotter. I see it all over TikTok And I hate it

The narrative sometimes also feeds into it because SJM often writes Luciens character in a way that almost feels like he is the punching bag or inferior to the bat boys. So sometimes I can’t blame them too. It’s easy to take some stuff, run with it and turn it into mocking Lucien’s character and his masculinity.

Like yes he has his moments of heroism but still it almost feels like there is this constant need to make it known that the bat boys are hotter and stronger and better than him.

Which to me is such a lie. But that’s a story for another day. I can legit write an essay on why I think Lucien, currently is more of a man than all the bat boys combined but that’s my opinion so. It also raises a lot of concerns about toxic masculinity in this fandom because Lucien has quite different traits as an MMC.

He is more on the less aggressive side, yes he can be angry and he will show it but it’s never outright on the nose like Azriel for instance. Not saying anyone pushes toxic masculinity ideologies or certain stereotypes that determine whether your a man or not, but sometimes you have to wonder why some people characterize Lucien as “weak”, why the author makes some offhand comments through characters like Ferye and Azriel that make people believe that narrative so easily as well.

What makes Azriel more manly than Lucien?

It's kind of silly that anyone emasculates Lucien for that considering Cassian needed Mor to winnow him to the human lands, how is that any different?

Considering Feyre needed Cassian to fly her back to Velaris. So they're saying it's ok for Feyre to be carried by a man and that doesn't lesson anyone's opinion of her as a badass warrior but if Lucien has someone give him a lift to Velaris, that somehow diminishes him as a man?

Why? Because he can't fly? And someone clearly has homophobic tendencies if they're trying to turn this into a "two guys makes it weird" argument.

Masculinity is a social construct but I'm pretty sure that masculinity, under no definitions involves "ones ability to fly with their own wings".

If we are looking at the social constructs which define the term then we're looking at:

Strength: He'd been trained, he once told me - at the Autumn Court and at this one. He knew how to handle a weapon. Knew how to kill if need be / He braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse / Without further word, he slung me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes. Despite my wriggling and shouts of protest, despite my demands that he get my horse, he held firm, and when I looked up, I found that he was running - fast. Faster than anything should be able to move. /

Courage and Independence: "I'll go." Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. "I'll go," he repeated, rising to his feet. "To find this sixth queen." "You will be going into the human territory," Rhys warned. "I can't spare a force to guard you- " "I don't need one. I travel faster on my own." HIs chin lifted. My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, "It will be - very dangerous." A half smile curved Lucien's mouth. "Good. It'd be boring otherwise."

Assertiveness: "I just want to know what you think you're doing." It was Lucien - "What are you doing?" Tamlin snapped. "Me?" Lucien put a hand on his chest. "By the Cauldron Tam - there isn't much time, and you're just sulking and glowering. You're not even trying to fake it anymore." / "Back off? Back off while you seal our fates and ruin everything? I stayed with you out of hope, not to watch you stumble. / Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice - Lucien's bellowed across the chamber. "TO YOUR LEFT!" / But now - now we need order, Feyre. We need rules, and rankings and order, if we're going to stand a chance of rebuilding / "Can I offer my unsolicited advice?" Lucien jerked his chin to Azriel. "That's the information you need to gather. What my father knows - if my brothers realized what she was doing. You need to start from there, and build your plan for this meeting accordingly." / "Tomorrow". I hadn't heard him sound so assertive in ... a long time.

Leadership: "As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn't particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I'd be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting .... I learned what I could of the land from it's people. Learned about the people, too." "I'd say that sounds more HIgh Lord - like than the life of an idle, unwanted son."

Protective: Again, the MULTIPLE times Lucien helped Feyre UTM, when he begged Tamlin to let her train, when he tried to soothe and comfort her after what he thought was her having a nightmare, how he covered her with his cloak when they were both freezing in the cave while heading to the NC, how he broke free of his shackles to go to Elain's side to cover her with his jacket, when he insisted Feyre tell him all the places Rhys could be hiding Elain, when he helped the humans after the war, etc.

Compassion and Empathy: Literally the only person who is still attempting to help Tamlin and the Spring Court after it's downfall, asking Feyre to think of the people of Spring (and not just herself) after the years of horror they dealt with UTM, showing nothing but respect for Elain and feeling her pain during her depression, what with Feyre noting the devastation of his face as he sees Elain's sorrow".

Emotional Control: I can again provide many examples but he's pretty much the only male character who does so in the entire series. It's clear he's having emotions but immediately gets a handle on himself. He's not out there wrecking the buildings of other courts, starting fights in meetings, lashing out at others.

People can prefer Feyre or the IC characters however it's clear that from a narrative perspective, they are 100% biased, thinking their inner circle is the best of the best. Which is fine, we'd all be so lucky to have people glorifying us to that degree. However just because a small group of friends feels that way about their friends, it doesn't mean their opinions are actually undeniable facts. There is a reason Sarah has been dropping hints since book 1 that Lucien was meant to take over as a High Lord someone (first it was Autumn, now it's either Day / Spring or as High King) and there is a reason she's gone on and on throughout the series about his good looks, his broad shoulders, his goodness, his intelligence, his preference for words over violence, etc., and it's definitely not because he's supposed to come across as less "masculine" than Az.

[dragonxv77]

Day one review of Simon The Digger VS Kyle Rayner.

Do the impossible indeed…

Let’s start with the analysis as Usual.

SIMON

Simon analysis is pretty good if I say so myself. Them hyping up Kamina (As they should) only to reveal Simon IS the actual protagonist was nice.

Boomstick saying it be weird if his whole personality was just beer, only to have his stand make an appearance which is a beer can! Never change Boomstick.

The speed feat wall was not only a great edit, it was also funny as well.

Damn, they actually explained dimensional tiering. They usually save that kind of stuff the corner boxes.

Nia helping her Husband by rejecting to die for a week therefore giving Simon a feat cause Simon is the strongest Spiral Power user. Truly the best Wife there is.

Kyle

Let’s get this out the way. As an Ben 10 fan all of the references were PEAK.

Them listing off random people/things that became green lanterns was oddly amusing. Because yeah, the lantern corps have a some weird stuff in their ranks.

They list off multiple miscellaneous powers that the lanterns have, they give special to the constructs of course but not only because it’s the lanterns most known ability. It’s because of Kyle is a comic book artist making him the most creative lantern. That was good writing.

The edit when Boomstick said Kyle’s biggest weakness is himself was pure gold!

And getting a lore dump about a trope was not only surprising but handled pretty well I think. It didn’t feel forced.

Getting to hear Wiz and Boomstick talking about the colored lanterns was also nice.

I think Kyle’s ending part could’ve been better and I don’t know why I feel that way. Maybe it’s because Simon just had a great closing section that made Kyle’s just fell short by comparison. Idk.

The Fight.

The fight opens up with Simon cutting down some mountains for what ever reason. But what I truly want to know is why is back in Gurren Laggan? Like, what’s the in universe reason for Simon deciding to hop back in?

It’s an interesting thought.

Anyways Kyle proves he’s Hal’s successor by pulling out the “Class A galactic Super Weapon.” Card. Kyle decding to be extra by making a ‘catch’ onomatopoeia is great characterization.

And so the fight starts by Simon trying punch Kyle, only to be block by a Balrog construct. And this is when Kyle shows why he is the most creative lantern.

Poltergeist backpack to counter the missiles, then instead firing it back like what I and mostly likely Simon thought he would he decided to turn it into Shenron to wrap around the mech construing it.

Simon rockets towards Kyle, headbutting him, Kyle responds with a headbutt of his own but with antlers.

Then a golfer hitting Laggan clean off! Simon then tries to snipe Kyle with that momentum who dodged it.

Simon just digs in the ground to try again and launches himself into space to follow after Kyle.

And that’s just 1/3 of the fight. And I could continue to gush about the fight saying how good it looks, I liked the small detail of galaxy gurren laggan multiple eyes reacting and making faces or how hype it was to see Kamina giving Simon a push to break out the trance, etc, etc.

But I wont. Cause I can and will talk about the ending which makes the episode so great to me.

Kyle and Simon fall from fractures of space and time. Kyle realizes that the mech wasn’t the weapon he was looking for. It’s Simon, and he himself confirmed it.

And so Kyle with a smile on his face replies with his voice not wavering for a second that “He’s taking him in.”

They start fighting bare handed with first two hits reflecting their mediums, an impact frame and comic book aesthetic with an accompanying onomatopoeia respectively. All the while, Kyle mentally chants the Green Lantern Oath.

Channeling their powers for one final clash they both charge at each other with the music coming in full blast as they connect!

And Spiral beats out Life with Simon shouting out to himself and Kyle to grit those teeth!

And with the last bit of time left Kyle realizes Simon would make a great lantern and gave his own ring to Simon before passing on.

But Simon rejects the offer saying “Who the hell do you think I am?” Not out to malicious intent though.

To him somebody/something sent this seemingly pretty great guy to his death because he’s a ‘quote on quote threat’. So of course he’s going to reject it he’s bad with authority after all and probably thinks whatever society that sent Kyle after him isn’t the most morally greatest.

The ending analysis.

Really unique categories for this fight.

I don’t like how they they worded the imagination category though I think they should of said something along lines of “because of Simons multiple other selves fused into him he’d match Kyle’s imagination thanks to not only having different life experiences but one of the Simon’s was mangaka/comic book artist!” Or something like that. It just sounded weird.

Everything else is fine nothing much else to note.

Music is fire, can’t forget about that though.

Side note: I like to think Simon somehow drained the battery of the ring and made a grave for Kyle with the ring on it like Kamina has the cape attached to his.

A 9.4/10 for me.

Tom VS Wil E is the next time! Rooting for the Coyote though would be happy if either won

[karlachismylife]

Okay but imagine this: if task force 141 get thrown into Faerûn just as they are (i dunno, a portal opens up during a mission for neutralizing a huge dnd cultist-terrorist organization, whatever), with their ammunition, gear, guns etc. They quickly realize that the guns are kinda useless, because there is no way to supply them with bullets etc and then again, the fuck is your rifle gonna do against a literal fireball or a revived skeleton. But they can't just drop them, because who knows who's gonna find them and do what; but if they keep carrying those around, maybe they'll find a way to adapt their firearms to the new reality. And finally, they are still hoping to get back home... at least in the beginning.

And this is how Soap's sniper rifle becomes just a fancy toy. He still takes care of it, but there's no point in using it... until he catches Karlach's curious look while he's busying his hands (fella gotta fidget) with cleaning up this intimidating (at least it was) weapon. Karlach knows a good weapon when she sees one even if she has never seen anything like this before; she's both fought barehanded and seen how far mechanics can go in terms of ways to kill someone. And this polished beauty with a ton of little interesting details in construction is definitely a good weapon.

Soap is beaming when Karlach asks to show and explain how it works. He goes over the whole mechanism, gives her a three hours speech about different types of firearms, nearly starts a chemistry lesson on gunpowder and draws schemes with a stick on the ground to explain all the physics of a good shot. He wouldn't even notice if Karlach dozed off in the middle of this tirade. But Karlach surprises everyone, including herself, by staying extra attentive this whole time. Her head might hurt a little from trying to stuff all this information inside at once, but she senses Johnny's passion about the subject and it's contagious.

And then Soap asks her, giving her a heavy friendly slap on the shoulder: "Wanntae have a go?"

"Aye, soldier, don't have to ask me twice!" Karlach's already picked up a little of his accent and it earns her a cheeky smile from Soap, but what really makes him beam and jump to his feet immediately with his rifle in hand is that she's ecstatic to go and try shooting this thing.

They move a little away from camp so that they won't startle anyone there or draw unnecessary attention to the location and choose a target, a fallen tree trunk on one side of a large clearing. Soap gets into position and that pretty shiny thing in his arms goes boom, slicing a teeny tiny branch that was sticking out on the trunk clean off.

Karlach is hot with excitement, buzzing while Johnny explains her how to get into the right shooting position and what needs extra attenion when making a shot. He shoots one or two more times before her impatience gets to him and he scoots to the side, offering her a place behind the gun. Karlach copies his pose as best as she can, a good straight line and not much leaning forward. She is a soldier, a good one, she can follow instructions and handle the recoil, but what hurts her performance is... that same impatience. That beautiful SP-X 80 goes off in her hands almost immediately and although Karlach doesn't miss that poor tree entirely, the bullet lands nowhere near the spot Soap pointed out as target. Aww, dammit, soldier.

Soap doesn't seem upset in the slightest though (if anything, he is trying to keep his eyes off her ass, presented to him like a birthday cake). He just moves closer again and adjusts Karlach's grip on the handle, keeping his hands on her and using this lesson as a shameless excuse to get his paws all over the excited tiefling while he makes her calm down her breathing and watch that little cross in them complex optics.

"Close yer een, bonnie, take a couple breaths... aye, just like tha'. Is the reticle still on target? Good, now breathe out again 'n' when ye get that wee pause in yer body… shoot."

Maybe it's not entirely fair for him to ask Karlach to breathe normally when his calloused hand is right there on her back, touching her (touching her!) under the excuse of showing that lowest point in breathing when the trigger should be pulled. But they are not in a competition and good for her: despite following instructions to a t she can't seem to master it. She doesn't miss every single attempt, but her aim is clearly off. Her tail gives away her disappointment in shots landing slightly off target and coils around Johnny's ankle as he crouches next to Karlach laid out there in a proper prone position and watches her with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

When the last bullet they took with them shatters dead wood almost, almost right where she wanted, Karlach sighs and rolls on her side, quickly noticing how cozy her tail got with Soap's leg and untangling it as if nothing happened.

"Dinnae worrie, soldier, aim gets better wi' practice." Karlach earns another friendly slap on her shoulder and the faintest frown that hid in her brows immediately goes away, replaced by a toothy grin.

"Practice, eh, mate?" She repeats, and Johnny already knows she's got something on her mind. "Wanna go throw axes then?"

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S07E02

Got a bit too long.

There is no way those guys manage to balance episodes better when they have a multitude of issues to deal with than when they have none. Are you kidding me?

Rear Window/Home Alone episode? What crazy genius thought of that? Where was that crazy genius in all the other seasons? I’m starting to think that these writers perform better under the immense stress of having to come up with logical plot lines for explaining character absences.

Before I forget. Dear promo department, just because the episode starts with the end scene (almost end scene) doesn’t mean you get to put that scene on the promo. 

Oh, by the way, did we ever do that? Start with a major scene and go backwards? I love that I just did a rewatch, by the way.

Charlie and Sarah moved in together (and she’s already deciding what to keep for the household, watch out, Charlie), and they just… moved in. No explanation. I guess the house was on offer? Too good of an offer to pass up, so they were like, what the hell. Can this even be aired on Up Faith and Family?

Charlie working the electronics in the new house. Lord help us. The "it's very tough to hear because you're barking" to Rex was funny.

Rex was "like that" with the old house? No, he wasn't. You're lying. Also, he's been trying to find a place to sleep because THERE ARE BOXES EVERYWHERE.

We have a great word for when a house is not yet finished and still looks like a constructions site and there is no English equivalent! Ugh.

Sarah has already started throwing away Charlie's stuff!

Lochlyn Munro was on White Chicks with John Reardon. I haven't watched that movie in some time but I still have the feeling I wanted to punch both their characters there lol

"I don't think she's coming back after that cruise". Well, you definitely jinxed her, Sarah.

I love Rex at home montages so much. And the music.

After more than 100 episodes, we finally see a cat. I wasn’t sure they existed in this universe. Also, Rex's cat plushie is 100% new.

Guns? You guys were shipping guns? What are you, Americans?

I like the throwbacks already. Even though I despise those two characters. Now I'm actually glad that I did the rewatch because while I'd remember Porter, I would definitely not remember ginger cop.

What do you mean the SJPD assigns the password purely based on someone’s name and birthday? Without any random numbers or characters??? I’m sorry but then the shitfest that inevitably followed is on the IT department. Everyone knows that most people, cops or not, will not bother to change their password. That’s why the password assigned must be RANDOM. Jesse, I’m blaming you. You’re the only IT guy in there I know.

Porter. You trusted Porter. Joe, I don’t know what to say, honestly.

Speaking of, what the actual hell do you mean IA found no further misconduct in Porter’s other cases? That’s impossible. Just this month while on my rewatch, I was writing that there is no way they won’t find anything, not with the way he handles cases. Did they even look?

“I look forward to meeting the real Rex”. Ohoho, buddy…

I like how affectionate Sarah is with Rex. 

Sarah to Rex: "Charlie understands your signals better than I do." Charlie: *attributes Rex’s barking to him smelling fertilizer, which if I recall has never happened, and almost washes away the blood off the murder weapon by accident, because he’s well versed in Rex speak* (I’m not mad. It was funny. Although I definitely called him an idiot there. Welcome back, himbo!Charlie.)

Hey, we got Charlie on his bike! On the seventh season.

I wrote a lot of things on my rewatch, most I’ve already forgotten. One thing I remember writing, was that if there are two cases that start as separate, they will magically connect at some point in the episode in almost every crime show. I feel like this show lives to prove me wrong.

Pet peeve. Jesse has his finger on the trigger the entire time during the arrest scene. It is 2025. Why did they bother to teach Justin Kelly the proper stance and didn’t bother to tell him that the index goes on the side of the frame of the firearm when they have to shove a camera on his face and arm. I'm not mad at the actor, by the way, it's not his job to know, that's technical stuff. What’s weird is that I’ve seen 100+ episodes of Hudson and Rex (102 now) and I think John Reardon has never done this? And I think that because I’d have reacted like that. In fact, I remember pointing out that he did hold it properly numerous times. So, silly me, I thought they had someone to tell them about stuff like that, at least for the main characters.

They remembered police vests! I might shed a tear.

You cannot set up a Home Alone scene and put dramatic music. Or, I guess you can, but I will still laugh. It was funny. I know that realistically, you can’t put on something like a Benny Hill music there because the entire scene will eventually lead to finding the body, but that part will be funny no matter what.

Did anyone think that something was going to happen to Charlie’s bike while on the stint? Because I did.

I’m glad that Rex turned out to be goading Arnold when he was holding the meat tenderizer and that he had already set up traps in the house because in the promo it seemed like an idiotic move. Yes, he’s a dog, but he’s a superdog and I’m used to him being smart.

The sheer amount of plush toys that Rex has... Oh. My. God. I think they moved to have more space for his plush toys, actually.

Charlie: *accusatorily* "Why is there blood on your tenderizer?" Oh my god, don’t pull out your handcuffs yet, Detective!

Thank god Rex thought to throw the paint on Arnold because it would take Charlie and Sarah another episode to figure it out, with the way they were going.

"She was gonna leave me". And... what? Now you ruined both your lives. Good job, shithead.

They're worried about the impression they made on their new neighbors? What about their old neighbors who turned up as murderer and victim?

Since when are Charlie and Sarah such proud Newfies to have a Newfoundland flag up?

Easter egg: Felipe Rodriguez's name is on the "For Sale" sign.

Yes, John Reardon’s reduced screentime is noticeable. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I missed Charlie and Rex’s partnership in this episode, especially following a Charlie/Rex focused season. But it is what it is. It’s also good to recognize it and to be a bit more appreciative of what he has offered in all these years to the show. On the other hand, we get to see more of Sarah, Joe, and Jesse. I know not everyone is tuning in for that, yes, the show is called Hudson and Rex. Well, tough. And I'd find it difficult for anyone to try to criticize how this season's episodes are structured without sounding like an asshole, for many reasons.

Promo: Per IMDb, there's an episode that doesn't credit John Reardon at all. I don't really see Charlie in this promo so it might be that one (although that's supposed to be the bees episode and I also don't see bees, there's only mention of oyster farms). And I'm not sure I even see Diesel in this promo, although I see Rex. Ah, the sadness of not being 10 years old anymore. They can't change dogs without me noticing.

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

i meant more of what you said of having Jesse, Miranda, Sunni, Nelson, and Skylor or Antonia be the new ninja instead of new OC's (wouldn't mind either just clarifying) would also be a simple way of giving them something in crystalized and possibly the rest of the nrg arc if you dont have anything already planned

also for the weapon thing with Jesse and skylor (if you go with her) specially do they get new ninja weapons or would you just swap for neon versions of their main weapons

Oooooh see I got slightly confused because Jesse and co were already planned to be fleshed out and I interpreted your ask as if I could/should/would give characterization the actual Neo Ninja as well (which, again, I’m also not opposed to! But they’re not quite as flexible in that regard as other characters :d)

But yeah, part of why I considered this in the first place was precisely to give the B/C team more stuff to do in the NRG Arc onwards (even if Jesse has a big role to play in MotM and Mira/Sunni are involved with Prime Empire stuff and Antonia/Nelson do crop up multiple times naturally anyway but if we go the Skylor route then she can still be involved without also being too intertwined with the main conflicts thus still leading to her eventual issues with Kai) BUT this just helps tie it all together easier <3

Skylor: While you were in the Never Realm I studied the Neon Blade 😤

(The only slight sticking point is that Jesse and Skylor would also be at the monastery by then, but I see them as ‘being the backup’ along with Pixal, since everyone going on every mission almost NEVER works out for them rip)

Anyway, Jesse would absolutely keep his Magician’s Naginata, but hnnnng maybe while working with the Neo Ninja he trades it in for a less magic neon naginata to somewhat keep his identity under wraps for a while (same with Skylor’s weapons) (u should’ve changed ur color tho bro). In the case of Sunni, Nelson, and Antonia, that would just be them getting a weapon in the first place, while Miranda…would not be a stranger to the frontlines by that point in time haha. Heck, she’ll probably be the one to design the neon weapons, and then have Borg or Pixal construct them

(But ultimately it’s probably gonna be Skylor over Antonia because there’s a lot more non-Ninja things I can do with Toni than anyone else, and she’s never actually wanted to ‘be’ a Ninja, just support them~)

(Sunni’s also mostly just here because she’s yellow LMAO but I imagine after Skybound or S8/9 and/or meeting Harleigh she just starts getting a loooot scrappier <3)

……..I just dunno how I’m gonna handle them ‘getting crystallized’ tho, cuz if I stick with the script that’s gonna be a heartache and a half even for me ^^;

[grizzlyofthesea]

"What is the wish that will make your Soul Gem shine?"

I made a magical girl form for myself in the event that I'd be stupid/desperate enough to make a contract with Kyubey.

My wish would be to incite a sustainable, inclusive, equitable, and cruelty-free scientific revolution. I'm into astronomy, so I decided that my Soul Gem would look like a star in its "jewelry" form. Its color is teal because that's the result I got on a "What color is your magic?" personality quiz. Simple as that.

Since my wish pertains to science, my outfit naturally has a lab coat and goggles. The coat is made out of a transparent PVC-type material. The overall aesthetic combines Georgian/Victorian menswear with vaporwave. I just thought it would be fun.

The goggles are functional for one of my unique abilities; I can use them to analyze another being's abilities and weaknesses. My other special power is the ability to create constructs out of laser meshes.

My weapon is a telescope ray gun...thing. In "ranged mode," it of course fires lasers. The trigger and handle can retract for "melee mode," allowing the telescope to serve as a more effective battering weapon. It can also act as an actual telescope.

I drew it, but (1) it's incomplete, and (2) it's pictured with some spoiler-y parts of the design. Proceed with caution if you have not yet completed Madoka Magica.

Now we get into the witch stuff.

My witch name is Cosimo. My Grief Seed has a shooting star design on it, with the tail shaped to look like a grid/lattice. My Witch's Kiss is a planet with two rings and a two-tailed comet above it. The planet's coloration references Annie Jump Cannon's mnemonic for star types/temperatures: Oh, Be A Fine Guy/Girl, Kiss Me.

Everything from here on out is still uncolored. Major details are set in stone, but minor ones are subject to change.

Cosimo is the Supernova Witch, with an erratic nature. She is serene and calculating on the outside, but she will lash out in a panic as soon as she feels that she has lost control. Those who fall too close to her surface are spaghettified and can never hope to leave again.

**Cosimo is approximately 10 meters in diameter, and she changes color/temperature based on her mood. The bluer/hotter she is, the angrier or more stressed she is. Red indicates lethargy or sadness. Yellow-white is her perfect, happy medium.**

Familiar #1 is Amadeo. He is the Supernova Witch's trusted receptionist. He cheerfully greets guests and keeps them up to date about the witch's interests. However, his speeches are so long that they bore people into a deep slumber.

**I imagine his mouth to squash and stretch instead of moving organically. Think of Natsuki's mouth during certain parts of Doki Doki Literature Club.**

Familiar #2 is Orsina. Orsina is the Supernova Witch's talented groundskeeper and architect. She builds, maintains, and destroys parts of the labyrinth according to the witch's whims. She is praised for her work but prone to becoming jealous of the other familiars. Also comes in a right-handed variant.

**The substance dripping from Orsina's wrist is thick, viscous, and burning hot. Individual Orsinas may have different colors of skin or fingernails, too.**

Anyway, that's all. I had fun coming up with all this.

[quirkwizard]

Assuming you had access to every quirk you could want which ones do you think could have interest comparability if used together, kinda like what all for one did with air cannon and springlike limbs?

If you had access to every quirk in the series what do you think the strongest quirk combination might be? Not in a Quirk Marriage way to be clear, more so if one person had two quirks like nagant. Some combos I had that would be devastating if they were used to their fullest potential were Confession + Brainwashing, Permeation + Invisibility, and Manifest + Creation.

I'm not sure if there are any option that'd be "strongest", but I can try and go for ones I think have a lot of potential and synergy. Though for the sake of this, I'm ignoring any options that aren't super interesting. Like yeah, "Rifle" and "Snipe" pair up great, but they don't really add much to each other.

Impact Recoil+Absorb and Release: A simple, yet potent combination. You take the innate protection of "Impact Recoil", mix it the range of effects that "Absorb and Release", and you hopefully get an amazing defense power.

Slide and Glide+Larceny: These two are similar enough they could easily combine, but different enough to make it interesting. It'd basically look like a mini version of the Deva Path from Naruto with it's power to push and pull things around.

Meatball+Transforming Arms: Take all of the insane stuff we've seen Hood made with his arms. Now apply it to someone's entire body. That's on top of what can be done with "Meatball". Yeah, you're going to becoming a bio weapon in no time.

Manifest+Food: This is probably one of the most obvious combinations. The Quirk that lets the user make whatever they eat with "Manifest" and the Quirk that lets them eat whatever they want with "Food". The possibilities are endless.

Foldabody+Mimicry: An odd one, but I like to this could combine to expand what "Mimicry" is capable of. Imagine the user flattening themselves out to puppet a larger object, spreading themselves out amount multiple objects at a time, or just max out their stealth.

Black+Dark Shadow: While "Black" could let the user control and fuse with "Dark Shadow" for greater synergy between entity and user, I think that it'd be interesting in using with the shadow part of the power, using Dark Shadow to move and spread their foci of control.

Solid Air+Whirlwind: Between the sheer control of "Whirlwind" and the solid state of "Solid Air", this could effective let the user shape the air around them into constructs. They'd basically become like the Green Lantern, but instead using the air around them to do it.

Danger Sense+Permeation: With how much inherent danger that comes with "Permeation", "Danger Sense" could help a lot with navigating and using it to it's full potential. Essentially since it'd let the user take full advantage of the selective intangibility.

Chronostasis+Gearshift: You take the slow down effect of "Chronostasis" and the speed up effect of "Gearshift", and you've got one insanely useful power. You could effectively slow down anything to a crawl or speed it up to the point where no one could see it.

High Spec+Overclock: This is arguably the most potent option among the list with how well they feed each other. Not only could "Overclock" take the immense processing power of "High Spec" to new highs, but extra brainpower of "High Spec" may do better at handling the strain of "Overclock".

[just-my-life365]

So I’ve been obsessing over Epic the musical. It makes me wish so much that I had any skill in the animation department because while I love seeing all of the animatics come out, I have such specific images in my head that I want to share.

So since I have no time to learn digital art/animation rn (I say like it’s easy🙄) I’ll just share some stuff here and hope I can describe it properly. So now, please excuse my rambling:

The main thing I’ve been thinking about is the Gods creating little illusion of humans when they’re trying to make a point.

Like in God Games when Athena goes “please reconsider this” I know she’s brought Aphrodite into her quick thought, but I always see her creating a little illusion of Penelope and Telemachus waiting for their family to be whole again. Penelope keeping her strength while dying inside and Telemachus fumbling through keeping her safe from the suitors and taking on tasks that he’s too young and inexperienced to handle. She makes the little illusion of them and drifts them towards Aphrodite, trying to appeal to her sense of love and family. Showing her another mother/wife who is suffering and the child who needs and longs for the guidance of his father. Aphrodites expression softens the slightest bit, wavering at the sight, and that’s when Ares comes in, destroying Athena’s illusion and pulling her into his quick thought.

Another one I have now is in Get in the Water.

“I’ll raise the tides so high, all of Ithaca will die”

I want Poseidon to manipulate the water into a version of Ithaca and force Odysseus to watch is be destroyed. Put him in it, his people drowning around him screaming for him to help just like his crew did.

“I’ll make tidal waves so profound, both your son and your wife will drown”

And it’s Penelope holding baby Telemachus before they’re washed away in a violent wave

“I’ll take your son and gouge his eyes”

It’s Poseidon holding a water construct of Telemachus by the throat and ripping his eyes out. Odysseus’s expression flashes from amazement/longing at the first look of what his son looks like after all these years to horror as Poseidon shows him exactly what he’ll do to his child.

There’s just so much potential to expand on the visual torture Odysseus endures in this. Make him scared to live through all of the horror he’s seeing twice. Make him live in fear that any illusion he experiences is prophesy from the gods just like the one he experienced in The Horse and the Infant when Zeus showed what would happen if he let Astynax live.

I also imagine in Love in Paradise, before Odyssey goes “I don’t belong here, there’s something wrong here. I won’t be drawn to love in paradise,” things get hazy for him. The island and landscape shifts into the most beautiful, ideal paradise (haha) he could ever imaging. His eyes go a little cloudy, he becomes a little drowsy, more complacent as her spell tries to sink in. He has to shake out of it fight to keep his head. I imagine Calypso uses spells like this throughout their time together.

On a lighter note (maybe), Legendary/Little wolf ends/starts with Antinous seated and smug. His smirk falls when Telemachus turns away from him, hoping for a sign. Other suitors shove Telemachus to get his attention again and he stumble, turning back to them, nervous that they’ll all attack him at once. They shove a weapon in his hands. The fight starts with swords and Telemachus once again gets his ass beat. His sword is knocked from his hands. Antinous pulls back to deliver a final (possibly deadly) blow, and that’s when Athena steps in. He pushes back some of the suitors, repositions Telemachus’s stance, enhances his vision and reflexes, and pushes him forward. He uppercuts, Antinous drops his weapon. Telemachus does much better in a fist fight with Athena’s help than with the sword, which he’s never been all that confident with. I see a lot of quick evasion and intention jabs on his part, causing more damage than anyone thought he would. But yes, it does end with the Antinous KO punch and Telemachus retreating, but I like the transition for weapons to fist fight. The fight choreo goes so hard in my head lol

Anyway, these are just a few thoughts. I’ll probably come back with more later, but thanks for letting me share🫶