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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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Into The Unknown, Part 1

... I have no self-control do not perceive me

Marinette stared at the pile of bright red, yellow, and green clothes on the ground. It was all she’d done in the five-ish minutes since she’d portaled onto the scene. Just… stared.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do, anyways. Red Robin was currently beating the absolute fuck out of the person that had the audacity to disintegrate his brother right in front of him. It wasn’t like she could even fix it because the witch had been out cold before she had been able to pull Red Robin off to get a hit in so she could use her lucky charm.

So, she stared.

It was weird. She could almost feel a person inside the clothes but… maybe that was the residue or the ashes or whatever gets left behind when you zap a person out of existence? She didn’t really want to check, to be honest. Gross.

Eventually, though, she hesitantly leaned down and brushed her hand over it, trying to find the energy and get rid of it because it was really uncomfortable --.

… oh hell no that pile of clothes did not just fucking giggle at her.

She narrowed her eyes and carefully lifted up the bottom of the shirt, only to yelp and fall back. She scrabbled on the gross Gotham alley ground until her back hit Red Robin’s arm and he was forced to pause or risk hitting a meta (which would not have been good for his health).

“What?” He hissed.

She swallowed thickly. “That’s a child.”

“... what?” Red asked, all the anger bleeding from his tone in his confusion.

“We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby,” she whispered… then, it sunk in more. “We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby.”

He straightened on top of the thing that was really more bloody pulp than person at this point. “What do you mean ‘we let Batman’s kid turn into a baby’?”

But she didn’t really get a chance to answer because the baby chose that exact moment to be sick of being suffocated under all the armor and pushed it off.

Red Robin gulped. Because, yep, that was Robin as a baby. Batman was going to kill them.

Except he wasn’t going to kill them. Because Batman doesn't kill. No, Batman would find something even worse and that would suck.

The baby -- Robin? Should she still call him that mentally? -- giggled at their pain. Like an asshole.

They were so fucked.

He’d let B’s favorite kid get turned into a baby. Was there a way to get unadopted? Because if there was it was totally going to happen. Or maybe his dad would just cut him off because he was 19 now and could just get kicked out.

No. Nope! Not going to happen. No. He could fix this.

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We need a plan,” he heard himself saying.

Ladybug scoffed. “We? I was barely even here, this is on you.”

“Leave me alone to deal with this and I swear to god I will tell B that you did it.”

She paled. “You wouldn’t. No way.”

“Yes way. So, help me think of something.”

The baby giggled and started crawling over and both of them averted their eyes because, unfortunately, the child did not get baby clothes to go with his random transformation. Baby Damian didn't seem to care as he reached them and started climbing on Ladybug since she was closest. At least it wasn’t him. He did not want to see his adoptive brother’s… ew.

Ladybug made a gagging sound and then quickly summoned a lucky charm. She kept her face turned away as much as her neck would physically allow as she fumbled her way through swaddling the child in a polka-dotted blanket.

And then her shoulders slumped a little. “Great. Great. This is… great,” she muttered, picking up the bundle o’ baby.

He let himself look down now that it was safe.

“Alright, we need to go to another dimension where time moves faster,” Ladybug said after a few seconds. “And then we wait for him to age… fifteen-ish years. Best way to not make Batman notice.”

“... what about us? We also age.”

“Huh…? Oh. Right. You’re human.” She pulled off the glasses she was wearing and blinked a few times before handing it over. “Congrats on your upgrade. The tiny horse god is named Kaalki. She likes cake.”

“The tiny --?” He let out the world’s manliest screech as his eyes landed on the floating bug horse hybrid thing holy shit no no no no no the sci fi movies didn’t prepare him for this shit.

Kaalki looked a little offended but then her eyes landed on the baby and she gasped. “Aw, baby humans are always so cute.”

“Great, Kaalki, you take it,” said Ladybug.

Kaalki did try, to her credit. It just so happened that the approximately one-year-old baby was a lot bigger than the… whatever she was. Tim was refusing to believe that this was a god. Too many implications. He already had something to have a breakdown over, he didn’t need another thing right now, thank you very much.

Tim rested his head in his hands but he had more things to worry about than the blood that he was accidentally streaking through his hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can go to another dimension and try and raise him. Maybe we can make it have a ratio of one month here for every year there so any differences could be blamed on that.”

“Ya!” Said baby Damian. He probably didn’t actually know what was going on but he sure seemed excited so that was cool.

Ladybug sighed and nodded. “Great. You get food and money and clothes and I’ll take this lady to the cops… and I guess I’ll watch the kid until you get back because your dad cannot know.”

They shook on it.

This may be the dumbest idea that she’d ever had, and that was saying something. She didn’t know if she could trust Red Robin on this one, they hardly ever worked together. What if he just left her alone with this kid and let her try and figure this out on her own?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was the last person known to be with Robin. Robin going missing would be bad for him, too. And, besides, she was pretty sure that he was a duty-driven person based on what she’d heard, she just had to hope that he saw this as his duty, too.

She turned the baby in her arms to get more comfortable as she waited for him to (hopefully) come back.

Part of her wanted to try and find someone from this world to reverse this but she didn’t know any outside of her, Adrien, Alix, and (now) Red Robin. Not on a personal level. Not enough that she knew for sure that they wouldn’t blab to Batman about it.

So, no, this is what she was doing.

But she had things to do. So, she pulled out her yoyo-phone-hybrid-thingy and wedged it against her ear.

“Chaton,” she said the moment he picked up. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great. I, Ladybug, relinquish the Miracle Box and name Chat Noir the new guardian.”

“WHAT --?!” He didn’t get to finish as a box dropped on his lap and knocked the wind out of him.

“Just for, like, a year and a half. Sorry. Bye!”

“DON’T JUST ‘BYE’ ME WHAT THE --?!”

She hung up and closed the yoyo, hooking it back to her belt and ignoring it when it started buzzing again.

She looked down at Robin, who was squinting up at her. She returned the squint. Why was this baby so quiet? She didn’t get it. Surely, he should have been crying at this point.

“Do you still… remember things?” She asked, hoping against all hope that maybe he had retained his memories at the very least.

Robin smiled at her, but it was the blank-eyed baby smile that meant he wasn’t really understanding her. She bit down a curse.

Great. So, she’d not only gotten a baby but she’d gotten a fucking weird one. Great.

Tim left a note for his family saying that he, Damian, and Ladybug were bored and were going dimension hopping. His family would probably be suspicious but, hey, at least it wouldn’t be his problem for a good fifteen years on his end.

And, yeah, he knew this was probably one of his dumber plans but… it wasn’t the dumbest. And he was always one to commit when it came down to it. One time he had faked being shot and dealt with crutches for an entire year just to convince Vicki Vale that he wasn’t Red Robin. He had no fears that he couldn’t see this through.

Ladybug, though? A total mystery. She did nearly everything on a whim as far as he knew. She hopped from city to city fighting crime for absolutely no reason outside of boredom and made up all of her plans on the fly. No, he was a bit concerned about her ability to keep doing it.

So, he went as quickly as he possibly could. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was grabbing. He was just… putting stuff in there. There was money and three watches to help them move between dimensions, yes, but there was also a fanta orange and a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and exactly seven pairs of socks.

… yeah, he had the necessities. Probably.

He nearly got out the door before he realized he was still in his crime-fighting gear and he quickly shucked it all off and tossed it into the tub so the blood wouldn’t track any more than it already had. He did not need to avoid Batman’s wrath only to end up on the receiving end of Alfred’s.

He pulled on the first hoodie and jeans he could grab and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything of importance.

Okay. Now he was ready to go.

Marinette was awkwardly bouncing the baby when Red Robin finally showed up.

… not that she would have recognized him if she hadn’t felt Kaalki hovering in his pocket. In her eyes, he was just a random white guy wearing shades in the middle of the night.

She glanced up at him and gave him an awkward smile.

“Ready?”

He smiled back and held out two watches. Neither fit baby Robin so she prepared herself to choke out a literal baby holy fuck what even was her life.

“Which dimension should we go to?”

“Preferably one without miraculi,” Marinette said. “I don’t want to know what happens if there’s two of the same god in a dimension.”

He nodded slowly. “Probably best if Batman doesn’t exist, either, he’d probably notice my existence.”

“... so… no heroes at all?”

“Looks like we’re going cold turkey,” Red Robin said in a tone that was probably supposed to be joking but just came out flat.

She pushed herself to her feet and waited as he scrolled through the millions of dimensions.

Finally, he came upon one and she added the coordinates to her and Robin’s watches.

She readied Robin’s watch against his neck and tried to ignore the kid’s sudden squirminess.

“3… 2… 1…”

They were gone in a whirl of blue light.

~~~~~

@nathleigh @peachmuses

#yes i wrote timari parenting dami #for no reason #while in the middle of a completely different fic #but listen #... its cute??#yeah no i have no excuse #i just wanted to write cute things ;-;#into the unkown #maribat #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug

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marauderundercover · 3 years

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Taking Chances Ch. 17: Talking (Alt Prompt: The Talk)

AO3

First

Tim walks into the kitchen, blinking sleepily at his little sister. He glances over at the clock on the microwave, blinking again to make sure that he hadn’t misread the time. Five thirty in the morning, and she was baking cookies. He clears his throat, smiling apologetically as she jumps.

“Sorry Mari. Early morning?” He asks, moving to get coffee and noting that the pot was already half empty.

“More like, late night.” She corrects. Tim frowns. Her summer in Gotham was supposed to be relaxing for her. It was supposed to be a way for her to be a kid again. Instead she was making cookies by herself at five thirty in the morning after not sleeping. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he was determined to figure it out. There was no way he was going to make her deal with whatever this is by herself. She has backup now.

“Did you want to talk about it?” He offers, leaning against the counter, drinking his coffee quickly to try and wake up more.

“Not really. Kinda just wanted to stress bake.” She says quietly. He nods. Sometimes it was hard to talk about things. That’s okay, he can look into it later.

“Well, I’ve gotta go work on some things in the cave. Did you want to come with?” He asks, refilling his coffee. She frowns, looking at the bowl in front of her.

“Can you wait like, five minutes? I just need to get these ready to chill.” She says, gesturing to the bowl. He nods, watching as she zips around the kitchen as if she’d grown up in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure why she’d been up baking so early, but he was determined to help her. As much as he avoided sleep, he knew it wasn’t exactly healthy. Probably shouldn’t encourage his little sister to do the same thing.

---

Bruce walks into the theatre room, frowning when he sees Dick and Jason, but no Marinette. That was odd. She hadn’t been in her room either. He decides to check the kitchen next, knowing his daughter enjoyed baking. Walking into the kitchen, he’s surprised to find it empty as well. Glancing at the coffee pot, he notices it’s nearly empty, but still on. Which meant Tim had been up to get coffee recently. Flipping the pot off, he turns and starts towards the Batcave. Perhaps Tim knew where Marinette was. Walking down his usual entrance, he’s unsurprised to see Tim working at the computer. What he hadn’t expected, however, was Marinette curled up in a chair next to Tim, sleeping.

“Tim?” Bruce calls, catching his son’s attention.

“Oh, hey B.” Tim says, not looking away from the screen.

“Is there a reason Marinette is sleeping in a chair instead of her bed?” He asks. He knew she had a nightmare last night, but he had assumed she’d fallen asleep with Jason and Dick in the theatre room. And if she hadn’t, he’d at least expected she’d return to her own room. Not the Batcave. While some of his sons preferred the cave to any of the other rooms in the manor, he’d hoped his daughter was different. That he had at least one child willing to live in the house instead of the cave.

“I’m sure there is. And I’m going to find out.” Tim says, leaving Bruce with more questions than answers.

“Okay. How long have the two of you been down here?” He asks. Tim stops typing, glancing down at his watch before looking back up to the screen.

“Little under two hours.” He replies, jerking his head towards Marinette. “Think that’s also the only sleep she’s got all night, so probably best to leave her for a little longer.” Bruce frowns at this. Sure, he knew that she had a nightmare last night. He knew it was bad enough that she had sobbed into his arms. But had she really avoided sleep after that? Was it really that bad? She didn’t want to talk to him about it last night, but maybe she’d talk later today. He wouldn’t push her, lord knows that any child of his isn’t going to take well to that, but maybe she’d talk to

him now. Hopefully the nightmare would now be far enough from her mind that she could talk.

---

Marinette gasps, sitting up so quickly that she manages to flip the chair she’d fallen asleep in. She hisses in pain as her head bounces off the stone floor. So much for being the holder of the Miraculous of good luck.

“Did you just fall out of your chair?” Tim asks. She glances up at her brother, who had apparently left for another cup of coffee.

“No?” She says, smiling awkwardly from the floor, where her limbs are currently entangled with the chair. Tim shakes his head and snorts, sipping from his mug.

“Whatever you say Mari.” He says, walking over and sitting back in his chair, going back to his work on the computer.

“What time is it?” She asks, carefully untangling herself and getting off the ground.

“Mmm, around nine.” He says, not looking away from the screen.

“In the morning?” She asks, knowing it was completely possible for Tim to have worked nonstop in the cave.

“Yes.” He says, shaking his head. “B wants to talk to you, by the way.” He adds.

“Oh. Okay. Am I in trouble?” She asks, suddenly self conscious. It was the first time anyone in her family had had to deal with one of her nightmares. Usually, Tikki was the one to wake her up and calm her down before she attracted an akuma.

“Of course not.” He reassures her. “He’s probably in his study.”

“Oh, good, okay. Well, I’m gonna go talk to him. Please take a break, Tim. I know you haven’t eaten anything today. You can’t run on coffee and spite, trust me, I’ve tried.” Marinette says, grinning at her brother before using the tunnel that connected straight to the study. She still hadn’t figured out the many rooms of the manor, but the maze-like setup of the Batcave was something that she’d figured out easily. Taking a breath, she knocks on her side of the Grandfather clock, waiting for a response.

“Come in.” Her dad says. She walks in, grinning at the exasperated look on his face.

“Hi dad!” She says cheekily, plopping down onto one of the couches.

“Is there a reason you didn’t use the actual door?” He asks. She shrugs.

“Why get lost in the manor when I can just use the secret tunnels from the cave?” She asks. He sighs.

“I still don’t understand that, but alright. How are you feeling this morning?” He asks, his face turning serious. She smiles, but it’s forced now. She didn’t want to talk about this. She really didn’t want to talk about this with her dad, who would surely never give her permission to date Adrien if he knew. Not that she needed permission, but it would make it easier not having her dad against her.

“I’m fine!” She says, keeping her plastered on smile.

“I talked to Tim this morning.” He says, instead of calling her out. Well crap.

“Oh really?” She asks, silently cursing Tim. Or, wanting to anyway. But she wouldn’t because she knew he meant well.

“He said that you hadn’t slept last night. I know you didn’t want to talk to me about your nightmare last night, but maybe now-”

“No. No, I’m fine. It’s fine.” She rambles, cutting him off. He frowns.

“Marinette, I’m not going to be angry with you if that’s what you’re worried about. You had a nightmare, and it has clearly left you shaken.” He says. She huffs, running her fingers through her hair exasperatedly.

“I just- I can’t tell you. If I tell you, you’re going to be mad at someone and I don’t want you to be mad at them.” She explains, wincing as his face darkens.

“Did someone hurt you?” He asks, his voice the coldest she’s ever heard.

“Dad-”

“Did someone hurt you?” He asks again, cutting her off as he stands up.

“Not on purpose.” She insists, wringing her hands together.

“It doesn’t matter if it was on purpose, Marinette! This person hurt you badly enough that you had a nightmare about it. Bad enough that you were sobbing, that you couldn’t go back to sleep. I don’t care if it was on purpose or not, Marinette, that person does not deserve to be anywhere near you.” Her dad says, his face and voice hard as stone.

“But Dad, it really wasn’t his fault-”

“His?”

“Yes, Dad, he was akumatized.” She says, watching as he unclenches his fist and collapses back into his chair. “So it wasn’t his fault.” She adds, frowning as he shakes his head.

“Why didn’t-” He pauses, seemingly recollecting himself. “Why isn’t there a story on it?” He asks. She frowns.

“Story on what?” She asks.

“A story on Adrien being akumatized? Why isn’t there any record of it?” He asks. She jerks back like she was slapped. How did he- world’s greatest detective. Of course.

“He doesn’t know.” She says softly.

“How?”

“One of the Miraculous users is Bunnix. She holds the Miraculous of time, and is able to time travel. It was about a year ago, she came and grabbed me and took me to the future.” She explains, avoiding looking at him. She didn’t want to talk about this. It was the talk that she’d been avoiding, no matter how many times Tikki assured her she could talk to her dad about it. Or her brothers. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. But now she had to.

“In the future, Adrien and I had been a couple. He found out my identity as Ladybug, and I’m not exactly sure how it came to it, but for some reason, Hawkmoth targeted us. He was able to akumatize Adrien while he was Chat Noir. He….he became Chat Blanc. The complete opposite of Chat Noir.” She says, watching her hands as they shake in her lap. He doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “He still had the power of destruction but with the help of the akuma...it was awful. His power became unlimited. He blew up the moon.”

“The moon?” He asks.

“Yes.” She says. “He also flooded Paris, destroyed the Eiffel tower, and killed both Hawkmoth and future me. That was why Bunnix needed me. I had to fix it. But she wasn’t able to stay with me, so I had to fight him alone. And I didn’t know that he was Adrien then, but he was still my partner and he kept calling me Marinette and he told me that it was our fault. That our love did it to the world. And it hurt, Dad. It hurt that my best friend destroyed the world because of me. Because of us.” She says, voice breaking as tears fall.

“Marinette, honey, look at me.” He says softly. She looks up at him, surprised to see that he had moved to kneel in front of her. “That was not your fault. And you should not have had to go through that by yourself. That was wrong of Bunnix. It was not your fault.” He reassures her. She lets out a sigh of relief, throwing her arms around him and crying into his chest just like she did last night.

“Father, have you seen- what did you do to Marinette?” Damian asks, barging into the room. Marinette snorts, her cries quickly becoming laughter as she catches a glimpse of her little brother’s face. His usual scowl had become full of anger before flickers of confusion flit across as she laughs.

“I’m sorry, petit oiseau. I’m okay now. I just had a nightmare last night and Dad asked about it.” She explains, knowing that Damian hated being out of the loop.

“Tt. Very well. I was trying to find you to see if you would like to accompany me to the park with Titus. Alfred said that I cannot go alone, and you are the least annoying possible companion.” He says. Marinette smiles. Ever since she’d been hit by the de-aging akuma, Damian had wanted to spend time with her and Titus together. She assumed it was the best way he knew to bond with her without sparring (which her Dad had banned for the moment unless he or Dick were able to supervise, honestly you break one little display case).

“I’d love to. Could we come back to this later?” She asks, glancing at her Dad who had moved to lean against his desk. He sighs, but nods.

“Yes. Keep your phones on, both of you.” He instructs. She nods, grinning before pulling her brother after her. They couldn’t keep Titus waiting, after all.

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

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Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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ace-trainer-risu · 3 years

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what are your fave diana wynne jones books that aren’t howl’s moving castle??

Oh whattt a lovely and fun question which I was definitely not secretly hoping someone would ask!!!! Yay!!

Hm okay so, not specifically in order, probably my top fave Diana Wynne Jones books would be:

Deep Secret! Deep Secret is not just one of my favorite books by DWJ but one of my favorite books full stop! It’s so good. Basically, the premise is that there is an infinite series of interconnected worlds, some of which have magic and some of which don’t, at the center of which is a vast interdimensional magical empire. Magic in the multiverse is overseen by an organization of magicians called Magids and there must always be a specific number of Magids in existence. When Rupert, a young Magid living on Earth, discovers that his mentor has died (ish) he becomes unexpectedly responsible for finding and training the next Magid, which is extremely inconvenient timing for him because the aforementioned magical empire is on the brink of civil war and chaos and its his job to stop it. And also almost all of this takes place at...a science fiction convention. It’s amazing. I have read this book minimum four (probably more) times and every time it’s absolutely delightful and hilarious. I would like to go to the sci fi convention in this novel more than anything. It’s such a good read and its one of her few novels which is specifically aimed at adults, so I would EXTREMELY recommend it. Plus the romance in it is extremely good...not exactly enemy-to-lovers but more like ‘annoys-the-shit-out-of-each-other’ to lovers. (**One note about this one...there’s a few very briefly mentioned side characters who are gender noncomforming and even tho they are actually portrayed very positively, it’s not necessarily ideal and 100% respectful (basically the protags comment on them being very beautiful and nice but also keep trying to guess their “real” gender). Additionally there’s a different briefly mentioned side character who is fat who isn’t portrayed very nicely. Both of these are brief incidents, just wanted to provide a warning for them)

Dark Lord of Derkholm - Okay this one is weirdly hard to summarize but it’s about this magical fantasy world which has been taken overy and is being used as a tourist destination by a non-magical world (heavily implied to be Earth) for people who want to role play at being in a classic high fantasy story, including fighting and killing THE DARK LORD...who is really just a random magician pretending to be evil. The inhabitants of the fantasy world do not enjoy this and are trying desperately to stop the tours, but unfortunately according to a magical oracle, their best hope of stopping the tours is this year’s Dark Lord, a hapless farmer magician named Derk, and his, um, eccentric family consisting of his glamorous wife, seven children (of whom five are griffins and one is a bard) and a simply improbable amount of magical animals. And also there is a very good dragon. I think Derkholm is so great as a novel b/c it’s a very funny, loving but sharp, parody of high fantasy stories...but a lot of the time parodies only function as parodies but not as good stories in their own right, you know? But this novel completely functions as a story too, and in fact the first time I read at maybe age nine or ten, the high fantasy parody went completely over my head...but I still loved it. I also really love that this novel is very accessible to all ages, I think I enjoy reading it as an adult just as much as I did as a kid, which is rare. For anyone who has read Howl’s Moving Castle but nothing else by DWJ and isn’t sure where to start, I think this is a great place to start. (TW: There’s a brief, non-explicit scene which has implied sexual assault.)

Fire and Hemlock - This may be the most controversial one since it features a romance with a significant age gap where the two characters meet when one is a child and the other an adult. And I fully agree that that’s :/ and normally that trope is NOT my thing but it doesn’t come off at all creepy in this story imo, and if you think you can deal with that then this is a very weird, atmospheric, cool book about storytelling and fairy tales and growing up. The short summary (this is another hard to summarize one) is that as a child, Polly encounters and strikes up a friendship and correspondence with a young man, Tom, which mainly consists of the two of them jointly making up a silly, ongoing fairy tale type story...but things get weird when parts of their story start to come true in real life. I’ve only read this one twice but it really stuck with me and in fact just describing it here...really makes me want to read it again!

The Chrestomanci Series - So all of the above are either specifically aimed at adults or a general audience whereas the Chrestomanci series is aimed at children, mainly a middle grade type audience. And tbh I started reading them as a kid (fond memory - I bought an omnibus of the first two with my allowance money...b/c it had a cat on the cover!) so I don’t know what it would be like to first read these as an older teen or an adult. BUT. Honestly they are really good and would be a quick read so I do still recommend them. There’s seven overall, with th seventh being a collection of short stories, and they’re only semi-chronological so the reading order isn’t vital. My recommended order (b/c this the order I read them in, haha) is Charmed Life, The Lives of Christopher Chant, The Magicians of Caprona, Witch Week, The Pinhoe Egg, Conrad’s Fate, and then Mixed Magic you can read whenever you want so long as you read it after Charmed Life and The Magicians of Caprona. So the very core premise of it is not dissimilar to Deep Secret - there’s an infinite series of worlds/universes and there’s a magician, called the Crestomanci in this case, who is responsible for making sure magic isn’t abused across the multiverse. The Chrestomanci is an extremely powerful enchanter who has nine lives, and the novels are various semi-connected stories about the adventures of Chrestomanci as an adult and child. Chrestomanci is a title so it’s not always the same person, but for the majority of the stories it is the same guy and he’s...the best/worst...He’s this extremely handsome, charismatic, powerful enchanter who is very good at his job, loves his wife a lot, wears very beautiful clothes and makes, um, questionable life choices and is very annoying to everyone. I’ve thought about this very hard and I believe that he’s what happens when you take a fundamentally chaotic good person and make him do a fundamentally lawful good job; yes, he’s going to do it and do it well, but he is going to do it in the most chaotic, ridiculous way possible, and he IS going to die at an ALARMING rate, doing things that would not normally kill a person, such as playing cricket and trying to catch stray cats. He also, as previously mentioned, frequently wears very dramatic silk dressing gowns with elaborate embroidery, which the protag of Charmed Life finds deeply alarming. It’s very odd to me how these books don’t seem to be well known, because the Chrestomanci books were some of my absolute favorite books as a child. I still have my omnibus editions of the first four novels and they are very worn and very beloved. And it’s so WILD to me that I don’t think I have ever talked to someone who also read those as a kid! Like I’m not saying those people don’t exist, I’m sure I just haven’t met them, but that’s so weiiirddddd to me. If I bring up Tamora Pierce or Garth Nix or other authors of weird, eccentric children’s fantasy novels to other avid childhood consumers of fantasy, people usually know what I mean, but Chrestomanci and its just..crickets. Is it b/c she’s British? Anyway all of the Chrestomanci books are very degrees of good, but if I had to pick a favorite, I think, controversial choice here, it would be Conrad’s Fate. Particularly in terms of recommendations to others, Conrad’s Fate works as a standalone and, unlike the other books in the series, it’s aimed more at a YA audience, so if you wanted to read a Chrestomanci novel without getting into the whole series, that’s a good way to go. It’s about a boy, Conrad, who is told that he has a terrible, possibly fatal Fate awaiting him unless he goes to work as a servant at a wealthy, and weird, estate neighboring his town, at which place he encounters things including color changing livery, an extremely annoying teenage Chrestomanci, and the greatest liminal space house EVER. It’s like a combination of an upstairs/downstairs Downton Abbey type social drama with bizarre fantasy shenanigans. How could that not be good??

Also as Honorable Mentions - A Sudden and Wild Magic and The Time of the Ghost. A Sudden and Wild Magic is fun b/c it’s one of her few works aimed specifically at adults and it’s (gasp) a little bit NAUGHTY which I was very surprised and delighted by when I read it. (This may seem like an unfair statement considering that Deep Secret fully has an orgy in it, but Rupert is so fundamentally unnaughty of a character that he completely unnaughtifies the whole novel, whereas Sudden and Wild Magic embraces being a (little bit) naughty.) The Time of the Ghost on the other hand is weird and haunting and creepy and atmospheric. I only read it once but it’s one of those novels you just think about periodically and go “wait what the fuck that was a weird novel” (Also known as the “Garth Nix” effect)

#the ask and the answer #i spent...too long writing this out but i love talking about her novels soo muchhhh #that i couldn't help myself!!!!!!!!#diana wynne jones #things you didn't care to know about veronica

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howlingday · 3 years

Note

nora the arc au) jaune teaches weiss that empathy is a practiced trait and you have to train to be a good person.

nora discovers she has a fetish for jaune's big strong hands and accidently give ruby the same fetish while discribing them to her. she also tells ruby that no matter what happens her and jaune would be there to help her out so she doesn't need to be perfect. she just needs to be ruby rose and let her friends pick up the slack

so now nora and jaune are attracting entire bloodlines apparently

Big! Meaty! Paws!

"Now, close your eyes, Weiss." Jaune instructed, sitting across from her.

"Okay." Weiss held his hands as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

For the past three weeks, since Jaune's correction of Weiss' behavior, the two have been conducting empathy training for the heiress. He would present her a scenario, and she would attempt to emotionally connect with the person in that scenario.

"You're working in a shop." Weiss pictured herself in a building, products lining the walls, and she was wearing an apron with her name tag. Weiss nodded for Jaune to continue. "You're working behind the counter for your best friend's shift on what was supposed to be your day off," Weiss scowled deeply, "so she can visit her sick mother, who is in the hospital awaiting surgery," Weiss' scowl shifted to a sad frown, "and you're currently serving a customer who is accusing you of being incompetent," Weiss scowled again, "and her baby is crying while her toddler is throwing things off the shelf," Weiss scowled even deeper than before, "and now imagine the customer is you."

Weiss opened her eyes. She felt tears in her eyes and blinked. "Oh my... I didn't realize I was so horrible."

"Well, maybe not that bad, but you have to remember that other people are living their lives, just as you're living your own." Jaune explained. "Empathy is just feeling how someone else does, so you can better understand them." Jaune's alarm on his scroll buzzed. "Oop! That's our time. I feel like we really had some growth today." Jaune stood up, helping Weiss off the floor.

"Same time next week?" Weiss asked.

"If it isn't, I'll let you know." Jaune guided her out of his room. "I'll see you tomorrow in class."

"Right!" Weiss nodded. She happily waved as she shouted, "Good-bye!" Once the door shut, she sighed happily. She really regretted not meeting him sooner. She opened the door to her room and found Ruby and Nora playing a video game together. "Hello, Ruby, Nora," she greeted, "how are you today?"

"Huh?" Ruby asked. "Oh, hey, Weiss! Nora and I were just playing some Ninja Death Fighter Adventures. You want to play next level?"

"Did you finish today's homework?" Weiss asked.

"Uh, no? It's the weekend, Weiss! They're not made for working; they're made for slacking off!" Ruby moved the controller up to make her jump higher.

"What if you get a job where you have to work weekends?"

"Ugh! That would suck!" She button-mashed as a tough enemy tried to corner her.

"And do you know how to best avoid that, Ruby?"

"What?" Ruby kept her eyes glued to the screen.

"Doing your homework and not getting kicked out of Beacon!"

"Fine, I'll do it after this level!"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Whatever." she pulled out her notebook from the desk and put in her earbuds to listen to her music. But before she hit play, she heard Ruby and Nora talking.

"Is she gone?" Ruby asked.

"Hang on." Nora said, a few moments later, she began calling to her. "Weiss? Hey, Weiss?" Weiss remained silent. "I guess she can't hear me."

"She's probably listening to her dumb opera music." Weiss scowled at Ruby's statement. Opera wasn't dumb. It was classy, unlike her annoying rock.

"She's probably dreaming about how to smooch my man." Nora said with a scoff. Weiss froze. She had no idea Nora was the one Jaune fell for. "They've been hanging out the past three fridays, y'know? I'm starting to worry she's not picking up the hint."

"How did you and Jaune get together, anyways?" Ruby asked. Weiss carefully glanced over her shoulder, hoping she wouldn't be caught. "I mean, how do you go from being brother and sister to being engaged?"

Weiss turned forward and had to hold back the urge to dry heave at the statement. "We're not brother and sister, Ruby." Nora corrected, to which Weiss silently sighed in relief. "We just grew up in the same family." Weiss grew even more confused. "Dad rescued me from some Grimm and brought me home to be his daughter, but I chose to be Jaune's wife."

"So when did you get married?"

"We're not married," Weiss sighed in relief again, "yet. We got officially engaged before coming to Beacon. He popped the question right after I unlocked his aura."

Weiss was starting to see why Jaune and Nora not only got together, but why they belonged together. Jaune was the knight in shining armor in training, focused, idealistic, eager to step forward in the face of danger. Nora was the wild child with no filter, excitable, bold, and attacking each day with vigor, seizing it by the throat. It only made sense these opposites attracted. Weiss sighed as her heart broke, but she knew she'd recover, in due time. After all, it's not like Jaune was the only man on Remnant, despite how she felt.

"So, uh, Nora?" Ruby sounded nervous. "If... If you don't mind me asking, what, uh, what's it like holding Jaune's hands?"

The sound of their game pausing echoed in the room. There was silence. Weiss turned her head and saw Nora and Ruby, both tomato red-faced and staring at each other.

Nora coughed into her fist away from Ruby. "W-Well, if you must know, Jaune and I have held hands a f-few times."

Ruby gulped and nodded, signaling her friend to continue.

"Well, his hands feel... safe. They're, uh, b-big."

"How... How big?"

Nora held up her hands together, thumb-to-thumb, then slid them to overlap each other by three fingers. Ruby held up her hand to it and gasped. They outsized her almost five times! Her face grew more and more red.

Nora shot up. "W-Well, this has been fun, but I'm gonna go now! Bye!" She left without allowing her friend to speak.

Ruby stared at her han, then held it to her chest. She sighed dreamily. "Why are the big-handed ones always taken?"

"Tell me about it." Weiss said, causing Ruby to jump.

#rwby #jaune arc #nora’s arc #nora the arc au #nora valkyrie #ruby rose #weiss schnee

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fa-headhoncho · 4 years

Text

Unlike The Rest: Part 1

George Weasley x Reader (eventually)

Prompt: The last few years have already been rough for you. Trying to make a new name for yourself while everyone still believes you like the rest of your family. But, this year is much worse since your little brother is starting his first year at Hogwarts.

Word Count: 2069

Reader: Female

Warning: My first time writing for HP in a LONG time, so I’m sorry in advance for any Americanized things and inaccuracy. I’m rusty, okay? Some people might be a bit out of character like the mother but I think she’s proven to have a bit of a different side of her that we don’t see.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

======

You run into the wall and everything just overwhelms you. The smoke of the train clouding the air, the chatter of new and old students filling your ears, and the sense of relief. The long summer months have finally come to this. Back at Hogwarts, the escape from your dreadful life.

A large smile appears on your features, seeing familiar faces whether they be in a scowl or a smile. You loved it here. Your home away from home… This place has given a new light into your life that you needed. Sure, you were a bit of a prat your first year but you seemed to turn it around your second year once you realized how much of an arsehole you were actually being.

Then something suddenly hits you in the back, snapping you out of your daze.

“Move it, tosser.” Your little brother sneers, your parents following behind them.

“Shove it, Draco.” You spit back, just glad he didn’t knock over your trolley full of stuff. “Next time you do that, I’ll make sure to tell the whole school you still sleep with your blankie. That will be sure to make a good first impression.”

The platinum blondes mouth opens slightly, a worried expression on his face. “Father!” He whines, turning to the looming figure standing behind him.

“(Y/N),” He sighs, “don’t threaten your brother.”

You just roll your eyes and straighten out your trolley, reaching over and giving your cat a calming pet. Dazing off once again, you look around the platform. You see Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor in your year, and give her a friendly smile. She looks a bit taken aback at the fact that you were even tempting to interact with her. She just laughs and turns to her group of friends and starts giggling at you.

Well, at least you thought you made some new friends last year.

Your father and Draco continue to walk, trying to find a better spot than in front of the entrance of the platform. You slowly follow after them, wanting to not be left behind.

“...I’m sure you’ll get into Slytherin, Draco.” Father continues to press on. “Unlike your sister, you won’t disappoint us.” He takes a side glance at you but you pretend to not hear him, “Will you?”

“Of course not father.” He obliges as he always does.

Draco has always been Daddy’s little pet but it got worse since you were sorted into your house, Hufflepuff, in. The house of kindness, loyalty, and diligence-- the house known for producing the least amount of dark wizards. At first, you were also mad and disappointed in this. Ultimately becoming a complete brat your first year to anyone and everyone to try to make up for it but the Sorting Hat’s words seem to echo in your head since then;

“I see good things to come from you, a Malfoy unlike the rest.”

And those words are what keeps you going in a household like yours.

“Muggle studies, really, (Y/N).” Mother exclaims in disgust, reading your schedule for the new year. “Out of all the electives, you picked muggle studies?”

You think quickly, muggles and their culture have always seemed to interest you. Your father has talked bad about them and how they are inferior to the wizarding community but they seem to just have an intriguing lifestyle.

“It must be a mistake!” You fret, grabbing the scroll from her hands and rereading it over. It definitely was not a mistake but you had to fake it. “I must have accidentally not sign up for another elective,” Frowning, you roll up your schedule and put it into your back pocket. “I think I was too focused on getting into Care of Magical Creatures…”

Father just rolls his eyes and leans his weight onto his long black cane. You never knew why he needed that cane but you never dared to ask, you know he keeps his wand in the handle but the whole cane wasn’t really necessary. He has always been into the theatrics.

“I’ll be sure to have that changed.” He promises. “I don’t want you turning up like the muggle-loving Weasle father.” He sneers, his eyes falling to the entrance, seeing the first of the children of said family run through it. “A disgrace they are to the wizarding world.”

“Weasley…” You mumble under your breath, correcting him. Draco catches this and his eyebrows perk up, excited to get you in trouble once more.

“What did you sa--”

“Merlin,” Your father gasps, “Harry Potter…” He sees the famous boy run through with the youngest Weasley boy.

“Is it really?” Mother gasps, eyes snapping over to inspect as well.

Everyone knows who Harry Potter is, especially people like your parents. He’s a legend in wizarding history and it’s been long-awaited for him to come to Hogwarts.

“Draco, you need to make friends with him.” Your father says in a monotone voice, eyes never leaving the boy who lived. “Make sure he knows what families to associate with.” He turns back to his son.

“Of course, Father.” He gleams, excited at the opportunity to make his father proud.

Suddenly, a herd of students starts making their way to the train. Some more frantic than others. You smile. It’s finally time.

“You should be going now,” Your mother solemnly announces, sad to see her last child going off to Hogwarts. “You guys are growing up so fast,” She sighs cupping Draco’s face, father just rolls his eyes at her sentiments.

Draco just returns the smile and pulls her hand off of his cheek. He turns around, going to double-check all his stuff and continue to talk to your father about Harry Potter and the Weasley’s.

She then turns to you, lowering her voice into a whisper. “Make sure you keep an eye on him, (Y/N).” She requests, a worried expression on his face. “I’m afraid that his mouth will get him into a lot of trouble.”

“Wouldn’t be a Malfoy without it, Mum.” You try to crack a joke with her. Out of everyone in your family, your mother seems to be the least cruel and most understanding. Not that she certainly agrees with you, but you are her daughter and she loves you. “I’ll try.” You give her a tight-lipped smile, giving her hand a squeeze. She returns the smile and sends you on your way.

=====

“... I can’t believe he decided to sit that embarrassment Weasle-B.” Draco scoffs, already chatting shit with his friends Crabbe and Goyle.

You’ve always hated these kids, their parents are friends with yours and they’ve always seemed to cause trouble together. Your mother thinks they just have crushes on you but you rather not think of that.

“Crabbe, are you even listening?” He proclaimed, noticing the stout child's open mouth and gazed over expression. You look up from your copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them to meet his gaze. You shift uncomfortably.

Crabbe snaps his eyes back to Draco and nods so vigorous that you’re sure he just scrambled whatever brains he had left in there.

“I’m going to go change into my robes.” You announce, needing to get away from these idiots as soon as possible. Belladonna, your white tabby, jumps off of your lap as you stand. “You three should too, we are getting close to the castle.”

You reach up and grab your yellow and black robes from the compartment above the bench you and Draco were sitting in. The other two boys do the same, grabbing their plain uniforms. Draco just sits there and shakes his head at you.

“I still can’t believe you’re in Hufflepuff.” He shakes his head.

“I still can’t believe you’re a prat.” You snap back, sending him a stern look. “The school year hasn’t even started and you already are pissing me off, Draco.” He hides his frown as you put your things under your arm and storm out of the cabin.

=====

The dirt path is surrounded by trees, the first years just left with Hagrid on their traditional boat ride to show the kids the castle. You remember getting so excited, seeing the lights and the bridge sparked something in you that year.

Last year and this year are the same, you get to ride carriages across the bridge into the castle. Less grand, but still riveting none the less… Well, it should be but it just seems like a popularity contest. Seeing everyone group together to make sure they’re with their friends makes you nervous.

After first year, you made a bit of a bad name for yourself. Wanting to live up to the Malfoy name, since your sorting didn’t, you decided to act a bit out. Doing what you knew your parents would want, bullying the people in your year about their blood status and even their financial status. You really did regret it by the end of that year, no one wanted to be your friend nor did they even want to interact with you. The Slytherin wouldn’t either, they thought you were a disgrace as much as your parents did.

That led you to getting into some trouble. Which led you to detentions with Filch and even Hagrid when he was busy. Your heart changed when one of the said detentions met you with helping Hagrid care for the Bowtruckles that he kept on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Your love for the creatures sparked something and Hagrid had a chat with you. You realized what you did was wrong and wanted to change it. After that, you resorted to being quiet and just keeping your mouth shut… Well, as much as you could.

Last year, you even dared to start making friends. Starting with your teammates on the Quidditch team. No one ever seemed to stick, though. But, people did start becoming nicer to you once they could tell the change of heart… It always seemed hard to keep friends once they heard your last name. All but one person cared about your last name and you are very grateful for him.

So this leaves you here, waiting till the last carriage or till someone invited you to come with them. You glance around, looking for that said one friend you made last year but everyone looks the same in their robes.

Your search is interrupted by rather large body knocking into you, sending your book flying onto the muddy ground. You frown once more, looking at your now ruined book on the ground. You turn to see what giant had bumped into you. Meeting a brown pair of eyes, you knew exactly who it was.

“Weasley.” You sigh, staring at the tall red head. “You’ve ruined my book!” You cry as he bends down to pick it up for you. He tries to open it but the mud keeps it sucked shut.

“I’m sor--”

“Daddy can buy you a new one.” The other one buds in, a scold grows on your face. No matter what your parents have said, you’ve always found the Weasley twins entertaining, to say the least. The three of you have your feud but it’s much more… playful than what others seem to think. They’ve always seemed to like riling you up, especially after first year. After the attitude check you had, you’ve realized it’s become a bit harmless and rather fun to argue with them.

“Which one are you, again?” You question, breaking the standoff. They both scoff, they loved playing that game with their mother but it just hits differently when others say it. You feel a bit bad and thought you went a bit too far, looking at the face of the one who initially bumped into, he looks a bit defeated at the fact that you can’t tell the difference.

“(Y/N)!” A familiar voice interrupts the silence. You turn and see your friend, Cedric, waving you over to him and his group. A large smile appears on your face. You wave back and turn back to face the twins.

“Always a pleasure, boys.” You chirp, your mood obviously changed. “I hope to see you in DADA this year.” The tall one then hands you back your book. “Thank you, George.” Grabbing it, you make sure to take a glance back at Fred, the smirk on your face matches his.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #harry potter imagines #weasley #fred weasley #malfoy #george weasley x malfoy!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x (Y/N)#harry potter #draco malfoy x sister!reader #fandoms-archive #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins x reader #malfoy reader #unlike the rest

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violetnotez · 4 years

Note

Hi! I just had a smol idea for like an HC with our bois Todoroki and Bakugou. How do you think he’d react if his S/O finally used their quirk to their full ability, after being shy to use their quirk at all

Ack this is such an adorable idea anon, thank you for sending in the request!

Hc: Their S/O Uses Their Quirk To Their Full Ability

Pairings: Shoto x reader, Bakugo x reader

————��———-

Shoto

◦Shoto was watching from the stands, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the railings

◦You were currently participating at the UA Festival, and had gone through the first 2 rounds and were now at the “Battles”

◦You were currently fighting a particularly strong 1-B student, and you weren’t doing so well

◦He could tell you were getting fatigued-your body was slouched and you were holding on to your right arm, a large bruise blossoming under your skin

◦Shoto leaned over the railings, wishing he could do something, anything, to help you

◦What was also bothering him was that you weren’t using your quirk to your full ability-he knew you were extremely powerful and could definitely beat your opponent, you were in Class 1-A after all

◦He has also seen your quirk first-hand: your quirk was called Light Burst, in which you could shoot light rays out of your hands

◦It was quite beautiful but also deadly, as the rays were extremely hot and could burn a person quite easily

◦But after you had accidentally burnt yourself and a classmate in middle school when you used your quirk, you were scared to use it at it’s full level

◦Shoto completely understood and assured you that it was alright to be apprehensive of your quirk, he had felt the same way about his quirk for a long time

◦ But right now he was conflicted-he knew you could beat this student if you just used your quirk to it’s full ability

◦He grimaced as you took another harsh blow, your body being propelled through the air and roughly hitting the dirt floor

◦The Class 1-B student strutted towards you, his hand out to deal the last blow that would push you against the line, ending the match

◦Shoto couldn’t sit and watch you fail when you could win and prove yourself to everyone- he gripped the edge of the railing, pushing his body as far as it could go

◦”Y/n!” He yelled out, his voice traveling throughout the stadium to you “Use your quirk-don’t be afraid!”

◦He saw your head shoot up to met his eyes, conflict set in your brows

◦You looked down at the ground, and for second he was terrified you were going to consider defeat

◦But to his relief, you shakingly stood up, gripping your bruised arm in a broken battle stance

◦”Heh, you seriously needed your boyfriend to get you back into the fight?” The student taunted, clearly trying to get a reaction out of you, “You’re weaker than I thought you were.”

◦Fury built up in Shoto after hearing that rude remark, but he then saw the confident smirk you were sporting

◦”Not weak,” you spoke back defiantly, “I Just needed a reminder.”

◦Your hands then began to sparkle with a blinding white light, your hair billowing around you from the sheer power building up in your palms

◦Everyone in the stadium was in complete shock-where did this power come from? You honestly did look weak at the beginning of the fight, as you only threw small little balls of light at your opponent, but now you were a force to be reckoned with

◦Your power continued to grow, propelling you off the ground until you were floating in midair

◦ your whole body was engulfed in a ball of white light, a shimmering gold layer hovering around you

◦Shoto stared in amazement, feeling pride swell in his chest-you looked absolutely beautiful with the light of your quirk encircling you, making you look like a powerful goddess as you rose above the ground

◦Before your opponent could even register what had just occurred, you aimed all your power at him, creating a giant blast that rushed the stadium with light

◦Everyone was deadly silent as the dust cleared as they held their breath, anticipating who had won

◦Your opponent was knocked a few feet past the line, his body unconscious

◦The whole stadium began to cheer loudly as you stood there, looking badly beaten up but victorious as you realized you had won

◦You looked over your shoulder, throwing Shoto a tired smile, your eyes full of gratitude

◦Shoto blushed, knowing he had a part in helping you realize your true potential, until he looked farther down your body and became beet red

◦”Her-her shirt!” Kamianri yelled, pointing down at the battle ring, “I think her quirk burnt it off!”

◦It was true-the power of your quirk had burnt your clothes to a crisp, leaving your breasts completely exposed

◦Shoto tried his best not to look-but God they looked so good in that black bra~

◦He was a blushing wreck until he heard Mineta make a lewd comment about you, in which he turned around and almost burnt him to a crisp

Bakugo

◦You two were caught in a corner, your backs against the wall as the villians closed in

◦Bakugo bared his teeth, flashing his sharp canines as he instantly tried to block your body with his

◦He knew you were completely capable of fighting, but you were not in the state to be battling right now

◦And hell, he wasn’t going to let anyone get to his girlfriend

◦These villains had bombarded you two as you were taking a walk throughout downtown at night

◦Bakugo was cursing himself for agreeing to do this with you-if you guys had just stayed at the dorms you two wouldn’t be in this position

◦”We just want the girl,” one of the villains commanded roughly, “give you to her-and we won’t hurt you.”

◦ Bakugo knew full well why these villains wanted you- your father was the leader of an underground Villain organization and had been searching for you ever since you had escaped the organization with your mother as a child

◦Bakugo knew how traumatized you were of your family’s history, and it was the main reason why you had decided to be a hero-to undo all the evil your father had inflicted on the world

◦These villians were fucking insane if they thought he was just going to step aside and hand you over

◦ “Like hell Im giving her to you,” Bakugo snapped back, “piss off!”

◦”Fine then-,” the villain replied coldly, motioning quickly to Bakugo’s body as he blocked you from view, “Get him.”

◦The goons swiftly grabbed Bakugo’s body, profanities spilling out of his voice as he fought wildly against their hold

◦”Get the hell off me-“ he screamed, until one of the villains landed a blow to his stomach to silence his screeches, the air escaping his lungs in a painful gasp

◦”Bakugo!” you screamed, tears pricking your eyes. He was trying to protect you, and here you were, watching him get hurt over you-guilt flooded your body looking at Bakugo try to recover from the pain

◦”Let him go-please!” You cried out, running to Bakugo’s side

◦Your Hands went out to reach him, but another goon gripped his arm around your waist, swinging you violently into a tight grasp

◦You tried to wiggle out, but it was no use-you were caught like a prey, and wouldn’t be escaping

◦Your lungs felt restricted, your body flooding with panic- “Let me go! Let me go! Let-me-GO!” You kept repeating, fear flooding you as the villians began to walk you away from Bakugo, your hand reaching out to him in desperation

◦Bakugo continued to struggle against their hold, hating how weak he felt-he couldn’t even use his quirk, as the villians seemed to already know about his power and had made sure he was unable of using it

◦”Fucking-shit-y/n! You need to use your quirk-NOW!” He screamed out, his vermillion eyes bright as he made eye contact with you

◦You gulped-he knew how apprehensive you were to use your quirk. It was hard for you to control, but still extremely powerful -It was named “Bone Arrows,” which meant you could shoot out bone shards from your body

◦He knew you were terrified to use it, since it was mainly your father’s quirk, but if you two wanted to escape, you needed to use it-now

◦”USE YOUR DAMN QUIRK Y/N-WE WILL BE FINE, JUST USE-“ He yelled out until another painful blow was sent to his stomach

◦”Katsuki!” You screeched out his name, fear filling your stomach as you activated your quirk-you didn’t want to, but you would do anything to make sure he didn’t get hurt for you any longer

◦Stick-like fragments of bone shards shot out of your body in every direction as a scream escaped your chest, the goons of your father falling to the ground in pain

◦BAkugo stared in shock-in under a few seconds you had taken down over 5 full grown men with one move

◦You began to breathe heavily, your body taking a huge physical toll from the emotional and physical strain

◦Bakugo ran towards you, hugging you close to him as you fell to the ground from exhaustion

◦”Shit y/n-“ he grunted out, his hands shaking, “you okay? You hurt? God-fuck-we need to get you somewhere safe-“

◦You sat trembling in his arms, grasping onto him with all your might

◦“I’m sorry, ‘Suki, I’m sorry you got hurt-“

◦”Don't say that shit,” he quickly interrupted you, “you-you saved me. You’re powerful as hell-don’t forget it.”

————————

I don’t like Bakugo’s HC but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! ❤️

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hotchley · 3 years

Text

hotchner’s hoodie

What’s up, I’m Sumayyah, I’ve been on CM tumblr for just over a year and I never cross-posted my first four fics until now, which is only because I changed my url, and now my laptop is going to die in 11 minutes so..

This is for @themetaphorgirl‘s PSOLC verse. You should read it. This is no longer compliant with that canon, but you know what, it is fine! I am literally doing this for the sake for a masterlist <3

Trigger Warnings: child abuse

read on ao3!

Aaron Hotchner was completely fine. He was not freaking out, he was not stressed and he most certainly was not about to burst into tears. He was a cool, calm and collected seventeen year old that was responsible, wise beyond his years and more mature than Alex Miller and James Blake put together.

Okay maybe he wasn’t the last one, but he was still a responsible teenager. He was not a child. He would not start crying over stupid, insignificant events.

But he could not find his hoodie. On any other day, not knowing the location of his hoodie would be greeted with a shrug, and the general acceptance that it would turn up somewhere. One of the younger kids- most likely Spencer- would have taken it because they were cold and had forgotten to put in the laundry. And that was fine. It had been fine since he’d met them and realised they needed at least one responsible person in their lives, if only to keep them alive.

But this wasn’t any other day, and as childish as it made him feel, he just really wanted to feel the soft and warm material of the hoodie against his bare arms. He wanted the familiar smell of the floral laundry detergent Lincoln House had ended up with when Penelope had worn the hoodie as soon as it came out of the wash and declared that they needed a new one. He wanted the one small piece of home that had not been tainted by memories of pain, tears and fear to remind himself why he went back there.

He would never tell the others, but the hoodie hadn’t been his choice. It had been Sean’s. They had gone together with his mother’s credit card- his father would never let him near his money- to buy him some extra clothes before he left for school. He’d spent the entire time worrying about what they would come home to and had been too stressed on making sure Sean was never out of his sight to properly look at what he was buying, just putting things that weren’t tacky or expensive in the basket and hoping for the best.

But then Sean had rubbed the front of the hoodie he was still searching for- he had could have sworn he left it in the bed drawer- and started laughing. Told him that it was so soft and nice and cuddly and warm that he had to buy it. And when he had hesitated, not sure whether buying something like that would land him in trouble, Sean had gasped. Said it was blue, just like his eyes and because he wouldn’t take a teddy to remind him of home, this could be the same thing.

He’d been unable to say no, so he’d gotten it, hidden it amongst the various textbooks and notebooks, and never taken it home. His father still didn’t know about the little indulgence. His mother did. She’d been so worried about him, but he’d been determined to take one good thing to the school with him.

So yes, he had never told anyone else why he was so attached to an old hoodie, but it was because he didn’t want them to know the truth. He didn’t want them to ask why he’d never said anything to the school, why he’d never trusted them enough to tell them, or the question that kept him laying awake at night: why had he left his mom and little brother in that house with that man?

His hands were starting to shake as he reached the bottom of the drawer with no sign of the hoodie and he reminded himself to breathe. It was just a hoodie, it wasn’t anything special. And if his father could see him…

He didn’t want to think about that. Not when he had just been home for the weekend because his mother had told him about how Sean had been so brave when he had been getting his vaccines because he wanted to be like his big brother superhero and not ask for help. Most people would’ve found it endearing.

Hotch found it sickening. He’d never wanted Sean to be like him: a seventeen-year-old too afraid of rejection to ask for anything.

He pushed the thoughts of his father from his mind. He couldn’t find his hoodie anywhere in his room, which meant one of the kids had to have it. Lessons were finished, the library was closed, but there was still a decent amount of time before dinner, which meant that they would probably all be in the Lincoln House common room.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and went down. He could hear them all laughing about something from the hallway and smiled. They were an odd group, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he would be there had he not been the RA for his floor, but he loved them. And he never wanted to stop hearing that laughter.

Which was why it made sense that it stopped as soon as he walked in. Everyone was sat in their usual seat: Alex and James were snuggled up on one of the sofas with Spencer in her lap, Emily was laying next to them, doing something on her phone. JJ and Penelope were sat on the floor, Derek crouching behind them and Dave was watching them all fondly from the armchair.

“Hey guys,” he said, even though they were all aware of his presence. “I was just wondering if anyone had seen my hoodie.”

They all looked at each other, the younger kids sheepish, the older ones smirking. He fought back the urge to let the tears spill and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was meant to be the responsible one.

“Look if one of you kids was wearing it and got jelly or mud or whatever it was on there I won’t be mad just tell me so I can put it in the wash,” he said, trying to keep his tone as gentle as possible so he didn’t scare the younger kids.

Derek snickered.

He sighed. “If it was used to put out a kitchen fire, I will also not be mad.”

Emily looked like she was two seconds away from dying of repressed laughter.

“And if you put Spencer in it and then dragged him round because he didn’t want to move and then somehow got water all over it, I won’t shout.”

JJ and Penelope gave each other identical smiles.

“If you decorated it with football and unicorn stickers because you thought it needed a bit of brightening up, that is fine but can you please, please just tell me where it is?” he repeated, his tone turning pleading at the end.

Both Alex and James gave him a concerned look, probably wondering why he was getting so worked up, but neither said anything as he schooled his features back into neutrality.

“Oh go on, put him out of his misery,” Dave said.

Hotch breathed a sigh of relief. He would get his hoodie back and everything would be fine. He would be fine.

“Hey Aaron. You left it at Roosevelt when you came to practice and then I forgot to give it back earlier. I promise I kept it safe, I know how much it means to all of you over here,” a very beautiful female voice said.

Hotch felt his heart stop and he squeezed his eyes shut. No. This was not happening to him. Haley Brooks was not sat there, laughing with his friends when he wasn’t there. She had not heard him go over all the various trials and tribulations his hoodie had suffered through. She had not just told everyone that when he had said he needed to speak to Gideon, he’d been lying because he’d gone to meet her and practice so he didn’t look like an idiot. And she most definitely was not stood in front of him, wearing it.

“Aaron?”

“I- yes. Erm, thank you. That was- that’s- it’s really, really nice on you,” he stuttered, already aware that his cheeks were completely red.

“On you?” she repeated with that angelic smile.

Oh god, had he really said that?

“Of you. It’s really nice of you to bring it over here. And you, umm, you look really pretty wearing it. Not that you don’t look pretty when you don’t wear it, you do, and I never say anything but-“

She rubbed his arm. His bare arm. “It’s fine, Aaron. I know what you meant. And it wasn’t that much effort to walk over here. Besides, I got to see Penelope and meet the rest of your family. They’re all amazing by the way.”

He stopped staring at her eyes and started staring at his arm, willing the goose bumps to go down. “Well thank you anyways. And they are, aren’t they?”

He could’ve punched the air. He got a whole sentence out without stuttering once.

“So you seemed pretty desperate to get it back,” she said, starting to take it off. The t-shirt she wore underneath had some musical reference on it, he didn’t know what one but he swallowed as he tried to keep his eyes on her face, not any lower. “Any particular reason?”

“No, no reason. I just-“ he was just what? There was nothing he could say without sounding pathetic. “It’s nothing. In fact if you’re cold why don’t you keep it? I can just grab a different one or something, my room is just up there, it’s fine.”

“Aaron, it’s your hoodie, you have every right to wear it. Here, move your arm and I’ll even put it on for you.”

“Haley, it’s fine. If you don’t wear it you’re going to freeze and if you try to get to Kennedy then you’ll be late for dinner,” he said.

She laughed, and although it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, he couldn’t help but feel like she was mocking him. “Come on Aaron, let me put it on you.”

No, she couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t. If she touched him, he would flinch at the pain and she would ask why. She would know. They all would.

“Yeah Aaron, let her,” Emily teased, having put her phone down to watch him and Haley.

Aaron. Aaron. Why was everyone calling him that? He squeezed his eyes shut. “Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll just grab a jacket from upstairs and then we can head to dinner.”

“Oh come on Hotch, stop being difficult, let Haley touch you,” Derek teased.

Stop being so difficult you little bitch. Stop moving Aaron, or I’ll make it worse for you. Keep your mouth shut or Sean will wake up. Imagine what it would do to him if he saw his older brother crying like a little girl. That’s right. Don’t make a sound, or you’ll be sorry.

“Aaron, you’re shaking,” Haley said, concern colouring her voice.

Shaking like a little terrified child, you’re not a child anymore stop acting like one. You’re a disgrace to this family. You need to learn what happens to disgraces. They get hurt and nobody loves them, nobody ever respects them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t, I’ll be good, just don’t,” he mumbled, legs giving out as he fell to his knees, bowing his head, leaving his hands on his thighs, away from his back and face.

“Aaron?” Haley whispered as she knelt in front of him.

He shook his head. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see the rejection in her eyes as she realised he was damaged beyond repair.

“Hotch,” she said, this time more firmly.

He lifted his head just enough to see her mouth, pressed into a thin line as concern was written all over her face. When she realised he was looking at her, she smiled.

“Hey. There’s nothing to be sorry about okay? You haven’t done anything wrong. I promise. You’ve been absolutely perfect.”

“Weak,” he whispered.

“No, you’re so strong Aaron, you always have been. You’ve been strong for a little too long, that’s all. It’s okay though. You can let it go. You’re safe. I promise. Just let me hold you for a few minutes.”

And that was what broke the barrier. Feeling someone touch his back- a mess of scars and bruises- with a gentleness he’d only ever seen, never felt.

He let himself cry, completely forgetting that the rest of his friends- no, his family- were right there.

When the tears finally stopped falling, he realised he felt a lot warmer. At some point, Haley had slipped the hoodie onto him. He felt lighter now he was wearing it. He felt happier, knowing she hadn’t run, hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t had the response he had thought they would all have.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He jerked back to reality. She was still sat in front of him. The rest of the kids were watching them, the younger ones on the brink of crying. Dave and Emily looked like they were ready to break into his house and kill his dad. James and Alex were watching, the concern in their eyes enough to make him want to cry again. They cared. They loved him.

“No,” he managed to choke out.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And you never have to hide around any of us anymore,” she said.

Hotch nodded, still feeling a bit like a ghost.

“We’re always going to be here if you want to talk about it,” Alex said softly.

“And if you want to punch something, I’ll join you,” Derek added. Emily and Dave nodded in agreement.

“You can always come home to mine,” JJ suggested. “I told my parents about you, they think you’re really cool.”

“If you ever want a soft toy to cuddle in the night, I have loads!” Penelope exclaimed. Hotch managed to laugh.

Spencer moved off Alex’s lap and walked towards Hotch, his own eyes full of unshed tears. Haley shifted to his side and Spencer threw his arms around the older boy in a tight hug. Hotch realised he was shaking as the tears fell.

“I may be small, but I’m a genius and if he ever hurts you again, I’ll work out a way to make his life a living hell,” he whispered.

Hotch started laughing at that too.

“See. We’re here for you, no matter what demons haunt you,” Haley said.

Everyone nodded.

He smiled. “Thank you. All of you.”

“We’re your friends. You don’t need to say thank you,” Emily said. When everyone stared at her, she flushed and started picking at her nail polish again.

“She’s right you know. They’re your friends.”

He picked up on the fact that she excluded herself. “And what are you?” he asked, wondering why he was asking. She was probably going to say something like acquaintance, and then he would just be sat there like an idiot.

“Are you going to be okay with them? It is a little bit cold- do not give me that look Aaron Hotchner- and I need to grab a hoodie. And don’t even try and give me yours, I want you to wear it, it’s cute on you.”

He blushed. “Thank you, I- yes. I mean yes I’ll be fine with them, not yes like you need a hoodie and you can go, because you don’t need me to tell you what you can and can’t do, like that wasn’t what I was trying-”

She pushed his hair off his forehead, laughing slightly. “I know. But you wanted to know what I am to you right? Maybe this’ll help you work it out.”

And then she kissed his forehead before waving goodbye to everyone and leaving.

Hotch remained sat there, completely shocked.

Penelope squealed and he winced at the sound.

“Get it!” Emily shouted.

His blush became even more prominent. “Shut up.”

“Err, no. Haley kissed Hotchner!” Derek said, laughing.

“Oh my gosh, Haley and Hotchner. You guys could be called Halner! No wait, how about Hotley?”

“Penelope, shut up,” he pleaded, but he smiled as he said it.

She matched his grin. Derek and Emily were high-fiving. Dave looked smug. Alex and James looked so proud. JJ had a small smile, one that showed she was happy for him but was still a little grossed out by the thought of romance. Spencer looked horrified. That made his smile even wider.

Things were far from perfect. And one kiss wasn’t going to solve his issues. But with a group of his friends that loved him, that he could trust with his life and a girl who had done the opposite of running for the hills, he could finally start to heal.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #criminal minds fic #psolc #tw child abuse #sumayyah writes cm

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scribble-blog · 4 years

Text

Soulmate AU part 3!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Side note, I’m a grandma in a 22 year old body who doesn’t understand technology. If somebody can teach me how to get readmores to work on tumblr mobile, and possibly how to start linking the posts together, I’d appreciate it!

Also, the taglist is now full! Though if people want, I could try doing a supplemental taglist? Either in a reblogged or in a separate post to notify you? Let me know in the replies!

Damian Wayne, as it turns out, is almost very certainly the son of Bruce Wayne, who sponsored their entire trip to Gotham. There are only two official pictures of him that are clear enough to truly check against, but Marinette sees the eyes and she nods. “That’s him.”

Trixx, Pollen, Kaalki, and Plagg are scattered about the bed, napping and lounging. Adrien also lounges, catlike and crosswise with the bed, entirely over the pillows at their back. Chloé holds the laptop that Marinette is hovering over, even from her seated position with her much smaller stature.

“It would be you,” Chloé snorts. “Oh, let’s just traipse over to America for a quick class visit! Oops, my soulmate is the incredibly handsome son of the incredibly wealthy man who invited us here!”

“Still more believable than you, Miss ‘My soulmate and I have literally been standing two feet from each other for weeks because not only do we have the exact same friends, but we’re part of the same superhero group and never realized until Ladybug allowed us to learn each other’s secret identities.’” Adrien doesn’t move as he calls her out, lazily curled into the warmth of his two friends and the pillows cocooning him.

“I don’t think any of us can speak,” Marinette groans. “I’m living a cheap rom com, Chloé’s got all the plot elements of a high budget Shakespearian drama, and Mr. ‘Didn’t know I wasn’t straight until my soulmate mark was a guys name” is straight out of a b movie comedy.”

“At least I got my act together pretty quickly once it occurred to me that I could like guys too,” Adrien points out. “And now Jon and I talk all the time, and he even comes to Paris sometimes to see me, or we’ll meet up for my occasional business trips in America. Which reminds me,” he pulled out his phone, sending off a quick text, “he wants to come meet you guys. Next week, while we’re all actually on the same continent.”

“Kudos to you for shaking off whatever Gabe tried to stuff your head full of,” Chloé says. “Took me ages to admit that I was gay, and that was even WITH my soulmark and both Marinette and Ladybug constantly in front of me.”

“Feeling pretty objectified,” Marinette protests.

“Oh shut it, I know for a fact that you’ve basically been the gay awakening crush of every not straight girl in our class. And several outside of it. And that’s not even counting all the dudes that fall in love with you.”

“I still object,” Marinette pouts at Chloé.

“Objection overruled.” Adrien sits up. “Marinette. You’re like, the perfect crush. They have a warning about you in the introductory packet for Mme. Bustier’s class.”

“They do not,” Marinette gasps, outraged. “I wrote that packet!”

“And then the class unanimously decided you were too dangerous to be walking around without a warning sign,” Chloé pinched her cheek. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s still in the packet despite Lila’s best efforts to get it thrown out.”

That does make Marinette feel better.

“Damian Wayne resurfaces after year of being believed dead,” Adrien reads from his phone. “Gotham’s Newest Wayne: The True Son! These all read like tabloids but as far as I can tell the Wayne’s don’t tolerate stuff like that. So I guess it’s true?”

“I’m tired of looking him up,” Marinette groans. “Can we just leave it be?”

“Nope,” Chloé pops the P. “Congrats, Dupain-Cheng, this is what friends are for.”

“I wish I could talk to Tikki about it,” Marinette sighs. “Especially because I have literally never heard anyone talk about that- electric feeling when we touched. Is it a Ladybug thing?”

Plagg opens one big green eye. “Cool it, Spots. It’s definitely a Ladybug thing. You’re literally the reason these marks exist.”

Marinette sticks her tongue out at the mini god. “I just miss her.”

“Join the club,” he grumbles, closing his eye and going back to napping.

“Good news,” Chloé says, bringing her attention back to the laptop. “Searching your name very easily leads to you, and our class, and the fact that we won the contest. So, unless he decides he’s not ready to meet you, you’ll have the chance to find him at the gala. Or at Wayne Enterprises. Or at any of the places the Wayne’s own, which is two-thirds of our trip destinations.”

“Oh god,” Marinette says. “What if he didn’t want to find me?”

Adrien, Chloé, and four Kwamis hit her at the same time, shoving her back into the bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mari,” Adrien scolds her from his position atop the newly formed cuddle pile. “I saw his face too. If the boy isn’t already in love with you, he’ll be hunting you down just for the chance to fall.”

Trixx nuzzled into her side. “I may not be Tikki but all of us Kwamis know how incredible you are, Marinette.”

She sighed. “Alright guys, get off.”

———

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Tim already knew who the girl was, because he’d been curious when his favorite artist had started talking about the source of his newest looks.

But having Damian demand his help in searching for everything he could find on her, and then only asking for the bare minimum of information about her trip itinerary- Tim wasn’t an idiot.

“So. She’s your soulmate.” Tim takes a sip of the coffee he’d been working on, making a face and instantly setting it back down when he realized it had gone cold.

Damian carefully did not change his expression, but it wasn’t fooling anyone. “And so what if she is?”

Tim looked back at the monitor. “So nothing. Congrats, Demon Spawn. I’m happy for you.”

He barely caught the edge of the scowl the younger Wayne tried to hide.

“Hey, no.” Tim spun his chair to face Damian. “Look, we’ve had our differences and disagreements-“

“You had me on the superhero equivalent of a terrorism watch list,” Damian interrupted.

“And you literally tried to kill me within the first day of meeting me.”

“A byproduct of my indoctrination from birth into a murder cult,” His brother kept his face still but the tone was wry.

“You kept trying to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you!” Damian finally exclaimed, losing his collected demeanor. “Just-“

“Point being,” Tim stressed, “even if we haven’t always gotten along- haven’t ever, really- I’m still happy for you. Soulmates are a special thing. We all kind of thought you might not have one, with the way you always acted when Dick tried to ask.”

Damian forced down the immediate retort and looked at Tim. “I thought that maybe my dying would have prevented my name from showing up for them. And my teachings-“ he said the word with the inflection that meant he was discussing Assassin Upbringing rather than here- “were as such that most connections, be they familial, friendly, or romantic, were- unnecessary and even dangerous.” It felt tantamount to a betrayal of his younger self to confide anything in Drake like this, but... Damian really was, in many ways, a better and more mature person than the spoiled, aggressive, near sociopathic brat he’d arrived as seven years ago. He still kept the veneer of it up, but he was no longer the boy who needed to fight Drake to prove his worth as Bruce’s son.

Now he just waited for Drake to embarrass himself by passing out after staying up for far too long surviving on caffeine and energy drinks. Much easier.

And Drake didn’t ever seem as eager to blackmail and fight as Damian ever had, so he figured a small amount of vulnerability was a proper thank you for his discretion in finding Marinette.

Tim just took another grimacing sip of the cold coffee. “Man. In that case, even happier for you that you’re shrugging off yet another of the Child Assassin School’s upsetting and frankly terrible rules. Though as for the dying thing, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter as long as you don’t actively die now that you have the mark.”

Damian shrugged. “Irrelevant now, as I will not be dying anytime soon, and neither will she. And she clearly knows that we’re soulmates.”

“Still confused about that,” Tim frowned, looking back at him. “You said there was an electric current between you? Or it felt like that?”

Damian couldn’t stop his hand from twitching, the memory of it clear enough to feel. “Yes. I don’t understand it myself either.”

“I’ll search around. See if anything comes up.” Tim handed him a pile of papers. “Here, the info you wanted on her itinerary, plus things I thought would be pertinent without going over whatever line you seem to have drawn.”

Damian took them, and very begrudgingly said, “Thank you,” before ducking out of the room.

He waited until he was back in his own room before flicking through them, finding the trip schedule and the hotel rooms listed, the names of her class and teachers, and finally a list of her accomplishments and a copy of the paper that had won her class the trip, authored by her.

He read through it, noting the names of her classmates and their own community efforts, and the way her own section in the paper was minuscule compared to both each other persons section and the list of accomplishments Drake had drafted.

One classmate had, if no less written than than any other person, a distinctly different tone to what Marinette had written, and most of her community building and service events were merely echoes or assisting what another person had done. Damian shrugged it off, as there were sometimes people who simply tagged along, and never put their own effort out there. Followers, and not leaders.

All in all, he found himself more intrigued than ever about her.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @jessigurl-design @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @kuroko26 @moonystars14 @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @area51qt @renscorpio @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @tired-butterfly @catthhay @shamefullove @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @bigpicklebananatree @abrx2002 @cici-schnee @multplelifes @shreky-boi @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person

#maribat #daminette #daminette soulmates #soulmate au #fanfic

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pitaparka · 4 years

Text

lazy river

request: hell yeah prompt list time! kissing john b in the rain for love and longing? love your content btw summary: it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a water park. jon b knows this, and wants to change that.

pairings: john b. x reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: super fluffy. real cute. might rot your teeth.

a/n: requests still open! i got an AP exam this week. i also have to finish a create task i’ve had weeks to work on and haven’t, so... wish me luck. big love!

It’s just how you remember it as a child; all funnel cakes and water slides and screaming children and too hot pavement. Exactly where you want to be when summer's in full swing.

Probably the best unofficial date you’ve ever been on.

You don’t know how much money John B. had to save up in order to get you there, but the topping on the cake was his ability to score a free bus ride to and from going with a small church group. You'd never known him to be religious, but it was an eventful ride for the two of you. John B. was playing the role of full blown Christian boy, and it was so hard to hide your smiles and giggles that everyone must've thought you were his even more Christian friend. K-love plagued the speakers, and you and John B. agreed some of it wasn't bad, but most of the kids were insufferably nice, to a point where it was almost disingenuous. Standing in line with them was a pain, but as soon as you were able to, you two booked it off to the umbrellas, searching desperately for two lounge chairs. Maybe even one at this point. Anything really, until you found a small bunch of chairs left secluded by a family whose child was not having a good time. It was a perfect spot right under the umbrella allowing you to spread your towels out and leave the cooler by the chair. John B. was fast to attack the food in there; sandwiches, chips, fruits, cheese. You name it and JJ had gotten (stolen) it from somewhere for you two. “You’re gonna get sick,” you commented, as he scarfed down a sandwich. The smell of sunscreen plagues the area. You rubbed some onto your face. John B. had miraculously thought of everything except spray on sunscreen, so you were forced to either buy some from the gift shop at a ridiculously inflated price, or use the lotion. “Sick shmick. Do you want to go on some rides?” He says, wiping his dirty hands down on his towel. The towel that was supposed to wipe down his wet body. You grimaced, but then he slipped his shirt off and shimmied off his flip flops. He was so well toned and tan already. You can’t imagine him wanting to get any tanner. “Yes I do, actually. Can you get my back first?” You say, and wonder if John B. actually forgot the spray on sunscreen or opted for the lotion instead for this reason. His hands were firm on your shoulders as he applied the sunscreen, rubbing the taut muscle there and going dangerously low down your back. It sends a shiver down your spine and he can so obviously tell because he does it again to gauge your reaction. He ruins it though, by sending you off with a buddy pat on your shoulders. “Let’s do pirates plunge first,” he said, and it made you smile how excited he got. You wondered how long it’s been for him too. “No,” you argue, “we have to work our way up to that.” "Do NOT tell me you're planning on staying in the lazy river the whole time," he said, turning to where the middle aged adults who obliged their children lounged, floating leisurely under bridges and waterfalls. It made him shiver. "It's a great place to tan," you teased, and he glared at you. You smiled, and stretched upward. "You want sunscreen?" You ask, and he looks like he's about to say no, but he nods his head yes. His back is smooth under your hands, and you make sure to lather his shoulders up nicely. You hand him the bottle when you're finished, and he scoffed. "You only did half," he says. "You can do the rest," you assure, and he rolls his eyes, squirting a glob of cream onto his palm before smearing it over his chest. "This kind of half-assery won't be tolerated," he jokes, "I'm going to have to report you to the manager." "Oh please. You're the king of half-assery." He gasps as he rubs his palms down his face, leaving streaks of white there. "How dare you. You're fired." He claims, looking over to one of the smaller two-person slides. You lean over to him and rub in the white with your thumbs, cupping his face a little. He watches your face the whole time, which, you have to admit, is a little creepy. When you're done, you shove him for good measure, before taking off in the other direction. The sun beats down hot on your shoulders, and you two spend hours waiting in lines and talking and spending time together. You could see the burn on John B.'s face and expected you were going to feel the burn too later on that night. It was a blessing whenever clouds rolled through the sky, blocking out the sun for a brief period before she cleared them away. The rides were subpar, but you two didn't notice in the slightest, screaming and yelling at each other down the slides and in tubes. The two of you dodged children and concerned parents and other teenagers, bobbing and weaving in and out of lines. Dripping wet, bodies glistening in the hot sun, you two decided funnel cakes were in order. You stood in line as John B. toweled off by your seats, and he ducked under the belt to stand with you. It got him dirty looks, but he didn't notice. "When are the church kids leaving?" You pondered, stretching on your tip toes to look in front of John B., trying to catch a glimpse of any of them. "In like an hour," he says, glancing up at the big clock poised over the food shack. There was only one in the entire park, which must've been good for business. They were so hot when you got them that the powdered sugar on top was melting. But as you made your way back to your seats, you felt it. “Oh no,” you whine, the water droplets on your bare shoulder. You turn to look at John B., but his gaze is not with yours. His eyes are on the sky, the grey storm clouds rolling in above. You sigh loudly. It’s not like you’re afraid of getting wet. Of all the places to be when it rains, a water park ranks at least in the top ten. But now all the rides were going to be closed. For god knows how long. He looked back down at you, grinning, and then noted your crestfallen expression. He pouted. “Why the long face?” He said, grabbing your chin and shaking it. You jerked away from his grasp to sulk. “Our day is ruined,” you grumbled, walking down in the direction of your chairs, planted conveniently under one of the large umbrellas. He jogged to catch up to you, intertwining his hand with yours. He swings it back and forth childishly. If he could, he’d probably skip down the concrete path to your area. "We have to eat these anyway. It'll probably be done by then," he assured. Much to your dismay, it was not in fact done by then. "That bus is probably going to leave early now," you mused, checking the notification app they made all of you download before you left the bus. “No way. This day’s not over. It’s just getting started,” he said, plucking your phone from your grasp and burying it in the bag he had brought. He left the rest of the conversation to your imagination before he took off running, pulling you in tow. “Hey!” You cried out, but you couldn’t help the giggle rising out of your throat when he stumbled over his own bare feet a little. He hushed you as you caught up to him on the side of the lazy river. There was nobody in it. All the employees were at the front entrance of it, escorting people out. "Wanna do a river run?" He said, slipping down the ladder. Your eyes bulged. "They're gonna kick us out," you said, hopping in after him anyway. You two stood downstream, and waited for tubes. It only took a few seconds before John B. was passing you one, rain falling on his hair and chest. "Now it's cold," you complained, but John B. chastised you. "Stop being a baby. Hang on," he said, standing up for you to grab onto one of the handles of his tube. The lazy river in the rain was a lot more fun than a lazy river in the sunshine. It would only be a few minutes before you reached the front of the ride, where all the workers were stuck trying to collect the tubes. John B. was splashing water at you, and shaking your tube to get you to fall out. You return the favor by flipping him over near the waterfall. He came up sputtering, and in return tried to flip your tube as well, but you latched onto his neck. It was easy for him to support your weight in the water, and he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist as the tubes got away from the two of you. They floated sadly down the river, under the waterfall by themselves. John B. chased them, hands supporting you, your arms wrapped around his neck. He moved slowly towards the waterfall, and threatened to throw you under it. You squealed and pushed yourself up against him as much as you could, cradling his head to your own. If you were going down, so was he. But he stopped just short. You pulled away just a bit, and he was looking at you, eyes intense, smile bright. Your heart skipped a beat and you swear you saw him move closer. You couldn't help but do the same. Until his lips were on yours, moving in sync with you, rain pelting your bodies. His hands were firm underneath you, and you knew he wouldn't let you fall. It had been so long since you realized you wanted to kiss him for the first time. You could settle for him kissing you. "I love you, you know that?" He remarked. You thought it was sweet, until he tossed you under the waterfall. You swear you could hear his laugh from under the water.

#john b x reader #john b x you #john b x y/n #john b outer banks #john b #obx #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks x reader #obx imagine #obx x reader #chase stokes #chase stokes x reader #chase stokes imagine #chase stokes obx #chase stokes x y/n #john b imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank outerbanks

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 3 years

Note

I JUST GOT HOME FROM WORK AND SAW YOUR POST SO I HOPE I SENT THIS IN IN TIME, BUT DADDY!CLYDE TRAINING HIS BABYGIRL TO LACTATE WITHOUT BEING PREGNANT (BECAUSE THAT IS 100% A CLYDE KINK) AND BEING SO PROUD OF HER WHEN SHE FINALLY STARTS PRODUCING AND HE CANT STOP SUCKING ON HER TITS. OKAY LOVE YOU BYEEE!!❤️❤️

@clydesfavoritegirl SO, I HAVE BEEN WRACKING MY BRAIN ABOUT THIS AND I HAVE A WIERD THOT ABOUT IT.

So, little fun facts about Sara, I have had a baby (she’s five now), I breastfed for about a year (very hard to keep up), and I have also donated my eggs for other people to have babies in the future. All of this mentioned above is not easy to accomplish and requires patience and willpower to do.

Any way you have a child is valid no matter which avenue you are given in life. If you want kids by all means have them, if you don’t that’s totally and completely fine. If you want to use formula to feed them, do it queen all the power to you, the same goes for breastfeeding. Adoption is just as important as shooting baby out yourself and surrogates are true angels in my eyes. I had not considered this lactation thing until I did research on it, because I really wanted to know if it was possible to accomplish, and it is.

Upon my research I saw that it takes months and months of hormone therapy to produce milk without being pregnant and even then, doctors prescribe it for couples adopting and or trying surrogacy for new babies coming into the family. SO, that being said, I can twist this into maybe Clyde and yourself looking at adopting or using a surrogate for a child, and you want to try to breastfeed them because you want to bond with your new baby. And of course Clyde is ALL about it because anything that makes you happy and comfortable!

PLEASE INDULGE MY THOTS ON OUR SOUTHERN BELL CLYDE AND HIS INEVITABLE LACTATION KINK....

**I’m gonna put warnings on here because it mentions some heavy stuff (plz don’t read if you are triggered by any of this): Infertility, hormone therapy, angst, depression, adoption, and surrogacy**

“Baby girl?” Clyde calls from the living room, his nose deep in the baby books you both had purchased over the months of trying to start your big happy family, fumbling though his phone at the same time.

“What’s goin’ on big bear?” you chime, busy fixing yourself up in the mirror after a relaxing shower to wash the sex from your skin after a session with big daddy.

Adjusting you hair, wincing as you lifted your arms, “Jesus,” groaning out, feeling the soreness from your heaving breasts as they felt like concrete on your chest.

_______________

Ever since you'd begun the injections and pills, your body was hating life. The raging hormone cocktails running through your bloodstream causing every single emotion to emit from your body at once.

You’d be happy and cheery one second, followed by crying in your shared bed under the sheets in the fetal position, and finally raging about the fact that the TV was turned too damn loud in the other room, when it all actuality it was the same level you’d always kept it at.

No matter the tears and agony, Clyde and yourself took all of this one day at a time, just as you had when you found out that children may not be a possibility when it came to the old fashion way of doin’ it. The pain was so hard to bear that day. You cried and cried, locking yourself away from the world as you cursed whomever was in charge of your fate, feeling like less of a woman the more the days droned on.

It took a few months for you to smile again, Clyde painstakingly trying to solve your problems with everything under the sun, reading books, catering to your needs, holding you when you sobbed yourself to sleep over your vacancy.

Cradling you when you felt like less of a person for not being able to accomplish one simple thing you’d both hoped for in the future. He’d hush your tears away, forcing you into him as he felt you shudder during the night, silent tears falling from his face as he prayed for some kind of sign or solution to all of this.

Then it all fell into place one day. Clyde was working his ass off during the nights, leaving you to stew about things at home, which inevitably led you to the internet.

You looked up all kinds of solutions, message boards talking about infertility, therapies, injections, adoption, and surrogacy. All of them possible in your eyes if it played out like it had for the folks at the various agencies you’d looked up. Finally, a glimmer of hope in this shit-storm of uncertainty, as you glanced over the testimonials and pictures of various families, so happy with their children healthy and happy.

“This is it,” you had muttered under your breath, a flutter from deep in your stomach causing tears to well up in your eyes as you thought about Clyde and you taking home a sweet new addition.

You’d brought it up to him immediately upon entering the house at and ungodly hour, to which you were scolded by your big bear after you’d made your sales pitch to him.

“I think it sounds perfect baby girl,” he cooed as you both laid in bed that night, caressing your sweat sheened skin after a good punishing from his cock, “if ya want ta do it, m’ happy with anything ya want,” whispering as he felt you sink into him to relax for the first time in months.

“I jus’ wanna make ya happy to big bear,” kissing his thick chest as you inhaled his musk, “I think this is the way we can have that family we want,” ghosting your lips up his sternum as he sighed into your touch.

“Mhmm,” he embraced you further, “I’ll adopt as many babies as ya want honey. Yer jus’ gonna be the best momma regardless,” hearing your light cries in the quiet of the darkened bedroom.

“T-thank you big bear,” you strained out, still hiding in his neck as the tears spilled, “I can’t wait ta make ya a real daddy finally,” gripping the back of his neck as you fell into another chorus of cries.

_____________

“What’s up?” your v-neck t-shirt straining on your heaving tits, the bra you’d picked certainly not fitting you as the days went on and on.

“I think I found the pump ya were wantin’,” he gulped, seeing the peaches poking through your top half as you bent forward to look at the contraption he’d found.

“Oh ya!” you jumped slightly, your tits bouncing in a ripple at your excitement, causing Clyde to salivate at the sight.

“Thank ya big bear!” jumping into his lap as you pulled him to you, kissing his cheeks as he buried his face in your pillows, running his thick hands over your sweatpants.

“A-anythin’ fer ma baby girl,” he panted, burying his prominent nose deeper into your rock hard tits, “Gah damn yer so juicy darlin’,” lifting his head to place pecks all over the tops of them.

“Ya like ma milky titties baby?” biting your lip as he started sucking a mark over the soft skin, “ya wanna taste a mama’s milk?” cooing in his ear as he moaned into his make out session with your chest, rubbing his head to press it further in the valley of them.

“Ya think they’re finally full baby girl?” he glanced up, his eyes glimmering with love and lust in the same gaze. You pet his precious face, the hopeful look only making this more special as he’d been helping you with your injections since you’d gotten the go ahead from the doctor and the agency.

“I think so daddy,” feeling them tense up at your words, the soreness pulsing all the way to both nipples as you tried to avoid making faces in front of him. He helped you remove your fresh top, exposing your lacy bra, the skin popping out with colored veins, gravid from the fullness of them.

“Fuck me,” he drooled, reaching behind to undo the clasp, eyes widening even further when he saw them perked up out of their hiding spot. The nipples taut and ready for his lips to suck on at his leisure.

“Ya look so damn perty baby girl,” raising his hand to grip the skin, feeling how heavy they were on your chest, “ya want daddy ta see if they’re ready ta go?” practically begging as he ran a thumb over the sensitive nipple.

You reared your head back at the slight touches he made, “please daddy,” whining as he watched you fall apart from his motions, “suck on my tits big bear,” shoving your chest closer to his waiting mouth as he inhaled deep, a growl brewing as he went to latch his pink lips on your areola.

“Mother fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure releasing from your throat as he sealed himself on your tit, massaging the sore skin as he coaxed the sweet liquid to fall from it.

He vacuum sealed his lips, sucking lightly at first, feeling you writhe and find the back of his to grip his mane, pushing him further into your warm skin.

“O-oh g-god baby,” you moaned out, feeling a burning feeling build in your boob that felt both uncomfortable and welcoming as he sped up his jaw on your nipple.

“Mhmmmm,” he whined out, feeling the body temperature liquid seep from your tit, coating the insides of his mouth in a warm embrace as he sucked more and more.

Just then, you felt your other tit release a trickle of fluid, the stream of white beautiful in contrast to your skin as you glanced down in awe and pleasure. The cement block feeling escaping as Clyde sucked down your sweet nectar.

“Oh f-fuck d-daddy,” you gasped, a mixture of elation leaving your body, “I-I’m l-leakin’,” you winced out, feeling Clyde let up on your boob, picking his head up to reveal a white sheen covering his lips and part of his mustache.

“That ya are darlin’,” he eyes completely dilated as he looked over at your stream sliding down the underside of your neglected tit, making its way down your stomach in a perfect line, “yer doin’ such a good job baby girl.”

Gripping the other tit in his large hand, coaxing the nipple into his mouth sucking your sweetness down in a frenzy. Your hand massaging the back of his head as you arched your back into his motions, feeling a huge relief as he emptied your other aching tit.

He lifted his head in a gasp, wiping his mouth from the mess he’d made, watching as your sultry eyes bored into him. The both of you panting and elated at the hard work it had taken to accomplish this huge step.

“Ya perfect, baby girl,” inching his lips to yours as you tasted your milk in his mouth, sighing into his tongue wrapping around yours.

He pulled away for a moment, the noticeable bulge in his jeans ever present as he fulfilled his fantasies he’d had since he’d met you, “I don’t think m’ gonna be able ta keep up with these tits though as much as I’d like ta suck on ‘em fer every damn meal,” giggling as he lowered his mouth to your neck, sucking more marks on the skin as you mewled under him.

“Don’t worry big bear,” you purred, gripping his hair again, arching yourself into his lips, “ya can help me when I get that pump we saw,” feeling him smirk under your neck at the prospect of him watching that show.

“But fer now,” you lifted him by the ears to gaze into his precious eyes, “I think mama needs ta take care a daddy,” gesturing to his now tented erection.

“Please mama,” he begged, watching you get up from your spot to curl and index finger as you backed into your bedroom again for round two.

___________

God I hope I did this ask alright for you honey! Thank you for sending it in so I could learn something from it, as well as indulge in this juicy Clyde thot!

oneshot taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @emeraldsiren20, @thepalaceofmelanie, @bpdbensoloblog, @hopeamarsu, @caillea

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

#tw infertility #tw adoption #tw surrogacy #tw hormone injection #tw lactation kink #tw breastmilk #tw depression #angst #clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan smut #clyde x reader #clyde x you #tw children

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timeless-hollywood-classics · 3 years

Text

Hedy Lamarr, born Hedwig Eva Maria Kiesler (November or September 9, 1914 – January 19, 2000), was an Austrian-American actress, inventor, and film producer. She appeared in 30 films over a 28 year career, and co-invented an early version of frequency-hopping spread spectrum communication.

Lamarr was born in Vienna, Austria-Hungary, and acted in a number of Austrian, German, and Czech films in her brief early film career, including the controversial Ecstasy (1933). In 1937, she fled from her husband, a wealthy Austrian ammunition manufacturer, secretly moving to Paris and then on to London. There she met Louis B. Mayer, head of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) studio, who offered her a Hollywood movie contract, where he began promoting her as "the world's most beautiful woman".

She became a star through her performance in Algiers (1938), her first United States film.[5] She starred opposite Clark Gable in Boom Town and Comrade X (both 1940), and James Stewart in Come Live with Me and Ziegfeld Girl (both 1941). Her other MGM films include Lady of the Tropics (1939), H.M. Pulham, Esq. (1941), as well as Crossroads and White Cargo (both 1942); she was also borrowed by Warner Bros. for The Conspirators, and by RKO for Experiment Perilous (both 1944). Dismayed by being typecast, Lamarr co-founded a new production studio and starred in its films: The Strange Woman (1946), and Dishonored Lady (1947). Her greatest success was as Delilah in Cecil B. DeMille's Samson and Delilah (1949). She also acted on television before the release of her final film, The Female Animal (1958). She was honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1960.

At the beginning of World War II, Lamarr and composer George Antheil developed a radio guidance system using frequency-hopping spread spectrum technology for Allied torpedoes, intended to defeat the threat of jamming by the Axis powers. She also helped improve aircraft aerodynamics for Howard Hughes while they dated during the war. Although the US Navy did not adopt Lamarr and Antheil's invention until 1957, various spread-spectrum techniques are incorporated into Bluetooth technology and are similar to methods used in legacy versions of Wi-Fi. Recognition of the value of their work resulted in the pair being posthumously inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame in 2014.

Lamarr was born Hedwig Eva Maria Kiesler in 1914 in Vienna, Austria-Hungary, the only child of Emil Kiesler (1880–1935) and Gertrud "Trude" Kiesler (née Lichtwitz; 1894–1977). Her father was born to a Galician-Jewish family in Lemberg (now Lviv, Ukraine), and was a successful bank manager. Her mother was a pianist, born in Budapest to an upper-class Hungarian-Jewish family. She converted to Catholicism as an adult, at the insistence of her first husband, and raised her daughter Hedy as a Catholic as well, though she was not formally baptized at the time.

As a child, Kiesler showed an interest in acting and was fascinated by theatre and film. At the age of 12, she won a beauty contest in Vienna. She also began to associate invention with her father, who would take her out on walks, explaining how various technologies in society functioned.

After the Anschluss, she helped get her mother out of Austria and to the United States, where Gertrud Kiesler later became an American citizen. She put "Hebrew" as her race on her petition for naturalization, a term that had been frequently used in Europe.

Still using her maiden name of Hedy Kiesler, she took acting classes in Vienna. One day, she forged a permission note from her mother and went to Sascha-Film, where she was hired at the age of 16 as a script girl. She gained a role as an extra in Money on the Street (1930), and then a small speaking part in Storm in a Water Glass (1931). Producer Max Reinhardt cast her in a play entitled The Weaker Sex, which was performed at the Theater in der Josefstadt. Reinhardt was so impressed with her that he arranged for her to return with him to Berlin, where he was based.

Kiesler never trained with Reinhardt nor appeared in any of his Berlin productions. After meeting Russian theatre producer Alexis Granowsky, she was cast in his film directorial debut, The Trunks of Mr. O.F. (1931), starring Walter Abel and Peter Lorre. Granowsky soon moved to Paris, but Kiesler stayed in Berlin to work. She was given the lead role in No Money Needed (1932), a comedy directed by Carl Boese. Her next film brought her international fame.

In early 1933, at age 18, Hedy Kiesler, still working under her maiden name, was given the lead in Gustav Machatý's film Ecstasy (Ekstase in German, Extase in Czech). She played the neglected young wife of an indifferent older man.

The film became both celebrated and notorious for showing the actress's face in the throes of an orgasm. According to Marie Benedict's book The Only Woman In The Room, Kiesler's expression resulted from someone sticking her with a pin. She was also shown in closeups and brief nude scenes, the latter reportedly a result of the actress being "duped" by the director and producer, who used high-power telephoto lenses.

Although Kiesler was dismayed and now disillusioned about taking other roles, Ecstasy gained world recognition after winning an award in Rome. Throughout Europe, the film was regarded as an artistic work. However, in the United States, it was banned, considered overly sexual, and made the target of negative publicity, especially among women's groups. It was also banned in Germany due to Kiesler's Jewish heritage. Her husband, Fritz Mandl, reportedly spent over $300,000 buying up and destroying copies of the film.

Kiesler also played a number of stage roles, including a starring one in Sissy, a play about Empress Elisabeth of Austria produced in Vienna in early 1933, just as Ecstasy premiered. It won accolades from critics.

Admirers sent roses to her dressing room and tried to get backstage to meet Kiesler. She sent most of them away, including an insistent Friedrich Mandl. He became obsessed with getting to know her. Mandl was a Viennese arms merchant and munitions manufacturer who was reputedly the third-richest man in Austria. She fell for his charming and fascinating personality, partly due to his immense wealth. Her parents, both of Jewish descent, did not approve, as Mandl had ties to Italian fascist leader Benito Mussolini, and later, German Führer Adolf Hitler, but they could not stop their headstrong daughter.

On August 10, 1933, at the age of 18, Kiesler married Mandl, then 33. The son of a Jewish father and a Catholic mother, Mandl insisted that she convert to Catholicism before their wedding in Vienna Karlskirche. In her autobiography Ecstasy and Me, Mandl is described as an extremely controlling husband. He strongly objected to her having been filmed in the simulated orgasm scene in Ecstasy and prevented her from pursuing her acting career. She claimed she was kept a virtual prisoner in their castle home, Castle Schwarzenau in the remote Waldviertel near the Czech border.

Mandl had close social and business ties to the Italian government, selling munitions to the country, and, despite his own part-Jewish descent, had ties to the Nazi regime of Germany. Kiesler accompanied Mandl to business meetings, where he conferred with scientists and other professionals involved in military technology. These conferences were her introduction to the field of applied science and she became interested in nurturing her latent talent in science.

Finding her marriage to Mandl eventually unbearable, Kiesler decided to flee her husband as well as her country. According to her autobiography, she disguised herself as her maid and fled to Paris. Friedrich Otto's account says that she persuaded Mandl to let her wear all of her jewelry for a dinner party where the influential austrofascist Ernst Stahremberg attended, then disappeared afterward. She writes about her marriage:

I knew very soon that I could never be an actress while I was his wife. ... He was the absolute monarch in his marriage. ... I was like a doll. I was like a thing, some object of art which had to be guarded—and imprisoned—having no mind, no life of its own.

After arriving in London in 1937, she met Louis B. Mayer, head of MGM, who was scouting for talent in Europe. She initially turned down the offer he made her (of $125 a week), but booked herself onto the same New York-bound liner as he. During the trip, she impressed him enough to secure a $500 a week contract. Mayer persuaded her to change her name from Hedwig Kiesler (to distance herself from "the Ecstasy lady" reputation associated with it). She chose the surname "Lamarr" in homage to the beautiful silent film star, Barbara La Marr, on the suggestion of Mayer's wife, Margaret Shenberg.

When Mayer brought Lamarr to Hollywood in 1938, he began promoting her as the "world's most beautiful woman". He introduced her to producer Walter Wanger, who was making Algiers (1938), an American version of the noted French film, Pépé le Moko (1937).

Lamarr was cast in the lead opposite Charles Boyer. The film created a "national sensation", says Shearer. Lamarr was billed as an unknown but well-publicized Austrian actress, which created anticipation in audiences. Mayer hoped she would become another Greta Garbo or Marlene Dietrich. According to one viewer, when her face first appeared on the screen, "everyone gasped ... Lamarr's beauty literally took one's breath away."

In future Hollywood films, Lamarr was often typecast as the archetypal glamorous seductress of exotic origin. Her second American film was I Take This Woman (1940), co-starring with Spencer Tracy under the direction of regular Dietrich collaborator, Josef von Sternberg. Von Sternberg was fired during the shoot, and replaced by Frank Borzage. The film was put on hold, and Lamarr was put into Lady of the Tropics (1939), where she played a mixed-race seductress in Saigon opposite Robert Taylor. She returned to I Take This Woman, re-shot by W. S. Van Dyke. The resulting film was a flop.

Far more popular was Boom Town (1940) with Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert and Spencer Tracy; it made $5 million MGM promptly reteamed Lamarr and Gable in Comrade X (1940), a comedy film in the vein of Ninotchka (1939), which was another hit.

She was teamed with James Stewart in Come Live with Me (1941), playing a Viennese refugee. Stewart was also featured in Ziegfeld Girl (1941), in which Lamarr, Judy Garland, and Lana Turner played aspiring showgirls; it was a big success.

Lamarr was top-billed in H. M. Pulham, Esq. (1941), although the film's protagonist was the title role played by Robert Young. She made a third film with Tracy, Tortilla Flat (1942). It was successful at the box office, as was Crossroads (1942) with William Powell.

She played the seductive native girl Tondelayo in White Cargo (1942), top-billed over Walter Pidgeon. It was a huge hit. White Cargo contains arguably her most memorable film quote, delivered with provocative invitation: "I am Tondelayo. I make tiffin for you?" This line typifies many of Lamarr's roles, which emphasized her beauty and sensuality while giving her relatively few lines. The lack of acting challenges bored Lamarr, and she reportedly took up inventing to relieve her boredom. In a 1970 interview, Lamarr also remarked that she was paid less because she would not sleep with Mayer.

Lamarr was reunited with Powell in a comedy, The Heavenly Body (1944). She was then borrowed by Warner Bros. for The Conspirators (1944), reuniting several of the actors of Casablanca (1942), which had been inspired in part by Algiers and written with Lamarr in mind as its female lead, though MGM would not lend her out. RKO later borrowed her for a melodrama, Experiment Perilous (1944), directed by Jacques Tourneur.

Back at MGM, Lamarr was teamed with Robert Walker in the romantic comedy Her Highness and the Bellboy (1945), playing a princess who falls in love with a New Yorker. It was very popular, but would be the last film she made under her MGM contract.

Her off-screen life and personality during those years was quite different from her screen image. She spent much of her time feeling lonely and homesick. She might swim at her agent's pool, but shunned the beaches and staring crowds. When asked for an autograph, she wondered why anyone would want it. Writer Howard Sharpe interviewed her and gave his impression:

Hedy has the most incredible personal sophistication. She knows the peculiarly European art of being womanly; she knows what men want in a beautiful woman, what attracts them, and she forces herself to be these things. She has magnetism with warmth, something that neither Dietrich nor Garbo has managed to achieve.

Author Richard Rhodes describes her assimilation into American culture:

Of all the European émigrés who escaped Nazi Germany and Nazi Austria, she was one of the very few who succeeded in moving to another culture and becoming a full-fledged star herself. There were so very few who could make the transition linguistically or culturally. She really was a resourceful human being–I think because of her father's strong influence on her as a child.

Lamarr also had a penchant for speaking about herself in the third person.

Lamarr wanted to join the National Inventors Council, but was reportedly told by NIC member Charles F. Kettering and others that she could better help the war effort by using her celebrity status to sell war bonds.

She participated in a war bond-selling campaign with a sailor named Eddie Rhodes. Rhodes was in the crowd at each Lamarr appearance, and she would call him up on stage. She would briefly flirt with him before asking the audience if she should give him a kiss. The crowd would say yes, to which Hedy would reply that she would if enough people bought war bonds. After enough bonds were purchased, she would kiss Rhodes and he would head back into the audience. Then they would head off to the next war bond rally. In total, Lamarr sold approximately $25 million (over $350 million when adjusted for inflation in 2020) worth of war bonds during a period of 10 days.

After leaving MGM in 1945, Lamarr formed production company Mars Film Corporation with Jack Chertok and Hunt Stromberg, producing two film noir motion pictures which she also starred in: The Strange Woman (1946) as a manipulative seductress leading a son to murder his father, and Dishonored Lady (1947) as a formerly suicidal fashion designer[verification needed] trying to start a new life but gets accused of murder. Her initiative was unwelcomed by the Hollywood establishment, as they were against actors (especially female actors) producing their films independently. Both films grossed over their budgets, but were not large commercial successes.

In 1948, she tried a comedy with Robert Cummings, called Let's Live a Little.

Lamarr enjoyed her greatest success playing Delilah opposite Victor Mature as the biblical strongman in Cecil B. DeMille's Samson and Delilah (1949). A massive critical and commercial success, the film became the highest-grossing picture of 1950 and won two Academy Awards (Best Art Direction and Best Costume Design) of its five nominations. She won critical acclaim for her portrayal of Delilah. Showmen's Trade Review previewed the film before its release and commended Lamarr's performance: "Miss Lamarr is just about everyone's conception of the fair-skinned, dark-haired, beauteous Delilah, a role tailor-made for her, and her best acting chore to date."[48] Photoplay wrote, "As Delilah, Hedy Lamarr is treacherous and tantalizing, her charms enhanced by Technicolor."[49]

Lamarr returned to MGM for a film noir with John Hodiak, A Lady Without Passport (1950), which flopped. More popular were two pictures she made at Paramount, a Western with Ray Milland, Copper Canyon (1950), and a Bob Hope spy spoof, My Favorite Spy (1951).

Her career went into decline. She went to Italy to play multiple roles in Loves of Three Queens (1954), which she also produced. However she lacked the experience necessary to make a success of such an epic production, and lost millions of dollars when she was unable to secure distribution of the picture.

She was Joan of Arc in Irwin Allen's critically panned epic, The Story of Mankind (1957) and did episodes of Zane Grey Theatre ("Proud Woman") and Shower of Stars ("Cloak and Dagger"). Her last film was a thriller The Female Animal (1958).

Lamarr was signed to act in the 1966 film Picture Mommy Dead, but was let go when she collapsed during filming from nervous exhaustion. She was replaced in the role of Jessica Flagmore Shelley by Zsa Zsa Gabor.

Although Lamarr had no formal training and was primarily self-taught, she worked in her spare time on various hobbies and inventions, which included an improved traffic stoplight and a tablet that would dissolve in water to create a carbonated drink. The beverage was unsuccessful; Lamarr herself said it tasted like Alka-Seltzer.

Among the few who knew of Lamarr's inventiveness was aviation tycoon Howard Hughes. She suggested he change the rather square design of his aeroplanes (which she thought looked too slow) to a more streamlined shape, based on pictures of the fastest birds and fish she could find. Lamarr discussed her relationship with Hughes during an interview, saying that while they dated, he actively supported her inventive "tinkering" hobbies. He put his team of scientists and engineers at her disposal, saying they would do or make anything she asked for.

During World War II, Lamarr learned that radio-controlled torpedoes, an emerging technology in naval war, could easily be jammed and set off course.[53] She thought of creating a frequency-hopping signal that could not be tracked or jammed. She conceived an idea and contacted her friend, composer and pianist George Antheil, to help her implement it.[54] Together they developed a device for doing that, when he succeeded by synchronizing a miniaturized player-piano mechanism with radio signals.[40] They drafted designs for the frequency-hopping system, which they patented.[55][56] Antheil recalled:

We began talking about the war, which, in the late summer of 1940, was looking most extremely black. Hedy said that she did not feel very comfortable, sitting there in Hollywood and making lots of money when things were in such a state. She said that she knew a good deal about munitions and various secret weapons ... and that she was thinking seriously of quitting MGM and going to Washington, D.C., to offer her services to the newly established National Inventors Council.

As quoted from a 1945 Stars and Stripes interview, "Hedy modestly admitted she did only 'creative work on the invention', while the composer and author George Antheil, 'did the really important chemical part'. Hedy was not too clear about how the device worked, but she remembered that she and Antheil sat down on her living room rug and were using a silver match box with the matches simulating the wiring of the invented 'thing'. She said that at the start of the war 'British fliers were over hostile territory as soon as they crossed the channel, but German aviators were over friendly territory most of the way to England... I got the idea for my invention when I tried to think of some way to even the balance for the British. A radio controlled torpedo, I thought would do it.'"

Their invention was granted a patent under U.S. Patent 2,292,387 on August 11, 1942 (filed using her married name Hedy Kiesler Markey).[58] However, it was technologically difficult to implement, and at the time the US Navy was not receptive to considering inventions coming from outside the military.[35] Nevertheless, it was classified in the "red hot" category.[59] It was first adapted in 1957 to develop a sonobuoy before the expiration of the patent, although this was denied by the Navy. At the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, an updated version of their design was installed on Navy ships.[60] Today, various spread-spectrum techniques are incorporated into Bluetooth technology and are similar to methods used in legacy versions of Wi-Fi. Lamarr and Antheil's contributions were formally recognized in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries.

Lamarr was married and divorced six times and had three children:

Friedrich Mandl (married 1933–37), chairman of the Hirtenberger Patronen-Fabrik

Gene Markey (married 1939–41), screenwriter and producer. She adopted a boy, James Lamarr Markey (born January 9, 1939) during her marriage with Markey. In 2001, James found out he was the out-of-wedlock son of Lamarr and actor John Loder, whom she later married as her third husband.

John Loder (married 1943–47), actor. James Lamarr Markey was adopted by Loder as James Lamarr Loder. During the marriage, Lamarr and Loder also had two further children: Denise Loder (born January 19, 1945), married Larry Colton, a writer and former baseball player; and Anthony Loder (born February 1, 1947), married Roxanne who worked for illustrator James McMullan. They both appeared in the documentary films Calling Hedy Lamarr (2004), and Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story (2017).

Ernest "Ted" Stauffer (married 1951–52), nightclub owner, restaurateur, and former bandleader

W. Howard Lee (married 1953–60), a Texas oilman (he later married film actress Gene Tierney)

Lewis J. Boies (married 1963–65), Lamarr's divorce lawyer

Following her sixth and final divorce in 1965, Lamarr remained unmarried for the last 35 years of her life.

Lamarr became a naturalized citizen of the United States at age 38 on April 10, 1953. Her autobiography, Ecstasy and Me, was published in 1966. In a 1969 interview on The Merv Griffin Show, she said that she did not write it and claimed that much was fictional. Lamarr sued the publisher in 1966 to halt publication, saying that many details were fabricated by its ghost writer, Leo Guild. She lost the suit. In 1967, Lamarr was sued by Gene Ringgold, who asserted that the book plagiarized material from an article he had written in 1965 for Screen Facts magazine.

In the late 1950s, Lamarr designed and, with husband W. Howard Lee, developed the Villa LaMarr ski resort in Aspen, Colorado. After their divorce, her husband gained this resort

In 1966, Lamarr was arrested in Los Angeles for shoplifting. The charges were eventually dropped. In 1991, she was arrested on the same charge in Florida, this time for stealing $21.48 worth of laxatives and eye drops. She pleaded no contest to avoid a court appearance, and the charges were dropped in return for her promise to refrain from breaking any laws for a year.

During the 1970s, Lamarr lived in increasing seclusion. She was offered several scripts, television commercials, and stage projects, but none piqued her interest. In 1974, she filed a $10 million lawsuit against Warner Bros., claiming that the running parody of her name ("Hedley Lamarr") featured in the Mel Brooks comedy Blazing Saddles infringed her right to privacy. Brooks said he was flattered; the studio settled out of court for an undisclosed nominal sum and an apology to Lamarr for "almost using her name". Brooks said that Lamarr "never got the joke". With her eyesight failing, Lamarr retreated from public life and settled in Miami Beach, Florida, in 1981.

In 1996, a large Corel-drawn image of Lamarr won the annual cover design contest for the CorelDRAW's yearly software suite. For several years, beginning in 1997, it was featured on boxes of the software suite. Lamarr sued the company for using her image without her permission. Corel countered that she did not own rights to the image. The parties reached an undisclosed settlement in 1998.

In 1997, Canadian company WiLAN signed an agreement with Lamarr to acquire 49% of the marketing rights of her patent, and a right of first refusal for the remaining 51% for ten quarterly payments. This was the only financial compensation she received for her frequency-hopping spread spectrum invention. A friendship ensued between her and the company's CEO, Hatim Zaghloul.

Lamarr became estranged from her son, James Lamarr Loder (who believed he was adopted until 2001), when he was 12 years old. Their relationship ended abruptly, and he moved in with another family. They did not speak again for almost 50 years. Lamarr left James Loder out of her will, and he sued for control of the US$3.3 million estate left by Lamarr in 2000. He eventually settled for US$50,000. James Loder was the Omaha, Nebraska police officer who was charged but then acquitted of the killing of 14 year old Vivian Strong in 1969.

In the last decades of her life, Lamarr communicated only by telephone with the outside world, even with her children and close friends. She often talked up to six or seven hours a day on the phone, but she spent hardly any time with anyone in person in her final years. A documentary film, Calling Hedy Lamarr, was released in 2004 and features her children Anthony Loder and Denise Loder-DeLuca.

Lamarr died in Casselberry, Florida, on January 19, 2000, of heart disease, aged 85. According to her wishes, she was cremated and her son Anthony Loder spread her ashes in Austria's Vienna Woods.

In 1939, Lamarr was voted the "most promising new actress" of 1938 in a poll of area voters conducted by a Philadelphia Record film critic.[95]

In 1951, British moviegoers voted Lamarr the tenth best actress of 1950,[96] for her performance in Samson and Delilah.

In 1960, Lamarr was honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for her contribution to the motion picture industry, at 6247 Hollywood Blvd adjacent to Vine Street where the walk is centered.

In 1997, Lamarr and George Antheil were jointly honored with the Electronic Frontier Foundation's Pioneer Award.

Also in 1997, Lamarr was the first woman to receive the Invention Convention's BULBIE Gnass Spirit of Achievement Award, known as the "Oscars of inventing".

In 2014, Lamarr and Antheil were posthumously inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame for frequency-hopping spread spectrum technology.

Also in 2014, Lamarr was given an honorary grave in Vienna's Central Cemetery, where the remaining portion of her ashes were buried in November, shortly before her 100th birthday.

Asteroid 32730 Lamarr, discovered by Karl Reinmuth at Heidelberg Observatory in 1951, was named in her memory. The official naming citation was published by the Minor Planet Center on August 27, 2019 (M.P.C. 115894).

On 6 November 2020, a satellite named after her (ÑuSat 14 or "Hedy", COSPAR 2020-079F) was launched into space.

The 2004 documentary film Calling Hedy Lamarr features her children, Anthony Loder and Denise Loder-DeLuca.

In 2010, Lamarr was selected out of 150 IT people to be featured in a short film launched by the British Computer Society on May 20.

Also during 2010, the New York Public Library exhibit Thirty Years of Photography at the New York Public Library included a photo of a topless Lamarr (c. 1930) by Austrian-born American photographer Trude Fleischmann.

The 2017 documentary film Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story, written and directed by Alexandra Dean and produced by Susan Sarandon,[108] about Lamarr's life and career as an actress and inventor, also featuring her children Anthony and Denise, among others, premiered at the 2017 Tribeca Film Festival.[40] It was released in theaters on November 24, 2017, and aired on the PBS series American Masters in May 2018. As of April 2020, it is also available on Netflix.

During World War II, the Office of Strategic Services invented a pyrotechnic device meant to help agents operating behind enemy lines to escape if capture seemed imminent. When the pin was pulled, it made the whistle of a falling bomb followed by a loud explosion and a large cloud of smoke, enabling the agent to make his escape. It saved the life of at least one agent. The device was codenamed the Hedy Lamarr.[109]

The Mel Brooks 1974 western parody Blazing Saddles features a male villain named "Hedley Lamarr". As a running gag, various characters mistakenly refer to him as "Hedy Lamarr" prompting him to testily reply "That's Hedley."

In the 1982 off-Broadway musical Little Shop of Horrors and subsequent film adaptation (1986), Audrey II says to Seymour in the song "Feed Me" that he can get Seymour anything he wants, including "A date with Hedy Lamarr."

On the Nickelodeon show Hey Arnold!, there is a running gag in which whenever something unfortunate happens to Arnold's grandfather, Phil, he constantly states how things would have been different if he had "married Hedy Lamarr instead!". In one episode, it is revealed that he carries a photo of her in his wallet.

In the 2003 video game Half-Life 2, Dr. Kleiner's pet headcrab, Lamarr, is named after Hedy Lamarr.

In 2008, an off-Broadway play, Frequency Hopping, features the lives of Lamarr and Antheil. The play was written and staged by Elyse Singer, and the script won a prize for best new play about science and technology from STAGE.

In 2011, the story of Lamarr's frequency-hopping spread spectrum invention was explored in an episode of the Science Channel show Dark Matters: Twisted But True, a series that explores the darker side of scientific discovery and experimentation, which premiered on September 7.

Batman co-creator Bob Kane was a great movie fan and his love for film provided the impetus for several Batman characters, among them, Catwoman. Among Kane's inspiration for Catwoman were Lamarr and actress Jean Harlow. Also in 2011, Anne Hathaway revealed that she had learned that the original Catwoman was based on Lamarr, so she studied all of Lamarr's films and incorporated some of her breathing techniques into her portrayal of Catwoman in the 2012 film The Dark Knight Rises.

In 2013, her work in improving wireless security was part of the premiere episode of the Discovery Channel show How We Invented the World.

In 2015, on November 9, the 101st anniversary of Lamarr's birth, Google paid tribute to Lamarr's work in film and her contributions to scientific advancement with an animated Google Doodle.

In 2016, Lamarr was depicted in an off-Broadway play, HEDY! The Life and Inventions of Hedy Lamarr, a one-woman show written and performed by Heather Massie.

Also in 2016, the off-Broadway, one-actor show Stand Still and Look Stupid: The Life Story of Hedy Lamarr starring Emily Ebertz and written by Mike Broemmel went into production.

Also in 2016, Whitney Frost, a character in the TV show Agent Carter, was inspired by Lamarr and Lauren Bacall.

In 2017, actress Celia Massingham portrayed Lamarr on The CW television series Legends of Tomorrow in the sixth episode of the third season, titled "Helen Hunt". The episode is set in 1937 "Hollywoodland" and references Lamarr's reputation as an inventor. The episode aired on November 14, 2017.

In 2018, actress Alyssa Sutherland portrayed Lamarr on the NBC television series Timeless in the third episode of the second season, titled "Hollywoodland". The episode aired March 25, 2018.

Gal Gadot is set to portray Lamarr in an Apple TV+ limited series based on her life story.

A novelization of her life, The Only Woman in the Room by Marie Benedict, was published in 2019.

#hedy lamarr #classic hollywood #classic movie stars #golden age of hollywood #old hollywood #1930s hollywood #1940s hollywood #1950s hollywood #hollywood legend

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

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Oh boy!!! Polynya I have a sudden ferocious hankering for Byakuya and Aizen being viciously passive aggressive to each other. Most of the time you write B he is in the company of his family or his loved ones. So clearly the ultimate way to bring out the knives is an AU in which all the captains are in the same Homeowner's Association. I have no preference for ships; I crave only drama, the pettier the better.

Alopex. Alopex. Why. Why u do this 2 me. You’re my favorite, tho, I cannot refuse you. I hope this is petty enough. I almost made this whole thing an epistolary fanfic that took place over NextDoor, the worst “social media”, but I think it worked better with everyone in person.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🏠 🏠 🏠

“Gosh darnit, the only K-cups left are apple cider and pumpkin spice!”

“Oh, that can’t be right, I know I filled up the carousel just before the meeting! Retsu! Retsu, honey, we’re out of K-cups, and I bought a whole carton at Costco and I just don’t understand--”

Kuchiki Byakuya glanced up from the presentation materials he was reviewing for the six hundredth time. For starters, Byakuya wasn’t really sure anyone should be letting Hitsugaya Toushirou have coffee in the first place. It was 8p.m., and the child couldn’t be more than twelve. Byakuya had never been very clear on a) why the Seireitei Estates Homeowners’ Association let the child attend the meetings in lieu of his father (or possibly step-father?), a doctor who worked late hours, and b) why a young child would want to attend a Homeowners’ Association meeting anyway, but he had more sense than most of the other board members, so Byakuya didn’t ask questions.

Byakuya also wasn’t sure why they had to have “refreshment breaks.” Breaks were for quitters, in Byakuya’s opinion. Granted, the meeting was being held at Unohana’s house this month, which meant that the baked goods were impeccable, but Unohana’s high-strung wife tended to radiate so much nervous energy that Byakuya worried the woman was going to spontaneously combust.

“Oh, sunflower, I’m sure they just got pushed behind the croquembouche,” Unohana purred reassuringly. “I’ll help you look-- oh, excuse me, Mr. Ichimaru.”

As Unohana pushed past that weaselly shyster Ichimaru Gin, she swung her hips, knocking into him. Approximately thirty K-cups tumbled out of the pockets of Gin’s couture tracksuit.

“Oh, there they are!” Unohana sang innocently.

“How did those get in there?” Gin gasped, as though he were genuinely puzzled.

Byakuya shuddered. Ichimaru worked for the second biggest law firm in town, after, of course, Kuchiki and Sons. Byakuya dreaded the day he might find himself across a negotiation table from the man. Not that harbored any doubts about annihilating that idiot in a contest of the law, he just didn’t like being in the same room with him.

“Here you go, dear,” Unohana said, popping a K-cup into the machine and patting little Toushirou on the head. Toushirou was too busy glaring at Gin to notice.

“That looks like some presentation you’re givin' after the break, eh, Kuchiki?” Ichimaru drawled, selecting a bearclaw from the pastry tray. “Or didja bring home the paperwork from the Tsunayashiro merger?”

Byakuya sniffed and shuffled his papers back into their portfolio. “I approach all areas of my life with the same diligence as I do my professional work.”

“What a coinky-dink! I do, too-- I don’t work hard at anything.”

Byakuya had no interest in frittering away his preparation time to small talk with a moron. “I am going to set up,” he said coolly.

“Good luck!” Ichimaru trilled, giving a saucy little finger wave.

Byakuya returned to Unohana’s sitting room, where he had left his easel and poster board near the hideous faux fireplace with its tacky LED candles.

Aizen was sitting at the cardtable he’d set up at the front of the room, fiddling with his chintzy little gavel. “You look very prepared,” he said, in a tone of voice that was almost as insipid as the oatmeal-marl turtleneck sweater he wore. “Do try not to run too long, though. I’m only the substitute president, you know! I want to run a tight ship, ha ha!”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. He was still slightly salty that President Yamamoto had felt the need to take a last minute trip on a “Single Seniors Cruise.” Something something about a flash sale and when you’re old you have to take advantage of the time you have left, etcetera, etcetera, but if there were anyone that Byakuya could count on take his side in the matter, it was that antediluvian rule-enforcer. For that matter, Byakuya wasn’t actually sure whether Yamamoto even cared about clipped hedges and shoveled sidewalks or if he just liked yelling at people and slapping them with fines.

Aizen was also a bit of a stickler for the finer points of home maintenance, but the man had no substance to him, with his floppy hair and his chunky knitwear and his horn-rimmed glasses.

“All right, everyone!” Aizen called in his stupid simpering voice. Byakuya had no idea what the man actually did, but Byakuya figured he was a preschool teacher or an art therapist or something equally touchy-feely. “Please take your seats! The next item on our agenda is a presentation on, uh, ‘A Secret But Important Topic, from our neighbor over at number six, let’s give a big hand for...Byakuya!”

“Hold the applause,” Byakuya said sternly, holding up a hand. “I come to you today to call for-- nay, demand the expulsion of one Zaraki Kenpachi from the Board of this Homeowners Association, and possibly also the entire neighborhood, if that’s possible.”

“We can’t kick people out of the neighborhood,” Aizen stage-whispered to him.

“Is he actually a member of the HOA Board?” Kyouraku asked, scratching his shaggy mane. “I’ve never seen him at one of these meetings.”

Byakuya turned to Tousen, the Board treasurer, who had taken his seat at the front table with Aizen and Ichimaru. “Mr. Tousen, did you happen to look into the dues records, as I requested?”

“I did, yes,” Tousen replied. “It turns out that Mr. Zaraki is excused from paying dues. There was a post-it note in President Yamamoto’s handwriting that said,” Tousen made finger quotes, “‘Zaraki fixed my car, excused from dues.’”

Byakuya scowled. “That doesn’t seem… sufficient… it is of no matter.” He grabbed the bed sheet covering his posterboard, and dramatically swept it away. It would have been more dramatic if the bedsheet weren’t covered in Chappy rabbits, but there was no way he was bringing one of his own 800-thread counts into a house that contained cats.

“I have been closely watching Mr. Zaraki’s residence for the last few months, as his rear yard backs to mine, and I believe he may be operating a fight club in his garden on weekends. They do move into the garage if the weather is unpleasant.”

A hush fell over the room, except for Isane and Ukitake Juushirou, who were discussing the merits of blind-baking pie crusts.

“Er, sorry, did I miss something?” Juushirou asked apologetically, after realizing he was the only person talking.

“Kenpachi seems to be running some sort of fight club,” his scruffy husband supplied, looking deeply confused, as usual.

“Goodness!” Juushirou exclaimed. “Are you sure?”

Byakuya cleared his throat. “Allow me to present the evidence I have gathered.” He picked up two large binders, and handed one to Soi Fon in the front row, and the other to Aizen, who immediately passed his, unopened, to Ichimaru. “There are about two dozen disreputable personages who are frequently found loitering about the premises. The first page of the binder indexes each of them by a descriptive nickname, including times I have seen them. Photographic evidence follows.”

“They seem to be washing cars in most of these photos,” Soi Fon pointed out, flipping a page back and forth. Or are they fixing the cars? I can’t tell.”

Komamura craned his head over, curiously. “Wow, is that a ‘73 Stingray? Nice.”

“Yes, they also like to get together to maintain and detail their vehicles,” Byakuya snapped. “Usually at ungodly hours of the morning. I am almost positive that many of those cars do not employ catalytic converters. In any case, it is easier to take pictures of them during the day.”

“Looks like they like to spray each other with hoses, too,” Gin noted, waggling his eyebrows. “Why are there so many pictures of this one guy with the red hair and tattoos? He sure doesn’t like to wear a shirt, does he?” Aizen appeared to be leaning to the side, trying to look at the book out of the corner of his eye.

“My dutiful sister did the photographic surveillance! She is very thorough, and I appreciated the help!” All these questions were knocking Byakuya off his game. He smacked his pointer against the poster. “May I direct your attention to Figure A, a bar chart of traffic on his street vs. hours of the day.”

“Tell us more about the fight club,” Soi Fon interrupted, shoving her binder over to Komamura. “Are there weapons involved, blunted or otherwise? How many people usually show up? Is it held regularly, or do you suspect there’s, say, an email list or something?”

“I think it’s some sort of mixed martial arts,” Byakuya said, rubbing his forehead. “There are often up to a dozen of them, but sometimes it’s as few as three or four.”

“You know, I’m looking through the bylaws,” Aizen said, turning pages in the bylaw binder without actually looking at them, “and I’m not exactly clear on whether fight clubs are actually… you know, forbidden.”

“They’re illegal,” Byakuya bit off.

“Per-haaaps,” Aizen drew out. “But what really constitutes… a ‘fight club,’ am I right? I mean, Dr. Unohana teaches kickboxing classes in her basement studio, is that a fight club?”

“No,” Byakuya replied.

“Exactly, and we wouldn’t want her to be painted with the same brush for just trying to teach other women the arts of self-defense, now would we?”

“It’s not for self-defense,” Unohana clarified.

“Or what about having a bunch of friends over and hitting each other with foam swords while you pretend to be werewolves?” Ichimaru broke in cheerfully. “That’s just our rights as citizens, to pretend to be werewolves in our basements with our friends.”

“It’s a tabletop RPG,” Komamura growled. “I am not a LARPer. There are no weapons. Also, you really do not need to bring it up every single board meeting. It is a perfectly normal adult hobby that I do to spend quality time with my friends.”

“Speaking of which,” Gin turned his binder of pictures around, “isn’t this guy in your group? With the sunglasses?”

“Hmm?” Komamura flipped a few pages. “Oh, huh, yeah, that’s Iba.”

“Surely a good friend of yours wouldn’t have anything to do with an illegal fight club, eh, Mr. Komamura?” Aizen suggested.

Komamura made a non-commital grumble. “I mean, I could ask him if it’s a fight club, if you want me to.”

“I have yet to hear any evidence that supports the existence of this so-called ‘fight club,” Tousen broke in.

“That’s because I keep getting interrupted, I have an audio recording and also some several emergency room admission records--”

“Mr. Zaraki is an upstanding citizen of our town and a devoted father,” Tousen continued. “Are you suggesting that Mr. Zaraki is not a responsible parent?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Byakuya mused.

“Juushirou, you and Shunsui babysit for little Yachiru all the time, don’t you?” Aizen asked sweetly. “Have you ever seen any evidence that she isn’t the sweetest little girl in the entire world?”

Toushirou raised his hand. “Excuse me? She is a menace, actually?”

“Oh, no, Yachiru is always a ray of sunshine!” Juushirou beamed. “Very active child.”

“Eats a lot,” Kyouraku added.

The edges of Byakuya’s vision were beginning to bleed into red. “We are not talking about the Zaraki child--who, by the way, buried an entire ham in my prize tulip bed--”

“It sounds like you have a grudge against the entire family, Kuchiki,” Aizen replied mildly. “These board meetings are not a venue for airing your petty grievances.”

“You are not even listening! If you would just turn to page--”

“I think you’ve wasted enough of everyone’s time.” Aizen turned his doe eyes to the audience. “Is there anyone here who wants to invest any more energy listening to Byakuya’s vitriol?”

Byakuya looked out over his audience, looking for an ally. Komamura shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The Kyouraku-Ukitakes refused to make eye contact. Unohana was reading a magazine about decorative wreaths. Toushirou raised his hand again with a helpful smile, but no one actually ever cared what he thought.

“Soi Fon, you’re an actual police officer!” he begged.

“It’s just a fight club,” Soi Fon shrugged.

Byakuya was desperate. “Dr. Kurotsuchi?”

Kurotsuchi looked up from his phone. “Eh?”

“Have you been paying attention to any of this?”

“Of course not, I only come for the snacks.”

Byakuya gritted his teeth. “Zaraki is running a fight club and these fools wish us to turn our heads and look the other way.”

“Well, it’s not a very good fight club,” Kurotsuchi agreed. “I’ve been. They don’t allow poisoned weapons and the beverage selection is quotidian at best.”

“You see! You see, right there, Kurotsuchi has even attended! That’s proof that a) it exists and b) it defames the character of the neighborhood!”

“I’m declaring this issue closed,” Aizen replied breezily. “And Kuchiki, I really think you should try to get along better with Kenpachi. You are neighbors, after all.” He brightened. “Oh, I know! We’ve got the community yard sale coming up in June. Why don’t you go ask him if he wants to join the planning committee?”

“Byakuya… will...ask....Zaraki...to chair…the yard sale planning committee,” Gin read aloud as he wrote it into the minutes.

“I agreed to no such thing!” Byakuya howled.

“Onto the next topic!” Aizen chirped. “Trash pickup happens every Friday at 7am and a few of our neighbors have been leaving their bins out as late as noon.”

Later, after the meeting, as Byakuya was packing up his binders and his posterboard, Aizen walked up to him, munching on a rhubarb scone. “Really nice presentation, Byakuya. Good fonts, well cited, you obviously put a ton of work into it. Also, that Zaraki is a blight on the neighborhood. Ideally, he would be thrown in prison.”

Byakuya stared at Vice-Presiden Aizen, mouth agape. “Then why did you and your cronies ruin my presentation and shut me down at every turn?”

Aizen’s eyes narrowed. His mouth curved into a cold smile. Light glinted off his glasses. “You dared to usurp my rightful place as the winner of the Spring Spirit Most Beautiful Yard competition.”

Byakuya blinked at him blankly. “You cared about that? A man’s lawn is his pride. I keep my yard beautiful as a matter of principle, not for some silly competition.”

“You pay for a lawn service. You shouldn’t have even been eligible.”

Byakuya didn’t even recall entering, he’d just received a letter that he’d won, and a festive yard sign appeared next to his front walk, which he had immediately removed and thrown in the garbage. “The prize was a gift certificate to a miserable chain restaurant. I would give it to you, except that I already gave it to my sister to go out with her hooligan friends. They are perpetually short on funds. I could get you another one, I suppose. The amount was paltry enough, although I was given to understand that the place offers ‘unlimited breadsticks’.”

“It’s too late for that,” Aizen declared. “You have made a powerful enemy. You will feel my revenge in a thousand cuts.”

Byakuya wondered how much of a hassle it would be to just move. He’d heard there were some nice houses over in Karakura Acres.

~end

Shinigami’s Cup: GOLDEN!

“Do you think it would help if I infiltrated the fight club?”

“I appreciate your zeal, Sister, but, no, I do not think it would help.”

“Because I think I might have an in. I feel like I would be really good at going undercover. I could wear a body mic.”

“Rukia, you know I have the utmost faith in you, but are not even five feet tall. I do not, in any way, see how you could realistically ingratiate yourself to an organization populated by large, lumpy men whose raison d’etre is to clobber each other in the face.”

“I have cat-like reflexes! I am really good at dodging and weaving!”

“Rukia.”

“And I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube videos about muscle cars. Go on, ask me something about Dodge Chargers!”

“Rukia.”

“I even ripped the sleeves of an old t-shirt, I look super tough in it. Please, Byakuya, please can I?”

“All right, fine. But do not drink any alcoholic beverages that have ‘light�� or ‘ice’ in the title. It is against our pride as Kuchiki.”

“Thank you Brother, you’re the best!!”

#my writing #wacky au requests #is this...the first time i have written aizen?#wait i wrote some aizen in a flashback scene of a little in love #i do not write very much aizen #it was...kinda fun #the man is petty as hell and i am here for it

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