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wolfish-chan · 3 months

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More of my batfam headcanons since you guys liked them

- After Dick moves out, Alfred finds Bruce in Dick’s old bedroom staring aimlessly

- Sometimes, especially in the beginning years as Batman, Bruce has days where he can’t stand to look in the mirror because those aren’t his eyes staring back at him — they’re Martha’s

- There’s a lullaby that all of the family knows because Alfred would sing it to them on their hardest nights, even when they were adults

- Alfred has made the habit of becoming fluent in all the languages his family speaks

- Bruce tries to do the same, but he’s not nearly as fluent. There’s still a lot of proper pronunciation he can’t get right and the kids make fun of him for it constantly

- Alfred speaks with them in their preferred language as often as possible, but usually sticks to English when they’re all together

- Everyone is a polyglot, except Cass, who currently only knows English and ASL

- Cass doesn’t speak often, as she’s still not used to having the ability to, but she wants to become a polyglot eventually, too. Her brothers help her practice

- It’s become a running joke amongst Bruce’s kids that whenever Father’s Day rolls around, they make cards for Alfred instead of Bruce

- Alfred keeps every single one

- No one has any idea what Alfred’s room looks like. Stephanie is convinced he doesn’t have one and that he sleeps in the cave (“I’m telling you guys! He sleeps upside down like a bat!”)

- Bruce is impossible to sneak up on, unless it’s Cass. She likes jumping out from behind corners and spooking him.

- He doesn’t react aside from throwing whatever is in his hands into the air. One time he threw an entire cup of hot coffee in his own face without so much as blinking

- Tim absolutely despises Country music, but Kon listens to it non stop and it’s drives Tim crazy because it’ll get stuck in his head for weeks on end

- Dick and Wally love going to haunted houses together, but only the intense ones where you have to sign a waiver

- They tried to take Starfire with them once, but she knocked out one of the employees when they jumped out at her so she now has a permanent ban

- Dick used to keep those alphabet fridge magnets at his apartment, but he kept finding them rearranged to spell swears and he still has no idea who was doing it

- Tim has a photographic memory which he uses to spout off random facts when someone annoys him

- Bruce: “try that again and I bench you” 13-year old Tim: “well did you know pigeons can be trained to tell the difference between Picasso and Monet paintings” Bruce: “okay”

- All of the younger bats think Jason was the problem child, but it’s actually Dick. Bruce tells them this constantly and they never believe him

- Jason doesn’t visit the manor often, but when he does, he always makes sure no one’s home. He’ll sit in his childhood bedroom that Alfred has kept immaculately clean with all the lights off for hours. He slips out as soon as he hears someone come home

- Jason chooses to ignore that his bedsheets are always newly washed because he knows Alfred is doing it in case he ever decides to come home

- He doesn’t know that Alfred used to do it when Jason was dead, too

- Alfred only ever lets Duke wash dishes because he’s the only one he can trust not to break them

- Dick is ridiculously good at juggling

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amalthiaph · 1 month

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✨TECH WOULD'VE LOVED THOSE POUCHES✨

Howzer for Extraction bec I forgot we had two episodes this week lol

Who else lives in the eastern hemisphere and are staying up for The Acolyte trailer?

And for today's unsolicited life update: I nearly threw hands with a thirteen-year-old.

Link to the rest of this series:

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #tbb s3 #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb howzer #captain howzer #tbb #star wars #small artist #artists on tumblr #amalthiaph #the bad batch actors au

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mrchiipchrome · 6 months

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Once In A Lifetime

W.C.- 3 k

prompt 103. -I won't let you down.

prompt 107. -I haven’t seen you in a long time.

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June 17th 2011, a date that was etched in your brain forever, for it was the day you met your soulmate. In a large town situated in the northeast of Australia, a shy Swedish girl met an outgoing Aussie girl, roughly her age.

It was hard not to notice the gorgeous girl, and even harder for your 7 year old self not to stare at her. The way her movements were so gracious made you slightly envious, the ball at her feet moving smoothly as she kicked it back and forth.

The ball smacking you right in the face breaks you out of the trance the girl with the pretty eyes had put you in, the sudden momentum brings you down to the ground. Your parents, like always, weren’t paying you any attention, they wanted you to be ‘independent’.

“I’m so sorry! I was just trying to kick the ball at the goal but it went over, and I’m sorry.” The pretty girl was kneeling beside you, her eyes locked on yours. Dora had taught you a lot, but not how to decipher quickly strung together sentences of pretty girls with Australian accents.

“It is…no problem?” The nameless girl helps you into a sitting position, her eyebrows knitting together at the strange dialect that came with your words. It was foreign, that much she knew.

“I’m Mary” She sticks out a hand towards you eagerly, nearly thrusting it in your face. You grasp her warm hand in yours tentatively, sweaty palm meeting hers.

“My name is Y/n.” You reply, face red hot from the heat of the new country and from the girl in front of you.

“So, Y/n , do you want to play football with me?” She flashes you her pearly whites in a full face smile. Mary points down at the ball laying haphazardly beside you, picking it up and throwing it between her fingertips.

She smiles again when your head moves up and down frantically, pulling you back up on your feet as she leads you onto the pitch.

“Okay, you go in the goal!” She points at the goal of the small pitch, barely letting you get between the posts before she sends a ball towards you.

The sky turns dark after a couple of hours of throwing yourself on the ground to prevent the ball from rolling into the goal. You had improved greatly in the last few hours, that much Mary could admit.

“Hey Y/n, come here tomorrow at 12!” She calls out to your retreating form, seeing your thumb pointing upwards in agreement.

And in between the goalposts she found you the day after, t-shirt and shorts letting the rough pitch scratch at your arms and legs as you threw yourself left and right.

“Where are you from?” She asks one day, sitting beside you on that pitch you’d first met each other only months before. Your English has greatly improved, with the help of the pretty girl beside you of course.

“Sweden” Short and curt, there were days where you just couldn’t find it in you to string together more than a few words.

“Can you teach me Swedish?!” Mary asks excitedly, the now 8 year old you smiling up at the slightly taller girl. She throws her arms around your shoulders when you nod, your back hitting the ground with a soft thud.

You wrap your arms around the older girl, albeit reluctantly. Affectionate touch isn’t something you were used to.

Days, weeks, months and eventually, years passed. Mary and you stayed best friends all throughout the phases of growing up. The chemistry you had on and off the pitch confused most people, they’d see you with your arms around each other, lips pressed to the other’s hairline or cheek. There was barely anything platonic there left, and everyone except you two seemed to know.

The once innocent 7 and 8 year old girls were now two deeply (and secretly) in love 13 and 14 year olds. The two of you were peas in a pod, never able to find one without the other, well until that dreadful October night.

Four knocks in rapid succession wakes the sleeping girl, the firm taps to her window differing from the soft patter of the rain against her roof.

She rubs her eyes sleepily, turning her desk lamp on as she makes her way over to the window. The blinds cover your devastated expression, although not for very long as she pulls them back, revealing your tearstained face.

The window opens with a creak, Mary grabbing the back of your hoodie to drag you in through the small opening. You hit the floor with a loud thud, groaning as your shoulder smashes into the hard ground.

Sitting up, you lean back against the corner of her soft bed, the soft bed you’d slept in so many times before. You refuse to meet the forward’s gaze, tears welling up in your eyes at the mere thought of telling her.

She throws herself down next to you, Mary’s arm pulling your body into her own. The simple touch releases the floodgates, sobs echoing around the room, her hand moving up and down your arm soothingly.

“What’s happening, huh? Why are you so upset?” Mary’s heart broke at seeing you so sad, so devastated.

“I’m fucking moving” The words are hardly audible, mumbled into her shoulder through sobs. Tears slip down your face, colouring the Australian’s sleep shirt a darker shade of blue.

“What?! No, this is some joke. Where?” Her hand stills for a few seconds before she continues her ministrations.

“Back to Sweden. They got a ‘better job’ there, they never think of how I’m going to react, they just say yes to anything.” You cry to the older girl, who clutches you that much tighter, her head laying on top of yours.

“When do you go?” She whispers into the damp October air, lips moving to the sound of her own voice. Sniffling fills the tense silence, moving your hand up wipe away the salty tears painting tracks down your face. It comes down to land on her knee, gripping it with all your might.

“Umm…two weeks or something.” She brings one of your hands up to her lips, pressing them to the back of it. Neither of you were ready to live without the other, you were dependent upon each other.

“Well then lovely, we’ll just have to make these next two weeks the best ever possible.” Her body pulls away from yours, starring you right in the eyes.

Neither you nor Mary anticipate it. It just happens naturally, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that has fireworks exploding in your stomach. The delicate embrace is a confession of love, a promise to love each other forever, even if it’s from afar.

It’s simple, the love you share. It’s deeper than an ‘I love you’, deeper than the deepest point of the earth. And yet the simplicity didn’t explain why, how, when, or anything really. It was just there, underlying.

The two weeks are spent sharing kisses with your best friend under the sheets of her bed. Thankfully, Mary’s parents had basically unofficially adopted you, so they had no problem with you staying with them until you had to move.

Your parents barely even noticed your absence, too caught up in work to even think of you.

With everything you had to leave in Australia, you left part of your heart. The people around you, your family, and most importantly, Mary.

“Promise me you’ll go all the way beautiful. That you’ll become the best.” You whisper in her ear, about to go through security. The resentment you held for your parents had quadrupled the last few weeks, your home wasn’t in Sweden anymore, it was in Australia. It was in the form of a brown eyed beauty that had captured both your heart and soul.

“I promise lovely, I won’t let you down.” She looks around, your parents as always were preoccupied with their phones, and hers? They looked away as soon as she shot them a look.

Your person takes hold of your face and places one last kiss to your lips, taking her time to make sure you feel all her love in the kiss.

“Hey, beautiful! You’ll always be my person!” She turns around, flashing you one of her signature smiles, tears streaming down her face like they were down yours.

With one last wave, the best chapter of your life closes.

“Kom igen Y/n, det är tid att åka hem.” Your ‘mother’ tries to give you a reassuring smile, her bony hand laying on your shoulder.

It falls with a swift movement from you, tearing your shoulder away from her.

“Sverige är inte mitt hem längre M/n, Australien är.” You mutter angrily, your mother’s firm glare locked on you.

“Y/n Y/l/n, jag vet att det inte är den bästa situationen för dig just nu, men vi är dina föräldrar och vi bestämmer.” The man who dared to call himself your father told you sternly.

“Mycket till föräldrar har ni ju inte varit, en sten hade gjort ett bättre jobb än er två.” The two strangers in front of you look at each other, not caring enough to reprimand you. They didn’t know you either.

Hugging the blanket Mary had given you the night before closer to your chest, you could feel the love radiating off it.

———

A few years in Sweden and you were back home, back in Australia.

As soon as you turned 18 you moved out, changing your last name to one of your grandmother's maiden name, your so called parents had nothing to do with your footballing success. After all, you had signed your first professional contract at the age of 16.

And apparently you had a worthy enough season with your team that you were called up for the World Cup.

Of course you had your emotional support blanket with you, the old thing had lost all of her scent long ago and yet it was still there with you as a good luck charm.

“Y/n how are you not falling asleep right now?” Nathalie Björn questions you, seemingly amazed by your ability to stay awake for hours upon end.

“BabyBjörn have you forgotten that I’ve done this so many times before?” She looks at you astonished, maybe you had forgotten to tell them after all…

“Did I forget to tell you all that I lived in Australia for nearly seven years?” You ask, scratching your head in confusion.

“WHAT” “NÄE DET GJORDE DU JU INTE” and more expressions of surprise cling out through the plane.

“I have pictures to back me up, wait a sec and I’ll pull them up.” Your computer holds all your old memories, all the pictures flooding from the folder you had them in.

The interested parties crowd around your seat, pushing and shoving each other for a better view.

“Right so this is at the airport, basically the only picture my biological parents took. I think I was seven there.”

You continue to click through the photos, narrating as you go along. When you eventually reach the last one, the questions start flooding in.

“Who’s that girl in all the pictures?” One of them asks, you turning to look at your captain in confusion.

“Me?”

“No, the other girl” She slaps the back of your head lightly.

“Oh, she’s the best person I’ve ever met, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.” The soft smile that paints your lips at the thought of her made your teammates smile too.

“You were in love?” Another one of the yellow clad players asks, them all having seen the pure love in your eyes as you looked at the pictures of the girl.

“Am” The team decided to leave you alone after that, you deciding to look at the pictures in the folder once again.

“Is it just me or did that girl look like Mary Fowler?” Filippa asks Björn, the two of them agreeing silently.

—————

Getting knocked out in the semifinal hurt. You were nearly there, in the final. But now you had no choice but to settle for the bronze medal match.

Like usual, you were starting on the bench. You couldn’t even be mad at the decision, Zesse had been playing magnificently all tournament long.

As the first goal came along you were screaming and jumping up from your seat, causing complete ruckus. One step closer to victory.

At halftime the elation can be felt all throughout the locker room, many slapping Zesse’s back for her incredible saves so far. The tactics and pep talk reinforces the spirit of the team before the second half begins.

In the 47th minute the host country gets a corner, a corner that results in your goalie laying on the pitch, clutching her head.

The medics are out quick, your coach looking at you.

“Y/n, go stretch, you’re going on.” The coach tells you, the bright bib being pulled off hastily. The substitution board goes up, showing off your number to be subbed in.

You feel the eyes of thousands on you, maybe the most people you’d ever had look at you, and yet her eyes are the ones you want to look at you the most.

The eyes that captured your soul all those years ago, the eyes you ultimately met when you walked past her and onto the pitch. The eyes that didn’t quite seem to recognize you fully, the eyes that scanned your tall frame.

Under the watchful eyes of thousands of Australians, you had what might’ve been the best game of your lifetime, leading your team to victory over the hosting nation.

Loud cheers in Swedish follow the three loud beeps of the whistle, the bronze medal finally yours. You run towards your friends, capturing them in big bear hugs and spinning them around.

But when you look at the Australians, more specifically Mary, you don’t have it in you to celebrate anymore. Instead you approach a few of them who are standing up, conversing quietly with tentative steps.

You speak up quietly, telling them that they did amazingly and even getting a few compliments in return. But the women could see that your eyes were drifting away from them every few seconds and towards one of their teammates. Excusing yourself politely, you make your way over to her sitting form.

You plop yourself down beside her, arms over your knees as your fingers pick at the grass. You can feel her eyes studying you, looking at your side profile.

“I’m sorry for not keeping in touch with you beautiful, it was pretty hard when you didn’t have a phone.” Your eyes are fixated on a ball in the distance.

Her sniffles remind you of when you told her you were moving, only this time it’s you who pulls her crying form into your now taller body.

It’s only when you look into her eyes properly that she seems to recognise you fully.

“Y/n?!” Reminiscent of all those times when you were younger, the older girl throws herself into your arms, yours wrapping around her protectively. Her tears wets the skin between your shoulder and neck, the two of you laying on a pitch like you always had been.

“I know pretty girl, we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” She smiles up at you, rolling off your body and onto the floor.

Holding hands, the two of you can’t help but catch up. It had been a few years since you’d talked after all.

“I’m proud of you and the person you’ve turned out to be, Y/n.” The tear that falls down your cheek is wiped away by the girl, hands warm as ever.

“I’m proud of you too, Mary.”

“Can I get your shirt?” She asks timidly, hands fiddling with her own.

“Of course love” Taking it off and handing it to her, you’re standing in only the usual sports bra, waiting for her to give you the Australian jersey that sits upon her shoulders. Instead you see her eyes shifting to the left, mischievous spark lighting them up.

In a millisecond, she takes off running with your shirt still in her hand. Chasing after her, you’re not nearly as fast as the forward and still you chase her, yearning for the usual laughter that follows it.

The freeing feeling of running around the pitch catches up to you, Mary’s laughter echoing in your ears. It makes you laugh too, in the end you’re both laying on the ground laughing like maniacs.

“Can I get your jersey now, beautiful?” You ask when the laughter has died down, her hands moving to peel her jersey from her body. When it’s off she hands it to you, putting yours on.

“You look good in Swedish colours, beautiful.” You kiss her hand softly, twirling her around so that you can see her from all angles.

“And you’d look even better in Aussie ones, love.” You hummed in response, looking around at your teammates who had looked on in confusion.

“I think we might need to tell them all why we’re hugging and laughing” Her hands clutch onto your arm as you lead her over to your team.

"Tjejer, det här är flickan från bilderna.” You tell them, the girl beside you waving timidly in your goalkeeper kit.

“Hej!” She says, the other women around you lighting up at her use of the Swedish greeting.

As everyone else is talking with your girl, you can’t take your eyes off her. But you do see the satisfied expression on Angeldahl’s face as she nods to Björn. Those two were always up to something…

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Translations;

Kom igen Y/n, det är tid att åka hem - Come on Y/n, it's time to go home.

Sverige är inte mitt hem längre M/n, Australien är - Sweden's not my home anymore M/n, Australia is

Y/n Y/l/n, jag vet att det inte är den bästa situationen för dig just nu, men vi är dina föräldrar och vi bestämmer - Y/n Y/l/n, I know that this situation isn't ideal for you, bur we're your parents and we decide what's best.

Mycket till föräldrar har ni ju inte varit, en sten hade gjort ett bättre jobb än er två. - You two are barely my parents, a rock could've done a better job at raising me than you two.

BabyBjörn - a type of baby carrier from sweden

NÄE DET GJORDE DU JU INTE - NO YOU DIDN'T

Hej - Hi

#woso x reader #auswnt x reader #aussie week #mary fowler #mary fowler x reader #auswnt #woso #woso imagines

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the-black-bulls · 8 months

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Realization of the Day:

(⚠ huge manga spoilers for anime only below)

Yami is an actually pretty darn tragic character if you take five mins to think about it and take a good look at his history; I managed a quote based on this as a joke here, but he's indeed covered nearly every sad and tragic backstory trope in the book.

Let's see... he lost his mother who died from childbirth when he's 5-6 years old, and spent the better part of his childhood on pointless and intense training by his abusive, sexist, daughter-beater, war obsessed father; and then at the age of 13 said father forced a freaking drug on his baby sister and Yami had to witness the massacre of their clan by her hand before he took down his father for once and all to protect her before he stopped her and held the weight of all her crimes on his shoulders and left his hometown to never return again.

Then... he shipwrecked, barely surviving death, on an unwelcoming land and suffered from language barrier, culture shock, xenophobia and about every typical "Why Clover Kingdom is the Worst Kingdom in the World" key point, all lasted for two years until he turned 15 and recieved his grimoire, but prior and shortly after to it Yami was pretty much on his own with no one else to rely on or a home to return to.

The... things got better, no? He met the Faust Bros, he met Julius, he was offered a roof to sleep under and a chance to start fresh; 15 years lad who's already suffered a lot but ready to live and learn against all the odds with Nacht as his partner in crime and Morgen as his best friend... and then they both got screwed up years later when Yami, at the age of 18, wasn't around, so he only got to face the loss through a visit to the latter's grave while the former grieved his brother's death, and Yami never stopped smoking ever since.

It was right then and there when Yami decided, enough's enough, and promised to create a squad that became a home for the unlucky who shared some of Yami's experience in his past, be it the abusive family, lost of a beloved one, crippling loneliness, crime burdens, being unfit to the norms, and the list goes on. My favorite example is a threeway tie between Noelle, who is pretty much Ichika if Ichika didn't have an amazing brother, and Gauche, whose first meeting with Yami makes a hell lot of sense now that we know Yami also had a sister he threw his life for her sake, and finally Nero, who will never be able to return to her old life and is fairly content about it because she's too loyal to the person she loves to cry over homesickness.

Yami has been there, done that, experienced those, and is still going through some TraumaWorthyBullshit™ right now, and while he rarely shows negative signs of what he's been through, I like to think that he offers the Black Bulls what he always wanted to be offered.

That, by accepting them and letting them live however they want, but above all, by giving them a safe place to belong to.

In short, the Black Bulls is Yami's way to deal with the bullshit that's his lifetime worth of trauma. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#raise your hand if you love yami #it's yami loving hours #not a quote #black clover #black clover meta #the black bulls #...and people have the nerve to downplay yami's hardships #ichika yami #black clover manga #long post #yami's relationship with the faust bros needs its own post #so does his similarities with the bulls especially gauche

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klbwriting · 3 months

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Adventures In Atlantean-Sitting

Chapter 13

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence

Summary: YN goes to save Orm

Notes: Here it is, the end! I hope you enjoyed! Comments/critiques are appreciated

Orm waited until they were halfway to the beach before he started fighting the guards. His hands were bound so he threw his weight into one of soldiers holding him, knocking him to the ground, causing the other to let go of Orm in surprise. Orm jumped back, dodging as another guard tried to grab him. He started to run when a shot passed his head, nearly clipping him. He stopped and turned. Orlan was holding the pulsar, now aimed right for Orm’s head. Orlan’s eyes were narrow, his face reddened.

“The next one will kill you; I don��t care if the council wants you alive,” he said. The guards watched as he approached Orm, grabbing onto his arm roughly. “I have wanted to kill you for years, do not tempt me now, my son is supposed to do the honor.” His voice was low so only Orm could hear but it just confirmed his suspicions. Leo was going to ‘attack’ the convoy taking Orm back to Atlantis and he was meant to be a casualty in the crossfire. He let Orlan guide him back to the others and let the soldiers take hold of him again. The whole delay was only around two minutes, he just hoped that was enough time for YN and Arthur to get ready.

YN noticed the beach was quiet, she and Arthur were seemingly the only ones around. They were currently holed up in lifeguard’s shack, watching for signs of Leo and any men he had brought. Arthur had contacted Mera, Nereus, and Atlanna, they were ready and waiting in the shallows. Arthur was antsy, wanting to get this over with and hopefully get his power back. He didn’t realize what he could do with the power he had until he lost it. Already the council was trying to undo his work in bridging the gap between the surface and the sea and he needed to be reinstated to get back on track. YN just wanted to get Orm back to her cottage and their life together. Finally, she saw Orlan and his guards with Orm, walking him down the beach.

“Hold until Leo shows himself,” YN said, noticing Arthur getting ready to throw open the door. He eyed her.

“I am a king you know,” he grumbled. She rolled her eyes. He hmphed and sat back again, watching.

They had just passed the lifeguard shack when Leo and nearly a dozen Atlanteans emerged from under the boardwalk nearby. They aimed their weapons at Orlan and the guards. YN watched the guards. They seemed genuinely confused, Orlan, however, was probably the worst actor she had ever seen.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice louder than necessary. Leo smirked and became just as bad an actor as his father.

“I have come to take my revenge from the tyrant king for trying to banish us,” Leo said. “Step aside and you will not die today, leave the prisoner with me for execution.” Orlan held up a hand.

“Enough, we do not need to shed blood tod…” he never finished. Leo shot his father in the chest. This was surprising. Arthur, YN, and the rest of those hiding came out of their places, weapons ready, but confused.

“Finally,” Leo said. “Come on, I am going to kill that bastard king, but I was so tired to dancing to that idiot’s tune.” His men all aimed their weapons as the guards, ready to fire.

“Stop!” Arthur yelled. Leo rolled his eyes.

“Why? What could you, a half-breed, possibly say to stop this?” he asked. YN was reminded of a petulant child who needed a nap. Arthur stepped forward, next to Orm. Leo re-aimed at Arthur.

“Whoa, calm down there Terminator, I just want to know why you shot your dad, weren’t you both trying some kind of coup?” he asked. Leo let out an aggravated breath.

“Yes, but that old asshole would have just used the coup to become King of Atlantis. Why just Atlantis?” he asked. “So now, I kill everyone and then I…take over everything. Where Orm tried to be Ocean Master I will become Ocean Master, I will take Atlan’s trident from your cold dead hands, and then after I am ruler of the seas I will come here to the surface, now, fire away.” His men tried to fire but found their weapons useless. “What the hell?” YN held up a device, red light blinking on it.

“O, sorry, those are useless now thanks to my friend here,” she said. She put the device in a pocket and held up another, a tranquilizer gun. She was able to get off two shots, taking out two of Leo’s men before he started hand to hand combat. Orm moved aside, going to a guard who, after a few moments of contemplation, freed him from his restraints. He wasn’t given a weapon, but he didn’t need one. Arthur and Atlanna fought together with their tridents while Mera sent sharpened water with pinpoint accuracy. The Atlantean soldiers who had come with Orlan fought also. All the while YN was dodging, firing tranqualizer darts at any of Leo’s men. She finally was able to sneak up behind Leo, pressing a tack into his neck and holding her Atlantean dagger to his throat.

“Hold!” Leo yelled. He only had a couple fighting soldiers left but everyone froze at his cry. YN glared, looking at him. Nereus darted off, going to get reinforcements from Atlantis. “Going to kill me surface scum?”

“I should, for everything you’ve done, for hurting people in my city, for trying to kill me, for trying to frame Orm. I should kill you, but I don’t think they want me to do that, they need someone to arrest and prosecute,” she said. Leo laughed. “Something funny?”

“Who is going to arrest me? This is clearly an attack that Orm and you planned. I was trying to help my father contain the threat when you killed him, and his men, and then tried to kill me,” he said. Atlanna shook her head.

“I do not think anyone will believe your story Leo,” she said. “We have proof of everything that has happened here.” She motioned to the camera on top of the lifeguard shack. Leo glared, snarling. He moved, surprising YN, knocking her back into the sand and disarming her. He turned, bringing the dagger she had just been holding down, the tip just inches from her chest when a strong hand grabbed his wrist. Orm used all his strength, knowing that Leo had none at the moment, and threw the man to the ground.

“You almost killed her once and I promised that the next time I saw you I would kill you,” Orm said, grabbing the knife himself. He picked Leo to stand, the knife once again at his throat. YN stood, putting her hand to Orm’s shoulder. He took a deep breath. YN wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want him to kill again, cause more pain and bloodshed. “But I don’t think I will.” He pushed Leo towards Arthur, who had him restrained along with the rest of his men. The victors lined the prisoners up on the beach just in time for the council and more soldiers to arrive. By then Orm and YN were safe in the shack, hiding out again.

Arthur showed the video to the council, explaining that Orm had been caught, along with the traitor from the surface, however Leo had intervened, and they had disappeared in the fighting. Atlanna also presented the evidence they had found that cleared Orm of the surface attacks. He was still wanted for his escape from the deserter prison and for trying to hurt the heir to the throne, but these attacks were not his. The council seemed satisfied, taking Leo and his men back to Atlantis. Once everything was clear Orm and YN returned to the cottage.

“Do you think we should find a new place to live?” YN asked a few weeks later. She was nervous, wondering if the council would return. Arthur assured her that his power was back in place and that the council thought Orm and her were far away, in Russia, and they were safe. But she still worried. Orm walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind as they looked out the front window. “No, I think we are safe here, in our witch’s house in the woods,” he said, kissing her head. She smiled and leaned to him, taking a deep breath. They were still in hiding, but at least they weren’t alone.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries5

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nordicpoppie · 2 months

Text

Mafia au - You're protective of his child - Hyung line

This is a mafia reaction, meaning guns, cursing and violence and the like may be mentioned (Nothing too much in detail in this one) In this reaction reader is NOT the birth mother of the child, which is why members will be surprised or happy reader is so protective…even if it’s overprotectiveness heheee The kids are NOT toddlers in this one, they are anywhere between 6 and 15 years old, so sorry if you wanted toddlers XD Y/N → Your Name

Jin (13 years old)

“Are you sure you don’t need me or your dad to walk with you? I’d be more than happy to, even if it’s just halfway there”

You said while Yerin, Jin's daughter threw her jacket on. Jin had, for some reason you couldn’t comprehend, allowed her to walk to school, with no guards.

At the start of your relationship with Jin, you hadn't even known he had a daughter. And you had been confused many times by his protective tendencies, but as you’d later found out, that was because of his “job”. As a part of the mafia, he needed to protect those closest to him, which meant you and Yerin always had at least 1 guard with you.

Over time his tendencies to be overprotective had rubbed off on you, except you were a little less, “lets fire guns”, and more of a “let's stay inside”.

You reluctantly handed Yerin her bag, as she stretched her arms out for it. Then smiled tightly at her as she smiled brightly saying her goodbyes to you, before she closed the door behind her.

As soon as the door was closed you rushed through the hallways, reaching Jin's study in no time. You threw the door open without bothering knocking first.

“Jin, why are you letting her walk without her guards? Or even just one of us?”

Staring harshly at him, not caring that he was clearly busy with some papers, while Namjoon and Yoongi leaned over the desk.

Jin slowly raised his gaze to you, while Yoongi quietly sniggered under his breath at your anger. The look Jin sent you almost sent you reeling, he looked confused, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Your daughter Jin, Yerin? You just let her walk out the door ALONE!”

You hissed angrily at him, your arm gesturing to where the front door was located.

“She’s not alone though?”

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, the only person who had walked out the door was Yerin. As you opened your mouth to explain that, Jin interrupted you.

“Jungkook is shadowing her, and he’s picking her up from school later today too”

His brows were still pinched in slight confusion, how could even think he would let his precious daughter leave without a guard.

“O-oh, I just, she said she would be walking…Alone”

You trailed off as a slight blush made its appearance on your cheeks. Desperate to find a way to escape the now almost embarrassing situation you made up a lousy excuse.

“I’ll just…Uh…Start cooking”

With that you made your escape out of the door, only making it a few steps down the hallway before Jin grabbed you by the arm. He wore a huge smirk on his face, and you could hear Yoongi cackling from inside his office.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to beat me when it comes to being a worrywart, baby”

Yoongi (6 years old)

“Dad?”

A small voice called from the entrance of the living room. You and Yoongi were currently lounging on the couch, watching a show, having put his son to bed just 30 minutes earlier.

Yoongi turned to face Hyun, while you grabbed the remote to pause the show.

“Dad, can i have a gun in my room, I think there’s someone under my bed”

You nearly choked on your spit at his words, feeling Yoongi's arm stiffen around your shoulders. Yoongi knew you hated guns and violence with a passion, hell, he had been frightened you’d leave, when you first found out he was in the mafia. But all you had told him was to never have a gun visible inside your home.

As contradictory as it was, to have a no gun zone inside your home, it had worked…So far. Hyun knew what his dad did for work, not the bloody and violent part, but he knew of the guns.

Clearing your throat you tried to come up with an alternative to the guns, you were not going to hand a gun over to a 6 year old.

“Hyun sweetie, how about i sleep with you tonight, I can scare whatever’s hiding under your bed away”

Hyun frowned before glancing at Yoongi, clearly not too happy with your idea.

“Mom, you’re not strong at all, if I can’t have a gun i want daddy to sleep with me”

Yoongi choked down a laugh, coughing slightly in an attempt to hide it, as you slapped his arm.

Turning to Hyun you pouted playfully at him.

“Awh but Hyun, then mom will be all alone in the big bed”

He almost gaped in shock at your words, realizing you would in fact be alone in the big bed without Yoongi.

“I’ll just sleep with you in the big bed then!”

Turning he ran as fast as he could to grab his pillow from his room.

“Yoongi…Would you have given him a gun if I wasn’t here?”

You questioned quietly, watching his face for any changes that could reveal his thoughts. Sighing, he dragged a hand through his hair, before smiling sadly at you.

“Younger me probably would have”

“MOMMY! Come on!”

Hyun yelled from the bedroom, dragging you from the rather heavy conversation. You got up squeezing Yoongi’s arm, but turned to him just before you left the room.

“You’re NEVER giving my child a gun, even if it’s a life or death situation, do you hear me Yoongi?”

His eyes glided over your face, noting how serious you were, but also how protective and fierce you looked in that moment. Nodding his head he watched you disappear, before he chuckled to himself. He almost couldn’t believe how protective you were of his son.

Namjoon (10 year old)

You had gone to the park that afternoon with Aera, Namjoons daughter, she had been begging you all day

“Please, please, please lets do something” and “It’s so boring inside, mom I’m bored”

So you had relented and gone to the park, unable to withstand her puppy eyes.

You were watching her on the playground, sitting on a bench a few meters away, not wanting to disturb her. However, you got disturbed by a phone call, picking up the device, you saw Namjoons name.

“Joon, what’s wrong?”

Hearing his warm laughter in your ear, you relaxed a bit.

“I’m just calling to hear how it’s going, and to ask what you want for dinner tonight, I’m cooking after all”

You almost grimaced, remembering the last time he made dinner, he had somehow managed to burn scrambled eggs.

“Mommy watch me!”

Aera yelled from the top of the slide, making you smile at her, nodding your head telling her to go down it.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea Joon? I mean last time was-” “Don’t mention last time! I practiced, remember I’ve been getting lessons by Jin-hyung”

You chuckled at Namjoons words, somehow having trouble believing he’d improved just by having Jin teach him.

He continued talking about what kind of food he’d learnt to make from Jin, but you got distracted, noticing the sudden absence of Aera on the playground.

Getting up from your spot, your breathing got faster as you circled the playground looking for her.

“-ing heavy? Y/N! Answer me, what’s happening?”

You heard Namjoons panicking voice in your ear, having completely forgotten the phone call. Not knowing what to say as you were on the border of just sobbing out loud you couldn’t give him any useful information, except a whimper of his name.

“Joon” “Taehyung track her location now! Fuck, baby just stay calm, I’m coming, okay, I’m on my way”

Tears were dripping down your face, listening to how fast he worked on finding you, it almost made you feel useless and weak. But you couldn’t help it, anything could have happened to his daughter, and it would be your fault.

A few minutes later you heard heavy boots pounding on the gravel road and you saw Namjoon followed by several armed men. He quickly ran up to you, grabbing your shoulders and inspecting you for wounds. When he found none he pulled you into a tight hug, making you choke up again.

“Joon, Aera, I-I can’t find her, she was just on the playground and then she wasn’t there, and I can’t find her Joon, what if something’s happened to her, or someone has taken her?”

You sobbed loudly into his chest, guilt eating away at you. Clenching his teeth Namjoon signaled his men to start scouring the entire park. He tugged you tighter into his chest, trying to reassure you that everything would be alright, but both of you knew he couldn’t be sure of that.

“Daddy?!”

You froze at the voice, turning quickly, seeing one of Namjoons men carrying Aera in his arms securely. Gasping you ran towards her, barely waiting for the man to put her down, before you had her in your arms.

“Don’t ever do that to me again Aera! Never leave without telling someone okay baby?”

As he was watching you, Namjoon realized just how deeply rooted your love and worry for his daughter was, making him smile slightly, despite the current situation.

Hoseok (15 year old)

“Mom? Mom wake up!”

Someone was shaking your shoulder making you groan slightly, it was still way too dark outside for it to be morning. Blinking slowly you saw Hwan sitting on the bed next to you. Combing a hand through his hair you sat up slightly, still confused.

“What is it baby? Did you have a nightmare?”

He grimaced at you grumbling out a “I haven’t had nightmares in years mom” before a loud clang was heard from the downstairs area. Getting out of bed you approached the door, ready to go out and find the cause of the noise. Hwan launched after you, grabbing your arm, and shaking his head fervently.

“Mom, someone’s inside, downstairs, with guns, it’s not dads men” “What?”

You gasped at him, suddenly not knowing what to do as your mind blanked. Of course you knew Hoseok was in the mafia, and you knew the dangers that came with it, but you never expected something like this to happen.

Feeling a tugging at your hand you saw Hwan attempting to lead you to the window.

“Mom we have to get out of here and call dad”

Shakily you nodded your head, wondering how he was so composed compared to you, but deciding to brush it off for now. Climbing out the window, you watched Hwan drop down to hang off the edge, before dropping into some bushes below. As you were following him, you heard the door in your bedroom bust open, followed by someone yelling.

“They’re outside!”

The bushes saved your fall, but they scratch up your legs, leaving small trails of blood. Sneaking behind Hwan you were trying to make it to the front of the garden, when someone suddenly grabbed him.

“Hwan! Let my son go!”

You yelled, grabbing a nearby vase and throwing it at the goons face, making him pass out.

Hwan stared at you, shocked at your actions, you were never one to pick violence, and you rarely got angry.

“Baby, sweetie are you alright? Let’s get out of here and wait for Hobi yeah?”

You smiled shakily at him, trying to exude calmness, but failing miserably.

You managed to make it a few blocks down the road, having called Hoseok on the way to come get you. Hwan had been holding your hand the entire way, and you guessed it was for your sake, seeing as you’d been clutching it with a death grip the entire time.

Sitting in an alley, you waited impatiently, until the sound of cars stopping nearby reached your ears.

Feeling paranoid you dragged Hwan behind you, shielding him with your body, preparing yourself for the worst.

“Y/N? Hwan?”

Hearing Hoseok's voice you let out a small gasp, jumping up from your crouched position. Dragging Hwan with you, you engulfed both of them in a hug, savoring the moment.

“Are you okay? Any injuries?”

Hoseok asked, rubbing your back soothingly. Nodding your head, Hwan grumbled a bit.

“Almost wasn’t but mom threw a vase at the guy, knocking him out real good”

You smiled tightly at both of them, still not quite over that shock yet. Hoseok smiled at you admiring the strength you showed to protect not only yourself but his son as well.

#bts #bts jin #bts namjoon #bts reaction #bts scenarios #bangtan #bts jung hoseok #bts yoongi #bts mafia au

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cleolinda · 1 year

Text

Varney the Vampire: A Preface

I want you to think back to what it’s like to reread your old work from years ago—your old stories or poetry, your old school papers, or even your old tumblr posts. Sometimes you’re actually kind of pleased, sure, but I want you to really go back and locate yourself in the heady cringe of that feeling.

In related news, I'm going to pick back up with the Varney the Vampire recaps I started in late 2010 CE. I got about nine chapters in, and then something, who knows what, derailed my life, as things tend to. Like, I'm used to this, it happens with the regularity of a lunar cycle. But I like writing about vampires (clearly), and since I feel like Dracula has been tread pretty thoroughly in recent times, I figured I might go back to something different; we had some lively discussions about Varney back then.

But 2010 was a time before A Lot of Things happened. I was in my early 30s at that point, so I won't say, "Oh, I was so young," but I had a very different energy as a blogger 12-13 years ago. So I've decided to rewrite the recaps a little—some more than others, some not much at all. I just feel like I have a really different perspective on the first chapter in particular, in 2023.

As before, I'm using the full, unabridged text. It is hideously long, something like 230+ chapters, but go big or go home, I figure. The thing is, I was using the files hosted at the University of Virginia, and now you can only get those through the Wayback Machine, but they are still usable for now. I have various backups saved, but I do want you to be able to see that I am, as ever, Not Making It Up.

I'm also not going to quibble anymore as to whether James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest wrote this behemoth. Per Wikipedia sources, scholars seem to agree that it was all or mostly Rymer. When it's mentioned that they figured this out based on his dialogue style, I went... yeah, that checks out. Because it sure is A Style, and I'll be honest, the repetitive filler dialogue in chapter 10 was such a speedbump for me that I just threw up my hands and said, "I don't know how to recap this. Something I can't remember now is going on in my life and I Cannot. I no longer Can."

Well, it's the 2020s and we're gonna. Like I can't tell you how much stress I do not have about this. I've had covid three times and also spinal surgery. Varney the Vampire can no longer hurt me.

To start, this ordeal has a preface—apparently written upon the occasion of collecting the serial into book form—wherein The Author expresses his gratitude for "unprecedented success of the romance of Varney the Vampyre." First off, Rymer uses "vampire" and "vampyre" interchangeably, because fuck me for caring about consistency, I guess. Second, as Wikipedia notes,

It first appeared in 1845–1847 as a series of weekly cheap pamphlets of the kind then known as "penny dreadfuls." The author was paid by the typeset line [YEAH, I NOTICED], so when the story was published in book form in 1847, it was of epic length: the original edition ran to 876 double-columned pages and 232 chapters. Altogether it totals nearly 667,000 words.

For comparison, all of Lord of the Rings plus The Hobbit is 576,459 words. I sure do blanch every time I see those numbers! It's fine. We're gonna be fine. Back to the preface:

The following romance is collected from seemingly the most authentic sources, and the Author must leave the question of credibility entirely to his readers, not even thinking that he is peculiarly called upon to express his own opinion upon the subject.

"Seemingly" is doing a lot of work here.

Nothing has been omitted [for real, nothing down to the tiniest fly-swat has been omitted] in the life of the unhappy Varney, which could tend to throw a light upon his most extraordinary career, and the fact of his death just as it is here related, made a great noise at the time through Europe, and is to be found in the public prints for the year 1713.

I've seen more than one Dracula multimedia art project where people recreated the letters and diaries and recordings in the book (have you heard my whole thing about how Dracula actually was a cutting-edge techno-thriller back in 1897?), but I've never heard of anyone creating ARG-style media for the Totally for Actual-Fact Real tale of Sir Francis Varney the Vampire, and I think it would be hilarious if someone did.

I won't belabor the entire preface, but what I do want to touch on is Rymer's mention of "unprecedented success." Varney is actually standing on the shoulders of a vampire giant, and it's not the one we would think of. Nowadays, our big touchstone—the influence so great that most works either evoke it or take the trouble to say "Our vampires are different"—is Dracula, obviously. Which was published exactly 50 years after Varney, in 1897. But Varney's touchstone is Polidori's short story "The Vampyre" (1819). And for most of the 1800s, this was everyone's touchstone. Per Wikipedia (which I'm going to lean on for how concise it is, but I concur with this from my own research as well):

An adaptation appeared in 1820 with Cyprien Bérard's novel Lord Ruthwen ou les Vampires, falsely attributed to Charles Nodier, who himself then wrote his own dramatic version, Le Vampire, a play which had enormous success and sparked a "vampire craze" across Europe. This includes operatic adaptations by Heinrich Marschner (see Der Vampyr) and Peter Josef von Lindpaintner (see Der Vampyr), both published in the same year. Nikolai Gogol, Alexandre Dumas [note: I have the Ruthven play he wrote around here somewhere] and Aleksey Tolstoy all produced vampire tales, and themes in Polidori's tale would continue to influence Bram Stoker's Dracula and eventually the whole vampire genre. Dumas makes explicit reference to Lord Ruthven in The Count of Monte Cristo, going so far as to state that his character "The Comtesse G..." had been personally acquainted with Lord Ruthven. [...]

In England, James Planché's play The Vampire, or The Bride of the Isles was first performed in London in 1820 at the Lyceum Theatre based on Charles Nodier's Le Vampire, which in turn was based on Polidori. Such melodramas were satirised in Ruddigore, by Gilbert and Sullivan (1887); a character called Sir Ruthven must abduct a maiden, or he will die.

Back when no one gave a shit about copyright, Polidori's work was spun out into a cottage industry of knock-off stories and plays, an entire horror zeitgeist. Lord Ruthven was, for 78 years, who you copied, who you riffed on, who you parodied, what Count Dracula is to us now: the archetypal vampire. The Big Guy. And Varney is clearly cut from his cloth—the ostensible gentleman who worms his way into the lives of respectable, unwitting people. Unlike Dracula, there's no foreigner Othering, no "historical basis," no undercurrents of contagion and infection, no ambition to make the world his wine-press, none of that; Ruthven is a simpler figure, but the dominant one of this time no less. He is a stranger who shows up in the middle of London high society, icy and distant, his eyes “dead grey”—stern, yet somehow compelling when he cares to be. And when he cares to be, you're in trouble.

And this is the cultural consciousness when Francis Varney shows up.

[Chapter one will go up sometime this week, March 8-10 or so.]

#varney the vampire #vampires #vampire studies #honestly I am nervous about what I want to say about the first chapter #not sure it's gonna go over very well #long post #welcome to hell it's my blog #tv tropes warning. here is your rope to climb back out

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bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months

Text

Five Little Ducks

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman

Summary: Bruce finds a magically de-aged Jason.

Chapters: 4/13

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Zatanna Zatara

Additional Tags: De-Aged Jason Todd, Magic, Babysitting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries, Jason Todd Has Issues, Childhood Trauma

Chapter Four: Tag! You're It!

Bruce woke up to a punch in the nose and Jason screaming. "Where am I?" Jason asked. He was slightly taller, and his eyes were dark.

Bruce jumped out of bed, his eyes watering involuntarily at the force of the blow. "Jason-."

"Where am I?" Jason screamed.

He was older. Bruce could see a difference. Dick ran into the room, and Jason backed away from them, snatching the closest thing to him to use as a weapon. "Jason, you're not in any danger," Dick explained.

Jason burst into tears. "How did I get here? I was home with my dad," Jason cried, "I want my dad. He's gonna-. How did I get here? How do you know my name?" Jason ran a hand through his hair. "I was at home with my dad, and we played-. We were playing a game." Jason gasped for air. "And then I woke up next to him! And who are you?"

Bruce held his shirt up to his nose as it bled, and Dick held up his hands. "Jason, I need you to put the picture frame down and breathe... Tell me what you were playing with your dad," Dick replied to get Jason to refocus.

Jason wouldn't put the picture frame down but took a deep breath. "My name is Jason Todd. I was playing the lock game with my dad," Jason answered, "I want my dad. I don't wanna get in anybody's car... I want my dad to come and get me. Just let me call him. I wanna call him. I promise I won't call the police or nothin'. I only want my dad." Jason started getting agitated again, and Dick kept his hands up.

"Jason, what's the lock game? Let's go downstairs and use the phone while you talk to me. No one's trying to hurt you here," Dick reassured him.

"That's a lie! My dad says everybody hurts people! You get hurt by people, and you hurt people, then you die... That's what my dad says," Jason replied.

Dick glanced at Bruce, and Jason threw the picture frame at Dick and rushed past him out of the room and down the stairs. "We've gotta go get him," Bruce whispered.

"We know where he's going, and we can beat him there if we drive," Dick replied before chuckling. "Oh, he got you good. How old do you think he is now?"

"Shut up and get in the car," Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes as he followed Dick downstairs.

"He's older, though, isn't he?" Dick asked. Bruce nodded.

Dick and Bruce got in one of the cars in the garage and drove to Jason's apartment, where they waited for him to arrive. They sat in the kitchen out of the direct line of sight of the front door. Jason crept in nearly two hours later in pajamas. They were half a size too small. He was barefoot and drenched in sweat. "Dad? Dad, I'm home," Jason called before looking around and spotting Bruce and Dick. "What do you want with me?" Jason backed away toward the door.

"Jason, how old are you?" Dick asked.

"I'll be eight in August. And if you come near me, I'll scream. I swear I will," Jason replied, "And why is everything different? Where's the phone? Where's Mommy's CDs?" Jason started hyperventilating.

"Jason, relax. This can all be explained... But you're not gonna like this explanation. We've known you since you were twelve years old," Bruce whispered.

"I'm seven, you psychopath!" Jason yelled.

"Of course, you're seven now, but a few days ago, you were twenty-four years old and just as angry as you are now," Bruce explained, raising his voice.

"I'm not angry! I'm scared! If I was angry, I would've gone for your eyes! Now get out before my dad gets here and makes you both sorry you ever followed-."

"Jason, your father isn't coming. He's gone," Bruce snapped. Jason looked around the apartment, and he sank to the ground. He sobbed into his hands.

Somehow he knew Bruce was telling the truth. The room stayed silent until Jason could collect himself. "Is my mommy-? Is she okay?" Jason asked.

Bruce frowned and shook his head. Jason clutched his stomach. "Nooooo," Jason moaned as he tried to pull himself to his feet. Dick came close and offered Jason a hand, and Jason swatted it away. "No, no, no. I can't-. She said she was getting better." Jason stood up and stumbled to the kitchen sink, where he threw up. Bruce could see the difference in Jason's grief. In only two years, Jason's whole demeanor changed. It was like Bruce was looking at a completely different child. Bruce crouched down, still covered in blood from his nose.

"Please come back with us... You can get cleaned up and rest. Jason, I'm sorry. We only wanted to help," Bruce whispered.

Jason wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked at Bruce. "Mommy's been away at the hospital, and Dad-. Dad's been great. He got a job, and it's been him and me for a few weeks. Dad was gonna-. He promised to take me to the park," Jason mumbled. Dick opened his arms, and Jason stumbled forward into Dick's embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Jason," Dick whispered.

Jason clutched Dick's shirt. "Dad was doing better... Mommy was gonna come home soon," Jason mumbled. Dick met eyes with Bruce.

"Bruce swore he'd do whatever he could to help you," Dick whispered, "He's a good man. He raised me... And he wants to raise you too... If you'll allow it."

"Why would he want me? I'm nobody," Jason whispered as he looked up at Dick.

"Not to me... Jason, you have no idea how important you are," Bruce replied. Dick let go of Jason and let Bruce hug him.

Jason hugged back. "I'm sorry I punched you in the face," Jason apologized.

"I'm just thankful you didn't break my nose. You've got one heck of a jab," Bruce smiled. It reminded him of the first time they met. Still, he couldn't figure out why Jason managed to age two years overnight. And Bruce couldn't get that comment out of his mind. Bruce thought he knew Jason, but he didn't know him. Not one bit. He couldn't even tell the difference between fear and anger for Jason... He would've gone for his eyes... Was that what Jason was that whole time? Scared? Was he pulling his punches, hoping for a better outcome someday? Was he asking for a change in Bruce? What was Jason so afraid of?

They'd have so many things to talk about whenever Jason grew up. Suddenly, he couldn't wait for Jason to get older again.

#batfam #fic #jason todd #bruce wayne #five little ducks fic #de-aged jason todd #catherine todd mention #willis todd mention #angst and fluff

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writingsofwesteros · 2 years

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I was supposed to be productive and working... SIKE! I choose to spend my time obssessing over your Daemon and cousinwitch reader!! NO REGRETS!!! can we have apiece of when they were younger and the first time they "got together" (they've always been very close) and both knew they're soulmates. maybe little Daemon gave her her dragon egg (idk, but maybe bastards weren't supposed to have them) and she was so moved because it was the first time a noble( even though related) showed her kindness

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“Daemon, I’m scared.” You softly whispered up at him; those bright violet eyes of yours locking onto him. You clutched at your 13 year old cousin as he guided you towards the large sleeping dragon. “We should let it sleep.” You kept babbling as he only chuckled and brought you closer as you peaked over his shoulder to look.

A soft gasp escaped you when Caraxes finally moved his large head and blinked his eyes open. You softly whimpered before trying to calm yourself. “There you go, he isn’t so scary, is he?” Daemon hummed. You could only stare and shake your head as your cousin gently took your hand and you moved to stroke the dragon.

You smiled brightly and missed the loving way Daemon was staring at you as Caraxes only grew softer. “He’s beautiful.” You whispered out and continued to stroke his scales. It was the only peaceful moment you had for so long now. You were always so relaxed with Daemon; it was the only time you felt safe. “I’ve got something for you.” Daemon hummed, pecking your cheek as you softly giggled. You always got excited for the gifts you got; because you hardly got any. “What is it?” You hummed and moved to follow him. “So impatient.” He teased you and threw a smirk over his shoulder as he moved towards a fire pit.

You huffed and crossed your arms at your cousin’s teasing as you watched him move. You tried to look but he was too damn tall. A moment or two pass before he comes back; holding something behind him. He softly smiled at you as he stepped closer before revealing a beautiful, medium sized dragon egg. “Daemon…it’s amazing.” You began to babble and slowly moved to touch it before remembering your bastard status even with the cousin you adored. “Your brother allowed you to have another one?” You hummed and looked up at him in innocence. “No…it’s for you.” Daemon softly admitted and gently placed the egg in your hand.

“For me?” You looked at him with those wide eyes once more as they softly watered. You looked down at the most beautiful thing you’d ever been gifted. You cuddled it and softly hummed to yourself and all Daemon could do was watch with a wide smile. “Thank you.” You nearly jumped into his hold as you wrapped your arms around him. Daemon only tightened his hold and burrowed into your neck. “Anything for you.” He promised you. And meant it. It would be a promise he lived by for years to come as you both grew up together and fell in love.

YEARS LATER

Your relationship with Daemon only deepened and soon there was no going back. Not that you wanted to. And nobody else could stop you. The years had passed slowly and you had grown into a beautiful lady that the smallfolk adored. The whispers of you being a witch had made their way around court. So maybe you could heal what shouldn’t be healed..and the dreams that kept you awake sometimes came true. But the high lords were as dramatic as wives of fishermen. So, you kept your head high as you moved into Daemon’s chambers. “I thought you would be ready by now.” You hummed; taking in his half naked state.

You leaned against the wall and stared at the sight in front of you that no longer bothered you. “Hmm, not sure I want to go.” Daemon hummed and slowly settled at the end of his bed. “Why not?” You softly asked and moved to stand in between his legs. He only shrugged and you moved to stroke his hair. “They bore me.” He hummed and looked up at you as you slowly leaned in and not for the first time took his lips with your own. Daemon moaned against your lips as his tongue moved to find yours and play. He slowly moved to lie down as his hands moved to grab your arse. “We should stay here.” Daemon whispered to you.

“Hmm and what could be more fun than a feast?” You teased as you moved to straddle him. Your hands are stroking his chest. “You..” Daemon whispered without any thought as his hands continued to palm you. A soft blush made its way over your cheeks as you ducked your head. “You know, we can’t ..” You babbled. “No?” Daemon hummed, teasing you as he leaned in for another soft, sensual kiss that quickly turned messy. You moaned against him once more as he slowly began to lower the sleeves of your dress until your soft breasts bounced free. It wasn’t long before he leaned in and hotly took one of your nipples into his mouth.

“We can’t..” You repeat yourself as you look towards the door that anyone could walk in and see this sight. “Who's going to stop us?” Daemon whispered into your ear as he slowly bunched your beautiful dress to your waist. You had no answer to that. The trust was, nobody would dare stop you. “You know the only one who can stop me..is you.” Daemon purred as he settled back down; his hand resting on your hips. You slowly moved your hips as he tugged his pants just enough for his hard cock to slap against his chest. Gods, were you really going to do this? “I know..” You whispered, and made no move to stop him.

Daemon could only grow harder at the sight of you on top of him. It had been all his dreams for years now. “Good girl.” He purred his praises and allowed you to use him. Your soaked pussy moved against his cock. His head hitting your clit again and again. Daemon wanted privacy before he went all the way with you; but for now, this was enough. His moans joined yours as they echoed around the room. His hands reached for your arse and guided you gently. Your soft pants echoed around the room as your head fell back. Those beautiful, long locks of yours cascaded down your back. He tugged your dress further down as you continued to moan.

“I love you.” You whispered into his ear as you leaned in; your soft, bare breasts moving over his chest.You whimpered and slowly moved over his cock as your stomach began to tighten in pleasure. Your legs shook as your wetness coated him. “I love you too.” Daemon hummed and reached for you once more. Your lips lovingly met. Your tongues danced as your dragons did in the sky. Your own movements began to speed up. “Please..” You whimpered into his ear as his hand moved to tease your clit. “Shh, I got you.” Daemon hummed; his fingers moving over you as he brought you to your release.

You moaned loudly before hiding into his neck. He still had you moving over his cock as his own release wasn’t far behind. You were oversensitive now but all you could do was shake and stay on for the ride.

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#daemon targaryen x reader #request

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