#or like oliver saying you failed this city

[thecrownisagift]

There's nothing I love more than a TV catchphrase! Like the chills I got when the b99 characters screamed nine nine or the Winchesters mentioned the family business or someone on the Bear says "Let It Rip". It's one of my favorite feelings

#supernatural #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #the bear #the bear hulu #arrow #or like oliver saying you failed this city #or even the i could do this all day from cap #captain america #marvel #the bear fx

[happilyhertale]

The Rogue Prince - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After a stressful day that leaves Daemon in a bit of an angry mood, you decide to give him some relief. But in a different way than you usually do.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x poc!wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Hey you (: A one-shot Daemon story requested by Anon 🖤 It took me some time but I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.5 k

Other stories of mine

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You didn't have to look up, just the way the door slammed open was enough of a sign for you to know - Daemon was pissed. He entered without knocking, his armour clattering against itself.

In a mixture of snorts and grumbles, your husband strode into your chambers. As you lifted your gaze, your warm hazel eyes met the captivating intensity of his purple eyes, sending a shiver down your spine. Your curious gaze wandered further, discovering the mess of dirt and the almost macabre pattern of dried blood clinging to him. Uncertainly, you put aside the book you were engrossed in and approached Daemon, who was already in the process of freeing himself from the constricting confines of his armour. But before you could approach him, a piece of his armour flew into the far corner of the room.

"It will not improve your mood if you damage your armour," you say gently and help him to open his armour.

He just looks at you and his gaze makes you shiver a little again.

"What do I care about this fucking armour?" he hisses.

You look at him and your hands continue to work on the buckles and remove the chest piece.

"You want to tell me what happened?" you ask quietly.

There is a brief silence in your chambers and you use the time to admire his muscular chest, visible under his shirt. His body does not fail to bring you to ecstasy.

You look into his eyes again as he begins to speak.

"None of these idiots in this council understand the importance of cleansing our city of these filthy criminals! Not one!" he hisses.

You nod at him and try to concentrate on his words and not let his body distract you.

Your hands continue to work on the buckles of his armour.

"The city is full of disgusting creatures. They steal, they kill, they rape and none of those cunts at that council table give a shit!" he continues to hiss.

"But you do," you say softly and his eyes meet yours.

"I will teach these people to fear the golden cloaks again," he says in his deep voice.

You smile slightly and take off the last piece of his armour. Your fingers begin to take off his shirt.

"First we have to clean you up," you say gently.

Daemon's soft chuckle, markedly different from his previous behaviour, resounds through the air as he spreads his arms and asks you to release him from his shirt. His shimmering silver lengths fall over his shoulders, framing the network of scars etched into the skin of his neck and nape. These battle-scarred marks, created by victories and fire, are revealed in all their glory.

Your fingertips run tenderly over these well-deserved scars, your soft olive hue a striking contrast to his pale skin. You relish these imprints of his commanding prowess on the battlefield, each scar telling its own story, a testament to his unwavering leadership qualities. Daemon watches the movements of your fingers and notices how your gaze is fixed on his chest, unable to avert your gaze.

"Are you sure you just want to bathe me?" he murmurs, and your gaze jumps to his eyes.

You smile slightly, "Yes, I do," you say seriously and take his hand, leading him into the adjoining bathroom. Daemon grunts in disappointment, but lets himself be led along. The bath is quickly prepared and warm steam rises from the tub.

Daemon stands next to the tub of hot water and begins to open his trousers. As they slide down, you can see his already hardening arousal, but you avert your gaze and go to a small dresser in the corner of the bathroom.

Daemon watches you, a grin on his lips.

"Oh come on... You can't ignore my needs like that..." he says, but you interrupt him.

"Into the warm water with you," is all you say as you look through small bottles on the dresser to find the right one. You have these little vials from your home in Dorne, filled with different elixirs, and this time you want to put him in the right, stimulating mood.

Daemon grumbles something unintelligible, but obeys and gets into the tub. His gaze is fixed firmly on your back.

"Will you at least keep me company?" he asks, and you can hear in his voice that he is getting impatient.

You turn to him and smile, "No... at least not in the water," you say softly.

With two bottles in your hand, you stride to the bathtub. In the soft, flickering light created by candles, Daemon's gaze fixes on you and you can see an unspoken desire in the depths of his eyes to just grab you. But instead of giving in to temptation, his hands grip the edge of the tub. He leans back slightly and lets you pleasure him, a sign of trust he has only in you.

You kneel behind him, set the vials aside and carefully remove the hair ribbon from its silken lengths. As the ribbon gives up its hold, his hair falls gracefully over his shoulders. The once shining silver strands, now clouded with dirt and sweat, literally crave your touch. You gently begin to work water into the lengths, and the soothing rhythm elicits a contented murmur from Daemon as his eyes are gently closed.

Your hand wanders to a vial, its lid giving way with a soft, melodic pop at your careful touch. At this slight disturbance, Daemon's eyes flicker open to take in the unexpected intrusion.

"What's that?" he murmurs. You smile slightly, "Lavender oil... I like it when your hair smells fresh," you say soflty.

Daemon reflects your soft smile, "All right... If my Dornish princess wants me to smell like a silly bush from the garden, I don't think I could refuse," he mutters. With a smile, you apply a few drops of oil to his shiny silver locks and enjoy the feel of his long strands gliding through your fingers as the accumulated dirt runs effortlessly down.

After pampering him with your grooming, you rise and hand Daemon a towel. With a synchronised movement, he accepts the towel, and as he dries himself, you return to the bedroom with the other vial of elixir. Daemon follows you silently, his shapely form wrapped in the loosely hanging towel.

"Now you're going to take care of my needs?" he says to you, a cheeky smile around his lips. And at that moment you notice the bulge under the towel. You smile, "Lie down on the bed," you say.

Daemon's smile widens, like that of a child who finds an unexpected, delicious treat. He complies with your request and lies down in your marital sanctuary - the very bed where he makes you squirm and beg every night. But this night it will be different.

With an expectant gaze, Daemon watches your every move. How you slowly take off your dress and walk towards the bed. You crawl onto the bed and his hands reach out longingly to pull you close.

But you push them away, "Hands by your side," you say and move to sit astride him. Daemon looks irritated, but he obeys. You take the bottle and open it while Daemon watches you closely.

"More lavender oil?" he asks, "You know I'll have trouble commanding my men if my whole body smells like a flower bouquet" he says.

With a soft chuckle, you murmur, "Not a hint of lavender..." as the delicate scents of osmanthus and patchouli dance around you, washing you with their stimulating embrace as you place a few drops of the oil on your warm palm. Daemon's eyes remain fixed, transfixed by your hands as you set about the task of massaging the oil into his powerful chest.

"And I don't think you'll have any problems commanding your men.... No matter how you smell..." you say softly.

Daemon can only growl slightly as he slowly feels the effect of the scents and his arousal presses harder against you. You can feel a slight movement of his hips as he tries to grind against you. You stare into his eyes as your hands continue to glide over his skin.

"Don't move," you say to him. Daemon grunts, but he obeys - again.

You hear his breathing become more irregular as your hand turns to his belly. Slowly you massage the oil into the muscles of his belly, but your hands are unstoppable. You sit up a little and release him from the towel and his hot length springs free. It twitches wildly as you begin to rub his pubic hair with the oil. It twitches even more wildly as your hands turn to the shaft of his cock, which almost invites you to let yourself sink onto it. Daemon grunts impatiently, wanting to move his hips again, to somehow get close to your cunt.

"Don't," you just whisper, and your hands begin to wander up and down. You hear him gasp, see his hands gripping the sheet beneath you tightly. Your hands slide faster as his member literally pulses. Daemon breathes faster and faster as he chases his climax and you can already see the first drops of his release coming from the tip of his cock. You lean down and lick them away and hear him hiss.

"Woman, you will be my death," he whispers breathlessly. You just look up at him, grinning a little, and bite your lip. Your hand slides up and down faster.

It also increasingly excites you that he could just grab you, push you onto the bed and thrust into you, but he does not. He lies there and lets the feelings and actions wash over him.

When suddenly you feel a strong twitch in his member and Daemon spurts his hot seed onto his belly. He grunts loudly and watches you pump the last drops of cum out of his cock. He breathes heavily and closes his eyes briefly. His head falls back on the pillow.

"I think I need to take another bath..." he mumbles.

But you only smile, "I'm not done with you yet," you whisper. Daemon opens his eyes and looks at you in irritation.

You notice how he slowly softens in your hand, but it is not over for you yet. Slowly you slide further down and push his legs apart. You kneel between his legs and your hand gently moves along his shaft again. Daemon hisses slightly as you lean down.

You take his softening member into your mouth and begin to suck. The remnants of his cum unfold their salty taste on your tongue, but you love the way he tastes.

Daemon gasps, "What are you doing?"

But you just grin slightly and push him all the way down your throat.

"Gods...", Daemon gasps, but you notice that he is getting hard again.

But then, with a pop, you release his cock from your mouth. He is breathing heavily and still looks irritated, his cock hard again and standing in all its glory.

Daemon's heavy breath echoes from the walls of your chambers. You move and lie down beside him. You bite your lip gently and lean forward, kissing his neck softly. Your tongue is like pure fire that hits his skin and could cause new scars. A hot, arousing fire. His hips rise again with arousal and his hand reaches for the back of your head to move your head down. But you stop caressing his neck and look at him. You shake your head resolutely and Daemon pulls his hand back grumbling.

His voice fails in his throat and nothing more leaves his mouth as he slowly loses control. A growl sounds from him and his back arches slightly as your hand begins to caress his chest.

A moan escapes him as your nails leave light marks on his skin.

"Stop it, love," he murmurs. "You're driving me crazy" But you see his cock twitch wildly and you know he doesn't want you to stop. His hands reach into the sheet again and you know, that it's taking all his will not to grab you. Gently your lips graze over his neck as your fingers gently move down, teasing him. You feel the remnants of his previous climax and you see him bite his lip as you slide through it. His eyes are closed and you can see him enjoying this. Your fingers gently caress his abdomen, following the light hair to your destination.

A moan escapes him again. His hand suddenly reaches for your arm and you gasp softly, feeling his fingertips dig into your arm, showing you how much you're already teasing him. But you are not finished yet.

Daemon tries to concentrate on staying calm for your sake.

Once again, you can't stop your fingers from stroking his pubic hair as your smile widens. You watch his expression as you caress him.

A sharp intake of breath comes from his throat. He feels nothing but your touch. His fingertips dig further into your arm, but he finds it hard to stay still. You feel his muscles twitch and he just wants to pull you closer to him and take control of the situation so he can use your body as he wants.

But he forces himself to stay still. He forces himself to enjoy the passive role for once.

Your fingers gently graze the tip of his hard manhood. You bite your lip as you feel it twitch. As you close your fingers around the tip and the twitch shoots through your fingers.

"Ops...", you say softly, with an air of innocence, but Daemon knows you are not innocent and it's impossible for him not to react to that – a soft hiss escapes him.

His back arches slightly upwards and he grips your arm even tighter. His head turns towards you. His eyes are still closed, but you feel his lips seek yours. But you let him suffer. Let him feel what it is like to be on the receiving end of something like this.

"Is this what I put you through every night?" he suddenly asks softly, still keeping his eyes closed. You hear a slight breathlessness in his voice.

You smile again, "Yes... Every time you tease me..." you whisper.

You feel at your fingertips how his arousal continues to make itself felt, and the drops wet the tip of his cock.

"You like that, don't you?" you whisper.

He responds with a low growl, as if he's too busy enjoying it to reply with words.

His fingers disengage from your arm and sink to the bed, holding them still. It works up to a point. But you see his fingers clench into fists again and again.

You lean forward again and gently kiss his neck. Lightly you let your teeth sink into the skin. Again you hear a slight growl.

But still your fingers do not touch his hard member. Teasingly you only stroke his tip, refusing to embrace it completely. You feel it twitch violently again and again. Almost desperately it wants you to touch it. And again a moan escapes Daemon's throat.

You notice his breath quickening, and your own smile turns into a wicked little grin.

His fingers clutch the sheets on the bed as his muscles tremble slightly. You can feel the tension building inside him.

"Stop it... stop..," he murmurs, his voice strained by the desire to just grab you.

You continue to nibble on his neck. Your fingers, meanwhile, are stroking his pubic hair again, your caress growing rougher.

"Would you like me to touch you?" you whisper. With this question you have sealed his fate.

You see him contort his face almost painfully, trying to resist his urge. It would be so easy for him to give in, to just turn and take you as he wants. You see the inner struggle in him. The Rogue Prince who never begs, never bows to any command. The dragon who needs control over every situation. But still you see his breathing quicken, his muscles tremble slightly, he moistens his lips.

"Yes..." he whispers after a while, almost defeated.

But then his fingers move to your hips, wanting to grab you and force you closer to him. You slap his hand away.

"No, Daemon. Get your hands off me," you whisper warningly in his ear. You underline your momentary power and nibble lightly on his earlobe.

Your fingers now find their way to his balls, your fingernails gently scratching the now taut skin and he hisses again.

It's a struggle for him to take his hands off your hips. He doesn't want to. But he obeys.

You continue the torment, your fingernails almost driving him mad.

"You know you'll pay for this, you little pest," his voice sounds a little hoarse.

But with each word his voice grows softer and is now just a low murmur as his body continues to tremble with desire. You have the power over this moment, and you know it. You smile just slightly, knowing you will pay for this, and a feeling of anticipation spreads through you.

"Please," he murmurs suddenly. His breathing is quick and heavy. Right now he is nothing more than your plaything. The Rogue Prince on the verge of begging.

You bite his neck again, "Please, what, my love?" you whisper as your fingernails continue to tease his balls. He hisses again. His hips jerk a little, desperate for a touch.

His mouth opens and closes as he tries to find words to say what he wants. It's all gasps and moans and deep, animalistic noises now.

"Please... I need more...," he finally murmurs weakly. He can't say much more, he wants you too much. You know it. He knows it. You both know it.

A low grumble escapes his throat as he hisses again. He clenches his teeth as you grab his balls. He tries to take a deep breath to keep his voice low, but he can't stop his voice from shaking. "Touch me...", these are the only words he manages to say.

Your hand continues to grip his balls, squeezing them gently.

You kiss his neck, "My Rogue Prince...", you whisper.

He is silent now, looking at you with half-closed eyes, his breathing heavy.

You continue to kiss and nibble on his neck as your hand holds him tight, enjoying this newfound power over him. "If you keep this up, I swear we won't leave this bed for at least twelve hours. And I will make you suffer,“ he hisses, his last attempt at exuding dominance.

You smile at him, your fingers now slowly stroking along his shaft.

"I wouldn't mind," you whisper.

His hard manhood is dripping with precum. Your hand wanders along his hard manhood. It twitches violently as you rub the pecum over its tip. He gasps and grunts.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" you whisper as you nibble on his neck again.

"Yes...!" Daemon suddenly groans. You're playing with fire and you know it. Your teasing only drives him closer to his climax without you actually touching him. But you embrace him fully now, and the sudden rough touch makes him grunt loudly. Your hand wanders up and down, your other hand starts massaging his balls again.

"Then come for me, love...", you whisper. You are also breathing harder by now as your hand slides along his hard manhood. He is moaning uncontrollably by now, his manhood twitching. His eyes are closed and his hips are twitching.

His fingers dig deep into the sheet as he makes sounds you didn't think he was capable of. But his moans turn into hisses as your hand works faster.

He pulls your head towards him and kisses you fiercely, almost desperately. He holds nothing back now and you let him.

"My wife. My Dornish princess. My queen. I am yours. Only yours.", Daemon gasps and you feel the twitch move from his balls up into his cock.

And then he comes. Again his seed spurts onto his belly, while your hand does not slacken in its movement. You're still kissing him and he moans and whimpers into your mouth.

Daemon releases the kiss, still breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Softly he whispers your name, smiling.

"You're cruel, you know that? Cruel and beautiful," he whispers.

You giggle softly and watch the movements of his face. After a few deep breaths from him, he suddenly moves. So suddenly that you gasp slightly. Your eyes grow wide as he suddenly hovers over you. You stare into his violet eyes, his cum dripping onto your soft, olive skin, creating a complete contrast. Daemon slides his finger through it as it continues to drip, just as you did on his skin before. A dark grin on his lips.

"I'm going to make you pay even more cruelly for this..." he murmurs and before you can say anything, his lips meet yours and his hand finds its way between your thighs. Your whimpers echo through your chambers as his hand grips your cunt roughly.

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Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @sylasthegrim

#prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #the rogue prince #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen oneshot #matt smith #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon smut #daemon stannies #prince daemon #daemon targaryen x oc

[mxtantrights]

Hi! Can i ask some quick enemies to lovers with Jason Todd? Which is not much "enemies" but two prideful people that won't admit they have feelings for each other and they like... have similar personalities. It can be sfw or nsfw, it's up to you <3

Byee, thanks.

(Maybe reader also being a vigilante too hehe)

a/n: thank you for this amazing request. I was about to have so much fun with this!!! (also kinda left it open so if there is a desire for part two, just leave me a message!! <3)

It doesn't hit either of you like a brick wall or a train like it should. No. Because why would it? Love doesn't hit you over the head in the middle of the night. It happens slowly.

It happens when Oliver asks you to cut home early because you almost missed a step and went over the rooftop of a building. Which you deny but you know it happened because Oliver is never really one to say 'go home'. So you take his orders. Oliver shakes his head as he watches you go. Ever since he told you that some of the team from Gotham was coming to Star City to help a case you've ben off your game.

It happens when Jason doesn't see the trip wire. Dick has about seven seconds to clear the room and drag Jason with him. The two of them get safely away from the loud bomb. Bruce is talking over the comms, asking if everything is alright. Jason grumbles out some sort of response. Dick knows he's not on his A-game because he's part of the crew going to Star City, where you operate.

It happens when you come face to face with Red hood after not seeing him for a few months. The last time you saw him he saved you from a round of gunfire. You couldn't figure out if he saved you because it was the right thing to do or for some other reason.

It happens when the two of you have to guard a safe house for a couple of hours. There is nothing to do. It's mindless boredom. It's endless. It's so boring and Red doesn't make it easier because he doesn't try to converse with you either. You try to make small talk but he seems to talk in grunts or just silence.

It happens when the mission goes wrong. The informant is nipped on someone else's patrol. You and Red are called in to figure out who did it and to track their every move. You spend about eight hours by his side and say about ten words to him.

It happens when you two find the culprit and are faced with a difficult decision. Take justice into your own hands or hand them over to the Oliver and Bruce. Red leaves it up to you.

And for some odd reason, that's when you realize it. At that moment it dawns on you. Like the final crumb of sand falling in a hourglass. You like Red. You like him even if he doesn't speak a word to you, or if you fail and fumble in front of him.

You try your best to keep it to yourself.

But it's hard to do that when he seems, different.

After that night when he left the choice up to you, he seems to be another version of himself. A version you didn't know existed. He greets you, he tries to make small talk, and he gives you compliments and praise.

Oliver and Bruce notice it too. They keep their smiles and shit eating grins to themselves. Honestly the two of them honestly make this a thing amongst themselves. Who can get the ball rolling first?

Bruce asks Jason about it one night after patrol. To which Jason replies with a stern 'no' and nothing else. Oliver asks you when he takes you out for lunch and you also tell him a simple 'no' and move on.

It keeps happening like this. Red does something that makes you think maybe, sort of, possibly. But you don't take that step. And Red goes through the same thing about you. And talks himself out of telling you anything.

One day though, it does come to an end.

You're in an alley in Gotham. You're not on a mission. You're just a civilian in this situation. A civilian who wants to take an alleyway cut instead of walking two blocks. It's safe to say that when you get held up at gun point you regret not walking those two simple blocks.

What goes down, goes down fast. You manage to get the jump on two of the scumbags. But one of them does have a gun. They aim it right at you and the shot should hit you but it doesn't. It doesn't because of someone.

Red hood stands between you and the gun. The bullet flies off his patted amor chest. You watch as all the guys in the alleyway scurry like rats. You're left there, wide eyed and shocked.

Red Hood turns to you and offers you a hand up. You take it, and try to think of something to say. Anything. A thank you. A sorry. Something that should leave your mouth. But all you can think about is how he's saved your life again.

And that's the word you say. 'again'

It catches him off guard. So much so that he takes a step back. You think you might've said the wrong thing. But then again, you think to yourself that he won't really know what you're talking about. You're seeing him as a civilian. He's never seen you as a civilian. He doesn't know who you are.

But he could now.

He could now.

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc blurbs #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd blurb #Jason todd imagine #dc #Jason todd

[manicpixiefelix]

never wanted anything from you (except everything you had)

{ One-Shot AU for head, heart, hand. }

@saintbeau asked: I know you said in the Canon ending, up until a certain point, Oliver was planning to let the reader live. If he'd never decided to kill them, do you think they'd suffer a similar fate as Farleigh and be forced out? Or do you think there's ever a possibility of 'the pet coming with the house' so to speak? I think to a degree Oliver's yearning to take Felix's place could lead him to essentially slotting himself alongside the reader if they'd allow it.

Summary: After the death of your best friend and his sister, you can't bring yourself to stay at Saltburn, even when their grieving mother wishes you would. However, after several years away to process and grow, you find yourself back in touch with Oliver Quick, who's changed so much in the time you've spent apart. Fate certainly has a funny was of working out, so you're not entirely surprised to end up back at the place you'd once called home.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Oliver/Reader are endgame here.

Warnings: Very poor relationship with reader's parents. SALTBURN-CANON ENDING; Felix & Venetia are still dead, but we get a happy ending this time. Also not sure if it needs a warning but Oliver does admit to killing Felix.

A/N: 4162 words. This got away from me. this ends up being so painfully fluffy. it's VERY Oliver/Reader, Oliver's less of a bastardman and he doesn't kill Elspeth but her health is failing significantly like it does in the movie. i think i might have made him a better person as compared to the film, but it's still canon compliant mostly. it ends so fluffy and happy tho, i love it omg. AGAIN THIS IS NOT CANON TO head, heart, hand.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

There is no world where you stay where Oliver wins.

But there's a world where you leave, heart too heavy with grief, where you transfer from Oxford and spend time as an adult reconnecting with your own family, where he finds you again. Your parents don't respect you as family, but you're granted access to their lives, to be in their line of sight; you become almost like a live-in assistant who takes meals with them but for whom they show no outward affection.

It's all you have left.

You tell yourself it's enough.

"That Catton fellow offed himself," your father says it with such idleness, as if reporting the weather.

"Sir James?" You almost choke on your breakfast, and father peers down his nose at you over his morning paper, giving you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yes, sorry, I forgot you knew him -"

"Surely it doesn't say that he offed himself," your mother frowned, tugging at the corner of the paper to try and get a look at the article. They bicker lightly, charmingly, in the middle of this cafe about the death of your best friend's father, and what the article is saying or implying, but you just wonder about Elspeth.

Later, when you search through old papers and memories and notebooks, you find the number for Saltburn and call. Duncan's voice is familiar, as is yours to him.

"Captain," the old nickname is so gentle on his tongue, the most gentle you'd ever heard him be about anything. Then, as quickly as you'd heard it, the gentleness is replaced with apology, letting you know that Elspeth is unavailable, but that you'd be welcome to attend Sir James' funeral. You know you'd never be able to bring yourself to attend.

It's Oliver who reaches out, deliberate, in the months that follow. It's slow going, too formal for how intimately, how messily you knew each other for those few months in the Spring and Summer. He apologises, says he saw you on the cover of a tabloid trailing a pair of aging socialites and looked further into it.

"You looked -" he tells you over dinner in the city, beautiful, settled, no more of his youthful awkwardness; it had only been a few years, but how glad you were to see him, "fucking miserable," he says so gently, taking your face in his hands. Oh fuck, you'd missed him, missed his touch, missed how clearly he could see you - you burst into tears in the restaurant.

Dating Oliver makes you feel like a whole new person, raw, relearning yourself, realising you'd been living like a ghost since you'd left Saltburn. Your hyper competency had needed an outlet and your parents had provided that, but you were barely a person, to them or to yourself. Now you were learning who you were, alone.

Quieter. More focused and driven in your professional endeavours. As dangerously charming as Farleigh ever was. The memory of Venetia peeking through in your wickedly sharp wit. An echo of Felix in the affection you carried with you, in your smile, in your laugh. A living ghost, learning to love and embrace the ways in which you were haunted, rather than grieving for them.

You spend nights in his little flat, take refuge from your own life in his, and Oliver's the one who informs you that Elspeth has moved into town, leaving Saltburn echoing and empty, if not for the skeleton crew that maintains it.

"She wants to see you," there's a strange look in his eyes when he says it, something conflicted, almost dark, but when you smile, he too lights up.

Elspeth holds you for a very long time. In the middle of a cafe in walking distance for your both it turns out, there's tears in her eyes, and a joyful smile, and she doesn't let you go even as Oliver goes and order you all drinks.

"So beautiful, you've always been so beautiful," she murmurs, long, elegant fingers feather light against your features, no care for propriety here, "you're so grown up." It's like she's trying to connect the person you are now with the memory she has of you. Tears are welling in your own eyes.

"I'm sorry I left, mum." There's a lump in your throat and her tears start to fall as she takes your face gently, cradling you against her, laughing through her bittersweet memories.

"I never blamed you, pet, never," she assures, voice wet with tears but reassuring nonetheless. Oliver sits down on your other side, wordlessly leaning into you both, resting his head on your shoulder. The three of you stay like that for a long moment. You can hear Elspeth sniffling quietly.

The moment breaks, she lets you go, and when you sit back up, Oliver takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and resting your joined hands on the table. Immediately Elspeth's eyes focus upon them, and she gives a warm smile to your both.

"I cannot believe you've found each other again," and she sounds so genuinely joyful, "it's funny how the universe works out." Oliver gives a faint, bashful smile, leaning into you, bumping your shoulder for a bit.

"I'm a lucky man," there's something wonderfully, desperately loving in his eyes when he looks at you in this moment. It is, to him, the total and complete truth. Before you're overwhelmed by your urge to kiss him, however, Elspeth continues.

"After all that's happened, I am glad luck, and life, have brought you both back to me; I was just saying to dear Ollie the other day," Elspeth rests her cool, well manicured hand on your free hand, sitting on the table, "the two of you should come stay at Saltburn again."

Something constricts in your throat, grip on Oliver's hand tightening momentarily.

"I know," Elspeth is quick to move her hand to your shoulder, seeing the way your expression changes, drops, "but that house still holds so much love for you, my dear pet," and she takes a deep, shaky breath, finally admitting, "and I can't bring myself to be there alone."

Looking to Oliver, he gives you a gentle smile, nothing but sweet warmth and reassurance; he's changed so much since Saltburn, so sweet, so sublime. That version of Oliver didn't know how to love you or Felix in a way that was good for any of you, you came to realise, but this Oliver, oh this Oliver had crafted himself a home in your heart with love you didn't think anyone other than Felix had been capable of.

"It can be our home again," he murmurs, a sentiment Elspeth echoes like she hadn't even realised that was what she had wanted from you both;

"It can be your home again."

The drive to Saltburn feels like a memory, of young laughter and loud music and Summer sweat whipped away by the wind in Felix's convertible. The car you'd chosen to take with you is far more sensible, but still relatively ostentatious, and when you ask Oliver to drive, he of course obliges you. Still, the music is loud, and the day is warm, and even if the two of you are quiet, there's still a warm hand on your knee.

And you still feel loved.

Saltburn creaks and echoes with familiarity.

The doors open, and though you don't recognise the footmen either side of the entrance, you certainly recognise Duncan. He's older, of course, as are you. There's a touch of grey by his temples, and he's paler than you remember, but still prim, still gaunt and haunting -

"Mister Quick," until his eyes fall on you, and he softens almost imperceptibly, but you see it, you hear it in his voice, "and Captain Y/N," almost like it's an in-joke between you both by now.

"It's good to see you, Duncan," you tell him sincerely, and for the briefest moment he actually smiles.

"And you as well."

Everything's the same, just as Elspeth had assured you both. Everything's the same, just as when you'd left. Fled. Alone all those years ago.

Coming back, hand in hand with Oliver, it feels surreal.

Grand foyer, red staircase, secluded alcove that you and Venetia used to tease Felix about regarding his 'accidental' bout of cousin fingering, Henry Seventh's cabinet, the arch Felix claimed his grandmother haunted, the Green Room, gardens through the windows, Rubens that Felix never cared for but you had always appreciated. Still broken piano. Blue Room; still blue. The King's bedroom, not that you cared for Henry the Eighth, but Felix always liked to bring it up. The long gallery. Portraits of Cattons you had never cared for. Shakespeare's folios that you and Felix had spent a Winter going through, just to brag that you had, without realising how few people would care.

Sir James' teddy was absent from it's usual chair. Something about that makes something ache in your chest, just a little. So you look away, to the maze beyond the windows that you never want to go in again.

You know this house, this route, like the back of your hand even now. Oliver holds your hand tightly as you rest your hand on the intricate doorknob of the midnight blue door that you both remember so well.

"Are you okay?" Oliver's voice is quiet, is reverential, as you hesitate. Nodding once, you push open the door.

It still smells like Felix. His things are still here, still a bit of a mess. Books and knickknacks and photos. His wardrobe door is still ajar, the way you know you left it when you'd been scrambling to pack your own garments when you'd last been here, and his clothes still hang there, frozen, a moment in time.

It aches, but it doesn't... hurt. Not like you thought it would. It almost seems silly, to have this preserved for so long.

"Can we stay in here, Duncan?" You call out, knowing he must be around somewhere, he always was.

"I thought you might," Elspeth's gentle voice from the doorway makes you and Oliver both jump. But she's smiling at you both, and once the shock has worn off, you can't help but laugh. It sets you all off, laughing warmly, fondly, all three in Felix's perfectly untouched room.

Elspeth does, however, let you know that they've had the bathroom redone. She doesn't say it's because of Venetia, but you're quietly grateful nonetheless. You don't know if you could bring yourself to bath in there if all you could think about was Venetia's blood across the bathroom floor. It's different now.

When you try out the new tub, still claw-footed, still deep and soothing, there comes a knock at the door you'd left ajar out of habit.

"Mind if I join you?" It's Oliver, with a teasing little smile and hope in his eyes. He does not wait at the door like you know he once had, he is bold, he is unapologetic, he is confident in his love. Enthusiastically you wave him over, delighted to create new, better memories in this bathroom that no longer resembles the one you know.

There's still this strange kind of divide; Oliver, at times, still acts like a guest. Saltburn's been your home for too long for you to feel uncomfortable within it's walls, but Oliver's still always asking permission. For everything. He asks if he can borrow some of Felix's old clothes and looks relieved when you look at him like it's an absurd request.

"He's not going to be wearing them."

Elspeth gets this look in her eyes whenever she recognises any of Felix's clothes on Oliver, fond and nostalgic as she tells him she's glad they're no longer gathering dust.

"Beautiful clothes for a beautiful boy," she liked to say.

It takes you a few weeks to realise Elspeth's ulterior motives. Her health is failing. She has no family left. She needs people. As Oliver had pointed out so long ago, you were both desperate to be needed. Much like when you were younger, your own parents had no qualms about you living your life at Saltburn without them; they'd hire another assistant. The email they'd sent back to you did however note that you had been the best assistant either of them had ever had. It's the nicest thing they'd ever said to you.

Elspeth speaks to you alone one morning during the fall, the grounds turning all shades of golds and oranges.

"I..." your thoughts are moving too fast, her offer was so simple yet so overwhelming, "can't take Saltburn." A deep sigh escapes her, and she looks out over the grounds, but pets your knee, "I won't leave," you try to placate her, "you, or Saltburn, if you'd like me to stay; I'll be like Duncan -" this gets her to laugh, fond and bright, "but I think it will complicate things with my own family."

She tells you she understands. Her voice is getting weaker by the day. Then, after another long moment of gentle silence and contemplation, she speaks carefully.

"And Oliver?"

Part of you kind of knew this was coming.

"He might love Saltburn more than me," you admitted with a chuckle, "and he loves you dearly, you know that right?"

"He's such a strange, beautiful creature," Elspeth muses fondly, "I don't know if James even looked at me the way he looks at you," she smiles at you, expression turning soft and nostalgic for just a moment, "Felix used to look at you like that, didn't he?"

"In his own way," you agreed, unable to look her in the eyes while knowing exactly what she meant, exactly what she could see in this moment.

"They say we have more than one soulmate in our lives, pet," she says softly, reassuringly, and you look up once more. There's gentle hope and fragments of old grief that wrap around your heart as she continues, giving your knee a faint squeeze, "I think you're one of the lucky ones."

And your mind settles back on Oliver, how good, how kind, how loving he's been in the year since you'd reconnected. Finally, you're able to smile.

"I think so too."

Oliver seems genuinely surprised when you and Elspeth approach him with the offer. He keeps looking at you, confused. All you can do is smile, assure him that you want Saltburn to be in his name.

"I'm not abandoning you," you laugh, "I'll be here as long as you'll have me, help take care of any paperwork or maintenance or, well, calling people to take care of those things."

"They're a good house pet," Elspeth actually teases, while Oliver is still silent, looking at you in awe. He stutters through a verbal agreement, and Elspeth delightedly says she'll get the contract drawn up in the next few days.

"Why me?" Oliver finally asks, and Elspeth stands, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"You've worked hard all your life, Ollie, I can see that in you," she murmurs, "and you loved the ones so dear to me. I know you will love this home, and my darling Y/N, and one day I know it will be a family home again."

Oliver is quiet during supper, he keeps looking at you with this unreadable expression, almost grateful, but somehow intrigued. There's something lighter about him now, less tension carried in his shoulders, a small smile he can't quite get rid of. After you all eat, he offers you his arm and asks you to stroll the grounds in the moonlight.

"I thought it'd be you," his voice is so soft. The moon makes him glow. He's wearing the pale, linen shirt of Felix's that catches the light so beautifully.

"I could tell," you can't help but smirk, gently ribbing him. When he laughs, it almost sounds disbelieving.

"Saltburn was your home first."

"Saltburn is a place," you tell him, "my home was always the people in it."

"Felix was your home," he remembers when you'd told him that, how wide Felix had smiled when he'd heard it.

"And now," you're surprised by how your voice catches as you realise what you're about to say, "it's you."

"You love me," Oliver turns with wide, adoring eyes, while you can't help your shy smile.

"Of course I love you, you know I love you -"

"You love me-love me," he sounds like he's discovered the meaning of life, like he can see it in your eyes. Then, very suddenly, a whole new realisation seemed to wash over him, "I think I actually want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Oh! Is this -?

"I don't have a ring, fuck-!" Before he can get any further, you're kissing him, wrapping your arms around him, desperate to make him taste how much you fucking love him. Giddy and burning with desire, you feel like a teenager again, overwhelmed with delight and affection in this old house you call a home.

When you suggest that you meet his parents, properly this time, Oliver makes a face like he's bitten a lemon. It's a beautiful, cool mid-morning at the beginning of Winter, grey light reaching through the curtains to caress you and your fiancé, wrapped up in Egyptian cotton sheets.

"I've met them before," you remind him gently, hand splayed out across his chest as he looks at the ceiling, "I don't hold that Summer against you."

"Felix stopped... trusting me," his voice barely breaks a whisper, "he stopped loving me because of them," it trembles, catching, and you see tears in his eyes. A flush was rising up his cheeks, grief and a strange kind of fury overwhelming him it seemed, much to your surprise, "you should hold that Summer against me, should hate me, should -" it's spilling from him now, with such speed, such anger that it's almost frightening.

"Ollie, love -"

"I wasn't in my right mind, I was sick and obsessed and- and- and I can't believe I hurt you like that -"

"What are you talking about?"

Through his tears, his grief, his outburst, Oliver threw his arm over his face, unable to look at you, unable to look at anything in this room he now seemed to regret being in.

"I just wanted him to love me too," Oliver choked out, "I know you tried to help me - I can't believe I hurt you, I know you loved him - but I didn't want him to love anyone if he didn't love me."

"Oliver."

"I put the cocaine in his wine. I gave him the bottle. I left him there."

To your surprise, as much as the news hurts, it comes in a dull wave of grief, not the sharp, stinging kind you were braced for. What you don't expect is the sympathy that wells up inside of you for the man who just admitted to killing your best friend.

But you had spent years grieving for Felix, had come to terms with it, made peace with it. It's a shock to the system, of course, to learn he was murdered, but you can see the hurt, the guilt that Oliver had been carrying with him, and knows how it feels to be overwhelmed with love for Felix Catton to the point where you'd do unspeakable things with him in your heart. You'd ruined lived over one-word insults spat in his direction because that was who you were, that was what you did.

And you knew Oliver Quick, who he was, how he operated, the kind of desperate jealousy and need to be needed that became dangerous or perverse when they went unsated. Neither of you were the people you once were.

Carefully, you drape yourself over Oliver as he wept, wrapping him up tightly in a hug with one arm, other reaching up to brush through his dark, messy hair.

"Loving Felix makes us do terrible things," you murmur softly, fingers carding through his hair, "you took someone special from this world, but we can't change that."

"Why the fuck are you being so nice right now?" Oliver groans, voice full of disbelief, "I just told you -"

"You loved Felix and he stopped loving you back; you were drunk, and obsessive, and out of your mind with some psychosexual desire. You killed the man you loved, that we loved," you recount firmly, and he quiets down, still sniffling, "do you regret it?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"Are you lying?"

A long pause follows.

"I don't know."

"Did you ever stop loving him?"

"I don't think I ever will," then, moving his arm, he reaches out for your face, gently cupping your jaw. His eyes are bright red, smudged tear tracks shining on his cheeks, "I don't think you will either." You shake your head, confirming as much, before you turn your face and press a kiss to his palm.

"You're not that same person, Oliver, neither am I. The version of me from that Summer might never forgive the Ollie that killed Fi, but I know you now, and I know you love me, and you'll love this house, and the memory of Felix, just like I will."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you're not a saint, and you're not a devil. You can't change the past. You're just a human, full of flaws, but you're better than you used to be, I know."

"I love you." He coaxes you forward, bringing you in for a passionate, messy kiss, murmuring against your lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Still, you keep this revelation between the two of you. Elspeth never needed to know.

It was a small ceremony at the beginning of Spring on the grounds of the Saltburn Estate. Elspeth was barely able to get out of bed anymore, so the location was more for her sake than anything else. She'd insisted on taking the reigns for planning the wedding though, looking through folders and magazines with you and Oliver at her bedside.

A beautiful flower archway, Duncan officiating, and only your families as guests. At your suggestion and reassurance, Oliver had worked hard to repair his relationship with his family.

"You don't have to lie about being important anymore," you'd smirked at him, "you're inheriting the Saltburn Estate, you're marrying into my family; you're Oliver Quick, that means something."

Oliver's family had marvelled at the estate the minute they arrived at the property; his sisters and their partners seemed shocked and delighted.

"Is this your place?" One had asked you, eyes bright and incredulous as you and Oliver were giving them all the tour.

"Ollie's actually," you give him arm a squeeze as you give him a proud smile, watching as he ducks his head, flush with embarrassment.

"This is you house, Ollie?! What the fuck!?" Another shouted, even as her own partner laughed while asking her to tone it down.

Before the wedding even begins, his oldest sister has talked him into letting she and her children visit in the Summer.

It comes as a surprise when your own parents show up, though you suspect it's because Elspeth personally called to invite them, not because of you. They too are impressed by the house, but less so than the Quicks; they'd been there for gatherings in years past, after all.

When your grandmother arrives, however, that's when it all becomes real for you. Unlike your parents, she dotes on you. Your grandfather had been the head of the business when he'd been alive; your grandmother was a dedicated professional, but always a romantic at heart, which is where your mother claimed to have gotten her artistic proclivities from.

Oliver says you have the same, beautiful eyes, and she chuckles.

"He's a charmer, I see," she teases, but wraps him up in a hug. "You be good to them, Mister Quick," your grandmother tells him in a faux-stern voice as she leans out of the hug, "we're the kind of family you don't want to get on the wrong side of." Despite how she's waving a finger at him and doing her best angry glare, Oliver can't help but cast you a fond smile, wrapping an arm around you.

"I'm aware, ma'am; every day I feel lucky to have Y/N by my side."

This seems to sate your grandmother, who pets his cheek fondly, and tells you that you've got a good one.

"I think so too."

It's a beautiful, perfect day, the best day of your life so far, where the worst day is now but a mere memory. All that matters is Oliver Quick, and the love in his eyes as he looks at you, as he promises you;

"This house will be full of people who love you for the rest of your life."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #saltburn imagine #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[jazzfordshire]

The chef/food critic au sounds AMAZING. Can you share a snippet please 🙏

“One bacalo, one arancini, three filets - one rare, two medium,” Lena shouts as a new order comes in, and she smiles at the satisfying chorus of “Yes, chef!” that follows. Her kitchen is a well-oiled machine, her staff is on fire, and the positive reviews have been rolling in all week – Kieran is a clear success, and the relief at not catastrophically failing at her new venture is making everything easier.

Opening a new restaurant had been a gamble. Lutessa in Metropolis has been doing well ever since it opened, but the food culture there is crowded. Insular. There’s less room for innovation, and there’s a lot of competition. Branching out to the west coast is risky, but the city is growing in cuisine and she has high hopes – with any luck Kieran will take off, and she’ll be able to leave it in the capable hands of Sam and go back home to Metropolis in just a few months.

The first week was a whirlwind. Opening night was packed with industry professionals and critics, and Lena was so stressed and busy that reviews had seemed like the least of her worries. Now, it’s nice to be able to downshift and read about how much some of the critics had liked the food.

Especially, it seems, one critic in particular. When one of her waitstaff brings what seems like a mountain of empty plates back to the kitchen, Lena has to take a moment to make sure she’s heard him correctly.

“Kara Danvers from CatCo Magazine sends her compliments, chef,” he says, grabbing the next few plates from the pass and heading back into the dining room. Lena pauses in drizzling olive oil over the appetizers in front of her, frowning.

“CatCo? Again?” Sam asks, sending a few more finished plates Lena’s way for inspection. “Isn’t that like, the fourth time this week?”

“Fifth, actually,” Lena says, wiping her hands on the towel slung over her shoulder and putting them on her hips. Miss Danvers’ article in CatCo Magazine had been glowing, she remembers, but she’s not sure any amount of positivity warrants coming back 5 nights in a row. She hasn’t had time to do much besides read the biggest reviews, so she has very little idea who this Danvers woman is besides a single article.

“Maybe she has a crush,” Sam teases, and Lena elbows her, heading to the grill to inspect the next batch of steaks.

“Shut up, Arias.”

When the restaurant has closed up for the night and Lena finally has a few moments to herself before bed, soaking her sore feet in Epsom salts, she does a quick google search for ‘Kara Danvers CatCo’. And as it turns out, Kara Danvers is sort of a big deal in National City.

She’s an honest and sometimes harsh critic, it seems. She gave a scathing review to Siobahn Smythe’s restaurant a few months ago, calling the food ‘bland and uninspired’, but her review of Lena’s restaurant – both of them, she discovers, as she finds another article from over a year ago for her place in Metropolis – is absurdly complimentary. Which explains why she’s been returning night after night.

It’s intriguing – but, Lena assures herself, there’s no way that Miss Danvers is going to return for a 6th night.

She’s proven wrong within the first hour of dinner service.

#wip game

[thebigbadbatswife]

Internal Conflict (Part 1 of 3)

Pairing - Batman x F!Hero!Reader Series - Under Your Skin Part 2 here | Part 3 here

Summary - While Batman is at war with himself, some members of the Batfamily start picking up on his odd behaviour.

Warnings - None that I can think of.

A/N - What's that? Is there some actual plot here? My, I think it is! 😂 I know, it's been quite a bit of time between updates again. Sorry about that, this (and the next couple of parts) took a while to outline first and then obviously life kept getting in the way. But it's here now! And the time between updates shouldn't be quite as long. Thank you for being patient with me. Anyway, enough rambling, enjoy! 💜

Taglist - At the end of the fic. Please message me if you would like to be added/removed.

Word Count - 2.5k

The wind ruffled his cape, making it blow out behind him. He was still on the rooftop, a frown on his face. You were already gone, having stormed off a few minutes ago. Your blood boiling, no doubt. Much like his was right now. The only thing he didn’t know was whether his anger was directed toward you or himself.

You had a talent for getting underneath his skin. In record time as well. It was something that he had quickly discovered not long after you had accepted the invitation to join the Justice League. Somehow, you were worse than Hal and Oliver combined. All week you had been pushing each other’s buttons and tonight you both had finally hit your boiling points. It was bound to happen at some point. In truth, he was a little surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. And while he was sure you had meant every last word you had shouted at him, he hadn’t.

He hadn’t thought about it. The filter between his brain and mouth failing as he snapped. He supposed he should count himself lucky that you could, mostly, see through his bullshit. If you didn’t he imagined that you would have quit long before now. Though, after tonight, there was now a very real chance that you would. And if you did, he was positive you would make sure it was known why you had walked away. He could already invision the line of people that would be ready to deck him for it.

With you long gone and the crisis in Star City now averted, Bruce left the rooftop. Grappling and gliding to where he had left the batwing.

The entire flight back to Gotham he replayed the argument over and over again. Analysing it. Like always.

“At first I thought it was because you wanted to make sure that I was cut out for this…”

That was true! When it came to flying solo, you were more than capable. It was one of the things about you that had caught his eye. Obviously, working with a team was far different. You had more than just yourself to worry about. He had to make sure you could do that.

“...now I think it’s because you want me to quit… For whatever reason you’ve decided I’m no longer good enough…”

That wasn’t true. He didn’t want you to quit. In the short time that you had been a member of the League, you had quickly become an invaluable member of the team. To say that it would be a shame to lose you was an understatement. Not that he was every going to say that aloud. Especially not after tonight. Chances were you wouldn’t even believe him so why waste his breath?

You had been right to call him out. If he had thought you incapable or not good enough, then you really wouldn’t have set foot on the Watchtower. But you were good enough. You were more than good enough. He knew that better than anyone. He had looked into you, put your name forward. Not that you knew or needed to know that, as far as he was concerned. And to say that he was nitpicking just to rile you up to have sex was ridiculous. Sex was just a byproduct of adrenaline caused by the arguments and being in such close quarters. It was a surprise that it hadn’t started far sooner.

It had become a vicious cycle. That he could admit to. And now it was one that had finally been broken by you. Not that he cared. He didn’t need to have sex with you. There were plenty of people out there that he could sleep with instead. Besides, you were teammates and relationships like that could get messy, fast. It was best that it was brought to an end before something happened that would jeopardise future missions. If you hadn’t done it tonight, then he certainly would have.

The sound of his boots on the metal platforms and stairs that made up this portion of the batcave, that hung over a dark abyss were loud and echoed off of the walls. The bats, high above him, squeaked in dismay, dropping from their perches to either fly deeper into the cavern system or leave it altogether.

He tugged his cowl off, setting it down onto the desk of the batcomputer as he took a seat, sighing deeply.

“Another fight with Mr Queen?” Alfred asked as he set a silver tray down, a cup, teapot and a plate of cookies on it, and poured him some tea.

Bruce grunted in response. All he wanted to do now was focus on the keyboard and screen in front of him, no longer wishing to think about what had happened tonight. There was still a few hours before dawn and he had a lot of case files to look into. He also really didn’t want to get into this with Alfred. It wasn’t any of his business.

“As talkative as ever, I see,” he muttered as he walked away to tend to other things. Alfred had decided a long time ago, since this whole vigilante business had started, that if Bruce wished to sulk over something then he could bloody well do it alone.

According to his phone, the sun had risen several hours ago. He had yet to even think about making his way up into the manor and toward his bedroom. His mind wouldn’t still, the gears just kept turning. Focusing on the argument, no matter what he did to try and steer his mind away. The anger in your features, that weren’t hidden by your mask, and your body, the venom that had dripped in each word, the clenching of your fist as you debated whether to try and deck him or not. In the end you had decided not to. Likely because he would have easily caught your hand had you tried. 

He shook his head. It shouldn’t be bothering him this much. And yet…

His thoughts were broken by the sound of boots marching toward him. He frowned, turning away from the disassembled equipment on the workbench to see who it was. Diana. Of course. She was angry, a storm dancing in her eyes and her fists clenched by her side. The only thing that he could think was that you had actually done it. You had quit and let her know that he was the reason you were walking away. Bruce swallowed thickly and composed himself, ready to be run through with a sword.

“And what did you say this time?” she demanded, stopping in front of him, crossing her arms against her chest.

“She quit?”

“Not yet, but I don’t doubt she’s thinking about it,” she replied. 

You hadn’t quit? He felt relieved, a weight he hadn’t been truly aware of lifting from him. He couldn’t dwell on that feeling for long, as Diana continued speaking.

“Now I’m not going to pretend like I know what’s going on between the two of you, but whatever it is I suggest you figure it out.”

“You’ve had this same conversation with her?” 

“I will be. I came to talk to you first since you’re the one continuously instigating these arguments.”

He grumbled in response. Instigator?” It made him sound like a damn child.

“I’m not apologising–”

Diana scoffed. “When have you ever apologised for anything. Just figure it out.”

It had been weeks since Bruce had last fought with you. Of course, he had barely said two words to you, outside of missions, because you never stuck around for too long. You were keeping your distance from him. Not that he could blame you.

He couldn’t lie. The distance, it bothered him. And it wasn’t because of the looks that he received every time you left a room he entered. Outside of all of this he lived in the public eye. He was used to dirty looks being thrown his way. Thing was he couldn’t put his finger on why it bothered him so much. It wasn’t affecting missions. You were civil and you fought alongside him like nothing had ever happened between the two of you.

Was it the result of your own conversation with Diana? Or had you decided on this shortly after Star City?

His own conversation with her had continued to lingered on his mind. It had made him wonder if it was possible to start over with you. It was clear to him now that no, that wasn’t possible. You wished to have nothing to do with him, outside of missions, and he would respect that. He told himself that things were better this way. Less complicated.

The sound of your footsteps passing by the laboratory broke Bruce’s thoughts, as well as his focus on dismantling Lex Luthor’s newest kryptonite weapon. Looking away from the weapon, he frowned. He could sworn that he was the only one left awake on the Watchtower.

The battle against Lex had been hard on all of them. The corrupted billionaire’s newest mech hitting harder and causing more destruction than any of the previous ones combined. Things certainly would have gone much smoother had Diana been with them, but the warrior goddess was off elsewhere. Busy dealing with gods and monsters and other things he would rather not think about. The battle had also served as a reminder that the production of his own mech, meant exactly for situations like that one, was taking far too long.

It also had him concerned. Super villains breaking out and working together, all of Lex’s newest tech, his own city being a little too quiet. He wasn’t one to overly rely on gut feelings, preferring physical evidence and facts, something that he could see, but he couldn’t shake it. Something big was headed their way and this was simply the start of it. They needed to be ready.

The kryptonite weapon attached to the mech meant that Clark had suffered the worst injuries out of everybody. As soon as Lex had been apprehended, he had been Bruce’s focus, making sure that he didn’t die. Lois would likely kill him if that happened and he wished to avoid that. It hadn’t stopped him from noticing you though. The way you were favouring your leg, the tear in your suit where blood was running from your thigh, making its way down your leg.

Bruce had been worried about your injury, like he would about anyone of his other teammates, of course. Years as a vigilante had taught him how bad a leg injury could be. He had wanted to see to it himself. With his training and degree, he would be the best option to, but Clark took priority and you refused to be in the same room with him.

Honestly, he was still worried. Before he could stop himself, he was already out of his seat. Making his way out of the laboratory and down the hallway. He was already halfway down the hallway when he heard one of the zeta tubes starting to fire up. He picked up his pace.

In his head, he had it all planned out. Like any concerned teammate, he was simply going to ask if you were okay and if you would like from him to take a look. Make sure that it wasn’t severe. That was it, but when he entered the room, he didn’t get a chance to even open his mouth before you were stopping him.

“I’m really not interested, Batman,” you told him, looking at him over your shoulder, your voice cold and gaze hard. You moved away from the console in front of you and stepping into the blinding light. Leaving him alone on the Watchtower.

In hindsight, he probably should have expected that.

As he headed back to the laboratory, he made a mental note to give Dinah some information she could send your way to help with your injury. You were close with her and it would be easier than trying to corner you.

Bruce worked well into the night after that. Or at least he tried to. His mind refused to focus on the task at hand. Instead it constantly drifted back to you. More specifically how it had felt to have you beneath him. The sweet noises spilling from your lips that sounded so much better than when you were arguing with him. It left him aching and missing those moments. Which he found ridiculous. The two of you hadn’t even been in a relationship. There wasn’t anything there to miss.

One thing was clear to him, he never should have dragged you into that storage room to begin with. He really didn’t know what he had been thinking. That time or any of the others. All it had done was make everything worse and that now there was no way in hell it could ever be fixed. Not that he could see anyway.

None of it mattered in the end. Things were better this way. Less complicated. Less chance of emotions getting in the way and less chance of missions going awry.

It was only after Diana had finally returned to the Watchtower and disturbed him, that he finally realised the time. It was well into the next morning and, no matter how much he would prefer to stay here and continue working, Bruce Wayne had places to be. Huffing, he locked up the now disassembled weapon and left the laboratory and began to head back to his cave.

Dick flipped through the air and landed on the mat. He had come back to Gotham for a visit because he missed Alfred’s cooking and Tim and Barbara had messaged him about Bruce acting strangely. He stepped off of the mat, grabbing his water bottle and taking a sip just as Bruce returned to the batcave.

“Finally! We were about to send out a search party!” he called out to him. He didn’t get a response like he expected he would. Not even a grumble, grunt or a glare. Instead he was simply ignored.

“Told you something was up with him,” Tim said from where he was sitting, eyes still glued to the laptop screen in front of him.

“Yeah.” He took another sip from his water bottle. “Selina’s not in town right now, is she?”

Anyone who knew Bruce knew about the very long and very complicated relationship that he shared with the world’s greatest thief. And no matter how hard they tried to make things work it always ended with two broken hearts and an even broodier Bat with an even shorter fuse. It had always been that way, for as long as he could remember.

Tim shook his head. “Barbara already checked. Selina is out of the country and has been since their last break up.”

Dick nodded. “Interesting.” And it was interesting. If it wasn’t Selina that had him acting like this, then who did? Who had gotten underneath his skin so badly? “Looks like we have an investigation on our hands.”

“He’s not going to be happy about that,” Tim frowned, finally looking away from the laptop screen.

He shrugged. “He’s rarely happy about anything. Come on, we should meet with Barbara and figure out where we should start.”

*

Taglist - @the-last-twin-of-krypton @bakugous-bakahoe @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @little-rivers @callalily2000 @geminicinderella @warsaur @theclassicvinyldragon @aniya7 @bluebear19 @jdream55 @thedeadlythoughts

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #hero!reader #under your skin verse #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #dc comics x reader #my writing

[nikoisme]

tw for descriptions of zombies, death, slight gore and body decay (decomposition)

The Odyssey but Odysseus died at Troy. Yet his drive to see his wife and son was strong enough for him to lift his rotting limbs. He stumbles around - a corpse should not move. He has only one goal in mind: Ithaca, Penelope, Telemachus. His body is weak and frail, it constantly collapses and fails him. His body wants to return to the earth. He should be in the ground right now, his body grass and moss. But his mind lives, and he lifts his body off the ground no matter how long it takes him. His mind and body are divided, both long for their own goals. He makes no sound but a whisper: "Ithaca. Penelope. Telemachus." He doesn't remember where his home is. But he keeps whispering. People hear him. He can't talk, can't think anything except those three. They will ask him, "Who are you?". He can only give them a glassy stare, haunted and utterly wrong. It's not natural. He only murmurs "Ithaca. Penelope. Telemachus." and glances away, before dragging himself away. He has no name, at least not one he can remember. His mind consists only of those three thoughts. They think him a mad man. No one recognizes him as the king of Ithaca, his face sunken and destroyed. Even if someone did recognize him, well - Odysseus died at Troy, after all. They try to capture him, but no one dares approach that walking mass of rot and blood. They try to kill him. Arrows tear through the remaining muscle. Spear tips poke out of his ribs. He will collapse on the ground, they will think he died. But it's only his body. They cannot kill what's already dead. So he will push himself up - moments, hours, days or weeks later. And he stumbles on. And he whispers. He can't hear or register any words that people speak. He will only turn his head when he hears someone say Ithaca, Penelope, Telemachus. He follows those whispers. They get more frequent, until everyone around him is saying those three words sacred to him. Until his thoughts materialize before him.

Okay so now I have two endings:

1. A bit of his mind gives away when he reaches Ithaca, when he kisses her shores. Another fragment is gone when he holds his son in his arms, when he kisses him. He sees the suitors, 108 men trying to get their hands on his wife. On his Penelope. It's enough to make him think straight, at least for a bit. He wants to kill them right then and there. But Telemachus stops him, he has to restrain him. Odysseus obeys. It's easy to put something so breakable and weak under control. But he only thinks of suitors' blood. And eventually, they shed it. Odysseus is like a beast, death itself casting doom upon anyone his sunken eyes land on. And finally, he sees Penelope. His mind gives way when he is in her arms again, when he kisses her. His mind has no thoughts anymore, he reached his goal. There's nothing to hold his body upright anymore. No goal to reach - well, except one. One he should've reached on the beaches of Troy, a decade ago. Death. He finally dies the next morning, going still in their olive bed.

2. He is slow. His body is weak, he trips everytime his toes touch the ground. He is slow, but it's okay. He doesn't have to stop, he has no physical needs to meet, except the one of his mind. Not his heart, that one has been dead for a while now. And he follows the words of others, echoes of his own whispers. And he reaches Ithaca, eventually. But the people are different. They wear different clothes, they speak a different language. No one says those three words. It should have been obvious, the way those names slowly faded as he went from city to city, land to land. He was slow, too slow. Penelope and Telemachus are gone now. They have been dead for who knows how long. But his mind's needs are not met, the drive is still there. So he wanders the lands, searching for something long gone - always whispering under his breath.

I'm very fond of both endings aughh, I'll need to write this down sometime.

Another version is where Odysseus' personality and mind have been slowly chipped away over the course of his journey until he became nothing but the embodient of his drive to see his wife and son. His body is forgotten, thin and torn. He is dead. Perhaps he is not. It's hard to tell at this point. When does a man die - is it when his heart stops beating and blood stops rushing in his veins, or when his mind is gone? (probably would get the first ending).

#the odyssey #odysseus #penelope #telemachus #greek mythology #epic the musical #tagamemnon #i have this fascination with the concept of zombies #and every piece of media I'm interested in has been zombie-ified #i have so many zombie AUs #i have no plan to stop #i already zombified the iliad #kind of

[life-winners-liveblog]

Well this will be fun to watch.

Good luck..? I guess?

- ???

Grian: Ok, Scar, you'll go first.

Scar: Really!?! Oh yeah!

Grian: Yes, what is your character doing right now?

~~~~~

Grian: You make your way to the clearing. What do you do?

Scar: Oh, so I need to search for the med- meci-

Grian: Medicinal herbs, yes.

Scar: I'm going to look around for them.

Grian: Give me a perception roll.

Scar: Oh sure! 14! That's good right?

Grian: You make your way to the clearing, the cover of the tre leaves fading into a clear blue sky, you see bushes of various shades and heights growing on the grass floor, you quickly find the herbs you were looking for surrounded by bushes of other plants.

Scar: Do I recognize these other plants?

Grian: ... Give me a nature roll.

Scar: Oh right uh...1?

Martyn: A nat 1? We have our first nat 1 of the campaing people.

Scott: Is...that bad?

Grian: It's called a critical fail...you look at the plants and they look so alien to you that you start to worry they aren't even plants.

Scar: What!?!

~~~~

Grian: You come across a wooden hut and...

Scar: And?

Grian: We leave you here while we move to a different part of the woods, Pearl?

Pearl: Yeah?

Grian: What is your character doing right now?

~~~~~

Grian: You want to...tame...the werewolf.

Pearl: Yes.

Grian: Olive?

[I agree with mom!]

Grian: Of course you do ...uh...Would that count as charisma or animal handling?

Pearl: I don't know, you are the uh...

Martyn: DM?

Pearl: That.

Grian: Roll animal handling then-

Pearl: Nat 20.

Grian: I- ok then, you manage to somehow calm the werewolf down so now you can make your way foward.

~~~~~

Grian: As you make your way back to your hut you see...a fae?

Scar: That's me!

Grian: uh...yes.

Scar: Our characters are meeting Pearl.

Pearl: Sure thing mate.

Grian: I'm going to leave you here Pearl as we move to the town, to a traveling elf and his body guard.

Scott: My turn!!! Ok, this is exciting.

Martyn: And mine... I'm the bodyguard.

Scott: Well make sure to protect me.

Martyn: Of course.

~~~~

Grian: The guard stops you-

Martyn: Why!? We litterally didn't do anything!

Scott: You tried to punch a merchant.

Martyn: Well he shouldn't have scammed us! I'm going to tear the guard a new one.

Scott: Martyn-

Grian: Roll for intimidation.

Martyn: 18 baby! Listen here, guard, if you don't want to catch these hands like that con man you better not even try anything, we are in a hurry and we have no time to waste, If we arrive late to our meeting with the high bishop it will be your fault and you will be punished for it.

Grian: ...The Guard quickly scurries off.

~~~~~

Grian: You finally reach the town church just in time for your meeting with the bishop.

Scott: We aren't late? Good.

Grian: And I'll leave you here while we switch to Cleo, what are you doing?

~~~~~

Grian: You make your way trough the tunnels of the city when you come to a circular room, light filtering from above-

Cleo: Is there anything I should know about in the room?

Grian: Roll for perception.

Cleo: 11.

Grian: Ok, you see this room is covered by a mess of debris but you think you can recognize metal stairs leading upstairs.

Cleo: Hmpf, Good enough for me.

Grian: So do you make your way upstairs?

Cleo: Not yet, what would I need to roll to move the debris?

Grian: I'd say athletics.

Cleo: Hmmm, 13, is that enough?

Grian: It is. You start moving the debris when the ground starts to move, roll a dexterity save.

Cleo: Ah! Finally some action, 6.

Grian: You try to keep your balance but fail and fall.

#asks #trafficblr #traffic series #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #pearlescentmoon #Goodtimeswithscar #??? #zombie cleo

[deltapng]

enjoy this silly little ramble i made about Lukas and his friendships

---

Lukas has no friends.

He spawns into the world and looks around in awe at the sights around him. There were hills and grass as far as his eye could see and it was beautiful. He looks around, trying to find anyone around. He finds no one.

He is alone.

He survives his first night.

Lukas likes his friends

He's a little more experienced now, less green than when he woke up all those days ago in the middle of nowhere. He wandered for ages until he found a quaint little town. A town he now calls home.

He meets another boy after the boy saw him draw sketches of the ideas he has in his head. Ideas of towers that stretched far into the heavens, ideas of bridges so grand and sturdy, ideas of colors swirling about and merging in beautiful architecture.

The boy shoves him around a lot. But that's okay because he's a friend. Friends do that, right? Friends are allowed to be mean to their friends right?

Eventually, he meets two others. One boy and one girl. Together, they call themselves the Ocelots.

They're a little mean, but he likes them.

–

Lukas isn't sure where his friends are.

He is sitting on the dirty ground, terror preventing him from saying anything to the group he has isolated himself from. He is staring into the fire, wondering if his 'friends' were okay, if they made it out safely, where they are. His silent questions go unanswered.

Cookies are presented. There is nothing for him. No friends here. But an olive branch is given to him, a gentle hand placing a cookie in his own. He tries to give it back. He fails. He accepts.

An argument happens. Words are said. Tensions are high.

He goes to leave but the boy who gave him the cookie is firm. He is not leaving the dirty shelter tonight.

He is starving.

He wonders whether his friends are out there or in here.

–

Lukas is pushed by his 'friend.'

He falls through the clouds, terror filling his veins as he falls and falls and falls. He sees no ground or water to cushion his fall. He keeps falling and falling and falling.

He closes his eyes, waiting for death.

His shoulder blossoms with pain as he hits water. The impact causes his arm to break. He crawls out, hacking out water and gasps as he tries not to cry from the pain. He slumps against a tree.

Two more splashed.

The boy who gave him a cookie shouts his name in relief. There is undeniable joy in his eyes at the sight of him. It fills him with warmth. He gets a hug, his arm throbbing with pain but his eyes crinkle upwards as gentle hands fuss over him.

They build back up to the sky and he is reminded of an idea from so long ago.

Towers stretching up into the heavens.

He closes his eyes and sits down.

The boy he met so long ago is no longer his friend as he had pushed him down to what he thought was his death.

–

Lukas reunites with his-

Lukas is kicked out by his-

Lukas has-

Lukas-

…

–

Lukas has so many friends now.

He waves at them as he walks through the city full of life. Colors burst in his vision as glances all around. There are towers that stretch towards the heavens, bridges grand yet sturdy, swirling colors and detailed architecture merging together in a beautiful canvas.

It is everything he has dreamed of and more.

"Lukas! It's good to see you!"

He turns to the hero (for he is not a boy anymore) who gave him a cookie who is waving his arms frantically, beckoning him closer as his nervous intern watches from behind in awe.

His heart is full.

"Hey, Jesse."

Lukas loves his friends.

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm lukas #jesse appears somewhat #and radar at the end #but its mostly just lukas

[maybe-limerence]

Ruler of the cruel. Pt.2

Yan! Author x Cruel! Reader x Yan! Best friend

T//W: yandere behavior, death, attempted non con.

A//N: I couldn’t quite imagine smut being in here, so I didn’t include it. I’m sorry. Also, mind the tags.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Comfortable but unfamiliar.

You tried to get up, but as soon as you lifted yourself up your head started spinning. You fell back, rolling over on your side. A feeling of nausea washes over you.

“God, what happened?” You mutter.

“You’re awake, my love!” A voice called.

You rolled to where the sound was coming from, not daring to get up. Your eyes met his.

Wait, it’s the guy who I criticized.

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

“Kill you?!” He said with a shocked and offended expression on his face. “No no no, I love you! I love you so so much my dear,”

You narrowed your eyes, confused and angry. Who the fuck is this guy?! Love?! Have you two met before?!

“What the fuck?” You said, a sharp tone in your voice.

His face burned bright red.

“Let me go you freak,” you lash out.

He bit his lip. Confused, you look down.

Why the fuck does he have an erection? Is he seriously getting off on this?!

You tossed to your side, trying to ignore the little freak.

You heard him whine.

God, just end me.

You shut your eyes and tried to block out the whimpering. Eventually you nodded off.

🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤

“What do you mean you can’t find them?!” Oliver, your best friend yelled at the officer.

“We mean we can’t find them. It’s like they vanished. We’re doing all we can,” the officer shrugged.

Oliver had never been one to be so reckless with his love, his one and only, his you.

Spitting a curse at the useless officer, he stormed out of the building.

‘I will find them, even if I have to burn down this city,’

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

You had been in that wretched house for about a week. Sure, your every command was immediately followed by the man you knew as H.D. Oleander. He refused to tell you his real name

“It pains me to say this my love, but I can’t tell you,” he would whine.

You, at first, would call him names out of instinct. After a bit, you just stopped responding, only huffing a bit.

You would look out the window, trying to figure out where you were.

It was a beautifully awful place with a beautiful (you hated admitting how handsome he was) deranged man.

If only you had your best friend.

🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤

It didn’t take long for Oliver to find out who took you. All it took was hacking into your work phone logs to find out the last person to call you.

The receptionist.

“Hello mister Sallow,” she put on a disgustingly cheerful voice. “How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me,”

“Sure.” The receptionist batted her eyes, attempting to be seductive.

“Great, let’s go.”

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

All it took was a knife to her throat to get her to tell him everything. Still, he couldn’t have her telling on him, now could he?

“Stupid bitch,” Oliver said coldly.

Oliver realized how much of an influence you had on him. He would have never sworn at a person, much less kill someone. Of course, you were everything to him. He laughed slightly.

“God, you have such an influence, you know that [READER]?” Oliver looked at the overcast sky.

He had the information, now all he had to do was kill the bastard.

🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤

“You know, my love, considering we’re together now…” Oleander started.

You turned your head to look at him, you noticed how close he had gotten. His breath was on your neck as he grabbed your arms. You started panicking.

What is this freak going to do?

“I was think we should have intercourse,” he went on.

“Are you crazy?! I don’t love you, and you don’t have my consent!” You struggled to get away.

His eyes darkened.

“I don’t need your consent. We’re married!” He said.

What the hell.

You continued struggling, trying (and failing) to get away.

He pinned both your hands above your head.

You started to black out when you felt his weight off you and heard a loud bang.

You looked up to see Oliver holding a gun.

“Ollie?” You quickly got up and rushed to him.

You hugged him and, for the first time in 10 years, cried in his arms.

“Ollie.” you slowly looked up at him.

“Yes?” He replied, rubbing your back on soothing circles.

“How did you find me?”

“I found a few leads,”

“Oh, ok,” you mumbled, pressing your face deeper in his chest.

“Let’s go home,” he said, rocking you slowly.

You were safe with him, he’ll make sure of it.

#yandere #darling #oc stuff #yandere x reader #yandere x you #maybe limerence

[katerinaaqu]

Now guess who got inspired by yet another Pocahontas scene for an odypen moment! Me! Hahahaha ✨️ 😆

Seriously if I were to picture a final scene for a pre-Iliad scene with Odysseus and Penelope this would be it!

🥺😭🥺😭🥺😭🥺😭🥺😭

The harbor of Ithaca it was packed with people who had arrived even from the farthest village to see their king off for war. Almost the entire fleet of the island was waiting ready for the long uncertain trip. The black ships with the large sails seemed more eager to start their journey than the many men who were now saying the last goodbyes to their families and friends before boarding to the ships. Odysseus the king of Ithaca waited patiently for the preparations to finish. His royal vibrant clothes of red and crimson uniquely standing out of the crowd. Penelope the queen was standing by his side, her eyes never leaving him as if she wanted to burn every single twitch of his lips into her memory. She could tell he was trying very hard not to cry; for his people and for herself but he seemed to be failing. Her own eyes were tearful. Within her arms she was holding their son Telemachus; the most precious thing both of them had. The infant seemed calm and yet one could feel it's agitation. It was as if he could feel his father's upcoming absence. Odysseus seemed equally indecisive to board his own ship.

Polites, one of Odysseus's most trusting friends walked towards this silent scene of woe, drawing his king's attention.

"The ships are almost ready, sire. We must get on board or we'll lose the tide"

"No...wait..." Odysseus whispered. "Just a few more moments..."

His voice was shaking. Penelope knew she had to do something to break this ice. Slowly she approached. On her right was the elder queen mother Anticlea, her mother in law and on her left Eyryclea, the old slave nursemaid. That woman who helped her husband be brought up now she would take care of Telemachus when the time was right. Behind them there was Penelope's entourage of servants and slave girls. Slowly and steadily Penelope approached her husband. She lifted the baby in her arms and slowly cooed at him.

"Come on...come to say goodbye to your father...he leaves for war"

Hands shaking with emotion Odysseus took the small wrapped up creature and then everyone watched the king break for a second. He raised that small head to his own neck and embraced it tightly holding it securely in his strong hand

"My sweet Telemachus..." whispered Odysseus sobbing silently

He raised his son to his lips and kissed that soft head.

"Take care of your mother... I leave this to you both a wish and a curse... take care of her..."

The baby made a small sound and then sobbed slowly as Odysseus gave him back to Penelope. Laërtes approached his son embracing him tightly

"Come back victorious, my son...come back to us..."

Odyssey released him from his strong arms only to embrace his mother who was holding back her tears more bravely than any army.

"Mother..." whispered Odysseus, "I shall return. I promise..."

It was an empty promise and he knew it. Anticlea knew it too. Her son could easily tell a white lie if he had to. They knew there was no guarantee of his return and yet she would choose to grasp that promise like an amulet or like a spell. She knew at least her son would try. That would be enough. Euryclea was sobbing softly as Odysseus embraced his nursemaid.

"My sweet nurse I shall leave you my precious Telemachus and my wife. I shall entrust you my most priceless treasures...take care of them till I return...."

For last he left Penelope; his wife and love whom he felt he met so little! Even if she was there when he carved their bed under the olive tree that was still thriving over them; even if they both created the beautiful son she was holding. Somehow he knew he would lose a long time away. Troy was far. He needed a few months of trip and no one knew how long it would take to take the infamous city. Tenderly he touched her cheek. Suddenly all words were drowned in his throat. Penelope leaned to his touch...she kissed that hand she wetted with her tears.

"We need you here..." she whispered

"I know..."

"But you have to go..."

"I know..." Odysseus whispered again, "but how can I leave you...?"

"You never will..." Penelope murmured back, "no matter where you go I will always be with you...forever. I will wait for your return..."

Odysseus leaned back and she met him halfway. They had no idea how long they kissed but neither wanted to let the other go. Neither wished to end that moment.

"Odysseus..." Polites interrupted again

Slowly and unwillingly Odysseus let her go, her hand slowly sliding away from his till fully separated. Penelope clutched the baby to her chest watching him climb upon his ship.

"Good luck my king" said the sailor who assisted him, "may the gods join you..."

Penelope watched as her husband boarded the ship and his strong voice echoed in the harbor as he gave the order for the ship to depart. On the cue the fleet replied as the magnificent vessels began their slow journey to the open sea. The king of Ithaca was leaving...

Penelope watched as the ships became one mass just like all lives become the same at the war. She could still tell her husband's red tunic but it was becoming all the more difficult. She barely felt the hand of the old nurse to her shoulder. She could hardly feel her tears drying and falling.

"My beloved queen..."

Penelope didn't hear. She only clutched the baby to her chest, did a half turn and ran. She ran like she never had run before. Her feet seemed to have gained wings and her lungs knew no fatigue as she reached the highest hill at the palaces foot. She saw the ships leaving but she could tell the first belonged to the man she loved the most in this world. The small swallow flew by her face as the wind rose, giving breath to the sails that were taking her husband away from her.

Odysseus was leaving...and no one knew when he would come back. And yet she could see her husband looking that way. She would come back. He had to...

Odysseus looked up to see the presence at the top. The crimson veils that were flowing to the atrong wind sent by the gods had to be her. He desperately ran to the back as if he expected to walk on air yo get closer. He ignored the calls of the sailors on the ship and he looked towards her. He knew she had to be looking at him right now... he was leaving but the look would be a promise. One way or another he would come back to her. To this life or the next...

Penelope knew she would wait for him to meet him again. To this life or the next...

The wind carried the silent promise.

To this life or the next...

Sorry guys I scribble again to the middle of the night but damn!

#greek mythology #odysseus #the odyssey #greek myth #the illiad #the iliad #odysseus and penelope #odyssey #the odyssey 1997 #odypen #tagamemnon #trojan war #tears of goodbye #telemachus #penelope #penelope won't see her husband's face for another 2 decades #homecoming odysseus #homeric poems #homeric epics #homer #Youtube

[mindshelter]

biting steel chewing glass over kyle and hal's relationship. chugging lava at the way kyle is so damn kind it becomes the enduring matchstrike that sets hal on the path to redemption.

kyle's call to arms is a tumultous one. he is green lantern because hal jordan is a traitor. a murderer. the narrative setup seems obvious: this new hero will defeat an indomitable villain.

during one of their first conversations, hal tells kyle: "i only wanted to fix things [...] put it back. put it right. unless i can do that, i can't be a hero. i'll be... i'll be... one of the bad guys." and that translates to: so much is at stake; i've taken everything one hundred broad strides too far and everyone is calling me a killer, a monster, and maybe i'm the first thing but it'll all be worth it when i remake everything to be even better. failing means they're right: that i turned my back on everything i am to be reviled by everyone who once loved me for nothing. if i don't absolve myself, coast city stays a barren crater, and i stay a bloody stain on history.

and hal fails. and kyle doesn't defeat the villain, in the end, instead keeping hal immobile long enough for oliver to shoot his best friend in the chest. even then, he opposes, shouting, "arrow-- not this way! [...] he was powerless!" kyle never truly accomplishes what he was meant to do. hal, too, is left to wander, purposeless, thinking: "all i feel is empty. i [...] ponder what i've become. maybe my time as a hero is over."

but kyle never seems to forget that first conversation, where he and hal shared their grief and a quiet moment together. where, however briefly, they were friends. under all that anger, he saw parallax's humanity. so kyle takes a leap of faith.

when all the heat from the sun has been sapped away, kyle is the only person who reaches out to hal. no one else knows i'm here, he says. we need you to be a hero again.

i came because i know you, hal.

kyle gives hal the opportunity to to fix things. together—with hal's power, and kyle's compassion—they put it back, put it right. hal reignites the sun, and burns to death.

hal's funeral is held in the ruins of coast city. there, kyle says, i didn't know hal as a friend. he says, i feel like i've lost someone close to me.

so maybe hal doesn't fail. kyle never forgets what hal meant: if i don't absolve myself, coast city stays a barren crater, and i stay a bloody stain on history.

the heroes transform the ruins of coast city into a garden. and at the centre, kyle builds a statue.

#i'm not saying kyle saved hal. but uh. kyle saved hal. #yes this is because of that fanart of hal and kyle hugging w/ reference to gl issue 0 #IT MADE ME INSANE. i hope you know that op #hal jordan #kyle rayner #dc #comic blogging #kyle's superpower: the green lantern ring #but more importantly. being a nice boy.

[romajuliettemai]

My Current Suspicions for Foul Heart Huntsman:

Here are some things that I think and hope will play out in foul heart huntsman:

Juliette meets her parents again - my evidence off this was concluded from LVC where at the end she talkes about missing her parents- I think she might reunite with them but I'm not sure. It would be interesting to see if they make up!

Romajuliette baby - Ok, hear me out. Basically my evidence originates off LVC. In the part in the hotel, where Roma goes snooping around the rooms in search of Mr. Pyotr and instead finds an invoice for a high amount, it says he hears Juliette's voice waft back into the room, and she's talking about the topic of child birth. Now that might just be because she's trying to wind up the hotel manager whatever tf his name was, but there was something else. Later in LVC, Juliette and Roma are discussing how they are going to get into Mr. Pyotr's house, and Roma calls Juliette a pain in the ass, affection and exasperation in equal, and Juliette says "I could really be a pain in your ass-". Which to then, Roma cuts her off, saying, "That was absolutely not an invitation to begin wheedling me about your infernal agenda again." (cited off memory, sorry if it's not exact.) INFERNAL AGENDA? WILL THEY HAVE A KID?

Imagine they name it Tyler LMAO

Rosalind yells at Oliver - So there's not much base evidence for this and this ones a bit silly, but I imagine Rosalind yelling at Oliver and calling him a bastard, because I feel like when asked about why Alisa ran off grid with the vial, she might say that she didn't trust Oliver, she didn't want the city splitting in two again, and that Oliver knew about his mom's shady stuff and didn't report it. During a big character reunion w/ every character, I honestly hope Rosalind yells at his ass, because no hate to Oliver, but he is literally an emotional brick and is honestly kinda not it.

Roma & Alisa argue over something stupid like siblings do - Again, not much base evidence for this, but Alisa and Roma arguing over something stupid like siblings do and then mentioning some effect/element in their past would be hilarious. Also just everyone somehow being summoned into this argument, or this argument happening in front of an audience would be equally hilarious.

EX:

"Where'd you learn how to shoot?" - Roma

"I'm a communist agent. They taught me. And they taught me better than you could." - Alisa

"Hey! I could have taught you just fine." - Roma

"No! You tried when I was like 13 and failed miserably. You were literally no help at all." - Alisa

"That's because you were just upset and sulking!" - Roma

"Yeah because I said, 'I bet Juliette learned to fight in one day' and then you got really mad and said 'You shouldn't want to be anything like Juliette.' And got all angry and rage-y." - Alisa (imagine this voice with Alisa imitating her younger self voice as higher pitched and innocent and Roma's as lower pitched and grumpy with airquotes for maximum effect.)

"What?" - Juliette (she is completely confused an just snapped out of a daze.)

"Yeah, that's because at the time-" - Roma (still fighting with Alisa.)

"Are you two done? We get it. At the time Juliette faked Marshall's death, and so on so forth Roma didn't like her, blah blah blah, a bunch of drama, and now you're fine. Can we move on please?" - Celia

"Ok, what?" - Juliette (imagine her just blinking hard like 'wtf conversation did I just return too, I am so confused.')

Rosalind like being absolutely shocked and then waterworks when she sees Juliette alive, meanwhile Alisa just waving and totally level expression, calm and cheerful, when she sees Roma, because she already knew they both were alive. - Again no base evidence. but I can just imagine Rosalind's jaw going slack with shock, then her knees giving out, and then her like cradling her head whispering to herself "This isn't real. I'm going crazy." over and over, with her volume crescendoing, and then tears springing to her eyes, and then waterworks, with lots of apologies to Juliette after she finds out that her cousin is in fact real, alive, and well. And then Alisa is just behind Rosalind as she kneels to the floor, and we get a view of Alisa just totally casual and cheerful expression, just waving like, "Bout time you guys decided to resurrect." And then Roma being the one in shock seeing his sister, because he didn't think Rosalind and Alisa were traveling together. This is all taking place at the Mai's front door, with it starting with Juliette opening the door and meeting her cousin, and then Juliette going, "Oh my god. Alisa?" Then, Roma just hurries to the door and peaks his head out above Juliette's shoulder, or arm if she's supporting herself against the door frame, and seeing his sister, and his eyes just going wide. I can envision it, though it's most definitely not going to happen that way.

Silas questioning his entire life when Pheobe reveals herself as Priest + Phoebe revealing herself as Priest in the big character reunion in front of everyone - No evidence, but the first one seems the most likely to happen- Silas is like honestly depressed in FHH, he needs love. The second one would just be so awesome.

I can imagine all of these things and more, and I literally cannot wait until this book comes out.

#these violent delights #our violent ends #foul lady fortune #last violent call #foul heart huntsman #chloe gong #rosalind lang #orion hong #juliette cai #roma montagov #benedikt montagov #marshall seo #celia lang #oliver hong #phoebe hong #silas wu #secret shanghai #alisa montagova

[dick-the3rd]

Rant time!!

Unpopular opinion, but I really like Jason's attack on the Titan's Tower despite the fact that most people seem to use it as a bad rep of his character.

Why? Well, buckle up this is going to be long.

First of all, I believe that what he does to Tim is not only very much in character but it's also an important part of who Jason is and what are his motivations after he became Red Hood.

Let's begin at this scene, from UTRH, if you haven't read it I strongly recommend it. Or, alternatively, see the movie version of this, I really like Jason's monologue here.

In this scene he states that he isn't seeking revenge on Bruce for not saving him, no, the real problem is that the Joker is alive. Jason clearly states that he thought that, at least now that the Joker killed him, Batman wouldn't let him hurt anyone else. From Jason's point of view he should have been the last victim.

Focus on that. The last victim.

Next scene. This is from Green Arrow (2001) #72. Red Hood abducted Green Arrow's sidekick, Speedy (who in this issue is Mia). When Oliver asks Bruce why would Jason do that, this is his answer.

Jason is incredibly smart and has proven more than once how he can have more than one goal within the same plan. This is one of this cases.

He abducts Speedy to make a diversion for the case he's currently working on in Star City. He also abducts her as a message to Batman. But also, more than that, he abducts her so he can talk to her, one on one.

Right at the beginning of this issue Jason says to Speedy that he's there to teach her a lesson. That is followed by a sparring of sorts, where Jason states how unfair is that she holds back to avoid killing people when her enemies are obviously aiming to kill her.

Which is followed by this.

It's made very clear how grey Jason morality is. Doing something bad does not equal to being bad, there's a bunch of circumstances around it.

So far so good?

Then we have this panel right here

(I know what it looks like, no he doesn't kill her. He barely even hurts her, by the end she just walks out of the place)

This is a lot more personal than "I'm taking control over Gotham's crime to do damage control". This is him admitting that he'll do things even himself considers very bad because there's a greater goal.

This is him admitting it was wrong of him to kidnap her and give her a beating just to prove a point. This is him saying he doesn't think that what he does is right, but the ends justify the means. Even though the end doesn't make the means right.

Then, FINALLY, we come to this.

The Titans' Tower. Here is the beginning of his speech.

Without any context just sounds like he's bitter and jealous. But then you think about how he wanted to be the Last Victim. Then how he kidnapped Mia to make a point.

Do you see where I'm getting at? No? Here, let me add this:

Read the last panel again. I failed- but I'm still beating you.

Jason died on that costume and that made him the weak Robin. Yet, he's still beating Tim's ass, so that means Tim is weaker than him.

And that means Tim isn't strong enough to be Robin, because if Jason is that good and he died, what chance does Tim have?

Jason knows that beating Robin up to teach Bruce a lesson is wrong. He knew it was wrong with Mia and he knows he's wrong with Tim, but he still thinks it's worth it.

Except it's not only a lesson to Bruce, is a lesson to Tim too (just like it was with Mia). During the whole dialogue Jason is trying to convince Tim that he isn't good enough to be Robin, not because Tim isn't worthy the name, but because it's too dangerous for him to wear the costume.

He's trying to make Tim give up on this life because Jason knows how dangerous it is (, the Last Victim, remember?) and it's unfair to ask for a teenager to put his life at risk to fix something that not even the grown ups can fix.

(To some level, this is also Jason admitting that he wanted someone to stop him before he died. But this is really up to personal interpretation)

Then we have this. Tim beaten to a pulp but still standing his ground.

This is Tim saying that Jason is wrong about the thing about being strong enough, because it isn't Tim's fault that he is bloody and beaten. It isn't even Bruce's fault.

It is Jason, because Jason chose to beat Tim. Jason chose to teach a lesson through pain. He's calling out Jason's hypocrisy. This is Tim refusing to play by Jason's rules.

Which is why I like the ending of this issue too (honestly if Jasom wanted Tim dead Tim would be dead, but I think at this point we all agree that death isn't his goal)

Here is where we can see exactly what makes Jason so bitter. It's not the replacement thing. It's how utterly alone Jason was when he was Robin.

Early this issue Jason says how no one cared that he died and how even though he was a Titan there wasn't a statue to him. Until then it can be read only as a whiny villain doing the bohoo no one loves me thing.

But when we get to the end we can see how deep this truly is. Jason didn't only died alone, but he also died feeling lonely. When he went looking for his mother, he was also he looking for someone that could make him less lonely.

Jason knows he's wrong. He knows he isn't a good person. Hell, he knows what he just did was really fucked up, but he does what he thinks it's best and up to this point he thought that there was a very real possibility that Tim ended up like him.

But by the end of it he realizes he was wrong. Tim isn't like him, Tim has a safety net and has people around him that won't let him end up like Jason.

Jason went to the Tower to teach him a lesson, and by the end he is the one that learns something new.

Thanks for reading and sorry for the long rant but I needed to get this out of my system.

Edit: It came to my attention recently that the Green Arrow issue I reference in this post came two years after the Teen Titans issue. It messes a bit with my reasoning and overall organization (since it was meant to be chronological). (This is the problem with reading isolated issues years after they were published, it's hard to keep track of the chronological order of things) Personally speaking I don't think it changes everything, and I still maintain my main opinion of the attack making sense for Jason as a character, but the chronology does affect things and I think it's important for you guys to know it.

#batfamily #batfam #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #robin #meta #jason meta #mine #in depth meta #my meta #my rant #revised #(nothing drastic just fixed a few grammar errors and add alt text to the images)

[siremasterlawrence]

Green With Envy

Star city is a gritty paradigm of off the chart evil doers including bit not limited to me the big hunch a nerd who has a criminal empire ready to set foot in to this city and take a hold over it.

Unfortunately, that dastardly addicted good guy is always intervening with that brooding face and emerald costume that resembles Robin of all things it’s embarrassing to see it on display.

Tonight is the night the world will see me at my glory if we can avoid the goody two shoes archer who’s quiver aims far to fast accurately for my taste maybe I should teach him a lesson or two.

Tye trap is set all he had do is take the bait and I bet he will. Across town Oliver Queens is bombarded with news blast on his cell Phone news alerts and says good bye to Felicity.

His expression quickly returns to that old grumpy curmudgeon face as he suit up for battle and races to the scene when I await him high above in the main office the stage is set.

Oliver motorcycle races in parking in the l middle of the room he hops off failing to notice the facility gate drop hitting the floor and he jumps hoping he can find away out of here soon.

The room fades in to darkness leaving all to his imagination a single candle is lit with a line finger blowing it out his teeth white as ever can be seen.

The man takes a seat to Oliver discontent and disbelief at the sheer ridiculousness of it all and follows suit flipping his hair back the pressure is on.

“What are you doing in my city? Why are you here?”

“Questions and Questions “

“Is this a joke to you ?”

“No! Sorry you are”

“What a awful costume ”

“Am I supposed throw up in submission?”

“Asshole”

“Relax…relax”

“Let me show you”

“You see this is the map of your city “

“So?”

“You are going to help me conquer”

“As if”

“You resistance while admirable”

“Is futile?”

“Correct”

“Then I’ll go down fighting “

“Ugh! Geez”

“Fine let’s play a game a big one”

Oliver spits at me flinching when I punch him hard then pick up my remote clicking it the cover flips up revealing Barry Allan Aka The Flash asleep and locked in a meta human dampener.

“Barry? Barry?”

“He can’t hear you “

“Bastard! What did you do?”

“I merely beat him at his own game”

“What do you want?”

“I want your surrender just like his.”

“Fuck you !”

“Its easy really”

“Don’t you want to join your friend “

“Barry has already lost “

“He can’t be saved “

“Oh really ?”

“Initiate mind wipe and reprogramming “

“Bart begins “

“Bart?”

“Acronym for Breaking…Arresting…Reserved Transformation.”

“Anyway genius! Catch this “

“It’s bomb! Stop please”

“Too late “

“Don’t you worry take a deep breath”

“Nnnoooo…no”

“All you had to do was here my pitch”

“But not “

“Instead…here are”

“How do you feel?”

“Empty and open”

“Get lost”

“Aaaaahhhhhh”

“Fuck”

“Who am I?”

“Your name is Oliver Queen”

“You are a playboy Billionaire “

“You are also The Green Arrow”

“My Vigilante “

“You are a criminal Master mine under me”

“Stop struggling let your mind adjust “

“The memories shuffled and replaced”

“Hey bro”

“Green Arrow at your service “

The end

#green arrow #oliver queen #hypnosis #gay mind control #ownership #reprogramming #mob

[ceebit]

abendrot ✦ l. sangyeon

note : i cried so many times writing/imagining this. what do i now that it is finished. lee sangyeon the man that u are…… </3

wc : 1.1k. rekindled flames. alt title - oranges, sunsets, and promises to keep

ABENDROT • NOUN.

the color of the sky while the sun is setting.

the sun sets over the same skyline you haven’t seen in three years. your hometown stands still against the push of time, memories unlocking themselves one by one with each step down the worn sidewalk. oranges and reds and yellows bleed across your skin like the fresh fruit you’d crushed in smaller hands, back when life was much more forgiving with you and your mistakes.

back when life still let you enjoy your time spent with him.

you haven’t heard his laugh in three years. the loudness of it all despite priding himself with composure—loose, wild, free. undeniably him. the memories pang against your chest like a melancholic drum beat.

the plastic bag curled in your left hand crinkles against your jacket with gentle rustles that mimic the wind that brushes past your ears. distracting enough to not hear anything. distracting enough to pause and wonder if you’re just hearing things. that after all this time, your name still sounds the same coming from his mouth.

orange spills across his cheek and into dirt brown hair, reminiscent of dirtied knees and socks and leaves stuck in between strands, reminiscent of citrus in his shampoo and study sessions that ran way too late as you talked the night away. you inhale despite yourself, fingers tightening around the bag as tangerine wafts sharply under your nose.

reminiscent of a nervous first kiss under the same tree you left him under three years ago. its branches sway freely without the weight of burdened fruit, mediator between you and the boy you once loved.

or love. loved? you don’t know anymore. haven’t been, since you told him you were moving to the city and he didn’t want to leave his mother alone. 

the first words he utters in the distance between you two isn’t what you expect. it isn’t i missed you or you’re back or even why are you here again? it’s been three years and you don’t answer the phone anymore. 

it’s, “you missed orange season.” 

kind, lighthearted, open. an olive branch after leaving him. the bridge of your nose burns, plastic wrinkling under your grip. do not cry.

“you still use that god awful shampoo,” you reply, and his face lights up just as the sun shines its brightest in gold and it’s too much, suddenly too much for your heart. his smile is still the same too, easygoing. it was what had drawn you to him, after all.

you’re convinced to stay for a while, to sit on the bench scratched countless times over with initials and names of teenagers who didn’t have responsibilities looming over their heads just yet. you don’t look down, knowing you’ll look for yours marked with his. knowing you’ll find the etched evidence of a promise you failed to keep. knowing—

“i would have waited for you, you know.”

you hate how light his voice sounds. you hate how even though you know you sit with the broken shards of his heart in your hands, he still speaks to you like you never left, like conversation is easy to grasp knowing you what did.

you hate it. the plastic bag drops into the grass.

“don’t say that.” the words are spat into the open air with more bitterness than you would have liked but your heart aches. it aches. “don’t say those kinds of things to me. i left for selfish reasons, and—” i don’t deserve your kindness, you want to say. you bite your tongue and squeeze your eyes shut instead.

“i would,” he repeats calmly, “have waited for you.”

the sad part is that you know. you know he would have waited. it’s why you didn’t pick up the phone when he called, scared to hear his voice and resolve to crumble. scared to tell him the reason why you left wasn’t because of school, that your plans to go to university together didn’t fall through because you didn’t tell him you got into one in the city instead one near home. 

scared to tell him you left because you didn’t know how to handle loving someone like him.

“why? you—i—you could have had better. i left you under the same damn tree we are sitting under.” your laugh is clipped, fingers curled into your jacket. “i crushed your heart, for fuck’s sake—why do you still care?”

i let you go because you couldn’t. i was too small for the love you had for me then. i didn’t know. i didn’t know. i’m sorry.

he finally looks at you then. bunched into your coat a size too big on you, trembling hands hidden in your pockets. his gaze is patient, understanding. horribly so, piercing through you to stare into the depths of your soul. it hurts.

“you left,” he agrees. you don’t see him do it but you know his fingers trace the outline of your names in the wood. “but you never gave me a reason to hate you. you have to understand that.”

“i’m not deserving of it, i—”

“that’s for me to decide.”

defeat tastes like the sweet tang of the clementines you’d shared, before, and now, too. it’s sweet, you think, picking the grocery bag off the ground and pulling one out, like out times. olive branching through childhood memories. he peels the skin off carefully, one continuous strip slowly revealing the ripe contents, and the smell hits your nose instantly. 

home. citrus staining your fingers, under the setting sun. with him. just like before. in the moment, now. maybe you’ll meet like this, under the same tree again, three years or so from now.

you follow a stray line of juice run down his arm, and catch it with your own sticky fingers before it stains his sleeves. the action makes you freeze, eyes widening to stare like a deer caught in the headlights. your hand yanks back as if burned–it might as well have been, heart racing at the open way he looks at you after–and your curse your thoughtless actions to hell and back. what were you doing? you’d lost your privilege to be carefree with him the moment you hesitated three years ago.

will it ever stop hurting so much? you love him. you do.

carefully, his hands move to take yours in his, and the trembling stops at once. tuned to him, like you always have been. his fingers interlace with yours and you finally allow yourself to cry. hot tears cascade down your cheeks.

“i’m sorry.” i love you. “i missed you.” i love you. 

“is there space for me in your life, still?” 

the sun finally sets behind the skyline, slipping away as new promises weave together. ones you know you’ll try your hardest to fulfill.

“i’ll make space for you. i will.”

“that’s all i ever wanted.” i love you, too.

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#tbz #the boyz #tbz x y/n #tbz x you #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #tbz fic #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #the boyz x y/n #the boyz fic #the boyz fluff #lee sangyeon #tbz sangyeon #the boyz sangyeon #sangyeon x reader #sangyeon x you #sangyeon x y/n #sangyeon fluff #sangyeon fic #this fic is literally my baby i. im #[shaking visibly] like it’s fine #shua’s archive