Together, Always

Artober day 1: Minato's kids

Gojo’s body irl:

argue with ur mammy about it.

Persephone hanging out with the puppies at night.

Duke is unapologetic for everything that comes out of his mouth. In fact, give him a mic, he'll say it louder.

Some way too old for that guy, trying to flirt with Cass: You know, you seem so mature for your age…

Duke, popping out of nowhere: And you're really fucking dumb for yours, man, fix this puddle of desperation on your head first and only then think about trying to fit into society. If even your hair doesn't want to be with you, what are you counting on?

Cass, who really didn't want to ruin her cute dress with blood: 👍🏻

A really annoying paparazzi: Hey, boy, how does it feel to become rich after, well, whatever you were before? Have your, erm, extracurricular activities changed? What's your favourite thing to do now?

Duke, with the straightest face known to mankind: No, it's still your mom. My favourite extracurricular activity, planning to do her more actually, thanks for the question.

Bruce, trying to parent a whole ass teen: So…

Duke: I really shouldn't have told this terrible, rude, insufferable piece of person to go eat shit. I genuinely regret it. I should have told her to go eat shit and die choking, such a missed opportunity, damn, I'm still upset.

Bruce: ...

Bruce, to himself: Why am I even trying?

There are a bunch of compilations on YouTube and Tiktok “Duke Thomas-Wayne has no PR training whatsoever”. Duke personally likes every single one of them.

You knew Damian would take his time getting adjusting to your presence. Of course he would. He’s even slower to warm up than Jason, you knew it before you’d even met him. So you’d had no idea you were even within a five year shot of him even liking you, let alone trusting you.

In spite of it nearing one in the morning, you laid atop your bed covers, watching your shows with passing interest. You’re waiting up for Jason like you usually do, you have a hard time sleeping not knowing if he’s okay or not. He hates it when you do, he says just because he has to be up all night doesn’t mean you do. Unfortunately for him, you’re nothing if not stubborn.

A clatter from the living room has you perking up—Jason’s back. It’s a little early for him to be home already though, and he’s not usually so loud upon re entry unless he’s hurt.

You stand quickly, tossing the book aside, and mentally prepare yourself to tend to injuries.

You open the door to the dark room, the only light available coming from the dim lamp in the kitchen and the moonlight through the open window.

It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, scanning the room only to find a figure much, much smaller than expected.

“Damian?”

He looks at you through the darkness, silent. You approach him slowly.

“Hey. Are you hurt?” You ask, getting a bit concerned. Of all Jason’s brothers, Damian is the least likely to drop in, especially unharmed.

“No.” Damian’s always standoff-ish, but he’s exhibiting a particularly strange energy right now. You wonder if he needs something Jason could help with.

“Jason’s not here,” you tell him, watching him closely for any sign of what’s going on.

“I know.” His words are short, measured.

If he knows, that means he was with him tonight. Then why would he come here?

“Is everything okay?”

He says nothing. His gaze is lasered onto a panel of wood among the floorboards, jaw clenched.

You tilt your head. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

He hesitates to answer but it seems like he does want to stay. You don’t know Damian anywhere near as well as Jason does, but you can’t imagine he’s ever seen or shown much vulnerability before.

He seems to decide on biting the bullet and nodding, yes. You make your way around the couch and sit down, looking to him.

Slowly, he does the same, in absolute silence. He sits stiff. His shoulders are hunched up and his body is tightly pressed into the smallest space possible. The way his posture curls in on him makes him look even tinier.

You’ve never seen him anywhere close to upset before, not like this. Most of the time you see him he’s an angry upset, but this…it’s a sad upset. Almost scared.

You fold your legs onto the couch, pulling a blanket off from the ledge behind you. You drape it over Damians shoulders, enveloping him in warmth to contrast the icy bite of the night. He remains still.

You slowly move your hand up to his hair, treading carefully. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, though he makes no moves to stop you. You take that as the closest to a blessing you’re going to get from him, so you continue on.

You brush his hair back lightly, fingers threading through his hair with a loving gentleness.

“Damian,” You whisper.

He doesn’t look at you. Even in the dark, you can see his breathing labored and his eyes starting to well over.

You turn to face him and shift a little closer, taking his hand in yours. His chin lowers and his stare hardens, trying desperately not to cry.

You bring your free hand to the far side of his head, gently nudging him your way. He folds immediately, turning to you and throwing himself into your chest, tears flowing violently.

He struggles to breathe right, choking on his sobs as he hugs you tight. You hold his head against you, stroking his hair as he weeps.

You hold him like that for almost half an hour, allowing him as much time to cry as he needs.

He ends up curled up on your lap at an awkward angle, head resting on your thigh. The shaking of his body slows over time, his eyes fluttering shut from the ache of the tears. Not long after, his breathing levels out and his body completely relaxes into sleep.

You continue petting his head, mind wandering around to what could’ve happened. Jason had told you once that the only thing Damian seems to hold in high regard is Bruce, and his mood can easily sway Damian’s.

It’s almost three am when Jason slides in through the window, landing gracefully into a kneel. He tugs off his helmet before looking up and noticing you on the couch.

A split second of a smile before he glances down and sees Damian asleep on your lap, his arms still wrapped around your waist. His mouth drops and his brows furrows as he stands, examining his brother.

“What the hell?” He says quietly, looking back up to you.

You shake your head and shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. Did something happen on patrol?”

Jason’s eyes drift down to Damian again. “I mean Bruce kind of yelled at him, so.”

“That’ll do it.”

He nods, coming to sit on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to wake him. He observes his brother's vice grip around your middle and your much more gentle hold around his.

“He let you hug him?”

“He hugged me.”

“He what?”

Bruce, presenting a slideshow: any questions?

Damian: father, Jon has been a excellent influence on me, I request he be allowed in Gotham still

Bruce, thinking: uhh

Tim: Kon isn’t a great influence but I’d listen to him any day

Bruce: Do I need to go back to slide 26?

Tim:

——-

Jon, Kon and Clark sitting in their living room:

Jon: I think Batman just sent me a death threat

Kon: congrats, you’ve officially made the ‘Kent/Super family hate slideshow’

Jon: the..what?

Clark: that’s what happens when you break up with Batman

Jon: you dated Batman??

Clark: yes?

Jon:

Kon: Wait is that why I’m into Tim… is this a genetic thing??

Lois, listening in: No it’s unrelated to Batman, you like Tim because all Kent’s like dating people who stand their ground.

Kon: oh

——-

I feel like a virgin when I search up “x Reader” with a new character I like

La danza de los dragones.

Milenios después de que la devastación atacara las tierras que los dioses le otorgaron al mundo, Hubo belleza inundando cada plano de esas bendecidas tierras, las especies vivían todas en paz, lo inimaginable sucedía como actos comunes, la vida, en pocas palabras era tranquila.

Cada ser cumplió con su deber, las sirenas habitaban el mar, las hadas plagaban los bosques, los dragones surcaban sus cielos, y el sinfín de animales y habitantes mágicos acogió sin dudarlo a la especie que se consideró lo único simple en todo el lugar, los humanos formaron parte. El mundo tenía paz.

Hasta que la perdió.

Los humanos son imperfectos por naturaleza, no es que desearan serlo simplemente no podían controlarlo. Por eso cuando la envidia envolvió las venas de los primeros hombres nadie pensó que tendrían que interferir, los dioses no pondrían a seres destructivos en la tierras que contenían la paz ¿Cierto?

El resentimiento es una enfermedad aérea, los humanos, anhelantes de peculiaridad fueron la mejor forma de contagio. ¿Por qué los otros tenían magia y ellos no? Las innumerables cuestiones los hicieron envenenarse de envidia; decidieron entonces, si no podían conseguir la magia, la arrebatarían. Los primeros levantamientos iniciaron un día de pesca, con cientos de barcos llenos con marineros que zarparon con el único objetivo de poner un ejemplo. Miles de sirenas cantaron su tragedia aquel día.

Aquellos que alguna vez fueron respetados, incluso apreciados, esta vez fueron temidos, ya no había más debilidad en los cuerpos mortales, en su lugar se alzaron lentamente contra la magia que les había sido gentilmente mostrada. Años de sangre y lucha después; poco quedo de lo divino en el mundo de Modrum. Entre la crueldad de la guerra dos figuras singulares resaltaron. Sus caminos se marcaron por sangre, ambos con la amarga ambición de un mundo diferente

Aliados, compañeros, enemigos.

La sangre y el oro coronaron a los primeros reyes humanos, avariciosos y ciegos tomaron sin dar a cambio. El poder fue repartido en dos grandes reinos, Aurelen la tierra del oro y las hadas extintas y Sylvarith la montaña de bosques y dragones. Modrum fragmentado había perdido la gloria de sus grandes días. Las hadas desaparecieron, las pocas que quedaron fueron convertidas en esclavas, y las sirenas preferían mantenerse en lo profundo, donde su belleza no cautivaba y sus cantos se ahogaban junto a marineros de poca importancia. Poco a poco no quedó rastro de lo hermoso y divino que solía ser el próspero mundo de Modrum.

Entre todos estos seres solo uno fue considerado digno de permanecer. Con vida y relativa libertad, los dragones altos e imponentes sobre cualquier otro ser, lo suficientemente sabios para callar y tan audaces para no escuchar, Estas denominadas indomables bestias, fueron los compañeros perfectos para aquellos despiadados reyes que buscaban el control de tierras que no les pertenecían.

Hace cientos de años, el cielo se iluminó con un suceso histórico, la danza de los dragones expandió el poder de aquellos que se coronaron a sí mismos en cenizas y sangre. Ambas casas ahora convertidas en nobles palacios de reyes y jinetes se atravesaron en la guerra por el control de todo. El fuego envolvió el cielo con su calor y la sangre y el oro adornaron las cicatrices en las manos de los jinetes. Cuando finalmente todo termino no había mucho que salvar, las cenizas aun ardientes se forjaron en el terror del pueblo y la poca paz que pudo conservarse era sostenida por un par de manos débiles, un tratado de paz demasiado delgado impidió una segunda gran guerra. Sus coronas se consagraron con el poder absoluto.

Aquellos días oscuros se habían alejado de ambas familias, ahora un par de décadas después la fragmentada paz que se había conseguido después del baile de los dragones, estaba pendiendo de un diente de león. Los nobles herederos de ambas familias, Plint y Creed una vez más unidos por poco más que un hilo de odio fino, el destino de un mundo colgaba del espacio entre sus dedos entrelazados.

Oliver Plint no era un luchador, prefería entre todas las cosas montar a su dragón y escapar, aunque fuese por pocos minutos del legado que le precedía. No era un sanguinario ni un prodigio de la espada, si algo lo definía era su absurda gentileza. Todo lo gentil se extingue en el mundo, la amabilidad no coexiste con la fuerza.

Kaius Creed estaba preparado para una matanza, la espada y su dragón eran sus únicos aliados y además de su ambición por la corona de Aurelen, no había nada que le importara, era un guerrero un rey nacido en la corona, envuelto en brazas y oro, echo para odiar y destruir así tuviera que morir para lograrlo era un sacrificio digno de tomar. Nada duraba para siempre, a excepción del honor.

Los dos reinos se tocan de nuevo durante una gala particularmente absurda y cuando un par de movimientos en falso podrían destruirlo todo se necesita de dos almas corrompidas para evitar que los dragones vuelvan a danzar.

T7 blank period

reference: