#Damian Earl

[five-gotham-guys]

I’m behind Tim Drake in finance class and his laptop’s wallpaper is a drawing of a hyper-realistic cow frowning and wearing a baseball cap backwards.

It’s saying “Not in the MOOd”

#OnlyInGotham

~ Earl

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey can I ask for a batbro reader who begged for a bird and finally got one but the bird ended up hating everyone except for reader and Alfred (he deserves it) and is super protective of reader to the point that it bites anyone other than Alfred who gets close to him and always cuddles with the reader.

Reader is a mama bird and just blames everyone but his bird, can you make it a green-cheeked conure because just look at how cute.

I'm not a bird person... But they are so damn adorable! The one on the left is smiling!😭 Animals are great and adorable... I won't use a gif for this fic. Also, this is short, but sitting too long in my drafts anyway. And, also got new glasses today! I can see everything in 4k. It's nuts lol.

Summary: (Y/N) has his birds. He is a mama bird.

Warnings: (Y/N) being mad, Earl the bird is a grumpy one.

For years on end, (Y/N) begged Bruce for a bird. He did everything he could to prove to Bruce that he was responsible enough for a bird. Everything. He learned everything there is to know about birds and how to take care of them. Especially with green cheeked conure because they are so damn adorable.

Bruce was hesitant. (Y/N) played the Damian card, saying Damian had all of his animals. Whenever Damian brought an animal it was all fine and nothing. (Y/N) couldn't even bring a damn bird home.

Bruce defended himself in saying that Damian's animals can't fly off and that taking care of birds and four legged animals. At this point, (Y/N) was ready to raise hell and blow the manor up with his rage. Why is a bird such a big deal?!

Bruce isn't an idiot and knows that (Y/N) is close to his breaking point and knew that (Y/N) would bring a bird in the house, sooner or later. So Bruce has devised a plan. He would get a green cheeked conure for (Y/N)'s birthday. (Y/N) has proven himself over the years to be responsible.

(Y/N) was still pissed when his birthday came around, ready to ignore Bruce all day if needed. And when the celebration rolled around, (Y/N) was mad when he came into the living room, more so when Bruce was all smiles.

" I know you and I have been at odds for a while due to you wanting a bird. " Bruce started and (Y/N) crossed his arms, making Bruce smirk. " But, I saw how responsible you are in the last few years and well, your bird is here. " Bruce said, just as Alfred brought a cage in with a gorgeous greened cheek conure.

(Y/N) was speechless before hugging Bruce tightly, saying thank you again and again so fast that Bruce laughed, turning (Y/N) to walk to the cage. Alfred put the cage on the table and (Y/N) opened the door, slowly reaching his hand towards the bird. The bird was a bit hesitant, but moved closer to the hand.

(Y/N) tried not to explode from the happiness, he couldn't startle the little bird, could he?

It has been a month since getting this bird and (Y/N) has named him Earl, since he was grumpy most of the time, just like an old man named Earl who hates kids playing outside. A grumpy old man in a bird's body. (Y/N) loved Earl and Earl loved (Y/N) too, allowing (Y/N) to put him on his shoulder.

Earl loved being on (Y/N)'s shoulder, chirping away and gently pecking (Y/N) with his beak. (Y/N) was over the moon ever since his birthday. He loved Earl and his grumpiness and finally wasn't mad at Bruce.

However...

Earl became protective of (Y/N), even refusing to let anyone get close to his owner. Alfred was the only exception. Earl would bite anyone who would come near (Y/N), making them yelp. Jason was mad, glaring at Earl who almost, seemingly, glared back at him. The two were rivals. Damian has decided to somehow win Earl over, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Dick and Tim thought briefly about getting rid of Earl, but (Y/N) would lose his shit about it and being murdered by him. Because (Y/N) would do it. They would be dead the moment he would find out and the manor would go kaboom, taking out everyone in it.

And Earl was fully aware of the fact that (Y/N) would protect him. It was comical to see (Y/N) blame his brothers for doing something to his bird, even when Earl was faking it. The boys saw that Earl was smarter and Jason once said that there is a human in that bird body.

Earl recently, however, did something that nearly made (Y/N) explode. Earl managed to fake an injury. He was walking with his wing, as if that wing was in pain and somehow injured. (Y/N) knew that none of his brothers would ever do something to injure Earl.

But he was still mad about it.

But when he saw Earl faking it, it was shocking. He never saw anything like that and he realized that he needed to have some sort of higher IQ to manage to do something like this.

Alfred, the only person that Earl allowed near (Y/N), laughed his ass off when he heard it. He didn't know that birds could be that smart. Bruce on the other hand, questioned why he got the damn bird.

Sure, it was to make his son happy, but still. He didn't expect Earl to be so connected to him, but connections with humans and animals are often strong and Bruce in all honesty, should have seen it coming. It's always one person and maybe a bonus person that an animal respects, loves and protects and the rest are in danger from being pecked by an animal. In this case, it's Earl.

Bruce still didn't understand the name Earl. Sure, the bird might be a grumpy one, but, he wouldn't question (Y/N) and his choice. But that bird does have a beak on him.

But Bruce doesn't regret it in the slightest. Seeing his son happy is the best thing he could ask for. And he wouldn't change that for the life of him. Even if it meant that Earl would hate them forever.

[orionremastered]

Anon here! I just saw that your requests are open for Batfam? If you’re still taking requests can you do a regency era Damian Wayne x reader. If you don’t want to do Damian I wouldn’t mind any of the batboys!

xxx

I am always taking requests (they're for my sanity) except for the next three days because I'm on a plane, busy, or sleeping :/

(for this fic, they are Bruce's biological kids) (not completely historically accurate. like at all. but i tried)

Masterlist

Jason Todd x (probably fem due to the law back then unless you want to dream that being gay was allowed in 1817 (some sources also state that lesbianism was never illegal, but I don't know for sure. Just found it interesting))!Reader

Regency Era AU

The poor man is being swarmed by potential— and in all honesty, very desirable— women and their family members who are desperate to introduce the most suitable option for his wife from their family line. Constantly ignoring beginnings of phrases such as "this is the honourable—" and "perhaps you would like to be introduced to my lovely daughter—", and with each one his jaw ticked.

You hide your smile behind your fan, gazing at him from across the ballroom. It is the marriage season and your childhood friend clearly hated it. But that was expected of him as the second son of Bruce Wayne, Duke of York and member of the royal family. Especially since the duke's eldest, Marquess Richard, had recently married a young woman, Marchioness Barbara.

Locking eyes with the green you have known for so long, you tap the top of your open fan. I wish to talk to you.

With abundant relief, he shoos off one particularly frustrating Earl and almost rushes to be by your side. "Thank you," he says sincerely, a smile stretching his face.

"Why do you not wish to talk to them?" you inquire, Jason's smile dropping subsequently. "They are fine young women, after all."

"They're boring," he sighs, "I do not wish to be married to someone who's personality is dull."

"They're not dull," you chide, and he raises a brow. "They are just taught to be agreeable and respectful, my Lord."

"If I asked them about my theory of a novel I am reading, they would simply say, 'Well if you think so, it must be true' and not..."

"Something like I'd say?"

"Exactly."

You suspect it's a common theme with the Waynes; they're seemingly more inclined to look for a spouse that challenges their opinions and joins them in their love of science— the recently wedded Wayne couple bonded over their love of physics, in fact. A quality like that in a women was usually seen as undesirable.

When you were younger and your father made you visit the Waynes, you learned about sciences that your father would've frowned upon; even the daughters, though there were only two, enjoyed the conversations like you did. With Jason and the youngest son, Damian, you would have lengthy conversations about the novels you were reading altogether; these conversations happened so often that their father was tired of having three copies of every novel he owned.

"I have an idea," Jason says, straightening to his full height beside you— tall enough for you to need to tilt your head up if you wanted to look him in the eyes (you always did— something that beautiful was designed to be looked at). "What if you and I get married?"

"You can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

You consider him for a moment— you really do— and see no sign of a lie or joke behind his offer. And now that you think about it, it wouldn't be terrible. It was better than your father marrying you off to some old man you didn't know.

Or weren't attracted to.

"Usually there's a dance or two before the proposal," you point out almost teasingly, "And then courtship. For at least a few months. Don't forget, a man should dance with multiple women before deciding who he wishes to wed—"

"Fine," he sighs, rolling his eyes. Yet a small grin remains on his face. "Would you like to dance, then?"

"Hmm, let me think—"

Jason pointedly fake-yawns while playfully glaring your way.

"I would appreciate a dance, yes." And with that, he leads you to the centre of the ballroom, passing his father who watches the two of you with confusion as you begin to dance.

"Are they—"

"Relax, dear," his wife Selina interrupts while lightly leaning against him, also watching the two of you dance, a smile on both of your faces as you whisper quiet yet teasing words to each other. "Don't tell me you couldn't see it before?"

Her husband's silence answers for him.

[batchilla]

Fata Morgana Chapter Three - A Choice Made

Roman Sionis, being of a family as old as your own, is a marvellous dancer. You can’t help but grant him that, at least. “You dance well.” You say to break the silence. “Easily done, with a partner as skilled and beautiful as yourself, Princess. Though you seemed a good deal happier dancing with the Captain.” You raise an eyebrow and take a breath as you move your shoulders in anticipation of the game, and how aggressively the Earl wishes to play it. Part of you is almost happy. You often scheme, play the innocent doe eyed ninny. To be openly called on your behaviour is thrilling as it is off putting.

“Captain Todd-Wayne is a dear friend. I imagine you, more than most of the gentry must have been thrilled by his return. You served with him at the Battle of Arkham did you not?” Roman tilts his head “I did not serve, my place was in the advisory tent. But yes, we indeed were both present on that glorious day.” “A day that served you most … auspiciously then, as a man who never took up the sword.” As your partner waltzes you around the room in a twirling pattern with your fellow dancers, he laughs, deep and from the chest. “Indeed I did. Though I do try not to brag about it. Pride, they say, goes before the fall.” 

He can’t help but feel grateful. It would not do to break down so publicly. He only hoped no one had seen his brother escort him aside. That his princess had been too wrapped up in her new fiance to notice. “Jason?” his brother asks, pressing a stemmed glass into his hands, which he drinks without hesitation. “Don’t fall in love.” He says with a humourless laugh. “And not with someone above your station.” Tim just looked at him. Often Jason hated that look Tim fixed people with. As though he was a sheet of tax information for the local peasantry. As though all his problems and fears and ambitions and joys were simple data that while he could never make complete sense of where to his little brother completely obvious. Once, there was a time Jason would have thought he hated Tim. He’d never felt the Duke loved him as he had the others. Dick, the heir who had come to the Duke through great tragedy, and became a golden example of the Wayne name. Then him. He’d been robbing the stables. He’d expected to lose his hand. He’d been taken in by a man spiralling, in need of a project. He’d been given status, education, all the things that by birth he’d never ought to have. Then he’d given him a sword and sent him away. 

He’d taken in Tim. A boy of noble birth who he’d always seemed, in Jason’s eyes, one he’d always favoured. Then the bastard. Jason had no personal objections to young Damian - at least not by reason of his birth. He owed his mother … everything. But death - because he had died, surely, that day - had a way of giving perspective. 

Damn the Duke's favour - his brothers were his brothers. “Her Highness?” Tim says, that analysing look falling away to sympathy. “Her Highness.” He concurs. “If I may… While you may not be the heir… you are a war hero. Our father would surely grant funds in your name enough to persuade the King. You could be wed.” “She’s engaged.” Jason manages, the words poison in his throat. “Except … there’s been no such announcement. Not yet. Deals, maybe. But no formal engagement. There is—-” “Roman Sionis will not take well to a slight so great.” “Why do you care so deeply about the opinion of Sionis?” “In truth… I have no proof. But whatever happened to me, I fear he was its mastermind.” Tim’s expression darkens. “I’ll see what I can uncover. But you have to understand… It's been so long now. If no witness came forward then, it’s unlikely I’ll get far.” “I know. But if he does manage to wed her…” Jason shakes his head. “There’s not a damn thing I can do to save her from this.” He fights a laugh, not of humour but of despair. 

“And the worst thing is, I could have. True, I’m not worthy of her. She deserves someone better. Someone softer and kinder and untainted by atrocities. But at least if it were me I’d know she was safe. She was loved. Because… unworthy as I am, content as I ought be to be her shield and her sword… I love her. And she’s trapped with that fucking SCOUNDREL, and I can’t do a damn thing about it and maybe once I could have but it’s too late—-” His rant is cut short by Tim crushing his ribs into a hug. “It likely is.” he acknowledges “but give me a chance to see what I can do.”

As your partner waltzes you around the room in a twirling pattern with your fellow dancers, he laughs, deep and from the chest. “Indeed I did. Though I do try not to brag about it. Pride, they say, goes before the fall.” You smile in return, and it does not meet your eyes. From his smug tone, lack of respect for your station or for the Captain, ostentatious suit, and general air, this is the least humble man you have beheld with the lone exception of your father. But ego on its own is a failing you could live with in a future husband. What you could not live with was the cruelty in his eyes, in his toothed smile and too strong grip. What you can not live with is the fact that Captain Todd-Wayne had been dancing nearby until a mere few moments ago… until something had terrified him. He stands stone like, staring at the Earl. You trip, tearing the hem of your dress on your heel “oh. Oh my how silly of me. If you would kindly excuse me my lord… If you could accept such a clumsy partner at the next ball I would gladly make it up, but I ought to exit before anyone notices.” The Earl kisses your hand in parting. “But of course, but of course. How can I complain to have the choicest of partners on yet another occasion?”. You cannot afford to go to Jason’s side. The scandal would be unavoidable then. But still, you are glad to see a young man with the Wayne’s distinctly black hair. Even for one who adopted his heirs, the Duke Wayne had managed that many of his brood resembled him. One Mister Drake-Wayne, you believed. Either way, you had work to do. The two people you cared for and trusted most closely in all the world feared this man. You needed to discover the why. And more importantly then why was the how. Stephanie, her quarrel with him you never knew. Captain Todd-Wayne is not a man who fears easily, and he fears Sionis. You slip out of the ballroom with a whisper to a footman that you need to retire, and not to allow concern should your parents enquire. You can’t afford to panic. You need to think. Roman Sionis had been present at Arkham the day the Captain disappeared. He had directly benefited from that disappearance. That on its own was fortune. But add to the evidence the Captains fear? The earl had done something to your beloved. As you venture back into the corridors of the palace with each step your walk becomes ever closer to a run, until you are running indeed. You lift your skirts, the back of your skirt trailing behind you as you race deeper and deeper into the castle. Golden light from the torches lining the walls bathes your skin and casts dramatic shadows. You have to hurry. You figure you have ten minutes from when you left the ball before Sir Rayner, your guard on duty noticed you had fled. Or, if Sir Todd recovered before then, he’d alert the castle guards at once. Ten minutes till your absence was noted, maybe five more till you were caught if you can keep this pace.  Because you refuse. You refuse. You will not be petals in the wind a second more. You are a hurricane. And god himself can’t protect those who’d try to control your path. 

Fate be damned, illusions and hope could go… could … could go fuck themselves.

You were in charge. And you were getting married.

And you would choose your own goddamn groom. If you read this far, reblog. taglist:

@jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

@love-theangel

@torchbearerkyle

@interwebseriesfan24

Honestly not entirely thrilled with this one, but I was at the point where if I couldn't post this chapter the series would rot and never be completed as I procrastinated and lost motivation. So. Here it is.

[incorrectbatfam]

Can you do the batfam as drinks they would order at 3 am in a hotel bar after crying?

Dick: the most colorful cocktail on the menu

Jason: earl gray vodka (courtesy of this post)

Tim: lemonade, extra crunchy

Damian: a juice box

Duke: Dr. Pepper

Cullen: a cup of crushed ice

Stephanie: orange soda in a champagne flute

Cassandra: chocolate milk

Barbara: Irish coffee

Harper: root beer

Carrie: an Oreo milkshake

Kate: one of those drinks for two

Alfred: a single absinthe shot

Selina: giving some love to the bottom-shelf wine

Bruce: overpriced whiskey

[pepperf]

Whilst I fully get tumblr's bias towards artists, I've been side-eyeing the whole Jonathan Yeo speculation--because yes, on the whole, people in the arts DO tend to be lefty, good people, etc, but it's not always the case. Official portraiture, in particular, tends to be the most Establishment-friendly of all the arts, attracting the kind of artists who are technically very talented, but who also have no inclination to rock the boat and are very happy to schmooze with those in power.

I know next to nothing about Jonathan Yeo, but on a little digging, I found:

He's the son of a Tory MP and is good friends with the Earl of Snowdon.

He's known for a painting of Tony "war criminal" Blair that made him look as tragic and sympathetic as possible.

He's also done chummy portraits of David "pigfucker" Cameron, Camilla (when she was still Duchess of Cornwall), Prince "massive racist" Philip, and Rupert Murdoch.

The notorious porn collage of George Bush was (allegedly) after a an official commission was approved and then withdrawn, so - fit of pique? Who knows. He also did a porn collage of Lucian Freud, which, given that he's often cited as Freud's natural successor in the world of big name British portrait artists, is a little rude.

On the other hand, if you know anything about Damian Hirst, you would know that he must have LOVED to be painted with his crotch in your face, looking like Henry VIII. Dude is a knob.

No one in Yeo's position is going to imply that a D-Day veteran is a war criminal. Just. Full stop. No.

Furthermore, his whole schtick seems to be to paint the background to match the outfit, in a kind of weird, matchy-matchy, interior decor style that I personally find meaningless.

Chas chose to wear his beloved Welsh Guards uniform, which is a lurid, bright red. Whatever else Yeo did, red was always going to be the dominant colour of that painting. The butterfly was apparently his idea, too, because he thinks he's some kind of eco-warrior.

Yes, Yeo has painted Malala Yousafzai, and Idris Elba, and Kristin Scott Thomas, and Baroness Doreen Lawrence, and lots of other worthy people, too - it's his job, he's a portraitist.

If you want my opinion, the impression that Chas is swimming in buckets of blood or burning in hellfire is something the artist did not intend. Don't ask me how he didn't look at it and think, hmm, that's a little on the nose - maybe he'd thought too much about colour theory, too, idk. Judging by his past history, he's probably enjoying the attention rather than being mortified. Or maybe that was partly the intention. Just don't give him too much credit for being intentionally subversive.

But absolutely do keep reading into that painting as the indictment of British royal power that it ought to be; it's pissing off both the royals and the royalists, and I hope it burns, every time Chas has to see it.

[toulousewayne]

Batfamily Shenanigans:Head-canons Pt: 1

Bruce eat Peanut Butter from the jar and it drives Alfred mad. Has a kid it was the only thing that calmed Bruce down after his parents,but as an adult he still does it.

Bruce cannot cook in the kitchen, but he can grill just about anything and does it with minimal effort.

Dick, Bruce,Alfred,Steph and Duke are right handed. While, Babs, Jason, Damian, and Kate are left handed. Tim is ambidextrous. Damian hates it.

Damian is vegetarian, Dick and Babs will try different restaurants with him and some of Dick’s new favorite takeout is a vegan and vegetarian Asian restaurant in Uptown.

Alfred prefers Earl Grey over any other tea.

Tim got his GED,at first the he didn’t want to tell anyone but Damian found his mail and told him he was proud. But threatened him if he breathed a word to the others.

Duke sometimes get overwhelmed during the day patrol and other bats sometimes will randomly come by to check on him.

Bruce to his credit was still getting hang of being a father with Jason and Dick. Tim was more of a partner at first, but later on he became his son. He really got improve and do better with Damian. He’s still trying but at least that counts.

Jason does have the white tuff, however after speaking with Talia and Damian he learns it’s not a result of the pit. And it’s actually Vitiligo.

Stephanie is actually allergic to eggs, put loves them so much that everyone just carries Benadryl. Cass keeps her EpiPen.

Duke is the best swimmer out of his siblings.

Kate does not like desserts, she doesn’t have a big sweet tooth. Bruce however is a Cookie Monster.

Babs has had LASIK however she still wears her glasses to not strain them while looking at monitors all the time.

Alfred the Cat, loves Tim’s room more because of his window. It gets the best sunrises and sunsets, he enjoys the warmth from it.

Ace prefers to set at Bruce’s feet in the cave. Bruce enjoys his company.

Cass and Dick have dance classes together in the ballroom. Dick is surprisingly good at Ballet.

Jason will eat his siblings leftovers. Tim will get him half his PB&J and Jason will devour it in seconds.

Talia used to make food with her mother has a little girl and did the same with Damian. He tries to teach Bruce some of his favorite food. Poor Bruce isn’t very good at it but the enjoy the bonding.

Cass can identify which of her brothers is the closest by their scents. Dick has a vanilla and cedarwood smell,Jason smells like Grapefruit and Amber, Tim smells like French lavender, Duke has a grapefruit and Patchouli scent, and Damian smells like cinnamon.

Barbara likes when Cass and Damian make her handmade jewelry over being bought stuff. She wears a gold locket Cass gifted her everyday. And has a ring and charm bracelet that Damian gave her for birthday. She never takes these off.

Tim is allergic to shellfish.

Bruce cannot stand strawberry jam, he prefers grape much to Alfred’s horror.

Stephanie will stack plates, silverware and cups like a server. It’s habit she got from her Mom and hates leaving a mess for Alfred or any other server to clean.

Jason has smoked from time to time. But will snap if he sees his little brothers do it. Jason will Mother Hen them to death.

Alfred is the best marksmen with long ranges guns, Jason is the best at versatile shooting and Barbara is the best firearm shot.

Cass,Steph are the same height, both are an inch taller than Tim, Duke is to inches taller then them.

Tim and Damian are the artist of the family. Damian prefers classic art, like oil paintings, pottery, and marble sculptures. Tim prefers modern art, photography, stone sculptures. Diana takes them to her art gallery on the weekends.

Bruce is the slowest to text back, Jason and Damian ignore texts if they’re not emergencies,Tim emails the fastest, the only good testers are Steph, Duke, and Barbara. Dick will ignore your text and FaceTime you to ask you to repeat the question instead and Cass prefers a phone call.

[delusionalmultifandomwriter]

Batfamily Caffeine HC

requested?: no

My Batfam obsession is going on so enjoy!

HC: What kind of caffeine does the Batfam consume?

Bruce drinks plain black coffee, no sugar, no creamer. Even at Starbucks he will order plain black coffee. He will never consume energy drinks, maybe occassionally a black tea.

Dick has a sweet tooth. He prefers coke or energy drinks. If he drinks coffee he will fill up that cup with cinnamon creamer. You can imagine Tim shaking his head in the back.

Jason prefers tea. He is the type of guy to drink earl grey tea or matcha. He will occasionally drink coffee but never cheap one. Jason is someone to celebrate his coffee. Opposite to that, he will drink the cheapest energy drinks there are and just chug them down if he needs the effect fast.

Tim. We all know Tim is a caffeine addict™️. He drinks regular coffee in large quantities. If it is a bad day, he will switch to Death Wish Coffee (500mg caffeine per cup) and have two. Alfred regulary hides the coffee beans from him to avoid Tim having a heart attack. He drinks Iced Americano at Starbucks and has at least once tried to brew his coffee with an energy drink instead of water. Tim has no survival instinct when it comes to his caffeine intake.

Babara takes her coffee with creamer and sugar. She prefers vanilla flavoured or drinks cinnamon like Dick. She will occasionally drink energy drinks but only high quality ones. She is the one in the fam that has her caffeine intake under control the most.

Steph is a sucker for Starbucks seasonal coffee. She is a pumpkin spice girl and awaits every autumn with heart eyes. She drags Tim to Starbucks every year when PSL season starts. Peppermint flavour for Winter Season is also fine by her. She prefers fancy coffee and stocked up one of the kitchen cabinets at Wayne Manor with different flavours of Barista syrup.

Cass is that kind of person that takes caffeine pills. She will also chug down black coffee, not that she likes the taste. She consumes it for the effect only. Sometimes she is even worse than Tim.

Duke prefers energy drinks. He is not picky with the flavours, i believe he prefers the regular flavour. I dont see him consuming a lot of caffeine, he mainly does it because being a vigilante messes with your sleep schedule and, like everyone, he is always running low on sleep.

Damian is a kid, a trained assassin, but also a kid. He probably has a big sweet tooth, i see him drinking fruity frappucinos. He will sip his strawberry cream frappucino while Tim is fighting with the Barista over adding seven shots of espresso to his Vanilla Latte. Damian also drinks hot chocolate, he will probably drink coffee when he gets older. I believe he will develope similar preferences as Stephanie.

Alfred drinks tea. Good british black tea. It also is ridiculously expensive but that is not a problem if you are the butler of Bruce Wayne himself. He sometimes celebrates tea time with Jason when he is around.

[we-ezer]

BLACK BUTLER X BATMAN AU 3

ciel is reborn as tim's twin but blind in the eye his contract was in. he grows up his parent's perfect son despite tim being older and technically the heir (with aid of his past life as an earl and businessman). ciel grows up learning about magic from any artifacts their parents bring back, looking for a way to summon sebastian again. then their parents die and tim and ciel are adopted by the waynes. drake industries is left to ciel. ciel knows about the batfam's identities from when tim would excitedly show him pictures he took when they were young. ciel was also present at the flying grayson's last show but didn't react to their death. tim has a pic of both of them with a young grayson family.

the batfam assumes ciel doesn't know and ciel likes it that way so he isn't involved in their drama. besides he still has asthma and isn't suited for that life despite his extensive knowledge in the supernatural. tim will still hang out in his room tho and complain about them so he knows all the drama anyway. plus ciel likes having the excuse of not knowing to keep damian from stabbing his brother in front of him. ciel is rarely at home anyway, having helped out at the company from a young age he is always at work. they start commuting together when tim becomes ceo of wayne enterprises. tim and ciel eventually move out together when the murder attempts become too much when damian mistakes ciel for tim.

when dick refuses to believe tim about bruce being lost and not dead, tim and ciel set off on their own to gather evidence. when tim loses a spleen and is bleeding out in the desert, ciel performs a blood ritual to stabilize him, making it so that the health of one twin is split between them. it is just enough to save him, but tim gains a bit of a chronic cough after this from ciel's asthma.

eventually, ciel becomes john constantine's apprentice when he summons the wrong demon (incubus) with constantine attached. and naked. this makes ciel wish he was blind in both eyes.

[lebaronlordking]

Saturday Afternoon Reggae Show DJ LeBaron Lord King August 17, 2024 lebaron@kpoo.com

#SaturdayAfternoonReggaeShow

4:00 PM Yabby U - Jah Over I 4:05 PM Lee Perry - Bird in Hand 4:10 PM Chronixx - Dela Move 4:13 PM Lila Iké - Dinero 4:16 PM Iotosh - Fill My Cup 4:20 PM David Conscious - Mighty Men 4:24 PM Dezarie - Gone Down 4:28 PM Queen Ifrica - A.E.I.O.U (NOTHING) 4:31 PM Lutan Fyah - Bla Bla Bla 4:38 PM Mike Brooks - River Nile 4:42 PM Buju Banton - Steppa 4:45 PM Alton Ellis - Girl I've Got a Date 4:48 PM Phillip Fraser & King Tubby - John Saw Them Coming 4:54 PM The Wailers - 400 Years 4:57 PM Izoardi - Jungle 5:00 PM Kabaka Pyramid - Red Gold and Green 5:03 PM Burna Boy - Last Last 5:06 PM Kabaka Pyramid - Well Done 5:10 PM Yendry - You 5:13 PM Chezidek - It's Time 5:17 PM J Boog - Blaze It for Days 5:21 PM JStar - Babylon Children 5:25 PM Bitty McLean - In and Out of Love 5:31 PM Jah Cure - Marijuana 5:35 PM Bobo Nattywell - Longtime 5:39 PM Mutabaruka - The Monkey - Mento Mix 5:42 PM YG Marley - Praise Jah in The Moonlight 5:47 PM Culture Brown - Strong and Bless 5:47 PM Warrior King - People of This World 5:50 PM The Wailers - Put It On 5:54 PM Watty Congo Burnett - One Hot Night 6:00 PM Steel Pulse - Prodigal Son 6:03 PM Capleton - That Day Will Come 6:07 PM Gappy Ranks - Maad Sick 6:12 PM Earl 16 - Vampires 6:15 PM Eesah - Tell No Lie 6:18 PM Tafari - All of My Love 6:21 PM Don Carlos - From Creation 6:26 PM Culture - Black Man Get Your Culture 6:28 PM Max Romeo - Chase the Devil 6:31 PM Burning Spear - Hail H.I.M. 6:36 PM Damian Marley - My Sweet Lord 6:40 PM Mikey Dread - Roots and Culture 6:41 PM Elton Preto - Roots and Culture 6:45 PM Fe Me Time All Stars - Wicked Have To Feel It 6:48 PM Stoneface Priest - After Pride Comes Fall 6:52 PM Lila Iké - Good & Great 6:53 PM Alborosie - Give It to Them

[historyofglee]

On this day in 2011:

the cast of Glee attended the premiere of Glee: The 3D Concert Movie at the Regency Village Theatre in Westwood, California.

The premiere was attended by cast members Naya Rivera, Heather Morris, Dianna Agron, Ashley Fink, Lea Michele, Cory Monteith, Chris Colfer, Darren Criss, Jenna Ushkowitz, Kevin McHale, Chord Overstreet, Amber Riley, Harry Shum Jr., Josh Sussman, Romy Rosemont, Iqbal Theba, Jayma Mays, Charlotte Ross, Kent Avenido, Dot-Marie Jones, Max Adler, and James Earl III, Warblers Jaymz Tuaileva, Riker Lynch, Curt Mega, Jon Hall, and Titus Makin, and Glee Project cast members Samuel Larsen, Damian McGinty, Cameron Mitchell, Lindsay Pearce, Alex Newell, and Hannah McIalwain.

[fareehaandspaniards]

Oh so your baby squid hunter got a happy end too?? 🥺 Could you share more details?

Yes! To make a long story short, it's a Modern AU, but with a link to the past. I didn't think the idea through in detail, just a couple of things and the basis of it.

When I completed my playthrough of the game, the ascension of our own hunter gave me a great hope, for this is essentially the beginning of a new life for Yharnam as well, which they will now protect!

My idea was that a hunter (in my case, my Guillermo) has had his heart broken by the story of Old hunters, so as the Great One, he watches the passage of time - as Yharnam empties out completely, becomes a dead city, and then people - foreigners, settlers, and others - return there. Our new Great One simply watches the natural course of events, with only a little influence on people's fates to prevent something like previous Yharnam tragedy from happening. Eventually, most references to the Great Ones disappear from Yharnam again, knowledge of the Blood and Eyes is lost, and normal life begins again. Laurence's theory of healing Blood is preserved in passages of his manuscripts, so in part people use it in medicine, but it becomes something commonplace rather than innovative. The new generation doesn't know about insight.

And eventually, after so 400-500 years, Yharnam becomes more or less a modern city similar to our reality. (Modern world + ancient beliefs + old medicine)

In our hunter's soul there is still sorrow for the past times and for the people who died. The souls of many of them have remained untamed and have found no rest, and the New Great One decides, as it was in your post, to give them a second chance! The souls of hunters, scientists are reborn in the new reality, the only difference is that most of those who were separated by years - now exist in the same time and have a small difference in age, about 10 years or so (for example, Edgar in my interpretation was 26 when he died in a Nightmare of Mensis, Micolash was 43, and Damian was 55. In the new version, Edgar could be 18 y.o., Micolash - 24, and Damian - 29 y.o.)

Guillermo himself also takes on the guise of a human being to observe the new lives of his charges, who take on roles in their new lives that are similar to their past! And many hobbies they have retained even after death lol

But because people are incorrigible, something strange starts to happen again, because they are all in one way or another drawn to the forbidden, the secret, and even delighted when they find references to themselves in the past (only they don't know it's themselves)

The task of our Great One, however, is to prevent a new apocalypse from happening, but to do it as a human being - affecting them spiritually and physically.

This is my seedling! And a couple ideas for this AU:

Micolash is a DnD fan, this I know absolutely, though I've never done such a thing myself xD I even had a sketch of him with glasses and braces, I think he'd be a typical “nerd” that no one would take seriously at first until his creepy weirdness and calm attitude towards dismembered bodies is revealed… yeah… ahahaha…..

In this AU, it seems to me that Edgar could be his best friend and support, and they would both be consumed by the idea of unearthing the remains of an ancient civilization near Yharnam

Ludwig has a big Saint Bernard living with him:

And Logarius has this LOL:

(I really wanted to do a headcanon post on which character would get which pet, but Ludwig and Logarius' dogs are too firmly embedded in my head xDD They fit them xDD)

This AU has titles like Duke, Earl, etc., and Annalise would have been born into a wealthy ducal family, but would have found herself in university with the rest of the characters.

Logarius is a religious fanatic and a member of a blood cult. These are just facts, but I haven't thought about them yet.

Tomb Prospectors, Old Hunters - basically most of them become students at the new university in new Yarnam! But the ones like Damian, Valtr, Ludwig, Willem, for example, are still older than the rest. And Damian is still trying to patronize Micolash and keep him from getting hooked on drugs.

Gremia is a local criminal and hooligan who asks to help Damian with his studies and learn manners from him (I made up a whole romantic story there xd)

Laurence and Rom will definitely get married in this AU

Caryll can walk! Since there was no injection of the Great Ones' blood for him, he has very poor health, but is not limited in movement. And he would most likely be the lever that would have been the one out of everyone reaching for the Great Ones again. He's an empath and would have been led by the voices straight to the Hunter-Great One

Anything else is hard to remember! Honestly, I've left this idea in the “closet”. If it's to be taken seriously, it'll have to be done later and paired with someone else.

AND I forgot to mention that everything will end fine! They all will find peace, happy life (In their special ways) and say sorry to each other.

[jules-has-notes]

Aca Top 10: Sitcom Themes — VoicePlay music video

Since the emergence of TV sitcoms in the mid-20th century, part of their enduring charm has been the catchy songs that accompany the opening credits. There's something reassuring about a familiar tune that indicates whatever problems the quippy characters might face will be resolved in less than 30 minutes, and probably end with a hug. While VoicePlay can't provide a physical embrace for every listener, this medley is just as fun and entertaining as an episode of your favorite comfort show in a fraction of the time.

Details:

title: Aca Top 10 – Sitcom Themes

original songs / performers: "I'll Be There For You" by The Rembrandts from Friends; [0:20] Saved by the Bell theme by Michael Damian; [0:36] "Hey Beautiful" by The Solids for How I Met Your Mother; [0:45] The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme by DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince; [1:05] Seinfeld theme by Jonathan Wolff; [1:18] "Where Everybody Knows Your Name" by Gary Portnoy from Cheers; [1:45] "As Days Go By" by Jesse Frederick for Family Matters; [2:08] "Thank You for Being a Friend" by Cynthia Fee for Golden Girls; [2:30] Mister Ed theme by Jay Livingston; [2:45] Unbreakable Kimmy Shmidt theme by The Gregory Brothers; [2:54] "Movin’ On Up" by Ja'Net DuBois for The Jeffersons

written by: "I'll Be There For You" by Michael Skloff, David Crane, Marta Kauffman, Allee Willis, Phil Sōlem, & Danny Wilde; Saved by the Bell theme by Scott Gale; "Hey Beautiful" by Carter Bays, Craig Thomas, Patrick Butler, & C.C. DePhil; The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme by Jeffrey "DJ Jazzy Jeff" Townes & Will "The Fresh Prince" Smith; Seinfeld theme by Jonathan Wolff; "Where Everybody Knows Your Name" by Gary Portnoy & Judy Hart-Angelo; "As Days Go By" by Jesse Frederick & Bennett Salvay; "Thank You for Being a Friend" by Andrew Gold; "Mister Ed" by Jay Livingston & Ray Evans; Unbreakable Kimmy Shmidt theme by Jeff Richmond, Michael Gregory, & Evan Gregory; "Movin’ On Up" by Ja'Net DuBois

arranged by: Layne Stein & Earl Elkins Jr.

release date: 19 July 2019

My favorite bits:

that iconic twangy air guitar and the requisite 👏👏👏👏

the fantastic bus "vroom" that was honed through years of "Road Trip" performances 🚌💨

Eli and Earl's squicked out reaction to Geoff's deep "moist" 💧

the light, popping percussion Layne gives to to "Fresh Prince"

Geoff's descending run in the transition into "Seinfeld"

Earl pretending he's going to smack Eli while he's helping with the "Seinfeld" percussion

that lovely four-part harmony for ♫ "get awaaay" ♫

J.None's quick transformation into a pitch-perfect Steve Urkel 🤓

their absolutely joyful tone as they sing the Golden Girls theme

the back row mounting pretend horses during Mr. Ed

animated carrot shenanigans 🥕

Geoff grooving away on that walking bass line in "Movin’ On Up"

Eli and J's gospel hands on that final "oooh!" harmony

Earl's fantastic belt for the end of "Movin’ On Up"

how long they manage to hold on to the ending silence before they burst out laughing

Trivia:

○ Once again, the decision process for this entry in their "Aca Top 10" series was quite contentious. The guys are clearly very passionate about their entertainment preferences.

○ Some of the shows are represented on their shirts, regardless of whether they made the final cut.

Eli — Gilligan from Gilligan's Island (1964–67)

Earl — portraits of the Golden Girls (1985–92) with "squad" above

J.None — Fresh Prince of Bel Air (1990–96) title graphic baseball jersey

Geoff — Joey Tribiani's catchphrase "How you doin'?" from Friends (1994–2004) in the show's title font

Layne — Kelly Kapowski from Saved By the Bell (1989–92)

○ The guys had already recorded a version of "Everywhere You Look" from Full House (1987–95) and Fuller House (2016–20) as the second entry in their PartWork series three years earlier. Earl and Layne covered all five vocal parts for that one.

○ Revisiting some of the memorable shows of their youth got Earl and Layne in a bit of a nostalgic mood, so they gave a shoutout to a favorite after-school snack on social media.

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[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Could you write some Bam x m!reader or even gn!reader? No specific requests,, smut fluff hurt/comfort I don’t care I just need more non f!reader Bam ficsssss 🥲

Bloodletting

A vampiric earl in ‘1880s London discovers a taste like no other, and an alcoholic surgeon finds someone who doesn’t mind the smell of death that clings to his clothes. It’s a win- win for both men.

Bam Margera X Masc!Reader

(Vampire!Au, Fluff, Angst)

6k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, alcoholism, scent kink, biting, blood, injuries, descriptions of Victorian-era surgeries, vomiting, corpses, manipulation, bullying, kissing, possessive behavior, jealousy, slut shaming (metaphorical)

An: Thank you so much for the request! What is it with me and writing fanfiction about Bam and vampires? I also noticed that most jackass fan fictions are for fem!readers so I can see where you’re coming from! I always try to make an effort to write fics with Gn!Reader but I really do think I should write more Masc!Reader, so feel free to send in any requests you may have for this! Also the manor Bam lives I’min this fic was not so sneakily modeled after the one on the cover of Bara No Seidou by Malice mixer (bc their music also rly influenced this fic!) lol anyways thank you for the request and please keep them coming! :)

It's not uncommon to hear people say that their careers drive them to drink, but you were sure that you were the only man in London who could honestly say that yours was entirely responsible for your drinking habit. Three months ago, you graduated top of your general surgery class at St Damian Medical School and you had just now come to realize the kind of stress that came with the job. Who knew performing autopsies and amputations day in and day out isn’t exactly easy on the mind? Despite that, you couldn’t complain about the pay, not the great company you found to share a pint with down at the local pub. Well, a couple pints, and some gin, and maybe some whiskey if you had to break out the leeches that day. Point is, they didn’t seem to care nor notice the cadaverous smell of death and formaldehyde that seemed to linger around you once you got off work. But after all the fun ended, you would have to make the long, stumbling walk back to the East End slums you lived in by only the light of the gas lamps that lined the River Thames and try to get enough sleep to function the next morning.

This was one of those nights. Just as the AMs lazily rolled around, you decided to depart, waving goodbye to all your friends and starting out into the cool, yellow painted misty night. Laughing to yourself at something one of the fellows said earlier, you were already pretty dizzy as you trudged through the streets, eerily quiet save for the clammy winds that blew in from the riverfront. The water that collected in the cracks of the cobblestone rippled under your boots as you dragged your feet, drunkenly unaware of what was around you. But despite everything in your surroundings pointing to you being completely alone, you got the very strange feeling that something or someone was watching you. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you ignored the hairs that stood up on the back of your neck as you passed a dim alleyway, trying to ignore the shadow in the corner of your eye.

Out of the dense fog, a pair of strong arms that suddenly wrapped around your torso and pulled you off your feet put it in your mind just how bad a decision that was. Drawn far away from the reach of lamplight, you were too slow to react as your body fell back against a firm torso and you froze in fear. A dark, leather gloved hand seized your jaw and wrenched your head to one side while an arm snaked around your waist, holding you snugly against your assailant. A low, predatory chuckle rumbled out of the chest of whoever was holding you, breathing little puffs of white smoke against your skin as he leaned in close to your neck and took a deep inhale, much like how one would relish the scent of a delicious meal. There was something that came over you as you were trapped in the clutches of your captor that made your head swim that made it so you didn’t so much as thunk to squirm as you felt what seemed to be two needles just barely scrape your jugular vein before plunging deep into your neck.

The lascivious suckling and laving noises echoed against the brick walls of the alleyway as the man who had you in his arms pinned you to the rough stone. Pupils blown, your body trembled at the blissed out groan in your ear, entirely helpless as your knees went all weak and your heavy eyelids threatened to fall shut. Just as you were about to fall unconscious from blood loss, blood permitting your clothes, you collapsed backward against your captor and he placed a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your still bleeding wound before unceremoniously letting your limp body fall to the ground. Staring down at the body at his feet, a dark, lustful glint flashed through his eyes as he licked up the rich, savory liquid that dripped from his lips.

The next morning, when you woke up in the alleyway without any memory of falling asleep there, you chalked it up as a nightmare. Simply standing up, you brushed the fronts of your trousers off and headed home to clean up before your next shift. Your pounding headache that you were sure resulted from drinking made your wince as you splashed water on your face, not noticing the two, swollen little marks that remained on your neck nor the blood that stained your collar that you were pretty sure was there before the previous night. With the work you had cut out for you that day, you couldn’t afford to be late that morning. For the past two weeks your superiors had been breathing down your neck about those bodies that had been washing up in the river- prostitutes, mostly, but there were some urchins in the mix as well. After ending up in your hands, the cause of death for the cadavers was impossible for you to identify no matter how many times you went through the list- no signs of a struggle or trauma, but no bloating from drowning. However, since you were a fresh face in the medical field, the last thing you wanted to do was discredit yourself, so you reported the cause of death as the latter.

As you hurried down your front steps, a large ship drifted down the river in front of your apartment, the hand painted script on the back indicating it was a part of Earl Margera’s cargo fleet. Rumor has it his family got their old money fortune from the opium trade, but that did nothing to halt business for him. If you were a person in London that needed to move things, he was the man to call. Recently, you had gotten word that the Earl would be holding another one of his yearly lavish galas at his manor that he lived in with his council (the group of men that advised his business decisions) and that all of London’s finest would be invited- the only reason his eccentric lordship would bother to make an appearance. Making your way into work, you thought about how women would throw themselves at his feet, almost literally sometimes, but the Earl would pay them about as much mind as he did to the men constantly trying to win his favor to get their hands on his vast fortune, a constitution you could respect on some level.

Blinking hard and trying to pull yourself together, you were tying up your stiff, blood stained surgical apron as you got ready to slice up the body of the day, when one of your coworkers came excitedly running up to you. He thrust a piece of paper into your hands, “Y/N! Y/N! Have you seen this?” Speculatively, you scanned over the yellowed, crinkled letter, your eyes widening at what you read. That gala- yes, the one at the Earl’s house- was not only a charity gala, but a charity gala for the hospital. A bewildered smile spread across your face as you processed the news, “Oh my…This is incredible!” Your mind went wild as you thought about it- perhaps with the money, you could afford to finally purchase a new set of surgical instruments or switch to chloroform for sedation instead of relying on alcohol! Oh, this just couldn’t get better. According to the letter, the ball would be held two weeks from that day, giving you ample time to receive your paycheck and purchase some formal clothes for the event.

The air was thick with tension as you stood in the Earl’s front room with all the other dignified guests, the sweet scent of Acanthus and Hemlock blossoms drifting in from the garden through the wide open front doors. Above you, a large, crystal chandelier hung from the peak of the ribbed vault ceiling, cascading light onto the tall columns that held up the balcony of the second story. The manor really was grand, in every sense of the word. While you were taking all this opulence in, the room fell silent at a high pitched whistle from the top of the staircase and everyone shifted their gaze towards the sound. You did too, just in time to catch the Earl hoping up to slide all the way down the long wooden banister of the staircase. Not exactly the entrance you expected of him, but when his Edwardian oxfords touched solid ground and everyone all rushed to have the first chance to speak to his lordship, you were more surprised to see him completely ignoring them, parting the crowd as he walked towards…you? Shocked as everyone else, you weren't sure how to respond as he reached out a waiting, gloved hand towards you with a smile, “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Doctor.” You were suddenly stricken by the realization that he really was as handsome as all those women said, not to mention charming. Quickly taking his hand, you searched your mind for an appropriate response, “A-An honor? Oh, my Lord- it is a privilege for me to make yours!” There was a look of satisfaction on his face at your social blunder, glancing around at the patrons crowded in the room.

With one hand, he gestured for the large pair of heavy, wooden double doors at the far end of the room and they opened towards the great hall as the Earl glanced over to you with those crystal blue eyes, his voice entirely level, “Walk with me. Let’s talk about those funds for the hospital.” Following at his heels, you felt like a man prostrating himself before a king, “Really, it cannot be understated how much your generous donation means to us, my Lord.” There was something so enamoring about his generosity that just swept you off of your feet. The sounds of the festivities echoed through the empty halls as he showed you around the palace grounds, the suits of armor and sarcophagi and all the other eclectic relics he had collected over the years littering the halls. “Oh, ten thousand pounds is nothing. It’s the least I could give.” There was something about him that made you feel so comfortable in his presence, and you started to let your guard down, just slightly.

“You know, something about you is really quite…familiar. Have you visited St. Thomas’ lately?” Musing, you walked at his side through the grand, tapestry lined halls while you thought back to the faces you regularly saw at the pub, now blurred by alcohol, as if he would ever find himself there. Your eyes wandered towards the skull of an animal you didn’t recognize that sat on a shelf and was being used as a bookend as his expression turned sour like it was an improper thing to suggest, “Oh. I don’t go to hospitals…But” There was this knowing glint in the Earl’s eye as he continued, speaking with a tone that suggested a double entendre, “I’ve spectated on the operating theater in the past, if that’s what you’re asking. I am…morbidly curious about the fragile balance between life and death, myself. I'm sure you could understand, doctor.” Oh, you had no clue. All those nights he spent in the shadow cloaked corner of that pub you so loved to frequent, sitting there with a pint and a rare steak in front of him while you were at the bar, whining about your job to whatever drunk sod was humoring you that night, watching…listening…waiting in anticipation for you to head home for the evening- thinking about the desert that would follow his meal.

The two of you paused in what appeared to be a study. On one end of the room was a large, hand carved wooden fireplace, the mantle of which sat a candlestick holder that, if you had a less keen eye, you wouldn’t have recognized as having been fashioned from a human spine, and a glass vase containing an arrangement of roses, lilies, orchids, and irises, all white and all having seemed to have gone off a while ago. Above the mantle was where your focus was drawn, this large, regal portrait of the Earl, looking all serious and wistful in clothes that cost more than your year’s salary. Fascinated, you turned to study it in awe for a moment, but silently, and unbeknownst to you, the Lord had been carefully observing you in the study, like a hungry wolf watching a rabbit. The proximity of your bodies went completely unnoticed by the Earl in favor of the now exposed patch of skin below your ear. Oh, this was too good. He could practically hear your heartbeat thrumming from where he stood- feel the blood coursing through your veins. It was all so…tempting. Tremoring a little, he had to exercise the highest of restraint not to seize you right there- it would be so easy too, just to wrestle you down onto the velvet chaise lounge you were standing next to and bury his face into the space between your chin and shoulder. Boarding on fantasy, the Earl let himself get lost, imagining the way your squirming and whining would ease up once he’d gotten done lapping up all the warm blood squirting from your wounds. Clearing his throat together, Earl Margera cleared his throat, “We should, um- we should get going. I believe dinner is being served.”

The meal you ate was the height of decadence. Brimming trays of succulent pheasant, rare steaks, and legs of mutton larger than your head ran down the long table in between centerpieces of Nightshade and Lavender, flanked by crisp salads and potatoes with steaming baskets of dinner rolls served with butter and honeycomb, not to mention the assortment of trifles and puddings the waitstaff rushed to the table on ruby red Cape Cod glass platters. It was more food than you had seen in one place in your entire life, and yet you found your attention so drawn to the man sitting at the end of the table- so much so that you hardly cared that your meal was getting cold. He told these grand, winding stories of his world travels that all his suck up guests tried really really hard to be interested in, but you couldn’t help yourself from hanging on every word. Sipping wine from the silver chalice that sat in front of you that always seemed to get topped off when you looked away, it was like your mind was lost in some seductive trance you couldn’t seem to break free from, but you were of sound enough mind to remember quite a few details from that evening. Namely when his Lordship approached you personally and asked you, for the sake of ease of communication, to forgo all the formalities that came with his title, and that he would prefer you call him by his given name, Brandon. More than that, he would like to meet you again- one on one, to further discuss those donations for the hospital. You suggested lunch. He said he would prefer dinner.

There was something so enchanting about the Earl that kept you in high spirits far after your first encounter and well into the next week at work. You must have been quite a sight for any onlookers, seeing a man performing an autopsy with a lovesick smile plastered on his face. Before, you could hardly complete an operation without needing to flee the room halfway through to vomit, but now you had no problem with the whole thing. The waterlogged woman Scotland Yard lugged to your table still had her stockings on as you started the external examination, thinking back to that evening while you examined for physical trauma on the neck and arms. Feeling cold skin under your gloved hand, you recalled that the Earl- sorry, Brandon had made mention of an affinity for Blackcurrant pastilles, which you thought was sweet, though it was strange for a man- wait a moment. Leaning closer, you noticed something- two small, hollow marks on the woman’s neck, as if made by a seven gauge needle.

More disturbing was the resemblance it bore to the very same marks you had been waking up to on your neck. The operating room suddenly felt much quieter than you remembered. Swallowing hard, you took out your clipboard and, with a shaking hand, went to write it down before hesitating. A cold sweat collected on your brow and it was like some instinct inside of you told you not to- it could have been a mole or something- maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you. Yes, that was it, your late nights were catching up to you. Steadying your hand, you put down the pen before reaching for the hand saw that sat at your side and made a mental note to visit the library after work. Maybe you could find some medical textbook that could explain all this away as some biological reaction or benign infection or something reassuring that you missed back in school. You also made note to purchase those pastilles while you were out.

Just as you went to leave work, someone stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, and as you were distracted with thoughts of your dinner that night, you jumped a little at the stern voice of your coworker, “Y/N. Where on earth are you hurrying off to?” Turning to him, you were still a little shaken up as you stammered, pulling your apron off, “Oh! I’m, uh- I’m headed off to dinner.” His expression seemed to soften a little at that, almost looking amused, “A date- is that right? You know, for a second I thought you were off to see somebody else.” Despite his calm words, the look in his eyes gave way to the jealousy sitting just under the surface. You had noticed people at work had been treating you…differently after you went to that party. Even the pat on the back you got from him felt ingenuine as he spoke stiffly, “Well, good luck with your lady friend.”

When you knocked on the double doors of the manor’s entrance dressed in your finest, you suddenly became conscious of the way you smelled of work. Usually, all that it took to get it off was a hot shower, but somehow tonight it seemed to cling to you more than before, but before you could think much of it, a member of the Earl’s council opened the door. He was a young man- well built and tall, with dark hair and eyes obscured by a pair of tinted glasses. He seemed a little too eager to welcome you in, watching you as you stepped through the door, “Oh, you must be the guest Bam was talkin’ about!” Bam? You recalled a mention of it being the childhood nickname of the Earl, but didn’t know his council would address him so informally. The American accent of the man who answered the door struck you as peculiar, but you brushed it off as something else caught your attention. There was a stack maybe a meter high of boxes, all varying sizes, that sat haphazardly tossed next to the door, all addressed from women. Upon further examination, you noticed that they were all boxes of blackcurrant pastilles, just like the ones you brought for the Earl. It was common knowledge that he had quite a few lady admirers, but this seemed excessive.

When you looked up, it seemed your arrival had brought quite a bit of attention to yourself as, from seemingly nowhere, you had attracted a crowd. They must not get a lot of guests around here, you thought, swallowing hard and trying to ignore how you felt like a zebra that had just stumbled into a den of ravenous lions from the way they were staring at you. But just at that moment, that’s when you felt a hand grab yours and quickly tug you away to safety. “Doctor! What a pleasure to see you again.” You couldn’t explain the wave of relief that washed over you when you heard his voice because you didn’t feel that you were in any danger in the first place, but there was some instinct in you that told you otherwise. “Are these for me?” Walking in step with you, Brandon peered curiously at the green silk wrapped box in your hands and you nodded. “You are too kind.” Taking them, he placed them on a table away from the other boxes, and just out of your sight, flipped a crude gesture at his dejected councilmen who were all disappointed they didn’t get to you first.

The Earl seemed more comfortable with you now than he was at your first encounter as he ate with you in the smaller, less formal dining parlor that was shuttered off to most guests. On the table was a more simple but nonetheless impressive meal- a spiced ham, mock turtle soup, Yorkshire pudding, and a treacle tart served with custard. The mahogany dining table was lit by a candelabra, the only light in the room since the heavy, purple velvet curtains were pulled closed. The striking details of his face looked even more alluring in the shadows, refined- like it was chiseled out of alabaster by some great sculptor. Sipping from the black crystal glass in his hand, Brandon raised an eyebrow at you from across the table, “Any stories from the ward, doctor?” Perhaps it was the wine, but the way he addressed you by your title made your heart flutter. Still, you composed yourself, clearing your throat, “Well, in fact, I do. For weeks now, the police have have been discovering these- these bodies in the River Thames,” Hesitating for a moment, you debated if this was appropriate conversation for dinner, but you took the fact he hadn’t stopped you as encouragement to continue, “and I still haven’t been able to deduce the cause of death!” Brandon simply nodded, watching you with half lidded eyes. Using one finger, you gestured towards your neck and continued with a slight tremble in your voice, “The only thing they have in common are these…odd marks that usually sit right above the jugular vein. And get this- I have observed similar marks on myself! I am led to believe I’m the only surviving man in London with these…” You didn’t notice the little glint in the Earl’s eye as you tilted your jaw to the side, revealing how Ecchymosis had painted your skin in these exquisite blossoms of purple and green that were previously hidden under your collar.

“Oh, how odd...” Bam wasn't really listening to you talk, but he did a damn good job at pretending he was looking at you and not just what was throbbing right underneath your skin. Maybe it was the alcohol content, but there was something so intoxicating about your blood, better than any opium or wine or sexual perversion known to his lordship. It was the taste, something far superior to any other human Bam had laid his mouth on- sweeter than dark treacle and richer than custard, an exotic, tender savor only enhanced by the intoxicating aroma that clung to your hair and clothes- that titillating stench of death. Oh, and the way you fought. Your little struggles were so useless- so benign to Bam that they were cute, in the same way a mouse thinks it can escape the jaws of a python by squeaking. You were an absolute feast for the senses. If his mouth never left your neck and the only thing he did all day was to suck from you, he would be the happiest man in the world. Alas, you were both men with careers and people that would notice if they suddenly stopped appearing in public. But that could always change.

Maybe you weren't as sneaky about your drinking habits as you thought you were based on how often the Earl ordered your glass to be refilled. The longer the night went on, the more and more you felt that your inhibitions were slipping away until it was time to leave. Standing up, you were unsteady on your feet and wobbled a bit, lightheaded from the alcohol. Brandon rushed to your side, placing one hand on your waist and his other hand intertwining his fingers with yours to steady you. With how he was holding you so close to his body like one would hold a lover, it was some sort of instinct that led you to lean towards him, pressing your lips together. But he didn’t seem shocked that you kissed him- in fact, the Earl almost seemed pleased as you staggered backwards, flushed as the wine taste of his tongue still lingered on your lips. “Oh my…! I apologize for being so, uh- so forward, sir.” Hushing you softly, his voice was perfectly level as he spoke, taking a step towards you, “There’s no need to apologize, doctor.” Brandon’s gloved fingers met your chin as he gently tilted your head to get you to meet his gaze, “Let’s say this feeling is…mutual.” And he smiled at you- a smile you weren't sure was comforting or predatory. “Now, you should be getting home.”

Bam wanted to kiss you more- from your feet to the tips of your ears, he would worship your body if he got the chance. Delectable in every sense of the word, this doctor was just too good to be true, he thought. This pliant, innocent man was almost literally sticking out his neck to him. Your every action was so perfect, so delicate in the Earl’s eyes, and to put it simply, he was addicted to you. He could drain you completely- gulp down every last ounce of blood you had in you and dump your body in the river like all the others he’d had his fill of, but more than how sinfully delicious you tasted, Bam loved the game- the hunt. Watching you stumble over your own feet as you walked home from his high perch on the roof of the manor, peering out from where he sat on one of the flying buttresses that held up the roof of the manor, Bam licked his lips. You were fun to play with, what with how easily he could make you blush and stammer and just surrender with the slightest of efforts, and more so how you hadn’t a single inkling of suspicion as to how he could sway you so easily. The mingling of saliva and blood may be the highest form of connection in Bam’s eyes, but what he had with you superseded that. And you hadn’t a clue.

They had stopped talking to you at work. You didn’t pay much mind to the glares of the bitter murmurs of ‘lapdog’ and ‘lickfinger’ you caught in the halls of the hospital from people who were once your friends, but even your superiors were avoiding you like the plague. Still, you had bigger things to worry about- those bodies, namely, of whom you had started coming to a conclusion about. After nights in the library spent studying books upon books, there was this creature you had come upon- from China and India and Greece, the walking undead that feasted on the vital essence of human man. Moreso, those marks on the necks of the victims and yes, yours as well, matched up with the scars one may bear after an attack by one of those beasts.

With no more friends to speak of for arbitration, you received your summons in the post: you were needed at the Earl’s manor the next day as he had fallen ill with consumption in the two weeks since your last meeting. More than that, he had requested you by name. Clearly the situation must be dire, given his lordship’s distaste for hospitals and the fact many people see surgeons such as yourself as a last resort, saved for only the most grim circumstances. There was something in you that made you nervous at the thought of seeing him again that you couldn’t explain, like how a maiden may feel about seeing her suitor. Perhaps it was just nerves, or you were just unsure about being the sole person responsible for saving the life of such an influential, wealthy man. Perhaps.

If you thought the Margera Manor looked impressive from the bottom of the hill it sat on, you were absolutely gobsmacked when you looked at it head on, and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you were entering a cathedral, what with all the pointed windows and spires. Your steps echoed on the stone terrace as you looked around at the garden, now far less cheery as fall had stolen the green from the trees and plants, leaving them skeletons that were perfecting roosting places for crows whose loud caws made you jump as you went to knock. The front door was…unlocked, swinging open under your slight nudge. Dressed in the extent of protective garb with your leather bound medical kit in tow, you crept into the seemingly empty mansion and realized just how empty it felt without some party or dinner to fill the halls. Sure, the knives of this and masks of that the Earl had picked up in his travels still hung on the walls, and the opaline glass oil lamps in the hall were still lit, but there was something profoundly empty about the manor. Slowly walking the wooden staircase, past the large portrait paintings that hung on the walls, you made your way upstairs.

“Hello, sir…?” Slipping through the Earl’s bedroom door, you expected the worst of consumption- open sores, weeping lesions, coughing up blood mucus, etcetera, but even from across the room the worst symptom you could discern was a light sweat on his brow. Sure, he was deathly pale, but he was always that pale, and you recalled the darkness around his eyes as having been there from your first meeting. Lit only by the red silk lamp in the far corner of that room that smelled of clove and patchouli, he looked rather beautiful for a man, almost fragile- but nothing like the people on death’s door that you saw at the hospital. Brandon’s half lidded eyes met your and he coughed slightly, his voice raspy and weak, “Doctor.” Moving to his bedside, you placed your leather case of medical instruments on the nearby table next to a small stack of Penny-Dreadfuls that sat there and helped him to sit upright with your hands under his arms. “What sort of symptoms have you been experiencing as of late?” There was this odd feeling that came over you as you touched his bare torso that you couldn’t place as your eyes scanned over him, fixating on the strange design that sat low on his hips, right where the silk linens pooled around him- a tattoo of sorts? The swirling, dark ink was beautiful, drawing your eyes to his Apollo's belt.

“I am just…terribly famished.” Brandon sighed under your touch, and as you continued feeling his skin under your fingertips, that’s when you noticed something- he was cold. Deathly cold, and his body bore no evidence of the telltale wasting consumption brought on. Disturbed, your eyes went wide but you made no other mention of it as you reached into your bag and retrieved your stethoscope. Be professional. Tend to the patient. But as you pressed the circular end to the left side of the Earl’s chest, you were shocked to hear…nothing. The lack of mucus in his lungs did not shock you nearly as much as the complete absence of a heartbeat. The only sound in the room was Brandon’s soft breathing as he studied you, expectantly leaning over your hands as you worked. Watching. Waiting.

You doubted it at first. It seemed the stuff of fairytales, that the Earl could be something other than human, but it was all consistent with the lore you had been reading up on. Part of you was curious about him- after all, you dealt in the morbid, so it made sense for a scientific mind such as yourself to find his case fascinating. But on the other hand, it chilled you to the bone to know that this man you had been growing so close to, could be some sort of monster- some creature that delighted in feeding on the blood of men. You cursed yourself for not realizing this sort of thing sooner as a chill ran through your bones at the situation your trusting nature had gotten yourself into. Quivering, and against all your better judgment, you slowly looked up to meet his hungry, nearly salivating gaze.

And before you could think to react, he grabbed you by the shoulders and you were underneath him, back pressed against the bed. Heart nearly thumping out of your chest, your body was caged in, absolutely captured by the Earl’s as he leaned over you and in your mind there was absolutely no doubt of his intentions. Warm breath gracing your skin, his too sharp canines grazing against where sensitive nerves and thick, tender arteries run just below the skin felt so tantalizing, but Bam hesitated. Why aren't you fighting? In all his fantasies about this exact moment, you would be writhing about like a scared and wounded animal right about now, all squealing and wriggling and begging for him to oh please please spare you, but you were entirely willing, perfectly still and silent save for the swell of your breathing. However, the promise of satiating his hunger was just too alluring and he couldn’t not resist, sinking his teeth into you anyways. Your breath hitching in your throat, this foul, sweet smell rose up from where his fangs had visceraly penetrated you and Bam nearly moaned at the exquisite taste of the sanguine amber that trickled slow and thick from you. Hemorrhaging there, all tangled up in the red silk sheets of the Lord’s bed and, in addition, entirely sober, you couldn’t escape the realization that this actually felt somewhat…enjoyable. In fact, you really could get used to this. Eyes glazing over, you stifled a groan at the feeling of him flicking the tip of his tongue against one of the little dribbling slits as you began to teeter on that romantic, presyncopic border between consciousness and sleep, limbs tingling while you slowly drifted off into twilight.

You blinked awake in that very same four post baldachin bed with a distinct chill which you would come to attribute to the wide opened double doors of the Earl’s balcony. Long, white marquisette curtains billowed in the night as the moonlight cascaded in so brilliantly. Silhouetted by the moon’s opalescent glow, there he stood- naked and beautiful. Sensing your stirring, Bam turned toward you, the toned muscles of his back flexing as he studied your expression. Slowly, he approached where you lay, looking down at you with those piercing blue eyes as he stood at your bedside. “Ah, my prince is awake.” There was a distinct tone of amusement in his voice as he spoke to you with newfound affection. Sensing your apprehension as you looked up at him with those wide eyes, Bam sighed, reaching a hand out towards you in an empathetic gesture, “I’ve been in your shoes before, Y/N. I know exactly how you feel.” Gently, very gently, he caressed your cheek fondly as he mused. “You have…nothing. Life has no meaning anymore, does it?” You shook your head and the Earl smiled. “I can fix that.” Leaning down closer to you, he spoke low, in a voice as smooth as whiskey and just as sweet, “Would you like me to?” And you nodded.

[ao3feed-twiyor]

summer rainfall

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gcPl7iW by mossmp3 “Anya! We’re home earl-” A painfully familiar voice called out, abrupt cut off by a choked gasp. ... in which Anya brings Damian home to help her study, saying that her parents would be out. instead, they walk in and Damian can't believe how his girlfriend's parents are finding out about their relationship Words: 3252, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: SPY x FAMILY (Manga), SPY x FAMILY (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Damian Desmond, Anya Forger, Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Becky Blackbell, Ewen Egeburg, Emile Elman Relationships: Damian Desmond/Anya Forger, Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Anya Forger & Loid Forger | Twilight & Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Becky Blackbell & Damian Desmond & Ewen Egeburg & Emile Elman & Anya Forger Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Secret Relationship, Kinda, Relationship Reveal, Cute, Aged-Up Damian Desmond/Anya Forger, Theyre 16/17, Protective Loid Forger | Twilight, Protective Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Teen Romance, light humour read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gcPl7iW

[desdarkwood]

Superfície.

"Você quer saber sobre Desmond Darkwood...? Ele é uma pessoa capaz, obviamente, senão não teria chegado ao cargo de Centurião aos seus quinze anos. Um filho de Metus, pelo que a tatuagem em seu antebraço indica. Ouvi dizer que ele chegou muito cedo no Acampamento Júpiter, que a Segunda Coorte salvou ele de um ataque quando ele tinha apenas cinco anos de idade, um ataque que custou a vida de sua mãe... Muitos temem ele fora da Segunda, dizem que, em batalha, ele age como se outra pessoa estivesse no volante, mostrando um lado frio e violento. Ainda assim, os legionários de sua Coorte o defendem como cães leais defenderiam seu dono por algum motivo, então, alguma coisa ele deve estar fazendo de certo..."

História (TW: Transtornos Mentais, Menção a Morte, Menção a Violência).

Diana Darkwood nasceu em uma pequena fazenda nas áreas mais afastadas da Louisiana, numa cidade praticamente sem nome, já que os próprios habitantes não sabiam ao certo. Desde pequena, ela era diferente das outras crianças que frequentavam sua escola, como se o que essas crianças conseguissem representar naturalmente ela tivesse que se esforçar para fingir, sempre sentindo que algo faltava dentro de si. Seu pai, Earl Darkwood, era um fazendeiro e um caçador ilegal, um homem bruto, mal cheiroso e extremamente violento, sua mãe, Gertrude Hargrove, era uma mulher bondosa, bela e gentil, de modo que ninguém na pequena cidade sem nome sabia exatamente o porquê dela estar com um homem tão rude.

Desde cedo sua mãe lhe contava histórias sobre seu passado, fantasiadas de contos de fadas, onde a pequena Diana era neta de um Deus poderoso, capaz de trazer o calor do próprio Sol à Terra em questão de segundos, mas a garota nunca acreditou nessas histórias, Febo, para ela, era apenas uma brincadeira de sua mãe, afinal, como poderia acreditar nisso quando, como bons cidadãos de uma cidade tão pequena, todos os domingos iam à igreja da cidade para venerar um Deus que nada tinha a ver com o que era contado nas histórias de dormir que sua mãe criava? Se realmente tivessem um parentesco com esse tal Deus, ela não teria que suportar o homem perigoso com quem morava...

Gertrude notou cedo os comportamentos estranhos de sua filha, esperta e observadora como era, percebendo antes de todos o possível perigo que havia trazido a esse mundo, mas ela amava a criança que havia trazido ao mundo, e sabia que a culpa disso era sua, devido à bênção que havia adquirido tantos anos atrás, dádiva de uma promessa ao Deus do Terror, uma promessa que a ele ofereceria sua primogênita. Mas a mulher não deixaria que sua filha fosse levada ou mesmo que o lado sombrio que ela apresentava se tornasse mais que uma sombra; ela ensinou Diana a imitar aqueles ao seu redor, a se importar, mesmo que em farsa, com os outros, e, mais importante, a não ferir aqueles próximos de si.

Anos se passaram dessas lições e Diana levara os ensinamentos de sua mãe para a vida, mesmo quando um misterioso acidente levou as vidas de seus pais no interior, enquanto ela estudava para se tornar uma médica que poderia salvar as vidas de pessoas e elevar aquilo que aprendeu a outro patamar. A Darkwood trabalhava num hospital famoso em Baton Rouge, a capital da Louisiana, onde era uma das médicas responsáveis pelo setor de enfermaria, todos os dias rondando os leitos de pacientes com o qual ela fingia se importar com o sorriso que ela havia construído tão perfeitamente para combinar com suas expressões, lindo, iluminando suas feições perfeitas. Foi então que aquele homem entrou pelas portas do hospital...

O homem que se apresentou como Damian era alto, bonito e tinha um porte invejável, mas, mais que tudo, numa troca simples de palavras ela percebeu que ele a entendia melhor que qualquer outra pessoa que já tivesse conhecido. Não demorou sequer uma semana para que estivessem juntos. Damian a incentivava a ser quem ela verdadeiramente era, a não ligar para o que a sociedade poderia pensar, a experimentar tudo o que sua curiosidade propunha, uma visão tão contrária à da sua mãe, mas tão atrativa... Ela cedeu dentro do primeiro mês, e a série de "acidentes" no hospital começou a mudar a trajetória de sua carreira.

Dentro de três meses, sua barriga começou a crescer, ela estava grávida, e Damian teve que partir, revelando sua verdadeira identidade como Metus, o Deus do Terror, contando a história que ela já ouvira mil vezes de sua mãe ter sido filha de Febo, que ela permanecera com Earl tanto tempo para proteger a si mesmo e a Diana de monstros com o odor terrível do marido, e que a médica havia sido oferecida em troca de uma bênção muito antes de nascer. A realidade não afetou a psicopata até então funcional, que viu aquilo como apenas obra de seu destino, afinal, por mais que tudo aquilo tivesse acontecido e que ela devesse estar furiosa, não havia sido aquele homem que a libertara no final das contas?

Durante a infância de Desmond, ele se lembrava de uma casa fria com olhares sérios e sem vida, mas uma casa aconchegante, mesmo que não houvesse amor ali. Sua mãe não fingia com ele, não mostrava o sorriso que via serem forjados quando andavam pelas ruas ou quando visitas entravam em seu lar, mas ele nunca questionou isso, ele acreditava que ela tinha seus motivos. Não conheceu a mãe bem o suficiente para criar laços, porque aos cinco anos, enquanto iam para outra cidade para um Congresso ao qual sua mãe havia sido convidada como palestrante, flashes o recordam de uma figura enorme trotando em sua direção ao que olhou pela janela, os olhos dourados logo atrás dos chifres pontiagudos logo antes da colisão. Tudo pareceu perder o peso por um momento ao que foram arremessados ao ar e, então, uma nova colisão, agora contra o solo, seu cinto de segurança se desprendendo e ele sendo arremessado por uma das janelas de vidro quebradas para o asfalto.

A visão embaçada do jovem se lembrava de ver camisetas roxas e ouvir o som de metal atingindo alguma coisa e um urro antes de perder a consciência. Quando acordou novamente, estava no Acampamento Júpiter, na enfermaria, com as mesmas camisetas roxas o rodeando, os quatro indivíduos, legionários da Segunda Coorte, como ele aprenderia a seguir, que estavam em missão quando o encontraram. Foi nesse momento que o holograma de uma espada sombria com uma caveira surgiu acima de sua cabeça, ele havia sido reivindicado por Metus. Assim começou sua história com a Legião Romana.

Desmond cresceu no Acampamento durante as férias e, em período letivo, ia com os outros campistas a San Francisco, numa escola pública. Aos seus quinze anos, por sua habilidade em combate, foi nomeado Centurião após retornar vitorioso de uma missão muito importante onde se provara forte o bastante para liderar os outros legionários da Segunda após o desaparecimento de um dos Centuriões. Ele comandou a Segunda quando Jason Grace liderou a investida contra o Monte Othrys durante a Segunda Guerra dos Titãs.

Personalidade.

Desmond é uma pessoa gentil, como já ouviu de alguns que sua vó costumava ser quando frequentava o Acampamento Júpiter, muito atencioso e protetor para com aqueles que julga seus amigos, mas muitas vezes é visto como frio porque ele herdou o regime militar romano, sendo bastante exigente com quem ele se preocupa, além de ser bastante quieto por vezes.

Headcanon.

Antes de se aposentar e começar a viver no mundo mortal, Gertrude Hargrove era Pretora do Acampamento Júpiter, liderando a legião com bastante carisma e habilidade. Por isso, Desmond sempre quis se provar capaz e tomar o cargo de Pretor.

Maldição.

Aos dezesseis anos, depois de ter se tornado Centurião e da Guerra contra Saturno, ele recebeu a missão de seu pai, Metus, para se juntar à Seita do Horror sob o poder da Máscara Aterrorizante, porém, ele falhou e, com essa derrota, foi amaldiçoado com a Maldição do Terror, que repartiu sua mente em dois fragmentos, um que age como sempre agiu e outro que se apresenta em momentos de perigo e que demonstra toda a psicose e a violência que seu pai representa. [ Ler Mais ]