#a - a blind fanatic

[ravi-617]

repo is an odd (but very fun) movie. I love blind mag. :"^)

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Frev friendships — Robespierre and Éléonore Duplay

Please present the testimonies of my tender friendship to Madame Duplay, to your young ladies, and to my little friend. Also, please do not forget to remind me of La Coste and Couthon.  Robespierre in a letter to Maurice Duplay, October 16 1791

Present the testimonies of my tender and unalterable attachment to your ladies, whom I very much desire to embrace, as well as our little patriot.  Robespierre to Maurice Duplay, November 17 1791. These letters are the only pieces conserved in which Robespierre mentions Éléonore.

[Robespierre’s] host's daughter passed for his wife and exercised a sort of empire over him.   Causes secrètes de la révolution du 9 au 10 thermidor (1794) by Joachim Vilate, page 16.

When the constituent assembly was transferred to Paris after the October days, Robespierre came to stay in the house of Duplay, located on rue Saint-Honoré, opposite the convent of Assomption, and wasted no time in becoming a zealous devotee. The father, the mother, the sons, the daughters, the cousins, etc, swore only by Robespierre, who deigned to raise the eldest of the two [sic] daughters to the honors of his bed, without however marrying her other than with the left hand. At the time of the organization of the revolutionary tribunal, Robespierre had father Duplay appointed as juror; the two sons had a distinguished rank among Maximilien I’s bodyguards, whose leader was Brigadier General Boulanger. Mother Duplay became superior of the devotees of Robespierre; and her daughters, as well as her nieces and several of her neighbors, obtained high ranks in this respectable body.  Souvenirs thermidoriens (1844) by Georges Duval, volume 1, page 247.

It has been rumored that [Éléonore] had been Robespierre's mistress. I think I can affirm she was his wife; according to the testimony of one of my colleagues, Saint-Just had been informed of this secret marriage, which he had attended.   Mémoires d’un prêtre regicide (1829) by Simon-Edme Monnel, page 337-338.

Madame Lebreton, a sweet and sensitive young woman, said, blushing: “Everyone assures that Eugénie [sic] Duplay was Robespierre’s mistress.”  “Ah! My God! Is it possible that that good and generous creature should have so degraded herself?” I was aghast.  “Listen,” cried Henriette, “don’t judge on appearances. The unhappy Eugénie was not the mistress, but the wife of the monster, whom her pure soul decorated with every virtue; they were united by a secret marriage of which Saint-Just was the witness.” �� Souvernirs de 1793 et 1794 par madame Clément, Née Hémery (1832) by Albertine Clément-Hémery.

[Robespierre’s] relationship with Éléonore, the carpenter's eldest daughter, had a less protective and more tender character than with her other sisters. One day, Maximilien, in the presence of his hosts, took Éléonore's hand in his: it was, in accordance with the customs of his province, a sign of engagement. From that moment on he was seen more than ever as a member of the family.  Une Maison de la Rue Saint-Honoré by Alphonse Ésquiros, published in Revue de Paris, number 9 (May 1 1844). At the end of this article, Esquiros claimed to have obtained the information contained in it from Éléonore’s sister Élisabeth. Shortly thereafter, said Élisabeth did however write a letter to the paper in order to ”protest loudly against the use that, without consulting me, you have made of my name, and to declare that this article, on many points in contradiction with my recollections, also contains a large number of inaccuracies.” She does unfortunately not indicate exactly which parts of the article are inaccurate and which ones are not, and certain details contained in it match up too well with what Élisabeth writes in her (by then not yet published) memoirs for me not to believe Esquiros hadn’t actually interviewed her prior to writing the article. In spite of her complaint, all the information in article was republished, almost entirely word for word, in volume 2 of Ésquiros’ Histoire des Montagnards (1847).

My eldest sister had been promised to Robespierre.   Note written by Élisabeth Duplay, cited on page 150 of Le conventionnel Le Bas : d'après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901) by Stéfane-Pol.

Duplay's eldest daughter, Éléonore, shared her father's patriotic sentiments. She was one of those serious and just minds, one of those firm and upright characters, one of those generous and devoted hearts, the model of which must be sought in the good times of the ancient republics. Maximilien could not fail to pay homage to such virtues; a mutual esteem brought their two hearts together; they loved each other without ever having said so to each other, there is no doubt that if he had succeeded in bringing order and calm to the State, and if his existence had ceased to be so agitated, he would have become his friend's son-in-law. The slander, which spared none of those loved by the victim of the Thermidorians, did not fail to attack the woman he wanted to make his wife, and one was not afraid to write that a guilty bond united them. We, who knew Éléonore Duplay for nearly fifty years, we who know to what extent she carried the feeling of duty, to what extent she rose above the weaknesses and fragility of her sex, we strongly protest against such an odious imputation. Our testimony deserves all confidence. France: Dictionnaire Encyclopédique (1840-1845) by Éléonore’s nephew Philippe Lebas jr, volume 6, page 821.

A virile soul, said Robespierre of his friend [Éléonore], she would know how to die as she knows how to love... The destitution of his fortune and the uncertainty of the next day prevented him from uniting with her before the destiny of France was clarified; but he only aspired, he said, to the moment when, the Revolution finished and strengthened, he could withdraw from the fray, marry the one he loved and go live in Artois, on one of the farms that he kept from his family's property, to there confuse his obscure well-being in common happiness. (Extract from a part of l’Histoire des Girondins looked over by Philippe Le Bas).  Le conventionnel Le Bas: d'après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901) by Stéfane-Pol, page 78.

All the historians assert that [Robespierre] carried out an intrigue with the daughter of Duplay, but as the family physician and constant guest of that house I am in a position to deny this on oath. They were devoted to each other, and their marriage was arranged; but nothing of the kind alleged ever sullied their love.    Testimony from Robespierre’s doctor Joseph Souberbielle, cited in Recollections of a Parisian (docteur Poumiès de La Siboutie) under six sovereigns, two revolutions, and a republic (1789-1863) (1911) page 26.

[Robespierre] rarely went out in the evening. Two or three times a year he took Madame Duplay and her daughters to the theater. It was always to the Théâtre-Français and to classical performances. He only liked tragic declamations which reminded him of the tribune, of tyranny, of the people, of great crimes, of great virtues; theatrical even in his dreams and in his relaxations.  Histoire des Girondins (1847) by Alphonse de Lamartine, volume 4, page 132. Lamartine claimed to have interviewed Élisabeth Le Bas Duplay and it therefore seems likely for this detail to come from her.

The eldest of the Duplay daughters, who Robespierre wanted to marry, was called Éléonore. Robespierre allowed himself to be cared for, but he was not in love. […] The Duplay family formed a kind of cult around Robespierre. It was claimed that this new Jupiter did not need to take the metamorphoses of the god of Olympus to become human with the eldest daughter of his host, called Éléonore. This is completely false. Like her entire family, this young girl was a fanatic of the god Robespierre, she was even more exalted because of her age. But Robespierre did not like women, he was absorbed in his political enlightenment; his abstract dreams, his metaphysical discourses, his guards, his personal security, all things incompatible with love, gave him no hold on this passion. He loved neither women nor money and cared no more about his private interests than if all the merchants had been free, obligatory suppliers to him, and the inn houses paid in advance for his use. And that’s what he acted like with his hosts.  Notes historiques sur la Convention nationale, le Directoire, l’Empire et l’exil des votants (1895) by Marc Antoine Baudot, page 41 and 242.

Madame Duplay had three [sic] daughters: one married the conventionnel Le Bas; another married, I believe, an ex-constituent; the third, Éléonore, who preferred to be called Cornélie, and who was the eldest, was, according to what people pleased themselves to say, on the point of marrying my brother Maximilien when 9 Thermidor came. There are in regard to Éléonore Duplay two opinions: one, that that she was the mistress of Robespierre the elder; the other that she was his fiancée. I believe that these opinions are equally false; but what is certain is that Madame Duplay would have strongly desired to have my brother Maximilien for a son-in-law, and that she forget neither caresses nor seductions to make him marry her daughter. Éléonore too was very ambitious to call herself the Citizeness Robespierre, and she put into effect all that could touch Maximilien’s heart. But, overwhelmed with work and affairs as he was, entirely absorbed by his functions as a member of the Committee of Public Safety, could my older brother occupy himself with love and marriage? Was there a place in his heart for such futilities, when his heart was entirely filled with love for the patrie, when all his sentiments, all his thoughts were concentrated in a sole sentiment, in a sole thought, the happiness of the people; when, without cease fighting against the revolution’s enemies, without cease assailed by his personal enemies, his life was a perpetual combat? No, my older brother should not have, could not have amused himself to be a Celadon with Éléonore Duplay, and, I should add, such a role would not enter into his character. Besides, I can attest it, he told me twenty times that he felt nothing for Éléonore; her family’s obsessions, their importunities were more suited to make feel disgust for her than to make him love her. The Duplays could say what they wanted, but there is the exact truth. One can judge if he was disposed to unite himself to Madame Duplay’s eldest daughter by something I heard him say to Augustin:  “You should marry Éléonore.”   “My faith, no,” replied my younger brother.   Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1834) page 90-91.

A little wooden staircase led to [Robespierre’s] room on the first floor. Prior to ascending it we (Fréron and Barras) perceived in the yard the daughter of the carpenter Duplay, the owner of the house. This girl allowed no one to take her place in ministering to Robespierre's needs. As women of this class in those days freely espoused the political ideas then prevalent, and as in her case they were of a most pronounced nature, Danton had surnamed Cornelie Copeau "the Cornelia who is not the mother of the Gracchi." Cornelie seemed to be finishing spreading linen to dry in the yard; in her hand were a pair of striped cotton stockings, in fashion at the time, and which were certainly similar to those we daily saw encasing the legs of Robespierre on his visits to the Convention. […] Fréron and I told Cornelie Copeau that we had called to see Robespierre. She began by informing us that he was not in the house, then asked whether he was expecting our visit. Fréron, who was familiar with the premises, advanced towards the staircase, while Mother Duplay shook her head in a negative fashion at her daughter. Both generals, smilingly enjoying what was passing through the two women's minds, told us plainly by their looks that he was at home, and to the women that he was not. Cornelie Copeau, on seeing that Fréron, persisting in his purpose, had his foot on the third step, placed herself in front of him, exclaiming: ”Well, then, I will apprise him of your presence," and, tripping upstairs, she again called out, "It’s Fréron and his friend, whose name I do not know." Fréron thereupon said, "It’s Barras and Freron," as if announcing himself, entering the while Robespierre's room, the door of which had been opened by Cornelie Copeau, we following her closely.  Memoirs of Barras: member of the Directorate (1899) page 167-169, regarding a meeting he and Fréron tried to have with Robespierre following their return from Marseilles in March 1794.

In the morning, the daughters of the carpenter with whom Robespierre lived dressed in white and gathered flowers in their hands to attend the feast [of the Supreme Being]. Éléonore herself composed the bouquet for the president of the Convention. Histoire des Montagnards (1847) by Alphonse Esquiros, volume 2, page 447-449. In a footnote inserted on page 28 of Thermidor, d’après les sources originalets er les documents authentiques (1891), Ernest Hamel writes that Esquiros obtained this description from Élisabeth herself.

…Éléonore, Victoire, Sophie, Élisabeth, raised in the peaceful interior of the home, in the oasis of the family, sincerely imagined that the same happiness extended to the whole city; they blessed in their hearts the God of the revolution who had given such rest to the French nation. Only one circumstance worried them, it was that for some time the porte-cochère of the house had been strictly closed night and day on orders from the carpenter. Éléonore timidly asked Maximilien the reason for it in front of her other sisters. He blushed. “Your father is right,” he said; ”Everyday right now something passes along this street that you must not see.” In fact, around two o'clock in the afternoon, a tumbril was rolling heavily on the pavement of Rue Saint-Honoré; the sound of horses and the cries of people could be heard even in the courtyard. It was the thing that passed by.  Une Maison de la Rue Saint-Honoré by Alphonse Ésquiros, published in Revue de Paris, number 9 (May 1 1844). The incident is portayed as taking place during the time of the ”great terror” of June-July 1794. When republishing the anecdote in his Histoire des Montagnards (1847), Esquiros instead has Robespierre say this to Éléonore on January 21 1793, the day of the king’s execution.

It was the first days of Thermidor: Maximilien continued his evening walks at the Champ-Élysées with his adoptive family. The sun, at the end of the sky, buried its globe behind the clumps of trees, or swam softly here and there in a dark gold fluid. The sounds of the city died away in the agitated branches; everything was rest, silence and meditation: no more tribunes, no more people; nothing but the peaceful and solemn teaching of nature. Maximilien walked with the carpenter's eldest daughter at his arm: Brount followed them. What were they saying to each other? Only the breeze heard and forgot everything. Éléonore had a melancholy brow and downcast eyes: her hand carelessly stroked the head of Brount who seemed very proud of such beautiful caresses; Maximilien showed his fiancée how red the sunset was. Here ends the story of intimate life; here Mme L(ebas) movedly wiped her eyes. This walk was the last. The next day, Maximilien disappeared in a storm.  Une Maison de la Rue Saint-Honoré by Alphonse Ésquiros, published in Revue de Paris, number 9 (May 1 1844). When republishing the anecdote in Histoire des Montagnards (1847), volume 2, page 460, Esquiros adds the following part right after reprinting the anecdote word by word: “It will be good weather tomorrow,” said [Éléonore]. Maximilien lowered his head as if struck by an image and a terrible presentiment.

Legendre: At the time of 9 Thermidor, I was secretary as well as Dumont: I said to him: “There’s going to be some noise. Do you see in this rostrum the whole Duplay family? Do you see Gerard? Do you see Dechamps?” At the same moment Saint-Just began his speech; Tallien interrupted him and tore the veil.  Louis Legendre at the Convention March 26 1795

One of those who had witnessed the outcome of this catastrophe (the execution on 10 thermidor) told me that he recognized in the crowd Duplay's eldest daughter, who had wanted to see for one last time the man whom her whole family had looked upon as a god. Mémoires d’un prêtre regicide (1829) by Simon-Edme Monnel, page 337.

The widow of the deputy Le Bas, who gave birth to the man who was to be my teacher, was one of the daughters of the carpenter Duplay. This Duplay family had become Robespierre’s family. He lived with them, and when he died, he was engaged to Mademoiselle Éléonore, the sister of Madame Le Bas. The fiancée mourned Robespierre up until her death. This whole family was closely united, and the memory of the deceased contributed not a little to this union. Premières années, (1901) by Jules Simon, p. 181-187.

[rosewind2007]

I wrote a fun little story last year about Murderbot and Gurathin reading fanfic generated inspired by Bharadwaj’s documentary…

It’s what you’d expect from me

[palaceoftears]

What's going onnnn

[caninecommie]

That shitty post about Ai art that's like "it comes w your humanity" or whatever bullshit she said. Getting a flood of vile ableist anons and what not when everything it reblog and agrees with is either metaphysical notions of art that are meaningless or downright ableist shit.

Makes ableist post -> reblogs and posts more ableist things -> surprised pikachu face when ppl who are miles more explicit and noticeably more reactionary agree with you

[hihereami]

For a first worlder used to a nationalism that means pride over having power, it might be easy to mistake some third world national pride as equally problematic. It's not. Many times, our pride is the chant of the powerless in a world where we've been told the empire is better, even by our own people and goverments.

We know what's wrong with our countries, we know it better than you. We don't need your platitudes. Empty nationalism can be a tool for fascism, yes, but for some of us nationalism - when given meaning - means resistance. Means pride, means hope for a future we can make our own without someone else interfering.

For third-world nations who have won their political independence at great cost and are still struggling to win their economical independence, for people who have been told from childhood "your country is shit, you can't never progress here, you must leave as soon as you can" either implicitly or explicitly by their own ruling classes and media, for people who have suffered the explotation of imperialism and have lost their prosperity, liberty and culture in the process, to love their own land and people is a revolutionary act.

To say "this is my country, I love it and I'm proud of it, and I want to make it better" is an act of courage and love that people from first-world nations whose national pride was build in conquest and imperialism can't comprehend. After living through entire generations where your country was considered, by both the imperial powers and your own local rulers, as little more than a source of raw materials, and then stop and say, "no, this is not true, we have history, culture and things to be proud of, we can make a better country, we can stand with the rest of the world as free people, as equals", to find love and solace in your own land, is something extraordinary.

[nunap]

Idk(I mean we kinda know) what was wrong with Chris in some months in 2022?23?what is time (s class/tangerine c) but I'm so glad he overcame that and came back better bc that dude was the embodiment of choosing the wrong twin/clone in movies

[gammadoppler]

my fallout london experience or "all dolled up with absolutely nothing to do and no one to talk to" or "i had a lot more fun in the five minutes of editing this video than i have in my 6 hours spent playing the mod"

[whoareyoueventhough]

Shoutout to my tragic theatre kids. My girls born to play Elle Woods who have dark hair. My people destined to be Misha Bachinski who are 5'2". My people who should be analyzing newsies choreo who have face blindness. My Cats fanatics with no flexibility. My girls made to be a Veronica but are forced to be a Martha. Female Audrey II s. Male Janet Weiss's. The wrong range for the right role. You are meant for this character but they weren't designed for you and there's nothing you can do

[felidaefatigue]

sometines... the smallest comment by religious people drive me so fucking batty.

scrolled by a random sponsored post where someone was like hey i grew a pear tree but its not pear and tastes bad whats up?

and some idiot was like "enjoy it its god's food!"

WHAT FOOD ISNT GODS FOOD DIDNT HE FUCKIN CREATE EVERYTHING IN YOUR MIND? OR LIKE. IS IT FOOD FOR GOD WHAT DOES GOD EVEN EAT. COULDNT HE THEORETICALLY EAT LITERALLY ANYTHING AS A GOD? OR NOTHING? PROBABLY A FUCKIN FRUIT THOUGH. good fucking lord i hate how nonsensical they are i get your first instinct is to thank your god for everything fine whatever bUT DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF YOU SOUND LIKE A FUCKIN BUFFOON

[celisths]

Megumi Fushiguro who is uncharacteristically clingy behind closed doors

just imagine it….

Megumi had never been one for PDA. What, kiss his partner in public and have to deal with Gojo-Senseis relentless teasing? yeah, it’s a no from him. Behind closed doors, however…

He would only allow y/n to see him like this, he trusts them not to blabber mouth about it to Yuuji or Nobara- or the ‘blind folded bastard’.

Layed on top of his partners chest, head nuzzled into the junction that connects their neck and shoulder, so relaxed Megumi might aswell be melted into a pool of liquid.

“missed you so much..” he would mumble quietly, pressing feather like kisses to his partners neck. Not being a PDA fanatic doesn’t mean he doesn’t adore physical touch behind closed doors.

“yeah? we’ve spend the whole day together, megs..” his partner would coo at him, in that teasing voice they knew would send Megumi into the stratosphere. of course, y/n knew what he meant but oh how they loved to tease the poor boy.

He squeezed their waist with a small ‘humph’, annoyed he had to spell it out for them. “spent the whole day around those idiots.” ‘those idiots’ being his friends who deep down, he loves really. “can’t hold you like this ‘round them…”

With his hands firmly on their waist, he playfully nipped at his lovers earlobe. What, did you think he was above teasing? no chance. “can’t kiss you while they’re there..”

“hmm? but you’re not kissing me now, meg-“ y/n was quickly cut off but sweet, soft lips dancing against their own. relaxing into the bed beneath them, y/n kisses back so gently you’d think Megumi was made out of old china.

He poured all of his love and emotion into that gentle kiss. he didn’t often voice his emotions, so these kisses were a way for him to show his partner how much he adored them. hands gripping onto their waist, thumbs rubbing up and down gently against their soft skin.

God, Megumi loved moments like this.

masterlist

credits to @saradika-graphics for banners

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

[tan1shere]

Baby I could slow down

Ellie Williams x female reader !

A/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I had no idea what to do until I was talking with a friend and she helped a bit, so enjoy !!

Summary: Ellie had been your tattoo artist for a bit, you hadn't gotten many tattoos in the past and if you did it wasn't anything huge. But you decided you wanted to get a tramp stamp, til things get heated.

Warnings: smut, mdni. Mirror sex, glove fixation ??? Bit filthy 😇 soft dom Ellie DUH this is me, I'm a soft dom Ellie fanatic. And sub, but kinda confident reader-? Ok that's all 😁

Masterlist

It was becoming an addiction. One tattoo was leading to 3, 6. So on and so on. You had a few tattoos already, but you decided today was the day you got a tramp stamp, you had been wanting one for some time. Only now were you going through with it. You have been going to the same artist since your first tattoo ever. She was your favorite not only was she good at her job but she was hot. And I mean hot. Everyone who knew of her thought the same thing. But she never would look at them like you. You were thankfully a tad blinded by it. Ofcourse you felt slight tension whenever you'd go, but you'd never think much of it. Until today.

You were wearing a white shirt that was tight to your skin, thin. Alongside some black jeans. It was later in the evening and you were her last for the day, which was usually the case, you would always go in the afternoon. You step through the doors, everything was quiet and it was just Ellie there. "Knock knock." You say, soon after seeing her come into the room. "Hey you." She grins slightly. You set your things down going over to the long flat table. "So a tramp stamp huh?" You nod. "Been wanting one for awhile actually." She grabs her black gloves. And you don't know what comes over you but the way she snaps it onto her hands makes you weak in the knees. You swallow, beginning to lay on your stomach on the black leather. "Haven't been in for awhile." She states, grabbing her supplies. You look infront of you, realizing the mirror was right there.

None of the tats youd get involved laying on your stomach. Ellie comes over, taking a moment looking at your curves, the way your lower back dipped as you prompted yourself on your forearms. Her gloved hands come to your sides slowly running along them, lifting your shirt in the process. Only a tiny bit before she goes to your jeans pulling them down just a smidge as you had high rise on, to get to your lower back. "This is going to look so good on you." She compliments. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. You had been just getting yourself sorted that you hadn't noticed there was quiet music going on in the background. Ellie places the stencil on your skin, making sure it was placed good. Once that was all sorted.

She begins to start the pen up, you hear the vibrations. Getting ready for the slight pinchy sting. But in all honesty, it wasn't that painful usually. Her lingering touches on your sides felt nice, in a way almost teasing. "The butterfly suits you." You bit your lip slightly. And this woman looks up for a second, into the mirror. Noticing the action. You didn't dare look back. Everything was quiet in the room, the air filled with something flirty. It was starting to drive you insane.

Eventually there was some small talk, she'd ask about life recently and you did the same. Catching up from the last time you had come in. Her hands softly touch your skin, bringing the needle into your skin. It stung a tiny bit but by now you were use to it. "Comfortable?" She asks. You nod slightly. "Yeah it's easing up the more I come." You look up and in the mirror to see her smiling, yet still focusing on the tattoo. "Glad you come back to me so often." You bit your lip a little. "Yeah course, you're the best at what you do." Her smile turns into a slight grin. "Oh yeah?" That made your heart skip a beat, the way her voice was right now. You wanted to squirm but you knew you had to stay still. Which made Ellie want to tease you even more, knowing you could do nothing. The thought rolled around her brain driving her a little crazy. Her fingers lightly brush your side as she gets a different angle.

Things were quiet, you could feel the slight tension tho. The hand that was on your side now Moves to rest on the curve of your ass. Your eyes go wide at how casually she does the action. It was hot regardless. "Don't mind my hand love, just trying to find the right position." You swallow. "No thats- fine." She lets out a slight chuckle at how rushed that came out. "Just gotta get myself comfortable y'know?" You bit your lip, harder this time. You had to stay calm you couldn't make any movements. But it's as if she was testing you. You peer at her through the mirror infront of you, until you realized the needle had stopped for a second. She was looking right back at you. Your eyes locked for a good minute, when you let out a breath. "Nervous?" She blurts out. You're silent. You're afraid if you open your mouth you might moan. That just makes you shake your head out of that thought. You needed to be the one to focus because Jesus Christ.

"No, just-" But you had no idea how to cover that breath up. Fuck fuck fuck. Was this embarrassing or what. "Going too fast?" That confused you slightly, almost making you choke on your own spit. "With the tattoo darling." Oh. Your eyes blink a few time. "Uhm, yeah just a little.." Great save. She noticed how silent you were all of a sudden. "Baby, I could slow down if that's what you need me to do?" Your eyes meet in the mirror again. "Since this is bigger than you're use to." There was a slight smirk evident on her face. She knew exactly what she was doing. Wording things in such a way. "Uhm, it's ok just new to this, yeah- bigger than what I'm uhm. Use to." She just chuckles again, looking back down at the tattoo. But her focus was more on the way your back was arched. Her brain let it travel to all these thoughts. What it'd be like to see her fucking you from behind, especially with this tattoo. But that wasn't professional, was it Ellie? You let your eyes go away from the mirror, looking down at your hands.

Fuck it. She thought. She was almost done with it anyways. "Well. Whoever gets to be the one seeing this from behind is lucky. Very lucky." - "All done." She then says, to which you move sitting up. "Too bad no one gets to." You say. Ellie was sly, making sure you weren't involved with anyone by that statement. "Huh.. Shame." Your eyes meet yet again, but not before you turn your ass slightly to get a better look at it. You smile wide. "Oh my God I love it!" You beam. "Good good." She goes to clean up, about to take her gloves off when you stop her. "Wait- keep them on." She was a little shocked at the sudden request but did so anyway. You felt bold all of a sudden. "Maybe there's one person who could enjoy looking at it.. From behind." Her smirk grew. "Oh yeah? Who might that be?" You slowly stride closer. "Maybe the one who did it." She looks up at you from her seat, lust peeking through her green eyes.

Was she really going to go through with this. I mean this is her place, she could do what she liked. And it's not like she didn't know you at all. She was still looking at you. So were you, but your eyes traveled to her hands, her own tattoo. Good lord. She soon noticed making her smirk a bit with pride. She liked the way she affected you. She subtly moves her fingers around, she had it resting on her thigh. But since you were watching why not have a little fun. Her arm shortly flexes, making her slight veins stick out. You could feel your breathing getting heavier, you needed it. Needed her. Your eyes meet hers again, when suddenly she's reaching out. Grabbing the back of your thighs and swiftly pulling you onto her lap. Your breath got caught in your throat as you weren't expecting it. Her lips were immediately on yours. This kiss was well needed and hungry.

"Ever since you first came in here I've been wanting to do that." You bit your lip again, looking down at hers. "I think you should totally do it again." And she did instantly. Keeping her hands gently on your waist. "Get back on the table." She says slightly out of breath. "Only if you keep those gloves on." You smirk a lil, making her smirk too. "Yes ma'am." You try not to giggle like a pathetic little looser as she says that, getting back on the table. Her hand came in contact with your jeans before you do, yanking them down. You turn your head to look at her. She examines your body fully. "This will be fun." You smile more getting on the cushion table again. "Everytime I come for a tattoo I always wish we could do something.." You admit.

It boosts her ego crazily. She wastes no time taking your underwear off, gently pulling your legs so you're closer to her. "Mmmm." She let's out lowly. Your head lifts, looking at her in the mirror. "Want you to keep looking into it, want you to watch your face as I fuck you." You felt yourself clench around nothing, getting incredibly desperate for this now. You watch as she undoes her pants, getting out what you've been craving. "Matches the gloves, huh." Her voice made you wetter, and the thought made you close your eyes. She moves over your body grabbing a fistful of your hair, making you reopen your eyes. "What'd I say." Her voice was soft, laced with demand. "You bit your lip even harder. "To look in the mirror as you fuck me." She hums. "Good." You could feel the tip waiting to be slipped in. She does, shortly. Painfully slow if you might add. But once it was all in, you arch your back. Begging for more of it. "Haven't even moved yet babe." But you didn't care at all. You needed this. Now.

"Please." You breath, and it makes Ellie go crazy. She begins to move and not slowly either. In fact it was faster than you had anticipated. She was just as eager as you tho, the way your back arched, the way the tattoo looked. Your curves. She was loving this all too much. You look at her through the mirror, her eyes were looking at your body until then she met yours in the mirror. "Hear how wet you are? You had been wanting this huh?" You finally let out a moan, trying not to be too loud. "God you're so fine, glad you wanted this tat you look so hot with it. Especially in this position." It was her turn to bite her lip, watching as you moved on the strap too. It was intoxicating how this was all making you feel. "I'm so close." You blab, which made her speed up. Your eyes roll back, Ellie swears she could just cum at the sight of you in the mirror. The strap moving in a way that it gets her clit nice, making her groan and speed up again. "You look so good, shit."

Moans, grunts. Whines, were all that could be heard as you both come closer to your release. "Ellie i-" you were cut off by yet another moan. "I know, feel you clenching, mph. You're getting tighter." Your eyes never leave the mirror, and now so do hers. The latex of the gloves come in contact with your hips, sending you into overdrive as this gives her a better chance at slamming into you. You let out a cry of her name as you finally cum around her, Ellie looses it at the sight, the speed hitting her clit still making her cum along with you. All to be heard was heavy breaths. "It's free." She breathes out huskily.

[ay-miphae]

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHGOINGFERALAHHHHHHHH

the single release is on spotify already though i am LmfjsjfjsjjfjsjjaJFJFKSJDJ

EVERYBODY SHUT UP

[justpeaxchy]

'Why not me?'

Warnings: Jealousy, a "little" misunderstanding between Hiccup and reader.

A/n: !Fem reader! I recommend reading this as a part two to this short writing I did, but either way it can be read on its own! This was originally intended as a separate work but here we are ig lol.

Hiccup's eyes followed your figure once more, watching as you hauled more wood for another house that was "accidentally" burned down again. The report came rather quickly that the Twins had performed another prank and it somehow led to a "small" devastation, as they called it, on a viking's innocent home. You called for Astrid again, who was managing Stormfly as she carefully placed down the pieces needed for the home to repair it, and gestured to the new pile of wood that lay on the ground. She nodded and went back to her work with a glare sent towards the two twins who merely stood next to the burnt heap, giggling among themselves.

He wouldn't admit it, but Hiccup had been noticing more of Berk starting to flock around you as they had finally seen the two of you spend more time together. It brought a certain emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint. For one, most of them only started talking to you since they recognized you as someone now "close" to the Chief. On the other hand, they only wanted to get closer with you because of your connection. Everyone knew Hiccup on Berk, so he was puzzled - and a tad bit angry - that a good portion of them acted as though you never even existed and he was someone on a higher pedestal because of the position handed down to him.

Of course, on the outside, it looked as though they were treating him as normally as they would've before - with the due respect for a Chief - but Hiccup noticed the slight difference, especially with you. He didn't know if you did though. It bothered him in a way he couldn't vocalize it, unusually so. He had barely begun developing his relationship with you, taking the small steps you needed; the ones he was more than willing to take.

So, when these people decided to come in and sneak their way down the path he treaded with you - it made him upset him in more ways than one. He even heard Snotlout ogle over you at one point. He had heard his fanatics before but, for some strange reason, it brought him to the conclusion of physically pushing him out of the Forge where he was trying to gather his thoughts in peace.

Hiccup fumbled with the charcoal pencil in his hand, trying to drown out the noise around him that was the daily turmoil of vikings. He told himself to stay focused on the sketch someone had wanted for a new saddle before handing it off to Gobber - that was supposed to be the plan. His idea of having himself under control for the day were seemingly forgotten as he managed to steal a swift glance in your direction.

Out of everything, Hiccup Haddock did not expect for himself to act up when someone offered to help take the load of wood out of your arms. Perhaps he would've felt better if it wasn't Eret son of Eret who had willingly taken it out of your arms. Hiccup knew he wasn't losing his eyesight when he had seen Eret's hands lightly brush yours when he took the burden of wood out of your hands. It puzzled the Chief as to why he was even feeling this way.

Hiccup wasn't blind or numb to the fact that Eret, ever since he arrived at Berk, was known for his physique and his striking appearance. As well as being a dragon trapper in the past, of course. Sudden thoughts came to Hiccup's mind as he watched the short interaction between you two, not understanding the emotion that gripped his heart when he had seen your smile to the man who offered you his help. He knew that you were getting used to smiling more - he was the one who told you to try it out more - but he pondered over the question in his head that wouldn't leave him alone: Why did it take you longer to smile at him like that?

As if Hiccup's body moved on its own, he called for Toothless, who had been resting by his side in the Forge, and stomped his way to your direction. You were busy directing Astrid for where she should place the wood on top of the house just in case she missed a spot or didn't put it down correctly. You hadn't expected for a hand to grab yours, with such urgency and yet clothed with a gentle tug, to pull you away from the task you were occupied with. "Hey! What is this-"

Your words were interrupted as you caught Hiccup pulling you closer to his side as he called out for the Twins, "Ruff, Tuff! You're going to be the ones to handle this. It was your doing and the least you could do is tell Astrid where to go from here, okay?" He gave them no time for a proper response, other than the annoyed grumbling that came, as he led you beside Toothless. Confusion clouded your mind as your eyes followed him hauling himself on the night fury and reach out his hand for yours as if telling you to do the same.

"Hiccup, you know I have my own dragon, right-" He swiftly grabbed your hand that was slowly reaching out for his in the middle of your speech as he remained silent, "And I guess that doesn't matter because-" Your startled scream soon took over as Toothless shot into the air without warning, causing you to cling onto Hiccup with all of your strength you could possibly muster. It made you question how he could so easily ride the night fury - being that they were known to be the fastest dragon alive. "H-hey! Where are we going?"

Hiccup lightly patted your hand that was settled on his waist, his gaze not moving from the scenery around him. "Just wait a bit, you'll see." He muttered something to Toothless that you couldn't catch due to the high speeds of wind blowing across your face, making you even more nervous. You trusted Hiccup, of course, but sometimes it was obvious that the 'odd' side of himself could get a little carried away. So, you did the only thing you could do in that moment: hold on as tightly as you could as Toothless dived into a deeper part of the woods.

--------------------------------------------

"Ah, so this is where you found him." Your legs shakily wobbled off of the night fury who cooed at your ruffled form. Your hair wasn't as neat as you had it before, making you slightly annoyed before turning to Hiccup. "So.. why bring me here?" You carefully inspected him as he hopped off Toothless, much more better than you had, and nervously swing his arms as he normally did in a situation that left him feeling awkward or anxious.

"Why? Oh, you know - just - wanted to spend some time with you. I mean, do you want to spend time with me? Because you don't have to if-" He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke when he noticed you rolling your eyes at his statement.

"Hiccup, it's too late for me to go back now. You practically dragged me out here on the back of a dragon and I would much rather fly back to Berk than walk." You knew it wasn't a far ways off, but you didn't entirely feel like going all the way back when your legs were recovering from being shot into the air so quickly, "Also, you didn't really give me much of a choice."

You gazed at his hands that seemingly didn't know what do at the moment, hesitating at the thought of grabbing them. "Yeah, I realize that now. That's my fault, sorry." Hiccup muttered out the phrase as if he had been caught doing a scandalous act before stepping closer to you as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I just-" He paused, inhaling as he considered his next words, "I just happen to notice that you've been more.." Another pause; "Occupied with the work load that's been piling up on you recently."

Hiccup inwardly cringed at his reasonings, knowing that it wasn't a good enough excuse as you narrowed your eyes. "Yes? I mean, what do you want me to do? Sit around all day and hope I make some coins by doing nothing?" You sighed and carefully took a step closer to him, the distance between you two slightly bothering you. "I don't want to be like I was before; standing around and barely getting by because of the leftover chores Berk left for me."

Your eyes never left him as he continued to settle on looking at the ground. "Anyway, aren't you the Chief? Shouldn't I be the one saying this to you? I know you've probably got a lot on your shoulders too, not just me." You tried lightening up the mood as Hiccup gently shook his head, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips before it faded once more.

"I know it sounds stupid." He exhaled, as if trying to breathe away the thing that was bothering him, "I'm sorry, but don't you think people should... I don't know.." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to play his next words off casually, "Give you more personal space..?" Hiccup took the risk and glanced up to see your reaction, which wasn't what he expected.

You snorted, then giggled, then covered your mouth as laughter consumed you, watching the way Hiccup's gaze falter slightly as he took in the sight. "What? Personal space?" You tried your best to grasp in what little air you could as your laughter rang throughout the small cove you two were in. "What're you getting at, Hiccup?" A sudden thought came to mind as you smirked, taking another step closer to the Chief; the nervousness that threatened you earlier having been disappeared. "I hope you're not forgetting when I asked for my own personal space when you came and decided to visit me almost every single day."

Hiccup groaned and rubbed his face, as though a headache were arising. "You know it's not like that! That's not what I meant-" He struggled to speak coherently when your small doses of laughter filled his ears. "Do you like the attention or something? I mean, when Eret touched your hand you seemed pretty okay with it to me." The realization of what he said had finally came to Hiccup before he quickly waved his hands, noticing your smile dim away, "Wait! That's not what I meant-"

"Okay, Hiccup. What're you really getting at? You should know me enough that I won't go out of my way to get the attention of people that I wouldn't want to talk to." You huffed, slightly hurt at the idea that crossed Hiccup's mind. "And I didn't ask for Eret to help me, he was just kind enough to take that load of wood from me - which was very heavy by the way." You crossed your arms, stubbornly taking a step away from him as he decided to take two more steps closer.

"I'm sorry, that was my fault - again - but I didn't mean it in that way. I know that is the complete opposite of who you are, but I-" Hiccup sighed, forcing himself to see what was actually wrong with him. "I think I'm not used to all of these people coming in and talking with you and working with you like they've been friends with you since birth. I guess I got used to-"

Hiccup managed to catch himself before uttering anything else, causing you to questioningly narrow your eyes at him. "Got used to what, Chief?" You held back another burst of laughter at the flustered state of the man before you, watching with intent eyes every gesture he made with his hands.

"N-nevermind. How about we go back and I'll let you work in peace and I won't bother you about it anymore." He reached out for your arm as he began to pull you towards Toothless. "C'mon, here we go-" Hiccup winced as you suddenly maneuvered his hand off your arm with a twist, causing him to let go of your arm as he spun around. "Why would you do that?"

You grinned, the atmosphere from earlier forgotten as you dusted yourself off from imaginary dirt. "Tell me what you were going to say." When he tried to escape the situation with more rambling you cracked your fingers, intimidatingly stepping forward, "Say it."

Hiccup kicked the ground like a toddler as he shook his head. "You're so stubborn.." He barely managed to see your hand getting closer to his ear as you threatened to pinch them before he stepped to the side, potentially saving himself from even more pain. "Alright, alright! Just don't get the ears!" He protectively covered the sides of his face as you triumphantly grinned, awaiting his answer.

"Look, I guess I got used to.." He found himself looking at the ground once more as he spoke. "Having you more to myself." He purposefully mumbled the last bit of his speech, hoping he could somehow get away with it. Much to his despair, however, you still listened to every word.

He heard your footsteps approaching to where he stood and he glanced up to see a delicate smile taking over your features before your hand reached out for his. You held it as if you were handling a precious piece of glass, carefully lifting it away from his side. "Is that really what you think?" Your eyes held a sincerity to them that Hiccup couldn't ignore, making his heart beat slightly faster than before.

When all he could do was nod, you finally took it upon yourself to be the one to hug him first - which you gladly did the moment he gave you his answer. You found yourself smiling into his shoulder as he stood still in his spot for a moment. "Hiccup, just know I'll never be able to look at them in the way I view you. They can't replace what you did, no matter how hard they might try."

When you felt his arms embrace you in return, you couldn't help but let the smile on your face continue to grow as he sighed, his breath fanning your neck in - what sounded like - relief. "Are you upset with me?"

"Not anymore. Maybe if you gave me a kiss I'd be over the moon. But, hey, that's just me." You chuckled when you heard nothing but silence come from him, assuming he was too much in a flustered state to respond.

You squeezed him one final time before letting him go. The weight of your words hadn't settled in until you stepped away from him, causing you to fumble with your hair. "So, we should - probably - uhm, head back -"

Hiccup, noticing your actions, nodded once more before swiftly taking your hand in his as he lead you both back to Toothless. You told yourself not to be consumed with the fluttering of your heart by his simple move, but it became much more of a challenge when he stopped in front of his dragon to face you.

"One more thing before we go." Hiccup pulled you closer to him by your hand he had grabbed, officially closing any remaining distance between you both as his lips met yours. You didn't expect it, which caused you to nearly trip on your own feet before his other arm caught you, still engaged in the kiss as though it had never happened. If you weren't imagining things, you could've sworn you felt him smile in the midst of it all.

You were breathless as he, unfortunately, pulled away from you, gazing intently at your flustered form before guiding you onto Toothless. "So, you're definitely not angry now, right?"

You rolled your eyes as Hiccup readied himself on Toothless, glancing back at you for an answer. "I already said I wasn't..." You folded your arms, making yourself now look like the toddler as he snickered and turned forward.

"Well, you might want to hang on." He gleefully muttered something to Toothless as you stubbornly held your position, which was not hanging onto him at all. When he came to the conclusion that you were rather grumpily not obliging to him, he tapped his dragon to silently tell him to leave.

It was only when Toothless had darted up in the air that you screamed and tightly held onto Hiccup for your dear life, which he quite enjoyed.

[flamingpudding]

A lot can happen in 1 minute

And the worst part was Bruce had not been able to do anything to stop the chaos as all of this started right in the middle of a Gala, his children and him attended.

Bruce could do nothing but watch with growing internal horror as he stared at what was happening before him, champagne glass still in hand.

It all started with a fanatic suddenly getting the entire galas attention. Screaming something about Bruce Wayne will fall for them as they slammed some sort of magic duck thingy on the ground.

A second later, John Constantine, off all people, appeared yelling about finally finding the lad that stole a highly dangerous artifact while green smoke rose towards the ceiling of the hall.

By now some guest have started screaming and started to evacuate while other appeared curious thinking this was some sort of show. And shamefully Bruce had to admit that he lost sight of his children during this.

Though not even 10 seconds after Constantines entrance Bruce spied one of his children, Nightwing, crashing into the hall in gear and tackling the fanatic that was now yelling something at the smoke about fulfilling their end of the deal and granting their wish of tying Bruce Wayne to them.

5 seconds later he noticed Constantine was chanting something and the gathering smoke below the ceiling now started to glow.

At this point Bruce really wanted to dip out and join the scene as Batman but was rooted in place by a buisness partner clinging to him and trying to pull him to safety.

Another 3 seconds passed, and the smoke glowed brightly in Lazarus green. Worried Bruce tried to at least find one of his other children aside from the one that was still wrestling with the fanatic and was internally horrified to make eye contact with a wide eyed Jason and his glowing green eyes.

In the following 7 seconds he had tried to get to his son, but before he could even manage to get rid of the buisness partner still holding on to him a bright light blinded everyone for another 4 seconds.

Once their sight returned it took them another 5 seconds to realize that one the smoke was gone, two John Constantine was cursing up a storm holding a black haired kid and three the fanatic used the light to escape.

There was a stunned silence of 3 seconds before John Constantine looked around the room and suddenly zeroed down on Bruce. Bruce did not stiffen as the Brite looked at him with narrowed eyes, then down at the teen in his arms before marching over to him within the next ten seconds.

"You! You're Bruce Wayne, right? Congratulations, you got another kid via magic now. Here is the kid and my card. Call me if anything weird is happening with them." Before Bruce could even say anything, the teen was disposed into his arms together with John's apparent business card. The magican turned away from Bruce before marching over to his son in gear and starting to drag him out.

"Nightwing! Help me catch this bloody magic thief before some other summoning shit with stolen artifacts to spice up another rich guys ball or whatever goes down! I got a tracker spell on them! And call Bats while you're at it"

Right at the one minute mark. The chaos concluded to the point that Bruce Wayne was standing in the middle of a gala with a teen in his arm that was apparently magically made to be his and the fanatics child.

That was when the next kind of chaos broke out as his reminding children fought their way over to him through the suddenly coming back to live press and reporters that started to bombard him with questions about the unconscious teen in his arms.