#orm activities

[princess-from-another-galaxy]

I just watched Aquaman and now I'm suffering from brainrot, like, Orm knew something was wrong with David cause he was a logical and methodical person, he would never do something that destructive...

[phantom-of-the-memes]

Irish language things

One thing I’ll never not find interesting is the intersection between Irish and English. Especially how young people navigate this.

Gaeltacht colleges/ courses are an excellent example of this. Gaeltachts are Irish speaking areas in Ireland. There are very few of them left (most being in the Republic). A big source of income for these areas are setting up colleges or courses where young people can come and participate in for a week or two or even three. They’re basically summer camps where you’re only allowed to speak Irish. You do classes as well as fun activities. They’re really useful for young people to learn Irish and do well in their exams.

The linguistic example I was thinking of is what we say when we’re trying to get by someone. Most cultures will say “excuse me”. We sometimes do as well, but most Irish people will say “sorry”. This then translates over to Irish where people say “(Tá) brón orm”, meaning “I’m sorry”. Even when excuse me is “gabh mo leithscéal” in Irish.

Where young people and gaelcholáistí come into this is with the hilarious “brónzies”. I don’t know if this is exclusive to Ireland, but in text talk people shorten sorry to “soz”. Then that developed into “sozies”. And thus young people use “brónzies” a lot (mostly ironically) at Irish speaking summer camps.

People have conflicting opinions of “brónzies”. Most think it’s an abomination, which I agree with. But I think that’s what makes it so funny.

[doormatty3]

Onions and Orgasms (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You] Being in a relationship with Orm is interesting, to say the least—he’s loving, kind, and undoubtedly overwhelmed by human customs. To help him adapt, you often cook together, showing him human traditions through the joy of making delicious food, something you have both grown fond of. Typically, his lack of kitchen knowledge and skills isn’t a big issue, but you soon discover that some food items need more explanation than you initially anticipated. OR: You laugh about Orm’s horrible kitchen skills, and he shows you with what he *is* skilled.

Wordcount: 7,362

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal sex, fluff, smut, dirty talk, fingering, orgasm denial, anal fingering, oral sex

A/N: I don't know what it is about Orm that just doesn't let me go... I had to write another story about him (I know exactly what it is - it's Patrick Wilson)

This is set after my Ocean Eyes story—you don't need to have read it, though. The only thing you need to know is that Orm and Reader-Chan are in a happy relationship, and Orm—well, he isn't that good with surface dweller stuff, but he tries.

You know that Orm doesn't understand much about humans and their customs—you'd been living with the man for quite some time, and his antics are nothing new.

Though he tries and makes an effort for your sake, sometimes he even does it so well that you forget he is the former king of Atlantis. But other times, it is all too obvious that he is still a stranger to this world.

"Why must everything be cut into such small pieces, honey?" Orm asks, his tone filled with genuine curiosity as he concentrates on cutting vegetables. The two of you are cooking together, an activity that has become a cherished routine of your everyday life. It is in these quiet moments that Orm's sincere attempts to integrate into your world were most apparent. And not only did his efforts shine, but so did the love between you.

You look at him, a fond smile playing on your lips.

His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, and his unruly blond hair nearly reaches his nose now. His piercing blue eyes are focused on the small kitchen knife and the bell pepper he is meticulously slicing. The knife seems almost comically small in his large hands, and he grips it with such strength that you are surprised it hasn't broken yet.

It is somewhat amusing, considering how skilled he is with his trident compared to the struggle he faces just holding the knife properly.

"Because we're going to fry it, sweetheart," you explain gently, appreciating his efforts to learn. "Cutting the vegetables into smaller pieces helps them cook more evenly and quickly."

Orm nods slowly, processing the information. He glances at you, his expression a mix of determination and puzzlement. "Fry… that means to cook them in hot oil, right?"

"Exactly," you confirm, guiding him through the process. "It gives them a nice texture and flavour."

As he resumes cutting the bell pepper, pleased with your answer, you can't help but admire his dedication.

Orm, the fierce warrior who once ruled an underwater kingdom, now stands in your modest kitchen, struggling with the simple act of slicing vegetables. It is a testament to how much he cares about adapting to your world - about making a life with you.

You watch as he continues his task, his concentration unwavering.

Despite the awkwardness, there is just something endearing about his efforts. The way he holds the knife, the careful precision with which he makes each cut, and the slight furrow in his brow all speak of a man determined to master even the most mundane aspects of human life for the sake of the one he loves.

"You're doing great," you encourage, stepping closer to him. "Just a little more practice and you'll be a pro."

Orm glances up at you, and a small, sweet, appreciative smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

At that moment, you are once again mesmerised by how much you love him. The depth of your feelings seems to swell within you as if you are seeing him for the first time all over again. The love you feel for him is a constant, ever-growing force that never ceases to amaze you.

"Thank you," he says softly. "For being patient with me."

You reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. "We're in this together, Orm. Every step of the way."

He smiles brightly at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling like the smoothest water in sunlight before he returns his focus to slicing the last few pieces of bell pepper.

When he is done with the paprika, Orm hands you the bowl, his eyes meeting yours with a look of accomplishment. You take it from him with a grateful smile.

"Thanks," you say, putting the bowl away so you can use it for cooking later. "Can you cut the onions, love?" you ask, gesturing towards the small pile of onions on the counter.

His puzzled expression tells you he isn't sure which vegetable you mean, so you point at them and specify. "You have to peel them—the brown skin has to go. Then, dice the white part in small pieces."

Orm nods and grabs an onion, examining it closely before starting to peel. You watch as he works, his large hands moving slowly and carefully. It is kind of cute - the way he approaches this simple task with such determination.

He peels away the first layer, the dry, flaky skin falling away to reveal the smooth white beneath. As he begins to slice, his concentration deepens, his brows furrowing just as they had with the bell pepper.

After a few cuts, however, you hear him mutter a curse under his breath. Glancing over, you see him blinking rapidly, his eyes beginning to water.

Orm wipes his arm over his eyes, confusion etched on his face. "Why do my eyes hurt?" he asks, blinking more frequently now. Before you can warn him, he uses the same hand he had just cut the onion with to rub his eyes.

"Orm, no—" you start, but it is too late.

His eyes widen in pain, and he quickly withdraws his hand, the irritation clearly intensifying. Tears stream down his cheeks, not from emotion but from the sharp sting of the onions.

"Why… why am I crying?" he asks, bewildered, as he tries to blink away the tears. He brings his hand up again, clearly frustrated, and you quickly grab his arm to stop him.

"Sweetheart, you're making it worse," you say, unable to help the laugh that bubbles up. "Let me help you."

You grab a piece of tissue paper and go to the sink to dampen it. Then you dab it over his eyes, gently cleaning his hands as well.

He grumbles, clearly in a bad mood from the sting and the tears, and you can't help but laugh again. "The mighty Orm, taken down by a humble onion," you tease lightly.

Orm's expression darkens slightly, a mix of frustration and embarrassment, his brows knitting together in a grumpy frown. "This is ridiculous," he mutters, his pride clearly stung, but your laughter only intensifies.

Acting a bit condescending, you pat his cheek. "It's okay, sweetie. Onions can be tricky. Maybe next time I'll handle them - we'll find another battle for the fine Atlantean warrior."

His eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something deeper. Before you can react, he roughly presses you against the counter, his grip firm but not painful.

Orm's lips crash down on yours in a heated, possessive kiss. You gasp in surprise but quickly melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to rest on his broad chest.

When he finally pulls back a bit, his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark with unresolved tension. "Don't mock me," he says, his voice low and husky.

You look up at him, breathless and a little dazed from the unexpected kiss. "I wasn't—" you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

"You think this is funny?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl as he interrupts you. "I may not be skilled in the kitchen, but I'm skilled in getting you off."

Before you can respond or comprehend what he said, he kisses you again roughly, his hands roaming your body with a fervour that makes your heart race. You bury your hands in his blond hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.

It is intense and devouring.

You feel his tongue against yours, the insistent pressure of his lips sending shivers down your spine. Orm's kiss is demanding, almost punishing, and you meet it with equal passion, losing yourself in the moment. The sensation of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body, is intoxicating. You cling to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the world blur around you.

His tongue teases and explores, sending waves of heat coursing through your body. You moan into his mouth, the sound muffled by his relentless assault. He growls in response, the vibration travelling through you and making you tremble.

Orm's hands slide down your back, gripping your waist with a possessive strength that leaves you breathless. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you against him, the hardness of his body pressing into your softness. His tongue explores your mouth with an urgency that makes your knees weak, and you moan into the kiss again, your body responding eagerly to his touch as you clench your thighs, feeling yourself growing wet.

When Orm finally pulls back, his eyes are smouldering with renewed intensity. He doesn't move away from you; instead, he tightens his grip on your waist again, pressing you firmly against the counter. The heat of his body radiates through your clothes, and you can feel the raw power in his muscles as he holds you there, trapped between the cool surface of the counter and him.

"You drive me crazy," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roam over your sides, tracing the curves of your body with a possessive hunger. "You laugh at me, but you have no idea what you do to me."

You shiver at his words, a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "Orm…" you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He silences you with another kiss, rough and demanding. His tongue explores your mouth with an urgency that causes your eyes to flutter closed as you respond eagerly, your hands clutching at his hair, his shoulders, anything to ground yourself in the whirlwind of sensation.

Orm's hands move with a new purpose, sliding under your shirt to caress the bare skin beneath. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explores every inch of you. His fingers trace patterns over your back and sides, each touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He tugs at your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside, exposing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, his hands roaming over your now exposed breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples.

The sensation is almost too much, and you arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as you respond in kind, moving your hands from his hair over his broad shoulders and biceps, feeling the strong muscles beneath his clothes.

He lifts you onto the counter with ease, his powerful hands gripping your waist firmly as he keeps his lips connected to yours.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to look at you for a second before his mouth descends on your neck.

He kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. His touch is both tender and demanding, a combination that leaves you aching for more. His breath is hot and tantalising, making you let out a breathy moan as your hands come up to touch his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin.

"You drive me wild," he murmurs against your neck, his voice a husky growl.

His hands move to your breasts, teasing them with a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

His fingers expertly trace circles around your nipples, each caress making them harden under his touch. You gasp, arching into him, your body responding eagerly to his ministrations, and you feel your pussy growing wet as arousal pulses through your veins. He growls appreciatively, his mouth moving lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your chest.

"Orm," you breathe, your voice a mixture of frustration and need.

He smiles against your skin, his lips trailing down to your chest. "You think it's funny to laugh at me, don't you?" he murmurs, his mouth closing over one nipple. He sucks gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, drawing a moan from your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

A whimper escapes you as he switches tactics, using his teeth to graze over your flesh with a delicious roughness, sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins and making your clit throb. But then, just as quickly, he soothes the ache with a soothing stroke of his tongue, leaving you trembling with desire.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands as you pull him closer, unable to contain the overwhelming need for him. "I'm sorry," you manage to gasp between ragged breaths, though your words are lost in the haze of pleasure.

"I'm not," he growls, lifting his head to look at you, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desire. "You drive me mad."

He switches to the other breast, his mouth and hands working together to drive you wild as he sucks and nibbles on your sensitive nipple and kneads your tit with his hand. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation that makes you tremble. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your need for him growing with each passing second, slick against your underwear.

"You're mine," he whispers, his voice filled with a possessive intensity that makes your heart race. "All mine."

With that, he captures your lips in another searing kiss, his hands moving down to your waist, leaving your breasts aching as the cool air hits your wet, hard nipples. It's deep and consuming, a mix of hunger and tenderness that leaves you breathless and makes you moan into his mouth again.

You cling to him, your fingers tangling in his blond hair, pulling at the thick strands to drag him even closer as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

Orm's fingers trail over your thighs, his touch light and teasing, driving you wild with anticipation. He spreads your legs wider, his eyes dark and predatory and a smirk on his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

"Orm, please," you whisper, your voice a desperate plea.

He smiles, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Patience," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, sending waves of pleasure through you. "I want to savour this."

His hands roam over your thighs again, caressing and teasing, driving you to the brink of madness as his long fingers draw intricate patterns through the fabric of your clothes. Each touch is electric, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His fingers dance closer and closer to your cunt, but he never quite touches you where you need him most.

You can't help but whimper, the sound a mix of frustration and desire.

There's a part of you that wishes you hadn't teased him so mercilessly about his lack of knowledge of cutting onions and kitchen skills in general. You know he's going to drag this out, making you suffer and beg instead of just giving you what you want.

Orm spreads your legs further, positioning himself between them. His large, calloused hands cup your face tenderly, guiding your gaze to meet his. You lift your hand to touch his stubbly cheek, running your thumb over it, and gaze into his blue eyes that are now dark and reflecting desire.

He closes his eyes, his impossibly long lashes resting against his cheeks as he lets out a sigh. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. The sweet gesture makes your heart flutter in your chest, your love for him threatening to spill out.

"I love you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten with emotion.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your voice trembling with the weight of your feelings.

Orm's hands move from your face, trailing down your neck, over your shoulders, and coming to rest on your breasts again. He squeezes them gently, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

He kisses you again, deeply and passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. Every stroke of his tongue, every brush of his lips, is filled with an intense desire that makes your head spin. It's intoxicating, making you dizzy with want.

You feel his hard cock straining against his pants as he presses himself against you, making you whine with need. The pressure against your cunt is maddening, and you're sure you're wet enough to leave a spot on his pants, were you naked.

Orm's hands move with a deliberate slowness, heightening your anticipation.

He chuckles softly at your response, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through your body. Pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes, his hands begin their journey lower, gliding over your stomach until they reach the waistband of your pants.

He pulls them down slowly and with agonising patience, taking his time, his eyes never leaving yours. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, your body aching for his touch. Every inch of skin he reveals feels hypersensitive, exposed to the cool air and the heat of his stare.

Orm's smirk deepens as he slides your pants down, leaving you in just your underwear. His fingers continue their torturous teasing over the fabric, pressing and rubbing in just the right way to drive you wild. Your hips buck against his hand, seeking more friction, more contact, more anything , but he holds you steady, keeping control as you soak your panties even more.

"Do you like this?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "Do you like being teased ?"

You shake your head, unable to form words, your body writhing with need.

He finally slips his fingers beneath the fabric, touching your cunt directly, and the sensation is almost too much. You cry out, your back arching as his thumb finds your clit with practised ease and drags the rough pad over it in circles, finding a slow and perfect rhythm.

"You're perfect," he whispers, his voice filled with awe and adoration as he slows his movements even more before halting completely and pulling his hand from under your panties, making you whimper in protest.

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, but before you can say anything and protest properly, his hands are on you again, his fingers trailing over your thighs, spreading your legs wider. He leans in, his mouth hovering just above your skin, his breath hot and teasing.

He starts to kiss his way up your inner thigh, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through you, and you slump back onto the counter, keeping yourself upright by your arms.

His lips are soft and warm, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste your skin. The sensation is exquisite, making you squirm with need.

"Orm, please," you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I need you."

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of mischief. "Patience," he murmurs, his voice a deep, velvety growl. "I want to savour this."

He continues his slow, torturous journey up your thigh, his mouth finally reaching the apex. He pauses there, taking a moment to breathe in your scent, his hot breath ghosting over your panties and sending shivers down your spine.

Then he begins to kiss you through the thin fabric of your underwear, his tongue flicking over the damp cloth, tasting you in the most maddeningly indirect way possible. When his tongue finally presses against your neglected, throbbing clit, even through the fabric, you gasp loudly, your back arching off the counter.

His groan of appreciation reverberates through your pussy, sending vibrations that intensify the pleasure to dizzying heights. You can feel the heat of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue seeping through your panties, creating a delicious friction that has you moaning his name.

Desperate for more, you grip his hair tightly, your fingers tangling in the blond strands as you try to pull him closer and prevent him from stopping. But Orm maintains his torturous pace, teasing you mercilessly.

"Please," you plead, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need more."

He grins against you, the vibration of his laughter sending shivers through your body. "As you wish," he says, his voice low and husky.

Orm pulls back slightly, prompting a whine of protest from you as you tighten your grip on his hair, too caught up in the haze of arousal to grasp why he wants to pull back.

"Honey, you need to let me move a bit to take off your underwear," he says, his tone affectionate yet teasing.

Blushing furiously, you release your tight hold on his hair, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and desire flood through you. His gaze meets yours, his eyes dark with need and amusement.

"My needy girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire.

Before you can respond, he leans in quickly, capturing your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, his tongue exploring every inch with a fervour that leaves you breathless. The taste of him is intoxicating, filling your senses and leaving you craving more.

When he pulls back and settles between your legs again, you're dazed - by the pleasure he's providing and his closeness. It is as if you can never get enough of him.

With a deft movement, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slowly slides them down your legs. He pauses for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze is intense, filled with a mix of love and desire that makes your heart race.

Orm leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, moving closer to your now bare cunt. He looks up at you, his eyes locking with yours, as he leans in, his breath hot against your most sensitive area.

His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you in place. "I'm going to give you something to laugh about," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on you.

This time, there is no barrier between you.

The first touch of his tongue is like a shock of electricity, making you gasp and clutch at the edge of the counter, your fingers curling around the edge as you brace yourself for the onslaught of sensation.

He licks a long, slow path up your slit, savouring your taste with a low, appreciative groan. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking and teasing with a skill that has you moaning. He alternates between gentle licks and firm strokes, driving you to the brink of madness.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands as you pull him closer and try to ground yourself. He hums against you, the vibration sending shivers of pleasure through your entire body.

His mouth works in perfect harmony with his hands, his fingers parting your slick cunt to give him better access to your most sensitive spots.

He plunges his tongue inside you, tasting and exploring your pussy with a fervour that makes you moan loudly. He moves with a rhythm that is both precise and unpredictable, keeping you on edge, never knowing what to expect next. Each movement, each flick of his tongue, brings you closer and closer.

Just as you feel the orgasm building, he pulls back, denying you the release you crave. The sensation is exquisite torture, leaving you gasping and trembling with need. He watches you, his blue eyes dark and intense, enjoying the sight of you teetering on the edge.

"Orm, please," you beg, your voice a desperate plea. "I need to cum."

He lifts his head just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal and his blue eyes dark. "Not yet," he says, his voice a low growl. "I want to hear you beg some more."

With that, he slips two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. The dual sensation is almost too much to bear. You writhe against him, your body on fire with need. Every nerve ending is alive, screaming for release.

But he isn't done.

His free hand trails down, his finger thick and calloused, pressing gently against the tight ring of your ass, the sensation foreign and electrifying.

You tense instinctively, unsure of what to expect, but the gentle pressure of his touch is surprisingly comforting as he explores your puckered hole for the first time.

He circles the entrance slowly, teasingly, his movements deliberate and controlled. Each touch sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, the unfamiliar sensation stirring something deep inside you.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmurs, his voice husky with need.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, a mixture of anticipation and excitement flooding your senses. You cling to him, your nails digging into his skin as you surrender to the pleasure of his touch.

Orm's fingers press against the tight entrance, the sensation foreign yet undeniably arousing. He moves slowly, carefully, easing his finger past the resistance with a gentleness that belies the intensity of his desire, making you gasp as a mixture of pleasure and discomfort floods your senses.

"Relax, honey," he whispers, his breath hot against your cunt. "I'll take care of you."

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation as he continues to explore you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Orm," you gasp, unable to form coherent words as pleasure washes over you in waves.

Orm eases his finger deeper inside you. The stretch is intense, the feeling of being filled in a way you've never experienced before, both overwhelming and exhilarating.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's it, honey," he murmurs, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Let go, and let me take care of you."

You moan in response as you adjust to the feeling.

You can feel every ridge and contour of his finger within you, the sensation, unlike anything you've ever felt before. As he begins to move his finger in and out, the feeling builds, pleasure mingling with the slight sting of discomfort until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

The sensation of being filled in both holes at once is overwhelming, desire flooding your senses as he sets a rhythm that drives you wild with need.

Orm's voice is a husky growl as he speaks, his words sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. "You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "You like feeling my fingers in your tight little ass."

You whimper in response, your mind clouded by desire and undeniably overwhelmed by everything he's doing to you. His fingers move within you, stretching and filling you in a way that leaves you gasping for breath.

Orm's touch is possessive, almost primal, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. "You're so fucking tight," he groans, his voice thick with desire. "Someday, I'll take you there too."

His words send a jolt of heat straight to your cunt, the idea of him taking you in your ass sending waves of desire crashing over you as you clench around his fingers.

"You enjoy that?" he growls, his voice low and guttural. "You enjoy being filled up like this, don't you, honey? Having both your holes stuffed?"

His dirty talk only serves to heighten your arousal, the words sending flashes of pure, hot want through your body as he works you with his fingers and mouth. You cling to him, your nails digging into his skin as you ride the wave of sensation, your body writhing with need.

Orm is relentless, his fingers moving with a skill and precision that leaves you breathless. You can feel the tension building inside you, a coil wound so tightly it's about to snap.

The combination is almost unbearable. Your body feels like it's on fire, each touch and movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"Please, Orm," you whimper, your voice breaking. "I can't take it."

He grins against you, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he pulls back slightly, his fingers still working in and out of you, the sound of your wet pussy loud and obvious. "Not yet, sweetheart," he says, his voice a dark promise. "You can, and you will take it,"

His fingers in your cunt curl just right , pressing against your G-spot while his thumb continues its torturous circles over your clit, causing you to clench and whimper.

Meanwhile, the finger in your ass moves in and out, the tightness around it making Orm groan with satisfaction. "You're so tight here," he mutters, his voice filled with dark pleasure. "I love feeling you like this…And I think you need more to clench on."

Orm adds a second finger to your ass, stretching you slightly, the sensation both foreign and thrilling and even more intense than before.

He pumps his fingers in and out of both your ass and pussy, curling them to hit just the right spots while his tongue flicks over your clit with maddening precision. The pressure builds inside you, each touch bringing you closer to the edge, but he pulls back just before you can tumble over, denying you the release you crave driving you wild with frustration.

Your entire body is a tight coil of tension, every nerve ending on fire as he denies you your release again and again. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and you cling to him, your nails digging into his scalp as you try to pull him closer, but he keeps control, maintaining that perfect, maddening rhythm.

"Please, Orm," you sob, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes, your clit throbs almost painfully, and you feel your cunt twitching around him - you feel ready to snap.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beg for it," he commands, his voice a rough whisper.

"I beg you," you cry, your voice hoarse with need. "Please, let me cum. I need it. I need you ."

Orm's expression softens just a fraction, and he increases the pressure, his mouth and fingers working together to bring you to the brink once more, driving you higher and higher until you finally explode.

This time, he doesn't pull back.

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, and you scream his name as you finally find your release, your voice raw and hoarse with need. Your body convulses, every muscle tightening as the orgasm rips through you.

But Orm doesn't stop, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, prolonging your orgasm until you're shaking and breathless. He flicks his tongue rapidly over your clit while curling his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again.

The pleasure is almost too intense, your body shuddering as another orgasm builds, crashing over you in powerful waves before you've come down from your previous high.

Your vision blurs, your mind slipping into a haze of ecstasy as your senses are overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

Your legs tremble, and you clutch desperately at the counter, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Orm, oh God," you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your release.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over.

You collapse against the counter, your body spent and trembling with the aftershocks of your earth-shattering climax. The world swims hazily before your eyes as you struggle to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

The overwhelming intensity of your orgasm leaves you disoriented, and before you can fully comprehend the moment, everything goes dark, and you black out.

When you come back to your senses, you find yourself cradled in Orm's arms, his touch gentle and reassuring. His eyes, filled with love and concern, lock onto yours. He kisses your forehead softly, the warmth of his lips soothing and tender. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice low and full of adoration.

"I love you too," you whisper back tiredly, still shaking from what happened. Your body still tingles with the aftershocks of your intense release, and you feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and love.

Orm cups your face with his large, warm hand, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looks into your eyes. Through the haze in your mind, you can't help but appreciate how his blue eyes sparkle with emotion and how wet his chin, cheeks, and neck are from pleasuring you.

"You okay, honey?" he asks, his voice low and gentle, filled with genuine concern as he checks in with you.

You nod and bite your lip, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm okay," you manage to say, your voice breathless and shaky.

Orm's thumb slides over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans in to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, the sensation causing you to clench around nothing and whine into the kiss.

The feeling of his residual wetness on your skin and the hardness of his cock pressing against your bare cunt only heightens your desire.

The fire in you, which had dimmed to a soft glimmer, now flares back with full fervour, threatening to consume you whole. Every touch, every breath, feels like it's adding fuel to the inferno raging within you.

When the kiss breaks, your hands move frantically to Orm's shirt. You tug at the fabric, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through your core and obliges you by pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

Your breath hitches as you take in the sight of him, his muscular chest and chiselled abs glistening slightly from the exertion. The light catches on his body, highlighting the hard lines and contours that speak of strength and power.

The prominent vein running down his biceps stands out starkly against his skin, leading your eyes down to the rest of his strong arm. You trace its path with your gaze, marvelling at the sheer strength contained within.

His pecs are firm and inviting, his nipples hardening slightly in the cool air, a contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His chest, broad and sculpted, rises and falls with his heavy breathing, the rhythm hypnotic and alluring.

Your eyes travel down to his abs, each ridge and valley inviting your touch, a landscape of desire that begs to be explored. The lines of them lead your gaze downward to where his hard dick strains against his pants, the sight making your pulse quicken and your mouth go dry with longing.

You can't help but run your hands over his firm muscles. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, a reminder of just how much you want him. His skin is warm and smooth under your touch, and you can feel the tension coiled in his body, ready to be unleashed.

"God, you're so hot," you murmur, your voice filled with awe and desire, your mind still hazy from the orgasm he gave you as the words slip out without thought.

He chuckles lowly at both your words and behaviour.

"You find this amusing?" you ask, breathless, as you trace the lines of his body with your fingers.

Orm's eyes darken with a mix of amusement and desire. "I find it amusing how needy you are," he says, his voice a low growl. "But I can't deny that I enjoy it. Don't think I have forgotten how you laughed at me with those onions."

He steps back slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of his pants. With a fluid motion, he pulls them down, followed by his underwear. His hard cock springs free, standing tall and proud and glistening with precum. The sight of him, fully naked and aroused, sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

You reach out, your fingers wrapping around his cock. Orm groans, his head falling back as you stroke him, his muscles tensing and rippling under your touch as you pump him a few times.

He opens his eyes, the intensity of his gaze piercing through you. "I need you," he murmurs his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

He leans in to kiss you again, his hands roaming over your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and dip.

His hands trail down from your face, caressing your neck and shoulders, before moving to your breasts. He teases your nipples, rolling them between his fingers and sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arch your back, pushing your breasts into his hands, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Orm," you murmur, your voice filled with need. "I want you."

He steps closer, positioning himself between your legs once more. His hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter. "Then you shall have me," he says, his voice rough with desire.

As he presses against you, you feel his thick, hard cock sliding against your cunt, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through you. He doesn't enter you yet; he just teases you, making you gasp and moan with each movement.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he growls into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're mine, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

You whimper in response, the anticipation driving you to the edge again. "Orm, please," you beg, your voice a desperate plea.

He chuckles darkly, a possessive gleam in his eyes. "I know, honey," he murmurs. He continues to tease you, his tip brushing against your slick folds, the sensation almost too much to bear. You moan, your hips bucking in response, desperate for more.

Finally, when you think you can't take it anymore, he positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours.

With a gentle yet firm push, he slides into you, stretching and filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, and your body arches into his, a mixture of pleasure and relief as he buries himself to the hilt, the fullness making you feel complete.

Orm pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving yours. "God, you feel amazing," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

He moves slowly at first, savouring the feel of you around him, each thrust measured and controlled.

His hands roam over your body, caressing your breasts, your waist, your thighs. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, making you arch and writhe against him. His fingers find your nipples, pinching and rolling them gently, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt, making you moan wantonly.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to move faster, his thrusts deep and powerful. The rhythm is intoxicating, a dance of passion and desire that leaves you breathless. His cock fills you completely, hitting all the right spots with each powerful thrust.

He leans down to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same fervour as his hips.

"You feel so good," he groans, his voice rough with pleasure, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. "So tight, so perfect." His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Orm," you moan, your voice a desperate plea. "I'm so close."

He smiles against your skin, his movements growing more urgent. "Not yet," he growls, his voice still carrying a hint of grumpiness.

He slows his thrusts, pulling back almost entirely so only his tip is inside your pussy before pushing back in with agonising slowness. The deliberate pace keeps you on the edge, your body begging for release. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, teasing circles that make you whimper.

"Sweetheart, please," you beg, your voice trembling with need. "I can't take it."

Your body trembles with the intensity of the sensations, each stroke of his cock pushing you closer to the edge. You can feel every inch of him, every vein, every ridge, and it's driving you wild. His touch is everywhere, his hands roaming over your body, caressing, squeezing, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

"Orm, oh God," you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need. "Please, let me cum."

His eyes lock onto yours, and he sees the desperation there.

His expression softens, and he increases the pressure, his thumb circling your clit more firmly while his other hand grips your hip, pulling you even closer. His thrusts become deeper, more powerful, each one sparking that fire inside you. The tension builds, a tight coil of need that threatens to fracture at any moment.

His hips start to snap against yours with a rhythm that is both demanding and precise, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. He leans down to kiss you again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his broad, muscular back as you meet each thrust with equal intensity. The feel of his bare skin against yours, the play of his defined muscles under your fingertips, adds to the intoxicating pleasure. His chest, hard and chiselled, presses against your breasts, the friction against your sensitive nipples like adding fuel to the fire in your veins.

You moan in response, your hips bucking against his as the pleasure builds higher and higher, an unstoppable crescendo. The slick friction of his cock inside you, the pressure of his pelvis and thumb against your clit with every thrust, drives you mad with desire.

His movements grow more urgent, his thrusts faster and harder. The sound of your bodies coming together, the slick heat of your arousal, fills the room.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, needing him closer. "Orm," you moan, your voice a desperate plea.

"Do it," he growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic, the control slipping as he nears his peak. "Cum for me, honey. Let me feel you." His words are a command and a plea, the urgency in his voice pushing you over the edge.

You scream his name as you shatter around him, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless once more. Your body convulses, every muscle tightening around him, your cunt gripping his cock in a vice-like hold that draws a guttural moan from deep within him.

Orm continues to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm and driving you to the edge of madness.

His movements become frantic, his rhythm breaking as he succumbs to his own release. He thrusts into you one last time, deep and hard, and you feel the hot, pulsating rush of his cum filling you. His body shudders, and he holds you close, his breath ragged and his heart pounding against yours, his head buried in your shoulder.

As the last tremors of pleasure fade, Orm pulls back slightly, his eyes softening as he looks at you. He looks utterly spent, his body drenched in sweat that glistens in the light, and his hair plastered to his forehead. You reach out to brush it from his eyes and cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face. He smiles at you, a sweet, loving smile that makes your heart flutter, before leaning forward and pressing a long, tender kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and lifts you from the counter, cradling you in his arms. "Let's get you cleaned up," he murmurs, carrying you to the bathroom with a tenderness that makes your heart swell with love.

[gimme-a-man-after-midnight]

my royal roomie pt. 3 *sneak peek*

fandom: Aquaman

pairing: Orm Marius x Reader

part 1 part 2

summary: As time passes, Orm begins to see you as more than his surface dweller host. Much to his surprise, you’ve captured his attention, which in turn makes him notice just how physically affectionate you are with everyone except him.

Warnings: light cursing, touch starved!orm, light angst if you squint, comic lore inaccuracies, slow burn, divorced parents!reader, dead parent mention, mentions of being smaller in comparison to orm, flora inaccuracies??

The dynamic between you and Orm didn’t make a complete 180 after your late night talk - in fact, it was quite awkward for the first few days following. Orm, although now deciding to actually be in the same room as you for longer than five minutes, didn’t talk much when you were in each other’s presence. The Atlantean favored just observing you in your natural habitat - when you cooked, when you read, when you talked with people on the phone. You often extended invitations to him to join in your activities, but a silent shake of his platinum head was what you were regularly met with. You tried not to take offense, understanding that small steps forward was better than leaps backward, but you couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved by his probing gaze. 

Your expressions when meeting Orm’s eyes were always one of the three - confused, apprehensive, or downright shy. Orm liked playing a silent game with himself whenever he would wait in the communal areas of the house for you, guessing which one would take over your face that day. However, what the Atlantean liked most of all was when you would deviate from all three and bless him with a sheepish look that teetered between flushed and guilty. Although there would be no evident redness behind your cheeks, your flitting eyes and soft smile gave him a new type of satisfaction. Orm wasn’t blind - he could tell you were attracted to him. His heightened senses could pick up on your increase of breaths and the quickening of your heartbeat whenever his eyes would be fixed on you and it made pride swell in his chest. Even with how apparent your interest in him was, you never overstepped - you were always respectful of his space, never even entertaining the fine line between roommates and not just roommates. You had remained awfully friendly, though….

…friendly enough for Orm to realize that the way you interacted with him was vastly different to how you would with others. 

---

Orm had assumed humans were quite simple - easy to understand due to their lack of brain capacity and advancement in comparison to Atlanteans. However, watching how different you were in your shop - witnessing you change from the selectively quiet, sarcastic little thing you were at home to a vivacious, charming young woman here - it had confused him greatly. His father had told him many stories of the treacheries of humankind, but the one point he drilled relentlessly into his head was that humans were simple, dull creatures undeserving of their people’s knowledge. 

Other sea clans felt that when the time came to reveal themselves to the surface that it would only be to educate them - his father had other ideas. The infamous King Orvax wished to utilize the wrath of the seas in order to overpower the surface world, his son at his side as they rebuilt the world in their image. His teachings were the foundation of Orm’s belief system for the majority of his life, yet you had managed to topple those mind palaces within a matter of weeks. You, with your soft knits and quick wit, had the Atlantean prince questioning whether his father had simply been misinformed. His father couldn’t have possibly known how complex humans could truly be because he never met you.

(to be continued in the full part 3 coming soon!)

[opelman]

Warbirds by Treflyn Lloyd-Roberts Via Flickr: A matching pair of Hurricanes that had seen active service during World War II display over Sywell during the 2024 air show. V7497 is a Battle of Britain veteran, while P2902 crash landed on a beach during the Dunkirk evacuation in 1940. Aircraft: Hawker Hurricane Mk.Is V7497/SD-X (G-HRLI) and P2902/R-DX (G-ROBT). Location: Sywell Aerodrome (ORM/EGBK), Northamptonshire, UK.

[klbwriting]

Surface Tension

Chapter 8: Shot at the Night

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Orm can't do much to help Y/N but he does find someone who can

Note: song is 'Shot at the Night' by the Killers

Taglist: @hyperagitatedcydonian13 @gabrieleskywalker @philiasoul @duchcess

We’re breaking all the rules To find that our home Has long been outgrown Throw me a lifeline Cause honey I’ve got nothing to lose Once in a lifetime

“Why did you settle by the ocean if you’re so afraid of water?” Orm asked, sitting on the back porch with Y/N, watching the waves under the moonlight. She was strumming, singing one of her songs. He was starting to recognize them by now and he knew she sang this one because he liked it. She looked at him and shrugged.

“I used to love the water, felt free and happy in it,” she said. “I told you I was accused of something that I didn’t do. I do bare some responsibility for it though, even though it was an accident. Ever since then, I don’t want to go back into the water, but I can’t let myself forget that day. Part of me wonders if it was my fault.” She stopped strumming and set the guitar aside, wrapping a blanket around herself.

“Did you want someone to get hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Not your fault, you shouldn’t stay here feeling guilty. What I did…I wanted to hurt people, all of the pain I caused was because I was angry. You didn’t have that malice.” He looked at the water before looking down at his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, instantly calming him.

“Do you remember feeling like that?” she asked. “Do you ever feel like that now?” He shook his head. “Have you tried to make things right?”

“Yes, I’m trying,” he whispered. She smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

“You’ll get there, let the guilt go, but keep becoming better. I’ll help you, we are better together,” she said.

Orm startled awake, the memory fading from his dream to his waking nightmare. He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, sometime right before dawn. Last he remembered his mother and Arthur were still there making plans on finding some kind of proof of who tried to kill Orm. The footage was enough to clear Y/N of active treason, but she still could be held for conspiracy. Conspiracy to commit treason was a capital offense in Atlantis and she could still be executed if they didn’t find and get a confession from the culprit.

He was alone now with a note from Arthur that they had left to find proof in Atlantis. Arthur planned to talk to Hendrix and Atlanna was going to talk to Y/N. Orm went over to Y/N’s place. He hated to invade her privacy but maybe she had something. He started searching, trying to ignore that her bed was still unmade from where they had been together, her same clothes from her birthday on the floor around it.

“There has to be something,” he muttered to himself as he went through her closet. He moved some boxes out of the bottom and saw a small door, probably another small storage area behind the wall. He was able to pry it open and inside was a bag. He pulled it out and sat on the floor, looking through it slowly. He pulled out the mosaic of her and her father. It was cheap but well made, a product of the lower city where technology to film wasn’t as widely available. He set it aside carefully. Next came out a flyer for Atlantis for All, listing their goals as equal status, better living conditions, and fairness in the workforce. Orm remembered his father telling him that all those below the nobility were lazy, they just wanted people to hand them money and food without doing anything for it. At the time he had agreed, but this notice listed things that anyone would need to survive and thrive, which is what he thought his father wanted for all Atlantians. He set it aside also and pulled out a stack of papers. This was what he needed, letters to and from different people in AfA.

I work from morning until night, I never see my family, yet they still starve…

My mother died because we couldn’t get her a proper doctor, the nobility never have to worry…

My father died of the sickness King Orvax released when I was a child. King Orvax made me an orphan…

We can fix this. There is a way. King Orm’s coronation is on the first day of the Great Migration…

Here is what he needed. He read through the letter, it laid out a plan to protest, nothing else. They were to have Y/N sing, and Hendrix volunteered to bring the cracker. This was almost enough, but Orm needed something else. Aria was mentioned as one of the leaders of the group. He had to find her; she might have more proof.

Orm wasn’t sure where else to go so he went to the café. It was empty except for Y/N’s friends when he arrived. They were all glaring at him. When he walked in Dean came up and punched him in the face. It didn’t hurt, but Orm wasn’t expecting it and stumbled back a step. Dean was shaking his hand, wincing. He had probably broken a couple fingers. Aria pushed past him.

“Get out tyrant,” she demanded. Orm stood his ground. “We know you did something to her, no one can find her.”

“I didn’t do anything, but Hendrix took her back to Atlantis to face trial for treason,” he said. Aria froze.

“You’re lying, you gave her up,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

“If I gave her up I would be on my way to trial too. I’m a fugitive just as much as the two of you,” he said. “We need proof that Hendrix was the one who tried to kill me. I found a letter in her things with the plan for the coronation day, it says Hendrix was to get the cracker, but we need more than that, anything that makes it sound like he alone planned the attempt.” Aria was breathing deep, trying to remain calm.

“How do we know you won’t just take the evidence and destroy it?” Vincent called out. “What if you want to use her to get yourself pardoned?” Orm didn’t have time for this bullshit.

“Because I love her!” he yelled. “Because she is everything to me and I won’t stand by while they execute her. I can’t go back, no one will believe me if I say she is innocent, I’ll just get thrown in a cell next to her, but my brother is king. If I am able to get proof to him he can set this right.”

Aria watched his speech and nodded before motioning for him to come with her. She lived only a few houses down from the café and she also had a bag full of letters. She kept meticulous records and correspondence, including from Hendrix. Hours later she jumped up.

“I found something,” she said, setting the letter down in front of Orm at her kitchen table. By then everyone had joined them, watching. “This is from Hendrix, the day before the coronation. I think I received it by mistake. I never read it because well, I hated Hendrix and anything he had to say was worthless to me.” She pointed to a spot that clearly incriminated him.

“These people are idiots. They’re going to give me the crown and not even realize it. Tomorrow Orm will be dead and I’ll be king,” Orm read. This was perfect.

“Bless that asshole’s giant ego,” muttered Amanda from the couch. Orm stood and hugged Aria.

“I know you hate me but thank you,” he said. He looked between her and Dean. “I am sorry for the tidal wave, for everything. I was wrong and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” He left it at that, hurrying out of the house and calling Arthur to tell him he had proof.

[visorforavisor]

as an Irish (we don’t call it “Gaelic”, ever) speaker and a Sunny fan, I thought it would be fun to do a bit of a post about the Irish-language scene in The Gang’s Still in Ireland, because it’s not a scene I see widely discussed but I adore it.

some background. I am not a native Gaeilgeoir (Irish speaker) — my first language is English — but I started learning it age five and have always had very high grades in it and a huge love for it. I was hugely excited about Charlie Kelly being able to read Irish in the previous episode, and even more so when he turned out to be able to speak it.

Colm Meaney, the actor who plays Shelley Kelly, grew up in Ireland and as such would have learned Irish throughout his time in school. (this has been required by law more or less since Irish independence, and it was already quite common before that. nowadays, you can get exemptions for things like dyslexia but otherwise you have to do it.) this is clear in his ease with the language. (I will do a post about where in Ireland Shelley lives at some point, because there aren’t many areas where Irish is the principal language, but that is for another day!) both the actor and the character have easy and good Irish.

Charlie Day, as an Italian-American, obviously does not actually speak the language and presumably learned the lines as a bunch of gibberish sounds. (nonetheless, some of his pronunciations do suggest he had the words written down non-phonetically too.) his delivery of the lines is god damn amazing. Charlie Kelly’s Irish is not remotely American-accented. if I heard someone speaking Irish like that, I’d assume they sounded Irish when speaking English. he doesn’t even sound neutral in Irish; he does actively have an accent (the word choices are more non-regional, not pointing to any of the three distinct dialects, but this makes sense as the same is true of Shelley’s Irish). his pronunciation is so on point and his accent is seriously just a delight to listen to. that’s serious effort to have been put in by an American in a show that routinely makes fun of Irish-Americans! I cannot stress enough how cool it is to see my national language like this and how good a job he does.

as a side note, Charlie Kelly finding Irish much easier to read than English makes total sense! he clearly has dyslexia, as well as intellectual disabilities and autism, so literacy being tricky is totally fair, but is probably being made worse in English by how much of a god damn ridiculous illogical irregular mess the language is. English has around two hundred irregular verbs, and that’s before we even begin to consider the irregularity of its spelling. Irish has eleven irregular verbs, multiple of which are only irregular in one tense. its spelling is entirely consistent and, once the rules are known, any word (pretty much) can be flawlessly pronounced from reading it or flawlessly spelled from hearing it. (I promise Irish names make sense. just not if you try to use English rules on them. the languages are very different!) Irish is one of the most regular languages out there.

so, I thought I’d go through the actual scene. I’m going to put each line, the direct translation, the subtitle provided, and a comment. hopefully this will be interesting to someone other than me!

·—·

“is mise do pheannchara, a Charlie.” (Shelley)

direct translation: “I’m your pen pal, Charlie.”

subtitle provided: “I’m your pen pal, Charlie.”

okay, so they translate “pen pal” two different ways in this scene. the first, used here, is “peannchara”. this is a compound word, much like all those long words you get in German. it’s a perfectly good choice given there is no one standard choice for translating that concept.

“tá brón orm, ach ní thuigim cad atá ráite agat. is féidir liom gibberish a léamh, ach ní féidir liom í a labhairt.” (Charlie)

direct translation: “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’ve said. I’m able to read gibberish, but I’m not able to speak it.”

subtitle provided: “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you just said. I read gibberish, but I don’t speak it.”

I would slightly disagree with the subtitles here. the “just” bit isn’t expressed at all. in fact, there is no Irish equivalent to that word, and we often just use the English one in the middle of an Irish sentence because of this. however, I expect that RCG (Rob McElhenney, Charlie Day, Glenn Howerton) wrote the subtitles and then handed them to an Irish translator, in which case the translator did a perfectly good job. a couple of notes about the use of “gibberish” here. I love it. firstly, we totally do drop English words into sentences like that. secondly, I really like the choice to use the feminine form of “it” here (that is, to make “gibberish” a feminine noun). all languages except English are feminine nouns in Irish as a rule, so it’s just a lovely detail calling back to the fact that Charlie thinks of it as the gibberish language. also, Charlie Day really does absolutely nail that voiceless velar fricative (the consonant sound in “ach”, as in Scottish “loch” or any number of German words), a sound even many natively English-speaking Irish people are lazy about. good on him.

“níl aon ciall le sin. sé á labhairt anois!” (Shelley)

direct translation: “there’s no sense to that. it’s being spoken now!”

subtitle provided: “that doesn’t make any sense. you’re speaking it now!”

I adore the phrasing of the first sentence here. thoroughly authentic. there are much more obvious ways to phrase it, but this is absolutely what a native speaker might go with. same goes for the second, actually. Colm Meaney says the second line in a sort of shortened way (same idea as how we might turn “do not” into “don’t”) so I’ve struggled slightly with how to directly translate it. interestingly, Shelley categorises “gibberish” as a masculine noun here, but this isn’t really wrong since it doesn’t have an official grammatical gender due to not being an actual Irish word. just a little odd. also, to fit better to the subtitle of the second sentence, I personally would’ve gone with “tá sé á labhairt agat anois” rather than “tá sé á labhairt anois” (the full version of what Shelley says), as this includes the information of by whom it is being spoken.

“’s é mo dheartháir mo chara pinn.” (Charlie)

direct translation: “it’s my brother that’s my pen pal.”

subtitle provided: “but my pen pal is my brother.”

firstly, to be clear, the nuance of the sentence structure here is not captured in either of the above translations because there simply is not an English equivalent to it. secondly, Charlie uses a contraction here by shortening “is é mo dheartháir mo chara pinn”. super cool. also, there’s that other translation of “pen pal”! this one is “cara pinn”, which uses the Irish genitive case (the word mutates instead of using an equivalent of the English word “of”; this case also exists in other languages including Swedish, German, Latin, and Greek). I like this translation very much too. both work! Charlie Day again delivers this line really nicely, even stressing the word for “brother” (and pronouncing its initial consonant mutation absolutely gorgeously)! I am truly very impressed.

“níl aon fhírinne le sin, a mhic. ’s é do chara pinn… d’athair.” (Shelley)

direct translation: “there’s no truth to that, son. it’s your pen pal who is… your father.”

subtitle given: “no son. your pen pal is your… father.”

so, I really disagree with the first sentence of the subtitles here. it works, but also misses a lot of the beautiful nuance that could have been got. I would have gone with “that’s not true, son” or, more likely, “that’s not right, son”. I also disagree with the placement of the ellipsis in the second sentence, as you see (and my frustrations in translating this sentence structure to English continue, as well). however I like the use of “a mhic” (“son”) here, very much. this is a mutated form of “mac”, meaning “son” (yes, as in all of those Irish surnames; they all just basically say who the person is the son of). it carries both meanings that exist in English: an actual son, but also the use of the word as an affectionate way to refer to any man younger than the (usually male) speaker. this is a really nice choice.

·—·

so, yeah! those are my thoughts. feel free to ask any questions you like. I love this scene so much. as well as the reasons above about how good the translation and delivery is, I also love two other main things about this.

firstly, the level of dignity given to the language. Sunny makes fun of Irish-Americans all the time, but doesn’t really do the same to Irish people from Ireland, which I like (I do also wanna talk about Mac and Charlie as members of the Irish diaspora because it is so so interesting, but that is for another day). Irish as a language is not often given dignity, especially in American or English media, so I really love that it isn’t the butt of the joke here.

secondly, that such a significant scene is delivered through this language. just wonderful. after fourteen and a half series, we finally discover the biological father, and the scene cannot be separated from this beautiful language. it just is so perfect.

RCG, and of course Charlie Day in particular, we Gaeilgeoirí (Irish speakers) thank you! our little language made it to the screens of so many people around the world.

I hope this was interesting haha.

·—·

edits: fixed some things I mistyped.

[speedforce-zoomies]

Y’all know what I think would make an interesting AU?

If everyone in the 90’s Young Justice was a clone or a “clone”

Canonically we’ve already got two out of the main ten

Conner Kent/Superboy being a “clone” of Superman & Lex Luthor

& Slobo being a clone of Lobo

Two things to note 1) I think it’s kinda boring if all of them have the same backstory so I’ll still try to give them all a reason that they’ve left Cadmus early in life

And 2) If we’re looking at all the various DC works 1 to 1 clones usually have some major issues

For example the other attempts at cloning Superman didn’t work, the DNA was too unstable

And in the DCAU, the Supergirl 1 on 1 clone had the side effect of being mentally connected to Supergirl which made her mentally unstable and Waller purposely avoided going the 1 to 1 route with Terry implying that it was still not a smart route to go down decades later

Therefore every “clone” will still have two “parents”

Let’s start with the other members of the core four

Tim - obviously a clone of Bruce, could add in Selena’s DNA if the scientists want some extra kick or he could still be the son of Janet so that he’s raised in a similar manner (rich kid upbringing) to Bruce

Janet and Jack could be having fertility issues and are given an opportunity to have a child through Cadmus and they just ignore all the weird stuff like rich people tend to do. Maybe they know Tim is Bruce’s clone, maybe they don’t. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Cassie - Diana Prince & Steve Trevor - not only would this give them access to the Amazons/Themyscira but also to a member of military personnel who knows a lot of stuff he probably shouldn’t

If this pairing Helena Sandsmark could be chosen to adopt her specifically so that she has a higher chance of interacting with the Greek gods which activates her powers (I mean Helena is already canonically interacting with them - might not be hard for Cadmus to realize that)

Could also do Diana & Helena Sandsmark, she could be in the same boat as Janet in the earlier scenario and just rolls with all the weird stuff.

Bart - Barry and Iris. Could still have the aging problem and still raised in Virtual Reality just some centuries behind the usual route. Imagine him thinking up the twins names himself - I mean Dawn and Don as twin names SOUND like they came from a kid raised in VR lol. When Barry and Iris later have the twins, they just roll with the names because Bart said them so matter of fact and Cadmus acts like they aren’t surprised that Bart got it right about Iris’s pregnancy.

Maybe they send him to go find Wally through suggestions from the VR so that he can better learn his powers/can become the next Flash and then Wally sends him to Max like in canon.

Now for the others…

Cissie - super easy Bonnie & Ollie. Bonnie as an Olympic-level archer wants her daughter to be the best archer and a hero and so she seeks out Cadmus and asks just straight up asks them for a clone.

Greta - I’m sorry to say is a mystery. She was a failed clone but no one seems to know who her original DNA came from.

Anita - could be a clone of her mother Oshi if Agua killed Oshi before she had Anita. Cadmus could reach out and be like hey Donald Fite it’s not the same as having your wife back but um, we could clone her? Give you a kid? Maybe Agua pushes for it idk

La'gaan - I couldn’t find much about his history prior to him becoming an Atlantis citizen so I imagine Cadmus might have captured his “parents” or maybe it’s someone who works with Orm and wants to send in a spy and though a child would be easier to get in than an adult. When Aquaman makes him a citizen he decides not to betray his confidence.

Ray - cloned from the original Ray and his wife or another golden age hero. Again pretty simple. Cadmus just thought he was neat. They are obsessed with Sun based superheroes after all. Ray is one I could see being locked up in Cadmus until the formation of the team since he was already locked away from the Sun in his origin story.

So at some point I imagine Tim would probably start to unravel things which would lead to similar events to canon (regarding the formation of the team I mean) but I just think it would be interesting since cloning is so prevalent in the DC universe to have an entire team of clones or “clones”

Maybe after distributing the other clones Luthor gets the idea to actually raise Conner himself which is always a fun AU

Plus with all this cloning going on they could potentially have the tools to prevent Slobo’s body from degrading which is a nice bonus

What do y’all think?

[isleofdarkness]

Spider Castaway

Name; Useless Castaway (née Snyder) Alias; Spider Age; 17 Parents; Warden Snyder and unknown mother School; no education Affiliation; Harriet Hook's Pirate Crew (holds a rank,) Silver Cross, Sanctum Crimes; Running away from home, gang activity, arson, destruction of property, attempted patricide, vandalism, theft, assault with a deadly weapon, murder, attempted murder Spouse; Ormond "Orm" Castaway Children; None (pregnant)

Useless Castaway was never considered for transfer to Auradon Academy for the Preparation of Future Rules

[thorraborinn]

Thinking about trolls (+elves, huldufólk, others) in light of Eduardo Vivieros de Castro. I'm not willing to say that pre-Christian Scaninavians were perspectivists in Amazonian style, but I do think that looking at Norse religion and later Nordic folklore through that lens is productive.

I'm mostly using the word troll as kind of a catch-all (which is not unlike how Scandinavian folklore uses it, though Icelandic folklore does not).

There are two main fears concerning trolls: that they will eat you, and that they will marry and/or fuck you. In Levi-Strauss's time that might have been seen as symbolically reducible to the same fear, but I think we can learn more by examining them in their distinction.

I dunno that I can summarize Vivieros de Castro's points here, but I'm reading from Cosmological Perspectivism in Amazonia and Elsewhere: Four Lectures given in the Department of Social Anthropology, Cambridge University, February-March 1998.

In western ontology we humans are like animals in that we have bodies, but what distinguishes us is the soul (or the rational mind, or whatever, the details change over time but the point is something distinctive about our interiority), so that for, say, Christian missionaries, "because the spiritual is the locus of difference that conversion becomes necessary (the Europeans wanted to know whether Indians had souls in order to modify them)." Sverrir Jakobsson says that Icelanders bought so heavily into the [Christian : Heathen] distinction as the primary ordering principle of the peoples of the world that they had trouble recognizing, or even outright denied, that there was an East-West split in Christianity.

In perspectivist ontologies this is flipped, the locus of differentiation is the body, because the interiority of everything is the same, difference comes from inhabiting different bodies. If you could acquire the sight of a jaguar, you would look at a puddle of blood and see a nice cold beer (but you would also be dangerous to humans, because you would see them as game animals). The resulting anxiety is cannibalism. If everything is the same in underlying essence, it becomes necessary to engage in an active practice of differentiation to avoid eating something that is the same as you. Ritual specialists who can transform into animals are sometimes bad hunters because they are too deeply engaged in this paradox.

The fear of marrying a troll (or elf, whatever) is the fear of spiritual conversion. This is sometimes made explicit: "I don't want to live with elves; rather, I want to believe in my Christ" -- Ólafur Liljurós (note that while this ballad is related to similar ones all over Europe, many of them deal with the protaganist's impending marriage and/or infidelity in some way; this is absent from the Icelandic and it's a purely religious conflict). In Tungustapi, Sveinn doesn't just fuck elves, he also goes to their church (which is a sort of inverted Christian church). He's alienated from the [Christian/human] community. This corresponds to "western ontology."

The other side of this is fear of being eaten. At risk of overthinking things, because being afraid of a scary monster eating you doesn't really seem to need a lot of explanation, I think there are religious/cosmological implications here.

The fear of being eaten by a troll is different from the fear of being eaten by a bear or a boar, because humans also eat bears and boars, we are on the same level with them. You can't eat a troll (we also don't eat wolves, and wolves are trolls' domestic animals, although I guess you could eat a wolf). A semi-human semi-Euhemerized jötunn/troll is associated with cannibalism in Orms þáttr Stórólfssonar. I've written before about the likely etymological derivation of jötunn from a word meaning 'to eat'; previously I said that while *etaną 'to eat' and *etunaz 'jötunn' have a clear etymological relationship, that might not be so a few hundred years later when they have become eta and jǫtunn, but maybe this relationship should be reconsidered.

Eduardo Kohn was once told to always sleep on his back in the jungle, because if a jaguar comes it will see his face and recognize him as a person, but if it sees his back it will see him as prey. To avoid being eaten by a troll you have to get the troll to see you as a person and not as food, you can do this by giving a gift (and initiating a relationship of reciprocity), or else by being more troll-like yourself (maybe even by preestablished kinship with trolls like Egill Skallagrímsson). It's a widely-acknowledge attribute of trolls, at least in Iceland, that if you do manage to get them on your side they are loyal, hence the word trölltryggur 'trustworthy as a troll [=extremely trustworthy].'

The alternate way to avoid being eaten is, of course, to pray to [Thor/St. Olav] to come destroy them with his [hammer/axe]. I don't think this throws off what I'm saying here though, because "extreme violence" is also an option for dealing with humans in a reciprocation-exchange relationship too.

Anyway, my point is that the responses to the two different fears are the exact opposite of each other. You respond to the fear of conversion by never associating with trolls, never falling for the deceit that they are persons like you. You respond to the fear of being eaten by trolls by establishing mutual recognition of each others' personhood.

Contrary to popular belief (which says to never accept any gift from the fey under any circumstances), both of these are represented in folklore. Ólafur Liljurós even presents both of them at the same time, and says it's better to be killed than convert.

There's a big gap in this, which is magical creatures that don't want to eat you but which are still dangerous. e.g., an elf is not going to eat you but you still don't want to piss him off because he'll shoot you with a disease-transmitting arrow. But I think this can get filed along with the fear of being eaten, it's just that because the Eduardos (Vivieros de Castro and Kohn) are themselves talking about cosmological food chains, and I'm working from their material, there's better opportunity for examining trolls that eat people.

[dawnquafam]

It's already bad enough that Orm was imprisoned in the desert for four years and then sometimes I remember that during his last five months there, when he was at his weakest, Manta burning the orichalcum was actively making it even hotter

[invisiblequeen]

Hey, @bloomingkyras, I heard your Gemma is looking for love...May I introduce Nephinae Orme?

She's a busybody with big dreams of opening her own crafts and repair shop, and after a string of memorable but short-lived flings, she wouldn't mind having a badass chick like Gemma by her side. :)

STATS:

Fitness: 4

Charisma: 1

Handiness: 8

Cooking: 3

Logic: 4

Fabrication: 5

Traits: Restless, Outgoing, Active

Aspiration: Master Handyperson

What do we think of her?

[stephensmithuk]

The Red Circle

Published in 1911 as a two-parter, this is the penultimate story we'll be covering His Last Bow, leaving just the titular story there.

This does sound rather like "The Veiled Lodger", doesn't it?

These days, you'd have to check the immigration status of your tenants. In 1902, really not an issue. Although anti-immigrant sentiment was definitely there and growing.

Those strange coded personal messages - some even encrypted - very much existed in newspapers back then. Once radio had become a thing, the British would use them on radio broadcasts to Occupied Europe in the Second World to get messages to the resistance movements. Including the "get ready" and "go" codes for the mass sabotage operations that preceded Operation Overlord in 1944.

"Timekeepers" were used for recording arrivals and departures at a site, including that of staff for the purposes of paying wages, determining lateness etc.

Great Orme Street is more properly called Great Ormond Street, located in Bloomsbury. It is best known for the world-famous children's hospital called Great Ormond Street Hospital. They have a permanent UK copyright to Peter Pan which gives them a right to royalties for publications, adaptations, performances etc. The US copyright on the original version expires next year. If anyone wants to do a LfW retelling of the original book, it would be nice to contact them and arrange a donation. They're a very good organisation.

"Art for Art’s sake" was a French slogan from the latter half of the 19th century. You may know its Latin version - ars gratia artis - as the motto of film studio MGM.

The light flashing message gets a whole chapter covering it in Klinger's annotated version, as it's been heavily discussed by scholars. Basically, it would take multiple minutes to send that message.

The Pinkerton detective agency did a lot of investigative work in its early days, both criminal investigation and more nefarious stuff to aid strike-breaking. The latter got the US government banned from hiring them as such in the 1893 Anti-Pinkerton Act. They are still involved in anti-union stuff today.

Much of Notting Hill had become increasingly slum-like by this time as an influx of people led to houses built for one family being split to hold far more; the idea when the area was built was for the middle classes to live there, but they didn't buy the properties. It later attract large numbers of Afro-Caribbean immigrants in the post-war era, partly as the notorious slum landlord Peter Rachman was prepared to rent to them while others weren't. This growing ethnic tension culiminated race riots in 1958, with white "Teddy Boys" attacking West Indian homes. Since then, the slums have been cleared and the area has gentrified quite a bit.

It is also home to the annual Notting Hall carnival every August since 1965 (bar 2020 and 2021), which around 2 million people attend. The Metropolitan Police have moved from active hostility to active cooperation in its running and there will be photos of officers dancing with those in the parade at any given carnival. The reputation for violence is unjustified and arguably fuelled by racism - while there were frequently arrests for violence, drugs and weapons offences, on a pro-rata basis, the arrest rate is about the same as the Glastonbury Festival.

The Carbonari ("charcoal makers") were secret revolutionary societies active in what would become Italy in the early 19th century. After failed uprisings in 1831, the various Italian governments cracked down hard on them and they were effectively eliminated. They were not really engaged in protection rackets.

Dynamite was patented by Alfred Nobel in 1867. Being a good deal more stable than nitrogyclerine - although storage is important as old dynamite is a good deal less stable - it became popular for terrorists and criminals, with a series of bombings by Irish republicans between 1881 and 1885 leading to the formation of Special Branch.

Covent Garden is home to the Royal Opera House.

[repguardians]

Unlocking Marketing Success: The Importance of Online Reputation Management

In today's digital era, where consumers have instant access to information and can voice their opinions widely, online reputation management (ORM) has become a critical aspect of any marketing strategy. ORM involves monitoring, influencing, and controlling your business's reputation on the internet. It’s about making sure that people see your brand in the best possible light, which can directly impact your marketing success. Here’s why ORM is essential and how it can unlock marketing success for your business.

The Digital Landscape and Consumer Behavior

With the advent of the internet, the power dynamics between businesses and consumers have shifted. Consumers now have the ability to research products, compare services, and read reviews before making purchasing decisions. According to a study by BrightLocal, 87% of consumers read online reviews for local businesses, with 72% saying that positive reviews make them trust a business more. This shift in consumer behavior underscores the importance of managing your online reputation.

Building Trust and Credibility

Trust is the cornerstone of any successful business relationship. A positive online reputation helps build this trust. When potential customers see positive reviews, testimonials, and high ratings, they are more likely to trust your brand. On the other hand, negative reviews and unresolved complaints can erode trust and drive potential customers away.

By actively managing your online reputation, you can ensure that positive feedback is highlighted and negative feedback is addressed promptly and professionally. This not only builds credibility but also shows that you care about your customers' experiences and are committed to continuous improvement.

Enhancing Brand Image

Your brand image is how your business is perceived by the public. A strong, positive brand image can set you apart from competitors and attract more customers. ORM plays a vital role in shaping and maintaining this image. By consistently promoting positive content about your business and engaging with your audience, you can create a favorable perception that aligns with your brand values and mission.

Effective ORM involves monitoring what is being said about your brand online and responding appropriately. This includes managing social media profiles, engaging with customer reviews, and publishing high-quality content that reflects your brand's strengths and values.

Crisis Management

No business is immune to crises, whether it's a product recall, negative press, or a social media mishap. How you handle these crises can significantly impact your reputation. Effective ORM prepares you to respond quickly and effectively to any negative situation, minimizing potential damage to your brand.

Having a crisis management plan in place as part of your ORM strategy can help you navigate through challenging times. This plan should include clear protocols for addressing negative feedback, communicating with stakeholders, and rectifying the situation. Transparency and swift action are key to maintaining trust during a crisis.

Increasing Customer Engagement

Engaging with your customers online is crucial for building strong relationships and fostering loyalty. ORM encourages proactive engagement, where you actively participate in conversations about your brand, respond to reviews, and address customer concerns. This engagement not only improves customer satisfaction but also provides valuable insights into your customers' needs and preferences.

By showing that you listen and respond to your customers, you can build a community of loyal supporters who are more likely to advocate for your brand. Positive interactions can lead to word-of-mouth marketing, which is one of the most effective forms of promotion.

Improving SEO and Visibility

A positive online reputation can also boost your search engine optimization (SEO) efforts. Search engines like Google take into account the quality and quantity of online reviews, ratings, and other user-generated content when ranking websites. By maintaining a positive online reputation, you can improve your search engine rankings, making it easier for potential customers to find you.

Moreover, positive reviews and high ratings can increase your visibility on review platforms and social media, driving more traffic to your website. This increased visibility can translate into higher conversion rates and, ultimately, greater revenue.

In conclusion, online reputation management is not just an optional component of your marketing strategy—it is essential. By actively managing your online reputation, you can build trust and credibility, enhance your brand image, effectively handle crises, increase customer engagement, and improve your SEO and visibility. All these factors contribute to unlocking marketing success and ensuring long-term growth for your business.

Investing time and resources into ORM can yield significant returns, helping you attract and retain customers, build a strong brand, and stay ahead of the competition. In the digital age, where your reputation can make or break your business, effective ORM is the key to unlocking marketing success.

[gimme-a-man-after-midnight]

my royal roomie pt. 3

fandom: Aquaman

pairing: Orm Marius x Reader

part 1 part 2

summary: As time passes, Orm begins to see you as more than his surface dweller host. Much to his surprise, you’ve captured his attention, which in turn makes him notice just how physically affectionate you are with everyone except him. 

word count: 5500+

warnings: light cursing, touch starved!orm, light angst if you squint, comic lore inaccuracies, slow burn, divorced parents!reader, dead parents!reader, mentions of being smaller in comparison to orm, flora inaccuracies??

a/n: hey...how y'all doin :,) i'm sorry i lagged on this part for MONTHS, but i finally had some spare time and motivation to finish it, so here ya go!

The dynamic between you and Orm didn’t make a complete 180 after your late night talk - in fact, it was quite awkward for the first few days following. Orm, although now deciding to actually be in the same room as you for longer than five minutes, didn’t talk much when you were in each other’s presence. The Atlantean favored just observing you in your natural habitat - when you cooked, when you read, when you talked with people on the phone. You often extended invitations to him to join in your activities, but a silent shake of his platinum head was what you were regularly met with. You tried not to take offense, understanding that small steps forward was better than leaps backward, but you couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved by his probing gaze. 

Your expressions when meeting Orm’s eyes were always one of the three - confused, apprehensive, or downright shy. Orm liked playing a silent game with himself whenever he would wait in the communal areas of the house for you, guessing which one would take over your face that day. However, what the Atlantean liked most of all was when you would deviate from all three and bless him with a sheepish look that teetered between flushed and guilty. Although there would be no evident redness behind your cheeks, your flitting eyes and soft smile gave him a new type of satisfaction. Orm wasn’t blind - he could tell you were attracted to him. His heightened senses could pick up on your increase of breaths and the quickening of your heartbeat whenever his eyes would be fixed on you and it made pride swell in his chest. Even with how apparent your interest in him was, you never overstepped - you were always respectful of his space, never even entertaining the fine line between roommates and friends. You had remained awfully friendly, though….

…friendly enough for Orm to realize that the way you interacted with him was vastly different to how you would with others. 

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

With about two weeks of convincing, multiple threats of rescinding meals, and embarrassing bouts of wide-eyed pleading you had finally worn down the blonde enough to get him to come to town with you. You chose to avoid densely populated areas like the park, the marketplace, or the downtown areas. Even though Orm had proven to be a fine roommate to you, adding other unfamiliar people to the mix could make him uncomfortable. The marina was also out of the question, per Arthur’s suggestion - something about “drying the fucker out a little, karma’s a bitch.” You learned from a young age not to question Arthur’s methods. 

The plan was set - you’d bring Orm to the flower shop to act as your assistant for the time being and then you’d end the night at Izzie’s Diner to eliminate the need for grocery shopping. It was going to be like a “Bring Your Kid to Work'' Day scenario, except instead of a kid you’d be bringing a six-foot-something, human hating, Atlantean beefcake to your little store. 

From the moment you two had set foot into your establishment, it was clear to Orm that this was your element. The wide variety of flora had caught his attention straight away, his mind immediately drawing comparisons to the plant life of Atlantis. However, your shop wasn’t nearly as flashy or fluorescent - no, your shop was much more intimate. From the hand-painted script on the window to the worn forest green stain on the wood, your shop presented itself as a little slice of heaven to all patrons that entered. 

You were quick to put Orm to work, not being shy in showing him that you took pride in your vocation. The first task you had set up for him was to set the premade bouquets out on the displays outside, meticulously instructing him on how you wanted them arranged by color family. (Gods know whatever a “color family” was.) You then had him move large vases of separated flowers into the sunroom - You have the upper body power, you told him, I doubt it’ll be that taxing for you. Once you were satisfied with the layout of the store and Orm had grumbled your ear off plenty, you were ready to open. As to be expected in a small town, there wasn’t much business towards the dead hours of the day, but you had always found something to do to keep busy.

When you were awarded the company of customers, they were always regulars - or at least that’s what Orm deduced. The blonde prince would watch as your eyes brightened and the corners of your lips would turn up impossibly high whenever someone familiar would walk through the door. Not that your smile would be any less bright for a new customer (and not that Orm was watching close enough to tell the difference or anything). You always had sweet words for all that entered into the shop - it was a wonder you didn’t come home completely silent due to exhaustion.

“Does it get tiring?”

Orm’s question stole your attention away from the stems you were trimming, making you turn over your shoulder with a confused expression.

“Does what get tiring?” You asked.

“That attitude. All of-” Orm puts on a fake smile, “-that.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, tossing loose stem bits in his direction which he effortlessly bats away.

“Customer service is a vital part of the job - you get used to it...”

You looked around the shop, reminiscing over your time attending to the customers.

“...and the people of Amnesty Bay are sweet. It’s not hard to reciprocate.”

You spoke as if it was a matter of fact, quickly dismissing all of Orm’s skepticism with one sentence. You didn’t bother arguing further with the Atlantean, thinking that it would do no good to lecture him after putting him to work. Orm had no choice but to hum to himself as he reflected on your words and your easy-going demeanor. 

Before he could interrogate you further, your doorbell chimed announcing the arrival of new customers, ones that clearly excited you enough to make you let out a small squeal.

“Sampsons!” You greeted the family happily, practically leaping over the counter to throw your arms around the expecting wife. Orm watched from his peripherals as you cooed cheery greetings to the party of 3 (and a half?), deciphering that these people were your friends. The husband, wife, and young son laughed heartily at your enthusiasm, smiling down at you with equal merriment.  

“Girl, you are growing by the minute! How has the pregnancy been?” You stop flitting about the group like a hummingbird to focus on the woman, brushing softly at her hair as you take in her appearance. Orm could see you beaming at her from the corner of his eye, unable to look away from the sight for some reason.

The people surrounding him in Atlantis were always prim and proper, no surprise due to their noble status - never bobble out of place or an expression unpinched. So, seeing how jovial and lively you were when interacting with your friends was entirely new to the prince. 

Orm also couldn’t help but notice just how…touchy you were with them. Your eyes never leave your friend - Mrs. Sampson, he presumes - as you softly move strands of hair out of her face, fully engrossed in every word she points in your direction. Your hands stay clasped in hers as your thumb rubs comforting circles at her knuckles. The affection came so naturally with you - this type of petting would undoubtedly turn heads in his kingdom, surely being improper in the eyes of nobility. Mrs. Sampson’s family seemed rather comfortable as well, the young son stepping away from his father numerous times to hug at your legs, which you always acknowledged with a ruffle to his curls. 

The love-dripping display before him made Orm feel an unfamiliar tug at his chest, one that he could best describe as longing. Longing for what, Orm doesn’t know (and surely would never admit). The inner thoughts manifest into a particularly pinched expression, which Mr. Sampson notices right away.

“Psst-” your friend’s husband whispers to you. “Who’s the scary blonde?”

You swiftly turn away from your friend to find Orm with his arms crossed, staring from a distance with furrowed brows and pursed lips. You make your way to stand next to him again, proving he means no harm. You’ve been around the Atlantean long enough to know that he was only sporting his inquisitive expression, but you understood that his intimidating stature could paint his curiosity as animosity. 

Orm scoffed lightly as his metahuman ears picked up on the husband’s whisper which made you elbow him under the counter in turn, your smile never faltering. While your actions slightly bruised his ego more than his actual skin, he couldn’t help but feel a little impressed at your bravery considering he’s smited others for less. He’d never say it out loud, but you’re much more appealing than his previous offenders - much too appealing indeed. 

“Oh shut up, Jonny,” Mrs. Sampson says to her husband as she swats him. She leans over the counter to hold a hand out to him. “I’m Janie - I know, Janie and Jonny sounds like an awful sitcom but that’s just how the pieces fell for us. And this is our son, Miloh-” 

Orm reluctantly takes the chipper woman’s hand, being cautious to not accidentally overuse his strength and squeeze too hard. He didn’t really understand any of the words she was saying, but she had a kind eyes and a warm smile that were similar to yours. Orm supposed that you are what you attract. 

“This is Or-Orion!” You’re quick to correct, semi-aware of the Atlantean prince’s reputation with the people of Amnesty Bay. “He’s Arthur’s friend - he’s staying with me for a bit.” You pat at Orm’s shoulder, displaying a mask of familiarity to your friends to throw off any suspicions about his true heritage. Orm doesn’t acknowledge the trail of fire your hand leaves when you remove it from his shoulder. The family waves back to him with similar eye crinkling smiles, the young boy looking up at the Atlantean in awe at the sheer mass of him. 

“Anyway, what did y’all come here for?” 

You loop your arm through Janie’s, whisking her away and leaving “Orion” to stand quietly behind the counter with Jonny and their son. Before you were fully out of his hearing radius, Orm picked up on Janie’s whisper to you: “He’s cute, girl.” You’re quick to shush your friend, taking her to the opposite corner of the shop to look at floral arrangements. The blonde couldn’t help that his chest swelled with pride at quick comment.

“So, how do’ya like Amnesty Bay, Orion?” Jonny asks, pushing his thick framed glasses up his slender nose. He lets Miloh roam free upon feeling his squirming to loosen his father’s hand from his shoulder. 

“It’s…more pleasant than I anticipated - peaceful.” 

Jonny laughs lightly, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “You used to the city then?”

“Yes, large in population and dense. A far cry from this town.” 

Orm and Jonny watch as Miloh comes up behind you to hug at your waist, giggling when you make a big reaction upon him “surprising” you. You swoop the boy into your arms while you continue talking to his mother, the boy basking in the affection you give him. It’s a welcome sight to Orm, one that Jonny notices. 

“Has she been a good host to you?” 

The Atlantean peels his eyes away from the scene that unexpectedly warms his chest to address the man, pretending to not notice the knowing look on his angular features. 

“She has been…very gracious indeed.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Y’know she put us up for two weeks when our roof got totaled by the tidal wave? That girl is too nice for her own good, I swear…”

Orm couldn’t deny your kindness, he had been on the receiving end of it for the past few weeks that he’s roomed with you. Your patience and understanding were the traits that made boarding with you so…seamless. 

“Yes, she is. Very much so.”

Jonny, sensing the blonde had little else to say, gave him a polite smile before following after his wife and son. Orm watches as the family embrace you (metaphorically) into their circle, your arms encircling Janie and Miloh naturally. The way you so easily welcome them into your space without a second thought, balancing Miloh on your hip as you twirl at Janie’s hair that falls on her shoulder. He couldn’t help but stare - stare at your gummy smile, at your rosy cheeks, at everywhere your hands fall…

“Alright, I’ll come to yours next week with some sample bouquets and you can choose from there. I’m so excited for you!” Your merry voice rings through the shop as you see the Sampsons out, placing one final kiss on Miloh’s chubby cheek before sending them off with a wave.

When you return to your spot behind the counter, you still have a warm smile lingering on your face. Orm catches it before you do, watching you recompose yourself with a more professional expression. 

“They are a…colorful bunch.”

You practically guffaw at his sudden commentary, covering it up with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, definitely lively. Arthur thinks they’re fairies or wood sprites or something.”

“...I see it.”

You find yourself quietly delighted that Orm is entertaining your nonsense talk, making you notice that he’s standing a step closer. You will yourself to loosen the muscles in your back that make you stand erect now that there is less space between you. You also pretend that you don’t notice Orm side eyeing you at the gesture. 

“They told me Izzy’s is closing early for the night, so we’ll need to go grocery shopping on the way back home. I hope that’s okay…” 

“Whatever is acceptable for you.”

You nod at each other in silent agreement before going back to trimming stems, Orm unsure of why his side that’s closest to you is humming with electricity.

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

The grocery shop you take Orm to is thankfully more empty due to closing time drawing near. You take on cart pushing duty in lieu of passing it on to Orm since he looked at the contraption like it was cursed. Giving Orm a onceover to make sure he was all settled before heading into the store. You choose not to circle around the seafood section just yet, unwilling to be around when the prince would undoubtedly scrunch his face up with a look of disapproval. 

“I’ll probably just cook some pasta tonight - nothing too crazy, I’m kinda tired.”

“...you do not have to cook for us. We can order that food Arthur mentioned - granted the words he used to describe it were disgusting - something like ‘juicy’ or ‘cheesy’-”

You nearly stop the cart as you laugh at Orm’s words dripping with disdain, shaking your head at the clear understanding of Arthur’s character.

“I’m assuming he’s talking about a cheeseburger - he’s always had an unceasing enthusiasm for food.”

You stop in the aisle reaching up for a box of what looked like yellow screws to Orm, getting on your tiptoes to reach it but with no success. The Atlantean takes pity on you and gets the box for you, being met with your gracious smile when he places it in your cart. You nod at him sheepishly, hands flexing by the handle of the cart as you shoot Orm a grateful look. 

“Ah, thanks-”

When his arm brushes against yours as it passes the food over to your cart, Orm takes note of how stiff you go for a moment. You quickly relax yourself - albeit it seemed like you needed to put some effort into it. A part of him tries not to feel offended at the action, quieting his own curiosity at being the cause of your brief uncomfortability. The other part of him wishes to push you further - to brush against you again to see how you would react to a more firm touch.

“Um, excuse me?”

A soft elderly voice coming from behind you interrupts both of your inner monologues. When you both turn over your shoulders you’re met with the sight of an elderly woman bundled in a thick jacket and chunky beanie hiding her white locks.

“Yes, ma’am?” 

Your sweet words ring through Orm’s ears, noting their slightly higher octave as if to appear as non-threatening to the elderly stranger as possible.  

“I-I was wondering if you could help me find this brand of bread flour? My grandson is visiting me tomorrow and I always make his favorite snickerdoodles with this brand - I can’t seem to find it-”

“Sure! It should be in this aisle too, at the end-”

You walk in time with the smaller woman, heart clenching at the slow and unsteady steps she takes by your side. Orm follows closely behind as he watches the exchange, brows furrowing at how easily you offer up your arm for the woman to hold onto. When you make it to the end of the aisle, you quickly spot the brand the woman was looking for at the very top shelf, no doubt the reason she was unable to find it on her own.

“Ah, it’s all the way up there, no wonder you didn’t see it.”

“Maybe we can ask one of the workers to help get it - though there aren’t many around now-”

Orm steps forward to be in both of your guys’ lines of sight. 

“Please, allow me.”

Orm’s hand reaches up to scan through each brand.

“This one, yes?”

“Yes, the very one!”

Orm grabs two of the flour bags with ease, holding them in his muscular arms. 

“Another for the next time your grandson visits. It’s best to be well prepared.” 

You watch with slightly widened eyes as he carefully places the flour in the woman’s arms, making sure they stay secure.

“Uh - do you want help getting it to the register? We just about have everything we need-”

“I’m alright! This old girl still has some strength in her.”

You and Orm share a soft laugh at the comment, decidedly letting the woman be off on her own in favor of kicking up a fuss.

“Thank you both, lovely couple you are.”

“Oh we-”

Before you could correct her, she leaves you with a squeeze to your hand, one which you return as your cheeks warm upon her departure. Orm’s stare lingers on your hands as they return to your sides, an unfamiliar pinching feeling stirring in his gut.

“I - uh - I think we have everything we need.”

You are noticeably further from Orm, keeping at least an arm’s distance from him as you push your cart. (Not that he notices those things.) He makes an effort to keep his strides short so as to not get in your space since it’s clearly what you wish. It’s quiet when you pay for your goods and it’s quiet when you load up the car. Orm takes note of how rigid your posture is when you drive away from the grocery store, but makes no comment on it. The quick shift in your demeanor puzzled the Atlantean to no end. You weren’t meant to be hard to navigate - you were human for the gods’ sakes. You were human and yet Orm found himself unable to read you during times like this when you would retreat into yourself and just look onward. He was also puzzled by how much he wanted to read you, to gain a deeper understanding of the inner workings of your mind. 

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

After unpacking all the food and a long shower, you seemed to go back to normal, meaning Orm had no place to question your mannerisms through the day which he was (embarrassingly) overanalyzing in his head ever since you both got home. Now having built rapport with Orm’s working skills, you tasked him with washing the vegetables that you would cook for a side. You couldn’t help but smile at how conservative the Atlantean was being with his water usage, your own usage mirroring his. Still new to human appliances, Orm thought it was best to the side as you began preparing dinner. Orm liked watching you flit around the kitchen when you cooked - it was like an organized chaos of sorts. While you were clumsy in a lot of your actions from mincing garlic to measuring out ingredients, you always made it to your end product. The prince had no room to complain about the surface at times like this when you would greet him with your good smelling food and a warm smile to let him know that dinner was ready. 

“Hope you’re hungry, I kinda made a lot. I’m still trying to gauge how much Atlanteans eat - I mean I know Arthur eats a shit ton, but that’s Arthur-”

“This is fine,” Orm interjects your rambling with a hand up. “Thank you for preparing the meal.”

You smile over your shoulder at his polite words, moving to prepare the plates. Orm momentarily looks around your living space again, analyzing for the 100th time since boarding with you. Before he can get full surveillance of the room, the sound of a sharp his and a plate clattering onto the counter grabs his attention. The sight of you clutching your wrist puts the blonde on high alert, his long legs taking a few steps to come to your side.

“What happened-”

“I’m fine, Orm, I just got too close to the pan when plating-”

“Let me see-”

“No, I’m good-”

When Orm’s hand reaches out to take a look at your burn, you seize back quicker than when your skin got singed on the pan. His eyes widen briefly before they settle back to their neutral expression with something else burning in them. Orm had tried to hide his shock and annoyance (and in part a feeling of rejection) from your wishes to keep a physical barrier between you two, but now it was directly in his face. He could no longer ignore it.

When you try to maneuver around Orm to get to the ice in your freezer, your actions are brought to a halt when Orm’s hands on your shoulders keep you firmly in place. You look up at the Atlantean with a look of abject shock and fear when you feel how your skin sings under the weight of his heavy hands. 

“Orm-”

“You will stop this nonsense at once.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do I disgust you to such a degree that you cannot stand to touch me?”

Your slightly agape mouth closes immediately, your surprised face changing to one of confusion as your narrowed eyes assess Orm’s burning expression.

“What? No, that’s not-”

“Oh please, human, I can see it in your body language how you practically jump away from me at any sign of closeness. Is my blood what adds fuel to your fear? Does my very presence make the hairs stand up at the back of your neck? You should be scared-”

With a groan you quickly cover Orm’s mouth with your hand, ignoring how your hands over his lips makes your breathing quicken. 

“Shut up and let me explain, will you?”

Your fire is hard for Orm to ignore as well as the closeness of your face to his when you end his tirade. However, you quickly step back from him to speak, the both of you letting out breaths you didn’t know you were holding.

“Firstly, do not call me ‘human.’ You know my name and use of anything else is degrading.”

The way you huff up at him makes Orm’s scowl soften slightly, your pinched features and smaller stature making a lethally adorable combination.

“And second, I am not ‘disgusted’ by you - you’re just a person and there’s nothing about you that could disgust me-”

“Your actions say otherwise-”

“Let me finish, Jesus. You and Arthur are related.”

You fiddle with the edges of your sleeves as you try to collect your thoughts to accurately depict how you feel to the perplexed prince. 

“I…The reason I keep my distance - why I try to avoid contact with you like that - I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

A brief silence passes over the two of you, Orm’s furrowed brows willing you to continue.

“All you’ve known of surface dwellers is how we’ve polluted your oceans, taken your resources, and overall contributed to the worsening of your living state. I…I didn’t want to touch you in case it made you feel weird or something. You already have to live in close quarters with me, I didn’t wanna make you even more suffocated.”

It was Orm’s turn to be shocked. His mouth slightly falls agape when you finish speaking, his face relaxing when he realizes the reason for your hesitance. You weren’t disgusted with him - in fact it was the total opposite. You had such an immense respect for his possible boundaries that you had been hyper aware of your own actions to maintain them. Your thoughtfulness knew no bounds, that much was becoming clear to him.

“I-” Orm starts, a notably softer tone than before, “-I don’t feel uncomfortable with you. I would hardly name what respite you have provided me as ‘suffocating’.”

Your brows tilt up, pupils widening at his words.

“Oh. Okay…that’s good then.”

You would admit that your reply was quite lame, but those were all the words you could muster when face-to-face with Orm’s kind eyes. 

“I didn’t realize my actions were so obvious. I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t like you or anything-”

“It’s fine. It had only become evident to me when I saw how you interact with others.”

“How so?”

Did you truly not know how affectionate you were to the people in your life - to the people that came around you? How your demeanor unconsciously encouraged anyone within your vicinity to melt into your warmth. It was hard for Orm to believe you were unaware of the affect you had on people.

“You are…very touchy with those around you. With the Sampsons in your store-”

“Well, they’re practically family-

“With that elderly woman from the market-”

“She seemed so frail, I wanted to just be of assistance-”

“My point still stands. You are so forward with your kindness - with your affection. It was easy to notice the difference in the way you are around me.”

“I really didn’t mean to offend you, I just didn’t wanna overstep-”

“You couldn’t overstep.”

Orm’s words stun you into a silence, your heart beating at a faster rate after the Atlantean prince had essentially given you permission to touch him. Did he want you to touch him? Clearly he was bred to be perceptive - an observer as well as a leader - so it was no surprise that he could sense your hesitance to be close to him. However, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was something he was thinking about - overthinking about, even. 

“I - Well…does it bother you? Me not touching you - does that bother you?”

Orm coughs to himself, fiddling with the buckle of his belt in a slightly nervous manner you had never seen him display before. 

“Bother is a strong word. Though I did feel somewhat slighted.”

You laugh to yourself in the way that Orm likes, the one where your gaze diverts from his and your head lolls back. It gives him a view of the length of your neck, an elegant shape that his eyes can’t help but be drawn to. 

“We can fix that now if you like?”

Even with his noble ability to breathe on land, Orm almost chokes at your words.

“Not in a weird way!” Your hands wave in front of him, trying to backtrack from how suggestive you may have sounded. “Like, we can do small things to break the ice, y’know, so we don’t have to tiptoe around each other anymore.

“...what do you suggest?”

With a soft sigh, your hand comes up, palm open with wiggling fingers. The hopeful smile you shoot him occupies a space in his chest - filling him with something he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“We can hold hands for a bit, kinda like a trust exercise! Up to you how long or when, but maybe breaking the physical touch boundary will make things less awkward?”

Your hand never drops as you rest against the counter, not moving from your place as you continue to look up at Orm with your sparkling eyes. The prince’s mind went haywire. If Orm wasn’t convinced earlier that you honestly weren’t disgusted by him, he was definitely sure now. All you needed was his permission, and now - in a fashion true to your nature - you were welcoming him to bask in your warm affections. 

The blond was frozen in his place, a measly two paces separating you yet it felt like miles. Your eyes searched his face, his expression devoid of any emotion but his mind running laughably rampant, as you waited patiently for him to close the gap. Even now with his consent, you still waited for him to be ready - waited for him to come to you.

He let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding, taking a cautionary step forward towards your outstretched hand. Your fingers wriggled slightly in anticipation, a goofy smile on your face as you waited for him to cross the  intangible bridge leading to you. Orm’s eyes never left your hand, his pulse racing as he closed more distance between you - this was what he asked for, so he had no right to be scared now.

When his large hand finally takes yours, your shoulders visibly relax and your smile widens. You couldn’t fully place what you were feeling and why, but all you knew was that it felt nice.

“Okay! That’s not so bad, huh?” 

All Orm can do now is laugh - laugh at your casual demeanor and laugh at himself for his hammering chest. Truly, he shouldn’t have been surprised by how welcoming you were to hearing his qualms and quickly attending to them. You have consistently been a good, honest, and lovely host to him even when he gave you little in return. However, he was surprised by how much your kind nature had extended to him knowing how much suffering he had brought to your town for some time. 

“No. Not bad.” Orm responds gruffly.

Your eyes crinkle as you laugh up at him, squeezing at his palm. 

“Okay, I think we’ve stood through the exercise for long enou-”

Orm’s grip on your hand tightens as he makes another step towards you.

“No.”

You blink up at him in confusion.

“No?”

Orm coughs again.

“No, I…I’m not finished with the exercise.”

Your cheeks grow impossibly warm, making you swear at yourself for your obvious bashfulness.

“Oh. Well, okay then. We can do it for as long as you like.”

And here you were again, being as understanding as ever of Orm’s needs. Orm had assumed humans were quite simple - easy to understand due to their lack of brain capacity and advancement in comparison to Atlanteans. However, watching how different you were in your shop - witnessing you change from the selectively quiet, sarcastic little thing you were at home to a vivacious, charming young woman there - it had confused him greatly. Even now, you were extending so much of your kindness towards him when there was nothing for you to gain in the end. His father had told him many stories of the treacheries of humankind, but the one point he drilled relentlessly into his head was that humans were simple, dull creatures undeserving of their people’s knowledge. Why did he seem so wrong now? 

Other sea clans felt that when the time came to reveal themselves to the surface that it would only be to educate them - his father had other ideas. The infamous King Orvax wished to utilize the wrath of the seas in order to overpower the surface world, his son at his side as they rebuilt the world in their image. His teachings were the foundation of Orm’s belief system for the majority of his life, yet you had managed to topple those mind palaces within a matter of weeks. You, with your soft knits and quick wit, had the Atlantean prince questioning whether his father had simply been misinformed. His father couldn’t have possibly known how complex humans could truly be because he never met you.

“I would like that. I want to stay like this for a while. For as long as you'll have me." 

Orm whispers, almost like a prayer meant for just the two of you.

“Sure. We can stay like this. Let’s stay like this.”

Your smaller hand squeezes his, a miniscule action that was stirring tidal waves in Orm’s gut. The reassurance of your presence was all he needed, so for the first time in forever Orm lets himself stand still in the moment, no thoughts of the future or of the throne. Just you and him in your tiny kitchen. 

.

.

.

A/N: I know, months of procrastinating and the main build up is for them to HOLD HANDS. Sue me, I love a slow burn.   

taglist:

@malfoys-demigod

@kokokreampuffs

@writings-of-a-demigod

@myshitpostblo9

@h-i-g-h-w-a-y-t-o-h-e-l-l-l

@claire-reads

@isthatbatman

@jollybhie

@tumblin-theworldaway

@leah-halliwell92

@angelicwolf98

[ormymarius]

i wanna learn more about Orm's extreme sports activities. He won a marathon, got a war medal, and is a master in Xebel-Fu, plus he's the undefeated trident champion.

instead of ocean master, he’s the underwater sports master