retaliating

Little Domestic Batjokes headcanons

- J sleeps in a Batman T-shirt he bought off eBay. It amuses Alfred a lot (and Bruce too, but he’ll never admit that)

- J is a huge blanket-hogger. Bruce comes home from patrols and has to wrestle the duvet off of the clown on a nightly basis.

- Bruce eventually gets sick of never getting the blanket, and starts writing half assed insults on J’s forehead whilst he’s asleep.

- J retaliates by using Bruce’s work ties as paper for his shopping lists (Alfred is very confused to find “milk, eggs, gunpowder, tomatoes” listed on Bruce’s favourite tie one week)

- Bruce has a habit of always wearing J’s socks whilst his boyfriend is in Arkham. He doesn’t even notice until someone at work questions his bright purple socks

- The amount of times J has been found asleep in the batcave, using Batman’s cape as a blanket, is ridiculous.

- Bruce can’t cook to save his life.

- J can, and usually helps Alfred making dinner

- No one questions J turning up at the Manor asking for Bruce each time he escapes Arkham. Alfred’s become used to welcoming him with a cup of hot cocoa

- Dick is reaaallly confused the first time he gets into the batmobile to find the Joker in the back seat. Within a month, he always remembers to pick up a tub of ice cream for J to eat whilst he waits in the car during patrols

- Bruce and J being found asleep together in the library at least twice a week

stevebarnacles  asked:

"Your country is trying to take over mine and I might be a little attracted to you and stop this it’s really hard to retaliate okay?" sounds fun

Look at me, being a jerk, taking more liberties with your prompts. This is based on the board game Diplomacy, which I want to play but can never convince anyone to play with me.

——

“Steve,” Sam hisses, “the point of the game is to take over the world. Not take over every part of the world that Barnes isn’t in charge of.”

“No, no,” Steve says, glancing over Sam’s shoulder to where Bucky is in a hushed discussion with Natasha and Rhodey. “I think that making an alliance with Turkey could be very beneficial.”

Sam shakes his head. “Man, you’re so wrong. I can’t tell you how wrong you are. You know Natasha, and there’s no way she’s just gonna let you get around your alliance with Russia in order to screw the new Poli Sci major.”

“I think I can handle Natasha,” Steve says, a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Sam sighs. “Well, it was nice knowing you, Great Britain.”

“Are you abandoning me, France?”

Sam groans. “No, of course not. But if Natasha wins tonight, you owe me a pizza.”

“Sure thing.”

“And not some Papa John’s bullshit. I’m talking pizza from a family-owned Italian restaurant with at least four toppings.”

Steve hesitates, then sighs. “Fine, sure, whatever. Now can you please go grab Bucky? I really wanna get this alliance settled.”

“Pathetic,” Sam says, but he heads across the room anyway.

——

They were prepared for Natasha.

What they weren’t prepared for was Bucky.

“I don’t think I technically owe you a pizza,” Steve says to Sam, still a little shellshocked at the end of the game.

“No, you’re right. You owe me a damn feast,” Sam says, muttering about getting their asses kicked by the new guy as he goes to commiserate with Sharon and Tony.

“Hey,” Bucky says, walking over to Steve with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey Bucky. Nice game.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. Steve laughs. “Alright, alright. You creamed us. Where’d you learn to play like that?”

“Let’s just say game night in the Barnes household was wild.” He shifts, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey, so if you’re interested in learning some strategy, we could go grab a cup of coffee or something.”

“Sure it’s not a trick? Gonna slip my cappuccino out for poison? Or even worse, Mountain Dew?”

Bucky chuckles, smiling. “Nah, promise it’s not a trick. Just some good will from your country’s new ruler.”

“Well, if it’s an older from the dictator, then I guess I’ll have to comply.”

Bucky nods. “Mm-hmm, you do. You, uh, busy now?”

Steve can’t help but grin. “No, I’m not.”

“Then let’s go.”

——

No matter what Sam says, Steve got what he wanted out of his strategy.

hanatalesofthenewage  asked:

Imagine Kylo overcoming his manipulative abuser like Vader did in episode 6.

I remember a discussion awhile back wherein we realized that a LOT of childhood abuse survivors, myself included, relate strongly to Kylo for some reason. His retaliating against Snoke and breaking free would be so powerful and resonate so much in that context.

anonymous asked:

Haze from Broker?

((ANONYMOUSLY PUT A NAME IN MY INBOX AND MY MUSE WILL DRUNKENLY TALK ABOUT THEM!))

Broker dropped down onto the couch, lacking all of their usual control and grace as they slumped back against the cushion. Getting drunk was…not something they did often, and though they did admittedly feel rather relaxed, they much preferred having the ability to walk in a straight line.

“Haze is…he’s dangerous.” An affectionate smile spread across their face. “The only real danger to me. One I can’t kill or get rid of, who I would tell every secret and do anythin’ for. I’d die for him…I’d live for him.” They laughed softly. “I should hate it. Loathe the idea of someone havin’ that much influence over me, who could hurt me without any retaliation. 

“But…” Broker sighed and let their eyes slide closed. “He’s also the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He…He changed my life so much, and I…I don’t regret any of it. Glarin’ weakness or not, I…I need him.” 

EoS Spoilers: Okay, so this Manorian headcanon came to me out of nowhere.

Manon stilled as Asterin dug her ironclaws deep within Iskra Yellowlegs’ back, crushing the witch’s heart in the process.

“Kinslayer.” The witch spat and Manon’s second retaliated faster than Dorian could summon his power. Dorian was aware of how careful the thirteen were of any mention of what had happened back at Rifthold, the Blackbeak matron, Manon’s heritage or anything remotely relating to the Crochan Queen in general.

Manon did not so much as bat an eye when Iskra and her coven had come proclaiming that Manon and her thirteen were now fair game, and that her grandmatron had now taken claim for her kill. Whether or not it had phased the wingleader no one knew but …

“Kinslayer.” Iskra said and the wingleader had flinched at the mere mention of the word.

None of the thirteen said a word as Manon made orders to leave camp now that their location has been exposed. It would be a very long and arduous flight to Antica, Dorian thought. Which was why he had asked Manon as they soared upward atop Abraxos, just to be done with it, “Why did you kill that witch back in Rifthold?”

There was a long silence that would have led anyone to believe that the witchling had not heard his question except the princeling knew what that silence meant.

Contemplation.

After a few fluttering heartbeats Manon finally replied, “I saw you … back in Oakwald.”

“I saw you through the Valg. How you took control, so that they couldn’t do to you what I had allowed her to do to me.”

A monster, Dorian thought, they made him into a monster.

“And when I found you in Rifthold, with that Yellowlegs witch about to take her kill, I remembered that moment and all the things they had done to us.“ Manon tensed. “I didn’t want it to be for nothing. So I made a choice that day … not to pretend to be anything other than what I was, what they made me into, and if they wanted me to be a child of war, then I would be a child of war.”

The princeling grinned in his own devious way, “I believe that’s the longest speech I’ve ever heard you give, witchling.”

And Manon simply hissed as they made their way South in search of what remained of the Crochans.

To raise an army. A witch army that could stand against the Ironteeth legions.
Balance and Growth

Originally posted by una-asocial

It wasn’t often that Archelaos smoked anymore. The taste of tobacco was strange on his lips, he had grown used to life without it. He did not smoke without reason, and certainly not without a good one. He recalled days when he was with the Crows. He had smoked after they had cornered and beaten a Warlund Blackfyre. His father had called it irresponsible, that instead of celebrating their victory, they should be planning for retaliation, either by the guards or by Blackfyre’s fellows.

Archelaos was not smoking in celebration. Although perhaps he should have been? He was sure that various people in his life would deem it appropriate. Raseri, who for so long had wanted him to realize his potential, Caulen, who had urged him to seek the Light instead of the Shadow, Percy, who had been so crushed when Archelaos had chosen the path of a criminal to that of a guardsman. All of those people would be delighted at this change. Over the moon, offering to buy him a drink, if he still partook in such. 

He closed his eyes. How many more would be dissapointed in him? Angie, who had found comfort in a man who used the Light as she did and enjoyed torture. Address, who had insisted that she needed him. Zaderick, who felt like a failure if he couldn’t live up to the expectations Archelaos had set up for himself. 

He mourned them. He mourned working with them. He mourned agreeing with them.  He would still be friends with them, or try to be, but now? He wasn’t so sure that he could be anything more. 

You miserable fucking wretch.” The speech replayed in his mind. Over and over. As ceaseless as Cremate’s laughter that haunted him in every lapse in conversation and sleepless night. “Look at you, an old man nearing his death bed with nothing to fucking show for the entirety of his life.” He remembered it so well. The hand clenching his neck, the burning in his chest, Redright’s voice steadily growing louder and louder as he went on speaking. He remembered Redright’s breathing. Violent, heavy breathing, giving him no respite as his infuriated breaths crashed against his face, “If you were to die tomorrow, what the fuck would you expect me to write on your gravestone?” His speech went on, “You had one thing in your fucking life to be proud of, your devotion to the Light which stuck with you, it’s been abandoned and fucking failed.” Redright’s hand had tightened, he could all but feel the bones of his neck aching, threatening to snap if the giant man applied any more pressure, “Do something with your life, you pathetic failure. I gave you a new name: A rebirth. All you’ve done is become a useless fucking druggy.” 

Originally posted by cigarettes-and-guys

So much had changed. The Light had returned to him, and with it, his faith, but it was more than that. Archelaos could never let himself become the man he had been that day, the man what Redright would have to say that to. 

For so many years he had idolized others. He idolized Raseri, Ulysses, and how-many more for being so firm in what they believed, for being able to make something of themselves with that belief, with that faith in the Light. He had never thought himself capable of following in their footsteps. He thought himself broken. A tool, nothing more, not a person, not a paladin, a creature, at best. An object for someone greater than himself to use. 

That was no longer the case.  He was not Archelaos Draco, the washed up, drunk Inquisitor. He was not Sergeant Draco, the guardsman who only took the job to feel like he was doing something right with his life for once. He was not Draco, the Crow who didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut after the SI:7 had broken his mind wide open. He was not the son that Redright was ashamed of, rarely sober and always with three different kinds of drugs on him. 

And he never would be. Not again. 

He was Archelaos Ezra Redright. He was the son of a great Alliance General. He was a man of incredible skill and talent, who had found the balance between the shadow and the light and was on his way to mastery of it. He was a beacon of Light in the dreary, salted wastelands of the north. He was the shadow that devoured all foolish enough to stand in his way, be they man or stone. 

He was a man who had been nurtured by war and cruelty. He had been born in the jaws of the beast, and he had climbed out, scraping himself against the beast’s teeth in order to live. And he had returned only to kill that very beast, to become him in more ways than he intended to. He had been touched by all manner of monsters: The warrior father, the shadow mother, the cackling master, the compassionate ram… All had shaped him into who he was.

He was the white stag who walked in the light. He was a guardian of the sacred realms, a warning to ambitious hunters to turn back. He was a gift to those who followed him, leading them to either incredibly happiness or death: A gamble they would have to make. He was a beast who rooted out and killed snakes, tricking them from their holes and stamping them out with his hooves. 

He was the hyena. A cackling, maddened little predator. The one who prowled in the blackness of night, who knew kin from the smallest of sounds. He was the organized hunter, having learned to rely on those outside of himself for success, for support. A creature whose laughter was a warning, not a pleasure. 

He was balanced. Prey and predator. Light and shadow. Merciful and ruthless. He was good and evil, having learned how to let these things co-exist, to let them grow together to make each other stronger. Silence and laughter, serenity and chaos. 

And above all else?

He was not a useless fucking druggy. He was not going to wind up in some narcotics den. He was not going to rot in prison. He was not going to fall to an assassin’s blade, and he was not going to suffer his time to be wasted on monetary gain. 

He stamped the cigar out, stepping on the butt. With the ashes of that selfish pleasure so rested his days of such. He was bound for more than evil for evil’s sake or for coin. He was a human being, one with self-respect and more skills under his belt than most men could achieve in three lifetimes. 

This was unsustainable. This was unacceptable. This was ending. 

Mentions for @warlundblackfyre @trevaleyn @addressroleplays @angiebrice @zaderick @agent-reaper @legionofthedawn

tsarinajissa replied to your post “amhrancas replied to your photoset “OMFG, there is a ginormous…”

I am seriously tempted by the flamingo even though I’d never use it

I knooooooow. In my case, it’s because in my family, there’s a decades-long prank war between my mom and her siblings that started with them putting a cursed traveling plastic flamingo in each other’s lawns (they don’t even live in the same state, some of them, so it was a THING), and then it escalated one year to dozens of flamingoes, and then … metastasized into one particular uncle getting classier and classier flamingoes for presents (I *think* because he kept the original flamingo so it became an obscure retaliation?)-like a flamingo watercolor painting-a *large* one. A lovely painted wooden sculpture for the entryway. Concrete lawn sculpture. A stained-glass panel-as his group present from the other 4 siblings for Christmas. This pool floatie would definitely bring down the tone, but also bring the Great Flamingo War back to its roots. 

My family is weird. We show affection in weird ways and and we are hell on wheels at flea markets and starving artists’ markets. 

Round 1: One Word

Below are all the prompts submitted for Round 1 of the Bellarke FanFic Fest. You may use as many as you want. Combine them if you wish. Write as much as you desire.


hero
fire
champagne
wonderland
mascara
headlights
karma
red
blue
date
mistaken
fake
confession
self-loathing
payback
home
shower
taste
together
celebration
retaliate
princess
castle
enemies
rescue
study
safe
kiss
heart
parents
games
blanket
goodbyes
journeys
morning
storytelling
domestic
family
party
love
touch
comfort
tomorrow
advice
wedding
friends
meet-cute
pain
loss
scream
witch
dog
kill
tree
camp
sleep
disaster
surviving

anonymous asked:

So we had komanami and komahina and now can I ask hinanami for the ship thing please qwq Your writings are the best!

*ACTUALLY DIES ON THE SPOT* TY SO MUCH ANON YOU ARE VERY KIND,,,, AHHHH (and yes, here is some HinaNami for you!!! :D)

who cries when someone dies in a movie: Hinat, he gets rlly emotional no matter how cheesy the movie is and Nanami has to snuggle him to calm him down

who wears the ugly holiday garb: Nanami!!! (p much same point as the komanami one lmao)

who pays for the meals: I like to think that they’d switch it up, although they do have this thing where they sneakily try to pay before the other can, which can be a little chaotic

who slams the oven door and who plays the trombone: Nanami slams the oven door while Hinat plays the trombone!

who brings home stray animals: Hinat tells Nanami to stop playing Nintendogs so she brings home some real puppies to retaliate (they keep them but Nanami is allowed to play her game again too)

who leaves the bathroom door open: Nanami  she’d probably be too focused on her game to realize or care tbh (same as KomaNami haha)

who tells the ‘dad jokes’: Nanami does sometimes, usually without even realizing how dad-like they are (Hinat isnt impressed at aLL)

who wants kids more: Hinat. Nanami is all for having kids, but she’s a little nervous abt her lack of parent-ness… Hinat believes in her wholeheartedly tho, which gives her some confidence. Hinat is very dad-ish so knowing that he thinks she’s mom-ish makes her happy!! (I think they’d have their own kids, but maybe they’d adopt one too idk all HinaNami kiddos are gr8 kiddos)

who travels more: Hinat, working for the Future Foundation means a lot of trips around the world… (yeah im still talking in non-despair au here so think of the FF as like a charity organization or something??) Bonus: while he’s gone Nanami gets Ibuki to stay over, she may be a little immature but she’s the kind of energy Nanami needs around when her bf is away

who spends more cash: Nanami, thanks to video games. She likes to play a bunch of co-op games with her bf because competitive games always end the same way (her winning obviously) and she’s always expanding her library for them!!!

who buys the things in infomercials: Hinat, because he’s a nerd who thinks “yeah i could use that… OMG YOU GET TWO?? AND THEYLL THROW IN A FREE SOAP DISPENSER???? SOLD” (Nanami is impressed by the amount of useless shit they now possess lmao)

who draws in the dust on their cars: Both!! Nanami writes adorable cheesy love stuff on Hinat’s car like the angel she is…. on the other hand Hinat is a lil iffy about mushy pda so he just draws vague stuff like hearts on Nanami’s car but she gets the message and gets lil butterflies in her heart whenever she sees them!

who starts the snowball fights: Nanami, Hinat gets utterly DESTROYED every. damn. time. and there are stories about her epic wins that get passed around the dr2 cast

who throws away the directions to things: Hinat. Why does he never keep them. This happens every fukkin time. Nanami pities her bf, he tries so hard.

who puts up holiday decor: Hinat. Nanami brings him hot coffee and keeps him company while he does, tho.

who is more likely to forget to bathe: Nanami, as you may have guessed… Hinat is okay w this though because it means he gets to wash her up, and Nanami is also v okay with this because bein scrubbed by her bf is so nice and relaxing ahh,,,,,

who gets more obsessed about things: Nanami, which?? Sometimes annoys Hinat but honestly she’s so precious and hyper when she gets excited and who would be annoyed about their gf being happy and talking abt what they love???? Nobody. That’s who

who sings in the shower more often: Both, together! Referring back to that ‘who forgets to bathe’ bit, when Hinat helps Nanami wash up, she likes to hum little songs. And of course, this is so wonderful and pure to her bf, so he hums along. And sometimes they sing songs, too, when they can find one they both really enjoy!

[And We favored you] when your sister went and said, ‘Shall I direct you to someone who will be responsible for him?’ So We restored you to your mother that she might be content and not grieve. And you killed someone, but We saved you from retaliation and tried you with a [severe] trial. And you remained [some] years among the people of Madyan. Then you came [here] at the decreed time, O Moses. (20:40)

The story of Moussa, soubhanAllah. I feel I am not the right person to explain what happend to him. I am afraid I’ll make mistakes. So I will just tell about my thoughts, when I read this ayah. But please, read about the stories of the prophets. Learn about our prophets, educate yourself. 

There is one part of this ayah < Shall I direct you to someone who will be responsible for him? So We restored you to your mother that she might be content and not grieve > 

Allah soubahanhu wa ta’ala, restored him to His mother so she might be content and not grieve. Ya akhawaat, what about us. We are with our mother. The one who take care of us. Are we making her content and happy? That is all for today. 

@ammsaa @ibaadurrahman @yourpukhtanaukht @heknowswhatisineveryheart