anonymous asked:

Hi! If you weren't busy can I request Damian x reader who ends up as a big sister figure and dick gets jealous with all the time they spend hanging out? Please and thank you!

omg I totally did not mean for this to be so LONG but my imagination was like “I got u anon” and I gotchu babe! 
I really like this! 

Title: Roots

Theme: brother sister bonding

“Damian, I thought you were going out with Dick?” You asked, pausing in the doorway to see the youngest Robin hard at work in his sketch pad. “What happened?”

Damian didn’t even pause, continuing his lines. From what you could deduce, it was a nature scene of some kind. “If you must know, Grayson cancelled. Said something came up.”

Scowling, you figured that that something was named Jessica, a girl your friend had been prattling on about for a week. Entering the room, you sat on the couch next to Damian, reaching down to pet Titus. You let the silence engulf you, looking out the window as the sound of Damian’s pencil angrily scratching against paper filled the room. As much as he hated to admit it, he really did look up to the first Robin quite a bit.

You took in Damian’s appearance; sneakers on, laces tied, coat on the edge of the table. Dick must have just cancelled on him, and you shook your head at his tastelessness. Attempting to be tactful, you turned to Damian and carefully proposed an idea. “It is a nice day out; what if we took Titus for a hike? Greenland park is only 15 minutes from the city, and fresh air will do Titus good.”

Proposing outings with Damian’s animal posse was always the best way to go; he loved them more than anything. You observed out of the corner of your eyes as the furious pencil slowed to a stop, Damian glancing out the window. You held your breath.

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If any man could win a wet t-shirt contest, it would have to be him. The drenched fabric clings to him like darkness to the stars in the sky. Drips slide down smooth skin and mat his hair.“You could catch your death like that.” The words are more innocent than what you’re thinking though he manages to catch your undertones and as he enters the house again he removes the soaked shirt. His arms dampen your own clothes as they snake around your waist and pull you close, His hands move under your shirt, long fingers traveling your spine and branching off to the curves of your shoulder blades as they sneakily push your shirt away.
“Oh no. Now you’re wet, too. I suppose we’ll have to warm each other up.” His words fall away and his lips find yours before trailing along his treasure map of spots that will make you moan, crumble, and finally collapse into his arms.

- Admin J

The French Foreign Legion Doesn't Need Guides!

Suriname, between 1986 and 1991:

Before leaving [on the mission to assassinate the Tacujana leader], the mercenaries were provided with a local guide: he was contemptuously dismissed.

[…] They were all corporals in the [French Foreign Legion’s Parachute Regiment], and they thought, “We’ll just walk down this trail here, and turn off at this branch here, and that’ll take us to the village,” – about 200 kilometers away! I said to them, “You can’t go like that. The trails shown on the map might not exist anymore – the jungle grows so quickly – so take compasses and maps.” These guys told me they didn’t need maps and compasses. I repeated, “You’ve got to use them or you won’t get there. You’ll get lost and die in the jungle.” Then one of them admitted, “We can’t read the map,” which absolutely amazed me, because they were corporals in the Legion.

Mick put it like this: “We’re fucking Paras. We’re airborne. When we need to go somewhere, we parachute in, and then we get taken out after we’ve done the business. We don’t have to learn how to map-read.”

So, obviously, they got lost.

As told by Alan ‘Bowen.'  Found in Someone Else’s War: Mercenaries from 1960 to the Present, by Anthony Rogers

Gotham Academy: Second Semester #11 by Karl Kerschl


“The Ballad of Olive Silverlock” part three! A terrible revelation sends Maps on a quest for answers at Wayne Manor! With Two-Face hot on their trail, Maps and Damian Wayne must work together to stop Olive’s rampage of destruction across Gotham City.
On sale JULY 12 • 32 pg, FC, $2.99 US • RATED T


I’ve been musing about this for a while, and finally took the time to put it together. It’s a long one, but mainly because of the images.

In The Six Thatchers, we are shown Mary’s apparent flight from London, through randomly selected places around the world. Many of us have noticed that elements of this flight are strange; I’m going to discuss some of them here.

First, Mary seems to be selecting her destinations based on (a) three rolls of a die and (b) the selection of a location based on this roll – from this source:

Many of the place names listed here are obsolete. There are references to East Germany (reunited with West Germany in 1990), the USSR (dissolved in 1991) and Yugoslavia (dissolved in 1992). Many of the cities are very old, but Noranda, Quebec, was founded in 1926 and became Rouyn-Noranda in 1986, so that sets the date limits for this source. Most of this period was dominated by the Cold War, which lasted from 1947 to 1991.

Maps and more under the cut.

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Don’t love a boy who grew up by an airport. He’s used to seeing people come and go. It’s only a matter of time before he expects you to leave too.

Don’t love a boy who loves many things, keeps them in boxes to gather dust and time, takes them out into the sun years later to reminisce over, then tucks them back in the dark but not quite in the same way that your mother used to tuck you into bed after a fable or two.

Don’t love a boy who tells you he loves you only with his eyes, while his mouth leaves an ash trail all over the map of you. Because no matter how far back you retrace your steps, I swear you will never find yourself again.

Don’t love a boy who lives in a perpetual 2 in the morning if you don’t expect to dream only in darkness.

Don’t love a boy who was born when the leaves began to turn gold if you don’t believe that winter will come.

—  MJL, note to self #88





Park Jaebum • Roasts and Feelings - Take this to Heart

can you make a scenario where jay park is your boyfriend and you came to the show me the money set as a guest and you featuring in others team when they perform. jay park being jealous because you don’t support his team. thank you.

AHHH yes finally my much awaited fluff! Roasts and feelings are too cute. Since your requests are open… More Jay fluff!!! I don’t have any ideas cause any fluff is good fluff. Or you can continue the story with plane fluff, Paris fluff… LOL. I am soft. Thank u!!!!

We all would be lying if we say we don’t want a 4rth part of the jay scenario.

Originally posted by fxirytail

Roasts and Feelings I - II - III - IV

Genre Fluff
Word count 3.5K
Special appearance Lee Joonkyung - Woo Jiho - Kwon Hyuk


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Camped Out (Ethan Dolan x Reader)

Summary: You, Ethan and a bunch of friends decide to go camping and you all decide to meet at the camping spot, but Ethan is in charge of reading the map and he ends up reading it upside down. You both get terribly lost.
Word Count: 2,251
Warnings: Lots of fluff, implication of sex, fluff fluff fluuufff.
A/N: I’m a sucker for camping fics. Hope you like this one :’) - Also, request anything, my ask is open! xxx

You had been walking for hours now and even though your shoes were made for long walks like these, they still started to hurt your feet. The sun was beating down on you and you were sure that if it weren’t for the trees that somewhat blocked the rays, you’d have been sunburnt a long time ago.

Ethan was walking a few feet in front of you, humming a song as he walked around bushes and followed the trail up ahead, map clutched in his hand in a tight hold.

“Ethan,” you called out, stopping in your tracks and reaching around for the water bottle you had stashed in a small pocket of your grey hiking bag. “E!”

Ethan stopped walking and turned around, his hand coming up to swipe away the hair that was falling in his face and sticking to his forehead. His cheeks were flushed and lips pink, eyes just as beautiful as the first time you laid your eyes on them. You ignored the little flip your stomach made when he looked at you and pouted.

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Sigvald Goes on a Magnificent Adventure

So in over a decade of playing Total War games I’ve never had a battle that’s also a true one-on-one.

Until yesterday.

Step up Sigvald the Magnificent (or Siggy the Magniggy), chosen son of Slaanesh and Champion of Chaos.

I was undertaking a Warriors of Chaos campaign and recruited him as my secondary lord. Just a couple of turns after his arrival I noticed an enemy “army” near him on the map. 

Army is in parenthasis because, in fact, it was an army of one - the lord, master and sole survivor of a rival tribe, Jarel Ingersson. I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to send Sigvald for my first over solo lord-on-lord “battle.”

Here’s Jarel modelling the latest in Generic Chaos Sorcerer range from Kurgan ™: 

And here is the Magnificent looking as magniggy as ever:

Damn, what a looker. So anyway, Siggy gets stuck in right away, and it doesn’t take long for Jarel the Gutless to realise he’s outmatched and make a run for it. 

Even more amusingly he apparently has the Banner of Swiftness, which means he leaves Sig in his snow-trail. On the campaign map, however, things are different. The Sigulator catches up with him for round two:

And within seconds, killing blow:

Yep, that’s an action shot of the greatest ever Slaaneshi fuqboi decapitating the last of the line of the Skell.

Don’t lose your head over this, Jarel. And to add insult to injury, apparently Jar’Jar is hauling around a warp-tonne of loot with him, which Sig subsequently takes.

All in all, a productive first encounter for the Magnificent!

Weight of a Name (Shallura)

Pretty much me playing around writing Shiro and Allura. It’s a short drabble I wrote a little awhile ago. I have a bunch, but this is the only one that’s finished. It’s also available on AO3. Sorry if anything seems OOC. lmao. 

Shiro reveals his real name to Allura and admits he isn’t the same as he used to be, and this bothers him. Cue Allura comforting him.

“You have that look on your face,” Allura says.

Shiro snaps to and looks down at her, the heavy weight of fatigue hitting him all at once. He must look terrible.

“What look?”

“The one you have right now.” Allura’s staring at his face with bright blue eyes, studying every little detail, every blemish on his skin that’s started to fade over time. Her eyes fall upon the scar that runs straight along the bridge of Shiro’s nose. “It’s a sad look.”

He won’t meet her eyes. They flit away towards the ground.

Allura wraps her arms delicately around his mechanical one and leans against his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re not sad. I know it when I see it, Shiro.”

He swallows hard and doesn’t budge, unable to form words yet.

“I understand that you may not want to discuss it with me,” she says, her voice soothing to his ears. “But I’d like you to know that I’m here to listen if you want me to.”

“I’m okay.” The tight knot in his stomach tells him he isn’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been very lost in thought lately,” she notes. Shiro can sense the concern in her voice and he can’t help but feel guilty. “And much quieter than usual. It’s unlike you.”

Shiro shifts slightly and wills himself not to lean into her warmth. He exhales, harder than he means to. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“That’s something we have in common.” She can’t help but smile, trying her best to lighten the mood.

It takes him a minute or two before he can gather his thoughts.

“Can I share something very personal with you, Allura?” he asks. His eyes finally fall on hers, and that look she knows all too well is still there—the one he keeps to himself until he’s sure that no one’s around. It’s the one that overcomes his features on a sleepless night when he gazes out into the deep, dark vastness of space. It’s the expression he has when he stares at the stars and doesn’t recognize any of the constellations he memorized on earth.

More than anything, it hurts her heart to see it.

“Please,” she says.

Shiro takes a moment to gather his bearings and shifts his body to face her. “My real name is Takashi Shirogane and…” He glances down at the floor and winces slightly.

Allura watches him intently, not sure why he looks upset. She gently holds his elbow for support, encouraging him to go on.

“It’s a name that has a great deal of weight to it, and is known by a lot of important people back on Earth at the Garrison,” he says. His brows furrow and he can’t help but twiddle his thumbs. “It’s this sort of label of my success before Kerberos happened. I was a highly regarded flight instructor.

“After being imprisoned for a year and—” Shiro cuts off for a moment, his human hand running along the scar on the bridge of his nose. His eyes flicker to his Galra arm, but he immediately looks away. He feels the blood run hot in his ears and his muscles clench. His breath catches in his throat, but he pushes through.

“Well, after everything that’s happened, I’m just not sure if I can ever go back to being Takashi Shirogane.”


Allura watches as Shiro’s eyes narrow and he goes to a far off place. “I’ve done things I never imagined I would go through with. I’ve…I’ve killed people,” he admits, the first time he’s ever said it aloud. “I’ve faced some of the most frightening creatures I’ve ever seen in my life…”

The fingers of his Galra arm curl at his side. “And they took my arm,” he states. “They’ve taken a large part of me, and replaced it with a weapon.”

He doesn’t blink, and he stares out at the stars, imagining every foe’s face clear as day in his head. “I…I’ll never be the same, Allura.”

She touches his human arm and peeks down at the scars that tarnish his skin. Like a feather, she traces her fingertips along the curves of the pink scar tissue, her eyes observing the marred flesh. Beneath his skin, she feels his blood pumping hard in his veins. When she looks into his eyes, she still sees the faraway look that threatens to take him.

“Your scars tell a story.” Allura delicately slides her hand down his forearm and holds it there at his wrist with a gentle touch. “And yes, it’s a painful story, a hurtful and very permanent reminder of your time as a prisoner. And I apologize that I cannot imagine what it was like.”

Her thumb rubs circles into the underside of his wrist and her voice is gentle, therapeutic almost. Beneath her touch, she can feel his pulse begin to slow. “But it shows that you have overcome so much, and have survived, and are unbreakable—a very admirable, and fitting trait of a Voltron paladin,” she says.

“Even one that’s killed countless?” he murmurs.

Allura strokes his calloused palm and she traces the deep lines, like she’s following the trails of a map. “Every paladin has had to…to kill,” she admits. Her face tenses at the word and her white brows knit together.

“It isn’t something I like to bring attention to, and it pains me to say this, but we all must acknowledge that it is necessary sometimes. Especially when it comes to protecting yourself and your team,” she says.

She sees him tug at his lower lip with his teeth, a nervous action she rarely sees. She squeezes his hand with reassurance and stares into his eyes. “You were given no choice. Promise me you won’t dwell on it.”

“I’m not sure that I can,” Shiro admits with a weak smile. He stares back, the worry and shame in his face beginning to fade away. There’s still a hesitation in the furrow of his brows, but he continues to look to her with dark, intense eyes. He wants to promise her, but he isn’t sure he can keep it.

“As for this—” Allura reaches out for his Galra arm and he complies, resting the cold metal in her warm hands. “This may be a weapon created by our enemies, but Shiro, you have made it something so much more.”

She looks up at him and meets his eyes, and offers him the most sincere smile. The pink in her iris gleams brightly and he forgets to breathe. “You didn’t allow yourself to be used as a weapon by Haggar and the Galra, and because of this arm—” Allura intertwines their fingers, meshing flesh and metal together. “You have also saved so many lives, Takashi Shirogane. Including my own.”

Shiro swallows hard, and he feels a weight lift from his chest. He feels the sternness of his face soften at her words and he loves the way she says his name.

Allura squeezes his fingers and brings the back of his metal hand to her lips. Her lips look soft against the surface and Shiro wishes he could feel them on his skin. “I may not have known the old Takashi Shirogane, but the new one is no monster. I find him to be a rather inspirational leader.”

He envelopes her into a warm embrace before she can say another word. “Thank you,” he whispers into her hair, over and over again, and loses himself somewhere in the sweet smell of her. “Thank you, Allura…”

She shivers at his breath in her ear and she returns the hug.

“I guess that’s all I needed to hear.” His voice is low and quiet, and he holds her close to himself, as close as she can possibly get.

“Then please rest easy, my paladin,” she whispers against his collarbone. “Rest easy, Takashi Shirogane.”


Request: Hello! First - I love the blog! Your writing is so nice and it’s adorable! Second - may I request a S/O who wanders into the Lost Woods without thinking and gets lost somehow? Maybe BOTW!Link has to go find her in hopes that nothing bad happens? Thank you! <3

For: @briqhtskye

Word count: 3325

Fr tho what’s with me and knocking S/O out? Also I had way too much fun writing this, rip my wrists.

The pale light of the morning sun woke you up, cascading over your slumbering form that had been leaning against your goods for the night, underneath a rock to shelter from the rain. Your fire had dwindled down to ash, and your skin had a gentle coating of dew. The air felt warm, heat emanating from the volcano active behind you. The day was beginning, and you were off to travel to sell your wares once again.

You had actually just gotten back from a stable, where the Legendary hero Link had sold you out of all your wares. Luckily, you were able to collect more materials to make arrows as well as ingredients; it helped that he sold you his own materials. A smile danced across your lips as you thought of the handsome young man, smiling at you as he paid for his supplies. You couldn’t help but blush at the thought that he always came to you, rather than Beedle or any of the other traveling merchants. You scratched the back of your head laughing, before standing up and pulling your stuff on your back.

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Well, it’s definitely no secret that my Camber and I have become quite the pair. My boyfriend and I have even started making a tiny course to practice on in our backyard AND I signed up for a Women’s Downhill Camp that’s happening in July. I pretty much jumped in with both feet to say the least. I’m still SO incredibly new, but very set on learning.

This past weekend we took a trip to Destin for a little beach vacation and while we were there we thought we would visit a local MTB trail. We reached out for suggestions on social media, found the address of a trail near by, packed up our stuff, and headed out. The trail head had no map of the trail system, but plenty of bear warnings. As we’re riding along I’m thinking to myself how flat it is, no one would need anything more than a CX bike out here, easiest trail ever, so and so on and then BAM I over correct and throw myself into a tree. Just goes to show you that you can literally fall anywhere so use this as my friendly reminder to wear a helmet while riding. Regardless of the tiny scratches (and slightly hurt ego) I ended up with, we had fun, explored through the path of palm trees, admired the crazy amount of white moss, and of course stopped to take photos.

We finished the ride, stopped for acai bowls, and ended our day playing in the ocean while enjoying Floridas white sandy beaches. Bikes, food, and the beach - I’d say this is one of my favorite ways to spend a day.


Farewell to the festival of frailty I fester in.
This hollow home of the hopeless is opening to the world.

I wanted to write a poem for the slivers of light that slide through the curtain cracks,
for the trail of veins that map my weathered wrists.
For the creaking complaints my bones make.

So take my hands.
This body is a sorry shell, apologising for every moment.
But you are every prayer I ever dared whisper,
and I will not stop worshipping you
until my blood dries up and I am full of dust.
Until my joints are rust and I am left down on my knees.

I want my fingers wrapped around your bones.
I was afraid, a dull blade without you,
but now I’m razor sharp, repaired and ready for regrowth.

I am a passing moment, clinging to the moonlight.
Empires will rise and empires will fall,
but I will always remain yours.

The stars will forget us in time,
and we will be abandoned to the wilderness of empty space.
Our kisses are eternally brief, permanently locked together.
I want to kiss you through the end of the universe.
This brief game of living should not be spent alone.
Time will tie us tight to another soul.

—  giraffevader - Our bones were built to be together