I feel like Dick and Damian definitely do regard each other as father and son to a certain extent but in a way that is so tied to Bruce's "death" that they'll never actually say it. Damian will just keep referring to Dick as his Batman, a role that has only ever meant father to him, and Dick will refer to Damian as his Robin, a name that has only ever meant son.
tbh it weirds me out when i see minors reblog and post those top and bottom memes. even when i myself was a minor and saw kids younger than me reblog tht i found it so fucking weird.
but recently some internet friends who are minors told me they thought it was for personalities and not sex (anymore). so now i get why they were shared so much among a younger audience.
it's still weird to me tho that people see it as personality traits when it has to do with sex but that's just my onion
Can you please do a drabble for a nameless wol /maybe a hyur who's originally from Ala Mhigo/ after the betrayal at U'Dahl, like if they head back to Ala Mhigo to hide and encounter Zenos?
(I’m just picturing Ishgard falling without WoL there to stop it. Poor WoL didn’t get to taste Haurchefant’s cocoa or hear those uplifting words. What a sad turn of events. Where is Alphi in all this? Tataru? There’s just too many questions, but for this prompt I will have WoL encounter Zenos alone. I hope you like it. This came out less serious then intended, but that’s just how it went. Zenos is having a good time? Please enjoy?)
- - - - - -
You dig your fingernails and palms into the ground to stop yourself from flying back. You bare your teeth in an exhausted snarl. Your opponent hardly suffered a scratch! How was he this strong?! ….You think you understand now what your enemies must have thought of you.
“Your… friends were a disappointment,” The Garlean sneers, the word ‘friends’ in particular, with a voice distorted by his mask.
Could he even breathe in that thing? You shake your head. Here you are, your great adventure about to be messily ended, and you’re concerned about the proper amount of airflow in your enemies helmet? …You might have a concussion.
The Garlean sighs like he is bored. “How dull. I had hoped you would prove a greater challenge. That you would entertain me.”
You grit your teeth. The least he could do was show you his face before he cut you down!
Your fingers fist in the dirt, and before you can think too heavily about it you grasp a handful and fling it into the air.
Rushing the Garlean in his surprise and giving your all at beating the crap out of that stupid helmet! Using your rage against all the ugly headgear you’ve won in adventures past, you attack the helmet with extreme prejudice!
You only get a few good hits in, body and helmet both. Your hands just barely curling under the ugly helmet when the Garlean grabs hold of you mid air.
Uh oh, you think. Wide eyed and tense for what is to come.
“Uh oh, indeed,” The Garlean responds.
Had you said that out loud?
He spins you by the leg captured in his huge clawed gloves. Once, twice, three times around, and then lets go to send you flying in a perfect shot against a pillar quite far away.
Your breath wheezes out of you in an explosive breath. Ow. Ow, ow, ow…!
You wince as his shadow falls over you, head tipping back to rest against the pillar.
The Garlean raises his blade.
You do not look away even as the dread of death fills you. You do not want to die, but you’ll not close your eyes to your fear. You look into that ugly helmet and await your doom.
Crk… crkk…
You blink in shock as his helmet suddenly cracks. Splitting right down the middle. You stare. The Garlean stares back, seeming just as surprised as his helmet breaks completely and falls away.
He glances down at the pieces on the ground in silence. Then looking up at you with a strange gleam in his eye.
You see his face for the first time. The last time? The first and last time? Oh, what did it matter??
You groan at the sight of it. Of that face. Long and low is the sound you make, like you had suffered one too many injustices in your time on this star and this was the bloody cherry on top!
Of course. Of course!
“Of course you’re bloody gorgeous,” You mutter to him sourly.
He’s unfairly gorgeous, because of course he is. With pale skin and lush, dark eyelashes. You squint. Were his eyes blue, as well? Of course they were.
Twelve, you cannot even with the sight of his hair. You do not think you’ve ever seen that particular golden shade before. Every other must pale in comparison next to those long lustrous strands.
The Garlean had paused at your words, blade held up but not in use as you look your fill of him. Drinking him in like a tall - really, really tall - glass of water. And, Gods, are you parched.
His lips curve up in a ghost of a smile.
Wow, even his evil smile was pretty.
You tense as he steps closer, kneeling down in front of you. His hair is shiny and golden in the fading light. His eyes incredibly blue as those dark eyelashes lower with his growing smile.
You squint at him. “Do you think you can put your helmet back on before you murder me? I’m really distracted by,” You gesture to, well, all of him with a flop of your hand. “All of this.”
Gods, you feel so tired. More than certain now that you have a concussion.
You’re complimenting your would-be murderer. There are lines you shouldn’t cross, but here you are bloody leaping them. Doing a little tap dance on them before vaulting over with extra flair. Why not just ask him if he’ll make out with you, too? Hey, handsome murder guy, can I kiss you before you slaughter me? Yeah, that’ll go over real well.
“Do you believe in fate, savage?” The Garlean asks you. Your eyelashes flutter because, sweet Rhalgr, that voice! A rumbly purr like a coeurl’s growl wrapped in a yard of warmed silk.
You stare at him with no idea where he was going with this. How long can you keep him talking, to hear that voice - before he grows bored and finally ends it. “Fate?”
The Garlean hums. Oh, that was a nice sound too. Your eyes droop without your permission. Yep, you sure did have a concussion. Yes indeed. “Yes, fate. I believe we were destined to meet, you and I.”
You furrow your brow. Destiny? Really? That was where he was going with this? “…Fffooorrr you to kill me?”
The Garlean chuckles, low and rich.
You think you might be dying already.
He leans in, a huge clawed glove reaching for you, and you flinch back.
He smiles all the more for it. A predator tasting the fear of his prey in the air.
“Ohh, no, my beast. You’ll not escape me so soon,” The handsome Garlean positively purrs. “I intend to spare your life.” Why did he sound so enthused by that.
You must look a total idiot as you blink at him, owlish and confused, but… “Uhh, you’re what now?” Had he not just said that you were boring and raised his sword to cut you down? Talk about mixed signals.
His hand cups your jaw. So close to closing around your throat that your skin shivers at his touch.
“Do you know who I am, savage?” The Garlean asks, seeming so very smug.
Who he was? You squint. Ohh. Ohhhh. Oh, no. You feel like a fool. Who else could he possibly be, really.
You smile weakly.
“Please don’t tell me that your friends call you Zenos? We don’t even need to bring names into this at all! Can I not just call you handsome garlean number one?” Could your luck be that bad?
The Garlean smiles wickedly. Why do you keep complimenting him. “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”
Ohh, noooo. Your head thunks back against the pillar behind you.
“Your name, my beast.” Zenos demands.
You sigh, and like an idiot, give it to him.
“Well, well,” Zenos hums throatily. Could he stop doing that? He says your name then, your face cupped in his claws. Rolling your name around in his mouth like he liked the sound of it.
“Today is your lucky day.”
You’re inclined to agree with him, but it might just be the concussion. Making you all swoon-y and darkening your vision around the edges. But that’s fine.
Should you say… “Thanks for not murdering me?” Wow, you actually just said it. Your brain to mouth filter must be thoroughly broken right now.
Zenos smiles with surely wicked intentions and says, “Do not thank me just yet.”
Ok, you think. And finally pass out.
Slumping forward like your strings had been cut, and falling right into Zenos’s evil clutches.
“I’ve seen many with those.” He raises but one duel-monster card, its back outward, obviously drawn from the other man’s collection. “But quite nobody to raise a beast with a success.”
