"Wake Up Buddy, We Got A Bank Robbery To Stop!"

My Love In The Sea

The captain walked near the side of the ship. The rest of the crew were asleep, note a single light was on. The captain looked across the vast and endless ocean and looked for something. Any splash or small gleam in the darkness on the night. The call however stayed, calling the captain to jump into the waters below and to return again into the arms of the ocean, to return again into the arms of her beloved. She smiled at the memories of walking to a hidden part of the bridge under a cliff where she and her beloved would meet every evening before she started sailing. They would spend hours together, talking, singing, giving each other gifts and kisses all over. Exchanging gifts was something they loved to do. Her love always enjoyed giving her rings and shells while she gave her dearest small flowers and necklaces.

The captain reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a locket. It was silver and had flower and ocean themed carvings all over. She ran her fingers over the design, feeling every lovely engraving of the locket. The inside part of the locket and her beloved, engraved into the metal. Forever together in some sort of way. One of the last things her love ever gifted to her. The last thing her dearest had done with her the last time they ever spoke. Before that darn ship decided to cast her dearest out on the sea.

Every day that passed without her love made her want to tear through the entire ocean floor apart so she could simply see her love one last time. Oh how she wished she could claw open the throats of those who dared to blame the storm on her love and cast her over the boat and into the ocean. Well, she supposes blasting their ship and leaving them to drown was a good enough punishment. Their fear filled faces and cries for help were almost as wonderful as her beloved’s singing.

Her fingers still moved over the engraving of the necklace, she wondered what the water below would feel like, if they would feel as warm and comforting as her love was no matter how cold they both were in the winter. She wondered if her love would smile at her again even after all the things she had done.

She had bathed villages in blood, she burned down villages and ships, drowned helpless victims, tricked all those who dared to challenge her into giving up their lives for a failed attempt to gain riches. All their screams were a wonderful melody in her ears. She had explored almost every piece of land and ocean that the world had to offer. Gained almost every piece of treasure and gold that she could get her hands on.

She heard her love call out for her again. She saw the way the water moved towards her. Her beloved was calling for her again. She promised her love that she would travel the world for her and then she would come and return to her. Her love seemed to have missed her. What a silly thing her dearest was. She knew her love had followed her around on every trip and venture.

She knew they were always there with her. But she couldn’t say the same. She wasn’t truly with her beloved yet. But she was about to be.

She looked down into the waters below. The locket around her neck. She stared into the ocean and heard the final calling of her love. Her love was waiting underneath the waters for her. Her love had been waiting every day. Her beloved was calling out for her so that they could be together again. Oh how she was ready to return to her beloved's arms. To see her smile and laughter again.

The captain looked behind the ship once more. She saw her first mate standing behind her. Her first mate didn’t need her to speak to know what she was about to do and where she was about to go. A silent nod and they returned back inside the ship.

She smiled. She stood off at the edge of the ship. And she jumped.

Right into the waters below.

Deep into the ocean where you can never be found.

And there she saw her once more. Her beloved’s long hair and tail practically curled around her. Arms wrapped around her as she felt every sense of drowning leave and felt herself breathing under the surface. Her beloved’s voice happily laughed right into her ears and she felt her body slowly seem to change in some way, apparently her love couldn’t wait anymore.

The siren was ecstatic to see her dearest again. She waited so long and so patiently for them to be together again. She felt arms return the hug as her darling’s transformation continued on. She giggled as she removed parts of the needless complicated fabric so that her love’s changing could be as painless and comfortable as possible. 

Death never came to both on the nights they fell into the ocean. Supposed death couldn’t keep them apart forever. Because here they were together in the ocean once more.

I like to think maybe when Thomas Wayne was still alive, he was almost as bad as Bruce and his circus crew of children is when it comes to keeping himself alive and Alfred would have to drug him to get him to sleep

Like maybe Thomas was like Tim Drake levels of overworking and shit like that

I also imagine that he hopped and tried to raise Bruce to have some self perseverance but low and behold he’s worse then his father.

Prompt #1489

“You are not my mother.”

The villainess smiled, ever in control, ever amused by their shuddering rage. “You can deny it all you want, little hero. You were born from me; my blood runs in your veins. My powers are your powers.”

“Your morals,” they spat, “are not my morals.”

Her smile widened. “Not yet.”

The Chosen One Troupe

I'm always wondering why most writers I see always have a very similar why of going around with this troupe. Think of all the possibilities:

They could be a literal war criminal who has killed thousands of people

They could be a tired college student who doesn't want to deal with this bullshit

Could be fucking married to the bad guy they're meant to kill and just go all "nah"

A gen z who is done with life

Could just die and those prophecy reading dunderheads were looking for the wrong fucking person

All the stupid possibilities

Rebirth

Here it is guys! The 3000+ word story for the 1k follower celebration! Altough I got a bit carried away so this wound up being 5500+ words instead of 3k+ nearly twice as long! I hope you all enjoy and thank you once more for 1000 followers!

This contains some adult themes and creepy super villains, also a major character death and some swearing. Do be advised and please enjoy!

Contiuation

[Hero] couldn’t tell when they woke up or even if they were truly awake. Everything was dark, and their head felt too full and completely empty at the same time. Like a whirlpool was swirling around their brain, leaving anything the liquid touched utterly numb. The only two things they could feel were a cool hard metal against the back of their body and several warm, soft appendages, fingers their brain supplied, massaging their temples.

It felt good, great even, the comforting pressure grounding them in a world where everything was too close and so far. [Hero] wanted to lean into the touch, to hum in appreciation, to do something to make sure that sensation continued. But they couldn’t, their entire body was weighed down by some invisible force, and their limbs wouldn’t respond at all. So all they could do was lay there, in the dark, imprisoned by their own body as the foreign fingers comforted them.

[Hero] wasn’t sure if they had fallen asleep or for how long, but the world slowly faded into being. Their pitch-black world began illuminating with light. The numbness fading as they felt stale air around them, the leather straps holding down their body, and the ever-present fingers gently scratching their scalp, gliding through their hair as the stranger hummed above them.

“You’re awake.” The stranger spoke, a warm smile evident in their voice as [Hero] blinked their eyes open, bright lights shining down upon them. They struggled to tilt their head, their body still weak, to look at the stranger. Their face was upside down as they sat behind [Hero]’s head, next to whatever table they were strapped to. The stranger smiled down at them warmly, pride gleaming in their eyes as they continued to run their fingers through [Hero]’s hair.

[Hero] opened their mouth to speak, but their tongue felt foreign to them, they tried to say something, but they couldn’t figure out how to form the syllables, only able to groan tiredly in response.

“I’m sure you have so many questions.” the stranger continued, “Don’t worry, I’ll answer everything you need to know.”

“Your name is [Hero], and I am [Super Villain], although you can simply think of me as your parent as I have gifted you with rebirth.” [Super Villain] gently smiled down at them.

Rebirth? [Hero] thought to themselves, What does that mean?

Keep reading

Bruce being so done with life because none of his kids treat their medical files on the batcomputer with the importance it deserves. And the worst part is, he can't tell if it's on purpose or if they're all Just Like That.

Dick:

He loves his eldest son but for some reason, he refuses to do anything but put down estimated recovery times in his injuries folder. It's usually in the range of "2 weeks" to "48 hours" but that just leaves Bruce worrying about what happened.

One time, he put down 3 months and he nearly had a heart attack till his son called and told him Kor'i had dumped him and that this was how long he was going to be wallowing.

Jason:

Is nice enough to tell him what happened but doesn't add the degree of injury.

So he'll put down "stabbed" but won't elaborate on whether it was a flesh wound or worse. Bruce goes grey very, very early after Jason is on the field.

Tim:

Gives him just the location of the injury and leaves him to guess what happened.

Could say "arm" or "back of the head" or, on one memorable occasion, "spleen", but won't say what the heck happened to any of those parts.

Was he stabbed?? Shot at?? Who knows. Certainly not Bruce.

Damian:

Only mentions the retribution he got for any injuries he received.

"It's been handled", "he'll never be able to get the drop on me again" and more often than not, just the word "avenged".

Bruce is surprised he has any of his original hair colour left at all.

Duke:

By far the worst one. He writes down injuries in terms of his own pain scale.

Could write "OW!" or "Not Gucci" or "Better than that time Jason hit me in the face with a TV remote".

Once wrote "Non-fatal" which sent Bruce into a spiral because "holy shit Duke?? What do you mean non-fatal?? Yeah I sure hope your injuries weren't lethal?!"

Cass:

Has never been injured on patrol. Often leaves him question marks in her file which...yeah, fair enough.

oooo can i request a drabble for that one post you made about the captured hero and the malicious villain because i want that if you have the time or inspiration. thanks :D

I ended up writing this one twice because I wasn't satisfied with the first, but here we are! Thanks for the request anon!

Add. tag: (@whatwhumpcomments )

Heed tags! Nothing too serious but just to be safe <3

******

Heels. Hero hated the sound of heels. Usually, he could tell what mood Villainess was in by how loud and precise the steps were. This time was different.

The steps were sharper, which typically meant she was determined, but this sound was different. It sounds...hollow. What did that mean? He didn't know, and there wasn't anything he could do to find out, seeing as he was shackled against the wall, except wait until she opened the door- which she did.

White light flooded into the room, and Hero had the sense to close his eyes immediately after he heard the lock of the door click. He let his vision adjust beneath his eyelids before opening them. Not without a couple of claws digging around in his stomach.

It happened- his body's discomfort- every time he acknowledged Villainess was in the same building as him. And when she was in the same room as him- when Hero could see her- his throat swelled like it was trying to keep down the stomach acid he knew his body was trying to toss.

Watching her step in now, Hero had to suppress the whine in his throat. He felt so pathetic, felt like a puppy dog begging for attention. Only, attention was the last thing Hero wanted- because attention was a code word for pain.

Villainess hummed. "What say you we do today?"

Hero only swallowed and screwed his eyes shut. The mere image of Villainess sent him into flurries of panic, and oftentimes begging. Instead, he hyper-focused on any amount of wrath he felt. Hero thoughts of his friends- his team. He wanted to return to them so badly, but his wishful thinking didn't last.

"Come on. Pipe up!" Villainess screeched. "I'm in a good mood today!"

Which is exactly why I'm not. The thought wasn't quipy, not at all. Hero imagined his voice being dreadfully tired; it's how he felt.

"You haven't asked why I'm dressed up."

Hero had noticed the stilettos, and even acknowledged that that was why Villainess' steps had been so much more piercing than usual. Most times she wore clacky boots. Not today.

"I have a banquet to attend to. I'm hostess, actually."

The hero groaned, waiting and waiting for Villainous to do something, anything. The anticipation was worse than the torture itself- so he liked to think.

"Bored, are you? Then how about you tell me what we're doing today?"

He shook his head, eyes still closed. Why did she always try to make him choose how she would torment him? It was cruel, and entirely undeserved. "May-maybe you should just- should get ready for your-"

"What do you think I'm doing now?" Hero looked up, only to see Villainess' mouth lift at either corner.

Don't tell me-

"You are going to the banquet, too. Only," She gripped his pretty chin, tilting it to either side. Villainess hummed. "Did you ever watch Beauty and the Beast?" She waited, but when Hero delivered a continued silence, she demanded an answer, to which he nodded. "Good. Then my little rose will be familiar with his glass cage."

Hero swallowed, tried to pull his head away from her hand, but she followed him in whatever limited space he had. "Is that it then? I'm just going to be on display?" His voice was hopeful, but still shaky. Hero doubted it would be that easy. And he was right.

Villainess' hand finally slid away from her captive's chin, but slid to his shoulder. She picked an invisible fleck off the shoulder of his tattered shirt. "I wish I could mend clothes like I did your skin." Hero shuddered at his too many memories of sliced skin. Villainess was a healer. Any prick, scratch, or mortal wound could be repaired to extraordinary health in a snap. Or she could take her time. It depended on her mood most days.

"But maybe not. I do like your skin. It'd be a shame to always have it covered in cloth." Villainess ran her hand across the holes of Hero's shirt. Her eyes lit up as she saw the goosebumps riddling his flesh. "You know what I'll do?" She took several steps backwards, eyeing Hero like he was bait. Villainess giggled. "I'll write the names of your friends on your arms after I rip the sleeves off."

Hero squinted at his tormentor. "You'll write them?" He tried not to think of what their names meant, or rather what Villainess would intend for them to mean. Instead of seeing their names and thinking of himself as a failure for being caught, he would see himself as- as a distraction. Yeah, that was it. Hero was a distraction. Because as long as Villainess was focused on him, she wouldn't bother trying to find the others.

"Not with ink, silly."

How many times had Hero swallowed since Villainess stepped in today? "With wha- how are you-"

"Well first I'll need a cutting tool. How do you feel about scalpels? I find them to be very convenient." Villainess sighed and let her hand fall from the hero's body. "So much work, so little time. You know your one friend has an eleven letter name? Ridiculous. I'm not even sure I can pronounce it."

Hero grunted. He didn't know if he could handle another day of torture. Every day was the same. Every day, Villainess came in and scraped him down to the bone, or raggedly cut patches of his hair off- oftentimes ticking off pieces of his scalp, or any other amount of physical tortures. "I don't- Please. I can't-"

Villainess stopped, faced her precious prize again. "Well, go on, then."

The worst thing about the villainess having the ability to heal was that nearly everything about her was perfect. If anything became askew- like a broken nose- she could fix it. Even worse, she could make it straighter than it ever was before.

Her ability meant that her teeth, as wolfish as they were, were perfectly straight, perfectly polished, and perfectly spine-chilling.

"If you can't handle it, then try to escape."

For the first time since he'd been captured, Hero snarled. And he did yank at his restraints. The metal holding him to the wall bit against his wrists. His elbows were thrown forward, but otherwise, he hardly moved at all.

He spat, "They'll come for me. They'll come, and they'll kill you before freeing me." Hero hated the way his stomach twisted further as Villainess' smile fell into a straight line. No doubt she was still amused, but whatever was about to happen, it was serious, and Hero didn't know how to prepare for it.

Villainess began the tiny trek back to her captive, eventually leaning into Hero and placing her elbows on his arms- keeping them pinned to the wall. She chuckled, pressing a finger against his lips. Surprised he wasn't biting, she told him in a delicate whisper, "They are dead. Just like I am myself in your dreams." Villainess didn't give him time to bite. She moved her hand from Hero's lips to his chin, grasping it between her slender, witchy fingers, and then throwing his head to the side. Villainess put her weight on a single heel before spinning her back to Hero and walking out, hollering before she shut the door, "I'll be back with my equipment in just a moment, love."

The door shut, and all Hero could do was listen as her footsteps retreated, only to hear them come back again. It couldn't be true, could it? That his team was dead? But then why else would Villainess keep him alive?

She wants a trophy to present. And if the rest of the heroes were dead, Hero was the only thing left to show. Villainess would keep him forever just to remind him- and everyone else- that she'd won.

******

If you liked this, consider buying me a coffee? :D

Every single Kaebedo dynamic is top tier, but one of my favorites that I don’t see people use a lot is when Albedo is everything Kaeya pretends to be and Kaeya’s actually this massive sweetheart who’s scared of getting hurt.

Like, Kaeya has this smooth and distant false exterior, but in reality he’s just got. so much love in his heart. He pretends to be cool and aloof so he can keep people at an arms length because he’s scared of losing them when he gets too close, but he’s just got this heart of gold and is gushing with repressed love. It slips through his mask with Bennett and Klee especially, when he’s looking after those kids as if they were his own.

Meanwhile, Albedo’s ACTUALLY calm and collected, plus he’s a spectacular flirt when he wants to be. He’s lowkey chaotic (bro he eats spiders) but he has such a fantastic poker face that nobody suspects or remembers his antics.

People see them kinda starting to crush on each other and think that Albedo is gonna be flustered by Kaeya’s flirting, but in reality, it’s flipped and Kaeya just melts and blushes at the slightest glance from Albedo and the one time he retains his voice and tries to flirt back, he immediately gets out-flirted by Albedo.

Poor Sucrose is the only person who witnessed it, and she has quite a time trying to get people to believe her story. Nobody is willing to accept that the charming and charismatic cavalry captain was sent stammering and bright red by the quiet, reserved chief alchemist

“I can’t believe I’ve never noticed before.”

“Noticed what?”

“How similar our powers are.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

Hey there! Do you mind writing a snippet about a captured hero in a I-have-you-now-my-pretty situation by a dominating seductive villain? And can you make it very dark please? Thank you so much and I absolutely love your writing!

"There now, isn't this much better?" the villain murmured, stroking their fingers through the hero's damp hair. "You're so pretty beneath all the grime and the blood."

"I prefer the grime and the blood."

"I might also prefer you nice and quiet. Consider that."

"Oh," the hero's eyes darkened, "no doubt. What's more attractive than your prey being forced docile, unable to fight back?"

The villain raised a brow, in the reflection of the mirror. "You. Trying to fight me. Failing."

The hero felt bile claw up their throat at that. They resisted the urge to swallow, to tense; it wouldn't do them any good, and it would probably only serve to delight the creep.

The villain seemed to catch it anyway, because they smiled.

"I do like your spirit," the villain mused. They continued to stroke through the hero's hair, carefully and diligently untangling every knots and snarl. "You're beautiful when you're angry. Defiant. You get this fiery, helpless look in your eyes. The blush is also very becoming. So, you see...it wouldn't be half as fun if you didn't try to fight back."

The hero studied them, trying to decide if that was reverse psychology. They might have preferred it if it was reverse psychology.

The villain laughed, softly, at whatever expression they saw on the hero's face.

The hero jerked their head away. It felt good for all of three seconds before the villain reeled them back in with a much harder yank, making the hero's breath catch. They pulled the hero's head back against the chair, baring their throat.

Perhaps as punishment for moving, or perhaps simply because they could, the villain leaned down over their shoulder to press a kiss to the hero's throat. It looked positively vampiric in the glass. The hero half expected teeth. They hated that they shivered. They hated that they couldn't look away, in the spirit of car crashes, natural disasters and other terrible fascinating things.

The villain's smile edged a fraction sharper, a fraction smugger. They held the hero's eyes as they trailed more kisses along the hero's neck, across their racing pulse, until the hero was taut.

"Go on," the villain whispered. "Tell me not to touch you again. Dealer's choice on if you try a threat, command or plea."

"I think I might prefer me nice and quiet."

"Mm." The villain straightened. They turned their attention to the hero's appearance again, considering. "I knew you liked me too."

"That's not - I don't -"

The villain's smile turned positively wolfish.

The hero snarled; too frustrated for words, too...well. Too many things. Frustrated was the best pick. Better than fear, sinking and entirely too helpless.

The annoying thing was that it did feel better to be clean, with their wounds tended. It simply didn't feel better to have had the villain force them into a bath and out of their own clothes. It was like having their identity, their resistance, scrubbed away alongside the dirt. Dressed in the villain's clothes, with the villain's scent clinging to their skin, it was impossible to forget where they were for even a moment.

It was impossible to forget who the villain thought they belonged to.

There were times when the villain could be charming, seductive. When they first met the hero had even been flattered. The problem was that, after the seduction and shiny polish of it all had worn off, it was perfectly obvious that the villain didn't actually care if the hero was seduced or not. It was a preference - not a requirement. The villain would do as they pleased regardless.

Hopefully, the hero's friends would get there soon.

(They had to get there soon, right?)

"So pretty," the villain murmured once more. "And all mine. Let's go show you off, shall we?"

"I'm not yours." The hero had to say it. Even when they knew it was a trap, even when their voice came out hoarse, they had to say.

The villain laughed again, and swivelled the chair around so that they were facing each other. They smoothed their hands down the hero's trembling thighs. Then, their expression turned cold, as absolute as an old black-and-white fairytale, as unstoppable a death. They leaned in.

"Oh, darling. By the time I'm done with you tonight, you will be."