#(that's more or less on their side at least)

[lxvvie]

By his estimate, Simon was supposed to have left about thirty minutes ago.

That’s what you did after you had sex and got your rocks off. You get dressed, leave with no fuss as soon as it was over, y’know, and make it a little less awkward than it already was. At least, that’s what Simon always did.

And as always, shit gets flipped on its head when it comes to you.

Thirty minutes ago, he would’ve made it home; he’d have showered, smoked, went to bed, slept like shit, and be ready for the next day. Rinse and repeat. Instead he’s here with you, naked as the day he was born, covered in your sweat and his, covered in your cum and his, and Simon would be a lying bastard if he said he wouldn’t feel a certain way if you kicked him out.

You hadn’t thus far and that’s a good thing. He thinks.

It’s you two, side by side, coming down from that high, body humming from your nighttime activities, and you’re basking in the not-so-awkward silence. He’s staring at the ceiling, you’re probably thinking… or, er, probably not, and Simon’s a little curious but not enough to want to ruin the mood. Which a lie from the pits of hell. You hadn’t moved or said a word, and it’s getting to Simon more than he lets on.

But bloody fuckin’ hell, what do you say after something like this? Thanks for the sex, sweetheart, be seein’ you or Felt good, didn’t it, luv? What about I don’t think I can leave you, let’s go another round so I won’t have to? Jesus Christ, you’re a fuckin’ mess, Riley.

Not that it matters, though, not really, because “nothing ventured, nothing gained” is Simon Riley’s motto when it comes to you and rather than say anything, he simply grabs your hand to gauge the atmosphere. It’s light, gentle, and uncertain, words he’d never use to describe himself but he gets the point across.

After a moment, he figures he miscalculated until you respond in turn, one-upping him and intertwining your fingers together and no, his heart absolutely did not skip a beat. Bloody hell. He turned, glanced down at your hands connected, looked up at you and to his surprise, you met him head on. How long had you been staring at him, sweetheart?

Not that it matters, though, not really, because your face is inching closer and while Simon is many things, ungrateful ain’t one of them, and if you think you’re just gonna leave him with a kiss on the forehead or cheek then you’re sorely mistaken, sweetheart.

But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

And now it’s Simon’s turn to one-up you this time. He meets you halfway, doesn’t give a damn what happens afterward (he does, more than you’ll ever know), and brushes his lips against yours. It’s light, gentle, and uncertain, words he’d never use to describe himself but he gets the point across. And so do you.

Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.

[miaoua3]

One Headlock, Pretty Please?

(pairing: scoups x f!reader)

SAW THIS PIC AND SUDDENLY I NEED HIM TO FUCK ME FROM BEHIND WHILE HAVING ME IN A HEADLOCK SO…BON APETIT GUYS

Warnings: smut (MDNI), headlock and choking, spanking, pwp, p in v sex

you moan in pleasure, so loudly the echo of it bounces off the walls of your bedroom. to be completely honest, your knees and hands are starting to hurt from seungcheol having you on your fours for an hour now, more or less, but he’s fucking you so good that you forget to complain.

you weren’t sure what has gotten into you, but whatever it is, it’s a bit embarrassing. or it will be, once you reach the big o and all rationality comes back up to your head.

it has all just gotten too much-you finished your period so it has been a few emotional days, and now you are ovulating, cheol has been gone on tour for way too long, the concerts limiting your communication. and on top of that, no orgasm that you have had in the time cheol has been gone could compare to the ones he gives you so you have been cranky to say the least.

the minute your boyfriend walked through your door unannounced, you got up and ran up to him, immediately kissing him breathless.

cheol didn’t think too much of it in the beginning but after a few minutes of you two kissing, your kisses didn’t persist but instead only got harsher, faster and needier.

cheol wasn’t going to complain, but your behaviour was quite unusual. so despite his better judgement, he paused your kiss to hoarsely ask you “what’s gotten into you, baby?”

you whined in response, grabbing onto the back of his hair to pull him back towards you.

“just fuck me already cheol, i’ve missed you so much.”

well, that did it for cheol.

so now, he’s got you on your hands and knees, fucking you harshly from behind. the skin slapping one of the only sounds in your room, along with his groans and dirty words, as well as you moans and whines.

his hands grip your hips and love handles harshly, pulling you into him with every thrust. he grips onto you so hard that tomorrow, when you look in the mirror, you will see the traces of his presence in the form of handprints.

he groans as he feels your pussy squeezing him, your walls pulsing around him, milking him like a maniac.

cheol swears to god that he could cum any second now from how good you feel around him. as it turns out, you weren’t the only one who was missing the other. he can’t even count on his two hands how many times he has spilled hand while on tour, wishing that his fist were your tight little pussy.

as he’s pounding into you, letting a spank or two land onto your ass cheeks, he feels your upper body giving out a bit, your chest almost touching the bedsheets underneath you.

cheol can’t have none of that.

his chest comes in contact with your back, hand reaching over your shoulder so he can grab your neck, squeezing lightly and pulling you back to your full height, the action making you choke up a gasp.

with his lips right against your ear, he whispers “where are you going baby? i thought you needed me to fuck you? where is your insatiable little pussy going?”, finishing with one, two harsh spanks to your right ass cheek.

you scream in pleasure, making a mental note to avoid eyes with your upstairs neighbours next time you see them as you do so. his dick hammering into you, leaking tip repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

while lost in pleasure, your hand comes to grab his automatically, pulling on it. what you don’t realise is that you pull onto it so hard that he topples over you a bit, his hand slamming onto the bed harshly to stop you two from face planting into the mattress.

a bit startled and annoyed at your impatience, cheol’s arm automatically comes and wrap around your neck, your cheeks getting squeezed by both his biceps and forearm from both sides.

cheol groans in annoyance, tightening his hold onto your neck. “calm the fuck down and let me fuck you like a good girl i know you are.”

the headlock, the deep voice, the attitude, the dominance, the dick massaging your walls.

it all gets too much for you, plus the pleasure that has been going on for over an hour now, it all crashes out in a second, making you gasp repeatedly “im cumming, im cumming”.

cheol feels your tight pussy squeeze so much around his dick, it makes him gasp in shock.

knowing that he has a few more seconds of you orgasming, he gets right to work, fucking you so fast, like never before.

it takes him a minute to feel himself close to cumming, his arm still squeezing your neck tightly. you have been crying from overstimulation for a bit now, making him go that much faster.

one thrust, two, three and he’s spilling inside of you, hips stuttering as he tries to reach the new depth inside you with his dick, his cum creaming inside of you and consequentially spilling from your insides.

just as the last moan escapes him, you feel your arms give out from beneath you, making you two fall together into the soft bed.

heavy breathing fills the room, his dick still pulsing inside of you. almost like he had the same thought, cheol slowly pulls out of you and moves you two so you are laying on your sides, the same arm that was wrapped around your neck just a minute ago now acting as your pillow.

you try to regain both your self awareness and your breath, things in front of you still a bit blurry. in the meantime, cheol kisses the back of your neck and your cheek, sweetly nuzzling his nose against your skin, inhaling the smell that is home-you.

seeing that you are still out of it, he uses two fingers to move your head to the side so he can see you. struggling to focus on him, you hum in question.

you boyfriend just chuckles at your hazy expression, pressing a quick but deep kiss to your lips.

not straying too far away, he mumbles “where’s my girl, hm? things still a bit hazy for you?”.

being so out of it, you can’t even properly respond to him, another hum greeting him as response.

he chuckles some more at your cuteness, pressing another kiss to your lips.

leaning his forehead against your own, his fingers that he used to turn your head rub your cheeks softly. a gentle smile grazes the corner of his lips as he looks at you, admiring you in all your sweaty, confused but blissful, and most importantly, beautiful state.

with so much affection in his voice, he just mumbles “my girl…my sweet girl…i’ve missed you.”

you don’t respond back just yet but he doesn’t need your words to know that you’ve missed him just as much.

[notquitecanon]

some clever sleep pun title // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon's been spoiled and didn't even realize it. Now his bed isn't as warm as it used to be.

Tw: freak obsessive loser Simon, mentions of sex/boners, sleepy reader, Simon's lowkey manipulative but nothing too insidious.

Two weeks. Simon Riley had been spoiled into two weeks of sharing a bed with you. Sure it hadn't been under the best of circumstances- ratty safe houses with little to no central heating, sleeping bags in camps that weren't safe enough to light fires, catching an hour or so of shut-eye on cargo flights between hot zones. It was a convenience thing, if not a necessity in some cases.

After all, the cold weather gear you'd been issued just simply wasn't up to snuff. And the safe house was cold and damp. The campsites were windy. The flights were drafty and turbulent. And- you were soft and warm and fit right under his chin like you were made to be there. Two weeks of less-than-ideal conditions, and it was the best sleep Simon Riley had in years.

Initially, he hadn't made the connection between you and good sleep. He had assumed it was just the intensity of the mission that had worn him out so much he had no choice but to get good sleep. So, he'd been all too excited to get back home to his own bed, all by himself. Pub dinner, a scalding shower, a proper cuppa, good wank, and his own bed.

For the first hour at least, until no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the sheets to warm up just right. He used to enjoy sprawling out when he laid down, but it seemed like he had too much space now- which was not a common feeling for someone as large as Simon. The detergent scent on his sheets wasn't comforting, wasn't warm enough. His blankets weren't heavy enough.

It took him another hour to answer the question- how had damp mattresses and sleeping bags on forest floors been more comfortable than his own bed in his own flat? He could feel the weariness in his bones, he could feel the comfort he craved... but it just wasn't enough.

So the common denominator had to be you.

"Fuckin' Hell." Simon groaned in the darkness of his bedroom, rubbing a calloused hand up and down his face before rolling himself to the side of the bed and swinging his feet over. Sweats were pulled over his boxers, socks and trainers on his feet, a hoodie over his bare chest, and a clean neck gaiter to pull over the bottom half of his face. Then it was a short 2 AM train ride and a three-block walk into base housing.

Of course, you lived in base housing. That meant a small bed, and a shitty mattress, less than fifteen minutes of hot water at a time..., He spent almost a month away from his flat and now he's crawling to base housing in the middle of the night like a fucking barracks bunny in need of a good fuck. Well, he might not turn that down either...

He shook the thought out of his head, remembering how wide-eyed and flushed you'd been the first three nights you'd shared the safehouse mattress with the lieutenant. Keep ignoring how that look on your face sent blood straight south How still and tense you were at first, shivering and locked up until you tucked into his chest, relaxing as sleep took you. The awkward tense period had waned quicker every night until it became the end-of-day habit for you to curl directly into his chest, falling asleep almost instantly no matter if it was on a damp mattress, forest floor, or sat up against cargo crates.

His mind flitted back to base housing as he raised his fist to beat on your door. Base housing. If you were what it took to get a good night's sleep when off duty, well, his mind was already strategizing the best ways to get you out of base housing and into off-base housing. (Preferably his off-base housing- in his bed.)

A minute passed. No answer. With another grumbled stream of curses, Simon shuffled tiredly on his feet, rubbing his eyes and contemplating just scaling up to the window, but decided against it. He didn't need to deal with base MPs getting called for what would look like an attempted burglary. So instead, his fist rapped even harder on your door, casting trained looks over his shoulder as he did.

Another minute, no answer. His fist raised again, but before he could rain holy (sleepy) hell on your door, it flew open.

Fuck. He was gone. He'd never sleep well alone again.

Just the sight of you and he could feel his brain finally producing sleep chemicals. The door blew a breeze of soft smells at him- detergent, your shampoo, some candle he might have to steal on his way out... and revealed you, only one eye open, hair sleep-mussed and jutting out in every direction, fuzzy socks, one pulled up your calf and the other slouched around your ankle, fluffy house shoes....

"LT?" You questioned with clear confusion, clearly exhausted, maybe not even all the way awake, voice thick and slow with sleep. Unfair you'd been able to sleep just fine on your own while he was pacing the city like an addict, "What are you- what time is it?"

"2:45 in th' morning." He answered gruffly, as usual, already shouldering, albeit gently, into your home. Your home was annnoyingly the perfect temperature, and everything smelled, looked, and felt like you. His nose wrinkled under his mask, frustrated at how much it put him at ease, and made him just want to curl up and hibernate through this cold snap they'd come home to. He'd take anything at this point- your bed, your couch, the floor at the foot of your bed.

"Right." You nodded, letting him past you without much of a fight, closing and locking your door with a sleepy kind of clumsiness, taking a few times to latch the chain before turning back to him. Simon absently wondered how much he could talk to you while keeping you in a sleepy stupor. He also wondered why the thought was so endearing to him as you mumbled, "Wha's going on? Don' tell me we're getting shipped off again already.."

"No' yet." Simon's chest clenched almost worryingly when you bumped into the corner of your couch, rocked on your heels, and then continued on like you hadn't noticed the collision, "Couldn't sleep."

"So now we both suffer?" You mused, the eye you had closed opening halfway as you chuckled at your lame joke, interrupted by a yawn.

"Prefer not to." Simon shrugged and before you could register it, he was already herding you up the stairs with a gentle efficiency that put any working breed to shame, enjoying the upwards view of the little sleep shorts that differed so much from what you'd worn in the field. He wondered if he'd sleep even better with the feeling of your bare thighs wrapped around his, "Lemme sleep here tonight, lovie? Just tonight?"

The just tonight part was probably a lie. But he'd use it as many nights as you'd let him get away with it. The pet name had honestly just slipped in his exhaustion, waking you up just enough that both of your eyes opened and widened, heat creeping up your cheeks. You paused on the steps, bumping directly into Simon's chest as he kept inching you closer to the bedroom. No, he wanted you back in that sleepy agreeable place, so his warm hand splayed across the soft fabric of your sleep shirt, gently rubbing at the small of your back to keep you moving.

"Please, love, go' used ta sleeping with you." He hummed as he guided you into your bedroom, finding the pile of blankets you no doubt had crawled out of to answer his knocking. So many blankets, had you been cold without him? Was the pillow lying longways beside your spot a limp substitute for his chest? He wouldn't ask, he'd just let his assumptions feed his ego. You were back to your lazy shuffling, chest shuddering with another yawn, "C'mon, sweetness, let's get y' ta bed, you're exhausted."

It was easy to gently manhandle you back into bed, your eyes already fluttering as his hands smoothed over your side and legs, brushing some hair out of your face. So maybe it was unfair, to kneel right by your bedside and ask in that low, deep accent, "So- can I stay?"

"Mmmhm, stay." You breathed. Simon smirked under his mask- so eager, not even an 'I guess'. Still, he wasn't going to ask twice, slipping himself into your bed and curling around you just as he had for the past two weeks. The relief was instant, his own eyes already getting too heavy to keep open for long.

The sheets were already warmed by your dozing, and with his added body heat, he could shove some of those extra blankets off. He'd keep you plenty warm. When he pulled you into him, he still had enough room to stretch his long legs out but didn't feel like he was swimming in space. Your pillowcases smelled soft, he didn't know things could smell soft but they did, tinged with your shampoo and perfume and whatever detergent you used. And the weight of your head in the crook of his arm, your arm over his chest, was just right.

He was out in seconds. Good luck ever having your bed to yourself ever again.

___

You've heard of give a dog a bone, now get ready for 'give a soldier a good nights sleep'. Simon is Goldilocks, and your bed is just right. Or maybe the 'give a mouse a cookie' book but this time its just your boss bullying his way into your life (bed) because he's sleepy and touch starved.

[genderkoolaid]

maybe my least favorite anti-autistic stereotype is the trope that autistic people are ultra-rational and thus chock full of bigotry. like house m.d does this*, bones does this, i'm pretty sure the good doctor also did this with their trans episode. allistic showrunners looovee writing an autistic character who says blatantly racist, sexist, ableist, etc. things & justifies it by saying that autistics are simply too Rational and Incapable Of Understanding Emotion to pretend that our current social hierarchies aren't natural!

it sucks for one because it promotes the stereotype that all autistics are hypoempathetic, AND that being hypoempathetic means that you uncritically believe bigotry. but it ALSO sucks because it also promotes the idea that bigotry is driven by rationality and being anti-bigotry is driven by irrational emotions. and that the fight for social justice is really about making people set aside their rational bigoted beliefs because its mean. rather than making arguments based on the actual material evidence of oppression, and how the logic of oppression is deeply flawed and often extremely contradictory because it's only goal is maintaining power. and how that is in fact morally wrong.

my examples are mostly TV but i was thinking about this while rewatching munecat's video debunking evopsych (around 2:47:06). in which an evopsych guy is justifying a misogynistic paper arguing that women are less inclined towards STEM because Evolution, by saying that the author is "Aspy" and thus ~too rational to tone himself down for The Woke~. It's such bullshit and it hides behind aspie supremacy and fantastical ideas of autistic people as robots instead of human beings filled with biases and fallacies and yes, EMOTIONS, in order to push the narrative that bigotry is rational and the left is motivated by our squishy soft womanly irrational empathy rather than the fact that systemic racism objectively exists and misogyny is a self-contradictory mess.

also it's just a way of avoiding the reality of their own bigotry. if misogyny isn't scientifically valid, then that means they must choose to hold misogynistic beliefs, rather then those beliefs being natural. which means they have to actually grapple with the question of whether or not it is moral to maintain a misogynistic system rather than deconstructing it and creating a more equal society. if misogyny is just Nature and Facts and Logic then they can pretend that it's all out of their hands! they want to side-step the question of whether or not its right by arguing making an appeal to evolution as some divine ruler which will destroy our society if we ever deviate from 1950s US social hierarchies.

*to give this show credit, it has other reasons why house is Like That, and he also has plenty of moments where he criticizes the status quo and/or the audience is meant to disagree with his behavior/views. but they still do engage in "house is bigoted and his bigotry is justified by the story" such as in the infamous asexuality episode. but the writers also refused to make him canonically autistic even when they wrote him Like That so who gives a fuck

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green, Part 26

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

“Hey, chum, you’re up early,” Bruce said, his own voice still rough with more exhaustion than sleep. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the mess of black hair as he passed the kitchen table. “Didn’t sleep great?”

Danny blinked up at Bruce. His startled eyes glowed faintly green eyes in the dim, more night than morning light of the kitchen. He clutched his coffee mug like a lifeline.

Bruce pulled his hand away from Danny’s hair and took a small step back. He kept his arms carefully relaxed at his side, palms forward. “I’m sorry Danny, was that too much touch? It’s fine if you feel it was. I was acting on habit, like I would with my other kids.”

“No, um, it was nice. I just didn’t think that you would… we were…,” Danny wiped at his eyes with his sweater sleeve in a jerky, frustrated motion. “Sorry. Just was a rough night, and I guess I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”

“That’s more than understandable.”

It was only the second day after Danny had told them everything. The kids had spent that first night building an impressive pillow fort and watching movies all night. The day after was basically a game of distracting Danny. It wasn’t a surprise that it was all hitting Danny now.

“Do you need any more coffee?” Bruce offered.

Danny offered up his cup silently and Bruce too it over to the kraft. Coffee with creamer for Danny while Bruce added a splash of creamer and sugar to his own. He took the seat next to Danny when he got back to the table, careful not to step on Ursa, who was sleeping under the chairs, snuggled against Danny’s blue bear.

“Danny, you’re my kid, chum.”

Danny looked down at his coffee. “I’m your clone.”

“You’re a child,” Bruce said gently. “Specifically you’re a child with my genetic make-up. You just have more of it than normal. That doesn’t make you any less my kid. I… can be bad at words. I am, often, especially when it matters most. I say a lot more through actions and touch. I am trying to be better. Danny, you are my kid. This is your home whenever you need it to be, and I love you as much as any of my children. You don’t have to earn or wait for it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Danny said with a sniffle as he scrubbed at his eyes again. “Can I—is it okay to ask for a hug?”

Bruce held open is arms and Danny flung himself into them. Bruce pressed another kiss to Danny’s hair. “More than.”

-

After breakfast, showering, and more coffee and tea than was probably healthy for one family to consume, those that were still in the house settled outside on the patio. They watched Dick and Danny frolic about with the dogs in the yard; Damian was watching from the sidelines.

“Damian is going to be tackled by a dog soon,” Tim commented, almost absently, as he glanced up from his tablet.

“Yeah, he totally is,” Duke agreed. He was stretched out in his chair, feet up on an ottoman, and half looking like he was ready to fall back asleep.

Bruce smiled slightly. “I’m sure that he’ll manage to survive the attack.”

“After screaming about it,” Jason added.

Bruce nodded in agreement. There probably would be screaming; it would wake Duke up. At least it would be a lively mid-morning. It’s a shame that Danny was still healing, or they could go swimming later. Well, the pool would still be there another day. They had time.

“So,” Tim said. He glanced up from his tablet again to catch Bruce’s attention. “What are your plans about Danny?”

Jason snorted. “So clinical, Timbit.”

Tim flicked Jason off.

Bruce sighed, “Boys.”

“Bruce,” the two of them chirped together, utterly unrepentant.

Bruce valiantly resisted the urge to sigh again. “I’ll arrange a press conference once we are sure that his back story and papers are iron clad. I’m sure that Barbara has already been work on it, along with you, Tim.”

Tim just shrugged, unrepentant. “It seemed prudent to. We haven’t decided anything concrete, though Babs may have started to hack into things in Michigan to have access down the right bread crumbs. We figured sticking midwest was best, even if he doesn’t have much of an accent.”

Bruce hummed in reply.

“What’s going to be your excuse for his scars?” Jason asked.

It was true there would be no hiding them.

“His mother was a casual affair,” Bruce said. He pulled together the threads of a plan as he spoke. “She never let me know that she was pregnant, though after being abroad for a time she did reach out to me hoping to meet up in a few months. I thought nothing of it until Danny showed up. We were old acquaintances but never socially that close. It turns out that she died in child birth before we could ever meet again. Danny went to live with a someone estranged aunt. While the inheritance money from his mother’s estate lasted, things were neglectful but manageable. When it started to not live up to the Aunt’s desired lifestyle, she became cruel and methodical in her abuse.

“Desperate and trapped, Danny started to look for new hiding places in the house. It lead him to finding his mother’s journals. Her thoughts, some old letters, and the occasional picture. He started to put things together. He risked taking his Aunt’s cellphone one evening when she was drunk and looked me up. He made a plan to come this way however he could manage. Enraged at losing her meal ticket, and social standing with him, the aunt went into a rage. She died in a drunk car accident when she drove into a light post the same night Danny ran.”

“Right. You’re scarily good at that,” Jason said after a beat. “I guess then we just go more with the truth. He arrived in Gotham, got stabbed, and ended up on the Bat’s radar. They took care of him of him until he was ready to tell his story and meet you.”

“That’s two more people that we need to make a paper trail for,” Tim grumbled.

“Annalise Linwood. I met her in boarding school,” Bruce said softly as he watched his children play. “I would be seen in her company on and off throughout the years. She had reached out to me for help on how to approach the birth of her child from an affair she was having. The father was a sometimes violent sort who she had used to think she could save. She died in childbirth, as did her child. Her estranged sister was her only living relative after a tragic accident with small aircraft the year before. The sister was reclusive unless she was drunk, or so Annalise had said once. It would be easy to assume she home schooled Danny and kept him out of the social eye. So, no, we just need to fake the paperwork for Danny.”

Bruce could feel Jason’s eyes on him.

“Oh.”

Bruce smiled softly, sadly. “It is changing the story of the dead, but Annalise was looking forward to being a mother. I think she would be alright with it, if it helped a child out.”

“Right, one set of paper trails,” Tim said quietly. “I’ll make sure Babs gets the information.”

There was a sudden shout from the lawn as Damian went down under the weight of Titus. Duke jolted awake and scrambled to not fall of his chair. Jason barked out a laugh as he tried to help catch Duke. Tim took photos. Danny ran over to help Damian, Ursa on his heels.

Yes, Bruce thought, Annalise would be alright with this.

---

an: great, now I'm emotional over a filler oc I made! ;-;

[merchantziro]

I feel like adding to this...

Starting off with Ben, I definitely feel like he'd probably be a League contact in the same way Jenny is, but Ben isn't an official member since he's sticking with the Plumbers (did have Azmuth help patch the Omnitrix to connect to other JL Communicators though similar to how it's connected to Plumber's Badgers, easier for Ben to keep track of that way.) and the Plumbers fall into an area where they deal with intergalactic threats just as much as the Lanterns do and not strictly tied to the Justice League.

Now Kevin Levin however... I can 100% see being a mechanic who helps tune up and repair Justice League vehicles such as spaceships. Not to mention he probably conveniently knows a lot of stuff about alien technology, illegal parts, and the alien criminal underworld. (He probably gets along well with Plastic Man in that regard as former criminals turned heroes, or at least retired hero in Kev's case)

Granted he's probably one of the individuals the League is more "in the know" of since Ben himself is a world famous hero but since the attention was more on Ben and Kevin stopped being near him as much ever since Omniverse, when he found a home and job so he could stay close to Gwen's campus while she was at college, and Ben's partner became Rook.

Also I want to imagine as an alternative to Ben himself, you have Albedo working on the Watchtower. Not fully redeemed mind you, just on parole but the Plumbers didn't need any more Galvans so the Justice League was the next best choice for keeping an eye on him (maybe that's why Kevin is there), still stuck as a 10 Year Old Ben which also makes getting taken seriously difficult by the heroes and other geniuses when he gives his input.

Of course all it takes is one comment about cursing this stupid body and mentioning he's a clone technically speaking that Danny "My daughter/sister/cousin/it's complicated is my clone" Fenton and Conner "Clone of Superman who definitely had a strained relationship for a time but made it work eventually" Kent to immediately begin working on a clone support group for other clones (assuming they didn't already have one ready).

So you could make a case for him at least slipping through the cracks somewhat for at least a decent chunk of the League.

I also like to imagine that alongside Dipper and Randy in Archives is Dib Membrane, but one who is relatively more chilled out by this point ever since Zim basically proved himself to no longer be a threat to the world (whether he's basically quit his Irken invasion plans once he finally truly realized the Tallest had no care for Earth or just got caught by the Plumbers or Lanterns is up to you).

Since then Dib has been more active in researching the Supernatural after aliens and magic became more public knowledge in the wake of Superheroes, no less crazy than before mind you... But at least he's calmed down once he's felt vindicated by being proven he was right about SOME stuff.

Sunset Shimmer meanwhile... Considering she lives in the DC Universe here and there are PLENTY of magic users, I can see her studying in the background at some point once the knowledge of magic becomes more public. Maybe learn to tap into that Pony-Up form she has and regain access to her original Unicorn magic power. Probably also helps Dipper, Randy, and Dib on the side as another Supernatural magic expert with knowledge she's retained from Equestria, she was Princess Celestia's student before Twilight after all.

Also all I can imagine is Sunset realizing when a situation gets BAD enough that she has to send an SOS for backup from Twilight using that magic book of hers that's connected to another in Equestria.

The League rumors run WILD after the fact when Shimmer snitches to a post timeskip Twilight Sparkle about a big bad guy they need help with, and suddenly you have an Alicorn Princess just show up out of nowhere with the rest of the Mane 6 in tow, 100% prepared to nuke the sucker with the Magic of Friendship to just turn them to stone or maybe banish them by sealing them inside moon or sun if you want, then immediately say hi and bye to Sunset as they leave without explaining anything.

There was also the mention of Spud from Jake Long: American Dragon and I can imagine Jake himself, as the (potentially former) American Dragon of the World Dragons, is just there to help Dipper and Dib in archiving as he writes down what he knows of the Supernatural. The Justice League Dark takes a long time to realize Jake, as well as probably Dipper, Danny, Randy, Juniper, Sunset, and Dib are adding these notes the JLD don't remember writing themselves.

However I would also like to add for consideration...

A guy who was formerly a scholar that researched bugs, before eventually getting a job on the Watchtower helping the other Supernatural Experts in archiving though his specialization appears to be with more in the realm of Ki/Chi and such, however you would also find him working near the Gym in his off hours.

The rumors only started for him when he was caught lifting a dumbbell with one hand while reading with an old martial arts book in the other, before eventually swapping hands as he seemed preoccupied to notice.

...A dumbbell designed specifically for the Supers and Wonders.

So yeah Mr. Gohan Son became the new hot topic of the rumors while he was getting along great with the rest of his fellow employees. I can see him getting along great and even seeming delighted by discussions with other Ki/Chi users such as Jake with his Human Chi and Dragon Chi, probably mentioning his father and Vegeta having both Mortal Ki and Godly Ki as a result of ascending into Gods themselves. A discussion that leads to more wild speculation from almost every single person in earshot, probably about Gohan being a Demi-God son of a God, and the speculation comes to Sun Wukong due to Gohan talking about his father Goku and his adventures with a magical staff, a magic cloud, and his monkey tail.

However despite the Great Saiyaman being retired mostly, Gohan does remain semi-active as a protector of Earth when needed. But the Z-Fighters aren't exactly in the public eye much and Gohan looks way different from when did at the Cell Games as the Golden Fighter, that it was easy for people to overlook him.

On a side note. I imagine him working on his book, Groundbreaking Science, on the side. A book from Dragon Ball Online talking about his research into the nature of ki and of the martial arts of the past that was popular and helped introduce the concept of ki to the general population of Earth in a possible future at least. Though here it would probably have other information and such thanks to the input from others knowledgeable on Ki/Chi on the Watchtower that Gohan talked to.

However I also imagine how terrible an idea that would be with the amount of villains on Earth there are already, like we don't need a super powered Joker flying around.

Not to mention the Bats especially with how much of a menace they would become if they learned how to manipulate Ki to fly and fire energy blasts, they're already scary enough as like PEAK Human in their world. And Super Kami Dende help you if these fuckers learned the Kaioken because you KNOW they're gonna push it to borderline suicidal lengths.

They are gonna be on the edge of killing themselves between potential Ki Overuse and the Kaioken so much, that I can already feel Alfred's ghost approaching me with the shotgun for writing this.

Anyway... I can only imagine the gagglefuck of retired teen heroes and such just forming their own mini branch of the Justice League in the same way the Justice League Dark, Young Justice, and Teen Titans are. Probably also have Ben, Jenny, and Kim as well since, even if they're not fully retired, it's not uncommon to see them come up from time to time to visit their respective friends/family or need to talk to one of the Justice League members in person about something (or a combination where they ignore "the experts" to get the input of one of the retired ex-teen heroes instead).

Most of them, they're the ones you call when you need advice or assistance with any random thing because many have varying knowledge and at least one can usually help in any niche subject. But they also are a last resort call for World Ending "All Hands on Deck" emergencies when they're in some real shit.

Short DPXDC Prompts #648

The League gets incredibly concerned that their main tech mechanic, Danny Fenton, has instances of his heart or breathing randomly stopping. His skin is cold as ice and his skin is deathly pale.

Danny didn’t realize that the League doesn’t look at hiring applications. If they did they would have seen that he put being a half ghost on his resume.

[artytaeh]

𓆸 ֗ ˳ DRABBLE : [ meschinità ostinata ] 𔓘

theodore is a man of patience, or at least that's what his reserved behavior hints at. obviously, everyone has a limit; if you made your moodiness his problem, then he'll make his annoyance yours. it's only fair, right?

taglist : p in v, hinting towards theodore being a brat tamer. no further descriptions because i don't ruin surprises. obvious +18 content; read at your own risk.

"you're not stopping, are you?" the thick italian accent doesn't cover for the clear tease within his tone, a breathy chuckle leaving theodore's lips, as his hand smacks another slap to your asscheeks: "come on, tesoro; you have a lot to apologize for, don't you?"

one would have thought that, from the way theodore seems oh so patient with his girlfriend, that any annoyance would be sucked up, forgiven and forgotten. although theo is a good boyfriend... he's also a slytherin, and slytherins rarely forget resentments without a good bribery, you know? like a serpent, theo cunningly waits for the right time to strike.

in a more rational part of your mind — since everything else seems to become too blurry and white out.from the pleasure that keeps poking on that sweet spot, again, and again and again —, you ponder about regret.

should you have been impatient this afternoon? no, it wasn't fair to push your pettiness and moody behavior onto theodore, especially not when the italian was just trying to smoke his afternoon cigarette, hopefully to expel some accumulated stress, from this week's assignments.

do you regret it? not exactly.

how can anyone regret anything, if the outcome is theodore nott under you, blue eyes piercing into your soul with the cockiness of who knows what he's doing — gaze dispersing from your fucked out expression, only to stare in marvel at the way your chest bounces with every. single. movement. of your hips? oh, he's loving this.

theo loves your bratty side.

it's not a secret either. why do you think he likes the sassy ones? the comebacks make him laugh, and theo definitely laughs harder when he gets you so tired and fucked out of your attitude, that not even a huff of annoyance he gets out of you.

and he's working in that direction.

well, it's more accurate to say that he's making you work for that.

his hand lazily settles on your hip, caressing the skin already tainted with darkening fingermarks; so what? it feels so damn good to be inside you, it always has theodore muttering in italian—cursing and praising, depending on his tone, you've learned from pure experience. the other one, as if to taunt your attempts of scolding his unhealthy habit of smoking, holds a cigarette between his index and ring finger.

you know, the ones he used to impatiently prepare you for his cock, still wet with your slick. theo loves to feel you drooling for him, already fidgety and sensitive when he slips inside you — or, in this case, having seen you sink onto his painfully hard erection. the heaven's view, he swears.

taking a drag from his cigarette, theodore ponders whether you deserve an incentive, or to have him being mean with you. weren't you so smart earlier?

his fingers bruise the skin on your hipbone yet again, this time thrusting up for a harsh thrust, contrasting with this slow rhythm you're providing. theo scoffs, "seriously, is this your way to apologize for your bitchy behavior? dai, amore, non deludermi."

as if it's that easy to make your body work faster; it's already uncomfortable to be in this position, especially overwhelmed from his fingers!

not that theo cares about that, anyway.

another harsh slap to your asscheeks; a raise of his left eyebrow, and you know that he's losing his patience: "don't make me do it for you, dolcezza. i'll rip manners out of you."

and as delightful as that sounds, you're not sure if you could take that sort of overstimulation today. not when you're already like this, even less when theodore is savoring the idea of bullying your pretty lips and sensitive core.

so, hands falling for support on his abdomen, you do your best to ignore the aching on your thighs — perhaps you should do this more often or exercise? — you force yourself to lift your hips, only to slam them again until theodore is so deep inside you, that your clit makes a wet mess of his groin. theodore fucking loves that, expelling the smoke from his lips with a breathless chuckle, head tilting back to the headboard.

yeah, mattheo is probably sleeping in the common room tonight.

not appreciating the lack of response, zero empathy towards the effort you're already doing, theodore sneaks his free hand amidst the mess of your hair. his fingers tangle between your locks, until his nails lightly scratch over your scalp and tug you closer to him; a demand from him that feels ridiculously good to you. his free hand moves the cigarette away from his lips, and taking the chance of your gasp from the extra tug on your hair, theodore blows the burning smoke to your lips; inside your mouth. taunting how much you dislike this vice of his.

nicotine swirls between your tongues as they meet; that, however, isn't the reason why you crawl back to him everytime.

theodore nott is a drug of his own.

perhaps he decides to be nicer now, sloppily exchanging slow kisses with you, letting his hips roll upwards to pursue his orgasm.

"non puoi nemmeno essere una vera troia," theo is so close to you, that the movement of his lips, pronouncing each foreign word, brush against yours, creating a tingling sensation that only adds to the notion of being cursed and insulted—at least, that's what your intuition tells you.

his hand blindly abandons his cigarette on the ashtray, keenly aware that you can feel—and taste—that acid smell of tobacco and cigarettes, less considerate than he usually is about your irking over it. his fingers grip your jaw, his thumb squeezing your cheek as his other fingers do the same, not even letting you moan from each sharp thrust that kisses your cervix.

"cazzo, it makes me want to laugh at you. you talk, talk, talk my ear off," even breathless, theo seems to have too much to say; it should be embarrassing, really, if his disdain didn't make your inner walls clench tighter around his thickness. "and can't even own your bitching afterwards. didn't even properly apologize; maybe you don't deserve this, huh?"

it takes a moment for you to understand the implication there, too distracted by the toe curling sensation of being repeatedly filled up. it's when theodore stops, resting on the mattress once more and giving up on the fluid movement of his hips, previously bouncing you on his groin, that your eyes widen with disbelief. seriously?

at first, you think about calling him out for his pettiness.

but it's the smug look and smirk that makes you want to sob instead, dignity crumbling to ashes, reborn as despair to finally cum. please, please.

his hand lowers to your neck, fingers curling around your throat, even though there's not much of a threat there. it's a loose grip; not even properly holding it, a simple squeeze that feels rather gentle, more like he's mocking you, in a way.

the worst is that theodore isn't even being mean. no, this is him having fun; if he was being mean, he'd be teasing you about the first semblance of frustrated tears, and you'd have to cry for it.

picking up the pieces of any strength left, the smartest choice is to surrender yourself, hopefully calming down the fire that burns within theodore's temper to slowly sneak into his good graces again. your hips move — unable to exert the tired muscles of your thighs — grinding helplessly against the firm muscles of his groin, the movement enough to rip out a low groan from theodore, appeased that he won't listen any whines from you, for now.

"brava ragazza," comes as a praise; before the compliment gets over your head, his free hand slaps your thigh, "go on. use me like a toy, carina, cum on my cock."

yeah, this would be a long night.

[ihfmseatsoch]

He's sick, and he's taken, but honest 🚀🌠

Grant Curly x fem!intern!reader

Summary: Stuck in an unhappy marriage, Curly's new intern brings some much needed excitement into his stagnant life.

genre: smut

word count: 4.7k

warnings/content: cheating, (legal) age gap, a lot of pining, curly is #depressed, semi public sex

—

Marriage is a common life goal most people aim to achieve. Curly was one of them, believing it'd give his life purpose. He'd have someone special to come home to after a long haul, maybe even a couple children in the future. He'd have a family that'd mitigate his loneliness, and he'd feel more accomplished as a human being. Lord knows his career would ever give him that feeling.

That fantasy turned out to be nothing like he anticipated. Everyone always talks about married life like it's some cushy, idealistic dream, so it's only natural that he expected... more. Something fulfilling.

Maybe it's because he rushed into it. Slapped a ring on the first girl he thought could be "the one", because he didn't want to waste his twenties being alone and single, while his other friends were already hosting baby showers and inviting him to weddings. He didn't want to feel out of place, and honestly, he was a little too desperate for normalcy. Stability. Whatever settling down brings you.

No one tells you what you're supposed to do when "the one" isn't who you thought they were. When "the one" becomes bored of you in less than a year, and you're forced to spend the next decade attempting to relive your honeymoon phase, rekindle the initial spark you and your spouse once had.

In the end, it was all fruitless.

One sided arguments were frequent, Curly typically too worn down to shout back at his wife, who's nagging him about something he did, or didn't do. Most of the time, Curly finds himself dissociating throughout the bombardment of verbal assault, which causes her to accuse him of not caring about their relationship, due to his lack of a reaction.

And, perhaps there's some truth to her claim. He cares enough to stay, but... does he want to continue putting in the effort to make their failure of a marriage work? Was their partnership worth trying to salvage?

The answer was a resounding no. Not anymore. Curly came to realize that he stayed out of obligation, not out of genuine love.

At least when he was piloting the Tulpar for over a year, it was a reprieve from his home life. He never thought he'd consider his job to be equivalent to a vacation of sorts, but that's where he is in his pitiful existence.

It wasn't until Curly was informed that an intern would be assigned to work alongside him, that the painstaking boredom of his routine was replaced with a breath of fresh air. Initially, he fully expected the new responsibility of tutoring someone more inexperienced than him to be a hassle.

But as soon as he set his sights on you, a pretty young thing with the aura of an angel, the thought of spending every waking moment with you didn't seem so bad. Not bad at all. You captivated him completely, which caused a bit of guilt to stir deep inside his stomach. He shouldn't be thinking of another woman this way, especially not one that was just learning how to say their first word by the time he was in highschool.

But god, were you entrancing. The most beautiful girl he'd seen in a long time. Curly felt worse than terrible for finding you more physically appealing than his own wife back on Earth, but you were so much sweeter than her, listened to him so intently, hanging on his every word as he explained the how the controls in the cockpit functioned, your compliments on his knowledge and experience going straight to his ego—

Oh, he was doomed. Utterly fucked.

"I don't think I'll ever be as good of a Captain as you, Grant." You spoke humbly, referring to him by his first name, ever so polite and respectful. Even if the rest of the crew called him Curly, you insisted on formalities. He was your boss, after all. That's part of what he appreciated about you.

How mature you were for your age.

"Don't be so sure 'bout that," He shot you one of his signature smiles, charming, but not quite reaching his eyes. "You've got a lot of potential, more than most kids your age. And it's not about bein' as good as me, y'know. You've gotta pave your own path. Learn at your own pace."

You had that usual expression on your face whenever he gave you a bit of his wisdom, which was truthfully just him parroting back what his brain had absorbed from the Polle posters with bland motivational quotes scattered around the ship, simplistic and cliché. Your eyes were locked onto him, focused, and beautiful as ever. You took him so seriously, it was almost a little silly. Sure, he was an authority figure, but he wanted to be more of a friend to you, rather than your superior.

"Just 'cause I'm younger than you doesn't make me a kid." You tease him a bit, and he's glad you're finally comfortable enough with him to do so.

"Right, my mistake," he chuckled, "Forgot I'm dealin' with a grown woman here. Forgive me."

"Forgiven." You quip back with a short laugh of your own. Fuck, you were cute. Such a pretty little smile, lips soft and kissable, practically begging him to smash his own against them, to bite, taste, and lick, until they were swollen and red from the aftermath.

Blinking a couple times, he clears his throat. Not now, Curly, he chastises himself. Get a grip. This stupid crush was completely inappropriate. Unethical. So why couldn't he brush his lustful fantasies aside, if he was aware how wrong they were? Why was he treating his life partner as an afterthought, willingly allowing himself to be ensnared by you?

He thought pumping his aching cock in slow, deliberate strokes, late at night in the privacy of his quarters, thinking of that tempting mouth of yours full of him, taking every inch of his shaft down your throat, running your hot, wet tongue along the length from base to tip, would make all those feelings go away. He doesn't know how long it's been since him and his wife have been intimate, he just needed some relief. Right?

Even after he spilled a thick load of cum all over his muscular stomach, abs softened from months of inactivity, he still wanted you. In fact, it only made his desire for you worsen, blossoming by the second. You were an insatiable craving he couldn't ignore. Not until he got a taste.

Curly didn't want to creep on you, but how was he ever going to initiate anything? Were you even interested in him in that way? How could he even suggest anything so uncouth, so perverted, especially as your boss? He wasn't a man who took advantage of power dynamics. Confessing how he felt towards you could jeopardize his position if you took it the wrong way, or, at the very least, damage the relationship he's been steadily building with you.

Instead of being upfront, he maintained an air of casualness when asking about your personal life. It was all normal, at first, asking about your parents, your upbringing, social circle...

And, eventually, he felt as if it wouldn't feel awkward if he inquired about a possible romantic partner, since the question was on topic. "You got anyone waitin' on you back on Earth?" He broached the subject with feigned nonchalance, hoping you don't take the question as too invasive. He felt the need to backpedal, his confidence wavering. "You don't gotta tell me, if that's too personal. Just curious."

"No, nothing like that." You answer, looking down at the coffee in your mug, not particularly interested in drinking any more of it. The first, very disappointing sip was enough. "Huh." Curly made a mild sound of surprise at your response. He fully expected someone to have snatched you up before him.

The fact that you were available made him feel a sense of relief, but also... worse, in a way. There was nothing holding him back from shooting his shot with you, no one in the way. No one to stop him from possibly making a horrible decision. Besides his wife, but... in all honesty, he suspects she's not being all that faithful back on his home planet.

"What about you?" Your question catches him off guard for a moment. Had he really not mentioned that he was married? Not once? He has to think fast. He has the opportunity to lie, or be honest with you. On one hand, the less you know, the better. On the other, telling the truth would prevent anything from happening between you two.

Steeling himself, he quickly makes up his mind, deciding that he can't bring himself to be dishonest. You'd find out eventually. "I'm married." Curly admits plainly, unable to force any kind of joy into his tone. He doesn't even smile, or look proud, like most husbands would when speaking about their wives. When did he become such a shithead, he wonders.

"You don't seem too happy about it." You immediately notice how... depressed he looks at the very mention of his spouse. Catching yourself being a little too blunt, you follow up with, "Um– not that I'm implying anything! Sorry..."

He sighs, dejected, tiredly rubbing his face, as if he could wipe the evident dissatisfaction clean off. The crushing weight of pretending everything's fine and dandy is catching up to him. "Nah, don't apologize. You're not wrong." He confesses out loud for the first time, even to himself. "Goin' through a rough patch. Have been for a long time."

Curly can hardly look at the raw, genuine sympathy on your face. He doesn't want you to pity him. He doesn't want anyone to. That's why he's hidden his marital problems from everyone he knows. Besides Jimmy, that is, but he's not the best guy to vent to, and Curly's only told him bits and pieces, to which Jimmy responds with the oh so helpful advice to simply get a divorce, like it's that easy.

"Sorry to hear that." You place a tender hand on his broad shoulder in a comforting manner. "I know what it's like, being in a shitty relationship. You can always talk to me about it, if you need to."

He can't help but melt into the display of physical affection, no longer used to feeling a loving touch. It was refreshing to experience genuine compassion for once. With a forced, half-hearted smile, he speaks solemnly, "Nah, don't wanna bother ya' with my problems. I appreciate it though, really."

Curly doesn't mention anything else about his personal life for a while, too embarrassed by the smidgen of vulnerability he showed you. He's supposed to be the Captain. The strong one. The guy who has his shit together. He can't let anyone know he's the opposite of who he presents himself to be.

But having you around has made him feel emotions he hasn't experienced in god knows how long. Plus, you're good company. A good friend. You make him feel alive again.

You're exactly what he needs.

Maybe he idealized you a bit, but how could he not? You were perfect to him, delicately handcrafted by angels, everything about you so sugary sweet that his teeth hurt just thinking about you. It came to a point where he genuinely wanted you to stay in his life for good, because without you, he's sure the vitality you instilled in him would fade, and he'd immediately wilt like a neglected houseplant; visibly half-dead and parched in the corner of the room, but no one takes the time to tend to it, or even acknowledge it's suffering.

His yearning became palpable, affecting the very atmosphere whenever you two were left alone. Curly had asked you to demonstrate what you've learned so far, and as you listed off the proper names of each button, lever, dial, and switch, summarizing your basic aviation knowledge, he simply couldn't focus on your words. Didn't need to, actually. He already knew you were smart enough to fly the ship yourself, so he took the time to just... admire you.

You were the epitome of light, brightening his days, no matter how dreary.

What he would give to have you sat in his lap as he mentored you, his hands guiding your own as you learned how to take the controls, whispering instructions into your ear just to watch your cheeks flush with warm blood, and listen to the way your breathing hitches when he pulls your body closer–

"Grant?" Your voice brought him out of his own head. Must've spaced out again. He's gotta stop doing that... "You're looking at me weird. I don't sound dumb, do I?"

Curly realizes he's been staring at you with a dopey, lovesick expression for way too long, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot for acting this way. "No, no. You're doin' great. Ain't you, just... haven't gotten a proper night's rest in a good while." That's a half-lie. Sure, he hasn't been sleeping well, but that's every night. Not much of a difference there. The only problem here is him and his lack of self restraint.

If only you knew how hard he's struggled to not shove his tongue down your throat.

"Something keeping you up?" You lean in closer, so willing to listen to his problems and carry his woes in your two shoulders. He can't tell you the truth. Can he? You're a good person, much better than he is. You wouldn't want to be with a married man.

Then again, he doesn't want to lie to you. It's been so difficult to hold back from declaring his feelings for you, it's eating away at his insides, tearing him apart little by little.

Guilt weighs heavily upon him like an anchor tied to his neck, pulling him to the bottom of the lake. "...Yeah," He swallows, "S'pose there is." He keeps his voice low, sounding immensely ashamed, like a child confessing to eating a dozen cookies before dinner.

"Talk to me." You urge, so oblivious to the cause of his inner turmoil. It's now or never. He either screws this up so irreparably bad, or you accept him and his shame.

Curly takes a deep breath, before forcing it all out in a quick, rushed jumble of words.

"I– fuck, don't think badly of me for this. I can't stop thinkin' about you. Can't get you outta my head, no matter how hard I try. I know it's wrong, god, do I know, but you're... you're just so..." He trails off, his own humiliation cutting his sentence short, and he mentally prepares for the worst rejection of his life.

An awkwardly long silence falls between you, as you take the time to process his confession. He looks like a broken man in front of you, unable to make eye contact, his hands clasped together, sweaty with fear.

"Grant..." You start, unsure how to go about this situation. "I'm glad you told me, and– and I like you too, I really do. But... your wife..." You bite your lip, bashful, never expecting yourself to develop feelings towards a married man of all people.

His heart sinks like a stone as you bring up the woman whom he had vowed eternal loyalty to. He exhales shakily, avoiding your eyes. "I know. Just... me and her... ain't been the same as it used to. Not for a long time."

"I'm sorry." Your heart swells with empathy, wondering why anyone would dare to mistreat a man like him. He's nothing but a sweetheart in your eyes. Flawed, yes, but so is everyone. "I... I don't think I'll make you happy, though. And... being the other woman, it'd feel... wrong. Even under these circumstances."

He nods, silently agreeing with you. It would be downright horrible of him to cheat on his wife, especially with a younger woman who he has a position of authority over. A position of trust and responsibility. A position in which he can easily take advantage of you if he really wanted to. Isn't that a sickening thought.

He's supposed to be better than this. Stronger than this. But he doesn't feel much like a good man right now. Feels like he's drowning.

You sigh at his silence, taking his clammy hands into your own. Your heart hammers against your chest wall. The forbidden aspect of the entire situation is adrenaline inducing. His sad puppy eyes make you feel awful for rejecting him, but if you two started anything, it'd end up a terrible mess.

Yet, you can't stop your body from inching even closer to him.

"I don't want you to be unhappy." You tell him, speaking quietly, as if to avoid eavesdroppers.

He knows he's supposed to pull away, to do the right thing for once. But when has he ever done the right thing when it comes to you? He dares to look into your eyes and his body tenses. You're so close, near enough to where he can see himself reflected in your dilated pupils.

This is wrong.

"You're too damn sweet for your own good," he murmurs, gaze flicking down to your lips, "Ain't makin' this easier for me."

It doesn't take long for the tension between the both of you to become unbearable, your hand finding his scruffy cheek to pull him towards you, practically smashing your lips to his. His beard tickles you as you kiss, but it doesn't deter you from allowing him to ravage your mouth.

A deep, almost guttural sound of desire rumbling out from his chest. The kiss is messy and desperate, bordering on hungry, starved of the affection you're giving him in this moment. He doesn't hesitate to hoist you up by your waist, sitting you down on the console, the sudden movement eliciting a surprised squeak from you, the sound muffled inside of his mouth.

Pulling away for air and a moment to compose yourself, your lips coated with a sheer layer of own another's saliva, you stare into each other's eyes as you breathe heavily, his large hands gripping your hips to keep you balanced and supported on the surface. "Grant..." You breathe his name, unable to come up with anything else to say in your dazed state of mind.

"You have no idea," he begins, huskily, "How fucking bad I want you." His firm tone makes your thighs press together, a jolt of arousal hitting you right in the gut. It's not the first time you've heard him speak in an authoritative voice, and it's not the first time it's made you fantasize about him using it... somewhere more private.

"The... The door isn't... locked." You point out, still apprehensive despite your growing need. Dipping his head into the slope of your neck, he mumbles against your skin, "Think you can be quiet, then?"

You don't think twice before you nod, even though you're truthfully unsure if you'll be able to hold back from crying out and alerting the others. Only one way to find out. He presses his groin to yours, the friction making your clit twitch as he makes direct contact with the clothed nerve. Curly's dick is already hard, straining through his uniform, and you can feel just how massive he is, even through the fabric.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he rasps, zipping his uniform down hastily, "You want this, yeah?" It was sweet how he asked for your consent, as if you two weren't already in the foreplay stage. You nod to ease his worries, pulling your own coveralls down, revealing the pajama shirt underneath, embarrassingly old and tattered. But you didn't exactly imagine you'd be fucking your mentor today, so there was no reason you would've thought to change into something sexier. You didn't even bring anything sexy on board. It's this or nothing at all, not that he seems to mind the less than elegant garment.

A brief, shaky laugh escapes him at the sight of you, only adoring you even more. "Cute," he comments, "Hope you don't mind if I take it off, though." Hopking his fingers under the the hem, he diligently pulls the shirt over your head, exposing the plain bra underneath. Underwhelming, but witnessing your half naked body is still a heavenly sight.

You decide you should start touching him as well, just to make it fair. You slip one hand under his shirt, feeling up his torso, your fingers exploring every groove of his defined muscle, even the slight pudge of his stomach. Not to mention, his chest is huge. Bigger than yours. You're almost jealous.

Curly's a little self conscious about the excess fat around his belly, but the way you're touching him as if he's a perfectly chiseled statue, fingertips grazing his skin with an awestruck expression on your face, makes him feel a little less insecure.

His own fingers dip down, the large pad of his thumb lightly stroking your clit through your panties. You have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning. "Nnh– Grant–" You shudder, speaking as quietly as you possibly can with the way he's touching you, sending electric shocks of pleasure throughout your cunt.

"Call me Curly." He sounds like he's demanding you, rather than asking. "Don't gotta be so professional anymore. Not when you're gettin' this wet from just my fingers." There's a hint of pride laced in his voice at the end of his sentence. He's still got it.

"C– Curly..." You stammer, as if testing out the way his name rolls off your tongue. You reach up to grasp onto his shoulders as he pulls the fabric of your underwear aside. "Atta girl," he encourages, tracing the outline of your slick folds with a finger, "Always such a fast learner."

You intake a trembling breath of air, feeling him explore you, spread you open, tease your entrance, so tantalizingly close to sliding inside of you. "Need you, Curly..." You whimper, a little pathetically, "Need you so bad, please..."

He complies with your plea, reveling in how desperate you look for him. No one has desired him like this in years, his own wife has never looked at him the way you do, even before their issues. "Shh, I know, I know... don't worry. M' gonna make you feel real good, doll." He coos, slipping his index into your hole, your slick making the insertion smooth and easy. Even just one of his thick fingers make you feel full, not to mention it's long enough to immediately nudge against all the right places.

Your eyes roll back as he adds a second finger, stretching you open, the obscenely wet sound of him pumping in and out of your heat filling the cockpit. You let out a string of soft whines from your parted lips, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

"Oh my g– goddd– Curly, fuck–" You cry out, spreading your legs even wider for him so he can prod your insides at even more angles.

Your cries are like sweet hymns to his ears, the sight of you coming undone before him is glorious, and he wants nothing more than to worship you, all of you, for the rest of his life. "Yeah? This pretty cunt likes that, huh? I can tell, she keeps squeezin' down on me, suckin' me in..." Curly can hardly believe the filth coming from his own mouth. He's been so deprived of any sexual contact with a woman, that he feels slightly unhinged now that he finally has it. His dick aches, watching his digits disappear, sheathed inside you, before pulling back out again, coated in your arousal, over and over again.

"Think she can handle more than my fingers?" He asks, his body practically jittering with the need to fuck you stupid. The way he's talking about your pussy, like it's a separate being from you, is strangely hot. You nod, the very idea of having his cock inside you makes your walls involuntarily clamp around him. "Uh– Uh huh..." You nod, already dumb and drunk off the pleasure he's giving you.

Curly slips his fingers out, leaving you feeling momentarily empty. You watch him pull his cock from his boxers, throbbing and rigid, tip flushed red. His size is intimidating, and you can't fathom why his wife would reject this for anything. You're openly gawking at his dick, which fuels his ego nicely. "Not polite to stare." He teases, and your face grows warm from being caught. "Sorry..." You avery your eyes, sheepishly. "You're just... um..." You're unable to tell him how fucking huge he is, feeling too embarrassed, but his mind fills in the blanks.

"Don't worry," He soothes, "I'll be gentle, okay?" With a kiss to your temple, he lines himself up with your hole, aching more intensely than it ever has for anyone else, the extent of your arousal almost overwhelming.

"You ready?" He asks, looking at you for permission to proceed, scanning your face for any sign is discomfort. You nod timidly, admittedly nervous, but more than willing to take him. "Mhm," you shakily hum, "I'm ready..."

With your consent, he presses himself into you, swallowing your moans with a kiss as your hole stretches to accommodate his girth, your nails raking down his buff forearms. He groans lowly into your mouth as he sinks into you, nearly orgasming from your tightness alone. When he bottoms out, he pulls away from your mouth just enough to whisper against your lips, "M' gonna start movin', okay? Be good n' stay quiet for me. I know you can do it."

You nod obediently, and he begins to rock his hips, pulling out, pushing in, rhythmic and gentle, allowing your body to ease into the feeling. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, ensuring he stays as close to you as possible. "F– Feels so good, so good–" You babble, your voice raising to a higher pitch than usual.

He kisses your neck, your jaw, your collarbone, anything that's within his reach, murmuring praises against your skin, "I know, pretty girl. Takin' it so well, look at you... so good for me, always so fuckin' good..." You feel him all the way in your stomach, his fat tip almost punching your cervix as his thrusts accelerate, your thighs tensing around him at every harsh movement, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, making you fearful of the sound attracting the others towards the cockpit, but not scared enough to do anything about it.

You grow close humiliatingly fast, but you can't really blame yourself when the biggest cock you've ever had is slamming into you, rubbing against every sweet spot in your cunt. "Curly– M' gonna–" you can hardly choke the words out.

"Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" He pants, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, "Go ahead n' cum, sweetheart. Rub that pretty lil' clit and make yourself cream all over my cock." His tone is so gentle in comparison it his vulgar sentence. You obey his instructions without hesitation, ardently using two fingers to rapidly stroke the hard, swollen bud, enhancing the euphoria washing over your body. Your body spasms as your orgasm hits you, more explosive and perfervid than you've ever felt before, your cunt pulsing around his cock, your sticky and lustrous arousal coating your thighs.

"That's it, there you go..." He grunts lowly, thrusts growing erratic, his movements losing their fluidity as he quickly approaches his own release. "So beautiful when you cum on my cock like that... mmph– fuck– m' almost there, hold on a little longer for me–"

Thankfully, he doesn't continue to fuck your overstimulated pussy for too much longer, completely overwhelming your senses. Curly pulls out and gives his dick a couple pumps, before spilling onto your stomach, some of his seed shooting onto the console, mixing with your own juices. This'll be disgusting to clean up.

You rest your head on his broad chest, catching your breath, both of you coming down from the intensity of your high as he strokes your hair soothingly. "Shhh, shhh.... you did so well... you feelin' alright? Anything hurt?" His aftercare is sickeningly sweet, and it's evident he genuinely cares about your answers to his questions, and how you're feeling.

In your mind, it's too soon to call the affection you have for him anything veritably close to true love. On the other hand, to him, he's head over heels for you, after knowing you for two months at most. Or, at least, that's what he believes.

A nagging thought is stuck in the back of his mind, one that he'd rather not contemplate for too long:

How the fuck is he going to look his wife in the eyes when he returns to Earth?

—

[musicalhell]

Story time, children. (tw: sexual assault, death, misogyny, fatphobia, media sensationalism bullshit)

On September 5th, 1921, a model and actress named Virginia Rappe attended a party at the St Francis Hotel held by silent film comedian Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle. At some point during the night, Rappe became severely ill and was taken to a doctor, who believed she'd simply been drinking too much and prescribed some morphine for pain. Her condition worsened and she was admitted to the hospital on September 7th, where she died two days later from an infection resulting from a ruptured bladder. Shortly afterward an acquaintance of Rappe's, Bambina Madue Delmont, accused Arbuckle of sexually assaulting Rappe, and he was brought up on charges of rape and manslaughter.

This is possible, even probable, given a) we believe victims and their advocates when they speak up and b) Rappe was at the very least heavily intoxicated and in the presence of a man with significantly more power and influence than her, so her ability to consent was highly compromised. Unfortunately, the truth of what happened that night was quickly buried under a tide of speculation, sensationalism, and character besmirchment on both sides. Arbuckle's defenders described him as very sweet and shy around women (immaterial, as we've all seen how easily predators can hide in plain sight), pointed out that Delmont had a record of extortion, blackmail and prostitution, suggested the true cause of Rappe's death was an aggravated UTI (which she had) or STD (which she didn't have), and claimed she had given birth out of wedlock and put the child in foster care (she was never pregnant).

Rappe's defenders, meanwhile, were less interested in uncovering the truth and finding justice for her than they were in using her as a soapbox for attacking the entire film industry. Led by William Randolph Hearst (whose life goal was to take anything awful that happened in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and somehow make it ten times worse) and other yellow journalists, they painted a lurid picture of Hollywood as a den of vice and corruption, declaring Rappe's injuries had been sustained by Arbuckle laying on top of her (yeah) or because he penetrated her with a piece of ice (or a Coke bottle, or a champagne bottle). The prosecuting attorney was more interested in laying the groundwork for a gubernatorial campaign than advocating for a young woman who had died tragically, encouraging witnesses to give false testimony. Arbuckle was eventually acquitted after two mistrials, but his film career was over, his films were banned and only a few of them have survived to the current day.

A lot of you right now are saying, "Good, fuck him!" and I don't blame you. But it doesn't end there. See, Arbuckle was banned by the newly formed Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, led by one Will. H. Hays. And they didn't stop there. Holding up the Arbuckle scandal as an example of the moral degeneracy of Hollywood and the need for firm control over its output. The ultimate result was the series of standards now known as the Hays Code, which enforced strict limits on the types of content films could show. It's the reason why "Golden Age of Hollywood" pictures contain no swearing or sexuality, no non-heteronormative relationships, no interracial relationships (and by extension, predominantly white casts), and no moral ambiguity. It was a shackle on artistic expression that kept smaller film companies on the margins and assured that the exploitative studio system could flourish. Not only did they fail to serve justice in the case of Virginia Rappe, they created a code of silence which served as a cover for many similar abuses.

Why am I telling you all this? Because right now people are aiming to use your real and justified outrage to turn you against the people they want you to hate. They're going to blur the lines between art and reality, and say that since (objectively bad person) created something involving (subject they want to censor), it's proof that no decent person would touch that subject and it should be eliminated to protect victims/the children/the innocent. They will use your best intentions against you, wrap their authoritarianism in language that you approve of, and convince you it's all for the best.

It has happened. It is happening again.

it's true and you should say it.

[bloomeng]

Love the idea that Tim is perpetually mad at Jason and Damian but not for the actual shit they pulled, it’s the average day to day sibling shit that has him seething. And I bet it especially gets under his skin because he went from being an only child to a guy with five million siblings. Which side note, that’s an underutilized Tim fact. Like those are his siblings and they def get under his skin the way only siblings can but he also hasn’t developed the thick skin that comes with growing up with someone. In some ways I think most of the Batkids struggle with aspects of this because consider: Dick was almost an adult when Jason got adopted, Jason had the house to himself because Dick had moved out, Tim for the reasons I said, Cass grew up very isolated, and Damian was an only child that came from immense wealth, but he’s I guess lucky because he was brought into the family at a much younger age but even then the habits have been set. Duke is more of an outsider to the family (according to him) so I think his relationship with them is automatically different but he’s also an only child if anyone cares. /j

I also think Dick is somehow Tim’s favorite brother yet is somehow constantly on the precipice of being his least favorite. They got that unresolved tension, made worse by the fact that Dick is someone Tim has always respected and is more of an authority figure to him, so they don’t bicker the same way which also means the anger tends to build and fester. Like they still rib on each other but it has way less teeth.

[goddamnitmahtin]

Jason is a Teenage Dad Part 3

The following month after Jason came home with Danny was…. a lot of work to say the least. There were so many things to do now that there were 2 more kids in the house than there used to be and Bruce was not used to acclimating to more than one kid at a time. Last time there was a buffer. On top of that, there were all of the legal and social responsibilities that came with Danny and Tim.

Bruce was able to get Tim’s paperwork squared away pretty easily since the police and CPS were both a joke and didn’t really even look at it before approving it. Which was funny since the adoption papers were written on his Batcomputer since he didn’t feel like going out to pick up a real one. It was identical to a real one though.

Tim was doing well and seemed to be fitting into the household smoothly from what Bruce could tell. Maybe his old life wasn’t so different from his new one. He also did well at his first gala as a Wayne. He didn’t cause nearly as much trouble as Dick used to. He didn’t hang from a single chandelier.

Jason and Danny on the other hand… well Jason was trying his best. And Bruce could tell that he had grown attached to Danny. Which was why he didn’t tell him he was doing a background check on the child to see if he had anywhere to go. If they had someone’s kid and didn’t give him back, Gordon would be on his ass about it.

Bruce couldn’t find anything on the kid. Nothing. He thought he may have found a relative in Amity Park as he found a photo of a boy in a public record year book that looked a lot like him but when he tried to reach out to the family, they denied having lost a child around 3.

After that, Bruce reluctantly looked into the logistics of Jason becoming Danny’s legal guardian. He would have preferred if Danny became Bruce’s ward until Jason turned 18 so he could legally adopt him with much less hassle but Jason didn’t like that idea when he talked to him about it. So Bruce had to figure how to sidestep and loophole his way into becoming a grandpa. It’s been exhausting so far.

Although Bruce was having a bit of a struggle with the changes going on in his home, he wasn’t having as hard of a time as Danny. That kid was definitely in some sort of traumatic situation before Jason found him. He was often hiding or running when he wasn’t clinging onto Jason like a life preserver. So far he hadn’t had any major scares due to Jason being oddly in tune with what to avoid.

The part that was the most stressful though? Explaining to Commissioner Gordon why he had the Joker’s head in his house. No body. Just the head. He explained that one of his kids found the head and brought it home. It wasn’t a lie but he wasn’t going to tell him the exact truth either. He was already lying about the fact that Jason died. The public was under the impression that it was just some joke the Joker pulled and he never actually killed Robin.

Bruce and Jason had covered it up by telling people that because of the whole fiasco Robin was taking a break from the field until it blew over. Although he wasn’t really sure how Jason was going to return to being Robin. Danny never left his side. Not to mention he didn’t really seem interested in it like he was before. Which… was fine. Once word got out that the Joker was dead, the public was pretty 50/50 about Robin. Half saying he was a hero for “killing” him and the other half worried about the ethic implications.

Bruce was going to have to talk to Jason about this more. It wasn’t like Bruce hadn’t fought alone before. He knew how. It was just significantly easier if he had some help. And he was NOT going to call Clark every time something happened. Of course he was never going to force Jason to do it. Infact, Bruce was relieved that Jason might actually want to live a normal childhood. Well as normal is it can be raising a child.

At least the household was finding its own routine again. Everyone was getting used to each other and Alfred was estatic that there were more mouths to feed claiming that he would “not have to hold back my cooking prowess now that I can make dishes meant for many people, Master Wayne!”

This morning, Alfred had outdone himself making a breakfast buffet of sorts that they could all grab from. Bruce got himself a plate and grabbed a little bit of everything. He always enjoyed trying Alfred’s food and he saw some things he didn’t recognize so he grabbed those.

Bruce sat down at the table and watched as the others in the house slowly peeled in. First was Jason who grabbed some toast and promptly left again since Danny often had nightmares and tended to freak out if Jason wasn’t there when he woke up.

Then it was Tim. He watched the boy make himself a plate and begin to eat silently. Bruce hated that. During the first two weeks or so of Tim living there, he thought that was just his personality. Very quiet, avoiding attention until necessary. But then he noticed that Tim commented about being used to being overlooked for “more important things” and it made Bruce’s blood boil to think that was how he was treated.

Bruce could tell that Tim hadn’t lied about that fact. He showed every sign of someone who wasn’t used to even being perceived while in the same room unless he was “needed.” Bruce was working to try and correct that since he knew how lonely a life that was.

“Hey Tim, your awfully quiet this morning. I assume you’ve found yourself a little mystery?” Bruce said, hoping to coax the kid into talking about whatever was on his mind. He had found that this strategy worked more times than not since he loved to talk about his interests.

As always, Tim looked surprised that he was being spoken to at all. Bruce hated that. He was going to make sure this kid knew he deserved attention.

“Uh yeah actually. I noticed that…” Tim began to animatedly talk about how Batman’s fighting style was significantly different when there was no one else around compared to when he had a Robin with him and that he found it fascinating that despite being able to more freely fight without worry of an ally being injured causing more efficient takedowns when it came to combat with a large number of goons, he also seemed to have a slower time with deductive reasoning without another person to bounce off of or talk to, leading to higher risk of civilian loss when it came to certain rogues like Joker or Riddler.

Bruce wasn’t dumb. He had started to suspect that Tim knew he was Batman two weeks ago. He didn’t make that fact subtle. Tim had been very much making sure that every opportunity he had to talk, he was talking about Batman. And he often had very interesting things to say that Bruce actually took to note. Tim wasn’t afraid of being honest about the shortcomings of the dark knight.

The thing was though about Tim’s current subject of fighting style and efficiency, was that he was right. Bruce did have a harder time with unplanned things when it came to taking down rogues. Fighting wasn’t a problem. He knew how to fight alone and he had done it before. But the ability to think on his feet without a person to bounce off of or use in his plans was much harder to do after not having to do it for years.

Bruce hated to admit it but… Tim had a valuable mind that would be perfect for a Robin. If he were to ever want to do that. Which knowing Bruce’s track record when it came to adopted kids…. he probably would. He just don’t know if he wanted to put another kid in danger. He didn’t have any proper training like Dick or Jason. And Jason literally died recently so the reality of what being Robin meant was really looming over Bruce’s mind right now.

Tim’s unapologetic and devastatingly accurate analysis of Batman was only interrupted when Jason reemerged with a newly awake Danny, still rubbing his eyes in his arms.

“Morning Danny,” Bruce said.

Danny scanned the room cautiously and after only seeing the people he was used to, he visibly relaxed, “Morning Grand-B. Morning Tim.”

Jason smiled, putting Danny down and telling him to pick a seat so he could make him a plate. Bruce knew this was a good sign that Danny’s morning didn’t start horribly wrong. No nightmares.

While at first they had a hard time getting Danny to feel safe enough to play or explore or even let go of Jason’s hand, they had made great progress and now as long as Jason was in the room, Danny was able to walk around on his own without as much fear and Bruce was glad to see that he was improving. However the whole Grand-B thing was something that Bruce hadn’t expected. But no doubt that was Jason’s influence.

Danny crawled onto a chair and looked at all the food cautiously as he did every morning. He stared at it for a moment as if looking for something as he did every morning. When he didn’t find anything, he smiled and agreed to eat. As he did every morning. Bruce didn’t know what trauma this kid had that made him distrust food that he didn’t watch get made but he did know that at least he didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

Jason made Danny a plate and poured himself some coffee. Bruce would have said something about it being bad for him to drink it at his age but the last time he did, Jason very dramatically pointed out that other things could kill him faster than coffee. Like the Joker. With a crowbar. It also didn’t help that he learned that Tim also drank obscene amounts of coffee. Bruce learned to pick his battles on that one.

“Hey Tim, how’d your first gala go? I heard you dissed some CEO for embezzlement,” Jason said casually while sipping his coffee. He didn’t look it, but Bruce knew Jason thought it was hilarious.

Tim shrugged, “I just pointed out that according to public record he should have had enough money to pay his employees way better than he does. He’s the one who assumed I thought he was embezzling. Which he is by the way. I did the math and tracked his personal purchases a while back,” Tim said matter of factly.

Bruce wanted to be surprised but from what he had learned and seen from Tim since their meeting, he was crazy smart and had an eye for inconsistencies. A little detective in his own right.

“Daddy are we still going to the observatory tonight?” Danny asked, his plate already cleared of food.

Bruce watched as Jason went into dad mode. It was off putting the first few times he had watched it happen but by now Bruce was getting used to this new side of Jason.

“Of course my little star,” the 15 year old said as he helped Danny clean up the very little food Danny had gotten on himself while eating, “Daddy doesn’t have much homework today so we can go extra early. Are you excited?”

“Yeah!” little Danny exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. This was going to be Danny’s first time out of the manor since moving in. Jason had picked the observatory since not many people went there and Danny really loved space. Bruce hoped that everything went well so Danny wouldn’t be scared of going out again in the future.

Bruce continued eating after Jason and Danny left to get ready for the day. While at first he hadn’t quite liked the idea of Jason transferring his studies to homeschooling, he seemed to be adapting to it well and it gave him more time with Danny to take care of him and help him when he panicked. To be honest… Bruce was very proud of Jason for the Dad he seemed to be becoming.

…

Sam and Tucker knew that it was bad news when the GIW shipped off in their trucks with Danny inside. They knew their friend was probably fucked. But they had hope. Except… that was 7 months ago. And last month the SCP Foundation came through Amity and cleaned up after the GIW who were apparently stealing their SCPs. Sam and Tucker had mentioned that their friend was taken and the foundation said that they would reach out if they found him. Apparently SCPs that were considered not dangerous were allowed to do normal human things like have friends. Who knew. Except that call never came.

At this point the two of them didn’t really know what to do. They didn’t want to believe that Danny was fully dead because he would have come to see them. But they also knew that if the SCP Foundation didn’t find him then the GIW didn’t have him anymore either. But if no one had him, why hadn’t he come home?

They were at a loss until Tucker came across an old text in the Smithsonian online library. It was a list of summoning spells and circles for different being types or certain beings themselves if they were powerful enough. Maybe they could just… summon Danny home?

At first they looked into the ghosts summoning spells but it seemed to be fairly unstable and there was no way to guarantee that the results would be what they wanted so they kept looking until they found a sigil for the Ghost King. The circle and and incantation were well thought out and the entire ritual seemed to be pretty straight forward. Maybe the Ghost King knew where Danny was? Since he was half ghost and all…

So the next thing they knew, Sam and Tucker were in an abandoned shed a few miles out of town drawing a summoning circle on the floor. Tucker did most of the outline work and Sam tackled the sigil that had to be drawn in the center. They took their time with it so it would come out right.

According to the book, some sort of sacrifice had to be made but ii said that it could be literally anything as long as it held value to you. Sam had suggested she bring something from her house but Tucker insisted that the only thing they probably had that was important enough to them both that they had was his PDA. So…. Tucker very sadly set it down inside the circle.

Then they began the chanting. Sam lit the candles the way the instructions described. Tucker followed the hand motions exactly.

Instantly, the circle began to glow as the summoning began to work. They watched as it got brighter and brighter, the green emanating from the portal that opened in the ground filled the entire space. And then… a figure appeared on a massive throne, adorned in a bellowing cape of stars and a crown of ice.

“I am the Ghost King, hi how are you doing? Just throwing it out there before we get started, I’m not into the whole mass destruction thing so don’t ask me to end the world. Oh hey! Sam and Tucker!”

Sam and Tucker were shocked to see Danny in front of them in full on ghost mode. But he looked different. Felt different. More powerful and maybe slightly older? Not the 15 year old they went to school with.

“Danny?” Sam said, frozen in shock.

They watched as Ghost King Danny squinted his eyes at them for a moment before realization seemed to hit him, “Oh you aren’t my Sam and Tucker. Hey Clocky, what universe is this?”

A post it note appeared in the air next to Danny. He plucked it out of the air and read it before saying, “Ohhh that makes sense okay.”

Tucker spoke up this time, “Danny… what’s going on?”

Danny smiled, “Ah well in the universe I’m from, I became the Ghost King. But since the Ghost King is a being of the Infinite Realms, I’m the Ghost King for all universes, not just mine. I am Danny, just not your universe’s Danny.”

Sam and Tucker felt a wave of disappointment wash over them. It was great that Danny from another universe got all powerful and stuff but it was still disheartening that it wasn’t their Danny in the circle.

“Soo… what’s up? People don’t really summon the Ghost King unless crazy shit is going down,” Ghost King Danny said, leaning forward on his throne.

Sam and Tucker explained everything, from the GIW to the SCP Foundation to their Danny never returning. Alive or dead.

“Huh… weird. Well he’s not dead. If an alternate me died I would have seen the paperwork,” the kingly version of their friend said while thinking. Then a tired look appeared on his face as if he had remembered something and it was something quite annoying.

“Clocky… what did you do?” he asked the air. Another post it note appeared. Danny read the note. Then let out a large sigh.

“You two ever heard of Gotham?”

Part 1 Part 2

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On ch2 (mostly)

ch1(ish) this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

This is most of Chapter 21, cutting out the smut. IT DOES SPICY🌶️⚠️: alludes to smut the night before and blatant talk leading into more.

Tim wasn’t in his own bed. He wasn’t in his Manner bed either. He was pretty sure it also wasn’t the spare bed at Jason’s or Kon’s bed. It wasn’t Stephanie’s or Bart’s or one of the Titan Tower beds. No, this was a stranger’s bed. That should worry him, Tim knew that, but the worry didn’t come.

Instead of worry, Tim felt calm, pleasantly satiated, and sore.

Tim knew why.

Caroline clung to him, like the heavy remnants of a dream. She was right there, pressing against the back of his mind and assuring him that this was all fine. More than fine even; she was quite pleased.

Grudgingly, Tim opened his eyes and blinked up at the nondescript ceiling. Trying to remember what had happened last night was like watching through low resolution clips of time. Things were rather clear at the start and became less clear as time went on. But he very much understood why he was sore and just how much Caroline had enjoyed himself.

Tim was sure he was blushing an embarrassing amount as he carefully sat and swung his legs over the edge of the side of the bed. Yep, sore. Right, well. Tim cleared his throat as if that would also clear up his embarrassment. How was he supposed to act after sleeping with a complete stranger?

“I thought I heard you awake, gorgeous,” the guy—Danny, his name was Danny—drawled from behind Tim. “I know it’s not the right sort of thing for you, but I put some lounge pants and a shirt in the bathroom for you if you want to shower. Pancakes will be up in about fifteen or so, but take your time.”

“Ah, thanks, that’s nice of you,” Tim said.

He waited until he heard Danny walk back off to wherever the kitchen was before he got up and slipped into the bathroom. All of Caroline’s clothing had been folded into a neat pile, other than the lacy underwear, which were washed and drying on the towel rack. Which was rather sweet.

Tim added the bra to the pile, stretching out the feeling of having worn that all night.

Figuring out how to get the shower turned on and hot was a puzzle, showers always were, but Tim managed it smoothly enough. Danny’s shower actually got decently hot too, and Tim took advantage of that to stand under the spray and just try to center himself.

Should he pretend to be Caroline?

Should he come clean?

He didn’t know what was best… or safest.

But Danny was safe. Tim hated that the certainty of that lingered in his mind, but it did. Caroline was convinced that Danny was safe, at least in these regards. He supposed she must have to lingered like this and still be at Danny’s place in the morning. Tim took a deep breath, breathing in the citrus scent of Danny’s shampoo he as using, and let it out slowly.

Okay, truth it was.

The shower had washed away the last of Caroline, which meant it was only Tim standing in the kitchen, trying not to fidget. He was better than fidgeting, he had been a Robin. But he really wanted to right then as he waited for Danny to turn from the stove.

Danny dished up some bacon onto a plate and turned the stove off before turning. “Turkey bacon,” Danny explained with a little raise of the plate before he set it on the little table which was rather full, “and we have scrambled eggs and, of course, pancakes. Take a seat and dig in.”

“That all sounds great.” Tim didn’t move.

Danny tilted his head with a little frown. “Is everything alright? If, ah, this is too much it’s okay if you just want to leave. I don’t usually… do one nightstands so if I’m breaking some sort of taboo with this I’m sorry.”

“No,” Tim said quickly, “it’s not you, it’s me. Wow, not like that. Sorry. I guess I’m just a little awkward about this. I don’t really do this either. Well, that’s not—I don’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m making an absolute mess of this. I guess, just, okay. I guess I should start by saying you should call me Lin. I’m not… exactly Caroline right now.”

He wasn’t ‘Lin’ either, but no matter what Caroline thought he wasn’t going to give Danny his real name. He was too recognizable for that.

Danny sat down slowly in the chair closest to him. “Are you… not Caroline right now because of how you’re dressed or because you’re not Caroline because you’re someone else now?”

“Oh,” Tim wiggled a handy. “Both but more of the second?��

“Okay,” Danny said, his tone careful in a way that made Tim tilt his head curiously. “Are you… freaked out by waking up somewhere different? Do we need to talk about… anything that happened last night?”

“Oh, oh no,” Tim replied quickly. “I’m mostly aware of what happens when I’m Caroline. Besides I was sort of… in between when I woke up this morning. We’re good.”

Danny shoulder’s slumped and he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Okay, good. I really didn’t want—because everything last night was very, enthusiastically consensual and—”

“We’re good, really,” Tim reassured Danny. It was actually pretty sweet how worked up Danny was about this. “Caroline didn’t do anything—okay, well she does it more freely than me, but, ah, let’s just say we’re in agreement about you.”

Danny looked surprised before a frankly adorable smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, though maybe don’t get too smug about it,” Tim said with a little shrug and finally took a seat at the table. “I never said either of us had good taste.”

Danny’s surprised laughter was a nice sound. “Don’t worry, I know I’m not hot stuff. The attention is still flattering. I spent most of the night not sure how I ended up with Caroline in my bed.”

Tim rested his chin on his hand, watching Danny curiously. “Even though she’s not what she looks like?”

“Like I said last night, any combination of bits is a good combination.”

“That usually doesn’t mean… personalities,” Tim pointed out.

Danny just gave a little shrug. “Nope. But as long as I haven’t hurt her, or you, then I don’t mind this either. Is it different? Sure. And it has me curious about things, but I’m curious by nature.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Tim quipped.

“But boredom killed it quicker,” Danny replied, finishing the verse.

It was Tim’s turn to smile. “I can’t say I’ll want to or can answer everything, but you can feel free to ask a few questions.”

After a considering noise, Danny took a few bites of breakfast as he obviously thought about what to ask. “So since you know things that happened as Caroline, does that mean you have the same preferences about things?”

“Nope. Caroline’s go to drink is a martini. I like whiskey better,” Tim said, thinking to last night. “Or she likes eggs that are runny but I hate that.”

“Huh, okay. Does that keep going to more serious things too?”

Tim tilted his head and took a bite of the rolled up pancake he had just buttered. As far as morning after breakfasts went, this was pretty nice. “Serious like what?”

“Well, like, last night. Take… a blow job. How would Caroline like one?”

“She wouldn’t,” Tim said easily. “She might give one, but mostly to get someone worked up to fuck her.”

Danny chuckled, a low sound that made Tim want to lean in closer to where Danny lounged in the other chair. “Okay. So you know that pretty easily. But what about you? What about Lin?”

Tim tilted his head. “Lin, I mean I like blow jobs, yeah.”

At least he was pretty sure he did. He didn’t do this sort of thing much as him.

Danny smiled like he was amused. “Okay. And any preference? Leaning against a wall? Pressing me against a wall? In bed? Sitting on the couch. Right here in the kitchen with your legs thrown over my shoulders?”

Tim swallowed reflexively. If Tim was Alvin right then, he’d want Danny on his knees, back pressed against the wall while Alvin held his jaw open and fucked his face. But for Tim… “That last one, please.”

“Please as in now?” Danny asked.

“Yes, please,” Tim said, the words much more blatant begging than he had intended.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Danny drawled the pet name in a slow, easy way that reminded Tim of whipped honey. “But you gotta be good for me and let me hear you.”

-

[Smut goes here. Tim has a very good time.]

-

“No pressure, but here’s my number,” Danny said. He was holding out an actual slip of paper folded in half. He ducked his head a little. “You know, if you or Caroline or you and Caroline want to reach out.”

Tim took the slip of scrap paper, the back of some cut up sales sheet and tapped it against his fingers. “You’d want to hear from both of us?”

“Yes, of course! As long as that won’t cause any issues between you and Caroline. And, I mean, obviously I’d like a heads up who I was talking to,” he said with a shy, crooked smile.

It made Tim give a little laugh. “I bet, it would get real confusing otherwise. I can get another number for her and use it through an app. It keeps everything nice and separate for all of us.”

“Yeah? That sounds good,” Danny agreed. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to get you a cab or walk you to the station?”

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine. I’ve been running around Gotham my whole life.” Or close enough, anyways. “Besides, one of Caroline’s bracelets is a low level tazer.”

“Really? But to fit all of that in—sorry, off topic,” Danny said sheepishly. He leaned in and kissed Tim lightly on the edge of his lips. “Thank you for staying, and telling me who you were.”

“Thanks for being so great about,” Tim said. He stole a quick kiss himself before he slipped out the door. He was too tired for things to descend into another round of sex, not matter the position.

Just before he got outside Danny’s apartment building, he took the time to put Danny’s number in his phone and sent of a quick ‘and thank you for the pancakes’.

[pretend-i-don-t-exist]

on a qijiuyuan streak so far um hm so consider the flavor of sy fully believing that he's just a substitute for who yqy really loves (sj) and doing his best to fulfill the role

maybe it's a courtship for political purposes and so sy is aware that there wouldn't be any genuine romance here, but he is hoping for at least friendship??? he does want to save yqy bc his original ending in pidw is just too tragic... and also full of plot holes and plot armor.

though it gets obvious real quick that yqy is head over heels in love with sqq. nothing sy says or does will dissuade yqy from loving the scum villain. the thing is, it is also obvious to sy that sqq abhors yqy, except that it's less of a disdainful kind of hate and more like hurt? sy is so confused. he's cursing airplane out every time he gets stuck with both peak lords during a tea session.

when he does unlock qijiu's tragic backstory, he goes ??? wtf is this tragedy airplane, why didn't you put this in pidw it would've been so much better!!! more thought-provoking!!! also everything makes so much more sense now. and so he sets out to right the misunderstandings and miscommunication (he does like yqy and sqq, even as the scum villain, deserves an explanation and/or closure)

on sj's side he's fucking pissed that this pale impostor of him is going around taking advantage of the guilt yqy feels over him. he spitefully brings down sy's reputation, bc he's possessive over his qi-ge even though yqy isn't his qi-ge anymore... and he can tell that yqy is not really in love with the impostor, anyway.

yqy is just going !!! bc on one hand he feels delighted that sj does still feel something for him, even if it's just possessiveness from the past... and also sy is genuinely kind and good and yqy has longed for such warmth before, but it always feels wrong when he thinks of everything he's done and failed to do... if it were any other time, he may have grown to love sy, but it's not meant to be.

fuckers think they're playing 4d chess with each other (well, shen yuan's part is more like uh poker but yeah) but like. they're so stupid i love them so much i can't wait to write more chaotic trashfire aus of them save me

[putschki1969]

Kalafina Anniversary Live 2025 Report

It's finally here, sorry for the long wait!! Let me share some overall thoughts first( ^_^)/~~~

Venue: Probably the newest and fanciest venue I‘ve ever been to. Loved all the screens with Kalafina visuals. They had them across the entire area, some bigger, some smaller and a really big one in front of the venue itself. The theater appeared to be a bit intimidating at first glance but I actually appreciated the layout, I feel like you got to have a pretty decent view from most places, even in the upper balconies.

Collaboration events: This one was somewhat of a fail for me. Originally, I wasn’t too impressed with most of the collaboration food but I was still eager to get it, especially the stuff that was wrapped nicely. The chocolates looked lovely but they were already sold out when I arrived at 11:00 on the 15th.🥲Was also planning to get the katsu sandwich in the Kalafina packaging but that was sold out as well. Not afraid to admit that I cried a little when I realised I woudn't be able to get them...I did get one of those gorgeous tray sheets at Taco Bell at least🙌 Managed to secure one of those tiny photo cards too but meh, honestly nothing to write home about. Gave me the opportunity to write something on the message board though so that’s a good thing 👍 The whole gacha situation was a challenge to say the least. So exhausting! I got a numbered ticket (#127) for the queue so I could start lining up at 13:30 (was actually one of the first people to enter). This worked out pretty smoothly and everyone was able to enter earlier than expected. At first I was lining up in the wrong queue because they were telling people they had to go through the on-site merch sale area first. Thankfully, a staff member came over and guided me and some others to the direct queue (after all, I wasn’t planning to buy any merch since I had already made my reservation). My first gacha round didn’t take too long since most people were still busy buying merch and there were a total of ten machines (also had prepared my 500 yen coins the day before so I didn't have to line up to change my money). I was moderately lucky but didn’t get some of the items I wanted🙃 So after I picked up my live goods during my assigned time slot, I got back in the queue to do a second gacha round😅. This time the wait was long, probably an hour or so. Also, 10,000 yen just gone☠️Thanks to @concretebadger and my super kind friend, I managed to get the complete set! BANZAI🤗 I also got two lovely tokutens for participating in the big flower stand project (a postcard and badge of the drawing). Almost didn't get to meet up with the organisers of the project but thankfully I ran into them right before the start of the show (generally, I find it fascinating how many people I managed to run into despite the sheer amount of people at the venue - thanks to everyone who said 'hi').

Seat: I really liked my seat and am glad I went for the balcony area. Had a completely unobstructed view of the stage🥰It was a little further away of course but I did bring my binoculars so it was fine.👍 In my vicinity people were thankfully not very keen to stand up all the time so I had one less thing to worry about. The screens on the side were also a perfect size to see their facial expressions. The people in charge of the projections made sure to include a lot of close-ups 😍 Bless them!

Sound: Maybe it was just my specific location towards the left side on the balcony but the sound system was a bit off I think, or possibly the manipulator did a horrible job with the mixing? How did everyone else feel about this? The background music was often overly loud (if not to say obnoxiously noisy) and drowned out the vocals. During some parts, it was honestly hard to hear the girls among all the other noises. It was much better during songs that had a more simple or acoustic arrangement. The microphones seemed to have some issues too at times because there were a few distortions (?) which made their voices sound different (?) and occasionally, you just couldn’t hear them singing the beginning of certain lines - this could theoretically be chalked up to them being hesitant and starting too quiet (Wakana does that at times) but it happened a little too often to all three of them which is why I‘m assuming there might have been some technical issues.

Vocals: What are seven years? Nothing! It was like no time had passed at all! Some people may disagree but for the most part, the girls sounded amazing to me! I thoroughly enjoyed myself and very rarely heard notes that made me cringe. I was amazed how they managed to just pick up where they left off. Of course there were parts that were less flattering and they had some of their usual hiccups but I feel like they handled everything pretty well. Have they done better and more polished live renditions of some of these songs in the past? Probably (tho there were some stand-out performances that impressed me more than their old versions). Overall, there was clearly a lot of effort and love put into each and every performance and at the end of the day, that's all that counts for me. They didn’t “phone-in” their singing, they put all their heart into it and you could tell. I even liked songs that I am usually not such a huge fan of (e.g. “ring your bell” and “ Alleluia”). Also, say what you will but there’s a huge contrast between the YKL Kalafina covers and the real thing, it’s almost jarring how different they sound so I particularly appreciated performances of the songs that had previously been covered at YKL. Needless to say, I much prefer the real thing! It's just not the same without Wakana and I must say, Wakana delivered solid vocals during most songs that required those super high and long notes. Hikaru also did a great job and sounded powerful throughout most of the setlist. She was getting visibly tired though towards the end of the up-beat section (Wakana on the other hand surprised me with her stamina). As for Keiko, do I even have to say it? She delivered a fabulous performance as one would expect from her. She nailed all her epic long notes (e.g. “Hyakka Ryouran”, “Kyrie”, “Hikaru Furu” - she sounded better than she did during the 10th Anniversary Live if you ask me)

Production & arrangement: Honestly nothing special or outstanding. They kept it simple and remained faithful to Kalafina’s usual M.O. The focus was on their voices and there wasn’t anything extravagant to distract from that. On the contrary, I feel like there was a conscious effort being made to include more acappella parts to highlight their harmony. With the exception of a few instrumentals and solos, I don’t think Satoshi Takebe added a lot of creative twists to change the original sound. He even mentioned in a tweet that he wanted to pay tribute to Yuki Kajiura’s work, stay true to her music/style and not make it his own or anything. On this note, I would like to add that YK's absence was not really an issue. As I have mentioned a few times already, YK has rarely been an integral part of their live productions so her not being in charge of this concert, has done nothing to affect its quality.

Atmosphere: 1000/10. The girls were in such a good mood and determined to make this concert the best experience ever. It really felt like they had never been apart. Their interactions with each other were heart-felt and didn’t come across as staged or forced. You could tell how much they missed performing together. The audience was also super responsive and everyone seemed to have the time of their lives (myself included of course).

Setlist: Admittedly, it wasn’t what I had hoped for but it was pretty much what I had expected from this sort of live so I can’t be mad. And there were a few really pleasant surprises that I didn’t think they would include (“Hanataba”, “Lacrimosa”, “Kyrie” and “Hyakka Ryouran”) so YAY for that. Also beyond happy that they did an acoustic version of “sprinter” because that’s so much better than the studio version (which I typically don’t like). Same goes for "KnGnN". Check out a detailed report below the cut 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

1 oblivious: I knew it was coming and it’s usually not a song I’m particularly fond of but this performance may have been the best one I’ve ever heard (biased opinion but hey, you can’t blame me for that😅). The song kicked me right in the feels! Or maybe it was just like a dream come true to hear/see them together again! When they appeared on stage, they looked like angels. What a revelation to see them in all their glory once the sheer curtain was dropped. They sounded amazing, absolutely breathtaking! Was impressed by everyone’s vocals. Shout-out to Hikaru for her high notes! For a few lines in the beginning, Wakana didn’t quite sound like herself (the distortion I was talking about earlier?) but I am not sure if it was a lowered pitch or something the manipulator did on purpose to smooth out her voice. It sounded okay and wasn’t too distracting so I didn’t mind it. Later on, her voice sounded like it usually did during “oblivious” so maybe it was just a glitch or whatever. When Wakana and Keiko did their little back-and-forth duet thingy, I almost started crying because I had missed them so much. WaKei FOREVER 🤗

2 Kizuato: A bit bummed that they didn’t perform “Kimi ga Hikari ni Kaete Iku” (then again, I might have died instantly so it was probably a good thing) but this was a beautiful performance so I can’t complain. The three of them once again sounded amazing and their harmonies were to die for.

3 Mirai: Typically one of their weaker live performances and this was no exception. But really, it’s about getting that connection with the audience, running around on stage, greeting the audience and having fun. I don’t mind if it’s not polished and I usually don’t even pay attention to that during this song.

4 Hikari no Senritsu: Felt a bit all over the place so I wasn’t quite able to get into it. The music was overbearing at times and it took away from the charm of a few individual lines. I expected to be touched by the performance since Keiko had been going on and on about how this was her favourite song to sing together but I didn’t have a particularly strong reaction to it. To be fair though, it has never been one of my favourite songs so that might have been the reason for my rather lukewarm reaction. An interesting cello solo from Masateru spiced things up a little but otherwise, there weren’t any significant changes.

5 storia: For this one, I always keep my expectations low regarding vocals because I know it’s a hit and miss when it comes to Wakana and Hikaru. It’s been like this forever so I’m not surprised to hear them struggling at times. Nevertheless, this is a song I have always enjoyed so I can easily look past minor issues. As expected, the girls did struggle a bit (Hikaru in particular didn't deliver the most flattering performance) but it was totally fine. That final chorus once again caught me right in the feels, especially the WaKei part🥹Both the YKL cover and Wakana's solo cover are still fresh in my mind so to finally hear the song as it is meant to be, feels like such a blessing.

6 ring your bell: The piano intro was a bit misleading and for a couple seconds there, I seriously thought they would be introducing a brand new song 😅 It was a nice touch though, I do enjoy intros like that (probably Takebe's idea). Surprisingly, I liked this performance more than I thought I would. I usually give this one a pass because I don't care for the unflattering vocals. I've never understood why it keeps getting performed when it is such a challenging song. But this time, I honestly enjoyed almost all of it (especially Wakana's parts at the end- she did a great job here). Those YK cover versions pale in comparison if you ask me.

7 Hanataba: What a surprise! 😮 Possibly one of their best (if not the best) performances of the night. Usually not a fan of the accordion but here I didn’t mind it. They made some minor changes to the arrangement to highlight the accordion and the vocals. The girls were on fire, especially Hikaru. You could tell she was happy that her chosen song made it onto the setlist.

8 Lacrimosa: From one surprise to another. I was actually expecting them to sing “Consolation” at this point because according to the previous MC, this was meant to be their “Consolation” album block. Would have been happier with “Consolation” to be honest but “Lacrimosa” was a nice treat too. The background music was quite loud again so some vocal parts weren’t discernible or got overshadowed by other stuff.

9 Manten: I don't remember much from it so it must not have stood out to me.

10 to the beginning: Never liked it but this time, I had a blast. A fantastic performance with so much energy and love put into it. The audience went crazy of course so that was also fun to watch. While I personally do not stand up for songs and categorically refuse to partake in any weird arm movements (clapping is the most I will do), I still think it's nice to see everyone so invested.

11 Kimi no Gin no Niwa with strings: This was beautiful. Just strings and piano, might have been my favourite rendition of all time (and I am usually not even such a huge fan of the song). Quite a few more acappella lines than usual I think. Gorgeous arrangement.

12 sprinter with strings: What can I say? Perfect. No notes. Tears everywhere. So glad they decided to go for an acoustic version (by now we all know how much I dislike the studio version). It wasn't as emotional as that Arena Live encore performance but for me, it came pretty close.

13 Hyakka Ryouran: Became a big fan after the 10th Anniversary performance. Didn't expect them to include it once again in the setlist but I certainly didn't mind. This one was just as solid I would say although I feel like Keiko was actually a bit stronger here than she was back then, especially during her "yaiba".

14 misterioso: Meh, one of my least favourite Kala-songs but coincidentally, one of their most frequently performed tracks. I have always wondered why but I guess there are a lot of people who love it (especially in the anisong community). Wasn't really into it so I don't remember anything significant.

15 One Light: Super happy about it. A perfect candidate for their up-beat corner and really a true banger. Don't think there has ever been a bad performance of this, they always slay. I believe they missed the mark a little on that moment where they all come together to raise their arms right before the climax. It felt a little rushed so the cameras for the screen didn't capture it properly XD (it was probably fine for those in the front rows who could see every detail up-close). Either way, the audience erupted into cheers when Hikaru did her infamous "yukeru" kneel.

16 Kyrie: Wooohoo, one of my favourite Kala-songs so I am always excited to hear it performed live. Certainly a surprise though because I didn't think it would be chosen for their Anniversary Live setlist. The audio was pretty messy during this one and I was sad to hear that Keiko's drawn out "Kyrie" at the end didn't get as much attention as it deserved.

17 Ongaku: It started out a little weird in a slightly different tempo than I am used to (at least I think so?). It was a minor thing but big enough to distract me a little for a minute or so. Keiko slayed though and Super!Wakana knocked it out of the park (loved how Keiko held her hand when she helped her walk up the stairs for the solo)

18 heavenly blue: A long-ass up-beat section comes to an end with another banger. After this one, Keiko even said that this was one of their most challenging corners they ever did. It's always fun when Keiko asks the audience after "Ongaku" if we can handle yet another up-beat song (of course we can!) and they transition right into either "Signal" or "heavenly blue" (pretty much their go-to songs for an epic ending). I do love "heavenly blue" so I am happy they included it. The background vocals during the bridge were a little too loud for my taste so you couldn't hear the girls properly (the bridge is one of my favourite parts of the song).

19 Alleluia: There was no doubt in my mind that they would either finish the main section or the entire concert with this song. Didn't expect to love the performance as much as I did. Usually not the biggest fan of the song since Wakana's parts are not particularly flattering for her and even Keiko tends to get a little shouty at times. But this time, I rally enjoyed the song and the minor issues didn't really register with me all that much. Guess I was just too deep into the emotions they were trying to convey.

En1 Magia: So glad they included this! I always thought it was a shame that it didn’t make it onto the 10th Anniversary setlist. We heard a lot of YK cover versions in the past couple of years (to a point where I was getting a little tired of the song) but this revived my love 😍 So good!! The guitar solo sounded weird to me and didn’t have a proper transition to Keiko’s bridge part but that might just be my personal perception. Maybe the guitar fans among you thought it was great😅Keiko’s solo also lacked a bit of oomph but I think it was her microphone’s fault 🙃Hikaru sounded a bit quiet too at times. Hopefully they can fix those minor issues with some studio magic before they do the TV broadcast.

En2 Hikari Furu: Another elaborate piano intro (different from the ones that Sakurada used to do) but this time it was pretty obvious they would sing "Hikari Furu" so I didn't have to guess. Unfortunately, the song sounded a little meh vocal-wise, certainly one of their messier live versions and overall, one of the least enjoyable performances of the night for me which is a huge shame because this is one of my all-time faves. Lots of things came together here so I can’t put the blame on a single factor. For some reason, their voices wouldn’t blend well together and both Wa and Hi had a few too many screechy moments. Wakana sounded almost hoarse when she started singing (maybe she got a little emotional?) and at the end she had some very noticeable shaking during her long notes (I know she has that a lot for her solo stuff too but I didn’t really notice it all that much in other songs from that night but here it was hard to ignore). The background music was also quite loud during the climax of the song so it didn’t exactly help to make it sound better. Keiko delivered an awesome "mabushii asa" though.

En3 into the world: Perfect ending to be honest and again, nothing beats this, not even a YKL cover (although I will say that I enjoy those too). It was kinda bittersweet though. Obviously this song is about taking new paths, not knowing what lies ahead. And really, this is what we have to deal with right now.

At this point, the future is blurry, no one knows what will happen to Kalafina. The girls didn’t even hint at any possible future activities. There was just an endless amount of appreciation for the past and present. Every time one of them thanked the fans for patiently waiting for Kalafina’s return, I couldn’t help but tear up a little. Yes, the wait was rough and I am sure many people lost hope along the way but I personally always knew we'd see them back together again. And when Wakana straight up broke into tears during an MC (with Keiko comforting her and shielding her from the cameras), I cried like a baby (especially when Wakana cried even harder and made Keiko tear up too) 🥲 All the pent-up emotion just came to the surface. Hikaru on the other was determined not to cry throughout the whole concert. They are too precious for this world!! I really hope they don't cut this moment from the broadcast (but knowing them, they probably will). For the time-being, I’ll just follow Keiko’s advice and continue listening to Kalafina and love them🥰Who knows, maybe one day…? I'll never give up hope and I don't think the girls will either. While she didn't outright say it, Keiko couldn't help but utter a few hopeful words, more like a prayer actually, "叶うならまた~/And if my wish would come true, maybe [we can do this/sing together] again~" It was an amazing concert, I had the time of my life and will treasure those memories forever. Thank you Kalafina!!

Cannot wait for the TV broadcast to experience all of this again and to relive every little detail. I should have written the report right away (or taken some extensive notes) when my memories were still fresh but my schedule for the following days was simply too busy. Now I'm back home and fighting against a jet-lag so the finer details are escaping me T_T (I feel like I am getting a few things mixed up and don't even know which things happened in which MC)

[omiishii]

megumi x f!reader — one bed trope

warming: smut , my grammar lol

words: 2,500+

were utterly exhausted. Every bone in your body screamed for a shower and a nice fluffy hotel bed with a million pillows. Unfortunately, the motel was dingy and old with its dated 90s Japanese decor. The sound of the overhead lights buzzing made the muscles in your face twitch. Everything was washed in a yellow faded light casting shadows warily down the walkway.

‘Ugh, my sock is soggy I think…’

Body sore, blood caking the side of your face as well as your knee (conveniently hidden by jujutsu glamor), and your hair in disarray– You shuffled your feet as you stood, glancing over at your far more put-together, attractive mission companion.

You were on a Grade 1 mission with Mr. Perfect himself, Megumi Fushiguro. At least that's what you thought of him. He was so enormously talented– in ways you’d never be. Ugh, it pissed you off.

“A room for two,” Megumi muttered to the front desk lady; A sweet older woman with thick Coke bottle glasses.

“Oh, what a lovely couple,” she muttered quietly. Her voice was reedy and clipped. She hummed as she slowly moved to the key wall mumbling about romance and sweet nothings.

“We aren't …”

A slight blush dusted your cheeks as you tuned him out. He continued sputtering to the motel attendee for many reasons and all you could think about was being back home, done with this mission.

One is your current state… and jujutsu status. Megumi was of the honorable Zen’in clan while you were a lowly outsider of bastard lineage. Though Megumi wasn't one for the clan's caste system he still had this air about him. His spotless appearance spoke volumes about the power gap between you both.

He was cool, calm and collected. Everything a jujutsu sorcerer should be, but you struggled to wake up early enough to train and forgot to take your medication regularly. A classic girl failure.

You sighed looking up at his cut jaw and dark silk-like tresses.

And two… you were wholly in love with him.

…

With the key in hand, the two of you walked down the sidewalk to room 3C. The clicking of your shoes echoes in the night. The two of you in simple silence. Till someone broke it and surprisingly it wasn't you. “I think you should take less risks on missions. It's not worth a small rank like this. You get too close and leave your left side wide open.”

His comment sounded guarded, cautious even as he unlocked the motel door

“Who asked?” You ground out, embarrassment lacing every inch of your body. God this was so stupid. The one time you go on a mission with Mr. Perfect, he reads you for filth.

Stomping inside you chunk your backpack against the wall.

“At least be a little respectful,” he muttered.

“Just shut it, Megumi.” you flipped him the bird as you rushed into the bathroom. “ I call dibs on the first shower.”

With that, you slammed the small bathroom door before letting out a massive groan.

“I'm such a bitch…”

…

The shower did in fact heal you just a little bit. You felt somewhat human afterward, a bit nicer too.

“Figure I should apologize" You mutter to yourself sheepishly with a towel in tow.

“Hey Megumi” You call observing the dingy feeling of the room. Its lights overhead feel distant and faded. There was a chair, a small box television, and one…one bed. “Wait…”

Wait, why was there…

“..Only one bed?!” Eyes bugging out of their sockets as blood rushes to your face, practically shouting it.

“Hey, quiet it down.”

Words fell from your mouth, “Don’t silence me, you slut!’

Your heart raced as you realized the implications of sharing a bed with Megumi. Thoughts of intimacy and vulnerability flooded your mind aka, being naked wrapped in pure ecstasy. It contradicts the frustration and resentment you had been feeling towards him just moments ago. Hot and cold create a whirlwind of feelings.

Suddenly images of you beside him attack your brain, as well as beneath… Instantly flustered you tossing the towel at his face.

He grunts feeling it smack his head, “It's not my fault. I told her we weren't married.” He tosses it back, “Besides I’m sleeping on the floor.”

It knocked the wind out of your sails and honestly, you didn't expect anything less “Oh…”

…..

The rest of the night you felt a bit awkward thanks to you and your big mouth. Just leave it to you to be reactive and look so totally and utterly uncool in front of your senior. You cringed at the thought of what kind of report he might write… or worse blab to Gojo– you’d never hear the end of it.

After a quick fast food run the two of you settle in for the night. Each kept to the corners of the room, not looking at the other for too long.

True to Megumi’s words, he grabbed a pillow and a scratchy blanket and started prepping his cot. Shame and guilt washed over you. The man had your back today when it counted and here you were making him sleep on the crusty floor. You just felt… awkward as you pulled back the covers and a bit ungrateful.

“Oh gross,” he whined quietly.

“What now?”

“Foreign stain…blood or shit… can't tell which.”

You look at the unfortunate stain with a grimace and with a heavy sigh you say, “Megumi…just share with me. I won't tell anyone if you don't.”

He gives you a solemn stare before he replies “Fine.” before tossing his pillow on the bed.

……

The two of you lay side by side coffin style– cumbersome and clinical on the small bed. You try your best not to touch him and give him plenty of space, suddenly aware of every inch you take up. Breathing becomes something you have to actively think about. Damn, of all the people to share a bed with…

The light turns out and all you hear is him shifting and turning on his side as you stare up at the ceiling. Heart pounding in your ears as your vision is enveloped in darkness. The mildew smell of the motel and the warmth of him that radiates through the thin sheet between you two make your head spin.

This just isn't fair. Would he laugh at you the next day? Would he think you’re weak?

Despite your best efforts, you can feel his skin almost ghost yours. Slowly you pull back rubbing your socks on the itchy sheets.

“Do you really hate me so much?” His voice suddenly booms in your ear despite his even tone.

“What?” head whipping sideways fast only to still see his back towards you— gray t-shirt straining over corded tense muscles.

“Do… you hate me?” he repeated, a bit slower. His body pivoting to face yours.

Side by side the two of you peer into each other's eyes– searching for something to hold on to. Two emotionally constipated people make for some uncomfortable, quiet tension.

You don't know what he's looking for in your gaze, but for you …you looked for anything real– a feeling, a micro expression. Would you be honest only for him to laugh at you or, would you forever be befuddled with tonight's mission and its aftermath. A stain just like the one on the floor. Blood or shit…

To your surprise, as you search his dark blue midnight-like irises you see nothing but a look you can't quite place.

“No.” You answer honestly, taking a leap of faith. Your blood is singing through your veins. “I always thought you'd hate me.”

It was his turn to search your gaze. His softens and you feel your heart tug. Each heartstring is being plucked gently.

“Never.” He said evenly— calculated but honest.

The way he looked at you made those heartstrings sing. His normally high-walled expression suddenly looked love-sick— all for you?

The blood in your head pounded. You couldn't believe this. What did he mean by this?

“Never?” You echoed back hoping he'd catch your drift.

All the years watching him train. All the years you saw him strive to be who he is today. Such adoration held in your heart you poured into your words. “You're just so perfect and I'm just so…”

His lips were on yours– soft and questioning. They hovered as he whispered. “Don't talk about yourself like that.”

You feel the damn break in that instant.

You don't know who kissed first this time but both of you were tangled in minutes. Arms and legs clinging to each other like you'd disappear in a blink of an eye. Both, kissing is so passionate, all tongue and teeth.

“Megumi.” You whimper feeling his hands pull you closer to his hard muscles – yours a stark contrast, all soft and supple.

‘Shit, he's built like a brick wall’ you sob with tears of joy mentally. Forever thankful for the old lady going on about the joys of marriage and one bed.

“Call me Fushiguro,” he says between each kiss.

“Fushiguro.” You mumble against his lips as you deepen a kiss.

His leg slid between your thighs causing your breath to hitch. His nimble fingers slide along the edge of your shirt. He drew little patterns near your hip bone, making you squirm with need. ‘Damn he's good.’ you weren't a virgin by any means but the way he touched you made you feel like a live wire sparked under your skin.

Copying his movements, you danced your hands under his shirt. They twirled and tip-toed up his spin, making him shutter. You wanted him so badly you could taste it.

But surely that wasn't the case for him… the idea of Megumi wanting you desperately seemed out of the realm of possibility.

When his clothes cock ground on your covered center, however, a groan tore through your lips. Blush adored your face.

‘ God if you are real, thank you.’ you thought feeling his abs under the pads of your fingers. His muscles twitched and spasmed under your touch.

Two touch-starved lovers caressed each other till they were a moaning mess in the dark.

You don't remember how your clothes ended off, and on the floor, but soon the two of you were naked. Wrapped in each other's arms, praying for more.

“I want you so bad.’ his voice rumbling in his chest. The deep richness of his voice makes you wet and weak. “Every day I have to see you. And every day I'd have to think about how I couldn't have you. He tweaks your nipple after that statement. The sensation of leaving goosebumps on your arms and neck. You suddenly felt parched for something more. Hunger took over you as you felt him cup your tits.

Grinding down on his pretty pink, hard member, slick dripped from your ripe cunt. Wanting and needing more he did the same.

“I can't keep waiting.” your breath came out of your pants. “I need your cock so bad."

His face turned red, and with a playful frown, he batted your thigh feeling a tad bit embarrassed. You couldn't help but laugh. The sound rang like a clear bell, music to Megumi’s ears. It was one of his favorite things about you, well…and your boobs.

“I don't have a condom.“ he said gruffly, disappointed with the realization.

Matter of factly you contested, “I don't mind. I got an IUD.”

He hung his head and a hiss left his lips. “Shit don't say shit like that. It's too tempting.” his cock twitches against your soft leg.

“Oh?” you bit your lip. You tried to feel bad. You really did, but as your hand slid down and grabbed his throbbing shaft a whimper escaped his lips and you wanted nothing more than to tease him. “I could give you a pussy job.”

“God damn it. “ he breathed. Though his face seemed to be neutral, he quickly sat up lining his weeping dick over your swollen pearl “Yes.”

Gently, he slid it up and down. “Fuck.” you moaned, feeling the tip catch your needed clit. Moving your hips in slow circles you could feel all your wetness. Slick sounds and heaving panting could be heard through the motel room.

“You feel so good.” he breathed caging you– hands on either side of your head. His long body shields you from the world, just you and him.

His cock continued to slide through your pussy lips. Each pass-over makes you groan and moan. Something deep in your cunt felt like a sudden itch that couldn't be scratched. It was driving you insane. The idea of him pounding into you making the bed creak and groan taunted you. Oh, to have him fill you with his cum– to be dripping pathetically underneath him.

He must have had the same fantasy cause with each pass of his cocks reddened head over your greedy hole, he groaned louder and louder. Each thrust became more and more frantic before suddenly you felt the tip catch your entrance.

The two of you gasp for air. Hands cling tightly and the movement comes to a halt. His eyes look at your flushed face and tousled hair.

God, you couldn't do it anymore, “please…”

'What?’

“Please I need you so bad, it hurts.” you felt so pitiful as you begged laying in your wet mess.

Something in Fushiguro snapped, all caution thrown to the wind. “Fuck.”

Slowly he tilted his hips, the head of his cock easily piecing your core. His hard member rubbed through your slown cunt so slowly. His size wasn't too enormously big but the way he was curved hit that spot just right.

“Ah, Megumi, please,” you begged.

With that, he snapped his hips. The curve of his cock hits your g spot just right till you see stars. All you can do is cling to him as he rocks your body and world.

God, this felt so unreal. Every nerve in your body sang and all the chemicals dumped at once creating the feeling of pure love.

You peek up at him and see he's been watching you, his eyes filled with devotion. Cradling his face, your fingers trace his jaw, chin, and lips. The feeling of his cock bullying your core soon takes its toll. Your body feels like it's about to snap. All you can do is moan wildly. “Fugiguro…. I'm so close.”

“Good girl.” He grunts in your ear. That alone sends you flying off the edge. Stars explode, and it's like a cord snapping deliciously. You scream his name as his thrusts get more and more sloppy as your cunt milks him for all he's worth.

“Where?” he grunts.

“Inside, please…”

With that, he too is joining you in pure ecstasy. His member paints your insides with each finishing stroke. The last bit of your orgasm makes you sensitive and whiny.

“Thank you,” you mutter pathetically in his ear, as you hold him tight.

He smiles in the crook of your neck, “I should be thanking you.”

With a few more thrusts he pulls out his softening cock. It drips small its of cum over your thigh. You'd shower in the morning but for now, your fingers play with the edges of his dark tresses. “Fushiguro…”

Expectantly he looks at you, “Yeah?”

“I'm so glad there is only one bed.”

He chuckles but relief feels in his eyes. “Me too…”

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter 1 - Cracks In The Mirror

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary, Reader disrupts Natasha’s rigid training routine, introducing her to small acts of rebellion while hinting at the dangers of being Dreykov’s favored.

W/c: 3k

A/N: I have been sitting on this for 2-3 years. Rewrote it plenty of times, but I really want this out in the world (mostly for myself, lol)

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the red room and Natasha's origins, kind of.

The room was cold, but sweat dripped down Natasha’s spine. She moved in perfect sync with the other girls, her limbs precise, her breathing steady. She didn’t dare falter. 

"Front tendu!" Tap. Tap. Tap. 

“Tendu side.” Tap. Tap. Tap. 

The words were yelled across the training room. A long, thin stick in wrinkled hands, tapping against the hardwood floors in measured beats. Girls stood in rows. All shapes, sizes, and ages. They moved their limbs with precision. There was focus and determination on every single face. A hidden wariness of falling out of line kept them from making the slightest mistake. Their bodies moved and bent to the will of the woman standing before them. The sound of feet sliding to their correct positions could be heard as the tapping of the ruler kept them going. Its tapping served as a reminder. One wrong move could be their hands, legs, or behinds. The soreness would last until the following day, disallowing them to sit or feel anything but the pain of their mistakes.

“Tendu side. Tendu back.” Over and over again. The mirror stretched across the room, reflecting each girl as they stared straight ahead, unblinking. This was routine, ingrained in them after years of practice. Ballet wasn’t just about grace—it was control. Every movement was drilled into them for flexibility, precision, and discipline.

��Madam B. walked through the small class with a heated expression. Her face was all hard lines and wrinkles. Her frown seemed to be permanently set. Her hair was pulled impossibly tight into a slick bun, leaving little room for tension and no hair out of place.

Natasha, short, thin, and less reserved than the others, stood proudly as she moved her feet. She was out of practice. Years of being away would do that to her. Her body ached with the use of muscles left untouched. Her knees buckled for a millisecond, but she fixed them. She squared her shoulders and breathed in through her nose and mouth. Her eyes never left the mirror in front of her. She was too focused.

A sharp crack of wood against the skin broke the rhythm. One of the girls flinched, her body folding in on itself for just a moment before she scrambled back into position.

Natasha didn’t flinch. She couldn’t.

From the corner of her eye, she saw you. You stood out of sync, your movements deliberate and slow, almost mocking.

Madam B’s stick struck twice against your thigh, then your shoulder. You didn’t react. Not really. A flicker of pain crossed your face before your lips curved into a slight, defiant smirk.

Natasha’s chest tightened. Trouble. That’s what you were.

"Yobanaya suka (fucking bitch)," you muttered to yourself from behind her. Natasha couldn’t help but wonder where you learned so many colorful words. She’s heard half a dozen since you chose your spot beside her almost an hour ago. She glanced in your direction, finding that you'd stepped out of position.

Madam B. tapped the ruler against the floor twice in a warning. You ignored it and continued stretching. Natasha didn’t miss the smirk that formed on your face.

You knew what you're doing.

She watched Madam B. walk over to you again, her movements quicker this time. She stood before you, her back rigid and her head held high. You looked up at her through fluttering lashes.

Madam B's lips curved into a thin, sharp smile as she stood before you, her voice cutting like a blade. "Dreykov’s prized little doll," she drawled, the mockery laced with venom. "So delicate, yet he lets you pretend you're special."

Your hand twitched at your side, a brief betrayal of the calm exterior you wore. As Madam B did, Natasha noticed, her eyes narrowing with satisfaction.

Her voice sliced through the air, dripping with derision. “Dreykov’s shining star. Always so perfect, aren’t you? Though we both know perfection comes cheap when you’re his favorite.”

You didn’t flinch. Your hand stilled at your side, and your face hardened into something unshakable, unreadable. Without missing a beat, you slid effortlessly into the next movement, your lines precise.

Madam B hovered momentarily, waiting for a crack, a tell. When none came, her sneer deepened. “Impressive,” she muttered, though her tone made it sound like a curse. She turned on her heel, the sharp click of her boots fading as she moved on, leaving you untouched but more closely watched.

Class today was boring for you. It was the same old things and the same old people. The same fifteen girls since you were four years old. Natasha has just been transferred into your age group and is a year or so younger than you. You didn’t know her that well. Only things you’d heard whispered about her from within the halls of the Red Room. Natalia Romanova is a spitfire. She’s quick-witted, fearless, and disciplined. Looking at her, you’re not convinced of any of those things. Though, you’d be a fool to think otherwise. People could be surprising.

You studied Natasha for a while.  With each extension, each plié, she navigated the dance floor effortlessly, her every movement purposeful and controlled. There was an air of mystery surrounding her, and you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

But the more you looked, the more you found her boring.

Everything about her screamed perfectionist. She seemed to have it all together and knew what she was doing. You, on the other hand, were bored. 

Determined to uncover the enigma that was Natasha, you made it a mission to learn more about her. She was your competition, after all. Dreykov whispered about her when he thought you weren’t listening. He praised her every chance he got. You needed to stay ahead.

*******

The halls were buzzing during the transition, though no one dared raise their voice above a whisper. Natasha had always imagined this was what middle school must’ve felt like—girls moving in packs, their identical uniforms blending into a single, faceless entity. White poplin shirts were pressed to perfection, black skirts were grazing their knees, and knee-high socks were pulled taut. No strand of hair was out of place; every ponytail was slicked back tight enough to ache. No individuality. No room for it.

Natasha lingered near the edge of the group, blending in but feeling distinctly apart. That was when you appeared at her side, your voice low, almost a murmur.

“Come with me,” you said, your hand brushing hers before locking onto her wrist. The touch was light, fleeting, but it made Natasha stiffen.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, pulling back slightly, though you didn’t let go.

“I’ve got a place,” you said, not bothering to explain more. “We can skip the next class.”

Natasha stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “We can’t just—”

“We can.” Your voice was steady, certain. “Unless you’d rather spend another hour listening to Madam B tear into us.” You tugged her gently, your steps deliberate as you weaved through the flow of girls. “Trust me.”

Natasha hesitated, but her curiosity—her reluctance to stand out in the hall—won out. She followed.

You didn’t stop until you reached a side corridor, the girls thinning around you—a clearing. Ahead, a door with the sign “RESTRICTED” leading to a narrow staircase stretched upward. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Keep up,” you said, already slipping through the door. Natasha followed reluctantly, trailing you up the steps, her grip tightening on the railing. 

“There are cameras,” Natasha said, her voice low and disbelieving.

“Not for another thirty seconds,” you replied, already moving toward the top of the staircase. You didn’t look back at her. “The cameras will swing back this way soon, so if you’re staying, stay. Otherwise, go back now.”

Natasha froze, indecision rooting her to the spot. She could feel the seconds ticking away, each heavier than the last.

“Your call,” you said over your shoulder, not waiting for her answer.

Natasha exhaled sharply, her feet carrying her forward before she could stop herself. The cool air hit her first, causing a shiver up her spine as she watched you. Maybe this was a trap. Maybe she shouldn’t have trusted you. 

"Don't you love being outside?" You twirled effortlessly, the movement precise, like muscle memory. When you stopped, you glanced back, catching Natasha’s wary eyes darting across the rooftop.

"This is a bad idea," she said, her voice flat, her shoulders stiff. She didn’t move from the doorway.

You laughed softly, leaning against the edge of the low wall. The wind caught your hair, tugging at the strands you sliced back. You didn’t care. “Maybe. But it’s better than listening to Madam B drone on about posture, right?”

Natasha didn’t answer, her eyes still scanning, her arms folded tightly.

“You ever do something just because you wanted to?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied her.

She finally looked at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “No,” she said, blunt and quiet. “Widows follow the rules.”

You smiled, a little sharper now, but your voice stayed light. “Rules are boring. You should try breaking one sometime.” You pushed off the wall and took a step closer to her. She didn’t flinch, but you could feel the tension radiating off her. She was too careful, too rigid.

“Aren’t you afraid?” she whispered after a beat, her voice so low you almost missed it.

You grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Of what? Getting caught? Been there, done that.” You glanced at the rooftop around you, then at the open sky. “Up here, though? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The wind brushed against your face as you stepped onto the ledge of the rooftop wall, your arms outstretched for balance. You moved effortlessly as if you had done it a hundred times—because you have. “Relax,” you called over your shoulder, the corners of your lips quirking. “I’ve been up here dozens of times. It’s fine.”

Natasha stood frozen by the doorway, her arms crossed tightly. Her eyes tracked every step you took. “You fall, I’ll get in trouble,” she warned, her tone clipped.

You glanced back at her, unbothered, and twirled on your heel like a circus performer. “Nah, I won’t fall. And even if I did, what are they gonna do? Ground me?”

“Maybe not,” Natasha said, her voice dropping, “but you’re Dreykov’s star student.”

That stopped you. Your smile faded, and you hopped down from the wall with practiced ease, landing softly. You crossed your legs on the ground and began picking at the frayed knee of your tights, pretending not to care. “So what?” you muttered, your fingers moving restlessly. “You look like you needed this,” you said, changing the subject.

Natasha didn’t move at first. She watched you, unsure, her arms still crossed as she shivered against the chill. Finally, she took a hesitant step forward, then another, until she was close enough to sit beside you. You felt the warmth of her body as she edged closer, but you didn’t shift away, even though you could feel her gaze studying you.

“I know you,” Natasha said quietly, her voice laced with suspicion. “You’re always with him. He seems to like you a lot.” She glanced at your tights, your pointe shoes, then back up to your face. “Is that where you got the key to get up here?”

“Yes,” you said simply. Then, after a beat, you added, “Not like I had a choice.” Your voice was even, but the weight of your words lingers in the air. You tapped your fingers rhythmically against your legs, your eyes flitting to the open sky.

“Why does he like you so much?” Natasha pressed, her tone more curious than accusing now.

You looked at her, then back down at your knees. “As long as he doesn’t like you, it doesn’t matter,” you snapped, the words sharper than you intended. Natasha flinched, her shoulders shrinking inward. Regret crept in, and you sighed. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your gaze drifting back to the sky.

For a moment, it was quiet. Then you spoke again, your voice softer then. “When Dreykov takes a special interest in someone, it’s not good. You don’t want that. Trust me.” Your fingers kept tugging at the hole in your tights. “But I’ve learned how to use it. It gets me things—keys, a little freedom, a little breathing room. I can mouth off sometimes, and he lets it slide. Usually.”

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. “He’s got his eye on you, though. You're all he talks about since you came back from Ohio.”

Natasha frowned, confusion flashing across her face. “Why? I’ve barely done anything.”

You shrugged, looking back up at the sky. “Maybe that’s why. Or maybe he sees something in you. Either way, you should be careful. You don’t want to end up like me.”

She didn’t reply, but you caught the flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, maybe. Or doubt."I think it's because you're a good girl. A rule-follower. Someone who knows how to distract others. I'm not. He wants you to be his best soldier."

"He wants to mold us into the perfect killers." Natasha frowned.

"That's why they make us dance," You said, "To teach us the grace and balance we'll need."

"Men like pretty girls who can do damage," You muttered. "You seem like the type."

"Oh," Natasha nodded. She's not sure what any of that means. She looked at your feet and then her own. "How old are you?"

"I think fourteen?" You tried to remember. "I'm not sure. I just had a birthday, so..."

You leaned forward, stretching your limbs until you could touch your toes. You peeked between your fallen curls to look at Natasha. She followed your every move. You sat up again to look at her.

"Do you like it here?" You asked her.

"It's the only home I know," She said, "And it's all I'm good at. Do you?"

"No," You said with a frown, "I despise this place.”

"I think we can be friends, Natalia." You held out your hand for her to take. 

“Friends?” She repeated the word as if it was foreign to her. She looked down at your hand. This could only mean bad things. But she shook it anyway. 

As you and Natasha released hands, footsteps approached from the shadows beyond the roof door. You barely have time to process the sound before a figure appeared—a tall, older soldier, maybe eighteen at most, with a roughness that spoke of years hardened by the Red Room. He had a scar that ran along his jawline, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing as it landed on the two of you. Instinctively, you straightened, keeping your face blank and ready for whatever he might demand.

“What are you two doing here?” His voice was gravelly, making you wonder what he’s been through to end this way. He crossed his arms, looking between you and Natasha with a disapproval that seemed all too familiar.

“I asked a question,” he repeats in English this time, his eyes narrowing. “This is a restricted area.” He stepped closer, and you felt Natasha’s shoulders tense beside you. You saw her instinctively brace herself, her fists tightening at her sides, but you placed a subtle hand on her arm, urging her to let you handle it.

“Just clearing our heads,” you answered calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Training has been… intense.”

He gave a harsh, humorless chuckle, his eyes flicking down to your ballet slippers and then back up. “You think any of us get to clear our heads? Or take little strolls without a consequence?” He sneered. "Dreykov lets you off the leash, and this is what you do with it?”

You could see the threat in his stance, his arms bulging, muscles straining as he clenched his fists. It's the stance of a man who knows how to cause pain. 

"I should bring you to him and tell him you've been causing trouble. He'd like that."

"And maybe we should tell him you're a bully," You didn’t back down.

"You think you're immune because he f-"

You spit on his shoe. He didn’t need to finish that sentence.

"Disrespectful little brat," He growled, reaching for you. Natasha moves before you do. However, she paused when you spoke.

"You touch either of us, and Dreykov will have your head," You promised him.

The man paused and glared. "You little-"

"I will give him the honor," You told him, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave."

"You have to go back to class anyway." He reminded you.

"Not if I don't want to," You shrugged.

He scoffed. "I'd like to see that,"

"You will," You promised, turning your back on him. You grabbed Natasha's hand and tugged her toward the door. You walked off, and Natasha was the first to speak.

"I don't like him,"

"No one does," You told her.

"Why did he call you...that? Say that Dreykov likes..."

"I'm his favorite," You told her. You didn’t say it smugly or with pride. It’s simply a fact. You couldn’t lie. She already knew. It was a secret, but it was not. Everyone knew.

"That's why they treat you differently." Natasha nodded to herself.

"They treat you differently, too,"

"Yeah, but not like they do to you," Natasha suggested.

"You have no idea," You mumbled. "Anyway, are we cool Natasha?"

"We're cool," She nodded.

"Good, now go get dressed. You can't wear your ballet outfit to the infirmary."

"Right," She nods her head. "The infirmary? Why?

"We’re going to be getting excuses from my favorite nurse,” You grinned. 

The last thing she expected when she arrived back at the Red Room was to make a friend. As Natasha headed toward the dorms, she couldn't help but look back at you, her new friend, in this cold, barren place. There’s a flicker of warmth, the briefest feeling of connection she hadn’t known she needed. Even though she’s been trained to rely on no one but herself, knowing someone understands makes the isolation a little more bearable.

---> next part