#anyway its ivy. i think that makes sense

[majorshatterandhare]

Thinking to myself “man it’s a good thing there nine mechanisms to project my disabilities onto, wouldn’t want people to think I’m headcanoning them to have an unrealistic amount of issues.” When it’s like, I have all these issues! And some people have way more comorbidities than me!

[transannabeth]

hi. for people who saw gatsby: an american myth. do you remember mckee asking nick for lunch. and then gatsby in like the next scene inviting nick for lunch. because i remember.

[yuridovewing]

This would definitely... Bloat some things, but I still want to do it cause then it involves all four clans like it Should, but man I love the idea of each clan having their own "Power of Three" trio. Like a lot. Originally I was going to make them all descendants of the current leaders and spread the litters throughout TNP, Po3, and OotS, but that didn't quite seem right to me. There aren't a ton of descendants for me to work with to this end (especially for Blackstar, who I've decided is Darktail's dad who never has another litter in the clans). Soooo instead, I want all of them to be forbidden kits. Half clan and medic children, baby. So obviously this includes the ThunderClan three, and the other litters I'm considering are Tawnypelt's kittens (moved to be born late in Po3) who would technically be ThunderShadow kits... that or I'm changing who the other parent is. (Here comes TawnyFeather with the steel chair...? They could meet again in Outcast... owo?) and Sedgewhisker and her sisters who are apparently WindRiver kits?? Which I didn't know was a thing til now.

That just leaves the RiverClan three who I'm not totally sure on. My friend Vio suggested Icewing's first litter, which I kinda like cause that includes Beetlewhisker. Makes his fate in the Dark Forest all the more terrifying. But I'm also considering Minnowtail and her siblings (reviving her brother Tumblekit). I do not remember if those guys have confirmed dads but if they do, uhhhhhhhh. Well they aren't their dads anymore. Officially halfclan now.

[world-of-aus]

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky x Pornstar!Reader

Warnings: MINOR DNI 18+ (Oral, Fingering, P in V, Praise all around,) Its Porn With a substantial amount of plot?

Author's Note: Second Starkhub Installment for 'The Soldier & Eden Ivy' hope you all enjoy, make sure to drink some water...

STARKHUB - Eden Ivy Fucks Her Boss to keep her job

  Eden Ivy 

  Eden Ivy  

  Eden Ivy 

“Eden Ivy.”  Your name was on everyone’s tongue including his own. 

Stark looked up from his calendar brow raised and pen stilling over the boxed paper, “Eden Ivy?” He questions. “You know carter’s available for this shoot right?” Bucky nods, “I know, but I asked for Eden Ivy, not Carter.” Tony raises his hand in mock surrender, “easy there soldier, I heard you just making sure I heard right, ANYWAY.” Bucky watches his manager scribble your name in finalizing the soldier's filming week. The pen drops to the paper, Tony leaning back in his chair, “so Eden ivy,” he questions with a grin, “She’s really that good?” Bucky raises a brow in question, “what do you mean?” his boss leans forward, “oh c’mon Barnes it’s rare you film with female costars more than once. Carters your go to, your like Starkhubs ‘it couple’.” 

The broad-shouldered brunette grimaces, “we’re not a couple.” he grits shutting the rumor down. “She just happens to be the only one that can take what the soldier gives her, you know how intense it can get, not many like that.” 

Tony nods, “you’re right, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but if what I’ve heard of Eden Ivy so far is true – I think the soldier may have met his match.” His boss knocks on the desk after his thought, “well we’re done here pal and listen don’t forget to get with Pepper and Eden to let them know about the upcoming shoot, don’t want any surprises.” 

The brunette stands with a nod, “are they here today?” Tony looks down at his schedule, “they’re on set three should be wrapped already.” Bucky sees himself out of Tony’s office with a wave over his shoulder, feet carrying him out of the building containing the offices and into the building where the sets are located. 

Sex invades his senses as he passes the sets, pushing the door open for set three, he makes it two steps in before he’s freezing, cock hardening in his joggers.  

Quiet whimpers leave your teeth bitten lips, your body gyrating down onto a silicone pink cock, fingers buried between your thighs as you work quick circles over your clit. Bucky isn’t new to solo’s he’s done his fair share of them when he first started at Starkhub, but he’s never seen one look this good. If he was at home hidden behind a laptop, he’s certain he would be watching your scene right now hand wrapped tightly in a fist around his cock. 

He’s entranced by the way you bounce on the silicone, lips parted on a moan as filth spews from your lips. Pepper is the first to spot him, not that he takes any notice barely seeing her cross the floor to where he stands hard and aching. “Like what you see Barnes?” she teases, freeing him from Eden’s spell. He blinks owlish like as he looks over at his smirking bosses wife, “you could say that.” he speaks gruffly. “Tony said you would be wrapped up, sorry for just barging in.” he chokes out ears trained on your moans, you were close he could tell. Peppers grinning, “Tony knew our wrap time, though knowing him, he has his reasons.” is all she says as your climax hits, Bucky’s eyes shutting, teeth clenched, hands fisted at his sides as he hears you ride it out.  

“So, what can I do for you?” Pepper questions the buzz of the set ringing around the two of them as your set wraps. 

“I requested Eden for a scene on Friday, Tony wanted to make sure I ran it by the two of you to make sure she’s available.”  

The one thing Bucky loved about Pepper is how organized she was, he watched her pull out her phone, going into her planner for you. She scrolls through your scheduled week; she hums looking through your days.  

“She’s all yours,” she says looking up at him, “just make sure you let her know too.” Bucky nods and then she’s leaving him. He makes his way across the set, the crew moving around him as he closes the distance between the two of you. You’re still perched on the sets bed, a sheet lazily thrown over you, and a fucked out sweet smile on your lips. Suddenly he wishes he was the reason for that smile. 

Your gaze is locked on his as he closes the distance, “hi,” you breathe, “is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me soldier?” You question teasingly gaze drawing down to the tent in his pants. Despite the cheesiness of your comment Bucky chuckles, “you wanna see just how happy you’ve made me Eden?” 

You try to conceal your grin, teeth capturing your bottom lip as you look up at him, “careful soldier, unless you want a free show, though between you and I we both know our bosses won’t take to kindly to that, nothings free here.” 

Bucky laughs more relaxed this time, “well maybe it won’t have to be a free show, are you available this Friday?” 

Your grin morphs into a smirk, “you want to make a video with me soldier, get me naked and spread out till I’m screaming your name?” 

He gets bold, leaning forward fingers hooking under your chin as he guides you up onto your knees, the flimsy sheet falling exposing your naked breasts to the room. “Want to do much more than a video with you, I want to wreck you, want you to only think of me when you’re with someone else, want to hear you screaming my name when you should be screaming theirs, and when I do, all I want to hear from you is thank you.” 

He’s not above taking you now, especially with how you preen his name, leaning into his touch wanting more. He pulls away, grinning when a whine leaves your lips, “I’ll see you Friday Eden, be a good girl for me now.” He leaves you with a wink, your body slumping into the messy sheets and a curse of his name leaving your lips. 

He’d have you cursing more than just his name come Friday, he’d have you begging. 

 

You were dressed in the tightest, tiniest skirt wardrobe could find you, a black silk blouse clinging to your skin, buttons popped open to just below your sternum - and the heels? 

 He was going to fuck you in those heels. The next time you wore them his name would be on your lips; he’d make sure of it. 

There was a pout on your painted features as you met ‘your boss’s’ demeaning gaze, you were swaying “nervously” in your spot, really playing into your role of being the scared secretary on the verge of losing her job. 

“I should fire you Eden,” he grunts pretending to look at the blank sheets of papers stuffed in a prop file handed to him before the cameras started running. “You fucked up my numbers, you’re fucking with my money. You know what I do to people that fuck with my money?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “I kick them out on their ass’s Eden.” 

You shrink back at his outburst, but he catches the way you rub your thighs together. “Please sir,” you whimper, fuck he wanted you on your knees, his hands fisted in your hair while he choked you on his cock. “I can’t afford to lose this job, my daddy will be so upset with me, please.” He huffs as he kicks away from his desk pushing to his feet as he watches you, strong arms brace him against the fake wood of his desk. “Daddy? You think I give a fuck what Daddy’s going to think? Is Daddy going to get me my money you just lost me?” 

Your lip's part to answer but a knock on the flimsy doors set sounds, the two of you look to the door, Bucky beckons them in. Walker newest recruit to Starkhub struts in paper in hand it was Tony’s idea to introduce him like this - you’d be filming his feature film with him next week. Bucky finds he hates it; he’s staring at Eden like he wants to eat her all while he brings the papers to the desk Bucky stands behind. Walker only stops undressing you with his eyes to tell ‘your boss’ he’s got the newest numbers for him.  

He could care less about the blonde male, but his blood runs white hot when Walker delivers a slap to your ass, one neither of you were expecting on his way off the set. “See you later Eden.” He chuckles, Bucky doesn’t miss the way you shrink back, Walker’s little slap wasn’t part of the script, so your tongue tied, thrown off. He takes control calling your name bringing you back to him, “Eden, eyes on me, you and I aren’t done talking,” your gaze returns to his, good girl he thinks. “You plan on telling your daddy that you messed up, hope he gives you money to fix your mess?” 

You shake your head, “I - No sir my daddy can’t know, he’s going to be so mad at me – please sir – I'll, I’ll do anything I can’t lose this job.” He pushes off the desk, rounding it, closing the distance between the two of you. He stops just a foot short of you, hand reaching out to cup your cheek, thumb running over the apple of it, “you really want to keep this job?” You're nodding eagerly, breath already uneven and he hasn’t even touched you the way he wants too, “and you’d do anything?” 

Those doe eyes you’re so good at dishing come to life, “Anything sir – please.” 

His gaze turns dark, hungry. “Get on your knees.” You gasp mock offense, “sir I -” his hand slips from your cheek falling to your neck, squeezing, “you said you would do anything – now I’m telling you to get on your knees. You want to keep your job, right? Keep daddy and me happy?” 

You’re nodding, “then get on your knees Eden.” 

Your descent is slow, his hand around your neck guiding you as you get down on your knees for him. You look up at him as your fingers reach for the belt buckled through his slacks, you pull the belt from the buckle opening the leather. Your fingers move onto the button holding his slacks closed next letting it pop open, a groan bubbles in his chest when your nimble fingers brush against his hardened cock as you pull the zipper down slowly. Your fingers hook over the top of his slack and boxers tugging on them, his cock springs free from its confines, he watches you lick over your lower lip.  

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs hand sliding up your neck to cradle the side of your head, “now show me just how much you want to keep this job.”  

 Eyes locked on his you get your fingers around his girth, hand fisting around the base of his cock. He waits with bated breath, dark hungry eyes watching you lean forward letting his hand that cradles you follow your movement. Your tongue peeks out past your lips to lick along the underside of his cock, your tongue running over every vein that has his breath leaving his chest. His head falls back a long low grunt falling from his lips as your tongue swirls around the tip before you take him fully into the wet, warm, heat of your mouth till your stretched out around the base of his cock, till he’s hitting the back of your throat. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers fisting tugging as he guides your motion “just like that” he moans, “fuck Eden knew you were good at something.”   

You moan around his cock, your other hand finding his muscled thigh as you brace yourself, jaw slacking, eyes begging. The fist he has in your hair tightens, his other finding your cheek as he holds you still, complacent. He grinds into your mouth once, twice before he pulls you back till only the tip rests on your tongue, all self-control is lost on him as he fucks his way back into your mouth, pace unrelenting as he makes you take what he gives you. 

“That’s it,” he growls, watching your mascara streak with the tears that pull from your eyes, “take this cock Eden, take it like a good fucking girl, let me see how bad you want it.”  He tugs you off with a snarl harsh tug to your hair as he holds you at arm's length to get a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Your spit pools around your lips, dripping down your chin, staining the black satin shirt a shade darker. He can feel his cock pulse at the sight, watching as you run a thumb over your lips sucking the digit into your mouth as you lick yourself clean, “Did I do good sir? Yont won’t tell my daddy?” 

He takes hold of his own cock, bringing you back into your space as he taps your parted lips with his member, he groans when your tongue slides out, “I don’t know Eden, I don’t feel like you’re very sorry, like you really want this job.” 

You’re whining, kitten licking his cock as if that will fix your ‘mistakes’, “please sir,” you plead doe eyes beaming up at him, “I said I would do anything – and I mean anything.” 

A growl vibrates in his chest as he halls you up, a cry so pretty leaving your lips as you stumble to your feet falling into his embrace. Hand still fisted in your hair, the other finding purchase on your neck as he brings your lips to his, tongue wasting no time as he delves into your parted lips licking up into your mouth. 

“I want you naked, bent over that desk Eden - heels on.” 

You’re tense as you wait bent over the wooden desk, breath caught in your throat, ass high in the air. He drinks you in, watching you all spread out and waiting, your poor pretty pussy clenching around nothing waiting to be filled.  

He takes slow steps forward, “she’s a hungry thing isn’t she.” He husks from behind you. The first contact made is his hand slapping your pussy, the action jolting you up the desk, gasp tumbling from your lips. “Oh yes she is.” he murmurs fingers dipping into your sodden folds, you moan, head thumping against the desk at his touch, “sir please.” You push back into his hand, gyrating against the desk, he leans over you, thick digits circling your clit sweeping up your slick before plunging into your awaiting heat. 

A moan leaves your parted lips, “you’re soaked Eden, slipped in so easily, who got you this wet? Was it Walker?” 

His hot words ghost over your neck, you shake your head, biting back the whimpers, “No sir.” His fingers fuck into you, “tell me Eden who has you this wet?” 

“You sir – please.” you preen pushing back into him, eager as ever. 

“You’re such a good girl Eden,” he murmurs leaning into to nip at the lobe of your ear, “Do you only listen when your cunt is stuffed?” 

You swallow back the yes, instead answering, “no sir – I can listen, I can be good, I promise.” 

“Of course you’ll be good, you’ll do what I tell you if you want to keep this job.” he murmurs ravishing your skin, licking, nipping, biting any of you that he can reach. You’re so reactive to it all, preening his name as he fucks you with his fingers your ass pressing back into his hand as you try to get some control, get him a little deeper. “That’s it, fuck yourself sweetheart, come on my fingers Eden, get yourself wet for me – get yourself ready.” 

The wet slick slide of his fingers into your drenched cunt fill the sets air, skin slapping skin. “Sir please – please!” His teeth capture the lobe of your ear, “Come on Eden, you’ve had no problem taking from me before, come on my fingers, come on.” 

A low moan builds in his chest at the tightening of your cunt against his fingers, a broken cry leaving your lips as your orgasm washes over you. “That’s it Eden good fucking girl,” he growls his warmth that covered your back disappearing as he pushes up, his other hand holding your hips down as he fucks his fingers into you with vigor. 

A cry of his name leaves your lips, hands scrambling to grab a hold of his wrist, he's unbothered, “uh uh Eden, M’not done give me one more, come on now. You’ve taken from me now it’s my turn.” It doesn’t take him long to pull another from you, your body going taught as you gush around his fingers, wetting his slacks. “Fuck such a good fucking girl.” he growls. 

A whine leaves your lips when he pulls his fingers out, making quick work of repushing down his slacks to let his hardened cock spring free again. He covers you with his body again pulling a groan from you as he swipes his dick through your slick getting himself wet. “What’s wrong Eden, you think you’re the only one that can take? Think you could fuck me without getting fucked yourself?” 

Your answer is a choked-out moan as he slides into the wet warm heat of your channel, walls constricting him like a vice. “Fuck,” he growls sliding in till he’s buried to the hilt, the hand that fucked you covering your mouth, “let’s get one thing straight here Eden the only one doing the fucking here will be me. You ever fuck me over again, and you’ll find yourself in a far worse position then this one, you understand?” You’re nodding, whines bubbling past the hold he has on your mouth his cock accentuating every word. 

He can’t hold back anymore as he grabs the parts of you he can with his other hand holding you in place as he makes you take his cock. He only uncovers your mouth to hear how pretty you cry as he drives into you over and over again. He wrecks you like he promised, your body taking every inch of him, “that’s right take my cock like you took my money, keep me happy and you keep daddy happy,” he growls feeling himself closing in on his high. 

He doesn’t want it to end this soon, he wants to have you under him for hours crying for him to stop, that you can’t take anymore maybe another time right now he needed to give clint his money shot. So he pulls out, biting back the groan as he manhandles you to the floor, getting you on your knees as he fists his cock. Your eager for it, tongue rolling out as you look up at him waiting for his cum to paint your tongue, “should have you on your knees more often, it's a good look for you,” he grunts feeling the pleasure build, “much better than that desk you sit behind.” 

Your moaning drives him over the edge, his cum shooting from his cock, painting your cheeks, lips, tongue. He’s winded breath heavy as he watches you clean up his cum from your face with your fingers, he didn’t think he could get hard again but watching your lick your digits clean of his cum would be the thing to do it. He drops to a squat hand fisting in your hair as he brings your lips to his, its a wet dirty kiss all teeth and tongue as he tastes himself on you. 

He wants to laugh when you speak your last line, “does this mean I can keep my job?” but he doesn't instead he pats your cheek thumb running over your lower lip, tugging it down, “you keep me happy, you can have whatever job you want.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

Clints calling cut over his shoulder, the loud buzz of a finished set sounding in the air.  

The two of you relax then your back pressed against the wooden desk as you catch your breath. “How you doing Eden you alright?” he questions needing to check in. 

You smile at him, “more than alright soldier, you always show your costars this good of a time?” 

“If they’re not having a good time m’not doing my job sweetheart.” he answers hands going to the buttons of his shirt. You watch in question as he undoes each button, entranced as he pulls it off handing it to you. Your smile is soft as you take the fabric from his hands putting it on to cover up your naked body.  

“Careful soldier or I might take more than just your money.” 

He laughs, he was betting on it. 

[gilverrwrites]

A kiss for the caged bird

Tim Drake/Reader, 5K

AN: Please don't think too hard into any of the science-y crap I wrote, I was pulling it all out of my butt. Anyway, this was supposed to be a quick 500-1000 thing to clear up my writer’s block and here we are. Bon appetit my loves, I hope you enjoy ♥︎ Warnings: Dub-con (purely by the nature of sex pollen) | voyeurism | swearing | dirty talk | mean-ish Tim | minor slut-shaming ♥︎

His normally tender blue eyes are completely saturated with a dense shade of green. From the whites, to his pupils, they almost seem to be glowing. They've also been watching you like a hawk with a heated intensity that puts your hairs on edge from behind the glass of his cell since you’d entered the cave.

“It's just a shame the one person who could probably crack this in no time is the one person who can't help us right now.” Dick laments as he adjusts his bootstraps. “But I have complete faith that Oracle has got this.”

“Me too.” You agree as you stare at the projected screen, all of Barbara’s research thus far. Most of it made little sense to you but it all seemed technical enough, like she was on the right track.

“Right, so she's gonna keep working on that, Spoiler and Orphan are following the Narrows lead while Red Hood and I check out the Reservoir.” The words breeze through your head, you know you should be paying more attention but you're only half listening. Tim has taken his shirt off and is leaning against the cell door. His toned body gleaning under a layer of perspiration, as his venomous green eyes stay locked onto your frame, in all of its dragged-out-of-bed-at-2 AM-after-a-looonnnnngggggg-day-patrol glory. Seemingly noticing your distraction, Nightwing steps into your line of sight as he continues to relay the plan. “You just have to make sure he doesn't hurt himself or do anything stupid until we figure this out.”

“I know, I got it.” Dick doesn’t seem convinced, frowning as his eyes dart between you and Tim. Ignoring his doubts, you settle into the chair at the centre of the console, clicking away until you pull up the live feed from inside Tims's 6x8 prison. You can understand Dicks caution, the undeniable chemistry you and Tim shared had been evident to everyone for a long time, impeached only by your mutual reluctance to date on the job. If Bruce were here, he’d never allow for this, but Dick is doing the best he can with the resources available. Regardless, all doubts aside, you won’t allow your feelings to cause problems, not when lives hang in the balance. “Just go.”

“You’re sure?” He tries to place a reassuring arm on your shoulder but you both jump at the sudden sound of Tim’s fist needlessly hitting the wall. He’d need superstrength to break out of that thing, you're not concerned. Maybe a little more roused by the lack of restraint than you’d like to admit, but no less confident in your ability to babysit than you had been moments ago.

“Certain.” You wave off Dick when he turns back to you, lips still pursed. “Go. Who knows what that crap is doing to him, the sooner you find Ivy, the better.”

He knows it, probably better than you do.

“Buzz if you need anything.” At once you're relieved by his departure, and concerned for his safety, for everyone’s safety.

“Be safe.” You bid, watching as he straddles the Wingcycle.

“Be safe.” He echoes and without another word he's gone, leaving you alone to care for your caged Red Robin.

For a long time, you stare at the empty space Dick left behind, all too aware of Tim and the way his hot-blooded stare makes your skin burn but eventually you have to face him. Can’t monitor him without looking at him after all.

In an attempt to ease the mood, you offer him a smile. Apparently, it does nothing to reassure him or ease his tensions. He simply continues to glower at you. When that doesn’t work you play up your preceding frown, playfully pouting the way you would when you’re teasing his mid-mission stresses, but that fails too. Finally, you curve your left hand in a half heart shape, a common greeting between the two of you from rooftop to rooftop and for a moment you think it might work. He pulls the hand he has pressed to the glass back for a moment, but all he does is clench his fingers back and forth a few times before letting it fall to his side.

At a loss you spin around to the computer, tapping your fingertips on the desk as you consider Barbara’s research once more. The chances of becoming a forensic palynologist within a few hours with nothing but google and whatever research Bruce has backed up in the archives is slim, but it saves twiddling your thumbs, so you start by looking up any chemicals identified by the forensic scanner that you’re not familiar with.

It’s hard to sit still, knowing your every move is being scrutinised but by far the worst part is the silence. Tim and you are muted to each other unless you’re pressing the comms link located on the keypad by the cell door. The only sounds you can make out are the far away screeches of real-life bats located further into the cavern, and the drip, drip, dripping of the wet walls. It’s downright eerie when you’re practically alone, so when Oracle buzzes in about an hour later you jump to answer it, eager to hear another human, and anxious to find out if she has any updates.

“How’s he holding up?” She asks, and you’re glad she can’t see your worried expression. Tim hasn’t moved since Dick left. Except for when you’d crossed the bullpen to look for a fresh pen after the one you’d been using ran out of ink. You exclude that last part from your update, however.

“Okay, just tell him to hang tight, I'm getting closer.” You can tell she’s trying to sound more hopeful than she actually is, and your suspicions are confirmed when she begins to ramble about her findings. She often uses the team as a sounding board when she’s trying to wrap her head around something. “The pollen he inhaled is decreasing his plasma levels and increasing his testosterone.”

“If he’d touched the plant like she’d wanted him too it would re-level those hormones, presumably she was relying on him needing that to keep him under her control.”

“Right.” You’ll pat yourself on the back for impressing her at a more appropriate time. “And if that were it, we could just pump a bunch of oxytocins into him and voilà! But something else is messing with his nociceptors. Not to mention this stuff is packed with things I’ve never even heard of. Have you heard of horny goat weed?”

“Yeah, epi-me-di-um.” You sound the word out from your notes. “Only since tonight.”

“Where do people get these names from?” Babs groans, you can hear her tapping away at her keyboard. “I’m close though, I know it.”

“I believe in you.” She ‘awhs’ at your encouragement.

“Until I’ve got this, there is one thing he can try.” She trails off at the end. Her hesitation strikes you as odd. Surely whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. “If he’s really suffering… ejaculating might help ease any pain if only temporarily. Masturbatory only, obviously, this stuff can and will spread like hot gossip at one of Bruce’s galas.”

“Ah, okay.” You understand her aversion now, looking over at Tim as you consider how you’re going to tell him that. “I will pass the information along.”

The line goes quiet, Babs clearly sensing your discomfort, but however you’re feeling, Tim is likely feeling one thousand times worse.

Habitually, you tell each other good luck and be safe before hanging up, promising to get back to each other ASAP should anything change.

As you pass by the glass of his cubicle to reach the control panel on the other side Tim follows, falling into stride with you like a mirror image. When you stop, he stops, pressing his forearm to the glass and leaning his weight against it as he awaits your next move. Tilting closer when your fingers graze the comms button. Up close you can see that actually his irises are still blue, they’re just almost non-existent, drowned out by his green sclera’s and the sheer size of his impossibly blown-out pupils. 

Bzzt. The mic crackles as you activate it.

“Hi.” You test the waters, but when he doesn’t respond you press on. “Are you in pain?”

He silently gazes at you for so long that you start to think he’s never going to answer you. Dumbly, you tap your finger on the plane to try and coax him out of his head, instantly feeling bad as you remember all those signs in zoos ‘PLEASE DON’T TAP THE GLASS, IT MAY CAUSE STRESS OR HARM TO THE ANIMALS’.

Tim must feel the same, like a caged beast, because the seething in his response startles you. 

“No.” He taunts mockingly, mouth still twisted into a tight snarl. “I feel fantastic.”

At least his sharp humour is unaffected.

“Oracle said… that…” You can’t help allowing your eyes to trail down his body, shamelessly locking onto the subject matter, due to the distance and the darkness of his tights you’d hadn’t noticed until now that he’s rock hard, the length of his erection straining against the close-fitting fabric. Your face burns at the realisation, at your obliviousness. Of course he was, that’s what aphrodisiacs do. But mostly you're ashamed of how much you enjoy looking at it.  

“Wh-” Tim's voice makes you jump. Embarrassed, you inadvertently take your hand off the switch. An uninfected Tim would have rolled his eyes at that, would have laughed at you good-naturedly, but this Tim just tilts his head like he’s cracking his neck, eye still on you. It’s like he physically can’t look at anything else, can’t stop drinking in every inch and crevice of you, cuts and moles and all. When you push down the button again, he repeats himself impatiently. Bzzt. “What did Oracle say?”

You take a deep breath, staring at the wall behind his head to help you concentrate, determined to get the words out no matter how awkward you feel saying it. “She said that masturbating, specifically ejaculating, won’t fix things, but it should… alleviate some of your discomfort, for a while.”

It’s his turn to drum his fingers on the glass, jaw growing tight as he seems to mull on what you’ve just told him. You chance a glance back down to his crotch just long enough to see him palm his hard-on through his pants. You’re unable to keep from imagining what he looks like down there or how he might go about pleasuring himself. Feeling bad for having such depraved thoughts about him while he’s suffering and vulnerable, you remind yourself not to gawk at him.

“No, I’m not doing that.” He states sternly.

“It might help.” Your objection comes purely from a place of concern.

“What would help me is if you’d fuck off.” His response is like a slap in the face, hitting you out of nowhere. You’re only trying to help, had your wondering eyes really prompted this level of ire?

“Wh- “

“It’s bad enough that I can’t control my body and that I’m stuck in here unable to do anything worth doing, but I have to watch you fucking slutting around in those f-.” Shocked by his sudden outburst, you instinctively pull your hand back. You know he’s just trying to let off his frustrations, but it still stings a little. Feeling bad for silencing his partly warranted rant, you tune back in, unable to keep yourself from flinching and jumpily flailing your hands around every time he gets under your skin. Bzzt. “Should be making an antidote or tracking down Ivy but instead all I can think about is bending you over that-”

Bzzt. “-out there trying to help me and I wanted to punch him for touching you like some macho i-” For the first time since you’d started supervising him, Tim finally looks away from you. Throwing his head back and tugging on his own hair as he tries to compose himself. It doesn’t work. You hadn’t thought it possible but when he finally comes back to you, his face is flooded with even more ferocity, like he wants to eat you alive. Bzzt.“-elp me, if you want to help me then fuck me yourself or get out of my sight!”

There's no way you’ll let him get away with talking to you like this, but now is not the time. Swallowing your pride and clenching your fists, you leave him be, hurrying back to the desk, cursing him under your breath as you pull your feet up into the chair and turn your back to him in order to try and make yourself as small as possible. You hate to admit it, but if it weren’t for the risk of infection, his parting words might have worked. Fuck. The thought of opening that door and letting him bend you over whatever he’d had in mind makes your blood rush. 

To distract from the thought of Tim’s cock being buried tight in your walls, or how hot he’d look, panting and red faced beneath you as you fucked yourself on his length, you return to your research, glancing at the live feed to Tim’s cell every few minutes purely to confirm that he’s still alive. 

You consider changing into something more conservative, this might be the one and only time you could consider slut-shaming somewhat okay, but to do that he'll be forced to look at you, so ultimately you elect not to.

Filthy thoughts continue to plague your imagination as you try to work, and the knowledge that Tim is thinking them too, only makes it worse. You’re so tired and tense and horny that after a while it becomes difficult to focus. You’re pressing your palms into your eyes when you hear a ping; A message from Spoiler to say that The Narrows was a bust, they’re moving on to another location. Another ping from Red Hood reporting a similar issue with their own intel. One more from Oracle to say that she’s pinpointed 90% of the formula and should be able to start reverse engineering soon. 

You chime in to state that Tim is holding up. The computer pings once more, a private message from Oracle asking if it helped. You’re part way through typing that he refused when you glance at the video feed, Tim still has his back to the camera, his body pointed toward you the same way he had been all night. You freeze as you notice his bare ass.

His hose are around his knees, back bent in a hunched position, one arm jerking rapidly to and throw as he presumably strokes his cock. Without thinking you turn to face him, and he brazenly stares back at you. Once your suspicions are confirmed, you rapidly swing back. 

He’s working on it. You amend. Unsure what to do from there you needlessly stare at the jagged ceiling, restlessly pulling at your fingers as you try to calm and distract yourself from the fact that Tim is currently playing with himself, and using whatever 2-inches of your skin he can see to fuel his fire. Brain and libido at odds, you force yourself not to look at the spectacle he’s putting on.

He’ll be mortified when he’s cured, don’t make it worse, you think. Yet ultimately you crack, too intrigued not to sneak another peek and once you give in to the temptation it becomes impossible to stop.

You could watch him like that all day. Watch the fierce look of concentration on his face, the bulge in his cheek where he’s biting his tongue. Watch the pink crown of his cock, and the way his balls tighten with each brutal thrust of his fist. Watch the way every lean muscle in his body tenses and twitches as waves of pleasure roll though his body. The way his green veins grow more pronounced as he chases his climax? Wait. That can’t be good. 

Had they been green this whole time and you just hadn’t noticed? You've only seen one thing like this before. Venom. Could that be the missing 10%?

As though you hadn’t just been ogling him, you cover your eyes as you approach. This time he doesn’t follow you, legs firmly planted on the ground, but when you glimpse through the cracks in your fingers his head is turned to watch you still and you hastily snap your digits closed again before you speak to him.

Bzzt. “Tim, your veins are turning green.”

At the sound of your voice his knees buckle, your hand falls away to watch as his weakened muscles cause him to fall forward. His weight rests precariously against the glass as he hangs between standing and kneeling.

“Tim. Y- “

“I know.” The aggressiveness in which he snaps at you makes your skin run cold, but he follows it with the most pained, puppy dog eyes that you immediately forgive him. As if you have ever been able to hold anything against him for a substantial period of time.

“It hurts.” His teeth are gritted as he explains. “Hurts when I stop.”

You’ve no idea what to say. You wonder if there’s a painkiller on earth that could help him right now but he speaks again before you can suggest it.

“Help me.” He sounds so solemn, despite the fact that he hasn’t once stopped stroking his dick, closely staring at every curve of your body.

“We’re trying.” Your words barely seem to register with him. “It won’t be much longer.”

“No. Help me.” The repeated instruction does nothing to clarify what else he could mean until he continues. “Your voice sounds so sexy, fuck. Talk to me.”

Oh. “And say what?”

“God, fuck. Do I have to spell it out for you? Anything!” He barks, simultaneously carnal and irritable. Each word out of his mouth is more breathless and desperate than the last.  “Fucking anything. Tell me you want me, that you want me to fuck you. Come on, please do this for me.”

“Okay, okay.” You can do this. “I do want you. I want to fuck- I want you to fuck me so bad, Tim.”

Despite it being true, you feel lame, clumsily parroting him, but Tims full bodied reaction spurs you on. He takes the final plunge, dropping onto his knees, leaning back on his haunches and practically presenting his engorged shaft to you. From here you can see how his skin is tinted several shades of pink and red. His blush seems to stem from his chest, running along his neck and shoulders, highlighting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. You’ve never seen a prettier sight. It’s so enchanting, it almost diverts from his unnerving blood vessels.

“You’re so beautiful.” You purr, finding more confidence with every quiet huff and moan that spills from his lips. “I wish I could do this for you. I want to make you feel so good, I’d let you fuck me anywhere.”

He nods rapidly at you, encouraging you to continue while bucking his hips forward.

“I know your cock would fit just right in my mouth and feel so good, would make me gag until you came down my throat.” You open your mouth and stick your tongue out to show him, feeling silly until he replies.

“Fuck. Yeah. You’d look good sucking on my cock.”

“Yeah!” You agree, just the sight of him is enough to make your heartbeat race. But the thought of taking him in your mouth, slobbering all over his cock and watching him enjoy every second of it makes you rub your thighs together. You want so badly to get yourself off too but the little voice of conscience in the back of your brain is telling you not to, that it would be taking advantage. “Or you could bend me over, rip off my clothes and fuck me. I’d love to feel you pounding into my tight pussy.”

“Oh, pleasepleaseplease.” The words are slurred as he sinks his teeth hard into his tongue.

“You don’t have to beg, Timmy.” He hangs on your every word as you vocalise the thoughts and fantasies you’ve only ever indulge in when you’re alone at night. “You can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want, you can fill me up over and over. We’ll make sure everyone knows who my pussy belongs to. Would you like that?”

“Yes.” The confirmation is instant, no-nonsense. Followed by him closing his eyes and slamming his spare hand against the window to steady himself. 

“Mine…” When he opens his eyes again, they unsurprisingly immediately lock onto you once more, zeroing in on your throbbing centre as he tells you. “Let me see it.”

“What?” The saliva in your mouth turns dry in an instant. Despite Tim baring all to you the thought of getting your whole pussy out in the Batcave scares you. In a strangely invigorating way.

“Need to cum and I fucking can’t.” Tim explains weakly, punching the wall again, this time with less vigour. “Show me your cunt.”

The c-word sounds so strange on Tims lips, so filthy. He’s frantic. You’re no closer to understanding how to cure him, and apparently your presence has only made things worse but maybe this is how you help him.

Hurriedly, you scurry over to the Batcomputer, Tim asserting his discontent by hammering his open palm on the wall repeatedly until you return moments later with the desk chair.

You waste little time shimmying out of your sleep shorts before you lose your bravado. Falling back into the chair, you adjust the height until your now exposed pussy is level with Tims eyeline. His demeanour changes in an instant, lips morphing into the first semblance of a smile he’d given you all night as he shifts closer.

Emboldened by his enthusiasm you spread your legs wide, resting your feet on the glass and using your fingers to spread apart your folds for him to get a real look. You’re not sure how he’ll feel about the shameful amount of moisture you’ve produced later, but for now his mouth very visibly waters. You don’t think he’s blinked since you sat down.

Uncurbed, you brush your finger over your sensitive clit, toes curling in response. You’d love to say you did it to put on a show for Tim, to help him find relief but in actuality it’s entirely self-serving. Unable to resist touching yourself at the sight of him on his knees for you, mercilessly fisting his cock in frenzied, rhymeless strokes. Regardless of your motivation, Tim seems to appreciate it.

Strands of his dark hair fall into his face as he leans forward, partly hiding his glassy eyes and reddened cheeks, but he quickly whips them back once more ensuring he maintains an uninhibited view of your fingers as they rapidly paw at your sex. Angling yourself so that Tim can see every minute detail, every roll of your hips as you lower your hand and sink two fingers into yourself. All the while you keep massaging your sensitive bud, Tim’s name a prayer on your lips as you watch him, watching you, fevered and hungry. 

It comes as a surprise when your orgasm hits first, walls convulsing and spasming as you objectify yourself for Tim, acting like his personal pornstar. It’s a shame he can’t hear the wetness of your hole or the strangled, lewd gasps and moans that escape your throat as your body trembles from the intensity of your climax.

The slick of your release leaks from your sex, trickling between your legs, down the chair, and onto the metal floor. Like a man starved, Tim slams his face into the glass, finally closing his eyes and lapping at the pane with a flattened tongue.

Whatever vision he’s conjuring works, his lids twitch, eyes darting open to watch your panting frame. He looks sacrilegious, full body blushed and sweating. His face softens, mouth slack and drooling as rope after rope of cum spills from his reddened tip and hits the pane.

You’re only able to enjoy the sight of him coming apart for a moment before you notice that the viscous fluid is unsettlingly coloured. Not milky white as it should be, but a strange, luminous green colour.

Tim slumps downward once he’s spent, and you watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest while he comes down from his high. Your heart aching as you wonder whether his pain has been even slightly alleviated. The fact that the swelling of his veins seems to have subsided bodes well. Eventually he comes too, enough to also notice the puddle of green excrement between his legs and it’s your turn to all but lunch yourself at him. You shout falls on deaf ears until your kick’s echoes into his cell. His hand freezes and he watches, still hunched as you stumble to the control panel on unsteady legs.

“Don’t touch it.” Tim nods sheepishly in agreement. It probably won’t hurt him, having come from inside him, but better safe than sorry. “I’m gonna grab you some gloves and slides to take samples with.”

Before he can concur, you’re gone, inelegantly hiking your bottoms back on as you go. You feel bad, jumping straight back into business without so much of a ‘how was that for you?’ but these are strange circumstances, and whatever freaky substance he just shot out of his balls might be the missing puzzle piece in treating him.

Eventually, once you’d collected everything you’ll need and updated the Team, you do ask, holding the mic down with your elbow as you pull on a pair of rubber gloves, waiting to take the samples from him. “How do you feel?”

“Hot, and sore.” He tells you. He’s pulled his trousers back up, but you can still see the outline of his half-hard penis. “It’s still in me, I can feel it, but it doesn’t hurt as much. I can think. Which is something.”

“I’m glad it helped. Hopefully we’ll get you back to normal before it gets bad again.” He offers you a smile then. A genuine, none-hedonic one that makes you feel fuzzy. You’ve missed that smile.

“Yeah, hopefully.” He places the slides, tools, and used gloves in the containment slot and closes his side of the two-way mechanism. You offer him a half heart which he returns before you start sorting and bagging everything.

You’re about to turn your back when he taps gently on the glass, gesturing for you to open the comms line again and you oblige with your elbow once more.

“Listen, I’m really sorry for being an ass earlier. You didn’t deserve what I said to you.”

You can tell he’s stressing about it from the gloomy look in his blue-green eyes and the way he tugs at his waistband. Normally he fidgets with his gloves or his collar, but needs must an’ all. You’d give anything to be able to hug him right now.

“Don’t worry, I know you didn’t really mean it.” Admittedly it had shaken you, for all of five minutes, but you’ve never been able to stay mad at Tim, even at his worst, and you’ve seen him do far worse. “You weren’t really mad at me, right? Just the situation?”

“Yeah. Mostly myself but that doesn’t make it okay.” He’s still fiddling, still looking at you mournfully. It means a lot that it bothers him so much, but you need that to stop. You need him to be normal for like half an hour so you can get some work done without worrying. And you need to get the work done so you can make up for your own misdeeds.

“No really, it’s fine I don’t care.” You stress, hoping if you chide him a little it will absolve him of his guilt. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try not to.” He promises. You can tell by the way he works his jaw back and forth that he’s working up to say something else, something that has his ears and cheeks turning pink. That or the absolved symptoms are coming back already. “And thank you. For the other stuff.”

“Oh good, I was worried you might regret that part.” You hadn’t realised how badly you needed to hear him say that until it happened. It’d kill you and whatever situationship you have going on if he’d considered your actions exploitative.

“No! Not at all. I mean, I always kind of hoped that one day we might end up…” He vaguely gestures into the air which doesn’t help his point, but you understand what he’s getting at and nod, urging him to continue. “You know? But I never would have imagined it happening like this.”

“I know what you mean. I always figured something might…” You’re floundering. This is not the time or place for this conversation, you’re completely unprepared and as badly as this conversation needs to be had, you really don’t have time. “I mean, I wouldn’t wish what’s happening on anyone, but if it had to happen, I’m glad it was you. Because you’re the only person I would have done that for.”  

You can’t imagine having done that for Dick, or Barbara, or God forbid Bruce. Just thinking about it makes your stomach churn.

“Good.” He seems more relieved now than he had when he’d cum. “I’d hate it if you’d done that with anyone else.”

If this were a movie or an action-romance novel, this is the part where you’d kiss, you think. But it’s not, and every second the two of you spend stammering about your feelings and making go-go eyes at each other is a second that could be spent on finding an antidote.

“We’ll talk, later.” You promise.

“I’d like that.” Tim replies before you pull away from the keypad. In a moment of whimsy, you blow your hot breath against the glass until it’s steamed up before pressing your puckered lips on it. No sound escapes the barrier between you, but you can see Tim laughing, his cheeks still palpably pink. He returns the gesture just moments before the Batcomputer begins to buzz.

Hi friend! I just wanted to let you know that I'm glad you exist. ♥︎

[majorshatterandhare]

[ID: a bingo card, white background with black text. It is labeled “Blorbo Bingo” at the top. Some of the boxes are marked with a transparent turqoise color.

The first column boxes, from top to bottom read:

1. “I can fix them. They need me.”

2. “Actively plotting their demise.”

3. “Projection has entered the chat.” (This one is marked.)

4. “Pretty privilege.”

5. “Lost potential.”

The second column boxes, from top to bottom, read:

1. “Most fandom takes are incorrect.” (This one is marked.)

2. “Don’t typically discuss IRL because of the fandom.”

3. “I don’t see the appeal.”

4. “The are the white noise in my brain. I can’t live a normal life anymore.” (This one is marked.)

5. (In all caps) “Stop putting them in situations.” (This one is marked.)

The third column boxes, from top to bottom, read:

1. “Writer’s dropped the ball on them :( [sad emoticon]”

2. “Has done nothing wrong. (Is a war criminal.)” (This one is marked.)

3. “Free Space” (This one is marked.)

4. “Complex and well written. Would skin IRL.”

5. “Need them that is concerning to my well being.”

The foruth column boxes, from top to bottom, read:

1. “There is probably a deep seated reason I love them.” (This one is marked.)

2. “Unwillingly have come around on them.”

3. “I’d put them in a wood chipper, given the chance.”

4. (With spaces between every letter) “brainrot” (This one is marked.)

5. “I’m so normal about them :))))) (smiley emoticon with five smiles)” (This one is marked.)

The final column boxes, from top to bottom, read:

1. “There is probably a deep seated reason why I hate them.”

2. “Need them to crack my spine like a crawfish and slurp my insides out.”

3. “I can make them worse.”

4. “Biting my fist.” (This one is marked.)

5. “Not enough canon/underrated.” (This one is marked.)

Over all, none of the marked boxes line up to create a Bingo.

End ID

Note: any acronyms were made all caps for clarity.]

blorbo bingo. ivy alexandria. please.

Fandom takes are incorrect as in "no one thinks about her and they should think abiut her all the time"

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER SEVEN: INHIBITION (OR LACK THERE OF)

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SUMMARY ↳ The three C's (carnival, chaos, and cuddle pollen). Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words. "In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?" Fuck. Your. Life. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: mentions of having sex (as a joke/none is actually had), cuddle pollen (kind of non-con cuddling and kissing, but reader really doesn't mind) wc: 4.4k

Nari wakes you up by screeching in your ear. You groan and roll over, snatching him up and gently throwing him off the bed. You sit in bed and contemplate if you really have to get up and function as a normal person, but alas, you do. Grabbing your phone, your eyes widen a tad. Jesus, you slept till ten? Good thing it’s the weekend.

You have the day off from work, so it’s up to you to find something to do. You feed Nari, making sure to give him a bunch of apologetic kisses. Maybe you’ll swing by the Den today. It won’t hurt to work some more on the badassium.

You groan and stretch, doing some warm-up exercises. Nari perches on your back as you do push ups. He weighs nothing, but it’s the thought that counts. Karen pipes up from your laptop.

“I’ve done you the liberty of adding Victoria’s contact info on your phone.”

You release a fond sigh. “Bit of a meddler, are you?”

“I am simply saving us time.” You snort. You grab your phone, changing Victoria’s name and shoot her a text.

sugar mommy

whats good how we doing

i dont need anything just wanted to say hi

also its [name] btw

Her response comes a minute later.

[Name]???

How did you get my number?

karen did

shes kind of my guy in the chair

does all the super cool behind the scenes stuff yknow how it is

I thought I was your ‘guy in the chair’

fym ur my sugar mommy

Her only response is a money bag emoji, making you chuckle. She’s got personality and it makes you smile. A knock at the door catches your attention. Probably May coming to make sure you’re not dead. She’s gotten used to leaving early now. The lock clicks as you open the door.

Oh, it’s not May. It’s Jon .

“Jon!” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, a friendly one. “Hi, [Name]. I was just visiting Dami, but he seems to be in a mood… so I was wondering if we could hang out?” he asks, hopeful. “If that’s okay with you?”

You coo internally. You’ll never get over how sweet he is. “Yeah, of course. Just text me next time, yeah?”

He nods, stepping inside as you open the door for him. Nari trots over to him and rubs against his ankles. “What time did you get up? I don’t think Metropolis is that close to GC.” You feel a little evil, putting him on the spot because you know he flew here.

He pauses, thinking of an appropriate answer. “Uh, I don’t know. Six, maybe?” he winces, hoping that answer makes sense. You don’t have it in you to do the mental calculations so early in the morning, so you nod. You wouldn’t actually out him like that, anyway.

“Got any ideas are we just gonna have hot sex the whole day?”

Jon, to his credit, only lightly blushes. He’s long gotten used to your sense of humor. “There’s that carnival that just opened.”

“Mmm, maybe later. Carnivals always look better when it’s dark.”

“Then…” he thinks, “...let’s just go for a walk. See what we find.”

You grab your keychain with far too many charms on it and your other essentials, hooking your arm in Jon's. “Lead the way.”

May doesn’t have any outward reaction save for a knowing look as you exit the building. You squint your eyes at her in response. The noise of the city greets you as you walk out. People around you go on with their days, each living their own complex life.

It’s silent for a moment as the two of you walk. You take the moment to just think for a moment. You thought life was crazy when you found out you had crazy spider powers, but then you turned it around and made it into something good. You thought life was crazy when you got asked to officially join the avengers, but then you found a family in them. You thought life was crazy when you found out about the ‘spider verse’, but from that you realized you weren’t alone. You should’ve known better than to think it couldn’t get any crazier than that, but here you are. Very far from home.

You just wonder what will come out of this .

“You’re quiet,” Jon notes, voice barely a murmur.

“Just thinking.”

“That’s not good,” he jokes. You scoff and consider flicking him, but it would probably hurt.

“Just thinking how hard it’ll be for Damian to look me in the eye the next time I see him.”

Jon raises a brow. “What… happened between you and Damian? Is that why he was in a mood?”

“So crazy story, he walked in on me making out with my kind-of bully.” Jon’s eyes widen incredibly. His pace stutters and he chokes on air. You grin as you watch his flail. “Making out might be generous, but it was pretty passionate.”

You continue, “God, you should’ve seen the look on his face. He genuinely stopped functioning for a sec! He’s a bigger virgin than I thought. Or maybe it was just that it was with Tori of all people. It’s okay though, she’s not all that she seems.”

Jon stops walking altogether, accidentally yanking you to a stop as well. You blink at him.

“Ok…” he starts, “first of all, you kissed your bully?” he asks incredulously.

“Well, like I said, she's not all that she seems,” you shrug. He nods, still looking at you in disbelief.

“So… what? Are you guys… dating?” he hesitates to say the word.

You scratch your nose, looking down. “Nah… we talked it out, she uh…” you trail off, “...it was a spur of the moment thing, we’re just friends. Now, anyway.” You feel bad saying you rejected the girl who was in love with you, but you also can’t say everything that went down.

You look at Jon, seeing him also looking down in thought. His brows are furrowed, you wonder how strange it is to Damian if it’s so strange to Jon. He nods after a bit, continuing his walk. His arm holds yours a bit tighter.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” he laughs disbelievingly.

Probably because this isn’t your universe. “Probably because I’m so awesome all kinds of people want a piece of me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” you grin.

For as drab as Gotham City is, at least this carnival provides a little bit of color. The vibrant lights provide an enchanting atmosphere. You can’t help but grin. Jon watches you with a smile.

“What do you want to do first?”

“Pie eating contest.”

He blinks. “Okay?” He’s a little confused by your quick and confident reply. Now don’t be alarmed, you usually eat three meals a day. The meals are just… well, some might argue if they’re actually meals or not. Tony estimated that you should be eating five proper meals a day to combat your increased metabolism. You’re not starving or anything as you are now, but if you ever get injured your increased healing won’t help.

“I wanna eat,” is your only explanation as you drag him to the stand.

Jon chuckles as you drag him along, his smile widening at your enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll join you,” he smiles, matching your energy. The two of you approach the stand where a small crowd has gathered around a makeshift stage. A lively carnival barker stands at the front, rallying contestants and spectators alike.

“Step right up, folks! Who’s got what it takes to be the pie-eating champion of Gotham tonight?” the man announces enthusiastically, his voice carrying over the excited chatter of the crowd.

You and Jon sign up eagerly, taking your places at the contestant table. The rules are simple: eat as much pie as you can within a set time limit. The pies, piled high with whipped cream and fruity filling, look delectable under the carnival lights.

The contest begins, and you and Jon dig in with gusto. The pies are delicious, each bite bringing a burst of sweet flavor. The crowd cheers and laughs as you both devour your way through the pies, alternating between bites and glances at each other, each trying to outpace the other.

Jon manages to finish his first pie just as you’re halfway through yours. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, grinning at you challengingly. “You’re pretty good at this,” he remarks between bites.

You flash him a competitive smirk, determined not to be outdone. “I eat a lot,” you quip back, mouth full of pie.

The contest continues, the pace quickening as the time ticks down. Cheers and encouragement from the crowd spur you on, adding to the thrill of the competition. Despite the messiness and the rapidly filling sensation in your stomach, you keep going, driven by the desire to win and the sheer enjoyment of the moment.

Finally, the timer buzzes, signaling the end of the contest. You and Jon set down your forks, breathing heavily but grinning broadly at each other. The man approaches to determine the winner.

“And the winner is…” he declares dramatically, waiting. After a tense moment, he announces, “It’s a tie!”

You and Jon exchange a look of surprise and then burst into laughter, both of your mouths covered in pie and thoroughly satisfied. The crowd applauds, appreciating the spirited effort you both put into the contest. You fancy yourself smug, seeing as you kept up with a kryptonian.

Jon wipes his hands and face with a napkin, chuckling as he looks at you. "I can't believe we tied," he says, shaking his head in amusement.

You nod, still grinning widely. "Yeah, I can’t believe you kept up with me.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

The man hands each of you a small prize—a colorful ribbon that declares you both "Pie Eating Champions of Gotham City Carnival". You both accept the ribbons with good humor, pinning them onto your shirts proudly.

As you step away from the contest table, Jon nudges you playfully. "So, what's next on our carnival adventure?"

You glance around, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling carnival. The vibrant lights of the rides beckon in the distance, and the aroma of cotton candy and popcorn fills the air. "Let's hit the Ferris wheel," you suggest, pointing towards the towering structure adorned with sparkling lights.

Jon nods eagerly. "Sounds good to me. Let's go," he says, grabbing your hand as you make your way towards the Ferris wheel.

The line isn’t too long. The worker wishes you a good ride as the two of you step into the brightly colored gondola, slowly ascending to the sky.

As the ride reaches its peak, you both fall silent for a moment, taking in the view. The city skyline looms in the distance, a stark contrast to the colorful and carefree world of the carnival. For a brief moment, you feel a sense of peace and contentment, grateful for this simple yet memorable night with Jon. 

"This is nice," Jon remarks, leaning back comfortably in his seat. You nod in agreement, admiring the view.

Jon looks at you, thinking. There are a million things he wants to say, wants to admit to you. He wonders how you would react to each and every one of them. With only positivity, he’s sure. You’re the type to go with the flow, whatever happens, happens. He’s certain he could trust you with his life, eventually.

He takes a deep breath, unsure what’s about to come out of his mouth. “[Name]–”

The Ferris wheel rocks violently for a heart stopping moment. For the other riders, mostly. You and Jon immediately stiffen to attention, because Ferris wheels aren’t supposed to do that. Jon crosses over to you, locking you in his embrace as he looks over the edge. You try to look as well, but a simple tense of his arms prevents you.

A threatening green is making headway across the carnival grounds, sending people running. Vines bloom, crawling over stands and attractions. Poison Ivy, looking as prickly as ever, strides in gracefully.

"This carnival is a blight on this land," Ivy declares, her voice carrying over the chaos. "You trample on nature for your own amusement, but no longer. Tonight, the Earth fights back."

Oh, great. You can’t do anything because you’re stuck in the air with Jon. Jon can’t do anything because he’s stuck in the air with you. You sigh, leaning back against him.

With a wave of her hand, flowers bloom amidst the destruction, a stark contrast to the panic around her. Ivy's plants begin to dismantle the carnival, reclaiming the area for nature. Her message is clear: the environment will no longer be taken for granted, and anyone who harms it will face her wrath. Vines crawl up the Ferris wheel, wrapping around the gondolas in a nightmarish display.

“Um. Any bright ideas?” you ask Jon.

He says pulling out his phone, he pulls it out of your view and begins to type furiously. You bet a hundred bucks it’s Damian and Jon is furiously texting him to haul ass and get here now .

A vine thrusts itself into the box, making Jon yank you both to the floor in the middle. It spreads slowly, hauntingly, slowly encompassing the gondola. Flowers bloom… ah shit—

Jon shifts the two of you, blocking you from the flowers. Also putting himself directly in front of them. “Jon don’t–” you warn, because regardless of his heritage, it can still affect him. Even more so since he’s only half. He presses your face into his chest right as the flower coughs, releasing the spores right in his face.

“Don’t breathe them in,” he growls. Thanks, you weren’t planning on it anyway. You hold your breath, anyway.

He’s getting antsy. “[Name],” he mutters gravely. “Please. Close your eyes and trust me.”

You internally sigh, preparing how you’re going to act like the most aloof fool after this. You nod and close your eyes. Jon picks you up, arms under your knees and around your back. You wind your arms around his neck and rest against his chest.

Jon, to his credit, doesn’t just fly down the ride. You feel him jump down the bars of the Ferris wheel, making sure to keep you secure in his arms. His landings are precise and calculated, avoiding the chaos below. You hear the gasps and shouts from the people around you as Jon navigates through the mess of vines.

Finally, you feel the solid ground beneath you as Jon gently sets you down. “Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he says softly.

You open your eyes and find yourself standing amidst the carnage, the Ferris wheel towering above you. Vines continue to spread, and the air is filled with the panicked cries of carnival-goers trying to escape. Jon stands protectively beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of Ivy.

“We have to stop her,” you blurt. He looks at you incredulously. You ignore it and look around, trying to find a way to do this without Spinnerette. Eyes narrowing, you spot something in the distance.

“There.” You point at a nearby water tower. “If we flood the area, it might disrupt her control over the plants.”

“Good plan. You should leave it to the professionals.”

You blink, turning around. It’s Robin who spoke, arms crossed and looking at you. However, it’s the sight of the 6’2 emo bitch dressed in a bat fursuit that makes you stiffen.

“Robin! You came!” Jon brightens, before coughing into his fist. “I mean. Of course you came, you’re Robin.” The urge to roll your eyes at his silliness is strong, but you resist.

Batman doesn’t react, though you’re sure he just sighed on the inside. “You should get to safety with the rest of the civilians,” he grumbles out in his Batman™ voice.

You nod rapidly. “Yup yup. Yessir Mr Batman.” You grip Jon’s wrist and drag him away. Fuck that, majorly. If he says leave it up to him, you’re perfectly fine with that. You’re pretty sure he’s gonna take what you said and connect some dots, and you don’t wanna be around when that happens. He can take his theories and shove it up his ass.

Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words.

"In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?"

Fuck. Your. Life.

Jon is looking just a tad bit worse for wear (you’re lying, he looks haggard) when you arrive at your apartment. May, thank god, wasn’t at the desk, so you managed to get by without having to deal with that. You  shove Jon onto the couch, wincing with a small apology. Frantically typing, you google how to deal with cuddle pollen.

The number one suggestion is to visit Gotham General Hospital, but given Jon’s less than human nature, that's a no go. Other results suggest drinking lots of water and sweating it out to dilute its affects.

You throw your phone somewhere and quickly fetch some water for Jon. Nari meows at Jon, sensing something is wrong. When you make your way back you see that Jon has trapped Nari in his arms, cooing unintelligibly at him.

“Drink,” you tell him urgently, lifting his chin. He leans into your touch, obeying. You make sure he drinks every last drop. When he finishes you turn around to get some more water, only to be yanked back. You crash into Jon’s arms, watching as Nari trots away, happy to be free. You wish you were Nari right now.

Jon nuzzles into you, humming contently.

“Jon…” you warn.

“Yeah, baby?” he hums. Jesus.

“You’re under the effects of cuddle pollen. Your mind is scrambled. Just let me get you some water–”

He hugs you tighter at the mention of you leaving, standing up with you in his arms. You try to get free, holding your own for a bit. But alas, he wins. Stupid kryptonian biology. He carries you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed.

You blink. “Okay, hang on–”

Jon belly flops right on top of you, earning an ‘oof’ from you. He wraps his arms around you, snuggling into your collarbone. He sighs in content as he relaxes on you. There’s no hope for you to escape, is there?

“Jon, come on. Let’s… do jumping jacks or something. Sweat it out of your system. You can even hold my hand!”

Jon grumbles, burying his face in your neck. “I know something else we can do to get sweaty.”

You blink. Then snort. Damn, is that the cuddle pollen talking or is your influence taking effect? You feel Jon smile against your neck.

Sighing, you acknowledge that you’re not getting out of this situation. You hesitantly rest your arms around him. You feel his grin get wider, and then he surprises you even further by laying a goddamn kiss against your neck. You grumble and mutter, “I am going to make fun of you so hard after this.”

Laying there, you think. If you didn’t just compromise yourself to Batman, then hopefully you won’t be approached when you next patrol. Or worse, when you're just being a regular civilian. 

You blink, deciding you’re gonna be a little shit.

“Jon,” you say, “give me your phone.”

Jon reaches into his pocket, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. It’s got a couple cracks in it, and his wallpaper features a photo of a sunset over a vast farm. You scroll through his contacts, clicking the one that says ‘damian !! (stinkin loser)’. You click the call button, hoping he’s done superheroing and has time to answer.

He answers on the third ring. “Jon, you fool, what were you–”

“Damian,” you interrupt before he says something you’re not supposed to know. The line goes quiet on the other end. “I’ll keep it brief. Jon got absolutely fucked over with a face-full of cuddle pollen and he won’t let me go. We’re at my apartment, so if you can pull some rich people strings and get an antidote or something I would very much appreciate it.”

“...He won’t let go of you?”

You roll your eyes and snap a picture of Jon wrapped around you. “Help,” is all you say after you send it.

You hear him sigh. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” is all you hear before the call cuts. Jon yanks the phone away from you, throwing it somewhere in the room as he flips the two of you over. You lay on his chest now, feeling his chin rest on your head and his hands come up to rest on your waist, fingertips creeping up under your shirt.

Your phone is in the other room and you didn’t see where Jon threw his, so you’re left to stew in his arms until Damian comes. You begin to hum a song, for your own peace of mind, ignoring the way Jon’s hands rub your skin in a back-and-forth motion. Jon removes one of his hands and places it on the back of your head, pushing you into his neck. The bastard lays another kiss on your head, muttering comforting words.

Damn, you think you’re starting to fall asleep. Sue you for feeling safe in his arms, he’s literally Superboy. It doesn’t help that you're lying in bed and he's rubbing your back so softly you feel like he’s your boyfriend comforting you after a long day.

You hear your door kick open, and the only reason your fight response doesn’t kick in is because you’re still stuck in Jon’s arms, and because you know it’s Damian. Jon on the other hand, immediately sits up, glaring hard at your hallway. When Damian shows up in your doorway, bag in hand, he relaxes. He lies back down in the bed, snuggling in to you.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

He ignores your weak greeting, digging into his bag and pulling out a syringe filled with what can only be the antidote. You pointedly make a note to definitely not mention how the needle is green.

“Just be careful he doesn’t grab you. He’s… really strong,” you mutter.

He grabs Jon’s head, pushing it aside to bare his neck. You’re surprised Jon lets him, but cuddle pollen does leave people without inhibition. Damian sticks the needle in, making Jon groan. You watch the fluid disappear, feeling peaceful knowing that this will soon be over. Damian finishes administering the antidote and takes a seat on the bed.

“Thanks for… coming through,” you say. You don’t know what else you can really talk about right now.

Damian just looks at you. “What were you even doing there?”

He means the carnival. You furrow your brows. “Hanging out? Sorry we didn’t predict that Poison Ivy was gonna be there. Maybe you should talk to Batman about that.”

“You could have been hurt. Jon did get hurt.”

“It’s just cuddle pollen, Dami,” you reassure, placing a hand on his arm. He grasps it tightly. “You gave him the antidote, he’s not hurt.”

Damian’s grip on your arm is firm, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re lucky it was just that. It could have been worse.”

You nod, understanding his concern, but feeling a bit annoyed at the same time. “I know, I know. But we’re fine now. Jon’s going to be okay.”

Damian's expression softens slightly at your reassurance, though his concern is still evident. He looks at Jon, who seems to be coming out of the pollen's effects, his grip on you loosening. Damian then turns his attention back to you, his gaze intense.

"You shouldn't take unnecessary risks," he says, his voice low but firm. "Especially not with someone like Jon."

You raise an eyebrow at the implication in his tone. "Are you implying something about Jon?"

“Jon is… brave, but restless. Just be more cautious.”

You give him a playful smirk. "Are you worried about me, Damian Wayne? That's almost sweet."

He scowls slightly, clearly not amused by your teasing. "I'm serious, [Name]. This city is dangerous enough without getting caught up in avoidable situations."

“I promise to be more careful in the future,” you say, eyes earnest. It seems to settle Damian, for now.

Jon groans under you. He sits up, taking you with him. You fall to his lap as you look at him. He blinks for a moment, taking in his surroundings. You hear his heartbeat slowing, calming. He looks at Damian, looks at you. Stares at you, whom his arms are around, in his lap.

He freaks, shoving you out of his embrace and scrambling back. Damian catches you, growling, “You fool, Jon, careful!”

“I’m so sorry!” he cries. “I was… oh my god, I’m so sorry–”

You hold out your hands to placate him. “Jon, it’s okay! I’m fine, I don’t care. You weren’t in control. You didn’t do anything.”

“I should have left when I got hit,” he growls to himself.

You sigh, looking at Damian for help. “What’s done is done. No use in whining about it now,” he huffs, shifting you to sit up.

Jon purses his lips, looking like he wants to cry. You open your arms, “Come on.”

He hesitates, so you grab him and haul him into your embrace. He stiffens, before wrapping his arms around you. He melts into your embrace.

Damian clears his throat, making Jon pull back with a sheepish expression. “I should really get home before my parents worry.”

You nod, patting his arm. “Of course.”

He thanks Damian as well on his way out. You don’t hear the door open, so you figure he just got antsy and couldn’t stay in the room longer. You don’t blame him. You sigh when you see he left his phone, grabbing it and handing it to Damian.

“Thank you,” you mutter. You look into his eyes, he looks back. In a moment of weakness, you place a hand on his cheek and lean in, pressing your lips to his other one. The kiss is chaste, barely lasting for a second before you pull back. “You’re paying for my door.”

Damian says nothing in response, simply watching you. He raises his hand, clasping yours and gently bringing it down. He nods.

“It was nothing.” And then he and Jon are out the door. You sigh, laying down in your bed that smells like Jon now. No patrol tonight, again.

notes: jon was about to risk it all on that ferris wheel just saying

[melverie]

"The one who reduced me to what I am now is you"

So @impish-ivy asked me to look at the English and Japanese versions of Solomon's and Nightbringer's conversation in 10-A, and there are two things in particular that I'd like to highlight a little (if you want to compare the two versions yourself, I've included the Japanese version, my translation of it and the English version of their entire conversation below the cut)

The first one is about this:

The Japanese version actually more closely translates to "The one who reduced me to what I am now is you" (aka the title). It's a small difference, but it adds a lot more malice to Solomon's words + it also slightly reframes that agreement of theirs that Solomon was talking about to imo

I still wish NB would focus more on its namesake so we could figure out what the relationship between Sol and NB is and what exactly happened between them but oh well.. We still have 6 lessons to go for this season, so maybe we'll get lucky and they at least drop a few hints for us

Anyway as for the second one:

"If you had chosen this, it would have been easy". The "this" is what I want to focus on real quick

Given that right before their conversation, Solomon was asked to choose between demons and angels (tho he ultimalety ended up chosing humanity), so it would make sense to assume that that's what Nightbringer is referring to. But since the meaning of "this" was never specified, it could also mean that the actual purpose of the test might have been to see if Solomon would be willing to abandon humanity instead

Considering that Solomon has now repeadetely asked MC to side with humanity, and how there's also been some emphasize on how demons and angels do not see humans as equals, it's definitely possible, at least

Anyway, translations below the cut for anyone that wants to read through them!

This is how I've structured it:

[speaker]

日本語バージョン (Japanese version) [my translation (I tried to stick as close to the original meaning as possible)] English version

⸺

???

......困った人だ [...you're a difficult person] ...You always have to be difficult.

???

いや、面倒な人だ、あなたは [No, a troublesome person is what you are] Or perhaps difficult isn't the right word. Troublesome is what you are.

???

もしくは、その両方ですね [Or both] Actually, I suppose both are true.

???

こちらを選んでしまえば、楽なのに [If you had chosen this, it would have been easy] If you'd only chosen our side, it would've made things so much easier.

Solomon

あはは。ご期待に添えなくて悪いね [Ahaha. I'm sorry for not meeting your expectations] Ahaha. Sorry to disappoint you!

Solomon

俺がそうしないことは、君も知ってるだろう？ [You knew I wouldn't do that, no?] But you must know I wouldn't do that, right?

Solomon

どうして今さら俺を試すようなことをするんだ？ [Why are you testing me now?] So why are you testing me? Shouldn't we be past that point?

Solomon

俺の信念が揺らいでるようにでも見えた？ [Did it seem like my believes were wavering?] Did you think I might be questioning my convictions?

???

揺らいでいる、とは思っていません [I don't think it's wavering] Not at the moment, no.

???

ですがー [But...] However...

???

あの方......。 可愛い弟子のあの方が巻き込まれても [That person... Even if that cute apprentice should get involved...] What if your adorable apprentice were to get caught up in all of this?

???

あなたが揺らぐことはないのでしょうか [...would you never waver?] Perhaps then you might reconsider your convictions?

Solomon

それは脅しかい？ 悪魔みたいなことを言うんだな [Is that a threat? You sound like a demon...] Is that a threat? You know, you sound just like a demon...

Solomon

でも大丈夫。MCも俺と同じ気持ちだからね [But it's alright. MC feels the same way as me, after all] Still, it doesn't change anything. Because MC feels the same way I do.

???

あの方の本当に望むことを、自分なら 理解していると？過信しすぎでは？ [Do you think you can understand what that person really wants? Are you overconfident?] You think you know what it is your apprentice truly wants? That you can see inside the heart of another? That doesn't strike you as overconfident?

Solomon

そうでもないよ [Not really] Not at all.

???

その傲慢なほどの自信は いったいどこから満ちてくるのか...... [Where on earth is that arrogant self-confidence coming from...] You have confidence to the point of arrogance. Where exactly does it come from, I wonder...

???

あなたこそ、悪魔のような振る舞いを しているのでは？ [Aren't you the one acting like a demon?] Have you considered that you're behaving quite a bit like a demon yourself?

Solomon

悪魔のような振る舞いかあ。 でも考えてみたら、仕方ないことじゃないか？ [I'm acting like a demon? But if you try thinking about it, isn't it inevitable?] You think I'm behaving like a demon... Well, if you think about it, that's to be expected, right?

Solomon

だってさ [Because] I mean...

Solomon

今の俺を減らしたのは、君なんだから [The one who reduced me to what I am now is you] You're the one who made me who I am today, after all.

Solomon

そうだろう？　「ナイトブリンガー」 [Right? "Nightbringer"] Isn't that right, Nightbringer...?

[angelflms]

okay this is really pissing me more than it should but why the hell does miguel wanna go to stanford?? was it brought up specifcally why he wants to go besides "it's a good school and the campus is nice?" now i mean, this is just the classic "teen character in a show wants to go to an ivy league school because... reasons," but at least their [usually stupid] reason is sorta understandable (@ elle wanting to go to the schools she wanna because of her bf and bsf at the time in the kissing booth - yes i watched that) and even then, they realize that the school isn't all shit anyway. teddy duncan from good luck charlie is literally the ONLY character i know that wanted to go to an ivy league that made sense to me given her character throughout the series. at least her getting in made sense to me.

but back to miguel. anyways, the kiddo never explained why he wanted to go other than that it's an ivy league and it looks pretty, which isn't enough of a reason for him to want to go there to begin with. they don't explicitly explain what his major would be and for the most part, i don't blame them because the writers haven't known what to do with miguel's character outside of karate since like season three of the show. BUT from seasons 1-3, it's implied that he's good with graphic design and social media. he made a cute little video to cheer sam up, made a whole "please take me back sam" video edit when they broke up, did the ck website when they were starting up, and even helped make johnny's facebook look more appealing. so i'm thinking, perhaps he would go to stanford for that.

now the show is fictional but i checked stanford's irl major list and saw that none of the majors (or minors) they offer connect to graphic design nor social media. they don't even have photography, which i thought would be another option considered he took a bunch of pics for johnny in s3 for his facebook. so him wanting to win the sekai tekai himself to make him look good fo stanford literally makes no sense considering he has no genuine reason to wanna go to the school (now granted he might have explained it further but i don't remember). now apparently you do go into the school undeclared but i still do think that him not having any other reasons to go to the school other than it's an ivy and its campus is nice makes his s6 arc so far probably the worst ones he's had (including s4 because for the first half of that season, he was more of a side character in his own show).

[transgenderer]

ive been kind of unsatisfied with my grad school experience so far. im in a weird situation where like i went to school in canada and they do masters programs before applying to phds first there so i only applied to masters programs and then out of idk, emotional necessity basically (last semester of undergrad was kind of disastrously bad) i decided not to stay at my (pretty good, but intense) school in canada and instead go back to the US. and the masters program at a not very good (i mean, R1, but only kinda recently) school i applied to just offered me a phd slot so i went for it. but i dont really have a math community and it sucks. anyway this is all context, you may have already heard this.

i had assumed that like, i was kind of stuck here, that places arent interested in people jumping programs. but i just learned somebody in my program just jumped to a way higher ranked program. i mean not ivy league or anything, but good, top 50 math program. which makes me think like. shit. i might be able to do that. so then the question is. do i WANT to do that? idk. im already pretty advanced in the phd here, im planning to take my quals at the end of the year. so maybe it makes sense to just sorta bang out a phd. and then figure out what im doing. i like my advisor, ill be glad to go back to meeting with him in person soon. and finding an advisor you like is really hard. but also its gotten to the point where i wince whenever i hear the name of a high-ranked university. honestly i kind of did that in undergrad even tho my undergrad was really good. getting rejected from all my reaches stung (canada doesnt really "do" reaches, they just weed people out)

this post isnt very interesting but i dont go to therapy anymore so

[osiiiris]

Terzo, the unlikely vampire - A brighter night.

As predictable, I’m struggling to keep these episodes short and light, but everything is under control, for now. A new episode for my clumsy Terzo vampire. A little less clumsy in this one.

>> Ep. I: Tumblr, AO3

>> Ep II: AO3, down here 👇🏻

>> Ep. III: Tumblr, AO3

It’s night again over the Ministry, and as you prepare to go to bed, your sixth sense tingles with the sensation of being observed. Just as you slide your habit down your shoulder, you turn to the window and find a pair of eyes peering out from the lower corner, one green and one white.

"Terzo? Again?" you sigh.

The window is closed, revealing only half of his head, as if he believed that was enough to go unnoticed. He tries to retreat quickly, but you're faster. "What did I tell you about windows and doors?" you scold gently, opening the window.

He looks up at you, holding on the cornice of the window. Fortunately, your room is only on the first floor, and the ivy crawling on the walls makes it easy to climb. "Well, I wasn’t actually spying, I just-just happened to pass by!" he stammers.

"Passing by... through the window?" You raise an eyebrow, helping him into the room, making sure his outfit doesn’t get in the way again. You ask him what he was doing there, reminding him that spying on girls in their rooms isn't appropriate.

"Well, sometimes I'm lucky... I see them undress." he boasts, to which you quickly react with an afflicted "Oh, Sthanas…" massaging your temples.

"Uh, anyway... It's a beautiful night, and I was going out for a walk." he suggests.

"For a walk?" You ask him, skeptically. 

"Yes, would you... join me?"

You hesitate, it is quite late, but at the end you ask him for five minutes to get ready, and as you exit the room together, you don’t notice him quickly grabbing your panties left on the bed, putting them into his pocket. 

You’ve never seen the Abbey under that light. 

Yes, you’ve been up till morning with your friends, at midnight masses or parties, but you had never focused on all those little details Terzo is showing you tonight. 

He guides you through the empty corridors, inviting you to just hush and listen to all the echoes, the sounds and what he calls music of the night, reverberating through the stones. To you, night time had always been a useless timespan to fill with rest, thinking that nothing really happened during the dark hours, but now you start to feel something different, as if the walls seem to breathe with a life of their own, whispering secrets of centuries past, of all the feet that clicked on those floors and the thousands of words the walls have absorbed. You realize that in that silence, even the smallest water drop falling on the floor has a distinctive sound, different from the others.

He moves you gently, moving closer and farther away as if in a dance. His voice in the silence resonates like a melody, warm on your skin when he whispers in your ear, as if not wanting to disturb the quiet by speaking too loudly, manifesting his charm like a bat who is at his best in flight during the night.

“The night holds secrets untold, mysteries waiting to be unraveled. Each shadow hides a story.” You hear him say. “Night is when everything slows down, revealing its true essence...” He continues, letting the light of the lantern he holds closer to his face draw shadows on him, before blowing on the candle, “… or hiding it in its safe embrace.” and you only hear his voice, his body now one with darkness.

“Do you feel it?” He asks, reappearing behind you, or at least you feel his breath through your hair, his hand on your arm, “Do you feel this magic in the air?” 

As you see all the shadows and faint, natural lights dance around you, It seems like everything comes alive - just a different kind of life - under the moonlight. It is something you never noticed.

“…Yes.” You only manage to say, feeling your heart beating in your throat.

You take his hand and move to the garden, and as the hours pass you finally open up, sharing stories of your past, your childhood, and your journey to the Ministry.

He lets you talk, while he just seems to enjoy your tales, sitting next to you on the stone bench. You’re not even sure if he is actually listening to your words or just enjoying the sound of your voice, as you share your story of a life lived in the lights of the day. 

At some point, when night delves into its darkest hour, he notices you shivering lightly at the cold air. It takes a bit for him to realize you are cold, but as he does you promptly find yourself enveloped in his cloak.

When words go missing you simply find solace in each other’s company, accompanied by a shared, comfortable silence, just letting time pass by itself. Sometimes a beast’s verse, louder than the others, startles you, or a rustle in a bush makes you flinch, but Terzo reassures you that it’s just life going on while humans sleep. 

“It doesn’t stop when the sun goes down.” He says “Nature swarms with no rest. Isn’t it beautiful? Nothing really stops, everything flows endlessly.”

And that is that, something once frightening to you, like strange noises in the night, becomes music you now listen to from a different perspective.

The night passes quickly until you start to yawn, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Are you bored?”

“No, no…” you reassure him. Your head comfortably resting on his shoulder “it’s just very late for me, I’m not as nocturnal as you. I’m just a bit tired.”

“Oh, well… It's getting late for me too. Dawn is close.” he says, glancing at the sky. You quietly go back to your room, saying goodbye at your door. 

“Thank you for keeping me company. This night was brighter.” he says, putting a little smile on your tired face. “To the next walk, so…?”

“To the next walk.” You agree.

He moves away, but after a few steps he turns back again, “Tonight?” he asks hopefully, pointing at you with both indexes.

“Tonight.” Nodding, you agree again, and finally enter your room, unsure if that night had been real or just a dream.

Only a few hours later you find your friends in the refectory. You woke up a bit late, but not enough to miss breakfast.

“Oh wow, I know what those are.” A friend says with a rather suggestive tone, pointing at your eyes, puffy for the lack of sleep, “Someone stayed up all night…”

“Terzo invited me for a walk tonight.” you quietly admit, biting a brioche. It is not a mystery that Terzo seems obsessed with you lately. “I found him spying on me through the window.”

One of your friends shrugs, “I know, I have Dracopia following me now…” as she says it, she stops eating when she notices your eyes, all pointed in the same direction behind her. “He’s behind me, isn't he?”

You all nod, looking at Copia’s head disappearing quickly behind a wall. Dracopia, you learnt, is just a nickname the Sisters have given him.

You spend the lunch discussing whether or not your friend should give a chance to Copia, and what you should do with Terzo, gossiping about how cute and odd he is with you, and the magical night you just spent with him.

The decision is an easy one anyway, and as you return to your room to prepare for the night, you notice something is missing in your drawers. 

You shrug, trying to remember where you put the panties you were planning to wear.

[yelenasdiary]

The Third Widow || Untraced

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff X Fem! Belova! Reader.

Summary: Y/n Belova is the younger biological sister of Yelena Belova and the adoptive sister of Natasha Romanoff. Saved from Red Room by Melina & Alexei she now must adjust to a new normal. Going to school, recovering, and finding love in the eyes of another troubled teen, Wanda Maximoff. All while General Dreykov has his eyes set on claiming back what he calls his most powerful ‘widow’.

Angst | Comfort | No Warnings |  2.3K | 

Notes: Flashbacks are bold, italic and start with ‘~’ | Written in second person. | 

Translations: плющ (Ivy), сестра (sister),

AC: bit of short chapter but a lot more comfort than the others.

The Third Widow Masterlist

The soft knock on your shortly lived childhood door breaking you from the words printed in the book in your hand. Melina's head slowly popped in with a warm smile, "I figured you might be hungry by now" she entered with a tray in her hands. A roast dinner that you kindly excused yourself from and locked yourself a way in your room for the evening. "Thanks, just put it on the desk, please" you smiled softly in return, but your eyes said more than you thought. "Just because you're no longer under Bruce's supervision, doesn't mean you're not undermine, and you need to eat at some point" she placed the tray of food over your lap with a raised brow. 

You place your book to the side before picking up the fork, stabbing it into the vegetables on the plate. "I hope Yelena didn't overwhelm you with her talk on the way back" Melina chuckled; she used small talk as an excuse to make sure you'd at least eaten something. "She was excited, although I don't really think I was paying much attention" the fork in your hand rolling the green peas around. "Would this have anything to do with Wanda?" your eyes slowly looked up at Melina who looked nothing more than a curious mother with a cheeky grin. 

"W-why would, I mean, what?" you stuttered in question, memories you had with Wanda making your heart break even more than before, you slowly placed the tray of food beside you. "So, it is true" Melina tilted her head to the left slightly, "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked in a comforting tone. "There's nothing to talk about" you paused, "not now anyways". 

"Was it serious?" Melina asked. 

"I don't think so" you sighed, "am I meant to tell you this? I mean you're my mo-" your eyes shot down to your hands in your lap. "You can tell me whatever you feel comfortable with, I'm not going to force it out of you. But if you ever want to talk, I'm all ears and so is Alexei" the brunette reached for your hands, rubbing her thumbs over your knuckles. "I know you don't want to hear all this again but, things will get easier. It might take some time, I won't lie about that and for a while you might feel like this but you're free now, really free. The world is in your hands, you can do whatever you like. You are no different to anybody else even if you feel differently, you can do anything you want" her right hand brushed a lock of hair out of your face while still looking into your eyes, "Don't stay up too late" she playfully winked before getting up from your bed. 

"Thanks, Melina" you smiled softly as she walked out of your room, clothing the door behind her. 

----

The morning sun peeking through your bedroom curtains and warmly kissing your face woke you, tossing to avoid being blinded as your eyes slowly opened. The smell of a typical eggs and bacon breakfast slowly crept its way up the stairs and under your door giving you a sense of how things used to be, when Yelena would let you know that breakfast was ready as she made her way downstairs. Alexei would already be waiting at the dining table reading the comic inserts of the newspaper, Natasha would skip breakfast and down a glass of orange juice before beating anybody to the bathroom to shower. 

Everything felt like you'd just gotten back from a vacation too long expect there was a block of darkness, a block of empty memories, a block of nothing. The little memories you have only came to a stop then it was nothing. You sighed to yourself and kicked the covers off before slipping your feet into the warm slippers that waited for you by the door, the smell of sizzling bacon only got stronger when you slowly opened the door, "Good morning" Yelena smiled standing the doorway of her room, "sleep well?" she asked. 

"Yeah, not bad, you?" You hated the feeling of not knowing your own sister anymore, she almost felt like a stranger. "A better sleep than I've had in a very long time" she replied, "are you coming down for breakfast?" The blonde closed her bedroom door. 

"Actually, I think I might go for a run first, I was just going to brush my teeth and slip out the door" 

"Mind if I join you?" 

"Think you can keep up?" you smirked, "we trained quite hard in re-" you stopped yourself before finishing the sentence, hoping it wouldn't ruin the small moment you were sharing with your sister. "Loser shouts breakfast?" Yelena winked, "you're on!" you smiled. "I'll meet you downstairs, don't take too long, loser" Yelena chuckled before making her way downstairs. 

After brushing your teeth and changing into your activewear, well, Yelena's old activewear, you met Yelena downstairs by the front door. "Girls, are you joining us for breakfast?" Melina peeked her head out of the kitchen, "Nope, we'll be back later" Yelena answered for you both as she opened the door. You followed her out to the footpath where you both did a few warm-up stretches. 

"Where we are running too, плющ?" Yelena looked at you with a small smile, you missed hearing her call you by the nickname she gave you. The only person to ever call you Ivy, a little reminder that no matter what happens, you'll always be her little sister. "I was thinking of just going to this spot Wanda showed me". 

"The river, right?" 

"Yeah, we don't have too if it's a bit far" your eyes dropped to your feet, "Loser buys breakfast, remember?" Yelena made you smile once more as you slowly looked up at her.

----

"You my sister, owe me breakfast and after that run, I am starving!" Yelena boosted about her win as you both walked into the local café, picking up a menu from the nears empty table. "Well, technically, you're buying" you grinned, "Uh, no? you lost" she reminded you yet again of her win. "I don't have money, remember" you both chuckled, "you owe me" Yelena smiled and handed you the menu, "get whatever you'd like, I'm going to order a smoothie, do you want one?" she asked, you nodded slowly, "mango please". 

Yelena ordered for you both then sat across from you and smiled softly, "I'm so glad you're back" she started, "I'm so sor-"

"Yelena, please" you kindly interrupted, "it's fine. I just want to forget about Red Room and all darkness that comes with it"

"Of course, I just, I just wanted you to know that I never stopped looking for you, every and any chance I got I was out looking for you and look, after what Nat and Melina told me, I don't even care about that, you are my sister regardless of DNA"

"Wait, what? W-what are you talking about? DNA?" you frowned slightly, "They haven't told you?" Yelena lent back in her seat, "tell me what?" you asked.

 "You should let Melina explain, I thought you already knew, I'm sorry"

"Yelena, if I'm going to hear it from anybody, I want it to be you. Now, what is it? Please"

Yelena bit her bottom lip with worry as she looked at you, "Natasha saw your file when she was with Dreykov, before everything. Biologically, I mean, if we did a DNA test it'll show up that we're not related. He somehow had your DNA wiped, Melina knows more about it which is why you sho-"

"Great" you sighed, fighting back the tears trying to build up in your eyes, "the only thing I had and he took that too" you added. "Hey, no, don't think of it like that. You're my sister" Yelena reached for your hands, "do you understand, you are my little sister. The little girl I think the world of. You're the only person I can trust with my entire life. I don't need a percent on a piece of paper to tell me you're my sister" she adds looking deep into your watering eyes, "I love you, плющ". 

The tears freely fell from your eyes, "why did all of this happen, сестра?" you asked, "why us? Why any of us?" you added with a sob just as the waiter placed your orders on the table and walking away, "I don't know плющ, I don't know why any of this has happened but it's over now and he can never hurt you, me, Natasha or anybody else for that matter. I know you don't want to hear the big speech but wherever you go from here, whatever you do want to do, I'll be there" she smiles softly as the tears feel off your jawline and onto your shirt. 

"I need some air" you mumbled before standing from your seat, "I'm sorry" you looked at Yelena. "It's okay, I'll be here" she nodded softly before you let yourself out of the café. You wiped your tears on your shirt, trying to process the information that Yelena shared wasn't easy. Your entire life was never 'normal', you didn't have the same education as everybody else, you'd seen more things in your life that nobody should ever have to see, you've done things that would land you more than one life time behind prison, so what now? Where do you go from here?

----

"Hey" you spoke softly with a light knocked on Yelena's opened bedroom door, "do you mind if I borrow your phone? I don't have one yet, well, I don't really have anyth-"

"Sure, here" Yelena took her mobile off charge and handed it to you, "is everything okay?" she asked, your eyes still puffy from this morning. "Yeah, I just want to call a fri-…I want to call Wanda" you corrected yourself, "she was uhm, she" you paused before stuttering. "It's okay, I know, we all know" Yelena smirked slightly, "take your time" she added.

Never did you think the sound of an outgoing call would make your stomach turn, waiting for Wanda to pick up the phone with your fingers crossed tightly. 

"Yelena, hey, is everything okay?" Her voice finally came through the phone causing you to softly smile to yourself. 

"It's not Yelena" you replied looking over your shoulder to make sure your bedroom door was closed like a teenager breaking the late-night rules. 

"Y/n, hey" you could almost hear the smile on Wanda's lips, "Wh…is everything okay?" she asked unsure of what to say. 

"Uhm, yeah, things are fine…uhm, I know I asked if you could give me a few days, but I was wondering if we could meet up tomorrow? At our old spot?" You bit your bottom lip gently as you waited for the Sokovian to answer. 

"I'd love too but on one condition" 

"W-what would that be?" you asked nervously. 

"Can you bring your sketch book? If you still have it of course" 

"I do actually, I was looking through its last night. I can't believe Melina kept it" as you tried to hide the growing smile on your lips. 

"Great, would you mind drawing something to show me tomorrow? I missed your drawings and I'd love to see something" Wanda's voice only making you blush with feelings that never truly left, after all this time. 

"I might be a little rusty but sure, I'll see what I can come up with" 

"I can't wait, I'll send Yelena a message in the morning when I'm on my way, I'll meet you at our spot, okay?" 

"Okay, I'll see you then" 

"Don't stay up too late, okay?" Wanda chuckled lightly, "I'll see you tomorrow" she added before hanging up the line. 

You placed Yelena's phone back on her bedside table unable to stop yourself from the smile that was glued to your lips. "You and Wanda huh? When did you plan on telling me?" Yelena joked. "I w-wouldn't say there is really anything to say" you looked to your feet like a nervous teenager, "she was my first kiss" you added quietly, Yelena smiled to herself and acted as if she didn't already know. 

"Great, now I gotta give Wanda the talk" she joked causing your eyes to shoot up at her. "Don't! we're adults anyways" you stressed, feeding into Yelena's taunting. "So? As your older sister, I have a right to be protective regardless of who you date so Wanda is getting a talking too when I see her next" 

"Well, she's coming tomorrow" you informed your older sister. "Oh goodie, I have all night to think of all the things I can stomp her with if she breaks your heart" Yelena joked, kind of. 

"Please don't, we're just friends, I think…I don't really know, we didn't really leave on anything when….you know" 

"Oh you've got it bad" Yelena chuckled, "I won't say anything tomorrow but I will say something eventually, it's my job. I've seen enough trashy movies with Kate to know" Yelena winked playfully. "How is Kate? I'd love to see her" you asked with a soft smile.

 "She's good, we've been speaking here and there. I told her you were back, and she'd love to see you again, I said whenever you were ready for visitors" 

"Maybe we could go out over the weekend? The four of us, like the old days" you suggested, Yelena nodded, "sure, if you want. I'll give Kate a call tomorrow" she replied. 

"Sweet, can't wait" you smiled before walking back to your bedroom and sitting down at your desk. Your sketch book opened in front of you, led pencils in the pencil holder only collecting dust until you picked on up again and began sketching something to show Wanda tomorrow.

Taglist: @justabrokensunshine | @sayah13 | @nattyolw | @exclusivitymajor | @bibliophilicbi | @when-wolves-howl | @that-one-gay-mosquito | @get-the-fuck-outta-here | @foggymoonbanana | @atmnothere | @justyourwritter69 | @wiertarkanah | @marvelfan98 | @jasminebelding | @bluesimps-world | @wandasobsession | @marvel-fan-2021 | @lattayhottay16 | @jowshuaayee | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @capswife | @1tsmydan | @roman0ffsheart | @mrscromanoff | @immadowhateva | @magnificentworldtf | @originaltrashheap | @mousecakez | @skittlebum |  @that-one-gay-mosquito | @secrettoallofyou | @teenybean | @johnnyhulu | 

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Good wife

Part 2 of Princess

Sihtric x reader

Authors note: initially intended as a Part 2 of Princess, but can also be read as a stand alone fic. This is my attempt for a happy ending for my little princess and I think I managed pretty good 😉

And before you start asking, I know I am not following the poll 🙈. I was carried away by the impression that Part 2 of Princess will win anyway and continued writing even before the poll was over. The modern!Sihtric smut request will follow next week, I promise 😅

My biggest and warmest thanks to awesome @arcielee for agreeing to beta read this fic and for all your comments and suggestions! You are incredibly talented writer! The way you play with words and conjure incredibly vivid descriptions make me awe each time anew.

Warnings: 18+, angst (you probably have noticed by now, I simply can't without it🤨), forced marriage, abuse, domestic violence, smut, revenge, blood

Summary: you return to Winchester for your father's King Alfred's funeral just to discover that Sihtric hasn't kept his promise.

Word Count: 4,966

Princess

It's early morning, and the sun is poised to rise above the horizon as you move silently through the corridors of the still-sleeping palace. Your dress glides over the worn steps with a light hush being the only sound disturbing the peacefulness of the new day rising. Upon reaching the garden, you effortlessly locate your favourite secluded spot – a stone pew  in the far corner, partially concealed by an ivy-covered wall and a sprawling bird cherry flower bush. You recall how it bloomed exceptionally early in spring, its inimitably sweet fragrance making you almost dizzy. It’s a scent of your happier days, and you inhale deeply, hoping to infuse every cell of your being with its essence. 

You settle down, embracing the calmness of the moment. A few birds are singing a praise to the sun, its golden fingers slowly stretching to brush the world awake. A gentle breeze frolics in the branches of the trees, adding to the calm beauty of the morning. You're aware that this tranquillity is illusory, yet you cling to it, you need this moment of calmness and silence to gather your thoughts.

The King is dead. Your father, King Alfred, is dead. You still haven’t had a chance to grasp the whole gravity of it. Wessex now stands vulnerable as never before with Cnut and his army preparing to invade, Aethelred of Mercia dreaming about restoring Mercia’s glory and your husband Ethelwold secretly seeking to sever ties with Wessex and secure his claim to East Anglian throne. Politics. You hate politics. Nevertheless, you are not blind and you are definitely not obtuse; the shifts in power and allegiances are impossible to ignore. 

You feel anger slowly unfurling within you, making your cheeks blush. Your fingers impulsively shred into small pieces the flower you had just plucked. You can't change anything and your helplessness suffocates you. You're nobody, a mere toy bestowed upon your husband to secure an alliance. This is exactly how he treats you – as a doll that gets retrieved from its box to showcase during special events, to be mistreated and locked away thereafter. There is nothing even close to love or mutual respect in your marriage. You’re his property, and he delights in ascertaining himself of it, evidenced by the concealed bruises and scratches beneath your dress’s long sleeves and high collar. Coward as he is, he's avoided striking your face – possibly fearing that would cause scrutiny from others, perhaps even your father. You catch yourself thinking that this might change now, that your father is dead. Although you are not sure he would have interfered anyway.

Led by a silly sense of duty to your land and your father, you’ve endured five years of this arranged marriage with a man that revolted you in every aspect, bearing mistreatment and humiliation. And what had it brought? Nothing. Your brother is weak and dependent on the support of his ealdorman. Will he manage to assert himself as the king? You haven't seen him all those five years. He has changed a lot, grown up and matured, but will it be enough? At least he had braved to disobey your mother, aligning with Lord Uhtred. His words and the way he spoke justice, keeping up the pardon your father had given Uhtred on his deathbed, ignited a flicker of hope in you. First hesitant and insecure, he had managed to seize control over the gathered crowd, including the ealdormen, and even the queen, whose authority seemed to prevail from the very beginning. Your brother steps into daunting shoes, but his first step was promising, you rethink the events of the previous day.

Your heart quickens its pace, and a wave of embarrassment begins to rise from your neck, tinting your cheeks with an even more intense shade of red than the preceding anger as the memory you try to suppress emerges. 

He was there. You had seen him. Keeping himself in the shadows, leaning against an aged wagon with his hand resting on the shoulders of a young girl with plain features and dark hair, Sihtric watched in anticipation the scene transpiring before the palace entrance. Five years have passed since you appeared at his doorstep, head over heels in love with the handsome warrior, hoping for his feelings to mirror yours. 

The memory of that night when you willingly gave yourself to him remained untarnished; you have never regretted it. His tender, hesitant confession of love, the gentleness of his touch, the tenderness with which he had made love to you that night, and his eagerness and care to please and satisfy you, aware that it was to be your sole night together, were imprinted in your mind forever. You clung to these sweet memories with all your strength, them becoming your refuge, your shield against the day after and all the other days that followed, when your half-drunk newlywed husband flung you onto the bed, barking at you to disrobe. Undoing his breeches and letting them half down, he flipped you over to your belly, pulled you up to your knees, spread your legs, and placed his hard, dripping cock at your entrance.

“I will teach you now to be a good wife, princess. I am your husband, and you are to obey me. Do you understand? You are mine and only mine. Don’t you ever forget that,” he hissed, leaning closer to your ear, grabbing your hips with both hands and without any warning, forced himself into you in one single motion until the very end of his rigid length. 

You screamed out in pain, tears welling up in your eyes, to which he just started relentlessly thrusting into you, his groans of satisfaction echoing in your mind. Too drunk and consumed by chasing his own pleasure, he didn’t even notice you clutching a tiny pouch in your hand, blood reddening your fingers and your dress, as you squeezed it and hastily wiped your fingers against your thighs, faking the loss of your virginity. 

A chill crawls up your spine as these memories flood back. Why did you remember this? Wasn’t it torturous enough to witness Sihtric holding that young and pretty woman in his hands? He had promised to wait for you, a promise you never demanded, knowing how impossible and foolish it was. Yet, Sihtric’s earnest tone and self-assuredness as he made that promise, made you believe him. The notion that someone out there truly loved you, cared for you, recalled you and eagerly waited for you had become the light that guided you through your existence. It made the days bearable and warmed you when your husband's cruelty and neglect threatened to extinguish your will to live. 

Now the fragile and ridiculous illusion you had clung to for all these years lay shattered into thousand shards. You shouldn’t have come to Winchester. If only you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you could have still preserved that naive dream. When Edward pronounced his verdict and the crowd erupted in cheers as he embraced Uhtred, you glimpsed the satisfied smile on Sihtric's lips. He playfully ruffled the girl's hair, and she nestled closer to him, her eyes gleaming with admiration. Unable to bear the sight, you turned abruptly, a heavy weight settling in your chest like a ballast stone, threatening to suffocate you. In that fleeting last moment, your eyes locked with Sihtric’s, surprise flickering across his face, followed by a glimmer of recognition before you managed to flee back into the palace. Your fairy tale had ended abruptly, leaving you with nothing more than bittersweet memories of that single night, when you felt genuinely loved, cherished, and valued. 

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, leaving a glistening trace behind them. All you can do is to hide your face in your hands, permitting yourself to cry out all the pent-up despair that accumulated over five years of abuse and humiliation. Your magical wand, capable of summoning light and dispelling darkness is gone, leaving you drowning into a bleak, frigid expanse of misery and hopelessness. 

The sun had already risen when sudden voices startle you from your melancholy. The palace has awakened to a new busy day, and you can clearly distinguish the voices of your mother and sister calling your name.

Of course, the feasting this evening! There will be a war council summoned by Edward to discuss how to deal with Cnut and his army, followed by a feast. Not that you anticipated it, but you obviously did not have much choice as your husband was invited to both and expected you to accompany him. Still taunted by the lingering thoughts and memories, you reluctantly rise from the pew  and head towards the palace, hastily wiping away your tears before anyone can see them.

---------------------------------

 It is quite late already when you finally manage to bring up enough composure to get dressed. You had complained about a heavy headache to your husband, hoping he would agree to leave you alone in the chambers.

“Don’t be foolish and dress yourself,” is the response you get as he leaves for the council, which is supposed to start earlier.

You slow down as you reach the staircase, pausing to survey the hall beneath you. You see your mother and sister engaged in a lively conversation, sitting at the high end of the long table. Strangely you find your husband discussing something with Aethelred  – your sister’s  spouse – whom you know he can’t bear and despises deeply for being Alfred’s puppy – as he loves to call him.

Vultures start circling a carrion, Edward needs to be cautious in choosing whom to trust. I must speak with him later, you think to yourself.

And then your gaze lands on him. Your fingers clutch the railing with a desperate grip as you steady yourself, feeling your legs tremble, threatening to buckle beneath you. 

At the far end of the hall, alongside Lord Uhtred, stands Sihtric. His hands envelop an ale mug, his gaze fixed downwards, hovering between the table and the floor, concern and seriousness in his expression. Your breathing fastens as you strive to regain your composure; your knuckles whiten as you continue to clutch the railing. And as much as you try, you can’t force yourself to look away. He is still so handsome. Everything about him makes your heart pound faster and your breath twitch – his tall and robust frame with his black, curly hair braided on the top, but falling to his shoulders in the back. His strong jawline, the scars tracing his forehead and right cheek, his muscular arms covered by the long sleeves of his leather jerking decorated with gold and silver armbands. 

You can still recall these strong arms holding you tightly against his chest, his fingers tenderly raking through your hair. The memory is so vivid in your mind that you almost moan in longing. A captivating mixture of confidence, calmness, and strength emanates from him with the same intensity as when you first met. There is not enough strength within you to descend to the hall and confront him in a dignified manner, there is only one escape for you – to turn back and run to your chambers. Even if it means enduring your disappointed husband’s wrath later, you prefer it a thousand times to the possibility that you would need to speak with Sihtric, now that you are aware he is no longer yours. With the last remnants of your willpower, you force yourself to let go of the railing and want to turn away, your eyes casting one final lingering glance at your former lover as Sihtric lifts his eyes, his gaze meeting yours.

You are frozen, trapped by an invisible spider web that is restraining all your movements, paralysed by the intensive gaze of his big, expressive eyes that are scanning you from head to heels. There is something in his eyes, a lingering mix of confusion, sadness, and some hint of anxiety. Why is he looking so at you? He must be happy; you remember the gleam of happiness he directed to the girl in his arms.

“My dear wife, I am so glad to see you’re feeling better and could join us,” you hear the voice of your husband and in this very moment his ever so repelling voice sounds like a salvation to you. He beams at you, arms stretched as though you were the love of his life, like he has been desperately waiting for. Slowly, you manage to shift your gaze toward him forcing a smile to appear on your lips. Descending the stairs, you extend your arms toward him until you’re by his side and he clasps your hands, lifting your palms to his lips for a kiss.

“What a perfect couple,” you smirk inwardly. You have never understood this masquerade. Why all this pretence to be the loving and caring husband, only to let all his fury on you behind the closed doors?

You can still feel Sihtric’s gaze on you, his eyes drilling into your back as he observes your happy reunion with your husband. You spend the whole evening meticulously avoiding Sihtric. You notice him trying to approach you several times, but you anticipate his every move by hurriedly engaging in conversations with your mother or tugging your sister’s arm, leading her to follow you into another part of the hall away from Sihtric. You accept all invitations to dance, fully aware this will earn you additional scorn from your husband later.

At some point you see Lord Uhtred rising from his seat and striding toward your brother. There is a short conversation between them; Uhtred bows his head respectfully and nods toward Sihtric to follow him. They both leave the hall, and a sigh of relief escapes you. This is finally over. Absentmindedly you wave away the young ealdorman advancing you with a request to dance and head out of the hall, casting a stealthy glance at your husband. He is drunk beyond imaginable. Sitting in his place of the most honoured guests next to your mother, he struggles to keep his eyes open. With his ale mug still in his hand, his face droops onto the plate before him. A knowing smile graces your lips. His love for ale has actually made the last years more bearable, as he was often too drunk in the evenings to force himself upon you or to be able to hurt you. You head to the garden, to the very same place you sneaked out this morning; this will always remain your happy place, even if this morning turned out more sorrowful than you had anticipated.

You lower yourself on the stone pew and breathe in the sweet, intoxicating smell of the flowers, your gaze marvelling at the intricate maze of ivy covering the back wall. Lost in your thoughts you almost jump at the sound of an all-too- familiar voice.

“Good evening, my lady,” Sihtric greets you, obstructing the only way out between the wall and the bird cherry flower bush. “I am sorry if I scared you,” he quickly adds, noticing your wide eyes and face losing its colour.

“Good evening, Sihtric,” you manage to mumble, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.

The silence between you both hangs heavy in the air as nobody dares to speak, your gazes scanning each other with an awkward intensity. You rise from the pew and make a step toward Sihtric trying to side-track him. His hand reaches out, gets hold of yours and lets go of you instantly as if burned.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Your marriage seems to be very happy, my lady. I’m very glad to see it,” he murmurs, stepping closer, obliterating your attempt to escape. His breath is heavy and itching as his gaze locks with yours, an inexplicably sad and painful look in his eyes. His hand rises as if wanting to cup your jaw but lowers again, not daring to touch you, his uncertainty palpable. He is so close that you can feel his breath vibrating on your skin. His proximity suffocates you, his scent mingling with the aroma of the flowers, making your head spin with dizziness. In the moon's faint glow, his handsome face appears almost timeless, surreal. You are drawn to it, incapable of averting your eyes. His enigmatic, mismatched eyes scan your features full of awe and a hint of something that could be sweet longing, although you know it is not. 

You want to touch him, to caress his cheeks and let your fingers tangle in his dark hair, but instead you gather all your inner strength and utter, “Yes, indeed, as happy as yours I presume. Are you married to that lovely girl?”

“Married? Which girl?” Sihtric's genuine surprise momentarily throws you off, but in the next instant you discard your silly hopefulness. You can’t ignore what you saw. What does he want from you anyway?

“Sihtric, please, there is no need for pretence. Spare me the courtesy. I saw you yesterday before the palace. I don’t blame you. I understand. It’s been five long years. I never truly expected you to keep that promise,” your words tumble out in such a rush, you are surprised of yourself, “I just… I…” you can’t finish your saying, your voice breaking, tears welling up in your eyes. 

This is more than you can endure and with your face in your hands, you storm past him, pushing completely thunderstruck Sihtric aside. It’s unbearable. Your feelings for him are unaltered. You run. You thought you knew the garden as your own pocket, but in the weird moonlight everything looks different. You turn left and then right as you hope to be heading to the palace entrance just to find yourself facing the wall again. Tears roll down your cheeks obscuring your vision and making it even more difficult to navigate through the narrow passages as you feel yourself colliding with a muscular frame, strong arms enveloping your waist, pulling you against a broad chest. You can’t see anything, but the scent of the body you are pressed tightly against is so familiar that you have no doubts who is holding you.

“Let go of me!” you struggle against the firm embrace, “What do you want from me?” you shout, desperation evident in your voice as you can’t control yourself anymore.

“Please, calm down, my little princess. My love, just let me explain,” Sihtric’s voice is just a gentle flurry against the tempest of your ever-growing anger, but something in his tone makes you hold your breath, leading to a short pause in your frantic struggle against his embrace.

“What is there to explain? That you got tired of waiting? That you’re just a man …? That there is no hope anyway… I know, I understand… It was never meant to be…” your sobs become uncontrollable at this point, and you resume your futile attempts to break free from Sihtric’s hold, which gets only tighter in return.

“Please, listen to me. The girl you saw, it’s Uhtred’s daughter, Stiorra. She was terrified that Uhtred would be expelled again, forced to be an outlaw once more with no home, no hope and no man to follow him. I love her as my own child. I held her to assure that whatever happens I will never leave Uhtred. We are bound, we are brothers. And we were both just happy and relieved when Edward acknowledged Alfred’s pardon. That’s all. Since that night five years ago, there has never been another in my life. My little princess, my love, do you hear me? I love only you. Nothing will ever change that,” Sihtric’s voice remains a mere whisper against your ear as you let every word slowly sink into your consciousness. Can it be true? You want to believe him, you feel each and every cell in your body screaming in longing for his touch, telling you to cease your needless struggle and melt into his embrace if only for this one single short moment. It’s only your common sense that tries to object, whispering in the background that it does not matter. It will not change anything. You are bound to another forever. You can never be his. Why torture yourself and him? It’s time to let go. For his sake and for your own. You can’t live in a dream all your life. 

Sihtric’s embrace does not loosen, and your struggle gradually loses its intensity as you surrender to the burning need coursing through you. You let your body absorb the warmth, memorising this embrace for the future. One of his arms drifts from your waist to your hair, as his gentle caresses soothe you.

“Every single day and night, I’ve dreamed of holding you again,” Sihtric murmurs, his lips brushing your hair as your face rests on his chest, your tears soaking his fine leather armour.

“My silly little princess, I thought myself the happiest man alive when I saw you yesterday. But you wouldn’t even look at me. I thought you regretted our past, that you wanted nothing more to do with me. I simply couldn’t accept it just like that, I needed to hear it from you. Can’t you see what you do to me? I practically begged Uhtred to take me with him to that damned council,” Sihtric continues, his words lullabying all your fears and concerns. There is nothing else in this world for you, just the sweet sound of his voice, and you don’t care what the morning will bring. Tonight you want to be with him, you want to feel loved again, you want to be his.

 “Can you just take me away from here? Please, Sihtric,” you lift your head, and your pleading gaze meets Sihtric’s eyes.

“Princess, believe me, I don’t want to let go of you. But your husband is probably searching for you. Allow me to guide you to the entrance,” you hear his words, yet you sense desire consuming him, his arms refusing to let go, wrapping even tighter around you and pulling you closer. He can’t bear to let go of you, the same as you can’t let go of him.

“My husband is drunk and sleeps, his ugly face buried in the leftovers on his own plate,” you hiss with deep disgust in your voice, and Sihtric stiffens in astonishment as you grasp his hand and start pulling him towards the other end of the garden.

“Come with me. I’ll show you how I got out of the palace last time,” your voice is suddenly resolute and confident. Something has changed deep inside you. You have always silently let your life be predetermined by others, and have accepted your fate without questioning it. Except for that one single night, when for the first time you seized control and made a decision you never regretted. And now, you want to feel it again – the power to be able to choose, to make your own decisions. Good or bad, time will tell, but these will be your choices and you will atone for them. You are so sick of just watching life go by, of not partaking. It might have been easier to submit, blaming others for your suffering, but you can’t do it anymore. And with that thought, a surge of newfound power courses through you. 

You find the small concealed side door, trembling fingers gripping the handle; a squeak, and it yields. Your first step into the night feels like stepping into a new life, a fresh destiny. Sihtric follows you, his hand holding yours in a steady and tight grip, and you smile at him as you look back into his mismatched eyes. Once outside the palace walls, Sihtric leads you through the narrow town streets to the same tavern he stayed in previously. You climb the steps to his chamber, the doors close behind you and his hands and lips are upon you. His kisses, initially tender and soft, soon grow feverish and urgent. Desperate fingers rend at clothing, eager to get rid of layers that separate your heated bodies. 

As soon as the last piece of clothing has fallen to the ground, Sihtric grabs your thighs, pulling you up, and you follow his movement, wrapping your legs around his waist and letting him effortlessly carry you over to the bed. He sits down with you straddling him. 

Your lips trail down his jaw to his neck, so greedy, so hungry. Your fingers tangle in his braided hair, pulling hard on them as you allow yourself to immerse in the arousal, building up in your lower stomach and quickly taking you over. You lean back and your hips start moving against Sihtric’s body rubbing your clit against him, your pussy aching in anticipation. Holding you with one arm around your waist, Sihtric’s hand reaches down, and you feel his fingers rubbing at your clit, parting your folds, and sliding inside your soaked pussy.

“Gods, how wet you are,” he grunts against your skin, his already hard and leaking cock is the wordless confirmation that he burns with the same overwhelming desire as you. His lips travel around your breasts, covering them with wet open-mouthed kisses and sucking at your hard nipples.

“I need you. Now,” you moan, and your hand takes hold of his throbbing length, placing it at your wet entrance. A loud groan of relief and satisfaction escapes you both as you lower yourself on Sihtric’s cock, taking him in completely, to the very end of his shaft, instantly starting to move against it. 

His hands land on your buttocks, helping you to push yourself deeper against his pelvis, but allowing you to determine the pace of your movements, which grow faster with each thrust. A loud moan vibrates deep in Sihtric’s throat as your pussy clench around him and your thrusts get frenzied, almost hysterical, your climax building up unstoppably fast and intense.

“Oh my god, Sihtric! I am close … I …” your head snaps back and your nails dig into Sihtric’s flesh as you come with a loud scream, your body twitching and your walls spasming around his cock. 

His hands grab your waist and start moving you up and down, not letting you stop, his hips pushing up against you deeper, faster, just a few more thrusts and he follows you with a heavy moan, his breath panting. Your shivering body collapses against his and he wraps his arms around you, steadying, holding, caressing you. You remain in each other’s embrace, savouring the sweet aftermath of your peaks, before he gently lowers you on the bed next to him. His fingers trace the contours of your figure, and suddenly his eyes widen in astonishment as he notices the bruises of varying colour on your skin – some fading, faint, and pale, while others in intense shades of blue and violet.

“Gods, what is this?” he breathes, his voice quivering, “Who did this to you?” His hands cup your chin, raising your head to meet his gaze. There is no need for an answer; a pained growl escapes his lips as he pulls you into his embrace, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he murmurs, almost inaudibly, “I should never have let you go. I’ll kill that wretched bastard with my bare hands. Let them hang me for it, but you’re not going back to him.”

“I am not leaving this time,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair. “But that bastard is mine. Promise me.”

Sihtric lifts his head, gazing into your eyes, disbelief plainly written on his face, but the certainty in your gaze is unwavering.

“Whatever you wish, my little princess. As long as you are finally mine,” Sihtric whispers, a broad smile gracing his lips as he wonders silently what he's done to earn the favour of the gods, to have his wildest dream come true.

--------------------------------------

“Are you sure about this?” Sihtric cups your face with both hands, his eyes questioning yours.

“More than anything else,” you reply.

“He’s all yours, my love. Do you want me to stay?”

“No, this is between him and me,” you respond, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Sihtric nods, steps aside, and heads toward the door, opening you the view on a man’s frame sprawled on the bed, his hands and legs tightly tied to the grid, a gag obstructing his mouth and muffling all sounds and attempts to scream. He looks at you with eyes widened in fear, struggling against the ropes with all his strength. His head starts shaking vehemently as he sees you drawing a dagger and walking slowly toward him. You lift your dress and climb the bed, straddling him.

“I will teach you now to be a good husband, my dear,” you murmur into his ear.

—----------------------------------------------- 

With a heavy breath, you shut the door behind you. Your eyes are wide, your hands smeared with blood, clutching bloodied dagger against your chest. Sihtric waits outside, and as you stagger towards him, your legs wobbly, he catches you in his arms. He doesn't utter a word, merely enfolding your trembling shoulders and pulling you close in a firm embrace.

 “Is he dead?” he finally inquires.

“He lives, but he’ll never be able to hurt anybody, the way he hurt me,” you reply with a quiver in your voice. “I must speak with my brother,” you add, wiping your hands on your dress.

“I am here with you. No matter what comes, we’ll face it together,” Sihtric leans in to kiss you and squeezes your hand encouragingly.

Princess

[ride-thedragon]

At this point I think as a fandom, we've lost some of the crackship charm we once had. I can look up Ashara Dayne and Ser Davos and find results, But Nettles and Helaena have nothing. It's time to rectify that for my favourite girl and try to inspire some fanfics. Feel free to add more.

1. Daeron and Nettles

Think Enemies to Lovers, Captive of War drama like Jaime and Brienne or just some good old Gwen and Arthur-inspired love. Ivy by Taylor Swift coded, a She's all that inspired affair. I genuinely think that he's just trying to be there for her with this one. It happens and neither of them realise until You're in Love starts playing.

2. Baela and Nettles.

They would give the pot calling the kettle black in every argument. The Princess Bride-esque dynamic between them. Very Graham and Megan from but I'm a Cheerleader. Sapphic Pinning and Resentment should be its own genre. Sir Chloe's Michelle is my vision. We can even make a throuple with them and Jace or Alyn. Truly, I think they but heads until they kiss, building on resentment. I also think they would be the coolest couple.

3. Addam and Nettles

Kaz and Inej core.

But in all seriousness, I think Addam being loyal and Duty bound and Nettles challenging that idea is delicious. Solider of Duty x Solider for the People. A modern-day Persuasion story but gender-flipped if we put our minds to it. See you Again Kali Uchis and Tyler the Creator, that's all.

4. Nettles and Helaena

They just deserve better. That's all. Give me cottagecore sapphic romance with my best girls involves. Like the young lesbians from Barbie and the Diamond Castle. Lesbians raising kids together. Sheepstealer and Dreamfyre hatching eggs for the nieces and nephews. I just-

It would be so cool, I will by Mitski sentiment is already attached.

5. Alyn and Nettles

Now that we are here obviously she apologized for Sheepstealer, she doesn't need to but she did, He tries not to like her but can't help it. She wins him over and they hatch him an egg or something idk. Think The Princess Diaries: Royal Engagement, Mia and Nicholas, Flipped the movie if you will. Jealously plots would slay. For the song choice think Shameless Camila Cabello. Please remember that Alyn is younger than Netty by 3/4 years though.

6. Rhaena and Nettles

See now this is classic Friends to Lovers, Emma and Harriet if gay, perhaps, Bend it Like Beckham core definitely. Sofia by Clario inspired. Nettles doesn't leave Rhaena out because she's without a dragon and the same happens inverse. Sapphic confusion however, like Rhaena doesn't understand at first why she feels that way.

7. Nettles and Jace.

Now for the Mr Knightley and Emma Woodhouse of our time, the Kate and Anthony of Westeros. The potential for her just not listening to him when he tries to tell her how to ride a dragon. Or when she talks to him about the people he'll rule over eventually, Ygritte and Jon style. She's also the only bastard who doesn't look Targaryen, he can relate to that a bit. I think she's Fierce and he's Stubborn. Ungodly Hour by Chloe x Halle for them.

8. Nettles and Alys.

The Fire Witches of Westeros. I think they will be perfect as a ship. American Horror Story-esque characters. The two Witches in the story are obviously my favourites. It would be Jennifer's Body meets, the craft meets, and Suspiria. Willow by Taylor Swift becomes them.

This one was also a bonus more or less.

Anyways I just need to start to get a baseline story for my girl by the time the show gives her to us. So we have a general sense of direction, I'm tired of the mischaracterization of my baby. She's smart, resourceful, Cunning, Fearless, and not entirely loyal. She also curses, enough for it to be a character trait. Please remember this for her, I'm tired. I also know that Daemon loved her but she's too much fun as a character to limit her to him romantically in all her fanfictions, it is an interesting narrative to explore while we don't have exact answers but he gets romantic ships with anyone. She deserves more.

[maxiemumdamage]

I realize I’m over ten years late to the bandwagon on SMASH, and that most fans of it probably aren’t on tumblr regardless, but what is this hellsite for if not screaming opinions into the void?

Anyway: assuming the producers were set in their casting choices, it would’ve made way more sense to have Megan Hilty and Katherine McPhee’s characters inverted.

See, the whole conflict between Karen and Ivy doesn’t really work because if you know Broadway — which is the stage they’re competing on — Ivy is better in every conceivable way. She is the better singer, she is the better dancer, she is the better actor and she is the more experienced employee. So, when we’re told Ivy and Karen are equals in contention for the same thing, that Karen could conceivably be cast in a leading role with zero experience, it feels…ridiculous, and frankly like an insult to the audience’s intelligence.

(To be clear, I don’t think Katherine McPhee is a BAD singer, she’s just…ill-suited for Broadway ballads and numbers. She’s good at pop songs, which is presumably why they were included in the show despite often feeling out of place. But in-universe they are trying to cast for a Broadway musical — obviously the person who’s better at Broadway style would be picked in that situation.)

(They try to convince the audience it’s because Karen has “it” while Ivy doesn’t, but it utterly fails, because Megan Hilty is fantastically talented and steals every scene, crushes every number, and is easier to work with to boot.)

(I fear that in SMASH’s efforts to include “stars” of various backgrounds — Broadway was the obvious target demographic for the show, but then they brought in American Idol fans by casting McPhee right after she won it — it instead created a weird Frankenmonster of music and choreography styles and writing choices that didn’t please any of the people it was made for. Casting the net too wide made it feel confused and erratic. Like Bombshell in universe, the concept and talent was there, but it fumbled the execution.)

But there’s an easy way to make it work — switch their backgrounds. Make Karen the experienced Broadway star who’s only worked in the chorus, and Ivy the shiny new up-and-comer.

(Nobody try and bring up age as a gotcha — McPhee and Hilty are only a few years apart.)

Karen might not be great at belting, but if you let her primarily have been a background singer and dancer, then the character’s strengths align with those of the actress. And if you really want an excuse for why Karen is in contention for a leading role, giving her Ivy’s family background could justify it — as the daughter of a successful and famous actress, Karen then has the clout and connections and could therefore bring in the investors the show needs. Karen’s talent aren’t at odds with her position if you make her position that of a girl raised in showbusiness, a nepobaby trying to follow in mommy’s footsteps, familiar with the industry and performing in it but not a star.

This way, Karen being accommodated and praised despite her comparative lack of talent makes sense — she’s a safer choice than a relative unknown, and brings in a family connection who can help buoy the show in its early stages.

Meanwhile, Megan Hilty’s character, Ivy, can be someone who’s got the talent, but lacks a background or the experience to really draw a crowd or make her easy to work with. Her friendship with Tom can remain, he could just be a personal acquaintance, rather than a work one that turned into a close friendship over time. Maybe Ivy still recorded the demo track that got attention for Bombshell in the first place, just as a personal favor to Tom, and then finds that hey, she really does like doing this and wants to seriously work on Broadway.

Because Ivy is Marilyn, not Karen. It makes more sense for her to be the young up-and- comer who gets too famous too fast, rather than a veteran overlooked for a younger talent.

[llumimoon]

Pssst Cal in a dndads Voltron AU which teen do you think would control each lion? ,':) (yeah Hermie is included here lol there's 5 lions after all!)

BABA YOU DONT EVEN KNOW ... I ALREADY ASSIGNED ALL THE TEENS LIONS BEFORE. I'VE THOUGHT ABT IT TWICE NOW WITH LIKE A MONTHS LONG GAP BETWEEN..... You came to the right place is all I'm saying JWBEVAJHAHAHA

Okay lets get the most obvious one to me out of the way, which is Link in the Yellow Lion. Like. First of all the fact that Yellow is A LEG and also Yellow representing kindness .... I think he really does support the team and grounds them in many aspects. Also Yellow is bulky like a dnd paladin LMAO it just makes the MOST sense to me? Yellow also being the color I associate with Link so maybe that gives me a slight bias lmaooo

The rest are. LESS clear to me. I HAVE already settled on an arrangement I'm more or less okay with but I could make a lot of arguments for alternative placements !! I will also admit maybe the places I settled on are a little color biased?

The Lions DO kind of have traits associated with each one except its. much less clear in some cases than others and I had to be a little flexible bc in my opinion NONE of the teens r like . smart enough for the Green Lion JWBECWUAGAHAA like they're all smart in their own ways and I do bend some rules a little to make their smarts work as an argument but I feel like Green is more book smart than anything which makes it difficult.

Uhmmm everyone else from here on out has at least two lions I could argue for and then I'll say which one I settled on? But like if you disagree thats totally fair LMAO like I said many assignments can be considered

Scary I mainly thought about the Black or Red Lion... There's the whole. Scary's the leader! Thing and also the idea of power corrupting... but also she can be pretty impulsive which is why I considered Red, also her tendency to have fire based magic mishaps LMAO I think Scary shows a lot of growth and inner reflection and also she has good insight on how the others seem to be feeling even if she doesn't always act on it or use it in the right way, so I could see that as the markings for the beginning of a Black Lion learning to be the leader type arc? Also to be honest shes the Main and practically Only contender for Black so she ends up getting it by default.

Hermie I think could be the Blue or Green Lion. I don't actually remember if they say IN THE SHOW what the Blue Lion stands for, but like. I've read so much Lance fanfic LMAO that to me it stands for Flexibility and what is Hermie if not flexible. Maybe too flexible? In the sense of. She will fill any role that is needed or given to her, like water will. I also thought Green bc to me Hermie is a character who is VERY in his head. Like they overthink to the point of looping back around to stupid again but also shes always playing mind games with other people. Hermie seems to always be one step ahead or at least is good at pretending they are. Also you can say the nature stuff is Hermie in his poison ivy era. Green is also pretty small and easy to damage which lines up with how fragile he is in a fight and maybe you could make an argument for the camouflage being like shapeshifting? idk. Anyways I decided on Green I think.

Normal I think I'm biased bc he's my fav and Lance was my old fav and I already made a post before about how I think they're similar and would get along and ANYWAYS LMAO I think its clear I gave him Blue. Something something, the legs being the support of the team something something water meaning flexibility but also ice can be stubbornness something something how I associate Normal (and lowkey the Doodler) with water (a whole nother thing to get into u can ask me to elaborate later) etc. I also played around with the idea of him in Red as Scary's right hand bc . shakes them . I think it could possibly fit but not as well? Fire isn't really Normals thing. I also briefly considered him for Black bc Normal is usually the one pushing the group towards a certain goal, but also his plans kind of never end up going through so I was like hmm not sure about that one. Blue I think is the best fit for him in the end which is why everyone else ended up where they did.

TAYLOR. Ok process of elimination you probably already figured out that I chose Red for him BUT I also considered Blue and Green. Green is fun bc you can play with his roughish abilities, like hiding and sneak attacks. His knowledge is more obscure facts and survival skills but I think it's enough to be a contender! I cannot explain the Blue stuff its all vibes in my head but trust me . I think also leaning into, Blue and Yellow are the legs that support and stabilize the team thing, Taylor is actually pretty good at keeping a cool head all things considered. Red, yes maybe slightly process of elimination but COME ON ITS BIG SWORD AND ALSO FIRE POWERS!!! Taylor would love that shit. Also going zoom zoom fast. Also the Red Lion is the second in command/right hand of the Black Lion and it just fits Taylor's protagonist vibes LMAO I think he usually is off doing is own thing which is also very Red Lion.

So to summarize: Scary Black, Taylor Red, Hermie Green, Link Yellow and Normal Blue.

Again I could totally see the justification for shuffling them around a bit but this is the assignments I settled on? The colors lining up is also nice I will not lie. I also could see an alternate universe where Normal is Red, Hermie Blue and Taylor Green, I think thats my second most favorable arrangement.

LMAO SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE THIS SO LONG I'VE JUST THOUGHT A LOT ABOUT IT BEFORE. AS YOU CAN CLEARLY SEE. I take sorting my characters into categories VERY seriously 😤 enrichment for me.