#like she's definitely a villain and needed to lose

[bluespiritshonour]

The Boling Rock has got to be my favourite Maiko epsiode because of several things:

I expected them to pull the plug on Maiko the moment Zuko switched sides. But while he did break up with her there wasn't any animosity.

Now, you might ask why would I expect animosity in this situation?

Because what we get to see of their relationship is at a time when Zuko's struggling with his Identity—so most of it is them not working out.

And now that Zuko is one of the heroes, and Mai one of the villains you'd expect for her to be put in her place. Like it often happens to female villains.

But Zuko only seemed sad at the prospect of leaving her.

I had a feeling that Zuko's feelings for Mai weren't as strong as hers were for him. Until he tells Sokka about her.

It's such a simple thing, he just talks fondly of her. And it does more to show that he genuinely wants to be with her than several episodes before that did.

Then, again, because we're used to tropes, I kept expecting them to have a final fallout. Because something about that break up did not feel very final. Or wasn't disparaging to Mai.

But Boiling Rock keeps rolling and there's no signs of Maiko sinking. If anything they go ahead and pull her betraying everything she's ever known for him.

Zuko shows no signs of ill will towards her. Even when she's on the wrong side of the war. Even when he thinks she's loyal to Azula. Even when he probably can't begin to think about the outcome of the war—and them being able to get together depends on that.

He still can't help but be hopelessly in love with her. (I honestly did not think he loved her back before this episode. It felt like she put his needs first and he liked her because of it).

Compare that to the ease with which he cut ties with Ozai and Azula: he simply couldn't bring himself to approach Mai that way.

I think that's the kind of unconditional love Mai needs. Her parents' love for her was extremely conditional, Zuko's wasn't.

[randomshyperson]

Heal - Scarlet!Wanda x Vampire!Reader - Kinktober #08

Summary: By freeing an imprisoned immortal from the Darkhold Castle, the Scarlet Witch did not expect to gain a friend who would help her heal the woman she tried to bury in the temple's wreckage. In return, Wanda might help you face the demons from your past that were locked away with you.

Warnings: (+18), service!top reader, praising, intimate smut, blood-feeding, vampire and witchcraft lore, and a lot of plot, implied depression and self-harming tendencies, really soft smut with explicit consent, mutual pining, friends to lovers | Words: 9.671k

A/N-> My only vampire reference is TVD, so expect many similarities to the show’s lore. And I repeat again that there is a sinful lack of stories that deal with the status of wizarding royalty of which Wanda is part. Please, she literally has the title of Queen of Chaos, her family has inherited the magic of chaos for generations, we need to talk about this. I hope you guys like this one, this story ended up having more depth than I expected and it was quite fun to write it.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

After destroying a thousand-year-old castle and not getting out of the impact zone, Wanda definitely didn't expect comfort. In addition to the pain of recent events, from realizing that she had finally become a villain, and was closer to the people who had destroyed her life than to the friends she once lost, she also had to see the clear fear in the alternative versions of the children she missed. So she put an end to it all, more tired than anything, and waited for the pain to go away. The blackout from the impact put an end to it, of course, and just like years before when she turned to dust after losing the only person she still had left, she breathed a sigh of relief into the darkness.

But Wanda woke up. And to her complete surprise, comfort came in the softest sheets she had ever felt, perhaps even more comforting than the expensive cloth Tony Stark had once bought for the rooms in Avengers Tower. The bed she was lying on could easily have been mistaken for royalty, and Wanda barely had time to become alert before a slightly unfamiliar face entered her field of vision.

"You." She gasped in surprise, her voice a little hoarse. Now conscious, she was aware of the pain around her body, but she could also feel her magic doing the hard work and taking the sensation away. You smiled gently and, without leaving your sitting position on her bed, waited for her to adjust to the mattress. Wanda frowned. "But why?"

You sighed, shrugging slightly. Now sitting up, Wanda realized that your lap wasn't empty. A breakfast tray was waiting for her as if you were aware that she would wake up soon and had brought the food just in time. The item was leisurely placed next to her, but Wanda continued to look at you, waiting for an explanation as to why someone who had disappeared almost the second after the first meet, reappeared to save her from the wreckage of her mistakes.

"I know you're confused, but please eat. You've slept for days, miss." It's your comment, but the witch shakes her head.

"Don't worry about it. It's... nowhere near the longest I've gone without food." The quiet confession about the period of darkhold abuse makes you sigh sadly, and Wanda feels a curiosity rise in her chest. You don't know her, so why do you care? 

Your hands move to the toast you've prepared for her, and Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she finally notices the tray with your movements. Your breakfast choices are just right - delicious foods stare back at her. And you busy yourself with adding some jam to the toast that makes Wanda's mouth water.

"Forgive me for taking so long to find you, I was a bit overwhelmed upon returning after so long." You then declare, handing back the now-filled toast to one of the smaller plates. You push the item towards her as an invitation, but Wanda glares at you.

"Why did you bother coming back?"

Your eyes are kind in her direction. "I owe you my freedom."

Wanda chuckles short and incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous, I didn't even know what I was doing." She retorts immediately. "I saved you by accident, you don't owe me anything."

But you gesture to the food, and Wanda sighs in defeat, finally giving in. At the first bite, she feels the delicious jam on her tongue and sighs in satisfaction. It's amazing, she lets you know. You smile.

"It doesn't matter if our meeting was accidental, Wanda Maximoff." You state. "Your magic broke me out of my prison. If the idea of a debt doesn't please you, we can act as if upon rescuing you, I made us even."

Wanda hums with her mouth full, slightly distracted by the food. You look away, waiting for a moment, and she finishes chewing before speaking again.

"I didn't want to be rescued."

"I know."

She looks at you again, but you continue to stare straight ahead into the room. "Do you?"

You smile briefly. "Nobody who wants to live knocks down a castle on their head, miss."

The chuckle that escapes her is short, but it's the first sincere one in a long time. It's so dark, to joke about something so serious, yet she feels completely at ease doing it with you.

Wanda finishes another piece of toast before speaking again. "Do you remember the sorcerer who was with me before, when I freed you?" You meet her gaze, nodding in agreement. Wanda looks at you curiously. "He nearly shit his pants when he saw you running away from the temple. He tried to lecture me about it, and I dragged him out of there for it. But the point is... what did you do? He only told me your name. What was so terrible that your escape scared him so much?"

You sigh, getting up. Wanda imagines that she has offended you by asking and that you will leave without telling her the whole truth, and considers spying on your mind to find that out, but you just walk to the nearest drawers on the other side of the bedroom. When you return with an object in hand, Wanda wipes away the toast crumbs before accepting the item you hand her.

The old photograph makes her eyes widen. "Holy shit." She sighs impressed, getting a short laugh out of you.  Your picture wasn't a surprise, but the date from over three hundred years ago faded by the bottom. Wanda flipped the item to see the back, but your name there didn’t really explain how you were standing in front of her, as if no time had passed.

"Humans call us Vampires, but I've always liked the sound of Immortal better. Of course, the term vampire beats being called a demon or a bloodsucker." Wanda doesn't laugh at the joke, as she raises wide eyes in surprise at you. She continues to hold up the photograph, and you swallow. "I promise I won't try to harm you." Finally, she chuckles softly. You sigh in reassurance, even though the witch has just mocked your strength.

"I can't believe vampires exist." 

"Said the witch who traveled through the multiverse a few days ago." Wanda smiles, handing the photograph back to you. 

"Fair point." She murmurs. Restless, you wonder what you can do to improve her mood. She seems so sad.

Perhaps your stories could distract her. 

"I was imprisoned in Darkhold Castle a few centuries ago." You tell her, attracting her curiosity again. Your hands go into your pockets so that you can regain some ground over the full attention of such beautiful and mesmerizing irises. "There are other mystical authorities, apart from Kamar-Taj and its mages. In particular, a council of vampires. I disagreed with some traditions and was sentenced to imprisonment, but my capture was not quiet. Let's just say I earned that tomb you rescued me from, Miss." Wanda nodded in understanding, offering a small smile that ensured she wasn't judging you. It would be comical to do so, after everything that had led up to this moment. Adding to the count of her own crimes, she apparently unleashed an immortal mass murderer.

Wanda looks around, sighing softly. "I presume this place is yours."

You nod but look away from her. "Many of my properties were lost with my imprisonment. Taken back by the Council, or even stolen by other creatures. I'll deal with these usurpers later." The comment made Wanda bite the corner of her mouth. She'd never seen a vampire fight, and you seemed so sure of your own strength over anyone who stood up to you. It was attractive somehow. She pushed the thought away faster than it came. "Of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you need, even if I'm not around."

The statement makes Wanda chuckle in surprise, her cheeks slightly warm. "What? I can’t accept that. I will certainly not abuse hospitality-"

"Don't be ridiculous." You repeat her previous words with an easy smile, and the casual comment sounds different from your formal attitude so far that It's so charming that Wanda has to look away awkwardly, surprised by her own perceptions. "It's a pleasure to have you as a guest. And honestly, it's nice to have someone around after so long." The sincere confession makes her smile. Wanda understood loneliness well. You sigh. "There's enough room in this house. You can stay as long as you need."

Wanda nods. "How exactly did you get me here? And where is here exactly?"

"Northern Europe, but I'm not sure if the country's name remained the same as it was three centuries ago. And I didn't want to carry you so far from the castle, and I figured you didn't intend to return to Nepal and their Kamar Taj’s mages as well."

Wanda grimaces. "What do you mean with ‘carry me’?"

You chuckle slightly. "You were unconscious, Miss Maximoff. And buried under rubble when I found you. We don't have the same magical abilities,  so I can’t use the power of the mind to move objects or people. I picked you up, and brought you with me."

She needs to see this, and the invasion in your mind caught you off guard. Flashes of memories turn clear in your head, your figure pushing rocks out of the way until you find Wanda unconscious. You actually picked her up in your arms and started moving. At some point, you found a car, but good kilometers on the ice at high speed were walked.

Wanda leaves your mind with a sigh, and for the first time, you look upset.

"Please ask next time."

She's still coming to terms with the fact that you ran through the snow with her in your arms to apologize. "You walked half a continent for me?"

You shrug. "I ran, to be fair. Don't worry about that, it wasn't any trouble. My kind has enough strength and speed for a journey like that."

But the ease didn't detract from the significance of the attitude. Wanda could hardly remember the last time anyone had done anything for her - not even Vision, who was her partner, seemed to share any guilt when signing accords that wanted her in jail; And now a stranger was rescuing her at the end of the world just to bring her to safety, without expecting anything in return.

Her silence makes you clear your throat. "I'll give you some privacy. There's more food if you want it, and this is a suite, so the toilet is through that door. I've also taken the liberty of ordering clothes in your size while you’ve been asleep, they're all in the closet. The whole property can be explored, please feel free to do so. There’s a library and art rooms. And please, if you decide to leave, say farewell first."

Wanda smiles tenderly at your request, and you turn away. She finally realizes that you look very tidy, and calls out to you before you can leave the room.

"Are you going out?"

"Just for a few hours." You answer, frowning at the way her expression falls. "Is something wrong?"

Wanda sighs. "I just… don’t wanna be alone."

Despite the sympathy in your eyes, you hesitate. A hand on the doorframe. "Forgive me, miss, I promise I won't be long and that we can spend the rest of the day together." 

Wanda waves your concern away, starting to stand up. "Relax, I'll be fine, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your appointments. I'll explore the house while you're gone."

But despite her casual attitude, you call out to her with a certain seriousness that makes Wanda look at you again. There's something in your expression that makes it clear that you didn't buy Wanda's act at all, and that you can clearly see that she was being serious about her loneliness. Your eyes had a guilty aspect because you couldn't stay. 

You sigh, looking away as you explain: "I must feed myself, Miss Maximoff. Please don't think I'm avoiding your company."

She is slightly surprised by the confession and doesn't know exactly what to say about it. She decides to just nod, without the courage to question you further on the subject even though she's dying to know exactly in which way you're going to feed yourself.

And when you leave her alone, and she wanders around the huge rooms of that mansion, she can't help wondering where you are, if it's like in vampire stories, and you're in some alley cornering an unwary human, or if hunting animals is enough. She becomes so absorbed in her own doubts that when you return, she hasn't even finished seeing the whole place.

"Having fun?" Your question startles her slightly. She smiles, turning her attention away from the art paintings in the room and meeting your gaze again.

"You move silently."

"A talent we share."

Wanda chuckles and waits for you to approach her completely. Side by side, she is the first to speak.

"Everything here is very beautiful." She says softly. "And I may not be centuries old, but I'm no fool. It sounds too good to be true. Be honest, Y/N. What do you hope to get from me?"

You frown, taking one hand out of your pocket to gesture a little. "You have a suspicious nature, Miss Maximoff."

She snorts softly." Y/N..."

But you smile, and Wanda gasps softly because your hand moves to her face, a gentle touch to move a strand of hair out of the way of her eyes. "Not everyone wants to take something from you, Miss. Some people just want to give." Wanda ignores the intensity of your gaze, the quickening of her heartbeat, and raises her hand to grab your wrist and interrupt your intention to stroke her cheek straight away. Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion in your direction, although your smile never falters. "I could just force you to talk."

"There's no need for that, we can talk over dinner."

She hesitates, aware of the heat on her cheeks. You seem to have a personal victory and Wanda lets go of your hand immediately. 

"Wipe that smile off your face, it's not... that kind of dinner. We don't even know each other." She mutters embarrassedly. You return to your previous position, relaxed with your hands in the pockets of your dress pants and Wanda crosses her arms annoyed at the way her stupid brain keeps finding you more attractive every time she looks at you. 

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, miss." You retort humorously. "It's a strictly professional dinner."

She rolls her eyes, turning away to hide her smile from you.

"Just introduce me to the rest of the house."

"It's funny, all witches are always bossy." You comment, letting her gently pat your shoulder even though you could easily escape the gesture if you wanted to.

-&-

"I didn't know vampires cooked."

You chuckle, without taking your eyes off the knife cutting the vegetables. "Have you met many vampires?"

Wanda bites back a smile, rolling her eyes softly. "No, you're the first." She says, watching from the counter stool as you masterfully prepare dinner. "But I thought you guys didn't need to eat."

"We don't, not food at least." You retort gently, even though the implication makes Wanda's eyes sparkle with curiosity. You, despite being busy preparing the meal, notice the slight excitement and give a soft laugh. "If wished, my body can imitate all the biological functions it had before I died. This includes food." To illustrate, you take one of the cut pieces of carrot into your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you finish chopping the vegetables. Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, gathering the courage to ask you what she wishes to know.

When you pour the cut vegetables into a pot, she clears her throat. "Would it be insensitive if I asked how it happened?"

"Very." You smile back. Wanda sighs slightly, feeling like a little child trying to be liked. 

Please, please, notice me and talk to me.

The fire is lit, you wash off the excess vegetable stock and wipe your hands on a tea towel. You speak again.

"It's 2024, which means that in the winter it will be 320 years since my transformation." You begin a little nostalgically, your hands resting on the counter behind you. "Twenty was the age at which I died."

Wanda frowns. "You were so young."

"Yes, I was." You agree with a sad smile. "I used to work here, right in this mansion." Wanda adjusts herself, curiosity taking over completely. "I was raised by this family all my life, and when I fell ill, they decided there was no longer any place for me here."

The witch swallows dryly but doesn't interrupt your story. You look down, bringing your hands in front of your stomach to turn the larger ring you're wearing between your fingers.

"Sick servants would be sent away, so as not to spread the disease to the rest of the house. I died on the road."

Wanda frowns slightly. "Who bit you?"

"Bit me?" You retort in confusion. 

She chuckles awkwardly. "Yes, that's how it works, isn't it? Vampires bite humans and turn them."

It's your turn to laugh, a little impressed. "What? No, by the gods! Imagine how many of us there would be out there if every time a vampire fed, he turned someone? No, no, it's a bit more complicated." You comment casually. "You see, there's an immortality spell, created by the same author of the book that was with you when we met. Original vampires are made by ancient magic, and these can have bloodlines. Weaker vampires are transformed by their blood. And others can be created, even weaker by their descendants. The trick is to die with magical blood in your system so that your soul will be trapped by the magic and will not leave your body. It is then reanimated a few hours after we die. To complete the transformation, we must feed."

She absorbs your words for a moment. Until she finally asks: "Who transformed you?"

You lick your lips, shifting your eyes to the pot as if to confirm the cooking time, before turning away from the counter. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

She follows you around the mansion, way past the kitchen to another level. The entrance hall extends into a long corridor with many old paintings. Finally silver doors at the end.

"This is the main suite of the mansion." You clarify, fiddling with a bunch of keys kept in your pocket until now. Apparently, the only locked room was that one. "It's been adapted, moved from the upper floor to here on the lower level since, at the end of her life, the owner couldn't take the stairs."

Once unlocked, you push the doors open with both hands, exposing the immense royal suite inside. Wanda thinks it looks a lot like fantasy books and is busy admiring the decorations when she comes across a painting on the wall that knocks the air out of her lungs.

"What...?" She approached with uncertain steps until she was touching the painting with her fingers, groping for the drawing of a face that could easily be mistaken for her own. "How is that possible?" She demanded to know, turning to you.

You were still standing in the doorway, your hands in your pockets. "This is your ancestor."

"And why the hell does she have my face?"

"Heritage?" You retort good-humoredly, but Wanda snorts incredulously, advancing towards you angrily. You quickly raise your hands in surrender, a nervous laugh escaping as you see the fury in her eyes. “I’m joking, dear lord! I didn't mean to upset you. Let me tell you the whole story!."

"It better be a very good one." She retorts, watching you intently as if expecting a kidnap attempt.

You sigh, nodding before turning your face to the photo. "Her name was Elizabeth. She's gone if that's not obvious. This painting was done over four centuries years ago when your family was still known as the Maksymovs. They lived well, your ancestors, as you can see from the amount of gold in this manor. But sorcery and witchcraft were never very well-liked anywhere, and just like the rest of us, your family was hunted down." You say, stepping aside to open the curtains and light up the room. Still, on your back, you continued to talk. "I was just a little girl when Lady Maksymov took me in, Elizabeth’s mother. I cleaned and cooked, and I was lucky enough to be allowed inside the mansion. To share the room with the family. All due respect to their memories, but my Lady was not a decent person. She was cruel and harsh and preferred to die on the mountain of money than give a little to the children she watched depart for this place. I stayed here because I had no other choice in life, and when the neighbors began to question what she was doing in the basement, she was taken away just like her children.  And unlike her mother or any of her siblings, Elizabeth was not a very talented witch. Her magic was dormant. That poor woman, always so sad under the cruelties shouted at her by her relatives. She could never master chaos but it got better when she gave in to the darkhold's allure. Unfortunately for the servants, her gentle personality was gone once her magic control was improved. I remember her dark fingers chastising me every time I failed to fold the sheets correctly."

Wanda swallowed at the anger hidden. Your posture was enough for her to believe your words.

“Why did she turn you?”

You smile sadly. "I was just a means to an end." You reply. "Elizabeth was what they called a Siphoner. Although descended from a powerful witch lineage, she couldn't generate her own magic. She could only steal it from elsewhere, either from a magic book or from a vampire." 

Wanda sighs as she understands, and you chuckle in upset. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You weren't even close to existing back then."

She moves closer. "Still, on behalf of my family, I'm sorry." The witch says as gently as she can. "I can hardly imagine how painful that probably was."

You shrug, trying to be casual. "That was a long time ago, Miss Maximoff." You mumble before sighing. "And it didn't work out the way she wanted either. Elizabeth didn't intend to use me as her magical reservoir for so long. She wanted me to transform her. Make her a heretic, a vampire-witch hybrid so that she could steal magic from her own nature. And like a good servant, I did just that."

Wanda could feel the force of your painful memories with her telekinesis, flashes of vivid images in your mind begging to be relieved. A personal torture. 

"Let me guess, that was the rule you broke that put you in that tomb."

You lower your head, looking very upset all of a sudden. "No, Miss Maximoff. I was loyal until I wasn't anymore." Wanda frowns in confusion, but you sigh and stare at your own reflection in the window. "The abuse of the Darkhold destroyed Lady Elizabeth. Not even the spell of immortality could heal her, remove the rot from her soul. We traveled the world, searching for potions and creatures and anything we could find to help her, but I knew that the slaughter she was doing in the name of her own health had to be stopped. When our last trip ended, I told her I wouldn't help her anymore."

Wanda can see clearly now; the wrathful recollections of a witchy lady with an almost demonic appearance. The hold of the Darkhold on Elizabeth's soul. How you're only trying to defend yourself when you strike back.

You sniffle, turning your face away, and Wanda blocks your memories from her mind immediately.

"No greater dishonor than ingratitude." You mutter. "I shouldn't have turned my back on Elizabeth. She died alone in this empty mansion, taken by her illness. I returned to a rotten land wracked by dark magic. I restored every stone and raised the mansion to its original state. I lived as a vampire for a decade before I was captured. Elizabeth, in her last vengeful act, left a letter denouncing all her family's crimes to the magical authorities of the time. A lineage who survived the witch-hunts, chased by their own kind like animals. I wore the same coat of arms and slept in the family mansion, so they didn't care that my surname wasn't the same. But I wasn't a witch to die, and the darkhold refused to show the executors exactly how to kill me. The solution was a prison."

You're surprised that Wanda reaches for your hand, but you don't pull away. She also gives you a small smile.

"Three hundred years is too long to punish someone who had no choice." She says, the gesture of her thumb caressing your palm making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Definitely too long without touching someone was messing with your head. Little did you know, Wanda was going through something quite similar. Starved for physical touch. "Is that why you're being so generous? Do you think you owe this family a debt?" You swallow, nodding, and Wanda sighs. " Sweetheart..."

"Please let me serve you." Your tone is almost desperate, Wanda shakes her head. "Please-"

"This isn't the 1700s, Y/N. I won't be your lady." She assures you, her grip tighter. "You're a person, not a property."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for Elizabeth-"

"She was cruel and selfish, and she used you to your last breath. And beyond!" Wanda interrupts, not losing her composure when you huff impatiently and pull your hand away. "You can grumble all you want. I'm not going to honor the memory of some slave owner, family or not. You're free to go."

"But I don't want to leave, Wanda." You snap, almost pleading. "This is my home. Serving your family has always been... my purpose. Turning my back on it made me lose everything. And then you saved me, and for a second, I thought I could see Elizabeth again. I ran to this place, and I realized how much time had actually gone by." You sniffle, your hands going to Wanda's shoulders. "Please. Caring is the only thing I know how to do right."

Wanda sighs, her hands finding your wrists. "This isn't caring, Y/N, this is servitude. I would never ask this of you." Your expression falls as if you're being rejected. Wanda stops your hands from moving away. "But I could use a friend."

Your face lights up, and Wanda smiles too because she thinks you look so beautiful now. "Oh, that... is really very sweet. I'd be honored."

The witch chuckles. "You're adorable. Come, our lunch should be ready soon." She doesn't mention that you two walk into the kitchen hand in hand, and you don't mind, so you don't say anything either.

-&-

"I can't believe you don't know what McDonald's is."

"And I can't believe you've never been to the Opera, but here we are."

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief at your response. You're sitting on the living room floor, or rather on cushions on the carpet because you refused to sit so informally and she was still working on getting you to relax into the casual way of living life in that century. 

Weeks into a roommate routine, your activities consisted of having meals together and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. You'd spent 300 years imprisoned, and Wanda had a multitude of things to introduce you to, while you'd been raised by the ancient witch family of the ancestors of a woman who knew little about her origins. You had as much to tell as she did.

Most days when you two would leave the Mansion, you would experience things that you had never experienced before. Restaurants, food trucks, and even the invention of cars or electricity. The Mansion needed to be restored too, but Wanda was happy to know that it hadn't been abandoned.

It was magically hidden, and she had distant cousins from very old marriages in her distant line. It was one of the best pieces of news she'd ever received - to know that she wasn't the only Maximoff left.

The Manor had been cared for over the centuries by escape witches, some of whom, like Elizabeth, had their powers dormant and lived normal lives under that roof. Until the place was finally inherited by her great-aunt, Tatiana, who was living in New Orleans, and Wanda would visit once the work on the mansion was finished.

She had no idea where you got the money for a whole restoration team, and you laughed when she asked, offering as an answer only the information that vampires can persuade people.

That's how you ended up on the living room floor, finishing gathering old belongings that needed to be protected from the paint restoration and set-up of that chamber.

"It's nice that some things have been preserved so well." She comments, stealing a quick glance at your figure distracted by sorting letters. You look good in this century's clothes that Wanda helped you pick out. The barely buttoned plaid shirt makes Wanda hold her breath every time she catches herself letting her gaze fall to your collarbone. 

"Rich families often treasure stuff." You retort with an easy smile. You stack a few letters before opening the next box of items and gasp slightly when you find something very valuable inside. "Look, I think you'll want to keep this."

The small item is placed in her palm: A gold button with an "M" engraved on it. The family crest. Wanda doesn't know why, but it makes her eyes water, and she gives you a tearful smile as she thanks you.

But despite this balanced relationship and pleasant routine, there was still the elephant in the room.

Every evening, you went out to feed yourself. For almost two months, Wanda didn't ask any questions. Even though she was dying to know exactly how, or even who.

But she didn't want to be invasive or even sound like someone obsessed with your fangs.

She would wait for some casual moment to bring up the subject. Perhaps at the next dinner party, with a joke, and then she would ask if you could show her how it was done.

Luckily for her, another witch was even more interested in the story.

Tatiana was an expert enchantress. She lived in an apartment in the heart of New Orleans and had a very busy pub, and to no surprise, frequented mainly by mystical beings. It was Wanda's first time in a place of that kind.

She was so excited to meet another member of her family that she almost forgot her last worries. It was her aunt, in between many colorful drinks after an afternoon of introduction, who brought up the subject again.

"So tell me, sweetie, all this work to restore the Maximoff household. It must be exhausting even for a vampire." Tatiana began with a smile. Her curly hair fell in waves down her back, and for the third time that night, Wanda noticed that green eyes were probably the only physical feature that most of the Maximoff women shared. Her aunt has a dangerous smirk on her lips as she looks in your direction, and Wanda swallows dryly as she realizes that it's the flirtatious kind. "We allow feeding in these parts."

You're taken aback. You chuckle awkwardly, aware of the two witches' attention in your direction. The crowded bar seems to get even smaller.

"I'm fine, Tatiana, don't worry." Wanda thinks you're lying. You can never maintain eye contact when you do, and she also often finds it charming how a vampire can be so bad at telling lies. "I had some blood before I got here-"

"By Morgana, that was several hours ago!" Tatiana cuts in, gesturing excitedly to the waiters. She was very happy to meet Wanda too and had been drinking since early morning in celebration. "You know, I used to date a vampire back in the last century. He had a restricted diet of animals and always looked pale and hungry. Are you one of those vegetarian vampires too?"

The question is rhetorical, she doesn't even hear your confused mutter "I don't think vegetarianism works like that". She's busy with the waitress, whose irises redden as soon as Tatiana speaks to her. The girl is younger than everyone else there and is clearly bewitched.

"There you go, dear, you can have a taste." Offers the woman, to which you choke in surprise.

"What? H-here? But..."

"Now, don't you act like a good Samaritan, Miss L/N." Tatiana retorts in a provocative tone, resting her chin on one hand. "I know what you got up to before you were imprisoned. Feeding off a waitress is nothing."

You're immediately crestfallen, your face flushing with shame. Wanda looks at her aunt with irritation.

"Don't talk to her like that." The younger witch says sternly. "'She's already received enough of a punishment.

Tatiana chuckles wickedly, tilting her head gently. A very familiar gesture indeed. "Let's get a few things clear, Wanda. The only reason I didn't rip that usurper vampire's head off the moment she set foot in my town was because she brought my niece back to me. The fighting separated our families, I never knew I had nephews. Do you think you would have joined that group of dressed-up Americans if I'd known you were a genuine Maximoff? No, dear, I would have raised you. Restored our coven, taught you magic, as it should have been. As it would have been if this ungrateful little blood-sucker had fulfilled the role she was given. Every spell has a price, and she didn't pay for this one she so boldly displayed for a decade of fortune-raising."

"I regret it very deeply, miss-"

"No, you don't apologize for any of this." Wanda interrupts you with a gentle squeeze on your wrist under the table. With a serious expression, she faces her aunt. "Let's actually get things straight, Auntie. You don't talk to her like that. Ever. You're not going to use something that happened three centuries ago against someone who has spent all this time imprisoned in a tomb, paying for crimes she didn't commit alone. It seems that witches, especially from this family, have a habit of evading accountability. I know that well." Tatiana gives a little smile, clearly aware of Westview, or what came after. Wanda doesn't hesitate. "She's my friend. And she's been through enough. All she's done since she came back is look after me, and I'm not going to accept this kind of treatment from anyone, not even my blood. And considering history, especially my blood."

Without contradicting, Tatiana nods in understanding, busying herself with lighting one of the cigarettes on the corner of the table. The colorful smoke wafted upwards as she finished a long drag.

"As you please, Scarlet Witch." The elder woman finally replies, and you swallow dryly, stealing a glance at Wanda to see if she might lose her temper at the slight challenge in her aunt's tone.

Damn, you'd forgotten how the Maximoffs had a rather dangerously weak ego to offend, especially if challenged.

But luckily for you, Wanda forced a smile, and the tension at the table eased. Tatiana dismissed the waiter with a nod and went back to talking about business in the city as if nothing had happened.

For the rest of the evening, Wanda drew patterns on the palm of your hand under the table.

-&-

Around midnight, when the desserts were finished but the bar seemed livelier than ever, you felt really hungry.

The witches were engaged in animated conversation about the times in Sokovia, how Tatiana missed the opportunity to find out about the Maximoffs after the surname grew more common around the country for a few years before disappearing again, and you used the opportunity to escape for a few moments.

A quick snack, just to satisfy your hunger. After all, you always kept yourself full around Wanda; you'd never forgive yourself if you lost control around her.

You make your way through the crowded bar, taking one last look at the back table before making your way to the exit. You're almost at the door when someone purposely bumps into you.

"Hey, better watch where you're going." Warned the corpulent fellow; he was at least ten centimeters taller and had a strong distinctive smell that caused you an instant anxiety. 

Wolf scent.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." You mumble, ready to bypass him, but he steps in your way again. 

"We don't like strangers around here." He informs you with a small smile, showing off his canine fangs. "You're lucky we have our orders, miss."

You sigh slightly. "Who are you again?"

"The name's Victor Creed, but everyone calls me Sabertooth. You know, because of these little beauties here." He points to his fangs with conviction. "They grow much bigger during the transformation. I once ripped the head of one of your kind with them." The story is clearly told to intimidate you, but your unimpressed expression makes the man clear his throat. "Don't go wandering around, Tatiana can't protect you on the outside."

You force a smile. "I can take care of myself, wolf, don't worry." You move around him to finally leave, but even with his back turned, Sabertooth laughs.

"Alright then, go for a walk while I introduce myself to your little witch. Do you know if the Scarlet Witch is looking for better watchdogs? If she's as stuck-up as the rest of the family, maybe I'll write to Kamar Taj about where she's been hiding."

The thing is, maybe you've spent too much time with the Maximoffs all your life. And your temper is just as bad as theirs.

Victor has barely finished his teasing, and you've already grabbed him by the arm, mashing him into the ground like a lump of flour. The commotion immediately attracts the attention of everyone around, but until the crowd fully identifies what's going on, Victor has already used his wolf-like speed to get to his feet and advance on you.

He's so confident about his own strength that it takes him a whole moment to realize that your fist has already gone through his chest.

"Give me one good reason not to spread your guts on this floor, Mr. Creed." You say with an unwavering expression, your hand clenched around his barely beating heart.

Victor chokes on his own blood, his muscular hands try to push your shoulders back, but you don't move an inch. He grunts in pain.

"I-I take it back." He gasps, but you squeeze a little harder.

"That's not a reason."

The man breaks down in a sob. "P-please. I'm begging you. I wasn't thinking-"

It would be so easy, just to kill him. Rip the heart out of that arrogant wolf and let him drop. You never forgot the feeling, the predatory hunger for blood and violence burning in your veins. Nor Elizabeth's disappointed look every time you ended up covered in blood and it didn't do any good.

Letting go of the heart, and pulling your hand out, you saw Victor's wound heal immediately. A full moon must have been just around the corner for a wolf to heal so quickly.

His release drew your attention to the rest of the pub. All those people, watching the scene with mixed expressions of horror and disbelief on their faces. Some clearly recognized you, others seemed surprised to witness a werewolf of that size being beaten so easily.

Vitor's blood stained the blouse Wanda gifted you, and you swallowed down the urge to vomit.

While you were trying to recover from the interaction, a duo cut through the crowd, and Tatiana's short giggle made you wince.

"Keep her in line, Wanda. We don't make a mess this close to humans in this neighborhood." The witch warns but Wanda is staring at you in complete mesmerization. You shake your wrist gently, letting the excess blood drip onto the floor before you start to move.

The adrenaline of the confrontation has starved you.

-&-

You barely enter the first alley before Wanda catches up with you.

"Where are you going?"

But you don't answer the question, you just keep walking and retort: "Go back inside, I won't be long."

For a moment, you think she'll obey, but how foolish of you. Wanda was probably the most stubborn Maximoff you've ever met.

She almost gives you a heart attack when she appears in your path, making you jump backward.

"What the hell...?"

"You're shutting me out." She declares, frustrated. You swallow dry, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just going for a walk to clear my head. See you at the apartment-"

"Taking a walk is what you're calling it now? I'm not an idiot, I know you're going to feed." Wanda interrupted annoyed, getting in your way and stopping you from fleeing. "Why do you keep trying to hide this part of yourself? I don't care that you're a vampire."

"Wanda, please, just move."

"No."

"Wanda."

She crosses her arms. "I wanna watch." 

You choke, chuckling nervously. "Excuse me?" 

But she doesn't lose her cool, nodding. "I want to watch you feed on someone."

Wanda imagined some reactions to the suggestion: anger, indignation, mockery. She didn't think you'd turn so clumsy, with rosy cheeks and unable to look her in the eye.

"You're a very odd individual." You mumble shyly, and she has to giggle confusedly, losing her serious pose to adjust the collar of your blouse. 

"Pleaseee." She stretches out the word, liking the way a smile breaks across your lips or especially the way you stare at her mouth when she talks like that. "I'll behave. I'll just stay put and watch. I've never seen it happen before. Please, honey? Just once."

You sigh in defeat, and Wanda taps her hands before jumping on your neck, and hugging you excitedly. It's a very difficult struggle to keep your fangs away with her so close.

It doesn't even last half a minute, but it feels like an eternity because you want to feed and everything always moves slower if the vampire focuses on hunger. 

"It's not going to be anything special, I don't want to cause a scene in your aunt's neighborhood." You let her know, thinking you need to talk a bit to push the dizziness away.

Wanda smiles excitedly. "Anything will be great, darling. Come on, I'll be right behind you."

It's easy to find prey in a place like New Orleans. You end up deciding on a restaurant waiter, isolated in one of the alleys. He's a young adult, distracted by chores, and you almost give up because of the smell of garbage so close by. But it's a very good isolated opportunity to waste like this.

Your fangs are already out when there's a noise behind you.

Wanda has bumped into something, loud enough to attract the boy's attention, who is startled by the two figures in the alley. One glimpse of your vampiric appearance and he's stumbling frightened away before starting to run.

You sigh incredulously, and Wanda appears in your field of vision.

"Sorry, it was..." She falls silent, surprised that you haven't gathered your usual looks and absorbing every detail of your face now. From the fangs to the completely darkened eye sclera. When she speaks, her voice is much huskier. "An accident."

"It's okay, it actually tastes better when they're scared." You shrug. "The adrenaline and fear accelerates the heart which pumps fresh blood throughout the body. That's why so many vampires prefer to hunt at night. People are more afraid of the dark than they think."

Wanda chuckles, looking at you in a way that makes you forget about the boy's footsteps becoming too distant to distinguish from the other sounds of the city.

"You're kind of a vampire nerd." 

"I don't know what that word means." You give a confused laugh and Wanda moves closer.

"It means I think you're really cute." She retorts, making you gulp dryly. Her hands find your shoulders, and Wanda gets close enough for you to count her freckles. "And I'm dying to know how these little ones feel, darling. Do they hurt?”

She's too close for you to focus, but you make an effort. "Hm, just a little, when they come out. They usually only bother me when I'm really hungry."

Wanda's fists cross together behind your head, and she's definitely too close for you to think about anything other than her.

"And how hungry are you now?"

"Very, Miss Maximoff." You confess hoarsely. Wanda smiles mischievously, tilting her neck in your direction.

"Well, I think you should have a little taste."

"God, Wanda." Your eyes close on instinct, your face falling forward so that you sink into the gap in her collarbone. Wanda shudders, as affected as you are. Her hands-free themselves so that she can stroke your arm, as a reassurance that everything is all right, and also caress your hair because apparently everything so far hasn't been maddening enough for her.

Every cell of your spirit begs you to sink your fangs into the warm skin in front of you, to drink every drop until Wanda faints against you, but you fight nature itself with her help. Her soft sighs in your ear, assuring you that she trusts you.

"It'll only be a little bit, I promise." You assure her, licking the spot gently and drawing a deep sigh from the other girl. It's the sound you focus on before you take the first bite.

Wanda tenses at the slightest hint of pain, but another sensation takes over elsewhere. Her cheeks burn with the betrayal of her own body, and she finds herself unable to care about the mild pain while she's throbbing between her legs.

Her nails dig into your biceps, and she starts to squirm under you, surrendering to the sensation of your bodies so close together. You hum in satisfaction at the soothing of your hunger, and Wanda drops her hand to your waist.

"Enough, baby." She whispers the request, her nails scratching the hair on the back of your neck. "I'm starting to get dizzy."

You hold on a little tighter, and Wanda softens against your body. Her heart is pounding, and she is aware of her pathetic underwear situation. Your body heaved forward, and Wanda didn't have the strength to resist any pull. She feels her back hit the wall of the alley, and whimpers at the feel of your leg pressed between hers.

She doesn't think she has ever been so at someone's mercy as she is now. She just wants to tell you to help her relieve the pressure between her legs, but every time she tries to call you, what leaves her lips are needy moans.

And you kept feeding and the surroundings began to darken. Wanda only realized that she'd been grinding herself on your thigh all this time because her climax approached at high speed, and falling off the edge brought a momentary recovery of consciousness.

"Oh, God, detka!" She meows, spilling herself on your thigh. Her body spasms softly, and you tense up, stopping your feeding immediately. Wanda falls limp in your arms, trying to fuck herself stupidly even after the orgasm she's just achieved. Your arms are the only support keeping her upright. "Do that again."

You shake your head, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "No, I took more than I should have." You retort softly, and Wanda has to blink a few times to realize that your appearance has returned to normal. "What a terrible idea that was, Wanda. So dangerous… I was starving."

She gives you a dreamy little smile. "How do I taste?"

"The best I've ever had." You assure her before adjusting her to hold her in your arms just in time for Wanda to lose consciousness.

She dreams of the same feeling of being carried but in a place much colder than New Orleans.

-&-

She wakes up just in time to see you putting her to bed, all the way to the borrowed room in her aunt's empty apartment.

Wanda grabs your wrist before you can pull away after putting the covers over her.

"Hey." Your voice and gaze are so sweet that she almost forgets everything that has happened so far. But Wanda actually remembers very well, and the lingering sensation of your body against hers makes her shiver. 

"Hey... sorry for blacking out on you." She murmurs, her free hand coming up to your face. You bite your lip, still hovering over her body and uncertain what you should do next. Should you pull away? Lean in and kiss Wanda like you've been dreaming of doing for weeks? She seems to be able to see all the hesitation in your eyes, and offers a reassuring smile, her hand caressing your cheek. "What's wrong?"

Wanda is definitely teasing you, but you don't mind, smiling too as you steady your hands next to her body on the mattress, face to face, the two of you waiting for the other to make a move first until the tension is almost unbearable. But you also remember what brought you there, and let out a small sigh.

"You shouldn't have baited me like that, Wanda. It's dangerous, I could have... lost control."

Her expression becomes almost mischievous, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "I've survived much worse, darling."

You sigh in frustration. "Wanda..."

"It's the truth." She chuckles even though you move away to sit down properly. Wanda also mimics the gesture, looking for your hand on the bed so that you stop grimacing and look at her. "Hey, come on, don't be upset."

"I'm not."

"Then why the pout?" She leans in, kissing your cheek and you snort away, unable to stay angry with this adorably charming witch. "You have to trust me, sweetheart." She whispers, kissing your jaw. You sigh, squeezing her hand gently.

"I trust you with my life, Wanda." You let her know in the same tone, intertwining your fingers in her lap. Wanda smiles against your skin, chaste kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone. "I'm just scared... that one day, I'll lose control and hurt you. I'd never forgive myself."

She pulls away a little to look you in the eye. "I meant it what I said before." Starts the witch. "I've been through much worse. You weren't there to see... what I did to reach that little girl. You don't have to worry about hurting me, because it doesn't matter, I'll always heal." With your hesitation, she pulls further away to push the collar of her shirt aside and let you see the place where you fed on her a few minutes ago. "Look, it's gone. You have to trust me, darling. I know that the idea of anyone being stronger than an original is hard for you to accept, but believe me, I'll be fine. I'll always be fine, even if you are starving and out of your mind."

You grimace, adjusting yourself so that you can hold her by the waist and place her on your lap. "Just because you're going to heal doesn't mean I can hurt you. You deserve kindness, Wanda. I can give you my best." Your mouth meets hers, it's not a hungry kiss but it's a hot one and it takes Wanda out of her orbit. It's been a while since the last time, and well, it's never really been like this. She struggles a little to find her rhythm, for a short moment just panting against your experienced tongue, until she finally responds in an equally passionate way that makes you sigh and press your body to hers. 

Wanda likes the sound. Wanda likes you.

"Can I take off your shirt?" Your request comes between one kiss and another, she hardly answers because her mind is clouded with arousal, and if she could be honest, she would have been out of her clothes a long time ago. 

"Yes, please." She gasps back, anxious hands tracing your back. Wanda is restless under your touch, shy about your gaze once the clothes come off. But you do everything with an unbearable slowness that leaves her squeezing her thighs together in search of relief. 

She had sex before - For the first time in a war-torn adolescence, an experience that was forgettable and almost regretted. And then with a machine man who could pretend but never had the biological need to do so. 

This moment right now was like no other, being with someone who worshipped her body, who was as breathless as she was, who reacted to her touch and was practically at her mercy when she touched the right spot.

And Wanda finds that she loves it. Having you touch her and touch you back, and feeling your fangs scratch her skin every time she thrusts her hips into yours.

Pinned against the bed, naked as you are, your legs entwined together like your bodies. Sighs of pleasure mingle with the dance of your hips, and Wanda digs her nails into your back as your fangs press into her collarbone. 

You drink less than last time, but her legs still tingle. Or maybe it's the orgasm hitting her hard.

This is different from the first - the whole bed vibrates with the wave of magic that escapes the witch with her back arched. You hold Wanda, even though you're also shaking with the force of your own climax. She initiates the next kiss this time, moaning into your tongue as she spins your bodies around with ease. Your hands entwine together at the top of your head, but Wanda lets go, lowering herself and getting a confused sigh from you.

"What are you up to, little witch?"

Then it occurs to her with your expression that you are four centuries old and have spent much of this time as a prisoner and that perhaps you haven't been so confident because Wanda is your first lover.

She looks back up, sitting on your hips, breathing out of rhythm but now with a new excitement shining in her eyes.

"Babe, be honest... have you ever been with a woman before?"

Your face gains a deep color, and you turn your gaze away. Wanda falls hard, even if it doesn't occur to her yet.

She giggles softly and you're even more embarrassed, but she doesn't let you move away, her firm legs holding you in place.

"Don't make fun of me." You mutter, and Wanda snorts softly.

"Never." She assures you, even though she already has a new dozen antics memorized. Her mouth kisses your jaw and goes down like her body. The color in your cheeks is for another reason soon. "I love being your first. I want to make you feel good."

You hesitate to hold her when she's stimulating you, worried about losing control of your own strength. The sheets are destroyed when Wanda flicks her tongue over your breasts, smiling with delight at the sight of you squirming.

She goes lower and you gasp for air. "What... are you doing?" You ask mortified. It's not the 1700s anymore, you have to remember. Female pleasure is, well, taken into account. Wanda bites the inside of your thighs, watching the muscles twitch for a moment.

"You'll love it, I promise." It's the only thing she says before diving in, her hot mouth pulling all the air from your lungs. It's the most wonderful thing you've ever felt. Wanda's tongue works on your most intimate part, teasing your entrance before she starts to eat you out hungrily. You grip the headboard, your eyes closed tightly. Wanda holds your legs open, and the knot in your stomach starts to become impossible to contain. 

The witch seems to like it too. She moans for your taste on her tongue, and the new vibration pushes you over the edge. Wanda holds your spasming body without difficulty, you think she uses magic for that. And still calming down, it takes you a whole moment to stop seeing stars.

Wanda licks up every drop of your pleasure, moaning softly before meeting your gaze again. You can't hold it, and end up covering your reddened face with your arm while ignoring the smug giggle of the witch who begins to climb your body again.

"Don't be shy... you look so pretty when you moan my name." She praises you provocatively, and you can't help but smile, feeling completely relaxed. Wanda waits for you to look at her again, her arms resting on your shoulder so that she can look at you closely. "Hi."

Your hand finds her cheek. " Hi, yourself." She leans into your touch, her smile filling your chest with warm happiness. Wanda sighs.

"Can we stay like this? Just for a moment." She asks quietly, and something in her gaze tells her that the question isn't just for today. Wanda wants to know if you can be with her.

You would. Forever if she wished. "Of course, little witch. For as long as you want."

[exhaslo]

Ok ok soooo what if you did like a fasion designer y/n and she is helping Miguel redesign his suit then like as she is measuring him or something she notices he is hard and like ✨smut✨

Oh, reader will take the measurements alright. Hopefully they can remember it *wink wink*

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), slow sex, mirror sex

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"How did this happen?! I specifically remember both of us working on this suit, making it nearly impossible to tear!" You yelled towards a poor, nervous Peter.

"To be fair...It wasn't one of my villains."

"Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't know heroes could villain swap! Who the hell did you trade with? The Guardians of the Galaxy?" You scoffed, holding the destroyed suit in your hands.

"Easy, (Y/N), only I can bully them this much." Miguel said as he walked into your office, "You also have to remember, he's new."

"Which is why I helped him with the suit." You hissed lowly and tossed it back to the Peter, "You get to remake it. When done, I want to know who the hell you fought that tore the suit to shreds."

"..."

Peter kept quiet as he slowly made his way out of your office. The silence was more than enough for you to start assuming shit. Inhaling deeply, you walked over to your espresso machine and made both you and Miguel a cup of coffee.

"You know the work you do is above all," Miguel hummed as he took a seat on your couch. You gave him a pout,

"But it's never enough. How am I supposed to be helping you all make suits if they never hold up after a few fights?"

"They're not supposed too," Miguel reassured you, "Only special conditions like my original suit can withstand such events."

"But you won't let me touch the stuff."

"It's unstable for a reason." Miguel said with a heavy sigh and approached you from behind, "But, like everyone else. I need to upgrade my suit."

"Oh? No more blue and red?!" You gasped in shock, then grabbed his hands, "Ohhhhh, does this mean-"

"Yes, I'm letting you help me make a new suit."

You jumped with joy, nearly squealing at the thought of helping Miguel. The man liked to keep his toys to himself. That, and you would finally get a chance to measure him. There was a glint in your eyes as you observed him.

Miguel was a FINE man. Compared to all of the Spiders, he was definitely your type. When Miguel first approached you with the intension of making super hero suits, you nearly drooled at the thought. You loved a challenge.

And Miguel was your new target.

"So, when can I take the measurements?" You asked, handing Miguel a cup of coffee. Miguel raised a brow,

"I can have Lyla send them over-"

"Seriously? What the hell am I supposed to be here for then?" You huffed, giving Miguel a glare.

"Fine. Is tomorrow alright?"

"It's a date."

-------

Miguel was internally screaming as he sat in his office, staring at you on the cameras. The thoughts he had about you. The things you did to him. Miguel had a damn good reason why he never went to you for his suits. You brought out the worst of him.

Even now, the thought of you being up close to him was turning Miguel on. He was going to have to take precautionary measures in order not to lose control.

"Fuck."

--------

Today was the day. You had your morning coffee, your best outfit and your best panties attitude. No one was going to disturb you today. Your office was closed to everyone expect Miguel. This was the chance of a lifetime.

Getting your station and measurements ready, you just smiled from ear to ear. Your notepad was set aside, ready for you to take down Miguel's numbers.

"(Y/N)? Are you here?" Miguel asked as he entered. You hurried over and locked the door,

"The chance of a lifetime is mine. Get your ass up on my stage! We begin with your chest!" You cheered. Miguel resisted a chuckle as he took his shirt off,

"At least one of us is enjoying this."

You were giddy with glee as you approached Miguel. Your gaze against his chest as you started to take his measurements. You could not lie, being this close to him was driving you crazy. His cologne smelled so good too.

You hummed quietly to yourself as your fingers stroked his chest. Every now and then you grabbed your pencil and wrote in your small notepad. Moving down to his hips, you kept your focus. Miguel's body was just perfect.

"(Y/N)...Maybe we should take a break," Miguel grunted lowly.

"Not yet," You muttered.

Your hands rested against the rim of his pants, reading the numbers on your measuring tape. Adjusting the tape, you leaned down in front of Miguel and felt your face burn up. His hard erection was right in front of your face.

"Ah-" Your eyes widen and without thinking, "Should I measure this too?"

"If you want," Miguel whispered.

Both of you weren't thinking.

Your fingers gripped Miguel's boxers, slowly pulling them down. Your attention was focused on his large, thick cock. With a gulp, you grabbed your measuring tape and wrapped it around his meaty shaft. A shudder ran down your spine, before you checked the length.

"Is this...proper...length?" You whispered, your fingers wrapped around his dick, "Or should I-"

"You should," Miguel groaned lowly.

You could feel your heartbeat in your panties as you leaned towards Miguel's dick. Your tongue gently swirling around his tip, listening to his low groans and grunts. You glanced at the mirrors all around you, the sight turning you on more.

You were on your knees with Miguel's dick in your mouth. Inhaling through your nose, you leaned forward and started to suck his dick. Your hands resting against his hips as you bobbed your head back and forth. His thick shaft hitting the back of your throat.

Your panties grew damper as you felt Miguel's bitter precum start to go down your throat. His hands gripping onto your hair as he started to move your mouth faster. The sheer length of his dick was starting to burn your throat as you gripped his hips.

"Fuck, hn, (Y/N)!" Miguel hissed.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you tried to touch yourself. Unable to handle the burning sensation anymore, you pulled away from Miguel, panting heavy. Quickly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him.

Miguel was quick to follow as he nearly tore your pants, tossing them across the room. His talons ripping your panties as he started to rub his dick against your wet cunt.

"Hah~ You owe me...new underwear and pants now," You moaned, pressing your body against his. Miguel grunted as he pressed you against one of the mirrors,

"You wanted to take my measurements," He hissed, pressing his thick cock inside you.

"Hn~ Mhm~ Y-You wanted a suit,"

"I still do," Miguel hummed, sitting his dick nice and deep inside your tight velvet walls, "Do you still remember my size?"

"O-Of course!" You huffed, glancing at yourself in the mirror, "Y-You're way too big."

"Haha, but look how well you take me,"

A shiver ran down your spine as Miguel lifted your body closer to his. He spread your legs, allowing you to see his cock deep inside your dripping pussy. The sight alone was making you hot. With a slow thrust, you moaned, nearly shaking in his grip.

"Sucking me in so well," Miguel sucked against your neck as he continued his slow, yet rough thrusts, "This was why I didn't want you to measure me."

"Ah~ Ah~ Y-You should have, mhm~ let me, oh god~" You cried out, feeling yourself about to cum.

"You're right, I should have. Look at how perfect your pussy is sucking my dick in," Miguel grunted.

Turning your face to the mirror in front, you moaned as Miguel slapped his dick back inside you. Your eyes rolled back as you cam, crying out as he kept his slow thrusts. Miguel's hands gripped your breasts, pinching your nipples as he hummed against your ear,

"Do you still remember my measurements?"

"D-Deep~"

You trembled as your pussy fluttered against his dick. Miguel chuckled in response and pressed your body against the mirror, rubbing your clit as he moved even more slowly. You cried, begging for him to go faster.

"Not until you tell me my measurements."

"P-Perfect!" You cried out, moving your own hips, "S-So deep! S-So big ah~"

"Hm, good enough,"

You cried loudly as Miguel's pace finally fasten. His dick slamming against your cervix, causing you to cream and suck his cock more. Your body shaking as your juices started to stain your floor. Miguel grunted as he pulled you closer, reaching his own high.

"Want to watch me fill this pretty little pussy?" Miguel groaned. You nodded,

"Yes!"

Lifting you back up, Miguel held your legs open. His had you staring in the mirror with him, watching your own fucked out expression contort in pleasure. You gasped as Miguel pinched your clit once more, watching you cum against his cock once more.

You cried and leaned back, but Miguel kept your face towards the mirror. You gasped and moaned as he slapped himself once more inside you, filling you with his cum. Both of you took a minute to catch your breathe before Miguel set you down,

"Are you alright? Let me clean you up," Miguel said worriedly. You grabbed his hand,

"I may have forgotten your measurements."

"Oh?" Miguel said with a low chuckle. You glanced up at him, cheeks red with embarassment,

"I think I need a reminder."

"As many times as you need."

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I'll take his measurements any day. I mean hope you enjoyed!! Haha

[ahhhwomen]

Mom, I'm tired.

Vampire Empire

Part 2

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Alright, so this writing style is not what I am used to, so feedback is definitely welcome. Due to me being unsure of this style I wanted to take a little longer to write part 2, but since yall liked part 1 so much I decided a shorter chapter was in order, I am already working on part 3, but yall gotta tell me how you feel about this one. Oh... and don't hate me for what i am about to do...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You just want to rest.

Word Count: 1.4k

You don’t know what is happening, why- you try to pull in a desperate breath, but still, nothing. Why- why was this happening? What is happening?

Why can’t you move?!

The lesser scary of the two redheads secures herself tighter against you, now supporting your full weight. She has to shift from a crouched-down position to sitting completely in your little enclosure. Her ankle awkwardly bends beneath her thigh. The rough ground fraying her expensive dress pants.

There is a sensation like concrete pouring through your veins, you can hear your heartbeat slow, and immense pressure start building behind your eyes, but you are desperate for control over something, anything. So, as much as it pains you, you tiredly let your eyes roam around the room while trying to avoid the blank stare from the taller redhead.

Your vision takes in the scenery that has unfolded in your space, you drape your eyes over the walls, the horror of your evening with Master painted like a masterpiece, you then take a risk and slowly run your eyes over the lower half of the woman in front of you.

Wanda is standing like a woman in power, her feet spaced apart hip to hip, spreading her weight perfectly between the pair of high, amber, heels. There was a slight scuff to one of them, a chip in the plastic, whatever fell earlier must have fallen on that heel, you doubt she would walk around with an imperfect pair if not. You swirl your eyes to the ground beside her, a tusk of brown hair having caught your attention.

That’s when you see it. Staring right back at you are the lifeless eyes of the seller. Or at least that is the only name you have for him.

It’s at that moment that the reality of the situation finally sets in.

 

You go to let out a high-pitched whine, but no sound is made, and for the first time in a long time, you have this desperate need to cry.

You can’t even do that.

You don’t want to die.

Not like this.

You want to smell the fresh air in the cold mornings, you want to feel the sand beneath your toes, you want to taste the richness of vanilla inside a simple frozen dish, and you want to live. If only for a moment longer.

But-

There is nothing you can do.

Your body loses all will to fight, and you give up.

Wanda keeps track of your vitals while under her control, she doesn't want to hurt you, but you are out of line, and frankly, your behavior unsettles the redhead.

When she can see the fight drain from your eyes, she releases you.

She sighs as the strain in her muscles loosens, and she moves her neck from left to right, removing the remaining tenseness. A prickle in her spine begs her to stretch out her entire body, but this was neither the time nor place, though she does put a pin in it, maybe she should order a massage sometime soon.

As for you, there is no sign that you are back in control except for the desperate gasping for air.

You don’t know what to do with this newfound freedom, Romanoff´s hands are keeping you close to her, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear, but suddenly it’s all too much. The only thing you can do is let your ribcage expand and contract at a rapid pace, the pain grounds you as your bruised ribs sting you.

You no longer fight against Natasha’s grip, and there is no chance that you will either.

You are scared, they can both feel it, but it’s not like it was a moment ago. A moment ago you were fighting to stay alive, fighting because it is your instinct to do so, now, you have given up on even that.

Now, you are just scared, plain and simple.

Natasha rubs her hands up and down your back slowly, the fabric of her silken shirt bunches up with her elbows, and the roll of textile slides against your skin rhythmically. Your body tenses and relaxes at strange intervals, there is a mistrust between her motive and your tender flesh, yet you still crave comfort.

That is until you see Wanda shift from one foot to the other and Natasha’s hands move too close to your collar, you strain your body away from her palms.

Natasha huffs in slight annoyance and shifts her attention to her wife, “What was that?”.

She tries to keep her voice quiet enough to not startle you, but it’s a futile attempt and shortly after she has opened her mouth you are crawling out of her arms and back into your corner.

She can tell it pains you to move, the bruises along your arms and legs making it difficult to crawl in a fluid motion, and she sees you struggle your way under the lamp, but you manage. In the end, you swiftly slump back into the position you laid in when they first got here, the only difference being that you are too tired to move the rag back over your body.

Wanda merely shrugs, her perfectly fitted suit ruffling with the movement, “She was becoming aggressive.” To be truthful, your sudden outburst had taken Wanda by surprise, she didn’t even know what she was saying until it was too late.

Natasha sighs before standing and walking up to her wife, her pants now scuffed and dirtied. She brushed herself down, but the filth of this place wasn’t one easily removed. She gets a hold of her bearings and stands straight before she bothers with a disappointed reply.

“She was just scared, “ she shakes her head disapprovingly. They have lived long enough to see all types of people. And Natasha knows you're type, scared, abused, and skittish. A dog in the fighting ring, or a cat in this case.

Anything can make you snap and bare your teeth.

However, she also knows that taking your right to do so away, will only worsen your behavior in the long run. It never helps to use fear against someone who is already terrified.

Again, Wanda does nothing but shrugs and lifts her jacket to glance at her watch.

Playtime is over, they have places to be, and it saddens Wanda, but she knows they won’t be leaving here with a pretty girl like she had hoped.

It´s best for Natasha that she rips the band-aid off fast.

Wanda points over at your shaking body, “It’s clear Carol has her eyes on her. You know we can’t keep her.”

Wanda slumps in on herself while saying it, her shoulders lower and her back bows unnaturally, the seams of her suit stretching and pulling against the tight movement. After the words have been put out there, Natasha's face shifts and morphs until she settles for a relatively neutral, but rather grim expression. The right side of her lip lifted into a slight sneer; this was an unfortunate situation.

Natasha looks down at her hands, hands she had just held you in, there are specs of dried blood and dirt covering the expanse of her palms, she tightens her fist and takes a slow breath.

Carol is already enough of a handful. Taking her punching bag away from her will only make matters worse.

Leased pet or not, Carol owns you.

So, Natasha nods curtly, the back of her shirt rubbing uneasily against the nape of her neck.

“Well, let’s go then.” With no regard to the body at her heels she steps over the man and continues to strut down the hall with her wife following shortly behind. Someone will be by to clean him up and replace him with another pawn, it’s the way these places work.

And if she took a moment to listen in on your heartbeat one last time before they left, it wouldn’t hurt anyone that she kept that to herself.

It sounded wrong.

Whatever sympathy Natasha felt for you was quickly squashed down and ignored as she and Wanda returned to business as usual.

It’s for the best, a pet would only make them weak.

After the two mysterious women leave, you curl into yourself and a sob breaks through you before you can stop it.

Mom, I'm tired.

[strawbeerossi]

August || Chapter Two

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Chapter Description: Spencer confides his guilt of losing you as a friend into JJ and he hatches a surefire plan to get you back. In the meantime, you are still struggling to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. Although mourning is slowly manifesting into exhaustion.

Content/Warnings: Guilt, Spencer trying to buy friendship, reader is a tad hostile, threats of violence, a special interaction at the end.

WC: 2.5K

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“I can’t believe that she said that!” JJ stared at Spencer in shock, the male sulking on the couch while he brought a hand up to rub his face. “So now she is just abandoning you? Some friend.” She murmured.

JJ felt she did nothing wrong. After all, you and Spencer weren’t dating and the confession was life and death at the time. She never assumed he would approach her and ask her if what she said was true. She could accept how she’d be the villain to Will but that was neither here nor there.

“I just feel like I was too harsh at the moment. I know it’s the truth but I could’ve been kinder to her about it..” Spencer had been going over the full interaction in his mind for hours, worried about wherever you stormed off to. He could take a hint, you didn’t want him to follow so he stayed with Penelope, who looked at him with disappointment and disapproval. It was never easy to swallow whenever even the lovable blonde knew that you were in the wrong.

“What more could you have said?” JJ asked, face softening as she was sitting beside Spencer while her gaze was fixed on him. “You told her that you didn’t assume it was serious. That’s the truth. She's upset with your honesty, that’s hardly your fault. She will have to get over it.” 

The more they talked about it, the worse that Spencer began to feel. Sure, you had feelings that he didn’t know about prior to the JJ situation but there was a lot more that he still could have done. He couldn’t help but ponder what could’ve happened if he explained everything to you right after they were released from their hostage situation. 

You could’ve talked some sort of sense into him, maybe something along the lines of a nicer reminder of JJ’s husband and children. He was blinded by devotion and adoration to JJ, quite frankly, he still was. Regardless, he couldn’t afford to completely lose you, not after the way you’d worked so hard to get him to open up to you.

All he needed was to figure out how to make things better. It would take a lot of time and effort but he knew that just as you had broken his wall down whenever you first started, he could break yours down as well.

You weren’t interested in those games. Spencer had begun approaching you at the office a few weeks after your last conversation. He would bring you your favorite desserts, a coffee, sometimes even flowers in an attempt for reconciliation. 

Luke definitely appreciated the gesture though, being the lucky one to get whatever beverage or food item that Spencer tried putting on your desk. It was annoying, truth be told. You set a firm boundary, one that you assumed he’d be more than happy to follow. After all, JJ was the light of his life now, you didn’t understand why he was so focused on you again. With the way she continuously followed him around, it seemed as if they were plenty happy.

Just like every day, you walked to your desk on a bright Monday morning to see a muffin sitting on your desk. Spencer was trying to be sly, hand against his cheek as his eyes were subtly looking in your direction. 

However, the pattern continued much to Spencer’s dismay. 

“Wow, thanks.” Luke was grinning as you held out the baked good towards him, happily reaching for the muffin. In the first few instances, you felt bad for Spencer, your heart still holding out hope for reconciliation and the chance for him to change his mind and just be with you instead.

That dream was massacred worse than the murders from the likes of George Foyet and Mr. Scratch. Especially when you realized it was almost as if he expected to be immediately forgiven, even though his actions could never warrant instant reconciliation. 

“It’s gonna take more than confectionary goods and coffee.” You stated in a simple tone, eyes down on your desk as you could feel Spencer’s eyes fixated on you. “I’d hope you’re not ignorant enough to believe that buying my friendship is all it takes.” 

“Right..” Spencer frowned while looking away, fingertips drumming against the wooden desk. “I’m trying.”

“Not hard enough.” 

He could admit his attempts were lazy, the idea of getting treats being a shot in the dark. You wouldn’t speak to him, so he was having to sift through every single idea in his brain. He may have been a genius but he was horrible with apologies, never being able to articulate the words he needed to say without the stress of offending anyone being there. The words were hard to find for him. 

He could give a profile, intricate details about victims and serial killers as well as absorbing every ounce of their past and personality. He could apply that same logic here, although he felt like treating you like a victim or a serial killer wouldn’t make things any better. Probably even worse. 

Regardless of that, he was more than determined to rekindle your friendship, even though deep down he knew that it could never be the same. Being complacent in the end of a marriage made nobody look good, he should’ve had the common sense to think of that before.

“I don’t understand why things have to be this way.” JJ spoke up, a mug of coffee in her hand as she was walking from the kitchenette. “We can talk about things, make them a little easier. I mean, I think a conversation is long overdue.”

You were shaking your head. “I have nothing to say to either one of you. I wish you would get it through your thick skulls. You had a chance to talk to me after everything happened and you stayed quiet. It shows what your intentions were. You aren’t ashamed of what you’ve done and you clearly didn’t care about the fate of our friendship at the time, so I see where I stand.”

“I just think it’s unfair. That’s all. Spencer is trying.”

“Life is unfair. He should try harder.” You responded, calm and collected so as to not get yelled at by Emily again for an outburst. You didn’t have the energy to yell at them anyway, they weren’t worth it.

“I don’t know what else you expected.” Matt spoke up from his desk, leaning back in his chair. He hardly ever got involved but this situation was enough to frustrate him and his wife. “JJ, you knew what you were doing when you decided to pursue Spencer. Not only did you betray a friend but you ruined your own marriage over it. You had vows with Will and completely tore them up and burned them in front of everyone.”

Spencer was sighing from frustration from his desk. “I understand what was wrong about this situation but continuously bringing up the incident isn’t going to benefit anyone..” He spoke while bringing a hand up to rub his face.

“You can’t handle hearing what you’ve done. It’s natural for people who feel guilty.” Luke hummed as he let his arms cross. You really did have the whole team on your side, it seemed. That helped more than ever, honestly. 

“You’re biased in this case. We all are. Arguing will get us nowhere.” You spoke up, a soft sigh leaving your lips. “You think you did nothing wrong and we all know that you did. That’s all there is to it. Just let the fantasy go. I’m not interested in friendship with either one of you. Not now anyway.” 

It was honest, mainly due to the fact that you didn’t want to spend all your time talking about the possibility of friendship after such a stab to your heart.

“I think you should at least allow us to extend the olive branch. Spencer at the very least,” JJ began while putting her hands together. 

“Giving me a branch will only result in you getting beat over the head with it. I told you, I’m ot interested in pretending that things are okay and that I’m perfectly happy with the both of you. That’s not going to happen. I’m telling you that if you want to salvage any morsel of a friendship, you need to leave me alone.”

That seemed to be enough to make Spencer look back down at his desk, gaze fixed on the file on his desk although he couldn’t bring himself to focus. He didn’t want to have things completely ruined between you both, even if the blueprints for that were there. He felt anger, anger at himself for his way of going about the whole relationship business. He wasn’t made aware of the feelings you once had until it was too late for that to even be discussed.

JJ was angry but not at herself, more-so at the fact that you just weren’t open to the shortest of discussions. Explanations were always used to clear up negatives in every aspect of life. This was no different. “But-”

“Jennifer. Just let it be.” Spencer spoke up with a frown on his face. The use of her first name meant business, that was what made her stop and turn to face him. “Leave her alone. She’s not interested right now. We can talk to her some other time.”

You were thankful, however you didn’t acknowledge the action. 

After that, it was seemingly smooth sailing. Your day was spent finishing case files and ultimately filing them away whenever things were finished. It was honestly the most peaceful you’d been in weeks. It did feel weird, not having Spencer following you like a lost puppy and making an attempt to reconcile.

You oddly.. Missed it. 

Spencer didn’t deserve any of the feelings you felt towards him but you just couldn’t turn off those feelings. Not in the slightest. You still harbored love and care. You needed to put that love and care into yourself, to learn to move on and release any thought of what could have been. 

You were torn from your thoughts when you felt a hand against your shoulder, the touch startling you enough to make you quickly turn around. You were met by Emily offering a small smile back at you. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw you standing here for a while and I had to check up on you.”

“It’s fine. I, uh, I’m okay!” You offered a smile to match hers. “Just thinking of some stuff.”

“Well, Penelope has expressed concern to me, as has everyone else, so I just figured that you needed someone to talk to. I don’t like to brag but.. I am a very good listener.” She mused, her hand moving from your shoulder to rest by her side once more. 

Of course Emily would approach you. You could talk to her about anything without being shamed, even if she could tell you the harsh truth when you needed to hear it. That was why you admired her so much. She was strong, confident. A woman who would speak her mind without fear of anything.

“We obviously don’t have to talk here. We can go to my office, if you’d prefer.” She was trying to get you out of your own head, to help you heal in a constructive way. You were mourning the loss of friendships and she was the one out of everyone else who could understand the complexities of your feelings. She mourned the loss of the team in a far different manner in her past but she knew all the same.

“Yeah.. Okay.” You reluctantly agreed, following close behind as you both made a b-line to her office. You felt stupid, having to cry about how a relationship that isn’t even your own has deeply affected you. 

The minute you were in the safety of her office, you felt an aura of safety. This room was a place where you could speak freely, to rant about your feelings and even shed a few tears all while being in the confinement of the office.

Once that door was shut and the blinds were drawn, you took in a breath. “I don’t want you to think that I’m overreacting.”

“You’re not. You know that you are allowed to have feelings. My only issue is what those feelings are doing to you. I’ve never seen you so upset before.” She said softly while getting seated at her own desk. “Everyone needs to vent sometimes, even if the other person is just listening. I just want to help you in an effort to move past this.” She admitted.

“I also want to make an effort to help you. I want you to grow stronger from this experience rather than cower down and refuse to accept the fact that they are together. I love you, dearly. That’s why you need to know that they shouldn’t bother you. That whole situation is a shitshow and I know that. I just want you to mourn the loss of your friendships and not sulk over this relationship..” 

The lecture was much needed, forcing you to soak up the fact that she was right. You shouldn’t be heartbroken over them. Your friendships were one thing to be upset about but their relationship was none of your business. “I can understand where you’re coming from. I just.. Em.. I don’t know how to deal with this situation. It’s hard to even think about the situation. Maybe it’s the betrayal from JJ that hurts so much.”

“Betrayal can hurt anyone. Believe me, I know. I just want to see you thriving. Between you and I, I feel like you could do much better than him. I used to root for you both but after this nonsense? I’d rather see you with someone who will appreciate what they have. Friend or not. If you and Spencer could work out your friendship, then I’ll be happy. I just hope you consider these circumstances later.”

“Right. I just told him and JJ that I need my space from them. Working with them is one thing but I have no desire to talk to them outside of the work environment.”

“And that’s fine. Just don’t let these negatives throw you off when it comes to your job. Getting along will make things easier, work conversation is a part of that.” Emily wasn’t going to force you to speak to either of them outside of cases and work hours. That wouldn’t be constructive at all.

“Please don’t think that I’m not looking out for you. I’ll always be here for you,” The raven haired beauty said softly as she was reaching over the desk to gently take one of your hands in hers, a reassuring smile on her face as her thumb swiped over your knuckles.

It was oddly.. Affectionate. More affectionate than you were used to coming from Emily.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Every time I learn something new about Batman: War Games I lose my mind a little bit more cause just, just fuckin, look okay so here's the thing:

Stephanie Brown tries to implement a contingency plan of Bruce's just after he fires her from being Robin and because of that gets tortured to (almost) death and no one knows she survived.

THIS STORY RUNS IN THE NEWS:

So, you know, anyone who might be paying even half a fucking ounce of attention to news about ROBINS would definitely absolutely notice this!!!

And then very very soon afterwards Jason comes back and specifically targets Black Mask to ruin the criminal empire he tortured Stephanie to get

As a way to torment Bruce about the fact that he doesn't take care of the nastiest criminals and they continue killing people

And how Jason should have been the last to die

and SOMEHOW

these two things are in no way related and Jason has nothing to do with or say about Stephanie Brown, fellow Robin, fellow martyred soldier, fellow child dead due to Bruce related villains.

HOLY DEAD SIDEKICKS BATMAN, DO YOU COMPREHEND THE MAGNITUDE OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES HERE????

please walk with me down a timeline in which:

Lost Days Jason at first just tries to go after the Joker and can't because who he's really mad at is Bruce.

Then he sees Who Really Killed Stephanie Brown and the utter horror of another Robin dying on Bruce's watch (not just dying, but tortured to death!) is what convinces him to try to straight up kill Bruce via car bomb

Roman Sionis is no longer merely a tool against Batman, but another figure to demand vengeance be brought upon, another attempt to give Bruce a chance to right his wrongs and do what needs to be done

The confrontation with him and the Joker being all the more tragic due to how obvious Bruce's answer would have to be once Jason knows Bruce isn't going to avenge Stephanie either

Does Jason, once he escapes the rubble after UtRH is over, kill Black Mask anyways? Does he decide to avenge her himself? Or does he think that she too would demand that of Bruce, and find his death by a different hand unsatisfactory?

If he doesn't kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back, I feel confident he approaches her, tries to reach out to the other dead Robin, almost certainly makes the offer now that he can ask her. Does she take him up on it, gaining an ally and slipping into a far darker role? Does she instead refuse, either appealing to forgiveness or far more interestingly refusing both vengeance and forgiveness? How would Jason handle a refusal, which I gut instinct feel is more likely?

If he does kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back Jason drops his corpse at her feet like a loving housecat with a dead lizard and she has to grapple with her feelings about having someone really and truly avenge her!!! Like how DO you react to someone who you have been warned is wildly dangerous and mentally unstable coming up to you and saying, "I'm glad you're back, like me. I'm sorry you're back, like me. I made sure you could rest knowing he was dead, because I know what it feels like."

Like no matter how each character reacted to this happening there would be so much high stakes emotional shit to explore with both of them!! Revenge I feel like is such a pivotal thing for both characters, they mirror each other in so so many ways, they could be really interesting together if DC would just fucking let them!!!

Jason had a criminal father who he missed and wanted to avenge. Stephanie had a criminal father who she wanted vengeance on.

Jason started off as a fairly gentle soul who progressively became more violent and more hopeless as he was exposed to genuine horrors during his time as Robin. Stephanie starts off violent, angry and rash and finds her own courage and hope through her time as a crime fighter despite of the horrors she's been through.

Jason went to Africa and died there after Bruce failed to save him. Stephanie was taken to Africa via a fake death in order to save her from Bruce and the vigilante lifestyle.

I just...

There's just...

There's SO MUCH HERE I am genuinely fucking confused as to how this is not all deliberate?? And it's all just left on the cutting room floor because for no reason apparent to me they all just decided Stephanie and Jason were not gonna interact!

AAGHHHH!

[chocostrwberry]

Okay does anyone else find it strange that you can be Akumatized against your will??

Like once Hawkmoth has you as his target it’s pretty much game over because it takes A LOT to fight the control of an akuma.

Idk non-consensual akumatization is like?? Strangely overpowered and it’s also super uncomfortable for me.

SO IN THIS PRESENTATION I WILL EXPLAIN HOW IT CHANGES IN CHOCOAU-

If Hawkmoth wants to akumatize you, he has to convince you to let him do it. It would kind of have the holder be more persuasive.

Hawkmoth’s main technique is using promises. He would try and convince you that there is nothing that can be done about the way you are feeling or what had happened WITHOUT his help. He’s the only one who can cure your despair, and he’ll do it if you take Chat Noir and Ladybug’s miraculous.

Madame Morphosis (Butterfly Lila) uses your own emotions. She would try and “hype you up” if that makes sense. She’ll tell you how unfair your life is, or how awful you feel, and say how it’s too much for you to bear. Then, she’ll tell you if you bring her Ladybug’s miraculous, you’ll have the power to never feel this way again, or get back at whoever wronged you, etc.

Even though it takes persuasion to Akumatized, that doesn’t make it easier for the person to resist.

When a butterfly enters your Akumatized object, the emotions you’re feeling in the moment basically double. It’s all you can feel, all you can think about.

So if you were sad about losing someone close to you, the grief and pain is amplified. In top of that, you have a voice that isn’t yours telling you he can make it go away if you bring him these two teens miraculous lmaooo.

I think that might also be a reason why Hawkmoth would target people feeling negative emotions. It’s easier to manipulate them since they’re vulnerable, and their akuma powers would be stronger the more intense they feel (Kagami and Chloe). More emotional people make stronger akumas, but harder to control.

So when Lila offers to help him get akumas by essentially tormenting people in her class and around her to break down their psyche, he happily welcomes the help.

ALSO: (kind of important for the AU)

Ladybug cannot cure akumas.

The only way an akuma can be cured is if

1. The Akumatized person gives up their object willingly.

This means that they let go of the akuma and their emotions themselves. Then, when the object is destroyed, the butterfly is white and that person cannot become Akumatized again.

2. The object is destroyed forcefully.

If an object is torn/destroyed and the akuma is freed without their consent, the butterfly still remains that cracked black/purple and person is at risk of becoming Akumatized again. It becomes their “personal butterfly” that is eager to take control again.

This is why Marinette’s kindness and compassion is so important as Ladybug. Most of the time, she needs to find a way to empathize with the Akumatized person in order to protect them from becoming Akumatized again! Take Hanabira. In that “episode”, she was able to talk with Kagami at the risk of her taking over the Louvre. Because her compassion worked, she surrendered her object to Ladybug, and from then on Kagami could no longer become Akumatized.

This is a method Ladybug definitely prefers, but of course it doesn’t work on everyone, which is why there are some repeat villains.

P.S.: Akumas can also be cured by loved ones, not always Ladybug. When Sabrina was Akumatized, Chloe was the one to cure her, and vice versa. Also when Alya was Akumatized, Nino talked her out of it. It’s dangerous for civilians to talk with akumas, but on the rare occasion it does work!

PLUS, Marinette being Akumatized early on would help with her being sympathetic towards other akumas. Like she KNOWS how Hawkmoth is using their emotions against them, like he did with her. She’s hecking LADYBUG and he got her.

She knows how easy it is to fall into the trap of being Akumatized. So she doesn’t view them as “weak” for getting Akumatized. People do things they otherwise wouldn’t have when they’re overwhelmed by what they feel in the moment. (Marinette was cured by Chat Noir btw, so she cannot become Akumatized again.)

And Sentimonsters cannot be Akumatized.

This is mainly directed towards Felix ofc, because he’s the only sentihuman in the AU!

[certainlynotasimp]

okayy but miguel with a black cat! reader….she js likes pushing his buttons and flirting with with him and literally does anything and everything to get a reaction out of him…aaannd if it was anyone else who tried joking around with miguel he would claw their face off 0_0

A/N: Oooh that would be interesting~. I’m gonna just write a Headcanon for now, but I will definitely write a one shot later on. I also didn’t know if you meant in personality only or if she’s his dimensions Black Cat (the antihero/villain) so I just wrote her as a Spiderperson with a black cat personality.

Miguel with a Black Cat Reader🐈‍⬛

So I’m gonna head canon that Miguel’s own personality is more of a mixture of a black cat and protective Doberman.

When he isn’t stressed out about keeping the spider-verse together and not on the very of a aneurism, he can actually be a flirting bastard as well, so don’t expect to flirt with him and get nothing in return.

But that side of him comes out like 20% or the time since…ya know, ya boy is stressed.

So when they are in front of other people, Miguel would be annoyed with the snide remarks you would make to try and ruffle his feathers, but he wouldn’t yell at you unless it’s a particularly in appropriate time to make him riled up.

The flirting would probably fair a little better as Miguel will try to act annoyed with your lingering caresses and the way your voice seem to purr at him. But, depending on your relationship, he would react in different ways.

If you were just a colleague, he would brush you off and snap at you for being so dishonorable for a spider-person.

If you were his friend, he would roll his eyes and probably throw a snide remark about you needed to get back to work. He’ll secretly find it amusing and might throw a remark back on good days.

If you are his crush or s/o, he would act the same way in public, his eyes constantly rolling as he acts annoyed with you. But a little tinge of a blush will appear if you purr out particular nicknames or remind him of certain private moments between you too.

Sometimes he’ll surprise you on particularly good days and tease you back. He knows he’s good looking and uses it as a weapon to get you flustered.

“What’s a matter, bonito gato?” He whispers as his mischievous eyes shine down at you. Your back shivers as his large forearm rest inches above your head, his burgundy eyes shining red from the monitors next to you as he traps you in. His chest acting as a barrier from your escape as his hand cups your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me when I’m talking to you, Cariño.”

If he catches you giving this treatment to some of the other spidermen, expect one of two reactions.

1) He’s gonna give you the silent treatment for the rest of the day and finally snap at you when he feels particularly annoyed by it. It’s not that he wants to yell, but the memory of someone else touching and flirting with his little spider causes him to think he’s losing the only person he has.

After an argument, he’ll calm down and apologize. Depending on how long y’all have been together, he will open up about some of his insecurities and fears of losing you.

2) He’s gonna give you the silent treatment the rest of the day until you two can get somewhere more private. He’s gonna remind you why he’s YOUR spiderman~ 😘

If anyone else tried to flirt with him or ruffle his feathers like you do, may God help their souls because Miguel ain’t having it.

He’s fiercely loyal, so if you guys are in a relationship and this happens, he’s gonna get mad and snap at them for being a disrespectful friend to you (because let’s be real, 90% of the Spider Society are friends because majority of them are Peter Parker Variants) and will probably threaten them with either losing their spot in the society. Or if they being particularly pushy, he’ll let his talons do the threatening.

He can also just open a portal and send them out of there is he finds them annoying.

He only really lets Jessica and Peter B mess with him because it’s more like they are messing with him about his reactions to you. Peter B definitely caught Miguel’s blushing face in a couple of pics of Mayday with you over his shoulder whispering in his ear.

I believe the nickname you would have would be either “Kitty” or “Bonito Gato” because your skill set maybe more reminiscent of Black Cat (the villain) and because Miguel says you are just as annoying as a cat. He still loves you though.💕

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I always love when you guys message me and please feel free to send more! 🤍💕

[2rats1gogh]

I know people have this fantasy that Helaena would marry some Stark, Tully or Tyrell but a fantasy is truly what it is.

If she married Aegon or not, Helaena was never going anywhere. She claimed one of the biggest dragons in the world as a child, a female dragon who has laid eggs. Her only choices were always going to be one of her brothers or her nephews HAD THEY NOT been bastards. Or maybe it would have been a Hightower cousin, or one of Corlys Velaryon’s nephews but whoever her husband was, he was never going to be the Warden of anything or the Lord of his own castle. Helaena was never going to leave Kingslanding.

Alicent may have wanted her daughter close to her to protect her because of Helaena’s nature and because of her own experiences as a child bride but Viserys (who doesn’t know Helaena or give a damn about her personally) was definitely not marrying Helaena out to someone powerful and putting more trueborn obstacles in Rhaenyra’s way when he already had 3 trueborn Valyrian looking sons who would marry someday.

Targaryen daughters may marry out for a generation but their child is expected to marry back in. Daella was married into house Arryn but Aemma was married back in. Also to note that Daella was a second wife and her husband already had heirs, Visarra had she not died would have been married to a Lord who had already married several times and had already had heirs. Their sons would hold no lands, raise no armies full of vassal houses of their own. Rhaenys’s mother married into House Targaryen and Rhaenys married into house Velaryon and gave house Velaryon 2 more dragon riders in addition to herself. Thats why bringing her line back into the family was an important issue for the Targaryens. Helaena- a Dragon rider who could be fertile as her mother in her early years- would’ve given a non Valyrian house Valyrian blood and more potential Dragon riders.

Say Helaena marries an inheriting son of some Lord Paramount. Let’s give her 2 future Dragon riders and possibly a third as Maelor was too young when he was murdered at Rhaenyra’s request. This is 4 Dragons to whichever house she married into. These 4 dragons have an entire army behind them. They have legitimacy. What if her husband and father in law decide that the throne should be her son’s (like Rhaenys attempted to secure it on behalf of Laenor at the Great council) because Rhaenyra committed treason, sons are bastards and by law they can’t inherit anything (it’s high time we acknowledge that Rhaenyra, Laenor, Harwin, Viserys and Corlys were all breaking the law or complicit in the breaking of it.)

Team Black would hate Helaena Lady of house Stark/Tyrell/Tully/Lannister/Martell with a husband and a supportive extended family to back her because she would always choose her family over Rhaenyra’s like she does in canon.

So people need to stop blaming Alicent for this and realize that Helaena’s options were very limited and remember that in this world it’s normally a Father’s job to organize their daughter’s betrothals. HOTD seems to have thrown this piece of Lore out of the window in favor of trying to make Alicent look like a villain and for stupid scenes like Rhaenyra proposing the betrothal of the twins to their Grandmother instead of their father that she’s married to and lives with.

Literally this.

I never understood why it was so difficult for people to understand why Alicent decided to marry Helaena to Aegon. It always made sense to me personally. There are two main reasons to this:

a) Helaena is a very vulnerable girl, more vulnerable than anyone. By marrying her to Aegon, Alicent keeps her close to herself, in KL, where no one could hurt her.

b) Helaena as a dragonrider is very valuable. If she marries to some remote lord and then they pledge allegiance to Rhaenyra for whatever reason, TG is fucked and they lose a dragon. They need Dreamfyre if they want to win this war.

Helaena also couldn’t marry Jace or any other of Rhaenyra’s bastards, for a very simple reason. They are literally bastards and everyone knows it, and she would’ve become a hostage during the Dance. Also, the realm most likely would never accept Jace as a king, because no matter how kind and nice he is, he is still a bastard and that would cause a lot for problems.

[arcielee]

How House of the Dragon’s Ewan Mitchell became TV’s most chilling villain [interview + pictures]

He played Barry Keoghan’s geeky friend in Saltburn. Now, the 27-year-old from Derby is riding dragons as Matt Smith’s terrifying nephew.

House of the Dragon, the Game of Thrones prequel series, is coming to the boil for its second-season finale, a cauldron of Targaryen civil war, court skulduggery and dragon-on-dragon dust-ups. For many, the highlight of this season has been the emergence of a beguiling new villain in Ewan Mitchell’s Prince Aemond Targaryen, who has a character arc that’s more like a zigzag. Spoilers follow.

Aemond lost his eye to the knife of his cousin, Lucerys, got airborne revenge when his dragon, Vhagar, swallowed Lucerys whole and is now on the Iron Throne as prince regent after Vhagar barbecued the king, Aemond’s despised brother Aegon, into a walking kebab. What makes the character, though, is the chilling panache with which Mitchell plays him; an impassive psychopath behind his eyepatch.

The showrunner, Ryan Condal, has said that he was at times taken aback by the Derby-born actor’s intensity. “I sometimes forget to blink,” Mitchell, 27, says with a smile. “I need to just chill out a little bit.” Not if it means losing the edge that defines Aemond, the same contained menace that fuelled Michael Corleone. It’s a Dornish-hot day in Covent Garden. Mitchell is softly spoken like Aemond, with striking blue-grey eyes, but considerably more courteous and less terrifying. His hair, which he buzz-cuts for the show to accommodate a wig, has grown to a tousled mop, dyed a Targaryen peroxide for this publicity tour.

To help him to get into character Mitchell listened to Metallica and Slipknot (“Aemond’s straight out of heavy metal”), while cinematic inspirations included Kirk Douglas’s titular swashbuckler (“with his strong chin”) in the 1958 movie The Vikings, the icily evil android played by Michael Fassbender in Prometheus and slow-walking horror villains such as Michael Myers in Halloween. “That’s the message that Aemond wants to give off: that he has you in his sights and you won’t be able to escape him,” Mitchell says. Sometimes he took it too far. In one scene he stalked into the council chamber, “and [the director] Alan Taylor said, ‘Can you speed up the walk, please?’”

His dragon’s knack of pouncing midair (“She comes up out of nowhere like Jaws”) helps Aemond’s aura, as does that eyepatch, even if it took Mitchell a while to get used to when riding horses. He often kept it on between takes, he says, “because over the course of a couple of hours you develop a headache”. That, in his world, is a good thing because it helps to suggest a “volcano that’s boiling underneath the surface”.

We are increasingly invited to compare Aemond with the show’s other compelling bad boy: his uncle Daemon, played by Matt Smith. Both are spares who believed they deserved the crown more than the heir. “Aemond is a prince who stands to inherit nothing,” Mitchell says. “He recognised, similar to Daemon, that everything he wanted to achieve he’d have to go out and get himself. Daemon and Aemond — their names are anagrams of each other and he definitely looked up to Daemon growing up.”

Similarly, Mitchell was a fan of Doctor Who as a child and Smith was his favourite Doctor. “There is a certain resemblance as well. I remember my nan saying that,” he says. Now, though, Aemond and Daemon are on opposite sides, the former fighting with the “Greens”, the latter, nominally, with Queen Rhaenyra’s “Blacks”. Two men with brutal self-confidence, a sense of grievance and prominent chins … the stage is set for a bloody confrontation, as it was in the original Game of Thrones between the brothers Sandor and Gregor Clegane. Aemond has already said he would “welcome” a chance to test himself against his uncle.

When it will happen, Mitchell can’t say. In preparation, though, he and Smith have been avoiding each other on set. That was Mitchell’s idea, but Smith and Condal agreed that it would help them to keep their grudge-match powder dry. “In the same way that Aemond keeps Daemon on that podium, I wanted to keep Matt Smith on that podium,” he says. “Our stories are very much contained and we shot in different studio spaces, so we never really brushed shoulders.”

Mitchell has also decided not to watch or read the original Game of Thrones. “I didn’t want it to influence me whether it be subconsciously or consciously,” he says, before asking me, “Which one do you prefer, House of the Dragon or Game of Thrones?” It’s hard to say until this show is over, I say, although both are equally obsessed with incest. He looks puzzled. “There was only one Targaryen in Game of Thrones, right?” Erm, not quite but I don’t want to spoil it. He smiles. “I’ll get around to watching it.”

He has certainly steeped himself in the world of House of the Dragon, which was adapted from the book Fire and Blood by the Thrones creator George RR Martin and is set more than a century before the first saga. Mitchell drew Aemond’s family tree when he got the part and can’t hide his annoyance when he briefly confuses Driftmark and High Tide, respectively an island and its castle in the show. “I’m kicking myself,” Mitchell says, which feels typical of his obsessiveness.

What is it about the Midlands that produces actors with such bristling presence? Mitchell, like Paddy Considine, who played Aemond’s father, Viserys, in the show, is a working-class son of Derbyshire and studied at the Television Workshop, an affordable, inclusive drama school in Nottingham whose other alumni include Samantha Morton, Jack O’Connell, Bella Ramsey and Vicky McClure.

“It’s just an amazing platform that champions raw talent,” Mitchell says. “I didn’t necessarily possess the means or the finances to go to drama school — no one in my family has ever done it.” His father’s side is “very much military”, he says, his grandfather having served in the SAS in Malaya and Oman after the Second World War. “He was very stoic; didn’t show much at all.” So that’s where Mitchell gets it from — his friends in Derby, where he still lives, call him “the Iceberg”. “I keep my cards quite close to my chest,” he says and he certainly does when it comes to saying if he has a partner.

After graduating he got his break in The Last Kingdom, the medieval drama series, playing Osferth, a kinsman of King Alfred. Good practice for the sword swinging, horse riding and dagger tossing to come. There was also a small role in High Life, the sci-fi-horror film starring Robert Pattinson, and a bigger one in Saltburn, Emerald Fennell’s remix of Brideshead Revisited, as Barry Keoghan’s geeky mathematician friend — one of the few non-plummy characters. “Emerald would give me something new every single take: ‘Play this one like Travis Bickle, play this one like a serial killer,’” Mitchell says.

• Before Game of Thrones — the story behind House of the Dragon

Like Robert De Niro as Bickle, Mitchell is brilliant at showing vulnerability beneath the menace. He loved shooting the scene in House of the Dragon where a smirking, pre-barbecue Aegon finds a naked Aemond in bed with the brothel worker who has become a mother figure. Aemond’s real mother is Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower (Olivia Cooke), whom he, as regent, has just ruthlessly stood down from the Small Council. “He doesn’t want anyone else to notice that he actually really loves his mum,” he says. “Once the war ends he wants to be sat on a Dornish beach with her sipping piña coladas.”

“Horror is definitely a genre I’d love to venture into at some point.”

They may not get that far, although you sometimes feel that Aemond knows how things will pan out — he accepted the regency with a cool sense of inevitability. Condal has stressed the parallels of his story with the Greek myth of the Cyclops, Mitchell says. “He traded one of his eyes to Hades so he could see the day he would die.” Recent events have tested Aemond’s prescience, though, notably Rhaenyra’s recruitment of low-born Targaryen bastards to ride dragons. In the finale “you’ll see Aemond lose that composure”, Mitchell says. “He’s gonna get desperate, and you don’t want Aemond desperate because that’s when he starts to overextend.”

What next? Mitchell won’t say how many seasons of House of the Dragon he has signed up for and we know by now that anyone can be killed off with zero fanfare. He clearly loves movies, peppering his chat with references to Inglourious Basterds, The Untouchables and the M Night Shyamalan film Split, and says he would love to work with Jodie Comer, the Safdie brothers, who made Uncut Gems, and Rose Glass, who directed Love Lies Bleeding. Oh, and “horror is definitely a genre I’d love to venture into at some point.” He would be a natural.

tagging my beloved @assortedseaglass fuck the paywall

copy pasta from The Times

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

How House of the Dragon’s Ewan Mitchell became TV’s most chilling villain

He played Barry Keoghan’s geeky friend in Saltburn. Now, the 27-year-old from Derby is riding dragons as Matt Smith’s terrifying nephew

House of the Dragon, the Game of Thrones prequel series, is coming to the boil for its second-season finale, a cauldron of Targaryen civil war, court skulduggery and dragon-on-dragon dust-ups. For many, the highlight of this season has been the emergence of a beguiling new villain in Ewan Mitchell’s Prince Aemond Targaryen, who has a character arc that’s more like a zigzag. Spoilers follow.

Aemond lost his eye to the knife of his cousin, Lucerys, got airborne revenge when his dragon, Vhagar, swallowed Lucerys whole and is now on the Iron Throne as prince regent after Vhagar barbecued the king, Aemond’s despised brother Aegon, into a walking kebab. What makes the character, though, is the chilling panache with which Mitchell plays him; an impassive psychopath behind his eyepatch.

The showrunner, Ryan Condal, has said that he was at times taken aback by the Derby-born actor’s intensity. “I sometimes forget to blink,” Mitchell, 27, says with a smile. “I need to just chill out a little bit.” Not if it means losing the edge that defines Aemond, the same contained menace that fuelled Michael Corleone. It’s a Dornish-hot day in Covent Garden. Mitchell is softly spoken like Aemond, with striking blue-grey eyes, but considerably more courteous and less terrifying. His hair, which he buzz-cuts for the show to accommodate a wig, has grown to a tousled mop, dyed a Targaryen peroxide for this publicity tour.

To help him to get into character Mitchell listened to Metallica and Slipknot (“Aemond’s straight out of heavy metal”), while cinematic inspirations included Kirk Douglas’s titular swashbuckler (“with his strong chin”) in the 1958 movie The Vikings, the icily evil android played by Michael Fassbender in Prometheus and slow-walking horror villains such as Michael Myers in Halloween. “That’s the message that Aemond wants to give off: that he has you in his sights and you won’t be able to escape him,” Mitchell says. Sometimes he took it too far. In one scene he stalked into the council chamber, “and [the director] Alan Taylor said, ‘Can you speed up the walk, please?’”

His dragon’s knack of pouncing midair (“She comes up out of nowhere like Jaws”) helps Aemond’s aura, as does that eyepatch, even if it took Mitchell a while to get used to when riding horses. He often kept it on between takes, he says, “because over the course of a couple of hours you develop a headache”. That, in his world, is a good thing because it helps to suggest a “volcano that’s boiling underneath the surface”.

We are increasingly invited to compare Aemond with the show’s other compelling bad boy: his uncle Daemon, played by Matt Smith. Both are spares who believed they deserved the crown more than the heir. “Aemond is a prince who stands to inherit nothing,” Mitchell says. “He recognised, similar to Daemon, that everything he wanted to achieve he’d have to go out and get himself. Daemon and Aemond — their names are anagrams of each other and he definitely looked up to Daemon growing up.”

Similarly, Mitchell was a fan of Doctor Who as a child and Smith was his favourite Doctor. “There is a certain resemblance as well. I remember my nan saying that,” he says. Now, though, Aemond and Daemon are on opposite sides, the former fighting with the “Greens”, the latter, nominally, with Queen Rhaenyra’s “Blacks”. Two men with brutal self-confidence, a sense of grievance and prominent chins … the stage is set for a bloody confrontation, as it was in the original Game of Thrones between the brothers Sandor and Gregor Clegane. Aemond has already said he would “welcome” a chance to test himself against his uncle.

When it will happen, Mitchell can’t say. In preparation, though, he and Smith have been avoiding each other on set. That was Mitchell’s idea, but Smith and Condal agreed that it would help them to keep their grudge-match powder dry. “In the same way that Aemond keeps Daemon on that podium, I wanted to keep Matt Smith on that podium,” he says. “Our stories are very much contained and we shot in different studio spaces, so we never really brushed shoulders.”

Mitchell has also decided not to watch or read the original Game of Thrones. “I didn’t want it to influence me whether it be subconsciously or consciously,” he says, before asking me, “Which one do you prefer, House of the Dragon or Game of Thrones?” It’s hard to say until this show is over, I say, although both are equally obsessed with incest. He looks puzzled. “There was only one Targaryen in Game of Thrones, right?” Erm, not quite but I don’t want to spoil it. He smiles. “I’ll get around to watching it.”

He has certainly steeped himself in the world of House of the Dragon, which was adapted from the book Fire and Blood by the Thrones creator George RR Martin and is set more than a century before the first saga. Mitchell drew Aemond’s family tree when he got the part and can’t hide his annoyance when he briefly confuses Driftmark and High Tide, respectively an island and its castle in the show. “I’m kicking myself,” Mitchell says, which feels typical of his obsessiveness.

What is it about the Midlands that produces actors with such bristling presence? Mitchell, like Paddy Considine, who played Aemond’s father, Viserys, in the show, is a working-class son of Derbyshire and studied at the Television Workshop, an affordable, inclusive drama school in Nottingham whose other alumni include Samantha Morton, Jack O’Connell, Bella Ramsey and Vicky McClure.

It’s just an amazing platform that champions raw talent,” Mitchell says. “I didn’t necessarily possess the means or the finances to go to drama school — no one in my family has ever done it.” His father’s side is “very much military”, he says, his grandfather having served in the SAS in Malaya and Oman after the Second World War. “He was very stoic; didn’t show much at all.” So that’s where Mitchell gets it from — his friends in Derby, where he still lives, call him “the Iceberg”. “I keep my cards quite close to my chest,” he says and he certainly does when it comes to saying if he has a partner.

After graduating he got his break in The Last Kingdom, the medieval drama series, playing Osferth, a kinsman of King Alfred. Good practice for the sword swinging, horse riding and dagger tossing to come. There was also a small role in High Life, the sci-fi-horror film starring Robert Pattinson, and a bigger one in Saltburn, Emerald Fennell’s remix of Brideshead Revisited, as Barry Keoghan’s geeky mathematician friend — one of the few non-plummy characters. “Emerald would give me something new every single take: ‘Play this one like Travis Bickle, play this one like a serial killer,’” Mitchell says.

Like Robert De Niro as Bickle, Mitchell is brilliant at showing vulnerability beneath the menace. He loved shooting the scene in House of the Dragon where a smirking, pre-barbecue Aegon finds a naked Aemond in bed with the brothel worker who has become a mother figure. Aemond’s real mother is Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower (Olivia Cooke), whom he, as regent, has just ruthlessly stood down from the Small Council. “He doesn’t want anyone else to notice that he actually really loves his mum,” he says. “Once the war ends he wants to be sat on a Dornish beach with her sipping piña coladas.”

They may not get that far, although you sometimes feel that Aemond knows how things will pan out — he accepted the regency with a cool sense of inevitability. Condal has stressed the parallels of his story with the Greek myth of the Cyclops, Mitchell says. “He traded one of his eyes to Hades so he could see the day he would die.” Recent events have tested Aemond’s prescience, though, notably Rhaenyra’s recruitment of low-born Targaryen bastards to ride dragons. In the finale “you’ll see Aemond lose that composure”, Mitchell says. “He’s gonna get desperate, and you don’t want Aemond desperate because that’s when he starts to overextend.”

What next? Mitchell won’t say how many seasons of House of the Dragon he has signed up for and we know by now that anyone can be killed off with zero fanfare. He clearly loves movies, peppering his chat with references to Inglourious Basterds, The Untouchables and the M Night Shyamalan film Split, and says he would love to work with Jodie Comer, the Safdie brothers, who made Uncut Gems, and Rose Glass, who directed Love Lies Bleeding. Oh, and “horror is definitely a genre I’d love to venture into at some point.” He would be a natural.

[lightwing-s]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊__ 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: jason todd x villain! fem! reader

summary: there should be a clear hatred for those you fight against, but nobody told y/n and jason about it.

rating: 16+

word count: pasmem 8,2k warnings: sex jokes, heavy make out session, foreplay

a/n: it took me long, but i hope this long ass post makes up for all the time it took me to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one, as i had a lot o fun writing it, and please let me know what you think about it once you're done reading ♡.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

pt ii

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

… Explosion at the Yacht Basin. The Tiffany is being exhibited. Hurry.

“Just two miles south.” Jason responded. “On my way.”

Speeding up his motorcycle on the busy and wet streets of Gotham, Jason makes a sudden u-turn and heads back in the opposite direction he was once going. Swerving around the cars, trucks and other motorcycles, he hears back honks and curse words be thrown at him, but he doesn’t care. The adrenaline has woken his body. He can even feel the air blowing on his face, even behind the scarlet helmet composing his vigilante outfit.

He had been starving for action all night. His body needed it. Bruce had been an asshole. Roy had been an even worse ass, and there were tons of other people that had been pissing him off all day. All this built up anger made his body beg for some sort of release, he needed this extra energy gone, and punching someone on the face seemed like a very plausible solution to his problem. 

Failing to follow his own mind, telling him to be more careful with his driving after the last incident — that had him not being able to rise from his bed from how much pain his body was in —, he drove so fast his speedometer was hitting it’s other end. He’d definitely get scolded for it at any minute by Barbara through the coms, and not being in the mood for that, he turned his communication off.

As he got closer to the marina, the smoke and fire became more and more evident through the gaps between all the skyscrapers surrounding the road. Pinkish flames flaring up here and there, climbing up the marina’s main building, and releasing smoke fuchsia toned. Upon that sight, Jason’s blood began to boil even hotter than it already was, and if possible, he sped up even more.

Recently, pink flames could only mean one thing in Gotham: Cupid. New psycho in town, got this name from Carmine Falcone himself, for her love to use crossbows and arrows and the hazed state his men were left by the mere sight of her face. Having had the displeasure of meeting her countless times, Jason knew her face pretty well, even if  she kept  it’s bottom mostly covered. And he was glad she did, as he could not stand the smirk planted on her lips as she managed to piss him off to no end.

She was a good thief, fast and stealthy, to the point one could have her in his hands but blink a little too slow and lose her to the shadows. Smart enough to keep herself out of the records for months, misdirecting her actions to random people, until one she had an accidental run into Robin and Spoiler when leaving Gotham’s Museum of Antiquities with a full bag of stolen artifacts and no sound coming from any of the alarms. 

Also, she was really annoying, knowing just the right things to say and do to get under Jason’s skin. And she would linger there for longer than he’d like to admit.

Also, she was really annoying, knowing just the right things to say and do to get under Jason’s skin. And she would linger there for longer than he’d like to admit.

Scared citizens still ran out of the building when he got there, coughing and barely being able to breath due to the exposure to the toxic smoke. Leaving them in the care of the firefighters that had arrived a bit sooner than he did, he darted inside. Knowing pretty well how his opponent worked at this point in time, he got to the room where he was certain he'd find her.

Displays of very expensive jewelry filled the otherwise empty room. It was dark, but the few lights that came in from the glass ceiling — from the moon, the street lamps and the fire burning outside — hit the jewels and the stones, who in turn reflected them beautifully making an almost perfect show of lights that could make many nightclub owners out there feel pretty jealous of the image they could never replicate. Almost perfect because right where he stood he could see the central piece of the exhibit was missing, the big yellow diamond out of sight.

No alarm sounds, no security system activated.

“Looking for this?” asked a voice from behind him, soft, sultry and mysterious. What wasn’t soft, though, was the clicking sound of a pistol unlocking and being settled at the nape of his neck. “Don’t worry, I won’t shoot. I like you too much to hurt you, Red. And also, I don’t want to ruin your face before I get the chance to see it with my own eyes.” 

“Give back the diamond, Cupid” he demanded through gritted teeth.

“Oh, they have so many here, they won’t notice I only took one.”

With a swift movement, Jason threw his arm back with force and locked Cupid’s arm under his own, making her drop the gun somewhere far he could only see through the side of his eyes. Now, facing the villain, he kept her arm tightly wrapped around his, somewhat careful to not hurt it while keeping  control of the situation.

“I thought guns weren’t your thing.” he said, tightening his hold and making her groan.

“I’m keen on exploring new kinks” she replied. “C’mon, Red! We don’t need this. We’re friends, I can send you a gift card once I sell this to the black market” and with an even quicker movement, Cupid released her arm from Red Hood’s grip and spun around, kicking at his face. Jason dodged it and threw a punch at her that she also skipped, though only for mere inches.

Hitting the back of his knee with another kick, the villain managed to make the hooded hero fall to his knees for a brief moment,  giving her an opportunity to run out of the room. Jason darted after her straight away, following her through the corridors and up the stairs, then reaching the glass ceiling of the exhibit. She ran with ease on top of the steel bars holding the glass up, opening a gap between the two of them as Jason, much larger and heavier,  had more difficulty in doing the same.

Soon, they exchanged the glass ceiling for a concrete roof when they got on top of the neighboring room. Chasing her dark suited body, he managed to shorten their distance a little when she jumped a small gap and fell onto another building, him not taking long and getting there as well. It was the main structure on fire, the heat from below reaching his forearms, the only part of his body left exposed, unprotected by his jacket.

“Into fire play, Cupid?”

“Ha!” she laughed at his joke, throwing her head back mid run. “Works as a great distraction.” she shrugged.

She was certainly faster than him, reaching the end of that building much sooner, lowering down and grabbing a bag that must have been left there beforehand. Out of it, she took her pistol sized crossbow and turned to him. Not wanting to get shot, Jason zigzagged his way to  her, trying to run as  fast as he could. 

After the sound of the weapon activating, an arrow flew right by his shoulder, cutting a string on his leather jacket. Strike one, thought the vigilante. Nobody does that to his jacket. 

This time aiming the gun at the higher building, she shot it and the arrow hooked on the stair house wall. Finally reaching the end of his run and almost at arm’s range with the thief, he jumped in her direction, trying to catch her mid flight, but only just touching the sole of her boots. She was up in the air, flying to the other building, and landed on it with gracious ease, as a pretty bird landed on someone’s finger.

“Pray to catch me, Red” she taunted him once she settled on the other side of the tall gap.

Groaning in frustration, he threw off his jacket, incredibly hot to the touch from being near the fire, and feeling a sting of pain hit his shoulder as he noticed a bleeding wound adrenaline didn’t allow him to see earlier in the same spot his sleeve had been laying on.

“Oh, Red.” she screamed at him, attracting his attention. “I swear you couldn’t turn me on more than you already did, but wow!” sliding her back down the wall of the stair house, she sat on the floor, her legs slightly spread in his direction.

“Shut up!” he screamed back, all his build up frustration sounding through it.

“Oooh come make me…” she moaned, throwing her head back, exposing her glistening neck. Anger blew through his nose, and standing on the edge of the roof, Jason took his grappling gun from his utility belt and aimed it at top of where her arrow still stood. Being soared into the air, he was mere inches from reaching the parapet when he felt his body lose all weight and descend to the floor. His heart fell just as hard, as he noticed the cut wire that once held him up slide right past his face.

However, when he thought the floor was his only destination at that point, strong arms held onto his own, keeping him from falling. 

“Thought I was gonna let you die in front of me?” questioned that same sultry voice.

“You fucking cut the wire! What did you want me to think?” he replied, grinding his teeth.

“I removed your hook from the wall” she corrected, matter of factly. “And I did it so we could have a little fun. It was getting boring up here. All alone”

The seductive way she finished her sentence made Jason’s voice put up and look directly  at her face. Her lowered eyebrows and the pout she had on her bottom lip — plumb, red and glossy ones — made his stomach turn. Strike two, I hate pouty lips.

Using his free arm to grab onto the railing, he forced his body up with her assistance. He put one of his legs over the parapet and managed to finally set his feet on the ground. He shouldn’t have been affected by what happened. He was used to heights, he knew he could shoot his grappling gun again, he knew nothing would happen. Yet, it did affect me. 

His heart was beating fast, his breath caught in his throat. Laying his hand on his tights, he tried to steady his it, to relax his shoulders, and ease his body back to normal. For a brief moment, he imagined himself falling into the fire, the image of being consumed by it scaring him way too much.

“Here, big boy. Take a seat” Cupid forced him on his butt and made him rest his head on the railing. “Jesus, you’re not into rope play? Noted.”

Clicking her tongue, she lowered herself to his level and placed one hand on his knee.

“Really… I want to kill you.” he shook his head, removing his hands from under hers.

“Thought your killing days were over, Red.” she stated, hands going to her waist. “Sadly, it’s not gonna be tonight you get to realize your dream.” 

Standing up and wasting no time, Cupid grabbed her crossbow, unloaded it and hit it against the back of his ear — or where she assumed it rested inside the helmet. The clicking of metal into metal echoed in his ears, making him lose his senses for a bit. 

It seemed like it wouldn’t stop, the sound reverberating under the helmet. He tried to stand up, but his balance was poor, nearly making him fall once again. Holding his head, he tried to stop the sound, but it was useless. Taking off the helmet was a no no, even if the clear best solution to his pain.

Deciding that loosening it might make the situation better, he pressed the button that would free his skull, but he did not remove the helmet from it’s place. Not long after, the agonizing noise came to a halt, his sight stopped spinning, and he finally could stand up just fine.

But Cupid was gone. Lost to the night, and not a single sign she was even up there with him at some point could be spotted around.

If he hadn’t accumulated frustration enough all night until this point, he was sure that now he had reached maximum storage. Punching the wall, he let go of some of it, but certainly not enough.

Three nights ago, Jason let Cupid escape. Three nights ago, Jason got scolded by Bruce for letting the Tiffany diamond go missing. Three nights ago, he could only think of one thing, and that thing has stayed in his mind ever since.

Tonight though, he would finally put an end to his mental torture.

The heavy sound of rain soon faded as he entered the batcave’s tunnel system, being then exchanged by the echoing sound of his engine against the hollow corridors. The darkness and the cold of that place once made him extremely uncomfortable, but after so long visiting those places, he felt embraced by it, and the solitude, the feeling of leaving the whole world behind, turning it off of his head,  made him feel at home.

Underground, he found the metro trails of Gotham’s subway system. This first one he spotted was from an old abandoned line, a new one had been set to finish its construction by the late 2000s, but that clearly did not reach that goal, now resting here, forgotten. 

Driving through the empty tunnels, following the directions his computer board had given him, and reaching the marked spot on his screen, he made his motorcycle come to a stop, turning it off, getting down from it and making the rest of his way on foot.

He didn’t really know what he was looking for, but he was warned by Oracle of an explosion caught by the radar. The smell of smoke was present during his ride, but there was no sight  of fire. Leaving his headlights on, it helped him find his footing around the area, where he could barely see the tubes and wires drawing parallel lines on the concrete walls, nor the weird engravings he had no idea who — and how — had put them  there. Standing still, he quieted his breathing and took some time to listen. 

The howling of the wind, the timed buzzing of electricity running through the cables and the distant sound of trains following their course filled Jason’s ear, but something else caught his attention. It was the slight sound of rocks moving to his left that made him turn around and face exactly who he wanted to see.

At the blink of an eye, he had her under his gun’s aim.

“Certainly, this terrain doesn’t favor me at all, does it Red?” she taunted, hands held up in the air like a culprit caught by the police. This time, she had her regular all black attire on, but had no mask and wore a hooded  jacket, much like his own. “What do you think? Does it suit me?”

“Where’s the fucking diamond?”

“Sold to the black market. Is this all you can talk about?”

She was quick. She had to be, a diamond as expensive as the Tiffany wouldn’t last long in her hands if word got around she still had it for this long. He knew she had to have a buyer even before stealing it. Yet, Jason innocently thought he could have gotten to her before she managed to trade it.

“Didn’t know you were working for Cobblepot…” he questioned. He had been sent here because they knew Penguin was out and about, planning something for some time, but that they weren’t sure on what it was. Finding her here meant she was somewhat involved in his business, and he didn’t know why and how that was made possible.

“Working with Cobblepot” she cut him off, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “And not by choice.”

“For what then? Doesn’t seem to me like he’s the best match for your skill set.” he commented, interested in knowing why this pairing was ever formed. Penguin was a crime boss who would steal everything and anything that could get him richer, and he had worked with some of the best along the years, although not the best partner they had ever had. Yet working alongside a Cupid seemed especially strange this time, as she had only been on their records for a couple months, and Penguin isn’t much keen on working alongside new flesh. And also, from the little bit he knew about her, she preferred working alone.

“For I have no other choice.” she answered, and he could have sworn her voice had a little crack somewhere between those words. “I guess I should’ve picked a buyer more carefully. Next time I try to sell some stolen goods I’ll have that in mind.” she threw her shoulders back and continued. “Beginners curse. I’ll learn things through time and find the right people who I can trust. I did find you after all, right Daddy?”

Say what?!  she caught him off guard. What did she just fucking call me?

“I’m not your fucking Da…” lowering his gun, grunting, he stoped himself from saying the last word.

“Oh? Why can’t you say it?” she mused, excited by his excitation from saying the word. “Say it!”

“Stop.”

“Say it, Red.” she challenged.

“No!” he screamed back, while she continued to taunt him. At a distance, his ears heard the succinct sound of a train coming in their direction and he started to notice the peebles jumping up on the ground. He also noticed Cupid standing right at the middle of the railing tracks. “Cupid, get out of there.”

He tried to plead, but she still happily sang to him to repeat the D word. 

“The train is coming! Do you want to die” he got closer, but nothing. She didn’t even flinch at the words train and coming being thrown at her.

“Y/n, move!” he screamed.

“Oh, you know my name?” her eyes widened as she seemed to have grown more excited at the thought he knew her identity. “Only fair you give me yours now.” 

Crossing her arms on her chest like a little child would do to its parents, she continued to ignore Red Hood’s pleas as the train announced itself to them by shining it’s lights in their direction.

“C’mon” he grunted, but she still didn’t move.

“Tell me your name” she sang. 

“Damn it, it’s Jason. Now fucking move.” He was desperate at this point, as she made no indications she was moving out of the way. Fearful, he started walking in her direction.

“Now, say dad-dy…”

“FUCK!” he screamed and rushed his steps. Getting to her, he jumped into the tracks and held her by the arms, dragging her alongside him out of the railway and onto the opposite wall, fast enough to have the train pass behind them and over the spot she was standing on a second later..

“Why didn’t you fucking get out?” he asked, completely exasperated, pushing her away from his hold.

“You wouldn’t let me die would you?” she pouted at him once more, aggravating his nerves and making him moan in frustration. Why is she so fucking difficult?

“I would kill you if I could.” he stated, getting closer to her face.

“What's holding you back? Papa bats wouldn’t let you?” 

Clenching his wrists, trying his best to not throw a punch at her yet and doing his best to hold his anger, he answers through gritted teeth. “I’m past that”

“A mature man”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re annoying”

“It’s a talent I’ve curated through the years.” she stated, proud of herself for being an irritating little shit.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he questioned, remembering his job and the orders he had received earlier.

“Ah…” she looked up, as if trying to remember herself. “Distracting you.”

“Huh?”

“Penguin is planning something tonight and told me to take you out of his way.” He didn’t notice she was this close, but her hands were not at his collar. She fixed something in his chest he failed to see a problem with, her hands sliding up and down his chest. 

Shit, Jason thought. He had to get back. 

Grabbing her wrist, he removed her hands from his jacket and threw them far away from him. Turning around, he was dead set into returning to the surface. “Oracle, this was a distraction. Penguin is…”

“...Robbing the entire exhibit  at the Yacht Club.  Yeah, we figured that out. Where were you? Everyone is heading there now.”

“I’m on my way too.” he cut the conversation short, running to his motorcycle.

“Hey, Jay?” he rolled his eyes at the sound of her voice, still walking to his vehicle and getting on top of it. “Could you give me a ride?”

“You gotta be kidding me” he whispered to himself. Looking back at her, arms on her side and big eyes innocencly staring at him, he really wondered if she was being serious or not. What was stopping him from giving her a ride and locking her up afterwards? In fact, that seemed like a very good idea to him. Having her right there, sitting behind him and holding his body, he could be sure she wouldn’t go anywhere…

“My my, you’re actually considering it?” she smirked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You should go, Red. The sooner you trap Penguin, the sooner I’ll be free.”

And turning her back to him, she disappeared into the darkness once again. This time, he made his way into the shadows right after.

By the time they all had got to the exhibit, the jewels were already gone. 

Penguin’s meticulously crafted plan was a success. He had each and every member of the family busy with different affairs, seemingly unrelated, and within large enough distances to the Yacht Basin, that if anyone was seen moving in its direction, they would have enough time to clear the area before they got there. And everything went as planned. 

They all wondered, how could they have been tricked like that? So under their noses, so obvious looking on the outside. Yet, they were played like little children.

“We are trying to keep this out of the news until we understand how it all happened. The National Museum won’t be happy with this.”

“We’re working on getting as much information as possible, Commissioner. Penguin can’t have gone too far, this fast.” Batman stated. “These jewels are still in Gotham, and we’ll find them.”

“Good. Otherwise the mayor is gonna want both our necks hanging by morning.” Commissioner Gordon replied, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge and fishing for a cigar he knew he had hid somewhere inside his coat’s pocket.

Hearing their conversion from a few feet away, Jason and Dick watched as the two of them said their goodbyes, and Bruce, in his mighty black cape and cowl,  made his way towards the two standing in the corner.

“Are you sure the jewels are still in the city?” Dick questioned, a subtle hint of doubt hidden in his voice, but not daring yet to completely cut this theory out of the question.

“No planes or ships were spotted on the radars. Fleeing the city with millions in gold and jewelry is not going to be easy after the police closed all road exits.” looking back at the Commissioner for a moment, he continued. “Barbara responded that all cameras at the Yacht club were conveniently turned off earlier. But she got a hold of the street vigilance records and caught a truck with suspicious actions coming and going down the street that leads here.”

Walking between Dick and Jason, he ignored their questioning looks and continued.

“I’m taking the batmobile back to the cave. Gather more information on the truck’s route and possible destinations. I need you two on the streets, be my eyes and ears. If anything happens, you need to call me. Immediately” he demanded, blending with the shadows and making his way out of this place, leaving the two brothers all alone.

“I can’t believe Harley was with Penguin on this one.” he heard Dick start. “I was so sure she was trying to break the Joker out of Arkham again. I only realized something was wrong when she was taking too long to take some action .”

His brother’s little adventure with Harley Quinn was at the bottom of the list of things he was interested in at the moment. While he continued to ramble  about it, his mind was constantly drawn back to the tunnels and to her.

The way she could get under his skin so easily was something he couldn’t figure out how and why happened. There was only one other person who could do it as easily, but the Joker had killed him in the past, making the reason for his hatred for the Clown Prince of Gotham completely reasonable. On the other hand, he had only known Cupid for some time, met her less than his finger could count, and she really had not done anything more than antagonize him and actually save his life once.

And also, she was kinda hot. It irked him tremendously to even have thoughts  about this, but he had to be honest with himself and admit — to him only, and nobody else — that he did have a small, very slight, very little, thing for Y/n. But that was all physical, he only thought she was insanely attractive. She could work her body and her words, clearly, and he was just stupidly  weak to have fallen for charm.

“What did he do to keep you away?” Dick asked, having Jason’s attention back to him.

Jason considered if he really should tell his brother or not of what kept him away for so long. He had joked before about how much he seemed to find her out during patrol, and how she often got the best of him, leaving him empty handed. When they found out her real identity, Dick caught a glimpse at how Jason stared at her pictures a lot longer than he usually would. 

Coming to a conclusion, he answered without shame. “Cupid.”

Just by hearing her name, Dick’s smile spread on his face, although he’d keep trying to hold it back, his mind getting funny ideas of what the two of them were doing down in the underground.

“It seems like you’ve been finding each other quite a lot recently,” he stated.

“Uh-huh” Jason hummed, agreeing with him but limiting himself to a short and final answer, knowing pretty well where this conversation would go if he stood around for too long. Ignoring anything else Dick had to tell him, he mounted his bike and drove away to work on finding the jewelry truck.

Hours later, when the sun was getting close to coming out of hiding, Jason stood under a railroad bridge, quietly watching the rain fall harshly down the sky and form large puddles on the asphalt. He had been riding his motorcycle all night, looking for that truck or any other indication of Penguin’s work. He drove and drove, but got nothing.

Now, standing there, he had difficulty keeping his eyes open. He awaited something. Something to happen to bring energy back into his night. Something to keep him busy and away from his own thoughts that had been torturing him all that time.

The rain hitting the metal structure over his head was soothing, and did not help his attempts to not fall asleep. Sometimes, a vehicle would pass by his spot and jolt him awake, or water accumulated somewhere would fall down all at once, making a huge noise out of nowhere. Other times, he’d hear mice or the sounds of footsteps coming up top, but would see nobody, animal or human, out there.  Worst of all was when trains would pass by the bridge and make everything in a two mile radius to shake.

Tired mind meant thinking of things he wouldn’t want to think about when his mind was properly awake. He closed his eyes and could hear the sultry sound of her voice, or smell the spicy scent of her perfume. He needed to see her again. He needed to let off some steam, all that stored frustration. He needed to see her and make sure she had forgotten about his name. Remembering he did that, he threw his head back and released a heavy sight. It was stupid to have said it, and he didn’t know why he kept doing stupid shit whenever she was around. 

Feeling safe in the loneliness, he took off his helmet and got some much needed fresh air. He leaned forward and laid his head down on his motorcycle’s panel, ready for a nap. Bruce wouldn’t notice. Penguin must have already left the city somehow and this whole night of waiting was for absolutely nothing.

Losing to tiredness, he began to dream of meeting Y/n and talking to her again.  But the dream wasn’t long, because when he was getting to the good part, something made him jump out of his sleep.

“Is the night too much for the incredible Red Hood?” asked a voice he did not recognize and who he could not see, hiding from the lights, but who he felt came from right behind him. The voice was followed by the sound of two, or was it three, sets of footsteps approaching him.

“Or did that arrowed cunt give you the kiss of death too?” joked another voice, clearly familiar with the first one. Jason still could not see them yet, but knew very well where they stood.

“Are you guys scared to come out of the dark?” he taunted them. “It’s easy to tell me shit when I can’t see who I’m supposed to be fighting with.”

“Isn’t this guy is fucking cocky, Dan?” the second voice commented.

“How many of your friends have left with all working limbs after finding me during a night at their job?” Jason inquired, smirking at the men in the darkness, proud of his high rate of beat down assholes.

“One as many punches I’ll be gifting your face tonight.” one of them replied.

“Then come and get me.” he challenged, arms open in a call for battle. 

Upon his call, two tall men left their place in the shadows and ran in his direction. One of them was skinny, and held what Jason identified as a knife in his hands. The other, smaller and a bit heavier, had something shining between the base of his fingers. Standing up from his bike, he cracked his neck, his arms and his fingers, waiting for the action to finally reach him and he slowly paced towards the two guys. Action was on again, baby.

The fact that he was outnumbered did not bother Jason in the slightest, as he defended himself with ease. The other two, although pretty confident when they ran towards him thinking they could give him some bruises, soon found out that defeating the Red Hood was no easy task.  Their confidence was rapidly gone. 

He managed to divide them. Turning to fight the first one, he grabbed him by his collar, threw him at a metal pillar, causing an echoing sound to reverberate around them, and the man to fall hard on the ground, grunting on the floor and touching his own his to check if they were okay. Now, changing his attention to the other man, he couldn’t find him at first glance, but saw this one trying to sneak around his back and hit him on the head with a large pipe he had found somewhere. Being a smarter fighter, Jason followed him by the noise he was making by breathing, walking and simply existing in around him. Jason knew exactly where he was and avoided the hit. Then, he grabbed the man’s hand and spun his arm around till it made a loud cracking sound and the guy made an even louder and painful scream.

“How many punches did you say you’d give me again?” Jason shrugged. Not a single drop of sweat in his body.

The moaning and groaning of the two guys on the floor were like a symphony to his ears, the perfect credit song for one of his favorite action sequences. Wanting to leave, he looked for his helmet as he didn’t see it where he had left it above his bike. Not on the floor either, and also not rolling to the street.

“Took ill on Thursday, Grew worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday”

The words came out of a third voice, perhaps the third pair of steps he had heard along the men’s. But different from the two idiots on the floor, this one definitely activated his fight or flight instincts.

“Solomon Grundy, born on a monday.” The big shadow of the creature turned into flesh and bone, red helmet in hands. Breaking the item as if he was breaking glass, the angry monster threw pieces on the floor, stepped on them with his bare feet and with heavy steps made his way to the Red Hood. “Solomon Grundy, born on a monday”

“Oh shit!” Jason exclaimed as the zombie-like walked closer. “Long time no see, buddy.”

As if disgusted by the nickname, Grundy darted towards Jason, who then ran towards the street in hopes to get more space to fight the big guy. He also hoped the wet asphalt could somehow aid him  in bringing down the creature. He deviated several punches, while his own hit the spot a couple of times, but apparently didn’t cause his enemy much pain. Kicking the back of his knees, he made Grundy lose some balance and fall to his knees, giving Jason enough time to think of a plan.

Looking back at his bike, still where he was sitting under the bridge, he decided that the best plan was making a run for it and trying to escape. He didn’t know what and why had Grundy so mad and out of the sewers tonight, as he rarely left his safe spot, but he also didn’t want to stay any longer to figure that out.

“You work for Penguin too, Grudy?” he jokingly asked, making a run to his motorcycle. “Thought of you as better than that.”

“Solomon Grundy… works for nobody” he answered, punching the ground with both of his hands right at the place where Jason had just been standing. Almost out of the street, a car suddenly passed by — for what reason? — and blocked his way, and then another car showed up. Why are all those people driving towards Solomon Grundy? Have they all gone mad?

When he was too worried  about the cars and the stupid people driving them, Jason didn’t notice when Grundy approached him and hit him right in his jaw, making him fly across the street. There on the floor, his head spun and everything went blurry as he tried but could not pull himself up from the ground. Damn it, he needed to get out of there.

Getting to his feet, lord knows how, and stumbling to make his way to where he wanted, he heard the swift swish of projectiles flying by his ears, who were then followed by Grundy’s screams and complaints. Two. Three. Four more things hit him, but somewhat running with a spinning head had Jason’s vision go everywhere but nowhere at the same time. 

As if that wasn’t enough, suddenly the honking of a car and a pair of headlights were in his face, as he felt the floor shaking from the heavy steps that were also heading his way. Trying to rush, he nearly fell onto the floor yet again, but a loud crash sounded through the whole street and something knocked him down.

His vision was getting darker, and all voices sounded distant, but this one he still could hear clearly.

“Stay with me, Jason. Don’t close your eyes”told him the voice, this time it was soft and sultry. He felt his entire body ache, and his eyes couldn’t stay open even if she begged him. “Hey, Jay.” she called him again, tapping his cheeks with care to try to keep him awake. “Stay with me, please. Stay awake.”  

But it was too late. Soon, everything was black.

.

His head banged with pain. Really, it hurt like crazy. It was not the best sensation to wake up to. His vision still hadn’t settled too, still spinning as he last remembered them. He tried to inspect the room he was in, but he couldn’t identify where he was. He woke up god knows where, but the real question in his mind was in how he got there.

Remembering everything that happened before he blacked out, Jason tried to stand up from the bed he was laid on, noticing his missing shirt and the curatives glued to his chest. He sat at the tip of the cushion, placing his bare feet on the cold floor.

The small room he was in had only the bed he was on and a small table by its side, but it was randomly adorned with small plants, colored glass decorations and a pile of old books at one corner. This didn’t look like neither his or his brother’s home, and it was too small to be anywhere inside the manor. This also did not look like a cell, or a hostage room. It felt too cozy for that.

Gosh, he thought, placing his head on his hands and massaging his temples, I’m knackered.

Forcing his body to comply with his mind, he stood up on his feet, but it immediately felt weak and fell backwards onto the bed.

“Easy, Red” someone rushed beside him, holding his sides to check if he was okay. “You’re still dizzy from all the pain medication I gave. I must admit, I’m not the best doctor you could find.”

“Hmm?” he grunted, confused when he recognized the voice.

“Baby, you were knocked out and saved by Grundy last night. If he didn’t jump after you, you’d have been smashed by that car, like a smashed potato!Jason.” Y/n explained as her face was becoming clear in his eyes. “And I have to be honest here, after finally seeing your face after this long, I can tell you it’d have been a real waste if all of that had happened.”

When this fell to his ears, his hands shot up to his face, noticing his domino mask gone. 

“Where am I?” he asked, still groggy.

“At my place.” 

“You had the courage to take me to your home?” he questioned, incredulous. Putting her index finger on her lips, she requested. 

“Don’t tell anybody.”

“Wh-what…”

“Relax. Just let me check your bruises now that you’re up.” she cut him, grabbing a pastel yellow bag from the table next to the bed, pushing his arms away and settling herself on his lap.

Not believing what was happening, Jason could only stare at her wide eyed as she removed his hair away from his forehead, and cleaned the cuts on his face with a cotton ball. 

She was uncomfortably close. Dangerously close to him, and he didn’t know how to react. Her face was mere inches from his, and, as she continued to clean his bruises, he could feel her hot breath hitting his face. He had to blink once, or twice, or thrice, to try to recollect himself and to try and push her away from his lap, but she hooked her lean legs tightly around his waist, silently telling him she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t touch me.” he complained, trying to keep his face away from her touch by awkwardly throwing it back.

“How am I supposed to bandage you up if I can’t touch you?” she rolled her eyes, but he could see a smile gracing her face. Her arms on her hips, she finally had a chance to get a proper look at what she was wearing. She had on a gray tank top and jean shorts that barely covered her legs and left her beautiful tights on display for him to see… and touch, as he placed his hand on top of them “involuntarily”.

“Then get off me” he replied through his gritted teeth.

Pissed off, she straightened her back and looked right into his eyes. Jason suddenly felt small as she proceeded to challenge him. 

“Make me.” 

And when she didn’t get a response from him, nor a shake of his head or a noise from his throat, she smirked back at him, going back to tending to his wounds.

Jason stood there, quietly and still, watching as she cared for his wounds with utmost concentration. When she was done cleaning his face and chest, after carefully removing the curatives that had been protecting his scratches there, she fished for some medicine to apply on him. She had put everything on the bed, all at an arm's distance so she wouldn’t need to leave his lap to grab anything until she was done.

He winced when she applied an antibiotic cream on his cuts and he felt the itching starting, but she scolded him to get himself together and let her finish with the rest. When he still showed agony on his face, she blew at the spots and softened his pain.

There, on top of him, she was constantly moving. He could feel her crotch sliding against his own, making his mind go places where it shouldn’t be going right now. His hands started sweating, and he tried to clean them on his pants, before placing them again on her legs. 

“A-hem” he fake coughted, trying to get her attention. She simply shushed him.

Moving on top of him once again, slightly rising herself from his lap and standing with her knees on the bed, her boobs were then leveled with his eyes. He tried to look away, out of respect, after all he was still raised to be a gentleman, but he lost battle to his worst side, it getting control of him as he threw some glances at her cleavage. 

Still on her knees, she lost a bit of balance, almost falling on her back if Jason’s strong hands weren’t at her back ready to steady her back into his lap. A soft thanks left her lips, something that shouldn’t have made his mind go mad, but lord help him, he was going insane.

He was entranced by her. By her beauty, by her kind touch. By her hot breath and the soft smell of coconut shampoo emanating from her hair. He watched her bite her bottom lip in concentration, sometimes switching habits and sucking her cheeks in as she focused on the task at hand. 

“Done.” she announced, smiling at him briefly before taking the medicine bag and organizing the bottles, sprays, tubes and bandages inside.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He couldn’t look away. And he also couldn’t let her go too far, growing needy of her touch and presence. Growing addicted to finally having her this close. His hands pressed tighter around her waist and tights, impeding her from moving any further.

“You can let me go now, Jason.” And the way she pronounced his name. Oh, the way she pronounced his name. It sounded as if an angel sang him the prettiest of lullabies, or as if the devil seductively listed him all of the most delicious things the world had to give. Her plump lips moved and he got hypnotized.

“I want to kiss you.” he stated, without really thinking of what he was doing.

“You’re drunk on the meds.” she joked.

“No” he shook his head, sitting up straight and getting dangerously close to her face. His lips lingering over hers. They stared at each other's eyes like they were both hypnotized by each other. Nah, they were hypnotized. Their eyes were low but never leaving the other, their breaths mixing together.

Placing a hand on her neck, thumb caressing patterns on her skin, Jason tangled his fingers on her hair and pushed her down onto him. Their mouths collided with each other and moved in perfect synchrony, in the wettest of kisses. Her arms wrapped around his neck, but didn’t stay there for long, as she felt the need to have them all over his muscular chest.

His tongue soon begged for entrance, and she allowed him in without any reluctance. 

His hands also roamed her body, desperate to touch her every inch. He drew lines up and down her back, lifting her top all the way to where it reached her bra. He played with its hook as their mouths still danced in the most intense kiss, and unlocked it before she even noticed. He was desperate to take her shirt off, but he didn’t break the kiss. However, hard things had to be done to achieve greatness. 

Finally breaking the kiss, he took her shirt off over her head and tried to do the same with her unhooked bra, but her arms locked on her side stopped him from doing it. Before he had a chance to complain, she closed the gap between their lips again, restarting the fire they had briefly put off.

They didn’t let go of each other. There was no need for space, or air. They were consumed by the other taste, the smell, the touch. Starved, actually. Jason was starved. He didn’t know he craved her this bad until he had her in his arms, until her hands roamed all over his body and her hips gridded against his cock with fast movements. When she broke the kiss for air once more, he pouted his lips and she let out a laugh.

“Easy, boy.” she mocked, but soon threw herself on top of him again, laying him down on the bed, scratching his nude chest with her nails, the pain making his pants feel even tighter. As her hands got lower, they soon got to his waist line, where the tightness was making go crazy, agony climbing up his spine anxiously waiting for his release. She played around with the button of his jeans, teasing his patience, caressing his dick over all that fabric. It felt like torture, just as she liked. She like to torture him so bad, and he always knew it. Her hands were full, his side filling them completely, and they kept working their way up and down, often combining the movements with the tightening of her grasp around it and driving him so close to release without even having his member freed. 

He was so close, gosh, so close. But then she stopped, his eyes instantly opening as he looked after hers, begging her for an explanation. 

“You should rest.” she answered his grunts in complaint, getting off his lap and standing up between his opened legs. He quickly sat up from the bed too, grabbing at the base of her ass, desperately not wanting her to leave him. “I thought you wanted to kill me” she rested her forehead on his, joking at his change of behavior within just a few hours.

“I’m way past my killing days” he said, still out of breath.

She looked him in the eyes once more, staring deep into them. They didn’t hold longing anymore, there was no desire. Instead, her look was soft, warming. He felt safe under it, all his fire suddenly, but not completely, gone. Hooking her bra, she then reached for her shirt he had thrown right behind his back when they were still attached by their mouths. Having to lower herself a little bit to grab it, she provocatively placed her chest right down his nose. Still pumped with desire, Jason kissed the exposed part of her breast, feeling their warmth envelop his wet lips.

“When the effects of the meds are gone” she started, holding his head up by his chin, making him look to her eyes once more. “We can decide if we want to keep playing or not.”

Taking his hands away from her legs, she moved away from him without breaking eye contact. She grabbed a bottle out of the table, taking out of it a small pill. Putting it between her teeth, she walked to Jason, him immediately holding the base of her ass again, and lowered her head so their lips touched one more time. She allowed the pill to drop into his mouth, and as she broke the kiss, he swallowed it alongside all this frustration he could not seem to let off. 

Walking out, she left him alone. 

He dropped on the bed. Head going back to just moments ago, when she was on top of him and he felt… deep. He felt… he felt his consciousness leave his body. He felt his lids falling, too heavy for him to keep open. He felt it all change, from color to black, once again.

“So, you’re alive?” Dick questioned as Jason stood up for his sofa, protecting his eyes from the sunlight.

Jason was confused. So, was that all a dream?

.

[wisteriaiswriting]

𝔸𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕊/𝕆

Words: 310

𝟜𝟚! 𝕄𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕤:

You’re definitely from another dimension, not used to this heroless timeline.

If you leave your suit around him he’ll be interested in it, often pulling apart the mechanical parts to look at.

When you're in his world, he won’t let you go out and play hero, not wanting to lose you as well.

Will keep you safe from anything and / or anyone he doesn’t trust.

If you don’t already match, he’ll make or alter your suit to match in small yet noticeable aspects.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕡𝕠𝕥:

He’ll try to make jokes, but a lot fall short due to never finishing them.

Tries not to injure in battle, instead pausing / stopping you.

He will openly and awkwardly flirt with you, in sight of everyone.

Which definitely makes headlines, and some interesting interviews.

Please don't let him in reach of your suit, he’ll mess with anything possible on it.

𝕁𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕨:

She’s aware that you can care for yourself, not needing her as often.

Please spoil her, let her relax and take away some of her workload.

Whenever you two are in the spider society, she wants you to hang around.

Secretly wants you to carry her around, being cared for and not the carer for once.

Really enjoys being able to have some inside banter inbetween just the two of you.

𝕄𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕝 𝕆'ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕒:

He much prefers a Spiderman S/O, as you’re able to spend more time with and around him.

Is aware that you can stay safe and care for yourself without his help.

Won’t keep you from going on missions, but only sending you on ones he knows you can handle.

Has you on a schedule, keeping you in top shape and healthy.

When either of you are on a mission, either he’s monitoring you or someone else is watching over you.

𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕒 𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕦𝕤:

Definitely acts like your relationship is a game of sorts, constantly having fun.

If it's possible you’ll quickly become her centre of attention.

Throughout any sort of chase she’ll make jokes about spiders, webs and anything similar.

When she learns your identity this allows her to come over whenever she feels like it.

She is somehow aware of any type of fight or villains showing up, so she’ll keep an eye out for you.

[hi-there-buddies]

Just got back from watching Transformers: One

WOW

HEAVY spoilers under cut!:

Ok, the first thing I need to say is this:

If the cybertronians in this movie were humans, and this was a live action film, this movie would be rated R

The level of violence in this movie is something I seldom see in actual live action movies. It was insane

At one point at the end of the film, Megatron RIPS Sentinel in half with his bare hands, and you can SEE the “guts” and wires as you see the light disappear from a bisected Sentinal’s eyes. It’s crazy

There was also a point where Optimus was accidentally shot by Megatron (who was trying to kill Sentinel), and he started falling off a ledge. Megatron then catches him, but you can SEE in his eyes the hatred growing more and more, and then his eyes shoot up at the camera, blood red. He then says something like “I’m done saving you” and LETS OPTIMUS FALL

There was also a bit of an underlying “we can’t kill them, we’ll be as bad as them” point. But it’s not like you think. What Optimus mainly said was “we can’t start off the rebuilding of Iacon with an execution” and I think that is actually pretty sound advice, and makes more sense than “we can’t kill them cause we’ll be just as bad” when they were just murdering people five minutes ago. It also kinda fixes Optimus’ character (comparing it to what happened in Dark of the Moon; another movie where Optimus had the opportunity of killing Sentinel, and he took it).

Overall I think the way they used the theme was pretty good, and they definitely did a good job at making Megatron a hypocrite. At some point after they find out Sentinel is a villain, Megatron says something akin to “I’ll never trust another so called leader again”, and then he basically becomes a leader that demands obedience. His descent in to madness was pretty chilling to watch.

There’s one point where he looks Optimus dead in the eyes and goes “I…Got…It” and it’s fucking horrifying

He is the one who made Starscream’s voice all fucked up in this continuity too, which is crazy because in all the other continuities his voice was just kinda like that, so I was NOT expecting it.

Anyway, great movie.

Had a brilliant structure, and you always knew what the plot was. A lot of movies are struggling with that lately. No scene drags on too long, and the humor is actually pretty good (I love Bumblebee)

Also, Bumblebee did NOT lose his voice, and he also didn’t get renamed to bumblebee, so this actually might be a prequel to the Knightverse (he was also called B-127, which was in the trailers)

I’d give this movie and 8.5 or 9 out of 10, but that might be because I’m a Transformers fan. My sister doesn’t know anything about Transformers, and she gave it an 8/10, which kinda points to another fact: this is an AMAZING starting point for new fans!

Watch it if you haven’t, because I only described some of the movie here! It’s crazy seeing it in theaters

(If you have any questions about the movie, feel free to ask!)

[hereiamforsomereason]

Listen, do I love a good sad ending? Yes, a tragedy, a bittersweet ending, a well written horror, villains winning, heroes losing, you know, all that edgy stuff. I don't believe everything needs to have a happy ending and I think for some stories, a tragic ending just makes more sense. I also love when writers go against the viewer's expectations because it's interesting and can really be impactful if done well. However, I still need Stranger Things to have the happiest, cheesiest, sweetest ending of all time.

No one is allowed to die besides Vecna and some demogorgons. They kill Vecna with the power of love and friendship. The world is saved. Everyone gets their happy ending whatever that may be and no matter what, they all stay friends because they are basically family at this point. Bonus points, if the last scene is everyone hanging out and everyone just being happy. I won't even cringe if the last line is one of them saying "well, we've definitely seen stranger things."

Like make it goofy and funny and sweet, the rest of the season can still be dark and serious without there being any more tragedy. I don't think the ending being happy will take away from that.

I know this has probably already been said but it's so important to me that the show isn't a tragedy. You know why? Because it's a mainstream show about outcasts in the 80s. A show about gay kids, black kids, disabled kids, kids that are considered different just for existing. If you take away the supernatural and the sci-fi elements, at its core, that's what the show is about.

So if the show that from day one has been about being different and being who you are, turns around and kills off half the cast and has either a bittersweet ending or just a plain awful ending just for shock value or because it makes the story more "realistic" (and yes, that includes having Will be rejected by the person he loves and being killed off. El sacrificing herself because she's a superhero and that's what she feels she's supposed to do or Max and Lucas having a tragic love story.) It'd be throwing away everything the show stands for and personally, I think it would be god awful writing.

That kind of ending can be done well but I don't think that's the kind of ending ST needs.

There's been enough tragic stories about minorities in both the past and present. This show has evil crispy undead wizards and giant lanky mind controlling spiders, I don't think poc/queer/disabled/female/etc characters being happy and alive is gonna make the show unrealistic.

[cartoondrawer]

Something I have been working on the past 3 days..it uh..well..is for the AU comic..

Chris and Martin had gotten attacked by Indigo, and Chris seems to be doing okay for the most part but is losing sleep over protecting his brother..that being said Martin had almost died from being slashed in the stomach by one of Indigos henchwoman.

The rest of the gang had been looking for more information on Indigo. Unfortunately they found some stuff they wish they didn’t see. Aviva feels like she’s the one to blame after sending the Kratt brothers to find out what Indigo was doing. Chris is a bit pissed at Aviva, but forgives her later on.

Onto the villains..

Before she started her “company” , she joined the villain team. Although Paisley and Rex wasn’t there at the time..she left because one of Zach’s bots “malfunctioned” and attacked her.

…

That’s what Zach told them. Only a single person knows the truth as they were there..

Paisley and Rex had heard of Indigo when they joined, but didn’t care much..except for Rex..he was definitely nervous when they told them he knows something?

I feel embarrassed posting these and I don’t know why. 😭 But I need a bit of time to start working on the comic! 😊