#smelly clark

[reginageorgesgirlfriend3020]

Caitlin Clark as your girlfriend headcannons (Part 39)

She loves cuddling naked with you especially before sleeping while watching a movie

You live the way she smells except for when she smells

You held into her in a tight hug as she held you it was after basketball practice

You looked up at her. “Baby. I love the way you smell”. You said.

Caitlin started giggling. “Are you saying I smell?” She asked

“Sometimes you do”. You said

“Well, let me get extra sweaty and I’ll cuddle you and be all extra smelly for you”. She said.

You let go of her and you went to lay down because you were tired from working.

And Caitlin crawled on the bed as she is still sweaty from playing basketball and hasn’t showered yet. And she cuddled herself on you.

”Ewwww you’re gonna get your sweat on me!!” You said

She laughed. And raised her arms over your head. “Smell my arm pit! Am I smelly now?” She said. She laughed

You squirmed as you tried to cover your nose.

”Now kiss me!” Said Cc

”Never!” You said

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and tried to put it on you

And you wrestled you from doing so. “Okay! Okay! I’ll kiss you!” You said

And you gave her a kiss on the lips and she kissss you back

She loves waking up with you in her arms

And seeing you still sleeping sometimes she watches you sleep for a bit

And she will smile and hold you a little closer to her

[nanamisflowerfield]

First Meeting (Dick Grayson x f!Reader)

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A journalist meets the one and only Nightwing in a creepy warehouse. But they didn't know that this was their first of many encounters.

︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶

Blüdhaven. The one city that the vigilante named Nightwing called his home. But he wasn’t the only one who sees the city in New Jersey their home. Many people did that, including (y/n) (l/n). It was her new home. Leaving behind the bustling and bright streets of Metropolis, she had begun a new journey and life an investigative journalist in her new home. It had been a year since she moved to the city, and her life was now-.

“- Super boring.” You mumbled, holding your phone to your ear, while hearing your best friend chuckle on the other side.

“Ohh, come on, (y/n). I’m sure that Blüdhaven is pretty interesting. You have been living there for a year now and the way I know you, you probably haven’t seen the best of the city!” You rolled your (e/c) eyes at her. “Have you already seen Nightwing?”

You could only sigh at her question. Nightwing? You really hoped to see that idiot, but the dark-haired vigilante was like a damn ninja and always disappeared, once you were nearby! Even though you only needed one interview with the masked hero!

“Who cares about him? The better question is; is Clark late again for your little date?” You smirked, walking through the dark alley and past smelly trash bins, as a rat ran tried to eat something out of there.

You heard a loud “No!” and some shuffling, knowing that it surely was Lois’ husband Clark, who tried to put on his smoking as fast he could. The Clark Kent. A great journalist, best friend and also Superman. Yes, you knew that already. Not because they told you their big secret, but because you were pretty good at your job and figured it out by yourself and when you put the proof onto the table in front of your best friends and the sweetest couple on earth, they told you everything.

Your footsteps echoed in the silence of the street, engulfing your body with its darkness, while you walked near to the warehouse. The place that might help you with your next article, as you heard that there might be some information about a street gang, called Crimson Vipers. “Alright, Lois… Have fun at your date night, greet Supes from me and don’t do any funny business, if you know what I mean.” – “Yeah, yeah. And could you do me a favor and babysit little Jon next week?”

You told her that you might have some time, before you clicked on the red button on your phone and turning on the flashlight app. Time to investigate!

Your hand slowly turned the doorknob down, sneaking into the big and dark warehouse. At first, it looked like many other ones. The moonlight revealed neglected pallets and boxes. Only you and some abandoned objects were lying here. That was a good sign. A very good one. So, you could easily get some information about the gang!

Turning towards a corner, you found a door, opened it and saw some plans scattered around the room. Some were hanging on the walls, others on the ground. Perfect.

The door behind you closed with a soft click, as you walked through the room, trying to take as many pictures as you could, until you heard some loud voices behind the door. Probably some Crimson Vipers members?

Your heart raised, as you ducked down, trying to find something, anything to defend yourself, until your eyes gazed over a crowbar. That could work…

Tightly you held the dirty and rusty crowbar in your hands, hiding behind some crates while your breath shallow as the voices grew louder. You heard your heart beating loud and fast. Gulping your fear down, you looked towards the door, waiting for the right moment for you to beat them up.

The door creaked open, revealing a group of masked and buff individuals. One laughed sinister at the joke his friend and colleague did, sending shivers down your spine. But you tried to forget your fear. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, as you clenched the crowbar tighter and tighter, trying to figure out a plan. If they won’t see you, you could perhaps climb up the boxes and go through the window, but they were pretty high up.

But when three members suddenly gathered up and stood around in silent, one spoke up, pointing towards a map and explaining their next plan. Realizing the situation, you thought that this was your chance. Now or never!

You can gather some valuable information, which might make a sensational article! Your heart pounded louder, as you snapped some pictures and even tried to record it all. You needed to capture every single detail.

Your instincts told you to dash away and flee as fast you could! If only Superman could be here. He could easily save you, but you were now in Blüdhaven. “Damn…” You mumbled to yourself, preparing your nerves to make a quick exit.

But the gods might have heard your prayers as they left the room, making you sigh out of happiness and relief. But you still had one problem.

How should you leave this place? There were probably some gang members out there. The moment your feet slowly moved away from the crates; you heard a window above you open. Your (e/c) closed. You hoped that they didn’t find you and if one might grab you, you surely will beat them up with your new weapon.

And that’s what you did, when a hand grabbed your wrist. With your eyes closed, you swung your weapon in the direction of the stranger, narrowly missing them. “Woah, woah, calm down.” You heard the person say.

Your eyes widen. Was it not one of the Crimson Vipers?

No.

The person in front of you, who stood there gracefully in unmistakable dark clothes and blue emblem on his chest told you who it was.

“Nightwing.”

The vigilante’s hands went up in surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you, okay?” He tried to calm you down. But you ignored his words, as you asked him rushed; “Why are you here?”

The dark-haired man only rubbed his neck, shaking his head with a small chuckle. “Well, I’m here to, you know, stop these bad guys. But what are you doing here?” – “Uhhh… Investigating?”

“Hey! I forgot something, I will be back in a sec’!” You heard a voice behind the closed door and as it opened with a loud bang, the criminal looked at your direction. The bald guy grabbed his gun, pointed it towards Nightwing, who looked at him surprised. The vigilante probably tried to find a plan to safe you, while kicking their butts, but before you could hear the gun shooting, you stepped in front of Nightwing, crowbar in hand and adrenaline rushing your body.

Your hand swung once again and this time, you didn’t miss. The buff guy fell down and (e/c) orbs moved back to the tall guy behind you.

“Uh… Thanks.” He whispered, disarming the guy on the ground and turned his head towards you. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s pretty dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” You scoffed. “I just saved your masked butt with a crowbar.” You smirked at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest with a proudly, while Nightwing rolled his eyes. You swore that he coughed to hide his little laughter just now. He genuinely was amused by you.

But before any of you could say anything, you heard loud voices again. The criminals! How could you forget them so easily again? They might wonder where they friend was and why it takes him so long to get something back. Damn it!

Their voices growing louder, as they ran towards the door. Nightwing stood up, pulling you towards the crates. “You need to go. Now.” He whispered, glancing towards the window. You silently nodded, getting out of the window with Nightwing’s help, who guided you with ease. His movements were fluid, every step calculated. He was amazing.

When you reached the window, your hands gripped the ledge, while the handsome man boosted you up. “Go.”

You looked down to him, hearing the loud shouts of the criminals that were now aware of your presence. “Aw, come on, guys. Do you really want to hurt a lady? Focus on me.” He turns to them and with a swift kick, he engaged the bad guys, giving you the opportunity to hoist yourself up and through the opening.

When you took deep breathes in and out on the fire stairs, you looked through the large windows, seeing Nightwing holding his own against the criminals. His movements were mesmerizing, as if he dances around the criminals, kicking and punching them several times, as they fell to the ground. You took one picture of the fight, before climbing down the bright fire stairs. Sirens of the police wailed in the distance, signaling their approach. Their lights bright, just like the blue emblem of the chest of the Blüdhaven’s vigilante.

Back at your apartment, you found yourself running towards your desk, typing the newest article. and thanks to your bravery and skills, you found out that The Crimson Vipers' failed operation had become a headline. Your editor was very pleased to even see a picture of Nightwing and the city? Well, the city might have been a little bit safer now.

And you weren’t the only one who flipped through the pages of the Blüdhaven Bulletin. A young man’s ocean-blue eyes widened at a headline that read, “Nightwing Thwarts Crimson Vipers' Plot.” Curiosity piqued, as he read on and discover that the article was written by a (y/n) (l/n). That must have been the brave stranger he saved that night.

The same day, you found yourself at a crime scene, hoping to gather more information for your next big story. You approached the crime scene, your camera dangling around your neck. A police officer seemed to recognize you, as he left his colleagues alone with three handcuffed criminals that had tried to rob a bank.

“You know… I read an article about Nightwing and the Crimson Vipers. Impressive work.” You glanced towards the officer, who leaned on the wall next to you, while you were a bit surprised at the dark-haired man. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. That must have been you, huh? You seem like a courageous person.”

You chuckled at the stranger’s words. Yes. Some might call you like that and others called you an idiot. “I’m just doing my job.”

“So… You are back for more? Trying to solve the crime before we do?” He teased, his blue eyes twinkling. You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Someone's got to keep you guys on your toes.” He chuckled. “Well, keep up the good work. Maybe one day, we'll get to see an exclusive Nightwing interview.”

Dick's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he straightened up. “Keep it up. Blüdhaven needs more journalists like you.”

As he walked away, you couldn't help but smile. Maybe Blüdhaven wasn't as boring as you thought. And perhaps, the masked vigilante and the police officer were both part of a wonderful story waiting to unfold.

🔖 Taglist:

Masterlist ❀ DC Comics Masterlist ✿ City Lights and Secret Meetings Masterlist ❀ navigation

Reblogs, plot ideas, comments and a ko-fi are appreciated. ( ‘ω’ ) © nanamisflowerfield. Do not repost, rewrite, plagiarize my work.

[pixelated-glitter]

firebringer?

YIPPEEE OKAY CASTING MY LOVELY MOOTS IN FIREBRINGER

Jemilla- me (LET A GIRL DREAM OKAY💔💔💔💔)

Zazzalil- @m0niquegibeau MY POOKIE🙁🙁🙁 /P ALSO WHAT A DUO AMIRIGHT (ALSO YOU SAID THIS WAS YOUR DREAM ROLE FOR FB SO HERE YOU GO🫶)

Schwoopsie- @lovelautski i just.. yeah. vibes. sCHWOOPSIE

Tiblyn- @nerdyratz just so silly like how could i not

Emberly- @summonustwice EMBERLYYYY. /ref /q (also vibes)

Ducker- @yourworsest Duck. Thats it (vibes yet again)

Smelly-Balls- I dont know :(

Grunt- @musicalfan78 (IDK WHAT YOUR PRNS ARE BUT GRUNT) ((ALSO VIBES))

Clark (he deserves to be there too)- @hallytall12022002 probably vibes too

[tis-i-the-lesbian]

If the main Smosh cast* did Starkid’s Firebringer, here’s who I think would play who :)

Zazzalil: Angela

Jemilla: Amanda

Keeri: Courtney

Schwoopsie: Arasha

Chorn: Tommy

Emberly: Spencer

Tiblyn: Olivia

Molag: Keith

Grunt: Shayne

Ducker: Chanse

Smelly Balls: Ian

Clark: Anthony

[butmakeitgayblog]

Thinking about preteen Clarke really does give me Vada Sultenfuss vibes.

Popsicle smiles. Stealing money from the cookie jar. Tomboy. Rough and tumble. Fiercely loyal to her bestie, who she punches smelly mean boys for.

They have their first practice kiss together underneath the willow tree by the lake I’m not crying you’re crying.

Clarke with her crazy and general 😠 attitude to everyone sans maaaybe Lexa, and even she still gets the brunt of sassy Clarke herself plenty of times on any given day. But it's softened by the fact that Clarke also thinks Lexa's kinda the coolest person she knows (besides herself) (and their teacher, which Lexa finds barf worthy and has no qualms saying so) even tho everyone else seems to be too stupid to get it.

When Lexa's not being a total dork that is (or so Clarke regularly reminds her)

She's the not-so-secret wild child of the two and has been since they were running around each other's houses in diapers. She also very much thinks of herself as the more mature and grown up of the two despite the incredibly insignificant fact that she's actually a year and 3 months younger 😤

She's the reason their knees are always dirty and why their elbows are always littered with scrapes, and she's kinda sorta totally responsible for 3 out of the 4 times Lexa's glasses have been broken, but dammit they're ride or die and nobody's convincing either of them that they could be happy any other way. They stand up for each other and console each other on bad days, and every once in a while butt heads to the point where one of them storms off in a huff and stomps their way back home. But eventually, one or the other will give in and bring their favorite snack as a peace offering and then they're right back at it again.

And they do practice their first kiss together because they do everything together, why should that be different from anything else. It's all very innocent. Little pecks and giggly smooches, terrible reenactments of the spiderman kiss with each of them taking turns dangling from the tree limb upside down.

Clarke always seeks Lexa's hand out to hold when they take walks and will literally shove people aside to sit next to her even if they'd already called dibs. Cuz Lexa may be a dork sometimes, but she's Clarke's dork. Go get your own 😠

[homenecromancer]

Another old science fiction story, this one by Andre Norton.

Why share this story: this brisk little adventure is subtly unusual for its time — the protagonist is a disabled woman (accompanied by her cat), but the focus is kept away from these aspects of her character. I hadn’t read any Andre Norton before diving into Project Gutenberg, and I’ve found her a rewarding, fascinating author: for decades Norton forged a path as a woman writing science fiction, balancing her own interests with the need to not alienate the reader base. When this story was published in 1953, the rise of a kind of science fiction fandom dominated by women was still some years in the future. (This is not really the place for the discussion, but in a nutshell: science fiction fandom existed from at least the late 1920s, certainly the 1930s, but I don’t think it was particularly dominated by one gender — publishers thought that young men bought more science fiction magazines. This kind of fandom operated differently from the sort we on Tumblr are more familiar with, which has a big heritage from the Star Trek-y side of science fiction fandom, and was mostly run by women. The two are closely related, and tend to blend into one another.)

If you like this story, I recommend the novel Catseye, also by Norton, which contains a lot more cat. And other animals.

“All Cats Are Grey” — Andre Norton.

[read on Project Gutenberg]

Steena of the spaceways—that sounds just like a corny title for one of the Stellar-Vedo spreads. I ought to know, I’ve tried my hand at writing enough of them. Only this Steena was no glamour babe. She was as colorless as a Lunar plant—even the hair netted down to her skull had a sort of grayish cast and I never saw her but once draped in anything but a shapeless and baggy gray space-all.

Steena was strictly background stuff and that is where she mostly spent her free hours—in the smelly smoky background corners of any stellar-port dive frequented by free spacers. If you really looked for her you could spot her—just sitting there listening to the talk—listening and remembering. She didn’t open her own mouth often. But when she did spacers had learned to listen. And the lucky few who heard her rare spoken words—these will never forget Steena.

She drifted from port to port. Being an expert operator on the big calculators she found jobs wherever she cared to stay for a time. And she came to be something like the master-minded machines she tended—smooth, gray, without much personality of her own.

But it was Steena who told Bub Nelson about the Jovan moon-rites—and her warning saved Bub’s life six months later. It was Steena who identified the piece of stone Keene Clark was passing around a table one night, rightly calling it unworked Slitite. That started a rush which made ten fortunes overnight for men who were down to their last jets. And, last of all, she cracked the case of the Empress of Mars.

All the boys who had profited by her queer store of knowledge and her photographic memory tried at one time or another to balance the scales. But she wouldn’t take so much as a cup of Canal water at their expense, let alone the credits they tried to push on her. Bub Nelson was the only one who got around her refusal. It was he who brought her Bat.

About a year after the Jovan affair he walked into the Free Fall one night and dumped Bat down on her table. Bat looked at Steena and growled. She looked calmly back at him and nodded once. From then on they traveled together—the thin gray woman and the big gray tom-cat. Bat learned to know the inside of more stellar bars than even most spacers visit in their lifetimes. He developed a liking for Vernal juice, drank it neat and quick, right out of a glass. And he was always at home on any table where Steena elected to drop him.

This is really the story of Steena, Bat, Cliff Moran and the Empress of Mars, a story which is already a legend of the spaceways. And it’s a damn good story too. I ought to know, having framed the first version of it myself.

For I was there, right in the Rigel Royal, when it all began on the night that Cliff Moran blew in, looking lower than an antman’s belly and twice as nasty. He’d had a spell of luck foul enough to twist a man into a slug-snake and we all knew that there was an attachment out for his ship. Cliff had fought his way up from the back courts of Venaport. Lose his ship and he’d slip back there—to rot. He was at the snarling stage that night when he picked out a table for himself and set out to drink away his troubles.

However, just as the first bottle arrived, so did a visitor. Steena came out of her corner, Bat curled around her shoulders stole-wise, his favorite mode of travel. She crossed over and dropped down without invitation at Cliff’s side. That shook him out of his sulks. Because Steena never chose company when she could be alone. If one of the man-stones on Ganymede had come stumping in, it wouldn’t have made more of us look out of the corners of our eyes.

She stretched out one long-fingered hand and set aside the bottle he had ordered and said only one thing, “It’s about time for the Empress of Mars to appear again.”

Cliff scowled and bit his lip. He was tough, tough as jet lining—you have to be granite inside and out to struggle up from Venaport to a ship command. But we could guess what was running through his mind at that moment. The Empress of Mars was just about the biggest prize a spacer could aim for. But in the fifty years she had been following her queer derelict orbit through space many men had tried to bring her in—and none had succeeded.

A pleasure-ship carrying untold wealth, she had been mysteriously abandoned in space by passengers and crew, none of whom had ever been seen or heard of again. At intervals thereafter she had been sighted, even boarded. Those who ventured into her either vanished or returned swiftly without any believable explanation of what they had seen—wanting only to get away from her as quickly as possible. But the man who could bring her in—or even strip her clean in space—that man would win the jackpot.

“All right!” Cliff slammed his fist down on the table. “I’ll try even that!”

Steena looked at him, much as she must have looked at Bat the day Bub Nelson brought him to her, and nodded. That was all I saw. The rest of the story came to me in pieces, months later and in another port half the System away.

Cliff took off that night. He was afraid to risk waiting—with a writ out that could pull the ship from under him. And it wasn’t until he was in space that he discovered his passengers—Steena and Bat. We’ll never know what happened then. I’m betting that Steena made no explanation at all. She wouldn’t.

It was the first time she had decided to cash in on her own tip and she was there—that was all. Maybe that point weighed with Cliff, maybe he just didn’t care. Anyway the three were together when they sighted the Empress riding, her dead-lights gleaming, a ghost ship in night space.

She must have been an eerie sight because her other lights were on too, in addition to the red warnings at her nose. She seemed alive, a Flying Dutchman of space. Cliff worked his ship skillfully alongside and had no trouble in snapping magnetic lines to her lock. Some minutes later the three of them passed into her. There was still air in her cabins and corridors. Air that bore a faint corrupt taint which set Bat to sniffing greedily and could be picked up even by the less sensitive human nostrils.

Cliff headed straight for the control cabin but Steena and Bat went prowling. Closed doors were a challenge to both of them and Steena opened each as she passed, taking a quick look at what lay within. The fifth door opened on a room which no woman could leave without further investigation.

I don’t know who had been housed there when the Empress left port on her last lengthy cruise. Anyone really curious can check back on the old photo-reg cards. But there was a lavish display of silks trailing out of two travel kits on the floor, a dressing table crowded with crystal and jeweled containers, along with other lures for the female which drew Steena in. She was standing in front of the dressing table when she glanced into the mirror—glanced into it and froze.

Over her right shoulder she could see the spider-silk cover on the bed. Right in the middle of that sheer, gossamer expanse was a sparkling heap of gems, the dumped contents of some jewel case. Bat had jumped to the foot of the bed and flattened out as cats will, watching those gems, watching them and—something else!

Steena put out her hand blindly and caught up the nearest bottle. As she unstoppered it she watched the mirrored bed. A gemmed bracelet rose from the pile, rose in the air and tinkled its siren song. It was as if an idle hand played…. Bat spat almost noiselessly. But he did not retreat. Bat had not yet decided his course.

She put down the bottle. Then she did something which perhaps few of the men she had listened to through the years could have done. She moved without hurry or sign of disturbance on a tour about the room. And, although she approached the bed she did not touch the jewels. She could not force herself to that. It took her five minutes to play out her innocence and unconcern. Then it was Bat who decided the issue.

He leaped from the bed and escorted something to the door, remaining a careful distance behind. Then he mewed loudly twice. Steena followed him and opened the door wider.

Bat went straight on down the corridor, as intent as a hound on the warmest of scents. Steena strolled behind him, holding her pace to the unhurried gait of an explorer. What sped before them both was invisible to her but Bat was never baffled by it.

They must have gone into the control cabin almost on the heels of the unseen—if the unseen had heels, which there was good reason to doubt—for Bat crouched just within the doorway and refused to move on. Steena looked down the length of the instrument panels and officers’ station-seats to where Cliff Moran worked. On the heavy carpet her boots made no sound and he did not glance up but sat humming through set teeth as he tested the tardy and reluctant responses to buttons which had not been pushed in years.

To human eyes they were alone in the cabin. But Bat still followed a moving something with his gaze. And it was something which he had at last made up his mind to distrust and dislike. For now he took a step or two forward and spat—his loathing made plain by every raised hair along his spine. And in that same moment Steena saw a flicker—a flicker of vague outline against Cliff’s hunched shoulders as if the invisible one had crossed the space between them.

But why had it been revealed against Cliff and not against the back of one of the seats or against the panels, the walls of the corridor or the cover of the bed where it had reclined and played with its loot? What could Bat see?

The storehouse memory that had served Steena so well through the years clicked open a half-forgotten door. With one swift motion she tore loose her spaceall and flung the baggy garment across the back of the nearest seat.

Bat was snarling now, emitting the throaty rising cry that was his hunting song. But he was edging back, back toward Steena’s feet, shrinking from something he could not fight but which he faced defiantly. If he could draw it after him, past that dangling spaceall…. He had to—it was their only chance.

“What the….” Cliff had come out of his seat and was staring at them.

What he saw must have been weird enough. Steena, bare-armed and shouldered, her usually stiffly-netted hair falling wildly down her back, Steena watching empty space with narrowed eyes and set mouth, calculating a single wild chance. Bat, crouched on his belly, retreating from thin air step by step and wailing like a demon.

“Toss me your blaster.” Steena gave the order calmly—as if they still sat at their table in the Rigel Royal.

And as quietly Cliff obeyed. She caught the small weapon out of the air with a steady hand—caught and leveled it.

“Stay just where you are!” she warned. “Back, Bat, bring it back!”

With a last throat-splitting screech of rage and hate, Bat twisted to safety between her boots. She pressed with thumb and forefinger, firing at the spacealls. The material turned to powdery flakes of ash—except for certain bits which still flapped from the scorched seat—as if something had protected them from the force of the blast. Bat sprang straight up in the air with a scream that tore their ears.

“What…?” began Cliff again.

Steena made a warning motion with her left hand. “Wait!”

She was still tense, still watching Bat. The cat dashed madly around the cabin twice, running crazily with white-ringed eyes and flecks of foam on his muzzle. Then he stopped abruptly in the doorway, stopped and looked back over his shoulder for a long silent moment. He sniffed delicately.

Steena and Cliff could smell it too now, a thick oily stench which was not the usual odor left by an exploding blaster-shell.

Bat came back, treading daintily across the carpet, almost on the tips of his paws. He raised his head as he passed Steena and then he went confidently beyond to sniff, to sniff and spit twice at the unburned strips of the spaceall. Having thus paid his respects to the late enemy he sat down calmly and set to washing his fur with deliberation. Steena sighed once and dropped into the navigator’s seat.

“Maybe now you’ll tell me what in the hell’s happened?” Cliff exploded as he took the blaster out of her hand.

“Gray,” she said dazedly, “it must have been gray—or I couldn’t have seen it like that. I’m colorblind, you see. I can see only shades of gray—my whole world is gray. Like Bat’s—his world is gray too—all gray. But he’s been compensated for he can see above and below our range of color vibrations and—apparently—so can I!”

Her voice quavered and she raised her chin with a new air Cliff had never seen before—a sort of proud acceptance. She pushed back her wandering hair, but she made no move to imprison it under the heavy net again.

“That is why I saw the thing when it crossed between us. Against your spaceall it was another shade of gray—an outline. So I put out mine and waited for it to show against that—it was our only chance, Cliff.

“It was curious at first, I think, and it knew we couldn’t see it—which is why it waited to attack. But when Bat’s actions gave it away it moved. So I waited to see that flicker against the spaceall and then I let him have it. It’s really very simple….”

Cliff laughed a bit shakily. “But what was this gray thing? I don’t get it.”

“I think it was what made the Empress a derelict. Something out of space, maybe, or from another world somewhere.” She waved her hands. “It’s invisible because it’s a color beyond our range of sight. It must have stayed in here all these years. And it kills—it must—when its curiosity is satisfied.” Swiftly she described the scene in the cabin and the strange behavior of the gem pile which had betrayed the creature to her.

Cliff did not return his blaster to its holder. “Any more of them on board, d’you think?” He didn’t look pleased at the prospect.

Steena turned to Bat. He was paying particular attention to the space between two front toes in the process of a complete bath. “I don’t think so. But Bat will tell us if there are. He can see them clearly, I believe.”

But there weren’t any more and two weeks later Cliff, Steena and Bat brought the Empress into the Lunar quarantine station. And that is the end of Steena’s story because, as we have been told, happy marriages need no chronicles. And Steena had found someone who knew of her gray world and did not find it too hard to share with her—someone besides Bat. It turned out to be a real love match.

The last time I saw her she was wrapped in a flame-red cloak from the looms of Rigel and wore a fortune in Jovan rubies blazing on her wrists. Cliff was flipping a three-figure credit bill to a waiter. And Bat had a row of Vernal juice glasses set up before him. Just a little family party out on the town.

[cascowriteswords]

Doorstep from the prompt list, please!!!

It’s the 3rd bag of flaming shit Lexa has found on her doorstep in the same number of days.

She’d fallen for it the first time, quickly stamping the burning paper out only to find herself with an unfortunately smelly situation on her hands (er, feet?) and a ruined pair of house slippers. A quick and angry text was immediately shot off to Clarke in response, an image of her ruined shoes following. I really didn’t think you would resort to middle-school warfare tactics, Clarke. 

It had been met with unapologetic indignance. Raven is a free agent, Lexa. I can’t control how she reacts to her best friend being betrayed.

Lexa hadn’t answered, because Clarke was right and there was nothing else she could really say. She had betrayed Clarke, but she couldn’t apologize for what she had done when she believed it was the right thing to do. So even if she personally thinks Raven’s reaction is/was overkill, it doesn’t surprise her that she would come to Clarke’s defense so fiercely, and in the most annoying way possible. 

Lexa sighs and pulls the small fire extinguisher she normally keeps in the kitchen out from beside the front door, the space which has become its unlikely new home. She puts out the fire and then sweeps the bag and its contents into a dustpan, dumping it outside so as not to make her entire house smell like literal burning shit. 

When she goes to bed that evening it’s in a cold bed and a quiet room, no warm body tucked up against her or endearing quiet snores that Clarke swears she doesn’t make. 

I had to do it, I had to do it, she tells herself over and over again until she falls asleep. 

Somehow it doesn’t make her feel any better. 

xxx 

It happens again the next evening like clockwork. Lexa is sitting in the living room watching reruns of SVU when her doorbell rings. She sighs and clenches her jaw, teeth grinding audibly as she grits them and stands up. She knows there’s no point in trying to catch Raven in the act; she’s already long gone, and what would she do anyways? All that there is to do is clean up the mess she’s left and try to enjoy another evening spent painfully alone after more than two years of spending nearly every night hanging out with Clarke. 

I had to do it, I had to do it, the mantra repeats in the back of her mind. 

She grabs the fire extinguisher. 

Opens the door. 

But there is no flaming bag of feces on her doorstep. 

There is Clarke. 

Lexa stares for long enough that her eyes start to go dry, forcing a cartoon-like slow blink that makes Clarke smirk. She says, “Hey,” and Lexa blinks again. She’s been thinking about what she might say if Clarke reached out to her and now that it’s happening she can’t form even a single word. Classic. 

“This is silly,” Clarke says, evidently not needing Lexa to say anything anyways. “I miss you. I want to come home. Plus I think Lincoln is getting tired of having Raven and me crashing at his and O’s place. It’s not that big of a house you know.”

“I miss you too,” Lexa says, finally finding her voice. “The door has always been open, Clarke. I want you to come home.”

“Okay, good,” Clarke says, smiling and looking relieved. “So just say you’re sorry and we can pretend none of this ever happened.”

Lexa balks. “Clarke, I can’t. You know I can’t,” she says sadly, assuming this means Clarke will end up returning to Lincoln’s instead of walking through the front door with her. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Not technically Lexa, no you didn’t. But morally? Not even a twinge of regret for completely turning on me and stabbing me in the back?”

I had to do it, I had to do it. “I couldn’t show favoritism, Clarke. It goes against everything I stand for.”

“You didn’t have to show favoritism!” Clarke exclaims. Lexa’s eyes widen a tad at the raised voice and Clarke visibly gathers herself, chest rising as she takes a deep breath. “All you had to do was not hit me with a +4 card when I was about to finally win a game of Uno. I never win, Lexa, and you couldn’t just let me have it this once.”

“It wouldn’t have been fair,” Lexa repeats for the umpteenth time. Deflating because it seems like they’re just going round and round with this conversation versus finding any middle ground. 

“Lexa,” Clarke says, “Sometimes when you’re playing a harmless game with your friends and the woman you love, who makes you cum harder than you ever have in your life - your words, not mine - you can sacrifice just a smidgen of fairness. Don’t you think?” Lexa is about to argue that no, she can’t, until Clarke suddenly looks up at her through her eyelashes and takes a small step forward, the fingertips of one of her hands landing on Lexa’s hip. “I’ve really been missing you,” Clarke says. Her thumb finds the small strip of exposed skin between Lexa’s jeans sweatpants and her t-shirt and rubs a small circle. Lexa gulps, eyes darting down to Clarke’s mouth just as she’s licking her lips. 

“O-okay. You’re right and I’m sorry,” Lexa says, and the words only taste bitter for a split second because Clarke steps closer to her with those huge hungry blue eyes and she loses all train of thought. 

“Thank god,” Clarke says, both of her hands now on Lexa’s hips as she pushes her backward into the house. “That couch was killing my back, I’m too old for that shit. Now come remind me how comfortable our bed is, please,” she says, taking Lexa by the hand and tugging her towards the bedroom. 

Lexa is happy to oblige, abandoned morals all but forgotten. 

xxx 

An hour later, as they lay in a panting and sweaty heap diagonally across the mattress, the doorbell rings. Clarke raises a brow in question, and Lexa groans. “Can you please text Raven and tell her we’ve kissed and made up.”

“We did a lot more than kiss, babe,” Clarke laughs. “But yes. Texting her right now.”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

A Yellow Ribbon

Fandom: DC Comics, Young Justice, Flashfam, Superfam

Summary: Conner's been best friends with Bart ever since they met at the carnival when they were children. The problem is that Bart can't remember meeting Conner that night. But Thad does...

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Clark Kent, Conner Kent, Lois Lane, Bart Allen, Thaddeus Thawne, Don Allen, Meloni Allen, Jonathan "Pa" Kent, Martha Kent, Max Crandall

Relationships: KonBart, KonThad, Clois, MelonixDon, Ma/Pa Kent

Additional Tags: No Powers AU, Mistaken Identity, Possibly Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Twins, Lies, Stolen Moments, Unconventional Love Triangles, Misunderstandings, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, Family Dynamics, Family Bonding, Best Friends, Secret Crush, Autistic Bart Allen, Autistic Thad Thawne, Thaddeus Thawne Gets a Hug, Conner Kent-centric, Bisexual Conner Kent, Conner Kent Needs a Hug, Third Person POV, Hurt Clark Kent, Boys in Love, Friendship/Love, Farm/Ranch AU, Farmboy Conner Kent, Grandparents and Grandchildren, Unconventional Families, Unconventional Relationship, Romance, Light Angst, Strangers to Lovers, Cyrano, Jewish Superfam

Chapter Ten: Leukapheresis

“Stinky,” Bart rasped. Thad shushed him as he tapped on the glass. By this time, they were ten, and Bart’s health was worse than ever. “What are you doing-?”

“Be quiet. Your doctor said it was okay to tell you. I wanted to explain it because you would’ve said no to her. You aren’t gonna say no to me,” Thad whispered. Bart climbed out of bed and staggered to the chair by the door. Thad stared at the ground. He hadn’t seen Bart in months and had to explain things before he was too emotional to talk. “I’m gonna do the stem cell donation-.”

“I told you I wouldn’t-.”

“Shut up… I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for myself because I need my brother back. Don’t you wanna come home?” Thad questioned.

Bart trembled as he thought about Thad’s words. He wanted to say no, but his pain muddled his thoughts. “What did Mom and Dad say?” Bart asked as he shut his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t make it through another trip to the emergency room.

“They said it was up to me. It’s not dangerous… I read about it. I asked questions. I know this procedure inside and out,” Thad explained, “All you need to do is say okay. Let me keep my promise to you.”

Bart ran a hand over his face as tears fell from his eyes. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” Bart whimpered. Thad pressed his hand to the glass, shaking his head as he cried with his twin. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Thad whispered. And he smiled. “Your doctor’s coming… She’s gonna ask you if you’ll take my stem cells. And you better say yes. That’s how you can pay me back.”

Bart wiped his eyes and nodded. “I don’t know if I can pay you back this time,” Bart whimpered.

“You’ll find a way,” Thad replied with a gentle smile.

“I’m so tired, Stink,” Bart cried.

“I know, Smelly… Hang in there. I’m counting on you,” Thad whispered as he waved goodbye.

*

After five days' worth of injections, Thad came in for his first round of leukapheresis. Meloni sat with him in his bed. “Does it hurt?” Meloni asked. Thad shook his head. “Do you have to go potty?”

“Mom,” Thad whispered as his cheeks went rosy. “No, I’m fine. Is Smelly awake?” Meloni shook her head as she turned the TV down.

“Bart’s so sleepy lately, sweetheart. I can check with Dad. Let’s see,” Meloni whispered as she grabbed the walkie-talkie off the bed. “Is anybody awake in Starbase six? Over.”

“Mom, none of us say—.”

“Starbase six to Admiral Mom. I’m taking the afternoon watch for Commander Dad. Is Captain Thad awake? Over,” Bart whispered. Meloni giggled.

“Bart? Are you watching TV? Over,” Thad asked.

Meloni relaxed her shoulders for the first time since the donation process started. “No, my eyes are tired. Thad, are you okay? Does it hurt? Over,” Bart questioned.

“Nope. It’s not bad at all. It’s weird. That’s all,” Thad whispered, “Don’t worry about me. In a few weeks, you’ll be all better. Are you tired? Over.”

“A little. Are you? Over,” Bart replied.

Thad hadn’t slept in two days, but no one else knew. “I’ll be okay. Over,” Thad whispered.

“I could read to you,” Bart offered, “And before you tell me I don’t have to, I want to read to you. Dad gave me your bag by accident. You’re reading The Secret Garden. Do you want me to start from the beginning? Over.”

“Okay. Over,” Thad smiled. Bart started reading gently with a darkness in his tone that amused Thad. Thad shut his eyes, listening to Bart’s voice. He listened until he started feeling strange. His eyes shot open, and he whimpered.

“What’s wrong, Starshine?” Meloni questioned.

Thad shook his head, chewing his lip and stomaching the discomfort. The tingling in his legs turned to cramping, and he tried to hum the pain away. “Thaddeus, what is it?” Meloni asked as she stepped outside to grab a nurse. “Please—.”

“My legs hurt,” Thad mumbled.

The nurse nodded as she gently patted Thad on his ankle. “We can help—.”

“We can’t stop the—.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get some calcium in while we do the treatment… Okay?” the nurse reassured him. Meloni grabbed his left leg at the calf and smoothed it. “It’s alright… Just—. Focus on Bart’s voice,” Meloni stammered. She wanted to cry, but there was nowhere for her to retreat. She had to be there with Thad.

“Are you still awake, Stink? Over,” Bart asked.

Meloni took the walkie-talkie and held it up for Thad to speak. “Uh-huh,” Thad answered. He took a breath and broke down. “Over.”

“Thad, you don’t have to do this for me. I’ve been around this long… I’ll make it until we figure something else out. This is too much. Over,” Bart whispered.

“No, it’s not. No—. You don’t have that—. You’re suffering,” Thad cried, “I can do this for you. It’s the only thing I can do. I can’t do anything else… Over.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just—. If I don’t make it, can you forgive yourself? Please. Over,” Bart whispered into the walkie-talkie.

“Smelly, don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You promised you’d let me try,” Thad sobbed, “I can do it. Please, don’t take this from me. I can’t sit here and do nothing—.”

Meloni let out a sob. “Oh god. I’m sorry… I need to get out of here. I need to—.” Meloni gave the nurse the walkie-talkie and fled the room. She stood in the hallway, facing the wall, and held her fists to her chest. Barry could see her from the end of the hall.

“Meloni?” Barry called as he approached her. Meloni ignored him, sobbing as she tried to talk herself down. “Mel, it’s me, Barry. It’s Dad.”

“I’m completely useless here. I can’t make either of my sons feel better. I can’t even—. I couldn’t make a medical decision for either of them—. I can’t—. Dad, I can’t breathe,” Meloni gasped for air between sentences. Barry opened his arms, and she walked into his warm embrace.

“How’s Spike?” Barry questioned.

“His legs hurt, and he’s—. Thad feels responsible for shouldering all of this. Dad, I can’t—. There’s nothing in my power. There’s nothing I can do,” Meloni answered, “I’m their mom.”

“Yeah… And you’re a great mom. Fantastic. The worst of it is almost over. Thad is a match for Bart, and all we have to do now is wait,” Barry replied, “We’re gonna wait. Okay, Jellybean?” Barry kissed the top of her head. Meloni nodded. Meloni caught her breath, relaxing as Barry spoke. Meloni hadn’t spoken to her father since she married Don, but Barry filled that space for her. He was a father to her in every sense of the word. Barry didn’t mind it. It gave him a distraction from his worries about Thad and Bart.

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

hay here's a trouble ask: you know how brothers do stuff together like play, pal around and get into trouble together? Well imagine if Jon, Chris and Conner all did something that they thought at first would be fun but now are reaping the consequences that they have sown by getting into trouble with both Clark and what do you think it is they would be doing that would get them in trouble and how much trouble will they get into with their Clark and Lois?

Probably…..take the SuperCycle for a joy ride inside the Fortress of Solitude’s hologram and holograph simulator room, making it seem like it the real thing.

Too bad though, the SuperCycle, since it has a mind of its own, drove out of that room and straight into one of the captured time machine’s built by Luthor, sending the three Kryptonians back and forward across space and time itself, each location they stop at being one crazy silly adventure after another, only finally being able to return home after thanks to intervention from the Justice League Incarnate (the JLA of the Multiverse)

For their punishments;

Conner: He’d more or less does all of the chores, even the smelly ones, around both Kent farms for the next two months

Chris: Since he was the most innocent of them out trying to warm the other two to not do it in the first place, he relatively gets it easy by organizing all of the clean laundry loads for the next two weeks

Jon: Grounded from TV, Video games and from patrols for the entire month

@spider-jaysart @we-cross-universe-king-relate @theredheaded-stuff

[shop-korea]

CHRISTIE's - INTERNATIONAL - REAL - ESTATE -

CHATEAU - IN - BRITTANY - LOCATED - IN - FR -

FINISTERE - NEAR - WATERS - 6 HRS - DRIVE -

FR - PARIS - THEIR - CAPITAL - THE - CITY OF -

ETERNAL - LOVE - CITY - OF - LIGHTS - THIS -

CHATEAU - $27,173,913 USD - BUYING - AT -

TAXES - INCLUDED - $30 MILLION - TRUE -

WE - WILL - B - DOING - GBC - FILMS - IN -

THIS - BEAUTIFUL - CHATEAU - AS - YOU -

KNOW - I'M - BUYING - NCT - REMOVING -

FR CONTRACTS - BUYING - ITZY - AESPA -

MANY STARS - JOON GI - IU - SE-KYUNG -

SHIN - JI CHANG WOOK - SO - HERE THE -

CHATEAU - IN - BRITTANY - ONLY -

7 BEDROOMS

16 ROOMS

BUILDING - MOSO BAMBOO - BUNGALOWS

3 FLOORS - 4 - NCT - BOYS

3 FLOORS - 4 - ITZY - AESPA

THINKING - ROMANCE - COMEDY -

DRAMA - MUSICAL - ADVENTURE -

GBC - FILMS - PRESENTS -

'JULIET'

LEADS - RENJUN - NCT - 5'7 FT

MAYBE - RENJUN - ZIAOJUN - WOULD -

CONSIDER - ACUPUNCTURE - & LASER -

CHANGE - OF - HEIGHTS - LIKE - MARK -

CANADA - I'M - GOING - 2 B - 5'9 FT

LEAD - ME - CAILEY BAILEY

IU - SE-KYUNG SHIN - SO EUN KIM

GUAN ZIAOTONG - LUHAN - ALSO

LEE JOON GI - JI CHANG WOOK

THINKING -

ME - AND - RENJUN - GREW - UP - AS - KIDS

BOTH - BALLET - SINGING - DANCING - JAZZ

MUSICAL - THEATRE

'ROMEO - AND - JULIET' - THAT - MAGICAL

GIRL - AT - YOUTUBE - AS - WE - BOTH HIM

AND - ME - GREW - UP - WATCHING - HER

BUT - NOT - SO - TRAGIC - THE - ENDING

AS - ME - AND - RENJUN - OUR - FAVORITE

IS - MGM - MUSICALS - THE - SCRIPT - OF

MALE - AND - FEMALE - LEADS - WE YES

LOVED - THAT - FR - SCARLET O'HARA - &

CLARK KENT - 'DATING - JUDY' - OGEE - &

JUDY - WE - JUST - LOVED - LEARNING -

THE - LINES - OF - FAMOUS - COUPLES -

MGM - MUSICALS - AMERICAN CLASSICS -

OUR - FAVORITE - IS - JULIET - WHAT - A -

LOVELY - AS - I - WOULD - B - JULIET - AS -

REN - DOES - ROMEO - BUT - ABOVE THE -

BACKGROUND - 4 - GBC - FILMS - AS - WE -

EXPLORE - THE - ROMANCES - OF - YES -

EUROPE - DON JUAN - THE - BALLETS 2 -

AS - WE - MAKE - A - THEATRE - OUT OF -

ONE - OF - THE - ROOMS - AS - WE DIVE -

INTO - THE - BEAUTY - OF - MANY -

HISTORICAL - ROMANCES - NOT -

FORGETTING - MGM - MUSICALS -

GBC - FILMS - PRESENTS -

'JULIET'

AS - ME - CAILEY BAILEY - AND - RENJUN -

NCT DREAM - AS - KIDS - GROWING UP AS -

WE - RE-ENACTED - WORLD - FAMOUS -

COUPLES - BRINGING - MANY - FILMS 2 -

LIFE - THE - ROMANCE - OF - EUROPE IS -

THIS - CHATEAU - LOOK - AT - THE VIEW -

NCT - ITZY - AESPA - STARS - OF - KOREA -

ENJOYING - THIS - CHATEAU - INSTEAD -

OF - THEIR - EXPENSIVE - HOTELS - AS -

EVERYONE - WANTS - 2 - MEET - K POP -

BTS - NCT - ITZY - AESPA - MORE - LIKE -

PEACE - AND - QUIET - ENJOYING - YES -

CHINESE - JAPANESE - KOREAN - FOOD -

WITH - MY - CHEFS - FR - BEIJING CHINA -

GIVING - US - THE - BEST - PEKING DUCK -

LEAVING - THE - MURDERS - ROBBERIES -

OF - KOREA - LEAVING - THE - EXTREME -

HATRED - AND - ATTACKS - OF - UGLY -

SMELLY - POOR - AMERICANS - THEY -

DO - ANYTHING - 4 - THE - DREAM OF -

MARRYING - A - RICH - PERSON - NOT -

NECESSARILY - FR - THEIR - BUSINESS -

MAKING - MONEY - BUT - AMAZON APP -

$1.29 BILLION - PER - DAY - WE - NOW -

CAN - BUY - CASTLES - IN - FRANCE 2 -

FINALLY - EXPERIENCE - SOME PEACE -

PREPARING - 2 - LEAVE - LIBRARY BUT -

I'LL - ADD - MORE - 2 - THAT - STORY -

JESUS - IS - LORD

BIBLE - 'MONEY - ANSWERS ALL' - FR

[brokecorviknight]

DLC:

Starship:

Bug - Ledian

Roach - Masquerain

Overqueen - Shuckle

Pincer - Drapion

Bugette Bugginton - Scoliopede

Veeto Mosquito - Wormadam (Plant Cloak)

Neato Mosquito - Wormadam (Sand Cloak)

Sweetheart Mosquito- Wormadam (Trash Cloak)

February - Dewgong

Krayonder - Klawf

Specs - Noctowl

Tootsie Noodles - Exeggutor

Mega Girl - Mawile

Junior - Vileplume

Taz - Octillary

Up - Mantine

Trail to Oregon:

Jack Bauer - Beware

Slippery When Wet - Palafin

Mouthface - Oinkologne

Craphole - Bouffalant

Titty Mitty - Sudowoodo

Mc Doon - Cacturne

Cleatus Jones - Brambleghast

Lobster - Crawdaunt

Buffalo family - Bouffalant

Shopkeeper - Stunfisk

Firebringer:

Zazzalil - Flareon

Jemilla - Wishiwashi

Ducker - Golduck

Smelly Balls - Garbodor

Emberly - Tangrowth

Swhoopsie - Mr. Mime

Grunt - Grafaiai

Tiblyn - Farfetch’d

Chorn - Minior

Keeri - Ludicolo

Molag - Torterra

Snarl - Chien-Pao

Clark Baxtresser - Magnezone

Claire - Swellow

Trunkell - Mamoswine

For the wait, here’s a collection of some of my favorite reasons for the partner Pokémon.

Up and Taz have Mantine and Octillery because of the symbiotic relationship between Octillery’s first stage Remoraid and Mantine with it literally being under the other’s wing

Jemilla has Wishiwashi because she’s scared to be alone and feels a lot more connected with her tribe and wants to protect them.

Craphole has a Bouffalant because truama

Tootsie gets Exeggutor because look at those vacant faces. They both look derpy

Overqueen a a Shuckle (Don’t fuckle with Shuckle)

Molag with Torterra as a reference to the world turtle

Titty Mitty has Sudowoodo because it’s funny

[mybermudiana]

To all the judges in Bermuda, namely Juan Wolffe, Tyrone Chin, (family Court judges) Narinder Hargun,, (chief justice)

Christopher Clarke, Anthony Smellie and Elizabeth Gloster, (court of appeal judges) Bermuda is in the state it’s in, because of the corrupt practices of people like YOU and the Bermuda judiciary on the whole. YOU CANT SILENCE THE TRUTH FOREVER People have long lost faith in justice starting from the assassination of the governor and […]To all the judges in Bermuda, namely Juan Wolffe, Tyrone…

[pintobordeaux]

Pintooooooo, your tags on my safe flight ficccccccc 😭😭😭 Now I wanna write a series of all the ways Clark has tried to carry Bruce 🥺

I’m sure Bruce INSISTED they try a ton of hilariously impractical holds just to avoid the “bridal style” carry

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

I strongly believe there isn’t a straight character in Firebringer. Literally none of them are straight. Prove me wrong, I dare you. 

[chartedrights]

Jemilla/Zazzalil is SSHA/STEM solidarity

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Lessons Learned

Masterlist

Another prequel chapter. (After ‘Won’t Give Up’)

Warnings: noncon, housewife kink, fear, postpartum depression, abuse, scary Clark

Even though it’s a drabble, I do appreciate any comments and feedback you have. Thanks for reading!

👗👗👗

Clark stands above you as you cower. You knew your mistake even as you thought it and let it overtake you. As you let your anger erupt and you knocked away the tray of food. Even as your stomach screamed from the days of neglect, you couldn’t help it.

The sudden flash of red makes you exclaim and you feel the heat glare around you. You cover your eyes and wilt as his anger dampens his breath, heaving from his chest and grinding to a growl. You quiver on your knees, waiting for the end.

“Why can’t you just be good?” He snarls and you gasp as his foot meets your middle, your ribs nearly cracking with the force that sends you onto your side.

“Why won’t you let me go?” You croak as you hug your stomach, “please…”

He shakes his head as you look at him through the wall of tears, the littered remnants of rice and peas all around you. His hands ball and he heaves, pacing and gripping his hips in his displeasure. He crosses his arms as he stops and looks at you.

“I chose you,” he says bluntly.

You sob and roll onto your back in futility, kicking the floor as you shout. Not a word, just pure terror. Why you? It’s the question you’ve been drowning in.

“Please just let me go, please,” you tremble with tears, “please–”

He snarls and storms towards you. You sit up and push yourself back into the corner, shielding yourself with one arm as you wait for the first blow. You expect him to hit you. To kick. Even use his eyes to burn the life from your flesh.

He doesn’t. His tread scrapes on the floor as his shadow looms over you.

“Take your clothes off.”

Your lip quivers as you look up at him, “what?”

“Take them off. I’m done waiting on you.”

You stare at him and your stomach shrivels with dread. You drop your chin and he pokes you harshly with his boot. You whimper and close your eyes, biting down as you sit up and tug at the hem of your blouse, stained and smelly from the days in this forsaken trap.

“Why are you doing this?” You sniffle at the floor.

“No more questions. No more talking,” he bends and grabs your throat, pushing you back so you gape at him. “You are going to be a good wife and this is how you learn. This is what you’ve chosen.”

You pout at him and he lets you go. He steps away and the buckle of his belt makes you wince. You strip off your shirt as you’re blinded by your flowing fear. You stand shakily and pull apart your fly, shimmying free of your pants.

“First lesson,” he utters, “no teeth.”