#//But at least I can have a bit of fun trying out Furi

[dutybcrne]

Taking Furi out for a stroll with her new bodyguards!

[badaziraphaletakes]

Making jokes and laughing about a frightening experience does NOT mean someone does not appreciate the gravity of a situation. Quite the contrary, in fact - it is a very, very common way of processing trauma.

In fact, I can't offhand think of any traumatized people I know who haven't make a joke about their traumatic experience/s. It's a deeply normal, human thing to do.

(And please don't try to tell me Aziraphale seeing Crowley be kidnapped and then being hit over the head with a crowbar (?), violently kidnapped himself, and dragged to hell, and then seeing the awful people and place Crowley had been stuck with for the past 100k+ years, witnessing the usher being murdered in cold blood before his eyes, and wondering if the same thing might happen to him, and/or if he hell was going to discover his and Crowley's secret, not to mention seeing for probably the first time what exactly the thermos of holy water would have done to Crowley if he'd used it, wasn't traumatic. First of all, that just is. Second of all, look at his irises. He was probably having a bit of fun - not surprising considering how relieved he was that the holy water didn't work on him and hell appeared not to have caught onto the deception; of course you'd be a bit giddy - but he was also terrified and scarred and angry and disgusted and I don't even know what else.)

There's a reason the rates of depression found among comedians are off-the-charts. And it's not because humor causes depression (we know it actually alleviates it). It's because traumatized people and people with mental illness (I mean, the Venn diagram between those groups is basically a circle, but y'know) gravitate to humor. It is one of the most powerful weapons we have to ward off despair. Humor can save us when nothing else can.

It can also stop you from wanting to punch someone when you're really, really angry. I propose that we can see smoldering contempt and fury and outrage and disgust on Aziraphale's face at the end of the scene, hidden just under that cheeky grin. It's some masterful acting work by Tennant, so many emotions going on at the same time.

Also - may I point out that Crowley loved Aziraphale's jokes about the whole thing. Aziraphale knows how to cheer Crowley up. A big part of the reason he was so sarcastic in hell was for Crowley, to score some points against the people who have been oppressing him for millennia without him ever being able to answer back. (And also he was acting that way because he figured it was how Crowley would act and he had to be convincing. If he'd gone in there and hadn't been 100% confidence and swagger, hell would have noticed something was off. They're paranoid, and Beelzebub, at least, is smart. No flies on that one. Heh, heh. Did Aziraphale overplay it a bit? Maybe. But the deception worked, so clearly his approach was correct overall.)

And finally: Don't tell me Crowley wasn't having a little fun with all this, too. His laugh on the bench was sincere:

He could arguably also be accused of overplaying it a bit with the neck cracking (which I don't blame him for; I would have done the same - but I don't see anyone getting mad at him for having a little fun the way they did with Azi):

And he LOVED getting to breathe fire at Gabriel & Co.

Which is exactly as it should be. :)

[idkwhatever580]

Her pt. 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: natasha meets y/n while undercover at a soup kitchen. What happens when hydra gets mixed in?

Warnings ⚠️: cursing, some angst, mentions of blood and gunshot, getting beat up? Tell me if there’s any more!!

Pronouns: she/her

A/N: guys this one is really long 😭 idk how many words tho. Idk how to find that out. Make sure to tell me if you like it and follow if you want to see my next post. (Idk when it will go up but I think I’m gonna do a part two)-> https://www.tumblr.com/idkwhatever580/749925326055948288/her-pt-2

Natasha’s Pov

Ugh. This is so stupid. I hate this room.

Fury thinks it is a good idea for us to stay in a stupid rinky dink motel to keep our identities safe.

I think it’s bullshit. The least he can give us is a days inn. But noooo we gotta stay in a one star motel that stinks and has horrible water pressure.

I look over at Clint and glare. He smirks at me and says

“Why the long face?”

I sneer and say

“You know exactly why. We’re stuck in this dump for another month!”

He chuckles and says

“We’ve already been here a month. What’s one more? I honestly think this place is growing on me”

I roll my eyes and say

“Of course you would end up liking this shithole.”

He comes over and nudges my shoulder and says

“Hey! Think about it this way. You get to see her for another month.”

I narrow my eyes at him when he puts on a cheeky grin.

I scoff and brush it off like normal. But Clint knows. He knows me. He knows that I like her.

Her.

I could think about her all day if I tried.

You see, Clint and I are on an undercover mission to investigate a possible hydra meeting place. We’ve been eating at this soup kitchen for weeks. Acting like we’re homeless so we can get info. Normally I would hate this job. And I do don’t get me wrong, but there’s this one volunteer. Her name is y/n.

Y/n.

Doesn’t that just roll right off your tongue? I wish she’d roll right on my tongue.

I shake my head to void myself of these thoughts. But it’s all in vain. She is so pretty.

Her smile is bright. Albeit her teeth might not be perfect but I think it makes her even better. She makes this whole thing bearable.

Her sweet face, and quirky remarks make me almost blush.

Almost.

Clint snaps in front of my face and I look up at him and he says

“Did you hear a single thing I said?”

I shake my head even though I want to say yes. Whatever he said could have been important.

He sighs and says

“Well. I’m going to take a shower. And try to see if the water actually heats up this time. If not. I’ll still be in there a while. I gotta take a shit. So if you need to use the bathroom I suggest you go now or forever hold your peace”

I chuckle a bit and shake my head and he grabs his towel and says

“Alright. Have fun thinking about y/n”

He goes off and I lie back on the bed. It creaks but I don’t care anymore. All I can think about is her.

I don’t know who she is. She seems well off. But she’s not mean. No. What mean person would willingly volunteer at a soup kitchen?

She is so tender. Always making sure all the homeless people get their fair share and if she thinks someone is looking a little skinny one day she’ll give them a bit more.

She always gives me a bit more. Then says she put too much. Clint thinks it’s just to see me a bit more. I think she’s just a bit tired by the time I get in line.

Her.

God. It’s only been a month and her beauty floods my senses. I remember the first time she hugged me.

She smelled like oranges and cupcakes.

She always stayed and sat with all the homeless people. Making sure to update herself on their lives.

Clint and I stay longer though. So she ends up talking to me. He kind of acts closed off. So that he can always be on guard.

He knows my senses are being let down by her. And he’s okay with it. I wish I wasn’t.

She talks of her life a lot. And I sometimes think I see her look at my lips but I shake it away and try to forget that telling myself I imagined it.

By the time I’m done day dreaming of her today, Clint comes out and says

“One. Do NOT go in there. And two. Let’s get ready to go”

I sigh and smile a bit. I know I’m gonna get to see her. I put on my ‘homeless attire’ and we leave the building.

We walk into the soup kitchen along with some of the others who are nice. I look around and my eyes zero in on y/n’s normal spot. I see her and she sees me at the same time

She smiles excitedly and waves at all of us but her eyes linger on me. I wave back shyly.

We go up and she portions our food while asking how everyone’s day has been.

When it’s my turn she portions my food and hands it to me and then says

“Oh! I think I gave you a bit too much. Here let me fix it.”

She brushes her hand across mine and for the first time. I blush.

I blush

Crap. I blushed.

Thankfully she doesn’t notice. But I know.

She hands it back to me and says “there you go sweets”

I smile shyly but I’m screaming inside. I thank y/n and scurry off to my undesignated designated spot. Clint sits by me and says

“Did you?”

I slap him in the arm and say

“Shut up Barton or I’ll kill you”

He giggles and hops away from me to eat his food.

After a while y/n comes up to me and says

“Hey girl! I finally finished the portions. Wanna talk?”

She always asks if I want to talk and I always nod my head. She sits down and start yapping while I smile and listen to it all. At some point she says

“My mom and I always had this deal. That if I ever sent a message to her with a lowercase x at the end, that means I am in danger. Thank goodness I never had to use it though.”

She quickly moves on to another topic just as fast as she got to the previous. I try to keep up with her.

As the soup kitchen closes for the day around 3 and we all leave. I leave with a smile on my face.

God she’s so pretty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up in bed and smile. I look over at my alarm clock and realize I have only about thirty minutes left to get ready for the soup kitchen.

I hop out of bed and Clint smirks and says

“You’ve never slept that long. You good?”

I roll my eyes and say

“Fuck off”

We quickly leave for the soup kitchen and I walk in and look for y/n. My eyebrows furrow when she’s not in her normal spot.

I go over to Calvin, the soup kitchen owner and say

“Hey. Is y/n here today?”

He shakes his head and says

“No. Surprisingly she sent me a text this morning saying she’s not gonna make it. Look”

Calvin turns his phone towards me and I read the message.

Y/n Y/l/n

Hey! I’m so sorry this is last minute but I can’t come in today. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow! x

My eyes widen and I say

“Oh. Okay. Thanks Calvin.”

I quickly walk to Clint who is eagerly waiting in line for his food. I whisper to him.

“We need to go. Y/n is in danger.”

He looks at me confused and says

“What? You heard Calvin. He said she said she was fine.”

I shake my head and only now does Clint realize I am being serious.

“Aww but I just got to the front of the line”

Clint whines and pouts and I say

“If I let you grab this you better get a to go box. And hurry”

In a stern voice. He nods his head and gets his food quickly.

We head back to the motel. I pull out my emergency bag and grab the laptop. I’m only supposed to go online in emergencies and I dictate this as one.

I explain to Clint what is wrong and he nods his head in agreement. Y/n has never missed a day of the soup kitchen. Even when she was so tired she looked dead.

I quickly power it on and start looking into her socials.

It’s a wonder I haven’t looked her up until now. It’s actually a wonder that I haven’t even heard of her. She’s popular.

She’s a famous artist. Actress and Singer/songwriter. Her name is Y/n y/m/n y/l/n. She’s 24. Only three years younger than me. She acts in some really popular movies. Of course I never have watched them. Or else I would have probably recognized her. She writes and sings a bit. But not much.

I start digging deeper. I look at her most recent posts and I see that she posted on Instagram about the same time that she sent the message to Calvin.

I read the post and it’s a cute picture of her. From yesterday. That’s the outfit she wore and she took a quick selfie in it.

She added a paragraph and I scour it intensely.

Hey guys! I know I don’t do this a lot but I whant to come on heere and thank you for your dedication tol me. I’m so excited to have hit fifty milliopn follmowers on Instageram. It’sh truly an hyonor to be lovedd by so rmany of youa. xoxo x

I see how she has a bunch of misspelled words and I put two and two together. The misspellings put together make out a sentence.

Help me hydra x

I look back at Clint and he says

“Damn. That was easy. She’s smart.”

All the comments are either fawning over her or bullying her for having so many misspellings but I know. She’s communicating to me. To anyone who notices. And I am the person right now.

Thankfully, the hydra people are fucking stupid. And I’m highly trained in coding. So I am able to track her phone easily.

I pinpoint it at the soup kitchen. And then Clint grabs my shoulder and says.

“The back room. Y/n always talked about Calvin chilling in a back room that she caught a glimpse of once. She said it looked scary.”

I widen my eyes and my shoulders tense up say

“You think they’re stupid enough to keep her there?”

He nods his head and I shake mine and say

“Well. There’s no harm in trying. And we might get our mission done faster if we’re right.”

I quickly put on my suit as Clint puts his on in the bathroom. He walks up with his bow and arrow at the ready and he says.

“You ready?”

I nod my head stiffly and we hop in the run down car that we are only allowed to use in emergencies. Once again we both dictate this an emergency.

Clint drives as I map out a plan outloud.

“Okay. So we’re gonna split up. You go in the front. I’ll go in the back. See what we can find. I know our mission is to get intel but if y/n doesn’t make it out alive I’m gonna burn the whole city down.”

Clint chuckles a bit with his signature smile on and I raise my eyebrow and say

“What?”

He shakes his head and says,

“Well, it’s just- you really like this girl huh? I mean burning the city down is a pretty big thing to do. And that’s kind of odd for you. I didn’t think you’d be the type.”

I scoff and cross my arms and say

“We need to focus on the mission. And not the fact that I may or may not be down bad.”

He chuckles once more and then pulls into a spot away from the soup kitchen.

I run to the back and Clint runs to the front once we solidify our plan and then we both easily break in. The soup kitchen is usually open in case there is a homeless person who desperately needs shelter. Like if there’s a storm or something. Thankfully though Clint tells me through comms that there’s no one inside.

“I’m in”

I say when I pick the lock. I frown when I realize that this is gonna be an easy feat. I know not to let my guard down. Just in case.

I hear a crackle when the comms come on and Clint says,

“Hey nat… you’re gonna want to see this”

I put my finger on my earpiece and say,

“Did you find y/n?”

“No, but I found the intel we were definitely looking for. And a lot more.”

I frown and say,

“Okay put it on a drive then come find me. I’m in the west wing. Call a quinjet to pick us up.”

——————————————————————————

Nobody’s pov

Clint downloads the files to a usb drive and he kind of freezes for a moment as he sees the files of horrifying victims flow into it. There’s footsteps headed his way and he pulls out his arrows and prepares to shoot someone.

One set of footsteps quickly becomes about four and something he can quite pin he takes a breath prepared to fight.

The doors open so fast he doesn’t even have time to blink before he is shooting his arrows. He quickly downs four of them but he knows there’s a fifth.

He slowly looks around the area they came in and moves around the desk only to find a shaking ball of a human. He squats down and says

“Y/n?”

So softly she might not have heard it. She snaps her head up and says

“Cliff?”

She sniffles when she says his code name and he holds his hand out for her and says.

“It’s Clint. I know this is confusing and scary but we’ve got to find Natasha and get you out of here before anything else happens okay?”

She nods her head and says

“Is Natalie Natasha?”

Clint nods his head and presses his earpiece to tell Natasha that they’re done.

Natasha huffs and says

“Wow you just have to take all the credit huh?”

Clint giggles a bit and then grabs the full usb drive and starts walking out carefully. He looks back at y/n and says

“Are you coming or not?”

She is shaking and says,

“Uh. I- I think I can’t walk”

Clint finally realizes that she has a bullet in her thigh and it’s bleeding a bit but thankfully not enough to kill her. At least for now. He sighs and says,

“Alright. I’m gonna pick you up and we’re gonna fly to New York for a bit to get you healed.”

She nods her head and we head off.

Once Clint gets everyone on the quinjet y/n passes out.

“Fuck”

——————————————————————————

Y/n’s pov

I wake up in a hospital bed. I open my eyes a bit just to close them immediately. You’d think that they would turn the lights down or something.

I groan a bit and someone is at my side. I don’t even want to see who it is. I just want to get back to my home.

Which is what got me into this situation in the first place.

——————————————————————————

(Kind of flashback?)

I walked out of the soup kitchen. Everyone had left and I locked the door. I decided to walk there today so I started my trek back home. And then I realized I left my phone. So I went back and unlocked the door.

Calvin was in there. I assume he is just restocking or something and I say hi and asked if he has seen my phone.

He dangles it in front of my face and then puts a gun to my head.

Shit

He says I need to make a text to send to him so that nobody from the soup kitchen worries about me and then make a post so that my fans don’t think anything of my absence.

At this point. I probably won’t be making it out.

Yes I’m famous. And yes I have a lot of caring fans.

But nobody knows me well enough to even think of me. And by the time someone does. I’ll probably be dead.

He walks me to the back room that I’ve only seen once. Damn. I knew this was sketch.

His grip on my hands is so tight.

I didn’t even realize I have tears streaming down my face until he says

“Quit your whimpering. If you get us caught you’re dead”

I look up at him and say

“Us? There’s more?”

He scoffs and says

“Of course there’s more of us. Hydra doesn’t do loners. We’re not dumb enough. Now shut up or I’ll kill you and everyone else you’ve ever loved. Including your little Natalie”

That shut me up real quick.

Fuck my life.

He throws me in a cell and beats me up. I have so many cuts and bruises already.

He left me about an hour ago and now I’m just laying here on the concrete. By my calculations the soup kitchen will open in about 8 hours. Hopefully Natalie notices I’m gone.

She notices everything.

I know she’s homeless and I’m not but part of me wants to take her with me. Give her a new life.

Make her mine.

But she doesn’t like me like that. And that wouldn’t be fair to the other homeless people who have been here even longer.

Gran says I’m head over heels and I should court her. But she’s also a bit crazy.

But then again pops says she likes me back. And although pops is like never wrong, there’s always a first time for everything. I’m not so sure though.

God how am I thinking of her at a time like this? I’m actually daydreaming about a silly little (not so little) crush of mine while my life is at stake. Well, I have nothing else to do. So thinking about her it is.

Her

She’s so beautiful. Even when she has dirt all over her and her clothes look like they need more than just a little stitching and washing.

Natalie

It’s a pretty name but it honestly doesn’t fit her quite right. I just don’t know what other name would though.

Meh. I’m probably just being weird.

By the time I am finished thinking about her I fall asleep and I wake up and calculate it is already morning. Thank god. My calculations are confirmed when one of the guards brought me food for some reason. I ask him

“What time is it?”

He says,

“I’m not supposed to talk to you but it’s 10:46 am”

I nod my head and thank him.

I scarf the food down so I can hopefully get as much energy before they take it away from me. Maybe I’ll be able to stay alive longer.

After I’m finished Calvin walks in and says

“What do you know about Natalie?”

I frown and say

“Why?”

“You’re very close to her. And i want info on her. If you tell me everything you know I’ll let you go”

I consider my options. But clearly they want her info for something. I don’t want her to be in danger. She’s strong yes. But she’s also homeless. Nobody to care for her. And I don’t want her to die on my watch. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if one of my favorite people died because of me. Hoe selfish would that be.

So I say the bare minimum.

“I don’t actually know much about her. I usually do all the talking.”

He kicks me. Ouch.

“I think her favorite color is red. And her favorite food is whatever I cook. At least that’s what she says.”

Another kick. Ow.

Calvin gets a bit mad and says.

“The soup kitchen is about to open. I’m gonna go get the food prepared and you’re going to think about every little thing she’s ever told you. And about that cliff dude too.”

I glare at him and say

“He never talks. You think I know anything? I’m just a stupid girl.”

He sneers and says

“If you don’t come up with anything good you better kiss your little girlfriend goodbye.”

I frown and curl into a ball as he leaves.

I mumble

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

What can I find that will seem plausible that isn’t true about her.

——————————————————————————

Time jump to after soup kitchen closes and Calvin comes back.

“Tell me everything you know bitch”

I spit at him and say

“I don’t know anything about them”

He gets really angry at that and he kicks me in the head.

I’m shaking really bad already. That’s gonna hurt way worse later. If I make it to later.

After more and more berating he finally has enough and pulls out a gun. I cry and sob and say

“Pl- please no. Calvin you’re better than this! It’s okay I won’t tell anyone! I promise just let me go. Please”

I beg but he doesn’t give in. He points the gun at me and shoots.

It hits me in my thigh and I scream. I scream and I scream and he says

“Shut up bitch. Nobody can hear you. They won’t hear you when you scream.”

I cry but I quiet down. Clearly there’s no point in using my voice. I’m just gonna die anyways.

Suddenly there’s a guard running to Calvin and he whispers something to him. Calvin looks at me and says

“Get up bitch. You’re coming with us”

Three more guards come and pick me up and start marching me away from whatever it is they’re scared of. They open a door and then I fall on the ground. They dropped me for some reason but I don’t care. I curl up into a ball and then a soft voice calls my name.

I look up and say

“Cliff?”

——————————————————————————

And that’s how I ended up here.

I’m in a hospital bed. Somewhere. Probably safe.

I finally open my eyes and see Natalie. Well. Natasha.

That name fits her better. Now I know why I felt that way. She’s still so pretty.

But she’s in a black catsuit. It shows off her curves. I look away because I don’t want to objectify her or anything.

She smiles and says

“You’re awake”

I can tell that she wants to say something else but doesn’t know if she can.

I look at her and say.

“Yeah. What happened?”

“Well. You obviously know you were kidnapped by hydra.”

I nod my head and don’t let her finish. I’m clearly hurt when I say

“Why did you lie to me?”

She sighs and says.

“I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. I lied because I am an avenger. We’re in New York City at the avengers tower. I can take you home as soon as you’re cleared. But for now I’m going to explain okay?”

I nod my head and let her speak.

“Since I am an avenger and a highly ranked spy, I sometimes have to go on missions undercover. My name is Natasha romanoff. My alias’ are Natalie rushman, black widow and others. I was recently undercover with my friend and coworker Clint Barton. His alias’ are cliff barren and Hawkeye.”

She pauses and then continues

“We were looking to find intel. We had a hint that hydra, the people that took you, were there. Thankfully you were able to send a message out before they took you. They’re dumb. So I tracked you the second I knew you were in danger.”

I frown and say

“So you lied about not knowing who I was?”

She shook her head and says

“I only found out who you were after you sent that message. Because I looked you up on my emergency computer. So no. I didn’t lie about that. Y/n you are very brave and strong. Most people wouldn’t have made it out of there. Most people didn’t.”

I nod my head and say

“So. How long have I been out?”

“About a day and a half. Clint and I went to the soup kitchen the past two days to make sure everyone was okay. It’s under new management already. She’s nice. Her name is Mary. We cleared out hydra and everything and everyone at the soup kitchen is okay.”

I nod my head and say

“That’s good.”

I frown and say

“What now?”

She sighs and sits down and says

“Well. You have a few options after you’re cleared. Continue on with life and forget all about us. Or, we can create a new safe soup kitchen and you can start creating houses for the homeless. Give them new opportunities. Get some of them into rehab. Follow your dream. Fully paid of course, courtesy of Tony Stark and SHEILD considering you helped us get one of the biggest bouts of information in a very short amount of time.”

My eyes light up and I say

“Wait… you… you listened to me when I was talking?”

Natasha nods her head and says

“I don’t know if you noticed but I notice everything. When you talked about your dreams of retiring as an actress to help the needy, it was so moving. It’s a good dream. And I want to help you achieve it.”

I sit up carefully and say

“I’m so excited I could just kiss you!”

I realize what I said and then say

“Oh shit. I didn’t- I don’t- I didn’t mean that”

Natasha says

“Really? Because I would have done it if you did mean it.”

I widen my eyes and point at her a little dumbfounded and say

“You- you wanna- I-l”

She smirks and walks up to my hospital bed and leans into me. She stops just before to silently ask permission and I nod my head.

She presses her lips softly into mine and they’re softer than clouds. She pulls away softly and I giggle like a school girl and say

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Natasha raises her eyebrow and says

“Even when I was covered in dirt and smelled like shit?”

I shrug my shoulders and say

“I think it adds to your charm. You’re a cutie”

We hear a chuckle from the doorway and Clint walks in. He smirks and says

“I don’t think anyone has ever called Natasha romanoff a cutie and made it out alive.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and says

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody called me anything”

I giggle and say.

“Natasha?”

She immediately looks at me and I say

“Do you think I can really do that homeless shelter?”

She nods her head and says

“I know you can.”

I smile realizing a whole new chapter of my life is about to start. And it’s gonna be great.

All because of her

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: whew!! Damn that was long. I hope y’all liked it!!! Please tell me if there are any warnings I missed. I think I’m gonna do a part two of the next chapter in y/n’s life. I really just write whatever I’m thinking about lol. My anons are in fact open. I don’t have too many requirements. But expect to have a happy ending lol I’m so sappy 🤷‍♀️🩷

[its-avalon-08]

hi okay so since we have very little mark webber content im doing everyone a favour so like similar to the fernando one but this time y/n watched mark's flying 2010 crash and even though he's completely fine y/n is MAD (like it happened for the second time). Mark tries joking it off after they get home but she gives him the silent treatment+ doesnt let him kiss/touch her. then when she finally gives in she's angry and cries while mark consoles her?

please don't leave (mw6)

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i had so much fun writing this one thank you so much for this request ! i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

y/n practically clawed at the armrest as the grainy helicopter footage on the tv flickered. it couldn't be. not again. the unmistakable red of mark's car was wedged against a barrier, smoke billowing skyward. her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "mark..." the word escaped her lips in a strangled whisper.

the newscaster droned on, thankfully confirming mark was unharmed. relief flooded y/n, momentarily pushing the anger aside. but as the adrenaline subsided, the fury simmered back. this was the second time she'd endured this terror in the three years they'd been together.

the apartment door creaked open, and mark limped in, a grimace on his face. even with the obvious pain, his smile was sheepish. "hey there, drama queen. looks like i caused a bit of a stir, eh?"

y/n remained glued to the couch, arms crossed. the silence in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. mark's smile faltered, replaced by a worried frown. he shuffled closer, a hand reaching out tentatively.

"y/n, come on," he coaxed, "it's alright. just a bit shaken, that's all."

his hand hovered in the air, inches from her shoulder. y/n flinched away, the movement sharp and cold. the hurt flickered in mark's eyes, but he persisted.

the air in the apartment hung heavy with unspoken emotions. mark hovered near y/n, his own leg throbbing from the crash, but the physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional turmoil brewing across the room. he yearned to hold her, to feel her warmth and offer some form of comfort.

"so," mark started, his voice breaking the suffocating silence, "at least this time i didn't manage to take out any cameramen. silver linings, right?"

he forced a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. but as he reached out, y/n visibly stiffened. her back straightened, and her arms, which had been limp at her side, clenched into fists.

mark's smile faltered, replaced by a dawning realization. this wasn't the time for jokes. he saw it in the way her shoulders started to tremble, a silent tremor that spoke volumes.

"y/n," he began, concern lacing his voice.

but before he could continue, a dam broke within her. tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she whirled around to face him.

"silver linings?" she choked out, her voice thick with anger and barely contained fear. "mark, how can you even say that? don't you get it? every time you get behind the wheel of that car, my heart stops! i watch those races, glued to the screen, praying that the red and white doesn't end up tangled in a mess of metal, praying that i don't hear your name followed by the words 'critical condition.' this isn't some game, mark! these aren't just crashes, these are near-death experiences!"

her voice hitched, raw emotion pouring out. "and you have the audacity to joke about it? to try and find some humor in the fact that you almost died again? do you even consider what it does to me? the sleepless nights, the constant worry gnawing at my insides? i can't take it anymore, mark! i can't live like this, constantly on the edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop!"

y/n's rant hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. mark stood speechless, his heart sinking with every word. all the flippant remarks he'd planned evaporated. here, laid bare, was the true cost of his passion, the unseen burden he placed on the woman he loved.

shame washed over him. he hadn't truly understood her fear, the depth of her worry. now, seeing it raw and unfiltered, he felt like a monster.

"y/n," he finally managed, his voice hoarse with regret, "i... i'm so sorry. i had no idea. i was trying to be lighthearted, but you're right. it's not a joke. i was a fool. please, forgive me. i promise it won't happen next time."

"it's not enough, mark!" she shot back, tears welling up in her eyes. "what if next time... what if there isn't a next time?"

the room went silent again, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. after a long moment, mark sat on the coffee table beside her, a dejected sigh escaping his lips. he didn't try to touch her again, respecting the space she needed.

minutes bled into hours. finally, y/n's tense shoulders slumped slightly. with a shaky breath, she turned towards mark. he met her gaze, his eyes filled with concern.

"i just..." she began, her voice thick with emotion, "i can't lose you, mark. not like this."

large tears streamed down her face as she spoke, her voice cracking. mark was by her side in an instant, pulling her into a tight embrace. he held her as she sobbed, whispering comforting words into her hair.

the fear, the anger, all of it spilled out in that moment. when her cries subsided into hiccups, mark gently wiped away her tears.

y/n's words hung heavy in the air, each one a hammer blow to mark's heart. shame burned in his gut, hotter than any engine fire he'd ever faced. he hadn't just been selfish, he'd been blind. blinded by the adrenaline rush, the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the race. he hadn't seen the terror in her eyes, the worry etched into her every expression.

"y/n," he started, his voice thick with remorse, "i... i don't even know where to begin. you're right. it's not a joke. it's never a joke. every time i climb into that car, a part of me knows the risk. but the truth is, i never stopped to think about what it did to you. i was so focused on myself, on the competition, on the win, that i completely ignored the cost it had on you."

he took a shaky breath, pulling her closer, "those sleepless nights, that constant worry… you shouldn't have to carry that burden alone. you shouldn't have to live in fear because of my passion. it's not fair. it's not fair to you, and frankly, it makes me question my own damn priorities."

mark ran a hand through his hair, frustration lacing his voice. "this racing… it's been my life for so long. it's given me purpose, pushed me to my limits, made me feel alive. but if it comes at the cost of losing you, then what's the point? what good is a trophy if the person i love the most is shattered every time i race?"

he looked at her, his eyes pleading for understanding. "i can't promise you i'll quit. it's in my blood, this need for speed. but i can promise you this: i'll never take it for granted again. i'll never forget the fear in your eyes. every race, every decision, every corner i take, you'll be there, a constant reminder of what truly matters. and if, at any point, you can't handle it anymore, if the fear becomes too much… i'll walk away. no questions asked. because you, y/n, you're my everything."

silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of his words. but this time, it wasn't a suffocating quiet. it was a space filled with the dawning of a new understanding, a fragile hope for a future where his passion wouldn't overshadow the love of his life.

the silence stretched on, a hesitant dance between hope and uncertainty. then, slowly, tentatively, y/n reached out. her hand brushed against mark's, sending a jolt of electricity through him. he laced his fingers with hers, the warmth a stark contrast to the storm that had just passed.

"i..." she began, her voice barely a whisper. "i don't want you to quit." her eyes, though still glistening with unshed tears, held a new resolve. "but i need you to be safe. to understand how much you mean to me."

mark's heart swelled in his chest. "i do, y/n. more than you know." he pulled her gently towards him, offering a quiet, "can i kiss you now?"

y/n melted into his embrace, lips meeting. he held her tightly, the unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air. they would face this together, fear and passion intertwined. but for now, all that mattered was the quiet comfort of each other's arms.

after a long while, y/n pulled back slightly, a small smile gracing her lips. "just promise me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"anything," he whispered back, nuzzling his nose against hers.

"no more 'silver linings' jokes after a crash," she declared, a playful glint in her eyes.

mark chuckled, a genuine laugh that warmed the room. "deal. but maybe a celebratory ice cream after a win?"

y/n snorted. "we can negotiate."

and with that, they settled back into their embrace, a newfound understanding blossoming between them. the future was uncertain, the track still held dangers, but as long as they had each other, they could face anything. as mark drifted off to sleep, y/n snuggled closer, her soft breaths a lullaby against his ear.

[tsunami-of-tears]

But Daddy I Love Her

Mor x Vanserra!Reader (sapphic)

A/N: IMO this is some of my best writing yet. Thank you to the anon who requested some angst with Mor. I’ve been wanting to write some more sapphic stuff, so this was fun 💕  Also thank you to @daycourtofficial for being my sounding board ✨ As you can tell I didn’t go with either title option we discussed 😘

Wordcount: 4.4K

Warnings: Female Reader; Angst; Beron being Beron; Controlling father dynamic; visit to the Court of Nightmares; coming out; canon homophobia + patriarchal bullsh!t.

Reader

Your father was a complex character, to say the least. 

He was every bit the callous ruler that he portrayed to the world, but inside his blackened, hateful heart there was a soft spot. You. His only daughter.

While your brothers were pitted against each other and forced to fight for his approval, you couldn’t do much wrong. 

He was protective of you to a fault. So much so, that you were never allowed to court anyone. No one was good enough for his precious pup. Not that you were very interested in males anyway, having grown up with a litter of brothers. You found males irritating at the best of times, and utterly repulsive at the worst. 

You were closest to Beron’s eldest and youngest sons – Eris and Lucien. They were very protective of you too, but in more of an annoying way. They always had your best interests at heart. 

You were never allowed out of the Forest House unsupervised. Adventuring with your brothers was the only time you got let off your leash. You could run with the hounds, fish in the stream with Lucien or just simply be – relaxing under a tree, reading aloud to Eris. 

You often dreamed of a world where you were free. Free from your father’s strict rule. Free to do as you please. Free to be whoever you wanted to be. 

But alas, this was not a world for the dreamers. 

————

The conflict with Hybern was drawing nearer and your father was summoned to attend a meeting with the six other High Lords of Prythian. 

Your entire family was to attend, to showcase the strength of Beron’s brood.

You enter the meeting room together, sticking close to Eris and trying to seem confident, bored even. You keep your head held high, ignoring your brothers’ sneers beside you. 

“Enough” Eris murmurs, calling all three brothers in line. 

You take in the grand room around you, and the wealth of power convened within. 

You recognise most faces from Under the Mountain but some were new to you, their allegiance given away by the shades of midnight blue and black that they wore - the Night Court. The Court that your father despises the most. The Court you were raised to hate.

The High Lord, Rhysand, sat with a casual grace, his great taloned wings stretched out behind him. Beside him was his High Lady, Feyre - the saviour of Prythian - in a glittering dress that looked like it was made of pure starlight.

They were a beautiful couple, and you wonder how evil the male could truly be if he proclaimed his wife as his equal, something that had never been done in all of Prythian’s history. 

The rulers of the Night Court meet your curious gaze; for a second there is understanding on their faces and you have to remind yourself not to smile. 

You break their stare and your eyes flit over two more winged males and a female who shared the same golden hair and blue-grey eyes as Feyre before they settled on a blonde female. 

To describe her as breathtaking would be an understatement. 

She needed no introduction. Not with the rage upon her face as she watched your family, the pure venom in her eyes.

The Morrigan.

You’d never met the female your eldest brother was formerly betrothed to, and he never spoke about her. 

Morrigan’s fury wanes as she looks at you. For a moment you can see behind the mask she was wearing. You can feel the pain underneath, you can see the love for her family and her Court. Only for a moment before she built that wall back up again, sealing herself within. 

You knew her anger towards your family was justified and you couldn’t help but empathise with that. Like so many women, your mother included, she’d been dealt a losing hand.

You successfully kept your eyes off Morrigan for the remainder of the meeting, remembering the role you had to play – the shy, pretty pawn of the Autumn Court. 

If you failed at this game, the results would be devastating.

————

After the meeting ended so terribly, you were hiding out in Eris’s quarters, avoiding the path of Beron’s temper. The pair of you were curled up in front of the crackling fire with Clove, your favourite hound, asleep in your lap. 

Eris has been quiet since returning from the Dawn Court. His mind was surely racing after the encounter with her. 

You turn towards your brother slowly, breaking the silence, “You never mentioned how beautiful she is. You never speak about her at all.”

Eris knew exactly who you meant. “What’s there to say?” He shrugs, “She’s free from the burden of being with me in this festering court.”

“You think so low of yourself, Eris. Someone will be very fortunate to have you doting on them one day.” 

Eris wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head affectionately. “Until then it’s just you and me, bright spark.”

You smile at his nickname for you, one he gave you when you were just a faeling. “Don’t forget Clove!” You exclaim, ruffling the hound’s coat.

————

In the months following the final battle against Hybern, Eris spent a lot of time in the Night Court, working to secure a strong alliance for Autumn. 

Eris was about to head off again, to a ball at the infamous Court of Nightmares. 

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Morrigan. 

You needed to see her again, but she’d never step foot in Autumn. 

You’d have to go to her. 

By the grace of the Cauldron, Beron said yes to you attending the ball with Eris. You were both so stunned by his answer, that you were lost for words. Before dismissing you both, your father had one order for Eris: Do not let her out of your sight.

And so you found yourself in the Night Court, deep inside the Court of Nightmares.

You did your best to bite down on your anxiety as you walked up the dimly lit hallway leading to the ballroom. The intricate carvings of beasts on the walls only add to your feeling of unease. 

You breeze through the large doors, arm-in-arm with your brother. The two of you are the epitome of Autumn. 

Eris wears a suit in a deep burgundy colour, much like the spiced wine you drink to warm your belly on a crisp evening. Your gown of burnt orange swishes around you as you walk, the sequins catching in the faelights, twinkling like the embers of a dwindling fire. 

All eyes turn to you as you walk down the aisle, but you don’t notice them. 

All you see is her, and that golden thread connecting your souls, sealing your fate.

Oh no.

Oh no no no. 

Panic floods your veins as you realise who you’re walking towards. 

Your mate. 

Your brother’s ex-fiancé. Your father’s enemy.

Not her, it can’t be her.

Not here, with so many people watching. 

Your feet slow to a stop halfway to the dais and you turn to Eris. Concern flickers on his face - he can sense something is wrong, he has no idea just how bad it is.

You drop his arm, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’, before disappearing into the air. 

You don’t know where you’re headed or what you will do next. All you know is you need to leave. Now. And get someone safe. 

The thought, somewhere safe, echoes through your mind as you appear in a clearing atop a mountain. 

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, making the sky glow a brilliant shade of orange. The air is cold against your skin, and you rub your hands on your biceps in an attempt to regain some warmth. In moments like these, you are thankful for the fire within your veins. 

You look around, attempting to glean your location. You spot a cabin on the other side of the clearing. As you turn towards it, the front door swings open. An invitation. 

You approach the open door and wonder if there’s a spell on the cabin, tricking you into a false sense of safety to lure you inside to your death. 

You glance around, the only movement you spy is the rustling of leaves in the wind. 

You peek inside and see the small dwelling is well-maintained, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone home. It looks comfortable and homey, with whimsical paintings of vines and flowers framing the door.

Whatever is inside that cabin can’t be worse than the wrath you surely face back in Autumn, so you step over the threshold. 

————

Rhysand

Rhys watches intently as his guests from Autumn walk towards the dais. 

Eris is his usual cocky self, strutting beside his sister. Every bit the High Lord’s heir. Y/N looks like a living fire, glowing as she walks beside her brother. Despite being siblings, there were clear differences between the two fae. Unlike Eris, who Rhys found to be insufferable at times, Y/N had a kind warmth to her. A sweetness that somehow hadn’t been soured by her father over the years. 

She was like the flames that dance in a hearth. The kind of fire used to warm a home or cook a comforting meal that chases away the cold and loneliness. 

Of course, those flames could still burn you if you got too close. 

Y/N stops in the middle of the room. Her eyes not moving from Rhys’s cousin, stood beside his throne. 

‘Something is wrong,’ Feyre says into his mind. 

Rhys quickly throws a glamour over his guests, shielding them and his Inner Circle from the rest of his court. 

Rhys glances at Mor, whose eyes are glued to the flame incarnate before her. 

The expression on Y/N’s face is pure terror as she disappears into a cloud of smoke. 

Eris grabs at the wisps of darkness but it’s too late. Y/N is gone. His eyes are filled with panic as he turns back to Rhys. 

“You Vanserras love to put on a show.” Rhys drawls. “How did she get out past the wards?”

Eris rakes his fingers through his hair, tousling the slicked strands. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know she could winnow.”

Rhys clicks his tongue, “It seems the little fox was hiding some tricks.”

Eris looks Rhys in the eye. “We need to find her,” He says. 

Rhys raises a brow at the Autumn heir. “We?” 

“Beron will kill us all if she’s gone missing. His only order was not to let her out of my sight.” Eris shakes his head in shock.

‘Azriel, go. See if your shadows can find her.’ Rhys orders his spymaster mind-to-mind before the male vanishes into the shadows.

“If she’s still in this court, we’ll find her,” Rhys says calmly, expertly masking his concern that the Jewel of Autumn vanished while in his court. “Let’s go, we can continue this little chat somewhere without an audience.” He rises to his feet, dropping the shield and addressing his court. “I’m afraid I have to leave you to play amongst yourselves. Keir, don’t make too much trouble while I’m gone.” 

Rhys strides out of the ballroom with Feyre by his side. Eris follows behind closely with Cassian and Mor on his tail. 

————

Once out of view, Rhys takes Eris’s hand and winnows him to the Moonstone Palace on top of the mountain. Rhys heads straight to one of the living rooms, opting for somewhere more comfortable to continue the conversation. He silently requests Nuala bring up a tea service as he sits comfortably in one of the plush armchairs. 

Eris slumps down in the chair opposite Rhys, rubbing his temples. His complexion has paled to a colour much like the white stone walls of the palace. Eris’s usual swagger and charm disappeared with his sister. 

“I shouldn’t have agreed to bring her,” Eris sighs, hands ruffling his red hair.

“I’m surprised Beron let her out of the palace,” Rhys admits. As much as he detests the male, he can’t help but feel sorry for him. 

“No one is more surprised than me,” Eris says. “She was the one who asked to come. When Y/N really wants something, not even my father can say no.” Eris smiles softly, as if picturing his sister’s compelling arguments.  

Rhys nods in thanks to Nuala as she sets down a tea service. He starts pouring a cup for Eris as he turns towards him. “What happened then?” Rhys asks. “Y/N looked as if she’d seen a ghost.”

“The bond snapped,” a female voice says from the doorway. 

Both Rhys and Eris’s eyes snap to Mor as she strides across the room and sits across from them on the sofa. 

“What bond? And who with?” Cassian asks from behind her. 

“With me,” Mor says quietly.

Rhys can’t keep the shock from his face. “But you’re…” He trails off, gesturing at Mor’s figure. 

Mor just sighs, “Cousin, I’ve always known that I preferred the company of females. That’s why he, you know.” She risks a glance at Eris who is meticulously masking his real feelings as he sips on his tea.

“Cauldron, I didn’t think I was that bad,” Cassian jokes.  

Mor rolls her eyes and nods her head towards Eris. “He knew. That’s why he didn’t touch me.  That day on the autumn border, Eris gave me my freedom. I let you believe him to be horrible because I wasn’t ready to embrace that part of myself, truthfully I’m still not.” Feyre places her hand on Mor’s arm as she makes her admission. 

“We’d never judge you for that, Mor,” Rhys says sincerely. 

“It’s been instilled in me since I was a faeling, the fear is not something one forgets easily,” Mor shrugs.  

“When did it snap for you?” Eris asks, his face still void of emotion. 

“At the High Lord’s meeting,” Mor responds. “That’s the only reason I came today, hoping to see her again. I know Beron would never let her be with me, but I still had some shred of hope. Clearly, he’s poisoned her view of me…” 

“He hasn’t,” Eris interrupts. “You’re not a frequent topic of conversation, and Y/N never asked about you until after that meeting. She never said, but I suspect it’s why she wanted to come today. In some ways, she’s lucky that she’s been so sheltered. She’s still kind. She saw how all of you acted that day, she saw through the masks. My father’s only weakness is her. Beron is completely blind where Y/N is involved. He will start a war if we don’t find her.” 

“We’ll find her,” Rhys says. “Do you have any idea where she would go?”

Eris rubs his chin as he contemplates. “She doesn't ever go anywhere unsupervised. She loves being in the forest, but there’s no way she could transport herself that far.” 

“I’ve got Azriel searching,” Rhys says. “There’s not much more you can do right now. You can stay here, I’ll show you to your suite.” 

Eris nods, “Thank you, but if you think I will sleep while my baby sister is missing, you are sorely mistaken.” 

Rhys smirks back at the male. “Oh I know, but this way you can sulk in private.”

————

Eris

Eris is pacing in his room when there’s a soft knock on the door. He exhales before opening the door to the blonde female in the hall. Eris folds his arms across his chest and inclines his head, inviting her inside. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell them the truth,” Mor says. “I’ve been lying to myself for so long, I’d convinced myself that part of me didn’t exist.”

“There’s always got to be a villain, I understand why you did it. But thank you for apologising.”

“This bond... It is not going to go well with your father.”

Eris nods, agreeing with her. “We’ll deal with that later. When I’m High Lord, you’ll be welcome in Autumn again, if you ever wish to return.”

“Will you have me over for tea?” Mor scoffs. “I don’t know how this will work with Y/N or if she even wants it. But I’d like to try if she does.” 

Eris straightens defensively. “I’ll support whatever will make her happy,” He says. 

The pair stand in silence for a few moments before Eris smiles sadly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known,” He laughs. “When she was a child, she never wanted me to play as a prince, we both were princesses… As she grew, she never took much interest in courting anyone. If Beron had forbade me or my brothers there would’ve been a riot on his hands. But Y/N was never phased by it. Truthfully, I think she was relieved.” 

Mor returns his smile. “I’m glad she has you. We’ll find her, don’t worry too much.” 

————

Reader

In the cabin, you stare at the eyes on the wall. You would know them anywhere. 

You knew your mate had been here, maybe it was even her cabin. Deep down, your heart knew you’d be safe here. 

You feel so tired, right to your core. You didn’t know you could winnow, your leash had been so tight you never even tried. Mother knows how far you just travelled. 

A steaming cup of tea appears in your hands, the scent of cinnamon and chamomile reminding you of home. Somehow, the cabin knew what would calm you down.

You pull a blanket around your shoulders and sit on the lounge, worn with decades of use, admiring the colourful paintings adorning the walls and every surface. You can tell this place is well-loved, and many happy moments have been spent here. 

Exhaustion nags at you and you fight your drooping lids until you can’t any longer. You slip into the darkness of sleep, wrapped in the blanket, with your mate watching over you. 

————

You’re woken by a cool sensation on your ankle. You look down and see a wisp of shadows wreathing around. It circles a few times before disappearing into the air. 

It’s early in the morning, the first light creeping over the mountains outside. You’re still wearing your ball gown, the fabric creased from your slumber. 

Your head spins as you remember the events of the night before. 

‘How long have I been sleeping? Oh gods, Eris must be going out of his mind…’

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. 

You stand slowly, stretching your stiff limbs and go to answer it – for a moment you forget it’s not your house.

One of Rhys’s winged friends stands on the porch. “Y/N, are you okay?” He looks you up and down, taking in your dishevelled hair and wrinkled dress. “You’re not injured? And how did you get inside?”

“I’m okay, I guess. The door opened for me. It felt safe.” 

The male nods, “Eris is worried about you, I’ve just let Rhys know I found you and you’re unharmed.”

“Thank you,” You say. 

“Mor wants to speak to you, is that okay?”

You nod in answer, “Yeah, we probably need to have a chat.”

“She’ll be here soon, can I get you anything?” He offers.

You shake your head, pulling the blanket further around you. 

“Okay, stay inside, she’ll be here soon.” 

————

Eris

Keeping to his word, Eris didn’t sleep at all. He was watching the sunrise breaking over the mountains when he heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” Eris calls out. 

Rhys enters the room. “Azriel found her, she’s safe, Mor has gone to bring her back.” 

Every cell Eris was tensing is released at Rhys’s words. He tries to roll his shoulders but they are stiff after a tense night.  

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Eris asks. “She ran because of the mating bond.”

“Mor wanted to speak to her privately. They are the only ones who understand.”

Eris nods, feeling relieved that his sister has been found. He’ll be able to rest once he lays eyes on her again. “Thank you, for helping,” He says. 

Rhys waves a hand dismissively. “It does work in my favour to return her safely,” Rhys drawls. “But I would do it anyway.” He turns to leave, “You should eat something, it’s been a long night and we have much to discuss now.”

————

Reader

You do your best to freshen up while you wait. You smooth out your hair and change into some fresh clothes summoned by the cabin – a soft v-neck camisole, cropped at the navel and flowing harem pants, more skin than you’ve ever shown outside your bathing room. The matching set is a brilliant shade of forest green that perfectly complements your hair. 

A knock sounds on the door, announcing your mate's arrival. 

“Hello Morrigan,” you say stiffly, unsure where to look or where to put your hands. You settle with holding them clasped at your front to stop their trembling.

“Just Mor if you like, can we talk?” 

You nod and sit across from each other, the air hangs heavily around you.

Mor sighs, breaking the tense silence. “I guess it snapped for you?”

You nod, the words not making it past your lips. 

“This is a cruel twist of fate,” She laughs darkly, leaning forward on her knees.

“Do you not want it?” You ask, trying to hide the hurt in your voice.

“No,” Mor answers quickly. “That’s not what I meant. With my history and our fathers, I don’t see how it could work.”

Why beat around the bush, you suppose? “What happened, with my brother?”

Mor looks at you curiously. “He never told you?”

You shake your head. 

“We were amicable, not quite friends, never lovers. I confided in him about my preference for–” She waves at you. “Female companionship… and that I didn’t want to be someone’s wife. Of course, my father had other plans. I ruined them by… sullying myself, and my father dumped me on the border of your court. I’ll spare you the grizzly details right now, but your brother gave me my freedom. I wasn’t ready to tell people the truth, so I let my friends believe Eris to be a monster. In truth, I was the monster all along.”

You allow her candid words to wash over you. What your brother had done, allowing himself to be the villain when nothing was further from the truth.

You stand, moving to sit closer to Mor.

“I never believed the things Beron said about you,” You admit, looking into Mor’s warm brown eyes. Eyes that are full of hope. 

“I know that I’m sheltered, but I see the way he treats people. Even my brothers, Lucien especially. I do love him as a father, but as a person… he is awful. I long for the day when Eris takes over Autumn, and I can finally be free. Until then, I will dream of a better world.”

A tear falls from the corner of Mor’s eye and you rest a hand on her knee. 

You steady your breathing before continuing, “I’ve never had much interest in males and never allowed myself to consider alternatives. I’d like to try this, if you want to. I know courting in secret will be difficult, but I’m willing to give it a go. I’m ready to start building the world I’ve been dreaming of.”

Tears stream down Mor’s face and she pulls you into a hug. You savour the moment and for the first time, you allow yourself to hope. 

————

“ERIS!” You call out, running towards your brother and jumping into his arms. 

He catches you easily, wrapping his arms around you. “I was so worried, bright spark,” He says softly into your hair. 

“I know. I’m sorry to do that to you. I panicked. I didn’t even mean to winnow, it just happened.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. But maybe don’t show that trick to anyone else,” Eris puts you down and stands back, taking in your appearance. “It seems this court suits you, Y/N,” He smiles. “Come now,” he extends his arm for you to take, “We’ve got business to discuss with Rhysand. We need to figure out something official so that Father will let you return here with me.” He winks as he walks you to meet with the High Lord.  

————

You’re convinced your brother is a genius. 

He told your father that you and the High Lady got on well and that your presence allowed him and Rhys to get on with business while the females ‘talk about fashion and whatever else they like to discuss.’ 

You had batted your lashes at your father, insisting that the High Lady needed some help with fae etiquette and that she was seeking your help on how to be a proper lady. 

Beron scoffed at the thought of the ‘wild human harlot’ ever being considered a lady, but he couldn’t say no to your wide-doe eyes. Especially not when Eris mentioned that the friendship could give Autumn more sway in political discussions. 

Eris winnowed you both to Rhysand’s Moonstone Palace for your regular ‘meeting’, where Rhys, Feyre and Mor were waiting for you. 

Mor looks ethereal under the starry night sky. Her hair flows like liquid gold in soft waves down her back. Her dress is a deep wine red, paying homage to your home court and hugs her curves perfectly. Your eyes linger on her figure for a few moments before moving back to her face. 

Thank you, Mother.

Rhys steps forward. “Welcome back, we won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares this time,” He explains. “We thought it was time to show you our true home.” 

Feyre smiles warmly, her eyes twinkle with anticipation. 

Rhys takes Eris’s hand and Mor takes yours, winnowing you into the sky above a sparkling city. 

Wind rushes around you as you free-fall. The stone floor of the balcony getting closer and closer until it hits your feet. You steady yourself, feeling grateful for your fae reflexes. 

Still holding Mor’s hand, she leads you to the balcony's edge. You look out at the city sprawling below you, alive and bustling. The humming sound of life below is like music in your ears.

Mor smiles widely at you. “Welcome to Velaris,” she says. “The Court of Dreams.”

[shadowqueenjude]

I wrote a little Rhysta.

@ennawrite @kateprincessofbluewhales

Rhysand woke up with a stinging pain around his neck. He lifted his hand towards the source of the pain, then found something that felt distinctly like a knife digging deeper.

His eyes flew open, and for a wild moment, he thought it was Feyre standing before him. But no. The face that surveyed him had stronger features. Eyes just a little more grey, lips a little more full, brows quite a bit more angular, her gold hair a tumble of waves down either shoulder. A cunning face-calculating. And one that held a knife to his throat.

“Wake up,” she hissed. Rhysand blinked blearily, trying to focus on her. Despite being human, he found her to be prettier than the cursebreaker. He could only imagine how devastating she would be as a faerie.

“What?” Rhysand croaked, not daring to speak too loud else that dagger pierce his skin. How in Prythian had this human girl got a hold of an ash knife? What was with this family?

“I want to know what exactly you’re playing at,” Nesta answered, her simmering glare branding him even in the dark. Rhysand’s heart rate kicked up; was it more or less embarrassing that it wasn’t from fear?

“Nothing. I’m just here to protect Prythian and the human lands from Hybern’s corruption,” Rhysand said mechanically.

Nesta snorted delicately. “Spare me the bullshit. Even if Feyre bought into that molded loaf of bread, I am not so gullible.” She bent closer to him, her tantalizingly soft hair brushing against his cheek. “Or did you use your faerie magic to hoodwink her? For the Feyre I know would not change her loyalties so fast, and last I knew, she was in love with Tamlin.”

Rhysand tried to swallow a couple of times before she gave up. “Tamlin treated her poorly. So she left.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I was mean to her for years and she never wavered in her loyalties. So tell me what you’ve done to her, High Lord.”

Rhysand stared into her silver eyes, the loathing palpable in them at the nearer distance. How should he answer this? The truth? He imagined that wouldn’t go down very well with her. With lies? She didn’t seem the least bit fooled by them.

“Nothing. It was Tamlin who changed her.”

Rhysand didn’t have time to react before Nesta drove the knife into his shoulder. Too much in pain to even scream, all he could manage was a pitiful whimper. God, he had forgotten how much ash stings. He hadn’t encountered such weapons since the war centuries ago.

“You really think you can fool me, Amarantha’s whore?” Nesta demanded.

Rhysand stilled at the nickname. “How did you-?”

“Feyre told me everything that transpired between her arriving in Prythian and when she came back. You were what prompted Tamlin to send her away. A loyal servant of that bitch who tormented Prythian for decades.”

“You don’t understand. It was all an act-“

Nesta twisted the knife in his shoulder, and Rhysand let out another pained moan. Blood was all over his shirt, his skin sticky. “Killing twelve kids isn’t an act, you coward. I already told you I won’t be easily fooled.” Nesta bared her teeth, looking every inch the faerie Feyre could never be despite her super strength and pointed ears. In spite of the blinding pain, Rhysand breathed out a laugh. “Oh, pity you aren’t the Cursebreaker. You’re a lot more fun than the huntress.”

Nesta wrenched the knife out of his shoulder, causing even more pain as she returned the knife to his throat. “And I’m about to be a lot more fun if you don’t tell me what you did to Feyre in the next thirty seconds.”

Gods, she was magnificent. Well, Rhysand could offer a partial truth that would hopefully appease this powerful woman.

“I forced Feyre into a bargain in exchange for healing her under the mountain.”

Oh, the scent of Nesta’s fury was delicious. Rhysand gloried in the smell as he sensed Nesta trembling with rage. “I fucking knew it. You faeries and your bargains. I’m assuming it’s this mark right here?” She dug a sharp nail into his arm, and Rhysand yelped, jerking away, which only caused more blood to ooze from his shoulder wound. “How did you know?”

Nesta shrugged. “I guessed, since Feyre has an identical one on her own arm.”

Cunning, furious, and observant. A crying shame this queen would only live a mortal life. “Get her out of the bargain,” Nesta whispered.

Rhysand chuckled. “Or I could just break into your mind and be done with it.”

“You can try,” Nesta seethed. “But not even a High Lord’s glamour can work on me. Tamlin tried and failed already.”

Rhysand blinked. Nesta…possessed the true Sight? Some mortals were gifted with the ability to resist nearly all kinds of Faerie magic in a way that even most powerful fae have difficulty with. Jurian, of course, was one of them, which was how he’d led the humans to victory all those years ago. Immune to daemati and glamours, this woman could be exceptionally useful.

Rhysand reached for her mind anyway, finding that she was just as immune as she had claimed. The eldest Archeron didn’t mess around, clearly. She possessed walls more fortified than the Cauldron itself. Mother above.

“I warned you,” Nesta snapped. “Break the bargain.”

“And what will I get in exchange?” Rhysand crooned. “Surely you understand I cannot release her without getting something in return.”

“I could just kill you and be done with it,” Nesta mused. Rhysand smirked at her. “True, but think: I am a High Lord, and a major asset in the war against Hybern. Without me, your odds lower significantly.”

“You can be replaced,” Nesta drawled dismissively. “Not me.” Nesta spat on his face. “You faeries are even more arrogant than we were taught to believe.” She smoothed down her nightgown with her free hand. “Take me instead.”

Rhysand blinked. “Really?” That was exactly what he had been hoping for. Nesta would prove to be far more useful than the illiterate one. “On the condition that you will never physically or sexually harm me, nor will you use your magic against me in any way, nor will you allow any of your cronies to do it in your stead.”

Rhysand could not say yes fast enough. “Yes, I promise. It’s a deal.”

Nesta and Rhysand stared at his arm, watching as the tattoo disappeared. They both waited for a new one to appear, and when it didn’t, Nesta began her venom again. “You fucking liar, I will slit your thro-“

She stopped, and Rhysand knew why. He watched as whorls of paint wrapped around Nesta’s forehead like a crown. An identical one must be present on his own.

They surveyed each other for a moment, this new bond that had just formed between them tugging them closer together. At last, Nesta let the knife drop.

“Welcome,” Rhysand murmured, “to the Night Court, Nesta Archeron.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

"Can you two manage not to tear each other apart while I'm gone?"

Bruce, Jason, and Tim (With JayTim or maybe even BruJayTim)

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

god, this one was so good. so, you get the catch-22 of this being a bit longer, 4.5k, but with the warning, i have not edited it so it might be a little rough. but the whole point of this is quick fun so! this is basically Tim and Jason trying to kill each other bc they're under the influence of a toxin. both have a relationship with Bruce and are mad about it. it does end in some short JayTim porn and an implied BruJayTim ending. you could argue dub-con, but it's mostly consensual. enjoy <3

Tim honestly would’ve preferred if it was fear toxin or Joker venom.

Those, he at least knew the tricks for dealing with. How to keep his heart rate down, how to focus and not give in to his body’s adrenaline response. And even if none of those failed, the worst of the fear toxin was just something Tim could wait out while playing distracting music.

This was different.

Anger was different.

“It looks like someone took Crane’s compound and modified it,” Bruce, the lucky bastard who had managed not to inhale the substance, was stood perfectly calm in front of the Batcomputer. “It’s difficult to tell though without a direct sample.”

“If you would just let me look at it maybe we could get somewhere,” Tim hissed through grit teeth, aiming a lethal scowl at Bruce. His nails were digging into his palm. He frowned and tried to take a break. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce looked over his shoulder at Tim with concern and pity. “Are you sure you don’t want to be tranquilized until I synthesize the cure?”

“Bruce, if you try to get close enough to tranq me, I’ll probably try to rip your larynx out with my teeth,” Tim said. The itch for violence sat right underneath his fingertips. He was desperate for it, already twitching at the thought.

Logic and reasoning were hard to hold onto. Every straight thought Tim had was immediately consumed by the fire of fury, burned into something unrecognizable.

Tim didn’t feel like himself when he was angry. That was the worst part. He never liked his anger before and now, it was the only part of him on display. An ugly and twisted thing.

“He could just shoot you with a tranq dart,” Jason said smoothly. “I’d pay to see it.”

Jason was also affected by the rage toxin, though compared to Tim, he looked barely bothered. His head was tilted back to rest against the back of his chair, eyes closed. Both hands were in his lap, fingers calmly laced. His hands were forced together by the same cuffs that Tim was also wearing. Tim had suggested the cuffs when he tried to claw out Bruce’s eyes because Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. Despite Jason’s lack of reaction, it was universally decided to also put Jason in the cuffs. The handcuffs were chained to the chairs Tim and Jason were sitting in, with at least six feet’s distance between them so they couldn’t try to grab each other.

Which Tim had done at least a half a dozen times by now.

“If you’re not going to have helpful input you can keep your goddamn mouth shut,” Tim snapped, holding himself still in the chair from trying to launch across the room again. His muscles were so tense from clenching them that he was starting to shake.

“Tim,” Bruce said softly, giving him a look. Bruce was perfectly fine if Tim snapped at him. But when Tim snapped at Jason, he got a stern reprimand.

Which only pissed Tim off more.

He didn’t understand how he was fine with Bruce sleeping with both of them now. The thought was ridiculously enraging, how he could allow Bruce to even be around Jason Todd. It usually didn’t bother Tim, and was one of the things Tim accepted about Bruce. The lack of monogamy.

But now? Staring at Jason’s smug face that Tim itched to break? It made Tim’s blood boil.

He was more important and useful to Bruce than Jason could ever be. And Tim didn’t have a pile of bodies on his ledger. He actually knew he to behave like a person and not a wild animal.

Ironic how they looked now, then.

Jason’s face split into a feral grin. He leaned forward. “Yeah, Tim,” his tone mocked the one Bruce used. “Let’s behave ourselves.”

Tim could see it in Jason’s eyes. How angry he was, how he was holding back everything that Tim couldn’t. His little show was a facade and Tim damn well knew it.

He wanted to rip Tim apart just as badly.

Now it was Jason who Bruce gave the look to. “This is easier for you to control than it is for him, Jason. Don’t try to provoke him.”

Tim hated how he was spoken about as if he wasn’t even there. Like he was some hapless child throwing a temper tantrum that Bruce was indulging, but sharing quiet whispers about with the real adults.

Like he thought Jason could control himself better than Tim just because Jason had experience with the Lazarus Pit, making him less susceptible to anger manipulation.

At least that was the working theory, currently. Jason’s working theory was simply that he was better than Tim. It was when he said that, that Tim suggested the handcuffs. He had enough of his wits left about him to know he’d sort of regret killing Jason Todd, no matter how badly he wanted to right now.

Jason just shrugged at Bruce’s words and relaxed back into his chair, crossing his legs. “He shouldn’t be so easily provokable then.”

“You know damn well-” Tim started.

“Timothy.” Bruce put a command in his voice that he rarely used with Tim. It made Tim straighten on instinct. The endless patience Bruce had was getting worn more and more thin with every jab and insult traded between Tim and Jason. He looked like he was at his wit’s end. “Don’t listen to him.”

A slow, deep breath did nothing to calm Tim’s nerves. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and then resisted the urge to spit it at Bruce. “B, I love you, but you have no idea how hard this is. Especially around him of all people.”

The look that crossed Bruce’s face was pained. They always danced around the elephant in the room, that was Bruce accepting Jason back into the fold a little too quickly for everyone’s comfort. It was his soft spot showing. Even when Tim wasn’t under the influence of a drug he didn’t like it and had tried several times to warn Bruce that Jason was a lost cause.

It’d caused a lot of arguments on their best days. Weeks of not speaking to each other on their worst.

And because Tim was the dutiful partner, the loving Robin, he always gave in first. Bruce needed him. In some ways, romantically. But in most ways, Bruce just needed genuine companionship from someone who wasn’t batshit crazy and murdering drug lords like it was a sport. That was Tim’s job. A job he liked, even.

Not that he was too fond of it right now.

They both knew, deep down Bruce had desperate wants of Jason and Tim getting along. The soft comments Bruce made about how well Tim and Jason could work together in a hypothetical always held an unspoken meaning. It wasn’t actually about Tim working with Jason on the field. It was about the fantasy of them being in Bruce’s bed at the same time, loving each other the way they loved him.

That would happen over Tim’s cold, dead body.

“I know,” Bruce said quietly. He reached out for Tim, then seeing the look in Tim’s eye, seemed to think against it and pulled his hand back. It only made Tim angrier. Angry Bruce didn’t currently trust Tim to give him affection. Angry Bruce was right not to trust him. So goddamn angry that despite craving comfort, all Tim wanted to do was bite the hand that fed him. A frustrated growl came out of Tim’s throat and he kicked the ground.

“You know,” Jason drawled, studying Tim with his barely contained madness, “I’m glad for it, honestly. I was starting to think you didn’t have any bite in you at all, Drake. Least we all know what it takes for you to finally snap.”

Tim opened his mouth for a biting insult, but looked at Bruce. He took a deep breath. “I hope all this self-restraint you’re showing is a lesson you keep when all this is over. The last thing we need is for you to go on another murder rampage because someone hurt your feelings.”

Jason’s eyes flared. His hands curled into fists. “Oh, you have no idea the self-restraint I show. If you want to see on a real rampage I’ll fucking-”

“Enough!” Bruce slammed a hand on the console. He ran his hand over his face and sighed. “I have more files on fear toxin in my study I need to find.” Bruce looked between them, giving them both a hard stare. “Can you two manage not to tear each other apart while I’m gone?”

“Ask him,” Jason shrugged. He was trying to sound nonchalant again, but he spoke through grit teeth. “I’m just fine over here.”

Tim just held up his cuffed hands, showing where the chain ended, keeping him firmly connected to the steel chair. “I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to.”

Bruce nodded. He passed one more look between the two of them. “I’ll be right back. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Again, he looked like he wanted to reach out. To which of them, Tim wasn’t sure. probably both, which sent an involuntary wave of disgust through his body. If Bruce touched Jason in front of him, Tim was probably going to puke. Bruce turned on his heel and walked out of the cave. They both watched his figure slowly disappear from view.

Before Tim could even turn to Jason and say something, he was tackled to the ground by a blindingly fast and heavy human body.

“What the-” Tim started, raising his hands to protect his face when a fist tried to come down on it. “How the fuck-”

Jason was wearing a grin that had gone completely mad, in every definition of the word. He had easily pinned Tim to the ground, a knee on Tim’s chest. Jason’s hands were still cuffed together but somehow, he’d undone the chain connecting him to his chair. Which boded particularly poorly for Tim, who was still chained to his chair, giving his arms a limited range of movement to defend himself.

Of course, Jason had picked the lock without either of them noticing.

“Thought you were the smart one, Drake,” Jason sneered. His hands were forced together, so when he reached for his waist with one hand they both had to move away from Tim’s face. “You really fucking thought I’d willingly hand over all my weapons to Bruce in a room with you?” He pulled a small, switchblade out from under his waistband and flipped it open. “I wouldn’t have even if I wasn’t drugged.”

“I knew you were acting, you fucking bastard,” Tim snarled. He didn’t have a weapon. It had been his suggestion to hand all of them over to Bruce because Tim was trying to be reasonable.

He should’ve fucking known better. There was never any reasoning with Jason.

Tim still had his bare hands. He launched them toward Jason’s throat. They managed to curl around flesh, nails just starting to dig in, when Jason stabbed Tim in the hand. Tim yelled, yanking his hand away and taking the other one with it.

That was the other shitty part of the anger. It made pain harder to ignore.

“Had to convince Bruce it was okay to leave you alone with me,” Jason said, shrugging slightly. “Figured I would only get one chance.” He raised the knife and tried to bring it down on Tim’s face. Tim managed to stop him, getting the knife tangled in the chains. “For fuck’s sake.” Jason shifted his weight. He pulled the knife free and brought up his over leg, using it to pin down the chain under his boot. Without any slack, Tim’s hands were forced against the ground, tugging uselessly.

“I will rip you apart with my teeth if I have to,” Tim growled, trying to snap at Jason’s face to prove his point.

Jason easily dodged and laughed. “I’d like to see you try. Maybe It’ll make you interesting, for once.” He brought the knife down and held it to Tim’s throat. “Grayson, I could’ve understood. He’s a pretty guy. Got a good sense of humor on him. Even Gordon. I don’t like her, but I could’ve respected it.” Jason’s face twisted into an ugly look, staring down at Tim with utter contempt. “But you? I have to share Bruce with you of all people? My goddamn replacement? That’s just fucking insulting.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten yourself killed then,” Tim shot back. “You were easy to replace.”

“Yeah, provoke the guy with a knife to your throat,” Jason pressed the blade against Tim’s skin until a drop of blood was sliding down his adam’s apple. “I’ll show you what a dead Robin looks like.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You really think Bruce will forgive you for killing me?” He tugged at the chain as hard as he could. It still wasn’t budging. “He’d tear you apart.”

“Yeah, I really do,” Jason mocked Tim. He leaned in close enough for Tim to smell mint on Jason’s breath. “He always does. He’ll just blame it on the toxin. We both know he always forgives me no matter what I do.” His grin was a ghastly thing. “Can you say the same, Drake?”

Tim just growled. He headbutted Jason, not caring about the knife. If he was going to die, he would at least leave his mark.

Jason jerked back, rubbing his nose. Tim had hopefully broken it. Blood was already starting to pour down Jason’s face. Jason had the audacity to laugh. “Cute.” He rubbed his nose for a moment, feeling the bone. “You know I’m not going to kill you, though. That would be way too nice.”

“Nice?” Tim scoffed. “Did you finally learn the meaning of mercy, or something?”

“For you? Never.” Jason brought the knife to Tim’s face. “I just want to make you wish you were dead.” he dug the blade into Tim’s temple and Tim yelled, feeling it cut through his skin all the way down to his jaw. “What part of you do I have to mutilate to make Bruce stop loving you?”

Tim didn’t say anything. He was too busy trying to blink through the pain of a shallow cut that should’ve felt like nothing. Instead, it felt like a hot iron had branded the entire left side of Tim’s face, melting most of his skin off.

“What’s so pretty it could make Bruce like someone as pathetic as you?” Jason pressed on. He put another cut across Tim’s face, slashing through his cheek. “You’ve got a nice face. Is that it?” He leaned back so he could rip Tim’s shirt apart, exposing Tim’s chest. “We both know Bruce is a physical guy. Maybe it’s something else.” The blade trailed across Tim’s chest, looking for the next place to cut.

Tim managed to get leverage against the concrete with his feet. He pushed himself up as hard and fast as he could, throwing Jason off of him. Before Jason had the chance to recover, Tim launched himself forward and wrapped the chain around Jason’s throat.

“Maybe his love for you is only skin deep,” Tim pulled the chain as tight as it could go, watching Jason’s face turn red without oxygen. The rational part of him knew he was taking too much pleasure in watching Jason struggle for air. The rest of him didn’t care. “But Bruce actually loves me.”

Jason snarled. “He’s loved me longer.”

He wildly stabbed at Tim until the knife sank into Tim’s forearm. Tim screamed and let go, giving Jason slack to breathe, getting a hand under the chain and yanking hard on it. Tim didn’t fall off of Jason but instead fell into him. Their bodies were pressed together, and Jason used it as an excuse to wrap the chain around Tim, forcing them against each other.

“Can’t get away from me now,” Jason whispered into Tim’s ear. He ripped his knife out of Tim’s arm.

“You really want to be this close to me?” Tim asked. He tried to headbutt Jason again but didn’t have enough damned room to move. “Your fucking funeral.”

“I’m the one with the knife,” Jason said in a sing-song voice. He wiggled his arms between them and brought the knife against Tim’s crotch. Tim had his pants as a layer of fabric protecting him, but he still went rigid. “Is it here? Is this what Bruce likes so much? Go on. Tell me how he likes to fuck you, Drake. Bet you’re real fucking vanilla about it and he has to be all nice to you.”

“You sound jealous,” Tim tried to bite Jason, who kept pulling his head away. “You’re the one who needs to hear him say he’s proud of you just to come. I’m not the one of us who cries during sex.”

“How the hell-” Jason’s whole body jerked in anger.

Tim knew his grin was feral. “Trust me, I know all the embarrassing details. Bruce talks about it all the time.” That wasn’t entirely true. Tim had just overheard it once when Bruce forgot to turn off his comms. But the lie was far more embarrassing for Jason.

“I could make you cry,” Jason sounded angrier than Tim had ever heard him, which was a hell of a feat. “He’s just not fucking you hard enough. Putting you in your goddamn place like you deserve.”

“You want to fuck me, now?” Tim taunted. “I thought you hated me.”

“Too vanilla to know what hatefucking is, Drake?” Jason shot back. He pressed the knife harder into Tim’s crotch. “I could make you fucking beg for it.”

“Like hell.”

“You wanna find out?” Jason asked.

Tim paused his struggles. He pulled back and gave Jason an incredulous look. “You’re not actually serious.”

“Either I kill you, torture you, or bitch you.” Jason shrugged. He dug the knife down enough to cut open Tim’s pants. The fabric tore loudly. “I’ll let you pick.”

“I’ll kill you first,” Tim shot back. He refused to take the offer seriously.

He didn’t know what his answer would be, if it was a serious offer, so it was better for Tim to not think about it entirely.

“Scared you’ll like it?” Jason was just mocking him now. “If I ruin you enough, you’ll come crawling back for me instead of Bruce. And besides,” Jason lowered his voice to a purr, “we both know he’d pay to watch. Bet he’d even help me hold you down.”

Against his will, Tim shuddered. His anger was clouding his judgment, making it hard to figure out what other emotions were there. Maybe there was arousal. Maybe it was fear.

Tim always had trouble telling the difference.

“Have you always wanted to fuck me?” Tim avoided everything Jason was saying. It made him too dizzy to think about.

Jason just gave him a shrug. “Can’t say I haven’t wondered what’s so special about fucking you that he keeps doing it. Is your ass really that good or something?”

Tim snorted. He had no idea Jason didn’t know. “He doesn’t fuck me in the ass.”

“What?” Jason’s brow furrowed.

“If I had a dick down there, you’d have cut it by now,” Tim pointed out, looking down at the knife.

Jason frowned. He dug the knife deeper, ripping open a bigger hole in the fabric of Tim’s pants until he could force his hand inside, thankfully the one that wasn’t holding the knife. Tim tried to kick, but he couldn’t stop Jason’s hand from groping until it found his cunt, pressing against Tim’s underwear.

“Son of a bitch,” Jason said. “Well, that makes you even easier to fuck. Now I don’t need prep.”

“You’re not fucking me,” Tim snarled, trying to get away from Jason’s hand. his skin was too hot, to have Jason that close to his most sensitive areas. He didn’t want to know what his body would do if Jason got past the thin barrier of fabric between him and Tim’s skin.

“You haven’t actually told me no yet,” Jason pointed out. He managed to cut apart Tim’s underwear, a cold reminder of how close the knife was to his cunt. Thick fingers pressed against Tim’s hole until two managed to sink in. “You’re wet.”

“No, I’m not,” Tim gasped, even though he could feel it. The easy slide of Jason’s fingers inside of him, the way there was no resistance from his body. He still wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he wanted this. Not when he wanted Jason dead just as badly. Tim opened his mouth to say something more, but Jason brushed a thumb over his clit. “Oh god.”

“if I’m being honest with you,” Jason hummed, starting to move his fingers inside of Tim, “I think it’s a lot easier to be horny than angry right now. That’s the only damn feeling that works to fight this.”

He was right and Tim hated him for it. The anger thrumming under his skin pulled back, just slightly, to make room for arousal. It made Tim want to give in, just so he could have anything to latch onto besides cold, empty fury.

And Jason’s fingers felt good inside of him. They arched right up into Tim’s sweet spot, making him gasp and jerk.

“How quick do you think I can make you come?” Jason asked. He worked his fingers and thumb together, finding a good pace. Like he knew exactly how Tim liked it.

“Fuck you,” Tim groaned, throwing his head back.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Jason said.

They both knew he wouldn’t. Tim didn’t want Jason to stop. If Jason stopped, Tim would probably grab the knife and gut him.

“I hate you.” Tim’s hips were moving against his will. He was acutely aware the knife was still down there too, but he put a small amount of trust in Jason to not let it trust.

“It’s mutual,” Jason agreed. He shifted his hips until they were pressed against Tim’s thigh. He was hard. Tim could feel the outline of Jason’s cock as Jason started to rut, grinding against Tim for friction. A low moan came out of him, going straight to Tim’s core.

Jason was kind of handsome, at least. Especially with blood all over his face.

“Now are you gonna come for me or what?” Jason growled into Tim’s ear. “Show me exactly how much you hate me, Drake. I want to fucking feel it.”

“You’re a bastard who doesn’t deserve Bruce,” Tim whined as Jason’s fingers worked him. Rubbing his clit and thrusting into his sweet spot. It was a sweet, torturous distraction from his rage, but it still didn’t make the feeling quite go away.

“Agreed.” Jason shrugged, seeming unbothered by the statement. He groaned again, pressing his forehead against Tim’s. “I’m still better than you, though. You’re the little bitch who’s never going to forget what being fucked by me feels like. Maybe I’ll be nice enough that you’ll enjoy it and jerk off to it every time you’re wet.”

The thought of jerking off to Jason repulsed Tim. Yet it was the same thought that sent his orgasm through him, like a shock to his core. He yelled, so loud it echoed through the cave. His hole clenched around Jason’s fingers as his body worked through the spasms of pleasure.

For one glorious moment, Tim didn’t notice his anger. He just had the beautiful crescendo of pleasure crashing down on him, making his body sing.

“Isn’t that fucking adorable,” Jason gasped, grinding harder against Tim. You’re finally not annoying for once. No wonder Bruce fucks you. It’s the only way someone can enjoy being around you.”

The words were mean and Tim wanted to snap back, but he was boneless. Every insult from Jason was a new aftershock of pleasure down Tim’s spine.

Tim opened his mouth to find something to say, but he was cut off.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bruce stood at the mouth of the cave, staring at them with wide eyes. He looked just as angry as Tim felt, stalking over to where they were pinned and bloody on the floor. “Jason if you hurt him-”

“I’m fingering him, actually,” Jason corrected lazily, still grinding his hips.

Bruce stopped walking. “What?”

Jason thrust his fingers inside Tim to make his point, pulling a cry out of Tim. He was oversensitive from his orgasm and couldn’t get away from the pressure against his g-spot. “You should be proud of us. We’re getting along pretty well.”

Sure they were. Like Tim’s face wasn’t cut up and Jason’s nose wasn’t broken.

“You…” Bruce trailed off, breath caught in his throat. Tim watched his pupils dilate.

“He’s enjoying himself. Just came on my fingers,” Jason said. He pressed the knife against Tim’s thigh as a warning. “Right, Drake?”

Tim bit back a remark. He nodded.

“I promise to behave if you let me fuck him,” Jason looked up at Bruce. He was definitely lying. “We should both fuck him. See how much he can take. I’ll even keep the cuffs on just to be nice.”

Tim couldn’t stop the soft moan that came out of him at the thought.

Bruce looked between them. His eyes settled on Tim. “Are you-”

“Yes,” Tim said. “Please?”

As soon as Tim said the magic word, Bruce was by their side, taking his clothes off. Jason groaned in victory. He grinned against Tim’s cheek. “Now we can have some real fun.”

[memory-lane-and-back-again]

A Thought About Wei Wuxian's Death

Spoilers for... I don't remember which book it is (Book 3 I think)

When WWX is captured by the Wens and tossed into the burial mounds he is so full of rage and anger that it is a terrifying possibility that he will come back as a fierce corpse full of resentful energy. (Arguable he does, but that's a point to make for after exams when I can actually have fun and analyse the heck out of these)

I find it an interesting parallel that when he actually does die he is an incredibly 'well behaved ghost.' as in, he's well... if not moved on, at least not inclined to try and act and in some state of peace: not happy but at least tolerating how things have ended. WWX's character is permeated by a deep, inextricable sadness and I think, though it is not ever blatantly acknowledge, this is foregrounded right at the beginning with the story: he doesn't know why he's been brought back, does not understand and is incredibly fixed on the fact that it was not his choice. To infer... he didn't really want to come back.

I found his present mellowness, that contrasts so brutally with his fury and anger and ability to feel such intensity before he died, to be a bit strange---not unbelievable but strange. That kind of anger burns incredibly brightly and is incredibly hard to tamper down and yes, he grows and matures but it feels a bit strange to me that this comes on from spending ten years without a body. I think it is more an extension of his grief and guilt: after Wen Qing and Wen Ning go to die on his behalf is when he gets truly angry... his anger gets out of control and Jiang Yanli is hurt and then dies for him. Jiang Cheng takes his anger out on him. As far as WWX can remember even LWJ is disgusted by him... is it so hard to believe that he too is disgusted with himself. Present day, he cringes at his past arrogance---the illusion of omnipotence and control he thought he had.

I am of the opinion he's the sort of person with the mindset that if he can make the world a better place, fix one problem, even if it is at the expense of his own, he'd do it. He is raised to protect JC, doesn't even bat an eye at losing his core because if it can help JC it is good; he doesn't fear dying if he can come back as a fierce corpse to still help destroy the Wens; he doesn't care to humiliate himself to try and give Wen Ning a chance at archery; his public image does not matter if he is helping people. This carries forward where he is willing to sacrifice discovery to protect Jin Ling; he turns himself into a spirit attraction flag for people who hate him; the moment LWJ freaks out about sleeping with him, WWX first priority is to take all the blame for everything and then leave and go do the stupid mission all by himself because he doesn't want to force LWJ to put up with him, even though it leaves WWX himself incredibly wrought. And then of course, he doesn't even bat an eye at luring Nie Minguie away by himself.

My point is he's a willing martyr, happy to get himself into trouble and deep water for pretty much anyone (mianmian, LWJ, JC, the Wens) so it must feel like hell when his efforts only succeed in getting everyone killed, when he's kind of forced to confront that he is loved and had people willing to stand by him that he did not consider when he made his plans and that they are dead because of to an extent his actions. I truly believe him trying to destroy the Yin Tiger Tally is his last attempt to try and rectify things and he is a bit like Xiao Xingchen in that regard, trying so hard to follow his principles and failing abysmally. At that point his jiejie is dead, who is like the very symbol of innocence and unconditional love in his life at that point and he knows they are coming to kill him. His big character difference I think has a lot to do with the three months after the nightless city and before his death because he feels the world is better off with him dead.

A lot of people compare Xue Yang and WWX and whilst I think that is valid, I think a lot of people forget his inherent connection to XXC through his mother. I think it is important to acknowledge that they share a very similar mindset: naively wanting to change the world with their beliefs alone as if people will see altruism and kindness as the best path whilst most people are out searching very selfishly for their own greatness and success---something neither WWX adn XXC need to think about because A) the are already powerful and successful and B) they were never raised to think themselves as needing to be supremely powerful to be successful and Good.

Anyways, it does make me wonder how much of WWX's characterisation present day is put on. He slaps himself in the face when no one is around to see it after he finds out who Jin Ling is, he lets Jin Ling stab him and feels he deserves it---that by proxy is when he's most open with LWJ: 'you don't need to come with me, your reputation will be ruined.' It so, so clearly speaks of self-loathing that he is so so good at hiding.

I think actually when LWJ and WWX first sleep together the physical undressing is also a metaphor for an emotional undressing on WWX's part because he strips himself of his insincerity and arrogance and allows himself to be vulnerable. The only other times we see his vulnerability is when he's passed out unconscious and when he realises to stop hurting LWJ he needs to kind of bare his soul to him in book 5 after LXC reveals the truth about nightless city.

Gosh, I love these characters so much.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Funny Request, God Fighters, plus Loki, Ares, Hermes, Rudra and Indra with a Human Female Reader who’s an Atheist and doesn’t believe in the Gods (With the Human Fighters and Brunhilde laughing hysterically from the LOOKS on the Gods’ faces when Reader says this)

Atheist!Reader (Jokingly): I’ll believe it *The Gods* when I see it!

Gods (Breathing behind her): Am I a joke to you??

-Brunnhilde knew what she was doing when she selected you, a super sarcastic, sassy pants, atheist.

-During your time spent in Valhalla, being surrounded by gods, was a bit eye opening for you, but it was so much more fun to tease them!

-They always got so mad!

-When Brunnhilde was introducing all of the fighters, she introduced the humans first, before she spoke, “And for the gods we have-”

-You rolled her eyes, which she saw, trying to hide her own smile, at least from the gods, “Yes, Y/N? Is something wrong?”

-You, jokingly, to piss people off, spoke, “C’mon Brunnhilde, we all know gods don’t exist!”

-Thor- Knew what you and Brunnhilde were both doing, as he saw you conspiring earlier; he’s easily able to keep his stoic face, for a bit anyway.

-Zeus- Gawked at you, posing, “How can you say we’re not real! We’re right here!!” you patted his head, having no fear, “Sure thing old man, pretty sure you’re just senile.” Which in turn made him rage in silent fury before he saw Brunnhilde’s smile, knowing that you were just tricking him.

-Poseidon- Unamused by your words and your little prank with the valkyrie, as he could see the grins on the faces of the other humans. Just rolls his eyes and turns away.

-Hercules- Could see the grins a mile away, biting his bottom lip hard to not laugh, he thought it was hysterical that you were teasing them so easily.

-Shiva- Pouting and glaring at you, “Oh yeah, when why do Rudra and I have four arms?!” you just shrugged, have no regrets, “You probably played in a toxic waste dump and got mutated!” Shiva’s eyelids twitched in anger, in disbelief of your clapback.

-Hades- Another who was trying not to smile, seeing what you were pulling, he knew you were an atheist, but he wasn’t bothered by it, mainly because he couldn’t really care, but your prank was quite funny.

-Beelzebub- Rolled his eyes at you, knowing what you were doing, trying to get the gods riled up, but you weren’t going to bother him, mainly because he knew you were just teasing.

-Odin- The all-seeing eye sees all so he knew that you were just pranking them; his face was stoic but he did roll his one eye at your antics, but did find some of the reactions of the others amusing.

-Loki- Beside himself, floating over, cupping your cheeks, “I’m right here! Can you feel me! I’m literally a god touching you!” you pulled out a whistle, blowing into it, “Stranger danger!!” making Loki panic. Was rather pouty when he found you were just pranking them, as you had fooled him.

-Ares- Another in disbelief by your words, flexing, “If I was anything but a god how would I get muscles like this?!” you just shrugged, “Intense body work outs and steroids probably.” Ares immediately deflated like a balloon, tears pouring from your harsh words.

-Hermes- He heard it all before you entered the room, so he wasn’t shocked, finding it amusing that you had managed to prank so many people all at once, a bit impressed.

-Rudra- Just like Shiva, was in shock by your instant clapback about playing in toxic waste, thinking they were just humans with extra limbs from a mutation, annoyed.

-Indra- Rolled his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette, seeing the smiles on yours and Brunnhilde’s faces and the grins on the other humans, knowing you were pranking them, unamused and unimpressed.

-Human Fighters- All holding their guts, dying in laughter, unable to breathe.

[theconstantsidekick]

Tony Stark Is Like A Painting

Pairings: Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: I literally have no idea what genre this qualifies as and I personally have a wide range of what I consider genre

Summary:  Tony's being rejected from the Avengers Initiative. FUN!

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Very little Swearing (idk how that happened)

a/n: read Age Of Ultron for more information on Y/n's backstory

sidenote: if ya'll know about the rabbit in a snowstorm, HIT ME UP.

My Greatest Creation Is You (previous part) | Series Masterlist | The Avengers (Ft. Static) | Age of Ultron (Static Origin Story) | Static Verse Masterlist  | Iron Man 1 (ft. Static) | Bucky Barnes, the Boyfriend

“I don’t think I want you looking at that,” Fury says in a scolding tone as he enters the room and takes a seat opposite Tony. There are guards surrounding them and behind their table are holographic screens lit up showcasing footage of the… let’s call it recent peculiar events. “I’m not sure it pertains to you anymore.” Fury pulls the file titled, “Avengers Initiative” out of Tony’s hands. 

Ooof, she thinks. That’s gotta hurt. 

“Now this, on the other hand, is Agent Romanoff’s assessment of you.” Fury hands Tony another file. “Read it,” He urges him.

Tony does as he’s told. “Aaaah—‘Personality overview—Mr. Stark displays compulsive behavior.’” Tony looks straight at Fury, “In my own defense, that was last week.” When Fury does nothing but stares at him unimpressed, he realizes his joke has not landed. Moving on, he adds, “‘Prone to self-destructive tendencies.’ I was dying. I mean, please. Aren’t we all? ‘Textbook narcissism’?” He seems a little shocked at the observation. There is a pause. He even looks at Fury… who remains unmoving. So Tony says, “Agreed. Okay, here it is… aaaaah—‘Recruitment assessment for Avenger Initiative. Iron Man? Yes.’” He closes the file. “I gotta think about it.”

Fury commands, as unimpressed as ever, “Read on.”

So once again, Tony does as he’s asked, he opens the file and reads, “‘Tony Stark not—? Not recommended’? That doesn’t make any sense. How can you approve—me but not approve me? I got a new ticker.” Fury gets off his seat. “I’m trying to—uh—do right by—uh—Pepper. I—I’m in uh—a stable-ish relationship.”

Fury walks around and rests against the table by Tony’s chair, “Which leads us to believe at this juncture we’d only like to use you as a consultant.”

And you have to know, a man does not dress up in a flashing red suit of armor if he isn’t at least a little bit of an egomaniac. If S.H.I.E.L.D. does not want him, he doesn’t need to pretend to need them. He’s a little petty that way. 

Tony stands and offers his hand. Both men shake hands.

Clasping his other hand on top of Fury’s, “You can’t afford me.” He smiles. 

He goes to leave, but then he turns around again. “Then again, I will waive my customary retainer in exchange for a small favor.” Fury looks a little skeptical, so he continues, “Rhodey and I are being honored in Washington and we need a presenter.”

Yeah… see? Real fucking petty that way.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Fury answers.

Tony smiles, triumphant in his upcoming revenge.

Then he whistles, “You coming?”

Y/n steps out of the shadow where she had been leaning on the wall, “You head out, I’ll be right behind you. The Director and I have a few things to square out.” 

Tony rushes over, drops a kiss on her cheek, and heads out.

Both she and Fury take a seat. 

“So?” Fury begins. “What is your assessment of Tony Stark?”

Y/n pushes her chair back so it’s balancing only on the hind legs. “My assessment is that whether you like it or not, he is going to be an Avenger.”

Fury raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

His tone is so apprehensive that it makes Y/n smile. “There’s this painting I like. It’s called ‘Rabbit In A Snowstorm’. You heard of it?”

“That all white piece of canvas that you fancy folk like to call art? Yes. I’ve heard of it,” Fury replies, clearly interested.

Y/n smile some more. “You don’t like it, I take it…”

Fury looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world to dislike it. “It is literally all white. Now, I might not be the artsiest fucker out there, but come on, calling that blank canvas a painting is a stretch.”

Nodding in mild assent, Y/n shoves her hands in her pocket and throws her head back. “See, the thing about that ‘blank canvas’ is that it takes time. The more time you spend looking at the painting, the more of yourself that you invest into it, the more you see. You spend a couple minutes you see the texture, a more and you see the different shades of white and a couple hours in you can even see the brush strokes.”

“So, you’re saying Tony is like that painting?” Fury asks, mildly annoyed.

Y/n sits up. “I’m saying all the people around him have stuck around for a reason. And no matter how—unstable you think he might be, you have to admit the people around him are beyond trustworthy.”

“I cannot pick him to be on my team because I like his friends. This is not a game of charades in a shitty little house party,” Fury argues.

Shrugging, Y/n says. “Look, this isn’t me trying to convince you. I don’t really care if you put him on the roster. I just know he’ll find his way there.” Fury looks at her with a challenge in his eye. “What? You think the council will let you call in these so-called ‘Avengers’—” she picks up the file titles, ‘Avengers Initiative’, “—unless the world is on fire?” She scoffs. “No, right? So here’s my follow-up question; if the world is on fire do you think my brother, Tony ‘I am Iron Man’ Stark will just sit on his ass and watch it happen?” 

“So you’re saying it’s inevitable?” Fury questions, brow raised in discontent.

Standing up, Y/n replies in indispensable nonchalance, “No, come on! I’m saying neither of us knows what’s gonna happen in the future.”

“Except for the part where Tony will be on the team,” Fury counters.

“Yeah, except for that,” Y/n answers, fixing her suit.

“How do you know that the rest of them will accept him?”

“I know because of the ‘Rabbit In The Snowstorm’,” she tells him and begins walking out. “It’ll happen sooner than you think. You’ll wake up one day and realize Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark are the best of friends.” She shakes her head, “It’ll be hilarious.”

“You’ve got yourself a bet, Agent Stark,” Fury challenges with a small smile in his voice.

“It’s Ms. Stark.” She puts on her sunglasses. “And you’re on, Nick.” With that she steps out, rushing over to her brother, who’s waiting patiently in his car.

“I’m craving donuts, you want some donuts? I think we should get some donuts,” Tony says as she gets in the car.

“I think Randy’s is open.”

With that, they drive off.

Find the series masterlist here. Find the Static Verse Masterlist here. Read The Avengers (ft. Static) here.

tag list :@aryksworld @freeflyingphoenix @arikarapli @just-anotherstan @justab-eautifulmess @ceo-of-daichi @liketearsintherainn @paintballkid711 @starkleila @heyitsmereading @fairlygothparents @euphoria-svt @sidepartskinnyjeans @mini-kunoichi @third-broparcelicito @siwiecola @haleybutnotthecomet @mvaldez7821 @rockybutmakeitlame @romanoffswoman @ashpeace888 @hopeofwinter @percabethfangirl987

hit me up if you wanna be added to the tag list.

[citadelsanchez]

If you'd like too, Rick with an s/o that collects cute things! Like they fawn over cute plush toys and threatens people that try to touch them without permission?

The cutest prompt! Sorry it's a bit short. This is also the first time I've put Rick in a real world setting but it felt fitting for this one. Hope you like!

(Also side note: 'bbs' plushes aren't real, I made em up lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's not funny, Rick." You glare at the elder man, your eyes glowing in a burning fury.

His cheeks puff as he starts to snicker before he turns his body away from you to shake with laughter without being seen.

"I CAN LITERALLY HEAR YOU LAUGHING" you say, giving up and stalking out of the kitchen you were both standing in and back to your shared bedroom. Well, technically, your bedroom but Rick might as well have lived there too.

"Boooo, y-you're no fun at all" you hear him say, trailing behind you slowly.

Earlier, you had walked into the Smith's living room to find the absolute horror of Rick dangling two of your BBS plushes in his hands in front of Morty and Summer, giving them exaggerated voices. "I'm M-Mrs. Lumpy Fuckins and my owner Y/N won't brush my hairrrr." This was met with laughter by Summer and an uncomfortable "geeezz" from Morty.

You stood at the doorway with your mouth agape in shock before Rick made eye contact and immediately dropped them onto the couch. You had turned on your heel and locked yourself in his room for a while, giving him the silent treatment even after he portaled inside and prodded you to talk to him, with still no apology in sight in true Rick fashion. And he was clearly still amused from his inability to take you seriously.

"You're no fun for mocking something I love" you scoff, plopping onto the bed and turning away from him once more.

"D-don't be a sourpuss, I was just showing them your interests a-a-and being comedic in the process," Rick says, almost sounding remorseful before reverting back into his righteousness. He sits on the bed now, holding your gaze with a frustrated facial expression.

"Oooh yeah, so funny when I've TOLD you not to touch any of them. I have them arranged the way I want and you can't even respect me enough to leave it be. Don't you remember when Summer wandered in here like two weeks ago on accident and picked up Benji and Phoenix and I yelled at her without realizing?"

"B-because those are the m-most rare ones you have?" He asked and you were slightly surprised that he remembered. It symbolizes that at least on some level, he actually listened to you.

"Yes" you respond weakly, still feeling embarrassed about the entire situation but unwavering on your annoyed outlook.

"O-okay, come with me" Rick belches out, pulling his portal gun out to shoot a green swirl and unexpectedly dragging your hand with him through it.

You go to cuss him but stop when you realize that you're in a strange setting. Very familiar to you but not anything you were expecting from the portal gun. You were surrounded by neon lights on red walls and people pushing carts in all directions.

"Rick... why are we in Target?"

He sighed. "You'll s-see, just follow me."

You furrowed your brows in confusion but didn't hesitate to walk behind him. You know that he hates being in stores- especially ones like Target where there's an excess of ignorant human beings and overstimulating lights and noises. You could practically feel his skin crawling. And you'd hold his hand in comfort but you know that he's not a fan of PDA from previous experiences of your attempts at affection with him around others.

He leads you into the toy section and down an aisle when you see it. Pompa, the newest lion BBS plush that came out a few days ago, which you weren't aware of and only had dealing with Rick's antics constantly to blame.

Rick picked one off of the shelf and petted its head. "It is, uh, kinda c-cute I guess," he says before placing it in your arms instead. "I-I shouldn't have fucked with your plushes earlier, s-so have this as your reward for dEALLing with me," Rick burps out, standing a little sheepishly.

You reach up to engulf him in a hug. "How'd you know about this being released?"

"Just you know, a-ads and shit," he murmured.

You smiled warmly at the gesture and the kind hearted deep down Rick you know. "Apology accepted."

[manygeese]

I watched the Percy Jackson tv series and now it’s time for the brainrot

Loved the series but I want to talk about one thing and only one thing rn

ARTHUR’S THEME

Spoilers ahead

At the end of one episode (I think it was “We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium”), Hermes is in the elevator which is playing Arthur’s theme. He sings a little bit of the chorus (only the “New York City” part) and instead of the normal theme at the end credits, Arthur’s theme plays.

The end credits open with the line “Arthur, he does as he pleases” which is probably symbolic of Percy disobeying Annabeth and Grover’s suggestion of burying Medusa’s head and sending it to the Gods. Percy is doing as he pleases, he’s showing how he feels to the gods, he doesn’t really care what they think about him. The episode ended with Hermes delivering the head to Olympus so big connection between the song, Percy, and his relationship with the gods.

Then we get to “All of his life, his master’s toys”. Percy has only just entered the control of the gods, as he didn’t know his heritage until the beginning of the series. He’s only been “his master’s toys” for a couple of days by this episode, and while I think this line could be interpreted to be about Percy, I think this line is more about Annabeth.

Annabeth has been striving for her mother’s approval for forever. She’s been waiting for a quest sent by the gods so she can prove herself. She has been at the gods’ mercies since she came to camp. She has been their toy until Percy came along and gave her a chance. Percy doesn’t make her prove herself to be his friend, to have his approval, he approves from the start (even if he’s scared of her lol).

“Deep in his heart, he’s just, he’s just a boy

Living his life one day at a time

He’s showing himself a pretty good time”

These lines may reflect Percy’s attitude toward the quest. He goes from one monster to the next. Mrs. Dodds, the Minotaur, the furies, Medusa, etc etc. Basically living his new life one day at a time (that’s kind of how I felt reading the book).

But he’s not ready for this- none of them are. Annabeth’s not ready to face her mother’s judgement, Grover’s… well, he’s Grover, and he’s the living definition of panic attack at least in the books, and Percy is totally unprepared. He’s just a boy. They’re just preteens. They’re kids, and the gods are forcing them to be heroes.

Yet despite it all, they’re becoming friends, they’re even having a little fun, they’re making the best of it. They’re enjoying their seemingly limited time on earth before the gods destroy it. They’re just kids, they’re just living, they’re just trying to do the best that they can do (AND that’s a lyric in the chorus lol). This is how Percy sees it. These lines explain Percy’s point of view.

And finally, the last line I wanted to talk about, “Laughing about the way they want him to be.” This a mixture of the previous lines- he’s “showing himself a pretty good time”, he “does as he pleases”. And most importantly, he sees that he and the other demigods are their “master’s toys”, that heroism is a vicious cycle of serving and not getting recognized for all the work you’re doing. And what does Percy do? He laughs. He acts impertinent. He helps Annabeth and Grover break out of the cycle, and he goes around telling everybody who says “it’s just the way things are” that it shouldn’t HAVE to be that way.

P.S: Hermes only sings the “New York City” part of the chorus. The full line is “When you get caught between the moon and New York City” (this is where I go into dumbass analysis mode). This could be Hermes not acknowledging that demigods are stuck in a cycle that the gods have trapped them in (leaving out the “when you get CAUGHT”). This is silly

[agentnico]

Top 10 WORST Movies of 2023

For every good movie there’s always a dozen stinkers, and 2023 brought out a lot of turkeys, and I’m not referring to all the poor birds that ended up in our bellies this Christmas season. It’s become a tradition for me every year to do a top 10 best and worst movies of the year list, and I tend to leave the top 10 best list till later as I catch up will the awards potentials, however with the bad list I get right on into it. There are of course many bad movies this year I didn’t see, as I don’t actively seek out to watch the bad ones, but I have heard that these following haven’t been the best: Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, The Marvels, Indiana Jones 5, Shazam: Fury of the Gods, Expend4bles, Children of the Corn, Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey…… damn, a lot of films got a bad rep this year. Yet I have 10 other ones that I’ve seen that I thought were crap. Don’t worry if a film you loved ends up on this list, it will simply mean your opinion is wrong and your have to live with that. With that in mind, here’s my humble list of the shit-fest Hollywood had to offer in 2023…

10) ANT-MAN & THE WASP: QUANTUMANIA - Everything that is wrong with the current state of Marvel is exhibited on full display here. Lacking a sense of direction and exploiting the idea of the multiverse just for the sake of it, the movie is a dud. It feels like whilst trying to focus on going bigger and bolder, the movie lost the sense of fun that elevated the earlier instalments in the tiny hero’s franchise. Paul Rudd is still as charming and likeable as ever, however the introduction of Kang as the next MCU Big Bad is pointless seeing as this big baddie can be defeated by a bunch of ants. Don’t make no difference now anyway with Jonathan Majors losing the court case, but who in the first place thought “oh yeah, Kang is a badass who killed many Avengers, but a giant head of Corey Stoll should weaken him no problem”. Look, there’s no sugarcoating it - this movie is bad. Also, Bill Murray appears in this because…?

9) THE BEANIE BUBBLE - Zack Galifianakis without any facial hair is truly a sight to behold, but that’s not enough to make this fluffy yet bland behind-the-scenes look at the famous Beanie Babies toys even remotely interesting. It’s as if this film can’t bear (thank you) to show the creepier side of these toys, as this should have been a more darker and messed up tale, especially with the lightly implied institutional sexism. Oh well, that’s that then.

8) WE HAVE A GHOST - If ever there was a movie that fit more to the phrase “Netflix & Chill” then this is it, as you will be too busy banging your partner or your sock than caring about a silent speechless David Harbour creeping about Casper-like and being all quiet and mysterious. To be fair he’s the only redeemable quality as the rest of the movie is a mishmash hodgepodge of genres that is neither funny, nor effective in its family drama dynamic. At least seeing Jennifer Coolidge jump out a window was mildly amusing. Mildly. Anyway, where’s that sock?

7) THE OLD WAY - It is truly fascinating that after starring in over 100 films, this is Nicolas Cage’s first ever western. Aside from that mind boggling revelation, this movie comes out with less than a bang. I don’t know, I was hoping for something a bit more mad, especially with Cage’s involvement. Heck, in the movie’s opening sequence Nicolas Cage is introduced with a sprawling Poirot-like moustache, and immediately I assumed that I am in for something ridiculous. However following that scene the movie cuts to 20 years later, and with that both the moustache and the hope for something exciting or weird is diminished to singular unseen atoms.

6) FOOL’S PARADISE - The directorial debut from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia star Charlie Day (who also writes and stars), misfiring Hollywood satire Fool’s Paradise wastes a strong ensemble cast that also includes Adrien Brody, Jason Sudeikis, Jason Bateman, Kate Beckinsale, Ken Jeong, Common, John Malkovich and the late Ray Liotta. Look, in a way I feel bad about including this film on this list, as you can tell this is a true passion project for Day and one that has good intentions by attempting to go back to the old-school slapstick Charlie Chaplin-era of comedy, with a lighthearted satire on the way the film industry works. In this case the result is neither sweet nor funny enough, and as such it’s an unfortunate misfire, but easily the most disappointing inclusion on this list.

5) GHOSTED - Adrien Brody’s crappy French accent in this movie I could have forgiven, if only I have not seen John Wick: Chapter 4 a couple of weeks prior where I experienced the most delightful Parisian mouthing of Bill Skarsgard’s villain, so now Brody’s French-ish slur sticks out like a sore thumb. What else sticks out is that Ghosted feels like a film from the early 2000s, featuring every cliche of the genre and with a romantic pairing of Chris Evans and Ana de Armas whom share zero chemistry. Their kissing scenes reminded me of that Andrew Garfield/Emma Stone SNL sketch where they don’t know how to kiss on camera, only in this case it’s unintentional. Also featuring a slew of pointless cameos, and I do mean pointless, this is a throwaway campy spy-action flick that is destined to be forgotten.

4) THE EXORCIST: BELIEVER - Billed as the true sequel to William Friedkin’s original horror masterpiece, it really shouldn’t have strived for that. Ellen Burstyn’s return is a waste. For those excited to see her, she’s only in 3 or 4 scenes total, and the creative choices made with her character are such a disservice to the original movie. Without spoiling, it’s a choice that seems to be inspired by the modern woke culture, with Burstyn’s Chris having being studying the art of exorcism ever since the events that transpired with her daughter, and then when questioned about why she herself did not partake in her daughter’s exorcism she blames the patriarchy. The choice of bringing her into this narrative and then what happens to her…it’s basically taking a classic character and making them dumb. I must say though that the only actual shocking moment in the movie comes in a scene involving her character, and though that moment itself is memorable, the build up towards it is so stupid. Also, with the return of Burstyn it comes as no surprise within the movie when a certain other character pops in for a cameo. Does it add anything to the movie’s story? No, it’s just there for cheap fan service. As for the movie itself, the horror hardly works. It’s not scary at all and you really shouldn’t believe in this one.

3) THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE - Yeah, I know, my inclusion of this film on the list will rattle some feathers, but I don’t care, as for any of you pricks out there thinking that stupid “Peaches” song deserves an Academy Award nomination, you guys are stupid and must be high on some very powerful shrooms. If so, I hope you’re having a great trip, but the fact stands that this movie is bad. Simply doing fan service for the sake of fan service don’t make for a good narrative. Me and my friend were bored throughout, as this movie is 100% for kids. There are nostalgic elements to it all, but I do believe that Illumination and Nintendo should have followed more in The Lego Movie’s footsteps and targeted the film for audiences of all ages, due to the fact that many who grew up with Mario are now adults themselves.

2) LEAVE THE WORLD BEHIND - So much wasted potential. A long drawn-out slow shuffle to Nowheresville. A movie that offers so many ideas, plot points, and thread lines that are never answered or go anywhere. In Leave the World Behind things are truly happening under the motto “just because” and “why the hell not” and it makes the viewing experience immensely frustrating. Especially when the movie is nearly 2 and a half hours long and the anticlimactic abrupt ending is a slap to your face for wasting your time. Oh, and if I weren’t a fan of the Friends show before, now more so than ever.

1) 65 - Right ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to ask you all so kindly to rise up from your seats and give a humongous round of applause to 65 - the 2023 film to exhibit qualities of a top contender of the worst movie of this year. Look, I’m disappointed as you are. Adam Driver fighting dino-dinos’?! You’d be a madman to not want to see that! However here’s 65′s first mistake: there actually aren’t that many dinosaurs, let alone fights with them. I know right, I can sense the resounding aura of you, my kind audience, in unison thinking “what the f***?”. Exactly, what the fudge indeed. No, instead what we get is a couple of somewhat thrilling dinosaurs interactions, but overall the movie is just Adam Driver and this little girl walking. Just walking. Walking and whistling. Bunch of jackasses.

That’s it - we did it! Now I can happily forget I ever watched any of these and mentally prepare for what wonders of stupidity 2024 will bring to the big screen. As for my Best Movies of 2023 list, don’t worry, it’s a-coming. Still need to watch The Boy and the Heron and Poor Things and then all will be revealed…

[darksiders-junkie]

Good evening friend! I've had a bit to drink while replaying Darksiders 2 and have been wondering if death would be fun to drink with. Thoughts? I figure Strife would be hella fun at first then if he overdoes it he'd get a bit maudlin. Feel free to add on for other characters if you want to!

Appreciate your contribution to this teeny fandom! *Toasts you with drink of choice* ❤️

Sure thing! I'm actually going to do them all :))

War

He is not fun to drink with. Man has one drink and calls it a night. He doesn't like alcohol, and he hates feeling tipsy. It makes him feel like he's not in control of his own body.

If you do manage to get him to drink more, I'd suggest drinking at home. He loosens up and becomes way more talkative and he won't be happy if other people (strangers at that) saw him like that.

And when he becomes more talkative its really all slurred and jumbled together, you have to get him to announciate his words to try and understand him.

At the end of the night, you can bet he's throwing up and passing out on the floor. And since you wouldn't be able to move him, well just put a pillow under his head and drap a blanket over him. He'll be fine.

He wakes up to the biggest migraine ever, and will proceed to be 10x grumpy and scowly until it has passed. So make sure to give him plenty of water, migraine meds, and a big old greasy breakfast in the morning.

Death

He usually tries to avoid alcohol all together. You'll find he'll have a glass of wine for the silly human holidays you enjoy so much, but other than that he doesn't drink.

If you do manage to get him to drink, well you're questioning if he's been dumping out his glass while you weren't looking. He's hardly changed at all!

But no, he most certainly has been drinking it due to your wishes. He's just really good at seeming not drunk.

You can only tell with the slightest of slurred words, and the fact that there is no more bite in his tongue. He may sway slightly while walking, but it'd be hard to tell if you were also drunk.

At the end of the night he'll take a shower and brush his teeth (about time), to get rid of the alcohol smell. He'll pop into your room to make sure you made it to bed alright before finding his way to hiw own room. And if you do share a bedroom, then he'll crawl in behind you and be unusually a bit more cuddling than normal.

He'll be up way before you in the morning, having left some water and meds by your bed and being down stairs cooking up breakfast for the two of you.

Strife

He is hell of fun to drink with, in the beginning that is.

He'll laugh, crack jokes, and even nudge you when you aren't taking a sip. A real partier, so even if it's just the two of you, he fully expects you to yell "Chug Chug Chug" as he downs his glasses. Of course, he'll do the same if you decide to chug.

But eventually he'll flip on a dime and just start crying. It's the worst because there is no warning either. Just

"I'm the bestest friend/partner in the whole world right?"

"Do you love me (Y/n)? Because I love youuuu! Tell me you love meeeee!"

And he's also very clingy. He'll literally hang off you, quickly remind him that you are infact human or otherwise you'll end op on the floor with him.

To avoid this, either head to bed early so he'll do the same, or take him out drinking. If he's around people he won't be like that. Although the car ride home (either by uber or the other siblings. Uber definitely prefered if you dont want to hear a screaming match between siblings) would be a different story, but at least you got to have a longer time to have fun.

Although if you tuck him in, and even as his friend cuddle him through the night, he'll be less of a whiny bitch.

In the morning, he'll most definitely be sluggish and whiny. Keep him away from his siblings because they don't tolerate that shit no more lmfao. Make sure your Strife has plenty of water and meds, and order him food.

Fury

She'll often have a few drinks to get tipsy, but will stop drinking at that point. She doesn't enjoy the hangovers in the morning, and she's often been told she's a raging drunk.

She'll never turn that rage onto you. She thinks you're far too soft and pitiful to do that. No, instead, you'll find her screaming at the wall she accidentally bumped into for 10 minutes straight.

Or trying to pick fights with people, so I suggest keeping her away from her siblings at this time. She won't pick fights with humans though, but I still suggest staying away from bars as she will still find something to scream at. (Like the TV. Everyone is screaming about the silly game, why can't she?)

At the end of the night she will definitely soften some more, and make her way to her own bed. She will not give two fucks if you make it to your bed, unless you share a bed.

In the morning she'll be awfully quiet and just cluching her head at the table. Don't dare to comment on it, just give her some meds and water. You can try feeding her but she'll just push it away.

[ririchanva]

Can we get a possible au of if Deku grew up in Paris instead?

//Oooh that's a good one! I have thought of a Childhood!Bakunette but this one might be fun to write. Okay, here we go let's see what I can cook up with this request!

(Going to do this in the HCs style of writing because why not~?)

"D-do you think...I could...b-be a h-hero...too?..."

Inko Midoriya found out about the bullying earlier than in canon.

After visiting the doctors and finding out her son was quirkless, the woman was at a loss at first.

Even with the assurance of her high school friend, Mitsuki Bakugo, and her husband, Masaru, that their son, Katsuki, will look after Izuku during their time in school, Inko felt uneasy.

And then...her boy came home after playing in the park with Katsuki and the other boys, covered in dirt and bruises.

Mama Midoriya was not having it.

She went off on not just Katsuki, but to Mitsuki as well. Despite Masaru trying to stop the rage that was coming from the green haired woman, he clammed up as soon as her fury was turned on him for being a coward against his wife and spoilt son.

Suffice to say, Inko severed her ties of long-lasting friendship with the Bakugos after that.

But that also meant that Inko could no longer stay in the neighbourhood, not with the Bakugos being the most popular in the community and all. Neighbours tend to talk, and Inko didn't want to be isolated and make Izuku feel guilty of why they were not friends with any of the other kids and their families anymore.

Luckily, Inko had a friend outside of Japan that could help them.

While it was not ideal to move to another country, it wasn't as if Hisashi was coming back for them. That was the only reason that Inko stayed where she was and raised Deku in the home that her supposed husband has provided for her while he worked overseas.

No, Inko was going to be the hero for once. Izuku's hero.

She called up that friend, explaining the situation and she smiled when the friend said that they're going to help her and Izuku. After all, Paris was one of the countries that had more quirkless than any others of the world. They could make a new life there.

Who would've thought that Sabine Cheng was the friend of Inko's. Apparently the two of them were part of an online flower arranging club, mostly giving tips to other women that loved the art and soon it formed a sort of 'pen-pal' relationship between them for years.

Sabine easily helped Inko with paperworks of divorce and a visa to Paris, thanks to the Cheng family having connections.

Inko wasn't ready to tell her son that she was quietly separating from his father, but then again, Izuku never seems to ask about his Dad anymore. Not since his fanatic obsession with heroes and All Might. It should relief her a bit, but it also worried her.

When telling Izuku that they were moving away, at first, Izuku cried. Mostly because he still dreamed of being a hero, of being like All Might...even if he was quirkless.

But somehow, after a few days, Izuku was quiet and conceded. Inko had a feeling that the last day of school for Izuku, something happened (she finds out later that Katsuki had said some mean choice of words...something about a swan dive. Who teaches an elementary school boy that?!)

Izuku tried to be happy, he really did.

While being a hero was the number one dream in his heart, he can tell that his mother was feeling guilty and sad about him. Especially when finding out he wasn't going to be like other kids.

On the bright side, at least he's away from Kacchan and the bullies.

Paris...was bright and colorful.

Both Midoriyas were at awe when they first arrived.

Sabine was there at the airport to greet them with a smile, along with a huge bear of a man that was waving at them happily and on his shoulder was a cute sweet little girl Izuku's age holding up a sign that said, "Bonjour et bienvenue, Midoriyas~!"

Marinette was excited to have a new friend.

When her Maman told her that an online friend was coming to live in Paris and be somewhat their new neighbours, she was quick like her Papa and was trying to make a huge welcome feast for them.

Her Maman told her to be kind to Izuku, since he's been through a tough time, and Marinette promised she would be nice.

When she and Izuku met for the first time...the two of them felt butterflies in their stomachs.

"Hi...My name is Marinette D-Dupain-Cheng! What's yours?"

"...Midoriya, Izuku."

"Well Midoriya, Izuku! We're going to be great friends!"

"A-ah, just Izuku i-is fine..."

They become neighbours after that. Living in the same building, Izuku and Marinette had been side by side ever since.

Even when Sabine and Tom offered to help Inko find a job, Inko assured them she was fine and managed to land a job on her own as a nanny to some girl named Chloe Bourgeois.

With her Mom always gone and Andre busy in political campaigns, Chloe ended up being raised by Inko instead.

Andre never had time to spoil Chloe, Inko assuring the Mayor of Paris that she could handle the girl, and even treated her the same way she treated Izuku. Which meant that if she misbehaved, she was given a time out and lightly lectured on what she did wrong before hugging her and gently giving her a motherly talk.

It didn't stop Chloe's attitude, per se. She was going to be Audrey's daughter, through and through. But she wasn't as bad as canon.

It didn't help that Izuku was around when Inko was babysitting, meaning Marinette was always around as well.

Izuku was reminded of Kacchan at first when meeting Chloe.

Chloe's first impression on Izuku?

"What are you wearing? If you're going to be my friend, you're gonna have to dress the part."

Thus, Chloe managed to take Izuku shopping for new chlothes, despite Inko's protest in spending her Daddy's credit cards (who gives young children credit cards!?)

Izuku, Marinette and Chloe became a trio after that.

That was...until Adrien and Felix came into the picture.

✲ || Part Deux~ || ✲

[kaiwewi]

A Room for Two

Secret Santa gift for @save-the-villainous-cat 🎅💝 I hope this will do your prompt justice!! Bit longer than originally planned, because I got carried away xD

“Get some sleep,” the villain had said.

Like slumber wasn’t some near unattainable, elusive enigma on the best of nights. Like the hero wouldn’t find themself tossing and turning for hours, haunted, even when their sorrows and worries were unfounded.

If they already couldn’t sleep under normal circumstances, how were they supposed to find any rest when they, for once, actually had good reasons to be upset and anxious?

Reasons. Plural.

As if being abducted by Supervillain wasn’t nerve-wracking enough by itself. To add insult to injury, she’d dragged them right off their living room couch, hauled them halfway across the city while offering only the most cryptic of half-explanations for her actions, and then presented them to the villain as a ‘Christmas gift’.

This had to be the most humiliating and terrifying thing that had ever happened to the hero, and all their nemesis had to say to them was to 'get some sleep'.

What were they supposed to do? Let go of their fury and frustration and climb into bed with the villain, pretending the two of them were good friends having a fun sleepover and not enemies sharing a damn prison cell?

Yeah, fat chance.

Besides, the hero hated sleepovers. Sleepovers always ended in darkness and isolation, with the hero lying awake in the early morning hours, forced to listen to their friends’ even breathing ringing through their own sleepless silence like taunts.

But it hardly mattered. They didn’t plan on sticking around anyway.

They stomped through the half-lit room again and tried the door one more time for good measure. Still locked. Of course it was. They muttered a few curses. All right, the window then. Maybe they had missed something. Maybe they could—

“Hero, please.” The villain groaned, face half-buried in a heap of cushions. “Stop pacing round the room like a caged tiger. I’m trying to sleep.”

They were not pacing. Pacing implied aimlessness. They had a purpose. While the villain had plopped down on the stupidly soft-looking, king-sized bed, fluffed their pillows, and turned off their bedside lamp, the hero had been scanning the room, attempting to form an escape plan.

“I’m trying to find a way out,” they hissed. “Because, in case you haven’t noticed, we are trapped. This is a cage.”

“Actually, it’s a suite. Supervillain’s nicest guest-room even.”

“Right. A guest-room with a locked door and barred windows.” The hero scoffed. “What does that make you? Supervillain’s most esteemed guest?”

“It’s a temporary arrangement,” the villain said crossly. “If you must know, Supervillain and I had a disagreement about … work-related issues. I'm only here so I won't get in the way of her plans. Once she’s finalized her current project, she’ll let me go.”

The hero glared into the night beyond the open window and trailed their fingers along the gold-plated ornaments of the, sadly, perfectly solid metal bars. “You’re an idiot,” they said, “if you think a cosy bed, expensive wallpaper, and a fluffy carpet make this any less of a cage.”

“You forgot to mention the flat-screen TV and the gaming console.”

The hero turned their glower on the villain, who sighed.

“Fine,” their nemesis said. “Let it be a cage then. A gilded cage with excellent room service. Which is a million times better than the alternative. So, I’d very much appreciate it if you would kindly behave yourself, be patient, and not get us relocated to the dungeon. Thank you.” The villain rolled their eyes. “Come on. It’s late and I’m tired. If you aren’t going to sleep, can you at least lie down? Please.”

The villain really did sound tired. Despondent almost. It didn’t suit them. Not that the villain’s pitiful state changed anything.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend I’m the one being unreasonable. You don’t get to act like my presence here is such an inconvenience to you after you asked Supervillain to kidnap me.”

“You think I wanted her to—” To their credit, the villain seemed genuinely appalled at the notion. “I’d never—”

“Funny.” They spit the word like a threat and felt somewhat gratified when the villain subtly shuffled a bit closer to the headboard with every step the hero took towards the bed. “Because when I asked Supervillain why she’d taken me, she told me, and I quote, ‘Villain wants company’.”

Their nemesis cringed. They averted their gaze and wrapped the covers protectively around themself in a rare display of … remorse? Fear? Vulnerability?

Yep. Something was definitely off about the villain today.

Curious, the hero sat down on the empty side of the bed after all and leaned back against the pillows. Dammit, the stupid things were even cosier than they looked.

“I’m sorry,” the villain said softly. “When I said I didn’t want to be alone on Christmas, I thought Supervillain would send a henchman to play boardgames with me or – I don’t know – get me a cat? I never thought she’d go and kidnap my favourite frenemy.”

Why did the villain have to sound like they were about to cry?

Great. Now the hero was beginning to feel guilty too.

A bit reluctant, they reached across the empty space between the two of them and awkwardly put their hand on the villain’s shoulder.

Their nemesis sucked in a sharp breath, but otherwise made no protest.

“Villain,” the hero said after a moment of tense silence. “How long have you been here?”

“Five weeks,” the villain replied in too matter-of-fact a tone, “two days, and roughly” – there was a bit of shuffling as they turned to throw a glance at the alarm clock on their bedside table – “seven hours now.”

The hero didn’t know what to say to that. They pulled their hand back.

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two.

“So…” the hero said eventually. “I’m your favourite?”

The villain tsked, though not without humour. “Honestly? I would have preferred the cat.”

More silence.

The hero stared at the ceiling. They were beginning to think the villain might have fallen asleep already, when they felt a soft tug on the sleeve of their t-shirt.

“Hey, Hero?” the villain whispered. “Could you touch me again?”

“Excuse me?”

“Not- Not in a weird way! Just, maybe, a hug? … I really miss my friends and family,” the villain added, as if that was explanation enough. Perhaps it was.

The hero sighed, grumbled incoherently, then sighed again. It wasn’t like they’d get any sleep either way. “Okay,” they said. “But if you do anything funny, I’ll smack you.”

The villain chuckled. The mattress dipped as they scooted over and wrapped their arms around the hero with a tentativeness that, given the two of them were technically enemies, bordered on sacrilege.

“Thank you,” the villain murmured, dozing off right then and there. “I was so lonely.”

The hero couldn’t bring themself to push the villain away after that, even if it meant they’d likely remain in this position until the villain woke up again. They closed their eyes, resigned themself to another long night, and let their thoughts drift into reverie.

When the hero blinked their eyes open again, they were met with the disorienting sight of daylight, ruffled sheets, and their bed-headed nemesis still curled up in their arms.

Wow. They’d slept. – Kidnapped, locked up, and cuddling with their enemy, the hero had finally managed to have a good night's sleep. After weeks of restlessness and insomnia in the safety of their own bedroom. What irony…

They lifted their head to get a better look at the small smile on the villain’s sleeping face.

Maybe the hero would delay their escape attempts, stick around for a few nights. They could really use a vacation. And hadn’t the villain said something about excellent room service?