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“We’re married.” ( muse/verse = your choice! )

Groaning.

The last thing she remembered was pain. And Maru’s shouting at her to lie still, but it had not seemed like a feasible solution to a gunshot wound, so Lyta… might not have actively listened. Critter had probably used some concoction to knock her out and truly? The operative didn’t blame her. 

But there should still have been an ache of some sort— Maru was good, but Isabel had never been able to heal soreness overnight. Yet it never came, despite the mercenary’s body flaring with tension in forestalling. Confused, she blinked awake, expecting the shitty-lit apartment that the Operator had crammed them into. Or even the neon lights from the sign across the street. 

No such thing came. 

In fact, she wind up gawking at a mongrel of a designer lamp that she should have only seen in interior design magazines. “What the….” she murmured, using her hand to shield her eyes from the clear light. 

She blinked again, choking at the sight of the ring. 

It wasn’t huge like some sort of Hollywood gig. Still, it was nicer than anything she’d ever owned, including her first wedding band. Mind stirring to alert, she blinked, looking to the source of the three words. 

“Married.”

She suspected that laughter was inappropriate but the dry, choked chuckle that left her lips boded unwell for her marital bliss. It was tempting to comment, but the sight of Isabel, drowning in crisp white linens, stopped her. 

She always blamed the poor lighting for her own failure to see Isabel’s traits. Even though the suggestion of scars of the past still lingered, features remained to produce gasps and a stunned feeling that never quite faded from Lyta’s chest. 

Eventually, she remembered to swallow, and fumblingly reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. Had she put it there? The diamond caught the sunlight and reflected off the glass, as if it was easily dismissed. 

“What... happened last night?” Her words sounded like someone else’s; like someone speaking a language not their own. She suddenly found herself idly aware what those words suggested; utter amnesia. “Aside from the obvious,” she added hastily, softer, lacing fingers with Isabel’s closest hand in wordless apology. 

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let it be known that hippolyta is the Most Protecc but will also allow her adopted daughters everyone to make their own mistakes, painfully so, 

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* subtle romance starters

i wish i could control myself around you

you look amazing

in that dress you could have anyone you want

it’s difficult to be around you

i’ve dreamt about being with you

i’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment we met

we could be together for tonight

no one needs to know

you could do it, i wouldn’t stop you

i can’t control myself around you

i can’t stop thinking about you

i want everyone to know that you’re mine

i can’t just be your friend

of course i was jealous

have i told you recently that you’re completely gorgeous?

you’re under my skin

i’ve thought about this nonstop

i can’t wait to see every inch of you

has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?

you have to see what i see in you

you’re the most interesting person i’ve ever met

you have so much to offer

you’re a work of art

let me be yours

i think about you, like this, all the time

my lips were made to meet yours

you are, of course, my every thought

i want to know you fully

together, we’d be a force

once wasn’t enough for me

i can’t wait until i can kiss you again

you look better out of your clothes than you do in them

your perfect face is the least beautiful thing about you

have you been thinking about me?

do you want me as i want you?

how long have you wanted this?

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Connie Nielsen in All Relative

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Shayera, troublesomely, here @hawkborn

She’s been on Themyscira for several weeks now. Her wings are slowly healing from where the parademons nearly ripped them off, though she’s beginning to wonder if the damage done is permanent. It’s still a struggle just to flex them and the pain haunts her at night. The Amazons have done as much as they can for her at Diana’s behest. All they can do now is wait and ensure her wounds don’t become infected.

The island is different from anything she’s ever seen. A warrior culture that still knows and understands peace; the opposite of her war-torn home planet. Amazonian society is much more relaxed than what she’s used to. Those with titles walk among those who bear none. On Thanagar, lower class citizens like her never interact directly with those belonging to the upper class. So the number of times she’s found herself speaking to a member of the council or even the queen herself has been surprising.

Just like it is now, when she tears her gaze from the skies to find Hippolyta standing there, refilling her goblet with wine. Shayera doesn’t lower her proud head—she refuses—but she averts her eyes out of respect. “Thanks,” she murmurs, reaching for the glass once the queen sets it down. The Thanagarian takes a long sip and turns her green eyes skyward once more, watching a pair of gulls chase thermal updrafts against the ocean breeze. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Her lips close in a soft smile -- merely diplomatic to those who do not know her, but to those who do, it suggests hint of amusement without meaning to offend. She will never demand subjugation from a refugee, but it seems both their pasts betray them, and that causes a chuckle from queen’s lips. 

   ❝ Didn’t I? ❞ she asks, humoring her as she takes the seat adjacent to Shayera’s. It is perhaps more rhetorical than the question implies, but she elaborates with a far truer smile. ❝ You seemed like you needed it. I daresay, how is it any different than if Epione was to offer bandages or examination. She is my equal, as are you, as far as I understand. ❞

Of course, there is a matter of separation between them, Hyppolyta holding title and elected leadership. But they both feel the pangs of thirst and the rush of adrenaline, the sting of scars past? ❝ It is merely wine, I assure you. ❞ Yet also offering, prodding diplomacy to make way for things yet unspoken, such as Shayera’s past.

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*whispers from my sickbed* guys but... diana/hippolyta reunions post-jl

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Ask my muse questions about their past

Get specific! Ask about the home life, their experiences, incidents that have affected them, etc!

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i get these violent urges and moods where i just want to fight and bleed it’s like an ache in my chest

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Young Kara in Season 3, Episode 6: Midvale

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Isabel, ever exasperated, here 

    Isabel cranes her neck, glaring up at the tall woman standing over her, and then she casts her eyes to the long, low banquette across the table. She pretends to consider the offer, tapping a slow rhythm on scratched formica with the ragged ends of her nails, and she looks again to the woman.

    “You are late.” And then she gestures at the seat, takes a sip of her lukewarm tea, and waits. At the other end of the all-night diner, a large group of men laugh, loud and obnoxious, and begin to shake hands and clap each other on the back. Her expression stays sharp, but dark eyes soften into something dark, mischievous. “I almost started the night without you.”

   ❝ I was afraid you would.  ❞ Ah, there it is, the teasing tone meant solely for chemist. As she slides into booth, seat across from the smaller brunette, she whispers a playful, ❝ I thought I’d have to play catch up and in a city like this, what is a girl to do after hours. ❞ 

   She cannot help the cheesy grin, semi-apology lingering behind that spark. She doesn’t have to make any attempts to grope, either, but the touch that reaches to brush affectionately against Isabel’s hand under the table, merely a graze of fingertips, the only signs that they aren’t merely two women in a cheap diner passing conversation. The gun is cold against her thigh in contrast to Isabel’s fingers. ❝ Hopefully I can make it up to you, ❞ grins suggestively, but reaches for menu card, innocently browsing the dessert section, attention split on the men to her back.

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My Fair Lady - 2011 m. Charlotte Munck (Det Kongelige Teater)

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We all deserve morning sex and pancakes

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I used to be a zookeeper. In a way.

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