#id prefer her being worse than her being better because i want her to be bad for me so i can be bad for her

[catinasink]

SHUT THE FUCK UP MUSIC PLEASE. I DO NOT NEED TO THINK ABOUT THAT. PLEASE. NOT RIGHT NOW

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Digital Circus with a Mime Reader, who CAN speak but prefers to use sign language and gestures: they find find Kaufmo in the middle of abstracting and try to calm him down (against their better judgement). It doesn't go well, ending with them locking and closing Kaufmo's door, and running to find Caine... Only to hear the theme song suddenly stop and Jax say something about a "new character" as they approach...

Ough finally some Kaufmo angst-

........

Approaching Kaufmo's door, you stopped in front of it and politely knocked, wanting to check up on him before Caine could summon everybody to perform the Digital Circus' "theme song" musical number.

As of late, your fellow clown hasn't been feeling up to snuff, since apparently nobody was laughing at his jokes anymore...

Although said jokes have all mentioned something about an exit--a way out of the digital realm you've grown quite comfortable living in. But even when he is dead serious, the others are convinced he's only kidding around, pretending to laugh and sometimes asking him if he could joke about something else.

Least to say...it grew frustrating for him.

The only reason he hadn't totally lost it yet was because of you, a mime who has lived in the circus for the past five months and befriended him quickly. Together you've put on many acts: with his wacky props and your invisible techniques, your shows were amusing to all.

That being said, you didn't want your longtime partner to think about any exits too much, as you've lost several friends in the past when they started talking about the same thing.

It happened to Queener, Kinger's beloved wife, and the poor chess piece has been on the brink of abstraction ever since (honestly, it's a miracle he didn't immediately follow her).

Fortunately, he remained stable enough to be around everyone.

As for Kaufmo?

He didn't look so good last night at dinner, and you haven't seen him all morning. Normally he'd be up and about, juggling random things as he walked or approaching you to brainstorm new acts to perform.

Him locking himself away in his room was not normal.

Especially when he knew this musical number was super important to Caine.

After waiting a minute or two, you perked up as he finally answered the door.

At first you smiled in greeting, although that was quick to fade when he only kept it open just a crack--enough for you to barely see his face...

Which bore a terrified expression underneath his runny makeup, making his frown look worse than it actually is. His hat was nowhere to be found, either.

''Are you okay, Kaufmo?" You signed, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

That was your usual way of talking, despite knowing you could very well speak freely. You had no clue if you were proficient in sign language before entering this circus, but regardless it always came in handy, and everybody did their best to communicate with you that way (or at least those with fingers, unlike Zooble or Gangle).

Since your performances usually involved silence and expressive gestures, you didn't see a need to talk often--and that was usually fine with Kaufmo, who'd always chatter with you in sign language right back.

But when he attempted to respond, you swore you both saw his own hands glitching, before he quickly retracted them, clearly frightened.

You, on the other hand, wanted to believe it was just a "digital hallucination".

That's all it was...right?

"I-I'm sorry, [y/n]..haven't been..feeling like myself-f-f lately.." Even his own voice was betraying him, as it sounded distorted, lagging as though he was a slow computer program. "But you believe me, don't you?"

"Believe what?"

"The...the exit, of course! The thing I've been talking about this whole time!! It's real! There IS a way out!! I-I can show you!!"

You blinked, before shaking your head. "Kaufmo, let me in."

"Oh no, I think that's a bad id--wait! Wait!!" Despite his pleas for you to stop, you forced your way into his room, shutting the door behind you so nobody else could intrude or eavesdrop.

The last thing you needed was Caine listening in.

Yet after taking a look around at the state of his quarters--with everything being a complete mess and the word "EXIT" scrawled onto every square inch of the ceiling and walls--you were nothing short of terrified for his mental well-being.

'My god....what has he done..?' You thought to yourself, mortified.

"No, no, no, no!!"

Looking back at Kaufmo, you saw him back up against the wall, holding his face as black glitchy polygons started appearing on his body. He gasped in horror, looking at his hands...and then up at you.

"What's..h-happening to me-e-e?"

Your heart sunk, knowing exactly what was going on.

"You're abstracting.." You whispered, your voice small yet shaken.

"I-I didn't...think I'd be next...it hurts so much! Christ-!!!" He began crying, his makeup oozing as he stared at you with empty, soulless black eyes. One of his arms was already taken over by the glitches, morphing into a large one covered in jagged polygons.

"Make it stop..MAKE IT STOP!!!" He screamed, slumping to the floor.

You were frozen in a state of panic, unsure if you should go get Caine or stay here and try to pull him out of his abstraction.

Either way, you had to do something fast...lest you lose him forever or become infected yourself.

"Just focus on me, pal. I'm here. I'm here." Kneeling down, you grasped his non-glitching hand tightly with both of yours, attempting to guide him through a breathing exercise.

"You'll get through this." You mouthed, but he just shook his head, noticing a single glowing eye forming on the surface of the glitchy flesh.

"Wh-Whatever you do...don't tell Caine, I beg you-u.." He pleaded. "He'll lock me away...a-and I'll be all alone in the dark..I don't wanna be alone.."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head, and he gazed at you in confusion. "What do you mean "no"? You'd let him throw me into the cellar with the rest of them...?" He started to grow angrier, feeling betrayed. "I thought we were partners!"

"We are partners, Kaufmo. Always will be." You sighed, wishing there was another way to stop this from happening. "But there's nothing more I can do...he needs to know-"

"Fine...maybe things will be better if I'm not around to tell my stupid jokes anymore."

"Kaufmo-"

"Go....run, [y/n]...run-n-n-nnNNNN------"

Immediately after he said that, you let him go right as his other hand quickly became overtaken by the abstraction, almost taking you with it.

You got up and took a step backwards, watching in mute terror as he rapidly grew in size, turning into a massive amalgamation of glitch black polygons. Even more glowy-trippy eyes were popping up in different places, looking in every direction.

Within seconds, Kaufmo no longer resembled the clown you once knew (or a person, in general)....but was instead replaced by a horrific digital beast with a long neck, standing on four legs.

You gulped as every single eye on his body suddenly shifted to stare directly down at you.

'Uh-oh-'

You hastily created an invisible wall just as he lunged at you with a ferocious roar, slamming right into the illusion like a bird smacking into a glass pane.

'He still falls for the oldest trick in the book..oh Kaufmo..'

Although it pained your heart to abandon him like this, he was too far gone to be saved. He didn't even recognize you anymore.

The only thing you could do now was get Caine before he harmed you or anybody else--even if it means you never saw him again. He could very well threaten the entire stability of this world if he got loose.

You quickly ran out of the room just before he could break through the "wall" and go after you, slamming the door shut and locking it tight.

Moments later, you heard him ram into it, the hinges damn near breaking off (but by the grace of cartoon physics, that didn't happen).

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, making a mad dash out of the dormitory section of the tent in a desperate search for Caine.

Unfortunately, you could already hear Bubble's singing in the distance as the gang's musical number routine was already starting:

"Gangle, and Zooble, and Kinger, too~!"

You ran as fast as your legs could possibly carry you. They were already aware of both of your absences, and they chose to go on with the song anyways.

'Jerks..they couldn't at least wait for me?' You huffed. 'Caine never tells us when we're doing these musical ditties-'

By the time you arrived, however, you heard the music abruptly cut out.

You stopped upon seeing your friends tumbled over each other on the floor, with Gangle's comedy mask being broken and Jax picking himself up in annoyance.

"Caine, is this one of your NPCs or is this a new sucker?"

Blinking, you glanced at the new person he was referring to, surprised to see a girl dressed as a red and blue jester.

"........."

Now you couldn't say anything to Caine.

Not right now, at least.

[veinsfullofstars]

Precious babies - I’m sure nothing bad will ever happen to them.

(ID: Reference sheet for my Kirby OCs, Para Dee and Bow Dee. Visually, Para is a young Waddle Dee with light orange fur, a pale beige face, peach cheek blush, brown eyes, and yellow feet. He wears large round glasses taped on the sides of his head and a green-and-brown plaid bowtie, and there is a little curl of fur swooping up from his forehead. Bow is a smaller Waddle Dee with red-orange fur, a beige face, pink cheek blush, big black eyebrows, brown eyes with a hint of sea-foam blue on the bottom, and gold-yellow feet. She wears a large navy-blue bow on the back of her head, the ribbon rimmed in pale-blue and wrapped around her head in the style of Kirby’s Fighter headband. Additional information below the cut. END ID.)

Just their kid versions at the moment, but there might be teen and adult refs for them in the future depending on how much story stuff I get around to showcasing. I got a couple other story-pertinent characters in mind as well, but they’re still deep in concept stages, so no refs for them just yet, haha. Also, if you guys want refs for young Dedede and Meta, lemme know.

Sketch started some time in 11/23, render started 12/13/23, finished 12/20/23, updated 03/11/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 01/08/24. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

(OC info updated as of 08/28/24)

—

Some facts about Para Dee:

-His name is just a shortened version of “Parasol Waddle Dee” - in addition to reflecting his Copy Ability, he has yet to find another name that he feels fits him better, so he keeps it as a nickname for much of his childhood and beyond (a common practice among Waddle Dees).

-He is around DDD and Meta’s age, and a little older than Bow.

-He is the middle child in a pretty big family. While he cares for them all very dearly, being crammed in a veritable mosh pit of siblings gets to be a bit much for him sometimes. He hangs out with DDD and co. partially to get away for a while, partially because he was probably going to get roped in with them anyway.

-He shares a deep love of books and learning with Meta, though his interests lean more towards math, science, and mechanical engineering, with space being perhaps his biggest hyperfixation. Seriously, this lad can go on about nebulae and starships and quantum mechanics for hours if you let him.

-Para has an unfortunate habit of “Um, actually”-ing people about topics he knows (or thinks he knows) well, annoying his friends at best and making him an easy target for local bullies at worse…

-Unlike his friends, Para is not a very active or adventurous soul. He is easily startled, chronically un-athletic, and unlikely to harm a fly let alone another person. He much prefers quieter activities like reading and stargazing, especially from the comfort of his own home. The only physical activity he seems to enjoy is rollerskating, though all he does is leisurely roll around the park while watching the others fail at doing cool tricks.

-Though reluctant about most things, Para is especially afraid of heights. Even being slightly up off the ground has him scrambling to cling to the nearest solid object (usually DDD, who has probably picked him up, possibly with the intent to throw).

-While his friends go on about their lofty goals of being kings and knights, Para’s ambitions are relatively lax. He’d like to go to university off-world to study rocket science when he’s older, maybe even learn to build them one day, but that’s about as big as his dreams get, and even those could be narrowed down further to just seeing a real interstellar starship in person. Sometimes, he imagines flying through space on one, seeing all those stars he loves so much up close and personal, even if the idea of being up that high makes his little heart stutter in his chest…

—

Some facts about Bow Dee:

-She is named, unsurprisingly, for the bow on her head, which she has been wearing since she was a baby and practically refuses to remove without a lot of coaxing (stars help anyone who tries to take it off by force). She keeps both the name and the bow for much of her childhood, though she might not keep them (or her pronouns) forever…

-She is the baby of the group (a couple years younger than DDD, Meta, and Para).

-She comes from a relatively small family, taken care of by her two (extremely cool) moms and an older brother who is often away at school or out with his friends (usually to get away from his "obnoxious baby sister"). As a result, she is on her own more than she cares to be - hence why she follows DDD and his friends around like an overeager puppy all the time.

-She thinks Meta is the coolest person ever from the moment she meets him. She hovers around him constantly whenever the gang is together (to his slight annoyance), sometimes even mimicking his poses and gestures without meaning to (usually while Meta is mimicking DDD the same way).

-Bow was born with a Copy Ability atypical for Waddle Dees, that being Water. At this point in her life, the most she can do is manifest bubbles at will and maybe manipulate small puddles if she focuses hard enough. Sometimes, in moments of high stress, she can summon powerful jets of water from nearby rivers, lakes, or even pipes beneath the ground (something that has definitely gotten her into trouble more than once). She will get the hang of her powers with enough time and practice, especially as her interests in oceans, sea life, and sailing grow over time…

-Bow finds it hard to sit still and loses focus easily if she’s not already invested in something (much to her teachers’ frustration). But when she is invested in a task, she will go all in on it until either her energy runs out or something else grabs her attention.

-Bow loves sports and most outdoor activities, constantly bouncing between favorites (though she probably enjoys swimming and surfing the most) and getting super competitive when teams are involved (much to DDD and Meta’s delight, and Para’s dismay).

-On that note, she is the only one of the four who has ever successfully landed a kickflip without getting hurt (at least after the first time).

-Bow - who often forgets that she is the smallest person in the room - will challenge anything to a fight if it makes her angry enough. Literally, she will look a feral Gigant Edge directly in the helmet and put up her little fists like she has any chance at winning. The only exception to this is bugs - she will perish before letting a bug anywhere near here (something DDD never lets her live down).

-If she had a mouth, she would bite.

[cadybear420]

Cadybear's Reviews- The Billionaire's Baby

As of the day I’m posting this, this is the last series on the list of Choices stories that I’ve actually fully completed. So what does this mean for Cadybear’s Choices Reviews?

First of all, I can now upload a review (or re-review, for already-reviewed series) of a series sooner after actually completing it. While taking some time to complete a review does let me think about it more, I would prefer my reviews to be more fresh. And like I said, all reviews are subject to more updated re-reviews if necessary.

Second, there are still quite a handful of series on my tierlist where they consist of multiple books, but I haven’t played all of them– TRR, BOLAS, COP, ID, etc. Some of which are still waiting for more books. While I’d generally prefer to review by series rather than by book, I do still have these books ranked on my tierlist with all the rest, and sharing a review for them will at least provide insight to my thoughts on the books and why I gave them the ranking that I did.

So I may or may not plan to write up reviews for those kinds of books. But if I do, I’ll probably title them differently from the usual “Cadybear’s Reviews” or “Cadybear’s Brief Thoughts”. I’ll probably make them as less formally set up reviews, like a more casual text posts. We’ll see. 

Third of all, as much as I love to share my thoughts on certain books, I also love to hear what other people think. So I may plan a little something bonus for the books where I’ve provided very extensive thoughts on them… stay tuned. 

Welcome to the forty-first official Cadybear's Reviews! Today I'll be talking about The Billionaire's Baby, which I have ranked on the "PooPoo Tier" at 1 star out of a possible 10.

Bruhhhh. This is literally just a TNA clone but with a surrogate instead of a nanny. This is literally the pregnancy plot that PB clearly wanted to have with TNA. Yeah, I stand by my statement that if TNA wasn’t GOC LI, they’d have had Sam accidentally knock up MC at the company gala in Book 1 (hence the Jenny and Aditya subplot in Book 3, to make up for being unable to do that with MC and her LI). And I’m gonna hazard a guess that if TBB wasn’t GOC LI, they’d have had Cole accidentally knock up MC in a one-night stand in the first chapter. Granted they already did the whole “MC gets accidentally knocked up by billionaire LI” thing with BaBu Book 1 Chapter 1, but clearly that wasn’t good enough for PB since there wasn’t an affair involved, just Cassandra acting like she was supposed to be Clint’s future wife. 

Okay, maybe what I’m saying might be a bit far-fetched. But I really do mean what I said about this being “TNA: Pregnancy Edition”. 

Right from her very first appearance, they make LI’s current partner Daphne very irritable and callous and disagreeable, obviously so she can be a straw loser villain and make the MC seem like the “better woman” for the LI. Y’know, just like Sofia and Addison in TNA. 

And of course, said LI’s current partner turns out to have been cheating on the LI all this time. Y’know, just like what happened with Sofia in TNA. 

They even have Joss, a LI-gender-determinant character that MC can be flirty with a little to make the actual LI jealous. Y’know, just like Robin and Jordan in TNA. 

Demi is the MC’s best friend who solely exists to churn out “le girly girl talk” exclusively about how MC totally deserves to be with the LI and to give MC the premium outfits that will totally turn on the LI. Y’know, just like Jenny in TNA. 

Honestly, the only thing that’s surprised me about this book is that Joss wasn’t the one Daphne was cheating on our LI with. Which just makes it worse because now there’s just no point to Joss’s character other than to be Windows Vista Robin. Like, at least actual Robin had some actual character and point to existing in the story.

This book is just so unserious. A lot of Choices smut books try to force “true romantic feelings of love” onto couples that are clearly purely lust-based, TNA included. But this one is the motherfucking GOD of that. It puts TNA to shame in that regard. 

Though, I’m gonna be honest, I think TNA as a whole was leagues better than TBB. 

For one thing, TNA is at least honest about being an affair story. But I guess “The Surrogate Affair” doesn’t sound as marketable, huh? Sure, let’s instead just bait people into thinking the affair story is something actually compelling like FCL did. 

For second, TNA at least had memorable characters like the Twins and Carter, and most of the other supporting characters did at least feel like actual characters. Characters like Robin, Sofia, Addison, Carter, Aditya, Paolo, even smaller ones like Sam’s parents, do genuinely stick with me. Characters like Carmen, Harrison, Joss, Collie’s parents, that one guy that Demi was crushing on… yeah you’ll probably forget they even exist barely an hour after you finish the story. 

Thirdly, I can at least somewhat buy Sam admiring MC for how good she is with the twins. And their attraction to each other was more tolerable too because, as awful as MC was for pursuing Sam, I never got the feeling that she felt entitled to them. Whereas IDK what else Collie sees in MC other than “hee hoo sexy woman”, and it’s worsened by how much MC acts entitled to them, how much she goes on and on about how she should be with them instead of Daphne. 

And last, the first TNA book at least plays up the affair aspect by having Sam and MC anticipate the trouble they’ll be in at the end. Books 2 and 3 were unnecessary garbage for sure, but at least during the first book, they had some sense of humility and self-awareness. TBB not only has none of that, but it thinks it has the fucking balls to throw in this end message about “remember to follow your heart”. If that isn’t just outright stating you want people to take your affair story seriously as being about true love rather than the lust-based affair it actually is, then IDK what is. 

Like… overall, TNA may be pretty derivative and melodramatic too, but it’s at least fun and engaging to some degree? It has its own “so bad it’s good” charm to it. Like the writers actually cared about giving us a somewhat enjoyable affair story, even if it wasn’t very high-quality. 

TBB is just… empty. The only thing it does better than TNA is that it ended after one book.

 Now, this story gets a lot of understandable and deserved hate, but despite that I myself am ranking this on PooPoo Tier, I’m not even sure I can hate it because it’s just… so derivative in every way. Cheating, pregnancy, and billionaire romance is a combination that has probably been done countless times by literally every other VN app like Chapters and Episode that tries to pander to the “Facebook Moms” stereotype. I don’t even play those apps, I never have, but I’m pretty sure they’ve done this whole “OhEhmGee you’re pregnant with the baby of a sexy powerful billionaire isn’t that sooo hotttt???” thing already like a million times now. If MTFL is the equivalent to a dog eating another dog’s shit and then shitting it back out again, TBB is the equivalent to a dog eating its OWN shit, probably mixed with some other dogs’ shit too, and then shitting it all out into a great big steaming mess much worse than its predecessors.  

And one of the worst things about it all is… how tragic this whole story’s existence is. The moment I heard this was about MC being a surrogate for a billionaire couple and you “uncover their scandals”, there was a small period of time when I was hopeful that this story wouldn’t be as cliched and formulaic as the title made it seem. (Of course, that short period of time ended when I learned that the LI was gonna be one of the members of the billionaire couple). Like, this could have been a story where MC doesn’t romance Collie (or even better, has both Daphne and Collie as LI options) and is a surrogate for them, but it turns into a sort of mystery story where you uncover a history of dirty scandalous secrets behind the couple, and your MC starts to feel conflicted about giving them this child and leaving said child in the hands of this couple while knowing all the shit they’ve done. 

But no, we had to go with an affair story and the only “scandal” is that the billionaire couple doesn’t love each other. Oh wow, so spicy amirite? (Haha no)

So, why do I have this one in the “PooPoo Tier”? Seeing as I reserve that tier for books that actively anger me. TBB was originally ranked in the Stone Tier because of how little substance it had and how little emotion it evoked from me. 

But as soulless and substanceless as it was, I eventually figured that it really did deserve to be in the worst list. Because it just does… everything wrong, from the very beginning. It baits us into thinking it’s a good story, only to give us a cheap affair story. It’s a rehash of previous, more mediocre Choices stories. It forces us to take it more seriously than it actually deserves. All of the characters are lackluster and empty. 

Seriously, name me one thing that this story does right. I originally had this book on Stone Tier with books like Ms. Match, Slow Burn, Roommates With Benefits, and the whole TNA trilogy, but at least those books had some redeeming qualities. Heck, even all of the other books on PooPoo tier have some redeeming qualities. Surrender at least explored BDSM acts a bit and tried to normalize kink. FCL at least had some good energy with the road trip setting and all the different places the group explored. Untameable at least didn’t have toxic behaviors glorified as acceptable, heroic, or passable. Granted I still consider those books worse for how badly they fucked things up when they easily couldn’t have– they anger me because there are multiple points where they could have taken their story in a better direction but didn’t, and instead chose to make their story worse. 

But TBB was pretty much doomed from the moment it confirmed we’d be romancing one of the members of the billionaire couple we’re a surrogate for. There’s no point of this story where it could have been even somewhat decent if they changed it, unless they just threw the whole thing out and started over from scratch. 

And that’s why I think I can safely say, it’s among the worst.

[splatzzlive]

bit of a rant/vent cause i realised something

(skip to second paragraph for stuff abt my yt)

if yall didnt know, im trans. idk wth i am but i label myself as mascbeing (masc-presenting person just existing) and i used to have really bad dysphoria but ever since my parents started calling me my preffered name and pronouns (even if they dont when im not around) ive found myself almost competely rid of it. like ive stopped wearing binders because i didnt care as much anymore and partly because they were wrecking my body. i knew that being accepted by the people around you could help, but i didnt realise it was that much. my parents are really consevative which i didnt know until recently and they are seriously comvinced this is a phase even tho its lasted like 5 years but i somehow convinced myself they werent. after finally accepting that they dont beleive me ive been getting worse again. i still dont wear my binders but i get dysphoria over other things and i think i need to go back to therapy but my therapist didnt beleive i was trans either. she was a christian therapist and the second i mentioned wanting to go on hrt she brushed it off and sad "medication isnt always the solution" as if i havent been dealing with these feelings for five fucking years and it seriously made me hate her after all the good she did for me. wow i had so many more feeling than i thought i did lol this was supposed to be positive um anyway...

ive been taking a really long break from youtube for my mental health but it hasnt gotten much better so tomorrow after my exam im gonna record the next episode for my minecraft series. see yall on sunday hopefully with that video! <3

also i changed my pronouns because ive found i dont actually like he/him. they/them isnt super god either but i dont mind it much! id prefer if yall used literally any neopronouns but ive specified hx/hxm/hxself (said hix/hem/hixself/hemself), star/stars/starself and bun/buns/bunself! thank you!!

thank you so much for reading and dealing with my emotional shit lol

take care of yourselves, drink water and eat if you havent yet today, brush your teeth and take your meds, i love yall /p

[clownery-and-fuckery]

I'm gonna be honest, all I saw was "punched in the face" in my inbox and got REAL scared for a second 😭 but I do enjoy this perspective!!

It's very blunt and to the point: Hunter did not do enough for the others.

Which I agree with!! He could have done more when it came to accepting Echo's ideology and what he wanted to do- he could have asked around for more opinions rather than saying "we need money and we need to settle down. No more soldiering for us" which is hurtful- it took a vote BEHIND HIS BACK to take that mission- whether it went horrible wrong or not is irrelevant

Though, as the guy who had all the authority for the longest time, I can kind of understand why Hunter immediately went "Nope. I said no so no" because he's very used to having the final say. Then again, as the leader of the group, it was also his responsibility to look out for all their needs- emotionally and physically, yet he tended to neglect them(with the exception of Omega) time and time again- ESPECIALLY when it came to Crosshair

Crosshair- I could drone on again about being a sibling and understanding him, but I wont- he made his choice to leave. But he also made his choice to reach back out. Hunter rejecting that is painful, however understandable based on his own inner turmoil. S3 better do them justice and have them reach a middle (WITHOUT OMEGA !!!! I cannot stress this enough- they need to get along BY THEMSELVES not with the inclusion of "We like each other because omega wants us to get along" ID REALLY HATE THAT)

I do agree that someone needs to set him straight, I'd seriously hate if it was Omega though. She isn't at fault for Hunter's obsession, it's not her job to "fix" it- I think I'd prefer if Hunter realised it himself, or maybe Wrecker... please Jen, please don't let me down here !!

Worse comes to worse, I'll just write it myself atp... also thank you for sharing your opinion!! I'm glad Im not the only one who was majorly angry over this !!!

As promised, my commentary on Hunter.... to the people that like him, im sorry.

Spoiler warnings and the like, this is pretty negative aside from like maybe three sentences?? Feel free to leave you're own opinions on this too ofc !!! >:)

I dont like Hunter.

Actually, that's not entirely true, I liked him in TCW season 7, when he was that silly man who fucked droids around the place, took no shit, and loved his brothers. I like the Hunter who, not putting this nicely, had a personality.

This is not a dig on him as a character, it's a dig on how he was handled, writing wise

Listen, I totally get that the "rugged-man-adopts-a-star-child" trope is popular, and I do LOVE that trope, really I do- I just don't really think it was done that well here? It's bothered me since s1 of the Bad Batch, and I don't think it's going to get any better this season....

My only real problem with the writing inconsistency of Hunter being an older brother of three to "Omega this, Omega that" and while I agree childcare is SUPER difficult at the best of times, Hunter had four brothers who were equally capable of taking care of Omega, too. It just never sat right with me that taking care of her became his ENTIRE personality

Hes a soldier, who despite being completely out of his element, had a routine he strictly followed for the whole war. Yet he seemed to completely forget about that ?? Stressed or not stressed, that worn in routines and LIFELONG LESSONS should not have left his head as quickly as they seemed to.

The most obvious and frustrating example of the oversimplification of Hunter's character is with Crosshair. I cannot even BEGIN to describe my anger when it comes to Hunter and Crosshair. It mainly stems from the way he just FORGETS his brother is with the Empire. Conveniently never bringing it up unless someone else did it first.

As the oldest sibling and squad leader, I personally think Hunter should have been the one to bring him up. It should not have had to be specifically mentioned by another character for Hunter to discuss it. He loves his brothers, he loved Crosshair, broody or not, he should have brought it up AT LEAST once, imo.

We also see this complete disregard for Crosshair AGAIN in s3, now that we have seen Hunter looking for Omega and not ONCE mentioning Crosshair. Has he forgotten that they were originally going to find Crosshair??? That they never actually FOUND their brother ??????? Annoyed me so much, tbh.

What else annoyed me was the singular language he used during the whole episode. "She's part of our squad." "Hemlock took SOMEONE from us." He's completely and utterly disregarding the OTHER TWO SIBLINGS that the Empire took away from him !!!!! It genuinely frustrates me so much.

I know I'm DEFINITELY nit-picking here, but even when Hunter looked to Tech's goggles, it was in a "He should've been here to do this." Way, not a "He should be here." Way. That's his brother, who died looking for another that Hunter has forgotten.

Hunter's tunnel vision is probably one my least favourite things about the Bad Batch, if I dare even MENTION that- and I love this show. It means so much to me, but I just can't handle this particular part of it...

I have so SO much anger directed towards the treatment of Hunter by the writers. I want the Hunter who was devoted to his WHOLE family, who fought for ALL of them, who would have NEVER allowed Crosshair to leave in the first place. Give me that Hunter back.

(Saying this- I do not mind Hunter and Omega's father/daughter and brother/sister relationship !!! I do really enjoy it- in small amounts. The fact that Hunter became nearly an extention of Omega really just- threw me off his whole character, really)

I specifically pick to ignore this when I'm making anything. Hunter has been a sergeant of three idiots(named endearingly) for the entirety of the war. One child who wanders around should not have taken up 100% of Hunter's attention, ESPECIALLY when he was surrounded and supported. It just bothers me, idk

Anyway, thats my rant !!! Back to some positives soon, promise !! I just had to get this off my chest, it's been BOTHERING me.

[miekasa]

okay but what about airport!levi? he gives quiet businessman vibes sitting in his slacks and turtleneck

IN HIS TURTLENECK 😭😭 He would also be quiet and to himself, but not in the emo way. You got me thinking about all of them now, so here are my other thoughts about the boys at the airport.

Levi

He thinks the idea of separating classes on an airplane is beyond stupid, but if the flight is particularly long, or particularly packed, he’s not above paying for business class for a little extra personal space for the two of you.

When he doesn’t do that, tho, he never picks your guys’ seats ahead of time, so sometimes you’ll be separated. Good thing he’s also not above lying at the check-in desk, “I’m in Zone 1, could my wife be seated next to me so that we can board together?”

They respond with an “of course,” and move your seats together, and Levi walks back with a content nod of appreciation. You are not married, and marriage sucks about as much as class separation on a 30 foot long plane, but it has its benefits.

Masks on, regardless. No debates. Pandemic or not, the mask stays on. Do not perceive him, keep the pressurized air sharing to a minimum.

Doesn’t wander much in the airport. There’s nothing in there that he hasn’t seen already, except for the marked up prices on touristy t-shirts.

And if you wander, he’ll usually just sit in the waiting area to watch your bags while you window shop and do your thing. If you’re gone for more than 30 mins, he might call, under the pretenses of, “Making sure you didn’t get lost. You know that Starbucks was near gate 41 to the left, not the right, right?” Like he’s a comedian or something 🙄

He does encourage you to get snacks before you board, tho. Airplane food is gross, and he would much rather pay for a $13 sandwich that you can snack on later, than for you to have to eat mush.

He’s got a little portable mug he takes with him for when he’s wants to buy a hot drink before getting on his flight. It’s cute.

Doesn’t fall asleep on the plane ever. No matter how long the flight is—at most, he’ll take a quick power nap somewhere in the middle if it’s over 9 hours, but other than that, he’s good to go.

Doesn’t mind if you fall asleep, and he always adjusts your neck pillow to make sure you don’t get cramps.

Jean

Travel champion. This man loves being in the airport even though he’s convinced it’s a time capsule, he fucking loves it.

King of “your airport fashion matters, babe.” Not necessarily wearing a whole three piece suit, but he does put in a little effort; it’s not just the first pair of sweats he has laying around.

Swears coffee tastes better in the airport. It does not. That does not stop him from buying it. He should learn to quit tho, especially for someone who hates airplane bathrooms as much as he does.

Charming with all the security personnel and desk assistants. You could be checking in for a flight at 4am, and Jean’s got people smiling and cheery for their shifts.

Bitches about the selection of movies on the flight, and learns to just download his own ahead of time. Gets really startled when he’s watching something and the flight attendants try to grab his attention for food or drinks—the very loud, classic, Jean Kirstein “HUH?”

On that note, he also gets startled by the loudspeaker announcements in the airport. He doesn’t know why he has to hear about American Airlines flight 2170 to Cancun, when he is not on American Airlines flight 2170 to Cancun.

Not opposed to paying extra for better airplane food or drinks on the plane if it’s the right time of day. He always finds something to toast to, plus he likes to treat you whenever and wherever he can.

Takes care of your overhead luggage and helps out the people around him if he sees they’re struggling. Gets shy when you call him a gentleman for it, and he rubs his neck, grumbling, “I was just helping the line move a little faster.”

Great timing, generous, will pick up your checked bags for you, and already rented a car a week in advance: 10/10 travel buddy.

Porco

He doesn’t like planes and there’s no solid reason why—nothing bad happened to him as a kid, and it’s not even that rare unfortunate incidents freak him out or anything—something flying just makes him a bit uneasy.

He won’t say it though, and he tries to keep it together when you’re checking in, but you can tell he’s anxious once you’re sitting and waiting for your flight to board.

He’ll ask to switch seats if you have the window seat, because somehow the feeling of being boxed in between the plane wall/window and another person makes it feel more like a car than a plane and he’s okay with that.

Going to the airport is one of the few times he hair won’t be styled, and falls in his face a bit. He usually throws on a beanie to cover it up, but you think he looks pretty cute either way.

Can’t usually fall asleep and he hates it because he just sits there thinking about the worst for the entire duration of the flight. But when you travel with him for the first time and coax him into taking a nap it’s so much better.

It’s about the only time he’ll let himself be publicly babied by you; but it makes everything so much easier that he doesn’t even mind.

So now, whenever you get on flights, he just puts his hood up, lays his head on your shoulder and waits for the magic to happen.

Bonus: you’re traveling with his friends, and Pieck and Marcel past to your seats, surprised to see Porco fast asleep on your shoulder. Pieck squeals, going on about how you must be a wizard to have gotten him to nap, to which Marcel just shakes his head, “Nah, he’s just really in love with her. Look at his face, that’s the calmest he’s been since he was five.”

Connie

Loves the airport. Not an ounce of organization in his soul though. By that I mean, yeah, he’s probably forgotten his passport at home, or forgotten that a full size bottle of body wash cannot go into his carry-on luggage.

Forgets to wear shoes that easy to take off and is fumbling over himself after the security check trying to lace them back up or put them back on.

Likes for you guys to have coordinating sweatsuits, and even though you don’t travel super often, Connie’s got at least 3 pairs of them lined up for you guys.

Sweet enough to drop plans or rearrange his schedule to travel with you if you were originally gonna be alone. He knows you can handle yourself, but he doesn’t want for you to travel alone if you don’t have to, especially if you’re going someplace far and/or for an extended period of time.

He always finds breakfast food to eat before he gets on his flight (if you two even have time to spare for food that is). It could be 9pm, but Connie’s asking for a breakfast wrap.

Hates waiting in the little pre-flight area. Claims it’s boring as hell and that’s why there’s no reason to get there 3 hours early 🙄🙄

He always spends at least 30 minutes browsing all the movie and TV show options available on-board, loudly exclaiming in excitement when they have something cool to watch—only to fucking fall asleep 10 minutes later. Right on top of you when he was oh-so-excited to watch Madagascar 2.

Always steals the aisle seat, even if it’s yours. It’s probably for the best though, because he has to get up to pee at least twice, no matter how short your flight is.

Makes some cheeky remark about you meeting him in the bathroom. He doesn’t mean it... unless he does. Unfortunately, you’ve never... successfully been able to do that out of fear of being caught by the flight attendants, but there have been a few quickies in the “family” (“It’s ethical, because technically we’re participating in the act of making a family, babe”) bathroom before you boarded. It’s his fault, not yours.

Armin

He really likes planes, and traveling in general. I think trains would be his favorite mode of transportation, but airplanes are good too.

I hate to say it but he claps when the plane lands. I will not elaborate or defend my stance on this.

Prefers the window seat because he likes to look out at the clouds as he’s in the sky.

He took his passport photo a little before he cut his hair, so the security personnel always hold it up and flicker between his ID photo and his current appearance a few times before stamping it. It makes him a little embarrassed because he can’t tell if they think he looks better or worse and sometimes he’s really fighting for his life convincing them that that’s him in the picture 😭

Listens to music rather than downloading a movie or watching a show, and always brings wire headphones to the airport so that it’s easier to share and listen with you.

If you fall asleep on him first, he’ll likely fall asleep on you shortly after. If he’s tired enough, he’ll fall asleep first, though he’s somewhat embarrassed and disappointed because he wanted to see the descent and skyline outside.

When he’s not asleep or window-watching, he’s somewhat fidgety out of excitement, rather than nervousness. He’s excited to be traveling and looks forward to wherever you’re going, even if it is just a weekend long work trip.

Hates traveling alone, though. It just feels particularly lonely to him to be going someplace foreign without company by his side. So, he’ll call you at every checkpoint and send you updates.

He only ever buys two things in duty free: shot glasses with the name of the city/country you’re traveling to, and whatever variety of button down short-sleeves are available to him.

Erwin

You knew this was coming, but this man is absolutely at the airport 18 hours before your flight takes off, and he’s driving like a manic getting there, like you don’t have all the time in the world.

Fascinated by anything and everything in duty free. Definitely spends more money than necessary on your return flight on the grounds that he was getting a good deal.

Exchanges money in the airport and keeps cash in his fanny pack. There’s no traveling without the fanny pack.

Plays crossword puzzles on his phone on the plane, and it’s just about one of the only games he has. That and Candy Crush—I get the feeling he’d be on level 500+ of that game and he always knocks out at least 10 levels on a flight.

Always a little surprised when he feels his your head on his shoulder, but he says nothing, and acts like he didn’t even notice, but there’s a telling little smile on his face.

Takes the most foul selfies of him and your sleeping self. In his defense, he had the best intentions; but that angle was flattering nobody. It’s too bad he’d already paid for the in-flight wifi and sent it to Hange because now you’ll never live them down.

You could probably get him to put on a (skincare) face mask during your flight. He forgets to take it off tho, and if you don’t tell him, he’d fully walk through customs with it on his face.

Accidentally gets drunk because he doesn’t understand that just because he can handle several glasses of whiskey in his favorite bar on a Friday night, does not mean it will translate on a plane.

[mochegato]

Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment.  She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham.  The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high.  The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision.  It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to.  It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her.  She eyed the people around her as she walked.  Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her.  She could feel somebody watching her.  She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move.  She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her.  She frowned slightly and shook her head.  She was getting paranoid.  She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.  

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag.  The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own.  She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it.  She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything.  Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs.  She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her.  She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion.  “Just me.  It’s okay. It’s just me.”  He watched her for a few seconds.  She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me.  So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.”  He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow.  “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right?  You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you doing here?”  

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today.  It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes.  And I’m a security expert.  I consult on it for people and companies.  I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.”  He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe.  “I can already tell that you need better locks.  I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds.  “You would be right.”  She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door.  “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern.  “I wouldn’t let you.  I’d charge Tim for it.  He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him.  The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became.  She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there.  Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.  

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys.  “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.”  She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise.  After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment.  He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting.  But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now?  “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions.  Standard issue, not particularly secure.  He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight.  He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open.  He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile.  Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her.  There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected.  He shook his head at the condition of the apartment.  It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean.  He could see why she and Tim got along so well.  Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.  

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports.  He raised an eyebrow at that.  Odd combination.  His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door.  He scrunched his forehead in confusion.  If she lived with someone, where were they?  Where were they last night?  Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him?  “You live with someone?  A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator.  “No.  Well, yes, but no.  I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded.  That was good at least.  She wasn’t living alone.  There was someone else with her usually.  That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her.  He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time.  It was worse than the door.  “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones.  This lock is ancient too.  It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it.  We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter.  She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad.  She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here.  Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be.  She was just an average citizen here.  

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could.  She was no longer safe, not even in her own home.  But then again, she never really had been had she?  She had just thought she was.  She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant.  Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting.  Jason could guess where her head went.  When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang.  She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.  

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water.  She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water.  Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help.  It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter.  Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink.  She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter.  After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed.  Jason frowned at the sound.  It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her.  He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help.  God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming.  Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her.  She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again.  They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.  

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring.  She shook her head at herself.  She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped.  She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.”  She paused to listen to him.  “No, I’m fine.  I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it.  Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim.  “I’m doing okay, I guess.  I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid.  I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor.  “No, thank you though.  Actually, your brother is here already.”  She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.  

“…that so.  That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern.  “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh.  Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications.  She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off.  He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed.  “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down.  And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.”  He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling.  “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.”  She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey!  That makes me Ron?  What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled.   “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words.  “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?”  Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in.  “Oh!  No, I was serious.  You two remind me of my friends.  It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight?  You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again.  “Yeah, Tim.  I’m okay.  Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.  Let me know if that changes.  I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously.  “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh.  “Absolutely.”

“Sweet.  I might test it just for that,” she teased him.  “Night, Tim.”

“Night.  And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up.  She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go?  It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her.  “I have plenty of time.  Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again.  “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture.  It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”  

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him.  “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile.  “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes.  “You certainly seem to think so.”  She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now.  If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him.  She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him.  “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes.  “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response.  “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly.  She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively.  “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it?  Or pretend like it never happened.  I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly.  “I was keeping an eye on my drinks.  I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.”  She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before.  “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence.  When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring.  He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.  

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously.  He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were.  “You don’t think it was just opportunistic.  You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor.  She gripped her arms tighter.  “I don’t know.  I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people.  I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again.  “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded.  She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze.  She looked up at him with a fake smile.  “So what are you feeling for dinner?  I can make some pasta.  I can do stir fry.  I can whip up a casserole.  What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention.  “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile.  He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to.  “That’s understandable.  I wouldn’t want to be either.  Do you want me to call Tim over?  I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile.  “No, I trust you.  And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back.  “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen.  “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her.  “You should eat though.  What kind of food do you want to try?  There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away.  “I don’t want to order out.  I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again.  “Yeah, that’s reasonable.  Let’s make something together, yeah?  I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter.  How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?  French toast sound good?  I think you call it Lost Bread?  And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded.  “That all sounds amazing.”  She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared.  “Thank you, Jason.  You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem.  We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself.  They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again.  Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

[worldsover]

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a  win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts. 

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧ 

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

[xkaileo]

Hi! For the one shot request, would love to see something with animals - saw a very cute prompt when I googled ideas (I have so little creativity which is why I read so much!) where one of them works at an animal shelter and the other comes in to pet the cats when they are sad. Maybe something along those lines? Thanks so much for considering! ❤️❤️❤️

Ahh I'm so, so glad you sent in this request! I had a lot of fun writing it, honestly.

Growing Felines

"I'm not going to make it in today, it seems," Shisui said over the line. "The snow's just too thick, and my car won't start." Oh, Sakura could not believe this. She'd struggled to make it here through all of the snow, and now she was stuck here alone?

"Damn," she said over the phone. "Kakashi can't make it in today, either." Sakura wasn't a fan of working alone at the shelter, but it seemed she had no choice today. Her coworkers, Shisui and Kakashi, were stuck at home in the snow, and Sakura was the only one who'd managed to make it to the shelter for the day. Curse her managerial position! With the weather outside getting worse, she felt she would be staying overnight with the animals to make sure it didn't get any worse. They tended to get upset when the weather turned sour like this.

"You gonna be okay there by yourself?" Shisui asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. Maybe one of the volunteers will make it in, so I won't be on my own all day." Part of her was hoping that she might see that one volunteer today… There was one boy that always came in. Sasuke Uchiha. He was quiet, withdrawn, and rarely talked, but Sakura noticed when he was with the cats, he seemed to smile a lot. She'd never asked why he came so often, but he was one of their most active volunteers. He never seemed to have much to say, though.

"Hmm… maybe." Sakura frowned at the tone in his voice. "Well, good luck, Haruno!" With that, Shisui hung up the phone, leaving Sakura wondering just what crazy idea Shisui had. She knew Sasuke and Shisui were related, but… no, it couldn't be that. Could it?

Shaking the thought off, she went to do a headcount of all of the cats, making notes as to which kennels needed a bit of cleaning and the conditions of the cats that they'd noticed were ill. Most of them were doing much better, and there weren't any that had severe conditions that would need immediate veterinary attention. Hana lived not too far from the shelter, but if Sakura could avoid having to drag Dr. Inuzuka out into the snow for anything, she would. They'd just have to make do with phone consultations if they had any questions.

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

Sasuke hated the snow.

He hated it because it reminded him of that day. After all, he'd been stuck there for days and days. The memories plagued him for years. A snowstorm where no police could get out, and a poor, tormented little boy stuck there with his murdered parents because no one could get out there to help him. Sure, years of therapy had made him better than previously, but days like today were days that he wanted to be out of the house and distracted.

Even despite the terrible weather.

Thus, he made a point to bundle up well and make his way to his truck, thankful it had four-wheel drive that could carve through the snow with ease. He'd just go for a drive around the city, pick up a few things, and come back. No other plans. Why bother with them? He would've preferred not to talk to anyone today anyway.

As if on cue, while he was sitting in the driver's seat waiting for his truck to warm up a little more, his phone rang. He pulled it out, frowning at the caller ID. What the hell would Shisui want today? Shisui was one of the few people who knew what today was, and yet he was calling? He should have known the kind of mood Sasuke would be in. Sighing, he opened the phone and held it to his ear.

"What?" He asked, clearly grumpy.

"Ouch, don't bite my head off, cous'," Shisui defended over the other line. "I just wanted to ask you something. Just a little personal favour, if you could." A personal favour? Today? Well, in all fairness, Sasuke was one of the only people who had a vehicle that could traverse through weather like this.

"What do you want?" He wasn't going to give Shisui an answer just yet. He'd hear him out, at the very least.

"Look, you know how garbage my car is in this weather. I'm stuck at home, and so is Kakashi, according to her. Sakura's at the shelter all by herself. Could ya check on her, maybe?" Wait… Sakura. That was the girl that worked at the shelter with him. Sasuke bit his lip, contemplating. Sakura was tough… she could handle things there on her own, probably.

"Sasuke~" Shisui's teasing voice rang in his ear. "I know you like her~."

"Shut up," Sasuke bit back. "I told you that in confidence." He hadn't even meant to, but Shisui, annoying as he was, had managed to get it out of him. Now he hadn't stopped teasing him about it. Then again, what wasn't to like? Sakura was cute, she was nice, she was friendly, sweet, warm, welcoming… All traits anyone would like in a girl like that.

"C'mon, Sasuke. At least check on her. You don't have to stay if you don't want to. But I am genuinely worried about her being there all alone." Sasuke drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes and releasing a sigh. Alone. Sakura was alone right now. He couldn't ignore that. What if something happened? What kind of a person would he be if something happened, and he could have done something about it?

"Fine. I'll check in on her. I'll text you. Bye." He wasn't going to listen to anything more Shisui had to say; he'd probably just tease the hell out of him. He turned on the four-wheel drive and kicked it into gear, making his way down the rural roads until he reached the shelter, swearing as he tried to find a place to park. He could see Sakura's car, but by now, the blizzard had covered it in snow; she had no hope of ever making it out of the parking lot. Shisui was right; it was worth coming here to check on Sakura if she was all alone.

Stepping out of his truck, he squinted through the snow to try and make out the door, barely able to see it through the blistering snow. He managed to move forward, checking back occasionally; the moment he couldn't see his truck, he was finally able to see the door, breathing a sigh of relief. He found it was open, struggling to pull it open against the wind and drifts that had practically barricaded it; there was at least a foot-high drift in front of it. He made it in, hearing the door slam behind him as he stared at the pink-haired girl sitting behind one of the computers.

After checking the kennels, Sakura made her way back to the main desk and worked on some paperwork when she saw a shadow outside the door. She shielded her eyes as a mess of black hair, blown around by the snow, covered the boy's face as he struggled to make it through the door. She could feel her heart pounding; who would have dared to come out in this weather? Was it someone… untrustworthy? And here she was, all alone…

He pulled his scarf down, brushing snow off his shoulders and stamping his boots to loosen the snow out of the treads. She was uncertain about his intentions but came around the desk with a concerned expression.

"Are you crazy?" She asked, mouth agape in shock. "The storm's--"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sasuke replied dryly. He unzipped his jacket, glad it was warmer inside. "You're out here all by yourself?" Okay, so maybe he had a point. She was a little crazy to have come out here on a day like today. What made her even consider it? There was no way she was going to make it out of there on her own. Hell, he wasn't even sure his vehicle would make it out of there, but he could deal with that later. He'd figure something out.

"I had to come in! Someone had to look after the cats…" She couldn't have just left them on their own. They could have gone without food or water for days, and she couldn't have that happen. Sasuke could understand that; he was only a volunteer who came to visit the cats when he was lonesome, partly at the behest of his cousin Shisui. As they stood there, the power flickered for a moment, drawing both of their attention.

"Oh, no," Sakura griped, scrambling back to the computer. It had been just a brief flicker, so the backup battery had kicked in, but she needed to get the paperwork done fast. She hit the save button, realizing she probably wouldn't have time to finish it all. At least she was caught up to a certain point; she could do it when there was more power. If the power was flickering, that meant they would lose heat… and she would have to make sure there was extra insulation.

"Look, um… I appreciate that you're here, so… do you think you could help?" Sakura's eyes were pleading. He'd planned to turn around and leave, but he couldn't ignore that look. He'd never been quite this close to her; she was prettier than he remembered. Her skin was fair, and her hair looked soft; her bangs framed her face while she'd pulled the rest up into a high ponytail. She wore red glasses as well; he could swear he'd seen her without them before.

"Sure." He knew they weren't leaving from here, but he wasn't about to say that just yet. She didn't need to know that he'd come out here almost entirely with that intention, nor did she need to know that he'd come in through that door, intending practically the same thing. He made sure to lock the door for them to leave. That way, nobody else could come in through the door unnoticed.

"Okay. We'll carry the blankets up from the basement and start packing them around the windows to keep some of the cold air out. I think there are towels there, too, so we can use those. Then we'll put some of the smaller ones inside the kennels for them to curl up under. After that, we'll make sure their food is good and boil water to keep in thermoses to top it up as the water starts to freeze. Let's see, there are six thermoses, but they're all about two litres each, so…" Sakura started doing some math in her head as they moved down the stairs, whispering to herself under her breath.

Sasuke was listening, but… he was also busy paying attention to her. Standing behind her, he could just faintly smell her shampoo as the hair in her ponytail swayed back and forth with each step. She was… kind of short, too. She had to be almost a foot shorter than he was, maybe a touch less. She also seemed to like the colour red… He could tell by the fact that she always seemed to have something red to complement her outfit. Today, it was her hair tie and her shirt; other days, it was a red headband she wore, and in the summer, he often saw her wearing red sandals or sneakers.

He followed her to the basement, following her directions to grab blankets. They made their way to the singular room that housed all the cat kennels, stuffing blankets and towels against the windows. They then moved to open each kennel individually, carefully stuffing more blankets in and refilling each of the cats' water dishes before closing them in. After that, they were left with a few more blankets as the lights went out on them, the sudden darkness surprising Sakura.

"Sasuke? Hold on-- I have a flashlight," she called, scrambling in the bag that was at her feet. She fumbled with the flashlight; Sasuke could hear where she was and crept toward her in the dark, hoping he might find her before she had to use the flashlight. As she finally found the button and turned it on, Sasuke was nearly right in front of her, causing her to squeal in surprise and jump back, startling a few of the cats.

"Sorry," he reassured, raising his hands. "I didn't mean to startle you." Sakura could feel her heart pounding in her chest, though she breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, she only had one flashlight, though she had quite a few sets of batteries they could use. With the power out, their heat would be out; the building was well insulated, and they'd done extra work, not to mention there was enough food if they were stuck for a day or two--something Sakura made extra sure of during the winter months, given the shelter's location--but hopefully, they'd at least be able to shovel their way out.

"Come on. There's probably enough hot water that we can make some hot cocoa if you like." She led the way out, Sasuke following not far behind her as they found the small kitchenette. Sakura found the hot water, prepping herself a tall mug of cocoa.

"Is there any tea?" Sasuke asked, doing his best to peer into the cupboards in the dim light. "I'm not really a fan of cocoa." More accurately, he didn't like anything sweet.

"Yeah, um, there's some black tea up in the cupboard here, I think." Sakura pulled the tea down and got a mug ready for him, pouring the water over it and putting the lid on for him. She grabbed a couple of packets of honey and a couple of sugar packets for once it had steeped, grabbing a couple of snacks for the both of them as well. She opted for a few things in the fridge likely to perish first; without power, the food in there would go bad first.

They made their way back to the cats' room, stopping by one of the visitation rooms to grab a couple of bean bag chairs to sit on. If they were in the room for the cats, they could at least monitor them in case anything went wrong. Sakura handed him a small bag of chips, giving him a warm smile.

"So… you decided even in the snow to come out and visit the cats?" She was pretty curious about the reasons he'd come out. He heard the question but wasn't sure if he wanted to answer. He chewed his lip, contemplating whether he should tell her the truth or not.

"Yeah… something like that." Sakura found his mysteriousness a bit intriguing. He'd barely said a word to her any time he'd been here, except one or two in greeting or passing. She was often busy with paperwork while he was just there to visit. He spent more time talking to Kakashi and Shisui than anything. This had to be the most he'd ever spoken to her at all.

Sakura set the flashlight between them, facing upward so they could see each other. She was doing her best to read him, but she couldn't get much. Even his facial expressions gave nothing away, but he seemed… awkward. The way he spoke, it was like he was trying not to admit something. It intrigued her. She wanted to know more about him. That, and… she might have thought he was a little attractive.

Okay… a lot attractive.

"...Shisui called me," Sasuke admitted. "He said you were here alone, and… that he'd like it if I could check on you." He sipped at his tea, pleased with how it had steeped; he preferred it black and unsweetened. "I have a pretty big truck, so I was the only one able to make it out here before the snow got bad." So much for that now. His truck was probably half-buried, too. He was glad for the darkness in the room; Sakura couldn't tell that his cheeks had tinted a faint pink colour.

"You came all the way out here just to check on me, then?" Sakura felt her face heat up, at a loss for words. He nodded, which left her speechless; he looked away out of embarrassment, making her heart beat a little faster.

"Oh, wow," she commented, internally scolding herself. Talk about a lame response! "So, um… I'm guessing your truck is probably stuck now, isn't it?" Sakura reached for one of the blankets, wrapping it around herself as she shivered. She could notice the difference when the heat wasn't blowing from the vents. It was still more than warm enough, but she missed the warmth.

"Yeah. It's stuck." He didn't have to see it to know it. "So I'm… just as stuck here as you are." He didn't mind it. She seemed like good company, if nothing else. Shisui had probably planned for this. Shisui seemed to like to play matchmaker once in a while.

Sakura laughed awkwardly. "Well, um… I guess it's a good thing this wasn't like, a date or something." Oh, she was just digging herself deeper and deeper, it seemed. If Sasuke hadn't been so good at maintaining his composure, he might have choked on his tea at that statement. A date? Yeah, it… would be a pretty lame date. Wasn't it kind of like one, in a sense?

"Mm… I wouldn't really know." He sipped his tea. "So… Sakura, what do you do other than… work here?"

"Oh, not much, honestly. I live with my friend Ino, who's going to school to be a fashion designer, so I tend to, um… end up having to model whatever designs she has a lot of the time. She pays me a little for that, and I get a lot of free clothing out of it." Sasuke saw her shiver and reached for two more blankets, wrapping one of the smaller ones around himself then throwing the larger one over her before wrapping one half over himself.

"It's warmer if we're both under it." He was a little chilled, but he wasn't about to admit it. Looking at her… He could imagine her being a model. She was pretty. Very pretty.

"What about you?" Sakura asked, moving a little closer as he'd instructed. It was warmer with both of them under the blanket.

"I… write music." He'd thought about going to school for it, but it was easier to do it from home and do his research. Cheaper, too; he lived on a large acreage he'd purchased with an inheritance from his parents. With the house and the rented farmland, plus the hefty life insurance money he'd spent years living off of, he could spend years living out there. "Not much else. I live alone just down the road from the shelter, actually."

"Oh, really?" That wasn't what she expected. Musicians were always exciting types. "So you just come to visit the cats when you need inspiration?" It made sense to her. Creative types always looked for inspiration in the strangest of ways.

"No." Why did he find it so easy to talk to her? Something about the way she spoke made him want to open up to her. He chewed his lip like he was trying to hold back his words, but it was no use. "I come when… I start to feel like I'm too alone at home."

Sakura suddenly felt sad. "You don't live with anyone there? Not even your parents?" An acreage like that, she would have assumed he still lived with his parents. Maybe not a wife--they were far too young for that--but not even his parents? That seemed odd to her.

Sasuke shook his head. "I… they're not… around." He couldn't open up that much, but by his expression, Sakura figured it out. He didn't have to say anything more. There were one of two options there: either they were dead, or he never spoke to them any longer. She reached up from underneath her blanket, reaching underneath his and gently rubbing his shoulder. He looked at her, staring down not at her hand but her face. She was… quite close. She'd been the one who brought up a date. Was she… possibly interested in him? Had she said something to Shisui at some point?

Sakura saw the change in his demeanour, heart thumping in her chest. They were close, faces almost inches apart; it was like he was leaning down toward her. She'd heard Ino talk about this kind of feeling, but… she'd never experienced it. Well, they were alone, basically in the dark… What else were they going to do? They couldn’t let the cats out of the kennels, at least not unless they were strictly holding them. At least some of the cats were able to visit one another across their enclosures.

He was so close to her, his face only inches from hers. He could see her eyes in the dim light; green eyes were the rarest colour, and hers sparkled a bright jade colour. He wanted to kiss her, but… was it appropriate? Should he? No, maybe not yet. This was the first time they were really having a conversation. He wanted to know her better first.

“So…” he cleared his throat and moved back a bit. “You live with your best friend, you said? Anyone… else you spend time with?” He felt it was too tacky to ask her if she had a boyfriend or girlfriend. Sakura was a little miffed he moved away, but she’d just have to deal with it.

“Oh, no, not really. Well, there are a couple of girls we hang out with as a group, but… not anyone otherwise. No boyfriend, either. What about you?” She was a little oblivious to his prying.

“Mm… I have a friend, Naruto, but we haven’t talked in a while.” Wait, Naruto… why did Sakura recognize that name?

“Hold on. You mean Naruto Uzumaki?” It couldn’t be the same one, could it? Sakura remembered him. Ino had dated him at one point, in the last few years of high school.

“Yeah, Naruto Uzumaki.” Sasuke rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We, um… we were foster brothers for a while until I moved away in high school. I haven’t seen him since.” Naruto had been annoying, but they’d looked out for each other at least. He’d yet to try and reach out,m. “Then there’s also Karin, Suigetsu, and Jugo.” Wait… Karin. Karin was a girl’s name. His girlfriend, maybe?

“Oh, so… is Karin your..?” Why did her heart drop at that idea? Him being taken was… a sad thought.

“No. Ex, actually. High school.” He hadn’t been as invested in that relationship as Karin had. He’d felt it was unfair to her and broken things off, though he knew she still pined for him. She seemed never to let him forget it. One day she’d have to, but for now, he could ignore her.

“Oh, I see.” That was a relief. An ex she could handle. Just as she opened her mouth to ask another question, a loud crash came from outside in the hall. It sounded like it came from the supply room, but Sakura wasn’t sure. Had someone broken in? Worry crept up in her spine as the flashlight started to flicker.

“What was that?” She whispered, instinctively huddling a little closer to him. He looked out toward the door, frowning and unconsciously moving closer to her as well.

“I don’t know. Do you have extra batteries for the flashlight?” He reached for her bag, digging through it in an attempt to find them before the flashlight died.

“Yeah, um, inside the pocket there.” She helped to hold the light for him, unscrewing the back and pulling out the old batteries. He took the flashlight and inserted the fresh ones, breathing a sigh of relief as the light flicked back on without issues. He stood up, turning to Sakura for a moment.

“I’ll go check it out. Wait here.” He was about to take a step before Sakura stood, shaking her head.

“Can I come with you?” It wasn’t an offer but rather a question. “I— I don’t want to sit here alone.” She was sure the cats would be fine, but it would be a problem and a half if someone had broken in. Sasuke hesitated before reaching for her hand, grasping it and nodding.

They made their way out into the dark hall, Sakura sticking close to him as they worked their way to the storage room. Once they opened the door, they were hit with a blast of cool air, and from what Sasuke could see, it looked like one of the windows had cracked. Something had hit the side of the building—a tree, it seemed—and a part of one of the branches had cracked the glass.

“Just a broken window, but not too badly. Is there some tape here?” He rooted around for something, anything; duct tape would work best. Sakura found a toll and handed it to him, giving her the flashlight so he could reach up and tape the glass. It would be enough to hold until a technician could adequately repair the window. Sakura shivered in the cold as he worked, wishing it wasn’t so chilly. He was done quickly, grabbing a few boxes to put them in front to help insulate.

“Come on. Let’s head back.” He could tell she was cold; he made a point to snag a couple more of the blankets to wrap them both in. Once they were back in the kennel room, he wrapped her in one blanket, then wrapped two of them around them both, keeping her closer for warmth. It wasn’t cold in the shelter yet, nor was it likely to get too cold, but it was better that they stay warm than try to warm up.

“Here. Stay close.” He could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “We’ll, um… we’ll stay warmer if we share body heat.” That sounded creepy, but how the hell else was he supposed to put it? He kept an arm around Sakura, making sure she was close to him. Sakura could feel herself nodding and agreeing, leaning against him and glad for the warmth he provided.

“Thank you,” she said, her lips forming a small smile. “I-I mean, not just for this right now, but I mean… for coming out when Shisui asked. I probably wouldn’t have gone to investigate that window if that happened while I was on my own.” She was thankful he’d come. It meant she had someone to talk to, someone who could hold a conversation. Talking to cats was fine for a little while, but they didn’t make for too many intellectually stimulating conversations.

“Yeah,” he responded softly, shifting so he was more comfortable. He was pretty comfortably warm; a nap would have been pretty nice right about now. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. What else were they going to do as the storm raged on outside? Well… there was at least one thing he wanted to confess, but… maybe not yet. Maybe after the storm was over, he could ask to spend more time with her. That wouldn't hurt, would it?

Hours passed as they chatted idly, listening to the cats and hoping the storm would slow down soon. There… wasn't much to talk about. Sakura did most of the talking, chattering away for a lot of it, and while he contributed, he preferred to listen. He liked the sound of her voice. It was something he could get used to hearing.

"Sasuke?" She asked, drawing him out of his thoughts. She'd asked a question, but he'd been too busy thinking about her to listen to what she'd asked.

"Hm?" He tilted his head to the side curiously.

"I… I know we should stay close for warmth, but… Are you tired at all? I thought maybe the bean bag chairs, we could, you know, lay them out kind of like a bed? A nap wouldn't hurt." Oh. A nap. Now that she mentioned it, he realized he felt a little tired. It probably had something to do with sitting in the dark for so long; the room had stayed warm, and while they could hear a few of the cats padding around and mewling, most of them seemed to have gone to sleep. They understood they were in a safe, warm environment, especially with Sasuke and Sakura sitting there with them.

"Oh. Yeah. We can." He stood up and lifted the more oversized blanket off himself, wrapping Sakura in it. He dropped the one he was wrapped in to the floor, grasping the bean bags and thinking about it logically. If they laid them primarily flat, and one of them--probably Sakura, since she was lighter--laid down on them first, they could be adjusted to form a comfortable bed. He pulled them together and instructed Sakura to lay down, and she did so; once she was comfortable, he settled in beside her, reaching for the flashlight to keep it close. They'd turned it off a few hours ago to save the battery, preferring to listen to each other talk.

"Hey… Sakura?" Sasuke at least wanted to ask her one thing before they fell asleep.

"Mmm?" He could tell she was sleepy, and he wondered if she'd even remember what he was about to ask.

"I was wondering." Wondering was putting it mildly. "You… mentioned you didn't have a boyfriend, and I know this isn't an ideal situation, but…" He bit his lip, trying to squelch the nervous feelings that were creeping up. "Do you think maybe… you'd want to do something a little more appropriate after?" He grumbled. That sounded… not right. "Another time, I mean." That sounded better.

Sakura was too sleepy to hear his entire statement, but she caught parts of it. He wanted to hang out again after the storm let up? It sounded like a great idea to her. She couldn't put her finger on why he was asking if she had a boyfriend, though. Why did that matter? She was too tired to comprehend what he was asking entirely.

"Mm… sure. That sounds like fun." Her voice was quiet, notably half asleep. Sasuke was relieved to hear that. He suspected she might not have got the entire question, but it was enough. Even if it was platonic… He would like to spend more time with her. Why not? She was fun, energetic, animated, and could carry a conversation all by herself, and didn't seem bothered that he contributed little.

Hours passed, the storm raging on outside as they both slept, only being unceremoniously awakened as the lights in the shelter came to life all at once, nearly blinding them out of sleep. Oh, that was unpleasant as hell! The sound of the furnace going again caused them both to sit up, rubbing their eyes and trying to open them. Sasuke felt that usual grumpiness coming on; he hated being woken up when he wasn't ready to get up. His gaze turned to Sakura, who was sitting up on one of the bean bag chairs, rubbing her eyes and trying to straighten her hair. Cute, he thought to himself, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Looks like the power's back." That meant they should be able to leave.

"What time is it?" Sakura's phone had died overnight, so she had no way to contact anyone. Sasuke checked his, seeing the time. It was about six in the morning, but the shelter had notably cooled.

"It's about six," he confirmed, putting his phone into low battery mode. "Come on. We can probably get out of here now. With the power back, the cats will be fine." That was one bonus about their furry friends: they were more equipped to deal with the elements than their human caretakers, even in a cooler environment. It was still dark outside, but at least they'd be able to head home and get some proper sleep.

"Oh, well, that works. Let's top up what the cats have for food and water for the day, and we can head out… assuming we're able to even get out of here." She was pretty sure her car was snowed in; she'd parked right up against the building in the hopes that she might be able to avoid her vehicle being buried. That didn't seem likely. How silly of her to have done such a thing.

They changed the water and litter boxes in each kennel, then refilled the cats' food bowls before doing another double-check around the place. With everything seemingly in place, Sakura grabbed her keys and jacket, putting away the blankets and bean bag chairs before meeting Sasuke in the entryway.

"Okay. Let's see…" She opened the door, unsurprised by the pile of snow that was in front of it; it had to be almost up to her knees. Peering out, they could see that the storm had lightened considerably; it was still snowing, but it was more of steady snow than a blizzard. Her car was up against the building with snow piled up almost to the windows; the drifts had blown up against it, making it look worse than it was. Sasuke's truck was parked further up, and with its raised wheels, it had been spared the brunt of most of the drifts, though it was still going to be a challenge to get out.

"I… don't think we're getting my car out," she admitted. "Well… If you want to head home, that's fine. I can wait here and shovel my car out once the snow stops, or I can call Ino to come to get me." It was better than nothing.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sasuke scolded. "I'll drive you home. It's fine. The roads probably aren't cleared yet, but that shouldn't be a problem." He pulled out his keys, indicating for Sakura to lock up the shelter before trudging through the snow. He made sure to walk ahead of her, doing his best to flatten the snow so the drifts would be easier for her to traverse. He looked at his truck, then at her… Ah, with the way his truck was lifted and the fact that he hadn't put steps on his truck yet...

He followed her around to the passenger side, opening the door for her. "Just stand there," he instructed, and she did as he said. Damn, she was practically going to have to crawl into his truck; it was so high up, and she couldn't even reach the handle at the top to pull herself up into it. Without warning, she felt hands on her waist, causing her cheeks to flush as Sasuke lifted her high enough to reach the handle.

"I, um-- I-I got it," she stammered, holding on for dear life as she swung into the seat. He closed the door behind her before coming around to the driver's side to start the truck. Well… Days like today were why he had a vehicle like this; on an acreage, a tiny little car wouldn't do. He needed to be able to get down his driveway through crappy snowstorms. The truck flared to life, and he immediately put it in four-wheel drive, carefully wedging himself out of the snowdrifts. They took it slow down the road, Sasuke following Sakura's directions back into the city and to her house.

The streets were deserted. Vehicles could be seen abandoned along the freeway, along which they crawled at about a quarter of the speed. They made it to one of the smaller residential areas to a little townhouse; one vehicle could be seen parked out front, and there appeared to be a space where a second was usually parked. He pulled in front of the small driveway, putting the truck in park before hopping out and around to the passenger side to help Sakura out. Once she was safely on the ground, he looked down at her, taking a deep breath. This was his last chance to be direct.

"Sakura?" He asked, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. Sakura could see just how nervous he was; he seemed… awkward, in a sense.

"Hm? What is it?" She was genuinely curious. He'd been too kind to her yesterday, coming to check on her; she could at least hear out whatever it was he had to ask.

"I was wondering… Would you maybe like to go on… a proper date, another time?" He knew that what they'd done wasn't exactly a date, but it was close enough, right? His offer shell-shocked Sakura; that was not what she'd been expecting. A date… a proper date. He wanted to go on one? And with… her, nonetheless? Had she been totally out of it all night? Well… now that she thought about it, there was that one time where she was pretty sure he was about to kiss her, but he'd backed off.

"Oh, um… I think I'd like that," she admitted, her posture turning shy as she looked away. She knew she was blushing, but she couldn't help it; he had an air of aloof mystery surrounding him, and she wanted to learn more. She wanted to know more about him specifically.

"Great. I'll… I'll call you." He had her contact number from a pamphlet he'd been given when he'd signed up as a volunteer; he could get it from there. There was one last thing he wanted to do, too. Stepping forward, he raised a gloved hand, stopping before taking off his glove to touch her face. Her cheek was warm and soft, fitting gently into his palm. Sakura felt herself freeze at the gesture, glancing at his hand before looking up into his face.

Sasuke leaned down, gently pressing his lips against hers. He kept the kiss brief and chaste, but… Damn, he'd wanted to do that since yesterday. Running a thumb over her cheek, he smiled and stepped back, bidding her farewell. Sakura waved and hurried inside, doing her best not to slip on the ice patches she was sure were hidden under the fresh snow. Once he saw she was inside, Sasuke put his truck into gear and drove off, and for once… he was driving with a smile on his face.

Sakura stepped in the door to the townhouse and was met by her blonde friend standing in front of her like a mother about to scold a child.

"Oh, you have some explaining to do, Forehead. A lot of explaining. And I want it to start with hot stuff out there who just kissed you in the driveway."

[pontevoix]

❛ do you plan to pretend like nothing happened? ❜ ( for shoko )

imagine an x-ray film: the contents of shoko’s purse. full of nothings & trash & more specifically:  a wallet that contains approximately none of her cards & absolutely none of her coin currency, an empty water bottle, receipts, scattered bandages, a package of mints, a lighter, headache medicine, a caffeine pill without a container, & receipts & receipts & probably some trash & a dry tube of lipstick &  her id, tucked religiously & securely into a separate pocket.

shoko carries her purse every day & she seldom itemizes its contents or thinks much about what she carries -  but it’s a daily habit that she carries over her shoulder & 

drops heavily atop the surface of her work space. it sounds like a slam, & it gives a dramatic effect, & shoko is grateful for the use of her purse as a prop for dramatics.  she’s even more grateful because it’s 

coincidence.  it must be said ( it really must be ) that shoko has no flair for dramatics. maybe she used to  . . . but nowadays, she prefers to claim ritual / calm behaviors in her day to day behaviors.

‘ i’ve heard whispers that you’re looking for a mole.’ she drawls instead . . . & amends. ‘ not whispers. you’ve chosen your company well  —- but you’re looking for a mole. it’s only sometimes subtle . . . for the people that know you. & for the record, right now you’re giving me every reason to wish that i really were the mole. ‘ 

a heavy sigh & she has to shake her head — a little thoughtfully — 

‘ i’d be a terrible spy. ‘ for a lot of reasons. mostly because she claims neutrality a little bit just a little & shoko has to reconsider — it’s possible that she would be a better double agent than a spy, but it’s even more likely that she would excel only where she already stands: married to no cause, but reliably present. it’s easier that way, because she can argue that she’s not thinking too hard about anything.

it doesn’t make her unique. in her line of work, there are two types of people: 1) those who want to rethink & rebuild & overthink & assume arrogance like it’s a privilege 2) those who dedicate way too much time building distance between themselves & what they know / thinking too hard. 

shoko doesn’t try to deny where she falls. 

what she does try to deny is the voicemail she left on her colleague’s phone at two in the morning. she knows she left a voicemail; she’s not so sure if it were a buttdial or something intentional. that’s why she strikes up conversation about spies & moles & conspiracy. she abandons her purse on her desk & taps a nondescript pattern on her computer keyboard until the screen wakes. once again, she remembers that she hates the default screensaver on her computer. once again, she notes that she’ll do nothing about it.

maybe she should get a cat. she could take a picture of the cat & set it to her screensaver.

. . . probably a bad idea. shoko might forget to feed the cat. 

all things being said, embarrassment is not a frequent visitor to shoko’s heart. it does not grip her frequently, & it does not grip her now. whatever message she left on gojo’s phone . . . there are worse things. that doesn’t mean she feels partiicularly thrilled at the idea of his antagonizing her about it.

she concedes to lean over her desk chair & type a password onto the computer’s login so that she can eye her calendar. she thinks she has to take a train for a consult at noon, but she can’t remember for sure.

‘ depends what you think happened. if you think there’s anything worth talking about. whatever message i left you, i really doubt it was anything particularly haunting. pretending like nothing happened seems like a great way to calm you down. can i help you in any way? ‘ 

                       confrontation meme | @bkkorosu

[doberbutts]

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was beaten by his father so savagely that he went deaf, while his father’s girlfriend watched and did nothing?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was abandoned and locked inside an empty apartment until the 1950s equivalent of CPS was tipped off he was there and took him to save him from starvation, because dear old grandpa and his girlfriend at the time didn’t want a defective child once they figured out they’d permanently fucked him up?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he bounced from foster home to foster home until he was held down and raped by one of his foster brothers, tried to tell his foster mother, and she just called him a faggot and left it at that?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was finally reunited with his mother and had to scrape together a living by eating stale bread and running errands for what turned out to be local gangs, because she was too poor to feed another mouth?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he watched a black man shot by police bleed out in the street?

Where was my father’s male privilege when teachers who should have caught his deafness instead made him believe he was failing his classes because he was stupid because that’s just how black people are?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he got the tar kicked out of him by his white classmates who felt emboldened by their female teacher’s anti-black racism?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he brought the subject of racism up with the school board after a cross was lit on fire on his desk, and he was dismissed by both male and female staff?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he struggled to find a job after completing college, completing a master’s degree, which he paid for exclusively with scholarships earned from his competitive essay writing, because no one wanted to hire a disabled black man?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was accused of assault by a white female student who could not keep her story straight and eventually admitted she had made it up because she wanted to put her black principal back in his place?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was violently cuffed and illegally searched while I sat in the carseat and he was forced to comfort me through the window?

Where was my father’s male privilege when his wife, my mother, was immediately disowned by her entire family for associating herself with him? When she was forced to make a choice between a future with him, or her family? When he sees this echo with his children, and my sister’s children have still never met my brother-in-law’s family despite more than 10 years of marriage?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he came to pick us up from school and my school refused to let him in until the cops verified he was exactly who he said he was? Despite his name matching his ID, the lanyard he wore stating he was a principal at a nearby school, and the name on the school registry as being one of my parents? Despite me being called into the office to peek through the blinds at him and verifying that yes, this was my father?

Where was my father’s male privilege as neighbors who protested living near a black man repeatedly called the police on him as he pulled into the driveway of the house he’s lived in since I was born, let himself in with his own key, with ID to match the address and having known these neighbors by first name? To the point my white-passing mother had to diffuse the situation?

My father is straight and cis. My father is black and disabled. My father is a survivor. My father is a lot of things, and I have a lot of complicated feelings about him, but he is not trash. He has not skated through life as though it’s easy. His life was significantly harder than my mother’s, and her life wasn’t easy either. He has been hurt by men. He has been hurt by women. Some of the instances he has been hurt, my mother was directly sheltered from because she is a woman.

Her father was also an angry drunk, but deliberately did not take his anger out on his daughters, preferring to beat his son bloody instead. Mom has the trauma of watching her father beat the piss out of her brother and having to patch him back up after, but never of having been beaten herself.

Mom found herself in compromising and dangerous positions at times, but was protected from physical harm by her brother and the other men around her who saw it as their duty to protect the girls from that sort of thing. Literally the only good thing about rural purity culture.

Mom has a history of speaking out against racism and discrimination when she sees it, but has never needed to throw a punch in her life, because there was always a man around to protect her from the resulting fight. The men might not have agreed with her views on race but they were connected to her and thus duty/honor bound to protect her if someone tried to jump her because she wouldn’t let them beat up the black kid or told them to stop bothering the asian kid.

Mom never once had to stop and consider that it would be kinder to her partner to break things off.

Mom has never been falsely accused of assault because it’s just assumed that women don’t do that.

Mom has never been accused of trying to kidnap us because it’s believable that a white woman has mixed race kids that are darker than her but inconceivable that a black man has mixed race kids that are lighter than him.

Mom has never had the police called on her for entering her own house in their very white neighborhood.

Mom has only been pulled over once in her life, and the cop was far more interested in what my sisters and I were doing in her car than anything she might have potentially done.

My mother is straight and cis. She is also a white-passing POC and disabled. My mother is a survivor. My mother is a lot of things, and I have a lot of complicated feelings about her, but even she admits that her life was easier than my dad’s.

Cis, straight men suffer. White men suffer. My uncle is also a white-passing POC and a survivor. Do you know how much pent up anger he has? Still has, even though my grandfather changed and got better and apologized and owned up to his wrongs? Even though my grandfather’s been dead for years now? My uncle is sullen and prefers a bottle to take away his pain, pain he’s not been able to process, not been allowed to process, and he’s been that way since he was a child, which is not surprising considering what I’ve been directly told the beatings entailed... and things are always worse than what you’re told when it comes to that.

And all of that anger and resentment and rage and pain builds and builds until one of his sisters pokes him a little too hard about it and then he roars at them and storms off and he knows it’s wrong to take it out on them and he knows it’s not fair and that they only mean well but it hurts and he knows no other outlet besides lashing out because that was the only thing he was ever taught. Men get drunk and then get angry and then get violent. So he stops himself at yelling because he knows he can’t hit in anger, and he leaves and bangs doors behind him and stomps off until he calms down.

And you can say “dude needs therapy” and you know... you’re not wrong. But why would he ever seek it? When he sought help as a child he was told to be a man and suck it up and harden and grow some balls. His mother didn’t intervene to help him. You know, I know, he knows it’s because she was afraid her husband would turn on her. But it still hurts to know your own mother let your own father do that to you. Repeatedly. Over and over and over again. The most help he ever got was some first aid from his sisters when my grandfather decided he was done being angry. His teachers just knew him as an angry, sullen boy who frequently got into fistfights with other angry, sullen boys and chalked new bruises up to that. 

If you grow up like this, betrayed by everyone who is supposed to help you, then why would you ever consider seeking outside help as an adult?

And if your reaction is- see? He is a violent man! He is part of the problem! He could seek help and won’t because he is a stubborn man that wants to make his problems into women’s problems by relying on his sisters!

Then you fail to understand that my uncle is the way he is because of unprocessed, repeated trauma and betrayal that he was actively discouraged from seeking help to free himself of the cycle and start to heal. And his sisters were the only people in his life that did not harm him in that way, so at this point his sisters and his wife are the only people he trusts when triggers get poked and the pot boils over.

He does need therapy. He’s not likely to ever seek it out. And it’s because he was born a boy that this happened to him, and it’s because he was born a boy that no one was willing to help when he needed it most.

These men are not part of the queer community. They still were made vulnerable, and needed help, and did not get any, because of that same logic that drives these feelings about men not needing to be helped or included or assisted today. It’s not progressive just because the logic is coming from the queer community this time instead of conservative christians.

[mister-supernova]

Please Don’t Go

Part 1 

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader

Just when you felt like you were on top of the world, you slowly started to feel yourself sinking towards the ground. Your knees gave out beneath you seconds after Hope and MG left the basement. Thankfully Lizzie was there to slow your fall and she guided you back to your original sitting spot from earlier. 

With the infection worsening, you thought to yourself that you’d give anything to have Hope back here by your side. That way your mind wouldn’t be completely focused on the pain.

The poison from the bullet began to travel all over your back, across your arms, around your neck, and it was quickly starting to blur your vision as well. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you probably looked as grey and sickly as Josie did.

From your spot against the wall, you could see that the witches must’ve gotten their powers back given that Lizzie could siphon now. You watched her desperately try to pull the magic out of the bullets that were poisoning you and her sister, but there wasn’t any progress made. Josie still looked like death and you were catching up.

Nothing they were saying could reach you from across the cell. Just like your vision, your hearing was feeling fuzzy, making anything the twins were saying to each other sound like a muffled mess of words. 

A little later on, you saw the two of them stand and leave the cell for a few minutes. You figured it was because they wanted to help the school. 

As much as you wanted to join them, you couldn’t move any of your limbs without them feeling like they were on fire and your head was pounding, making it more difficult to even focus on trying to move. 

Now it was getting harder to catch your breath. You were struggling to keep your eyelids open because it felt like they were being weighed down by a ton of bricks. 95% of the saliva in your mouth had dried up, making your lips more chapped than you were used to and your throat drier than the Sahara Desert, and you were sweating worse than you do on full moons. 

The bullets couldn’t be siphoned out of you, the poison couldn’t be removed, and you were quickly coming to the realization that neither you or Josie had any chances of surviving through the night. 

“I’m sorry, Hope,” you manage to sputter out, “I don’t think I can win this one.” You squeeze your hand into a fist, wishing that Hope’s was there to squeeze it back and give you her assurance that you were going to be okay.

“Now I know that the Y/n L/n isn’t giving up just like that.” A familiar voice echoes through your head. 

You didn’t have to think twice to know that it was Hope’s voice you were hearing. Even though your perception of time has been feeling off, you knew that there was no way she was back at the school already. 

You open your eyes just to be sure, but to your surprise a blurry figure of what looked to be Hope was sitting right by your side just as she was before leaving to save Landon.

“Well, I doubt hearing voices and seeing people who aren’t really here is a good sign for me.” 

“Says who?” She shrugs at you exactly as you would to her.

“Says every movie where a person is on the brink of death. They always see delusions before they...” you didn’t want to say it, “you know.” 

“So you’re finally admitting that you’re delusional? It’s about time.” 

You let out a weak chuckle, “They’re usually just figures of their subconscious as well, so the unusual sense of humor makes sense.” 

She scoffs, “See, now that’s just rude. How do you know your sense of humor didn’t just rub off on me, huh?” 

“No offense, but Hope wouldn’t normally be so comedic before my time of death.” 

“So you’d prefer me to be a little more emotional then?”

You shake your head, “No, this Hope is fine actually. It’s comforting considering you’re just a figment of my imagination.”

She gives you a soft smile and though you know she isn’t really here, it sets your mind at ease, “Good because I wasn’t going to be able to burst into tears anyways.” 

You smile back and avert your gaze to the stone floor, seeing her hand placed so close to yours. You were wanting more than anything to reach over and really feel her here with you. 

“I’m tired, Hope,” you say softly, feeling your eyes burn the longer you kept them open. 

“Just fight for a little while longer,” she moves her face to where it’s inches away from yours, “You know I’ll be back any minute.”

You scan the blurred features on her face, taking them all in like it would be the last time you’d ever get to see them, “I’ll just close my eyes for a little while. Wake me up when you get here.” 

“Y/n...” you could hear her voice drifting away as you began to nod off. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed before Kaleb and MG came running back down to help you up. It felt like you had dozed off for five minutes, but who knows how long you were really knocked out for. You were surprised to open your eyes and find that you were still breathing.  

“Come on, we need to move you to your room.” MG took you by one arm while Kaleb grabbed another. 

“Where’s Hope?” You muttered weakly, letting your head roll forward since it felt like a bowling ball to keep up, “Is everyone okay?”

“She’s not back yet, but the school is safe now. We also have something that will make you feel better. Just a little farther.” 

The boys carefully and urgently used their vampire speed to guide you into your dorm before setting you down on your bed. When the air conditioner began hitting you directly, you felt even colder than you did in the basement where there was little to no AC. Chills ran throughout your whole body and you tried your best to keep yourself from shivering, but failed to do so. 

“Here, Y/n. Drink this. Slowly.” MG uncaps a vial of blood and before you could question it, you felt the metallic liquid coax the inside of your mouth. You let small drops of it fall down your throat so that you wouldn’t choke and within seconds you felt yourself start to feel better. 

“Why did I just drink blood?” You ask, feeling your energy slowly begin to return, “And whose was it?” You knew that vampire blood could heal those who are injured, but from what the Triad agents said, the bullet would tear you up from the inside out. Nothing should’ve healed you or Josie.

“It’s Hope’s. She told Dr. Saltzman that it would help heal you and Jo,” MG explains, “He gave her a vial not too long ago and she’s almost fully healed already.”

Though you still had many questions as to how that was possible, your only concern now was Hope coming back home. 

You wished that you had the strength to go with her when she left, but doubted that she would’ve let you because of A; the unstable condition you were in, and B; there was no way she was going to let you get hurt again by taking you to the Malivore pit. 

After another thirty minutes passed you were back to your normal and healthy self. Then later that evening, Dr. Saltzman called a meeting and confessed that the artifact that drained the witches’ powers was brought in by him. 

The parents were the only other people who were made aware of it. That was how MG’s mom knew about it and used it against the students. He explained that it was only supposed to be used if things at the school were bad, but instead it put all the students in danger and nearly killed two of you.  

The honor council would now be deciding what your headmaster’s fate was going to be and if you were honest, you hoped they weren’t going to let him stay. Yeah, Josie represents the witches and that’s her father, but what happened was caused by him and you believed that deserved some sort of consequence. 

You weren’t in the honor council and there wasn’t much to do at the school except wait for Hope to get back to cast her vote. You imagined that she got to the Malivore pit a little while after the school assembly and that she just finished kicking whatever monster’s ass that was in her way and destroyed the pit for good. 

Her and Landon would be driving back to Mystic Falls any minute now and you could see her beautiful tribrid face again. You couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees that you’re okay or for the tight and possibly bone crushing hug that would follow. 

A smile crept across your face at the thought of your first kiss and the fact that you’d be alive to do it again. Out of all the crazy beautiful and handsome students at this school, the tribrid liked you. Something about that felt so unbelievably bizarre but also super incredible. 

As you lay with your back against your bed, thinking about how chaotic this day has been, you were about to realize that things were going to get even worse. 

Your phone began to ring on the nightstand, causing you to sit up and crawl over to see that the caller ID was Hope’s. 

She must be calling to let me know they’re on their way back, you thought. 

“Let me guess, you had to fight off a horde of gremlins, you ‘incendiad’ the hell out of them and saved the day once again.” You smile confidently as you answer the phone.

“Not exactly,” Hope laughs nervously and you could hear a hint of pain in her voice, “I take it by your upbeat wittiness that you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah, your blood worked absolute wonders, Mikaelson. How did you know it would heal us?” 

“I didn’t realize it at first, but I was shot by one of the Malivore bullets, too. Only, I healed when you two didn’t.”

Your smile begins to fade, “How is that possible?”

“Because Malivore was created by the blood of a werewolf, a witch, and a vampire. Which means one more thing… and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

The other end of the call was silent, but you could hear Hope’s breathing begin to shake. “Hope, is everything okay?” You felt your heart slowly making its way up your throat.

“Y/n, Clarke found the final artifact and threw it into the pit. Malivore is going to rise at any minute unless I stop him.” 

“And how do you plan on doing that, Hope? Where’s Landon? Is he there to help you?” You stood up, preparing yourself to ask MG to run you all the way to Fort Valley right now. 

“I kind of snapped his neck, but he’ll be back. I couldn’t let him stop me from doing what I’m about to do.” You slowly felt yourself begin to panic. 

“What are you about to do?” Her silence was the only answer you needed. 

If Malivore was created by a witch, a vampire, and a werewolf, that could only mean one thing. 

You let out a shaky sigh, “Hope, you’re not jumping into that pit.” 

“Don’t you get it, Y/n? This is what I was meant to do. This is the whole reason why I was born, why my father sacrificed himself for me. I’m not some cosmic mistake without a purpose. I know that now and I know what I have to do.” Your throat knotted up tightly and an ugly feeling filled your stomach. 

“No, Hope. Your father sacrificed himself so that he could live your life, so that you could be happy, not for you to jump into a mudpit where your family and friends will forget who you are forever.” You wished that she wasn’t so damn far away. You wanted to go help her, but you felt so useless. 

“I have to do this. We don’t have time to come up with another solution.” 

“Just come back!” you say desperately, “We’ll rally up the students, we can help fight Malivore or something. We can think of something, anything, just please don’t leave.” 

You hardly ever begged for anything in your life, but you did not want to lose Hope. 

“You… you said you’d be back, Hope. So just please, please come back.” Your voice softened as your throat tightened even more and tears built up in your eyes.

“In a few minutes you won’t even remember who I am.” That’s what broke you. 

You didn’t want to forget Hope. You didn’t want to forget the sound of her laugh after one of your jokes, or her victorious smile after beating you in a spar session, or the way her eyes rolled when you’d say something sarcastic, or the proud look on her face after finishing another amazing painting. 

“I already told Dr. Saltzman to get rid of all of my things. I’m sorry, Y/n,” you could tell that Hope was holding herself back from crying by the wavering tone in her voice, “I wish things were different and that we had more time. I have to go.”

“Hope,” you try calling out to her, but you were only met with a dial tone. You throw your phone onto your bed, frustrated and broken-hearted.

In mere moments from now, you would have no memories of the tribrid you had fallen in love with. She would cease to exist in your mind and there was nothing you could do to stop it... or was there?

~

sorry this took me longer to post than i expected to... i’ve been caught up with school and kept forgetting to add part 2, but thank you all for the love on part 1 and i’ll see ya again for part 3! <3

taglist: @chicken-wang09​ 

[consumeconstantly]

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically.  Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling? 

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing  TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.” 

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone. 

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him. 

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity. 

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind. 

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.”  Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.” 

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now. 

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already. 

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding. 

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices. 

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

#

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach. 

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father. 

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?” 

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information. 

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.” 

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns. 

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian. 

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down. 

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone. 

Damian is lonely.

#

Patrol is a necessary evil. 

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has. 

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops. 

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions. 

The akuma frowns, tenses. 

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

 Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity. 

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses. 

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?” 

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.” 

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake. 

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now? 

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham. 

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off. 

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills. 

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it. 

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now. 

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease. 

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something? 

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone. 

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?” 

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again? 

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment. 

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin. 

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds. 

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?” 

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.” 

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.  

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him. 

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help. 

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to. 

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding. 

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good. 

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time.  “Who else knows? Do you?” 

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?” 

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?” 

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict. 

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends. 

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

[degrassi-fanatic]

Hey babie,would you like to write some hotchreid fic about "choose reid over haley",like after hotch divorce,he always deny his feelings about reid,but when some unsub mentions about "the one you most care about is in danger ",he try to save reid but the one exactly in danger is haley.And after these there will be hurt/comfort thing and happy ending...I don’t know if I’m asking too much ,just wanna say I enjoy your hotchreid fics so much.Anyway wish you have a good day!!Love you!!

thank you for sending an ask !!! ily 

i changed up the prompt a bit because i personally do think, even as a hotchreid shipper, that hotch cared a lot about haley and loved her till the end. so i replaced haley in this prompt with kate joyner instead

hope you like it !!

Having just returned from their latest crime scene, Hotch wracks his brain around for any theories on their latest unsub as he steps out of the driver’s side of the SUV. 

The BAU team had been sent out to the FBI Office in New York at the request of Agent Kate Joyner to assist with a case involving the abduction and subsequent murder of federal agents. Their unsub somehow managed to pluck highly intelligent and capable agents off the street and lure them away to a secondary location where he would riddle them with bullets, only to bring their corpses back to the city and leave them strung up in areas with high foot traffic; all without being seen. 

It was no surprise that Kate had decided to amass as many resources as possible, she had even created an FBI-NYPD task force. This case was going nowhere and their volume of victims was only increasing as time went on. 

He knows he’s not the only one desperately hoping that they’ll get any sort of lead soon. 

As Hotch makes his way towards the glass doors of the New York FBI office, he feels his cellphone vibrate in the pocket of his suit jacket. Without looking at the caller ID, he assumes it’s one of his team members and accepts the call.

Before he can greet whoever it is on the other line, a gravelly voice begins speaking, one he does not recognize.

“Agent Hotchner.” the unknown man says. 

“Yes, who is this?”

“Oh, me?” he asks flippantly, “Who I am doesn’t matter right now. It’s what I have, or rather who I have.”

In the middle of the sidewalk just outside the office, Hotch stops in his tracks; ignoring all the passive aggressive looks sent his way as people wade around him and the occasional shove against his shoulder. 

“Excuse me?”

“Did you really think you could come after me and not suffer the consequences?” the man sneers through the phone, “You’re going to regret coming to New York.”

“Who do you have?” he asks, not caring for any of the vague threats the man was sending his way. 

“The one you care for the most.”

His stomach drops and immediately, Hotch tries to remember the last time he called Reid, the last time he saw him, and for some reason both instances seem so long ago that he wonders if Reid hasn’t already been shot yet. 

“Goodbye, Agent Hotchner.” the man says.

And with that, he hangs up and the call ends. 

For a moment, his feet stay planted where they are against the pavement and he cannot move. 

Then, it feels as though someone has dragged his head under freezing water and he begins racing into the office; darting past everyone as he makes his way towards the board room where they had been instructed to use as their home base. 

As he makes it to the door, his eyes survey the room frantically as he checks to see if anyone else is missing; Rossi is arguing with Prentiss over something trivial, JJ is flipping through case files with Morgan, Garcia has her laptop opened in front of her and is typing away, and…

Reid.

Reid is there, staring at the crime scene board as he pushes his thumb between his lips in deep thought. 

“Spencer!” he calls out as he rushes over to him, garnering the attention of everyone in the room.

He watches Reid twist around to look at him, a confused expression spreading across the features of his face. The only expression only grows as Hotch rushes over to him, dragging him into a tight hug. It’s a tad bit awkward at first as Reid’s arms are squished between their chests and his whole body has grown stiff but he cannot bring himself to care about that because he has Reid warm and alive in his arms. 

It only gets better once Reid retracts his arms from between them to wrap around Hotch’s back as he returns the embrace.

Reid was okay, he realizes as he pushes his face into Reid’s hair, ignoring the tickling sensation caused by his tousled tufts.

He was fine. 

“I thought you were… Thank God that you’re alright.” he says breathlessly as he pulls away, “But, the unsub, he said on the phone that—”

Wait, if Reid wasn’t the one the unsub had abducted, then who was? It couldn’t have been anyone from his team since they were all here and accounted for. Perhaps, the man had gotten a hold of the wrong agent’s phone number or maybe he had simply…

Oh no, Hotch thinks as dread pools somewhere deep inside of him.

“Where’s Kate?” 

“We thought she was with you.” 

It had taken them a couple of gruelling hours but eventually they had managed to figure out where their unsub, who they discovered to be thirty-three year old Peter Samuels, was holding Kate captive. Although Samuels was clearly a man with an above average level of intelligence, he was clearly lacking when it came to fighting and was overpowered by Prentiss and Morgan within minutes. 

In the end, Kate was alright. A bit bruised and a little worse for wear than Hotch would have preferred but she was alive and that’s what mattered. He was still rather reluctant leaving her so soon after such a traumatic event and would have stayed in New York for a bit longer but Kate had all but shooed him off, stating that she didn’t need him coddling her for her entire leave. 

Now, the team is back on board the jet and well on their way back home. It’s dark outside the windows and the cabin lights have been dimmed. The team, with the exception of Reid and Hotch, are fast asleep in their own seats; the exhaustion of the last couple of days finally catching up to them. 

Hotch fishes his cellphone out of his pocket and pulls up Kate’s contact information; she never explicitly stated if texting was considered coddling. 

“Is Agent Joyner going to be alright?” Reid whispers from beside him, in an effort to not wake the others.

“Yeah,” he answers as he finishes sending a message, “It’s going to take some time but she’ll recover.”

“That’s good.” Reid murmurs. 

Hotch makes a soft noise in agreement as he tucks in his cellphone back into his pocket. Shifting around in his seat as quietly as he can, he attempts to get into a comfortable position so he too can rest up before they land; he ends up sinking into his chair with his arms folded across his chest, his eyes closed. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Reid pipes up again. 

“Sure.” he mumbles back. 

“Why did you think I was the one Samuels took?” 

For a brief moment, Hotch considers feigning sleep but, then Reid is gently shaking his arm to gather his attention once more. 

“Hotch?” he whispers, “Aaron?”

“It’s something he said on the phone.” he admits quietly, “He said he took the one I cared for the most.”

“Oh.”

The hand on his bicep falls away and the absence of it feels like a gaping wound. 

Right away, Hotch is opening his eyes and sitting up right. 

“I’m sorry.” he says frantically, “I know this is inappropriate and you’re probably uncomfortable—”

Oh God, why did Hotch say that? Maybe he could blame it on a lack of sleep? Or he could say he misspoke somehow?

“No, wait, listen—” 

He wouldn’t fault Reid if he wanted to file a complaint against him for inappropriate advances or some other form of misconduct. Any formal punishment was far better than the torture he would endure if the rest of the team learned that he was preying on their youngest member. 

“I completely understand if you want to file a complaint—”

“Hotch, that’s the last thing—”

Now, Reid will most likely want to transfer out of the BAU. Who wouldn’t after learning their boss had more-than platonic feelings for them? No, he couldn’t do that to Reid. He knows how much the BAU means to the other man; he’ll be the one to leave. 

“It probably disturbs you to be on the receiving end of my feelings.” Hotch says “I know I’m old and I’m not enjoyable to be around and that I come with far too much—”

Before he can get another word out, he feels a pair of hands fly to both sides of Hotch’s face, followed by a pair of lips slotting between his own. 

It takes a second for his brain and body to realize what’s going on but, once he does, he reels Reid in closer; practically pulling the other man into his lap. 

Far too soon for his liking, however, Reid pulls his mouth away. 

“Hmm?” Hotch hums questioningly, his eyes still closed. 

“I care for you too.” Reid whispers. 

“That’s nice.”

“That’s all you have to say?” he questions, his breath fanning out over Hotch’s mouth.

“Sorry, my brain is coming back online.”

Hotch hears him let out a soft laugh and that alone is incentive enough to finally open his eyes again. He’s greeted by the sight of Reid smiling in the feeble lighting of the cabin, his lips glistening with spit and a faint flush across his cheeks that is almost undetectable with how dark it is. 

“Well, when it does,” Reid says fondly, “Tell it to ask me out on a date.”

“Will do.”