#ignore the other project ive been working on

[omophagic-beast]

well! i ended up making a submission for the 24-word RPG jam thats going on! HUNGER is a microRPG about..... well. being hungry!

ROLL. EAT. HUNT.

[typheus]

Today was so productive 😊💚✌

[personal-person1]

my hands hurt i should've worked in shorter sessions

closeups and rambling under the cut

-game night initially started with a standard deck of playing cards but they kept losing them inbetween sessions and having to supplement with other things, and now the deck is an absolute abomination of playing cards, uno, yu-gi-oh, pokemon and MTG

-sniper keeps looking at spy's cards, which has made spy So determined to stop sniper from winning that they both end up losing miserably

-demo showed up midgame and only saw uno cards on the table so he figured they were playing uno, and he has yet to figure out that they aren't

-if archimedes coos at the card you played, you have to take it back and play a different card

-scout collects pokemon cards and he added the shit cards he owns to the deck

-the rules change basically every time they try to play this thing so engie stopped caring about winning and is just here for the show

-pyro usually plays too, but currently they're coloring instead

-scout won't stop rocking his chair and he Will fall over during the game

-heavy and medic were meaning to play chess tonight but they were coerced by scout to join, and they're borderline ignoring the game in favor of discussing medic's latest project

-heavy's shirt says "a woman without a penis is like an angel without wings"

i do usually consider tf2 as taking place in the 60s and use the time accordingly but i drew this over a minecraft screenshot LOL i decided to ignore that for the purposes of this

note, i have only started playing this game and engaging with this fandom for a few weeks - ive been meaning to get into it for years but i knew i would go insane when i did, and i was right! i am!

[kdvnco]

high school enha boys in love

genre! : fluff

pairings! : heeseung x reader, jay x reader, jake x reader, sunghoon x reader, sunoo x reader, jungwon x reader, niki x reader

warnings! : none

do not ask any questions. do not ask where ive been what ive been doing. or when am i posting again💝

LEE HEESEUNG - nerdy guy

Heeseung and his friend group are the biggest losers in the school. They're the type to play Dungeons and Dragons at school and then get bullied. Heeseung is not affected by it at all, he enjoys going to school even if he's not that good at it. Especially now that he developed a small crush on you. He didn't even try to get you, knowing well he had no chance with you. He just hoped. Until he got a chance.

The teacher set you up to a group project, and fortunately or not for you, but you guys needed to work together. You were a quiet girl at school, mid class, not popular or a loser with a decent friend group. You also had no problem working with Heeseung, you just really didn't care. You never hated or bullied him, he was just kinda there. But after working with it, it turned out beside that he is a nerd, he's quiet fun. Hee tried to keep low with his obsession for nerdy stuff, but it didn't bother you at all once you both grew closer. You got along with his friends too who were too obsessed with the tought of speaking to an actual living woman that they constantly stole you away from Heeseung. He thought he finally had the chance, turned out you just wanted to be friends.

[rest utc!]

PARK JONGSEONG - class clown

You were friends with the class clown, Jay. You were his only friend. Though everybody loved him for being funny, he didn't have any close friends besides you. He was easy to talk to, Jay got along with anybody that was forced to interact with him, until it was a woman. For the life of god he couldn't speak to women. You laughed at him for that. You were a girl and his only friend, but it was never a problem to talk with him. He liked you that's why.

All his attempts to make you laugh were weird attempts to flirt with you. It worked out every and each time, only making him to like you more. He wished you also liked him.

He bought you flowers and gifts for you birthday or for different holidays. Taking care of you when you needed him the most. It turns out he can be serious too.

SIM JAEYUN - fuckboy

He's the biggest fuck boy at the school. Everybody knows him, he's super popular with a huge (but full of fuckboys) friend group. Once he notices somebody, he tries his best to make them fall for him, and like that, he collects every girl he sets his eyes. on. You agree he is handsome, but you can't help but despise him. Even more once you see him starring at you in the hallway. You immediately slap your head, knowing well you are his next opponent. He won't give up easily.

You arrive at school to flowers neatly put on your desk and people whispering at the back of the room. And not only does he buy you multiple gifts each week, he approaches you almost every day, trying to strike up a conversation while you try your best to ignore him. You told him off many times before, he's so determined to get you. Jake is annoyed with you. He doesn't want much other than a sweet night spent together.

Jake gets more and more chances to interact with you, actually getting to know you, getting closer to you... slowly falling for you. It takes him a long time to clear his name before ending up with you.

PARK SUNGHOON - pretty boy

He skates, he's pretty and he's quiet. That is all it takes to become the girls' favorite. Sunghoon's not only popular in your class, but many older and younger girls visit him in the breaks, trying to strike up a conversation with him, but mostly he shyly shakes his head as response to the girls' questions. During physical education, many girls watch him play games, visiting him any time they have a free period. Sunghoon loves and hates the attention. It depends on who's giving it to him.

All he begs for is your attention. He secretly wishes you would also bother him in the break, talk to him and let him make you laugh. Whenever he's talking with a girl, from the corner of his eyes he checks if you're looking at him, but it's never the case.

KIM SUNOO - the favorite

Everybody loves Sunoo. He is the sunshine of the school, having multiple friends from each class, being able to talk to anyone about anything easily making him the most liked person at the school.

He's popular in every category, just not when it comes to love. He never thought he would fall for someone, especially not one of his close friends, so when it did turn out that way he didn't know how to act. It was never hard to be around you or talk to you until now. He started avoiding you, luckily he had many friends, but soon he realised none could replace you, and his feelings weren't fading.

He doesn't know how to flirt, his best attempts at trying to make you fall for him was being especially nice to you, hanging out more often, but when all of those attempts were unsuccessful he opened up about his feelings.

YANG JUNGWON - top student

Jungwon was the quiet, straight A's student. So many people had crushes on him, that he was aware about, he just couldn't care less. One thing he cared about is his rival, you. As soon as you joined the class, you also became top student of the school. He became super wary about you, he just couldn't imagine any other person being on his level. He knew he had to worry about his title as the 'Student of The Year', he began to participate in meanigless competitions, but you were there for every and each one of it.

He tried sitting close to you to make sure you are not cheating in any way, or making any suspicious moves, because for sure he'd snitch on you. But this never happened. Instead you started noticing him and teasing him about it. He was so annoyed with you, trying to be better, but even if he was you aced the next test with ease.

He became so obsessed with your life, almost knowing your whole daily routine, starting to fall for you. He noticed so many things about your behaviour that he adored so much. It made him mad, but it was hard to hide it when you teased him and he blushed. You would catch him starring and just quietly laugh at him. It was too obvious, you knew it.

NISHIMURA RIKI - annoying friend

The loud annoying kid in class somehow ended up as your friend. He forced himself at you long enough, so you let him in accepting his friendship, which turned out to be fun. He was funny, outgoing and weird. Exeptionally weird, making it even more fun to be his friend.

The more he hung out with you the more you liked him, quality time tying you together with him emotionally. He introduced you to his other friends, inviting you to hang outs whenever you were free, and because you started liking him... more than a friend you freed up your time just him. You wanted to know if he felt the same, but nothing changed even when you asked to hang out just the two of you. He acted the same.

The only reason you ended up with him was, because his friend snitched on him. Niki, no way in hell would confess to you, so they helped him. You would have nevet guessed he liked you back.

[manager-dante]

i need to flesh this out once i’ve mulled it over more but i adore how limbus company expands on the incredible world-building of project moon, because it is so goddamn realistic.

from the outset the player is presented with this incredibly bleak world in which corporations have become the state. the poor and the desperate bow their heads and toil at the altar of the free market. worth is measured by talent in exploitation. it’s a social darwinist’s wet dream. i also think the choice to base the cast off of literary figures was amazing, because it highlights very important connections to the past. i haven’t read all the books referenced, but the ones i have (the metamorphosis, don quixote de la mancha, & the odyssey so far) draw an unmistakable through-line from the suffering and exploitation depicted in those books to that which occurs in the city. the most horrifying parts of this game in my opinion aren’t the monsters or the machines — it’s the sheer enormity of human suffering which exists in the economic and political system the city operates under. and that’s the worst part, because in so many ways, the suffering and exploitation portrayed in the city is not a hypothetical fantasy — this is just capitalism working as intended. it’s not confined to the historical context of those books, nor the gritty sci-fi horror of the game.

but not only do we have this incredible setting that’s somehow both brutally realistic and fantastical at the same time, we also get to see how our main cast attempts to survive in that world — and ultimately how none of their attempts to change it succeeded at all.

in my mind, canto i portrays how neither kindness nor cold-heartedness will help you survive — especially through the dynamic between aya and hopkins. gregor has been both. he was a war hero in a meaningless war. after it ended, he was discarded as any tool which had outlived its usefulness would be. he can’t even control his arm from becoming a killing machine. and yet, gregor is still exceptionally personable, even going out of his way to be kind at times. but no matter whether he’s a tool for violence in the hands of war profiteers or simply a man doing his best to protect others, he still couldn’t save yuri — just as he couldn’t save his comrades — and this clearly haunts him. neither the war nor its end changed anything.

canto ii shows between rodya and sonya how both direct action and an “inevitable” revolution fail to quell the suffering of the vulnerable. sonya’s revolution is all bluster and no action. he does nothing to help the people in his community in favor of this grandiose revolution that must happen at the “right moment” — even if it means leaving his neighbors to starve in the meantime. rodya’s inspired yet short-sighted action to remove what she saw as the source of her community’s suffering only led to its destruction: the tax collector was a branch, not the root, of the problem, and killing one person did nothing to stop the system which upheld them.

canto iii is even more clear-cut in the ties between sinclair and kromer: neither violent zealotry nor blissful ignorance will save you in the city. kromer’s cult does not “purify” anything, but sinclair’s courage to stand up to her isn’t enough to beat her either. canto iii still doesn’t end in a victory. dante and the sinners barely survive. it’s only through demian (and k-corp’s) divine intervention that the sinners and kromer don’t destroy each other in the corpse pit.

in the most recent addition, canto iv appears to do the same thing. on one hand, you have the devotion to a principle shown through shrenne, samjo, and donbaek. their causes are different, but their devotion is the same. on the other, there is the cynicism, indifference, and escapism of yi sang and dongrang, both willingly complicit in the machine in different ways. and yet — none of them make any positive difference. whether they resisted or submitted, the machine grinds on around them — the only choices are to become a cog in it or be ground to bits by its gears.

to be clear, i do not think the game is arguing that none of these individual actions matter. even if gregor couldn’t rescue yuri, even if rodya couldn’t protect her neighbors, even if sinclair couldn’t defeat kromer and all that she stood for, even if the league of nine members each failed to realize their ideals — limbus argues that it matters they tried. it matters that they’re still trying. it may never be possible to oust the corporate overlords and make the city a better place, but the love still matters.

[pumpkinsy0]

tldr: @buddyaldridge is a 30 year old weirdo proshipper who talks shit about ppl behind their backs, block em and report if you can/want to

just wanna let everyone know theres a omegaverse mpreg dallyboy writer whos been an all around WEIRDOOOOO cause their brain is LITERALLY porn rotted and they cannot fathom ppl actually having fun at all, their @ is @buddyaldridge aka @pelopsides previously known as @madelynprior

in 2020-2022 the outsiders tumblr they used to be @madelynprior and theyre a hardcore dallyboy stan which is already fucking weird, but on top of that, they would make teen pregnancy omegaverse smut fics which??? and im not gonna give you the ss, nigga im givin yall the LINKKK to see it with your own eyes so you know im not crazy

how ik its them is bc on their acc RIGHT before they switched to their buddyaldridge acc, and before that acc was named “pelopides”, they used to go by “madeleinepryor”, how ik its the same person is bc on a good chunk of their post, theyd tag it as “#madeleinepryor dispatches” on top of that, they just straight up linked their ao3 acc😭😭

heres what the link goes to, they linked their ao3 acc, they just changed their username on ao3 as well from madeleinepryor to greasers

now me calling them a proshipper isnt me talking out of my ass, they say it themselves like ughhhhjjj

as for them talking about other ppl, i wont share ALL the screenshots bc idk if the ppl theyre talking bad about would rlly feel comfortable w those being posted, if they know, they can feel free to post it on their own accord, so like i said, wont share, but i HAVE seen some and i can conform that they have done it, its ABSOLUTELY NOT above them

for now ill post the ss i CAN post rn which just proves my point

now ignoring that theyre talking smack, theyre just so odd and obviously didnt rlly think this through bc 1967 is ALREADY IMPLIED in the 60s, youre just incapable of reading things that arent about teen boys getting it on w each other PLEASE get a grip on reality😭😭

theyve talked about 14 year olds and their post on their acc just to shit on them, once again, GROWN ASS PERSON TWEAKIN OVER THE IDEAS OF A 14 YEAR OLD🗣️🗣️

NOW maybe your asking “how do you know the discord user and the tumblr user are the same person” AND I WILL ADMIT, while i DO have strong feelings they are the same person, its not 100% proven, HOWEVER buddyaldridge DOES go by buddy and that discord users name is buddy, so while its not concrete, the link IS there, once again, feel free to come to whatever conclusion you wanna come to about that

but what ISNT disputable is the fact that theyre a proshitter

additionally just this??? reblog from them????

on its own, not MUCH, bit considering the fics they make this is SO weird like??????

and finally, ive heard that theyve specifically came for me about my haitian shepards and maybe even my heritage, saying that they hated race hcs??????like using me as an example, they ss my acc and talked shit, someone contacted me about it and they dont have ss of it specifically, but they can vouch for it, and im not just gonna dismiss that, bc while they dont have ss, they do have ss and proof of everything else, so i do believe them, and theyve said if they find it they would show them to me, do what you wanna with this info

ANYWAYS buddy, your brain is unironically pornrotted, ur being a lil baby who cant do anything but cry and moan online on discord of all places and ur doing all this as a 30+ year old, and its CRAZIER bc youre doing all this while having “minors dni” in your pinned post, while also writing about minors, in a fandom MOSTLY OF MIDDLE SCHOOLERS!!!! (aka minors!!! ik age is hard for you to grasp) on top of that, literally ANY and ALL race hcs is way more believable and enjoyable than any “ideas” you’ve been cooking up in that odd demented, shriveled up pea brain of urs

anyways yea, that all i have to say, and im speaking for myself here, but i mean this with every fiber of my being, i dont know how you function in life but i DO NOT want you to go any farther, and i think others would/DO feel the same, ive seen what makes you cheer and i am PROUUUDDD to make you BOOOOO, you shouldnt be near minors at all, fictional or non fictional, you should BARELY be near other adults

plus if you go onto their acc rn, notice how when anon called them out, buddy aint even say they were wrong?? JUST SAYIN🗣️🗣️

im tagging everything i can tag bc i DO NOTTTT want mfs interacting w their blog, and want as many ppl as possible to be aware, dont say anything to them, dont give them attention bc obviously they’ll think this is funny and post it on their shitty discord server or whatever and giggle like they arent a grown ass nigga w bills to pay, trying so hard to cling onto their high school days, making fics about a canon middle schooler getting banged and pregnant, pls block and report do whatever u wanna do, just plssss dont let this proshitter on this damn sight near kidssss😭😭

dont take this as me WANTING drama, i dont, i just dont want ppl coming in this fandom thinking posting this shit and doing this is ok, youre bullying ppl for doing harmless things meanwhile your just making straight porn about a weird ship left n right, thinking YOUUUUU of all ppl have the place to talk about anyone or anything like your opinion on anything is valid😭😭

you NEED stones thrown at you

if anyone has anymore ss send em to mmeeeeee, but in the mean time ill be doin my own thing wooooo‼️‼️🔥🔥

[ceilidho]

god,,coworker johnny is so fucking good yo i like the fact that you made it clear that his peak weirdness comes out when only you can see it. the first two months with you working together being largely…cordial? no, maybe distant? maybe not in proximity (the guy is practically glued to you at all times), but it almost seemed like he only ever wanted you to see him in one certain way. framed and perfect and wanting. it just seemed, artificial, almost. that might be the word. even back then, you compared his interactions between you and your other coworkers, you could only barely understand that something was off. it was never like he was unfriendly to you, i mean, there were times he’d have casual diagreements with others, his voice dipping low with disapproval with a momentary frown. strangely, despite everything, it kinda relieves you, seeing that johnny can be so normal, but only ever sometimes, and never with you.

no, with you he’s almost too friendly. so friendly that it’s uncomfortable. only ever sweet, so sweet its bordering on sour. in a way, you were convinced that he was just being fake around you, at least before the whole “fleshlight incident”, but not now. not anymore.

its a real shame, because id imagine reader would really like johnny otherwise, as a true friend. he’s sincerely so fun and endearing to everyone else he comes across, you’ll sometimes find him in the break room conversing with a few of your other employees and he’s so genuinely funny and normal, even you tended to enjoy hearing his conversations with others in the background. but then he’ll realize you’re in the room and his eyes change. not just that, his whole posture morphs into something taut and tense; ready to pounce. it has you discreetly shrinking away, trying to get his searing gaze off of you. when it comes to you…theres an air of fevered wanting that only chokes you the more you breathe in.

lmao idk ive just had friendships in the past that were ruined by male horniness so im probably projecting a bit too much and u can ignore if i am but,,,personally im intrigued by the horror of knowing something potentially so meaningful and pure, something that seems to be easy for everyone else to have (true male friendship), has been effectively roadblocked because of lust. good and addicting in the moment but devastating in the long run like a cigarette 😭

HEHHEHEEHHE I’m reading this and rolling around on my bed and giggling, this is exactly the vibe. Poor reader because he really is such a fun guy to everyone else like people aren’t all WRONG in their opinion of him, he really is an excellent coworker. Good sport, funny guy; lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move, drove Daryl to the airport, looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away.

but yeah :\\\ dude is severely compromised by lust when it comes to reader. Perverts all his good intentions, even before he comes out and says that he’s into her. Every single conversation is manufactured, artificial, kind of masked under his own delusional belief that they’re dating or whatever. He does genuinely like you, it’s just kind of buried down deep, not super important until you’re actually his.

[sysmedsaresexist]

im a system trying to learn more about endos.

so far in syscourse ive only seen proof of cdds being traumagenic but they dont disprove non-cdd plurality, so what sources are there that have evidence of endogenic systems, if you have any?

Right now? There isn't any hard evidence that would satisfy anti endos. There's TONS of papers and articles talking about the recent emergence of endogenic systems, but they're mostly interview based. I debunked a lot of them when I was still anti. Small sample sizes, personal bias about dysfunction levels, all interviews. Those won't stand for those who are skeptical.

Now that I've calmed my gender neutral tits, though, I can look at where all this research is heading, and I can look back and find all the different terms that have been used to describe this same phenomenon. Those terms don't fall under psychology, they appear in journals about consciousness and self and philosophy, and they go all the way back to the 1800s, developing right alongside theories on hysteria and split personality, and the TOSD.

I don't need to do the work for you (/nm), just Google multiple self theory and fall down the rabbit hole. Trust me. One Google search, move at your own pace. It'll mean more when you find all this yourself and make the journey on your own. It was way more effective when I went alone.

That said, I'm not heartless.

The most promising research coming out is the tulpa studies.

Tanya Luhrmann and Michael Lifshitz are incredible, but it's Luhrmann who really stole my heart. She has a long list of work on religious communication with God and "others", and was a huge part of putting tulpas, and several other different voice hearing, religious communities into the fmri scanners to see what's going on. The reddit AMA is being passed around now, and it's largely being ignored by antis, without understanding what it was.

The tulpa studies began... shit, 5 years ago? Covid put a hold on the project, but it's back up and running and they're working on the final paper. The AMA was a chance for people to ask questions to the lead researchers about the project, including whether they found anything.

And they did.

The brains of tulpamancers and other practitioners lit up in unexpected areas and outside of conscious control (very basic overview).

Luhrmann also wrote about how this kind of research can help other voice hearers, and could potentially point to some new therapy opportunities for those struggling.

No, Luhrmann and Lifshitz are not dissociative specialists. Endogenic systems have screamed for decades about how they don't have CDDs and we just refuse to listen. This research is occurring in other areas and specialities. They don't need to be dissociative specialists to work fmri machines and see there's something happening.

My hope is that once the final results are published, we'll see some very quick movements comparing CDDs and endogenic systems. We're not there yet, but I think we'll actually have firm answers within the next couple years.

And after looking into other areas of research, and seeing the potential positives, and that they DID see some unexpected things on the scans...

Not to mention that I've spoken with Colin Ross, THE dissociative expert, who in the 1980s, wrote about "endogenous multiplicity," a subsection of those with MPD that had no trauma history, no dysfunction, no amnesia, etc, and he still stands by that to this very day. I've spoken with several other experts. Go look at Jamie Marich on Twitter and see all her colleagues in the notes.

Anti endo is a dying stance.

Learn nuance while you can (CDDs and endogenic plurality are different, occasionally overlapping), and jump ship before it's too late to take the harm back.

Happy googling and good luck!

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu Season 3, Episodes 1-6

//tw mentions of SA

Episode 1 - Fallen Heroes

I had a very long discussion with a friend of mine, who is a fan of medical settings, about how cool the existence of IV within the lore of Krosmoz is.

We didn't come to any conclusion. It was just us fanboying about this. Because my friend loves medical things and I love putting character into situations (some of which would not be survivable, if them being put on IV wasn't possible) (big fan of the concept of Joris getting poisoned and very sick and Kerubim and Atcham freaking the fuck out).

Funnily enough, during the making of my YouTube series, I discovered that there are two Sram-venerating women named Toxine in this franchise.

Adamai harbouring feelings of violence towards the members of the brotherhood is a good idea, (<- obviously the guy that wants Joris to beat the shit out of Kerubim would say this), but man, it could have been so cool if someone competent was working with this idea.

Episode 3 - Oropo's Tower

I should admit, this moment was probably a big win for Tristepin Mental Illness fans. Also, this is sadly the most explicit they can get with the reasons why Tristepin might hate being the Iop god in a cartoon.

He has plenty of reasons. Not only had Iop had 394824 demigods who hated him and felt abandoned by him while suffering fates worse than death (all gods have those) and just as many mortals he took advantage of using the power imbalance of godhood and promises of love (all gods have done that), he also canonically sexually assaulted a woman.

Ngl, if I was Tristepin, I would be considering killing myself — however, the kids and the wife would be sad.

They shuoild do this to Yugo too. He also had other wives. Albeit in an infinitely less insane way than Tristepin. Ankama.., please stop ignoring how existentially horrifying the Eliatrope demigods are.

In the Dofus MMO Kerubim pretty much calls the brotherhood of the forgotten an emo club of people with too much free time on their hands doing nothing but whining about their daddy issues.

And he was so real for that.

Btw canonically, Mishelle/Coqueline makes him feel intimidated (due to her grand age) while she herself doesn't really care about him (besides liking his good attitude towards animals), and is actually besties with Otomai.

Episode 4 - Beastly Girl

I like to headcanon that Joris's relationship with Coqueline is that he projects onto her ("oh god.... being 7 forever would make me kill myself.... even being 3ft tall is already horrible and makes me want to die..... the poor woman must be suffering") while she's like,, 1. probably doesn't think of herself as a "woman". I think she would describe herself as a creature, maybe a girlcreature, and 2. is literally chilling and doesn't give a single shit about anything but animal welfare and direct anti-god action.

I think talking to her would kill Joris because he'd realize that not every immortal person is as insecure about Literally Everything as he is.

She literally says, "the only good gods are ex-gods". We stan a leftist girlcreature?

This screenshot can be used as a reaction image for so many different shows. More fictional parents should say "my child is NOT ascending to godhood and shedding their mortality, becoming something beyond my comprehension, before they're of age. Fuck you."

Episode 5 - A Iop Hides Himself to Cry

You want to read @bitter-panacea's analysis posts about Goultard so bad.

Despite my negative feeling on s3, this is a WIN for Goultard fans, as far as I'm aware. (and Goultard enjoyers, since I kinda consider myself one)

I;'m going to walk into the sea.

Episode 6 - The Ecaflip's Scratching Post

YEAH BABY, A FULL ON IN-SHOW CONFIRMATION OF MY "USH HAS A DIFFERENT MOM THAN KERUBIM AND ATCHAM" HYPOTHESIS.

This might not seem like a contentious issue to normal people. Gods have... a lot of different lovers, so it seems normal to assume that Ush has one mom, while Kerubim and Atcham are twins like Eleley and Flopin, and have a different mom...

But a cancelled game that Tot really liked and still considers canon had really weird "there's an Ecaflip priestess who is the CEO of Giving Birth" lore, and was planned to be the mysterious mom of Kerubim and Atcham (and many other demigods), which contradicts a lot of previously established lore (ankama LOVES retcons. sadly).

I am quite open about thinking this is stupid and not considering this canon until they show her to me in an actual released media (and even then I will find a way to headcanon a better reality). Seeing the series itself acknowledge that Ush is not Atcham and Kerubim's full brother makes me feel quite better.

Hi Ush were you doing [SEXUAL ACTS REDACTED] upon cats again.

Cute...

A normal thing for a Bontarian to do. Blue-clad (metaphorically, he isn't wearing blue but white. Still very Bontarian though) man over here protecting kids and women. While also beating them up.

But unironically, I think it's cute that he has this gap moe of being an evil man who also saves people and cares about honour (because that's a proper thing to do) despite cheating constantly.

Somehow, his shallowness and "I mostly care about appearances, even if I do have a moral code" sort of behaviour is just as Extremely Bontarian as Joris's.... 30 mental illnesses.

THE OST IN THIS EP IS SO GOOD. ECAFLIP FANS WINNING ONCE AGAIN.

Hey past me! Maybe he really does pay these cats to put up with his insane behaviours. 🤨

Yugo, I'm gonna be real with you:

he's probably heard Joris and Kerubim say these exact words at least twice before,

He is reallllllly weird about cats and I am unsure if that's illegal in your setting,

He lured in people to kill in his tower for sport serial killer style.

He's bontarian. -20 morality and honor points immediately.

[danandphilplay]

im going to put my answers below bc i know some of these vids are likely not returning to dnp and i do agree with that i just wanted to do a fun poll abt if you could have another of these vids then which would you choose. ofc like ive said before we have no control over dnp uploads and i fully know some of these won’t come back lol

ok first of all i don’t think pinof is coming back and i think that’s been clear for ages anyways like ten is a nice number to leave it. HOWEVER i do think an april fools dapc pinof would be hilarious. answering crafties questions and whatever they send to craft universe dnp.

same with amazingdan BUT maybe there’s a slight chance of reacting to amazingdan. maybe not since so much time has already passed since pinof reactions (four months …..) honestly out of the options i’m not that bothered about pinof or amazingdan i feel like they’re classic dnp content that’s fine left as it is

ok for the pizza mukbang thing i don’t care for it to be a mukbang video lol like the actual thing was the nice sit down talk vibes pyjama pizza w friends maybe this is exactly what dan means abt being parasocial 😭 but that video is nice so i don’t think the actual mukbang part of it is that important it’s more the sit down talk style vid

i think i would do anything for another day in the life but i feel like it is prob peak parasocial content. would it count as phouse tour probably. do i think there will be a phouse tour no bc it sounds like it is still having a lot of work done 😭 and i honestly don’t really care abt it… i think the sims renovation was fun and an insight into their interior design opinions lol and that is enough for me

i put it takes two bc a lot of people want to see the next bit i like the game but not rly enough. idk it’s been awhile since that first vid and in terms of other games and things from dnp i don’t rly mind about it takes two being ignored 😭

i know baking is not a discontinued thing anymore bc HALLOWEEN but BUT i really believed easter baking would be a thing 💔 dapc had so much put into it that i kind of forgot about wanting a baking vid but 💔 i can’t lie i think i got set on the expectation for it. like the baking vids have always been absolute classic staple dnp content but definitely the cinnamon roll one was like the baking vids to the extreme… the full potential AND THE BAKE WAS GOOD TOO. the vid was also pretty popular. so my expectations for easter were a bit high. ok so if this poll is like magically summon a dnp vid 🪄 maybe id consider baking because i just love it so much like irl as a hobby but also then dnp doing one of my fav things too and it being so fun idk it’s some of the best dnp content imo. i would love them to try a series of making food from videogames but no offence to them i don’t get the vibe that they cook a lot…… so i think it might not happen. but dil is turning TEN in september so maybe dnp special dil birthday cake baking vid 💔 pleaese pleasemaybe

i think tumblr tag is totally plausible although ik the april fools tumblr tag thing 💔 bc the twitter vid happened i think they’ll do a tumblr one at some point. there’s so much amazing art on here not just fanart but written stuff video and photo edits so i’d want them to see all of that as well as the funny stuff. this isn’t like top of my list of things i’d want to see but it’s definitely one of the more plausible things

dapc behind the scenes content its either happening or it will never be spoken of

honestly idk if they would do reactions to the super amazing project. bc like what vids would they choose. maybe i can see them referencing it or discussing it if someone asked or in a live but idk about reaction vids.

ok draw my life would be fun and i’d watch them. i’d watch an updated dil draw my life too. they put so much effort into that dil draw my life. maybe an updated one for dil’s 10th birthday will happen? that would be pretty fun.

i think if i had to choose it would be a ditl vid. top 3 would be ditl, mukbang or literally just any sit down talk vid, and another baking video. ditl may literally just be bc of nostalgia i don’t really see it happening again but who knows. again just a poll about which vid you’d want to see if you could magic up a dnp vid i definitely know some of these aren’t coming back or very unlikely to

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Bro. Broooo. Bro. Gimme top!janis x Switch!reader with dom/sub dynamics, with Janis calling reader her pet + Secretly making out at a halloween party that Aaron threw. Bonus points if they flrt in public but never make out in punlic so there are rumours abt them pls plspls pls i need i i am OBSESSED with janis as a top pls

Closet Hookups

|| Janis Imi'ike x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; drunk reader and Janis, make out session, use of the word "pet", swearing, slightly in the future

|| Summary; there were rumours about Janis and reader being a thing, after getting caught at a Halloween party those rumours are confirmed.

Requests open!

Started; September 13th

Finished; September 14th

~~~

The bell ring, signalling the end of your classes for the day. With a heavy sigh you made your way down the halls and to your locker. Which was next to your girlfriend's. Janis.

You twisted around the numbers on your lock until it reached your combination and pulled it open, taking out the stuff you needed. Instrument, art supplies and a rolled up work in progress science project. Leave it to grade 10 to give you a stupid amount of projects.

Just as you were about to close your locker; you felt an arm wrap around your midriff and shuddered, instinctively tensing only to hear Janis' voice whisper against your ear. "Just me, babe."

You relaxed and looked back at her, kissing her cheek," maybe a bit of a warning, yeah?"

She laughed and gave you a playful nudge," did I scare ya?"

"No you d-"

"Boo!" Janis said suddenly, which made you flinch and she laughed again. Giving you a quick kiss," Yes I did." You rolled your eyes, unamused by her antics.

"Anyway, ya coming to the Halloween party? Aaron and Cady are throwing one tonight." She asked as she followed you down the hall towards the buses.

"Asking me to be your plus one, Imi'ike?" You teased, she only grinned and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Maybe I am, depends on if you say yes."

"Then, yes."

"Tits." Janis smiled at you, making you roll your eyes as she gave your cheek a kiss before waving goodbye. You waved back and boarded your bus.

When you got home from school, you took out your costume. Making sure you had all your accessories before putting it on. You had decided to go as a slutty Vampire, which made you feel a little more exposed than what you were used to but you felt good.

Half way through doing your makeup you received a text from Janis, so you grabbed your phone and opened it.

Babygirl; heyy! need a ride in? i can pick you up at seven

You smiled at her offer and texted back, knowing Janis had only just recently gotten her full license.

You; as much as i love you, idk if i trust your driving skills yet

Babygirl; 😦 ive never been more offended

You; lmaoo im sorry baby, besides i can walk. cady's literally like ten houses down from me

Babygirl; fine 😔

You laughed a little at her dramatic reactions and set your phone down, finishing up the rest of your look and doing a once over to make sure everything was picture perfect. Then you had a mini photoshoot in front of your body mirror because of course. Gotta get those gram pics.

Soon enough, it was seven. So you headed on down to Cady's house, getting there around the same time as Janis and Damian. You noticed that Damian seemed to be a little spooked as you walked over.

"We survived. Oh my God, sweet grass." He said as he laid down across the grass, you raised an eyebrow and Janis rolled her eyes.

"He's being fucking dramatic. Ignore him." Janis stated, Damian gasped and looked her.

"Nuh huh, girl your driving nearly killed us. I don't know how they passed you on that test." Damian replied, sitting up.

You burst out laughing, covering your hand with your mouth," Man I'm glad I didn't go with y'all."

"Oh, whatever." Janis huffed and headed inside, the two of you following after.

The three of you met up with Cady, Aaron and the others (being the plastics). All of you became friends over the summer after last years insanity. Everyone, including yourselves, were surprised by that.

"Oh my Gosh, you guys made it!!" Cady ran over and gave Janis a hug, you gave an awkward smile and wave.

"We nearly didn't because of someone." Damian looked and pointed at Janis, who gave his arm a light slap.

"Cut it out, Damian."

Cady and Aaron laughed at that.

"Is she that bad?" Aaron asked.

"Worse." Damian nodded.

"Oh my god, I'm not listening to this. You, come." Janis grabbed you by your arm and dragged you to the kitchen, you easily followed.

There she got a drink for the both of you and handed you yours before taking a drink of her own.

The night went on pretty smoothly, you and Janis getting more and more drunk with each cup. By the time you both hit your fifth drink you were stumbling over each other and giggling as Janis brought you into the closet.

"Shh,' You whispered through quiet laughs," they'll hear us."

Janis chuckled and gave you a soft kiss, pulling you closer to her as she worked to get your blazer and button up off.

She broke the kiss, the usual dominant look back in her eyes as she scanned your body with a smirk," you're the one giggling. If they catch us it will be your fault."

"Heyy," You pouted, both of you were talking in slurred speeches. The alcohol hitting the both of you hard. You a little more so than Janis.

Janis covered her hand over your mouth," Quiet, pet~" She whispered in a sultry tone. You huffed and took her hand off your mouth, placing your own hand to the back of her neck and pulling her in for a bruising kiss.

Meanwhile, everyone else was wondering where the two of you had gotten to. Before you disappeared Gretchen had been keeping an eye on you and Janis, considering how drunk the two of you were. She was the first to notice your absence.

"Hey, has anyone seen Y/N or Janis? I've been looking for them but haven't found either," Gretchen said as she regrouped with the others.

Regina raised an eyebrow and smirked," How funny would it be if they were off making out?"

"Regina." Cady rolled her eyes and pushed through the group, scanning the bunches of dancing people for any sign of you or Janis.

"I'll check upstairs, knowing Y/n and their alcohol tolerance they're probably in the bathroom and janis got dragged along" Damian said, walking off in that direction.

Cady nodded and headed off to the halls, looking around. She passed the closet and heard something get knocked over, then voices. Which sounded like yours and Janis'. She paused and took a few steps back until she was in front of the door. Maybe Regina was right...

She knocked then opened the door, finding the two of you trying to separate from your tangled mess. You had reached for your shirt and completely fallen over top a mop bucket while Janis was laughing her ass off at your clumsiness.

Cady gasped and blushed deeply. Yup, Regina was definitely right. "I'm sorry- we were just- oh God-"

Janis looked at Cady," give us a minute." She closed the door, leaving Cady stunned in the hall as Damian came over to her.

"I found them.." Cady mumbled, Damian looked at the closet and gasped.

"No," He said in a dramatized tone.

A few moments later you and Janis stumbled out, back in your outfits. Some of your buttons were messed up and Janis' hair was out of place. You both had sheepish grins on your faces as you looked at your friend group. Who had all come over by now.

"Called it," Regina said, holding her hand out to Aaron who rolled his eyes and handed her a $10. "Thank you very much." Regina smirked and pocketed the bill.

"We're dating," You announced.

Damian nodded, "You know, I figured."

"Wow, rumours were right." Gretchen said.

Karen was the most surprised out of everyone, she really had no idea whereas everyone else had at least some idea," oh my Gosh. Congrats!!!"

You and janis looked at each other with a soft look in your eyes. You were glad they finally knew, it felt wrong keeping it from them.

[blueskittlesart]

on the topic of zelda’s meanness that one scene that everyone brings up where she yells at link i think she’s fully in the right. like, she’s trying to establish a boundary (“don’t follow me”, “i know the king ordered you this but i’m fine alone”), and he’s literally ignoring her. like, not arguing back, not trying to somehow even indicate or react to her words in any way. i know he doesn’t mean it that way but that’s extremely dehumanising. imagine a guy following you around and you try to talk to him like a person and he doesn’t even react. doesn’t acknowledge your words. of course she’d lose it at him, she’s trying to communicate with him and he just follows her with a blank stare. like zelda already has a history with her father dismissing her and now she’s appointed this guy that’s always trailing behind her AND SEEMS TO NOT EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE HER ADDRESSING HIM. like. that’s not even ignoring her agency that’s plain ignoring her personhood. if it happened to me i think i’d have a genuine meltdown. that scene is not an example of her being mean to link it’s an example of her having a sincere and understandable human reaction to his behaviour towards her.

yeah!! ive talked a little about this before but when looking at the relationship between zelda and link in botw i think there's a tendency among some fans to just. assume that link can do no wrong. i think it's partially because he's the player character and so there's more of a tendency to empathize with him than zelda, and partially because he's so closed-off in most memories that it's easy to just project whatever feelings the PLAYER has onto him. and obviously it is not his fault that he's mute but it's also pretty heavily implied that he doesn't make ANY effort to communicate to ANYONE, even nonverbally, for a very long time. and again, some of that is a trauma response, but that doesn't necessarily mean he was in the right or that everyone should have been expected to just work around him and his issues. communication is a two-way street, and zelda makes multiple attempts to communicate to link VERY early in their relationship, albeit not in the nicest way. she's still talking to him. she's attempting to express her feelings in one way or another. and he's just kind of sitting there like a rock. his trauma isn't something he can easily overcome but at the beginning he was basically refusing to put in any effort with her AT ALL. he was deliberately ignoring her communication attempts until urbosa basically lectured his ass off about her. that's not any way to build a healthy relationship. in order to get a proper analysis of their early relationship i think it's really important to acknowledge the places that LINK failed to accommodate ZELDA, not just the other way around. they both had issues to work through, and only when they BOTH took the time to unpack their issues and work on their communication skills did their relationship really improve.

[starker-raving-mads]

For You: Part VIII

Rating: M for sexual situations

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹

After incorporating Tony into the penthouse and the rest of the tower, Peter found himself in a very familiar yet strange routine. He was spending all his time at the tower, now, having officially moved in. Being 18 and a billionaire - which still boggled his mind - made the transition easier. Reporters had finally found out where May lived and it wasn't until they had released a press statement via Friday that he had moved to the tower that they started leaving her alone.

The whole thing was surreal.

But he spent his days with Tony, May came over for dinner a few nights a week and updated him on FEAST and the rest of her goings on, he had lunches out with friends in hole-in-the-wall places (the only ones the press couldn't spot him at, they realized, after photos of Peter at a Panera ended up online), he went on patrol, and his classes started.

So while it was strange, it was also exactly the same as before. May, his friends, classes, and time spent with Tony. It was just a little different now, and Peter wasn't mad at the change in pace. Especially all the extra time with Tony. Because if it was just them in the tower, Tony was always out and chatting with Peter, going over ideas, talking about plans, just…hanging out. It was kind of amazing. And while Peter missed the physical things - like Tony moving him with wide, warm hands on his hips, leaning over his shoulder to look at his projects, putting a firm hand on his arm telling him he was proud - having the older man back like this was more precious to him than he could possibly say.

It was just like that, though, that the familiarity turned to something a little…more.

It was the end of the night after a long day of tinkering with Tony in the lab, handling SI business through Friday, chatting with May, and wrapping up his first week of college courses online. Peter was more than a little exhausted to say the least. It was a good day, really; he and Tony had found a nice little mystery of a bug in one of the projects that the older man had left over as a working component for a new mobile phone, a competitor (and upgrade) to the iPhone.

They'd pondered over it all day, then through out each meal, and even between Peter's classes. Eventually they'd let it drop because Friday had reminded Peter that it was 2AM and he had to be at a FEAST event for May at 10AM the next morning. If he was going to get rest, it had to be now.

But as he wound down in his (Tony's) room, his mind wouldn't shut off despite his physical exhaustion. It had been a busy day and he hadn't given himself any time to just stop thinking for a minute and let all the details percolate.

Sighing to himself, stretched out on the bed, he closed his eyes, arms crooked one on his chest and the other on his stomach. He let his mind wander, float in the liminal space where thoughts came and went without trying to focus them on one topic or another. Yet, inevitably, they always came back to Tony.

Tony's smirk when he was feeling playful, his eyes when they were happy, the way his hands moved in the air free and careless. Peter groaned thinking about those hands. They were so strong and capable, nimble and dexterous - god, the amount of dreams he'd had about those hands -

Suddenly, Peter was aware of the firmness in his pajama pants, his cock half hard from the images in his head. He thought about ignoring it - how weird it would be, when Tony was ostensibly right downstairs in the lab, doing whatever he did when Peter wasn't there - but decided that if this is what his body needed to fall asleep, he'd give into it.

After all, it had been five years since the last time he jerked off thinking about his mentor. He had plenty of time to make up for.

So he slipped the hand from his stomach, down under the waistband of his shorts and gripped his cock in his hand, fondling himself as he thought more about Tony. His face after Peter made him laugh, the crow's feet around his eyes, the sincerity in his voice when he was talking about how much Peter meant to him. The predatory way he glared when arguing, how dark his eyes got, how fierce his voice became -

Peter was fully hard then, cock leaking precum in his palm. He pushed his pants down freeing his cock fully, the softness of the comforter against his hard flesh making him moan. He arched his back making the fabric drag against the head and he gripped himself hard, then, hand starting to move in the up-down motion, fingers pressing against the vein on the underside, palm twisting when he reached the head.

He spread his legs, bringing his heels to his ass and ground down into the bed, his favorite fantasy playing out behind his eyes. Tony, between his legs, hard cock riding the ridge of his ass, saying filthy things to him, teasing him, mocking him. You want my cock so badly don't you, baby? Need it in your slutty little hole? And Peter begged in his mind, yes, yes, yes.

He spread his legs further, grateful for his flexibility, imagining Tony's large, capable hands dragging them apart, callouses tickling the soft skin of his thighs. He flexed his hips, thrusting into his hand, pretending he could feel a stiff cock just glancing his sensitive hole. Come on, Tony would tease, work for it, baby, show daddy how desperate you are for his cock. You can do better than that can't you?

Peter whined, back arching, and he was so close - so, so close already, just these few moments thinking about Tony, thinking about -

"Hng," he groaned, low and needy. "Fuck, fuck, need it, daddy - "

"Peter! I - "

The teen's eyes flew open shock and adrenaline pushing him right over the precipice he'd been teetering on, his orgasm painful and powerful as he locked eyes with ones the glowed, blue and wide. Hot ropes of cum hit his chest, the blanket having been pulled off while he was moving so frantically, one calf still draped in gray-blue fabric but not enough to hide the evidence of his exploits.

He'd never come down from an orgasm so fast.

"Mr. Stark! Uh, Tony - I, fuck," he said, scrambling to sit up, dragging the cover over himself. His hands were fumbling, adrenaline and nerves getting to him as he pulled the entire blanket into a big pile over himself, like a mound of sand burying his body at the beach. Like layers could hide his sin.

Tony said nothing, standing there, staring at him, frozen. His mouth was slack, hands still, mid-gesture. His eyes tracked Peter's erratic movements until after several long moments Peter stilled and, slowly, very slowly, Tony went to a tense position. Mouth closed, hands fiddly at his sides, eyes darting from Peter's head, down to the blanket covering his body, and back again.

Peter decided to pretend like nothing happened.

"Um," he cleared his throat. "Did you - did you need something?" His voice nearly cracked at the end, the pitch sharper than it had been in years from nerves. He could feel the blush furious under his skin, warming his cheeks and the back of his neck and the tips of his ears. They locked eyes for a second and it seemed to bring Tony back online, eyes going impossibly wide before he blinked out of existence.

"Fuck."

[vaguesxrrow]

Heyy! Love your writing! Now that we got bisexual buck, I was hoping you could do buck from 911 x male!Reader, who is a Korean model?? I don't know, maybe they'll meet because of chimney but I will let you decide what you wanna do with it!

hii thanks sm for the request, it's been a while since ive written for 911. and tysm for your patience in getting this done - it's been like 10 days so oopsss 😅

buck / male korean model reader

a/n: background is that reader is friends with chimney and works as a model, but other than that there's nothing else specific

wc: 1335

tags: male reader, korean reader

what happens when you fly from korea to help the 118 shoot photos for the firefighter calendar?

"GUYS!" chim yelled, bursting through the walls of the changing room.

eddie flinched, muttering an exasperated 'mierda' as he picked up the shirt he dropped. ravi shrieked, covering it up with a deep cough. buck, who had been busy tugging on his shoes, fell flat on the ground with a resonant 'thud'.

"seriously, chim?" he said, rubbing his hip.

"my famous model friend is coming here!" chimney announced, oblivious to everyone's consternation. "he's from korea. his name's [name], and his team and him are gonna be doing the firefighter calendar photoshoot with us, and also a few photos for his personal project," he relayed, reading from his phone.

"wait a sec, when was this decided?" buck asked. "i don't know how i feel about an outsider coming to pose with our precious engines."

eddie rolled his eyes fondly and clapped buck across the shoulder. "buck up, buck. i think it's cool!"

ravi chimed in. "yeah, me too. when's he flying in?"

"tomorrow!" chim said chipperly.

eddie whistled. "that him?" he said, clicking on the profile picture. "he is one fine specimen of a man. i get why he's a model."

"buck, you should totally tap that," ravi agreed.

buck scowled. "he's hot, but not, like..." he groaned at his teammates' unconvinced looks. "okay, fine! he's hot. but he's not even a firefighter!"

⌦ --

you looked in awe at the firehouse, and its multiple engines and trucks parked out front, gleaming. maybe there was cleansing in the flame, you mused, as you marveled at how spotless everything was.

"it's so... clean," you told your photographer, lily. she murmured in agreement.

a laugh sounded. "yeah, that's cause we have a few clean freaks in the house," chimney said, ambling over to you. he gave you a hug, patting you on the back. "long time no see, man!"

"yeah, it's been forever, right? someone hasn't visited in a while," you teased.

chimney shrugged. "gotta take care of my family, you know?" he wiggled his fingers, showing off his wedding ring. "happily cuffed down now. what about you? found a hot guy that's struck your fancy?"

you shook your head in half bemusement, half wishfulness. "nope. not yet."

"ooh, what's this about a hot guy, chim? cause you've got one right here." a man gestured to himself up and down. his grey eyes sparkled as he grinned boyishly, clearly amused at his own joke. he had a birthmark on his temples, with ashy blonde hair, and god, wouldn't you like to run your hands through it-

"that's buck, ignore him," chimney said, shoving buck gently as he approached.

"hey!" he - buck - protested, turning to you. "definitely don't - oh wow.." his eyes scanned you up and down "i'm buck."

you smirked. "hi, buck. i'm [name]."

"no, yeah, i know," he breathed, then cleared his throat when chimney snorted, seeming to catch himself. "so, uh, you're here for the photoshoot!"

"i am," you affirmed. "thanks for having me." you smiled sincerely. it genuinely was cool to be here, in a firehouse with all its american glory.

"happy to have you here, brother," chimney said. "especially buck over here."

not so subtly, buck kicked him in the shin and chimney yelped.

⌦ --

cameras flashed, shutters clicking rapidly. you stood against the firetruck, a fireproof jacket draped over your bare shoulders, revealing your equally bare abdomen. the trousers you had on were baggy. you definitely looked nothing like a real firefighter in your impractical (and incomplete) getup, but you were excited anyway. secretly, you hoped you'd be able to try on the helmets.

"why are they going so fast?" buck questioned, disgruntled.

you laughed. "it's just how they do it. more shots means more good pictures."

"easy for you to say," he grumbled. his eyes swept over your body, not for the first time. "all your shots must be good."

"you calling me hot, evan?" you challenged.

"i think you know the answer to that."

you resisted the urge to respond with another flirtatious comment as your photographer instructed you off the set. she approached you, studying the photos in her camera intently. lily had been your photographer since forever, and you trusted that her work would be amazing as always. despite this, though, you became breathless at the sight of the first picture. buck was the focus of this one, the camera being more angles towards him than it was to you. he was wearing the unreasonably tight LAFD shirt, with the firefighter pants that were a size up than what he usually wore (as he had complained).

he looked perfect, you thought. his head was tilted back in a half laugh, and his bicep muscles were prominent from the way he had his hands poised on the back of his waist.

"it's really good, lily," you said.

"really?" she asked. "i was asking what you thought of getting rid of this one."

"oh." you flushed. "um. i'd kind of like to keep it. even if you don't use it."

she looked at you inquisitively. "sure..." she said. "well, why don't you go take a break, and we'll do another set of photos in 20 minutes?"

you nodded in affirmation, shooting her a thumbs up as you walked away to where you saw buck, chimney, and hen conversing, sipping from coffee cups.

"hey," you greeted as you walked up to them, a bit hesitantly. "mind if i join?"

hen smiled at you, maybe a bit too widely. "of course not!"

"no more photos you gotta pose for, supermodel?" chim teased.

you chuckled, ribbing him playfully in the side. "nah, 20 minute break."

"well, have you had a tour of the firehouse yet?" hen asked.

"unfortunately not."

"me!" buck blurted. "i mean, uh, i'd be happy to show you around."

"awh," you said. "thanks."

hen and chim exchanged knowing looks. "you go do that, buck." hen shooed him away.

"come on, [name]." buck took you by the hand. "time for the grand tour."

honestly, you would've given up the grand tour if it meant getting to hold evan buckley's hand for the rest of your life. it was as if your fingers had been molded perfectly for each other. his rough, calloused palms contrasted your soft ones. they juxtaposed each other, you noticed, looking down at your joined hands.

buck led you through the firehouse. annoyingly (pleasingly), he kept hold of your hand throughout the whole tour. it was only when you climbed the stairs and reached the communal bedroom that he let go to hold open the door for you, and you thought you might swoon then and there.

"leading me to your bedroom already? that's very forward," you joked.

buck chuckled, ducking his head in a way that made you want to tilt his chin right back up again. "if you ask my teammates, they'll be sure to tell you i usually bring people to the fire engines themselves, not the rooms."

you raised your eyebrows in surprise. "and when do you plan on... bringing me somewhere?" as you spoke, you inched closer and closer to him, almost unconsciously, as if there was some magnetic force between you.

buck's breath hitched audibly. "i wasn't... i mean, i wasn't sure if you were interested in me the way i'm interested in you."

"i am."

his eyes darted to your lips, then back up to meet your intense gaze. "then can i...?"

you leaned forward, just enough for your lips to brush. "yeah," you whispered.

buck surged forward to kiss you. your hands came up to his forearms, as his settled on your waist. he was so close, that you thought it might send your heart into overdrive, but at the same time it felt your heart may shatter if he didn't get closer.

when you pulled apart, both of you were breathless, and had a slightly dazed look about you.

"we should go out for coffee," buck said. "i mean, if you want to."

"evan," you laughed. "of course i want to.”

[rockyfr0g]

my thoughts on "writing on the wall" by will stetson (as someone who relates to kaveh an unhealthy amount)

(ill preface this by saying im not good at separating headcanon and canon, especially when it comes to kaveh, and im not the best at understanding songs at more than face value cause im autistic but i just have so many thoughts on kaveh and this song and aaa)

firstly, the differences between the three choruses. i love how it encapsulates the devolution of both his mental state and how he views his work. in the first chorus, hes careful and precise, taking a lot of pride and happiness in his work, excited to see the completed project and overall enjoying working on it. whereas the second and third choruses hes been beaten down and rejected more and more by clients, failing to understand his vision, he feels more and more trapped by his creations. but still he holds his pride in them because if he loses that, he'll lose everything hes worked for. at first hes able to ignore the "writing on the wall", but as it gets harder and harder to please his clients or be able to afford what he wants to do, or even to create his visions, the writing becomes harder to ignore. as for what the writing means, im not too sure. but my idea is that the writing refers to the voices of doubt or dissaproval (both from his own thoughts and others comments), as well as the little criticisms when a client asks to revise his design once more. all of the negativity mixing within his own confidence in himself and his art, culminating in the writing on the wall. it represents the thoughts he desperatly tries to keep hidden until it gets too much and overflows (the end of the song).

secondly, i wanna talk about the actual music video. ive only watched it the one time for now, but here are my thoughts on it. the transitions between choruses and verses, and how it becomes redder and more exasperated the longer the song goes on to me feels like a really good expression of kavehs emotional state during the song. how the lines between him as a person and as an artist are slowly blurring, as he feels like hes becoming one with his buildings. being "trapped" by them.

another thing i love about the song is that its JUST focusing on kaveh. it isnt kaveh and alhaitham, it isnt 4ggravate. its all about kaveh. which is rare to see, especially within fandom space where i find kaveh is often diminished to just alhaithams partner, roomate, tormenter, whatever. so its really refreshing to see someone focusing solely on him and his problems without regard for anyone else for once, i love it. it gives you more of an understanding of just how much kaveh struggles, not only when it comes to his professional life, but his personal life too. we see how he struggles to balance keeping his aesthetics and pride while also trying to adhere to what the client wants, with "the right way takes a toll" showing how no matter how hard kaveh does try to keep this balance, it often gets toppled over and his ideas are more or less ignored in favour of something simpler. the balance is something kaveh struggles with throughout the whole song, but it becomes more prevalant in the last couple minutes. as for how he struggles personally, well the song mentions "the bigger the sorrows to drown", hinting at kavehs struggle with alcoholism and his use of alcohol as an escape from the voices and torments hes subjected to by his mind, turning to numbing his feelings with alcohol and often ending up worse off, physically or mora-wise. his alcoholism specifically isn't something i see people talk about a lot as its often glossed over or treated as just one of his quirks, when its evident that it is a serious problem, hes jsut so used to it at this point that he doesnt present it as such.

apologies, this kinda stopped being about the song itself and more just about kaveh and my own thoughts in some parts. but i hope its an interesting read at least!!

[unsupervised-meatsuit]

Inconveniences, Cultists, and the Warehouse of Rejected Toys

Cross posted on AO3!

If there was one thought that Marinette could attribute to describe the entirety of this situation, it would be that Thursdays suck.

It is not the most commonly hated day of the week, since that dubious honor belongs to Monday, for rather obvious reasons. Since it is so universally hated, however, it never comes as a surprise when the bad things come out to play. Oh, there was a fire in the office next door over the weekend, and now the air conditioning smells like burnt rubber and brick dust? That's just Monday for you. A villain attack in the warehouse district caused a shipping delay and that package you ordered got lost somewhere? Disappointing, yet unsurprising. The subway is so packed that a sardine tin would be spacious in comparison? Well, that's the subway every day, so it doesn't really count.

Tuesdays and Wednesdays are just that, days. Nothing exciting, nothing awful. Middle of the line, going through the motions, monotonous. Whether trudging through or in the zone, things get done and nothing exciting happens. Fridays are, of course, celebrated as the finish line, the checkpoint in the marathon of life that says 'you made it! You can take a rest now'. The final stretch before the glorious work-free weekend. The one where you can go home with the comfort of knowing there are no alarms coinciding with dawns break, just waiting to sneak up on you too soon. No annoying coworkers waiting with their metaphorical talons and too-cheerful-to-be-real attitudes, ready to interrupt your flow at the worst possible moment. Fridays are the tantalizing breath of freedom, just awaiting for the clock to strike.

But Thursdays? Thursdays are the worst.

They are the day you always forget. The one that sneaks up on you, where you wake up with the inkling of hope and relief that the end brings, only to have the crushing realization that it is not, in fact, Friday. Like seeing a finish line on the crest of a hill in front of you, only to watch as the closer you get the further away it seems. The one where you cram every ounce of procrastinated effort into the projects you have been putting off until right before the deadline, wishing for nothing more than an IV drip of straight espresso into your veins, followed by a three century long nap.

The day where you get kidnapped by an evil cult and strung up from the ceiling next to an unconscious vigilante, simply for the crime of being a nice person in Gotham.

Or maybe that is just Marinette.

'Embodiment of good luck and creation my ass,' she thought bitterly, rope digging painfully into her elbows and just below her ribs. 'Oh yea, let's go to Gotham. The city is unbalanced and needs a Guardian to fix all of the curses. That is such a great idea. Nothing bad will happen! Well what do you call this then, Tikki?!' Marinette sighed, the feeling of pins and needles creeping down towards her bound wrists as she swung precariously some twenty-five odd feet above the concrete warehouse floor, trying to ignore the worry she felt being separated from the little deity. Beside her was none other than Red Hood; former(maybe? she's not sure) crime lord, gunslinging vigilante, and too freaking heavy for his own good. Seriously, for someone who uses firearms almost exclusively, there is no reason for him to be so damn muscular. Or tall. Completely unfair for someone to hog all the height like that. It's what got them into this whole mess to begin with!

Well- That wasn't entirely true, but still. If he didn't weigh so much, Marinette could have easily grabbed him and run from the masked, potato-sack-wearing, nonsense-spewing, second rate fanatic occultists before they even knew she was there. But no, Red Hood just had to be the size and weight of a small bear, and now they were both in this mess.

"I should have never gotten out of bed this morning..." She muttered despondently, hearing a groan come from the limp figure beside her.

"Son of a bitch..." Red Hood murmured, voice changer in his helmet distorting the words to be near incomprehensible. The following string of curses as he presumably opened his eyes and took in their predicament was much more audible, however. Looking down, Marinette couldn't even begrudge him the swearing.

The two of them were currently hanging from a catwalk suspended in between two of the six total concrete pillars and directly above where the aforementioned potato-sack-wearing cultists were busy drawing out chalk guidelines for some kind of complex ritual circle. She couldn't quite make out what it was meant to be yet, seeing as it was in the early stages, but she could assume that it wasn't anything good for their would-be sacrifices. They were really dedicated, too, not even glancing up at the vigilante that was giving his best impression of an angry drenched cat. One of them even had a protractor and was double checking all of the angles in the twelve pointed star. Clearly, whatever this ritual was meant to be, it was going to take a while to complete.

Red Hood clearly didn't appreciate the attention to detail, which honestly? Fair. But the way he showed his displeasure at the situation involved thrashing around in the cocoon of thick chains wrapped securely around his whole body. (Marinette was only a little bit jealous at the differing treatment, since if she had more than a single rope wrapped around her torso, it wouldn't hurt nearly as much, but also it would make escape harder.) The thrashing wouldn't bother her if it weren't for the fact that A) they were both tied to a rickety catwalk, and B) every time there was movement on said rickety catwalk, it caused Marinette to bounce around and dug into the already forming bruises on her arms and abdomen.

"Hey, could you cut that out?!" She snapped, wincing in pain. Her voice caused Red Hood to whip his head in her direction and freeze, "You aren't the only one here strung up like a pinata, and unlike you, I'm not wearing any armor. I would personally rather not be split in half and spew my intestines all over the place like a macabre birthday celebration, thanks!" There were several long moments of silence while he stared at her and she attempted to alleviate some of the pressure of the rope. She was unsuccessful, sadly, but at least she was no longer bouncing. After a few moments, the swearing started up again, much more vehement than the last time, though without the accompanying thrashing, thankfully.

Marinette huffed, turning her attention to the warehouse below, allowing him to get it out of his system. It was very clearly disused and permeated with the smell of dust, but not quite abandoned as she would expect. Various sizes of wooden crates were scattered and stacked all around the stained brick walls along with stacks of empty pallets and cardboard boxes. The center of the large building was a two stories tall square, held up by four concrete pillars fading into darkness and broken windows. The empty space was only broken by the catwalks that were claustrophobically close to the exposed, rusty rafters, and a disused... crane thingy on an I shaped track above the two truck-sized doors to the right. In front of and behind them were what she guessed to be offices with windows that overlooked the main floor and connected to the catwalks through discrete side doors. The bottom floor continued underneath the offices where there were stairs resting against the back wall, though they were barely visible through the deep shadows and pallets of stacked boxes.

Directly underneath them, the cultists had cleared out a large area and hung up bright florescent floodlights that cast stark shadows pointing down towards their try-hard craft project. They had a cheap table set up to the side covered in candles, chalk, various liquids, jars, and bowls of different white powders, which Marinette guessed was salt or bone dust or something of the sort. Oh, and rumbling minifridge full of blood bags. There was that, too.

"-toe-eyed shit monkey fuck-tard motherfucking piece of-" Red Hood was still going, but seemed to be somewhat running out of steam. Or different ways to say the same swear words. Or maybe breath, Marinette wasn't quite sure yet.

Down below, the cultists remained focused on their ritual. Or, at least most of them did. Only about four total were actually doing any drawing or plotting out, with exactly twelve seated a little ways away from the star's points, all meditating. There were three more that Marinette could see, and from what she could tell, they weren't very focused on anything work related, if the one holding the weird, green-haired doll was any indication.

Marinette squinted in concentration, calling on her connection with the Kwami to sharpen her senses and hear past the still-swearing Red Hood.

"-whole box full of the creepy little things." The one holding the doll said, her voice disdainful. I hereby name you Dolly, Marinette thought, eyes flicking to the medium sized crate she had pulled the doll from. It had some kind of toy company logo on it, though not one that she recognized.

"Why would you even go looking through those?" the other cultist asked, somewhat judgmentally. And I hereby name you Judgy.

"I was bored." Dolly replied flatly, inspecting the green haired doll in her hands.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching the sacrifices?" Marinette squinted, tensing slightly despite the flare of burning pain it caused, but the cultists didn't even bother looking in their direction.

"No, that is Mark and Jacob's job." She waved dismissively, not glancing up from the doll. 

"Ah." He paused for a moment, before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Who thought it was a good idea to put those two together?"

"No clue. Better them than me, though. I hate watching sacrifices. They always cry and yell at me, or try to beg their way out. It is so annoying. I'd rather just be bored." Judgy nodded in agreement, shifting his weight and crossing his arms. Marinette couldn't help but scoff quietly. As if.

"Well, at least you get to look through dusty crates and find creepy dolls this time." They both stared at the doll for a few moments as Dolly scoffed.

"Yeah, and that totally makes up for the fact that we are a day early. I had to call out of work for this shit." She said sending a small glare at the cultist with the red trim decorating their burlap 'robe' before looking back at the doll. Dolly turned the thing over in her hands before finding something on the back of it. "Oh hey, there is a switch here." 

Marinette could barely hear a tiny click as the switch flipped and the two went quiet as they waited for it to do something. Dolly shook it, but got no response aside from the sounds of chalk scraping concrete, plastic rulers clattering, the constant drone of the minifridge, and the sound of moving cultists that overlayed the faraway screeches and honks of the city outside the warehouse walls. The two(plus Marinette) waited to see what the doll would do for several more moments to no avail.

"Does it need batteries or something?" Judgy asked. Dolly opened her mouth to reply, but didn't get the chance as the doll's eyes lit up and laughed, long and loud, to the cadence of Judgy's voice. It was unsettling, and very clearly reminiscent of a certain clown. The way it echoed around the warehouse amplified the creepiness. It was somewhat comical how Dolly jumped and scrambled to flip the switch back off as almost everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads towards her in unison, though. Or, well, it would be if it weren't for the fact that these people had strung her from the ceiling up and were waiting to sacrifice her to whatever entity they worshipped.

Marinette was jolted out of her concentration by a throat being cleared, and her head snapped towards the source. Beside her, Red Hood was looking in her direction(or at her, it was hard to tell with the helmet) and very clearly no longer swearing.

"You done, now?" She sassed, glancing back at the cultists she was so rudely interrupted from eavesdropping on. Dolly and Judgy were looking sheepish(as much as one could look sheepish, wearing *that*) as most of the others glared at them(presumably). The one with the red trim on their potato sack seemed to be scolding them, and about half of the ones sitting at the star's points weren't looking, continuing to meditate unbothered after the initial interruption. Interesting.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Red Hood said, sounding somewhat uncomfortable, though it was difficult to tell through the voice changer. Marinette didn't look back at him, scanning the warehouse for the two that were supposed to be watching them.

"No, it's fine. Not everyone can be cool under pressure." She said smoothly, squinting into the deep shadows on the ground floor, sharpening her vision with as much of her magic as she dared, though there weren't any people hiding that she could see. They will be somewhere that they can easily see us, but won't have to pay much attention...

"Excuse me?" He asked, taken aback. Marinette began scanning the catwalks above them, craning her neck and analyzing them for hiding spots. Or rather, for comfortable areas to hang out and pretend to be working. Clearly, these cultists have gotten too used to their routine. Which is a bad sign for all the previous sacrifices, but good for us.

"I mean, it's not every day that you get kidnapped and hung from the ceiling, so your reaction is understandable." She turned her head to the vigilante after determining that the lookouts were not visible, who was looking at her, the feeling of incredulity coming through loud and clear.  "Though I would have expected you to be a bit more used to this kind of thing." She spoke with a note of scorn in her voice. He was the one to lead the cultists outside her apartment in the first place. She was just trying to take out the trash when he flopped over unconscious right in front of her. And Red Hood was unnecessarily heavy. And muscular. And well proportioned. And tall. Is that a tailored leather jacket? It looks well made, even through the chains. He would make a great model, honestly. Broad shoulders, long legs, nice chest- Gah! No! Focus!

"Wh- it-, no I am not used to waking up chained to the ceiling." He said with a growl in his voice that she could almost feel in her chest. Marinette suppressed a slight shiver. Why do warehouses always have drafts?

"Really? Huh." She said absently, looking around the grimy and broken windows that lined the upper wall above the truck doors. Unloading dock, I think it's called?  "I got the impression that Gothamites were unfazed by stuff like this." Beside her, Red Hood scoffed, head turning to look below them and presumably analyze the cultists.

"Being kidnapped, sure. Happens all the time. Sometimes, it's even on purpose. Being tied to the ceiling, not so much." The obnoxious red helmet ticked to the side, eyeing her presumably. "What, is this normal where you come from?" From the small huff she could tell the question was clearly meant to be rhetorical, but Marinette answered it anyway.

"Eh, it's not my first time." she looked down at the ritual circle and 'bored' cultists who were completely ignoring the two, having opened up another box filled with what seemed to be... bags of gumballs? Interesting..  "At least it's just cultists and there is no swimming pool full of boiling soup." Marinette shifted, attempting to regain feeling in her fingers without putting her full weight on her bruised ribs. She had never wished to be transformed more than she did right now. Heck, she would even take the old onesie she used to call a superhero suit. She really did feel like she was about to be split in half. "Though whoever tied this rope did a much worse job than Kung Food." She said with a grimace, rocking from side to side and scooching the rope downwards a little bit. It stung, and the balance was a little more precarious now, and she just knew it was going to be hell on her back and core muscles, but at least it didn't hurt as much, so she took that as a win.

"... please tell me you are joking." Red Hood asked with a note of desperation in his voice. She grimaced, thinking back to the wafting steam and the smell of the since renamed 'Marinette Soup'.

"I wish I was." Marinette said, resigned. The thought was sweet in theory but thinking back, having a soup that you almost got cooked into renamed after you is pretty morbid.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He muttered with what she could only assume was mild distress. She knew the feeling.

"It's fine." She said, stretching out her fingers that wanted nothing more to curl in on themselves from the lack of blood flow. Marinette twisted her wrists and reached her hands in a way that just barely let her nails latch onto the poorly tied knot of the hemp rope. Seriously? This is just sad. I don't even need help from the Kwami to get out of this.

"It is very much fucking not." Red hood said pointedly while, assumedly, pinning her with a glare. Not that I can exactly go anywhere yet, anyway.

"I would shrug if I could, but as you can see, I am physically disinclined to do so." She looked at him with a sardonic smile, vaguely gesturing with her head at their general predicament. Eyes unfocusing, she concentrated on the feeling of the rope latched underneath her fingernails and started pulling at it.

"Could you be any more nonchalant about this? That is supposed to be my job." The deadpan response so monotone it sounded nearly robotic through the voice changer caused her to let out a small huff of a laugh. Ow, that hurt. Come on, you stupid rope, work with me here!

"Would you rather I be freaking out, screaming and crying about how we are going to die tragically?" She asked, pulling a face as one of her hands started cramping from the curled position. Ow ow ow ow-

"Absolutely not." Hood said without hesitation. So close... YES!

"Then I don't see what you have to be complaining about here." Marinette smiled triumphantly as she finally felt the rope around her wrists loosen, stretching the discomfort away as much as she could. Red Hood was silent for several long moments as she took in a few deep breaths, attempting to shake the few strands of hair that had escaped her high bun out of her face. Okay, wrists are free. Next are the ankles, then I can slip out of the rope and climb up onto the catwalk without falling to my death/serious injury in the process. Easy peasy. I just need to-

"You are something else, you know that?" He said in a tone that she didn't quite know how to name, distorted as it was. Marinette paused before she could start to move onto the next step, looking into the expressionless helmet of Red Hood that somehow still failed to hide that she had his full attention. She blinked several times, confused. "I don't think I have ever seen such a pretty smile, especially not in a situation like this." He clarified. Marinette couldn't stop the pink rising to her cheeks, and she had absolutely no idea what to do about the sudden flutter in her chest, but what she did know was that this hot vigilante/crime-lord had just(maybe?) given her what sounded like a compliment, and she needed to say something.

"Why thank you. You aren't too shabby yourself." Marinette said, realizing as soon as the words left her that her automatic response might have not made sense.

"... Thanks?" Red Hood said, tilting his head slightly. And then Marinette opened her stupid, stupid face hole.

"I mean- you have quite the impressive mouth on you." She said, followed by a long moment of silence as he stared at her. "WAIT- NO! I didn't mean that! I meant- well- I didn't not meant that, I'm sure your mouth is just fine- but not like fine fine, or it could be, I'm not saying it isn't, it's just with the whole bucket-head thing I can't tell either way so like- I'm not commenting on how nice your mouth is- I just- What I am trying to say is that your ability to use your mouth is what is impressive." The vigilante made a faint choking noise, and Marinette had approximately the half a second it took for her to register what she just said before wishing that she could cataclysm herself in the face. "NO! WAIT! NO! That's not what I meant! It was- talking- using mouth, but not like-" she started sputtering, words tumbling out of her without control, and the faint choking noise coming from Red Hood turned into full blown coughing.  "SWEAR WORDS!" She finally shouted, face bright red and a shrill note in her panicked voice echoing faintly through the warehouse. None of the cultists so much as looked up, clearly ignoring them, for which she was thankful. Oh my Kwami, kill me. Please. Right now. Strike me down without remorse.

Red Hood was gasping for air beside her in between wheezing laughter and coughs that rattled the catwalk above. Marinette honestly couldn't remember a time she had ever been more embarrassed. Not even in Lycée. Honestly, if Hawkmoth were still around, she might be in danger of being akumatized out of pure embarrassment. A high pitched whine escaped from the back of her throat as she glared at the vigilante, trying to hide her misery behind anger.

"Don't laugh at me!" She tried to sound intimidating, but it came out more petulant.

"Fuckin'," he said in between wheezes, "swear words!" If he were standing, rather than hanging, Red Hood would undoubtably be doubled over in laughter. As it was, he was curled up in the air in the shape of an unnecessarily beefy shrimp. Marinette was just thankful that he wasn't looking at her, or she might just explode. In an effort to distract herself, she quickly kicked her legs up behind her and began untying the rope around her ankles, putting her focus into remaining balanced rather than the laughter beside her. Unfortunately, it only took a few seconds and a couple precarious wobbles to free her legs, leaving the loop around her torso and the two free strands in her hand. Oh, and the Red Hood who was taking in deep breaths like it was an Olympic sport.

"I will fight you." She said, something burning in her chest as she glared at him.

"You're adorable." he said, getting his laughter under control.

"I will fight you, and I will win." Her scowl deepened as she glared into the lenses of his helmet.

"I appreciate the threat," he quipped back, voice filled with mirth, "but no offense, you look about as dangerous as a feather duster." Face still bright red and heart still pounding painfully, Marinette's eyes narrowed. Then, she smiled sweetly.

"I take full offense and I will make you eat those words." She said with the full confidence of a Ladybug.

"Uh huh. And how exactly are you going to do that?" Hood said teasingly, sounding as if he were just entertaining her. Her only response was to grin toothily, tip forward, and then fall.

Marinette allowed the precarious balance she had carefully kept for the past however-long it had been to fail and slide through the single loop of rope. The friction of the rough hemp fibers burned as it scraped along her arms, but it was worth it to hear his panicked gasp and the rattle of chains as her bent knees caught the rope(ow- that'll bruise), the only thing keeping her from plummeting two stories. She swung back and forth a couple times, building momentum as she allowed her muscles to relax for the first time since she got kidnapped and Red Hood hissed out something unintelligible from above her. With one last swing and a flex of her poor, abused core muscles, she sat up and grabbed the rope, climbing her way onto the catwalk with little trouble. She let out a small sigh of relief at finally having semi-solid ground underneath her feet. She hasn't exactly been afraid of heights since before her time as a superhero, but being in the air for so long get stressful, especially without her transformation.

"What the hell were you thinking- Are you okay?!" He asked somewhat frantically, the catwalk under her feet swaying as he twisted in an attempt to look up at her. No. That fucking hurt. She smiled before replying cheerfully.

"Of course I am! What, worried for my little feather duster arms?" She dropped the two rope pieces on the catwalk and then reached up to undo her bun which had become tragically loose from the kidnapping.

"Oh, ha ha." he muttered with a sigh of mild relief, "Point made. Okay, so it looks like there is an exit near the stairs which you can go through those offices to get to. It is really dark, so if you are careful and stick to the shadows, you should be able to get out and find a way to call Commissioner Gordon and tell him to-"

"Nope." She interrupted curtly, holding her hair-tie in between her teeth and running her fingers through her hair a couple times.

"-What?" Red Hood asked, tensing. Marinette grabbed the hair-tie before responding.

"I said no, I am not going to do that." She took a deep breath, shaking her head side to side to test the security of her new high ponytail. Good enough. "First of all, you weren't awake when they brought us in here, but those doors sound like hell itself trying to escape into the mortal realm via rusty hinges, meaning there is no way that I can get out without being noticed." Hood grunted disgruntledly, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Marinette took the opportunity too look over everything from this new vantage point, now just barely able to see into the dirty windows of the offices behind them, one of which had faint light coming from within.

"There are other doors and windows, you could find a way out." he said pointedly, head turning briefly to glance at the rope she had been hanging from previously. She couldn't quite see any movement in them, but the farthest one had a broken window, so she could only assume that the office with the light was where Jacob and Mark were.

"Second of all," she continued, "there are two cultists who are meant to be watching us, and no matter how negligent they are, they still managed to catch you. From what I have overheard, they have done this enough to have a solid routine, so they can't be all stupid. If I were to leave, we would only have a limited amount of time before they noticed." Down below, Dolly and Judgy seemed to have gotten bored of looking through crates and were both hovering over a phone while leaning against the foldout table, watching something. The third cultist that appeared to be on watch had tucked themself into a dark corner and seemed to be taking a nap against a pillar. Perfect, let's hope they stay like that.

"You would still have time to get away and call for help. The streets are a maze, they wouldn't be able to find you once you got away." Red Hood said with a light growl. Marinette could feel the catwalk move underfoot as he shifted slightly, swaying back and forth like a cranky pendulum. Her eyes flicked to each of the cultists down below, all looking consumed by their respective tasks.

"Yes, however, the chances of them just continuing with their ritual and ignoring the missing sacrifice are not great. They could panic and scatter, rush through and sacrifice you with a half done ritual, or any other not great outcome. So again, a time limit. Which brings me to point number three," She said, holing up three fingers. "We are currently in the warehouse district, which is a forever-and-a-mile walk away from anywhere I could find someone willing to lend me a phone. Even if I were to walk right out of here and they don't notice, they would have plenty of time to finish up their evil scheme and get the heck out of dodge before help arrives."

"Drive, then." Hood shot back. Marinette held back a wince, her eye twitching instead, thinking about the last time she drove a car. Or, tried to drive a car.

Marinette and Grandma Gina looked into the turbulent lake, drenched and covered in mud, listening to the slowly approaching sirens, smelling of burnt rubber and smoke. The previous panic fueled screaming echoed in her ears now that it was silent. Her Nona turned to her, pale and somewhat shaky, but with a smile on her face.

"I won't tell your parents if you don't."

"Deal."

"Do I look like I know how to hotwire a car? Or how to pick pocket someone's keys?" She asked rhetorically, already knowing what he thought she looked like. 'Adorable.' 

I'll show him 'Adorable.'

"Then," he said slowly, posture wary and tone frustrated, "What exactly are you going to do?"

"I already told you." Marinette replied, leaning down and looking directly into the glowing eyes of the Red Hood's helmet with a smile, "I am going to make you eat your words." Marinette didn't allow him to respond, standing in one swift motion and walking quietly across the rickety metal and towards the open archway of the offices behind them. 

Time to get to work.

Marinette was careful to keep her steps light an even, hand ghosting over the steel cable railing that ran along the side as she made her way towards the office with the intact, if filthy, window. She was fairly confident that was where the two cultists that were meant to be watching them, Mark and Jacob from what Dolly said, were hiding based off of process of elimination. Once she took them out, she could take her time with the rest since it will be less likely that they will notice her missing. With how adamant these cultists were about not looking up, she could almost think they were video game characters. The time she had spent hanging from that damn rope wasn't completely wasted, as she was able to put together the beginnings of a plan for how to do that without outing her superhero abilities or skills. Sure, what she had said to Red Hood wasn't *completely* truthful, as she was certain she could find a phone and call for help in ten minutes if she really wanted to, but...

"-no offense, you look about as dangerous as a feather duster."

That's not happening. She had something to prove.

Okay, so steps. She thought as she reached the wall of the office and creeping towards the window in a crouch, trusting the darkness and the cultists inattentiveness to hide her. First, take out the lookouts.

Marinette looked over her shoulder and out into the shadowed building, finding the darkest place from the perspective of the window and shifting herself into that space before slowly lifting her eyes over the dusty window ledge. Her gaze flicked quickly through the room, dimly lit by a small camping lantern on an old desk situated just in front of the door with a chair on either side. On the opposite wall was a couch where the two cultists were-

Marinette jerked downwards, flattening herself against the filthy brick wall with a newly bright red face. That was a lot of- Where did they get the- Okay! Not thinking about that! That's fine. This is fine.

…

"At least they won't notice I'm missing..." She took in several deep breaths, staring intently at the patterns of rust on the catwalk's railing. 

"I am never going to unsee that."

After a few long moments, Marinette crept her way around the edge of the office, through the arch and into the hallway. The door to the office the cultists were in was closed, *thank the Kwami*, but the empty one was cracked open. The stairs downward were straight ahead, swathed in darkness and shadows. There was less echo, and it was in general quieter in the hallway except for faint- not thinking about it. 

"Step one, focus on step one." She whispered to herself, straightening up and slipping through the cracked door into the empty office, careful not to catch her clothes on the door handle. This office wasn't as empty as the other one, and seemed to be much more dusty, though that might be attributed to the broken window more than anything. There was a desk in this one as well, though it was pushed against the wall on the far side with paper scattered all over the floor on front of it. Instead of a couch(Not thinking about it), this one had a stack of chairs, a duffle bag, and a hefty looking toolbox. Dumped dead center in the room was a frankly ridiculous pile of guns, knives, and what looked like a miniature version of a harpoon. In a much smaller pile next to it was her purse.

"Tikki!" She whisper-shouted, diving forward and scooping up the bag.

"Marinette!" the small Kwami excitedly yelled back, muffled through the fabric. Once it was opened, she whizzed through the air to hug her holder's cheek.

"Are you okay? Did anyone see you? It's not another Chloe situation, is it?" She blabbed with worry until the Kwami pulled back and smiled reassuringly.

"No. I'm okay, no one saw me." Marinette let out a sigh of relief, slouching where she stood. "Are you okay, Marinette?"

"A little bruised, but fine." She replied, examining her arms for a moment to see what was going to be a line of ugly bruises and some serious rope burn, before turning back to her friend with manic energy. "But, Tikki, I have been challenged!"

"Challenged?" She echoed with a tilt of her head and a sparkle in her eye.

"Red Hood thinks that I am 'as dangerous as a feather duster' which is frankly ridiculous- just because I am small does not mean I am not mighty!" Marinette said with a pout and a defiantly raised fist, to which Tikki giggled.

"So what are you going to do to meet this challenge?" the little goddess asked, floating higher in excitement. In response, Marinette bounced on the balls of her feet with a near feral grin.

"Here's the plan-!"

"Hey, Oracle, have you heard anything from Hood tonight?" Nightwing asked as he swung between two of Bludhaven's buildings and away from a foiled break-in. He was still catching his breath from the quick but brutal fight. He managed to leave unscathed for the most part, barring one lucky hit the woman with a crowbar managed to get on his bicep that left a shallow, if jagged, gash and was already forming a nasty bruise. It was going to make his night job rather unpleasant the next week or so, which wasn't great, seeing as he and Red Hood were meant to bust up a cult that had had been causing trouble tomorrow.

"Last I herd from him, he was chasing you through the house with a serving plate." Came Oracle's quick reply, the sound of clacking keys hiding under her flippant and amused voice. Nightwing rolled his eyes with a fond smile as he alighted upon the edge of a building, taking a moment to sit down and rest.

"Oh, har har. He was supposed to be doing recon for our bust tomorrow, I want to make sure he hasn't gotten himself in trouble." He said, settling down and kicking a leg out over the edge of the roof.

"From what I heard," Red Robin chimed in, "There was no 'our' about it. Hood made it very clear that he was going to go after them without you."

"Mhm," Oracle hummed in agreement, "I distinctly remember something being said about 'forsaken bonds of siblinghood' and that you are 'beyond dead' to him." Nightwing remembered that. He had been so excited at Jason actually referring to them as family out loud that he hadn't really paid much attention to what was actually said beyond that until afterwards, though.

"Oh, please. He was just cranky because he was too slow and I got the last of Agent A's cookies." Nightwing said with an eye roll. "He wouldn't go after a dangerous cult by himself just because of that."

"Are you sure about that? This is Hood we are talking about." Red Robin said skeptically. Nightwing opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off.

"Chatter on comms." Came Batman's gruff voice, silencing everyone. "Oracle, check in with Hood."

"Already done. His comm is off and all of his trackers are showing that he is in his safehouse on the border of the Narrows." She replied promptly, there was a pause as more keys clacked in the background.

"His security system is armed, too, with a window having been opened and closed at around eight forty-seven pm and no activity since." The silence between them was loud as the vigilantes digested the information.

"I'm on my way." Nightwing said gravely as he sprung up from his spot and shot his grapple gun in the direction of his motorcycle.

"Enroute." Batman grunted over the sound of revving engine.

"I'll try and track down his location." Oracle said, her amusement from before gone.

After a few seconds, Red robin chimed in with a deadpan voice.

"Even after all these years, you still underestimate the pettiness of this family."

Nightwing's sigh was lost to the buffeting wind as he swung down to the streets below.

Locking the two lookouts in the office was probably the easiest step of any plan that Marinette has had in years, being able to check that off after simply sliding a chair underneath the handle in order to lock the two inside. Thank all the Kwami I don't actually have to go in there and interrupt whatever it is they are doing... Still not thinking about it!

The next step, while still relatively simple, wasn't going to be nearly as easy.

Step One: Take out the lookouts, Check. Step Two: Gather Supplies.

Which means finding supplies, which means sneaking past the 19 remaining cultists on the main floor without being caught or seen. Simple as can be, but not exactly easy. Add in pilfering through and opening the many crates, some right next to the main area for the cultists? Not easy in the slightest. Thankfully, Marinette wasn't exactly someone to give up that quickly, and she wasn't alone.

There was a quick glimmer of light that burst through the dim room and a tingling feeling in her fingers as the summoning spell completed, burning up the small sticky note she had drawn on and replacing it with the inert foxtail pendant, dark orange fading to a white tip separated by five segments, hanging off of a delicate gold chain. As she pulled on the necklace however, its appearance changed to be purely silver with the segments disappearing, the bright glow of another Kwami appearing before her flashing through the shadows.

"Guardian." the Kwami greeted, bowing respectfully in the air before looking around with his bright purple eyes, taking in the dirty office.

"Hello Trixx." Marinette responded with a smirk, "Ready to cause some mischief?" The Kwami's ears perked up as he smiled brightly.

"I always am, Guardian! What did you have in mind?" He responded eagerly, following Marinette as she crept to the cracked office window.

"Okay, down there are nineteen cultists who we need to take down before they manage to activate their ritual and sacrifice the vigilante who I got captured with." she began, pointing out the shifting shapes moving through the harsh brightness of the floodlights and Red Hood, who was mostly obscured by the rusty catwalks and shadows. "We are going to need to get them all at once, or else we will be caught, and I can't transform without revealing my identity."

"I am happy to lend my Illusions to keep you hidden from their senses until it is time to pounce!" Trixx said eagerly, twirling around in the air, illusory sparks dancing in between his paws.

"Thanks Trixx, but I will be channeling your magic this time, we don't want another dancing Eifel Tower incident." The Kwami pouted, but agreed, diving into the inside of her jacket and joining Tikki in the small pocket dimension sewn in there. Marinette took in a fortifying breath, strengthening her connection to the two Kwami and feeling the magic course through her. She *probably* pull this off without it, but there was no way that she was going to let any opportunity pass her by. She promised Red Hood that he would eat his words, and she was going to serve them to him on a silver platter. With a final exhale, she turned away from the window and went to examine what she had in the room that she could use.

The first thing she checked were the drawers of the desk, pulling them open slowly to make as little noise as possible, despite the rusty ball bearings. It was well worth it too, for the sight that greeted her.

"Yes!" she exclaimed in a whisper, pulling out one of the three and a half rolls of duct tape and an unopened reel of fishing line, ideas already springing to mind. "This couldn't be more perfect!" she whispered with a grin, looking in the remaining drawers. Aside from the various bits of paper, she pulled out a container of thumbtacks and paperclips, six carabiner clips(two of them being broken), an unopened packet of yellow sticky-notes(she already had some light pink ones in her purse, but she wasn't going to pass up more), and an oily can of WD-40.

At the opposite end of the room, were the duffle bag and the toolbox, which aside from the pile of weapons that she assumed to be Red Hood's, seemed to be the only other potentially useful things here. Marinette started with the toolbox, finding a couple of hammers, a mallet, a huge red monkey wrench, some screwdrivers, a jar of assorted rusty screws and nails, and a thing of Allen wrenches. Out of everything, she only took the monkey wrench and set it with the other useful objects on the desk. Next was the duffle bag, which when she opened it, revealed itself to be full of a bunch of other duffle bags.

"Huh..." she muttered, staring at it and running her fingers along the hefty cloth. It's a good thing that it is cloth, and not plastic. Though this does feel like polyester, it won't have that crinkly sound whenever it is moved, so I can use it to transport things from the crates downstairs. With a definitive nod to herself she stood, dumping the extra bags on the desk and pulling the now empty bag's strap over her shoulder.

"Okay, here we go!" she whispered to herself before slipping out of the room and towards the dark stairs.

Jason didn't know whether to be amused, pissed, or suspicious, so for the moment he was settled decidedly on 'bewildered'.

The cult had been somewhat out of the ordinary from the beginning. The string of disappearances that led to him finding them were, sadly, not too uncommon. The cult aspect of it however, was a bit of a shakeup from the usual human trafficking, territory disputes, or straight up murder cases they normally take on. Just different enough to make it interesting. What *hadn't* been ordinary was the glowing tranquilizer darts that could go through his Bat-approved armor. Bruce was not going to be happy about that when he found out. Hell, Jason wasn't happy about it now.

All of his memories from that point on were fuzzy in that familiar way that could only be caused by drugs, but he remembers getting away. At least, he thinks he remembers getting away, but clearly he didn't seeing as he woke up dangling from the ceiling next to some tiny, blue-haired French woman.

A tiny, blue-haired French woman who Jason was stuck watching sneak around the shadowed edges of some warehouse with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face, surrounded by murderous cultists.

He was surprised with the skill she moved around with. Despite her confidence, he had expected her to get caught near immediately, and was mentally preparing himself for a whole slew of situations that could arise from that inevitability. But, much to his chagrin, she practically waltzed right past the cultists without so much as a curious head turn in her direction. Her style of stealth was much different than what he was accustomed to. She didn't meld into the shadows like the bats did, but she moved silently and with a confident sort of grace, using her surroundings to their fullest. Her path around the edges were calculated, he could tell, keeping obstructions in between her and the cultists as much as possible. She even climbed over and across a few crates to stay out of the peripheral of the two occupied with their phones, keeping her weight on the corners and junctions to avoid making noise or breaking the old wooden boards. It was something that Jason himself wouldn't have been able to do(not that he would need to in the first place), and it spoke of either years of practice sneaking around, or a lot of talent. All in all, he couldn't help but be grudgingly impressed. Not to mention suspicious.

She was clearly more experienced in these situations than he first thought, even including that concerning comment about some ridiculous food based(and possibly cannibalistic, which is a red flag for multiple reasons) villain she mentioned, and the damn Bat Patented Paranoia that Bruce managed to instill in every one of his wards was coming to light. Who was she? Is she a threat? An ally? Or just some random girl with more skills than sense? He didn't know and that was bothering him, so he watched.

It's not like I can do much else.

And he had tried. Despite how easily she had slipped through the rope they tied her with and climbed up with a strength and fluidity unexpected from her tiny frame, Jason remained stuck in his swaddle of chains. After searching for his hidden weapons when he had first woke up and finding them missing, he had reluctantly reached for his backup comm, before remembering the small argument with Dick he had that led him to stupidly spitefully take on this cult by himself in the first place, as well as leaving his comm and trackers in a safehouse along with a rather heartfelt 'fuck you' note. So, there was no way for him to get out, no way to call for his fam- the bats. His whole escape rested on the shoulders of the four-foot-tall-at-best, blue-haired girl with a smile too carefree for Gotham's rough edges and baked-in soot. The girl who was currently carrying around an empty duffle bag doing god knows what as she somehow silently pried open a large crate with confident motions and said mischievous grin, as if there wasn't a cult of psychos one mistake away from catching her.

No, he wasn't worried about her. He was frustrated that he was currently damseled. There is a difference, Dick.

"I already told you. I am going to make you eat your words." 

And... maybe a little intrigued.

Though, despite his years of vigilante experience, time on the streets, growing up in Wayne manor, and his training with the League of Assassins, he had absolutely no fucking idea what she was going to do with a duffle bag full of Harley Quinn inspired rubber chickens.

It took nearly all of Marinette's willpower not to giggle with glee when she found the crates of rubber chickens in her search for the Joker-inspired dolls(Which, seriously, who's idea even was that??). They were about three crates full that she could identify, all with the same logo as the boxes full of creepy-laughing-fake-clown-things and they were all fortunately placed near-ish to the opposite staircase that she came down from. This side of the warehouse was more crowded, mostly covered in pallets of cardboard boxes and some crates interspersed throughout.

This is perfect!

It took her a few trips and a couple close calls to get enough of the rubber chickens up to the office without accidentally setting them off, but thankfully she didn't have to sneak around the main floor for it, using the catwalks above instead. Admittedly, she used a bit of Luck to avoid the overly creaky paths and get away with it, but no one else needs to know that. Gathering up the neon-green-haired-monstrosities was quicker since she already knew where they were, but a tad more difficult seeing as the boxes were just behind and to the side of Judgy and Dolly(She could practically feel Red Hood's stress while she was doing that). For that, she called on more of Trixx's power to stay as silent as possible. Next, she went though the boxes farthest from the cultists, sifting through them quickly and making several trips up to her designated storage office.

Step four of The Plan had gained some wonderful additions in the form of metal BB-gun pellets, jacks, bouncy balls, and the gumballs that she had seen the cultists looking at as well, but she was getting ahead of herself.

There was one thing that she almost passed up, though, but the smallest of tugs from her Luck caused her to take a second look.

And by the Kwami, is she glad she did.

If the abundance of warnings on the package hadn't peaked her interest, the bold lettered label she read afterward sure did.

'FAST ACTING, WATER ACTIVATED SUPER GLUE POWDER'

"Hehehehehehe" Marinette couldn't help but giggle near breathlessly from where she crouched, shrouded in the darkness of the stairs, holding onto the sturdy plastic container with an evil grin.

Bruce loved his kids, he really did.

If he for some reason, in some way, ever lost all of his memories or sense of self, he would remember that. If there were nothing else left of him, be it from mind control, magic, head trauma, or for whatever reason, having to sell his soul to some malicious entity, all it would take is just looking at one of them and he would know.

Bruce loved his kids.

He loved them when it wasn't easy. Through all the fights, be them together against criminals and supervillains, or against each other with harsh words and silent treatments. Through moral differences, his failures and communication issues. He loved them when it was stressful. Through all the injuries and sickness, tough nights on patrol, prank wars that cost him thousands of dollars in repairs or teasing that ends in brawls over the dining table. He loved them when it was easy, too. Family dinners, game nights, public outings, or just working quietly in the same space.

Bruce loved his kids, and wouldn't trade them for anything.

But sometimes?

Sometimes he really wished he could give them back.

"This is Red Hood speaking, bringing you your top of the hour weather report," came the all too glib sounding voice from the speakers mounted in the corners of the warmly lit room. "Be careful out there tonight folks, because it looks like the clouds are heavy with betrayal and the threat of tyrannical and patronizing vigilantes!" The fake newscaster voice called out, echoing around the bare off-white walls that were splashed with black paint. Some were splotches or droplets, abstract Rorschach-esque compositions surrounded by messy and dripping quotes. The section directly opposite the window where he stood read 'Et tu, brute?', surrounded by twenty-seven kitchen knives, stabbed into the drywall.

"Condescension is an epidemic, easily spread through contact of those near you, so he careful to keep limited contact as to not fall prey to it's effects," Hood's voice spoke, glee very clear in his tone. Next to the circle of knives there were two more quotes on either side; 'Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime', and 'For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.' The second quote he recognized to be from the hunger games, though Bruce couldn't quite pinpoint the origins of first.

"If you are hearing this, you clearly didn't take my message to leave well enough alone seriously," the newscaster voice dropped, leaving Red Hood's sounding all too proud of himself. "To whom it may concern; consider all future collaborations null and voided, you are all dead to me, I never had a family, yada yada, etcetera etcetera. Any who enter my territory are personally liable for any and all actions or damages against them, including but not limited to inconveniences and humiliation via glitter, slime, paint, and dye. Please vacate the premises or suffer the consequences. Have a pleasant day."

"Oh, and tell Nightwing that he is a little bitch."

Bruce spent several moments to just stand in the empty apartment, staring at the pile of trackers on the table laid out in the shape of a middle finger. He sighed.

I love my kids.

Step two of Marinette's plan was coming together well, and she was close to moving on to the next phase.

The good part of hanging from the ceiling for longer than was even mildly comfortable was that she could see a lot with the bird's eye view. Many parts of her plan had gaps when she first started out, since she didn't know all of the materials available to her, but step two fixed that quite easily.

If there was one thing that Marinette had learned from her years as a Superheroine, especially one who fought a villain that preyed on people's emotions, it was how people reacted to sudden danger. Adrenaline does funny things to a person, taking perfectly rational thought and turning it into blind action. Fight or flight is a strong, instinctual reaction for all kinds of creatures, not just humans. When there is nowhere to run? You fight. When there is nothing to fight? You run. And when you run, what is it that you look for?

Step One: Neutralize Lookouts, Check. Step Two: Gather Supplies, Check(mostly). Step Three: The Path of Least Resistance.

There are four main exits and nineteen total cultists on the main floor. Two normal doors on each side underneath the offices that lead out of the building, and two large truck doors. With no real way to predict exactly who would go where, she has to assume that the best case scenario is each door having four or five cultists exit through them, and her traps being able to take out all of them at that number. Realistically, that isn't feasible. It could be all of them go through the same path, and most escape, or it could be that they scatter so far, they bypass the majority of her traps, leaving all of her work to be for naught. With how things were now, there were too many variables, too many obstacles, and too many unknowns. 

But this was Marinette. This was Ladybug. And it was time to do what a Ladybug does best; even the odds.

Marinette crouched on one of the catwalks that was hung in the direct center of the warehouse, just to the side of the cultists' ritual, her small travel sketchbook in hand. She was drawing out her plan and doing her best to ignore the prickling feeling of Red Hood's eyes on her as she marked out the best way to do this.

Two pillars on either side of the circle with the table and minifridge set nearest to the one towards the back side of the warehouse. The other one is down and to the side of the right most truck door, giving the least amount of room for error. To the left, further out and underneath the offices is the door we came in from, and it is the most likely exit that they would choose, seeing as it is at least marginally familiar, easier to open than the truck doors, and second closest. On the opposite side of the warehouse is the other normal door, which has the benefit of being in the darkest section of the warehouse and having a much longer path to set traps up on, but less likely to be chosen...

She leaned forward against the thin railing of the catwalk, staring down at the activity below and tapping her pencil against her chin as she thought. She heard a rattle of chains and couldn't help but lift her gaze to look at the source. The faintly glowing eyes of Red Hood's helmet stared at her intently from where he hung. She smirked at him, giving a little wave with her fingers, before an idea came to her and she looked back to the rightmost truck door.

If I block that one off and make a longer curved path from the side of the circle, it gives more of a chance to take out a few on the path. I could... Yes, that'll work.

Marinette quickly doodled a whole bunch of little boxes on her paper.

Then I could use the fishing line here and here, then all of the jacks, pellets, gum and bouncy balls on this side, then- hmm...

She looked up with narrowed eyes, examining all of the rafters and catwalks above where she was planning for the paths to go. Then smiled. That would work perfectly. Within another minute or so her sketches were finished and she stood, feeling giddy to see the end results of her plan. Before turning back to head down she looked again at Red Hood's intense stare, and gave him a wink.

Marinette spent the next half an hour moving boxes from one pile to another, shifting crates, and pushing pallets to create solid looking barriers, all while trying to remain as silent as possible, and there had only been a couple hiccups along the way. Along with a couple interesting discoveries. The first had been while she was creating the longest path, creating a good number of empty pallets for one of her planned traps.

Marinette had stopped as she brushed up against a solid feeling thing wrapped in plastic, and took a moment to examine the pallet next to her. It was hard to see in the dark and with the little light there was reflecting harshly off of the plastic wrap, so it took her a few seconds to figure out what it was she was looking at. Two adjacent pallets stacked taller than she was(Not that that was difficult, but good luck to whomever mentioned it cough cough Red Hood), completely made up of heavy paint cans. Marinette looked around, noticing that the path she had been making came directly toward the paint can pallets. There was no way in hell that she would be able to move them out of the way, let alone without being noticed, but... She looked up at the catwalk directly above, to the sides where she could curve the path around the bend and at the conveniently placed pillar, and back at the straight stretch of space she had been making. She smiled as another trap added itself to her list.

The second discovery was while she was clearing the shorter pathway towards rightmost door. To counteract the small amount of distance she had to work with, she decided to split this one in half with what was essentially an island of boxes that tapered off just before the doors. She was doing the shorter path first, despite it being closer to the cultists, because where the longer path was meant to go was filled with heavy crates of what she thinks are car parts which, for some reason, smelled faintly like smoke. Add the fact that Nappy was napping against the pillar over there, she didn't want to risk getting found this early. Needless to say, she was working extra hard to make as little sound as possible.

Marinette's heart had leapt into her throat when something shifted under her foot with a faint metal clank sound, very clearly not the solid concrete ground she had been expecting. Her head snapped up as she froze, straining her ears and glancing around her hidden spot in the shadows to determine if anyone heard. She was still for several long moments, sounds of the cultists washing over her, before determining that it was safe. With careful movements and a momentarily stronger draw on Trixx's power, she moved back slowly. Looking down, she found a slightly warped metal plate that was about the same size as her with a handle in one side. Curiously, she shifted the box she had been moving out of the way and gently pulled the metal plate up.

A shadowed abyss. An all consuming void. A dark, dank hole.

It was a maintenance tunnel, right in the middle of her path.

Marinette gently set the metal covering back down, mind racing. What could she do with this? It was much too good of an opportunity to pass up, and thankfully, she had an idea. Near the back of the warehouse, she could remember seeing a pile of cloth tarps. She could use those if she could just find something stronger than the fishing line...

An idea popped into her head. Very likely a bad idea but... well, she's sure Red Hood couldn't be too mad about her taking apart his weird harpoon-gun if it is to save him from being sacrificed, right? He probably has extras anyway.

She glanced up at the vigilante, then went back to moving boxes with a quiet snicker.

Jason still had no fucking idea what this woman was doing, and it was stressing him the fuck out. His escape rested solely on the shoulders of a woman playing high stakes ring-around-the-cultist instead of calling the cops like any sane person would do!

Jason wasn't as stupid to think that she couldn't have found a phone like she claimed. In face, he was certain she already had one in her purse, which, had to be some kind of pocket dimension to fit all that shit inside of it. Why would someone carry around a whole ass sketchbook and unopened roll of fishing line of all things?

(Jason was ignoring the fact that he knew several people who would, could, and have carried around that and much weirder. In all honesty, he just wanted something to be annoyed about. It was cathartic.)

It had been about an hour or so since she practically skipped her way out of being kidnapped like it was no big deal, and he had spent it with nothing to do but become more appalled and concerned by the second. If it weren't for the fact that he was watching this happen live and in the flesh, he wouldn't believe some of the stuff she managed to get away with. 

The blue-haired woman(he really needed to find out her name) had nearly gotten herself caught already. Not by climbing up one of the support pillars like a spider which the ones on watch missed by conveniently turning away from at the right moment, or making a frankly ridiculously sized pile of boxes in front of the truck door which the sound of was drowned out by the fridge seemingly having a mechanical seizure, or even moving a crate right fucking behind two of the cultists who somehow didn't notice because of a supposedly funny video on their phones! No, she almost got caught by a fucking sneeze.

She had been picking up some pile of cloth from a dark corner that she was undoubtedly going to use for some weird-ass thing that would make perfect sense well after he finally managed to finally get the fuck down and out of this god damned warehouse. But, from his vantage point, Jason could see that in getting so comfortable moving around in enemy territory(helped by the fact that she must be the luckiest person in Gotham. Seriously, share some of that with the rest of us, would ya?) the blue-haired woman had gotten complacent.

He winced as the fabric slipped from her fingers and sent a massive cloud of dust right into her face. Both he and the woman tensed as a long moment passed, Jason in anxiousness, while the woman seemed to be winding up, holding her hands tightly over her face. Then, she sneezed, full body convulsing and letting out a squeak that even he could hear from his vantage point.

…that was adorable.

One of the cultists blow looked of from their phone and looked in the direction of the noise, then asked their partner something.

Oh shit-

"Hey, did you hear squeaking?" Dolly asked, head raising from where she was hunched over her phone. Marinette felt panic rising as she dropped into a crouch as fast as she could, pressing her side into the heavy crate beside her, holding her nose and blinking through watery eyes, the dust making her entire face feel as if it were being attacked by tiny, sword-wielding specks.

"No? What are you talking about?" Judgy responded, looking up from his phone, pausing some video that she could faintly hear playing through their earbuds. Marinette's sinuses stung and eyes watered as she took deep breaths through her mouth, full body seizing several times with the force of holding back the sneezes. She made as little noise as possible, slowly crawling around the edge of a box to be out of sight of the cultists. Owowowow, my everything-

"Dude, are you deaf? That sounded like a mouse getting stepped on."

"Why do you even know what that sounds like?"

"I had cats as a kid."

Taking one hand away from her face, she pressed it to the ground to help her do an awkward crab walk further down the line of pallets to a mostly empty one that lead to an enclosed area where she could die in peace.

"So you've stepped on a mouse before?"

"No I- just- shut up and come check it out with me."

"Hell no, I don't want to see any mice. They're like, the size of rabbits in this city."

"Those are rats you fucking dumbass-"

Marinette crouched next to the pallet, taking more careful deep breaths and wiping the tears from her eyes. She watched carefully from her place in the shadows until they were both fully turned away. She was mostly obstructed by boxes but not willing to risk it. After what felt like an eternity, but was likely just twenty seconds or so, her chance came in the form of Dolly opening a box. She practically dove through the gap left for her and curled up on the floor for a while, recovering her senses as Dolly and Judgy talked. Marinette was only half paying attention, lamenting the existence of dust and wallowing until her half-formed bruises stopped stinging, when the shifting of cardboard and something Judgy said caught her attention.

"That is an unholy amount of glitter."

Marinette paused, a grin pressing against her hands.

I take it back. Worth it.

Marinette can't say that she had ever been particularly talented at sneaking around. It just never came naturally to her. Disguises and hiding in plain sight? That's just like an extension of sewing or acting, easy peasy. Hiding? Sure, she's great at picking the right spot and fitting in tiny spaces, it's just an extension of luck and strategy. Sneaking? That's a different story all together.

That isn't to say that she is bad at sneaking, she's just not talented at it. It means that every bit of skill she has was hard earned through extreme situations and years of practice. Being a superhero made her learn a lot of things, sink or swim style, with no safety net to fall back on. So, despite how... unusual and high stakes this situation is, Marinette isn't quite out of her depth yet.

That's what she told herself at least, standing fully upright with a wooden pallet hanging from her shoulders as she walked with it to a dark corner of the warehouse where another fifteen wooden pallets lay stacked, silently begging the universe that none of the cultists look over at this exact spot. Of course, she planned for this particular trap to be set up just before the leftmost exit, meaning she was as far from the cultists as she could be and had many obstacles in between them, making it very unlikely to be seen, but still. The chance was there.

Luckily, this was the last pallet she needed to set up this trap in particular, so she didn't need to haul any more all across the place. And extra luckily(Thanks to the magic she borrowed from Tikki and Trixx, no doubt), no one saw her walk around the edges of their circle and through the now complete pathways. Well, no one except Red Hood, who had been staring so hard at her this entire time, she wondered if he was trying to spontaneously develop the ability to shoot lasers from his eyes. Or maybe telepathy so he could yell at her for 'unnecessary' risk taking, she could only guess.(Well, he may have a point about the risk taking, but there is no way in hell she would ever say that. She was doing this to prove a point, practicality be damned.) She ignored him, as she had been doing since the beginning, setting the pallet down as quietly as she could despite the two stacks both reaching above her head. After a moment to breathe and admire her hard work, she pulled out the roll of fishing line and her extra pair scissors, tying the two stacks of pallets together and then working her way back through the slightly curved path until she reached the pillar.

Trap list;  Web of Ouch, Check.  Series of Unfortunate Tripwires(1), Check.

Onto the next!

Time flew by as Marinette gleefully set up the rest of her planned traps. A grapple gun, disassembled for its wire, and a cloth tarp carefully placed in front of a slick patch of WD-40. A block of wood suck in the opening mechanism of the truck door and a huge, precarious pile of various sized wooden crates that really tested the limits of her Tetris skills. A person-sized mat of duct tape woven together and placed sticky side up after another Series of Unfortunate Tripwires along the winding path to the leftmost door. A wooden wedge carefully positioned underneath the back edge of the two huge pallets of paint cans to slightly tilt them forward, and another paint can tied to the I-beam above and held to the underside of the catwalk by a thin string. Boxes filled to the brim with bouncy balls, gum balls, BB gun pellets, and metal jacks tied above two of the four exit pathways, a stolen steel-toed boot filled with rocks ready to swing at the turn of a handle. And, her personal favorite so far, a wooden plank positioned just above the cultists' plastic table and mini-fridge, piled with the superglue powder and the wonderful addition of rainbow glitter.

She had managed to test the superglue powder on Nappy, using it to fuse his clothes to the concrete he was resting on, and it was wonderful. There is no way that he is getting up with his clothes still intact. She kind of felt a little bad for the ones who are going to get this dumped on them, but oh well. She's sure the hospital will take care of it.

Probably.

She had managed to find a working water spout and long hose, complete with attached nozzle, that would reach all the way to where Red Hood was hanging, so that was one less thing for her to worry about doing herself. The last thing she set up was the discount Joker Dolls and the Rubber chickens while sitting in one of the disused offices. The whole room had become a sort of base of operations, and looked just about as chaotic as the end product of her plan was going to, but Marinette didn't care all that much. To get the effect she was going for just right, she had to be very careful in how she went about it. Packing in the rubber chickens at the bottom of the crate as precisely as possible then slowly lowering heavy bags of all the black and red glitter she could find to make the chickens stay in their deflated state. She carefully poked holes in the tops of the bags with one of the thumb tacks she had found, before carefully switching on all the joker dolls and placing them in the box.

Marinette will admit to using a lot of magic to make sure this step didn't go wrong, but once the four boxes were attached at their points on the catwalk and connected to her activation pull cord, she couldn't help the little giddy happy dance. It was ready!! The only thing left was letting Red Hood know his part, then the trap is set!

Jason wanted to throw his previous resolve to just wait and see how things turn out through the fucking window, because this was getting ridiculous. Patience has never really been his thing, which is becoming more and more apparent to him the longer he is forced to watch the sheer, unadulterated audacity on display.

He will admit to being mildly entertained in the beginning, watching the woman doing whatever the hell it is that she's doing like it was some kind of soap opera. When The Sneeze(TM) happened, he had been near certain she was caught, but seeing as she somehow had to be the luckiest person in the whole god damn world, she got away scot-free as the two cultists with the same skill level and attention span as low level videogame characters got distracted by industrial sized bags of glitter.

Which of course she later took to use for whatever unholy Rube Goldberg Machine she was making, alongside with a mysterious white powder that came from boxes absolutely covered in warning labels.

But the craft herpes and unprecedented luck were not what made him want to scream at her from two stories up and eighty feet away, cultists be damned. No, that urge came from the very familiar line of cordage she had looped through some kind of tarp and tied in knots, knots!! She took apart his grapple gun and used it for some kind of dirty picnic blanket! HIS FUCKING GRAPPLE GUN! The AUDACITY! He was fuming, glaring as she wrapped a hose over her shoulder and started trekking up the stairs and over the catwalks towards him. 

Finally!

"My fucking grapple gun?!" Red Hood hissed with indignation as soon as she was withing earshot, if barely. Marinette huffed and rolled her eyes, adjusting the hose wrapped around her shoulder to let more slack down.

"Well hello to you too." She said, tone filled with sarcasm and sass in equal measure, but internally she was beaming. He's not ruining her good mood when she is so close to success. She gently laid the hose wrapped around her shoulder down onto the catwalk as she crouched, careful not to make any suspicious noise. Not that the cultists would be likely to look up even if they heard it(After being subjected to the eye-searing glare of the floodlights herself, Marinette didn't exactly blame them, though still...), but it doesn't hurt to be careful.

"You took apart my fucking grapple gun?!" He repeated, voice inching higher. Clearly, some people don't think the phrase 'better safe than sorry' applies to them. She looked up at the rafters, rolling her head back in mild annoyance, as she drew on more of Trixx's power to muffle their conversation before taking a dramatic pose and poorly mimicking Hood's voice.

"'Oh, hi Marinette, thank you for risking your life to save me from being sacrificed by these scary cultists, I really owe you one.'" She shifted her stance and changed back to her own voice. "'No problem, Red Hood, I'm glad you understand that sometimes sacrifices must be made for the continued freedom of the innocent.'" She crossed her arms and looked pointedly in the faintly glowing eye of the Vigilante's helmet with a slight pout. She couldn't see it, but Marinette imagined that he took a split second to blink.

"Was that a pun?" Marinette tilted her head, thinking back over her words before silently grinning. "So not only do you take apart my god damned grapple gun, you fucking pun at me about it?!" Marinette chuckled, uncrossing her arms and going back to carefully untangling the hose.

"You can get another one, cant you?" She asked flippantly, Red Hood grunted in displeasure.

"Ugh... Yeah, but that is so inconvenient." If it weren't for the voice modulator, Marinette would *almost* call his tone petulant, but for now she simply thought of it as pouty.

"Welcome to the club." She responded, to which he huffed.

"What, the club for inconveniences and cultists?" She could hear the smirk in his voice, and had to hold back her own.

"Yep." She responded cheerfully instead, "Meetings every Thursday in the warehouse of rejected toys."

"Why Thursdays?"

"Because Thursdays are the worst day of the week." She said with certainty, staring off into the middle distance as she remembered all the bad things that happen on Thursdays.

Well, at the end of it all, this might not end up being one of the bad things after all...

"Isn't that supposed to be Monday?" Marinette rolled her eyes and huffed in exasperation before shaking her head.

"I'm not going over this again." Red Hood leaned his head back, seemingly nonplused.

"Again?"

"Anyway," Marinette continued, cutting him off from speaking further. "I have everything ready except for this one last thing, which I will need your help for." Hood straightened(as much as he could anyway), as if remembering something and his voice pitched slightly deeper in a commanding kind of way. As a former superhero herself, she was very familiar with it.

"Yeah, actually, I'm going to need you to exp-"

"Shush shh shh." Marinette said, waving a hand at him while distracted with straightening the rest of the hose and turning the nozzle to 'shower' mode in preparation to lower it to him. Despite this, she could feel the affront radiating off of the vigilante. She fought down a smile as she continued. "Don't interrupt people, its rude."

Red Hood made a strangled noise, like he was trying to start several different sentences at once but nothing managed to make it past the first syllable, very effectively cutting off his demand for explanations she absolutely wasn't going to give him. She wished that she could see what his expression looked like right now, it would keep her giggling for weeks.

"Okay, so I don't know how much you were paying attention-" That's a lie, she knew he has been watching her like a hawk this whole time, "but you see the boards I set up with the piles of white powder and glitter above their supply table?" she asked, pivoting on the balls of her feet to look at him, wrapped in chains and hanging above a half done ritual circle.

"Yeah?" The word sounded like he wanted to growl it, but was too off kilter to fully manage. She held back a laugh, but couldn't help the smirk that slipped through.

"Well." She said, holding up the hose next to her head for him to see, "What I need you to do, is spray water on the cultists that powder drops on." She finished with a sunny grin. There was silence for several long moments as they stared at each other, sounds outside their little bubble left ignored. Marinette didn't falter, expression as solid as Hood's helmet. When he finally spoke, it was loaded and laced with emotion and demand.

"Why."

Marinette blinked and tilted her head. There were a lot of ways that she could answer him, ways to interpret what exactly he was asking about. Why the water, why him. It could be why she insisted on being so... Cavalier about this whole situation, or why she stuck around to help instead of running. Or, most likely, it could be why go through all this trouble? Why spend hours setting all this up when a single phone call would have gotten them out of this mess in minutes? And yet...

She felt the magic in her chest swirling, Luck and Misfortune dancing across her shoulders. Creation and Destruction chasing each other through the blurry seams of the world around her. Her connection to the Kwami hummed in her ears, and she felt the Balance on the verge of a Shift. Her words here could change the Fate of this city. A small action could tip the scales of Order and Chaos.

No pressure.

"Because," she said slowly, earnestness in her eyes as she stared through Red Hood and into the Destruction and Misfortune clinging to him like leaches, tainting and feeding on the Hope and Safety in his Soul. Magic seeped into her voice, spreading through her like invisible veins of sunlight and guiding her words. "When life takes you down a path that gives nothing but blood and darkness, the only way to make it to the other side is to create your own light."

She got no response, the vigilante seeming frozen by her words, staring intently from behind glowing lenses. She herself took a few moments to collect her thoughts as the Magic dissipated, the feeling of Balance fading to the background, leaving behind no indication on if she said the right thing. 

But she did, she knew she did.

With a comforting smile loaded with memories of long nights, suppressed feelings and more responsibility than any child should ever have to shoulder, she reached down and handed him the hose. He took it automatically, still processing her words. Marinette stood to leave, before looking over her shoulder and saying,

"Enjoy the show, Hood." She smirked at him, turning and walking away. "Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about how dangerous 'feather dusters' can be."

"I got something." Oracle's spoke suddenly through the uncharacteristic silence of the coms.

"Report." Batman ordered, the speed of his reply being the only indicator of his worry, but after knowing him for so long Oracle could read it very easily. Keys clacked rapidly under her fingers as she hacked into phone satellites and pulled up tracking software.

"A phone call, asking specifically for Commissioner Gordon." She paused for a moment, skimming over the auto-generated transcript from the audio file.

"Hn." Batman grunted impatiently. She could almost feel his signature stare through the computer.

"Hold your horses." She muttered quietly, speaking up again shortly after as several blue dots started appearing and disappearing on the map of the warehouse district on her other screen. "Someone called in to report cult activity and kidnapping approximately two minutes ago."

"Is it Hood?" Red Robin asked, voice calm if slightly winded. A quick glance at his body cam footage showed him finishing up a fight with a couple muggers.

"It seems likely," she said, refocusing. "The video feeds I managed to find earlier put him near the reconnaissance point N gave me before he disappeared, and the call claims two people were kidnapped." Her eyes narrowed at the screen, the tracking software taking somewhat longer to pinpoint the origin of the call than normal, only giving her the general area, but...

"But?" Nightwing interrupted, much more subdued than earlier in the night. Barbara smirked a little at his words aligning with her thoughts. She started combing through traffic camera feeds from the estimated time of the kidnapping to pinpoint the location manually as she spoke.

"It was a woman with a French accent who called it in, and from the sound of the audio, she was suspiciously calm. Almost excited sounding, even." Barbara frowned, finding a suspicious looking beat-up brown van and several cars all driving to one warehouse approximately 3 hours and 28 minutes ago. "There was no mention or description of who exactly the kidnapped people were, though the caller implied she was one of them." There were no cameras pointing towards where they parked, and any security the disused warehouse had was either completely broken on or a closed circuit. She started back tracking the path of the van while she ran the license plates she managed to get from one of the higher quality traffic cams.

"Think it's a trap?" Red Robin asked. She hummed, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a moment. She started looking into the warehouse's utilities, searching for any any weirdly high power draws that would indicate a villain lair, but didn't find anything on that scale.

"I'm sending you the address, B." She said quickly, inputting it to the Batmobile's navigation system before answering Red. "There's not enough evidence to say, but I don't think it is a trap, exactly. All the information we have about the cult from previous reconnaissance doesn't indicate them being a setup, and the call, despite specifically mentioning the Commissioner, was for the police, not us." She checked the rout on the Batmobile's map against hers, looking it over for roadblocks.

"But it is suspicious." Red Robin replied, a calculating edge to his voice.

"But it is suspicious." She confirmed. Construction blocked off the block with the most direct route from Batman to the warehouse, looks like a fire in a machinery overlay facility that took out a corner of the building. The traffic cones and interspersed equipment would be little obstacle for Bruce the Broody Dad-Bat, though.

"Enroute, eleven minutes." Said the aforementioned Overprotective Flying Marsupial. Oracle looked at his tracker.

"Take a left in two blocks and you'll be there in eight." She typed in several commands and a new path showed up on his map. "Careful for the piles of bricks." A flash from another screen caught her attention and she turned her head.

Ah, good.

"Red, I'm sending you the address of where it looks like Hood was taken from. N, I'm sending you files for the owners of the cars that the cultists used. None of them have been reported stolen, so see if you can confirm or find anything incriminating we can give to the police." From their body cam footage, she could see Red pulling out his grapple gun and shooting off while Nightwing quickly looked through his wrist computer.

"What would we ever do without you, O?" Nightwing asked with a laugh, the first one since Hood turned up missing.

"Die, probably." Red Robin responded as he leapt off of a building. Oracle snorted.

"Probably." She agreed

Marinette was in position, crouched behind the cultists' table of junk and fridge of dubiously sourced blood. All of her traps were set and ready to go, the few she needed to activate all connected back to this one spot. She went over her mental checklist with a feeling of satisfaction.

Step One: Neutralize Lookouts, Check. Step Two: Gather Supplies, Check. Step Three: The Path of Least Resistance, Check. Step Four: Traps, Check.

It was a simple plan, though by no means easy. The bruises and rope burn had made friends with the muscle fatigue and aching joints from all the crawling, climbing, and carrying that she had done to get to this point. The close calls that made her heart race with adrenaline bled into giddy anticipation for the payoff. Finally, the culmination of all of her hard work was here.

Step Five: It All Falls Down.

She looked up, past the eye watering glare of the floodlight and directly at Red Hood. With squinting eyes and a toothy grin, she shot him a thumbs up. After a moment, he responded in kind, holding up the hose. Marinette looked back down, blinking a few times to clear the spots from her vision and then steeling herself with a deep breath.

Go time.

Creeping forward, Marinette reached the extension cord that powered the mini-fridge. The very same mini-fridge that filled the warehouse with the constant gurgling drone of an appliance on the edge of complete and utter non-function. With a quick and simple yank and a careful dive back behind cover, the warehouse suddenly descended into silence.

"... The hell?" One of the cultists that had been drawing runes into the edge of the circle muttered, looking up at the sudden quiet, quickly followed by the other three.

"What happened?" Dolly called from the other side of the circle, voice echoing as she stood up from where she rested against a large crate with Judgy.

"The fridge just turned off." Drawing Cultist number two said, setting down her protractor.

"Well no shit-" the third one said, before being cut off by the one in the red-trimmed potato sack.

"Figure it out without disrupting meditation, lest our hard work go to waste." He said in an excessively haughty voice that gave her flashbacks of a certain blond. Marinette couldn't see their faces, but from their posture she could deduce that the four drawing cultists and Dolly weren't too happy about this guy. If she had to guess, it would probably be because his version of 'hard work' consisted of sitting with his eyes closed and bossing people around.

Oh well, that's what you get for being in a cult that kidnapped people, I guess.

The four Drawing Cultists made their way over, two stopping next to the table, one going directly to the fridge, and the last hung back with their arms crossed, just beside one of the meditating cultists. Marinette shifted, hand wrapping around the first fishing line, pulling it until it was just taught.

"Hey, who unplugged-" the cultist never got to finish their sentence, as Marinette *yanked* the fishing line and four crates balanced on top of the catwalks above tipped. Then spilled...

Then it all fell down.

----

Jason had never been big on the Internet. Sure, it was beyond useful for investigative work, but from growing up poor, to living on the streets, to being dead, there wasn't much time for him to get immersed in 'internet culture', as Tim called it. But, he did remember one of Dick's attempts at 'brotherly bonding night' where he spent several hours putting up with far too many compilation videos meant to 'catch him up on what he missed while dead'. He remembered them, at this one very specific moment, because of the one 'Vine' Dick showed them of a rubber chicken falling off a roof. It had been mildly amusing at the time, enough keep him around longer than he otherwise would have stayed. He had even laughed a little, and made a joke about it being accurate to what Dick sounded like when pushed off of high places. The responding squawk from his adoptive brother proved his point perfectly, to the amusement of the rest of the room.

Jason was not laughing now.

If he had been asked before to imagine the bone chilling sound of hundreds of screaming rubber chickens falling through a warehouse like an unholy rain, nothing would have come close to the reality. He doubted anything could come close to reality; the single most unsettling sound he had ever heard freezing everyone in place with held breath as the screaming and thwaps of rubber hitting concrete stopped. That was, until the dolls activated.

From inside the dispersed mounds of toys and clouds of glitter slowly spreading over the floor in a way that reminded him of fear gas, more pairs of red eyes than he could count lit up like beacons, followed by laughter.

Screaming laughter.

Jason knows that if he wasn't hanging from chains at this moment, he would either be running or shooting. His fist clenched around the hose in his hand, and water started raining down below him. At the same time, he heard two separate thunks, followed by what sounded like a rain of vaguely spherical objects and confused screaming from below him.

White powder fell in a heap, coating the cultists and spreading over the floor near the table they had set up, and he remembered what the woman- Marinette- told him. Swallowing down the adrenaline induced haze, he aimed the water as the cultists scattered.

It was chaos.

The three cultists closest to the table had the most powder on them, and when they ran directly under the path of the water, something unexpected happened. The first one fell, foot stuck to the ground, and the other two tripped over them and didn't get back up again, writhing where they had ragdolled against the floor, stuck to it like a glue trap. The white powder got on two more, one of the people who were meditating and the person standing next to them. They ran, only getting partially soaked before they were out of range. They ran for the door behind Jason, clothes becoming stiff and sticky with glue, but not managing to fully stop them. They didn't get far, because as soon as they got to the border of the boxes they tripped over the balls of various sizes scattered over the floor. One fell to the side, catching themselves on a heavy crate while the other fell face first into the floor. Neither got back up, despite how much they struggled.

On the path next to them, two more cultists had tried to escape, but instead of sticking to the floor like the others, they slid on it. Crashing into each other, they both fell head first into a dusty tarp that seemed to swallow them whole as they fell into a pit. The cord of his mutilated grapple gun pulled taught, closing around the edges of the tarp, leaving only a single flailing leg sticking out of the top.

Across from him, on the longest and darkest path, the two cultists who were meant to be on watch followed behind a third at a dead sprint. They gained speed unhindered, until they were around twenty feet away from the door when the one in front hit a tripwire, stumbling but keeping momentum. But then they hit another tripwire.

And another tripwire.

And then another tripwire.

They managed to dodge by jumping over the last tripwire, only to miss the clothesline that hit them directly at neck height. The cultist fell, slamming their head on the ground, knocked out cold with a muted thud.

The two behind didn't stop for their friend, simply jumping over the prone form and ducking past the clothesline, speeding up for the last stretch to the door. They almost made it, but we're stopped dead by the web of fishing line and stacks of pallets that collapsed around the two, trapping them in a tangle of limbs and splinters.

Just behind them, almost at the same time another cultists barely dodged a paint can swinging down from the rafters, only to be buried under the resulting cascade of paint cans that spilled from two huge pallets. The one behind skid to a stop and backpedaled, watching four of their companions go down trying to get out that way. They then turned around, seeing a fifth person groaning on the ground stuck to a mat of tape they fell on after running through another series of tripwires and singular clothesline. In a panicked haze, they looked around until spotting a couple of others at the truck door that wasn't blocked off, trying to open it. The panicking cultist rushed over just as they managed to crack it open, incidentally causing a veritable avalanche of boxes and crates to fall on all three.

There were three left standing. The one with red trim, who was yelling obscenities while standing in the middle of their half done ritual, and the two who were walking through the minefield of tripping hazards that got the ones half-covered in glue. They reached the other side without falling within just a few seconds of each other, the one who got there first sprinting forwards and throwing open the door with a screech of rusted hinges.

Then was promptly knocked the fuck out by a boot to the face.

The last one made it out the door, then screamed. Their footsteps fell silent.

Jason was gaping.

Holy... Fucking... Shit...

Below him, he heard cackling. Not the unsettling, mechanical and screaming laughter of the joker dolls, but the nearly evil delighted glee coming from the small blue-haired woman dancing around with a monkey wrench the size of her arm held in one hand. Her high ponytail bounced behind her, covered in cobwebs and dust. Her clothes were rumpled and dirty, and even from this distance her arms looked like she went ten rounds with an octopus and lost. But despite this, she was practically glowing.

"IT WORKED, YES!!! HAHA!" She shouted out, twirling out from behind her wall of boxes, head whipping around in every direction, taking it all in. The lead cultist whirled around, gaze locking onto her.

"YOU!" He shouted in outrage, immediately charging at the much smaller woman. Jason sucked in a breath, whether to warn her or just shout, he is not sure, but the sound never left his throat.

Marinette turned her feral grin on the charging cultist, and when he was in range, swung her heavy monkey wrench and hit him right in the shoulder. Jason could hear the bone snap. She hit him again, this time in the stomach with a forwards jab, then another swing to the knee with a sickening crunch, taking him down completely and then stepping far enough away he couldn't reach her, just in case. She spun, turning to look directly at him.

"You still think I'm adorable and harmless, Hood?!" She shouted up at him, dropping the wrench with a heavy thunk. "I told you that you would eat your words," she threw her arms out wide "Now eat them and weep!" She cackled madly, not waiting for an answer as she turned and skipped away. Skipped.

Jason was left speechless, open mouthed and hanging above the groaning and unconscious cultists who had kidnapped and were prepared to sacrifice him with only one thought.

I think I might be in love.

The Batmobile skid to a stop in front of the warehouse and he practically flew out of it. The outside was dark, but he could see light seeping out through broken and dirty windows and hear a commotion coming from the inside. He ran towards the closest door, only to be mildly surprised as it was thrown open with a near deafening screech of the hinges when he was still a few paces away. The surprise didn't stop, because even as he was getting into a fighting stance, the person(whom he identified as one of the cultists his sons were investigating) was knocked out by a boot swinging down from the crude mechanism he only barely had time to noticed before it activated.

… What?

Pushing his confusion and surprise away, he focused on the second cultist that came running through the loudly closing door. They made it a few steps out before noticing him in the dim lighting. Expression already contorted in fear and panic, the shock of seeing Batman standing in their way was too much, and they screamed.

Bruce punched them in the face, then spent a few precious seconds zip tying their hands and feet so they couldn't escape when they woke up. Creeping forward to the door that was held open by the unconscious body of the first cultist, he peered inside to where he could hear a woman's manic laughter. Once he did, he stopped to take it all in.

His son, in full gear, was hanging from the ceiling, wrapped in chains and holding a leaking garden hose. Below him was a small woman covered in dirt and injuries, laughing maniacally as she stood above an even more injured cultist who was trying to crawl away with one arm, and another pile of people somehow stuck to the ground. He could see a hole of some kind to the left with a single still-moving leg sticking upwards, and to the right two people splayed out like ragdolls. He could hear muffled arguing and curses from the other side of the warehouse, along with creaks of pallets and groaning from underneath piles of boxes. Bruce felt a very familiar feeling creeping over him, one his kids loved to induce for the sole purpose of causing grey hairs.

What the hell happened?

But this time, it wasn't one of his kids who were responsible. He watched as the woman turned, looking directly at Jason and yelling up at him.

"You still think I'm adorable and harmless, Hood?! I told you that you would eat your words, now eat them and weep!" Then she cackled madly, turned, and skipped through to the opposite side of the building.

Well, Bruce thought with a restrained sigh, maybe he was at least a little responsible.

Bruce slid through the door, creeping around the edges of the circle before emerging from the shadows in front of his son. Hood jerked, whipping his head from where he was staring after the woman to Batman. He grunted, clearing his throat before speaking.

"Uh, hi- hey." Jason cleared his throat again, attempting for casual and failing miserably. "How's- uh, how's it goin'?" he stammered, glancing back to where the woman disappeared. Stammered. Bruce didn't answer, tilting his head and scanning the carnage again, before spotting the loop of rope hanging next to his son.

"...How long have you been here?" His tone was harder to decipher with the voice modulator, but Bruce would recognize it easily from any one of his children. Jason was flustered.

"B?" Hood asked, unsettled as a small grin grew on The Batman's face. Whoever that woman was, whatever Jason said to her to cause this reaction, Bruce would likely thank her for the opportunity to get back at one of his children for all the grief they cause him. Uncrossing his arms, Bruce pulled a phone out of his belt pouch. "B? B don't you fucking dare-" He still didn't respond, holding up the device with one hand, and snapping a picture. Ignoring his son's vehement protests, he sent the photo to Alfred with the attached message:

B: please print and frame this for display in the cave.

A: Of course, Sir. I suppose the bulletproof frames will come in useful after all.

Red Hood continued to swear, attempting to spray him with water from the hose he still held tightly in hand. Bruce just put the phone away and reached up to tap his comm with his small smile still in place.

"Oracle, please send Nightwing and Red Robin to my location." He said calmly, concerned exclamations immediately coming through only to be drowned out by Hood's booming voice.

"B, DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!"