#remote jobs anywhere in the world

[kemeconincs-blog]

How to Get Started with Free Online Recruiting: Your Beginner's Guide

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[kemecon]

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[syncrovoid-presents]

Imagine I have a good title here (sorry for not being active and ghosting my mutuals y'all are really cool and I hope life is treating you well)

Sorry for not being active in like a year or so, got hit hard by the AO3 author curse. Moved a few times, a 3 people I knew died, 2 people I know got/are in treatment for cancer, turns out that my adoptive parent isn't just kinda insane but in a "they're going through it" sort of way but is actually far too sane and cosplaying as mentally ill to manipulate everyone around them(???) (did you know that uh being considered human is not a privilege to earn?) and perhaps a cult leader (?), also it turns out that I've been working under "inhumane" and "morally/ethically wrong" conditions and I didn't realize so

Fun fact, did you know working 36 hours straight without sleep and 1 meal is, in fact, not considered Doing the Bare Minimum but actually illegal (I wasn't forced technically, I think I'm just built wrong hahaa)

You know, normal life things

Prooooooooobably won't be active for a while, but I'm somewhere where I have stable internet connection and no unstable people around so! That's an improvement!

more detail in tags because YES I am allowed to ramble there and also nothing too personal is there I think but sometimes life just gives you non-stop existential crises and sometimes you just gotta roll with it

[suusoh]

(pwp or something idk. just got horny in the tags of my last post about eddie not looking anywhere else but at his wife and only his wife while doing his husbandly duties.)

cw: female reader, sex, eddie's orbs, overuse of the word staring because I want you to start feeling annoyed and maim this man, slight yandere (maybe if you squint?) cheesy and unfunny frank valli reference at the end.

———

he's staring at you again.

Eyes fogged with a love sick haze in them at the absolute sight of you, his wife, all warm, soft, and pliant under him. You try to close your eyes from time to time, but even when you open them again— it just comes back to the first thing you see which is this man on top of you, mouth switching between grinning and gasping, and eyes wide open.

"...Eddie?"

He hums tenderly. "What is it, dear?"

"I-I.. can you just-"

It's so hard to talk when his hips don't stop moving despite his concern. The weight and absolute mass of him on top of you and grounding you into the bed with each thrust makes it all the more harder to think straight.

Thoughts on how to sound out your request begin to blur and buzz out with him fucking into you like this. In and out, in and out, inside of you. over and over again as he buries himself deep within your cunt. your pubic bone practically connecting with his, and sending sparks of heat inside your belly with each time he ruts himself into you.

"Just what? What does my darling wife want?" He starts searching your face for any indication or answer to complete it for you what you want him to do now. Still looking at you intensely.

Looking. He keeps looking. Which is, sort of the thing you wanted to point out in the first place.

"You're... o-oh- oh-"

"I...?" he acts as if he's not quite catching on. Pondering for a second with the sounds of your moans and wanton sighs, and the creaking of the worn out bed acting as background noise to aid his thinking.

"Oh! I'm doing a swell job is that it? Is that what you're trying to say, dearest?" he lets out a content loving sigh, and your breathe stutters as he picks up his pace. "You and your words never fail to make me blush, my love."

Another particularly good thrust has you arching your back, of which he's making sure his eyes connect with yours once more while you writhe and wiggle underneath. But your wriggling quickly eases from bodily pleasure, to slowly morphing into a sense of discomfort now.

Because he's staring at you.

Again.

Which should be good isn't it? Eye contact during sex is a sign after all of a good partner paying attention to your needs. And with someone like Eddie, him paying attention to your needs is the tiniest sliver of hope you cling onto to make sure his reason for keeping you alive is a bit more... cemented, substantial even. Gives you a little bit more reason (or delusion) to believe he'd be inclined to make this relationship, make you, last longer.

(Compared to the alternative route of him using your body for his own sick dispositions, and casually stringing you all up when he's done.)

Though you're sure that this is not the type of bedroom eye contact many normally wish for.

"Y-you... you're.." you try to murmur out again.

Not that you should talk about having anything normal with this man. You might as well find the solution to world hunger long before you find anything even remotely "normal" in this place.

It's not that you're expecting him to do things normally, but can't he... can't he just... do something else maybe?

Look anywhere but you for just a split second, maybe bury himself into your neck, or close his own eyes to focus on the feeling of his cock getting squeezed, or look at any other part of your body that could possibly entrance him; mouth, chest, stomach... hell, you could even hope that he tries to glance down at your clit? Maybe marvel at the sight of where the two of you connect, since that's all his fucked up baby fever mind thinks about anyways?

You'll take anything really, just one small thing to act as a reminder that you guys are indeed having... sex— and not engaging in some sort of impromptu staring contest out of nowhere.

Because his eyes are doing absolutely nothing but looking into your own and as they continue staring at you.

and staring at you...

and staring...

and staring...

and staring...

Jesus fucking christ you don't think he's even blinked in the past few seconds anymore.

You let out a mix of a whine and a groan, opting to shut your eyelids close and try to shield your face away from his unmoving eyeballs by trying to wiggle your hands free out of his grasp (him and his damn insistence to hold hands while making love as he calls it.).

"What is it my love? Must I pay you a penny for your thoughts perhaps?"

"You keep staring... "

You try to wiggle free again, inadvertently adding onto the delightful friction between your parts and his— to which he gets a small shiver of his own at the roll of your hips. A light laugh escapes him at your captivating and somewhat fruitless display. He finally gives reprieve to your brain's rising fear of being uncannily perceived at, and blinks.

"Ohhh, my darling."

He lets go of one of your hands so that he can cradle your face, tilting it so he can capture your mouth into a kiss. humming into your mouth, but the humming isn't just the usual sighs of pleasure, as you can pick up the movement of him saying some words.

He pulls apart from his half kissing-half speaking into your mouth, as he slowly begins to playfully laugh again.

"You can't blame a man for looking at his wife when she's like this; all breathless and beautiful, now can you? I sure can't!"

Said wife that he just knows for certain was sent down by god all-mighty himself into the 7th circle of hell named "mount massive asylums".

When Eddie sees you, he can't help but imagine your rotting carcass somewhere else. An alternate place where those filthy bastards could have gotten their hands on you, torn you limb from limb (if they didn't have the patience to pull your teeth and your eyes out first), then have their way with using your dead body as a urinal afterwards.

You must have been scared to not have your dear husband around to protect you from all the nasty violence around the asylum, weren't you darling?

No, no. No meed to fret now and get your panties in a twist! None of that here. Not when your dear ol' Eddie is here now.

You are very much alive and perfect, preserved by your own sheer dumb luck or maybe by fate itself to be kept alive long enough for him. Just him.

And under his care, your body is experiencing the furthest thing from excruciating physical pain right now, isn't it darling? Feels good, yes? To have your husband make love to you like the passionate man he is. Lest he's supposed to take in the sight of you rolling your eyes back and your legs hooking around his waist, pulling him in for more as something otherwise?

Oh goodness him... It's almost too good to be true.

And he really can't take his eyes off of you.

[cattamouche]

I think fatui scara would be controlling. think about it, he's already lost all the people he loved before, do you really believe he would let his partner go that easily? he would absolutely keep an eye on you 24/7. you wouldn't be allowed to stray too far from your shared home because what if something were to happen to you? there are many evil people in this world, ones that would want nothing more than to take revenge on him for reasons that he's already forgotten, since they're so insignificant to him after all. and you humans are so fragile, how could he possibly let you wander around unsupervised when there's such high risk?

he has a short temper and he's very strict. just because you're his partner doesn't mean he'll go easy on you, no, it would be quite the opposite actually. he couldn't care less about the well being of his subordinates or peers, if they want to subject themselves to one of the more dangerous missions assigned by pierro they can go right ahead. but you? just going for a walk for some fresh air at night is forbidden. and no you may not leave the house during snowfall at any time of day, what would happen if you were to slip or catch a cold and fall sick? anything you need done that he deems even remotely risky, he'll get it done for you in your stead. and there is no need to worry about him, he can handle himself perfectly fine. much better than a human could.

don't you understand this is only coming from a place of love? maybe if you two lived in a different nation, if he didn't have this job and you could live peacefully the way he used to, maybe then he wouldn't have to be such a worry wart. but this is not the life you live, and you chose this. you agreed to this the moment you accepted him into your heart. he's overbearing, a broken man who has lost time and time again, and he will do anything to keep you around for as long as possible. even if it means being stupidly strict over small things you might think are insignificant. even if it means handing you over to dottore to lengthen your lifespan.

the way he behaves within the comfort of your home as opposed to anywhere else is like night and day. here he doesn't have to keep his eyes peeled for any sign of danger, he can simply sit in your comforting presence, do mundane things and bask in the domesticity of it all after work. there is nothing to worry about when there are guards stationed outside the house, and most important of all he's right there with you. nobody is capable of keeping you safer than himself.

I do believe he would soften up overtime, but those first few years are definitely going to be a bit tough since he would have several worries and concerns, so you better buckle up. though it really is for your own good, just trust him!

[deathofacupid]

FLOWERS OF FLESH AND BLOOD. 𓂃 s. gojo. ◞ ♯ tuna cans.

"can you close your eyes, remember the flowers for me?" — this was home, until it wasn't. until it was a barren land of flesh, blood, and fear. they said to just survive, but what does that mean? to walk a life of tears and loss? never knowing if the next day will be your last? it's the end of the world, though the start of yours. yours and satoru's. WARNING. walking dead in the vicinity, proceed with caution: zombie apocalypse!au. dead dove, do not eat. gore, blood, death, angst, depictions of violence + murder. eventual smut (afab!reader), slow burn. more to come.

chapter summary — there are eight billion people on earth. no, was. there was eight billion people on earth. now? you're not sure. is there half the amount? even less? the walkers don't count, by the way. in any case, you're one of them — a survivor. where does that leave you? alone. or, that's what you'd thought, at least.

› series m.list. — ask to get tagged! › my m.list.

it hasn’t been long, actually. you can count the months on one hand. every single moment, every single whisper of that time is etched in your memory, down to the last minute. but where does all that remembering get you? nowhere, not really.

it doesn’t help to recall the very first screams. the trampling of people, desperate to get out, get away — as if there were anywhere safe to run to.

the world feels dull now. lifeless, literally. the sun is a rarity, no longer peeking out from behind the clouds like it used to. it’s as if the world has surrendered to the cruelty of it all, like it’s lost faith in the need for light. today is one of those days: tired and melancholic.

your feet drag on the concrete, hands shoved deep in your pockets. the streets are quiet, save for the soft rustling of the wind or the crunch of leaves beneath your worn shoes.

you know where you’re going; it’s a familiar path, one you don’t even need to think about. you could walk there with your eyes closed — to that dim-lit convenience store seven blocks down.

it’s always been a sad building, even before. now? now… it’s pathetic. paint peels from the edges of the walls, and thick vines clumsily wrap around the sides.

the first thing that hits you is the smell of rust; heavy, metallic, and bloody. dust coats the dull metal shelves, cobwebs decorating the forgotten cans of food. grabbing a dented cart, you toss in whatever looks remotely edible.

anything to postpone the next visit. you hate leaving the house, if you can even call it that. it’s more like a hut, a ground-level treehouse. secluded, kind of. not too deep in the woods, but just far enough to avoid them. the walkers. zombies, informally, you suppose.

god, they’re disgusting. horrid to look at. a sickly pale, with skin that seems to… droop where it’s barely attached. oh, and the smell is less than pleasant.

you can’t believe they used to be people. with lives, and homes. family and friends, a job. now they’re just… well, nothing. not quite alive, not quite dead. stuck in a sad limbo.

you made a list, if you remember correctly. shoved somewhere in your pocket, probably crumpled. can’t find it now, shit. what was even on it? squinting your eyes, you pinch your temple, like blurring your vision would somehow help you recall.

cereal. without milk, unfortunately. that went bad in the very beginning, thanks to no electricity for the fridges. that reminds you; milk powder had been scribbled down. uh, salt, right? wait, did you already have some left? oh, what did it matter? it was all free now, anyway.

rice. hard liquor. not for drinking, but for disinfecting. well, maybe also for drinking. you’re about to check the expiry dates on the dusty chocolates when you hear a not-so-quiet clang. freezing, you instinctively feel around for your pocket knife.

it’s futile. there’s no way you left it. no, that’s crazy. you’re not that irresponsible.

and yet, it seems you just might be.

instead, you arm yourself with the nearest thing — a sticky (?) can of tuna. not preferable, but it’s better than nothing. at least, that’s what you tell yourself, trying to mentally calculate how hard you could throw this thing. or how far. or both.

“who’s there?” you ask, your voice shakier than you’d like. you don’t wait for an answer, instead chucking the can the second you see a shock of white hair. whoever it is ducks, letting out a surprised, almost offended, “hey!”

and then you catch their, his, eyes, bright, bright blue. no rotting flesh. no stench. normal, human, real. “oh, my god,” you breathe out, the tension leaving your shoulders.

throwing his hands up, he exclaims, “you could’ve killed me!” his head bobs with shock, his white hair tousling with the movement.

“sorry. i— well, i thought you were one of them.”

“oh. no, no, i’m not.” he looks at you, really looks at you, taking a cautious step back from his initial mild anger. the man tilts his head, studying you. “haven’t seen you around.”

“um, i live—” you pause. wait, maybe you shouldn’t tell him where you live just yet, considering you don’t even know his name. “never mind. i haven’t seen you around either. didn’t even know there were other people here.”

he runs a hand through his snowy locks, giving you a small, almost sheepish shrug. “me n’ my friends aren’t too far from here.”

your eyebrows shoot up, just slightly. “t— there’s more of you? in this area? you’re kidding.”

“afraid not, babe. gojo, by the way,” he adds after a moment, extending a hand. “satoru gojo. survivors gotta stick together, right?”

you hesitate, eyeing his outstretched hand. you don’t know this satoru gojo. he’s a stranger. can you really trust him more than any of the walkers?

but another thought, a desperate craving for human interaction, pleads with you to respond. and before you know it, you’re blurting out your own name, taking his hands in yours.

you don't mean to notice, but they're softer than you expected, somewhat calloused. the closer you get, the more you can notice the smell of his cologne. cheap cologne.

not bad smelling, however, with hints of pinewood, musk, and the subtle tone of sweat. odd, because the gold chain around his neck seems to scream the opposite.

when he flexes his arms, you can see the fabric of his sleeves squeeze his biceps. he has very nice biceps.

not that you mean to notice.

“pretty name,” gojo hums, a grin spreading across his face, “for a pretty girl. say, is this pretty girl all by herself out here?”

was he flirting with you? in the middle of the zombie apocalypse? “…yeah. yeah, i guess so.” your nervous fidgeting stills, and you grip the handle of the shopping cart, your gaze drifting over the faded white letters reading “gas-mart,” stark against the fading red background.

he blinks, his bright blue eyes searching yours. “no family? friends?”

you blow out a shaky breath. “nope.” sensing the shift in the air, the newer tension, he stops there, smoothly changing the topic.

“well, pretty, you could always come back with me. my friends and i, we got a place. it’s not too shabby, but it’s… home.”

your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. you don’t know him, though. nor his intentions. taking a half-step back, you shake your head, pushing the cart slowly past him.

oddly enough, it pains you to leave him standing there, but what choice do you have? go with a complete stranger? as easy on the eyes as he is, that’s a hard no.

“pass. thanks, though. stay safe out there.” short, curt, to the point.

before he can even say, “you, too,” you’re gone, leaving him behind in the dusty aisle.

the entire walk home, you repeat to yourself that it was the right thing to do.

› (8/50) — @jeonwiixard, @mia-can-yap-too, @kentoslvr, @eolivy, @wunerie, @shokocide, @suckkuna, @sadmonke.

[queenbrucewayne]

Grand Tour

A/n: Ngl this absolutely got away from me, it wasn’t supposed to be this long… sorry.

Moving to Gotham was a spur of the moment thing. It was supposed to be a remote job so you wouldn’t have to pack up and leave, but for some reason the idea to be in the same city as the company you work for to get a brand new start sounded just like what you needed.

The place you picked had some personality, nothing too big, but just big enough that all the things you owned has a place.

“This is gonna be great.”

Turning around you noticed that your friend Clark had 3 big boxes, all marked bedroom on it.

“Clark! Let me help!” You quickly ran over to take the top box off, now being able to see his head.

“I told you it’s not that heavy, I got it.” He laughed, setting down the other two boxes.

Even though you had struggled taking the one box from him, it looked like he had hardly broken a sweat carrying three. Guess he really didn’t need help….

“Ya know, for a guy who can’t say a straight sentence in front of his crush, you sure are great at keeping things going smoothly.”

Clark pouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You still haven’t asked out Lois, have you?”

“I’m taking things slow.” He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes. “Too slow!” Picking up your new set of keys, you tugged on his hand towards the front door. “Common! We are done for today, let’s go get some food. I’m starved!”

Clark stopped confused. “But, we just brought the boxes in, we haven’t even unpacked anything.”

“I can live out of boxes for a month! It’ll be fine!” You pulled him along, locking the front door behind you. Clark went down the stairs. “Food comes first.”

“Alright, I know a place. There’s a diner a few blocks from here.”

You glanced over, “uh… you know a place?”

Clark nodded, “My friend took me there once.”

“Ah, yes. The mysterious Gotham friend you’ve told me about.” You go into the car, Clark on the drivers side. “Ya know, you’ve talked about him, but you’ve never told me his name.”

Clark hesitated for a moment, turning on the car he put it in drive and they made their way. “It’s nothing personal, he’s just one of those friends that doesn’t like his personal life shared, I respect it.”

“Riiight… says the reporter.” Y/n teased.

“It’s different with him, he’s a good friend.” Clark said. You both were silent for a minute.

“Wow, Clark….” You started, sounding heartfelt.

He looked over suspiciously.

“You’re in love with him.”

Clark nearly choked, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter he scoffed. “I’m not in love with him.”

You nodded understandingly. “It’s okay, I won’t tell, your secret is safe with me.” You placed your hand over your heart dramatically, trying not to laugh as you see the annoyance he couldn’t hide.

Pulling in, both of you got out and headed inside. The ring of the door bell made your arrival noticed. The waitress called out to take a seat wherever, which you and Clark gladly did.

There was very few people, a perfect corner booth was open. “Over here.”

Clark followed behind you. Both of you sliding into the booth across from each other.

Once the waitress had come over and took your order, you were left to chat with Clark about the good ole Smallville days.

“I’m going to miss the old farm life a bit.” You looked outside to the city, “it’s definitely two different worlds.”

Clark smiled, “I’ve always known you to adjust to about anywhere, you’ll do great here.”

You looked back to him. “You seem to be doing okay.” Reaching down to take a sip of coffee you continued, “How did you do it.”

Clark shrugged, “I missed it a lot at first, but I found a purpose in Metropolis. You will find yours…in Gotham I suppose.” He said sheepishly.

“Awh common Clark, It’s not so bad here. It’s got character.” You looked down to your plate of pancakes, “I think it’s a great city.”

“I would happen to agree.”

Both you and Clark turned your heads to see a man standing over your booth, he was wearing a nice looking white dress shirt with some black slacks and a matching blazer. His hair was slicked smoothly and his cologne smelt like oak and whiskey.

“Although, I would be pretty bias to say so.” Looking down to you, he smiled, a sweet but mischievous smile. Holding out his hand you could not help yourself but to take it. “Gotham, will certainly be lucky to be gaining a beautiful women such as you.” He bent down, a gentle kiss to your hand, but his eyes were still staring at yours.

“What are you doing here?” Clark spoke up, his voice was somewhere in between irritated and confusion.

The man didn’t look in Clarks direction. He only took a step back and slipped both hands in his pants pockets. Still looking at you. “Enjoying the view.”

You cracked a smile at that, bringing your coffee quickly to your mouth to try to hide the bit of embarrassment you were feeling.

Clark scoffed, rolling his eyes he scooted over to be closer to the window in his booth. “Right, why don’t you have a seat, and maybe shove some bacon in your mouth, do us both some good to keep it occupied.”

The man turned to Clark now, taking the opportunity to slide in, but not before saying. “There’s other things then food to keep my mouth occupied.”

You chuckled a little this time, trying to look anywhere then this man’s bright blue stare. “I take it you two know each other?” You asked.

Clark leaned back in the booth. “Unfortunately…Y/n this is Bruce Wayne. Bruce this is Y/n L/n, she just moved here from Smallville.”

“Ah, so you’re from the same town as Clark, why come all the way to the city life?” Bruce asked, taking Clark’s advise and grabbing a piece of bacon from the plate.

“New job, needed something super different, I don’t exactly have the best real world experience outside of Smallville. I wanted a change.”

Bruce nodded, pointing over to Clark. “Why not go to Metropolis, be near this guy, since you know someone.”

You laughed nervously. “Heh, yeah, the job just took me here, and so I followed.” It was a half lie, you didn’t want Clark to know you did have the same opportunity in Metropolis as you did in Gotham. He would’ve stopped at nothing to try and get you there.

Truth be told you didn’t wanna go to Clark’s city of Metropolis. You wanted a fresh start, new friends, new environment. When Clark left Smallville he didn't know you hadn't made any progress in your life being there, that small town. If you were still in Smallville at your age, you were ether deciding to settle or having the same career as your parents before, and the cycle would continue.

Metropolis was filled with those from Smallville, being compared to your old self with those old memories of those people around you wasn't the change you were looking for.

Clark looked at you curiously. You cursed to yourself thinking he must have noticed your nerves. No matter how many times you’ve tried to keep something from him it was always like he knew you were lying, almost like he could hear your heart skip a beat…

"I'm very grateful for the opportunity." You said quickly, ignoring the look Clark was giving.

Bruce smiled, "Sounds like you're ready to go then." He reached across the table to take a piece of your bacon. "If you ever need a tour guide, someone to take you around the city-"

"No." Clark cut in. "I don't think that will be necessary." It wasn't a hint of jealousy, but a hint of over protectiveness coming from him. Clark continued to glare at Bruce. However Bruce didn't seemed phased in the slightest. He was still munching on your bacon, a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Actually, that would be great!" You piped up.

Both men looked toward you, Clark was shocked, while Bruce looked amused.

"What?" Clark crossed his arms.

"Who better to take me around town than a city local." You shrugged, leaning back in your booth you across your arms over your chest.

"Born and raised." Bruce jumped in.

"Shut up." Clark snapped. He sighed, sitting up slightly. "Y/n, you just got to town, the last thing you need is a grande tour with Bruce Wayne. You would be on the front page on tomorrows celebrity magazine.

You furrowed your brows, confused by the ending of that sentence. "Whats that suppose too mean?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "Oh common, you know what I mean."

When your confused expression didn't change Clark continued. "Y/n, he's Bruce Wayne..."

You nodded, "Yeah, he told me his name, I know."

Bruce sat up this time. "Wait, you don't know who I am?"

You looked back and forth to both men, thinking Clark was gonna jump in, but he looked stumped.

"Should I?" You asked, starting to feel a little insecure by how quiet Clark was. "Are you a big deal?"

"Damn....I don't remember the last time I had to introduce myself." Bruce smiled, seeming to enjoy whatever was happening.

"Y/n"

You looked to Clark.

"Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, Bruce Wayne." Clark said it like you were supposed to have a light bulb moment... but there was nothing.

"It's a small town, and I hadn't really used the internet too much till recently... I'm sorry." You said sheepishly.

Bruce shook his head, smiling bigger now. "Don't apologize, this could be fun actually." Standing up from the booth, Bruce reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He threw down a couple hundred dollar bills. "Why don't we take that tour now?"

You looked up to him surprised. Clark sat up straighter, looking up at him just as taken back. "Excuse you?"

Bruce held out a hand in front of you, waiting for you to take it, he ignored everything Clark was saying to him. And to be honest... so were you. You got excited, quickly putting your hand in his, you held it tightly as he pulled you up from the booth.

"Y/n?!" Clark protested.

Looking down to him you shrugged casually. "Sorry Clark, this sounds like a deal I should take."

Clark was about ready to protest, “I’ll have her home before dark.” Bruce put his arm around your shoulder. “See you soon Clark.” He gave him a wink and directed you towards the diner exit.

“Bruce!” Clark protested, getting out of the booth he stood there and watched as the both of you left.

“Wow,” you stopped in your tracks to see a bright red sports car. “Okay, I might be starting to believe you’re a billionaire.” You teased.

Bruce laughed, opening the door for you he waited for you to get in. Shutting the door behind you, he walked across to the other side, opening his door he stopped himself when he saw Clark come out of the diner.

“Bruce…” Clark said his name like a threat, but nothing else after.

He smiled cheekily at him, “Don’t wait up Kent.” With a wink he got into the car.

Bruce started the car and it rumbled loudly. He pressed a few buttons and flipped a switch that raised the roof.

The outside air hit your face, making a chill go down your spine. You looked back to Clark, he was irritated, but didn’t make an effort to stop you.

Bruce shifted gears and sped off, leaving the diner and Clark in the review mirror.

The Gotham city scenery was perfect right now. The sun was close to setting and most people by now were already off the road from work. It was beautiful sky’s and clear streets just for you.

The drive around the city was great. Bruce explained certain landmarks, he mentioned some good restaurants as we pasted them, and gave warning about certain areas that had a high danger rate to stay clear of.

All of this was great information, but nothing compared to the drive over the bridge. The water below has reflected off of the bright orange and red sunset, it was like a scene from a movie.

You put your right hand out, feeling the cool breeze thru your hair and finger tips. It was calming.

Once you were over the bridge, you were driving up a hill. Bruce took you to the top, putting the car in park he turned the key to shut it off.

A huge willow tree swayed in the wind at the top. The view looked over most of Gotham, really seeing the difference of when you would get into the city and when you would be out of city limits.

You opened the door and stood from the car, never taking your eyes off of the view. You walked in front of the car, watching the sunset start to form and make the sky all the more brighter with red.

Bruce followed behind you, leaning up against the hood of the car, he stared out and over the hill with you.

“It’s probably the most peaceful you’ll ever see Gotham.” Bruce crossed his arms across his chest.

The bright red reflected off of the bridge, casting down to the murky water, creating a red rust look to it all.

The winds picked up a bit causing you to shiver slightly, not exactly preparing for the spontaneous adventure you were gonna have today, so bringing a jacket wasn’t on your list of needs upon leaving your apartment.

You suddenly felt fabric around your shoulders, the warmth instantly blocking the chilly wind.

Bruce had taken off his blazer and put it around you. Smiling down, he pulled the front collar a bit tighter around you, covering your chest to try to block the wind from both directions.

“Thank you.” You said, slipping your arms in the sleeves you sighed in relief as the body heat from the blazer instantly started to warm you up.

Bruce leaned back against the car, this time much closer to you then he was before. “You and Clark seem close.”

“Yeah.. as much as I really enjoyed today, you really only kidnapped me to get under his skin, right?” You glanced over at him, catching the smirk on his face.

“That definitely was the main objective. However, I couldn’t help but notice you were very easy to convince to go along.”

“I knew it would’ve been worth it.”

“Even from a complete stranger?” He teased.

“If you were truly a bad person, Clark would’ve never let me go with you.” You shrugged.

“Ha.. he is very protective of you.”

You nodded, looking out at the city again. “Yeah, we grew up together, I would say he’s probably my best friend.”

“Just best friends? Never anything more?” Bruce hesitated asking.

You didn’t mean to, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, no, just friends” you looked back to him. “Besides, the moron is totally head over heels puppy dog in love with Lois Lane.”

“He still hasn’t asked her out, has he?” Bruce shock his head.

“No!” You threw your hands up. “The man has no game! I keep telling him to just come out with it already, but he’s so awkward…”

You both laughed, knowing full well that Bruce knew exactly what you were talking about and probably had given him similar advise.

“Hey…” you started.

Bruce looked down to you.

“Thanks… today, really was great.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I also had a great time. Since Gotham is gonna become your new home, maybe we should make it a habit to do it more…” His blue eyes were very mesmerizing, he really did make it sound tempting.

“I would like that.” You smiled. “A lot.”

The sun was just about gone at this point, the only thing helping you see each other was the little bit of stars from above.

“We should get going.” Bruce said, walking over to your side to open your door.

When you both started to head back you really got to see the night life of the city, it was really beautiful, but you knew it also lurked of danger all around.

You checked your phone to see a few text messages from Clark, all of them warnings, which definitely made you smile to yourself knowing he was looking out.

The last message he sent you wasn’t one you expected though

Just because I’m worried, doesn’t mean he isn’t a good guy. Maybe… you two could be closer, you would have someone to look out for you.. since I can’t. Just think about it.

You glanced over to Bruce, his eyes were on the road. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have someone close by in the city who could look out for you, as long as it wasn’t a way for Clark to spy on you…

The car pulled up to your apartment. Getting out, Bruce walked behind you up to your lobby door.

You turned around to face him, “Thanks again, it was really nice to get a exclusive tour around from a local.”

Bruce’s smiled. “I enjoyed it myself, it’s been awhile since I’ve taken my time to slow down and enjoy the city.”

“Heh, slow? I don’t think you went the speed limit once.” You teased.

“Seems like more of a suggestion.”

You shook your head, looking down to hide your smile. Seeing two dress shoes come into view you looked up to see Bruce has gotten closer to you.

He was a bit intimidating looming over you in the dark like this. He wasn’t a smaller built guy, and the bright moon made him cast a dark shadow. However, his bright blue eyes could still be scene staring down at you. They were beautiful.

You cleared your throat. “Well… I should get going… thanks again.”

Suddenly remembering you were still wearing his blazer, you started to slip out of it. Handing it back to him. “You’ll need this back.”

“Looked better on you.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, but had a smile nonetheless. “How good are you at keeping a secret?”

Bruce looked at you confused, but nodded anyway. “Pretty good.”

He watched as you took a step closer to him, standing up on your tippy toes you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His breath hitched slightly, but he stayed completely still.

You pulled back a little making eye contact, “don’t tell Clark.” Turning around you put the key in to unlock your door. When you turned the handle you felt a hand on your arm pull you back around. The momentum took you by surprise, however the kiss that Bruce planted on you was even more surprising.

He held the sides of your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks.

You instantly closed your eyes and brought both hands up to hold onto his biceps, which were a lot bigger then the suit he was wearing made them out to be.

Bruce was the first to pull back, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing was a bit heavier. “Don’t tell Clark.”

You both laughed, standing there for a minute to compose yourself.

Bruce moved some hair that had fallen in front of your face, he leaned forward to leave one more kiss on top of your head, then taking a step away.

“I know, I probably should’ve done this before kissing you, but I’m not as good at this as the media thinks.” He took out his phone, handing it to you. “If you’re okay with it, I would like to see you again.”

You took his phone, quickly adding your contact information. “Probably wouldn’t have kissed you back if I wasn’t okay with it.”

“Heh… I guess not.”

Handing the phone back to him, he put it back in his pocket.

You turned back around to open your door. “Get home safe… see you soon?”

Bruce smiled. “Absolutely.”

Then just like that, you closed the door behind you. Walking upstairs to your apartment you quickly made it inside, heading to your room you plopped yourself on the air mattress that you and Clark had set up earlier. Grabbing one of the pillows you shoved it over your face and squealed. You laughed to yourself, as you knew this was only the start of your little bit of feelings towards him.

Hearing your phone go off you discarded the pillow from your face and checked it.

Goodnight, don’t forget to lock your doors. -Bruce.

You smiled, holding your phone close to your chest you sighed out. What a great first day in Gotham…

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I can't help but feel so bad for Adrien in the show. I know it's all just fiction, but damn if the stripping away of all his autonomy and the deception he faces from literally everyone in his life isn't heartbreaking. And I feel like people don't talk about it enough. Certainly there's a corner of the fandom that does (and there are the people who go too far about it tbh), but overall, so many people don't seem to see the blatant abuse apologism perpetuated by this show, and this kid gets raked over the coals so often both in and out of fandom, with all the bad writing decisions and the misrepresentations of his character in a lot of circles.

Every time I see an Adrienette scene these days, it makes me a little sick ngl. I honestly think he should free Nooroo from Lila-Cerise-Iris-whoever she is and the both of them should go explore the world and find themselves and their freedom and all that (because unfortunately Plagg is also keeping secrets from Adrien rn, whether it's because he physically can't tell him or not remains to be seen). Maybe settle down in some other country. Get a decent job or something. It's literally the only ending I can think of.

Sorry for the rant. I hope it's okay that I'm sending this. Just wanted to vent and I appreciate your analyses. <3 <3

Your rant was fine and I totally get it. Adrien's treatment is legitimately upsetting. The fact that he will never be truly free upsets me, too. I hate the fact that he has remote controls. I hate the fact that he doesn't know about them. I hate the fact that the truth is known by almost everyone who claims to love him as keeping these secrets from him is not love. Plagg, Kagami, Felix, Amelie, Marinette, and Nathalie are all behaving terribly. I especially hate Plagg keeping the secrets because if Adrien can't trust Plagg then who can he trust?

I have no idea where the writers are going with this BS, but given the wacky morals this show thrives on, I doubt it's anywhere good. I don't think we're ever going to see a proper freedom plot for the sentimonsters or the Kwamis.

I would love it if this show actually acknowledged that the Kwamis' are slaves and let them be freed. That's actually the slave plot I'd pick over the sentiBS. I also like the idea of Adrien and Nooroo living that hermit life together. Nooroo knows all the secrets and can tell them to Adrien plus they can bond over Gabriel controlling them. It's a good match.

Side note: writing this made me realize that canon didn't need to do the stupid plot where Lila was somehow able to get Nathalie to infiltrate Gabriel's layer and text Lila all of Gabriel's secrets. A plot still I call BS on because Gabriel is always aware of what his akumas are up to. He was also in the house so you think he'd notice something! It would make way more sense for Lila to learn everything from Nooroo after she gets the butterfly.

[skele-ghost]

Fuck in the Graveyard (not really)

Summary: (Graves/Reader) You’ve been taking illegal suppressants for wayyy too long, and when you miss a dose, it all comes crashing down.

Content Warning: A/B/O Omegaverse dynamics, reader is afab, female pronouns?, substance abuse, technically is a fuck or die situation, p in v, knotting, brief fingering

Graves is kinda sweet in this one. I’ve never posted my stuff anywhere before and this is the first fic I’ve written in second person. Let me know what y’all think. I do not take requests.

(*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

The thing about taking illegal suppressants is that you have to time them perfectly. You’d better have your cycle down to a science, and you’d better take them three days before your heat, during, and three days after—and don’t you dare take them any more than 24 hours apart.

That’s how you wound up completely fucked: you took one dose two hours too late, and now the suppressants were completely ineffective. Was it really your fault? No, you’d been in the middle of a firefight, for fucks sake! But by some sick case of luck and science that made next to no sense, your heat started to build.

You hid being an Omega as much as you could. It wasn’t exactly a secret—it was there in your file for anyone to see. But so long as your heats were taken care of and you weren’t sending every Alpha within a mile radius into a rut, the military was happy.

And you were happy to let them believe that you were taking the regular course of suppressants that they prescribed you, and not the dangerous, high-dose, illegal ones that you preferred. They made your scent next to undetectable and made sure you could actually think straight when you were suppressing your heat, unlike the regular ones.

You were a specialist, an asset of high importance, and you’d be damned if you’d let your own biology stand in the way of that.

That’s why you liked the Shadows. Graves sent you a job offer after working with you on a mission gone sour in Urzikstan. He admired the way you kept your head cool when the world was falling apart around you. Even when you disclosed your designation, he shrugged it off.

“As long as you can keep your head cool like you did out there, we won’t have any problems,” he’d said.

And you’d kept your promise for nearly two years, now. But that was a long time to go without a heat, and a long time to be surrounded by the heady scent of Alpha unclaimed.

You were ashamed of the way you had to take off earlier. Once everyone was back from the mission, in one piece, settled in, you bolted, feeling the heat and sweat cling to you like a second skin.

It was sheer resolve that allowed you to keep the scent patches on for so long, little bandages clamped over your glands with a strong deodorizer, not letting anything out. You nearly passed out from the intense pain of prying them off your neck and wrists, the scent glands over-sensitive to even a breeze.

You blink away the tears quickly; you have to stay focused. You’ll drive to the safe house and crash there, get something planned. You knew the consequences of completely suppressing your heat for so long with such toxic drugs. Now you had to live with the consequences.

The little white farmhouse is remote, nestled deep in an old growth wood. It was beautiful, living up to the pictures you’d seen when Graves had shown it to you as a precaution. It had been in his family for generations before he fixed it up and decided to turn it into a safe house.

You pant as you put the car in park, staring at the building for a moment, your thoughts jumbled and disconjointed. As much as you want to melt into the seat, you have to get inside. A cold shower—that’s what you promise yourself, meek little motivation.

It manages to pull you out of the truck, onto shaky legs that want to collapse underneath you, but you push on.

They key is behind a brick on the foundation beneath the porch. It takes you a moment to remember which one—Graves had only shown you once.

Since you are the only unclaimed omega in the Shadows, he told you where the house was and how to access it. Just in case you had, in his words, “omega-related problems.” It isn’t too far from base. You’d have to figure out some way to show your eternal gratitude for the man…if you ever saw him again.

You retrieve the key and turn to make your way up the stairs, and that’s when things go sideways. You trip on the last step, crashing onto the porch with a force that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

The key falling out of your hand is the last coherent thought that you have before the pain takes over. Your sensitive skin and muscles cry out and it feels like hitting a sore bruise, everywhere.

You whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stare up at the watery image of the porch’s ceiling. There’s a wasp’s nest, gross, but it’s November. They’re either sleeping or dead from the cold.

And thank god it’s cold, because at least your skin doesn’t feel like it’s completely on fire.

You know this is bad. You’ve deteriorated too quickly, the heat sneaking up and hitting you like a blitz attack from the dark.

As much as you hate to admit it, heats are necessary. It gets rid of built-up chemicals in the brain, provides a release to make new ones. Not quite like sleep was necessary, but in a similar fashion.

You’re worried that this one might kill you. You’re worried that if this one isn’t quelled and satisfied, you might end up brain-dead or in an eternal coma like the people in those stories your middle school health class scared you with.

But in the face of death? All that you wish is that you could apologize for the inconvenience. What kind of paperwork would Graves have to fill out for your corpse? Would he get in trouble for not monitoring you, for not knowing about your use of the illegal suppressants?

You slip into unconsciousness, the word ‘sorry’ on the tip of your tongue.

-

A whimper is all you manage as you stir awake, the first thing you notice being the thick, heavy, intoxicating scent of an Alpha, and one you know.

Graves smells like bonfires and bourbon, or maybe it’s whiskey? You make a breathy moan at the smell, brows furrowing as you feel yourself being carried.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, his voice making a nice rumble trail down your spine.

He’s holding you bridal style and then holds you close to him as he sits down, tucking your head into his neck so that you can scent him.

It cools the flames slightly, letting your mind clear itself of the fog as you finally stir, opening your eyes.

“Com-mander?” You ask, voice not much louder than a whisper.

He pulls you back, glancing down at you, his blue eyes filled with concern. “(Y/N), what’s going on? You don’t smell right, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Suppressants…not working,” you grit out, whimpering as an uncomfortable cramp begins in your gut.

“The ones you’ve been taking? Why, what’s wrong with them?” He lays you down on the bed he’d been sitting on and you whine at the loss of contact, squinting your eyes shut at the cramping.

You can hear him search through your bag, the one that had been digging painfully into your back a few minutes ago, and you hear the rattle of a pill bottle.

“Oh, (Y/N), you didn’t…” he says, and you can only imagine what his expression is as he looks at the bottle. It’s pretty damning—the prescription bottle with someone else’s name blacked out on it, half empty, label reading exactly what’s inside.

Graves returns to your side, his cool hand on your cheek turning you to look up at him. He looks…betrayed? Crestfallen? Worried, above all else, as he holds the bottle up with one hand.

“(Y/N), tell me you didn’t take these—tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” he demands, the command in his tone making a gush of slick escape you, adding to your already soaked panties.

“M’ sorry,” you whisper, tears blurring up along your waterline.

“Shit, (Y/N),” he growls, tossing the pills onto the bed, running his hands through his hair. “What do I do? You need to go to a hospital, is that it?”

You shake your head, “no, they can’t do anything. And I’d get arrested—ah!” You cry out, curling inwards as a sharp, painful cramp rolls through. Slick gushes out of you again, your organs overproducing as if they need to make up for all the missed heats. After a few agonizing moments it calms down and leaves you gasping, tears rolling down your cheeks.

You know what your options are, you know how fucked up this is, and you know that Graves is probably going to fire you after this—but you also know that you’re not ready for the final alternative.

“Please, it hurts!” You beg, pleading up at the sight of your commander above you, “please, Alpha.”

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, pursing his lips in that way you’ve always found so hot, “are you sure? You’re not thinking clearly, (Y/N).”

You nod frantically, grabbing his arm and scenting his wrist, keening at the smell, “please, please, Graves.”

His restraint snaps and he climbs ontop of you, pinning your wrists to the bed and placing his mouth on yours. You moan into it, trying to lift you hips up to get some kind of friction to no avail.

He pulls away and you tilt you head aside to give him better access to your neck as he scents you, breathing in deeply and growling. You cry out as he runs his tongue and teeth along the glands.

“I never got a good smell of you, (Y/N), you always wear those damn patches and I always want to rip them off,” he nibbles along your jaw, your whines and whimpers filling the small bedroom.

“Alpha, please,” you beg, desperate, clenching around nothing when you want to be clenching around him. “Inside, please put it inside.”

“I know, baby,” he says, pecking your lips again before he pulls back, hands gliding along your sides as he pulls your shirt off. “You’re burning up.”

Tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you squirm, whining and babbling as he pulls your bra off, too. The cooler air feels nice on your sweat-sheen skin, and you buck your hips as Graves gets off of you, hooking his fingers to pull your pants and panties down in one fell swoop.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he curses, then groans at the sight of your slick, how it clings to your parties in wet strings before he pulls them away.

Your boots are still on and he didn’t get your pants all the way off, but maybe seeing how soaked you are makes Graves hasty.

The most pornographic moan escapes you as he sinks two fingers in your hole, your sweet little cunt sucking them in and clenching down.

“Fuck, good Omega,” Graves groans, slipping in a third finger that has you moaning even louder.

Every spot he hits is the right one, every move pure ecstasy. Your voice is a broken babble of pleads and curses and moans, begging for your commander to fuck you, to take you, to make you his.

You almost sob when he retracts his fingers, not even caring to wipe them as he rolls you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and pulling them up into the air, right against his own.

Feeling his erection against your ass, you turn downright frantic, “please please please, please fuck me, Alpha, please I need your knot so bad!”

He hisses as you rub against him and he begins unbuckling his belt, which only spurs you on more. He manages to still your hips and get his pants down, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick.

You keen embarrassingly loud as he enters you, slowly letting every inch of himself be swallowed up by your greedy cunt.

When he bottoms out, pressing against your cervix, it’s like a switch flips. You cum, whining as your legs shake, as Graves gasps behind you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he drawls, squeezing into the meat of your hips. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

Your brain is too melted with lust to be able to form any coherent sentence. When he pulls out and slowly thrusts back into you, testing the waters, you all but go limp, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you moan.

“Goooood girl,” he praises, speeding up his thrusts and finding a steady rhythm, your skin slapping together. “So slick and tight for me, omega, good god—“

All you can do is moan and take it. There’s no more painful cramping, and though your skin is still hot it’s not as bad. Your body is getting exactly what it needs: a good, hard fucking by a big, strong Alpha.

“(Y/N),” Graves moans, his voice sounding so sweet to your ears, “so good, baby. Better than I ever imagined.”

You keen at that, at your alpha wanting you—well, he isn’t yours, is he? It makes your heart sting slightly but that’s quickly forgotten with a slap to your ass, sending shockwaves of excitement through you.

You can feel yourself getting tighter, getting ready to be thrown over the edge again, and you can feel Graves speed up his thrusts, his knot slowly beginning to swell inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “gonna give you my knot, gonna fill you up good—“

His thrusts get even harder, even rougher, and you cry out, feeling yourself come tumbling violently over the edge as his knot catches on you, cumming in waves like the sea crashes onto shore.

Graves stills inside you, making good on his promise, shooting ropes and ropes of hot seed. You can feel his swollen knot inside you, just past your entrance, making your pussy full in the most delicious way. You hear him catch his breath before he carefully rolls you both over onto your sides, laying down with you on the bed.

You hum happily as he wraps his arms around you, placing a chaste kiss on your shoulder as both of your ragged breathing calms.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he says, his voice husky in a way that makes you wish you were his.

“Yeah,” you manage to reply, running your hands along the arms that hold you.

“I don’t want you taking those damn pills ever again,” he growls, making you shiver. “Understand?”

You open your eyes and turn to look at him, confused at the soft expression on his face. It’s almost…vulnerable? Wasn’t he going to fire you?

“Commander?”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he says. Behind his blue eyes is a fire you know well, akin to the one that dances in his eyes on the battlefield. “I’ll drug test you if I have to, but I’m not going to lose you to some stupid suppressants.”

You blink. “You’re not going to fire me?”

“What? No,” he says like you’re crazy for thinking so. “But if you want to stay, darlin,’ we’re going to need to set some ground rules.”

“Okay,” you agree, relieved. You didn’t want to lose your job, it’s a good gig. The employee benefits are killer…and you’d miss your commander.

“It’s simple, (Y/N), no more illegal suppressants, and you come to me for your heats,” that bastard smirk of his returns and you giggle.

“Are you propositioning me, Commander?”

“Hell, yes I am,” he says proudly, reaching up to caress your cheek. “Probably should’ve done it sooner.”

You lean in and kiss him, enjoying how it sweetens his scent. Your heart flutters in place, content, elated; you had only ever dreamed of this. You finally have him.

“Oh, and no more scent patches. You smell too damn good to be covered up.”

You roll your eyes at him, still grinning. “You sure about that? I don’t think you’ll like every other alpha sniffing after me.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll keep you safe,” he says confidently, placing a lingering kiss to your cheek. His eyes hint at something darker, “besides… they’ll catch on.”

[kemecon]

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[kiyomitakada]

okay fuck it i went to a leonardo da vinci exhibit today and now i have a leonardo da vinci death note AU in my head because i am a parody of myself so you can fucking have it i guess what do i even do with this

light yagami: young genius polymath who is good at literally everything

unfortunately for him he is a foreigner in italia (his family immigrated) so the government is not letting him anywhere near their weaponry projects. instead he does art. yes light yagami painted the mona lisa no i do not take criticism i’m in too deep

his portraits are predictably amazing. smash hit. soon aristocracy from all over italy is contacting him to draw them and their mother. this means he doesnt even have time in the day to draw giant fuckoff warship designs anymore. what point is there to life, he sulks.

eventually he accepts a commission from one kyosuke higuchi! we’re italianizing him because i really don’t think this AU works otherwise but let’s call him higuchi anyway. higuchi is a fifty-something duke of something or other who has recently married one misa amane who is twenty-something (the same age as light). misa is the subject of the portrait because higuchi just loves his darling wife so much (read: they had a shotgun wedding and higuchi needs to keep up appearances)

light is like wow someone who isn’t white it’s been like five years. i kind of feel bad for her, this situation is very suspicious. hello miss amane if you’ll just sit down over there while i get my brushes

misa (seeing the first person who has been even remotely sympathetic to her absolutely horrific life, noticing he hasn’t tried to make any advances on her at all [this is a good thing]): I AM DRASTICALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU.

light: what

misa’s plan of seducing light predictably fails because he’s light, so she explains she has to get the fuck away from higuchi somehow

light is like okay well i am sorry to hear that but what does this have to do with me.

misa, tearing up: im a damsel in distress! also i can get you information about his court

light: whats his job

misa: financial advisor

light: oh fuck yes okay

so light’s plan is now to worm into the yotsuba court to get funding and hopefully sway them enough to let him pitch his cool weaponry ideas so he can Change The World. he does need income in general too (both for himself and his family; expected lifespan was way shorter then obviously).

misa’s plan is to kill higuchi somehow which will be much easier with light as backup she thinks

so. light packs up and moves to the yotsuba court which is thrilled to have THE light yagami portrait artist (i do more than portraits…) in their employ

oh yeah, misa mentions, the prince of the yotsuba court is kind of… weird

light: you could have told me this before

misa: ehe. dont worry about it!! it’s just um. he had a weird personality shift a few years ago? and now he refuses to wear royal attire. he always dresses like a peasant.

light: well it’s not like i’m going to be there to judge him on fashion am i.

THAT’S RIGHT. SIKE THIS IS AN ISEKAI NOW. yes L does remember light killing him <3 he (L) woke up in fifteenth century renaissance italy in a twenty-something-year-old body immediately after the heart attack. by some miracle he already knew italian.

so everything is going swell until one day light walks into his workshop to find the prince flipping through his notebook

light, sleep deprived: hey what the fu—i mean. uh. good morning your highness

there’s no need for that formality. call me L.

(…but your name doesn’t start with an L?) thank you, your highness L. um. sorry i know my handwriting’s messy.

on the contrary i find it completely readable, as long as one reads backwards and caesar shifts it three letters forward.

(oh SHIT he’s onto me) haha what are you talking about?

in fact i think this mechanical dragonfly contraption is rather ingenious.

oh aha that’s not important, just a passing fancy honestly

[ignoring him] if only you had some better way of providing torque, because as it stands the spring engine is extremely poorly designed.

what the fuck did you just say to me

[they end up physically fighting over the notebook because of course they do. meet cute!]

some more details:

ryuk is the patron light eventually gets after being in higuchi’s court for a bit

rem is higuchi’s personal assistant, who was disowned by her own royal-blooded family because her family sucks. she hates her job. if it weren’t for misa she’d probably be on the other side of the country by now

i don’t know where the wammy kids are. they’re definitely competing to be the heir to L’s throne but also they’re not related because there is no way that all the wammy kids (the whole orphanage of wammy kids) could have come from the same person. maybe some kind of insufferably high collar royal boarding school? did they even have those? help me

kiyomi and teru are both advisors in other courts (which are extremely corrupt, light seethes, in his perfect world there wont be any of those anymore) (you work for a court light) (thats different)

okay i’m done for today. you never know about tomorrow though. /threat.

[ @deathnotetober day 12: isekai ]

[2rats1gogh]

I know people have this fantasy that Helaena would marry some Stark, Tully or Tyrell but a fantasy is truly what it is.

If she married Aegon or not, Helaena was never going anywhere. She claimed one of the biggest dragons in the world as a child, a female dragon who has laid eggs. Her only choices were always going to be one of her brothers or her nephews HAD THEY NOT been bastards. Or maybe it would have been a Hightower cousin, or one of Corlys Velaryon’s nephews but whoever her husband was, he was never going to be the Warden of anything or the Lord of his own castle. Helaena was never going to leave Kingslanding.

Alicent may have wanted her daughter close to her to protect her because of Helaena’s nature and because of her own experiences as a child bride but Viserys (who doesn’t know Helaena or give a damn about her personally) was definitely not marrying Helaena out to someone powerful and putting more trueborn obstacles in Rhaenyra’s way when he already had 3 trueborn Valyrian looking sons who would marry someday.

Targaryen daughters may marry out for a generation but their child is expected to marry back in. Daella was married into house Arryn but Aemma was married back in. Also to note that Daella was a second wife and her husband already had heirs, Visarra had she not died would have been married to a Lord who had already married several times and had already had heirs. Their sons would hold no lands, raise no armies full of vassal houses of their own. Rhaenys’s mother married into House Targaryen and Rhaenys married into house Velaryon and gave house Velaryon 2 more dragon riders in addition to herself. Thats why bringing her line back into the family was an important issue for the Targaryens. Helaena- a Dragon rider who could be fertile as her mother in her early years- would’ve given a non Valyrian house Valyrian blood and more potential Dragon riders.

Say Helaena marries an inheriting son of some Lord Paramount. Let’s give her 2 future Dragon riders and possibly a third as Maelor was too young when he was murdered at Rhaenyra’s request. This is 4 Dragons to whichever house she married into. These 4 dragons have an entire army behind them. They have legitimacy. What if her husband and father in law decide that the throne should be her son’s (like Rhaenys attempted to secure it on behalf of Laenor at the Great council) because Rhaenyra committed treason, sons are bastards and by law they can’t inherit anything (it’s high time we acknowledge that Rhaenyra, Laenor, Harwin, Viserys and Corlys were all breaking the law or complicit in the breaking of it.)

Team Black would hate Helaena Lady of house Stark/Tyrell/Tully/Lannister/Martell with a husband and a supportive extended family to back her because she would always choose her family over Rhaenyra’s like she does in canon.

So people need to stop blaming Alicent for this and realize that Helaena’s options were very limited and remember that in this world it’s normally a Father’s job to organize their daughter’s betrothals. HOTD seems to have thrown this piece of Lore out of the window in favor of trying to make Alicent look like a villain and for stupid scenes like Rhaenyra proposing the betrothal of the twins to their Grandmother instead of their father that she’s married to and lives with.

Literally this.

I never understood why it was so difficult for people to understand why Alicent decided to marry Helaena to Aegon. It always made sense to me personally. There are two main reasons to this:

a) Helaena is a very vulnerable girl, more vulnerable than anyone. By marrying her to Aegon, Alicent keeps her close to herself, in KL, where no one could hurt her.

b) Helaena as a dragonrider is very valuable. If she marries to some remote lord and then they pledge allegiance to Rhaenyra for whatever reason, TG is fucked and they lose a dragon. They need Dreamfyre if they want to win this war.

Helaena also couldn’t marry Jace or any other of Rhaenyra’s bastards, for a very simple reason. They are literally bastards and everyone knows it, and she would’ve become a hostage during the Dance. Also, the realm most likely would never accept Jace as a king, because no matter how kind and nice he is, he is still a bastard and that would cause a lot for problems.

[jukkaricity]

Thursday Bangers (but on Wednesday) + DATV Companion Week - Davrin - Day 3

Many thanks to @thedissonantverses for tagging me, it took me ages and then Davrin's week started and here we are. C':

Bangers prompt by @woundedsoul12: I'm prepared to sacrifice my life I would gladly do it twice - Mercy by Shawn Mendes

Today's prompts for Davrin Appreciation week hosted by @datvcompanionweeks were:

The Joining/ The Calling/ Whatever it takes

CW: Angst, Major Character Death.

I make no assurances regarding the quality, I've never really written anything quite like this.

💠🪶💠🪶💠🪶💠🪶💠🪶💠🪶

“Assan!” Davrin’s voice rang like thunder in Rook’s ears. The griffon cried out and swooped in on Ghilan’nain’s back, clawing and snapping furiously. Amidst the chaos all she could see was him. Like a hero of legends, his sword raised high, he stood on the crumbling ruins surrounded by the blight.

The so-called goddess screamed in agony. She yelled, enraged by the insolence of the mortals defying her. She turned around, her monstrous body towering over the battlefield. 

The slimy tentacle’s grip on Rook wavered, but didn’t release her. Still, she could not breathe. Could not move. A blight-covered appendage pierced right through Davrin’s armor. And the whole world stopped.

“Trouble is, he’s not sure what you are. Neither am I.”

The first thing he had said to her. In that remote canyon, so far from the civilization, she’d thought they would never find him. He looked like Prince Charming, taken right out of the pages of a children’s book. The rays of evening sun framed him just right–like he was shining with the light of his own. She knew then he would be someone special. 

Another tentacle tore through the plate on Davrin’s chest. It might as well have struck her right in the heart. Their eyes locked for all but a moment and the rest of the scene fell away. It’s just them. For the last time. She had promised herself this would never happen again. 

“Give Assan a hug for me.”

Rook’s heart was pounding in her ears, drowning out the battle raging around them. She was reaching out, a silent plea in her eyes. Davrin was more than just a weapon. Or a man with an expiration date. She saw it in his eyes, the purpose and the fear, the anguish over what he believed had to be done. She knew then they were not so dissimilar. That honor and duty would always come first, for the both of them. That he was a man she could love.

A third strike cleaved into the Warden with a sickening squelch. Next to her, Lucanis struggled against the tentacle holding him in place. Someone yelled. A heart-shattering scream, a curse against the would-be-gods, the world and fate itself. Rook’s throat burned, maybe it had been her crying out. 

“Does this mean you decided to take the bait?”

When he had asked her that, she could not believe her luck. Because the truth was that by that fateful trip to Arlathan, she was deeply in love. She fell for him, all of him, hook, line and sinker. The casual walks in the Arlathan, just the two of them and Assan, their half-cat, half-bird son. She had wished those would never end. That they could stay together, forever like that. Safe and content.

His body trembled, then collapsed. Assan wailed circling above them and then dove into the blight-filled chasm. Anywhere Davrin would go, Assan would follow. She wished she could do the same. But their work was not yet done. He would not forgive her if she abandoned her purpose. Not now. Not here. 

“What if one of us doesn’t come back? I actually let myself imagine the future. Our future.”

They both knew they would get this job done. Whatever it took. 

Even if it cost them their future. 

Damnit, Davrin. 

I’ll miss you.

[jackied0minguez]

Remote Work Redefined: TopDevz CEO Ashkan Rajaee on the Future of Flexible Business

In a world where remote work has rapidly shifted from a temporary solution to a long-term strategy, TopDevz CEO Ashkan Rajaee is leading by example. Speaking ahead of the Ft. Lauderdale International Boat Show, Rajaee shared insights on how his company has seamlessly integrated remote operations into its DNA—and why he believes this model isn’t just a passing trend.

A New Kind of Software Solutions

TopDevz isn’t your typical tech firm. Comprising an elite team of software developers, designers, project managers, and quality assurance specialists based in the United States and Canada, the company tackles the unique challenges that conventional off-the-shelf software can’t resolve. Rajaee explains that while standard solutions can cover 80–90% of business needs, the remaining nuances often cause significant inefficiencies. TopDevz fills this gap by offering custom solutions designed to address those critical details, ensuring that their clients achieve peak operational efficiency. With an impressive 96% workforce retention rate and 63% of their business coming through referrals, the company’s model speaks volumes about its effectiveness and employee satisfaction.

Mastering Remote Operations

Long before the global pivot to remote work, TopDevz was already thriving in a fully virtual environment. Rajaee emphasizes that the success of remote operations lies in having the right infrastructure and clear communication channels. “Working remotely isn’t as simple as logging in from home,” he notes. “It demands disciplined processes and a commitment to best practices—elements we’ve honed over the years.” His team’s seamless transition during the pandemic only reinforced the idea that a well-organized remote workforce can outperform traditional office setups.

The Indefinite Future of Remote Work

For TopDevz, remote work isn’t a temporary workaround—it’s the future. Rajaee envisions a business landscape where companies can lower overhead costs while empowering employees to work from anywhere. This flexible model not only drives client satisfaction by reducing expenses but also enriches employees’ lives by allowing them to choose environments that inspire creativity and well-being.

Rajaee even shares a personal touch: his passion for working from a yacht. Equipped with reliable Wi-Fi and satellite services, his unconventional workspace symbolizes the freedom that remote work offers. “If your current job doesn’t support the lifestyle you aspire to, it’s time to consider other opportunities,” he advises. His own journey from renting a yacht to eventually making it part of his regular work life underscores the importance of aligning one’s career with personal values and ambitions.

Empowering the Next Generation of Remote Entrepreneurs

Beyond leading TopDevz, Rajaee is passionate about sharing his remote work philosophy. Through his “RemotePreneur” initiative, he provides aspiring entrepreneurs and professionals with a playbook for building successful remote companies. This resource addresses the nuanced challenges of remote business management—from overcoming financial stagnation in traditional roles to confronting the inevitable criticisms that come with venturing off the beaten path. Rajaee’s message is clear: true freedom in work comes from rethinking established norms and embracing the possibilities that remote operations can offer.

Embracing a New Era

As businesses around the globe continue to navigate the evolving work landscape, Ashkan Rajaee’s vision serves as a powerful reminder that remote work, when executed with precision and passion, can unlock unprecedented opportunities. His leadership at TopDevz demonstrates that with the right approach, remote operations can not only sustain but also drive innovation, employee satisfaction, and overall business growth.

In a time when flexibility and adaptability are more important than ever, Rajaee’s insights offer a compelling roadmap for companies eager to thrive in a remote-first world.

[n3ss33]

modern au! armin arlert, eren yeager, and levi ackerman x alternative!reader hcs

authors note; this is so self indulgent im ngl 😭 also guys pls send in requests i need stuff to write plzzzplz plz

masterlist

armin arlert

-as someone who dresses a bit nerdy and different from the norm, i imagine him looking for an alt s/o who perhaps shares the same interests as him, whether that similarity is in music taste, games you like to play, the food you like, or the media you consume, he wants someone he can relate to!!

-would definitely love if his s/o had dyed hair... if you're ever colouring it at home and he is there to keep you company, i can guarantee he'd ask you to colour a small strip on the inside of his hair so you two can subtly match

-i imagine armin listening to nu metal, grunge music and maybe some shoegaze, but you don't expect it from him at all!! so when you two discover that you have the same/similar taste in music it forms a strong bond between you two

-armin would constantly encourage you to start a pinterest account to post all the aesthetic photos you take of your cute outfits!!

-he's very inspired by you and slowly starts picking up small stylistic choices that you make for himself to do too!!

-instead of buying brand new, he helps you diy clothes and accessories with cheaper supplies and things you thrifted together, making it a fun process and helping you do things like sewing which require some patience.

eren yeager

-if he's going out anywhere to hang with mikasa and armin, or if he's going to a busy enough party he asks you to style him because he knows youve got better drip than him LOL and ocasionally asks to borrow some of your rings or necklaces from time to time

-if you have any piercings he would be obsessed, even considering getting the same piercing on himself before chickening out at the last minute (which you knew he would end up doing)

-thinks that you're immediately superior to other girls that try and flirt with him, just because you're so unique compared to them

-he definitely posts you a lot, he wants to show you off to the world and how well your different vibes compliment each other. every time he posts you on his insta story he spends forever deciding on what song to put over the photo, whether he wants the hip hop that he likes or the metal/punk rock that you listen to

-would beg for you guys to get matching tattoos, definitely not something overly romantic but maybe something in reference to a show or album you both like, something "cool"

-eren listens to death grips im sorry

levi ackerman

-buys everything off vinted/depop to prevent himself from feeding into fast fashion and also becaue he knows it'll make you proud, and if he ever see's a clothing item he thinks you'd like, he sends in a price offer on behalf of you without even asking you first

-if you're ever in control of the music being played whilst you're in the car together and something even remotely heavy comes on he is instantly making remarks like "how do you even listen to this" or "it's just noise" but you know that deep down he actually really enjoys the music

-whenever you get home after thrifting he washes everything you bought for you so that you can wear it asap!!!

-if you ever fall asleep on the couch with makeup still on, he will approach you with a warm, damp face towel and try to gently remove your makeup without waking you so that you dont have to wake up feeling crusty or greasy later on

-this might be too oc but i totally imagine levi listening to shoegaze, but specifically the same 3 artists he's been listening to for the past 10 years. slowdive, my bloody valentine, and cocteau twins. he's not even that big of a fan really he just listens to it in the rare occasions where he does listen to music and keeps it that way.

-if you ever get a new piercing he makes it his newfound duty to make sure you clean it every single morning and night, or if you ever dye your hair in the bathroom he makes it his job to bleach the whole bathroom down and get rid of every small stain you left in there.

[scribbbbbles]

How Brooklyn Was Brought To Her Knees - Chapter Five: The Meeting

author's note: HI BEAUTIFULS!!! I hope you enjoyed the spontaneous double chapter release last week!! these chapters are starting to get a little bit beefier and a bit darker so I figured I would be nice and throw you that bone :) we get both povs in this chapter- so get excited!!! I LOVE YOU ALL your support means the world to me and keeps me writing <3

word count: 4.0k

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS USE OF WEAPONRY, DISCUSSION OF NONCONSENSUAL DRUG USE, AND A VIVID DESCRIPTION OF A PANIC ATTACK. IF THIS IS UNSETTLING TO YOU, PLEASE EXIT NOW.

PLEASE CHECK THE SERIES MASTERLIST FOR ALL OTHER WARNINGS!!

comments, reblogs, and likes are cherished!! thank you for reading ♥

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“I think you’re wearing a path through the carpet Buck,” Steve said. A shit-eating grin was plastered along his face as he laid on my couch, throwing a baseball up and catching it in the same hand. The smack of it against his palm created a rhythm matched by my thudding footsteps as I paced back and forth across the length of the office. 

“Her plane lands in half an hour,” I muttered, pulling my phone out and opening the tracking app for the 80th time that hour. 

“Then they have to helicopter to the Tower. You have time, your fiancée isn’t going anywhere,” his taunting was evident in the sing-songy way he said it. I threw my phone at his head. It missed, falling roughly off the couch with a thud on the floor. 

“She didn’t write back.” The whine in my tone was thankfully ignored by Steve. 

“Yeah because it’s not medieval England,” he replied, sitting up and swinging his legs forward. “So we’ll leave here in a few minutes, and go creepily hang out in the lobby of your long lost lover’s father’s building.” I let out an overdone groan and let my head fall back, shooting Steve a glare. 

“You’re not very helpful.” He laughed and shrugged. 

“You’re pathetic. It makes it easy.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re already done with this! You’ve been pussy-whipped since basic.” Steve’s partner, Peggy Carter, was a ray of sunshine– if you didn’t piss her off. The only reason they aren’t married is because she still lives in London, something about tenure for a job before she can go remote and move to the states. She’s declined my offer to pay her a salary equivalent several times, much to Steve’s dismay. He proposed last spring anyway. They’re disgustingly happy. 

Steve laughed. 

“Will you stop pacing if I call a car?” I groaned again. 

“None of this even matters. She loathes me Steve.” I fell back to sit on my desk, tucking my legs underneath me and covering my head with my hands. “She’s only doing this because she gets something out of it.” 

“Because you’re entirely innocent in that department and get nothing out of this arrangement either, sure– but continue.” I ran my hands through my hair, pulling at the ends of the strands. 

“I’m not wrong,” he went on, not even giving me a chance to speak. “You very well could get all of this intel without her input or involvement.” 

“Well as you so conveniently keep mentioning, we’re technically engaged. I figured she should be involved.” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, like the girl I’m now engaged to wouldn’t pay someone for the opportunity to mount my head on her wall like a hunting trophy. Like I wasn’t absolutely terrified of the reaction she’s going to have when she finds out about the deal, like I’ll have to pretend to be okay with her shoving a glock into my forehead over it, like I reciprocate her fiery, deadly anger. Like I wasn’t so hopelessly and embarrassingly stuck on her that I’m willing to risk it all. 

“Car’s here!” Steve hopped up off the couch, ending the conversation and my whirlwind of a thought process. ‘When the fuck had he called the car?’ He lobbed the baseball at my head, and I snatched it out of the air as he walked behind me to grab the files we needed out of my desk drawer. The ball was signed by some Mets player from when my dad was younger. I never cared for baseball, but my fiancée was a loud Yankees fan– she used to go to games all of the time with Parker and Stark. Which I definitely didn’t find out from hopelessly stalking her Instagram feed while I was deployed. As dysfunctional as they were, they were a loving family first and a business second. I envied that as I stared at the blank portrait of my father and I hung on the neighboring wall, posed and proper without an ounce of genuinity.  

I slid off the desk and placed the ball back in the little glass cube it stays in. I quickly fixed my hair back into a shitty bun in the reflection of said cube before I followed Steve out the door. So much for the work I put in this morning on styling it. 

Lucky for me, there was an immediate threat we needed her intel on. No need for awkward conversation starters or to explain how I really hadn’t had a plan when I left that tidbit in my letter about awaiting her arrival. I skimmed through the files in the car, Steve offering his input here and there. It was bright out today and a piercing migraine drove straight behind my eyeballs, a lovely addition to the swirling feeling burrowing its way deep into my gut. We pulled up in front of Stark Tower about 20 minutes after we were supposed to be there. 

“I miss when we could just take the subway or fucking walk,” Steve grumbled, gathering everything we needed from the car. I nodded in agreement. Owning a car in this city was fucking useless, you’d beat any taxi on foot anywhere. 

Stark Tower was a monstrosity, if you asked me. An insanely impressive monstrosity but a monstrosity nonetheless. It was ridiculously tall, and the whole building was reflective, and it curved in a way that defied any sense of logic. ‘STARK’ was illuminated in big, bold neon letters three quarters of the way up the building– and that’s when I noticed the helicopter was already on the helipad and not running. 

“We’re fucked,” I said matter-of-factly. Steve groaned, following my eyeline. He muttered a ‘shit’ under his breath and stepped towards the reflective doors. I thanked the driver, an older man named Martin, who nodded and pulled away from the building. 

“Isn’t Wilson supposed to be here?” I hushed out to Steve, he shook his head. 

“He’s late. Dock fight.” Sam Wilson was brought on by Steve while I was gone. We had a rocky relationship, but he’s a good man and now a close friend. He’s saved my ass enough times to earn a spot as my third in line and knows how the transports work better than anyone I’ve ever employed. But he’s about to show up here covered in blood reeking of fish, salt, and motor oil, and that’s about to piss me off. I rolled my shoulders back and tucked my sunglasses to hang off the collar of my shirt as the air whooshed around us and we walked through the doorway. 

“You’re late Barnes.” Her voice rang out throughout the lobby. The secretary behind the desk not even looking up from whatever he was doing on his phone, but his shoulders tensed in a way that let me know he was listening. Frankly, I didn’t care. He could listen as long as I could look. 

She stood at the head of the wide hallway connecting the lobby to the rest of the building, arms crossed, hip stuck out, and toes tapping on the marble floors. It echoed throughout the vaulted ceilings. Her hair was lighter, the Florida sun leaving its mark in more ways than one as it fell across her shoulders. The freckles dotted across her nose and flushed cheeks were evidence enough. Her lips were full and pink, and her eyes were almost glowing. Her form was filled out, though still thin, she looked healthy. My heart squeezed as I involuntarily remembered her visible ribs from the last time I’d seen her. She now wore a baby tee with AC/DC pulled tight across her chest and black jeans that clung to her hips and thighs in a way that should be illegal. I was ogling, and there’s no way it wasn’t noticeable with the glare from Steve I felt burn into the side of my head. I clenched my jaw tight to avoid having my mouth fall open as I shamelessly continued to rake my eyes up and down her figure, winking at her when we made eye contact. 

“My sincerest apologies doll, you know how hard it is to get anywhere in a car these days.” I batted my eyes exaggeratedly and smirked. She rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to walk down the hallway. I smiled genuinely then, I felt the pull in my cheeks as I looked at Steve who just sighed. Asshole. He clapped me on the shoulder as we followed her down the hallway. She turned into an elevator, not bothering to hold the door as Steve and I stepped in. We rode the elevator in a stuffy silence before we trailed behind her to a meeting room on the 46th floor. She held the door for us then as we walked in, only to lock it behind us and type a code into a hidden pad. 

“FRIDAY, lock it down.” 

“Of course Miss Stark.” The AI’s voice melodically flowed through the room as machines whirred and the glass became frosted around. Steve looked around confused as the walls thudded and grinded together, he forced his shoulders back and tightened his hands into fists. 

“It’s just soundproofing, reinforcements, and other privacy things. I’m not trying to scare you.” Her voice softer as she spoke to him, gently patting his forearm as she passed. I bit the inside of my cheek. She’s only doing what I had offered, using Steve as a buffer. I don’t blame her but God does it sting. 

“Where’s your third?” Her voice carried across the glass table as she took a seat at the head, furthest from the main screen. Steve walked behind her and sat to her immediate left. I sat next to him, allowing the space. 

“He’s running late,” I immediately answered. She tsked, opening some kind of holographic computer screen and pulling up an interface on the several screens around the room. I’ll never not be amazed at Stark Tech. It seemed to move in tandem with her mind rather than her hands, bending at the slightest tilt of her head or brush from her fingertips. 

“We had an issue at the docks,” Steve offered as he slid some of our intel to her. She smiled at him in thanks and began uploading scans to whatever data bank was pulled up in front of us. She spoke to the same AI from before, apparently named FRIDAY, who’s voice was eerily human as it chirped in response to her commands. 

“My dad will be here any minute, but I figured I’d give you some chance to pitch whatever you’re going to to me first.” She leaned back in her chair, tossing both of her feet up on the table and crossing her legs. Steve cleared his throat and turned to her. 

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“Could you pull up the file on Zemo?” Steve asked, his hands folded in front of him on whatever papers he didn’t hand to me. I swallowed and nodded. Fucking Zemo. He was HYDRA’s Stark equivalent, the mad man who injected me with god-knows-what every other day. I spent a good month and a half just undergoing detox from whatever he’d kept me strung up on. Another not so fun reason to be locked in a house in Malibu - extensive withdrawals. Dad was especially worried there, considering his own past and our family’s addiction habits there’s no reason to assume I don’t carry the gene. I sighed remembering how all the work I’d done to not try cocaine at those expensive galas was thrown to waste. I looked back across to the men as FRIDAY threw the documents up in front of us. Based on the twitch in Bucky’s jaw as Zemo’s headshot appeared, I can figure who took his arm. 

He was unfortunately… gorgeous. This was the first good look I got at him that wasn’t his fuckboy instagram I had stalked while on bed rest, and I understood every thirsting woman in his comments immediately. His dark navy suit pants hugged his thighs in a way that would’ve made anyone drool, and as he rolled his white dress shirt sleeves up to expose his forearms I had to remind myself that I hated him. His pale blue eyes held a twinkle that was absent the last time I had seen him, and they shone with a warmth I didn’t know was capable from such a color. His hair was pulled back into a bun but a few rebellious strands fell across his forehead. He had winked at me in the lobby and I had to leave. I had to remind myself of the way he treated me when his face lit up like a kid on Christmas at the tech that surrounded him, his eyes glued on the several hologram screens surrounding us and the way I manipulated them. 

He’s allowed to be hot and I’m allowed to acknowledge that. 

Wherever my mind had gone stalled off as Zemo’s head rotated 360 degrees and filled the space between us, I saw a lot of blank space on the file. 

“Is this all you have?” Steve nodded. 

“Buck couldn’t remember much when we first got him out.” I looked at Barnes, whose face was set in a mask of nonchalant but his eyes burned. I heard the whirring of his arm as he twisted his metallic wrist. The elbow clanged like it got caught on something. I hadn’t noticed that before.  

“We were hoping you’d know a bit more,” Steve continued. “Wilson’s confirmed through intel from the trade front that he’s due to check up on a project in the coming days. If you have anything that could help us we’d appreciate it. If not, you’re still welcome to join the manhunt– if you feel up to it.” I sighed. 

“Helmut Zemo put god knows what chemicals into me every other day, but he’s not as smart as he looks.” I swallowed. “He’s not dumb by any means, but most of the work is his father’s– Heinrich. He’s working off of whatever Heinrich did.” I pointed at the name in the file. 

“Heinrich’s dead.” Bucky’s voice made me shiver as he spoke lowly. “I made sure of that.” 

“When did he die?” I asked, avoiding the obvious insinuation. 

“I killed him four years ago.” Welp. Guess we’re not hiding it.

“Well then he’s working off of whatever Heinrich did with you and before you.” 

“Have you figured out the effects of the drugs he gave you?” Steve asked softly, laying a hand palm up on the table. A white flag. I sighed shakily, swallowing again and casting my eyes down to the table. I pulled at my hands sat in my lap. 

“Just some minor changes in muscle composition, which we assumed to be from an edited performance enhancer. There was a memory related drug, but it could’ve also been a high dosage of any of their opioid combinations. We haven’t found anything long lasting physically from that.” I shrugged, downplaying the severe gaps in my memory, and the Chair. My thumb stung as I accidentally picked too deep on my cuticle. I caught Bucky’s eyes when I looked up from the table I had been burning a hole through. His gaze was wide and frozen. But he pressed his lips together and nodded ever so slightly, slowly reaching out to the holographic keyboard in front of him. He pressed too hard and his fingers fell straight through it. I involuntarily laughed at him. 

“Hover, James,” I said. “Like this.” I placed my own fingers floating above the keyboard and typed out two bullet points about my time as a drug test tube. He watched, his tongue poking through his lips as he tried again, successfully typing a quick bullet point about his own experience before his fingers thudded into the table again. Idiot.

“They mainly used me as a test dummy, I don’t think they had any goal but to see how high they could get me without killing me,” I added. Steve nodded and offered a small smile. 

“So we know it’s Zemo and therefore drug related, so it’s probably in one of these warehouses.” Steve slid another document over to me, which FRIDAY scanned and 3D projected onto the table in front of us. I heard Bucky’s little gasp of ‘shit’ and couldn’t stop the proud grin from shooting across my face. I had redesigned the holograms in Malibu as a distraction project, and they were some of the most detailed ones we’ve ever made. The target buildings were a red hue while the rest remained blue, but you could get details down to the crown molding in a building if its most recent renovation was turned into the mayor’s office. 

“There’s seven buildings here, Rogers.” I pointed out the obvious, raking my eyes across the ten block radius in front of us. “Do you expect us to garner enough men for this to cover all of these buildings?” 

“If you made your security easier to get through I could’ve been here twenty minutes ago.” A male voice boomed as two figures strode into the room, passing my locked door. So I did what any reasonable person would do. 

I drew my gun. 

Which might have been a slight in judgement, looking back at it. The door was locked, and the only person who could open it aside from me was Dad. But I wasn’t necessarily thinking straight, or at all, at that moment. They found me and they were coming to take me back, blared on repeat like a warning siren over and over again in my head. 

The room exploded. Bucky vaulted over the table as I stood and pointed the gun at who I rapidly recognized as Sam Wilson. 

Fuck. I can’t breathe. Bucky was in front of my gun. My vision narrowed and all I heard was my heart thundering in my ears. There was yelling from every corner of the room but it was all muffled. I made out an “everyone shut the fuck up!” from somewhere, it was louder than the others. Bucky’s mouth was moving but it blended into the nonsense around me, the deep knowledge of my body's inner workings playing on blast in my ears. I think Steve was holding my dad back in the doorway. I can’t see. My hands are numb and shaking. I don’t know how I’m standing. I heard the gun clang onto the floor. I squeeze my eyes closed. Fuck. 

There are hands on my shoulders. 

“Open your eyes, doll. Need’ya to look at me.” It sounds like I’m underwater. It feels like I’m underwater. My chest seizes as I try desperately to inhale. The hands on me burn with how warm they are. 

“I know. I know. Just try for me.” 

I made another poor attempt. The hands squeezed, ever so slightly adding pressure. I felt my face get wet and then immediately burn with embarrassment. I felt a finger sweep across my face and wipe the fresh, hot tears off my cheeks and it left a hotter trail behind it. I couldn’t find the floor beneath my feet, so I fell down standing up. God, pull yourself together, fuck. But I couldn’t. I was drowning and I was powerless. The hands switched to catch me under my arms. I heard a faint, “oh fuck- okay, okay,” as I was slowly lowered to the ground. 

“That’s fine, that’s fine, we can sit.” The deep voice reverberated around my skull; not intrusively, but nice, like a heavy blanket. I felt myself start to curl into a ball, but the hands moved to my knees and forced them to the floor. 

“It’s easier to breathe if you sit up, doll.” I tried to straighten my back as I struggled to take in air. The large hands moved from my legs to grab my hands. They placed them on a strong, solid chest. It moved steadily up and down. 

“Match me sweetheart. In, and out.” There was a solid breath from in front of me. I felt it blow across my nose. The room was eerily silent as the blood stopped pumping so hard in my ears and tinnitus took it's place. I matched the breath shakily. 

“Good. Good girl. Gimme another?” 

The voice was soft. I breathed again. I blinked. 

All I saw was blue. 

Bucky’s hands held mine against his chest as he took exaggerated breaths. In, and out. I matched them, coughing every few tries and having to start over. He didn’t move. He didn’t let go of me. My buoy in this ocean of blue. His smile slowly creeped up his cheeks, and eventually, after a few minutes, I nodded at him. 

“I’m okay,” I gave him a weak smile. We sat for another beat or two anyway. My body was cold, shaking, and tired. I had just made a fool of myself. I bit the inside of my cheek hard to keep myself grounded as the wave crashed high behind me, threatening to pull me under again. I felt Bucky squeeze my hand as my breath caught. Why the fuck did he help me? The last thing I want is James Barnes’ pity. 

He stood slowly, and offered me a hand. Another olive branch, like what he hadn't just done wasn't enough to keep me up at night for the next several days. I bit my tongue and took it. The man had just helped me through a very public panic attack, I could offer him the decency of taking his hand. 

“I have them too,” he whispered into my ear as I stood, ducking his head so close I felt the warmth of his breath tickle down my neck. “It comes with the whole, y’know, being kidnapped and enslaved thing.” I chuckled quietly at his attempt to lighten the oppressive weight of the room, and just nodded again. We stood awkwardly for a moment, he still had my hand in his like he wasn’t keen on letting it go. He used the other to gently wipe the wetness off my cheek, again. His thumb was still warm. He never broke eye contact, and I was strangely okay with drowning in the blue. That had to be the weird fawn-like state I was in talking.

Because then I remembered where I was, and who was holding my damn hand. 

I slowly and gently pulled my hand from his, before I stiffly turned on my heel and speed-walked towards the door, ignoring his call of my name behind me as I pinned my eyes to the floor. Dad ran out from behind Steve toward me. 

“C’mere sweet pea,” he threw an arm over my shoulders and pulled me out of the room. 

“I want to go see Cho,” I muttered, the right side of my face still wet as we walked down the hall. I felt it reheat in shame as I used my wrist to wipe it again. I sniffled. I know logically Dr. Cho can’t take away any of the trauma I endured that caused this. It’s a childish wish. I seem to be full of those these days. 

“She can’t fix this,” Dad muttered the answer I already knew. “I wish she could, oh God, I wish that more than anything.”  

I missed Bucky’s panicked face poke out from behind the door and watch me walk down the hall. I missed Steve dragging him back into the meeting room after lingering on his own with the look of a kicked puppy. I missed Pepper’s attempt to take over the meeting, and Bucky’s subsequent refusal to continue until I was okay or to speak with anyone but me. I missed them leaving, storming through the lobby like they had a personal vengeance to exact. I missed the calls Bucky, Steve, and Sam each left on my phone, each more apologetic than the last. 

I missed, and I failed. 

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