#the real reason she needs to home on Tuesdays

[jonathanbyersphd]

Do you guys think Nancy and Jonathan watch PBS Frontline together?

[yourknightinshiningplastic]

thinking about the diggity dog

[thebreakfastgenie]

https://www.tumblr.com/thebreakfastgenie/766051466520690688/thats-exactly-what-im-hoping-for-too-im-voting

I think a deep flaw in the online left is that they're basically comparing the current far left with a far right wing that's made every effort to entrench themselves for decades by comparison.

They keep mentally thinking that both sides are equal in power, and thus the thing that will clearly help them succeed is the moral purity of their cause.

Except that's not the case at all. Because the reality is that the far right has done far more work to make their hate normalized than the far left has ever done for their beliefs and entrench themselves into actual positions of power, both due to a combination of cruelty being easier, and simply doing far more work by comparison.

The far right has spent years sticking their ilk amongst the populace, from the highest ranking positions to the lowliest high ranking positions possible in order to indoctrinate as many people as possible to their cause.

The far left by contrast has done diddly squat. They're the arrogant punk kid who waltzes in expecting to kick ass and take names and be lauded and praised for it simply because of who they are, while ignoring that either everyone is a neutral bystander who doesn't like grandstanders with more bark than bite, or an ally of the guy they're coming in to sock the face of.

And that's bitten them in the ass time and time again, because while the big evil guy is unpopular, he's also entrenched and just needs to win once to smack the upstart down.

But unlike actual main characters, the far left is so convinced of their righteous superiority that rather than wising up and building a real base of power and catching the far right off guard for a knockout blow, they just keep on throwing themselves over and over again with the same idea expecting different results.

Yeah... I think there's a combination of not understanding how asymmetrical it is and an attitude of "it's not fair!" Like, no it's not, so it goes though. We've watched the far right become so deeply entrenched they've taken over the mainstream conservative party. The right played the long game on the courts and the left was complacent about that for way too long. It's also a huge thing in local elections. The right has paid way more attention to school boards and other positions like sheriff that are elected in many places, even up to state legislatures. Far right candidates winning these elections really helped entrench the far right in addition to the material effects they've had on people's lives.

I think part of the problem is just that electorate is a lot more conservative than the left is willing to admit. There isn't a hidden groundswell of support for the far left. You have to do the work the hard way and a lot of leftists aren't willing to. You know that Contrapoints quote about wanting to "endlessly critique power?" She was right on with that. I think there are elements within the left that romanticize the perpetual struggle. One might say

He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl And he's always at home with his back to the wall And he's proud of his scars and the battles he's lost And he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on his cross

On the other hand, a lot of voters like the far right and want them to win. They may not like them for rational policy reasons, because a lot of voters don't vote for those reasons (I know, it's maddening, but so it goes) but they like them.

One of the reasons I tend to align myself with liberals rather than leftists is liberals get stuff done. I've seen tangible progress from liberals within my lifetime. There are so many structural advantages favoring the right that it's a huge fight to keep them out of power. We can turn the tide but we have to do the work.

I don't know how much sense I made I'm a little groggy.

[lightseoul]

changes

synopsis. it's 11 PM, and you're missing him.

cw. fem!reader, grad student!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~26 yrs old), mentions of alcohol

word count. 1.0k words

“Long day at uni?”

You look up from the glass of beer you’re mindlessly staring at to Uraraka, who’s seated at the booth across from you, a worried expression plastered on her face.

You heave a sigh. “You know the works. Exams, presentations,” you cringe, “I got called for oral recitation.”

At that, Uraraka winces. “Yeesh.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you say, almost defensively. You take a swig of your beverage before continuing. “I stuttered a bit, but I was able to answer the question.”

“That’s our girl.”

You smile, feeling warm from the praise.

A silence falls over you before Uraraka speaks up again.

“Is there any reason why you’re drinking at,” she checks her watch, “11:30 on a Tuesday night?”

Your smile falters before you could school it into a playful pout.

“What, am I not allowed to want to spend time with one of my best friends?”

At the mention of the title, Uraraka’s expression softens from a questioning look to that of endearment.

“Of course, you are. It’s just that,” she hesitates, and you brace yourself for what’s to come next.

“It’s not like you to do this, is all.”

You could only hum in response, breaking eye contact.

You go back to tracing the beads of condensation falling down the perimeters of the glass.

The other bar-goers around you are loud in their own conversations.

“...How long has it been since?”

You don’t need to think twice to know what she’s referring to.

Normally, you’d feign ignorance and pretend you absolutely had no idea what the other person is asking about.

But this is Uraraka, one of your closest friends from when you worked on a mission together back when you were still early 20-somethings, and the truth just comes spilling out before you could give it a second thought.

“One month, two weeks, six days.”

You chance a peek at Uraraka’s face, and you almost instantly regret it. She’s sporting an amused look, probably to assuage the embarrassment you’re feeling, but you could spot the hints of pity that lace her expression.

Embarrassment still manages to swell in your stomach.

“Do you miss him?”

You snort.

“If I answer that, you’re gonna think I’m a loser.”

“No, I won’t!” she answers immediately, voice raised. Wary of how loud she just got, she tones it back down before proceeding.

“It’s only natural that you miss him, Y/N. You dated for quite a while.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, but your voice still ends up garbled. “Yeah.”

Without much thought, your eyes drift to your phone, which sits between the two of you on the table. Uraraka follows your gaze, and from the corner of your eye, you see her twitch in panic when she realizes what you’re looking at.

“Uh—I don’t think you should, Y/N.” She sounds hesitant. “You’re tipsy—you’re not thinking straight.”

You frown, looking down at your hands wrapped around the almost-finished beer. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“...You might regret it tomorrow.”

You’d like to think you knew what you were getting yourself into when you said yes to being Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki’s girlfriend three years ago.

Going into it, you knew it was going to be far from easy, but you told yourself you could weather it.

The constant absence, the missed dates, the pestering paparazzi—all of it.

But the theoretical ended up being different from the real thing.

“I feel like I’m dating a ghost, Katsuki. You’re barely around, and I rarely get to spend time with you. What’s the point of being in this relationship when I never get to be with my boyfriend?”

You clench your eyes closed at the memory, willing it to go away. Now sprawled on top of your bed after Uraraka drove you home at exactly midnight (“I have the morning shift tomorrow,” she reasoned), you hold your phone close to your chest, debating whether or not to make the damned call.

You haven’t spoken to him since.

If this radio silence has been unintentional or is by design, you don’t know—but you do know one thing.

That it hurt.

And it’s silly, really, because you’re the one who called it off.

Sighing for the nth time that night, you prop your phone on your chest, thumbing the password before clicking your contacts and scrolling through your Favorites.

You didn’t have the heart to delete his number.

You still don’t, apparently.

“Hello?”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re too stunned by the fact that he answered that you forget to respond.

“Y/N?”

“I’m–” you clear your throat, “I’m here.”

A few seconds pass before he speaks again.

“You’re drunk,” he says more as a matter of factly than asks. How he’s able to tell you’ve been drinking is beyond you, but you don’t question him.

There are far more important things.

Like, just hearing his voice.

His voice is gruff, probably from sleep, when he asks: “Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

You ignore his question. “What’re you doing up?”

Though, it suddenly dawns on you that you probably woke him up. You mentally slap yourself.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.”

Your heart is thrumming and your brain is screaming at you to keep your mouth shut, but you press on anyway. “Can I ask why?”

At that, he chuckles, but you can tell there’s no humor in it.

“It’d probably be best for us if you don’t.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Try again.

“Do you miss me, Katsuki?”

He sighs in defeat. “Every single fucking day, princess.”

Your gut twists in delight despite yourself.

In your drunken haze, you’re about to tell him that you miss him, too, and that you’re ninety-nine percent sure that you’re still in love with him, when he cuts you off.

“But nothing’s changed since then.”

He sounds exhausted.

“I don’t want to keep on hurting you like I did, Y/N.”’

You brace yourself for the impact.

“...So, goodbye.”

You hear a click, and before you know it, the line is dead.

[magicbystarlight]

Venomous - Part Eleven

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: 18+, a bit of an angsty one, arranged marriage, age gap relationship, ptsd, war. Minors DNI.

A/N: Our poor reader can't catch a break.

The last days at the Manor passed mechanically. Wedding appointments set for Easter Break—dress, cake, invitations, dinner. A book left unread despite the pages turned. Smiles that didn’t reach your eyes. Laughs that were hollow. Unanswered letters. No word from your brother. Nothing in the papers about the Muggle war.

Abraxas was at your side, arm slung too casually around your shoulder as you walked through Platform 9 ¾. Your trunk somewhere behind being dragged along by the Malfoys’ oldest house-elf Honey. Or was it Bunny? An unsubtle reminder to the growing crowd that you were a Malfoy, even if not in name yet.

At least your mother hadn’t come.

His goodbye was drawn out. You smiled and dutifully let him kiss you again and again until he couldn't keep you any longer. You hoped your own face didn't betray your joy as you stepped onto the train. The compartments were full as you dragged your trunk. It took longer to find Larissa and Abigail than usual thanks to the added weight.

Their concern felt wasted on you when you stepped into the compartment. Too much of your friendship had been spent on your petty problems when their families lived in constant danger that you knew nothing about.

You insisted you were fine, that it had only been a bit of stress, and everything was okay now. You brushed off concerns about Abraxas’ behavior, rewriting his jealousy as protection. You were fine, everything was fine.

The conversation veered to them and you listened intently. A funny story about Larissa’s mother getting on the wrong train in the underground. Talk of Abigail’s father’s wonderful cooking. Love letters they found under her little sister’s pillow. It made your heart ache.

“We should set up a dinner or something for the Easter holiday,” you said as the laughter was starting to subside. “So I can meet your families.”

Your friends shared a look that didn’t look pleased with the idea. “Won’t you be too busy? With all the planning? We don’t want to add to your stress.”

“Too busy for you? Never.”

“It’s just,” Larissa said slowly, trying to find the words to say, “well, we know how your family feels about half-bloods. You might not mind, but they’re not gonna be happy with it.”

“They know we’re friends, it’s not that big of a deal anymore. Maybe they’ll be upset if they find out one of Abby’s parents is Muggle, but we can go somewhere Muggle and they’ll never even know. Make a day of it, a real day, show me more of the Muggle world. I’ve never even seen London past the windows in the Leaky Cauldron.”

Larissa went to say something else, another argument against it from the frown in her face, but Abigail cut her off, face lacking its normal color. “We’ll see. I’ll need to owl my parents and ask if they can make the time for it. Easter’s pretty busy for them.”

Your face fell before you could catch it and school it into something false.

“We can do Cambridge instead!” Larissa offered quickly, too eager compared to her hesitation a moment before. “I’m sure Mum would love to have you both over. And it gets so pretty in the spring there—” 

She continued, naming reason after reason Cambridge was the place to be for Easter. You worked your smile back, though it was as hollow as it’d had been at the Manor. A tentative date set for the Tuesday after the holiday—you had no appointments set and Abigail would be too busy helping out around home before then. Color still hadn’t returned to her face.

When enough time had passed, you excused yourself to use the restroom. They didn’t offer to join you.

Scalding water splashed from the tap, causing your hands to retract with a hiss. You waited for the temperature to correct itself and tried not to scratch at the pain.

Abigail didn’t want you meeting her family. Larissa could spend a week with them and you couldn’t even have dinner. You always knew they were a little closer. How could they not be when you barely put any effort into the friendship? They may have been your best friends, but today you realized you weren’t theirs.

That was okay, you told yourself. You would do better.

You looked up into the mirror as you scrubbed your hands. A crack cutting diagonally down it you hadn’t noticed before. How poorly were these restrooms maintained?

The door swung open.

“—almost punched Ralph McLaggen in the middle of Diagon Alley! Over her? Can you—“

The Slytherin girl from Potions cut off abruptly as her gaze met yours in the mirror. The one who loved to tell people about your torrid affair with Slughorn. You’d have to remember her name eventually. 

Her grin was sickly sweet. “You looked great at the Minister’s ball.”

“Thanks, but,” you said, matching the acidic tone. “I don’t remember seeing you there?” Then you laughed, shaking your hands dry and turning to see her now scowling face. “Oh right, you must have seen me in the paper! I’d almost forgotten.” 

You walked to the door, eyebrow raised expanctly at her friend who still stood in its way. She squeaked out an apology before moving aside. “Well lovely to see you, Judith. Hope your holiday went well.” Maybe you didn’t have to learn her name.

—

Dumbledore wasn’t at the welcoming feast. It wasn’t unusual. Since First Year he’d been in and out of class aiding in the fight against Grindelwald. But you felt the absence more now. You’d wanted to talk to him about Warrick. 

There were eyes on you. More than usual it seemed. You kept your back to the Slytherin’s table. 

Abigail had recovered, at least. 

Her smiles were warm again as conversation swirled at the table around the next Quidditch match. Ravenclaw had only had one match the previous semester and it left them at an advantage, same as Slytherin and it was expected the match would be tense. You listened attentively as some of the team’s players explained how many points they’d need to rack up to gain the lead. It surprised you how attentively they listened when Larissa started dissecting Slyhterin’s weaknesses and strengths. Her insight was, well, insightful. 

“We’ve got the pitch on Thursday, you’ll be there?” Erin Lockhart, this year’s captain, asked her as you all made your way back to the tower. 

Larissa’s face was bright. “Haven’t missed one yet, have I?”

It was past midnight when the three of you finally clambered up the stairs to your dormitory. Normal. A truly normal night. Not a mention of engagements or wars or stalkers. Filled instead with Quidditch and school worries and silly little jokes. So many new things noticed about people you’d known for years. Funny how that can happen when you’re not existing solely in your own head.

Larissa was giggling about how good Henry Higginbottom’s hair looked when she stopped abruptly after opening the door. You thought maybe the ladies at Twilfitt and Tattings had outdone themselves and delivered early, but a melodic chirping drowned it out.

On your bed, in a rather large and intricate gilded cage, was Ravenclaw’s emblem. A Golden Eagle.

Their eyes were such a familiar shade of brown. 

“When did you get an eagle?”

“I didn’t.” You felt cold. “I’ll take my chances with whatever gilded cage awaits me rather than whatever crate you’re offering.” Could Tom never stop with his fucking metaphors?

Abigail was the one to investigate. She plucked an envelope from the bed, turning it over. Your name was on the front in familiar handwriting and an even more familiar teal seal.

Of course Azar was still doing Tom’s bidding.

Anger seized as you took the letter she handed over. Blood splatters marred the parchment.  

Found her in Astrid’s owlery. 

A likely story.

Apparently she’d been there a while and now she seems a bit confused about what she is. Thought getting her out of there was for the best,

You scoffed. Of course he would decide what he thinks best.

but the dungeons aren’t a good place for her. She needs to spread her wings. 

One thing he wasn’t wrong about. 

I know Selene said no to getting you an owl, but she never said no to an eagle.

He remembered that? It’d been years since you’d asked. 

Dippet was happy enough to approve her as a pet for you. Unsurprisingly, you’re one of his favorites.

It was a surprise to you.

She prefers hunting for herself, so she won’t be a bother. She’ll even take the post for you. You’ll have to give her a name though. Our aunt only ever called her örnen.

That sounded like Aunt Astrid.

Sinc Love,

Uggy Az

P.S. There’s no excuse. I’m sorry.

P.P.S. She was perfectly tame until I put her in the cage. You’ll get along well, I think. 

The anger had dissipated by the end. Not gone entirely, but less. You still weren’t convinced it wasn’t some new trap laid, but for now you’d let it be what it seemed. A sincere apology. Those were so rare.

“Uggy Az?” Larissa questioned, reading the letter over your shoulder.

“It’s what I called Azar when I was really little. It was supposed to be Uncle Az.” You reached for the latch, pulling the door open. “Mum hated it cause it sounded like I was calling him an ugly ass.” Cautiously the bird stepped out, stretching her wings and legs. She was beautiful.

You knelt at the end of the bed and she met you there. This close you could see the gold speckled throughout her eyes. When you reached your hand forward, she bent her head and let out a chirp at the contact.

“What should we name her?” you asked, stroking her.

“Princess?” Larissa offered before her face immediately went sour and shook her head. “She needs something more classical. Aethon?” 

That made you shudder. Would that make you Prometheus? 

Abigail’s fingers joined yours to stroke the brown feathers. “How about Drein?”

The eagle let out another chirp.

“You like that?” you asked. “Drein?”

She chirped again and seemed to nuzzle against your hand. 

“Well,” Larissa laughed, joining you and Abigail in your affections to the bird, “Drein it is.”

—

Sweat covered you as you shot up from bed. A nightmare. You couldn’t remember much beyond explosions, screams, and a hand around your throat.

The hands of the clock pointed to a quarter past five. Too early to start the day and too late to try to sleep. Not that you’d be able to sleep anyways.

Drein stirred from her perch atop your wardrobe when you moved. It was odd how comforting it was when her eyes followed you to your desk. Being watched by a predator was normally so unsettling, but for once you didn’t feel like prey.

You took a piece of parchment and your quill and began to write. It wasn’t right. You scratched it out and started again. Still wrong. Dashed through the new sentences and tried again. No. 

Curiosity got the best of Drein, her wings fluttering softly as she landed on the edge of the desk. Her head cocked as you ripped off the bottom, bare part of the parchment.

Why? You wrote. Your quill hovered for a moment more. I miss you. A few tears landed on the parchment before you wiped away the rest. Drein crept forward, pushing her head against your hand.

“Can you do me a favor?” you ask her. She blinks. “Take this to my brother.”

—

Drein had returned by that night. There was no reply. A week passed. Days that weren’t quite bad, but exhausting. 

Transfiguration was the easiest. An essay to write from the substitute instead of hands-on practice. Astronomy. History of Magic. Ancient Ruins. Herbology. Arithmancy. Potions. Care of Magical Creatures. None of them required a wand often. 

But Charms and DADA?

Horrible.

Abigail thought you were sick. First you fainted and now you were struggling in class? You’d gone and gotten checked just to ease her concern. You weren’t sure how no one noticed the crack in your wand, but you powered through. It did seem to work a little better as the days passed. Less resistant. A few more days, maybe a week or two, and it would be fine. Like nothing happened.

Whispers followed as they always did. Some with pity, but more with glee. You’d walked into a room more than once to be greeted with hurriedly hushed voices. Thankfully your housemates were more akin to pity.

Saturday afternoon you sat alone in the common room, where you’d been since after breakfast. It was a dreary day outside, but you couldn’t pull your attention away from the window. There wasn’t anything else to do. Abigail had left for some Divination project she had to work on with a Gryffindor and Larissa was serving a detention she’d gotten the last day of last semester. Abraxas had planned to visit, but something had come up and he postponed for Sunday. Homework was done and you didn’t feel like tracking anyone down to occupy time. 

Why hadn’t Warrick written you back?

A very nasally, high pitched noise came from beside you, breaking your concentration. Myrtle Warren stood there, nose high in the air. She held out a folded piece of parchment. “Avery asked me to give this to you?”

Your eyebrow shot up. Myrtle was muggleborn. Azar didn’t like interacting with that sort, let alone entrusting them with anything.

She cleared her throat again impatiently and wriggled the note.

With a muttered thanks, you took it. She still stood there. It simply read: Library?

“He told me to wait for a yes or no. Wants me to walk with you there for some reason if you say yes. Very odd, I think, but he’s paid me ten galleons just to bring this, and it’ll be another twenty once I get back to him with an answer.”

Ten galleons just to get you a note. Thirty in all to get an answer. And an escort. 

“Was there anyone with him?”

She shook her head. “No, he was all alone. Just like you. And me.” She shrugged. “Probably why he asked me.”

Azar must be hoping to apologize in person. There hadn’t been any chance to catch you alone throughout the week. You’d ensured that. While Myrtle wasn’t your first option of a companion, she was better than nothing. And talking it out with Azar was better than staring out a window. You needed to thank him for Drein, too.

Myrtle was surprisingly patient. You’d had to put your things away up in your dorm and she waited without a single complaint. It was unlike her. She hadn’t gained the nickname Moaning Myrtle for nothing. 

It was probably the promise of galleons that kept her so quiet  as you walked down the staircases.

“Do you mind if we stop by the restroom?” she asked as you landed on the second floor.

Had she not been so patient before, you’d have said no. But she had been. So you relented, eyeing the staircase wistfully and hoping she’d be quick. You wanted to see Azar. Know if it had been real.

Her favors weren’t over. “Could you check if there’s anyone in here? I don’t like an audience.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and did as requested. It was empty, thankfully. “All clear,” you called from the end of the stalls. 

“Well that is very,” Myrtle’s voice changed, the nasally high whine turning deep, honeyed, and unmistakable, “convenient.” 

You twisted, wand in hand, to witness as Myrtle’s face bubbled. Her robes stretched to accommodate the added height and width, its blue yellowing to green, Ravenclaw’s emblem contorted into Slytherin’s. You’d meant to Stupify him, but nothing came. A red jet of light shot from his. With horror, your grasp on your wand loosened involuntarily and it shot from your hand. He caught it effortlessly.

“I’m not here to fight,” Tom said evenly. He eyed your wand, surveying the damage. “Not that it seems you’d be able to put up much of one.” 

“Fuck you,” you hissed, despite the pounding in your ears. 

He smiled. “I have missed your quick wit.” When you said nothing, he sighed. “I wanted to apologize.”

You repeated, “Fuck you.” 

“That’s fair.” Your wand clattered on the floor as he threw it back. “I deserve worse.”

You don’t move. You consider it for half a second, hand tensing to reach for your wand, but you don’t. It’s useless.

“I didn’t understand how horrific what I did was. But I do now. And I’m sorry.”

Lies. Lies lies lies lies lies.

“I don’t want your apologies. They don’t mean anything. You regret nothing. You understand nothing!” Your voice rose, angry panic outpacing your ability to quell it. 

“Forgiveness will take time, I know. I’ll be patient.”

Tears seared your cheeks. “Forgiveness?” you questioned. “Forgiveness for what, Tom? For—for trying to kill me? For stalking me? For ruining my life?” Yanking the Malfoy heirloom from your finger, you held it up. “I only have this,” you threw it, aiming for his frozen face that didn’t even flinch and missing by a yard, “because of you. If you’d have left me alone, none of it would have happened. You took everything. And for what? What has it gotten you in the end?” Your arms were shaking as you gestured to the lavatory he’d trapped you in. “Downing polyjuice to corner me here and listen to me tell you that I hate you.”

Quaking shoulders. Terrified and angry and devastated. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I don’t know.”

It came out so soft, yet the words thundered in your head. He’d been so confident months ago. Spewing nonsense about power and freedom and breaking traditions. Now he stood there and said he doesn’t know why he continues to torment you?

“You don’t know?”

Cracking sounds reverberated against the walls.

“You don’t fucking know?”

Glass shards fell to the floor as the mirrors over the sinks shattered. 

You crumbled.

Next Part

Your thoughts & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc

Venomous Tag List: @pearlsofme @fck-this @ambria @sheeple @strangunddurm @weirdowithnobeardo @emberenchanted

[yueisyum]

“You don’t get it do you” Valentine’s Day special

College au❤️Jeno x Reader

|| 🧸Basically, you’re trying to help jeno find a fake girlfriend to invite to his parents dinner next week. He’s been telling them that he has a girlfriend and they decide that they want to meet her on Valentine’s Day. Sounds cute right? But he does have a girlfriend, so you make it your mission to save his dignity. But for some reason he’s being really picky with his decision. Your not sure why?

“She literally perfect for you”

“But She’s not you”

Authors note🎈: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!! I’m not completely proud of this as a whole, BUT if I add the fact that I only had like a day and a half to do it, it’s not that bad. There so no smut in this, BUT!!! As you know. You can’t just ask 😏. I’m hoping to maybe do something like this for some other members so if you are hoping for a specific member let me know!

[9:32] February 12th

“She’s also a no” jeno says from next to you on his couch. You slouch even more into his chest. “Jeno- this is the 5th girl I showed you. You didn’t even read the profile yet!” You complain.

You and Jeno are currently sitting in his living room looking through [app] profiles of women that had reached out to you. You got together after your run, and he had just got home from practice. You took a shower and told him about your plan to help him find a date for Tuesday. You had gotten closer to him so you can both see your phone screen clearly, and he ended up pulling you into him. Your back pressed against his chest. This would usually look weird to anyone else, considering you two are just friends, it’s natural between you two. It’s normal. Not weird. Not intimate.

“My parents know I wouldn’t date someone with that hair colour” he explains, shrugging it off. His arm that’s around you moves to swipe to the next profile. You slap his hand away and go back. “No no no, she could wear a wig or dye her hair or something” you continue to the profile and looked at the description. It was quiet short. It read:

[hi! I’m Eunchan! Im 22 years old, my birthday is august 4th, 2000. And I love to work out (do yoga) and I work as a creative writer]

You read the profile out loud, and you can feel Jeno shaking his head. “Jeno-“ you begin.

“Yoga? Absolutely not, yoga isn’t working out, it’s expensive stretching” you giggle and roll your eyes. “Jeno, just get her to tell your parents that she lifts weights or something.” You bring your knees up to your chest to make room for his cat as she lays at his feet. he takes a moment to think. “No, I have to get her to wear a wig AND lie to my parents? They would be able to tell she doesn’t lift weights by her build.” You sit up to look at him.

“You are being ridiculo-“

“-realistic” he interrupts and you scoff. You get up from the couch and walk toward the kitchen. “Where are you going!?” He gets up to follow you like a lost puppy. “If we are going to do this all night I’m going to need a drink.” You answer grabbing a glass- two glasses from the cabinet and he looks for some wine. You could faintly hear the kdrama he played from kitchen while he pour the drinks. You lean into the counter and continue looking.

“Oh here! Listen!”

“[hello, my name is minchi-“

“Hello? Who says hello?”

“Jeno shut up and listen..

[hello, my name is minchi, I’m 21 years old. My favorite colour is blue, my favorite smell is mint and I love Naruto]” you look up at him in anticipation. He loves all those things-

“That sounds like a child’s profile, she can’t even describe herself or hobbies proper-“

“Ughhh” you slouch into the counter. Grabbing the glass of wine her poured and took a long sip. He watch you with a smile. “Jeno, the point of finding you a ‘fake girlfriend’ is that it’s not real! It’s one night and she can be anything you want her to be” you explain, making your way back to the couch. Stopping to let another cat walk past you. This is their palace after all. Then take a seat at the sofa. “No they can’t” he mumbles. “Huh?” You look over at him, he’s making his way to you again. “Nothing, but my parent will be able to sniff out a liar, and I don’t want to take my chances with someone who can’t even tell people what she does for a living.” He sits next to you and places his wine on a coster.

You nod in understanding, this must be really important to him, especially since he’s being so picky. “I have an idea!” You turn to him and he gives you his full attention. “How about we pick a couple of girls, and then you can try going on a date with them. Just to see how they can act in person” he looks at you. It almost looks as if he’s examining your features but you shrug it of. “Please? Come on, this is the best way to find out how they can talk with your parents!” You fold your hands together and give him your best puppy eyes. You can’t help but love playing match maker, even if somewhere deep down you feel an unsettling gush of sadness. You push it aside.

He continues to look at you for another moment. And you swear you saw his eyes flicker to your lips once or twice. “Fine. I’ll do it- if your there with me” he leans back at takes his phone out. “What? Why? It would really be considered a date if I’m there” he looks up from his phone to glance at you. “It’s not supposed to be a date, it’s supposed to be an interview” you deadpan at him. “You really are ridiculous” you then pull your phone back up to look through more profiles with him.

•••

It’s currently [1:47] in the morning and you and jeno had ended up in the same position you started in. Except this time you cuddle closer into him and he pulls you as close as possible; complaining that “it’s cold”.

“Ok here, we can add this one too. It says [hi, I’m Hyebin! I work as an interior designer, I love bike rides and jogging. My favorite season is autumn, I also love watching anime and cars, I have a terrible sense of direction and I’m allergic to ca….ts]” your voice was sleepily and almost at a hum. It was music to jeno’s ears. Your head pressed to his chest and your hair smells like rain wood, probably your shampoo.

“What! No, how can you be allergic to cats?”

You laugh at his reaction. “Jen… your allergic to cat, besides, Shes never going to meet your cats, it’ll be fine- you two have everything else in common. I’m adding her” you add the profile and shoot her a text about meeting up tomorrow afternoon for an ‘date’. He didn’t like that you kept calling it that, but he wouldn’t say anything. It began to get quiet. The faint sound of rain hitting the glass. The dimly lit room and the air conditioning was blasting for some reason. The mood felt so cozy and his heart began to race- along with yours.

When you send the text you put your phone down and wiggle to get comfortable under the Blanket he has you two wrapped up in. “You tired?” He asks warping an arm around your frame. “Mm no” you’re already dosing off and he chuckles lightly. “All these girls seem perfect Jen.” You add.

He loved when you’d call him that. It felt so intimate to him. But it wasn’t, it was normal between best friends. Normal. Not weird.

“I don’t like her” he argues, closing his eyes. You can feel him trying to match his breathing with yours. You continue to lull yourself to sleep as jeno begins to rub your back. “She’s literally perfect for you” you whisper. You’re basically asleep now. You mouth open and your body limp, all you weight was on him and he loved it. He loved the feeling you you against him. He loved that fact that you feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms.

He loved…

You.

“But she’s not you” he replied. He knew you couldn’t hear him, to far gone in sleep to register his words. But he felt a load of weight and worry leave his body when he voiced those words.

They aren’t you.

•••

[6:36pm] February 13th

The next day you met up with Jeno at modern cafe. When you walked through the door your eyes immediately find him. He’s dressed in a buttoned up shirt and slacks. It wasn’t unusual for him to dress like this, but you noticed his hair was given more attention then what your used to. You slide into the booth across from him.

Jeno looked up from his phone to see you smiling at him. Your cheek bones lift and your eyes squint. He can’t help but do the same. “You look nice” he compliments and you smile wider. “Me? Your the one you did your hair all.. fancy” you laugh when he reaches to touch the strains that fall in front if his face.

“Okay! So I’ll be at the table over there..” you begin. “So you know where I am if you need anything. Eunchan is the first to come, she should be here in like five minutes” you show him the texts between you and the other girl he couldn’t care less about. “No, no stay at the booth with me. This isn’t a date remember? It’s just an-“

“-Interview I know, but it’s between you and her. This has nothing to do with me”

It has EVERYTHING to do with you actually.

“I’ll leave…” he threatens, his arms crossing over his chest, and you can see his sleeve stretching to accommodate his arms. “You are such a child! Why can’t you have a 30 minute conversation alone with a women?”

You cross your arms to mimic him, but it only pushes your chest up. And he smirks at you. “If that women is you or my mom, yes. But other then that.. absolutely not” he shakes his head. You narrow your eyes at him, foot taping at the floor as you think. “Fine.” Your tone was sharp. And he can tell your getting frustrated.

How have you not put it together yet!?

[6:58pm]

You quickly slide out of the both and next to him. He watches you move and smiles and you slouch next to him. He absentmindedly leans into you. “You smell good”

It was a simple comment, but it had your heart skipping multiple beats. You clear your throat and sit up. “Thank you… your cologne smells good too…” you don’t look at him, but his eyes are on you. “Just my cologne? Not me?” He chuckles, but when he realizes your eyes are not on his, he followed your line of sight. you nudge him in the arm and squeal. “She’s here! Okay okay, relax!” You take two deep breaths as a beautiful women makes her way towards the table you and Jeno both sit up.

“Hi! You must be Y/n?” She sits down. Her hair was long and light, almost a orange colour, but it looked natural. She was gorgeous, her makeup simple and done to perfection. She sat with confidence and her earrings dangled when she moves her head, you admire her as she greets jeno, missing the words they exchange. She’s so beautiful, prettier then you; you thought. “Hi! Yes I’m y/n and this is Jeno” you gesture toward Gina ms he smiles to her. You can tell she finds him very attractive, and how could you blame her?

“So, I hear your looking for a “girlfriend” for a dinner with your parents?” She asks looking to Jeno. He looks at you then back to her. “Yes, I’m trying to find someone before tomorrow night”

“Valentines day?”

“Yes”

You watch them talk for a couple minutes. The feeling you had been stuffing down seemed to be overflowing.

She is literally perfect. They would look so perfect together. They might even end up getting together for real after the dinner. His parents would probably love her. And Jeno would probably come to you for advice with her all the time. And even if it killed you, you would give it to him because you love him. And if they ever got married- you would be there to cheer him on even if the sight of him placing a ring on another woman would literally kill you. Your best friend Jeno would always talk about how he found the ‘love of his life’ through fake dating. It would be a cute story to tell at parties or celebrations.

The thought of him spending his life with another women made the best of your neck hot. And your head hurt thinking about how he would be an Amazing dad…

Why do you even care!?

Why would him being with another person hurt YOU!? Your his best friend nothing more- But why do you wish it was you sitting across from him? Why do you wish it was you he wanted to bring to meet his parents? Or wishing you could be the one he would put a ring on?

Oh…

Oh

You’ve truly been avoiding it, because you didn’t want to face how he makes you feel… but here you are. Lost in thought- bathing in in your feelings. They’ve always been there, but now they are downing you.

You want him.

Like really want him.

Realizing that your not just attracted to him, but you can truly see a future with him.

Him.

Jeno.

Your best friend jeno…

You find yourself fidgeting with your rings while they talk, your brain feels foggy and you can’t bring yourself to look up. You tried to pay attention but your mind would just build with thought of them being together and you felt as if you would throw up.

But you have done it. You have realized that you love Jeno… now what? What do you do now? Say something? Confront him? Be honest?

“….Well this was fun anyway. I’m glad I had the chance to talk to you. And I wish you good luck with your parents” you lift your head to see the different, darker haired women make her way out of the cafe. You then turn to jeno, who’s looking at you. “What the hell happened I spaced out for two minutes!?”

Actually it’s been almost an hour; he thought,

Fifthy three minutes of you spacing out. Something was definitely wrong. he began to worry when he nudged your foot mid conversation, but you didn’t even flinch. Decided he should end it quickly with Hyebin, giving the second women a random excuse as to why she wouldn’t fit.

“She said she was a terrible lair, can’t have her revealing info, ya’know?” he shrugged and slouched down in his seat. “We should order food” he adds before you can scold him. Hoping food will fix whatever headspace your in right now.

You would never say this out loud, but your glad she’s gone. Her presence made you want to jump out if the nearest window and run home- never to be seen again. “Jeno…” he places down the menu to look at you. “Hm?” You finally turn to him. “Why are you being so difficult? Why won’t you pick a girl? It’s so simple, but you seem to care a lot about it” you ask genuinely. He thinks for a moment and you wait patiently.

“I don’t want just anyone meeting my parents. They mean a lot to me, and I don’t need a random women meeting them” he explains, while continuing to look through the menu. “Oh” you nod. Not wanting to ask him too many questions.

You can’t seem to focus on anything. Not when the only thing going through your mind is Jeno.

‘Jeno’

“Yes?” You turn to him when he responds to what you thought… were your thoughts.

What?

“What?”

“You said my name?” He leans in questionably, trying to find your eyes, but you refuse to look at him. “I did?” You turn away from him, grabbing a menu form the table to act like your looking for food.

“You did… are you feeling okay?” He continues to move his head in Front of yours; so you’ll look at him. When you finally do, your heart stops. He is so handsome so beautiful- no, breathtaking. His eyebrows pinch together, you can tell he’s worried. You don’t want him to be worried about you, not right now. “Yes I’m… No actually I’m not feeling well and I should probably get going. You seem to be doing well without me anyway” You place the menu down on the glossy wooden table in front of you and begin to get up.

You stop when Jeno’s hand wraps around you forearm. “Wait, do you want me to come with you? Is it your stomach? I can make you some ramen” He looks desperate and worried. So you put on your best ‘I’m fine’ face and tug your hand away. Your skin felt tingly where he had touched you, and the thought of him making physical contact with you again gave you butterflies. And you can’t think straight. “Nope, I’ll be fine. Your next runner up should be here in like 15 minutes? She’ll text you” his jaw tightened and his brows knitted.

“I don’t want to do this without you” he grabs at your wrist this time. The tension slowly raising with each respons.

What the heck is going on with you?

“Why? What changes whether I’m here or not?” You try to laugh but you can’t. So you just fake a smile. “Y/n please, don’t go. Your hiding something, I’m not stupid” his voice seemed more stern this time. “I’m fine. Text me after- and let me know how it goes” you smile once more before running of.

“Y/n-“

Jeno won’t chase you. He knows he can’t get you to stay and he wouldn’t want to force you, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to call out for you anyway.

[7:46pm]

•••

When you opened the door to your dorm your faced with your roommate Harim and her boyfriend jaemin. They were watching tv on the couch and you smiled to them before turning to your room.

“You okay y/n?”

Harim, is a nice roommate, really! But sometimes she can be a bit nosey. Not it a bad way, she just wants to know how I’m doing. She’s very empathic or whatever. So when she asked that question; you were scared to answer.

“I’m all good, just a little overwhelmed… need to be alone with my thoughts” you wave too her and jaemin. He gives you a look before smiling back. “Okay! If you need anything we are here”

…

You close the door to the bathroom and turn on the faucet. Then you lean against the counter to examine yourself in the mirror.

This is ridiculous…. Why is this such a big deal to you? The feelings have always been there… but now your freaking out like a child because you decided to address them!? You feel so stupid.

Telling him could possibly ruin Everything. That’s what everyone always says in movies… but now you truly understand the feeling.

‘Fuck this is so stupid.’ You thought.

…

When you finally leave your room, after what felt like hours of you contemplating on whether or not you should tell jeno the truth; you walk into an empty living room. Your roommate and Jaemin must have left. So you find yourself on the couch to relax and watch tv. Searching through shows that don’t involve the main character falling in love with her best friend. You end up watching some cheesy old chick flick that you’ve never seen before. You feel your phone buzz, the vibration affecting the rest of the couch. It was jeno, you pick up the phone and open the text.

You didn’t even realize how late it was again. [12:13] have you really been doing absolutely nothing for almost 6 hours!?

Man child

_____________________________________________

|| Man child -

Hey, interviews are over

|| Man child -

lm omw. I got takeout

- You ||

Alright!

_____________________________________________

You sit up and look around the living room. You’ve never cared wether or not it was clean before he came over before… so why now?

You spring to your feet and begin picking up plates and some cups to put them in the sink. Busying yourself with cleaning the dorm when you hear a pin being entered into your front door and the sound of the handle clicking. “Y/n?”

“In the kitchen!” You yell out to him while place the last cup on the drying rack. You can smell the food before you even see the bag. When jeno spears from behind the corner you shoot him a smile. He grins at you then places the food on the table. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie now. But he looked just as good as he did at the cafe. “Are you feeling better?” He asks turning to you while leaning on the granite counter.

He’s hoping it’s not awkward after that weird conversation at the cafe. He had wondered what had gotten into you. To busy with that thought to care much about the girl across from him.

“Mhm much better” you examine every inch of him. His face, his hair, his hands. And he watches you space out. “So what got you feeling unwell?” He asks, pushing himself off the counter and slowly nearing towards you. “First, how did the interviews go?” You place the towel you were using to dry your hand in the counter

“No, Why did you leave me?” He insists and you give in. With a big sigh you ready yourself to tell him the truth… tell him what he wants to hear*

“Sorry, I was just feeling a little overstimulated, I’m not sure why” yes the hell you did. “But I just needed some time alone” you continue and he listens with a soft smile.

“Don’t apologize pretty... Did you figure out why you were feeling overwhelmed?” He asks, his hand coming to move hair from your face. The action wasn’t supposed to make you feel the way you did. This is normal between you two… not weird… you aren’t supposed to be this affected.

You are so beautiful; he thought. Your in comfortable clothes now, but he thinks you look ten times better then at the cafe. If he didn’t have half a mind, he would kiss you right now.

“Yeah” you unintentionally lean into his palm when he tucks the hair behind you ear. Your eyes close in the process and he freezes. You looked like a cat, feeding into his touch. He caressed your face while smiling down at you.

“Yeah? … What was it?” He ask, taking his chances and taking a step closer. Your thighs touching his, before he wraps his arms around you, bringing you into a warm hug; which you reciprocate.

“You…”

You didn’t mean to say it, but you didn’t really seem to care what left your mouth when he was holding you. You felt safe.

“Me!?” He tries to pull away but you refuse.

“Please don’t let go” you grip tighter around him. Digging your face into his chest. “I was overwhelming you!?” He asks. His hands stay open, no longer loading into you. Jeno just watches you closely, but you won’t move.

“No, I mean.. it wasn’t anything you did”

“What does that mean? Are you upset with me? Is that why you left?”

“No. Jeno please just hold me for a moment” you finally look up at him. Your eyes pleading him to hug you. How could he refuse. His big arms wrap around you, squeezing you into him further. You can hear his heart beating, faster then normal. He continues to look down at you. He watches you stare at him.

“Jeno?”

“Y/n”

“Can I be the one you bring to meet your parents?” He can’t help but beam at the question. He felt giddy and light. He doesn’t care about anything right now, the only thought in is head is you.

“Finally…” he muttered. You feel like his head is moving closer to yours, but maybe that’s just your mind laying tricks on you.

“Finally? What does that mean? Is that a yes or a no?” You punch your eyebrows together and try your best to keep eye contact with him. “You don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?” You are about to pull away to ask another question, but Jenos hands move from your back to your hips and you can feel your body heat up. “Y/n you are quite oblivious” his head is definitely moving closer to yours. His eyes are stationed on your lips and yours on his. “Jeno?” he getting unbelievably closer, you begin to hold your breath, grabbing his forearms for leverage. “Y/n”

“Are you going to kiss me?” You watch his face closely.

“As soon as you say the words princess”

You let out a sigh and lift your hands to hold his face. “‘The words’” you whisper and he didn’t even get the time to laugh, your lips attached to his immediately. One of his hands come to cup you face. His lips are soft and it feels like a movie. I know it’s sounds cheesy, but the moon was so bright through your windows and the sound of wind could be heard from inside the apartment.

[12:59]

He tries pull away but you won’t allow him. Your lips chase his and he smiles into you. “Y/n”

“Yes?” You look up at him when he pulls away completely. “Your going to be my valentine.” You laugh at his seriousness. “Is that a question?”

“No”

He leans in again to peck a your lips

“Please. Let. Me. Take. You. To. The. Bedroom.” He asks between each kiss. “I haven’t even said it yet jeno”

He pulls away. “Said what?”

“That I like you, and I think that there’s definitely something between us” you joke, bitting your lip, and being as dramatic as possible.

“Congrats… You were the last to realize” he laughs when your face drops.

“Wait- are you serious?” He lets another laugh leave him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day y/n”

[1:01am] February 14th

[daydreamgoddess14]

Deserving

Part of the 200 Followers celebration! From the request for @onceuponaoneshot :

Roy Kent x F!Reader - "You deserve better"

Filthy smutty smut y'all. You've been warned! This is also a part 3 to Complaints Procedure & Noisy.

~~~~~

He was gone. 

 

You'd seen the tackle, watched from home as Jamie Tartt knocked him to the floor and damaged his knee for good. He hadn't needed to do anything for the paperwork, Ted had it all under control, and it allowed Roy the distance he needed from Nelson Road. You wondered if you'd even crossed his mind. The boot room hadn't been the end of it. You'd never instigated anything yourself, but he'd sought you out occasionally. You'd let him lose himself in you, always slightly demanding but never degrading, you'd challenge him and go toe to toe on who had the upper hand. He'd wanted to fuck his frustration and anger away and you were a willing participant. It was no strings, no commitments and while you knew it wouldn't last, you didn't expect him to just disappear without a backward glance. 

 

No one seemed to know how he'd fared since he was last seen at Nelson Road and you had no real reason to check in on him. So how you found yourself knocking on his door at 11pm on a random Tuesday night was utterly beyond comprehension. 

"The fuck are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too."

"I mean it, why are you here? Did he send you?"

"Ted? Why would you think that? I thought I'd check in and see how you were?" He grunted. 

"Or you fancied a good fuck?"

"Y'know what, forget I came. I didn't come here to be insulted." You turned to leave,

"No, praise is your thing isn't it? Like to be told you're a good girl." He sneered, leaning against the door frame. 

"Fuck you Roy, you're obviously fine. I'll leave you to it."

"What's up? You're usually into this little fucking game we play?"

"Yeah, when it's mutually good. You're just being a dick for the sake of it. I'm the idiot who thought you might need someone to talk to, I needn't have bothered." You're halfway up his drive when he responds.

"Don't go. At least come and have a drink. You can tell me all the shit everyone's been up to." You cock your head to one side, "I'm sorry for being a dick. I shouldn't have been rude to you." You still hesitate. "You're a sight for sore eyes. It's been too long."

"Who's fault is that?"

"Mine." He admits with a self conscious shrug. 

"You're fucking right it is." Your brushed passed him and into the house, "and I'll have a glass of wine please." You weren't new to small talk with Roy, though it did usually occur after he'd made you come multiple times. You made yourself comfortable on his sofa and watched him in the kitchen, pouring wine from the fridge for both of you. 

"I didn't mean to upset you." He puts the glass down in front of you. 

"You didn't. You know I'm not easily offended, but there's a difference between our usual tête-á-tête and you just being plain fucking mean after 3 months of solitary confinement."

"It's not been solitary."

"I heard you coach 9 year old girls now?"

"Who told you?"

"My niece is one of them, Quinn."

"She's fucking class."

"Hmm. Future England player maybe, according to my twat brother. You're still better than that, though," you drink more, looking for courage in the bottom of the glass, "and I wondered if you might call. More fool me."

"You don't want me to call."

"Says who? You?"

"You deserve better." He sighed. 

"Do I? Is that your conclusion or do I get to make my own?"

"Are you just going to keep questioning my opinion, or actually offer any of your own?" He countered. You smirked over the edge of your wine glass at his frustration.

"Well, you haven't let me have an opinion yet, have you? You've decided that I don't want you to call and that I deserve better, all by yourself. Shall I just submit all future decisions to you from now on?" He shook his head, 

"I've fucking missed your attitude." He stood, taking the empty glass from your hand and putting it on the table, and then gripped your wrist gently to pull you to standing. "I'd carry you, but -"

"You're a fucking idiot," you finished for him, reaching on your toes to kiss him. His arms circled your waist, 

"I'm a fucking idiot," he agreed with a mumble, his lips not leaving yours. You let him lead you to his bedroom. 

"An actual bed? Jesus Roy, you're spoiling me." You laugh, pulling his t-shirt off before taking a step back and slipping your own summer dress off and letting it fall to the floor. Your usual frenetic dalliances have meant that despite knowing your body intimately, he's never actually seen you naked. He drinks in the sight of you in summery coral lingerie in the dim lamplight, his eyes dark as you reach behind to unclip your bra and let it slide down your arms. You drop to your knees in front of him, pulling his shorts down over his hips. He's already half hard. You pull his shorts all the way off, and he steps out of them. On your way back to your goal, you pause just long enough to press a kiss to the inside of his bad knee. You hear the shaky breath leave his body and focus your attention elsewhere which allows him to do the same thing. This is not pity you try to convey with your actions. Your mouth waters in anticipation, all this hurried sex and you've never once had the chance to see him like this, to feel the weight of him in your mouth. You slide your tongue up the underside of his cock and swirl it around the hot tip. He rocks against you, his hands fisted at his side. You take his hands one at a time and put them on your head, looking up his long body to watch his reaction to you pumping his cock with kiss swollen lips. 

"Fuck me, you look so fucking good -" He rasps, his voice strained. You hum in agreement, the vibration running through his body. He tugs your hair lightly, the sensation sending waves of desire to your core and making your thighs rub together in desperation. When he pulls again, it's a request for you to stop, "I need to be inside you," he practically whimpers, pulling you up by the hand. You guide him the couple of steps back to the bed and he sits down heavily, dragging you into his lap as he does. You lift up onto your knees hands on his shoulders for balance as you line him up against you, shifting your underwear to one side. He cups your heavy breast with one hand while the other grabs the swell of your ass as you lower down onto him. With your thighs spread wide over his, the depth is incredible and takes a second to adjust to. His tongue follows his hand across your nipple, taking it into his mouth, rolling it and biting gently. It's enough to have you grinding against his cock and arching your back to have him fill you right to the hilt. Then he echoes the words you've always told him in a desperate whisper, "fuck me." Your forearms on his shoulders give you the perfect leverage to rise and fall on him over and over, the proximity means he's able to lavish attention on your breasts while his hands kneed and grasp your hips, helping you keep your rhythm while his cock splits you open. "God, you're so fucking beautiful," he groans, capturing your mouth in a rough, needy kiss. Considering your previous interactions left you the one feeling needy and yielding, you're currently feeling like the powerful one. He brings his hand up to your mouth, running his thumb across your bottom lip and letting you suck it. He uses it to brush against your clit and you lean back in his arms, partly to give him access and partly so he can watch as you take his cock. 

"See how you fill me up so perfectly?" You breathe, gasping as his circles against your clit bring you closer to release. "Do you even know what you do to me?" You ask, pulling him closer again with a kiss. "This is what I fucking want, this is what I deserve." You tell him. You'd say more, but your words have his hips stuttering as he comes inside you, the feeling pulling you over the edge with him and your words turning to incoherent affirmations and praise. His hands still your hips as you collapse into him, your head falling to the crook of his neck. He kisses your shoulder and up into the spot behind your ear that makes your body unintentionally buck against him. 

"Fucking hell, I'm never avoiding you for 3 months again. You'll be lucky if you get 3 minutes of peace from me ever again." He mutters, biting your earlobe. 

"Promise?" You ask with a low laugh. 

 

FIN

[ohforficsakelibrary]

Woodsmoke

masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Gender Neutral Reader. No physical descriptions of reader beyond having hair. Reader has a cat. Established but new-ish, implied long-distance-ish relationship.

Summary: Life has been running you ragged lately, but someone is waiting for you when you get home. For a moment, you don't have to be strong.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of difficult family life, attending therapy, absent parents, wounded inner child, loneliness as a general theme. If I've missed anything, please do tell me.

Word Count: ~1.6K

Rating: General? Two curse words and some kissin'. The remainder of my work is 18+ / minors DNI.

A/N: I do not know about y'all but I have been going through it lately. And Frankie Morales is my comfort character. This is not along the lines of my usual writing, and for that reason, I haven't tagged anyone. But I'm sharing it on the off chance that you, like me, just need a hug. I know this time of year isn't the easiest for a lot of us, and I hope maybe this gives you a little comfort. Comfort!Frankie, if you will. Please heed the warnings and read with care.

You are worthy of love.

You don’t have time to cry.

Not right now, on this highway, snowflakes flying towards you like crystalline stars at a speed twenty miles per hour slower than the speed you’d be moving at if they weren’t.

You can’t see the lines on the road even without tears in your eyes.

One thing at a time.

Like everything lately.

Just follow the tracks of the car in front of you until it gets you home.

Home to your house that’s empty save for a grumpy tabby cat.

Most days you swear your existence hinges on his.

He’s been your thing to look forward to for the last fifteen years.

Well, and Frankie is visiting this week. 

Provided that this storm doesn’t shut the airport down.

Fuck.

It’s not that you hadn’t been doing well without him. 

It’s that you hadn’t been doing well.

Too long without a mental break. Exhaustion that seeps with the cold into your bones.

Too many things on a to-do list that you can’t bring yourself to do on the weekends because it’s too long and your own time is so short.

Maybe it’s some malefic arrangement of stars and planets, perhaps.

You haven’t even started buying holiday gifts. 

And it sends you face-first into the dread of making a trip back home.

The place that was supposed to be your home.

And dread is the correct word, even if your therapist says you're making real progress. 

See, the thing is, your therapist doesn’t have to sit in the contents of the box of shit you dug out from the corner of your brain and emptied all over the floor of your mind.

She only helps you sort through it every other Tuesday.

It was in the box for a reason.

It was easier to carry that way.

_____

When finally you pull into your driveway and step out into fresh snow, it’s the smell that hits you first.

Woodsmoke.

Someone has started up the wood stove so that you don’t go cold, but you hadn’t been expecting company. You figure it’s your best friend who has a key and a standing invitation, and you’re not necessarily opposed to them being here. 

Sharing a bottle of wine would probably do you some good.

You stomp snow from your shoes and step inside to offer your layers to the hooks on the wall of the mudroom before you catch sight of the boots in the tray as you toe yours off.

“Frankie?!”

“One sec, babe!”

Frankie.

You wrench open the door that leads through to the kitchen and catch sight of him in front of the sink where he’s draining steaming water from a pot of pasta.

He looks up at you across the kitchen and winks.

“Frankie,” you breathe and he quickly pops the pot back onto a dead burner, slinging oven mitts off a fraction of a second before you collide with his chest.

“Baby,” he whispers, locking you in with an arm around the small of your back and the other at the nape of your neck. 

He smells of woodsmoke and cedar and Frankie.

Smells like home.

“You weren’t supposed to be here for another two days,” you pull back and look up into brown eyes framed by mirth-filled creases.

“I was keeping an eye on the weather,” he urges you against him again to nuzzle into your hair, “didn’t want to wait. There’s another front coming behind this one. Took an Uber from the airport. Got in about an hour ago.”

Pilots and their forecasts.

“I’m glad you didn’t wait.”

“So am I,” he tilts your chin up and presses his lips to yours. Soft and sweet. Perfect.

“I made pasta, thought you’d be hungry when you got in.” He grins against your mouth before turning back to the stove to stir tomato sauce. “There wasn’t much in the fridge, but there’s plenty for tonight.” Frankie turns off the burner.

And it’s so new, having a man in your kitchen. 

Making you dinner.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I haven’t had the chance to go to the store,” you rake a hand through your hair as he winds a corkscrew into a bottle of wine.

So new, having arms to fall into.

“Don't apologize, babe. We’ll go tomorrow,” he sneaks another kiss as he fills your glass, one hand absently rubbing your back as he does. “Oh, I also fed the cat,” he points to stacked tins of cat food near the fridge, “from that, hope that was okay,” he fills his own glass. “He was hungry and he was insisting on spaghetti but I figured that’s not…”

“Thank you.”

It’s not more than a trembling whisper.

Because you’re fighting back tears.

This man warmed your house and poured you wine and fed your cat and made you a meal.

Because he cares.

Someone cares.

For you.

“Oh, hey no no no, cariño, what’s wrong?” He replaces his glass on the counter and cups your face in one massive palm.

Soothing with a gentle thumb over your cheekbone.

“This is so nice,” you breathe and the tears finally blur his face. “I just—no one has ever done this for me before.” 

It leaves your mouth slowly, like you're not even sure if you can say it.

If you're allowed.

Your view is quickly replaced by the grey and red of his sweater.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do, baby.”

And it makes your chest heave with the sobs you can’t hold in any longer as you wrap your arms around his waist, sinking into the way he presses you tighter against his heart.

The wool of his jumper eager to collect all of the tears you haven’t had time to cry. 

Because time stands still here, wrapped tight in his embrace.

And Francisco isn’t afraid of your mess.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

He doesn’t ask.

Instead, he tiptoes around the debris of that box to where you weep in the center of the chaos.

To where the child sits with hot tears streaming down their face.

And he looks straight into the heart of you with eyes as soft as the toy you clutch to your chest for comfort.

And offers himself instead.

He offers the breadth of his chest and the strong panes of his back. The vice grip of his arms and the gentle soothing of a palm.

He offers his whole self.

In the stead of the affection you were never given and so learned too well to do without.

In the stead of the wire-framed mother.

In the stead of the shell that should have been a father.

In the stead of all of the unkind words you clung to in the belief that they must be true.

For why else would they not love a child in the way that a child needs love?

For why else were you left lonely for so long?

And the back of your throat goes sore with the burn of his kindness.

Kindness that you still don’t believe you deserve.

“Put it down, baby. Let it go.”

Where Life asked you to soothe yourself.

“I’m here.”

Life offers him to you now. 

For Life, it seems, has taken pity on you.

Or perhaps It grew weary of how your grief made It ache.

“I’m here now.”

And so It proffered this apology.

One that you accept in the form of skin and muscle. Bones and blood.

A soft-hearted one with big kind eyes.

And Frankie holds you until the sobbing eases.

And thumbs the tears from your lashes.

Plush lips soften into a crooked smile.

"Are you hungry, cariño?" Whispered softly.

"Yeah," you murmur because you suppose you are.

"Can we sit by the wood stove?" He turns you towards the living room and lays a kiss at the crown of your head.

"Yeah, yeah of course."

"Good, because it's fucking freezing." And that finally pulls a laugh from your throat. "Go on," he smacks you lightly on the bum, "I'll bring you a plate."

You grab both glasses of wine and toss a few throw pillows on the floor before Frankie settles next to you with two shallow bowls heaped with pasta.

_____

When you've finished dinner, plates stacked on the coffee table, cat napping on a throw pillow near the pair of you, Frankie sits back against the sofa and pulls you to sit at his side.

"I'm sorry that I..."

"No," Frankie cuts you off and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Don't ever apologize to me for feeling, baby."

And you stare down into the dregs of your wine.

"Promise," he prompts with a nudge of his arm.

You look up at him through tired, but grateful eyes. "I promise, Frankie."

"Good," and he kisses you slowly, all warm lips and soft moans.

He regales you with stories from his latest trip until you settle in against him, head tucked under his chin. Lulled by the rise and fall of his breath.

You let him hold you here, with one arm wrapped around your shoulders.

Safe by the gentle heat of a dying fire.

You'll be yourself again tomorrow.

But tonight you allow yourself this.

Frankie kisses into your hairline as you drift between this word and sleep. Your weight against him is soothing as he finishes the last of the wine, eyes trained on the windows beyond, tracking the path of snowflakes on their way to meet the earth again.

"Te comprendo, cariño," he murmurs, resting his cheek against your crown.

"Y creo que te amo."

[unsupervised-meatsuit]

Inconveniences, Cultists, and the Warehouse of Rejected Toys

Cross posted on AO3!

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

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

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

But Thursdays? Thursdays are the worst.

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

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

Or maybe that is just Marinette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

I'll show him 'Adorable.'

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

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

Time to get to work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

"I am never going to unsee that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Here's the plan-!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's not like I can do much else.

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

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

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

And... maybe a little intrigued.

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

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

This is perfect!

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

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

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

And by the Kwami, is she glad she did.

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

'FAST ACTING, WATER ACTIVATED SUPER GLUE POWDER'

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

Bruce loved his kids, he really did.

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

Bruce loved his kids.

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

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

But sometimes?

Sometimes he really wished he could give them back.

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

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

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

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

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

I love my kids.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…that was adorable.

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

Oh shit-

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

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

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

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

"I had cats as a kid."

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

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

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

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

"Those are rats you fucking dumbass-"

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

"That is an unholy amount of glitter."

Marinette paused, a grin pressing against her hands.

I take it back. Worth it.

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

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

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

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

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

Onto the next!

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

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

Probably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why Thursdays?"

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

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

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

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

"Again?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why."

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

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

No pressure.

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

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

But she did, she knew she did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, good.

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

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

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

"Probably." She agreed

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

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

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

Step Five: It All Falls Down.

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

Go time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it all fell down.

----

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

Jason was not laughing now.

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

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

Screaming laughter.

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

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

It was chaos.

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

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

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

And another tripwire.

And then another tripwire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason was gaping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think I might be in love.

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

… What?

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

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

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

What the hell happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"B, DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!"

[bonny-kookoo]

OK OK OK so we've seen Sugar (C)Rush jk a little bit jelly with mc but maybe could we possibly see mc jealous concerning jk?👀 if you've already done this could you PLEASE direct me to the drabble?? Sorry, I just LOVE this couple so much❤❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

'That wolf is oh so pretty' is all you can think as you watch her check in for her appointment today.

She's tall, and athletic, and has the most beautiful white and grey wolf features you've ever seen. It's very clear that she takes good care of herself, her own confidence not too overbearing either. She's nice too. And it makes you want to just.. hide.

You watch quietly as she follows Jungkook into his workspace, disappearing inside the room with him before the curtain behind her closes, and all that's in your head is just how good they looked together. He seemed to like her too. How could he not?

Maybe you should go home. It's pretty evident how he'd smiled at her and how he'd reassured her with his hand on her shoulder, that there might be some sort of interest going on. He's not yet openly asked you out either, too. So, in a way, you're still both single right?

You zip up your bag before you walk out the door, leaving Taehyung confused at the front as he looks after you.

In his work room, Jungkook starts to do his job as the wolf hybrid laying on the stretcher chimes up. "Do you know the pretty dog girl sitting in the waiting room?" She asks him, and he nods. "She's so cute- is she your next client?"

"No, but I'm taking her out for dinner later after work, so hands off." He chuckles playfully intimidating. "I'm planning on asking her out."

"Oow Jungkook no! Why do you always catch the pretty girls?!" She complains. "You're clearly way too buff for her. That girl needs someone gentle, not a rough dog like you." She teasingly tells him, and he shakes his head.

"I can be gentle too, thank you very much.." he growls to himself, making her laugh.

When Taehyung however knocks against the doorway of Jungkooks room a little later, the artist simply turns his ears towards his friend and hums a reply while he continues to work on his client, the white wolf hybrid laying comfortably on the stretcher while he continues the shading the last bits of her tattoo. "Hey uh, sorry to burst in like that-" He offers kindly, before looking at Jungkook. "But your puppygirl just left. Just wanted to let you know."

"Huh?" He frowns to himself. "Did she say why?" He asks, confused.

"No, just got up and left. Did you two fight?" He wonders.

"No, not that I know of." Jungkook sighs, finishing the last but before he wipes the skin clean and turns to Taehyung. "Can you call her? Maybe something came up." He shrugs, unaware of the real reason. "I'll finish here, please remind her I'll pick her up at 7 tonight." He requests, and Taehyung nods.

But when he calls you, and tells you just that, you seem torn on the other end of the line. "Uhm.. actually, I can't. Sorry, I'm not feeling well. My heat is probably coming sooner this month." You lie, and hang up, leaving Taehyung more confused than before.

"Alright, you've got everything now." Jungkook nods, and the white wolf nods.

"You've got my number in case you blow it with the pretty dog. You know, so I can be the shoulder she cries on." She winks, trying to lift the mood, but Jungkook just jokingly growls.

"Get out!" He barks at her, and she laughs before leaving. "Did you call her?"

"I did-" Tae nods. "But she said she can't tonight. Something about her heat coming sooner, I don't know." He explains, and Jungkook sighs.

"Thanks, I'll see you on Tuesday." The wolf says his goodbyes, before leaving the shop.

And outside, he somehow has a feeling in his gut that your heat might be a complete and utter lie to get away from him again.

But why?

[delayed-affection]

hello 🙌

Could you write something about Pyotr kochetkov, anything you want..

there isn't as much content from this guy as I'd like 😓

Thank you 🤍

Unrequited Love

Oneshots Navigation

Pyotr Kochetkov x reader

Warnings: Like four Russian words but they are translated

A/n: He speaks very little English in real life but for the sake of the fic he knows a little more

Word count: 0.8k

You’ve been pining over Pyotr since you’ve met him. Working for the team however means you can’t do anything about it.

So you made the decision to just keep your feelings to yourself but with that meant you could at least be friends with him.

And you did, you actually became close friends with him, maybe too close of friends.

~

With it being the off season meant that you and Pyotr were spending more one on one time.

As of now he sits next to you on your couch telling you all about how his brother is coming to visit from Russia.

He tells you about the times they spent together as children and how much he's been missing him.

As he talks, you can see the joy and excitement in his face and it might seem a little selfish but you being to wonder if he lights up this way when talking about you. If he talks about you and if he does, who has he told?

More questions being to flood your mind, does he find you as fascinating and interesting as you find him? Does he speak about you to others with the same passion and affection?

You try to push your thoughts aside and focus on his excitement about his brother's visit becomes really hard after awhile.

~

Getting drunk with Pyotr on a random Tuesday night was not ideal, especially considering that he likes to try and have deep conversations while constantly switching between English and Russian.

When he switches to Russian, you’re completely out of your depth and have no idea what he's saying. But rather than tell him that, you just smiles and nods along, trying to understand.

You knows he's trying to say something profound, but all you can do is laugh to yourself as you takes another shot.

He had just gone on a twenty minute talk about how being a goalie can’t be compared to anything else because it is the scariest and most important position to play.

He then falls silent looking down at the vodka bottle in his hand.

He chuckles, “You know… I can’t imagine myself having…”

He takes a second to think, “Having… a… I forget English word for it but Подруга.” (Girlfriend)

You scrunchie your eyebrows trying to think of the word he’s trying to say, his slight slur is not helping.

He leans forward and takes a shot, “You picture me with one?”

Seeing your confused face so he tries to explain, “Боже мой, uh, Подруга… uh, you know a lover, right?” (Oh my god, girlfriend)

If the alcohol wasn’t making you hot already then that question certainly would.

You let out an awkward laugh, “You don’t see yourself with someone?”

He shakes his head, “No, never home. No need.”

You had no reason to be upset about his answer because it was a solid answer and dating someone that worked for his team probably never crossed his mind.

But it did make you a little sad knowing that he wasn’t looking for anyone or anything.

~

The two of you sit inside a Starbucks, tucked away in the corner.

You’re typing somethings out for work while he watches as people walk in and out. Your sitting in comfortable silence, something you two did quite often here.

Until someone walks in and catches Pyotr’s eye.

He nudges your hand making you look at him, “смотреть, she cute, no?” (Look)

You follow his gaze and you’re not going to lie to yourself, she’s a very pretty girl.

You turn back to your laptop and nod, “mhm.”

“I go talk to her?” He asks glancing from you to her.

Your brain is working in overdrive, you don’t know what to think or say. You’re aware that that you can’t keep him for yourself but you never thought he would ask you if he should go flirt with someone.

You hesitate for a moment before saying, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t like your hesitation, “Do you think she has lover?”

You tilt your head and shrug, “Maybe.”

That’s not a yes so that encourages him a bit.

He sits a up straight and looks at you, “You help me? You know translation.”

You really don’t want to be his wingman, “I don’t know much.”

He stands up and grabs his drink, “That is fine. Come.”

And that’s when you knew the little fantasy of you two ever being together was over. He truly only saw you as a friend, a good enough friend that he wants to help him flirt.

It was never going to happen and who knows it might be for the better.

[wespirallin]

sweet tooth fanfic idea

Okay so people, I just finished watching the last season of Sweet Tooth on Netflix, and holy moly is it so good. I had a few fanfic ideas that I hoped were already written, but if you're in the community, you've realized by now that we're kinda small.

So I decided to write my own (yay!!). I don't wanna give any spoilers but it's going to be about a bird hybrid oc (Mack) that's found and semi-raised by the Animal Army.

I want to focus on a few specific (all platonic so far) relationships Mack has and how his character grows as the seasons progress. I literally just wrote chapter one of the fic and decided to come talk about it on tumblr lol.

Anyway, here's the first chapter. It's more like a prologue that features Mack's dad who is going to be very relevant to the story later on.

Chapter 1 / prologue

It was just a regular Tuesday for Benjamin Crane when the end of the world hit. Well, at least when shit started to get actually real. Perhaps dumbing down the Great Crumble to a specific day wasn’t the most accurate way of looking at history, but it helped keep him sane. 

It was the end of a long shift for Benjamin and he just wanted to go home to his wife, but he had one more argument to get through.

“Sam, I already told you. We had Room 3 booked from the very start of the week. Everything’s already prepped up for the surgery tomorrow. I can’t just bail out of it. The patient -hell the kid's family is counting on me.”

“So?”, dared to ask his collogue “I still don’t get how you can’t just rope Sthe new guy teve in. He has no major operations on for tomorrow as far as I know. And he’s more than capable of getting the job done. Not to burst your ego bubble, Benji but you’re as replaceable as the rest of us mate”

Benjamin made an incredulous expression. “Well if I’m ‘perfectly replaceable’, why don’t you go find another guy to help you co-op your operation?” he scowled.

“Come on, you know I need a plastic surgeon for this. There’s no way I can reconstruct that hand on my own. And last I checked, there wasn’t another one of you guys in the market. So you’re my best shot. You in or out?”, pleaded the surgeon.

Normally, Sam wouldn’t have needed another pair of hands to help him out, however, this one was a special case. The patient was a 20-year-old guy, who got his hand caught in a machine of sorts. According to the X-ray results, the hand was broken from multiple different places, and several tendons were snapped. As a general surgeon, hands weren’t Sam’s specialty. And no matter how much pride he had in his abilities, he knew when to ask for help. Even when it killed him inside. Even when it was from his best friend/arch-enemy (who was way too arrogant for his own good).

The argument was interrupted by the blaring alarm of an incoming ambulance. That was nothing out of the ordinary, seeing that the two colleagues were in the break area just outside the ER. Just as Benji opened his mouth the reply, the doors of the ambulance flew open and a team of medical personnel (who were decked out in hazmat suits for some reason) rushed a stretcher into the ER.

The two barely had the chance to take a look at the patient before she was out of sight. The woman looked deathly pale and her face had a sickly yellow hue to it along with beads of sweat that had drenched her hair and clothes. The skin around her nose and eyes were red and if Benji looked close enough, he was sure that he could see a few exposed arteries. The one thing that had unsettled both men was the rapidly twitching pinkie finger, which seemed to be the only sign of life from the patient.

After losing about five percent of the population of Earth, the Sick had seemed to be taken under control. The hospitals around the world had had about a month of Sick-less break until now. It seemed that another wave of the Sick was incoming.

Benji grimaced and bit his lip.

“That was…”

“Unsettling as fuck.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“You think it’s back?”,  Sam tried to steady his voice. 

He had lost his wife and kids to the first wave. Benji’s heart ached for him but he pushed the bitter feelings down. Getting sentimental never helped anyone. It hadn’t helped the woman he saw as a sister nor had it helped the two little innocent children he loved as his nieces.

“I don’t think it was ever gone in the first place” Benji answered honestly and took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

The lingering hazmat team outside the ER didn’t help settle any of their nerves, but they had more pressing matters to get back to. Sam patted Benji’s shoulder a few times before opening his mouth to speak.

“Think about it yeah? You still have the rest of the afternoon to think about it, but be quick. Promise, I’ll organize everything and I’ll talk to Steve. See if he’s up for covering your little case of local anesthesia.”  

Benji snorted at that and shook his head in disbelief. What part of a ‘3-hour very important surgery’ did his friend not understand?

The patient up next was a nine year old kid that had fallen on his face. His parents had said that he slipped from some monkey bars. A broken nose and . It was nothing that major compared to what Benji usually dealt with, but these were the relatives of a friend he was talking about. Benji pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, damn had he missed the old days where all he had to do was get in and out of a surgery. Managing the scheduling of the patients without any secretarial help in a collapsing world wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.

The hospital was short of staff at the moment, as it constantly was after the new ‘Sick Pandemic’ had broken out. Almost all of the nurses and other staff were either dead or transferred to ER or to the patient care areas that were heavily quarrantiened. 

Finally, he let out a sigh of defeat and grunted. Hand operations were his favorite anyways.

“Fine, but I’m not organizing shit -and the beers on Friday are on you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very grumpy and pregnant wife to go back to.” 

Sam forgot about the topic at hand at the mention of Pemma, a school friend of his. He let out an excited chuckle. He clapped Mikey’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget? Congratulations dude! I’m so happy for you two. Finally, becoming parents eh? Say hi to Pemma and Sam Jr for me yeah?”

“Sam for the last time, we’re not naming my child Sam Jr!”

“Pleaaseee? And it’s a unisex name. It can be short for Samantha if it’s a girl, or for Samuel or whatever that starts with Sam. Or it can be just Sam if it decides to be non binary or something one day! See? Win-win.”

The younger man gave him an unimpressed look and raised an eyebrow.

“Sam, my kid is not going to be nonbinary. See you tomorrow for the surgery, idiot.”

Benji pushed past Sam and walked toward his car. Now he had a very unpleasant phone call to make to the family of the kid he was supposed to operate the next day.

Benjamin Crane drove straight home, completely unsuspecting of what the future had in store for him, his wife, and his soon-to-be-born child.

Okay so that was that. Some feedback would be very welcome because I feel lost on which platform to post it on or if it would get any traction at all. I'd probably keep working on it tbh just to scratch that writing itch inside me but oh well. We'll see. Go watch sweet tooth if you haven't yet btw, it's amazing.

[anamoon63]

Hi guys, I am writing this in case anyone wonders why I have been kind of MIA lately. No, I haven't forgotten you, but I have had a difficult week, more than a difficult week, I have been through a real ordeal. Where or how it started it's a long story which I don't have the time or the energy to tell, so I'll just share a brief chronology of what happened during this past week.

Friday May 3 - I turned in my finished work and set out to do my sims posts, play and rest for the weekend since more work would be coming my way on Monday.

Saturday May 4 - My husband came down with the flu, I spent most of the day with him in the emergency room.

Sunday May 5 - I spent it taking care of my husband, who fortunately no longer had a fever. I barely slept two hours at night giving care and medication.

Monday 6 May - My birthday, we couldn't go out for dinner as usual, so we celebrated at home.

Tuesday, May 7 - My son comes down with the flu, too, another afternoon in the ER and sleepless night caring for him and bringing down his fever.

Wednesday, May 8 - My son starts to feel better, and begins to recover very quickly. I start working on the following translations, at the same time I take care of both my husband and my sick son, do food, laundry, order home medicines, and all kinds of small chores, including disinfecting things. It's like going back to 2020.

Thursday, May 9 - My husband no longer has a fever but does have a cough that won't go away and minor problems with his asthma.

Friday, May 10 - Mother's Day, my son was feeling fine, my husband still had a cough, and had a doctor's appointment at noon, when he returned, we celebrated at home just like on my birthday, I spent the rest of the day working, and juggling a thousand other things. In the evening my daughter started to feel sick, but still no fever.

Saturday, May 11 (yesterday) - My daughter woke up with a fever, another visit to the ER. She was prescribed flu medicine, painkillers and rest, and sent home.

And that's my odyssey so far. On top of it all, from Wednesday through Saturday we were in the middle of a heat wave with temperatures of 37ºC with real feel of up to 45ºC; at night we get a "cooler" temperature of 29ºC. So imagine a person with a fever of 38 ºC and with this heat, obviously it's not of much help.

Surprisingly, I haven't gotten sick so far, but I'm not claiming victory. I have been taking care of my family for a week, sleeping two or three hours a night, getting up at different times to check on them, or give them medicine. I don't have time for getting sick! Lol. Thankfully, everyone is better and last night for the first time in a week I was able to sleep straight through. Honestly, I don't need many hours of sleep, but I am routinely and usually I am in bed a 11 pm and up at 8 am every day, so all this did upset my sleep cycle a little bit.

Anyway, that is the reason why I wasn't here much, since the whole day I was too busy, and at night I was so tired all I wanted was to go to bed. I apologize if I've fallen behind on your updates, I'm not ignoring you in any way, I just didn't have the strength or the time, not even to play The Sims. If I did, it was just a little free play to distract myself.

Last week I told you that I was juggling a lot of things, well now I have even more things, lol, at times I feel really exhausted, and even a little cranky from lack of sleep, the first few days my feet and legs hurt so much from going back and forth, but I'm fine, healthy, and in good spirits. Today I believe, as never before, that the universe does not send you more than you can handle.

At this point my family is already in recovery, if I don't get sick too, it's likely by I'll be able to get back to my simming routine. Now, if I do get sick, I hope to recover as quickly as the others. Whatever happens, I'll be around. Know that, even if I don't comment, I read you, and I am with you, especially with those who are going through difficult times of any kind.

Ok, I said to myself this was going to be a short post, but I made a wall of text instead (for a change). My apologies if it's written in a sloppy or confusing way, I just wanted to write it quickly to let you know where I have been and what has been going on with me these days. I hope you are all well, please take care of yourselves, health is a treasure that can be lost at any moment, the flu is a nasty disease, we must never let our guard down and forget to take the necessary measures to prevent it.

Last, but not least, I want to thank all of you who have mentioned me, tagged me, sent me asks and/or stars to my inbox, commented and/or liked what few posts I could do these days, I appreciate it very much and I'll try to reply to you as soon as I can, though I've fallen so far behind that I don't know if I'll be able to find your mentions in my notifications. In any case, thank you very, very much to all of you for thinking about me in my absence. 💗 I'll see you soon, hopefully, with more sim adventures, stay tuned!

[thatfreshi]

Radio Silent (Uni AU P. 10)

tw - mentions of abuse, themes of anxiety, general insecurity

The night fizzles out the way you expect it to, disappearing without a word to your friends in the diner, letting your new, yet reluctant friend, drive you home. You'd simply deal with Shadowheart when she got back to the dorm.

Just as Astarion said, he's gone the next morning, but the two of you text quite often. He finds it easier to talk to you through pixels on a screen, where he can pretend like you're not this very real person who knows far too much about him. On the plane ride to LA, he doesn't sleep, which isn't odd for him. Instead, he thinks about the past couple of days and how you've wriggled your way into his life, into his head. Instead of trying to put his feelings into tangible sentences, he makes a playlist while waiting the hours away and catches up on some much-needed reading.

Thursday comes around, and the group is pissed at him, as you expected them to be.

"Damnit, he's the reason we picked my lunch break to do this during anyways! You think he'd at least stick to plans like a reasonable individual."

"Gale, it's not like he chose to go on a spur-of-the-moment trip to California. It's a work thing, not in his control."

You almost sound a little angry when the words come out, knowing that he's probably going through some hell that all your friends don't know about. Gale picks up on this sentiment, and leaves the conversation at that, mumbling something about how they'll all just update him on the project details later. Indeed, you all talk in the group chat with him about plans for the upcoming assignment, which he sporadically responds to. Although, he always responds to your texts, even if he ignores the group chat. Astarion argues with himself about it in his head, trying to reason with himself, saying things like 'it's just because the group chat is overwhelming.' For how good of a liar he is, he's not good at lying to himself.

Friday morning, he goes radio silent, which you're not concerned by at first. He's busy, probably busier than you've ever been in your life. Yet, he had made time to text you since Monday night. It starts to worry you when Saturday and Sunday both pass with nothing new. You hold yourself back from asking if everything's alright, knowing if something is stressing him out it's probably better to just let him deal with it and get back to you. And yet, you don't talk to him until he's back, and you're not even the first one to hear that he's back on campus.

"Oh yeah, I saw him in the elevator earlier. Tried being nice like you said, I even waved! You should be proud. Doesn't seem like he appreciated it though."

Shadow rolls her eyes, almost covered by her bangs that she desperately needs to trim. You're not sure exactly why, but you rush to his dorm room, knocking frantically. It's Monday night, which is surprising. You could've sworn he said he'd be back Tuesday morning, but maybe you misremembered. The door creaks open.

"Oh, hello Tav."

Astarion's eyes are weary, which you chalk up to not being able to sleep on the plane.

"Hello? You haven't texted me since Thursday, what the hell? I thought you like died or something."

"Nope, not dead, very much alive. Got wrapped up in some work affairs over the weekend, fashion people can be quite dramatic. Either way, I apologize. I'm still quite new to the 'having a genuine friend' thing."

"Well, how's your arm?"

He scoffs.

"It's... it's fine. Weird to have someone ask."

At this point, he's opened the door and let you in. You're welcomed to a sight of half un-packed luggage and a stack of leather binded books on the coffee table.

"Holy shit Astarion, did you rob a bookstore while you were in California?"

"Nope, all from the library. Missing out on a week of school when you're a senior here comes with its disadvantages. For example, I have had no time to work on my thesis essay, and I've barely even unpacked from the trip itself. Although, I did snag this."

He takes out a garment bag that has been carefully finessed to fit in his suitcase without wrinkling whatever is hidden inside. His fingers nimbly move to unzip the bag, revealing a white faux fur coat.

"Now, do I wear too much white? Absolutely, but passing up on this? I could never."

You almost feel bad, not knowing anything about clothes or what makes them cool, but to your credit, you know it's a nice coat. He slips it on, happy with his latest thievery.

"Well, what do you think? Is it stunning, or is it stunning?"

In that moment, while you're about to make some quip like 'go look for yourself, you realize he has no mirrors in the dorm, not even in the bathroom that you've only ever caught a glance of.

"I would say look for yourself, but you don't have any mirrors. That's shocking."

"Well, I had the one in the bathroom removed. Guess I'm just not particularly a fan of reflections."

"How come?"

He stares at a detail on the sleeve of the coat.

"You get tired of seeing your face after a while."

"Well, I think it looks fabulous, and so do you."

"Wish I felt just as fabulous."

He lets out a small laugh, shrugging his way out of the blinding fabric. There's something left unsaid in the air, you can feel it as he goes to hang up his new treasure.

"What really happened this weekend?"

Astarion tenses, almost dropping the hanger he so delicately placed the jacket on.

"I... I'd rather not say. I know I told you a lot the other night, but there are truly some things best left as skeletons in the closet. Maybe in time, but not today. I can't today."

"That's okay. I was just worried, that's all."

"Funny, I'm so used to people prying all the time. It's pleasant, getting to have secrets when I talk to you."

He comes back out into the living room.

"Would you like to stay for a while? You don't have to help unpack or anything, just be here."

"Sure, as long as you don't mind. And I would gladly help you unpack. Besides, you have a master thesis to get back to."

"I suppose I do. Thanks, I won't forget this."

"What, like you need to trade some favor back or something? Because that's not necessary."

"You're too nice for your own good."

The pale man puts some soft R&B on, and the two of you go ahead and start putting all his things away. Although, he doesn't let you handle any of his nice clothes. You learn that the hard way when he bats your hand away from a pair of very expensive jeans.

"They're just jeans, I promise I won't taint them!"

"Yes, they are just jeans, but they're also 800-dollar jeans, and I am not risking it."

You continue to ask him about various articles of clothing, what shoots he took them from. He remembers every single one. Although, he does skip out on some details, brushing past parts of his tales without a second thought. You don't mind though, knowing it's probably just things he isn't ready to talk about. At some point you become distracted by the stack of books on the nearby table, and start looking at all the titles. They're all related to ethics, morality, or philosophy in some way, but particularly focused on the psychology of abusers and the abused.

"I thought you weren't a philosophy person?"

Astarion's voice almost makes you jump, taking you out of reading the back of one of the books.

"Is this what you're doing your thesis on?"

"I mean I'd like to, but I'm still not sure. Feel as though the head of the department will be surprised when I present it to him."

"How come?"

"Because I've always made my projects, lifeless, I guess. I've always written and studied by the book, never touched on emotional topics. Just don't want people asking questions."

"So, what specifically are you going to look into?"

"The philosophy of abusers, how power imbalances change our moral codes, that kind of thing."

You lightly place the book back in the stack.

"I think you should do it. If anyone asks, just say you were curious about it."

"That's true, I am known to be quite curious. Now, are you going to help me with the rest of this, or have you given up?"

The night passes by too fast for his liking, as the two of you talk while he prepares for the week ahead. It's past midnight when you finally check your phone, seeing that you've received a couple of cheeky messages about your absence from Shadow.

"Is it late already?"

Astarion checks him phone as well.

"Perhaps it's time for you to go get some sleep darling. After all, not everyone is as extreme of an insomniac as I am."

"Yeah, I guess I should probably get back. Happy you're back though, and that you're okay."

Without really thinking about it, you go for a side hug, and make your way to the door.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow Tav."

And his smile is warmer than normal, knowing there's something to look forward to after a torturous night of barely any sleep. Maybe opening up to a single soul isn't so bad after all.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Tuesday evening all :)

We’ve reached the conclusion of this Two parter. One of the most seminal and iconic moments for them. Not only as a ship but as characters. One of my all time favorite episodes. It’s the one where most people if they weren’t shipping them before they were after this. I was already locked and loaded for them at this point. This one added massive fuel to the fire though. Turned it into an inferno for me.

Also a chunk of the gifs I’m using are of Tim’s reactions through out the ep from a wonderful set I found. Would like to name it ‘Tim I can crush you with just my facial expressions. Let me count the ways Bradford. ‘ LOL let’s delve in shall we?

2x11 Day Of Death

We start this immense adrenaline rush of an episode with Lucy. She’s waking up and Caleb is tattooing her DOD tattoo on her. Then the sick MOFO asks Lucy if she knows what it is? She doesn’t answer at first. He says ‘Tell Me.’ Lucy looks down and sees her tattoo. Shakily replies ‘My day of death…’ He smiles sickly and we hit the opening credits. I hate him so much. Ugh.

Jackson notices Lucy isn’t home and figures her date went well. He arrives at work and finds her still missing. Checks in with Nolan asking if he’s seen her? He has not..They weigh telling Grey they don’t want her get dinged if she’s just late. They ask Harper if she’s seen Lucy. She says no and can sense more to their questions than they're saying. They start chatting if they should tell Grey. Nyla doesn’t waste a second before pulling Grey and Tim into it. Love this woman.

Tim’s face during the whole scene hits me right in the gut. This entire episode is an emotional gut punch honestly. This is the moment the worry and anxiety start their stranglehold on him and don't let go. His face goes through stages. First is realization then the outright panic and worry kick into gear. Tim licks his lips out of anxiety. He’s piecing the puzzle together and is absolutely terrified at the possible result.

Grey is the voice of reason during this entire scene. It’s much needed. Tim has a ton of info on this idiot. He immediately presents it. This is way of controlling his worry and panic. Tim can control where this whole thing starts at least. He has info they can use to easily verify if he is a real threat. Good thing he grilled Caleb so much. Rattles off his name, where he supposedly works, social media page etc Grey tells Tim to take Jackson and run a background check with Armstrong. They all split off with jobs to do. Love they were on it immediately for her. All hands on deck right away.

Nick is looking up ‘Caleb Wright’ and says he doesn’t exist... Tim instantly marches over to Armstrong's desk Says that can't be correct. He just saw it the other day. The anxiety continues to build for him. It’s written all over Tim's face. The panic and worry is starting to mount for him quickly. Eric is the king of expressions as we all know. This episode he kills me softly with them. Tim for the first time, is showing exactly how he’s feeling around everyone. Usually only Lucy gets to see this but not today.

No compartmentalization for him. Today he is an open book of anger, anxiety, and pent up stress. We truly get a look into how much he cares about Lucy. The weight he feels for putting someone he cares about in danger. There’s a lyric in the song featured in Lucy’s next scene. Says ‘My heart is on display.’ That is Tim in this episode. His heart is on display for everyone to see. He doesn't care who notices it. He is showing how Lucy being missing is destroying him. It awakens a piece of himself he’s been burying since they met.

We return to our girl strapped to a chair. She quickly is testing her restraints. The drug is wearing off and her wits are returning. Before she can test them further Caleb walks in. Eating eggs like this is completely normal for him to do. Tells her he would feed her but all the screaming makes you vomit. She asks for water. He says sure he's not a monster. Ok pal....

Lucy asks if this is why he hit on her. Caleb tells her no. She was a happy accident since the last girl didn’t work out. Ugh. That he was just there to scope out Armstrong. She asks him why the tattoo? He tells her it’s not for him. It’s for her. To get her to face the truth of her death. Sick sick SOB.

Lucy changes tactics and tries to rile him up. Asking if he got that from Rosalind? He defensively replies no it’s all him. She pokes the bear more. Saying she figured it was hers since she’s his mentor and all…He snaps again says they’re equals. Lucy continues her barrage and asks 'Does she know that?' God I love her. He catches on and says she’s good. That this is going to be fun for him. *shudder*

Grey and Armstrong are going over what they got from their canvass of the bar. The bartender recognized both Lucy and Caleb. There is video of them leaving but it’s not clear. They see car pull away but its stolen. Grey then says the words Tim has been dreading. His worst fear coming to life before him. That Caleb is Rosalind's apprentice and that he’s abducted Lucy… You can see the weight of responsibility and guilt Tim has now put on. It’s going to stay there for a long time. Long after they find her. We can already see the toll this is taking on him.

The way he swallows his anxiety. He's is beyond upset that she's been taken. Just watch Eric’s face especially towards the end. It encapsulates all of that. He is beating himself up in this moment. Convinced he is the reason she’s gone missing. Honestly I don’t know he could’ve lived with himself had they not saved her.

He is going to bear the brunt of this. It's who he is. To take on the full weight of this emotional burden. Now Lucy would never have wanted him to do this. Hell blaming him was the last thing she ever thought about. Tim is a pressure cooker of panic and stress in this ep. Every new piece of info or dead end only adds to that pressure. It’s not long before we see him truly implode…

Tim can’t handle this alone and recognizes this. So he calls Angela and is VERY vulnerable with her. His face as he waits for her to answer. Praying she picks up. He tells her Lucy’s been taken and he needs her. My boy has grown so much. Look at him reaching out and asking his best friend for aid. Even though he’s going to carry this emotional responsibility alone, he needs Angela help keep him sane. Because let’s be honest he is drowning right now.

Tim is trying so hard to keep his panic and worry from overtaking him. She immediately says yes and drags Wesley with her. They continue to talk about how to find Lucy. Tim is seething with anxiety his body language as anxious as I ever seen it. Nick poses she might already be dead. Harper jumps in and we get to see her growth as well. Defends Lucy’s tenacity. What a fighter she is, that she’s going to do everything she can to stay alive till they can save her. i.e. this next scene.

We go back to Lucy being the fighter Nyla was just talking about. Finally getting the restraints free. Effectively kicking Caleb’s ass on her way out. Sucker punches him so hard he's on his back.(Harper would be so proud) She makes it outside and you can see the vastness of a desert. Wherever Lucy is it’s remote af. She’s disoriented and hits that friggin trip wire. Makes me mad every time it gets her. What also pisses me off is Caleb couldn’t take her if she was 100 percent. It’s why he pepper sprays her. Our girl keeps punching even after he does that. He laughs until she gets one in. Deserved. Like Harper says she’s fighter. Sadly she loses the fight and he drags her away.

Angela shows up with Wesley in tow. It’s clear Tim being on the tip line is bringing him to his boiling point. He sends Wes to help Jackson with it. His stress is hitting an all time high when he talks to Angela. His emotions are something he’s normally very good at keeping in check but they are ruling him right now. Angela can see it instantly. She can also tell something is eating at him.

He starts suggesting desperate things like kicking down doors. Angela trying to right his ship logically asking what doors? He tells he doesn't know...but he can’t just sit here doing nothing. He takes off and Angela hunts him down. He says he doesn’t need a pep talk. (Yes you do…) Angela asks why did he call her then? Says he clearly needs to get something off his chest. To unburden himself.

Tim finally verbalizes the thought that’s been torturing him all day. That he did this. She was in danger because of him. Eric’s voice and how vulnerable he sounds while he’s explaining this My damn heart. Angela tries to assuage him of his guilt. Tells him he couldn’t have known. He refuses to be let off that easily. He's so mad at himself. Vibrating with anger. All the things he drills into Lucy he didn't do himself when it came to Caleb. He's so very angry and emotional he let this guy get past him.

That he should've seen him coming a mile away. Before even getting to Lucy. (He did though on some level he really did) But he's not going to see that logic right now. Says how she wanted to go home. But he told her to go out. That she went out with Caleb because he told her. The heartbreak all over Angela’s face when he tells her this. The acting is just top notch in this one. It’s always good but this entire ep is so emotionally charged. Everyone brought their A Game.

You can hear the crack in his voice to what he says next. He continues on to say she didn’t feel right about the whole situation. That she hesitated on going out with him, but he insisted and pushed her right at him. He is disgusted with himself. Look at that man's face above. He hates himself for letting her get taken, when he feels he could've prevented. it. Thus continues Eric’s destruction of my soul in this episode. Killing me good sir absolutely killing me. Such a good scene for Angela and Tim though. Glad it was captured in gif form.

Nolan is able to figure out with his visit from Rosalind about contraband. That’s how her and Caleb have been communicating. That if they can get to the smuggler they can get to the guard who’s been delivering it to her. Angela gets Wes on it for her with his connections. Says his clients aren't in trouble they just need the info.

We return to Lucy and her March toward the barrel. Caleb has planned something else for her. Not just the barrel but burial underground to go with it. Caleb tells her to get in. Lucy says no. He continues his diatribe by saying that at least in there there is still hope. Outside of it only death as he points his gun at her. Lucy then does the smartest thing of her entire capture. She fakes a trip and drops her ring. The very thing that saves her life.

She knows Tim with his cop eyes will spot it and save her. So damn smart on her end. Caleb has no idea what he was up against truly. He asks her any last words? Lucy confidently replies ‘You’ll be dead long before I am.’ Damn right he will be. Watching her get into the barrel and him kicking into the hole is hard to watch. I hate it so much. Her trying not to panic once she hears the dirt pile on top. Ugh I can’t. Melissa crushes the entire scene inside that barrel makes me wanna cry each time. Trying so hard to regulate her panic and breathing.

Now comes one of my favorite Tim portions of the episode. He’s been pent up and to his boiling point by time we get here. They have the name of the smuggler and it’s time to get some answers. This scene shows you the lines he’s crossing and depth of how far Tim is willing to go to save her. Idk if it’s wrong to find aggressively protective Tim so sexy. But this scene phew lord. It really hits the spot for me in that regard.

Doesn’t even hesitate to threaten with bodily harm. The last thing Tim has time for today is BS. You’re standing between him and his person (except he doesn’t know that just yet hehe). You aren’t going to win this fight my man. He doesn’t even give this guy a moment to mouth off. Slams his face into his steering wheel immediately and says it’s his day of reckoning. *fans self* It sure is. Now Jackson looks off put but I’m cheering Tim on. Also if this is how he is before he's with her can you imagine how he would be in S6 if something happened to her? Scorched earth. This is pretty damn close to that anyways.

Watching how he unravels in this scene just shows his utter despair in this moment. This is Tim at his peak of desperation. That he is literally willing to risk his career by injuring this guy to get what he needs. That by the book Tim Bradford is giving the bird to ethics right now to save her. Nothing will stand in his way to get her back. If he has to rough this guy up to get what he needs so be it. The thought of failing her is unacceptable. Especially since he feels he put her there. He’s shown many times he has her back. This is another level. Look at that final line above. He means every word of it.

God help the poor SOBS who stand in the way of Tim Bradford and who he cares for. I relate to this very much. I am the same way for those I care about. Deeply loyal and loving. You will experience hell rain down on you if you mess with someone I care about. So I get his mindset during this. Might not be the right way but it’s something I can most definitely relate to.

They get a name for Jerry Havel from the smuggler. Sadly it’s another dead end. The guy who lives there isn't Caleb. They find out he stole his identity. Used it to get to get close to Rosalind at the prison. I’ve never seen Tim look so damn dejected as above. He looks lost and broken, definitely in need of a hug. You know he feels like a failure right now. Just absolutely wrecked and distraught. Not a drop of hope left in him. Jackson comes up to him with some potential good news. Credit cards Caleb used in Jerry’s name.

Tim gets so excited saying the charges could lead them to Caleb. Jackson breathing some life back into our boy. They head back to the station to regroup. Wes is brilliant and associates Calebs obsession with Rosalind with his next killing ground. Something that would tie to her. Tim comes in and says he has a PO Box payment in Kern County. That he still makes payments even after he quit. That’s how they piece together she’s at Rosalind's Uncle's farm.

Then comes the song that makes me teary every time. So hauntingly beautiful her voice in the background as they race to the farm to save her. The cinematography in this episode is primo. The emotions it evokes are immense. Her singing the song that will haunt us all every time we hear it. Melissa is beyond brilliant in this moment. Singing but also crying because she believes this is the end for her. I want to cry just writing this out. This moment is so incredibly emotional. She’s accepted her fate at this point and yet still hasn’t at the same time. Beautifully tragic.

Harper and Nolan make it first. They see Nick is being held captive by Caleb. Sadly Harper misreads the situation and shoots him. Then starts the next emotional rollercoaster. John FaceTiming Grace in order to save him. God bless her for trying. The irony of them trying to save him so they can save Lucy. Tragically he ends up dying and his knowledge of where Lucy goes with him..

The rest of the team shows up shortly afterwards. Harper tells them Caleb is dead. They split up into sections to start searching the vast desert. It seems like they’ll never find her. The shots are so wide and boundless. Then Tim sees something glinting in the distance. The way he runs up to it knowing that’s where she is. The way he grabs it and instantly knows she's left her ring for him. Once finds the lid with his foot He starts screaming ‘I’ve got her!’ repeatedly.

He starts digging not even waiting for a shovel. He is as feral as he can be trying to dig her out with just his hands till help arrives. His desperation has reached critical levels as he digs to find her. With every swipe of his hands he’s trying to undo what he thinks he’s done to her. Once everyone else arrives, they offer Tim a shovel but he continues to dig with his hands. Almost in a trance with digging her out. He isn't wasting a damn second to take it because it could cost her.

I love how everyone helps to get her out but Tim fends them off once she's out. He wants to work on her himself. No one was going to touch her but him. This part always makes me catch my breath. The music, the way he frantically works on her, everyone’s reactions as he does. We’ve reached the height of the adrenaline and emotions in this moment. Armstrong and Grey look like it’s over. Everyone else is in shock around Tim. He refuses to give up. Giving Lucy CPR incessantly and being relentless in its delivery. He continues to work tirelessly on her. After another moment she finally comes back to him.

One of most beautiful parts of this scene and what gets me the most is her initial reaction. The last time she closed her eyes she saw Caleb. When she re-opens them she’s disoriented. Honestly a little panicked as well. It’s not until she hears Tim’s voice grounding her back to the present and seeing his face does she realizes she’s out. She not in that barrel anymore. That’s she’s safe in his arms and away from that monster.

Then she immediately breaks down. The way her hands shake as she reaches out for him gets me good. Tim see's this and he hides her in his chest. Softly cradling her head against him. Trying to protect her. Tim is instinctual in how he comforts her. Telling its ok. She continues to cry and god that kills me. Clings to him like the life line he is for her. Especially in this moment. So happy he’s the one holding her. He needed to be the first face she saw and Tim needed that as much as she did.

The way he cradles her so gently against him. My damn heart. I tear up every time I watch this scene. Holding her like she is the most precious thing on this earth to him. The immense amount of relief that washes over him. He looks like he wants to cry himself. Tears of relief. It’s the first time he’s drawn a real breath since she disappeared. He breathes that sigh of relief into her hair. It’s an incredibly intimate moment shared between them. Him lying his head on hers and the protective way he’s holding her.

Looks like he is shielding her from everything and refusing to let her go. Wanting to absorb all the sadness she’s experiencing in this moment. Can only imagine he held her all the way to the hospital too. If not he held her hand the entire ambulance ride back. Stuck to her like glue. Tim outwardly displaying everything he’s feeling in this moment. He doesn’t care who sees this. He would’ve moved heaven and earth to save her. It’s written all over this beautiful embrace. I’ll never be over this moment. Even years later. They already had me but this cemented me following them anywhere.

Tim could not be cuter staying by her bedside the entire night. Watching over her while she got some much needed rest. Her fierce protector standing guard. Also having when she wakes for him to be first face she sees again. Look at this man's face when he realizes she is awake. He could not be more adorable reading some teen magazine to pass the time. It's classic. Their banter picking up right where they left it. Not skipping a beat. Talking about BTS and which one was his soulmate haha He plays along then asks what that is? She laughs and its so nice to see he can still do that. God they cute. The look of sheer joy of her being awake is written all over his face.

She asks him if he’s been here all night? He looks like he’s about to cry and says no..it’s ok babe we know you’re lying. She knows too but lets it go. She just follows up with a very sweet ‘Mmhmm.’ with a helping of heart eyes for him. Honestly everything you need to know about how he’s feeling in this moment is in that gif above. Eric the king of expressions strikes again. Nolan, Jackson and Grace join them. Coming in to check on her as well. The way he watches her while she talks to the trio is so sweet.

She could say anything right now and he would be enamored. He’s just so damn happy she’s ok. Lucy says she’s never going on another date again. Grace says I don’t know that’s the takeaway. The boys all chime in it’s so damn funny. Saying mixture of things at once. ‘Statistically that’s pretty safe, Definitely should.’ LOL She asks if this is the kind of understanding she’s should expect from now on? Tim says pretty much.

Tim asks her if she’s hungry. She says starving. I bet she is poor thing god only knows last time she ate. Tim produces her favorite order veggie burger and fries with extra pickles. He’s so proud of himself for having got it. That he remembered. Look at him so pleased with himself having that ready to go for her. She could ask him for the world right now and he would deliver. No questions asked. Easy Tim your feelings are showing.

The rest of this scene is all heart eyes. It's a two way street of cuteness. We get our next iconic OTP line. ‘You know me so well. Too well’ ❤️ The way he says his half its like he’s finally giving into their bond and connection at this point. That there is something there he can't deny. He doesn't fully understand it right now but its there. We all know he will continue to try to ignore it but ultimately won't be able to hehe. The amount of heart eyes these two are throwing around during this is amazing. Surprised the others didn’t just leave to give them privacy haha No one else in their world when they get like this. Everyone else around them fades.

Phew what an episode it emotionally drains me each time in the best way. Melissa and Eric are rockstars. We’re so lucky to have them running this ship. If you didn’t see their chemistry or ship before this you sure as hell did now. It was there in all its glory the entire ep. What a ride.

~~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford.

I loved Wesley turning it around in this episode. As horrible as Lucy going missing was and the toll it took on everyone it helped right his ship. Show him perspective about what she survived. And honestly he was huge in what saved her.

John’s final scene with Rosalind is so good. The way he breaks it all down. How she’s lost. Caleb died, Lucy and Armstrong were alive, and he inadvertently gave them the rest of her kill sites in his notes. She looks down for the count. But before Nolan can leave she throws that tid bit out about Nick before he departs. Damn good ep holy hell.

thank you to https://the-rookie.fandom.com/wiki/2x11_gallery?file=2x11_015.jpg I needed one random screen cap ha

Also Thank you all for reading. For all the likes/ comments and reblogs. I hope I did this iconic episode justice. Truly one of my all time favorites of the series. ❤️ See you all in 2x12 :)

[hindahoney]

Thank you for your post about the word shiksa. I'd seen similar posts in the past - that you shouldn't call yourself that and it's not a term worth reclaiming - but none of those posts ever properly explained WHY. The best I could ever find was that it's often used to insultingly refer to converts that were married to or planning to marry Jewish men before their conversion as a way to imply their reasoning for becoming a Jew wasn't genuine enough. I didn't understand why that would be something that shouldn't be reclaimed. Knowing that it's a term meant to refer to people that fetishize Jews puts it in an ENTIRELY different light. At least, in my brain, it does. So, yeah, thanks for actually explaining your point.

"Shiksa" cannot be "reclaimed." It's not as if that word has a widely-known history or is used by a hegemonic population to oppress people. There's no need or use for reclamation. A gentile woman calling themselves a shiksa, knowing what it means, seriously makes me feel disgusted. It's the same as someone who fetishizes Asians proudly saying they have "Yellow Fever."

I've never heard that phrase in reference to converts, only towards gentile women who seek out Jewish men specifically. It's more common than people would think. I once invited a Christian friend to a Purim party, where she told me she was just trying to take home one of the men there. This same friend told me she broke up with her Jewish boyfriend because he had been to Israel. Suffice to say we aren't friends anymore. It's incredibly common for (white) Christians specifically to fetishize Jews. It's just expected that all of the Jewish dating apps are unusable because they're full of WASPs looking for Jews.

While there isn't a widely used term for gentile men who fixate on Jewish women, I have seen the term "bagel chasers." I don't like it, because it makes it seem more cutesy and funny than it actually is in real life. It's deeply unsettling and uncomfortable when I'm working and men approach me saying they'd convert for me, or think that saying "shabbat shalom" to me on a Tuesday will make me believe they're also Jewish (and thus someone I should date). There's not a single part of me that thinks it's funny. They see Jews as a novelty and not as people. It's less because they are interested in us, they're interested in conquering us.