#warehouse rigging

[solar-beam-me-up-scotty]

*screaming in agony* the entire series of Warehouse 13 I was sooooooo jazzed about the best friends/siblings-esque friendship between the two main characters, soooooo excited to have a platonic "you are the most important person in my life" M/F friendship especially being the leads in a TV show, letting them love each other without making them in love, the platonic ideal

AND WHAT DO THEY DO IN THE FINAL SEASON?

""""oooh~ they've been in love the whoooole tiiiime~"""

FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!

[officetoofficemovers]

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[glitter-stained]

Prompt:

After Red Hood stopped killing and someone leaked footage hinting that he's the second Robin, he expected to fight for every morsel of territory, for everybody to desert him and the murder attempts to triple.

And, well. It's not like he doesn't find himself in a rigged warehouse on Monday, walking off that one explosion with singes on his back. It's not like on Wednesday, a bullet pierces through a hole in his armour and he's losing half his blood in an alley. And sure, someone takes advantage of him throwing his helmet away on Friday (he was out of grenades and needed a bigger bomb) to fear gass him, but it's fine, he can function normally under fear gass nowadays.

Except. Except nobody deserts him. By Monday, the attempts have completely stopped. He walks into a meeting with his men and sees his goons' hands won't stop shaking, and even his lieutenant won't look him in the eyes.

Jason is confused, and so are the other bats, but soon the rumours reach their ears: you can't go after the Red Hood, because no matter what you do, once you've targeted him it's over, like a dog with a bone, he'll get you eventually- no matter how you shoot or how many explosives you use. It doesn't matter that the Red Hood doesn't kill, because the Red Hood doesn't die.

[wandasslut3000]

Are you desperate for me?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, car sex, sub!reader, thigh riding, fingering, sex pollen, breast play, marking, praise, cum play, semi clothed sex, mentions of drug trafficking and death.

WC: 2.24k

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You and Wanda are currently in Bari, Italy, on a mission to find locate and arrest a dangerous drug dealer that is rumored to be heading towards London for an important deal.

Your goal is to find his base of operations and destroy his current supply. The suspect in question, Cecil Adams, otherwise known as 'The Count', has been injecting his victims with his test products.

Almost all of them ended up dead within minutes.

"Oh come on."

"It's for the good of the people" Tony said and you rolled your eyes.

"So me and Wanda have to cancel our honeymoon just to find some wack ass Peter Piper? Why can't the police just deal with it?" 

"They've tried, but every officer they sent has come back in a casket. You know we wouldn't have asked you if we didn't need to, but the rest of the team is already assigned elsewhere." Steve informed, crossing his arms and expressing a look of sympathy.

You groaned as you buried your face in your hands in annoyance. Wanda grabbed your hand, stroking the back of it her thumb as an attempt to help you calm down.

"A week in Italy wouldn't really be so bad, just think of it as a last minute change of venue." She whispered and you brought your head up to look at her and her bright green eyes.

"I... alright, fine." You couldn't bring yourself to argue with her, turning back to look back at Tony and Steve.

"You owe us two weeks off after this." Both men nodded in agreement.

Four days into your stay, you and Wanda had found his headquarters, an abandoned wear-house at the edge of the city.

You and your wife are rigging the place to blow. Members of S.H.E.L.D waiting just outside of the property as backup.

Wanda had used her magic to knock out the guards surrounding the area, putting handcuffs onto each of them, and with a snap of her fingers, she'd sent them straight into the secured van.

"You done, baby?" You ask Wanda through your earpiece.

"Everything's all set over here"

"Alright then, just make sure you're safe ok?"

You back away from the building with the remote trigger in your hand, your backpack filled with product in the other, you'd managed to sneak in prior and retrieve some per S.H.E.L.D's instructions.

"I will be detka, are you?"

"I'm safe" You assure her as you take small steps backward and away from the building.

Suddenly you feel a cool piece of metal brace itself against your throat, strong muscular arms wrapping themselves around you.

You sigh, reaching for the man's wrists and throwing him on the ground, the knife in his hand flying into the distance.

You hear him groan before you flip him on his back, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from your bag and putting his hands behind his back, locking him in place.

"For someone who's created such a hassle, you really need better fighting skills." You mutter, Wanda picking everything through the mic.

You cuff him and grab him by his hair, holding his head up. Pulling a chloroform-laced cloth from your pocket, you knock him unconscious.

"Luybov? What happened?"

"We've caught our culprit." You chuckle as you picked the man up, throwing him over your shoulder and heading towards the front of the warehouse.

You set Adams down, his body limp against the cemented ground.

"Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."

Boom.

The warehouse erupts into a riot of flames, painting the area in orange and red.

You notice a puff of smoke head in your direction but it's unlike anything you've seen before, it was... pink?

You tried your best to avoid it but you couldn't, the cloud reaching you and the moment you inhaled it, you cough heavily.

Wanda uses her powers to contain the fire and puts it out, red wisps of her magic encasing the remaining smoke, clearing it into thin air.

Once you can finally breathe, you turn to pick Adams up and hand him into S.H.E.I.L.D's custody. A group of agents taking him into the back of the van along with rest of his henchmen.

You hand one agent your bag of evidence, receiving a nod in thanks before they get inside and drive off.

"You alright?" You feel Wanda's hand grab your shoulder from behind you, her voice is laced with so much love and a hint of worry that makes you fall even deeper for this woman.

You nod, turning to face her and wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a desperately lustful kiss.

The moment your lips make contact you can't help the moan you let out at the sensation. When you pull apart, she noticed how of how your pupils have dilated drastically.

"I think it's time we go back to the hotel, don't you agree?" Your fingers playing with the pendant of her necklace, Wanda smiles back at you and nods, giving you another peck that makes your heart skip a beat.

You'd never felt this needy before.

She brushes her hand past your ear making your breath hitch, disappoint running though you when you realize she was only trying to grab your earpiece, taking her's out right after and putting them in her pocket.

Hand in hand, you both head to car that Tony had lent you for your time here. Wanda opens the door for you, a blush painting your cheeks at her chivalry.

She then heads into her spot in the drivers seat, starting up the car and putting the hotels address in the built-in GPS system.

Once on your way, you feel Wanda's hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You were starting to lose your composure, though the act was innocent, the heat in your pants was becoming unbearable.

"Oh my poor baby," she coos, "I can read your thoughts; they're quite loud."

"Are you desperate for me?"

You feel your eyes shut for a moment at her accent slipping into her words, your thighs clenching at the rasp in her voice.

You grab her hand, bringing it down to your clothed pussy, making her feel how your wetness had already stained through your uniform.

Wanda bites her lip, making a sudden turn, slowing down, and coming to a complete stop in an empty lot. You look at the screen on the dashboard, your hotel a fifteen-minute drive away.

You awkwardly shift towards her, straddling her lap, and reaching to the side for the lever of the seat, pushing it downwards.

She cups your cheeks and kisses you deeply, your tongues meshing together in a familiar dance.

Wanda unzips your suit from the front, smiling at your lack of bra. You pull apart so you can slip it off and throw it somewhere into the backseat, leaving you in just your panties.

You gasp when she sucks different marks onto your neck and collarbone, teasing you.

She's looking at you with innocent eyes, batting her lashes and pressing kisses against your skin, she then takes your nipple into her mouth, her free hand toying with your other breast, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You move your hands to the back of her head, moaning lightly whilst treading your fingers through her silky strands. "You want me to touch you detka?" She mumbles against you and your breathing gets heavier. 

"Please."

You buck your hips against her, grinding on her thigh pathetically, the friction of your panties brushing against your clit in the just the right way, little gasps and moans escaping your throat without permission.

Wanda releases your nipple, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting her to your chest, the sight making you whimper.

You look down at her with dewy eyes, the ache in between your legs becoming unbearable. Your breath shudders when you feel her fingers slip your underwear off, making contact with your wet folds, and you bite your lip at the feeling.

"So wet for me." She whispers, your eyes shutting when her slim digits make contact with your clit, and you can't help the noises that escape your lips. "You like when I touch you like this princessa?"

"Yes- fuck." You moan when she starts to tease your entrance, spreading your wetness thought your folds. When her fingers finally enter you, your eyes roll to the back of your head as she starts to pump them in and out of you.

"Such a pretty girl." Wanda coos, placing hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and jawline, her fingers curling ever so slightly on every pull out driving you insane, a familiar hot coil building up in your stomach.

Wanda repositions her hand, placing her two fingers on her pubic bone, using her free hand to help guide you into riding her.

"You make such pretty noises my darling, make some more." she smiles sweetly at you, making you groan at her words.

Your hands fly to her shoulders to help hold you up, your nails digging into the fabric of her suit, her lips back going to suck onto your nipples, your hips bucking frantically in your effort to chase you upcoming climax.

"Mm- mhmm, yes- Wanda, right- right there!" You squeal when she moves her thumb to put pressure on your neglected bundle of nerves.

"You're so beautiful" she murmurs against you before she pulls away, moving her other hand towards your ass, squeezing it gently.

"I'm gonna cum... fuck, baby I'm gonna cum! " Your eyes roll as you let the pleasure faze through you, you hide your face into her neck though your orgasm, pressing a light kiss there as your body trembles around her.

"You did so good detka, such a good girl." You hear her praise, rubbing up and down your back soothingly, as you slowly start to come down from you high.

When you lean back and open your eyes, they land on a lust ridden Sokovian, her pupils completely enlarged as she pulls her digits out of you.

Wanda brings her fingers towards her lips before slipping them both into her mouth, You feel another surge of wetness flow through you, slightly coating Wanda's thighs with my you slick.

She hums, "So sweet." She says as the swipes her fingers through your folds again, your head falling onto her shoulder as you shudder at the feeling.

You feel Wanda hold you up slightly, digits coated with your cum, you moan when she starts to pull at your nipples. "You like that, don't you?" She smiles before pulling you into another kiss.

She moves her lips downwards towards your chest, taking each bud into her mouth, tasting your juices as she swirls her tongue around them.

"Do you think you can do one more for me?" You nod, and she positions you onto her left thigh, guiding you hips as you start to grind onto her.

You whimper as your clit comes into contact with her skin each time you move your hips, Wanda pulls you into another lip lock, grabbing you by the back of your neck with one hand while her other one helps your movements.

"God- you feel so good..."

Wanda smirks against your lips before moving her hand from my hips towards your overstimulated clit, rubbing tight circles around it before pinching it, sending you into a deeper state of pleasure.

You scream her name and a string of curses, trying to steady your breathing. "So perfect for me." She whispers as she kisses your forehead.

"I love you" You say as you kiss her nose, watching how it scrunches adorably.

"I love you too" She returns, pecking your lips and hugging you close. Both of you sighing in content at the skin on skin contact.

[ghost-bxrd]

Just an idea:

As a result of the lazarus pit jason is now immortal he doesn't ageand he cant die, realizing this he fakes his own death. Would love to hear your take on this idea

Ah alright so I can’t go full sad because I’m very much incapable of writing angst where one person has to watch all their loved ones age and die, but I can do an element where… none of them age. But Jason thinks he’s the only one thanks to the pit (his immortality still works different).

So… he fakes his death.

And it’s good. He goes the whole nine yards. Fake body, DNA samples, footage of himself frantically trying to escape yet another warehouse rigged to blow, the panicked call to the rest of the Bats to “Please, please, not again please, get me out of— please, i don’t want to burn again-“ that has everyone in a mad scramble trying to save him him…

But they arrive “too late”. Again. (Jason’s last hurrah at Bruce for the shit he pulled since his return).

And then Jason Todd is… dead.

He watches them from the shadows. Sometimes from continents away (but he can’t escape Gotham. Something pulls him back time and time again, no less than once a year.)

And at first.. it hurts. It hurts watching his family grieve him. But it’s better this way. He can’t stay and watch them age out and die. It would destroy him. But this way— this way he can focus solely on keeping them alive. To give them the longest life possible in their line of work. No more dead Robins. (No dead Batman.)

It hurts, but he makes it work. Watches years pass in which Tim grows up first. Then Damian. And then… it just stops?

After a decade Bruce still only has that faint shimmer of silver to his hair, movements neither slowing nor becoming sloppy with age.

Dick still survives on an unholy cocktail of sugar topped with more sugar, in peak physical condition despite it all.

And finally— finally Jason catches on that something might not be quite right here.

(And they still mourn him. Acutely aware of the loss of one of their own. Of the empty space at the dinner table. Of the silence down the comm line they still keep open religiously. Just in case. Just in case….)

[natalievoncatte]

“Let her go,” said Lena.

“Not a chance, said the Atomizer. Or Atomo, or the Atomic Lad. Some idiot with a cheesy atom symbol on his jumpsuit and a beam projector strapped to his arm.

Lena knew why this guy hadn’t already been mopped up by Supergirl: he wasn’t worth her time.

This was, frankly, embarrassing. She wasn’t listening to his monologue, something about losing his job after Supergirl stopped a nuclear incident and he was found out to have violated safety protocols. He’d jury-rigged himself up some kind of particle beam, probably not enough to scratch the maid of might.

He was still giving it the old college try, so he’d kidnapped Lena Luthor on the logic that whenever Lena Luthor was in danger, Supergirl was quick to appear.

She’d been sitting here for four hours, tied to a chair at the docks on the west end in some dilapidated shithole warehouse. Supergirl was decidedly a no-show.

Lena could almost write this off as an inconvenience. This dipshit meant her no harm and she was, at least a first, sure that Supergirl would show up and this would turn into one of those heartwarming ones where she didn’t have to throw a punch and the bad guy ended up forgiving her.

He should. From the bits and pieces she heard, it was his fucking fault anyway.

There was a problem. It was making Lena’s heart race, her pulse pound, and a thin trickle of sweat run down the small of her back. Kara was in a chair just like hers, parked six inches away, and tied up.

She was also drifting in and out and had a knot on her head from where Captain Doofus here whacked her over the head with his arm beamer.

Her head perked up a little and she glanced at Lena, looked around.

“Whu… where am I?”

“You’re in the lair of DOCTOR ATOMOS!” he screamed. “I thought the Kryptonian would put in an appearance to save Miss Luthor, but she’s been a no-show, so I grabbed you. You’re her best friend, aren’t you?”

Kara shot Lena a furtive glance. “Not exactly.”

“Where is she? Why hasn’t she come? Do I need to grab that photographer, too? Jim Olden?”

“James Olsen,” Lena corrected.

“Shut up! I’ve broadcast to the city that if Supergirl doesn’t face me and admit what she did, I’m going to drop you two into the acid!”

“What acid?” said Kara.

Lena looked at her and looked down. They were both sitting on hinged grates positioned above a rather large vat of a nasty corrosive. Some toxic sludge that Lex probably had the company stockpiling here back in the back-when.

He was always ruining her day.

“I gave her an ultimatum,” he declared. “First one of you, then the other.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. Hard. She almost threw up her tuna wrap and kombucha. For some reason, the thought of her own shockingly horrific death -drowning in the acid, her lungs melting from the inside with no hope once she was submerged- was secondary.

Oh God. Oh God please not Kara.

“She’s not coming,” Lena said, firmly. “She’s busy or-“

“She wasn’t too busy to ruin my life!”

Kara looked frantic as she wriggled against the ropes holding her.

“Come on, come on come on come ON!” she thrashed. “Why now? Why now?”

The ‘villain’ paused. “Why now what?”

“Nothing. Just, listen. Don’t do this. You don’t want to add murder to your list of crimes.”

“I’m INNOCENT!”

“Then don’t start a list of crimes!” Lena pleaded.

He rounded on her.

“Look,” said Lena. “I’m Lena Luthor, I’ll get you a new job. I’ll build you a fucking power plant if that’s what you want. Just,”

“What, let you go?”

Lena looked at Kara.

“Let us go. Please. I’ll stay if you let Kara go.”

He belly laughed at her. “So she can tell the cops where we are?”

“You already announced where we are!” Kara snapped.

“Don’t hurt her. Please. Just not her.”

Kara turned slowly and looked at her.

“What’s your real name?” Lena asked, looking at their captor. “You know mine.”

“Ha! That hostage negotiation crap won’t work on me.”

He turned and headed for a pair of levers.

“Eeenie meanie miney moe,” said… the guy. Lena was not giving this bastard the dignity of a trade name.

“Kara,” said Lena. She felt strangely calm, looking at her… her best friend. Like she knew she needed to do this right in whatever little time she had, and her nerves gave her the gift of tranquility.

“Lena?”

“You mean so much to me,” Lena said. “I… I just want to… I wish I could…”

Oh, now she couldn’t get the words out. Perfect.

Kara looked at her wide-eyed, and terror flashed briefly in her eyes as the grate swung below her and she plummeted into empty air.

“KARA!” Lena wailed.

Splash.

Lena screamed, a wordless, titanic cry of agony that tore her throat and burned her lungs. When it faded she wailed again, words lost to her. Oh God.

“You monster!” Lena screamed, “you miserable fucking monster, you’d better fucking kill me too, because if you let me live I’m going to-“

Lena went silent as a shape rose through the hole in the floor, rising gracefully into the air. Supergirl hovered in the air, a scowl of righteous fury carved on her lovely face.

“At last, there you are!” Professor Douchebag snarled, aiming his arm at her.

Her eyes flashed and he screamed, suddenly tugging at the red-hot ruin strapped to his arm. Supergirl landed, and dragged Lena’s chair, and Lena with it, away from the grate.

She turned and sucked in a breath, flash-freezing his ruined weapon with a concentrated blast. With a contentious smack he knocked his helmet off, revealing a doughy, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and blood running down his nose.

Supergirl grabbed his collar and hauled him off his feet. She stalked over and held him above the opening in the floor, his feet dangling over the acid.

“Supergirl?” Lena said.

“How does it feel?” she said, coldly.

“Please,”

“Lena said please,” her voice was ice. “You didn’t listen to her.”

“Supergirl,” said Lena. “Don’t.”

Then it hit her.

Supergirl had her hair up. She never wore her hair up. It was exactly the same as…

Her mind raced though possibilities. None of them fit. There was only one conclusion.

Oh.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Please.”

Her gaze snapped to Lena and a harrowing moment later, she tossed the wannabe villain aside, and wrapped a chain around him, binding him to an upright. Then she turned to Lena.

Kara tapped her ear.

“Alex, you have my location? There’s a wannabe here, he kidnapped Lena. She’s fine. He’s not. Get a cleanup crew and a bus down here please. No, I’m not staying.”

With a single smooth motion, she snapped the cords binding Lena and scooped her up against her powerful chest, tucking her in close before lifting off through skylight.

Lena pressed her eyes shut- she hated flying, even like this. She opened them when she felt the jolt as Kara’s boots touched down, and Kara set her down.

They’d come in through one of the tall windows in Kara’s loft.

“Oh my God,” Lena breathed. “I thought he… I thought you were…”

“I almost was,” Kara said softly. “I solar flared a few days ago. I burned out my powers fighting that Mondarian. It usually takes a few days, maybe a week, before I can use them again, but sometimes an adrenaline rush will make them kick in early.”

“Was it hitting the acid?”

Kara shook her head.

“No. It was what you said, and the way you screamed when I fell. I knew I had to live.”

Lena blinked a few times, surprised by the hot burn of her own tears, mirrored by those falling down Kara’s cheeks.

“What you said… what I think you were trying to say,” said Kara. “Me too.”

Lena stood frozen in shock for a second, before she launched herself at Kara. Their lips met in a dizzying soft crash and when Kara’s hands landed on her waist, Lena felt a pang of fear that she’d misjudged and ruined it all.

Then Kara’s hand snaked up her back as the other looped around her waist and pulled her in, using her height to tip Lena back just a touch as the kiss deepened and Lena felt her heart flutter in her throat as her tongue tasted the soft taste of Kara.

[deepdisireslonging]

Reassurance

Bruce and the Reader are kidnapped by Two-Face. Their kidnapper wants to make the Batman choose, unknowing that the Batman who shows up isn’t the one he expected. After being rescued, Bruce reassures you and himself that you two are safe. Which is something he needs after being completely helpless to do anything to protect you.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reporter!Reader

Warnings/Promises: canon-level danger and violence, near-death experience, angst, SMUT, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, fluff

Word Count: 3500

Note: This heavily reliant on the events of the Dark Knight trilogy. As well as being inspired by the 1995 “Batman Forever” situation with that version of Harvey Dent. It’s a bunch of plot for the express purpose of getting Bruce Wayne into ravenous, desperate smut with his lady-love. With that in mind, happy reading!

It had all happened so fast.

One minute, Bruce had been giving a toast. It had been another successful fundraiser downtown. The next, guns were stuttering and the guests were pressed against the floor as their valuables were removed. You were separated from the diamond bracelet Bruce had given you last Christmas. And Bruce hesitantly gave away his father’s signet ring. (But at ease knowing it was a replica. As was your bracelet.)

Two Face strode through the room. He paused between you and Bruce. With his charred face, he glared at you. You with your constant stream of news releases and exposés that kept uncovering his plans. And you, always able to evade him, until tonight. With his unblemished face, contorted with hate, he glared down at Bruce.

“Harvey –” he tried.

“Shut up!” Harvey Dent aimed his gun at Bruce’s chest. In his other hand, his fingers twiddled his fateful coin. He didn’t toss it. With a growl, he shot the ceiling instead. “Come on, before the Bat gets here. Bring both of ‘em with us.”

Bruce had pleaded with him to leave you there, playing up his more cowardly public image. He begged for them to come up with a different solution. And with a wave of his hand, Two Face ordered them to gag him.

There would be no resolution. No peace. Not until Two Face had what he wanted. 

***

One of these days you were really going to have to talk with Bruce and the city council members about how many abandoned warehouses there were in Gotham.

You couldn’t budge. The ropes around your arms and legs, tying you to the chair, were too tight. At least you could breathe. A few feet from you, Bruce was tied up in a similar way, but still gagged. Unmoving and observant as he was, you could still see that he was uneasy. He kept glancing between you and Harvey.

The walls of the warehouse were practically gone. The one remaining concrete walkway you were on was at least four stories up, with only rubble on the ground-floor below. Two Face stared off into the distance as if he could watch Batman’s approach in the darkness. The make-shift Bat-signal he’d rigged together sat at his feet.

Only Bruce wasn’t startled when Batman showed up from the opposite direction.

“What is this about, Dent?”

Harvey turned slow, his unburnt side making eye-contact first, before he glared at Batman fully with both halves of his face. “Does this situation look familiar to you?”

You wondered if it was Jason or Dick under the mask. Neither of them had been in the life yet when Harvey Dent had fallen into working as Two Face. But Bruce’s thorough report of that night wasn’t too hard to find on the Bat-computer after a few hours of digging. When “Batman” nodded, you knew it was Dick. Part of you already knew your fate was sealed.

“The two of them had nothing to do with that night.”

“No, that’s true.” Dent took to flipping the coin. Up and down. Catching and flipping. The coin landed flat in his palm, unread and unacted upon. He grinned at you with his burned face as each flip made you shudder. “But each has… cost me greatly here of late. Instead of flipping a coin for each of them and being done with it, I thought this time I could give the choice to you.” Dent caught his coin and gripped it tight. “With half a chance, would you change the choice you made that night?”

Dick/Batman hesitated before answering. “Nothing about this is like that night. We both know now that the Joker lied to me, switching where each of you were. He’s bragged about it to you himself. As for Rachel—”

“Don’t.” Both sides of Dent’s face twitched with rage. He hissed, “you don’t get to say her name.” Sucked through gritted teeth, the breaths he took made his chest heave. A final sigh leveled out his control. “We were on opposite sides of town that night. The two of them are right here. Maybe you can save both. Maybe not. Which will it be? Heads: Bruce Wayne. Billionare playboy with more brains than he shows to the media. How many hospitals, grants, scholarships has he funded over the years?” Dent flipped the coin a couple of times. “How many suits has he replaced for you?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying—”

“I know Wayne tech when I see it. Don’t try to deny it.” Dent shifted his focus to you, making you flinch back in your seat.

As a young reporter you’d attended the funeral of Rachel Dawe. She’d been a role model for you. But this was the last second on earth that you’d mention that in front of him. You breathed a sigh of relief as he faced Dick.

“Or heads: the reporter. A lifetime ago, she would have been a huge help to my cause. What the courts couldn’t decide fast enough, she could write and share with the world the research we all needed to hear. As she’s doing now. She’s your source of information, isn’t she? Isn’t she!” He grimaced. “Time to choose.”

At his feet, Dent kicked at a device bolted to the floor. On second glance, you noticed the wires traveling through holes bored into the concrete. They led under your chair, and another set ran under Bruce’s. Your eyes widened as you noticed the collection of explosives poking out from under the edge of the walkway… right behind his chair. You assumed you had a set too. Both of them ready to crumble your square of concrete towards the rubble below. Or to blow you to kingdom come the second Dent stepped on the device to set off the charges.

Dick slowly moved his hand toward his tactical belt. “Your men are on the bottom floor. Right under us. If you set that off, this floor will crush them. You yourself will have nothing left to stand on. It looks like the choice is yours: eliminating two thorns in your side, or being able to continue your business ventures.”

A slick smile slid across Dent’s face. “I made my choice years ago. As for my men… they made their choice when they accepted pay from me.”

“Dent—” In a very Nightwing motion, he held his palms out before returning them to his side to hold the stoic Batman pose.

“It’s Two Face. And would you point out the same double-sided leadership to your protégé turned ‘businessman,’ Red Hood? How is his war in weapon sales going against Black Mask these days? I’m tired of this.” Dent stepped forward, placing the toe of his patent-leather shoe on top of the device. “Ready to make your choice?”

Dick’s glance flicked towards Bruce first, who furiously shook his head. When he looked at you, you slowly shook your head. “It’s okay. Bruce Wayne can do more in one night,” your voice cracked, “one night of fundraising than I can do with ten stories. It’s okay.” As Bruce struggled in his bonds, tears began to course down your cheeks. You knew when those charges blew, he’d only be able to race gravity for one of you. And Bruce Wayne, the billionaire and the real soul of the Batman; he was more important to the future of Gotham than you.

As the charges fired, Bruce screamed behind his gag.

The ground fell out from under you. It was no surprise when the dark black blur darted away from you to fall over the opposite edge. Even so, you screamed out your fear, your pain, your goodbye. Only for it to cut off mere feet from the bottom as a blue blur snagged you out of the air. Your scream turned to frantic laughter. It took some effort, flying through the air as you were, but “Nightwing” (who had to be Jason) was able to cut the ropes so the chair dropped to the earth. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I thought you were supposed to be in Blüdhaven.”

Your rescuer alighted next to the Batmobile, where Dick was just landing with Bruce. The brothers shared that Two-Face’s goons had been collected long before Dick had shown up and were on their way with Damian to Commissioner Gordon. Two Face had been harnessed into the ceiling. It had lifted him out of danger and ensured his get-away. Dick smiled under the cowl.

Jason glared at his brother-in-arms. “Say nothing.”

“Blue looks good on you.”

They would have bickered longer, but Bruce darted between them. He held you fast in his arms. He kept patting you down, searching for anywhere you could be hurt.

“Darling, I’m alright.”

“Couldn’t do anything.” He glared at Dick. “You scared the hell out of me, not going after her.”

Dick’s jaw clenched. But he managed not to break eye-contact. “Red Hood was already on her side of the building. We were in constant communication throughout. Neither of you were in any danger of the fall.”

With the way Bruce’s shoulders were still tense, he didn’t seem to fully believe that. You knew he trusted his sons totally. But tonight had cut close. You smoothed your thumbs across his cheeks. “Let’s go home.”

Apologetically, Dick tried to say, “there’s not a back seat. Red was going to—”

“We’ll manage.”

Bruce sat in the passenger seat first, and you sat on his lap. All the way home, he ran his hands over your limbs, still checking you over. And his eyes kept flicking to the road. To the  dials and buttons on the dash as they flashed. To Dick as he drove, still in his cowl and cape. And all the way home, you did your best to put him at ease. Your blood was still pumping and your nerves were alight, but you ran your fingers through his hair. Ran your forefinger down his nose and cheeks. You pressed your forehead to his. As much skin contact as you could give him, you gave. As much calm as you could give him, you borrowed back.

Wayne Manor eventually loomed. Dick let you two out at the door. If anyone asked for it, the front cameras would provide visual evidence that you had been returned by the Batman. He drove off in a scuttle of gravel after watching Alfred let you into the house.

“We’re alright, Alfred.” You managed to wave him back to bed before Bruce lifted you in his arms and carried you up the stairs.

Thankfully, he waited until Alfred was long out of sight before sitting you down on a random hall table and latching his lips onto your pulse point.

“Can’t you get us to the bedroom?” You smiled through his kisses. “The boys could walk through and…”

“It’s my house.” Bruce shed his jacket and dress shirt, and he began fumbling with the hem of your dress. “I can ravage you where I want… where and when I need to.”

Still, he froze as your hand spread across his bare chest. “I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t tell Dick to save you instead of me.” He panted. Sweat was beaded across his brow. “I can’t do this without you. Not anymore.”

“You have me.” You kissed him. “You’ll always have me.” Hugging him close, you cried into the crook of his neck.

Batman hadn’t been able to save both Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawe that night. In the end, he still lost both. The choice, distorted as it was by the Joker, still weighed on him. The guilt had woken him up many a night. Like with every nightmare, you soothed him back to sleep. He was constantly afraid that he’d lose you like his childhood friend. Always afraid that he’d be out on patrol and some underworld power would grab you. No ransom would be too high for Bruce Wayne. No number of obstacles would be too much for Batman. What if he was a second too slow? What if the money wasn’t the point, and they harmed you anyway? What if… The what-ifs swirled in his mind constantly. They were swirling now, blinding him to anything but feeling you safe in his arms.

As for you? You still stood by what you told Dick to do. Nothing could change it. And you stood by your promise to always be with Bruce, even if only in memory should the worst occur. In your mind, he had been Batman long before he met you. He could be Batman long after you’d gone. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring that fateful possibility. He had you. Here. Now. Home and safe. In his arms.

“You’ve got me,” you whispered. “We’re alright. I’m okay.”

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours and his hands were smoothing up your thighs. You rolled your hips forward, and wrapped your legs around his thick torso. You knew every muscle. Every scar. And every bruise long after they’d faded. Bruce ran his hands over your body, feeling your form still trapped under your dress. He knew the same points about you. Every muscle honed from self-defense training with Damian. Every papercut and bruise from archive drawers. And every inch of skin that he’d kissed a thousand times before. He couldn’t get enough.

You laughed as your dress ripped, pulled apart at the seams by a desperate man. His hunger paused as he finally saw the surprise you’d had in store. The entirely black set was your gift to him last Valentine’s Day. He trailed his fingers over the lace on your breasts before diving his face between them. You arched, digging your fingers into his hair. While he left open-mouthed kisses across your chest, you whispered as much comfort as you could. But your ability to speak was quickly degrading into soft moans and whines.

You wanted to be held. You wanted to be held so tight you could barely breathe. You wanted the space to wrap yourself around him like a snake looking for heat. Only his body would be able to warm the shiver out of your spine.

When you sighed as much, he only grunted.

He was lost in you. Lost to the word and the weight of it’s brokenness.

You were home. You were safe. You were in his arms. Skin to skin wasn’t enough anymore. Now he needed to be in you.

Bruce’s wandering touch finally drifted down across your tummy to the apex of your thighs. His fingers curled through the gap in the crotch of your panties. The wetness there made his knees give out. Face level with his target, he dove in, more hungry and hazy-eyed than when he kissed the valley of your breasts. While he ate you out, you gripped the back of his head, steadied yourself on the wall behind you, gripped the edge of the hall table, and you held onto anything you could while your vision blurred. One finger, two fingers curled while his tongue did the rest. He sucked hard on your clit, nearly toppling off your seat. Bruce took advantage of your folded position and hefted you over his shoulder.

Trapped there, you could do nothing but writhe as he continued to play with your wetness as he carried you down the hall. The fancy dress was left in shreds on the floor. You clenched on his fingers. With a growl, he dropped you to your feet. He pinned you to the wall, pressing close. Where your nails clawed into his shoulders, rough and desperate, his kisses to the underside of your jaw were soft and languorous. On the other hand, he never stopped wringing pleasure out of you by quickening the curling of his fingers. His thumb circled on your clit, weakening your knees. But he wouldn’t let you fall. The press of his body over yours was what he needed.

“You’re mine. You’re safe.” He hovered his lips over yours. “Tell me: how are you?”

Now? Your mind reeled. But every time you were about to answer, he’d change the pace of his fingers, or scissor you open, or change the direction of his thumb on your clit. Then your mind would blur. And speech left you. Finally, you managed, “you bastard.”

He smiled against your mouth. “Good.” If you could sass him, then you were completely at ease. His tongue curled into your mouth.

You accepted it, sucking on it like your walls were clamping down on his fingers. But as he quickened both, your breath stuttered. Your nails carved deep half moons into his skin as your body convulsed. Pinned to the wall, your body had nowhere to go as you shivered head to toe. Pinned back, you had nowhere to go when Bruce kept moving through your release. Your mouth fell open, panting with the onslaught of pleasure.

Bruce grinned against your cheek. Once again, he picked you up. This time, he wrapped your legs around his waist. He finished the journey to the master bedroom. When he laid you down, you were still hazy with release. It gave him time to rake his gaze across you again. He took in the heaving of your breasts in the lingerie you picked out. And the way your thighs tried to cover up the mess he’d made of you already. The only remnant of the fancy evening were your heels. Nearly passed out on his bed, there was nothing left of what Dent tried to do to you. He frowned. On second glance, your wrists were beginning to bruise.

From under your fluttering lashes, you took time to look him over too. How his torso shimmered with that fine layer of sweat. How his hair was mussed and his gaze was wild for you. But from the waist down, he was still presentation ready. Give or take the muddy patches on his suit pants.

“You’re wearing too much,” you said.

The frown shifted into a smirk. Slowly, he began to undo his belt. He leaned one way, then the other, as he removed his shoes. With a bit of shimmying, he bared every inch of skin for your view. He slid his hand into the one you reached towards him. His grip between your fingers was just short of painful. Carefully, he loomed over you, pupils blown wide, and his breathing heavy. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Please, Bruce.” You closed your eyes as he slowly sheathed into you. A tiny whimper slipped out as he gripped your wrists, pinning them to the sheets on either side of your head.

When he moved, it was like he was trying to relearn you. Each twist and spear of his hips searching out your sweet spots reassured him that you were the same woman who had woken up by his side that morning. You were the same woman who took days or weeks to research an article topic, only to type it up an hour before the due date. Your cries were the same. How you moaned his name was the same. You were the same woman who walked into his life and immediately made it better.

He was the same man as that morning too. Even after a night of keeping Gotham safe, he could aways make you forget your own name. But you remembered his. Every drag and spear that made you quake brought it up like a talisman. Here was the man who knew your every worry. He listened to your every ramble and collection of convoluted theories for hours. And he came back to you. Triumphant or bloody and bruised, he always came back. Right now, he was replacing the bruises on your wrists with his own. And he was replacing the worries in your mind with nerve-blinding pleasure.

“Darling,” you keened, “please. So close.” You didn’t say you needed him. Or that you needed him to do anything, even to cum. He was taking what he needed from you.

Bruce pressed his forehead to yours. “Look at me.” He pleaded, “look at me, please.”

Taking a deep breath, you forced your eyes open. And you almost collapsed under the desire in his gaze.

He turned his hips in that certain way, and you did collapse. Crying out his name and clawing the air, your body seized. Bruce stuttered and moaned, held in place by your walls and by the sight of you falling apart beneath him. He filled you. Thrusting to chase those last sparks of release, he hummed your name.

Finally, he pulled out and fell next to you on the bed. You curled into his warmth with his chest against your back. When his arm draped across your hip, you smiled.

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Bruce pressed his nose into the spot right behind your ear. He inhaled deeply. “We’re okay.” “Yes. We’re okay.”

***

General Masterlist

DC Masterlist

More smutty goodness with Bruce Wayne: A Night at the Theater

[lyjen]

Just a minute

Summary: Evan and (Y/n) are due to get married, but when an accident happens on scene during a thunderstorm, the lives of the two are completely flipped upside down.

A request by: @shauna-carsley

9-1-1 Masterlist

Taglist: ( @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“I still can’t believe you’re actually getting married, Buck” Hen said as she bumped her shoulder against Evan’s who was sitting next to her. “Yeah who would’ve thought that..” Evan mumbled as he gave Hen a small smile as he looked down at his hands.

Their big day was coming closer with every second, minute and hour. They will get married next week. They weren’t the kind of people to throw a massive wedding, they would just invite their loved ones and some friends, and have an intimate wedding.

“Well I certainly didn’t expect it to happen for at least what, ten more years?” Chimney sounded through the headset while the truck hit another puthole on their way towards the location of their call.

Laughs sounded through the headphones as Evan was still with his head on cloud nine, even though he popped the question months ago. He still couldn’t believe he was engaged with the girl he loved desperately for these past years. They went through hell and back, from Evan getting crushed by a firetruck, to being targeted on duty by a sniper.

(Y/n) was sitting on Evan’s right side, and noticed his absent look. She placed her hand down onto his right hand, which was resting on his right thigh. When her skin touched his, he looked up and glanced at (y/n).

“Well, believe it because the proof is right here” (Y/n) said as she pulled the collar of her navy blue LAFD t-shirt forward and showed her engagement ring between her thumb and index finger of her right hand.

Her engagement ring was hanging on a small chain so she could wear it as a necklace.That was the solution if she was working, she couldn’t wear her ring around her finger if she was on shift. But she was determined to wear it, even if she was on duty. Tucked underneath her shirt so it wouldn’t get in her way as she would perform her tasks.

The truck pulled to a stop as (Y/n) placed her necklace safe and sound underneath the fabric of her shirt. She yanked off her headphones as grabbed her helmet off the floor and placed it underneath her arm, so she could easily jump out of the rig after everyone else.

She placed her helmet onto her head as soon as her feet met the wet ground.

It had been raining all day long. You’d think after a whole day with only rain, the clouds wouldn’t have any water left to send down to the ground.

But no, here they were.. in the middle of the night, getting called out to a warehouse fire, not exactly the kind of night she was hoping for, not when you haven’t slept at all in twenty four hours.

Hatches of compartments were pulled open, as she followed her captain. “Okay, Miller, Stafford, Mckenzie! Start evacuating the building!” Bobby ordered one half of his team. The three were preparing to collect everything they needed out of the truck. Such as oxygen tanks and halligans were getting snatched out of the compartment.

“Buck, Eddie and (Y/n) you are on ladder duty” he said as he pointed at the other three persons walking right beside and behind him. “(Y/n) I want you to raise the aerial, Buck and Eddie get up to that window and hit it. Let’s go!” Bobby called out as he clapped his hands together.

(Y/n) fastened towards the compartment where they stored the metal plates that go underneath the two arms on the side of the truck. She quickly grabbed two metal plates out and handed them over to Evan, as she grasped the two other metal plates and placed them on the right spot on the asphalt.

While Eddie gathered whatever Evan and Eddie needed for going up that ladder. (Y/n) and Evan expanded the side arms of the ladder truck.

As soon as she grabbed the metal side of the small ladder on the side of the truck to get on top of it and raise the aerial.

She flinched at the feeling of a hand pushed down onto her lower back. She was so focussed, she didn’t realize her fiancé - and soon to be husband - was behind her.

“I’ve got to harness up” he said as his hand remained on her lower back. His wet curls were flattened by his helmet and sticking to the skin of his face.

He softly patted his hand against her lower back, “See you in a minute” he said as he tried to make himself intelligible over the pouring rain. She sent him a small smile, which made him smile as he retrieved his hand and turned away from her.

She watched Evan walk away for a second, as she looked down to the ground. Still smiling. Making her realize that she has found the love of her life and she was really going to marry him.

This has been the happiest and blessed she has felt in years. Life couldn’t get any better than this.

A small and soft laugh left her lips, as she placed her hands onto the soaking wet metal pipe and pulled herself step by step up the ladder on the side of the truck.

When she reached the top of the fire truck, she directly turned to the left where the control panel of the aerial was placed. Her hand found the lever to raise the aerial while the other hand found the lever to extend the ladder.

A slight color change in the skies above her caught her attention as her hands were still pushing the levers.

It was like the sound of the rain was being muted and some kind of soft static sound filled her ears. She turned her face towards the still pouring clouds above her.

“What the hell…” she stumbled as she saw the bright blue colors through the dark night sky and dark clouds. She stopped pushing the levers as she took a step back.

Her stomach turned. This wasn’t good. It felt like some kind of demon could enter their would any second. But demons did not exist in this universe.

The sound was growing louder and louder, basically screaming into her ears.

Within a blink of an eye she felt a roaring pain through her body and her body tumbled backwards. Down to the ground.

The electricity entered her body through the hands, making its way up to her shoulders and made its way down her torso, down to her legs.

She wanted to scream, cry, do anything to make some sort of sound as a call for help. Even if it was just a little yelp, what would’ve given her hope. But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t make a sound. It was almost like her lips were sealed, stitched together, glued together with super glue.

Evan was just securing the red webbing around his waist, but the dreadful noise of the thunder and lightning made him stop his movements.

Evan jumped back and ducked as he heard a loud thunder sound roaring through the air.

“What the-“ he cursed as the truck he was standing next to started to smoke and move back and forth like it was possessed.

His eyes were locked on the firetruck. This never happened before. The rain did of course, but lightning that struck so close to him and his team didn't. Evan’s eyes grew wide as he realized who was standing on top of the truck before it got struck.

Adrenaline entered his veins as his heart started to beat faster and faster, pumping blood through his veins along with the adrenaline. His eyes searched for his fiance, standing on top of that truck. But it was hard to see with the rain drops dripping into his face. “(Y/n)” he stumbled, as the thought of her being in danger or being hurt entered his thoughts.

“(Y/n)!” he called out louder as his eyes couldn’t find his girlfriend on top of the truck. His legs were moving faster than his mind, which made him almost trip over his own body. Almost falling to the ground, Evan used one hand to push himself back up as he quickly made his way to the otherside of the truck where the small ladder was, to get on top of the roof of the truck.

When he rounded that corner, he saw her lifeless body lying on the ground. Arms spread wide across the asphalt, eyes closed and her helmet a few feet further than where it’s supposed to be.

Her name fell multiple times off his lips as he screamed like he was being tortured. He may be not being tortured physically, but mentally this was a whole other story. He dropped onto his knees next to her body as he cried out her name.

“(Y/n) can you hear me?” he tried to say through his sobs as his loud voice became softer with every sentence he spoke as he saw the raindrops falling from the sky onto her skin. “Please” he cried, he wanted to hold her in his arms, but he was scared.

“Coming through!” Chimney’s voice said, he kneeled down on the other side of (Y/n) and placed down the medic bag he was carrying with the strap over his shoulder.

Evan felt how a shadow of Chimney’s partner was in the corner of his eyes. But Evan refused to leave. He wasn’t going to leave (Y/n)’s side, not voluntarily.

Evan placed his index and middle finger against her neck to see if he could feel a pulse. But before he could sense a pulse, he felt two hands landing on both his shoulders.

“Buck, let Chim and Hen do their jobs” Bobby’s voice said. “No” he said, determined to stay, while the tears were welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t leave her, he wanted to do everything in his power to help her. But he wasn’t a paramedic.

Hen placed her hand on Evan’s upper arm. “Hey.. it’s okay.” she reassured him. “We got her” she continued as she locked her eyes with his. Evan’s eyes softened as Hen’s hand gently rubbed up and down over his upper arm and she gave him a small nod.

Evan glanced once more at his fiancé, as he squeezed his eyes closed to make some kind of quick wish, and moved out of Hen’s way to make room for her. His legs straightened as he felt two hands grabbing his shoulders and pulling him close.

He didn’t know who pulled him close, probably Bobby but that didn’t matter right now. His eyes remained on his girlfriend, his heart was beating so quick it almost felt like it could break through his chest and pop out of his body.

Evan let his fingers intertwine with his hair. He had so many emotions going through his body now, and didn’t know how to deal with it. He was sure he was about to pull some strands of hair out of his skull while he watched Hen and Chimney work.

Her eyes slowly opened as the ammonia from the little bag Hen had put right under her nose, entered her nose and triggered her brain to wake up. A groan left her lips as she turned her head and squeezed her eyes closed.

“(Y/n)? Are you in any pain?” Hen asked as she hovered over her, trying to get her attention. “Everything-” she said as a groan took over her sentence. “hurts” she cried as she opened her eyes again. “(Y/n), can you try to wiggle your toes for me?” Chimney asked as he focussed onto her feet.

With every small piece of energy she had left, she tried to wiggle her toes as she tried to catch Chimney’s reaction. She saw his eyes turn to Hen as he gave her a worried look. “It’s bad isn’t it?” (Y/n) said as she looked up into the dark night sky which still poured the rain into her face. “Hey, let’s not lose hope okay?” Hen tried to reassure her. But how could you not lose hope when there was as possible spinal injury?

“Pushing morphine” Chimney said as he already installed the IV in an artery in her hand. “Get a backboard and a gurney over here!” Hen yelled over to some of the other 118 team members, no one in particular.

“Evan?” she cried out, she knew he was there. How couldn’t he be? “Yes? I’m here baby” Evan said as he pulled himself free from the still resting hands onto his shoulder to keep him under control. Evan fastened towards (Y/n) as he let himself fall down onto his knees again as he took place above her head, still giving Hen and Chim the space they needed.

“I’m here” he repeated softly as he placed his hand down onto her collarbone and rubbed reassuringly his thumb up and down over her turnout jacket. “I’m sorry” she cried out the second she looked him in the eye.

“For what?” he asked her while a confused look was written all over his face. “Ruining our wedding” she sobbed. Evan sighed in awe, how could she be thinking of her wedding when the number one priority right now was herself?

Just a minute.. that was all that it took for the weather to turn and throw her in some kind of bad film or her worst nightmare.

______

“That went well, right?” Evan said as he closed the door of the car and locked it with the car keys. (Y/n) didn’t answer him and took the break of her wheelchair off and rolled herself over the threshold of their home. Evan just watched her rolling away from him as he slowly followed behind her.

They had just come home from one of the appointments of physiotherapy (Y/n) has twice a week. To treat her injuries, and train her muscles, but most importantly: to attempt to walk again.

The lightning strike had electrocuted her entire body, and touched her nervous system. While the fall off the top of the truck had damaged her spine. She could move her upper body, but from her waist down to the legs she was suffering from paralysis.

He went with her to almost all her appointments, if he could and wasn’t on shift. He wanted to be the shoulder to lean on or to cry on if she had to. He wanted to be a part of this journey, even if this was going to be hell on earth.

“Hey you okay?” Evan asks when he steps inside the house and closes the front door behind him. His eyes fell onto his fiance who was taking off her special gloves, which she got to protect her wounds and blisters, but also to give her more grip to push the wheels herself. Having everyone pushing you everywhere wasn’t going to make her happy.

She stayed silent as she put the gloves onto her lap, with her back still turned towards him. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Not after the news she received.

Evan didn’t like the silent treatment, he never did. She only did this when they were fighting, or when she was upset. (Y/n) looked at the healing wounds on the palm of both her hands, as she softly let her fingers glide over the palm of her right hand, tracing the electrocution wound.

A sigh left his lips as he slowly came closer to his girlfriend. He stood in front of her as he kneeled down so he was on the same level as her. “What’s wrong?” He softly asked, his voice sounded almost broken.

Her eyes remained onto her wounds, as she emotionless kept tracing the same wound over and over again. He could sense that with every touch over those wounds, the spark in her eyes became less and less. As if she was losing herself.

Evan tries to make eye contact with her as he places his right and left hand onto her knee, folding both his hands over one another. “Please…” he sighed, knowing damn well what was going on. “Talk to me?” he begged her.

Her eyes kept being locked onto her hands. “What if.. all of the effort I put in to be able to walk again, won’t work..” she spoke silently, with a broken voice. Evan let out another soft sigh as he let both his hands wander and placed them carefully on both her thighs.

“All this work, and there still aren’t any results..” she said as he could hear her voice break, she was on the verge of breaking down. Evan went silent for a bit as the words she spoke broke little pieces off his heart. He wanted to react to it so badly, he wanted to tell her it was all going to be okay. But he didn’t want to give her false hope either.

“You just have to be patient.. and give it time, your ability to walk will come back. Im sure of it.” Evan tries to motivate her as he still keeps on trying to make her look at him, by using only his eyes. (Y/n) scoffed at Evan’s motivational speech. “Well, you may be the only one who thinks it will return.” she mumbled as she tried to look away from Evan.

Evan’s eyes narrowed at her reaction. “Okay, did something happen today? During your appointment?” he asks as he still tries to get her to look at him. Evan went with her, but wasn’t allowed to actually be in the room during the appointment. So he went and read some awful magazines -which probably didn’t get renewed much- they had in the waiting area.

“(Y/n).. look at me.” he said one more time. It took her a second, but then she found the courage to look her soon to be husband in the eyes. “And don’t even think about lying to me” he continued in a strict tone, as if he was talking to a child.

(Y/n) swallowed as she mentally prepared herself to tell Evan what happened. “We ran some tests. And he told me he wasn’t happy with the results.” her voice was trembling as if she was nervous to tell him the truth. ”He said he was doubting if I could walk ever again or hell even go back to work.” a tear slipped over her cheek as she quickly wiped it away with the side of her hand. She didn’t want to cry over it, but it was devastating news. How could she not cry over it?

“Oh baby…” the words fell off his lips like a whisper. He wanted to encourage her, but right now she needed to vent so it was best to just give her a shoulder to cry on. His thumbs gently rubbed up and down her thigh. “And.. I’m starting to think that he’s right.” she said as a voice crack took over her sound. “Maybe I’ll be stuck in this wheelchair forever, and we’ll never be able to do our first dance. Not the way I dreamed of all these years.” she cried as tears were running down her face.

Before Evan could think of what he was doing, he pulled her closer and locked his arms around her back. (Y/n) put her arms around his neck as she desperately sobbed with her face buried into his neck. She cried until there weren’t any tears left to cry. Evan could feel the fabric of his shirt sticking to his shoulder as a wet spot was created by her tears. “I’ll never be a firefighter ever again” she sobbed.

As soon as Evan heard her say that, he broke free from the state he has been in for the last few minutes, just letting his girlfriend cry onto his shoulder. His right hand wandered from her back towards her shoulder as he placed his left hand onto her cheek. “No.. You can’t think like that!” Evan said as he let his thumb cleared the wet strokes of tears from her cheek.

“I can’t do this..” she cried as she closed her eyes and shook her head. “But I’m tired Buck, it’s like i'm running towards the light at the end of a tunnel, but whenever I take a step, the light moves with it. It goes further away. ” she continued as she tried to help Evan imagine what it felt like, being stuck to that chair. (Y/n) placed her hand around Evan’s wrist of the hand that was connected to her cheek.

“Hey..I know it’s hard but we have to stay positive” Evan said. “Being a firefighter is my life! But I can’t do that while I’m stuck in this wheelchair! I want to do our first dance at our wedding, but not like this Buck!” she started to speak up louder. “And I know that, but that's why I said we have to stay pos-” Evan couldn’t even finish his sentence as he felt his hand being pulled down by hers, which was resting around his wrist. “Ugh! Would you stop saying that!” her loud voice echoed through the space of their home. She held her hands up as some kind of stop sign for Evan. ”You’re not the one who’s stuck to this wheelchair twenty four seven!” she said loud and clear as she tried to keep Evan on a distance from her.

She rolled herself backwards as she turned away from him. Arguing and being mad at him was easier if she wasn’t looking at him. “You are not the one who needs to constantly ask for help or the one who has been electrocuted or fell off a ladder truck!” she said, trying to calm herself down.

A silence filled the room as Evan got off his knees and stood up straight again. He has been where she is now. He knows for a part how much it sucks to not be able to do what you love the most, and being stuck at home. But she was right, he didn’t know what it felt like to be stuck to that chair, or not being able to walk no matter how hard you try and how much you want it.

Evan swallow was audible through the house, that’s how silent it was in the house. You could even hear a pin drop. “No, you’re right. I’m not that person..” he sighed as he leaned with his hands down onto the kitchen island in their house. ”But I am the one who almost lost my fiance when she was in the OR” he said as he looked her way, trying to get her attention.

He could see her head tilting to the side a little bit. She was still listening, even though she wasn’t looking. “You coded on the table.” he said as she could hear his voice practically breaking. A silence filled the room. “I was in that waiting room for hours, you were in the OR for hours. And when I saw that face of your doctor when he came through the doors, I almost thought I lost you.. again.” (Y/n) could only sense by the tone of his voice that he was struggling.

“And I didn’t tell you that, because I didn’t want to upset you. But I wanted you to have hope, because if you survived that.. I’m sure you can survive this too.” Evan tried to explain as he pushed his body from the kitchen counter.

Another silence.

Evan was ready to stop this conversation, to just.. walk away from it. But he didn’t have the heart to do it. He was sorry for her, that she has to go through all of this. Sorry for mother nature choosing the ladder truck as its target, with (Y/n) on top of it. It was just bad luck.

He could hear her breathing and hear her arms move, followed by a click of (y/n) taking the brakes off her wheels. (Y/n) turned the wheelchair so she was facing her fiance again. “You should’ve stopped me before I went up that ladder” she said, blood cold as she looked him in the eye.

Did she really still blame him for something he didn’t do? He understood she was angry, with herself, mother nature, physics, and Evan. A scoff left his lips as he let his hand run through his short curls.

He was thinking of what he should say next. He had so many words to say, and yet.. there weren’t any words popping up in his head. So he decided to go with the words he had already written.

A soft sigh left his mouth as he dropped his arm next to his body. “You want to know one thing that was written in my vows?” he asked carefully as he felt the tears trying to push their way out of the tear ducts.

(Y/n) looked him in the eye, an expression filled with confusion. She just blamed him for everything and he wants to talk about the wedding? About his vows?

“That no matter how hard life would get, I’d still be here.“ he said as his eyes connected once more with his, something that didn’t happen a lot during this conversation. Evan slowly moved forward, towards (Y/n). ”Whether you like it or not, I’ll be here in the good times and the bad ones.” he continued as he reached her wheelchair, and kneeled down in front of it.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached her level and took a breath. “You can try to push me away. But I’m not going anywhere. Because that’s what you do for someone you love so desperately.”

______

(Y/n) felt the sunshine kissing her skin as she leaned with her head against the window of Evan’s Jeep while she was sitting in the passenger's seat.

“Where are we going again?” (Y/n) asked with an annoyed tone as she glanced at her fiance. Evan could feel her eyes burning into his skin, his eyes remained on the road as he quickly glanced at her in the corner of his eye. He just smirked, as a reaction and continued his focus on the road.

She rolled her eyes as she let her head fall against the window again, just to see the sidewalks and buildings around her flash by. She hated surprises, and not knowing what was planned. Evan didn’t ask her to come with him, he commanded it.

_

“Hey I’m back! How was your doctor's appointment?” Evan said loudly as he closed the front door behind him. He shrugs off his jacket as he places his jacket onto the backrest of one of the chairs, which were placed by the dining table. When he doesn’t receive an answer, he calls out her name again. “(Y/n)?” he repeated as he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

No answer, again.

Once more, he called out her name and slowly entered the living room. She couldn’t have left the house, right? That was something she hated to do these past few months, especially now because of the wheelchair. When his eyes fell onto the wheelchair being parked next to the couch, his eyes wandered back to the couch which was in use by his girlfriend.

She looked like a corpse, lying completely silent.

Step by step Evan came closer to the back of the couch, his eyes burning into her back as he was trying to see if she was asleep or just staring into the deepness of their home.

“(Y/n)?” His soft voice called out her name, trying to see if she would react to him. The only sound running through his eardrums were her breathing sounds.

Evan reached the back of the sofa as he stood on his toes, trying to get a look of her eyes. Only to realize that they were wide open. She was zoned out. Her arms crossed over one another, looking like she was hugging or comforting herself.

“Baby?” his soft yet concerned voice sounded through the living room as he placed a hand down onto her arm. “Are you alright?” he continued. He knows she isn’t fine. She hasn’t been in weeks. Since she lashed out at him, it’s like some kind of switch has been flicked.

She hasn’t been to any of her physiotherapy sessions as she did before. Normally, she would’ve had appointments twice in the week. On Tuesday and Thursday. But at some point, she just stopped going. She wouldn’t answer the calls and texts of her friends and colleagues, and people were getting concerned. Buck was getting concerned.

It was like she was falling into a well and he was trying to keep her up with his strength, but he wasn’t strong enough. He never let go of her, but she did let go of him. Instead of holding on and locking her hands onto his wrists, she just suddenly let go. As if she was sick and tired, and was fine with everything.

Evan walked around the couch, gently placed her legs closer to the back of the couch and sat down on the sofa. “What’s going on (Y/n)?” he asked as he placed his hand onto the side of her thigh.

He waited patiently for an answer. “Have you ever thought about how life would’ve been if we did get married months ago?” she sighed. Part of him wanted to smile, he could already imagine seeing her walking down the aisle, reading their vows and saying their “I do’s”. “Everyday” he whispered as he slowly rubbed his hand over a small piece of her thigh.

“I just… wish my legs would start working with me instead of against me.” she said as she kept on looking into the deepness of their home. A sigh leaves his mouth, as an idea crosses his mind.

"Okay, that's it. Get up.” Evan says as he shoots up and points at her to get up. “What?” she says as she only moves her head to look up at her boyfriend. “Get up.” he commands her, but he gets nothing but an annoyed scoff back from her.

Evan places his hands on his hips as he waits for his fiancé to push herself up from the couch and move herself into her wheelchair. But she just goes back to the position she has been in for the last few minutes, maybe even hours.

A small okay fell from his lips as he placed his left arm on her lower back and his right arm under her knees, carrying her into her wheelchair. “Buck! No, no, no!” she groaned as she felt his arms underneath her body and before she knew it, she was being placed into her wheelchair and he was pushing her towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” she sighed annoyed, like a child that doesn’t get what she wants.

“We’re going for a ride.”

_

“Keep your eyes closed” Evan’s voice sounded through her ears as she was being pushed in her wheelchair. “Buck I really don’t-” she says as she gets cut off mid sentence. “Just wait for my sign” is the only thing Evan says as he keeps on pushing her wheelchair, maybe even going over a few thresholds. She could hear one of their favorite songs playing softly in the background.

“Okay and… open your eyes.” he says. (Y/n) uncovers her eyes and lets her eyes adjust to the lights that finally make their way into her eyes again. Evan smiles as he moves towards the middle of the space they were in.

They were in the ballroom where they were supposed to have their first dance in, filled with light strings, lighting up the room.

“Buck, what are we doing here?” she asks him, not amused.

He decides not to answer her question, at least not yet. He walks towards (Y/n) as he simply holds out his hand in front of her. “Take my hand” he softly says as his eyes connect with hers. “What?” she stumbles, unsure what to say.

Was he out of his mind? He was actually asking her to stand? After all these weeks of no sessions, and practice? “Am I speaking spanish? Take my hand.” he tells her again. He wanted her to try so bad. But he could see in her eyes that she was afraid. Afraid to fall.

She shook her head, “I…can’t” she says as she looks down to the ground. Evan squatted down so he could look her straight in the eyes. “Come on, I’ve seen you standing during the sessions. You can do this.” he tries to motivate her.

She shakes her head again as she starts looking around in the room they were in. There was no one else. “Hey, hey, hey… I’m here” he reassures her. Evan places his hand down onto hers as he softly squeezes her hand.

Her heart was beating like crazy, “Im scared” she whispers softly. “I’ve got you” he reacts as he pushes a lost strand of hair behind her ear again. Evan places his hand down onto her cheek. ”I won’t let you fall, I promise.” he continued.

Evan stayed at eye height, crouched in front of her. Hesitantly she looked at his hand which he was holding out to her again. A sigh rolled off her lips as she closed her eyes, trying to get rid of the sudden nerves.

She placed her left hand into his right hand, as a jitter made its way up her arm. Evan quickly got her feet off the little steps her legs and feet were resting on. Her feet were on the ground now, as he gently assisted her to stand straight upon her feet.

Her face was completely focussed onto her feet as soon as she was standing up straight. She couldn’t trust her legs, that’s why she keeps on looking at her legs. Evan smiles bright as he looks down and carries the weight she pushed down onto his hands.

Evan brings her hands towards his shoulder, as a sign for her to put her arms there and lean on him, like a real dance. When she gets the hint and places her hands onto his shoulders, his hands wander down her body to her lower back.

This whole time, they didn’t say a thing. (Y/n) places her head down onto Evan’s chest as she clung onto him like she could fall any moment. He places his warm red lips onto the top of her head and leaves a warm comforting kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” he whispers as he reeled her in. “I know it’s not the first dance you imagined..” he sighed.

“It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you..” she said as she kept her head tight against his chest. “I’m not the best dancer, so maybe it’s for the better that we do it this way” Evan said as a grin was spread across his face. He could feel her body shaking because of the laughs she was letting out.

Evan pressed his lips into a thin line to suppress his laugh and swayed both their bodies from side to side to the rhythm of the music.

They were going to get through this, together.

[live-love-be-unique]

Misery’s your master

Summary: After an emotionally and physically draining mission Ghost finds you alone at the barracks.

This is my first attempt at writing angst, please be gentle!

Parings: Ghost x f reader

Warnings: mentions of death.

The mission should have been routine. Except intel had mentioned nothing about hostages; women and children that the cartel had locked in the warehouse. You’d tried to open the door before Gaz had shouted that it was rigged with explosives, and someone grabbed you, pulling you away just before the explosives were detonated. Killing all inside.

You’d been back on base for over a week now and everyone was treating you with kid gloves. Soap had tried to check in with you but at that point you were so sick of everyone asking how you were that you took a swing at him, after that Price insisted it was time that you speak to the base therapist. It wasn’t a bad idea, you hadn’t eaten or slept in days; the nights were the worst, you stayed awake replaying scenarios in your head, hearing the explosion over and over again.

For the first time in a week you had left your room, making your way to the mess hall and taking a seat as far towards the back of the room as you could find. Pulling your hood over your head and trying to eat something, anything that you could keep down, you felt the eyes of your teammates burning into you.

The hall suddenly became too much. The lights were too bright, the sounds and the voices overlapping each other was overwhelming. Your blood pounded in your ears, heart thudding in your chest. You had to get away. You couldn’t stay in that damned room anymore. With your breath heaving in your lungs, you push your way through the door and make your way towards a terrace at the end of the hallway. Standing in the open feeling the cold air against your skin you gasp, visions of civilians; of the women and children you couldn’t save replaying in your mind. Your hands trembled as you pull your lighter out of your jacket pocket. Clicking the lighter as hard as you can, it wouldn’t light. Frustrated, you sigh around the cigarette between your lips.

“Thought you didn’t smoke” a deep voice came from beside you. Glancing over you spot Ghost leaning against the railing, holding his own lighter under the cigarette still dangling from your lips.

“I don’t, generally” you mutter, inhaling and blowing the smoke into the night air. Watching for a moment, the way the smoke rings curled through the sky.

“How are you?” He questioned, pocketing his lighter.

“Nothing a shower and a good night’s sleep can’t fix” you shrug, avoiding his eyes.

He stared at you, “I’m going to ask you again how you are and I would like you to answer me honestly”

You don’t answer, turning your eyes back to the stars as you take a shaky breath. A warm pressure settles across your hand, looking down you see Ghost’s gloved hand resting atop yours. You let it settle there, his thumb tracing circles on your skin, anchoring your body as you took a shaky breath “I can’t get it out of my head, I can hear them screaming for me to help them. I should have…”

“Come on” He grunted, stepping back from the railing.

“What?”

“Hit me”

“I’m not going to hit you”

“You wanted to take a swing at something. You took a shot at Soap the other day” Ghost shrugged.

You stared at each other for a moment before you balled your fist and struck Ghost in the chest. “Again” he said.

Ghost kept saying “again” as he let he you hit him until you were gasping for breath and fat, heavy tears streaked down your face. You drew back your fist for one final hit but Ghost easily caught it; pulling you close against his chest as he held you tight, one large hand securely against your back holding you firmly against him and the other cradling the back of your head.

“The door was rigged. You were never going to get it open, the cartel had eyes on it the whole time. They wanted us in the warehouse when they blew it up” his voice was low and deep, you could feel his breath against your ear. “You tried to free them. Remember that, hold on to that”

You don’t know how long the two of you stood there like that. He let you cling onto him like a life raft as you cried out everything you had.

“…Thank you” you mumbled, pulling away whipping at your eyes with your sleeve. A door opened and the two of you watched as a group of recruits spilled out of the doorway.

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened” Ghost said, his eyes boring into yours.

“I’ll…I’m trying”

Ghost’s eyes soften at your response, you can hear him breathe out one word, with all the kindness in the world.

There is something so comforting about the simple phrase.

“Good,” he says quietly.

His hand moves to your face, to gently trace the skin on your cheek. A tiny muscle by Ghost’s jaw twitches as he watches you.

Almost as if he is suddenly realized what he was doing, his hand drops from your face and he steps back, glancing towards the door where the recruits came from.

“Make sure you eat something” he said before turning and heading towards his room. You stood alone in the dark for a moment before returning to the mess hall, a small plate of food in front of you almost as if Ghost’s words were the balm your soul needed.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny/Tim, Violet, Iris

@Cloudydreamless CW: gun violence, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Normally Tim found dusk to be beautiful. Even in a city like Gotham where shadows seemed to have more power, the change of light at dusk was captivating. It always made his fingers itch for his camera— to capture those deepening violets and that last, golden glow of the sun.

Today those beautiful colors it only brought dread.

Seven pm. Nineteen-hundred.

That was the deadline to save Danny and with every darkening tint of the sky Tim knew it was getting closer.

He hadn’t even been able to tell Danny he loved him.

He was so stupid.

He had let secrets get in the way again and again and again and for what?

To never get to tell Danny that he loved him?

No, there was still time. There had to be.

“Red Robin,” Oracle cut through Tim’s thoughts. “Warehouse on 5th and South.”

-

The glass shattered as it impacted with the heel of Tim’s boots.

The sound almost perfectly timed with the bang of the timer rigged gun firing.

Tim watched Danny crumple where he was tied to the chair.

Tim screamed. He was sure he screamed.

Danny wasn’t breathing.

He was—

He—

He shuddered, like a dog shaking off water, and sat back up.

Did some prompts, here is the masterpost. Feel Free to continue this one if you want!

[txttletale]

i remember there was a lot about nfts/the blockchain having a massive impact on the environment, do you know if there's been anything similar wrt the programs for ai art?

also bc you've been answering a Lot of ai questions today. have you read any of john darnielle's books? if so, what'd you think of them?

nfts and crypto more broadly are extremely wasteful (in relative terms, in absolute terms they're obviously a drop in the ocean compared to like. Cars) because proof of work means that al cryptocurrencies require constantly increasing amounts of computing power per new token, which is why you ended up with warehouses and warehouses of bitcoin mining rigs. ai art isn't like that, it doesn't use significantly more electricity than any other tool hosted online

[coryosbaby]

Mdni! 18+ , mentions of gore and sexual themes

Your hands skim over the keyboard in front of the security cameras in Jigsaw’s warehouse. Pulling your hair back from your face, you watch with morbid curiosity as a boy is placed inside the reverse bear trap. Pretty brown hair, strong nose. He’s gorgeous as he lays unconscious in that rigged room.

One of the apprentices straps him down to the chair, right across from another unconscious body— one that you know may or may not be cut open soon. Biting your lip, you watch the mysterious boy’s shirt ride up— it exposes a sliver of pale, soft skin.

You want to bite a chunk out of it.

Your friend and colleague, Amanda, stands behind you working on another trap— a collar that has bullets around the edges. Turning to her, you try to act casual.

“What’s the guy’s name?” You ask, motioning to the boy on the screen.

She shakes her head, her eyes not moving from the contraption in her grasp.

“I dunno. Adam, or something.”

Your eyes dazedly turn back towards the security footage and something tugs at your chest.

Adam.

It fits him well, you think.

You hum, watching as Amanda frustratedly slams down a piece of material.

“This piece of shit,” she grumbles. “I’m gonna go get some more stuff for it. I’ll be right back. Keep an eye on that guy, okay?”

That won’t be a problem, you think. You nod, saying bye to Amanda. Finally alone in the room, you bite your glossed lips and adjust your high heels on your feet. You then turn to your purse, pull out a compact mirror, and begin to touch up your eye makeup. Anything to get you to ignore that feeling tugging at you as Adam’s game begins.

—

It’s a mere forty minutes later, and Amanda still isn’t back yet. She had texted you through your burner phone a mere few minutes earlier.

“Got held up.” she said. “Wont be back for another 30 mins.”

Honestly, perfect timing. Because as you watch Adam through those cameras, you notice that he’s beginning to stir.

Of course, as you expect, he’s panicky. You can see all of his expressions: how confused he looks as his eyes first open, then the mere realization that he’s restrained. And then, the panic and fear— his eyes scrunch up and he begins to move his hips in an attempt to get out.

And you’re so thankful that the surveillance is equipped with audio. Because as he struggles, Adam lets out the most precious whine you’ve ever heard.

And against your morals (as if you have any, at this point), your panties begin to dampen. He lets out a pained sound, trying to speak through the helmet. But he can’t.

Watching him so helpless and scared— it shouldn’t turn you on. But something in you can’t help but bring your hand down to your pussy and rub your palm against your swollen clit. You let out a heavy exhale, and your eyes move down to Adam’s hips— those gorgeous, slutty little hips. He’s moving them around like he’s grinding against the fucking chair. And shit, you can’t resist letting out a moan at the sight.

Thankfully remembering to press the button that connects to the television set in the room, you watch with hooded eyes as it turns on in front of Adam. His eyes widen, looking and listening to the instructions. You move your panties to the side and slip a finger inside yourself. Two, after a mere moment; it’s always been easy for you to take your own fingers. Adam’s got his eyebrows scrunched up and you wonder what his cock looks like. Probably cute— a pretty, flushed pink tip when he’s aroused. He looks like the type to shave himself bare, and when you begin thinking about how girthy he might be your mouth begins to salivate. You haven’t even seen all of him (yet), but you know the boy has a perfect cock.

Adam begins to cry. Your pace speeds up. He sounds so pretty and you know if you saw his whole pouting face he’d be even prettier. You press the button to release his restraints. At the freedom of his wrists and legs he throws himself down to the floor— maybe he’s trying to search the unknown man laying limp on the floor to see if he has anything on him to help him escape. He pats his chest, and checks his pants pockets.

And then, he lifts up his shirt to reveal that damning question mark reserved as a cutting guide. He sobs, knowing what he has to do. His hand picks up the scalpel on the small metal table, brought to him by that puppet that you think is very fucking ugly. He looks at it, looking at the unknown man across from him.

And when he begins to complete the task assigned to save his life, your wetness gushes down your fingers in thick, creamy streams. You aren’t looking at the blood and gore littering the floor as Adam cuts into the man— no, that’s fucked up. Your eyes are only focused on the boy doing the cutting. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and you pull your fingers out of yourself to rub your clit in fast circles. Whimpering into the open air, you watch as Adam wins his game. You watch his bloody hands as he unlocks the trap. And when his face is revealed to you, all bloody and handsome and crying, you let out a loud mewl, and cum all over your own fingers.

And after this, realization sinks in that the boy has beat the trap. He will live.

And now you know what your next task will be— finding him. You intend to know this boy— Adam— and you intend to help him heal from this.

And once he’s gained your trust, maybe, just maybe, you’ll fuck his pretty brains out.

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[NEXT PART]

Okay I'm trying to be brave and post this before I chicken out, first time writing a fic, and I'm not sure if this is any good.

So, since I don't have time to draw out all of the revenant au story, but I still want to share it, I'm writing it instead.

Will continue this if people are interested!

[this isn't requiered but reading the comic might help you understand this better]

[also there's a Soap pov version of this by Badolmen, it doesn't line up 100% because we didn't work together but it's very very good and you should read it regardless]

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking, Ghost.”

He shifted in his place. Can never get used to Price’s voice in his head.

“You know I work best alone. All he’s gonna do is get in the way.” 

Price’s mustache twitched, as if he’s fighting a smile. Bastard is about to drop something to win the entire argument, Ghost already knows.

“He’s a revenant. Strong one too.” 

Fucking figures. Still, he could argue he doesn’t need any support-

“Intel is rigged with explosives. And the Sergeant just so happens to be explosion-proof.”

…Fuck.

Ghost sighs heavily like he was presented with an unreasonable amount of shit to deal with. He watches as Price sits there, shit eating grin spitting at him. He looks back to the folder, at the details of this already annoying mission, “you said there are 2 buildings?”

Price snaps from his self boasting to confirm “one suspected barracks and the other an abandoned warehouse. Warehouse contains the majority of explosives.” 

Finally finding something to work with, Ghost straightens his back to his usual self-assured posture, “the Sergeant can deal with the warehouse, I’ll clear the barracks. No need to work together.”

Price seems less happy about that. Serves him right. He sighs and drags a hand over his face, and Ghost almost feels bad for ruining his plan to get him to play with a team. Almost.

“Will it kill you to try and work with the lad?” Price asks offhandedly, while organising the folder back to the never-ending pile of documents on his desk.

“You mean again?” Ghost would wear his own shit eating grin if his face wasn’t permanently covered.

Price still seems equally pissed. Probably saw it in his literal mind’s eye. “Get out of my office Lieutenant, wheels up at 0500.” He gets up and walks around his desk to face Ghost, “don’t scare the kid off alright? I have a feeling you two could mash well together.”

Ghost tilts his head and projects the most doubt he could muster at Price. “Yes sir.”

This is going to be a bloody long day.

It’s not that Ghost hates people per se, it’s just that most of them seem hell-bent on being annoying, disruptive, or boring. Useless on the field for someone of his caliber, and even more useless off-field.

He knows he’s not exactly easy to relate to, but he couldn’t care less about trying to be. He’s here for one purpose. And it’s not “making friends” or whatever Price and Gaz has been trying to push him towards.

He wonders which category the Sergeant currently standing in front of him will fall into. By his fidgeting nature and easy smile, Ghost would put his money on “annoying”.

The Sergeant, “Soap” apparently (Ghost wonders if that callsign was given to him before or after he died a probably painful death), now directs that smile at him, seemingly undeterred by the giant man wearing a skull like a stereotypical grim reaper. He has to give it to the lad, at least he hides his discomfort well.

“You must be Ghost, eh? Let’s get ourselves a win LT” The Sergeant says with an obvious Scottish accent, fist-bumps his shoulder and walks off towards transport.

Oh, annoying is definitely winning.

Despite that, Ghost can’t feel like Soap really fits it. He’s unlike the other muppets in the category, He’s not poking him like the rookies do, trying to make him reveal his powers.

No, the Sergeant is annoying like an overly friendly dog is to someone that doesn’t want to be licked. He’s acting like they’re just two normal soldiers on their way to a normal mission, not the unnatural, unexplainable phenomena they actually are.

Ghost will have to keep watching. Certainly on field he will be able to find out his true colors.

On the helo, Ghost picks his usual spot near the ramp, where the lights don’t reach as much and most prefer not to sit, and observes Soap. His fidgety nature stayed the same, but the carefree expression he wore on ground morphed into a determined one, face stern and serious. He seemed lost in thought, eyebrows twitching here and there. He sees how his fingertips flicker, watching flames dance between them before the rapid movements put them out.

Well, at the very least Soap doesn’t fall into “boring”.

Clearing the barracks is a laughably easy job, even without using his powers. Although, it would’ve been so much faster with them… too bad he doesn’t hate the Sergeant enough to send him to Limbo.

They practically run through both buildings, untouchable storms. Ghost has to admit, Soap is clearly competent, disarming bombs and taking down hostiles at an impressive rate.

God, he hates when Price is right.

“Ground floor clear, heading to the basement” Soap relays on comms. 

“Copy, clearing third floor, keep an eye out for Intel.” 

“I have to say LT, you’re not quite like I expected.”

Feeling’s mutual, Ghost thinks to himself. “That so?”

“Aye, you’re not a major cunt for starters.”

That startled a small huff out of him. What the hell do the rumors say about him? He would have to ask Gaz about that, “Could still change that Sergeant.” he mock-lectures him.

A small laugh is what he gets in return, “I doubt that. I’ve worked with some bastards before, you barely make top 50.”

“Only 50? I hoped for at least 20”

“Got work cut out for you then, sir”

“That I do.”

Ghost continues clearing the floor methodically before faltering for a moment. Why was he entertaining the Sergeant like that? Since when does he joke with people? 

Though, he would’ve done it more if he had someone so ready to joke back…

Useless thoughts. 

Cursing Price, Soap, and all other stupid distracting things swirling in his head, Ghost takes down another hostile.

The mission is going without a hitch. Which is usually when something “hitches”.

A couple of minutes after Soap’s last words, Ghost sees a bright light flash from the warehouse, before a soundwave shakes the windows of the now barren barracks.

One of the explosives went off… “Soap, what the hell happened there?”

No answer.

Ghost knows he’s fine. Price wouldn’t brag about how “explosion-proof” he is otherwise. But he’s not answering…

“Sergeant, give me sitrep, now.”

Ghost stands still for another minute, listening to static. He checked the last room right before the explosion went off, so he just has to go to exfil and wait for the Sergeant at this point. His part of the work is done.

He should just go to exfil.

Ghost climbs down the stairs and heads for the warehouse, a foreboding plume of dark smoke billowing from its roof.

If asked why he didn’t ignore his gut feeling and use his brain like always, he wouldn’t have an answer.

Maybe he just wanted to exchange one more joke with the Sergeant before they finish the mission and never see each other again.

Arriving at the doors, he sees how the ground floor caved in, creating a ramp down to the basement. He starts making his way down, when he sees bodies littering the debris. Was Soap ambushed?

“Soap? Where the fuck are you Sergeant!” Ghost shouts. He has half a mind to be quiet, not wanting to attract enemies to their location, before realizing no one would’ve survived this. No one but-

“LT…?”

“Soap, why weren’t you answering comms- what…”

He stumbles upon Soap. Soap, who's laying on the grey concrete floor, wheezing and shaking, a metal rebar in his hands. Ghost walks closer and realizes the rebar is going through his stomach and pinning him to the floor. 

The Sergeant’s eyes blearily look at the metal “I need, I n-need to get this out…”

He lifts himself half an inch and Ghost sees how the blood rushes out of the wound, how Soap pales. 

Ghost rushes to his side. “Stop fucking moving”, he slides his hands under his torso, feels his gloves getting soaked in blood, “let me help you”.

Soap’s breathing becomes less harsh, and he looks up at him, “you… you don’t have to-”

He slowly lifts Soap before he can say another useless remark. The muscles under his fingertips clench and the Sergeant chokes out a scream.

“Fuck” Soap mutters between pants. 

“We’re halfway there, you’re doing good.” Ghost lets him rest before continuing to lift his body up. The blood keeps rushing out of the wound, enough that he doesn’t understand how Soap is still conscious. The sergeant let go of the rebar, and is now gripping Ghost’s forearms like he’s about to fall to his death.

After a few seconds, which Ghost is sure felt like hours for Soap, he eases him off the metal and onto the ground. Soap immediately collapses, shuddering and holding his hands around the wound.

Ghost then realizes he’s not sure how the Sergeant’s powers work. Is this supposed to even happen? Is he actually dying?

Soap looks up at that moment, giving him a small smile that looks more like a grimace, “I just… give me a minute to heal, I’ll be ready to go soon.” he uncurls and drags himself to sit against a piece of wall.

Ghost frowns and slowly steps towards Soap and slides to sit next to him, “take however long you need.”

He doesn’t look, but from his peripheral, he sees Soap’s head whipping around and staring at Ghost like he told him he’s giving him a million pounds.

He seemed to find something in his expression (however much he could even see of it), and looked down at his bloodied hands, “thank ye…”

Ghost blinks down, “I hope this doesn’t lower my cunt rank.”

Soap lets out a small laugh that turns into a fit of coughs. More blood rushes out of his wounds, and Ghost internally winces.

“Ha… I think it takes ye off the list, mate.”

Ghost heaves an over-the-top sigh, “shame”.

Soap smiles at him, and Ghost notices it’s different from the one he gave him before the helo. This one is… warmer. Or at least it makes him feel so.

Soap lifts his shirt to inspect the wound, and Ghost can’t help by take a look. The wound stopped bleeding, and when Soap wipes some of it away, he can see how it’s already closing.

So he does get hurt… it just heals. Ghost still wonders how it all works, but he knows their powers work with bizarre rules, weird exceptions and what not. He can almost hear his Reaper laughing. Or whatever you would call that chilling noise it lets out when it finds something funny.

It doesn’t matter either way. Not like he’ll get to work with Soap again. 

The Sergeant exhales and lets his shirt drop, “a’right, let’s fuckin’ finish this.” he slowly starts lifting himself up before Ghost wordlessly grabs his arms and helps him.

Soap mumbles a thanks, “did you find any intel?” 

Ghost looks ahead. The climb out of the basement won’t be easy on his wound… “Negative. We’ll keep looking.”

Eventually they reach a door labelled “storage”, that is blocked by several tonnes of concrete and metal. Ghost internally curses.

Soap, who’s been trailing behind Ghost, reaches the door and looks around. Ghost is about to ask him if he’s got a few C4’s hidden somewhere when the Sergeant asks him, “permission to use my powers, sir?”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “what are you planning?”

“Gonna blow it up sir” Soap says like it was obvious.

“...go ahead.” Ghost replies, half baffled Price forgot to mention the Sergeant, besides being unkillable by explosions, can also create them. 

Was probably in the folder he didn’t bother reading.

He takes a step back to let Soap Have a go. The Sergeant rests his palms on the debris, inhales, and…

A loud boom makes Ghost’s ears ring. He’s momentarily blinded by the bright explosion before he regains his vision, and sees Soap stepping around the remains of the door into the small room.

Ghost shakes away his slight shock and joins him. Soap’s powers intrigue him… he wonders what else he could do.

Somehow, the intel survived the explosions. Ghost could barely care. At least they won’t have Price on their case later on. 

As they walk towards the exfil point, a heavy feeling sinks within Ghost. He’s not sure what to call it, but if he had to it would be “regret”.

Regretting what, he’s not sure. Maybe he should’ve prolonged their walk.

And from a glance at his face, Soap might understand this feeling as well.

“You did well Sergeant.” He has the sudden urge to say. Maybe it will make him regret less.

Soap casts a smile at him. It doesn’t warm him in the slightest.

The chopper blades slashing through air never made him feel worse.

“I guess this is it then.” Soap says when they land.

Ghost turned to face him. That heavy feeling in him just kept getting heavier throughout the flight. Why?

“So it seems.”

Soap stares for a moment longer before sighing. Ghost wants to do something about the annoyingly heavy air of despair around them.

“Soap” the Sergeant hums, “Why did the Scotsman’s prank fail?”.

Confusion takes over his features, “what?”

Ghost inhales, “because no one let him get away scot-free.”

Soap stares at him like he brought shame to his entire bloodline. Ghost grins like he did.

“Steamin’ Jesus LT, that was horrendous.”

“Ah Sergeant, just admit my jokes are better, no need to be a sore loser.” 

“My gran got better jokes than this, fuckin’ hell” Soap laughs.

“I’d like to meet her.”

“So you two could battle? I rather not see you die of embarrassment sir.”

Soap’s transport decides to arrive at this moment, chasing away the small joy they both found.

Soap looks back at it and turns to Ghost.

“It’s been great working with you sir.” if Ghost was feeling bold, he would say Soap almost looks sad, “I hope we’ll get to go another round later.”

Ghost hates the hopeful tone in his voice. Hope is uncertain, leaves everything up to chance.

Useless.

“Likewise, Sergeant.”

He stays standing there for a few minutes, staring at the truck vanishing towards the horizon. As if it will lighten the boulder in his chest.

“So, Simon, what’s your verdict?” Price finishes after debrief.

Ghost thinks about the entire endeavour. Not annoying, not disruptive, or boring.

Soap is…

“He’s something else…”

Critiques are welcome! Nobody beta'd this so I'm sure there are mistakes lol (that and this isn't my first language...)

[bookcrazyace]

Dick & Jason and Why We Need to Stop Mischaracterizing Them and Their Relationship

I know it's been brought up a million times and will probably be brought up a million more times but I wanted to put my 2 cents in. Jason and Dick and their relationship is grossly mischaracterized and it hurts the narrative. Now there isn't anything wrong with a little ooc content I'm a fanfic writer and I've fallen onto some of the more fanon sides of things to make it fit my narrative better but the problem arises when people mistake fanon for canon and bring it up in serious fandom discussions.

Dick was the first Robin so we'll start with him first. Characterizing Dick as the happy-go-lucky Robin is very distinctly wrong and actually quite the opposite of what he actually was. Dick wanted revenge for the death of his parents and that's what drew Bruce to him in the first place. Bruce made Batman to focus his anger and grief into something productive that would help people. When he recognized the same yearning for vengeance in Dick he trained him so that Robin could be for Dick what Batman was to him, a coping mechanism. In the end Dick manages to let go of the notion of revenge and it means that Robin succeeded and he then takes on a new identity, Nightwing (Canonically Dick and Bruce start having arguments and that's more the reason he leaves but from a narrative perspective Dick going from Robin to Nightwing can be seen as him getting rid of the feelings of revenge and gaining new goals. Also it's an excellent juxtaposition to the fact that while Robin succeeded in freeing Dick Bruce is still Batman.) Dick starting off as a vengeful spirit and blossoming into one of the most outwardly cheerful members of the batfam (despite the most definitely present repressed anger) is so much more powerful than him essentially not changing throughout the entire story especially when you consider that multiple times in canon Bruce has said that NIghtwing is better than Batman and what Batman was meant to be.

Jason ever the fan favorite and probably the person in the batfam that is misharacterized the most (in my opinion) is the next topic of discussion. Jason being the angry Robin takes so much away from his story and honestly I'm not vibing with it. One of Jason's notable lines as Robin is the phrase "Being Robin gives me magic!"you surely can't hear that and picture a violent criminal in the making. Jason being a street kid that jacks tires for a living but still being kind and childishly innocent makes him as Robin so much more interesting. Jason's drive to help people is obviously heavily influenced by his mother and how he took care of her up until her death. The tragedy of his mother's death is what drives Bruce to him. Of course Jason's process of becoming Robin wasn't immediate like a lot of people believe, Jason was actually sent to an all boys school for a short period of time before realizing they were a front for a crime ring he then helped Batman take down their operation. I feel like after seeing all that one would lose their faith in most people but Jason didn't remember he wasn't Robin until after this incident and he still was so happy and bright. The big turning point in Jason's story (from what I remember I haven't read the comics in a while) Batman suspects he pushes a man they were chasing off of a roof (I don't remember if it's ever made clear whether he did or not) this puts a pretty big strain on their relationship. Soon after all that goes down Jason finds out that the same mother he grew up with, the same mother he took care of, the same mother he watched die isn't actually his mother. The tense atmosphere between him and Bruce in combination for his yearning for answers leads him to run away to find her. When he meets her she sells him out to the Joker who subsequently beats him with a crowbar and leaves him to die in a warehouse that's rigged to blow up. Jason's mother is in the warehouse too and he does everything he can to save her. In the end they both die but when Batman questions her Jason's mom tells him that he tried to save her. In most modern iterations of Jason's death story his mother is written out and his death is pinned on him and his "impulsive and brash decisions". When Jason comes back to Gotham after his revival he seeks vengeance and is incredibly violent a very stark contrast to the bubbly kid that was just happy to be there. Two of his most notable actions as Red Hood are decapitating the lieutenants of the top crime lords and delivering them in a duffel bag and attacking Tim Drake the new Robin in Titans Tower. Jason's main drive for attacking Tim and becoming a crime lord is the fact that he died, he died as Robin and he didn't think that children should have to take on crime in the way Bruce did Jason decided that the best way to get rid of crime was to control it. The way Jason went from sunshine personified to a gritty crime lord who was willing to kill is what makes his story so interesting. The way an innocent child that got exposed to the darkness of the world and got swallowed by it is what makes the story so meaningful. In comparison to Dick, Jason is Batman's greatest failure he became the very thing Bruce tried to prevent him from being, a vengeful spirit that kills. In some ways Dick and Jason's stories are opposites and parallels.

Now for Dick and Jason's relationship. Despite what a lot of people think Dick didn't hate Jason when he first appeared (I think there was a point where Dick wanted to adopt Jason but I don't remember). Making Dick hate Jason as Robin sort of ruins both of their character arcs Dick evolved past his hatred and need for vengeance and thus adores Jason, Jason growing into someone so angry and hating Tim as Robin despite the fact that Dick showed him so much kindness makes everything hit so much harder.

In conclusion, this isn't really a huge deal but I've been thinking about it a lot recently. I've written and read fics where Jason was an angry Robin and Dick was a happy one. I've written and read fics where Dick hated Jason at first. Fandom is all about what fans do with a piece of media they like and at the end of the day the characters can be whoever you want them to be. Don't let this post uninspire you or make you feel called out if you enjoy the more fanon dynamics and personalities of these characters. Fee free to point out any inaccuracies to me it's been a while since I've read the comics.

[maigo-san]

What are your zolu hcs?

this is inspired by a scene from the anime during Luffy's flashback post Marineford. It's the way Luffy doesn't cross Zoro's boundaries. At first, Luffy sees a lot of himself in Zoro and that's why he finds that Zoro can take the way he treated him (i.e. the manhandling, flinging around, teasing him relentlessly) and he was right to some degree, Zoro seems to tolerate pain despite not made out of gum so he does sometimes still yanked Zoro when he ran in the wrong direction and stuff like that. Zoro also does the same thing as him, pinching him, bonking foreheads, using his full power to fight Luffy, scolding or teasing Luffy back. But Luffy realizes that Zoro is an immovable force when it comes to things like sleeping or training and he stops bothering him. Sometimes he still asks Zoro to play with him as a way to share his excitement but he doesn't disturb him or poke him or steal his stuff anymore and just tap on Zoro's shoulder or his weight. Luffy doesn't even need to say anything because Zoro already knows what he wants and he also knows that his "clingy" captain likes to do this just for the sake of seeking Zoro. Sorry, it's such a small gesture but I will die on this hill because Luffy cares for Zoro as much as Zoro does for him

they call each other aibous/partners LOL either in the final saga or post-canon or when they get together. Had this idea after a Sabaody arc rewatch and saw RayRoger call each other that. Also why I find a lot of parallels between ZL and KidKiller. I find it even more fitting than right-hand man or vice-captain (but he could be all of them)

Zoro has a weird way with PDA. He doesn't do that much because he gets embarrassed by it. But he can't keep himself away from Luffy's personal space. Probably because Luffy does the same. He likes to sniff him discreetly; swing his leg on top of Luffy, acting like he was just nonchalantly chugging his beer; randomly pin Luffy down with his whole weight and falling asleep on top of him while Luffy looks so confused at first; press a palm on the back of Luffy's neck and pulling him to press their foreheads together while staring intensely into Luffy's eyes; neither of them saying anything until Nami told them to get a room; Zoro likes to bite Luffy, on his shoulder blades or his cheeks, due to cuteness aggression. He is actually the one who started it before Luffy developed a habit of biting him.

In modern AU, I really like to HC kindergarten/daycare/preschool teacher Luffy. His jobs can be pretty diverse, ranging from errand boy, to sex worker, to sumo wrestler, to boxer or MMA, to child care, to delivery service, pet sitter, warehouse operator, oil rig worker, beetle expert/scientist, and (a moot suggested) animal whisperer. Did he get a degree? maybe. Did it take him multiple tries to get a degree? could be. Did Sabo or Nami hook him up with a fake certificate? also possible. He might not even need them, this and that offered him after he helped them or something. While Zoro for me is usually pretty straightforward. A kendo athlete or teacher, anything by Luffy's side, bounty hunter or a hitman, or he gets paid to do the math equations in his classmates' assignments. At one point he was offered a data analysis or statistics job where he didn't last for a week because he got bored, had a bad attitude, and was often late due to getting lost

I have so many zl hcs I have not made any fanwork of, but these are the ones I thought abt at the top of my head so I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think.

Bonus mature one to make this five hcs in total

Luffy bottoms, Zoro tops. Sometimes, Zoro is more of a side or touch-me-not, so they would use toys, hands, or tongues. Luffy looooves Zoro's mouth, almost more than getting dicked down. They either have quickies almost every day or they can go months without having sex so they don't have it planned out and they don't really experiment. One or both of them will just ask the other if they're horny or not, if they want to let off steam or not and just go at it. Zoro finds more pleasure in Luffy's reactions and looks than his own while in return, Luffy lets him in his most vulnerable state and gives him all his unbridled attention. Oftentimes, Zoro does it because he misses Luffy.

[she-is-ovarit]

Ashli Streeter said Stevens Transport did not hire her because it had no women to train her. Credit...Montinique Monroe for The New York Times

The trucking industry has complained for years that there is a dire shortage of workers willing to drive big rigs. But some women say many trucking companies have made it effectively impossible for them to get those jobs. Trucking companies often refuse to hire women if the businesses do not have women available to train them. And because fewer than 5 percent of truck drivers in the United States are women, there are few female trainers to go around. The same-sex training policies are common across the industry, truckers and legal experts say, even though a federal judge ruled in 2014 that it was unlawful for a trucking company to require that female job candidates be paired only with female trainers. Ashli Streeter of Killeen, Texas, said she had borrowed $7,000 to attend a truck driving school and earn her commercial driving license in hopes of landing a job that would pay more than the warehouse work she had done. But she said Stevens Transport, a Dallas-based company, had told her that she couldn’t be hired because the business had no women to train her. Other trucking companies turned her down for the same reason. “I got licensed, and I clearly could drive,” Ms. Streeter said. “It was disheartening.” Ms. Streeter and two other women filed a complaint against Stevens Transport with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission on Thursday, contending that the company’s same-sex training policy unfairly denied them driving jobs. The commission investigates allegations made against employers, and, if it determines a violation has occurred, it may bring its own lawsuit. The commission had brought the lawsuit that resulted in the 2014 federal court decision against similar policies at another trucking company, Prime. Critics of the industry said the persistence of same-sex training nearly a decade after that ruling, which did not set national legal precedent, was evidence that trucking companies had not done enough to hire women who could help solve their labor woes. “It’s frustrating to see that we have not evolved at all,” said Desiree Wood, a trucker who is the president and founder of Real Women in Trucking, a nonprofit. Ms. Wood’s group is joining the three women in their E.E.O.C. complaint against Stevens, which was filed by Peter Romer-Friedman, a labor lawyer in Washington, and the National Women’s Law Center. Companies that insist on using women to train female applicants generally do so because they want to avoid claims of sexual harassment. Trainers typically spend weeks alone with trainees on the road, where the two often have to sleep in the same cab. Critics of same-sex training acknowledge that sexual harassment is a problem, but they say trucking companies should address it with better vetting and anti-harassment programs. Employers could reduce the risk of harassment by paying for trainees to sleep in a hotel room, which some companies already do. Women made up 4.8 percent of the 1.37 million truck drivers in the United States in 2021, according to the most recent government statistics, up from 4 percent a decade earlier. Long-haul truck driving can be a demanding job. Drivers are away from home for days. Yet some women say they are attracted to it because it can pay around $50,000 a year, with experienced drivers making a lot more. Truck driving generally pays more than many other jobs that don’t require a college degree, including those in retail stores, warehouses or child care centers.

The infrastructure act of 2021 required the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration to set up an advisory board to support women pursuing trucking careers and identify practices that keep women out of the profession. Robin Hutcheson, the administrator of the agency, said requiring same-sex training would appear to be a barrier to entry. “If that is happening, that would be something that we would want to take a look at,” she said in an interview. Ms. Streeter, a mother of three, said she had applied to Stevens because it hired people straight out of trucking school. She told Stevens representatives that she was willing to be trained by a man, but to no avail. Bruce Dean, general counsel at Stevens, denied the allegations in the suit. “The fundamental premise in the charge — that Stevens Transport Inc. only allows women trainers to train women trainees — is false,” he said in a statement, adding that the company “has had a cross-gender training program, where both men and women trainers train female trainees, for decades.” Some legal experts said that, although same-sex training was ruled unlawful in only one federal court, trucking companies would struggle to defend such policies before other judges. Under federal employment discrimination law, employers can seek special legal exemptions to treat women differently from men, but courts have granted them very rarely. “Basically, what the law says is that a company needs to be able to walk and chew gum at the same time,” said Deborah Brake, a professor at the University of Pittsburgh who specializes in employment and gender law. “They need to be able to give women equal employment opportunities and prevent and remedy sexual harassment.” Ms. Streeter said she had made meager earnings from infrequent truck driving gigs while hoping to get a position at Stevens. Later this month, she will become a driver in the trucking fleet of a large retailer. Kim Howard, one of the other women who filed the E.E.O.C. complaint against Stevens, said she was attracted to truck driving by the prospect of a steady wage after working for decades as an actor in New York. “It was very much a blow,” she said of being rejected because of the training policy. “I honestly don’t know how I financially made it through.” Ms. Howard, who is now employed at another trucking company, said she had worked briefly at a company where she was trained by two men who treated her well. “It’s quite possible for a woman to be trained by a man, and a man to be a professional about what the job is,” she said. Other female drivers said they had been mistreated by male trainers who could be relentlessly dismissive and sometimes refused to teach them important skills, like reversing a truck with a large trailer attached. Rowan Kannard, a truck driver from Wisconsin who is not involved in the complaint against Stevens, said a male trainer had spent little time training her on a run to California in 2019. At a truck stop where she felt unsafe, Ms. Kannard said, the trainer demanded that she leave the cab — and then locked her out. She asked to stop the training and was flown back to Wisconsin. Yet she said she did not believe that same-sex training for women was necessary. “Some of these men that are training, they should probably go through a course.” Click the article to read more. The author is Peter Eavis.