#and harper. well. scalp her harder why don’t you

[jackiesarch]

— OCS AS KINDS OF SUFFERING

tagged by @corvosattano, @adelaidedrubman, @chuckhansen and @marivenah to run some kids through this uquiz, and whew! ouch!

tagging (ask to be added with this post) @belorage @inafieldofdaisies @gwynbleidd @firstaidspray @chosolos @risingsh0t @queennymeria @florbelles @shallow-gravy @socially-awkward-skeleton @nightbloodbix @henbased @roofgeese

— THE GIVER

Your energy depletes as you hand it out to anyone passing by your basket. People walk by and take, but no one ever leaves. You're constantly running on low when people keep asking you to give. You'd give your soul away for free, and then what left do you have of yourself if you can't say no?

— YEARNING

The pain in your chest bubbles knowing that what you want may never be yours. You're lost in a fantasy world, or consumed by what you wish you were or had as opposed to what you do. It's hard to appreciate what's around you when you're appreciating the hope of what could be instead.

— DESPAIR

The tunnel never had a light. You wish for nothing because you know you'll receive nothing, and your hopes died out long ago. The only thing that keeps you going is the thrill of emptiness you feel when things don't turn out your way. It's bitter. It's proof. Proof that you don't feel this way for nothing.

— SELF-INADEQUACY

You crack under the weight of your own perceived inability. How can you be enough for anyone else when you're just barely enough for yourself? Insecurity causes you to have little backbone, and so you fail to reach your full potential when it comes to what you're best at. You sabotage opportunities with fear you'll fail before you've begun. It hurts to never feel like your best is enough, but setting your standards too high or too low ensures it.

[sgtbradfords]

Could you write a Chenford prompt with this “You’re always number one.” ? Thank you!

Ok anon, this one was so much fun to write! Thank you for sending me this prompt! I hope you enjoy :) Send me a prompt from this list!

The sounds of car doors slamming filled the parking lot, the hot California sun bearing down onto the asphalt.  “Someone please remind me why we’re doing this again?” said Nyla Harper as she and Lila met the growing crowd in front of the building.

“Because Nolan said it’d be fun and none of us disagreed.”

“It’s also a bonding experience.” Piped in John Nolan.

Tim Bradford rolled his eyes. “As if we don’t spend enough time out of work as it is.”

“Alright,” said Angela Lopez, gathering the groups attention as she walked out of the building. “We’ve got 2 hours booked for us to play as many rounds as possible with a twenty-minute break after an hour. Wesley and I took the liberty last night of dividing everyone into teams already. Should someone feel as though it’s unfair after the first game then we will redo the teams. Alpha squad will be Wesley, Jackson, Tim, Lila and John. Bravo squad will be Sterling, Lucy, Nyla, Henry and myself.”

“Question, can we change our team names?”

“No.”

“What are the rules?” asked Jackson.

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “Their rules or our rules?”

“Ours of course.”

“No removing your sensor to avoid being shot. Keep physical contact to a minimum. Climbing is allowed as long as you don’t get shot. If you are shot, then your vest will reset after thirty seconds. We have the room to ourselves so no worries about outsiders. An alarm will go off in an hour to signal the break. Most importantly, have fun. Everyone ready?” Angela told the group before moving towards the building.

“You’re going down Bradford.” Lucy gloated as they walked through the door.

“Is that what you think boot?”

Lucy scoffed “Think? I know. Remind me again who was Mid-Wilshire’s shooting champ this year?”

“There was a scuba diver!” Cried John.

“We know.” Voiced the group.

The group divided up into their teams, going into separate rooms to get their gear.

“Game starts in five.” Nyla said as she slipped back into her teams’ room after helping Lila into her gear. “The amount of trash talk coming from them… Don’t be shocked to see Lila and Nolan team up.” She told them as she began gearing up herself.

An alarm through their room, giving off the one-minute warning. Both teams lining up outside of their doors that led to the complex.

The next alarm sounded as the doors opened, the lights off and blacklight’s on making the place glow.

“Yippie ki yay Mother-“

“NOLAN SO HELP ME, DON’T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE.” Nyla yelled as she entered the room.

“-theresa!”

Each person began strategizing, Sterling being the first shot as Wesley rounded a corner.

Lucy was able to shoot John, who was helping Lila sneak under a platform, “Not fair Lucy!” he yelled as she ran away.

The first round went quick, the score almost even as the alarm blared, signaling their break, they congregated in one room, huddled around the TV screen showing points.

“How are they winning?” Cried Angela. “I know I shot Nolan at least five times!”

“It’s only by a few points honey.” Wesley smirked as he told his wife, taking a sip of water.

Angela glared, covertly flipping her husband the middle finger as Sterling wondered aloud. “How does a nine-year-old have more kills than me?”

Jackson laughed. “Because you play a cop on TV, Ster. Where as her mother probably gave her the good aim in her genes.”

“Wait, this says Tim and Lucy are tied as the top shooters.” Henry pointed out. “How is that possible?”

Everyone turned staring at the two as Lucy shrugged. “I told you, champion. Besides, I rarely win anything. Now Tim on the other hand, you’re always number one.” She said pointing a finger.

“Come on boot, Antonio won that one time!” he defended before explaining. “We do paintball once a month. Besides, Chen practically lives at the shooting range.”

“Only because you make me!” Lucy snorted before defending herself. “And I do have a life outside of work I’ll have you know.”

“Is that what you’re calling him? Because if I remember correctly, I had to buzz you in the other day at six in the morning wearing yesterday’s clothes because you ‘lost’ your keys.” Jackson pointed out causing her to blush. “And it wasn’t the first time either.”

Nolan propped his head on the fist of the elbow leaning on the table. “Tell me more tell me more did you get very far.” He sung.

“Shut up Nolan.” The group voiced as he raised his hands in defense.

The five-minute bell rang, half the group standing to head back to their room, Angela and Nyla moving to Lucy’s side as she began to put her device back on, shooting the test target in the room to check her gun.

“Is he a decent guy?” asked Angela.

Lucy smiled. “He is.”

“Have you done a background check on him?”

“I haven’t but I don't need to, he’s told me a lot.”

Nyla watched Lucy, her arms crossed over her chest. “You love him.”

“I do.”

Angela looked at Nyla before looking back at Lucy “Does he make you happy?”

Lucy looked at the two, her smile growing. “He does.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Angela said. “If he hurts you, I hope he knows your family will help you kill him.”

Lucy laughed, “Not if I kill him first.”

The one-minute alarm sounded as each team re-assumed their entry positions.

Team Bravo was the first to strike in round two, Nyla taking Lila and Jackson down ten seconds apart.

Lucy quickly made her way to the second floor, finding the perfect corner that was dark enough to stay hidden with the help of her jacket hiding the glow of her target. She crouched down, keeping an eye out, watching the walkway that ran across the second floor, she knew Jackson was up here, having seen his white shirt go by in a blur as she made her way up from the first floor.

“Boo.” A voice whispered in her ear.

Lucy jumped to her feet, startled as she whipped around, pointing her gun at the person that was crouched beside her on the floor. “Didn’t your T.O ever teach you not to sneak up on someone with a gun?”

“It’s fake. And didn’t your T.O teach you to always stay aware of your surroundings boot?” retorted Tim as he stood, backing her further into the corner.

“How did you get there and how long have you been there?”

“Army crawled.” He said shrugging. “And not that long. So, who’s the guys ass I need to be kicking?”

“None of your business. But,” She told him, her tone playful as Tim stepped closer. “he’s about six foot four, blond hair, killer eyes.”

“Yeah? He sounds like a loser.”

“Well, someone has to counter his inner nerdiness.”

“Wanna play dirty?” he asked, as he moved closer, each hand grabbing for the belt loops of her pants as Lucy’s back hit the wall.

“Looks like we already are.”

“We are but,” he dragged out. “what if we teamed up to take down both sides?” he asked, leaning his body into hers.

Lucy bit her lip as she tilted her head back. “Conspiring to commit treason are we Sergeant Bradford?”

Tim moved his head down, his lips grazing hers as he whispered. "Conspiring to do something Officer Chen.” He said as he acted first, his lips capturing hers harshly, eliciting a moan from deep within as her body reacted to his touch. His fingers let go of the denim loops, hands slowly grazing the exposed skin where her shirt was riding up, causing her to shiver as she moved a leg, wrapping it around his backside.

“We’re going to get caught.” She said as someone yelled from the first floor. Tim moved his lips down her neck, his nose pushing her hair back as he sucked on the skin, a gasp escaping her lips.

“They won’t even know we’re missing.” He mumbled against her neck as his hands slid into the back pockets of her jeans, lifting her, pressing her harder into the wall as she wrapped her other leg around him.

“They’ll know when they see neither of us getting points.”

“We’re getting points.” He smirked, pulling back. “Just none they need to know about.”

Lucy fisted his shirt, pulling him into her in a hungry kiss, returning his earlier kiss with equal fervor before letting go, running her nails over his scalp as she grinded into him.

“Lucy!” Jackson yelled from the first floor, causing them to break apart. “I know you’re waiting for me!”

Lucy dropped down as Tim let her go. “How the hell did he get down there?” she asked, catching her breath as she grabbed her gun that was swinging by its tether.

“I guess you were distracted.” He told her, his tone light and playful.

Lucy moved around him, making the move to go after her friend.

“Wait.” he said as he pulled her back by the arm, twirling her into him as his lips found hers in the darkness, leaving her breathless.

Lucy moaned as she forced herself to pull away. “Later, we will finish this later.” She promised, retracting his hands from his waist as she stepped back. “And babe?”

“Yeah?” he asked stepping closer to her.

“Payback’s a bitch.” She told him as she pressed the trigger on her gun, the laser hitting the target on Tim’s chest.

Tim stood shocked as Lucy ran away. “What the hell Chen!”

Lucy’s laugh echoed off the walls as she ran down the stairs, taking out Wesley who was running up the steps “Oh Jackson.” She sung. “Wanna play a game?”

Fifteen minutes later the final alarm blared, signaling the end of the game.

“Alright, which team is ready to buy the brews?” Angela asked the group who stood waiting outside. “Drum roll please!” Lucy, Nyla and Lila, began beating their hands on their thighs.

“With 3400 points the winner is… Team Bravo!”

“In your face Bradford! Break out the money clip old man!”

Tim rolled his eyes at his girlfriend’s antics before stepping closer, “Twenty bucks says Jackson will be wasted by the end of the night.”

Lucy looked at Jackson who was pouting. “Make it loser pays for ice cream after paintball next week and you’ve got a deal.” She told him sticking out her hand.

“Deal.” He told her accepting her hand, lingering for what was probably too long for ‘coworkers.’

The next week Lucy smiled, handing a twenty-dollar bill over to the cashier before glancing back at Tim who was trying to stop the topping avalanche that was sliding down his double scope of Oreo ice cream. “You ready?” she asked as she pocketed her change, holding out the hand that held no ice cream.

Tim smiled, hints of ice cream on his lips as he took her hand, walking out the door. “With you? Always.

[secondgenerationnerd]

Request from @the-ace-of-spades-is-a-queen!! Very funny little drabble about something I thought about a while ago. Enjoy ❤️❤️❤️

——————

Omega squad has their Friday routine down pat. After the all leaders meeting the day before, Lian and Irey had shown up a little later than they would other weeks. Jon’s already working on dinner for the night, filling the living area with deliciousness, kept company by Milagro as she goes over her Corps files. Colin and Jai jokingly bicker about what the best solution to the movie they’re watching is.  Jai looks up as his girlfriend leans over the back of the couch to kiss him.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey. Batface here yet?”

Colin snorts, “No, Li. Damian hasn’t shown up just yet. Mar’i either.”

“Not surprised.” Irey shrugs, sitting next to Milagro at the breakfast bar. “Her dance classes have been going late the last month.”

Lian’s phone blasts Highway to Hell before any of them can say anything else. The archer pulls it from her back pocket and answers without looking at the caller id.

“Harper’s Crematorium. You kill ‘em, we grill ‘em.” She waits a beat, “No, Uncle Jason, I will not change how I answer the phone. What’s up?...Damian and Mar’i? We were just talking about them...They left a while ago? No, we haven’t heard from--”

The twins look up as the tv beeps loudly. Jai frowns reading the alert, “‘Facial recognition in traced transmission?’” 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had that.” Irey points out as Jai changes the channel. They’re not sure what they’d expected to see, but definitely not Damian and Mar’i scowling at a camera, rope tied tight around their wrists and a metal collar around Mar’i’s neck. A bit of dried blood on Damian’s scalp should have them worried...If only Damian didn’t look pissed off to all hell. 

“Er, Uncle Jason, turn to Gotham News 17. We found them.”

“Attention Bruce Wayne.” The team looks at the discount kidnapper stepping out from the shadows. Even Zachary would have called it over the top. “We have your son and granddaughter. If you want them returned safely, you will listen to our demands.”

Amateurs. That much is clear to see for the team, especially with the generic demands of money and no police involvement. While the kidnapping should still worry them, it doesn’t stop the stifled laughs. Of all them to take, they really picked the worse two.

“Alright, Uncle Jason...No, we’ve got it...Love you too, bye.” Lian hangs up. “Okay, who’s going to pick up Princess and Batface? Apparently the Batkids are under orders if captured by, well, morons just looking for money to sit tight.”

“Oh, I’m sure Damian loves that.” Jon chuckles, lowering the heat on the stove. “Mil, can you make sure no one burns dinner?”

“Of course.” 

Irey gets up, stretching her arms, “Mind if I come along?”

“And not give you a chance to hold something over your boyfriend’s head? What kind of a friend do you think I am, Impulse?” 

Laughing at the super’s dramatics, Irey heads to the door, “We’ll be back.”

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

“Remind me why I can’t break the ropes.” Mar’i grumbles to her uncle. Damian watches the guards step out for another smoke break.

“The same reason I can’t dislocate my thumbs to get out of them.” He murmurs back. “We’re not supposed to be able to.”

“They have kidnapping training for rich kids--”

“And they mainly teach cooperation if escape is unlikely--”

“It’s not like it’s a secret that I have super strength--”

Damian gestures to the metal collar around her neck, “And no one knows meta collars don’t work on Tamaraneans. I’d prefer we keep it that way.”

The princess groans, letting her head fall back against the metal post and leaving a dent, “I hate when you’re right.”

“I’m aware.” He grunts. Neither of them of likes sitting down, other parts of their training kicking in. Eyes track the guards as they pace the room. Noting how long it takes them to a sweep. Which are armed, which is more comfortable.  Neither of them react as the door opens and the leader walks toward them.

“You two comfortable?” Neither teen answers. He lifts Mar’i’s head with a finger, “I asked you a question, pretty.” 

“Take. Your. Hand. Off. Her.” Damian glares at him.

“Or what?” The man grabs Mar’i’s face, making the princess look directly at him, “What’s stopping me from letting my men at this little slu--”

Mar’i sinks her teeth into his hand, making him howl. Her sharp canines make it harder for him to shake her off and even hitting her in the face just hurts him more. When Mar’i finally lets go, two of his burly henchfolk pulling him back, the three of them falling back. Spitting blood on the ground, Mar’i gives them the charming smile she learned from her father, “I’m what’s stopping you.”

“You little--” The man reaches for the gun only to find it missing. Before he can look at them, a familiar form comes crashing through the ceiling. Mar’i’s eyes brighten at the sight.

“Oooo, Superboytoy.”

“Really, Mar’i?” Damian rolls his eyes. 

“Let me have this.” A crack of lightning enters the room, Impulse throwing a henchperson into another. She comes to a stop in front of the two tied up teens.

“You need some help?” Irey asks, not bothering to hide her smile. Jon flies down, catching the leader as he tries to hit Irey from behind. Lifting the man up by his collar, Jon narrows his too blue eyes, letting them grow red.

“Put me down, you fucking freak!” 

“Well, if you insist.” Jon throws him into the last two henchpeople by the door, knocking them all out. 

“Finally.” Mar’i breaks the ropes with a flick of her wrists. Damian pops his thumbs out of socket, slide the ropes off. Reaching up, Mar’i crushes the collar, tossing it to the side. “That was making me itch.”

“You two okay?” Irey asks, handing Mar’i a bottle of water from her belt, “Not everyday we’ve got two damsels in distress.”

Damian turns red at the comment. Laughing, Irey kisses his cheek, “C’mon. Let’s tie these guys up and get out of here.”

“I’ll call Father. Let him know that we’re safe and they can release a statement in an hour.”

“You all are way too prepared for this.” Jon snorts. 

Rinsing the blood from her mouth, Mar’i shrugs, “We’re Bats. Expect the worse, prepare for the worse.”

----

Not long later, the team settles at the dinner table, watching the Wayne’s lawyer annoucning Damian and Mar’i’s safe return. That the two are at home with their family, safe and sound. Of course, the two of them are actually at the tower. 

“Starshine, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Dad.” Mar’i mills outside the living area, pressing her phone close to her ear. “I already made an appointment with Dinah in the morning.”

“I know, Star.” Her father sighs, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come up tonight?”

“No, I’m okay tonight...but if you want to stop by for lunch or dinner tomorrow, I wouldn’t mind. We could make mici. Maybe make something vegetarian too for Damian?”

She can hear the soft smile in his voice, “I think I can make that happen. Call me before you go to bed, okay, baby?”

“I will...I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you more, Starshine.”

Hanging up, Mar’i walks into the living area. Damian looks about thirty seconds away from murdering most of their teammates. 

“So they gassed you and Mar’i, then, because you were an ass, they hit you?” Colin snorts.

“Yes, Wilkes. If you keep this up, I’m happy to give you a demonstration.” Damian grumbles. Mar’i sits between Jon and Lian, accepting a sweet kiss from her boyfriend.

“So,” Lian points her spoon at the two bats, “Can we ask why you’re not allowed to fight your way out with punk kidnappers?”

“Father says we have to maintain reasonable doubt with our civilian personas.”

“So that includes looking like you have rotting food under your nose?” Jai asks with a snort. 

“Jai,” Mar’i gives him that charming smile. “Keep this up and I’ll hang you from the ceiling by your underwear. Again.”

[minorkeepsakes]

Margin for Error

Bellarke, post 4x08 fluff

Sorry for ruining Bellamy’s sexy times, but it was absolutely worth it, and lbr, it’s not like there’s zero margin for error when hooking up with your soul-mate’s doppelgänger and drinking the funny tea.

“Bellamy? You in there?”

Technically, he’s awake. But moving his body feels like a terrible idea. And if the person knocking at the door were anyone else, he’d probably ignore them. But it’s not anyone else. It’s Clarke.

“Bellamy?” Luckily, the mere utterance of his name from her lips gives him enough of an adrenaline rush to climb a fucking mountain. Which is basically what answering the door equates to at this point.

She’s only been gone for two days, but it’s felt like an eternity. And now, here she is—solid, alive, and stunning as ever, if a little blurry. He flops a hand down on her shoulder just to be sure. “Clarke. You’re back. You’re really back.”

“Woah,” Clarke says, and suddenly her hands are all over him: less in the frisky lover kind of way, more in the concerned friend kind of way. Like he’s tipping over or something. Which, fine, might be the case.

Clarke looks at him like there’s something written in a foreign language across his forehead. “What happened to your face?” And at first, all he can think of is that it hurts, and he’s not exactly sure why. His brain is also throbbing like crazy, so the whole thinking and remembering routine is a bit slow-going.

Clarke looks even more displeased now that it’s clear he’s not exactly on top of things, mentally. “Sit down. You could have a concussion.”

But he knows this feeling, and he’s like 95% sure it’s not a concussion.

85% sure.

“S’okay. I’m fine,” he tells her, as she sits herself next to him on what he’s just now realizing is… oh, fuck. This is Clarke’s bed. This is Clarke’s room.

(ao3)

He slept in Clarke’s bed? Alone? That’s either really pathetic, or really creepy. Possibly both.

Clarke must pick up on his horrific realization—and think it amusing—because she shakes her head a little and smiles. “Niylah told me you were in here. I said she could use my room while I was gone.”

Bellamy shuts his eyes for a moment, hoping to abate the increased pressure in his head. Not only did he violate her privacy, he also rendered her guest homeless. “Clarke, I am so, so sorry.”

“Hey. Don’t worry about it,” she says, shifting a leg onto the bed so she can turn and face him directly. She’s got her serious doctor face on now. “I can see why she took pity on you and didn’t kick you out. Did someone do this to you?”

Bellamy wants to answer. He wants to concentrate on remembering what the hell he did last night after foraging in the woods for hallucinogenic nuts, but Clarke is brushing his hair away from the bruised part of his face and the tips of her cool fingers are grazing his scalp and her gentle blue eyes are squinting into his. So he’s having a difficult time thinking about anything other than Clarke, Clarke, Clarke, Clarke—

It’s BREE, asshole! My name is Bree!

Oh. There it is.

The party, Jasper, Harper, and Bree. Bree and her fucking long blonde hair. Jobi nut tea, possibly dancing—which hopefully, no one else remembers—and then at some point… oh, shit. Did he seriously bring her here? To Clarke’s room? And then… call her Clarke? Wow.

Bellamy’s head throbs just trying to wrap his brain around the stupidity of it all. He white-knuckles Clarke’s blankets and lets out a defeated groan.

In response, Clarke pulls her hand away, as if from a hot stove. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” She does that thing where she bites her bottom lip a little and furrows her brow. God, it’s cute. But if his fuzzy memories are any indication, he’s the last person in Arkadia deserving of Clarke’s concern and attention right now. He should really try harder not to enjoy it.

“No. No, I just… remembered what happened.”

“And?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

More accurately, he doesn’t want her to know, and can think of nothing more humiliating. If they have nine days left to live, he at least needs to leave a decent last impression.

Clarke pulls back a little and her eyes widen as something dawns on her. “You were partying! With Jasper and the others.”

Blood rushing to his cheeks, averting Clarke’s gaze, he nods. He can admit to that much.

“Wow. Okay. I’m a little sorry I missed that.” She sounds almost amused.

“Yeah? I’m not.”

“So how did that lead to this?” she asks, nudging her chin towards the swollen side of his face.

Bellamy shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I deserved it.”

Clarke’s expression softens. “Hey,” she says, squeezing his arm. “Kane told my mom about what happened. About Peter and his dad. That couldn’t have been easy.”

And, fuck. How does she do that? How does she manage to take every stupid thing he does and find a way to empathize with it? Like she’s completely unwilling to yield to him any of his well-deserved self-loathing.

He’s tempted to tell her exactly what happened just to prove her wrong.

Tempted.

“You should cut yourself some slack,” she adds.

“You sound like Jasper.”

Clarke shrugs, and reaches for something under her bed. “Odds were we’d agree on something eventually, right?”

It’s a flashlight. She clicks it on and off to make sure it’s still working, and then reaches for Bellamy’s chin.

“Look at me for minute, okay?”

Bellamy feels suddenly breathless. Confused. Until she lifts the flashlight up. Of course. It’s just so she can check his eyes.

Bellamy stares past her, his heart pounding senselessly. She passes the beam of light across his pupils and watches them expand and contract.

“You’ll live,” she says. The humor is quickly lost due to the fact that they may both be dead in a little over a week.

Unless…

“Clarke? The Nightblood… did your mom and Jackson…"

Clarke sighs. “Not exactly. I’ll tell you everything. But first let me get you an ice pack for that black eye.” And with newfound purpose, she pushes herself up off the bed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Kay.”

Before she heads for the door she pauses, looks at him thoughtfully. “And Bellamy? Even if it did go south at some point… I’m glad you got to have some fun.”

She means it, but there’s a sadness just below the surface and he can’t tell if it’s just the same old end of the world stuff, or if there’s something newer, darker.

“Next time, let’s have fun together, okay?” The words spill out of his mouth without him even realizing. Words that assume a future, assume possibilities. Maybe it’s completely delusional. But somehow, it still feels like the right thing to say.

Clarke’s lips part, but she says nothing for a moment. She wasn’t expecting that. Neither was he, to be honest.

It’s too much. He should say something else. Take the pressure off. Let her—

A smile appears. “Yeah,” she says. “I’d like that.”