#dramatic rescue

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of It - Rescue

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: T, brief description of violence.

Word count: 990

Summary: Red Hood comes to her rescue.

Masterlist

She woke slowly, sedately, to the touch of Jason’s fingers trailing down her cheek. 

Eyes shut, she leaned into it. 

The hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face up. There was no light scrape of rock hard calluses against her chin. The skin was smooth.

Andy’s eyes snapped open.

Black Mask looked down at her.

She recoiled. Or tried to. Her body responded slowly, groggy and jerky, against hard metal restraints. She was bound to a chair. 

“Red Hood’s squeeze, hmm? Lucky find,” he said. He wasn’t talking to her. He tilted her chin back the other way to look her over. “I knew he was just a man under that helmet.” 

A large man covered in tattoos stood behind him to his right. He looked down at her in disdain. 

“Anything you want to tell me, Miss Wright?” Black Mask drawled. 

She kept her mouth shut. 

The second man hit her on the face. Her head rocked back. Her ears rang. 

“He asked you a question.” 

She bit her tongue to stop her pained whine. 

“He doesn’t know you’re missing,” Black Mask said. “And he won’t, not for days. No masked maniac coming to rescue you. Your chances of getting out of here start and end with not pissing me off.” 

She looked at the nasty grins on the face of the two hulking enforcers standing by the door. The uncaring menace in the man who hit her. The mocking glint in Black Mask’s eyes.

“You’re not letting me out alive anyway,” she said, with mounting terror. It churned in her gut. 

Black Mask barked a hoarse laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll wring every last secret out of you before I do you the favour of letting you die.” 

One of the enforcers turned his head, his brow furrowed. 

Something rattled onto the floor, then blinding white exploded everywhere. Her vision blanked out entirely, one final image burned into her eyes: Red Hood standing behind Black Mask, with his gun pointed at his head. 

She was thrown sideways in her chair and landed hard on the ground. Guns fired with deafening reports, too loud for her to tell where or from who. Blind and still reeling from the impact, she felt the tattooed man grab her hair. He was ripped violently off of her a second later, and she went skidding sideways across the ground. 

Everything got lost in the chaos and noise, before a blow to the head knocked her out.

-----

Andy woke to Jason’s hand in her hair. 

Her heartbeat picked up, foreign alarm she couldn’t name or understand in her throat, until she registered the familiar calluses against the small of her neck. Strong hands, scarred and rough, massaged her skin with all the gentleness in the world. She breathed out in relief, and her eyes fluttered open. 

Her head lay in Jason’s lap. He was reading a book, his wrist propped up against her shoulder. A gun sat on the bedside table. They were in a safehouse. She didn’t recognise it. 

She felt perfectly safe. It took her a moment to process why that mattered, and why her mind even presented it as meaningful.  

Her brows pinched and the side of her face stung at the movement. She brought up a hand, and felt butterfly strips across her brow. 

Patchy memory filtered in. 

Jason turned a page with his thumb, calm and measured. He radiated fury. It wasn’t at odds with the gentleness of his hold on her. His calm methodical rage was so dangerous it could burn Gotham to the ground if he loved it any less. 

“What happened?” she asked. Her voice was raspy and her throat sore. She had the vague idea she might have been screaming during the scuffle. 

“Black Mask’s second in command launched a coup and murdered his Boss,” Red Hood said, still looking at his book. “He’s trying to pin it on me to keep the support of Sionis’ loyalists. Nobody believes him.”

She remembered, sudden and clear as day, burned into her mind against the pure white of a flashbang grenade: Red Hood pointing a gun at Black Mask. A fan of blood and viscera, in a frozen still, exploding out behind the black skull.

She sat up. She stared at him. 

Jason hadn’t killed anyone in years. He wasn’t allowed to, or Batman would run him out of town.

The enforcers, any witnesses, they’d know what happened, they would have to be– he couldn’t have just walked out with her, she was dead weight, had he really–? Had he– For her?

A quiet, hard thought cut through her muddling. 

There had been a good reason Jason didn’t kill Black Mask during his initial rampage, and it wasn’t lack of opportunity. He had plans, counter plans, acceptable losses, and goals he wouldn’t bend on. Necessities balanced on delicate scales sometimes called justice but more accurately called reality. The power vacuum hadn’t been worth it.

And he’d done it anyway. He’d killed Black Mask, in the middle of Batman’s city, for her. 

He looked back at her, unflinching.

She lay back down, putting her head in his lap. 

He ran his hand over her again, carding it through her hair and burying it deep beneath her curls.

Those men, however many it was, died for her sake. 

Did their blood stain her too? Did it stream down from his hands onto her head, dripping through her hair to streak across her face? 

They would have tortured his secrets out of her, that hard voice said in the back of her mind. She was alive because Jason killed them first.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He curled over her and looked into her eyes. The hard fury cracked and she saw the desperate storm in his gaze. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” 

I love you.

Next>>

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Dramatic Rescue

"I never thought I'd be so glad to see two tons of beak and claws bearing down on me at the speed of an arrow." —Mirela, Azorius hussar

Artist: Ryan Pancoast TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[yoshi-kage-kira]

dramatic rescue dtiys

[thatpunnyperson]

According to NBC here in the US, the missing titanic sub has been found. As debris. Off the bow of the Titanic wreckage.

And it looks like the sub suffered what we all suspected, and what was undoubtedly the more merciful of the two options: a catastrophic implosion from the pressure.

Also, more info has come to light about the fishing trawler with the hundreds of migrants that sank cataclysmically off the coast of Greece, indicating that the greek coast guard knew about the vessel AND how much trouble the vessel was in, and were towing it at a speed that made it capsize, at which point they unhooked the tow line and watched the trawler sink without helping the passengers to safety. Despite a bunch of other ships trying to help as well throughout the whole ordeal.

So a lot of people are dead, all because of regulations (and the lack thereof) regarding sea-faring vessels and rescue protocols. People shouldnt be allowed to make a business charging a ton of money for a ride on an uncertified, unsafe, un-seaworthy ship going deep into the ocean with no distress beacon or tether to the mothership. People also shouldnt be allowed to enact laws that criminalize the ferrying of refugees, which then force the refugees to hitch rides on fishing trawlers, and which also prevent people from helping those fishing trawlers full of refugees due to fear of legal consequences.

Hopefully BOTH of these events spark changes on an international scale in terms of what is legally allowed to be sailed, who is legally allowed to be the passengers, and what the rescue protocols are in the event of disaster for any seafaring vessel, illegal or not. It shouldnt be just the global 1% who get 24/7 search parties and remote-operated submersibles helping rescue them.

[realspacejunk]

Rescue in the Sky

A long time ago, since the rivers were young and the lands unnamed, when the races were still few and the world untouched by evil, the race of the Lati carried song and message between the great temples of the gods and their servants. For many ages, their deeds were worthy of many tellings and songs, for their minds were sharp, and their wings were swift. In the air, no being could outpace them. And wherever they flew, they wore armour made in the forges of Heatran, and soaring over the clouds of the heavens, they shone in the light of the sun like a day star.

But like most things from the time of old, they have now mostly passed into legend. Their ruin was one of the first tragedies of the Oath Breaking, and few remain after the world was cast into ruin and remade. No longer do the Lati travel the skies and bring tidings from the far corners of the world, and only once in many years are mortals of great fate blessed with their presence, and their songs only bring grief and the sense of memories lost.

Grim seems the fate of the Lati. Yet it was said in the last revelation of the Xatu Seers, which was told before the arrival of the Exiles of Man, that the race of the sky has been healing and waiting for the turning of the world, and that a day will come when the Great Sages return and call upon them, and the holy messengers will once more decent to the Earth, and with their aid the great pillars of evil shall be broken, and the race of Man will renew their oaths, and the world will be mended.

[whollyjoly]

so aisha just tweeted this....

and im looking at those last two emojis 😐😳....

and i remember that lou said this....

...and this....

...

...what does it MEAN??

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait. Tommy listed high rise fire response as one of the parts of his job. There's that bts pic where he's all smokey. Here's how the loft can still lose?????

[just-someone-online]

Lowkey, I think one of my favorite little things about Rescue Bots is how we get to learn a little more about Optimus when he shows up. Like, not war stuff or Orion Pax stuff, but just little things about Optimus.

One of his favorite Earth stories is The Little Engine That Could. Does he read in his spare time and if so, how did he find Little Engine?

He tells Heatwave that he has also been learning from humans. What has he learned? The phrase "Nothing much, double dutch." Who the fuck taught him that? My money's on Miko. Jack would not have the audacity to add that to Prime's vernacular.

He has a motherfuckin' rocket powered car carrier capable of hauling four bots. And since Team Prime had four four-wheelers on the team prior to Darkness Rising, you could reasonably assume that he has used it with Cliff, Bee, Bulk, and Ratch

Optimus knows what a pogo stick is. That isn't anything noteworthy, I just think it's funny.

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Secrets with the Shadowsinger

Summary:

Y/N, a representative from the Spring Court, and Azriel, the Night Court's spymaster, have been hiding their love due to the dangerous political climate and Tamlin's hatred for the Night Court. When their secret is discovered, Tamlin forbids Y/N from leaving the Spring Court. Azriel must risk everything to rescue her, leading to a dramatic confrontation and a daring escape. Their love, though hidden in the shadows, proves to be a powerful force as they navigate the perilous challenges that lie ahead.

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: None

The tension in the grand hall of the House of Wind was palpable. Representatives from the various courts gathered to discuss the increasing threats from Hybern. Y/N, the emissary from the Spring Court, stood tall and composed, her eyes scanning the room. She was known for her sharp mind and even sharper tongue, particularly when it came to dealing with the Night Court's spymaster, Azriel.

Azriel stood across the room, his shadows curling around him like a protective shroud. He was watching Y/N with an unreadable expression, their last argument still fresh in his mind. The animosity between them was well-known, their bickering a source of amusement and frustration for those around them.

"Y/N, perhaps you can enlighten us with the Spring Court's perspective on this matter," Rhysand said, his tone diplomatic.

Y/N stepped forward, her gaze flicking briefly to Azriel before she spoke. "The Spring Court believes that we must take a more aggressive stance against Hybern. Waiting for them to strike first will only lead to more devastation."

Azriel couldn't help but interject. "And rushing into a conflict without proper intelligence will lead to unnecessary casualties."

Y/N shot him a glare. "We need to be proactive, not reactive, Azriel. Your cautious approach will cost us valuable time."

Azriel's eyes narrowed. "And your reckless approach will cost us lives."

The room fell silent, the tension between them crackling like electricity. Rhysand stepped in, his voice calm but firm. "We need to find a balance between caution and action. Let's continue this discussion without the personal attacks."

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Fine. Let's focus on finding a solution."

As the meeting continued, Y/N and Azriel exchanged sharp looks and cutting remarks, their apparent dislike for each other on full display. But beneath the surface, a different story was unfolding.

Later that evening, Y/N slipped away from the House of Wind, making her way to a secluded spot by the Sidra River. She glanced around to ensure no one had followed her, then leaned against a tree, waiting.

A few moments later, Azriel appeared, his shadows swirling around him. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the harsh tone he had used earlier.

She looked up, her expression softening. "Azriel."

He moved closer, pulling her into his arms. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I hate fighting with you."

Y/N sighed, resting her head against his chest. "I know. It's necessary, though. We can't let them suspect anything."

Azriel's grip tightened around her. "I wish we didn't have to hide. I hate pretending to dislike you."

She smiled sadly. "It's the only way to keep us both safe. If anyone found out..."

He nodded, understanding the unspoken danger. "I know. But it doesn't make it any easier."

They stood there in silence for a while, the sound of the river flowing peacefully beside them. Azriel's shadows enveloped them, creating a cocoon of privacy in which they could share these stolen moments.

"Sometimes I wonder if this is worth it," Y/N whispered. "All the secrecy and the danger."

Azriel cupped her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. "You are worth it, Y/N. Every moment we have together is worth the risk."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she leaned into his touch. "I love you, Azriel."

He kissed her gently, pouring all his love and longing into that one kiss. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything."

As the night grew darker, they reluctantly pulled away from each other, knowing they had to return to their respective roles. Azriel took a step back, his expression torn. "Stay safe, Y/N. We'll find a way to be together openly someday."

She nodded, wiping away her tears. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," he said, his voice filled with determination.

With one last lingering look, Y/N turned and made her way back to the House of Wind, her heart heavy but filled with hope. Azriel watched her go, his shadows whispering words of comfort and resolve.

The next day, the tension in the grand hall was palpable once again. Y/N and Azriel resumed their roles, bickering and arguing as usual. But now, each cutting remark and heated exchange was laced with a secret understanding, a hidden love that only they knew.

As the discussions continued, Rhysand observed the two with a keen eye. He had long suspected there was more to their interactions than met the eye, but he respected their privacy and the roles they played.

The meeting ended with a tentative plan of action, a compromise that balanced caution and aggression. As the representatives began to leave, Y/N and Azriel shared a brief, knowing glance, a silent promise of love and support.

That night, as Y/N lay in her room, she clung to the hope that one day they could be together without hiding. Until then, they would continue to fight for peace and for each other, their love burning brightly in the shadows.

And as Azriel watched over Velaris from his perch on the roof, his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. No matter the challenges they faced, he knew they would find a way to be together. Their love was a force stronger than any enemy, and it would guide them through the darkest of times.

Weeks passed, and their secret meetings continued. But one fateful day, everything changed. Y/N returned to the Spring Court to report back to Tamlin, unaware that her secret had been discovered.

She was in her chambers when Tamlin stormed in, fury etched across his face. "Y/N, what have you done?"

She looked up, startled. "Tamlin, what's wrong?"

"Don't play dumb with me," he snarled, his eyes blazing with anger. "I've heard the rumors. You're involved with Azriel, the Night Court's spymaster."

Y/N's heart sank. "Tamlin, I can explain—"

"Explain?" he shouted. "You've betrayed us! Consorting with the enemy, my own sister!"

Tears filled her eyes. "I love him, Tamlin. You don't understand."

Tamlin's expression hardened. "I understand perfectly. You will not leave this court. You are forbidden from seeing him again."

Y/N's heart shattered. "You can't keep me here."

"Watch me," he said coldly. "Guards!"

As two guards stepped forward to escort her to a locked room, Y/N felt a surge of desperation. She had to get word to Azriel. She needed to find a way out.

Back in Velaris, Azriel was pacing in Rhysand's office when one of his shadows brought him the news. He felt a cold dread settle over him. "Tamlin knows," he said, his voice filled with urgency. "Y/N is in danger."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed. "We need to get her out of there."

Without wasting another moment, Azriel spread his wings and took to the skies, his shadows guiding him to the Spring Court. He moved swiftly and silently, his heart pounding with fear for Y/N's safety.

When he arrived, he slipped past the guards with ease, his shadows cloaking him in darkness. He found Y/N in a locked room, her eyes filled with fear and relief when she saw him.

"Azriel," she whispered, running to him.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "I'm here. I'm getting you out of here."

They moved quickly, Azriel using his shadows to cloak them both as they navigated the halls. But as they reached the courtyard, Tamlin and his guards appeared, blocking their path.

"You won't take her," Tamlin growled, his voice filled with rage.

Azriel's eyes blazed with determination. "I won't let you keep her prisoner."

Y/N clung to Azriel, her heart pounding. "Please, Tamlin. Let me go."

Tamlin's expression twisted with anger and pain. "You chose him over your own family. You betrayed us."

"I love him," Y/N said, her voice breaking. "And I can't stay here. Not like this."

Tamlin hesitated, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. But Azriel didn't wait. He spread his wings, his shadows enveloping them both, and with a powerful leap, they soared into the sky, leaving the Spring Court behind.

When they landed back in Velaris, Y/N was trembling with relief and fear. Azriel held her close, his shadows wrapping around them protectively.

"You're safe now," he whispered, his voice filled with love and determination.

Y/N looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I couldn't stay there, Azriel. Not without you."

He kissed her gently, his heart swelling with love and pride. "We'll find a way to be together. No matter what."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that the road ahead would be difficult. But their love was a force stronger than any obstacle, and together, they would face whatever came their way.

In the safety of the Night Court, surrounded by allies and friends, they knew that their love would guide them through the darkest of times. And as the stars sparkled above Velaris, they made a silent vow to protect each other and their love, no matter the cost.

[sergle]

honestly? no collar + no chip = no owner fr fr. i like sometimes cats get out when they arent supposed to and their collars get ripped off. understandablw. but like. if u have an "outdoor cat". and it does not have a collar, and it does not have a chip. how the hell is ANYONE supposed to tell ur lil guy apart from a stray??? literally how??

for real!! sorry, no owner! this cat has no evidence of being someone's pet! no collar, no chip, no missing flyers, nothin!!! and there's nothing to differentiate a missing cat from an outdoor cat from a friendly stray from a dumped/abandoned cat. They Are The Same.

[braceletofteeth]

#favorite tropes (2/∞): Enter the White Knight

[xiao-brothers]

There was just something very beautiful about how Fang Duobing was the defacto protector of the two strongest martial artists in the world purely because he was the only one that was not ill.

[note-boom]

Kyouka: dramatically jumps off a train

Atsushi: dramatically jumps off a blimp and a boat

Dazai: dramatically jumps off buildings and bridges

Kunikida: dramatically jumps off a helicopter

Guys. Please stop dramatically jumping off things

[justbreakonme]

Whumpee has no idea how long they’ve been in the shower.

They should get out, dry off, and go to bed. Stop wasting precious water and time staring holes through the white tile wall.

But the pain is unbearable.

The only thing that had helped so far was aiming the blistering water at their aches and pains. They weren’t sure if the heat helped soothe them or simply gave them a different pain as a distraction, one they could control.

Time was running out, and so was the hot water. Any minute now Caretaker would be at the door, scolding them for wasting all the water.

Just one more minute, they thought over and over again, just another minute then I’ll be fine.

On the other side of the bathroom door was a bed that would hurt to lay in, sheets too hot and too cold at the same time, and hours of silent stillness.

They wanted to sleep. God, they needed to so badly, but it hurt too much. Every time they moved, no matter how they laid or sat or stood…pain.

They clung to fleeting moments of moderate comfort, where they could position themselves just right. But it never lasted.

A timid knock brought them out of their spiral.

“Whumpee? Are you okay in there?”

The question made tears form in their eyes.

No, no they weren’t, why did everything hurt to much? How could they be in so much pain?

“Yes, I’m just getting out of the shower…”

[liesyousoldme]

“hi bobby so happy to see you’re still alive sorry i wasn’t here, it’s because i almost murdered amir. but instead i just retraumatized him with fire <3 yes im still a cop why do you ask”

[thepinklink]

Regret, or close call, for the ask game? :D

Wind is trying to dump Sriracha’s feed in his bucket when he hears the squealing and the sound of hooves. He whips his head around and sees Sriracha backing right towards him, fast and agitated, and he knows he should move but the terror freezes him in place.

At the last moment, Sriracha swings his rear away from Wind and then calms down, at least for the moment, and Wind is quick to get out of his stall. Heart racing, hands shaking, he thinks about what a close call that was.

Shame wells up in his chest, choking him with tears. His face burns, the still-full bucket of feed he’s carrying feels heavy.

I froze, I could have died, I should have moved, that was terrifying.

The thoughts all run through his head at a million miles per hour. He’s ashamed at how scared he is, but he can’t help how scared he is. Sriracha is big, and even as underweight as he is, he’s still a powerful horse and Wind is a small person. Wind feels he wasn’t nearly responsive enough, aware enough to have kept the situation from escalating to that point, or keeping his head when it did.

Finally, the dread settles in. His fingers sting where the bucket’s raw metal handle rests on them: he still has to feed Sriracha.