#home depot heroes

[arctic-pop]

Bangchan vs Home Depot Manager

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Bangchan x reader

Warnings: none

Imagine: bangchan defends you from your mean home depot boss

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You sigh, just another boring day working at home depot. You were working outside in the garden area, its dirty but you dont mind it. Youre not like the other home depot employees, you actually like being outside. You were getting a plant vase when all of a sudden, someone bumped into you!! The vase dropped, shattering and even pieces of it cutting your cheek. "Ah! Hey!!" You turn around. It was your boss!!

"Stupid YN!" He yelled. "Thats home depot property you just broke!! You lost the company money! I cant believe they hired a woman. Youre too weak to work here!"

You start tearing up. But he just continues yelling "idiot women are too weak and dumb. Now you owe us money!"

All of a suddem you hear another voice behind you. "Hey!" It said.

You turn around, youre hair whipping in the wind. You find a beautiful boy with blue hair along with a bunch of other super cute guys. When youre eyes met, you blushed and he seemed to be struck too. But then he went up to your boss. "She wasnt too weak to hold it, you bumped into her and now youre bullying her for it!"

"Who the freak do you think you are?"

"Im bangchan, and Im not an idiot like you obviosuly. Women arent weak or stupid. You need to apologize. Or else."

Banchan looked so menacing it made you pee your pants a little bit. His dark eyes bored into your boss's skull. The rest of the gang stood by him also menacingly. Still your manager didnt back down. "Or else what?"

Bangchan pushed you behind himself protectively, then with his muscely arms, he wound up and threw up punch right on your managers face!!

The manager started to cry and ran away. Bangchan turned around to you. He saw the cut on your cheek and put his hand there. "Are you okay??"

You blushed furiously with his warm hand on your face, a hand that had fought for you! "Im- im okay. Thank you so much!!" You teared up again.

"I just cant believe he was bullying you like that. Why dont you quit if your boss is so mean?

"I cant- i have to take care of my family."

He nodded , his fluffy blue hair bouncing. "By the way, can you show me where plumbing is?"

"Of c-c-course." You stuttered a little, still flustered from when his hand had gently touched your face. You started walking to plumbing, the group of boys behind you.

"What do you need in plumbing?

"The biggest plunger you have"

One of the boys in the back spoke up. "Bangchan pooped so hard it clogged the whole houses plumbing!!"

Bangchan blushed and smacked the back of his head. "Shut up hyunjin!! Its a lie. The toilet just broke cuz its old."

"Its okay, "you said. "Our toilet is clogged too but i cant afford a plumber." You want to tear up, thinking about all the money your parents waste on drugs and alcohol, but you push back the tears.

You found the plungers, grabbed the biggest one home depot offered, and handed it to him.

Your hands brushed as he grabbed it and you quickly drew your hand away to brush your hair out of your face in embaressment.

"Cute" he whispered under his breath.

"What?"

"Oh heck did i say that out loud?"

All the guys started laughing at him, one of them rolling on the floor. It made you giggle.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No this is it"

You start to turn around when he suddenly reached out and grabbed your arm, "Wait!"

You turn around. "Yes?

"Will you go out with me?"

You gasped, so excited. "Of, of course!!"

"Ill take you on the nicest date ever, and then I can go over and use my new plunger to fix your toilet too."

"But but i cant pay you-"

"Its for free. Cause I like you, YN"

"No ones ever done this for me... can i hug you?"you ask.

He smirked and opened up his arms. You ran to him. Wrapping your arms around him, not caring that your still wearing your home depot apron. You can smell the faint odor of poop on him as you hug, breathing in his air, but you dont mind. "Thank you for being my home depot hero"

"Of course baby" bangchan said.

The End

[ytcomments-archive]

[gutsybitsies]

Handsome Gentle Perfect Jason who doesnt care about fashion and looks good in any ratty t shirt is out.

Dorky Awkward Clumsy Jason who does care about how he looks BUT has his own fashion sense that exists on a separate plane of reality is in.

He thinks socks and sandals are the height of fashion and that fanny packs are legitimately the coolest fucking thing. He always accidentally steps in puddles and bumps into railings.

He insists in fixing his plumbing and electric problems at home by himself. He ends up passing out due to exhaustion when he told everyone the electric wiring is fixed but actually he couldnt figure it out and has been using his very fine tuned electric powers to keep the everything supplied with electricity.

[cd7173]

idk

[frickenbees]

Dabi paint sample my beloved

[helldivers2]

did i ever share my ryan or jacob playlist here yet. if not ill do that when i wake up

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC prompt. Justice League after A Glitch in Time

or Erasing the Phantom’s heroism from the memory of everyone on Earth is not a good reason to skip work. Who knew?

~~~~

After his parents, and with them all the residents of Amity Park, once again forgot he's Phantom, Danny was in a mood to be like a little shit. The funny thing was, his secret wasn’t completely erased. He discovered this because the world renowned hero Phantom was an honorary member of the Justice League...and the unknown Fenton is constantly receiving calls from old acquaintances.

Danny was impatient to get back to home-sweet-space-station-home and get to work, so he didn’t try to tread lightly.

~~~~~ "Hey, dude, do you remember the last security code for the third decommissioned weapons depot?" Flash’s voice came from the phone. "Of course, this is blobghost34boo." Danny answered calmly. "Thanks, man." Flash finished the call. "Flash, who were you just talking to?" Batman asked with suspicion. "What are you talking about? Of course I talked to.."Flash stopped and blinked. "I don’t know?" "What does that mean?" Batman screams in anger."How did the security codes that none of you remember end up in the hands of an outsider?" "I have no idea who I just talked to!" Flash screamed in horror.

~~~~~

Jazz took a call from Batman this time. " Not sorry, but Danny can't come to the phone right now."

"Why?' Jazz glanced at the Phantom fighting with Spectra outside the window. "Oh, 'cause he's dead."

[luveline]

hi honey, i love you so so much!!

what about stripper!reader with derek morgan?? he's on a case where strippers are being murdered, and while hotch is driving morgan calls you and tells you not to go into work because of what's going on, and emily is listening in on the conversation from the backseat and they tease him

thank youu!! love you!

ty for requesting lovely!! ilysm ♡

"I know you don't like listening to me, but could you do me a favour? Just this once?" 

Emily leans over in her seat so Spencer can see her side eye. "Who's Morgan talking to?" 

"Stay home tonight. No, this isn't a jealousy thing, you vixen–" 

Spencer shrugs. "No idea. But–" 

"But," Emily agrees. They've just left a crime scene with a specific victim, and now Morgan's on the phone asking someone to stay home. That someone would have reason to visit said crime scene's location, and the word vixen suggests female rather than male, which means, "Morgan has a secret stripper girlfriend." 

Spencer's entire face takes his frown, eyebrows pinched, mouth quirked into a telling line. "I like the implausible," he murmurs, "but that feels illogical. Where would they have met?"

"Uh," Emily says, widening her eyes at him. "Where do you think, Spence?" 

"Morgan doesn't need to go to a strip club." 

Emily understands what Spencer's saying. There are lots of reasons that people frequent strip clubs or gentlemen's clubs and none of those reasons apply to Derek. It's possible he could go socially, but it's just so unlike him, it doesn't add up. 

"I'm telling you the truth. I can't give you more detail than that, I just need you to stay home tonight." Derek pauses, laughs. "Alright," —his voice takes on a mechanical rendition, clearly having been fed a line he has to repeat aloud— "I, Derek Morgan, am an ignorant, jealous man, who can't cope with the fact that you don't want me, and am making up sad and childish lies to get you to stay home from your job. Is that what you wanted? Yeah, laugh it up." 

Emily laughs and grabs the headrest as he hangs up on you, pulling herself forward to taunt him as is required. "Care to explain yourself?" 

Derek sighs. "This is why I didn't tell you guys." 

"What!" Spencer says, though his smile is more audible than his incredulity. 

"So you have something to tell us?" Emily asks. 

Derek knows he can't weasel his way out of telling them, and he doesn't really want to. "I don't have a secret stripper girlfriend," he says, rolling his eyes, "she's not my girlfriend. She is an exotic dancer at one of the clubs downtown, and I met her at Home Depot." 

Emily isn't perturbed that Derek heard their gossiping. She's shameless. She doesn't even care that Hotch is frowning behind the wheel. "What was an exotic dancer doing at Home Depot?"

"Weirdly, Emily, she has a home. She wanted help finding renter friendly flooring." 

"Can we meet her?" 

"Never," Derek says with a smile. Emily couldn't know this, but he really likes you. You're sweet, super funny, and yes, you're a stripper. You work hard. Pole dancing is as physically demanding as any manual labour and you're damn good at it. "Ever." 

Spencer interjects the ensuing argument with a statistical analysis of strippers who are homeowners (unfairly few), but Morgan doesn't answer, trying to read a new text from you discretely. 

Sorry if I embarrassed you at work :( is it really not safe to go ?? Maybe u can come and be my bodyguard. I won't even make u tip me 4:10PM

He sends back, Really not safe. Stay home for me, relax for a few days. Call you tonight even if nothing changes 4:11PM

My hero <3 I trust u, but be careful OK ? and pls if it isn't too much trouble can u bring back some of those weird candies again? thank u thank u <3<3<3 4:14PM

Hotch makes a quiet sound of approval, eyes on the road. "The same girl you were with at Docklands? Rossi said she was cute." 

"She is." 

"Rossi met her?" Emily asks. "Oh, you're the worst."

[alligator-tearzz]

R.I.P Van Der Linde Gang 💔 You would have loved:

(seen a few ppl do this,, if you started this definitely lmk and I’ll credit u !!)

updated to add Kieran and Sean

Dutch - Self help books, those podcasts where people give you terribly incorrect health information and claim that they’re doctors

Uncle - The massage chairs in malls, Frank Gallagher, insane reddit stories that definitely never happened, scamming disability cheques from the government

Abigail - iPhone’s share your location feature, the Parent Teacher Association, audiobooks

Arthur - Remote control racing cars (aarwh it’s a toy boat!), the catch and cook youtube videos, Cowboy Carter by Beyoncé, free healthcare mayhaps…..

John - Maury, The sassy man apocalypse on TikTok, Sitting and watching Bluey in a trance with Abigail after Jack has already gone to bed

Miss Grimshaw - Supernanny, Judge Judy, Spas, Massages, Bear Grylls probably, Bed Bath and Beyond

Sadie - Streetwear, absolutely bodying men on FPS games, Rage rooms

Charles - Axe throwing to get the frustration out, wildlife protection acts, David Attenborough, ATLA

Javier - The head massage you get when you get your hair washed at the salon, edibles, Guitar Hero, collecting vinyls

Hosea - Game shows like The Chase and Deal or No Deal, Dolly Parton probably, cruises, community libraries where you take a book and leave a book behind

Strauss - Cryptocurrency, whatsapp scams

Mary-Beth - Wattpad, Ao3, Booktok, you name it. Those fanfic movie adaptations like After, 50 shades of Grey etc, Cottagecore aesthetic, Taylor Swift, TikTok edits, Bridgerton

Tilly - Those ‘Day in the Life of’ Tiktoks, Jazz bars, Chloe x Halle, cruises as well

Karen - How To Get Away With Murder, Bottomless brunch, Reality shows with a bunch of drama like Love Island or Married at First Sight, Ru Paul’s Drag Race

Bill - Mardi Gras, Brokeback Mountain 😋, Home Depot, probably, those giant American cars that are on the verge of being trucks, Call of Duty

Pearson - Those late night infomercials that show random kitchen utensils like a garlic mincer or a nutribullet blender, Reddit, Spending money on E-Harmony, standing in the club and staring awkwardly at a woman, Dungeons and Dragons

Lenny - Online self paced university, Jordan Peele movies, Studio Ghibli movies, Noise cancelling headphones, The Last of Us

Kieran - Animal crossing, Saddle Club, the Wikihow “how to talk to girls” page, taking horrible advice from tik tok just because the person who posted it sounded trustworthy, astrology probably

Sean - Getting drunk at local football games and heckling the other team, claiming he’s not into Karen’s reality shows but then standing there watching the whole episode with his arms crossed while asking her about every single person and their drama, would most definitely be famous for yapping on Twitter, Derry Girls would be his fave show

[seat-safety-switch]

Ah, morning. Hot coffee in my favourite mug, a sun-dappled veranda on the balcony of my rural French palace, and a quick peek at the newspaper to see how my favourite NASCAR driver, Rusty "Piss" Trickle, placed last night. Now, just to take a big sip of scalding hot Blue Mountain before I read the results...

No, of course you know what I know. Rusty didn't podium. Hell, he didn't even place. He got, once again, ejected from the venue for trying to crush a full can of beer with his helmet-mounted GoPro at 180 miles an hour on the roval. Before the race had even started.

His utter collapse in the face of competition doesn't impact my life materially, although tens of thousands of motorsports fans across the world peg their emotional states to the success or failure of their favourite racists. And you can see why. In early childhood, we all want to have heroes. Originally, they're characters of fiction, or idealized representations of actual jobs. Firefighter. Paramedic. Home Depot guy who unlocks the saw when your mom needs to rip some planks.

This is innate to the human experience. We see folks doing exemplary things, helping their communities, getting glory, and we want to do that too. Maybe we start adopting some of their mannerisms. For a few weeks as a nine-year-old, I kept harassing my parents with the catchphrase of my favourite television star, the 1989 Lincoln Mark VII LSC. I can quote it now, to this day: "vroom."

As we age, those heroes often become specific people. We become invested in them, in an unhealthy parasocial way. For instance, I once sent Rusty ten dollars in Streamer Superchat® because he posted a livestream of himself driving across a cornfield in a stolen MG Midget. Ten dollars. I don't even give my actual human friends gas money for transporting my ungrateful ass across the country when I drop a cylinder liner. So you can see how folks go absolutely apeshit when their favourite football team scores an insufficient amount of touchdowns, or a hockey squad fails to behead the referee in time to prevent a power play.

Is there a cure for this sort of unhealthy fixation? Probably not. Becoming disillusioned with your heroes, or ruining your entire day because a bunch of millionaires failed to win a competition, is natural. Maybe it's best that we target folks far away from our communities, because the guy at Home Depot who works the saw gets real nervous when I carry a giant foam finger into the place and cheer on his rough cuts. And that creates a really dangerous situation, even if it makes it much more exciting.

[hpdrizzle]

🌦️ It's time! REVEALS ARE HERE! 🌦️

Don't let the tornado of excellent works blow you away! We had 28 works submitted this year, by fest regulars and new participants alike!

A rainstorm of thanks for everyone who participated this year, and to all of you who followed along and showered our creators in kudos and comments. 🌈🌧️

Please enjoy the works below 💜

~ Your Drizzle Mods (@nanneramma, @patriceavril, @sleepstxtic, @uncannycerulean, @lumosatnight)

☔ These Silhouettes on Us [Fic, T, 6427], by @rainjulyx

💧Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter 💧Summary: A fateful total lunar eclipse, the blood moon, befell London's sky. This heralded event led Harry's meandering path to cross with a ghost of his past—one that he's been trying his best to forget. “The blood moon brings luck,” they said. And this eclipse could be Harry's awaited turning point. At the moment the moon turned blood red, his blood burned bright.

☔ Rainy Day Adventure [Art, G, Digital], by @mugsdontlie

💧Pairing: Neville Longbottom & Trevor 💧Summary: Young Neville and his toad Trevor on a rainy day adventure in the pond.

☔ there's always been a rainbow [Fic, M, 3403], by DrPansyParkinson

💧Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Neville Longbottom 💧Summary: Neville Longbottom has one last assignment to finish before we leaves the DMLE and starts teaching at Hogwarts. Unspeakable Pansy Parkinson is annoyed he's leaving her behind. ...and that's before the flooding starts.

☔ His Whole Life [Fic, T, 3958], by @hey-flynn

💧Pairing: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood 💧Summary: Marcus and Oliver retell the stories of when they fell in love to their grandchildren.

☔ up above us [Fic, G, 5166], by @poljupci

💧Pairing: Ron Weasley & Harry Potter 💧Summary: They're in the woods. They're alone. They're hungry and desperate and all out of plans for what to do next. It's then that Ron decides that the only logical solution would be to retrieve an ace from up his sleeve - a secret he's never shared (and never plans to share) with anyone. It's unorthodox and ridiculous and not the kind of tool he'd usually like to rely upon, but it's not like any of them have any better ideas. So he waits until he has some semblance of privacy and, for the first time in his life, puts all his cards on faith showing him the way. Or: There are some things they don't teach you in Divination.

☔ Hero on the Plains [Fic, T, 1815], by @maraudersaffair

💧Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter 💧Summary: A tornado is headed straight for their home, but Harry knows exactly what to do. cue the Home Depot theme song

☔ the fires [Fic, T, 1971], by @dracopetal

💧Pairing: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley 💧Summary: They had been running from the fires for days now, and it was just the two of them left.

☔ Hot Girl Summer [Fic, T, 5494], by @sailtomarina

💧Pairing: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger/Percy Weasley 💧Summary: With the war now over and a summer heatwave in full force, the last thing anybody wants to do is worry about what the future holds. What about Quidditch and a birthday barbecue at the Burrow, instead? Or, Hermione finds herself the willing eye candy of not one, not two, but three eligible Weasleys? How can a girl choose? Why should she have to?

☔ A Cumulus Condition [Fic, T, 11934], by orolin

💧Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley 💧Summary: Pansy likes nothing more than teasing Ron, her Auror partner of the last few years. But when a joke shop invention of George’s leaves everyone able to see Pansy’s true emotions, to her horror everyone can now see that she quite enjoys it when Ron teases her back. Or; and alternative title: Cloudy With a Chance of Cock

☔ Come in With The Rain [Art, G, Digital], by @legendrarry

💧Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter 💧Summary: ”I'll leave my window open /'Cause I'm too tired at night to call your name / Just know I'm right here hoping /That you'll come in with the rain…” Or, Draco sits beside his window and tries to understand just who was hurting more; the London sky that wouldn’t stop crying, or his own broken heart?.

☔ tenderness of the wind [Fic, T, 1867], by @girl-with-goats

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle 💧Summary: Harry is an ethereal being of wind that only manifests physically during a heavy downpour near magically potent places—specifically, in the Forbidden Forest. That's how Tom finds him.

☔ 2 Weeks on a Desert Island [Fic, T, 10342], by vitruvian8008

💧Pairing: Lily Luna Potter/Scorpius Malfoy, Lily Luna Potter/Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley 💧Summary: Lily Luna Potter was excited for her voyage to Slytherin Kingdom. But that soon turns into a nightmare as they end up stranded on a desert island. With the sun blazing down on her, Lily’s life is about to change.

☔ Water Music by Goddess47 - a Podfic [Podfic, G, 34:16], by @cailynwrites

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape 💧Summary: Severus keeps hearing piano music...

☔ A Tale of SeasANAL Relief [Fic, E, 8383], by @minimindi

💧Pairing: Firenze/Ron Weasley 💧Summary: “Firenze, I want you to understand something so please look at me,” Ron waited until Firenze looked him in the eyes again then continued. “I am the Keeper of Keys and the Gamekeeper for Hogwarts. My entire job is accomplished outside. The irony of this situation is not lost on me. I will do anything to be rid of these allergies,” Ronald said with as much confidence as he could muster. How bad could this magical cure be? OR Ronald and Firenze bang away Ronald's allergies and find love in the process.

☔ In his Element [Fic, G, 3318], by @viridianrynn

💧Pairing: Neville Longbottom & Trevor the Toad 💧Summary: When a massive spring storm engulfs the castle, everyone retreats to the Hogwarts castle to escape the rain--everyone but one Neville Longbottom and his trusty toad Trevor, who instead set out to their favourite local haunt - a pond. This is a light little story on the friendship that binds Neville and his familiar together and their shared enjoyment of nature.

☔ No One Ever Died From a Little Rain [Fic, T, 2286], by @dancingsparks

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy 💧Summary: This has gone on long enough. We will get Potter and Malfoy together. Once and for all.

☔ (I've Got) Sunshine on a Cloudy Day [Fic, T, 20233], by Kendra_Storm

💧Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini 💧Summary: When a magical pandemic rages across the Wizarding World, Neville is enlisted by the Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger, to grow a rare plant that just might be the cure. The only problem is that the plant is extremely temperamental and requires very specific weather conditions to grow. Fortunately, there is an Unspeakable whose speciality is weather magic. Unfortunately, that Unspeakable is Blaise Zabini.

☔ a little deluge [Fic, T, 1591], by OrangeScript

💧Pairing: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley 💧Summary: a misunderstanding leads to a kiss in the rain

☔ The Bite [Fic, T, 7225], by @nightfalltwen

💧Pairing: Gregory Goyle/Hermione Granger 💧Summary: There is an uptick of werewolf bites and Gregory Goyle is a victim of one. Hermione brings him wolfsbane to get him through the transformations and a friendship develops.

☔ by august, he was mine [Fic, G, 2908], by @panicissharp

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy 💧Summary: It starts with an umbrella. Or, well, actually, it starts at Hogwarts.

☔ Downpour [Art, G, Digital], by @saijordison

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy 💧Summary: This art goes along with today's second work, Pleuvoir, Vouloir, l’Espoir. Prompt: Harry and Draco are babysitting Teddy when a magical storm passes through, rendering all magic useless. The two have to take care of Teddy the muggle way.

☔ Pleuvoir, Vouloir, l'Espoir [Fic, T, 20282], by skotini

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy 💧Summary: Harry thought he’d just be looking after Teddy for the afternoon. Having Draco Malfoy as his co-babysitter was NOT what Harry had signed up for – especially when there’s a freak magical storm, a rain-soaked Malfoy, and more French than Harry can handle.

☔ A Rainbow in My Sky [Fic, T, 22862], by @blackseatwenty

💧Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape 💧Summary: Suddenly, the bowl spun, the insides glowed, and it emitted a burst of magic. A pair of vivid green eyes materialised inside the silver interior. "Hello," a slightly high-pitched male voice said. Severus choked back a gasp, released the bowl and stumbled backwards, his long black hair falling over his face. "Ow." The eyes darted left and right around the bowl's lips. "Why did you drop me? That hurt." Severus pointed his wand, "You teenage imbeciles have gone too far!" “Hey, why are you shouting and pointing that stick at me?” The bowl shook on the ground, and the blue lights pulsed. Green eyes suddenly rose like floating lights, eying their surroundings. "Are you my companion? My name is Harry; it's nice to meet you!"

☔ Birthday Rain [Fic, G, 2755], by @magikfish

💧Pairing: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter 💧Summary: It's Albus Potter's dreaded 15th birthday party, and all he wants is for he and Scorpius to just be left alone.

☔ Split In Half Will Have To Do [Fic, T, 2755], by @strawberrybasilsorbet

💧Pairing: Amy Benson/Original Male Character, Amy Benson & Dennis Bishop, Amy Benson & Tom Riddle 💧Summary: Amy has spent her entire adult life chasing clear skies.

☔ The Pleasure's in Walking Through [Fic, E, 7739], by @nanneramma

💧Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Hermione Granger 💧Summary: Sometimes summers felt like melting. This one did, especially when Hermione visited.

☔ A Line-storm Song [Fic, E, 12626], by @dodgerkedavra

💧Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter 💧Summary: Harry holds it together for five years after the war. Well—he sort of holds it together. Then his Auror partner Pansy Parkinson says it’s going to rain.

☔ Worth the hike [Fic, T, 1587], by @patriceavril

💧Pairing: Sirius Black/Mary Macdonald 💧Summary: “I don’t want to go back to taking exams and…” She let the uncertainty of the future trail off into the crash of the waterfall. “Well, we could just stay here, but we’ll run out of cigarettes,” Sirius said.

[s1utlvr]

Boredom ❊

Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader Smau

Synopsis: a day in the city with ur favorite boy!!

a/n: GUESS WHOS BACK!!!!! Anyways just started rereading The Lost Hero and Leo really is just so ugh anyways trying to get out of my writing slump but for now here’s this. Faceclaim for Leo is Marcel Ruiz!!

DIRECT MESSAGES

Leolikeleo: Do you wanna go somewhere with me?

Y/n.y/n: Like on a date?

Leolikeleo: …..like to the Home Depot in manhattan

Y/n.y/n: Leo what 😭

Leolikeleo: We can look at the light section and I’ll get you lunch

Y/n.y/n: deal

Leolikeleo added to their story

First date kinda nervous 😓 @y/n.y/n

y/n.y/n added to their story

shoutout to the stranger who airdropped this to me @leolikeleo

y/n.y/n added to their story

Is ur boyfriend normal or does he get excited whenever they bring out the forklift at Home Depot??

@leolikeleo replied: you are so mean 😞

leolikeleo added to their story

What if we kissed in the Home Depot light section?

@y/n.y/n replied: I’m right here Leo

leolikeleo: but you’re being mean 🙄🙄

y/n.y/n added to their story

BRO IS DEFINITELY GETTING SPITED‼️

♫ Gasoline By HAIM (feat.Taylor Swift)

Liked by leolikeleo and others

y/n.y/n: strike a match, strike a match, watch it blow

COMMENTS

seaweedbrain: What do you know about New York🤨

y/n.y/n replied: Manhattan🔥🔥

pipecleaner: Without me??? LAMEEEE

y/n.y/n.replied: miss you babe 😪

leolikeleo replied: womp womp 🙄

♫ Where the flowers bloom By Tyler the Creator (feat. Frank ocean)

Liked by y/n.y/n and others

Leolikeleo: My hot funny beautiful amazing girlfriend who I love very much took this picture 👍

COMMENTS

y/n.y/n: Can confirm!!

a/n: This may suck and flop but this was actually so fun to make……I wanna write for leo now

[highlordofkrypton]

batman equalizer au // the knight from nowhere - chapter 1 & 2

Read on AO3.

SUMMARY: Bruce Wayne is dead. In the wake of his death, he leaves a trail of bodies and the ruins of a city. He can’t do this anymore; he can’t be a man who uses justice as an excuse for violence, so he leaves it all behind. Now, a nobody in a nowhere town, he starts to like his mundane life—no heroism, no villains and no pain—until one day, injustice finds him. Heroes aren’t real, but sometimes, all people need is a knight.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's basically just the Equalizer but with Bruce Wayne with fun cameos!

Chapter 1 & 2

Every day, eight o’clock on the dot, the employees of Home Depot file into the massive warehouse on North Avenue, right on the big intersection near the highway. Not quite in the middle of the city, it has the perfect balance of busy and calm all at once. Just enough clients to make the day go by, but not enough for them to overwhelm the staff. 

You’ve got Erica at the front cash. She’s been here for years, so much that she runs the customer service section better than any of the managers. Her hairstyle’s old, perpetually stuck in the eighties and teased into the stratosphere, but her heart’s as big as the ‘do. For every person that squeezes into the not-quite open doors, she flashes a gum-clenched smile—always classic bubble gum flavour.

Geronimo and Juan always come in at exactly the same time. They’re cousins and live on the same street. They’ve also both got the same snoozing habits, which make it a real wonder whenever they come in early on a day like today.

“Hey, Mister Kane! Bright and early as always?”

“Yeah, he’s old. He ain’t got nothing better to do.”

The two teens stop in front of the older man. Mister Kane came out of nowhere one day, applying for a job just like anyone else. The city’s big enough for them to not recognize him, and though he keeps to himself, everyone thinks of him as part of the family. They’re comfortable enough to tease him, at the very least.

With an elegance unbefitting of such an unassuming man, he uncrosses his leg and sets the newspaper down. He cocks a slender dark brow in their direction, questioning. On his lips, an amused smile greets them.

“How old do you both think I am?”

“Old enough to ride dinosaurs!”

“Old enough to live before the internet.”

“That’s not even that old, tonto.”

Mister Kane laughs, a low smooth sound, and folds his arms across his bright orange apron. “C’mon, you two. You’re on time for once, don’t wanna be late punching in ‘cause you were fooling around.” He shoos them along.

The bell rings for the start of the shift, and the boys sprint across the backroom to get their aprons. Mister Kane hops to his feet and heads right over to the building materials section of the warehouse. There are a few wood orders from yesterday he didn’t get a chance to finish, and he likes the calm that comes with working with power tools. He can’t hear anyone over the sound, and there’s a nifty boundary that keeps clients away from him while he’s handling machinery.

Sneakers squeak from across the aisle, and it can only be one person (because the two late bloomers are already in).

For the life of him, Barry cannot show up to work on time, but he’s a good kid, and his family situation’s tough, so management gives him a pass. It helps that no one complains; everyone goes out of their way to give Barry a hand.

“Morning, Mister Kane—I mean, uh, Bruce,” the young blonde flusters in the face of his friend. “Good morning, hi, hey.” His windbreaker hangs over his shoulder, along with his lunchbox which are hooked by two fingers. “I,” he breathes heavily from the running. “Overslept. Was studying.”

And to think, Bruce was just going to ask about his night.

“Sounds rough,” he muses politely. “Hurry up, you just missed the bell. Time’s a tickin’.”

“Ope, right on, Mis—Bruce! I mean, Bruce, not miss Bruce.”

Bruce squeezes his shoulder, reassuring that there’s been no harm and no foul. He told the kid not to call him Mister Kane. The teens, sure, but he’s not that old. At least, not on paper. The aches in his body, the old injuries that didn’t heal right and his horrible blue plaid short-sleeved button up and pleated khakis say otherwise. Funny, how style choices can really age a person. Actually, it has to be orthopedic shoes. (What? They’re comfortable.)

“Go on, Bar,” he reminds, steering his friend in the right direction—towards the break room.

Barry waves, and Bruce can just hear the sounds of the young man mumbling to himself. “Right on? What was that, Bar? Who are you?”

The people here are good and the life he has built for himself is good. Bruce is kind and polite, speaking when spoken to and helping whenever he can. He’s a man who’s been given a second chance, and he’s making the best of it, however he can.

He puts on his safety glasses and a pair of gloves, then gets to work on trimming the various pieces of wood. Some are long and flat boards, while others are basic two by fours. Around his third order, Barry comes back around wearing his apron. His glasses and his gloves stick out of his pocket.

“When’s your exam?”

“Three weeks. I’m alright on most of the core competencies, like collaborator, communicator and leader, but I’m stuck on the medical expert section. The, um,” Barry clears his throat uncomfortable.

Bruce tips his head, lifting a brow curiously. “Which part?” His tone is gentle, encouraging. This place is a safe space, there’s nobody around to judge. “If you’re going to be a forensic scientist, you might as well get comfortable with the job.”

“It’s the medical examiner portion. I’m alright with the science, but it’s more the cause of deaths and offering a hypothesis? I just can’t really imagine… murder.” Barry’s voice drops low. Well, he can, but there’s a knot in his chest, and a wall that keeps him from staying objective. He looks away, throat bobbing with an uncomfortable swallow. “I just want to help people, you know. I want to make sure I’m getting it right, but the thought that a person—,” he pauses.

“You have to think of the people you’re helping. It’s difficult to face death, and there isn’t a way to undo it, but the next best thing is what you can do for the living.” He offers a reassuring squeeze and loads in the next piece of plywood for trimming. 

The sound of the saw offers both of them a moment of reprieve to think about death. Bruce runs the vacuum that seems to echo across the entire store, and shuts it off, handing the piece for Barry to transfer into the ‘pick-ups’ rack.

“I think you just need to find the line between using your imagination to connect the evidence, and letting it go too far where you put yourself in a victim’s shoes. Once you get into the habit, it’ll be muscle memory.” But for Barry to learn, he needs experience. “Do you have any combat training? Or have you ever fired a gun? It might help you get insight on the way the body moves, and how projectiles work.”

“Oh, no, Bruce. I-I couldn’t.” Barry holds his hands up in surrender. The thought of a gun feels like a violation against everything he is as a person. He is politeness incarnate, and he can count on his hand the amount of time he’s ever been in a confrontation. (Twice, and both times his—adoptive—big brother Carter got involved, which meant that his adoptive father Jay would also come to the rescue. Of the person who caused Barry trouble, of course. Carter is known for his… excessive force.)

“It’s not as bad as you think. You busy this weekend? I’ll take you to the range. And look up some martial arts classes. It’ll help.” If it doesn’t help with understanding physical struggles, then at the very least, it’ll help Barry find an outlet for his stress. “You don’t have to shoot if you’re not comfortable. You can just watch and jump in whenever you like.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh.”

Barry seems to think about it for a long while, but he doesn’t inquire further about it. Instead, he bounces on the balls of his feet, eager to help and making sure that he does all the heavy lifting, not Bruce. He seems to buy into the thought that Bruce is older, even if his hair has barely started graying at the temples.

It has to be the orthopedic shoes. No one over seventy wears orthopedic shoes.

Before long, the two of them are easing back to their routine with Barry chatting away about his day and asking Bruce if he’s up to anything new. Bruce never is; his routine is simple, contained and quiet—just the way he likes it. They have lunch together. Barry’s adoptive mother, Joan, always packs a sweet note on Mondays wishing her son a good day. (For the rest of the week, the kid’s on his own.) Bruce’s lunches are always simple, but the ingredients are treated with great care. Today, he has sautéed green beans in garlic butter, and a simple roasted chicken breast. In the afternoons, he’ll also have an Ensure and Barry always checks to see the flavour of the day. Strawberry, ooh, nice, he’ll say even if there are only three choices.

The people here are good and the life he has built himself is good, yet at the end of the day, once warm farewells are exchanged along with pleasant smiles, his expression slips into nothingness. As soon as he is alone, he becomes no one and he is empty.

… or that’s how he thinks he should feel. 

It was like that at first; this life felt painful and underserved, but it’s grown on him. He has friends and even if it’s built on a lie, he’s found a peace he’s never known before.

Maybe—

Maybe he can finally start to forgive himself.

***

Oasis Apartments are exactly nine minutes away from North Avenue, except during rush hour where the light have an added two minutes to them. It’s situated right by the highway and drinks up all the sounds of rumbling vehicles through the building’s too-thin walls. Bruce can tell when an eighteen wheeler drives by from the faint rattle of the windows. 

The only thing even faintly resembling an oasis is the dirty pool in the centre courtyard with its peeling palm-tree lining. He can even make out tiki torches trapped somewhere in the overgrown greens.

He didn’t pick the Oasis for its amenities or its comforts. In a place like this, no one asks questions. Either they’re too shitfaced to care, or too worried about how to make ends meet before the next rent is due. He doesn’t even care that it’s close to the Depot; he’d applied for the job after signing the lease and paying (in cash).

Bruce walks the steps up to the third floor where his apartment is. There’s an elevator in the building, but he’s pretty sure it hasn’t worked for over a decade. Swinging his lunchbox in hand, he thinks about Barry’s plight and how to help and he pays no mind to the sounds of living filtering in through the various apartment doors. 

His thoughts come to a halt as his gaze travels towards a boy sitting at the top of the steps of the third floor. His gray eyes drink in the child’s appearance—his ever ratty clothes, never combed hair and worn shoes—before setting on the open textbook on his lap.

“Cheezus Christ, Mister Bruce! Took you look enough,” the kid grins, flashing his missing tooth—his right lateral incisor.

“Language,” Bruce clips, too tired to put on a smile. Not that his unsociable personality would stop Jason from coming over. He’d explicitly started showing up in Bruce’s life regardless of how welcoming he was.

“What? It’s not like I said ‘fuck’.”

Bruce stops in his tracks and levels the kid with a deadpan stare.

“What?”

Some battles just aren’t worth fighting. The saying has never quite rung true for Bruce until this very moment. He prays to the gods above for the strength to do good in this child’s life, instead of pointing out the obvious: Jason swore to prove his point, thus defeating the purpose. The kid would argue, and they’d go round and around until someone relents. It was by the fourth encounter that Bruce realized Jason was doing it on purpose—trying to pick some kind of mundane argument so that he could stay, if only to finish up the conversation.

Bruce has also long learned not to ask for the boy’s mother anymore. A curious gaze slides towards her apartment, the one right next to his, and her voice comes through: loud, flirty and most importantly, slurred. He sighs softly.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, looking down at his math book. He doesn’t need to know what Bruce is looking at.

“What about the other one?” Bruce swiftly changes the subject, nodding his head at the apartment across from theirs.

This time, Jason wiggles his bum to turn and look at their neighbour’s place. You know, to make sure that they’re on the same page. His mood lightens up considerably, happy to have an answer for Bruce.

“Oh, Mister Kent got a big break at work. He’ll be out late. I think he’s nervous ‘cause he baked us pie.” Jason jabs his thumb towards Bruce’s door where a foil-wrapped pie awaits him. “Mom already took hers.” And she’s probably having it with whatever client she has with her. 

Bruce sighs, again. “Did you eat?” He asks, as he climbs the last handful of steps and picks up the pie. 

His keys jangle before they slide into the lock, and the door opens to reveal the most unimpressive apartment in the city. It’s clean, but it’s also empty. Only the bare minimum of furniture are present, and the only reason he even has a second set of cutlery is because of Jason, so they can eat together.

“Well, if you were any slower, I would’a eaten your pie. Count yourself lucky.” Jason trails after him, textbook tucked against his chest and his schoolbag perilously hanging over his shoulder. The zipper’s still open, and its contents threaten to spill across Bruce’s floor. Maybe that’s intentional, too; he can never know with this kid, and in a way, he finds that pleasantly amusing.

“I am truly blessed,” he replies, flatly.

Jason knows the routine by now. He takes off his shoes and sets them by the door. The first time, his socks had holes in them, and he had fought and rebelled against the idea of revealing his poverty to Bruce, even if it was already obvious. This apartment is free of judgement, and it’s a truth that Jason clings to. He’s also prouder now because Bruce got him a whole six-pack of white socks that he washes carefully in the bathroom sink. 

If he has a jacket, he’ll stand on his tiptoes to hang it on the coat rack, but he’s only got a light sweater today. He pads over to the kitchen, slings his backpack on the spine of his chair and places his math book on the table. There’s enough place for exactly two people to eat comfortably, and maybe three if Bruce ever invites Mister Kent inside. Maybe then, the googly eyes will stop.

“What do you want?”

Bruce wraps a plain white apron around his waist, and opens the fridge to show Jason his choice of ingredients.

“Grilled cheese!”

“I can make you other things, you know. Things with vegetables.”

Jason sits up a little straighter and cranes his neck to get a better look inside Bruce’s sparse fridge. There’s food, but it’s always the bare minimum for the week. Maybe a little more these days because Jason practically lives here.

“And tomato soup!”

“But—”

“Grilled cheese!”

“I—”

“Tomato soup!”

Well, not much point in arguing anymore. 

They both get quiet, focused on their tasks. Bruce gets the soup going, and despite its simplicity, the ingredients are treated with care to achieve perfect richness. It also helps that his palate has not changed in this new life, and his groceries are of the highest quality. He takes great care in disposing of the labels, and making it look like he’d picked them up just down the corner. He takes great care in arranging everything in his home to perfection.

The grilled cheese is the last, made with sourdough and three kinds of cheeses. While he prefers to cook the bare minimum for himself, Jason deserves… more. Bruce slices chives to sprinkle across the perfect crust, adding colour to the golden brown, and swirls a whip of cream across the top of the soup. He cleans the plates and the bowls, ensuring the best possible presentation.

He would be proud—

Bruce shoves that thought out of his mind, but it’s too late. The pain and the grief begins to set in. He has to stop for a moment, staring past the two plates of food, until he can settle his heart and return to baseline.

I am no one,

I come from nowhere,

I feel nothing .

He repeats his mantra as many times as required. When he gets a hold of himself, Bruce breathes in, and carries the food over to his guest.

Jason closes his book, and hops off his chair to wash his hands. He also grabs the cutlery, and brings it over. The two of them? They make a great team.

The food—it’s the best thing Jason has ever tasted. After his first bite, he hums, swinging his feet and wiggling his body to an invisible beat. Good food makes his entire being sing. He smiles to himself and takes a bite of the sandwich. It’s also fucking amazing. Naturally. Everything this weird old man does is kind of… awesome? Not that he’d say it.

“This slaps! How do you make food so good?” He asks with a half-chewed bite in his mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Jason swallows, and takes a big gulp of water. “When my mom makes it, it’s good, but this feels like something you’d get on your birthday at a fancy restaurant.” Don’t get him wrong, he loves his mom’s food, but this feels special and they’re just having dinner at home on a monday.

“You wanna learn?”

“Um, f—friiiiiiick, yeah!”

“Alright, but you’ve got to help me with a project in return. Think you can swing by on the weekend? Not this one, but the one after? I’m trying to help a friend.”

“Depends,” Jason muses, tapping the spoon on his chin and taking a bite of the sandwich. He keeps talking with his mouth full. “What’s the project?”

“You’ll see.” Bruce smiles. “How good is your acting?”

“So good, it’ll make Timothy Chalamet eat his shorts.”

“I don’t know who that is, but sure.”

“You don’t know him!” Jason nearly gets up on his seat, throwing his hands up in the air. “He’s the guy! With the movie! Where he does the thing!”

“Alright, alright, if you settle down and finish your food, I’ll see if we can find one of his movies.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Language.”

“Oops,” but Jason doesn’t seem too sorry about it.

“How was your test?”

Jason gives him a thumbs up, mid-bite. “Aced it!”

“Good boy,” Bruce hums. 

He doesn’t need to ask the boy to finish his homework, either. Jason insists on it before doing anything else, which gives Bruce the time to clean up and decompress from work. He patiently prepares his lunch for tomorrow, and tells Jason to bring the leftovers of soup and grilled cheeses back home to his mother. (Or for himself to keep for later.)

About halfway through Dune, Jason falls asleep on the couch, leaning against Bruce. He takes it as a sign that the child feels safe with him; Jason sleeps heavily enough that the sounds of the television or the neighbours through the thin walls never get to him.

Bruce is happy to finish the movie. He’d read the book back in high school, but never got around to watching the film. Time was precious, and he’d spent so much of it trying to be productive. He was one man trying to save the whole world. By doing so, he’d missed the most important parts of it. The people and the experiences who made up his whole world were right there, yet he’d favoured a crusade against an invisible enemy.

No amount of bodies had cured his grief; it’s why he’s trying something new, this time.

Three knocks rap against his door. Bruce is careful when he gets up, replacing his support with a pillow, to answer the door. Jason’s mother, Catherine, glares up at him. Her gaze turns to her son on the couch, and though there is no evidence of foul play, she chooses anger as a defence mechanism.

“This again? What the fuck are you doing with my son?”

Bruce is an even calm in the middle of Catherine’s anger. Her eyes are bloodshot and she’s lost even more weight. Jason had asked him once if he would marry his mother so that she could stop selling herself to the local criminals, even a guy like Bruce would do. He thought about it, but decided against it. People make choices, and they have to live with those choices. The best Bruce can do is give Jason a place to stay so he can have a little peace.

“Jason,” he calls, his voice a low rumble. “Get your things.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice. The kid sits up, rubbing his eyes and drags his feet towards the kitchen. He packs his bag and makes sure to slip the food into it. His mother won’t want to take charity from Bruce. For some reason or other, she hates him. Clark, too. Maybe it’s because they’re nice to him, and they remind her of her failures. Who knows.

“I swear to god, if you do anything to my son, I’ll fucking kill you.” She hisses at Bruce. “I told you not to come here,” Catherine grabs her son’s arm and pulls him away. “There’s something off with that man.”

“Yeah, he’s weird, but he’s nice,” Jason argues back.

[brainwormcity]

I don't want to be sitting here being angry because of Taika's ignorance, I want to be reading fics and making edits and rewatching the kiss from episode 8 over and over again but I can't. In the years past, I've had to swear off jelly belly jelly beans, cracker barrel, shein, harry potter, chik fil a, and home depot. That's just the brands; more importantly to me, I've given up on Jensen Ackles, John Mulaney, Thomas Middleditch, and more than I can possibly think about right now. I have long since learned my lesson in regards to parasocial relationships and hero worship.

Media and art are so extremely important to me as both a coping mechanism and a source of representation and OFMD checks so many boxes for me. It's one of the few unsanitized, non-eunichized queer shows with adult characters, POC, and trans folks and I'm so brutally sad that it's hampered by the actions of one person's lack of social awareness and hypocrisy but I can't in good conscience indulge knowing that when celebrities endorse things like this stupid fucking letter (however well-meaning and done out of ignorance) they normalize this sort of callous thinking.

I'm not sure how to proceed, going forward. I'm pointedly not streaming the show and using my platforms to make other fans aware of these circumstances, as well as sharing information from other indigenous folks who are feeling hurt and betrayed Taika's contribution to all of this. I don't know if it's okay for me to even engage with fan content. I'm not willing to compromise my values by consuming Taika's works without a retraction and it sucks because I am desperate for something to buoy my mental health. Interested to hear how others are coping with this. Anyway, free Palestine.

[neon-kazoo]

Honk Honk (The briefcase-pt. 2) as requested o7

Choo Choo (part 1)

He had led them all the way back to the depot, weaving through discarded train cars and criss-crossing tracks like it was his second home. They had stopped at a forest green two-door Chevy in a gravel—Hero was really starting to hate gravel—backlot. The truck was old enough that Villain had to twist the key in the lock and rattle the handle to pry the door open. He had shoved Hero past the steering wheel and climbed in after them and the vehicle roared to life after two tries aggressively turning the key in the ignition. Twisted ankle screaming from the uneven terrain, Hero had all but collapsed onto the fabric bench seat, endlessly thankful to not be tossed in the back in a body bag or an equally-claustrophobia-inducing enclosure.

Hero assumed it was his car, given the fact that he knew the key would be left in the rear wheel well and the heavy aroma of tobacco. Hero swore they were getting lung cancer just smelling it.

Wrinkled nose aside, Hero sat obediently in the passenger seat of the truck, busying themselves with a roll of gauze Villain had fished out of the back and thrown at them carelessly. Since he had such great care for their well-being, he even mentioned he hoped the switchblade was clean—which thankfully it was.

He did, however, refuse to offer assistance in the wrapping of Hero’s inconveniently-located gashes, which led Hero to sport several loose and stray loops of gauze around their arms before they shrugged their jacket back on. Clearly, he was still mad they interrupted his smoke break.

They were just glad he had not actually pushed the blade into their thigh, because there was no way Hero would be removing their pants to care for a leg wound next to Villain in this tiny cab.

They were able to wrap their rib wound with a little difficultly, tucking their shirt up and holding one end of gauze with their chin and praying Villain wouldn’t take the next curve too hard. Hero didn’t know how much good just dressing the stab and slices would do healing-wise, but it was their only option, and at the very least it might staunch the bleeding.

The belt across their lap did little to help hold them in place as they worked, and they found that most of their muscles protested their continued usage. Finally good enough to hold, Hero tore the wrap with their teeth and shoved the tail between the layers above their stomach. Only then could they relax.

Well, relax was a bit of a strong word.

Exactly how mad was Villain, and what did that mean for Hero? He certainly didn’t seem too shy about dealing fatal blows a few hours ago. They realized tiredly that they should probably be trying to figure out a way out of this before he made good on his previous threats.

Hero eyed the door handle beside them. Before they could commit to any less-than-stellar ideas, Villain cleared his throat. That was when Hero finally spotted the gun resting in his lap.

“I think you’ve had enough abrupt departures from moving vehicles for the day, don’t you?”

Hero tried to slump, but quickly shot back up at the pain in their ribs. They threw Villain a sideways glare.

Knife-happy bastard.

Hero just hoped he wasn’t going to be so liberal with the use of his bullets.

“Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?”

Are you going to kill me?

Villain answered only with silence, so Hero closed their increasingly-heavy eyelids and tried to work through the situation in their head.

A strange meeting, a black briefcase, an angry Villain.

It didn’t make sense.

Despite the uneven rocking of a poor-suspension system and the rumbling of a questionable engine, Hero eventually drifted off with their head rolling like a rag doll and filled with unanswered questions.

They awoke to almost smashing their head open like a watermelon on the dash as Villain pulled aggressively into a spot at a rest stop. Hero saw poorly-lit vending machines and restroom signs between heavy blinks they tried to use to clear the sleep from their head. Lagging back into reality, Hero turned to squint at Villain…who was somehow now wearing jeans and a hoodie?

They blinked a few more times just to be sure, and the figure in the driver’s seat didn’t change. It was still him—and Hero had not hallucinated their failed mission because they could still see the remnants of gel in his hair—but clearly Hero had been out long enough for Villain to do a quick change or something. Hero cursed themselves for falling unconscious when they should have been worrying about an escape or finding the case. Not to mention, they didn’t trust Villain as far as they could throw them, and they would much rather be awake in his presence.

Hero assessed themselves, and found they remained exactly as disheveled as they were before they left the waking world. The hastily-wrapped gauze was even still poking out of their sleeve.

“Sleep well?” He mocked.

Judging by the massive crick in their neck, the answer was yes.

“Right up until you almost gave me a traumatic brain injury,” Hero replied, slightly mumbling as they rubbed at their eyes and dragged their hands down their face dramatically.

“Had to wake you up somehow,” he replied with a trace of mischief as he exited the car and started walking around the hood towards their side.

Hero froze in confusion when their door was opened.

Villain leveled them with a look that screamed ‘where-are-your-brain-cells?’ and threw his head back towards the scary looking building and rolled his eyes.

“Bathroom? You know, bodily functions?”

Hero did not feel very intelligent as they unbuckled the flimsy lap belt and walked under the flickering street lights.

Left to their own devices in the poorly-maintained family bathroom, Hero silently thanked Congress for the hand rails that helped them limp around the room. Outside, Villain could be heard talking on what Hero presumed was a phone, considering how deserted this stop was.

Hero, of course, eavesdropped. Blah blah, fifty miles north, blah blah, should have known, blah blah blah—Something about a blue cab?

Briefly, they considered locking the door and trying to wait Villain out, but they decided the chances of him having a lock picking set or just plain being able to bust the door down himself were too great to risk losing their privileges. Plus, if they were being honest, the bugs attacking the light in the corner scared them more than going back outside. They were unnaturally large. Giving the infested corner a wide berth, Hero hobbled back out and was led back to the truck.

“Great news,” Villain began after they were settled, “I’ve got a lead for you.”

It took Hero a second to realize he was talking about the briefcase. So he was serious about sending them after it, but to already have a lead? How long had they been out?

“Good morning to you too,” Hero spoke, even though it was clearly the beginning of the night. Crickets chirped outside the window, removing any doubt. They weren’t even sure what day of the week it was anymore, and they definitely weren’t about to ask.

In response, Hero was pelted with..something. They flinched back before they realized whatever had been launched in their direction hadn’t done any damage, and they found the mystery object resting in the floorboard. A bottle of Advil rattled in their hand as they feveredly twisted it open and downed two pills dry.

“I had water, you know?”

Hero said nothing, simply grabbing the offered bottle and chugging it all in one go.

Villain, looking rather horrified, slowly handed over a bag of chips that were immediately ripped open.

Hero crunched as loud as humanly possible as Villain drove until he finally broke and turned the radio on to some random pop station.

Hero, satisfied with their win, remained silent after balling up the empty bag and tossing it in the floorboard with the empty plastic bottle. Villain refrained from reacting until Hero made a show of licking their thumb clean, then wiping the rest of their fingers on the seat beside them.

“You do remember the gun, don’t you?”

“Shooting someone over Cheeto dust seems a little extreme, don’t you think?”

They seriously wondered how Villain managed to remain impassive after all this time. He certainly hadn’t slept, and Hero wasn’t even sure if he had eaten anything. There was no way he stayed that fit with just the half-empty coke can beside him.

In classic Villain fashion, he ignored them once again until they pulled into a second rest stop, this one more populated than the last.

From the spot Villain parked, the area containing semi-trucks was clearly visible. Long, slanted lines marked the separate spaces, with several being occupied by trucks and trailers. From what Hero could see, two were blue, one black, and a couple red with all white trailers. Villain’s eyes were glued towards the two farthest trucks, parked away from the rest.

“You see the one on the right?” Villain asked, pointing towards the semis he had been watching.

“Yes…” Hero answered suspiciously.

He wasn’t planning to get them run over, was he?

“Congratulations, you’re gonna steal from it.”

“You want me to steal?”

Hero whipped their head in disbelief.

“This is what happens when you lose things that aren’t yours. Considering you stole it in the first place, I assumed you’d be thrilled.”

Hero was not thrilled. At least, what Villain had planned was not to dangle Hero by the ankles and have them fish a waterlogged briefcase out of the river—as Hero may or may not have been imagining on the long trek through the countryside—but it honestly might as well have been. Instead, Villain informed them that he was sending them over to a parked semi-truck to break in and locate the case that may or may not be in there.

He didn’t say anything about how he knew it would be in there or who was driving, but if it was any indication he handed back the switchblade before shooing them out of the car.

They considered arguing about their injuries and how he would be a far better candidate for a stealth mission, but that would involve admitting he was in better shape than them.

They couldn’t satisfy the bastard like that.

Besides, they had resolved to keep the briefcase out of everyone’s hands, and that included his.

With no other choice, Hero circled the back of the trailer lot, taking the long route through the grass and hiding behind a trailer when any truckers came too close. They tugged at the annoying watch Villain had insisted—threatened—them to wear.

Reaching the farthest trailer, Hero walked past the sparkling blue cab and came to a stop behind the access doors to the container. Oddly enough, there were no numbers or hazard squares pasted on the back, only mud flaps and a dirty license plate hanging low under the latches and chains.

“Iowa? What in this case is worth taking to Iowa. Am I risking my life for corn seeds right now?” They spoke into the watch incredulously.

Their annoying lookout responded, “Less talking, more thieving.”

Hero rolled their eyes, then—realizing Villain couldn’t see them—groaned audibly.

Regardless, they lifted up the latch and cringed at the sound the metal made when it creaked open.

“Are you sure this is a good-“

“Get in.”

The man did have a gun.

Planting their foot on the red and white striped rebar strip, they threw themselves unceremoniously into the dark container. They fumbled around in the shadows, running their hands across plastic-wrapped pallets. They tripped a few times on the wood, and they cursed.

“You couldn’t have given me a flashlight,” they whisper-yelled into their wrist.

“You’ll live,” came the drawled reply.

“I’m not the one that wants this stupid- ah hah!”

Hero lifted up a smooth leather briefcase, hidden behind a shipment of soft drinks—maybe. It was really dark.

“Grab it and get out,” ordered Villain.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

Hero, for some reason, struggled to keep their balance as they back tracked towards the doors. When they stepped down backwards, red lights illuminated right in their face, and they froze with one foot out the door.

“YOU DIDNT TELL ME IT WAS MOVING?!” Hero screeched in realization.

“What are you talking about?”

Hero didn’t bother to keep verbally reprimanding Villain for his inattentiveness, instead preparing to practice their new signature move—the tuck-and-roll as they searched desperately for a patch of grass to aim for. They slammed the doors shut as quietly as they could, crossing their arms awkwardly to try and hold onto the door and the case at the same time.

Just when the shoulder turned from concrete to dirt, Hero made to let go of the door, only, something pulled them back. They looked back to find the loose gauze in their sleeve had been closed in the door, and—to make matters worse—the case was stuck on the handle. Truly a comedy of errors, not that Hero could appreciate the humor in their situation as the semi picked up speed and traveled towards the highway. Hero had never seen a large vehicle accelerate so fast.

In a split second, Hero had to decide between freeing themselves or the case.

“Throw the case!” Villain suggested, like the devil on their shoulder.

Hero was not so naive. They unraveled their bandage before lifting the case up and off the lever it was hooked on. When they looked down again, it was now too late for them to drop without breaking a few bones, and the only reason Villain would have to help them was held in their hand. If they let it go, they would be on their own, and there would be no one to stop Villain from doing whatever he planned to do with it.

They were thrown from side to side roughly as they tried to remain attached to the vehicle. If there was a sticker with a number to report this trucker’s driving, Hero would be calling it. Knowing Advil was not all powerful and they wouldn’t last long clinging to the back with this lunatic behind the wheel, Hero set their eyes towards the top.

There were two vertical poles running up each side of the door, and there was just enough room for Hero to shove their fingers behind them and get a good enough grip to start climbing up and away from the asphalt rushing beneath them. Hero was hit with sudden Deja vu for the one handed climbing and moving containers.

They should have asked Villain for some of those stupid shoes, because their nike tennis shoes were not made for ascending the back of an eighteen-wheeler. If they lived through this, they were going to buy a membership to a climbing gym and hire Villain as their personal trainer.

Heavily regretting not wrapping their ankle, Hero heaved up onto the roof and was immediately hit with wind resistance much greater than that on the train. The ground was also moving much faster, and Hero imagined falling now would hurt a lot more. There was nothing up here to hold onto, and stray hairs were flying all around Hero’s face. Trying to stay upright and on top of the truck, Hero surveyed the traffic ahead, or lack there of. The only lights up ahead appeared to belong to a truck pulling a camper, probably belonging to some family making a long drive to some beautiful destination.

God, Hero could really use a vacation.

Now with a second to think, Hero realized the smart plan would have been to try and get back inside the truck while they were still by the latch. Unfortunately, it was too late now. Hero was stuck.

Mind racing, Hero scrambled for a realistic idea. Maybe if they could get to the cab-

They heard the faintest call of “fuck” and they wondered what late-night trucker was cursing so loud at cars on the road. The chorus of swearing continued before Hero realized it was coming from the com on their wrist, and Villain wasn’t yelling expletives.

“Duck!”

Hero whipped their head around, searching for any waterfowl they were supposed to look out for. Just in the nic of time, they noticed the real danger—the low overpass hurtling towards them.

They flattened as best they could and promised to make good on all the promises they had made the last time they were in mortal danger.

Concrete brushed the back of their hood as they tried their best to channel the energy of a pancake, and by some miracle the semi had enough extra clearance for Hero to get by unscathed.

Physically that is. Mentally they were very much scathed.

Hero screamed about how there better be a nuclear weapon or something of equal importance in this briefcase, but it was swallowed by the air.

Hero stayed down for longer than necessary before looking ahead to ensure there were no more surprises coming up.

Path clear as far as they could tell, they army crawled towards the front of the truck, hoping the friction of their clothes would be enough to keep them from flying off. They swore the container was growing because of how long it was taking them to move across it. When the edge was finally in reach, they grabbed it with two hands and pulled, sliding the rest of the way before dropping into the space where the wiring was strung between the cab to the trailer. By the grace of someone, they didn’t trip and face plant after getting tangled in the connections.

Turning to the left, Hero spotted a dark colored shape driving alongside the truck with its lights off.

Hero had never been so glad to see Villain in their life.

Trying their best not to think about the image of them going splat on the road, Hero moved into a lunging stance. All they had to do was wait for the bed of the pickup truck to line up with the gap they were standing on.

They took a deep breath. Almost…

A loud sound sent their ears ringing and them stumbling back on the aluminum grating.

A gunshot.

Apparently, someone had other ideas.

Two more shots later, and Hero was positive they were going to have hearing damage. Judging by the hole in Villain’s windshield, the safest place for them to be right now seemed to be right where they were. They clutched the convenient handle beside them and prepared to wait out the gunfight. That was, until the driver of the semi-truck seemed to abruptly floor it. Hero could see they were pulling away from the Chevy, and they had no plans to stay on this semi-death machine any longer.

Locking all their doubt away, Hero leapt for the truck bed. They hit the rusted metal with a slam and the briefcase attempted to lodge itself in their abdomen beneath them. Gasping, Hero ducked down in case any more bullets decided to fly.

They flipped onto their back, catching a view of the night sky. The stars were bright out here with no light pollution to cloud them.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Hero’s breathing returned to a normal rhythm and the car rolled gradually to a slower pace.

Well, it was now or never.

Hero sat up and threw themselves out of the back and onto solid ground. Clutching the case, they made to run the opposite direction the car was facing. Adrenaline reserves reset, they figured they had a small window to get out and find a place to hide. They followed the pavement while simultaneously scanning the tree line for any thickened foliage they could use to obscure themselves. Realizing they’d need a lot more cover than the sparse forest could provide, Hero started scanning the highway. It stretched past a bend, with freshly painted lines and impressed rumble strips on the shoulder. It appeared not a soul was traveling it aside from Hero and Villain.

Hero cursed their flimsy plan, hoping for a trucker, a convenient cop, or even just a Good Samaritan out for a midnight drive.

The road was so quiet, Villain’s voice boomed when he yelled, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Hero, once again, had no idea.

Making the curve with their feet pounding beneath them, Hero looked back to see if Villain had managed to make a U-turn yet. What they saw were reverse lights and the growing silhouette of his truck, which unfortunately distracted them from what was ahead of them.

By the time they saw the headlights coming from the other direction and heard the loud honking of a horn, they had only a second to dive away.

Once again spared road rash by their clothes, Hero groaned through a mouthful of grass. The other car and its lights continued to barrel around the corner, leaving Hero alone with the forest green truck that was now upon them.

Under the light of his headlights, a hand grabbed and pulled the leather bag up and away from the hero and held it above them.

Only then did they realize the briefcase was brown.

(I hope this part was equally enjoyable <3

Shout out to the semi-trucks I stared at for a few hours and to my beta reader, who puts up with me for some reason)

[eschergirls]

It's been 2 weeks so it's time to announce the winners of the November caption contest featuring Avengelyne... captured...?

Each winner will get to choose a prize if they wish (but you don't have to, you can just participate for fun, I just wanted to give a prize because I enjoy the caption contests and entries).

Like last time, I've decided to organize the entries by the way they were submitted, just to make it easier.

Here are the caption entries, I got so many this time and they were all so good it was hard for me to choose winners:

From Mastodon:

Claire: "she looks like she is kind of surprised there was a lady on the other end of that chain" Dollcomics: “Sweep the floors, clean the bathroom, polish the chains AND a $500 cleaning fee? Ugh, AirBNBs are the worst” Socketwench: "Look, I really think you need an MRI, a physical therapist, or a chiropractor." "Just pull, okay? My back hasn't cracked in a f-ing week."

From Disqus and Email:

Imry: "It's company policy that all captured heroes need to be sexily chained up. It's ineffective, time-consuming, expensive, and the the minions hate it more than the heroes... but nobody can complain because they aren't part of a union and don't have collective bargaining powers. Do you want your work uniform to give you a permanent wedgie? No? Then join a union!" Karmazyna: "How many times do I have to tell you: whatever you find in the Home Depot's clearance section is NOT clothing material!" Leak: "Give me a moment, and we'll have you elongated to Liefeld Standard(TM) in no time..." Mel: "Would you stop tugging? The lock isn't on yet! You're so impatient; I'm never doing a kinky photoshoot with you again." P J Evans: "A private party? You didn't say it was a private party!"  

From Tumblr:

@angrybidoof: "When you book a chiropractor off Craigslist" @anna-neko: "and I will keep pulling, until your dumb face finally makes an expression" @atomicmosaic: "she seems miffed: "that all you got? I'm like a centimeter off the floor"" @captainacerbic: "are you positive that this method will make me taller and thinner? If so, don't stop even if I cry" "Got it gurl" @captainlordauditor: "With no access to a BDSM dungeon, the castle's armory proved an acceptable substitute for an impromptu demonstration in the purpose of the time travelers' costumes. " @cenobitic-anchorite: "When I told you we were out of toilet paper, this was NOT the solution I had in mind!" @cirquedereve: "Guess I'm really locked in to this relationship." @differenttriumphdragon: "What do you MEAN your shackles already broke!? How are we supposed to fix it when you used all the electrical tape on your costume!?" @foreversoaring: "According to her, the hottest way to decorate a bdsm dungeon was to give it a ‘museum weapons collection’ theme." @haveievermentioned: "Oh my gosh, why didn't you tell me this was your first time in a BDSM dungeon?" @inukagome15: "You've been a bad girl. Time for some avenging." @megpie71: "Look, I hate it as much as you do, but it's the only way we have to straighten out a rubber spine." @of-another-broken-heart: "Are you SURE this isn't a porn shoot?" "We need the rent money, so does it really matter?" @siklo: "-Harder! Do you want a tip or not!?" "-I don't know anymore. I think I might quit..." @sylvanas-girlkisser: "Me and my girlfriend had thought of very different things when planning our "dungeon date" but we made it work. #the katana was maybe a bit much though" @thevikingfish-nimhrodell: "This is what you get for using up all the duct tape in the house for your costume!! I don't care that it's waterproof!" @vabolo: "You know, I'm starting to think this isn't what that Sia song meant" @whitetyger123: "Stop! Why are you doing this to me?" "I don't know really. Having a wedgie as bad as mine makes people do all sorts of crazy things." @winterrssoldier: "Unconventional chiropractor helps women with scoliosis" @woodsworth: "Gurl let me get a least that posture straight for you" @youlookterrible: "this is this is showgirls innit that's elizabeth berkeley and that's the gersh" @zombiemollusk: "yeah, sorry, i forgot the safeword and this costume is waaaay too itchy." "BUT DID YOU HAVE TO BREAK THE SHACKLES??"  

Because I got so many good submissions, I'm going to pick 2 honorable mentions again and then the 3 winners!

So Honorable Mentions go to: Imry and @thevikingfish-nimhrodell!

If you're an honorable mention and want a prize and somebody in the top 3 passes it, up then I'll contact you. :)

And here are the winners:

3rd place goes to Dollcomics

2nd place goes to @angrybidoof

And finally the winner is... @cirquedereve!

If you won and would like a prize, please message me with which prize you would like.  If you came in 2nd, message me with 2 choices in order of preference, and if you came in 3rd, message me with 3 choices, etc...  I'll give you your top choice that hadn't been taken by the other winners.

The codes I have available are for: Overgrowth, Syberia, Riot: Civil Unrest, Castle Crashers, Hotel Giant 2, Not The Robots, Steel Storm: Burning Retribution, Rage in Peace, Uncertain: The Last Quiet Day, Uncertain: Light At The End, Shattered - Tale of the Forgotten King,  Morbid: The Seven Acolytes, The Swindle, Zengeon, Wayward Souls, and Nigate Tale.

Please stay tuned for another caption contest coming in December, it's going to be a special holiday themed one!