#the problem is that the grocery store is inside a super old building

[kirk-goes-to-gallifrey]

just realized I got mixed up and bought 3 litres of soap and no fabric softener 🥲

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 10

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 2,651

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TEN: NEW YEAR, NEW LIFE, SAME GOALS

Winter in Romania sucks...at least when you have a super cheat apartment that lacks any decent heating sources. Each day, you wake up and shriek at the feeling of cold floorboards beneath your toes, a problem eventually solved by wearing thick socks and fluffy slippers just about everywhere inside, but is still isn't rare for you to wear layers upon layers of clothing just to keep yourself from turning into a human ice cube.

Having already been there and done that, Bucky has never complained throughout the entirety of this terrible season. Unlike you who stubbornly refuses to leave the blanket cocoon you've created in front of the space heater, he's up strolling around with bare feet and a simple long sleeved shirt as if he's on vacation in Hawaii.

"It's not that bad," he'll state, sipping on pitch black coffee.

"Not that bad my ass," you'll reply, shivering like a leaf in a hurricane.

Needless to say, you can't wait for winter to be over (even if January’s only just started). Cuddled among worn cotton and fleece, you dream of a day where snowfall decreases and the temperature has increased which will surely brighten your bitter mood. That's when Bucky can expect your lazy annoyance to melt away with the ice, once again allowing you to have some pep in your step even if you'll still wear cozy socks with slippers for at least three months afterwards.

"We should visit Old Town."

"How could you possibly suggest such a cruel thing? Do you hate me that much? And after all I’ve done to help you, too!"

Bucky smirks against his mug, peeking through the torn newspaper plastered against the windows for a sneak peek at the white wonderland outside.

"Is it pretty out there?"

"I'm looking at a building's roof."

"So?" You grip the blankets to ensure they remain tightly around your body when you turn his way. He's leaned against the counter, mocking you by wearing only jeans and a red shirt rolled up to his elbows. You’d be angrier if it weren’t for how gosh darn good he looks.

"We should've moved somewhere that at least has pretty winters where the snow's actually white and not a slushy, black mess everywhere we go. I mean, what's the point if you can't make a proper snowman without some kids killing it seconds later?"

"Like out in the country?"

You pout, turning back to face the heater while tugging the blanket further over your head," yeah, like in the country…Haven't you ever wanted to live there far away from the burdens of society?"

Bucky hums, but doesn't respond otherwise. You refuse to peek at his reaction despite your strong temptation to.

"...It isn't too late, you know?" You mumble quietly nevertheless," we could probably find an affordable fixer-upper somewhere. Make it all nice and livable. ‘best part is we could be left alone. No more needing to go to the grocery store 'cause we'd grow our own food, no more neighbors asking what we do for a living-"

"-Except for Rosetta. I like Rosetta."

"Except for Rosetta. Yeah, she's sweet," sucking in a breath, you finally find the courage to stand up, although you still bring all the blankets along for the ride as you wobble into the kitchen," I'm not going to Old Town today."

He takes another sip of his coffee, thinking," what about a movie?"

"Now you're talking, Barnes!" Shooing him away, you try to gain access to the coffee maker yet he purposefully moves at the speed of a slug to your annoyance. At least he makes up for it by reaching over your head to retrieve your mug from the cupboard above,” and I know the perfect one, too!"

"Oh no."

"Oh, stop acting as if I've ever steered you wrong," rolling your eyes, you avoid taking the mug from him, instead swooping out from under his arm to pad across the room," be a dear and fill it for me? I gotta find the DVD!"

It's Bucky who rolls his eyes now, not that he takes any real offense. While he fills both mugs with fresh coffee, you hurry to search through your boxes of belongings, knowing for a fact you bought the specific DVD before the cold set in.

Usually you refrain from extra purchases since there's always a risk of having to leave everything behind if discovered, but you and Bucky have had good luck in Romania so far. While it isn't wise to let your guard down too much, breathing easy once in a while won't hurt anyone and when you saw this DVD at the local charity shop, you just couldn't pass it up; not when it reminds you of such a happy time.

Once locating the DVD and getting it prepared in the player, you crawl across the bed eagerly, making yourself extra snug with a stack of pillows behind your back and the blankets nuzzled high against your face. Bucky smiles at your antics, handing you your mug before turning towards the couch a full four and a half feet across the room.

"You won't be able to see the screen very well," you point out, blowing on the coffee.

"I can see it fine."

"You'll be looking at it sideways."

"It's fine."

Pouting at both his stubbornness and the fact that the coffee burns your tongue after taking even the tiniest of sips, you set the drink aside to cool properly while patting the space beside you," sure, but it'll be much better if you sit here. I promise I don't bite...usually."

He almost smirks at the 'joke', however your humor falls flat with his inner demons. You're no stranger to the concerns that plague his mind, having encountered them enough to have developed a talent for noticing even the smallest hints of insecurity he lets past his stone gaze. It's always disheartening, but you pride yourself on knowing how to help.

"James..." you let his name roll off your tongue softly, fully aware he heard you regardless of him not giving any acknowledgment," how about you move the couch over at least, hmm?"

He doesn't respond instantly, keeping his eyes aware except towards you while dwelling on the suggestion. At last, he stands which is soon followed by the sound of the couch being dragged across the wood floor. The move is effortless with his strength, completed with only one hand as he continues to nurse his drink in the other. Dropping it a mere foot from the edge of the bed, he takes a seat stiffly in the middle.

"There; a compromise," you grin, finally taking your attention off of Bucky to watch the opening credits play. All the while you maintain a glitter in your eyes, the memories flooding back to you nearly clear as day despite it having been over four decades.

"...What are we watching?" His voice is quiet, timid even.

"The Aristocats."

He scrunches his nose at the title that you joyfully announce. You're clearly a fan," the aristocrats?"

"C. A. T. S. Cats. It's a play on words."

"Is it for kids?" It's not so much of a question as it is a whine. The movie already confirms his fears by the screen being overtaken by cute little cartoon cats," you chose horror last time, now we're going to watch drawn cats?"

"This movie's special."

"Why?"

You give a reminiscence sigh," because when I first watched it, it was when my nephew had brought it over for a sleepover. He was so excited I could barely get him to sit still or keep quiet. We made popcorn and milkshakes and cuddled inside a massive pillow fort; it was the last animated movie I saw."

Bucky raises an eyebrow at this," we watched one two weeks ago.”

You merely hum at his confusion," I meant the last one I watched with him. It's been awhile."

There's a bit of silence before Bucky breaks it again,"...I didn't know you had a nephew."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Barnes," you wink, which is the last thing either of you say, allowing the rest of the movie to be viewed in peace.

Surrounded by warm blankets and armed with a mug of fresh coffee, you begin to feel much warmer than you had earlier. The pleasant memories are likely helping, too.

Throughout, you steal peeks at Bucky who relaxes more and more over time, eventually being comfortable enough to lay his head against the armrest closest to you while kicking his legs over the opposite end. You would've loved to have him next to you, head resting directly on your lap as your fingers brush through strands of hair, but this is fine, too. So long as he’s nearby, you’re more than thankful.

The movie isn't unbearably long, running for a far shorter runtime than most you’ve forced Bucky to sit through. By the time the end credits roll, you're dragging your blankets around humming 'Everybody wants to be a cat' while preparing some microwavable dinner as Bucky collects both mugs to wash.

Given the small kitchen (which is really just a section of the entire one room, one bathroom apartment), you stand with only about an inch between the two of you; a distance you're mindful of by keeping your arms close to your side.

Intensely staring at the numbers flashing on the microwave as if that will make the countdown go faster, you only glance at your partner when he clears his throat suddenly.

Despite having purposefully gained your attention, he leaves you waiting for a moment which is used to rethink his own words,"...you don't talk about yourself too often..."

"Well, we're not really here for me, we're here for you," you then chew on your lip, deciding the wording sounded wrong, thus you reiterate," I'm not too great at sharing personal details about my life. You know, being an agent and all, I'm accustomed to keeping my lips sealed on that front. That and I never thought you cared either way.”

Bucky nods, taking your answer as a polite way of telling him you'd rather not talk about it. He's prepared to let the topic die off, but you let it live.

"Why?" Leaning your arms against the corner, you cock your head to the side and smirk," curious about my tragic backstory, Barnes?"

"No, it's just..." He looks at the ceiling with a twisted face. It seems like he might deny your assumption altogether, only for him to quietly do the opposite,"...You've done so much to help me remember myself, yet I haven't done anything to get to know you. I feel like...like I should know at least something. I don't even know what you gave up to be here…”

Pushing yourself straight, you give a dramatic sigh," ‘hate to burst your bubble and all, but it wasn’t as if my life was perfectly put together before you came crashing in, so you stop acting guilty about it, will you? I still talk to my parents once a week and call friends from time-to-time to let them know I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Where do they think you are then? I can't imagine they know you're helping the Winter Soldier."

"I actually have one friend who knows who I'm with," you confess, putting your back against the counter and crossing your arms. Noticing the look of uncertainty in Bucky's eyes after this revelation, you wave a hand," don't look so worried. She's known since the beginning and while I can't say she's necessary ‘cool with it’, she's a trustworthy friend sworn to secrecy. Everybody else just thinks I'm on my honeymoon in Costa Rica."

A tint of red dusts his cheeks," and they believe that?"

"Of course. I'm a gifted liar," you laugh before adding softly," 'been doing it my whole life.”

"Duly noted," Bucky leans his own back against the corner now, his arm brushing against yours. He doesn't jerk away from the slight touch per usual, although he might've if it had been his metal arm instead.

"...So, what do you want to know about me then, Barnes?"

He gives the question some serious consideration as if his life depends on his choice,"...what was your childhood like?"

If Bucky had a hard time asking a question, then you have a harder time answering. It's a simple inquiry most people would smile at while easily explaining the earliest years of their life, however it's far more complicated with your case.

Your childhood...Which one? You've had good moments in both. (Y/n)'s childhood is most recent and the safest option in the case that someone tries to confirm the details, but Hollie's had been equally important if not more so. You were Hollie first, after all. Everything she was paved the way for who you are now.

"It was...a little rough," you confess, giving a hollow chuckle. Turning away to the window, you pretend you can see tiny snowflakes dancing in the sky, refreshing the layers upon layers covering the streets below," family life was fine, area was nice, and I excelled in school, so I managed to skip several grade levels until I was the only baby faced kid in a classroom filled with acne-ridden teens. It's just...Ugh, how do I put this...?

"I guess I've always been pretty mature for my age and that made it difficult fitting it. Kids didn't hang around since I behaved too much like an adult, adults didn't hang around since I was still technically a kid and it's probably off-putting to have an eight-year old criticize your life choices."

Bucky's eyebrows furrow as he considers how to respond," that does sound rough."

"Yeah, well, I got over it," you announce, suddenly pushing yourself away from the counter only to sit on the wobbly table across from it," things got better when I joined SHIELD. 'kinda hard to call yourself an outcast when surrounded by trained assassins, the jolly green giant, a guy who can bench press a semi, and Tony who deserves his own warning label after all the weird shit I've walked in on him doing."

Bucky gives a distant nod while starting at his feet," now that SHIELD's gone, what-?"

"-Whatever I decide, I guess," you cut him off," Natasha's been pestering me to join the Avengers, so I might as well give that a try eventually. Of course, there's still the personal goals of mine I want to check off the list, too, now that I'll have the time for it.”

"What goals are those?"

"Glad you finally asked, Barnes, because I have three," you hold up the same number of fingers, lowering one for each item," first up is making sure we get you all sorted out. I want to make sure you get to live the very life you deserve-"

"-You don't-," he begins with a frown, however you don't give him the chance to finish.

"-No, I don't have to. I said I want to. Whether you like it or not, you're my mission and friend. I never give up on either; don’t ever forget that.”

Once again, the same red tint returns to his cheeks yet he attempts to ward it off by stubbornly crossing his arms and changing the subject," second?"

"Second...Hmm...I think I'm going to buy a house in the country second. One with a big orchard, livestock, and perfect winters! Also heating that actually works."

That goal makes Bucky smile," third?"

Pausing with a glance his way, you smirk while lowering your last finger," finally marry my fiancé."

“You're actually engaged?" He blinks, his frown much deeper than it had been before with a flash of concern in his eyes.

"Yep...'have been for a looong time," resting your face in your hands, you let your cheshire grin melt into an adoring smile you sometimes wish would just give this poor clueless man a heavy hint," our relationship is a bit difficult like everything else in our lives, and I’m not entirely sure how I should approach it, but I refuse to give up on him now. I’ve waited far too long and after everything fate has put us through, it would be a tragedy not to marry him."

NEXT CHAPTER➡️

⬅️PREVIOUS CHAPTER

[mosswillow]

Jumping In (Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Warnings: 18+ adult content!!, Kidnapping, smut, Dark fic, vaginal fingering, noncon/dubcon, yandere.

Summary: You submit your application to the Avengers as a joke. You’re nowhere near qualified enough for the job. So why do they want you?

AN: A big thanks to @rayofdawnworld for commenting on “Your Room” that they wanted to know about the other Avengers. This one is (obviously) Steve and is happening chronologically before “Your Room.” You can read it by itself though!  I also have a story forming for Bucky in my mind so I’ll probably do him next. 

You’ve always been the type of person to jump into things without thinking. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble throughout your life but you’ve always managed to get yourself out of it. It’s opened up opportunities for you and taken you all over the world. You put in the application for SHIELD almost as a joke, thinking there’s no way they would ever hire you, especially not to work with the Avengers.

The joke becomes serious when you get a call from Stark Tower offering you a job. You skim over the contract eagerly and sign it immediately, jumping on the opportunity to work your dream job.

After a whirlwind week you find yourself standing in the middle of a high tech training room surrounded by Avengers. Being around a group of people as powerful as the Avengers is intimidating to say the least. The contrast between you and them is stark and you feel your confidence slip trying to keep up with them. They all assure you that you’re doing great and they’re glad to have you with them. It feels like a little family and you get pulled in immediately. You find yourself gravitating to Steve, or maybe he gravitates towards you. He shows up everywhere you go, at the water fountain filling up his bottle, running at the treadmill next to you, stretching on the mat. He watches you spar with different Avengers, giving advice and words of encouragement.

“Keep that arm up Y/N.”

“I will, thank you captain.”

“Call me Steve.”

“Steve.”  You smile.

You spar with Bucky and try to ignore Steve's looks. You don’t know if you feel flattered or uncomfortable with the attention he’s giving you. You decide that he’s probably just trying to be friendly since it’s your first day.

It doesn’t stop though and you constantly find yourself in situations with Steve. He’s in the elevator with you or walking by your room as you’re leaving. You even bump into him at the grocery store.

A week later you open your door to see Steve waiting for you just outside your room. Your heart does a flip at the sight of him standing in front of you. His hair is damp and you try to control your mind from imagining him in the shower. His tight white shirt shows off his muscles, which doesn't help your wandering mind one bit. You shift your eyes away from him and chastise yourself. God, He smells good and you wonder what soap he uses. He gives a cocky half smile and takes a step toward you.

“Good job yesterday.” He says, moving in front of your line of sight.

“Thanks.” you smile and force yourself to look him in the eyes.

He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet looking nervous.

“I thought I could treat you to coffee?”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. Is he asking you on a date? Steve Rogers asking YOU on a date? It can't be that. The flirting has to be in your head.

“I’d like that,” You mirror him, putting your hands in your pockets. You realize too late that you don’t have pockets though and end up awkwardly rubbing your hands against your sides.  Steve lets out a chuckle and you cross your arms and laugh along with him.

You follow Steve to a nearby coffee shop and he orders you a drink. The two of you sit at a semi-private table in the back next to some barely cognizant university students who are furiously typing away on their laptops.

“How are you enjoying being part of the team?” Steve asks.

“I love it! Everyone is really nice.”

“Are you nervous for your first first mission?”

“A little bit,” you confess.

“I’ll be there with you, don’t worry.”

That was definitely flirting, you think. Captain America is flirting with you.

You smile and take a sip of your coffee. This is like a romance novel, a cute coffee date with a literal super hero. It comes to an end though when you notice a kid taking a picture of the two of you. Steve frowns and cocks his head towards the prepubescent photographer.

“I think we should head back before we get more fans.” Steve Says.

Steve does a silly pose for the kid as he passes by and pulls out a signed Captain America card. The kid stands stunned looking at you as you walk out of the shop. Steve puts his hand on your back and leans in.

“Sorry this was so short. We’ll have to go somewhere more private next time.”

“Don’t apologize! The coffee was amazing, thank you so much.”

It only takes twenty minutes for you to start getting phone calls. A picture of you and Steve is all over the internet. It looks very incriminating, Steve's arm on your back and him smiling close to your ear. You answer your phone and hold it away from your ear as your friend Amy yells at you from the other end.

“Captain America!” She screams over and over again.

“Are you guys dating now or...”

“No, he was just being nice.”

“The picture looks like he’s being a lot more than nice. Please hit that Y/N, if you don’t I’ll scream.”

“You’re already screaming.” you say with a laugh.

“Seriously though, I want to be invited to your wedding one day.”

“Amy! he’s hot for sure but he’s also kinda my boss and I’m not ready for anything serious right now.” The picture of you and Steve is still in your mind. You can barely take care of yourself and certainly aren’t ready for everything involved with dating Steve Rogers.

You hang up the phone and smile to yourself. You can’t believe how your life has changed so fast. One day you’re working security at a hotel and the next you’re working with the avengers and flirting with Captain America.

---

You shake your foot nervously on the way to your first mission. Your role is simple, in fact it's almost impossible to mess up. You’re nervous anyway though. Everyone tells you it’s normal for your first mission and you take deep breaths trying to calm down.

You exit the jet and make your way into town. Your only job is to distract your mark for five minutes. You check your watch and start your way toward your mark.

“Excuse me sir?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know a good breakfast place around here?”

It’s beyond easy. You keep the conversation up for five minutes and end it quickly. Steve gives you a pat on the back after, congratulating your successful first mission. It feels off. Anyone could do what you did. You’re nowhere near as skilled as the Avengers and don’t understand why you would be picked for the job.

“What’s wrong doll?”

“I just don’t feel like I’m really good enough to be part of this team I guess.”

“You’re more than good enough.”

“But you guys are so much stronger... and faster... and smarter.”

“We look for more than those things when picking recruits. Trust me, you’re exactly what I… We need.”

You feel a little better and push away your doubts.

---

The missions become harder after the first one but you’re still never put in direct danger. They say you need more training before taking on more dangerous roles and you agree. You’re not sure if you’ll ever improve enough though and it makes you guilty, like you’re taking up space in a team that someone else could have. As you start becoming more part of the group Steve starts coming onto you more. He takes you out several times and starts becoming more physically affectionate. You like Steve. Aside from being gorgeous he’s old school, bringing you flowers and opening doors. There’s Something about him that feels disingenuous and your gut prevents you from starting a serious relationship.

You meet a barista at the same coffee shop Steve took you to. He’s cute and you  decide to give him your number impulsively. He texts you that evening and you stay up late texting back and forth. The next day everyone stares at you as you stretch before your training. You’re not sure why until you notice Steve standing outside of his office.

“Y/N, can I see you in here please.” His voice is an octave lower than usual and a chill runs down your spine.

“Of course.”

Steve closes the door and motions for you to sit down.

“I’m aware that you’ve exchanged numbers with someone who is unapproved.”

You nod slowly, confused how he knows at all and why it’s a big deal.

“This is a huge security risk.”

“I already ran a background check on him.”

Steve sits on the edge on his desk and caresses your cheek.

“Why do you want to talk to this boy when you have me?”

You push his hand away.

“I mean, I like you Steve but I’m just not ready for the commitment yet, you know that.”

His eyes narrow and he looks at the hand you pushed away.

“I understand.” He says.

You stand to leave and he calls after you.

“Oh, and remember you have a curfew. I don’t want to have to reprimand you.”

Steve feels different, unhinged. You’ve only been late a few times and only by a few minutes. You push away your worry hoping it will get better. He’s probably just not used to feeling rejected. He’ll get over it.

---

“Y/N, don’t you dare enter that building.”

“There are still people inside Steve!”

“It’s too dangerous. Help is on the way, don’t do it.”

You rip the com out of your ear and run into the building. There’s smoke everywhere and you cover your face with your arm. You make fast work of reaching the blocked room, breaking the door in and letting the room of people out. You escort them out of the building and to safety.

“Thank you so much.” A woman says, hugging you.

“No problem.” You smile.

The building starts collapsing in front of your eyes and you watch it burn. You walk back to the jet, coughing and bruised and get checked out as soon as you land.

Steve waits for you outside of medical.

“What were you thinking Agent!”

“Not now Steve.”

“It’s Captain and yes now.”

You sigh.

“I was thinking, Captain, that I needed to get those people out and I was right.”

“And what would have happened if the building had come down on you? Help was coming and you had an order. You’re lucky your lungs are ok with the smoke you inhaled.”

You push Steve out of your way and walk towards your room.

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” you call back.

You reach your room and take a long shower, thinking about everything. As much as you want to fit in with them you just don’t. Something tells you that you need to quit. You need to get out of here and never look back. you decide that you’ll hand in a two week notice tomorrow.

The next morning you wake and dress quickly still feeling the same as the night before. You head to your door and turn the knob but find it locked.

“What the fuck?” you pound on the door but nobody answers. You pick up your phone to call for help. It won’t connect to the internet or call anyone. Your computer is the same way. As the day passes you start feeling more and more uneasy. They have to know by now that something is wrong with you. your voice is raw from yelling for help and your hands bloody and bruised from pounding on the door.

Finally, hours later you hear the click of your door unlocking. You open it to see Steve standing with his arms crossed on the other side.

“I was locked in my room.” you say in a quiet voice.

“I know, I locked you in.”

“What’s wrong with you? That’s insane Steve!”

Adrenaline rushes through your body and you start pacing. Everything is telling you to get out. This is not what you signed up for.

“I quit.” you say defiantly.

Steve rushes toward you, pinning you to the wall. None of your self defence training helps you. He’s so much bigger and stronger, trying to fight is a joke. You know your best bet is to stun him somehow and run but you can barely move.

“You can’t quit doll.” He brushes a hand down your body, giving your butt a squeeze. Your eyes widen in shock.

“I’ll report you.”

“To who?”

You start thinking, your eyes darting back and forth. He slides his hand into the front of your pants and rubs the bulge in his pants against you. your breath hitches and you relax your body a bit. You scream at yourself to do something. The hand in your pants rubs against your clit expertly and it takes everything you have not to let out a moan.

“Ah, I see you’re getting it.”

His finger slides to your entrance and he prods you before submerging his finger. You gasp at the intrusion and realize that he’s barely holding onto you anymore. Your hands grasp his shoulders and you lean against him.

“This would have been much easier if you had followed my plan. You had to go putting yourself in danger.” He chides.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please you’re scaring me Steve.” you say,

“It was going so well but you’re unpredictable, flirting with that barista.”

He pushes his finger in deeper and you whimper.

“If I don’t take action now I might lose you and I can’t lose you.”

“Get away from me,” you beg.

He grasps your hip painful tight.

“You're my girl now, ok? My girl doesn’t disobey me, especially not on missions.”

He pumps his finger, coating it with slick.

You realize that he won’t listen to reason but you try anyway.

“I’m so sorry you’re right I’m your… your girl, just let me go please.”

He pulls his finger out and gives you a kiss.

“See, there’s a good girl.”

He pulls a ring out of his pocket and places it on your finger. His watch vibrates and he looks at it before kissing you on the cheek.

“We can celebrate tomorrow.” He winks.

He leaves you in the hallway and you back into your room, shaking and crying.  You don’t care if he locks you in again. You need to be in a place where you feel somewhat safe and can process everything that just happened. You take the ring off and throw it across the room.

The night is spent curled in your bed crying and the next morning you walk self consciously to the kitchen. Bucky sits at the counter eating cereal and he knits his brow when he sees you.

“Hey, what’s wrong.”

You shake your head.

“You can tell me.” He looks at you with his big kind eyes and you decide to confide in him.

“Steve… assaulted me. He’s out of his mind, saying all sorts of crazy stuff. I don’t know what to do.”

Bucky holds you close.

“You’re his girl Y/N, don’t provoke him and you’ll have a good life.”

You tear yourself away and look at him with disbelief.

“It’s not a secret Y/N and we’re on Steve's side.”

You back away and head straight for the exit hitting Tony on the way

“Woah, what’s the rush?”

“I quit.” you say, tears starting to fall.

“You can’t quit princess, you’re Steve’s.”

Your breaths become shallow and your head starts feeling light.

“How did you think you got the job in the first place Y/N?”

You run to the elevator slamming the button over and over but it won’t let you down.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” Thor walks over.

“She’s having a hard time adjusting to being Steve’s,” Tony answers.

“Let me out.” you yell.

Steve comes out of nowhere catching you in his arms and you throw your head back and duck. He stumbles back. Other Avengers start to gather and you pull your fists up in defense.

“I want to leave.”

“Come with me back to your room doll, it doesn’t have to be this hard.”

You stand your ground and Steve goes into a fighting stance. You don’t even have a chance, he has you trapped in his arms within minutes.

“I don’t understand.”

“We got your application in the mail. As soon as I saw your picture I knew you were the one I’ve been looking for.” he coos.

“Why go through the whole facade?”

“Use your brain Y/N. Everyone knows we’re together. There’s pictures of us everywhere online. You’ve talked to friends and family about our relationship. It won’t look weird when you drop off for a while because of your job and when you come back engaged nobody will blink an eye.”

“No.”

You look at the Avengers, you’re family. None of them do anything to help you. Every single one turns their back and walks away nonchalantly like it’s just another normal day.

Steve drags you to your room and closes the door. He walks over to where you threw your ring grabbing it off the floor, and places it back on your finger.

“This doesn’t come off again,” He says.

You look at the ring and back at Steve over and over trying to make sense of all of it. Steve walks purposefully to the drawer you keep your candles and lights several, placing them around the room.

He backs you into the bed and undresses you slowly and meticulously. He sits back and looks at your naked body, taking his time touching and examining every piece. He grabs your legs and parts them, looking at your pussy and two fingers in.

“So wet for me already.”

You shake your head and he lands a slap on your thigh.

“No.” He commands.

“Be good so I don’t have to punish you. You’ve seen me work, you know what I’m capable of.”

You bite your tongue and force yourself to lie still as he slams his cock into you. You cry out in pain and he rubs your arm and whispers sweet things. He kisses you as he pushes his cock deep into you. He grabs your chin and squeezes until you open up and let his tongue in.  you reach out and grab his arms and he pulls at your leg until you hug them around him.

“You can come Y/N.” he whispers

You shake your head.

He reaches between you and pushes against your clit. You fight against it for as long as you can but it becomes too much. An orgasm crashes over you and you flutter around his cock. He thrusts hard enough that you get pushed into the headboard and seconds later he’s coming in you. He smiles down at you, lovingly stroking you face.

“I love you Y/N”

You stay silent and he pulls you into a constricting hug.

“Don’t worry doll, you’ll love me soon.”  

You’ve always been the type of person to jump into things without thinking. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble throughout your life. You’ve always been able to get yourself out of it,

but this time.

This time you jumped too far.

[balkanradfem]

So I've talked before about my burning desire to go and build a separatist tribe of women in nature, preferably in forest next to a mountain or somewhere far out so that nobody would bother us. I've been keeping on building that dream in my head, but also in many practical ways, trying to prepare myself for it. This tribe would have to function out of capitalism, off grid, without the use of money or even electricity, unless one day I figure out how to produce some. So we use only technology that is not harmful to nature and produce everything we need to survive.

It sounds so surreal, but it's not a particularly wild idea, because humans have been doing this for millenia and lived, I presume, with way less of their population depressed and suicidal. It wasn't more than 80 years ago humans lived without electrity or modern commodities, my 85yo neighbour can still remember bathing in collected rainwater and washing the clothes in the river. (Don't worry, we wont have to wash the clothes in the river, I found a way.)

So what I'm proposing is in fact, far more reasonable, climate conscious and healthy than living in capitalism, only problem is: It's less convenient.

We're to assume it's convenience that brings us comfort and happiness, but I'm about to propose a counter-argument: It's not. It's boring and makes everything very impersonal and unsatisfactory. I can tell, but only because I've been shifting into that inconvenient, more-effort-put into survival kind of life. And, it's been a very fun, weird time.

So as you can see by my posts, I've been learning to grow food and to make meals from self-grown food only, and eating feels different. It's far from impersonal when you bring a handful of seeds into life, then harvest and store and eat that; you know where this food has been. You know the food's story and it's been interlaced with your own story to the point where it's no longer something you consume, you have memories with that food. It means something to you. And, it's way, WAY harder to throw it away. You do not waste what you build up from scratch.

I've also been venturing into other self-sustaining missions, like, cleaning products and preserving resources as you would in nature, figuring out hygiene without capitalism, and this is where my life got weird. If I wanna wash my hair, I go and make tea, then wash my hair in that. Funny snippet, lemon balm tea actually darkens your hair the more you use it, people in my life now legit think my hair is black, it's not! It's brown but the herb made it so dark nobody can tell. I've since found out there are also herbs that make your hair lighter, or even give it a blue-ish glow! That is way fun. Washing hair like this is a more effort than shampoo, but I feel different about it. Proud I did that, or just happy I never have to buy a shampoo maybe.

If I wanna do laundry I'll go and cut open some conkers, since I still have a bag of unprocessed ones and they work as a detergent. If I wanna clean something I use vinegar I infused with orange peel, it smells amazing. If I need to go to the bathroom I'll skip on toilet paper and use family cloth. Now what is that? I actually heard someone on youtube say that word and researched it and found out that before toilet paper, people used rectangular strips of white cloth, to clean themselves, and they were all washed so it was reusable and wasted no resources since you could cut any old cotton shirt into strips and use it. Now a lot of people react with 'ewww' but hear me out: you don't use it for number two unless you have a washing liquid to immediately throw it into (I don't), and, do you throw away any underwear that you've used just once? They get about as filthy as that and then you put them thru boil cycle in the washing machine, they take so little space inside it's forgettable, and you can use them forever. I actually only had to buy toilet paper once, this entire year. 10/10. Also, extremely comfy and soft to use. If anyone wondered.

I also cook my food in weird ways, mostly having it wrapped in towels instead on a stove top, I rarely heat any bathroom water and either use cold or I also discovered I love heating a pot of water and just spilling it over myself instead of showering, it feels so good! It's so gentle and pleasant, showers are agressive and mean in comparison, it's like they hate you and are trying to spray you away. Water gently spilling from a pot on your body loves you and wants you to be happy and experience pleasure and love.

So I'm not trying to brag too much here but I haven't visited a grocery store in two months (figured out how to buy flour directly from the company lol) and maybe visited them 7 times this year altogether, isn't that kinda wild? And yes I'm giving myself a little star for good pandemic behaviour. I earned that. I just seem to not need stuff anymore unless they're oil and flour and maybe some salt and sugar. And it wasn't ... that hard. I mean okay, poverty and general anxiety are fueling my behaviour for sure, but it feels very much like... it's not that impossible to do without stuff, if you're crazy stubborn and don't have many alternatives.

I've also been prepairing for this life in a savage hermit hoarder type of matter; I've collected jars obsessively, stored every little produce net or bag that anyone brought to my place, I collect dumb promotional newspapers to start fires with in the future, and I can make baskets out of it, I stored every plastic cup or container ever because I can grow seedlings in those, I collected all seeds in any way available to me, I don't throw away any fabric anymore bc I can sew new things, any soft and spongy textured thing is stored to make seating space on future chairs and cushions, and I value every bit of knowledge coming my way only in regard to how it could help me survive.

I haven't figured out the medicinal side of this, or the social aspect, but at this point it feels very wrong for me to be in a city, renting out an apartment, and then living half like a little savage on the side and refusing to go to the store. I should be in my little cob house dammit, and cooking in my cauldron on top of a fire. I should be bathing in rainwater and have plants on every surface of my home. I should have soil available to grow all my food. And optimally have a big swing and a tree house and an obstacle course in the forest. I wanna drink water that I discovered in a spring or collected from rain and filtered with the coal I made. I wanna know how earthen floors feel under my bare feet.

So anyways, how many of you'd wanna join a tribe where we live in cob houses and tell stories around a fire and change our hair color with tea and presumably spill water over each other because hygiene is important? Also we never shave or care abt how our faces look and we shed the light onto downfall of capitalsm because I feel like, if we all (the population) just bought flour, oil sugar and salt, a lot of things would go down super fast.

[batfam-rewrites]

Batfam During Quarantine: Retirement

Dick pulls up in front of the apartment that Barbara and her family lives in. He takes out his boom box and sets in a cassette tape. He sets the volume to the maximum setting. He holds the boom box over his head as Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” starts playing.

Dick: BABS!!!!

He waits out there for a few minutes until she opens up the window and leans out of it.

Barbara: You Dick!

The song ends and starts playing “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing” from Aerosmith.

Dick: BABS! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! PLEASE TALK TO ME!

Neighbor 1: GO HOME!

Dick: I’M DOING THIS FOR LOVE!

Neighbor 2: LOVE IS DEAD YOU SCHMUCK!

Dick: YOU’RE HEART IS DEAD!

Neighbor 3: SHUT THE FUCK UP KID!

Jim Gordon: DICK, IT IS 5 AM! GO THE FUCK HOME!

Dick: FINE!

The next night

Dick walks up to the door to the Gordon family’s apartment. He knocks on the door and Jim opens the door.

Dick: Hey Jim, I was sorta expecting Babs to open the door.

Jim: *looks at the cards in Dick’s hands* Just take a hint kid. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.

Dick: I’m persistent, it’s part of my charm.

Jim: Whatever. *shuts the door*

A minute late Barbara opens the door.

Dick: *holding the cards*

Barbara: They’re facing you.

Dick: *looks down and flips the cards around* “Babs, I know I messed things up by *flips the card* not telling you Helena was staying at the *flips the card* mansion. I want you to know that you are *flips the card*

Barbara: *shuts the door on Dick*

Dick: I still have twenty-something cards left. At least finish reading them.

Two days later at the grocery store

Barbara is walking down the aisle looking for food. The music playing over the speakers as a voice replaces the music.

Dick: You’re just to good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you. You'd be like Heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much. 

Barbara starts looking around the store for Dick and sees him leaning against a wall with one of the phones.

Dick: *notices Barbara and points to hear and then makes a heart with his hands* At long last, love has arrived. And I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you. *plays the instrumental part on his phone*

A store employee now spots Dick and heads towards him.

Dick: I love you, baby. And if it's quite alright. *struggles to keep possession of the phone* Get away, you’ll sing next. I need you baby *still fighting for the phone* To warm the lonely night. *starts climbing between the wall and the refrigerated section* I love you, baby. Trust in me when I say.

Barbara starts walking away embarrassed.

Dick: Oh, pretty baby, wait Babs, where you going? Babs? Babs? BAAABBS! LET ME ME LOVE YOUUUUU!

Daily Briefing

Dick: Okay, while things are a bit peaceful now, they’re not going to stay that way forever. Let’s try to plan ahead now and see if we can recruit any former members of Batman Inc. Tim, Steph, and Duke, you guys need to try and convince Luke to come out of retirement. Kate and Babs you go try and convince Bette to join us in Gotham.

Jason: What are the rest of us doing?

Dick: Selina, Jason, Harper, Cass, and Damian will patrol and hand out mask later today....

Harper: Cool, glad I can finally do something!

Jason: Got it!

Dick: And I will be sulking in my room!

Damian: Try again, Grayson.

Dick: I will be on patrol and handing out mask as Nightwing! Julia will be on monitor duty and Helena, tonight you’ll be on sanitation duty.

Helena: *sexually* Whatever you say.

Selina: Oh god!

Duke: Please stop!

Tim: There is a child present!

Jason: *Laughs hysterically* Am I the only one who still thinks this is funny?

Stephanie: Apparently so!

Dick: Alright, let’s get moving.

Tim, Duke, Stephanie, and Luke

Tim: Damn, it’s nice to finally be out of the mansion!

Duke: We were on patrol almost every night.

Tim: Yeah, but as Red Robin, not Tim Drake.

Stephanie: I mean, I guess that’s true.

Tim: *knocks on the door* 

Luke: *opens the door* Hey guys, it’s been a while!

Tim: Hey Luke, how have you been!

Luke: Not bad, Tim! What about you guys?

Tim: Could be better!

Stephanie: Not bad!

Duke: Send help!

Luke: Their dysfunction has gotten to you I’m assuming?

Duke: Maybe.

Tim and Stephanie: We’re not dysfunctional!!!

Luke: Relax! I’m talking about the others.

Tim: Kay, coolcoolcool.

Stephanie: Yeah, the others are pretty dysfunctional.

Luke: Anyways, come on in guys. Take a seat in the living room.

All three walk in and sit in the living room.

Tim: Okay I’m going to cut straight to the point, things aren’t going to be so peaceful for so long. It’s only a matter of time until the Joker pops up with a futuristic Batsuit or some dude comes in with a plan to destroy Batman in multiple ways.

Luke: I’m not coming out of retirement, Tim.

Stephanie: Why not?

Luke: Because I can’t stand to go back being some vigilante trying to save the city. I mean don’t you guys get tired of feeling like the weight of this city is pressing down on you every time you put on that mask.

Tim: Yeah, but I mean it’s not that bad.

Luke: When was the last time you slept.

Tim: Like 6 hours. Plus 2 days.

Luke: That’s my point! This is a thankless job that you guys work your ass off for.

Duke: Yeah coming here may have been a mistake. Let’s go guys, Luke’s not coming back.

Stephanie: Why not stay here Duke. I mean, Luke is right. We risk our lives to save some fucks who don’t give two shits whether we live or die. Sure they’d be sad if we did, but they would only be sad because that would mean they’d have to actually defend themselves!

Tim: Yeah, that is a great point!

Stephanie: Woooo let’s get hammered, this is my retirement party fuckers!

Luke: You’re not drinking alcohol! You’re under age!

Stephanie: Whatever! *stands up and walks out the door*

Duke: Tim, let’s go!

Tim: Yeah, I mean it’s probably about time I retired too!

Duke: Damn it!

Damian and Jon

Damian sets up a zoom call with Jon

Damian: Hey, Kent.

Jon: Hey, Wayne.

Damian: Why must you mock me?

Jon: Why must you mock me?

Damian: Goodbye!

Jon: No, wait, I want attention!!!!

Damian: Works like a charm. How’s it going over there?

Jon: Not bad, it’s super boring. I wish I had 50 people staying at my place.

Damian: No you don’t! It is awful. I want to punch Drake constantly, Grayson is always trying to hand out hugs, Todd tried to kill me!

Jon: The hugs don’t sound....

Damian: Row turned my knife into an electric razor...

Jon: How...

Damian: Kyle keeps trying to bond with me, Cain tried to stab me because I stole a waffle from her, Bertinelli and her lust for Grayson is annoying! Honestly, Pennyworth and Thomas are the only ones who haven’t managed to piss me off.

Jon: You know what, I take back what I said earlier.

Damian: Wise choice.

Jon: Hey, remember the time your dad almost adopted me?

Jason: *talking in the hallway*

Damian: That was funny. Hey I got to go, I’m about to go on patrol.

Jon: During the day, I thought you guys were nocturnal.

Damian: No, we are not. We’ll talk later.

Jon: See ya!

Damian: Bye. *rushes to the door to see if he could hear Jason*

Jason: I’ll see you there. *walks off*

Damian: *walks out of his room and sees Selina* 

Selina: Hey Dami, you ready to go on patrol?

Damian: Actually, we have a change in plans.

Nightwing

Nightwing: *sees a kid walking by without a mask, he squats down and waves* Hey what’s up little dude!

Little kid: *runs away from parents and hugs Nightwing*

Parent: Hey! Sorry, we’re still trying to get him to understand what social distancing is.

Nightwing: It’s okay, he’s young, he’ll eventually get the idea. I see that someone lost their mask though! Do you like super heroes kiddo!

Little kid: *nods excitedly* Batgirl is my favorite!

Nightwing: Really! Batgirl is my favorite, too! Hey, let’s get you another mask buddy! *reaches into the box of mask he has and hands a Batgirl mask to the parent to put on the kid’s face*

Parent: Thank you so much! *puts the mask on the little kids face*

Nightwing: No problem! Stay safe! *waits a bit longer and puts in an earbud*

Nightwing: *sees another guy not wearing a mask* Hey, how about we wear a mask buddy!

Guy: Piss off!

Nightwing: Come on. Let’s try to think about everyone else.

Guy: Who cares! If I get the virus I won’t die! It’s only the old people who are dying! 

Nightwing: Okay, please tell me your joking.

Guy: I mean, you don’t really see much other people dying.

Nightwing: If you pay attention to the statistics you would see that there are other people who are 20, 30, 40 years old and dying from this virus! Can you just put the mask on?

Guy: Hell no, it’s uncomfortable for me!

Nightwing: UNCOMFORTABLE FOR YOU! I HAVE TO WEAR ONE FOR LEGIT MOST OF THE DAY. OUR CITIES FIRST RESPONDERS MUST WEAR ONE TO DO THEIR DAMN JOBS. NO ONE, ESPECIALLY ME OR ANY NURSE, FIREMAN, POLICE OFFICER, ET CETERA, CARES IF IT BOTHERS YOU! PUT ON THE DAMN MASK!!!

Guy: Damn. *starts walking away*

Nightwing: *grabs cologne* Sir, don’t make me do this.

Guy: Do what? Bit......

Nightwing: *sprays cologne all over the guys face*

Guy: pffft. pfffffftt. 

Nightwing: I bet you’d like a mask now!

Guy: YOU FUCKING SON OF A

Nightwing: *spays the cologne at his face again* Hey! *throws a mask at the guy* No profanity! There’s kids around. Put on the mask, too. 

Guy: *puts the mask on reluctantly and walks away* Stupid vigilante in this stupid damn city. Hate this damn place.

Nightwing: *watches him walk away for a bit* Never thought I’d take a page out of Jay’s book.

Julia: Nightwing, need you over in Gotham Heights. There’s a.... *clears throat*..... situation over there. I’m sending you the coordinates now.

Nightwing: On my way! *takes off firing the grappling hook into the side of a building as he takes off*

Jason

Jason walks towards the house, checking his surroundings to see if any of his “family” members followed him. Fortunate for him, Dick is preoccupied with his thoughts and Damian and Selina left after he did.

He opens the door and walks inside of his safe house. He then sits down, takes off his helmet, sets it down on the table, and turns on the tv to watch Supernatural. Not long after Roy walks downstairs.

Roy: What’s up Jaybird?

Jason: Not much Roy.

Roy then sits down on the couch next to him to watch with him.

Roy: Is it just me or would Jensen Ackles be the perfect person to play you if there was to ever be a movie about you?

Jason: I KNOW, RIGHT!!!! Hey do you want to order some pizza?

Roy: Sure!

Roy begins to pull out his phone when they hear a knock at the door.

Jason: Hide! 

Roy: Hey it’s my safe house, too!

Jason: It’s my city! Hide!

Roy begins to hide as Jason looks outside the door to see Damian and Selina outside the door. 

Jason: *opens the door* Hey Catwoman, Robin! What are you guys doing here?

Damian: More importantly, what are you doing here?

Jason: Following up on a lead. I saw a very shady guy leave here so I’m looking for some evidence.

Selina: Are those your guns on the counter? And your helmet and phone on the table?

Jason: No.

Damian: Then where’s your guns?

Jason: Okay, I hate to admit it, but I came across a dog and decided to pet it, then it bit the barrel of both guns and ran off.

Selina: Mmmmhhhmmmm and why don’t I believe you?

Jason: Because everyone but Duke has trust issues.

Damian: Give it up, Todd.

Jason: Give what up?

Damian: *walks over to the closet and opens the door*

Roy: Woah, how the hell did I get here!

Jason: *shakes his head*

Tim, Duke, Stephanie, and Luke

Duke: Dude, you broke Tim and Steph.

Luke: No I didn’t!

Duke: Really because we came here to try and convince you to be Batwing again and yet you somehow got them both to decide to retire!

Luke: So, they should! They deserve it. No kid should have to deal with that kind of stress!

Duke: Dude, we live in Gotham freaking City. Stress is literally stuff we learn in 6th grade because our parents need us to get jobs!

Luke: You had to get a job in 6th grade?

Duke: Oh right, sorry I forgot you all are rich! Hey, where’s Steph and Tim?

Luke: Outside somewhere.

Duke: DUDE!!!! WE HAVE TO FIND THEM!!!!!!

Luke: They’ll be fine!

Duke: Whatever. *walks towards the door* If you change your mind, you know where to call. *he walks out the door*

____

Tim: *grabs a helium tank* Hey Steph!

Stephanie: *turns around*

Tim: *pulls down the mask and inhales the helium* I am vengeance, I am the night, I am BATMAN!

Stephanie: O-M-G!!! That is amazing!

Jason, Roy, Damian, and Selina

Selina: So again, Jason, what are you doing here?

Jason: Trying to get away from you people! Do you know how often I want to shoot Dick alone from all of the stupid stuff he does! 

Damian: Yes!

Jason: You’re no better. You can not adopt stray animals every week!

Damian: They can catch the virus, too! They need a home!

Jason: They have one! In the wild somewhere!

Selina: What’s your point?

Jason: I needed a place to escape you idiots at the mansion. There’s only so much I can take before I break B’s no killing rule.

Damian: Then why is Harper here?

Roy: Jaybird has been my emotional support person since Kori left Earth for Tamaran.

Selina: I can see that.

Damian: Is this where you’ve been every single patrol?

Jason: Not every one. Only when I get sick of you all. 

Selina: Everyday!!!!

Roy: *laughs uncontrollably*

Jason: Not everyday!!! Look, this is why I need this place, because I can’t stand you fuckers!!! Get out of my house!

Damian: How did you even pay for this place?

Jason: I USED TO KILL PEOPLE FOR A LIVING!!!!

Selina: Jason, your not supposed to even be here. We need to leave now.

Jason: Yes you fucking should!

Selina: I meant all of us!

Jason: Good luck with that! You’ll have to drag me out.

Damian: Just watch us do it!

Roy: This is getting a bit personal, I’m gunna grab my bow and leave.

Jason: Stay Roy!

Roy: Okay, I’ll stay!

Selina: How are we so awful? What is it that we do that bothers you so much?

Jason: I don’t want to talk about it!

Selina: What is it?

Jason: You guys make me want to actually be a part of the family! You guys care for me, and make fun of me *starts crying* and make me laugh, and it’s not fucking fair!

Selina: Jason..... I’m.... I’m sorry. Why are you crying?

Jason: Because this shit has always been unfamiliar to me! Family has always been fucked up for me before Bruce. When he took me in I didn’t know how to feel because at that point my life was filled with rage, sadness, and confusion. *sits down on the couch* Then came in Dick, who at first made me feel at home with how much he hated the fact that I replaced him, until a few months go by for him to accept me as a brother he never had. Then I fuckin’ died!

Selina: *sits down next to Jason* It’s okay if you want some time away from us, I understand now that this is new. We won’t ever stop loving you Jason. If you ever need a break from us then I’ll cover for you, just don’t be out for too long.

Jason: Thanks Selina.

Roy: *starts humming Love Is A Battlefield*

Selina: Are you humming Love Is A Battlefield?

Jason: He is so humming Pat Benatar right now.

Roy: No, you’re all just hearing things.

Damian: Who’s Pat Benatar?

Jason: Okay, GET OUT!!!!

Selina: *rushes themselves out the door* Let’s go Dami, we’ve overstayed our welcome!

Damian: But my phone!

Roy and Jason: GET OUT!

Tim and Stephanie

Stephanie: *dancing in a strangers house* Woooo!!!

Tim: *break dancing to “Dirrty” in the middle of a dance circle*

Stephanie: *nudges the person next to her* I’m friends with that guy!

Stranger: Nice!

Stephanie: I know right!

Tim: *steps out of the dance circle* Hey!

Stephanie: How many Red Bulls did you have?

Tim: How many legs does a wolf-tigark have.

Stephanie: What!

Tim: I’m super fucked up!

Stephanie: Same! Wanna have sex?

Tim: Sure!

Duke, Cassandra, and Harper

Duke: Hey, Harper! Do you remember that time you were totally surrounded by the Riddler’s henchmen and I swooped in and saved you, and you were like “Thanks dude! You’re the best! I totally owe you one!”

Harper: Yes, I remember part of that being true!

Duke: Well, I need you to return that favor and you can not tell any of the others. I lost Tim and Stephanie and need help finding them.

Harper: What the hell Duke! How did this happen?

Duke: Well, Luke broke Tim and Steph, causing them to decide to retire, then they disappeared.

Harper: Okay, Orphan and I will be right there after we take down these two drug dealing pimps!

Duke: Thank you!

Harper: *hangs up the phone* Okay, let’s take care of this Orphan!

They both jump down landing a kick to their chest. Harper then grabbed her dudes arm and broke his wrist, finally stomping on his face, knocking the dude out. Cass walked towards her guy reaching down and throwing him against a wall, then kicking his back.

Nightwing

Nightwing: *arrives at the apartment door*

Boyfriend: YOU STUPID BITCH! WHY CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT! 

Girlfriend: *through tears* I’m sorry!

Boyfriend: *slaps the girlfriend* SHUT UP BITCH!

Nightwing: *knocks on the door*

Boyfriend: *opens door* Can I help you?

Nightwing: Yes hi. I was walking around the neighborhood and wanted to know if you wanted to donate to the charity of whoop-ass?

Boyfriend: Not interested. *tries to close the door*

Nightwing: *pushes the door open* Hold on, you need to hear the rest of my pitch! *kicks the boyfriend in the chest* 

Girlfriend: *still crying* NO! PLEASE STOP!

Nightwing: Wha-

Boyfriend: *tries to throws a few punch at Nightwing’s face*

Nightwing: *drops to the floor and goes for a flare, sweeping the boyfriend off his feet*

The sound of sirens is heard out side.

Nightwing: *temporarily distracted by the sirens*

Boyfriend: *gets up* YOU CALLED THE COPS! YOU UNGRATEFUL GOOD FOR NOTHING BITCH! *tries to punch his girlfriend*

Nightwing: *catches his fist* Not gunna happen. *tosses the boyfriend against the wall and has him put his hands over his head*

Police Officer: G-C-P-D! GET YOUR..... Oh, Nightwing? How random seeing one of you guys here. Like always. *goes in to arrest the boyfriend*

Nightwing: *kneels down to where the girlfriend is sitting and takes note of the cuts and marks on her arms* Are you okay?

Girlfriend: I-*sob* I don’t *sob* know what *sob* I did *sob* wrong?

Nightwing: You did nothing wrong. Everything will be okay. Did he hit you?

Girlfriend: *nods her head yes*

Nightwing: Where did he hit you?

Girlfriend: *looks up to reveal a black eye and cuts on her face* My *sob* face, arms *sob*, stomach. *buries her head in her arms and starts to cry even harder*

Nightwing: Hey, it’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay. 

Nightwing tries the best he can to comfort the girl before the EMT arrived. After that he stuck around for a bit to give a statement of what happened when he arrived and to make sure everything was fine before he left.

Duke, Stephanie, Tim, Harper, and Cassandra

Stephanie: *wakes up* Ugh. My head! *she looks over at Tim and smiles as she gets out of the bed*

Tim: *starts to wake* Ow! *sees Stephanie* Hey!

Stephanie: Hey! 

Tim: *sits up on the bed*

Stephanie: Look about what happened, can we agree it was a drunk mistake.

Tim: Yeah! *rubs the back of his head and stands up close to Stephanie* I’m sorry, I can’t pretend! *he pulls her in and kisses her* I really like you!

Stephanie: I like you, too.

Tim: Wanna crawl back under the covers again for a bit?

Stephanie: Absolutely!

____

Desk Clerk: Thank you, hope you enjoyed your stay!

Tim: We certainly did, thank you! *both Stephanie and Tim walk out the door and see Duke, Cassandra, and Harper* 

Stephanie: Hey, you found us!

Duke: Get in the car!

Harper: Spent most of the night looking for you suckers until we saw that Tim used his credit card to purchase a hotel room there! 

Tim: We’re sorry you had to go searching for us!

Duke: Also, if you are even still thinking about retiring, you’re going to have to tell Bruce yourself.

Stephanie: We’re not retiring. We probably just thought it was a good idea because we were both sleep deprived.

Duke: Good, because I didn’t want to see Bruce lose his shit!

Dick and Julia/Dick and Jason

Back at the Batcave

Julia: How did it go?

Dick: Rough. That building was well into Harper’s sector though, why did you have me take care of it?

Julia: I think you know why.

Dick: *thinks for a moment* Because of the way I’ve been reacting to my breakup with Bab’s.

Julia: If you stopped thinking of how to win her back for one second, you would see that she is most likely suffering as much as you are. 

Dick: I understand. I’m going to head upstairs. Don’t stay down here much longer, that’s an order.

Julia: Are you still entitled to give orders?

Dick: I still get to wear the cowl, don’t I?

Julia: Fair enough.

Dick quickly showers and heads upstairs.

Jason: Hey, Dickwad. Over here.

Dick: Sup, Jay?

Jason: Follow me.

Jason leads Dick to the parking garage and into one of Bruce’s cars and drives to the safe house.

Jason: Welcome, to the safe house. I heard you had a rough day so I thought it would be worth it to take you here. Wayne house free zone so feel free to cry, let out your feeling, whatever you need to do to process this. I’ll wait in the car.

Dick: *crying* Jay.

Jason: Yeah.

Dick: *hugs Jason* Thank you!

Jason: No problem. If you tell Bruce, I will end you though.

Dick: Got it!

While I try to make these stories for the most part humorous and entertaining, domestic violence is a very serious topic. Since quarantine, domestic violence rates have gone up. If you or some one you know is in an abusive relationship or has found themselves in one since quarantine began, don’t hesitate to call the Domestic Violence Support hotline at 1 (800) 799 7233. You can also go to thehotline.org to contact them.

If someone you know has just left an abusive relationship (boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, parent/child) remember to be there for them. Allow them to talk but don’t force them too if they don’t want to. Make sure not to bash the guilty party and respond about them neutrally. Most of all, make sure to let them know that they are still loved, and that they are still the same person, even if they feel that they are not.

I will be reblogging this message on my blog. I ask you to please share and reblog as much as you can.

[lovelyirony]

162. “They told me you died. And I screamed. I screamed until my lungs hurt too much to continue.” Pepperony? ty!!

When Pepper was twelve, her aunt introduced her into the world of romance books, movies, and television shows. Pepper generally liked them, although some of the historical-fiction-romance books were a bit too corny for her taste. 

Throughout all of these, there is one message that has been repeated: You Will Do Anything for Love. 

She thinks it’s...well. It’s not something that necessarily makes sense to her. Like sure, she would go to the grocery store at eleven at night to get ice cream for her partner, or she would help them with a project. 

But dying, sacrificing yourself? She can’t imagine that. She can’t imagine doing whatever you have to for love. 

Until Tony. 

A lot of people are under the impression that Pepper is “dealing” with Tony. That she has these long-suffering sighs, that Tony is a man-child who can only handle so much and she handles the majority. 

That is far from the truth, although he still doesn’t know his own social security number and forgets dates of things. 

But Tony is fun and he surprises her, and he’s so soft when he wants to be. He knows when she needs to have some sort of snappy commentary, when she just needs him to sign things and pour some nice wine for a night in. 

Iron Man is something that she’s afraid about. Because maybe she’s being selfish, but she hates how much Tony goes out and fights the good fights. She wants him to come home and not wince when she kisses the bridge of his nose, not grimace as he puts weight on a leg that got hit pretty badly. 

And being inside of a suit of armor doesn’t mean he’s safe. He doesn’t have super healing, he doesn’t have any of the advantage of the others. He’s human, and that’s all he is sometimes. It terrifies the shit out of her. 

-

It was supposed to be a routine mission. One he’s flown a thousand times, one that he always complains about as a “waste of time, honey, honestly. I would much rather be sleeping in with you-” 

- 

He’s lost, they say. Pepper wants to deny it, because how could you lose someone like him? 

But people have been asking that question for centuries about those they love. And she knows that you can lose anyone to anything, and you have to deal with it. 

It’s not quiet, at least not in the house. 

She screams and cries and barely eats anything until Jarvis has to remind her to eat anything, just something that will her up even halfway. 

Her voice is hoarse. She can barely use it and she hates the world for still turning, but it does. 

That’s a comfort to some people. That life still continues on, that people have continued on. But it is not a comfort to her, it is bitter. To see people find new love all the time, to have friends over, to still be living. 

It’s a curse, she thinks. 

She doesn’t come into the office for two months. She doesn’t have to, and most everyone is too scared of her to tell her to do anything. 

No one’s sure exactly how Stark Industries will do without Tony. God knows they’ve planned for it. Pepper had, ever since she discovered the suit of armor and Tony’s been planning since before that. 

He had told her once when they were both getting drunk on a patio on a late summer evening, and he told her that he wasn’t sure that he should have kids. 

“I’m the world’s biggest fuck-up,” he had said, laughing at himself. “Why would I subject anyone to another generation of that?” 

That was before they were together, and it was when Pepper was dating someone else who was very...safe. 

Pepper’s learned since then that she’ll never like safe. She tried to convince herself of that, but she can’t. Not since she loves Tony as much as she does, not since she can’t look away from the news. 

- 

Three months in. 

Three months in, and Pepper gets an ad. 

This isn’t necessarily suspicious. 

But the thing is, it’s one of Tony’s funny little things that he does; he makes little ads for her throughout the day so that her day doesn’t suck as bad. Usually it’s for outlandish tourist traps that they’ve never visited. 

This time, it’s for the largest ball of twine, somewhere in Kansas. 

Come unravel the truth for yourself! the ad blinks, flashing furiously fast for something that was made so recent. 

She would expect that ad in the early days of the internet, when everything was flashy and people thought that was the only way to grab your attention. 

The phrasing is...odd. Why would you go there to “verify” it for yourself if it was already something they thought? 

And why for somewhere so far away? 

She doesn’t want to be one of those desperate, sobbing partners who refuse to admit the truth, search frantically for something that might not be there, is literally almost guaranteed to not be there. 

But fuck it. What else does she have to lose? Her sanity? That’s not exactly something she’d miss. 

- 

She starts by having Jarvis look through her entire computer. 

He finds one anomaly. An anomaly that shouldn’t be there, because Tony is the one who everything-proofed her computer, and he’s the only one who should be able to send the questionably-sourced advertisements. 

Jarvis picks up a very faint signal. 

- 

Pepper finds out that she gets her own suit. 

She scolds herself inside her own head as she feels a thrill race up her spine. 

She’s bringing him back, her heart sings. 

The problem is that she hasn’t told anyone. She doesn’t want anyone to know, doesn’t want anyone to see him if he’s...gone. 

So she touches down at an abandoned warehouse and her heart thrums, and then she’s surrounded. 

“You know, I was told that he had new tech,” the man says, sneering. “I just wasn’t aware it came with such a pretty woman attached.” 

“It also comes with three different bullet varieties to test out,” Pepper says sweetly, the darts coming out of the shoulders. “Would you like to test out how well they cut through you?” 

“Oh, we’re about to have fun.” 

It’s not as much fun as this guy predicts. He’s an old colleague of SI, as it turns out. Got fired about five years before Pepper got hired for some “misconduct” that was quickly swept under about a million other press releases. 

He’s very good at underestimation. 

Pepper is blasting through any attack he might have had, and the system in place for the armor--Friday--is adapting quite well, considering the circumstances. 

Fighting still takes a considerably long time, however. She’s starting to get frustrating, and then she gets asked a question: 

“You currently have lasers at your disposal, Miss Potts. It would help the situation, although it can be a mess. Would you like to use it?” 

“...how bad of a mess?” 

“I can aim for nonlethal areas.” 

“Shoot for the stars, Fry.” 

“As you wish, Madam.” 

There is lots of screaming. She wishes there wasn’t. She wishes she could be a better person, but she can’t. Not when Tony is so, so close and not when she loves him as hard as she does. 

- 

He’s tied up, thin, and more bruised than he’s been since...since he came back from the desert. 

But he looks at her, and she knows that they’ll make it out. 

“Did you...you got the ad, right?” 

“I got the ad.” 

“Good. I wasn’t sure...” 

“Sh,” she says, putting her hand to his face. “We got it. We got it. Did they take your armor?” 

He thinks for a moment, and she feels terrible. But she knows how much it would help him, how much he cares for his creations. 

“In the briefcase. It needs a secondary DNA signature if I hit distress.” 

“Is Rhodey the secondary?” Pepper asks, panic rising in her voice, because she wants to get out of here, get to a safe place, fall together again. 

“No. You.” 

She visibly sighs in relief, and smiles. 

“I love you.” 

“The only piece of knowledge that got me through,” Tony says. “That, and the promise of pizza when we get back.” 

Pepper rolls her eyes affectionately. 

“We’ll debate when we reach home. Where’s the briefcase?” 

“Two rooms over, on the left. I think.” 

- 

The other people who are left in the building don’t put up a fight. They’re all untrained in combat, and one comment from Tony leaves them well-aware: 

“This is my partner. She’s pissed. Do with that information what you will.” 

-

His suit goes on, and Pepper can see stress bleed away from his body. 

“Go home,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his helmet. “I’ll meet you there.” 

“I’m sorry if you didn’t want the suit,” Tony says. “I’m really, really sorry. But I figured it could make you safe, I didn’t want...I didn’t want you to ever have to use it.” 

“You know me better than that,” Pepper says. “And I...I don’t mind this, honestly.” 

“You don’t?” Tony asks, confused. “But the whole getting-rid-of-the-suits-on-Christmas?” 

“...I’ll make it up to you.” 

Tony smiles, and she’s missed that. 

- 

The flight home is much better. She can enjoy some of it, and Friday even puts on a bit of music for the trip home. 

Tony is already lying down, and people know the news. She lets the team run through, getting confirmation. So long as Tony allows it, so does she, although she does take a bit of liberty and cut off public visiting hours at nine p.m. 

He’s exhausted, already asleep. 

Pepper still sits, still looks at him with all the stars and promises that can be held by one earth in her eyes. 

"I’m happy you’re here,” she says. “Because I would’ve ended the earth to get you back again.” 

[leavesofolive]

🌞🧹🌻Hearth Witch Tips!🌻🧹🌞

04: Your kitchen eats with you!

Just like with the rest of the house, what you put into the kitchen also heavily affects its energy. When you treat the hearth in certain ways, it reacts in certain ways. Your relationship with any room in the house is give-and-take. That means that if you don’t give back occasionally, the room will grow cold and stop appreciating your presence. But there are plenty of ways to mend your relationship! And the first step is to identify the problem!

From my experience, there are three main reasons why the kitchen stops being a warm and inviting place: 1) You are filling the cupboards with too much toxic, processed foods; 2) You aren’t spending enough time in that room; 3) Or you aren’t keeping the room clean enough.

When there’s a problem in the hearth, it’s always either one of these things or some combination of them. We’ll start with number three since it’s the easiest to explain. The kitchen should be anyone’s top priority to keep clean. It’s where all of your food, the nutrition and fuel of your physical and spiritual bodies, comes from! What you eat is your first defense against illness, injury, and your mental health. If the kitchen is filthy, then the food you take into your body will also begin to develop the same properties.

To keep the kitchen clean, I always start my day by washing last night’s dishes and give the counters a quick wipe. Once a month, I take stock of what’s in the fridge and freezer and scrub them out to prevent bacteria build-up. Sweeping the kitchen floors happens once a week and takes me all of three minutes to complete, tops. Once per season, normally at the beginning, I scrub the floors with soap and water, descale the coffee maker, wipe down the other appliances, and clean out the cupboards. So the only true “cleaning days” for the kitchen is four days out of the entire year. The rest of the time, the chores only take me about 30 minutes. As a quick tip, rinsing your dishes before setting them in the sink speeds up the dish washing process a ton! I’ve personally never trusted dishwashers since they don’t clean stuff well enough and it’s easier, faster, and far more cost effective to do it by hand.

The next problem the kitchen’s energy might be suffering from is how much time you’re spending there. First, spending a lot of time in the kitchen is a great thing! It absorbs the energy you feed to it, so when you don’t go in the kitchen very often or just don’t spend much time in there to begin with, the kitchen grows darker and colder. It loses the warmth and emotion and love that would’ve been sinking into it when you aren’t there.

The way to fix this problem is actually really easy! Cooking your own meals ensures that you are in there for a good amount of time each day because of the prep work and meal planning, etc. Plus, you get healthier, tastier food that way too! If you can’t cook all that well yet, don’t worry! Just like any skill, there’s no talent involved in learning something. It just depends on how much effort you apply to it. Another way to boost the hearth’s energy is to just hang out in that room. Invite some friends over, set out a snack tray, and just chill in the kitchen. Of course, since it’s pandemic right now, it’s best to wait until that’s over with to try this approach. But you, yourself, can still hang out in the kitchen!

The last problem, and a very, very common one in this day and age, is the influence of toxic food. Just like how your house absorbs energy from the land its on and what its built with, the kitchen also absorbs energy from the ingredients you keep within it. Toxic foods include anything processed or with a bunch of added sugars, and even GMO ingredients to some extent due to the trace chemicals that are still on the crops. These kinds of foods, if that’s the only thing in your house, will rot the energy. Not to mention, easy to grab snacks also end up causing you to spend a lot less time in the kitchen if that’s all you eat. Needless to say, no one eats healthy all the time. I don’t either! But having only toxic food in your kitchen isn’t great for you or the hearth.

Once again, cooking comes to the rescue! Even if you’re bad at it, it’s the thought that counts and little by little, as your skills grow and improve, the kitchen will learn to help guide you. There have been many times where I’d be stuck on how to fix something and a bottle of spice would fall of the shelf right next to me. If you listen to the kitchen, it will listen to you, too! Even if you don’t have time to cook, snacks like apples, berries, seeds, nuts, and dried meats are all healthy alternatives! I usually keep kale chips in the house for some yummy, salty crunchiness!

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

If you are worried about cost with this approach (believe me, due to my own situation it’s been a struggle at times), I’ve found out several tips and tricks to significantly lower the grocery bill. Anymore, my bill would actually be bigger if I bought crap food instead! Here’s my advice:

☀  Plan your week ahead! I always plan four meals a week that I’ll cook, and three days that I’ll scavenge for snacks and leftovers. I also stick to the rule of “one simple, one chicken, one meatless, one freebie” to remain more cost effective! The “simple” meal is just something I can make quickly if I know I’ll be short on time. The reason for have one of the meals be chicken is because it’s a much less expensive meat than beef or pork, and it’s a little better for the environment. The meatless meal is for the same reasoning. Meat is expensive and commercial brands are horrible for both the environment and the animals themselves. When I do buy meat, I make sure to buy local, grass-fed, organic meat as often as I can afford to. Keep in mind that every time you purchase anything, you are casting your vote for what is acceptable for society to continue. The “freebie” meal is just whatever I’ve been craving. If I want some kind of beef, I wait until this day.

☀  Learn to bake your own bread! For those of us with the time, this is a great way to save money and to stay healthy! Basic, white bread is actually pretty easy to make and only uses a couple ingredients. Those ingredients also go a long way. It costs me about 24¢ to make one loaf of bread because things like flour, sugar, salt, butter, honey, and yeast are all things that you buy once and can use for several loaves before you have to buy them again! It’s also not as time consuming as you’d think. Yes, it takes about 2 hours, but most of that time is proofing so you can easily be running around doing other things in between.

☀  Grow a garden! Even if it’s just a small, window herb garden, it can take the edge off of your overall food cost. Portobello mushrooms are also super easy to grow inside with minimal effort and equipment. If you have outdoor space, planting a small garden with the ingredients you use the most can help immensely!

☀  Only buy what you need! I know those sales look crazy tempting, but most of them are actually bogus and don’t actually save you any money. Think about what you are actually going to use before it goes bad and stick to your list. The bottom shelves at the store, aka the ones not in your direct line of sight, are usually where the grocery stores hide the better priced goods. At the back of most stores that have bakeries, there’s also usually a spot to get baked goods left over from the previous day for a slightly cheaper price. Day-old baked novelties like bread, cookies, and cakes are still perfectly good, and much easier to enjoy where you don’t have to spend as much!

☀  Check what’s already in your fridge before making your list! This is a huge one, since it prevents food waste, which in turn prevents money waste! What can you make during this week that can use up some of the ingredients leftover from last week? You’ll be impressed how quickly your food cost drops when you aren’t throwing things away. Waste not, want not! This trick also applies in another way, as well. When making your weekly meal plans, what types of foods use similar ingredients? If one meal calls for a slightly pricier ingredient, what other food can you cook with that ingredient to make the cost worth it? This also ensures that you get full use of things without wasting them. For example, this week I bought some fresh mozzarella cheese. Because this item is a little more expensive, I’m using it to make both the tomato mozzarella sandwiches and the beef wellingtons I’m making this week!

☀  Buy mostly produce! One of the best ways to lower your bill while still eating healthy is to simply add more fruits and veggies into your diet! There are so many tasty recipes that call for these babies that you’ll never run out of options, and there’s several things out there for everyone! Because I deal with sensory issues, I had to experiment a lot with what textures and tastes I could handle, especially on the bad days, but even still I found an over-abundance of things I love to eat. Fresh produce is way less expensive than meat, and much less expensive than many of the more mainstream snacks like chips or other processed foods.

                                     ------------------------------ All in all, taking care of your kitchen will also end up taking care of you, as well! Spending time there, actually using the kitchen the way it’s supposed to be, and just keeping it clean can work wonders in opening up your home and making it ten times warmer and more inviting! Trust me, your health and home will thank you for it!

[lifepros]

#13118

If you ever have to live in your car... How to save money & be comfortable!

Bring Milk Crates For More Surface Area: If you have a small car like I do, you probably won't be able to sleep comfortably in the back seat due to the lack of surface area. In reference this video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_Usqf7aNxg), you can place milk crates in your backseat and cover them with blankets to increase your sleep surface area. You might even be able to extend your legs all the way! If you still can't, like me, it's still quite comfortable. I cycle through 3 sleep positions:

Back against the seat, head facing the windshield, legs 90% extended over milk crates. This is known as the "J Sleeping Position" in the YouTube video Butt resting against front seats with most of body on the milk crates, head facing the direction of the rear windshield. Leg extension will probably be about 70%. Face down with right leg near a 90 degree angle on top of the milk crates, and left leg 100% extended into the crevice between the passenger seat and the door.

How To Wash Dishes: When you finish your meal, use paper towels to wipe out all the food scraps that are left on your utensils, plates, and bowls. After it looks completely empty, use a dish brush, a bit of water, and some dishsoap to lather up all your things with soap. After they're all lathered up, use a squirt bottle of water (to direct and conserve water) to wash off all the soap. Ideally, you would use very hot water, but that's not always realistic.

Cover Your Windows: You should cover your windows, not only for privacy, but so you have an easier time sleeping at night without as much light coming in. You can cut out black plastic to cover your driver-side windows & place them by rolling up your window to trap the plastic so it dangles down. Your windshield can easily be covered by a traditional sun cover, usually used to block the sun's heat from getting trapped in your car. Your rear-windows are best covered with a window sleeve that acts as a bug net, this way you reduce the transparency of the window, but more importantly you can open the windows a crack and get ventilation without risking any bugs from coming in. The best way I found to cover the rear windshield is with black plastic placed from the interior of the car, and using strong magnets to hold it (placed on the interior and exterior of the car). This is all partly shown in this Youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_Usqf7aNxg

Getting & Storing Water: Some people recommend asking businesses to use their water supply (visible outside the building) to fill up your water tanks, but I haven't had success with that. It's hard to find, the employees usually don't know the water supply exists or if they're allowed to allow you to use it, and I usually just get told no. Instead, I fill up a 5 gallon jerry can with water at the grocery stores, which is great because this water is meant for drinking. This means you can get clean water super cheap for both drinking and bathing. For storing your shower water, you put it in a 5 gallon bucket with a waterproof sealing lid. For drinking water, you can keep it in your 5 gallon canister and pour it into water jugs (using a funnel) whenever you run low in your bottles.

How To Accessibly Cook Quickly & Easily Anywhere & Store Fuel: I can't give tips on how to cook quickly and easily without making product recommendations, which is not allowed in this group. As for storing fuel, I can't make this recommendation blatantly for all fuel as they have different temperature storage requirements. For the fuel I use, which I cannot mention due to the rules, I've been recommended to store it under the passenger seat (to minimize exposure to heat) and I haven't had any problems. When storing fuel, make sure you park your car under shade whenever possible (during hot days) and put the sun visor up in your windshield to block some heat.

How To Find Work: I can't recommend specific places to find work due to the rules, but what I can do is recommend freelancing and/or independent contracting gigs (which let you choose your own schedule, who you do business with, and where you work). Although, it seems the US may pass legislation to remove most (accessible) contractor work and consider it employment, which would remove contracting's beneficial, flexibile qualities. Keep an eye on that!

Eat All Your Meals at Once (Unless You Eat Out): If you're working while you live in your car, it's really impossible to cook 3 meals a day due to all the prep-time, eating-time, and clean-up-time it takes. You can fall into a pattern of eating one meal a day without feeling hungry, but please ensure you're eating enough calories for your age, weight, etc. You should probably also see a doctor to make sure it's safe to do for you. It saves a lot of time and makes the day's routines so much easier.

Do Your Own Laundry: Laundromats can get expensive if you go frequently, and you may not have even brought enough clothes with you to get through a few days without doing laundry. Some people do their own laundry in buckets, but it seems like too much set-up and too much water. I had success doing 1-2 loads of laundry per day in a "wash bag." It takes literally 5-7 minutes to wash & rinse each load of laundry. To dry it fast, you can "squeegee" the clothes with your hand to get any leftover water out, then place it with maximum surface area exposed onto a laid out towel. After all your clothes are laid out onto the towel, you can roll up the towel with the clothes in it until it looks like a long snake. Then, you can squeeze, press, and even put your knees all across the towel a few times to get as much water absorbed from the clothes into the towel's fibers. After this is done, you can hang a clothesline with paracord in the woods from tree to tree to hang your laundry by clothespins in the sun. Personally, and this might not be healthy, I hang my laundry on a clothesline in the back seat of my car with a towel laid underneath, and I try to park my car in locations where the clothes will be exposed to sunlight. By the end of the day, the clothes are almost always completely dry, even on cloudy, rainy days.

Go To A Real Laundromat 1x a Month: The towel you use to dry your clothes should definitley be washed, but it's probably too big to fit in a wash bag. Your blankets are also likely too big. This is why I take all my stuff to the laundromat for one "real" wash a month. Just because I'm going, I also include all my clothes which are ordinarily washed by the wash bag, as well as my pillowcases and anything else I can find that might need a wash.

The Cheapest & Most Accessible Shower Option: Some people use gym memberships to have consistent access to a shower, but gyms can be expensive and if you're traveling, you won't always have access to the same gym, and you probably don't want to have 10 different gym memberships.We're going old-school and using a bucket full of water. I take my jerry can full of water and fill up a 5 gallon bucket about halfway. I go out into the woods with a "shower tent" (for privacy), a change of clothes, flip flops, a bucket of water, shampoo/soap/hygiene items, a small towel, a bag (holding most of this), and a canteen. I set up the shower tent and fill up my backpack full of all the clothes I was previously wearing. I then put my bag of clothes and shoes outside the tent, while I'm nude wearing flipflops inside the tent. Then, I use a canteen to pickup some water from the bucket and do 1 big dunk of water over my head, trying to get it to run over my whole body. I take a 2nd canteen full of water to wash over areas I missed (armpits, groin, etc). 1st thing I wash is my hair with shampoo. Then I lather up with soap all over my body. After that, I take about 5 or 6 canteens full of water to wash off the soap with water. Most of the time when I wash my body, since I'm pretty tall, I do it in a crouched position so I can hold the canteen above my head in the shower tent. After I'm all washed off, I dry off with the small towel and start putting on my clothes except my socks. I go outside the tent to sit down on a rock and dry off my feet and put on my socks and shoes (without getting the socks wet). I usually try to shower around 6 or 7am when there's less people around and there's daylight (and there aren't mosquitos everywhere). If you have leftover water in your bucket, you can put a waterproof sealing lid over the top of it to store the bucket safely in your car.

How To Be Covert: It's hard to be covert about sleeping in your car because you'll have black plastic hanging on the outside when you're sleeping, and during the day you'll have laundry in your back seat. I don't have a solution for any of that. But, in the morning, when you shower, you might have some serious stage fright if there's people around. What I like to do is pretend I'm going for an early morning workout into the woods (usually of a park or hiking trail). My backpack carries all my hygiene items so no one sees them. I carry the bucket full of water with the lid on as if I'm going for a workout carrying heavy stuff into the woods. Over my clothes I'm wearing an overlay warm-up/workout jacket and pants. That way, when I shower and change clothes and come back, I'll still have the overlay jacket and everything over it, so people won't see the change of clothes and won't be suspicious. Also, in the event someone comes across you in your tent and asks what's going on, you can make up a lame excuse (and see if they accept it) that you saw a tick on your body and wanted to do a quick tick check before you return to your car (so the tick doesn't escape into your car). I haven't had anyone come across me before. One of the most important parts of being covert when showering is actually going deep enough into the woods, off the hiking trail, to be away from people for the short time you'll spend showering.

Where To Sleep: You can sleep in most Walmart parking lots without having to buy anything. Some Walmarts don't allow people to park there, so you might consider calling the Walmart before you come. You can also sleep in truck stops, but I'd recommend doing your research to make sure it's popular and big enough so that you'd feel safe. There are apps with listed places you can park for the night, and some truck stop apps tell you how many parking spaces their truck stops have (so you can guage popularity).

Security: Never tell anyone where you're sleeping or even that you're sleeping in your car. If you feel unsafe where you're parked, find a new place to park for the night. I recommend carrying a knife and/or pepper spray if you feel comfortable. At the very least, carry a loud whistle. Always lock your doors at night. Have a flashlight/lantern accessible and nearby. If you're exceptionally worried about getting mugged or things stolen from you, I've heard a tip where people wear a fly fishing vest underneath their clothes and keep all their important possessions in its pockets. If someone mugs you quickly, they'll probably just ask you to empty your pockets and it'd be too difficulty/long to have you take off all your clothes and then unzipper your pockets and empty them. Other than that, always make sure someone knows where you are and where you're going, checks up with you in the morning to make sure you're safe, and are "on-call" in case you call or text them in an emergency.

​

NOTE: I do not sleep in my car full-time. I go every once in a while for 5-7 day (or so) bouts because I find it enjoyable. The 1st thing I wanted to do when I started this was find strategies to make car-living comfortable and easy. I really hope these tips find someone in need and helps them strategize a way to do so comfortably and frugally.

​

Updates:

Charging Electronics: You can get a power bank that holds a long charge. Use this to charge things like your fan, phone, smaller power banks, laptop, etc. The best place for charging things that I've found are public libraries. A great way to access wifi, get work done, keep in touch with people, etc, all while your power bank charges. Look for power banks that can charge a laptop 2-3+ times.

Staying Cool In The Summer: Getting an electric car fan (that works by USB) will save your sanity in the summer. You can place it between the driver and passenger seat at night and direct it either at you, or at the ceiling to circulate the air. I don't think living in a car can be comfortable in the heat without a quality fan.

[cami-chats]

Cats Get Dates

Fandom: Marvel, The Umbrella Academy (TV)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves/Tony Stark

Warnings: None

On AO3 or below

Tony didn't think about it too much before putting up the sign in his window. He felt kind of stupid as he did it-- and also like he was in that one Taylor Swift music video-- but also, that cat was super cute and he wanted to know its name. Calling it 'the stupidly cute, fluffy cat' when he was telling Jim about it was getting a little lengthy; not to mention Jim had thought he was talking about more than one cat for about six months.

Your cat's really cute. So white and fluffy, I love them was what the sign said, but it was enough. With the way windows and floors worked in these weirdass apartment buildings, he wasn't risking much by admitting the cutest cat in the world was, in fact, the cutest cat in the world to a bunch of strangers other than the one stranger he had in mind.

The next day, there was a sign in the window with an arrow pointing down to the cat's favorite lounging spot: Mr. Pennycrumb (yes, really).

Tony wasn't the best artist, but he did a pretty good rendition of Mr. Pennycrumb in a suit, with a monocle and a walking stick. I love him. He didn't hesitate to put that one up either, and he thought that would be the end of it.

He should've known that the universe would decide to throw him a nice little curveball. The next time he peeked across the street to see if Mr. Pennycrumb was taking a nap or licking his paw, he instead saw a handsome man with a criminal jawline sitting in the window, writing in a notebook.

Tony was just tired enough to sit at his own desk and stare an unreasonable amount.

Mr. Pennycrumb's owner looked up after a while and saw him. He raised an eyebrow.

Tony reached for the poster that had his drawing of Mr. Pennycrumb in a suit-- which he kept by the window simply because he wanted to keep the drawing but didn't have any other place to put it-- and held it up. Then he set it down and put his hands together in a pleading fashion.

The cat owner smirked in a very self-satisfied manner, then disappeared for a moment. When he came back, he had Mr. Pennycrumb in his arms. He plopped him in front of the window, where the cat was happy to stretch out and roll onto his back.

Tony blew him a kiss, and he was glad when the other man chuckled before turning back to his writing. Cause otherwise that would've been really awkward. Mr. Pennycrumb was unfairly adorable, and definitely worth a little embarrassment for, if the situation ever called for it. Plus, if the cat's owner had figured out that Tony was checking him out, he might've decided to close his shades, and that would've been a real tragedy.

*

Their first real, face-to-face contact came sometime after three in the morning when the two of them were the only people with both their lights on and their shades open.

Mr. Pennycrumb's owner was the one to initiate it with a note in his window that read, Do you have coffee?

Tony wrote back. Yes.

Can I have some? Everywhere's closed. And it was true. Everywhere was closed, but fuck only knew why. There was a college in this city; surely there was at least one cafe that could turn a profit from running twenty-four hours. There were grocery stores that were still open, but the closest one was two blocks away-- considerably further than across the street, and a lot more of a pain.

In response, Tony wrote down his apartment number. Someone with a cat that cute wouldn't murder him after asking for coffee. If there were two good qualities a person could have, it would be liking coffee and loving their cat. Or maybe it was loving coffee and liking their cat. Either way, it was good combination to have. Not to mention that Tony was infinitely more likely to be kidnapped, not murdered flat out. And the kidnapping type had the same look about them, which Mr. Pennycrumb's owner did not have.

When he saw the man's light go off, he got up to make a new pot of coffee. He still had some in there for himself, so he dumped the rest of it in a spare mug and started a new one. He had a huge ass thermos around here somewhere-- a gift from Jim, and he'd made sure it was big enough for a pot of coffee plus all the cream that Tony liked to add, because Jim was the best gift-giver in the entire world.

As Tony crawled in a cupboard to find it, he wondered why he didn't use it more often. Usually, it was to avoid questions. If people asked him one question, they took it as an invitation for more conversation, which was pretty much the opposite of what Tony wanted when he was carrying around a pot of coffee.

It was only after he unearthed it that he remembered Jim had sort of taken it away for a week when Tony had decided to brew his coffee with an energy drink instead of water. It had tasted like shit, but it had kept him awake enough to keep up with his coursework while also finishing off the designs for the upcoming expo and giving his notes to Howard about the latest prototype. Now that that horrible time had passed though, he should be able to start using it again.

Someone knocked on the door as he was halfway through pouring the coffee into the giant thermos, so he put it down to answer the door. As expected, it was the neighbor-- if neighbor could be used to describe someone that lived in a separate building on the opposite side of the road. He was even more handsome up close, which was a dangerous thing to be noticing in the middle of the night when his self-control was wearing thin. He didn't have much of a filter to begin with, and it only became thinner when he was tired.

"Hey," the possibly-a-neighbor but definitely-the-cute-cat-owner said. "Thanks for this."

"Yeah, no problem. I can't make it a day without coffee." Tony sort of forgot to invite him in, but he turned to go finish pouring the coffee and figured that his sort-of-neighbor would either follow him in or stay in the doorway. Tony would be very tempted to ask him to stay forever if he had remembered to ask him inside in the first place. As he started to pour the remainder of the pot, he heard the door close, and a second later, the guy walked into the kitchen. "I'm Tony, by the way."

"Five. Yes, like the number."

"Your parents weren't very imaginative."

"Actually, I only have one sibling."

"That's even worse."

"I've always thought so," Five said mildly.

"Is there a story there or are they just weird as shit?"

Five snorted. "If they had reasons, they never bothered to share them with me." Then he tilted his head curiously. "Does that thermos fit an entire pot of coffee?"

"Yep."

"That's amazing. Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift, so I don't know."

"Hm, shame."

Tony screwed the lid on and held it out to him.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"I'll try to have it back in a couple days."

"Sure. And if you forget, I can always add it to a sign when I'm asking about Mr. Pennycrumb. How is he anyways?"

"A pain in the ass," Five said, rolling his eyes as they walked to the door. "He was playing with a plastic bag, got his head caught, flipped out, and ended up shredding it over half the apartment."

"And that's why I admire other people's cats from afar instead of getting my own."

"A wise decision," Five said flatly, but with a hint of a smile across his mouth. Tony had the strong urge to kiss him, but he was too far away for Tony to do it as an impulse decision. "See you around."

"Yep, see you."

Having a crush from a distance had been weird and a little creepy of him, but he didn't think the one minute of conversation with Five really justified it. If anything, it made it worse. Jim would probably tell him to be a normal neighbor and not make contact unless they were passing each other on the street-- but then, Jim was also convinced that Tony was going to be murdered horribly in the middle of the night because he hadn't been looking where he was going, so Tony took everything he said with a grain of salt.

*

Tony got back to his apartment one day to find a bag hanging on the door. He peeked inside and saw that it was the thermos he'd loaned Five, so he picked it up and brought it in with him.

He forgot to put it away for a while, so it was almost a week later when he grabbed the thermos to use it and a picture fell out. Curious, Tony reached for it, then he laughed. It was a polaroid of Mr. Pennycrumb. He was sitting up straight, fluffy tail curled around the front of his little feet and looking intensely at the camera-- or, rather, the person holding the camera, but it was the same effect. On the white bottom, Five had written 'Thanks' in sharpie, in all caps like he was an old man.

Tony hung it on the fridge, then went back to putting his bag together for the day.

*

The next contact came when Tony was settling in for the evening, ready to stay up all night writing code, only to realize that he didn't have enough sugar for his coffee to last all night. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, and fuck some more, he was not going to make it through the night unless he had caffeine and sugar. He glanced out the window automatically and saw that Five's light was on, and he was sitting at his desk.

There was no guarantee that he'd look up, but Tony had to try.

Do you have sugar?

Five looked up when he held the sign in front of his window. He reached to the side and wrote, and a moment later, Tony was reading what he'd written. Only if you'll come over here to get it.

Tony nodded vigorously. He could definitely walk over there. No way in hell was he going to ask Five for a favor and then expect for him to walk over to Tony's place.

Five flipped over his paper and wrote his apartment number.

Tony got up, shoved on some shoes, and hurried over. It was a good thing that it was a short walk, because it was kind of cold out, and he hadn't grabbed a jacket.

It was barely five seconds after he knocked that the door opened. "How much sugar do you need?"

"I don't know, maybe a cup?" Tony said. "It's for my coffee."

"You put sugar in your coffee?" Five asked, raising an eyebrow judgmentally.

"You don't?" Tony asked, mirroring his expression. "I guess that's fine, if you want to be miserable."

Five rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen, pouring sugar from a large bucket to a smaller container. "Is that enough?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Five put the lid on and handed it over. Then, scarcely after Tony had his hands on it, Five put a scrap of paper on top. "That's my number. You can use it the next time you need sugar instead of hoping I look up at the right time."

Tony's heart decided to be a traitorous little bastard and started beating faster, but he hoped it didn't show in his voice when he said, "Cool; I'll do that. Thanks again," he said.

He made it back over to his apartment, saved Five's number in his phone, then sent him a text.

This is Tony, so you have my number too.

He tossed his phone onto the desk and went to pour some sugar in his coffee. On the desk, his phone buzzed with a new message.

Good to know, was all Five said. A minute later, he sent a photo of Mr. Pennycrumb. It was obvious that he'd just taken it, and the cat was glaring at him as it sat atop his laptop keyboard. The King of the universe says hello.

Tell him I love him.

And have it go to his head? But your message has been passed on.

*

Things continued in that vein for a while. Five would send him pictures of Mr. Pennycrumb in various poses-- Tony's favorite was the one where the cat had climbed into the filled bathtub and then squalled about it like it was Five's fault-- and in return, Tony would gush about how cute Mr. Pennycrumb was.

After a couple weeks of that, they started complaining about their class work, which rapidly turned into helping each other. It's not that either of them was stupid or refused to do their own work, but Five's grasp of physics was much better than Tony's (to say nothing of his understanding of chaos theory), and in return, Tony helped him with the finer points of chemistry.

And since they were helping each other with work, they might as well meet in person rather than halting texts back and forth whenever they remembered to check their phone. Tony didn't think anything of it until it was leading up to the end of the semester and he went to Five's favorite coffee shop to buy him a cup before he headed over-- instead of just letting him brew coffee like normal. Since when did Tony go out of his way to do something nice? The answer used to be: hardly ever. Now, it looked like the answer was: for about three weeks. Because he'd been doing things to try and be nice to Five for a while, even if it inconvenienced him.

With his usual tact, Tony knocked on the door and as soon as Five answered, he asked, "Are we dating?"

"We won't be if you don't hand over the coffee," Five said, his eyes going straight to the cup with laser focus.

Tony handed it over.

Five took a sip, savored it, then brushed a kiss over Tony's cheek. "Come on, I ordered your shitty pizza, and it's useless if it goes cold."

Tony walked in, closing the door behind him. Well, the kiss answered that question. Or maybe it was the way that Five had answered his question. Either way, Tony now had a boyfriend, and that was wonderful. "It makes a wonderful snack four hours into studying," Tony argued. He knew this for a fact after a dozen times of doing it. "You can shove it in your mouth without tasting it, and you don't have to wait for something to be delivered."

"Congratulations," Five said flatly. "I'm not trying it."

"Fine, suffer then." 

[nancypullen]

We're Home

Actually, we've been home for a couple of days- I'm just exhausted. Not even sure why I'm tired, probably from wondering if the people on our flights were super spreaders. Honestly, the airports and flights were better than I expected. The airports looked like ghost towns, security screening took mere seconds, and flying into Baltimore our flight was about half full. Coming home our flights were packed and that made me nervous. We're vaccinated and we never took our masks off in the airports or onboard - I'm not sure what else we could have done. I'd never forgive myself if we carried this awful virus to our sweet, unvaccinated grandgirl. ANYWAY... Our trip was quick but productive. We covered a lot of ground and definitely know where we would and would not like to live. I took notes because I knew that it would all become a blur..."Which town was that blue house in?" We still love Chestertown. It offers an awful lot, especially for people staring retirement in the face. The only problem with Chestertown is that the housing inventory is limited. We saw an adorable house that had been flipped - top to bottom with gorgeous HGTV worthy finishes. But they saved money by not installing central air. As a woman of a certain age, there are some things I'm not willing to compromise on and good air conditioning is one of them. The closer we looked the more it seemed that money wasn't the only reason for leaving out the HVAC update, that perhaps the electrical wasn't upgraded on the (old) home and might not support a system. Farewell, beautiful kitchen. I love the way you look but I'm not willing to sweat inside my home.

We found several neighborhoods in Easton that we liked - quiet, wooded, lovely homes, and convenient to everything from healthcare to shopping. Easton also has a charming downtown. Loads of history, sweet parks, fun shops and restaurants. We explored a bit and sat outside Storm & Daughters ice cream shop and enjoyed a cone. There's a lot to like about Easton and it's definitely at the top of our list. Bonus, Talbot County property taxes are quite reasonable. Just down the road from Easton we toured Denton. It's a small but vibrant town. They boast a cute, historic downtown, and seemed to have an involved community. We found a couple of neighborhoods that we really liked, one even had lots for sale. The downside is that even though it's just a few miles to Easton and Talbot County, Denton is in Caroline County and the property taxes are much higher. Still okay, but high enough to make me pump the brakes. We're definitely not taking Denton off the list, but we'd probably opt for less house there. I'll be honest, my favorite house was in Denton. It ticked ALL of my boxes. Roomy, updated kitchen, pantry, walk-in closets, garage. The back yard was postage stamp sized, but we're not getting any younger so it's fine. The neighborhood was delightful and convenient to so much.

I checked on the property taxes for 2020...almost four thousand. Get outta' here. I know that we're really spoiled with low property taxes here in Wilson County, and we understand that we'll pay more in Maryland...but...ugh. Right now there are people in New Hampshire saying, "Four grand?? That's a steal! Buy it!" It's all perspective and something I'll have to work on. We traveled town to town, loving some of them and putting others in our rear view as fast as possible. Centreville? Loved it, but pricey. Ridgely? NOPE. Rock Hall? Charming, loved the Harbor Woods neighborhood, but they have one mom & pop grocery store and I didn't even see a clinic anywhere. It's 30 minutes to Chestertown, some of it through a wildlife refuge where my brain was screaming "SNAKES!". Adorable, but no. I think it will be Chestertown or Easton for us. Exploring the Eastern Shore was a fabulous history lesson and I'm eager to learn more. Back in the day they were big on their monarchs. There's Queen Anne, Princess Anne, Queenstown, Caroline County, and so on. In a pretty park in downtown Centreville there's a really lovely statue of Queen Anne. Some 271 years after Queen Anne of England signed the charter that created Queen Anne County on Maryland's Eastern Shore, a statue in her honor was unveiled by her namesake, the current Princess Anne. I'll bet that was a big day in Centreville. The statue shows the queen seated, holding the charter she's just signed and a little spaniel sleeps behind her chair. I thought I'd snapped a couple of pictures, but all I can find is this really bad video.

I was more in love with that tree than with the statue. Just across the street from that park was an Irish pub named O' Shucks. In my mind that was amusing, like saying darn it. More likely it has something to do with shucking oysters.

Beyond all the royalty and colonial settlements of the 1600 and 1700 hundreds, the Eastern Shore also has a rich history of Underground Railroad and abolitionist activity. Cambridge was the birthplace of Harriet Tubman and there's a museum and plenty of historic spots documenting her fearless work. Over in Easton they're proud of native son, Frederick Douglass. His story is fascinating, from slave to statesman. He was self-taught - a brilliant orator and writer, responsible for great social reformation, tireless in his pursuit of equality and fairness. He was a staunch supporter of women's suffrage, saying, "In this denial of the right to participate in government, not merely the degradation of woman and the perpetuation of a great injustice happens, but the maiming and repudiation of one-half of the moral and intellectual power of the government of the world." In other words, by not allowing women a vote our country was wasting half of its intellect. Here in Tennessee you'll find proudly displayed busts of KKK leaders in government buildings. Our parks are home to statues of the confederate generals who fought to keep slavery alive. Don't give me that B.S. about the Civil War being about state's rights. Ask yourself, a state's right to do what? Enslave people! It was economically beneficial for the south to enrich itself on the backs of slaves. Okay, I'm rambling- from property taxes to Civil War issues. None of which you probably care about. The very best part of the trip was, of course, quality time with the grandgirl. And oh, she is grand. We played princesses, we did a craft, we read books and made snacks. We squeezed a whole lot of fun and love into a short visit. She's smart, funny, curious, sweet, and beautiful. That's my 100% unbiased opinion. No matter which town we land in, it's closer to her and we'll get to enjoy all of the milestones that are so important. FaceTime is fine in a pinch, but nothing beats being there. Time for me to hush and get a couple of things done around here. There's laundry to fold and a dishwasher to unload. I'm currently sitting at my desk, gazing out at the gardens (the pumpkin plants were 3/4 dead when we came home and I'm not taking any heroic measures to save them) and loving what September is showing me so far. I love this month, the light hits differently and everything seems to calm down. After the busy, blazing summer months it's a welcome change. We still have some hot weather ahead, but there's a hint of change in the air.

Also, I'd like to add that IT'S JUST 53 DAYS UNTIL HALLOWEEN!!!

I'm getting happier by the day. Join me. Stay safe, stay well, and start stashing away some candy for the kids. XOXO, Nancy

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 17

Blackmail | Wrongfully Accused

Ao3

-o-o-o-o-

Clark sets the recording device down on the metal table in front of him and is careful to keep his entire being nothing other than professional even though the person handcuffed to the table in front of him is someone he's known for a very, very, long time. 

He honestly can't really grasp quite just what's going on tonight. He didn't plan to come to the Watchtower tonight, let alone lead an investigation involving someone in the super community… normally it was Bruce who handled things like this.

But well… given the situation… Bruce wouldn't be able to touch this one even if he wanted to.

"I just want to let you know that this conversation will be recorded, but any civilian names or personal details will be censored. So feel free to be open and honest. No secrets. Just tell me what happened."

Across from Clark, the man's hands clench ever so slightly, blood staining the fabric of his gloves. A beat passes, the fists loosen, and nothing is said. Clark can practically feel his restlessness. His heart is jumping to be let go. But he can't loosen the cuffs keeping his hands trapped on top of the table. This goes higher than him.

"Dick," Clark tries, "you need to talk to me if you want us to figure this out."

Dick's silent for a moment. Clark can hear his teeth grinding, like he wants to keep silent for longer. Clark keeps his gaze steady on Dick and tries not to focus too hard on the splatters of blood dotting almost every portion of his body. Smeared across his cheek. It's not his blood. 

Dick lets out a short exhale. "I already told the cops... I don't remember what happened. I just… woke up there."

Clark offers a smile. "That's okay. Then how about we talk about some other stuff you didn't tell the cops. Like why you were at the crime scene to begin with?"

Dick pauses. Worries the inside of his cheek. Then sighs as he clenches and unclenches his hands. "It's sorta a… long story."

"We've got time."

"Okay…" Dick breathes after a minute. "Okay… I... It started about a week ago…"

-o-o-o-o-

About two blocks away from Dick's apartment building, there's a grocery store run by a sweet old lady who definitely doesn't belong in Blüdhaven. The thing about her that’s so rare in this city is that she's kind—she gives cheap prices, donates unsold produce before it rots to various homeless shelters, and she never kicks out a single customer no matter how much they smell like drugs or look broke. She lets homeless kids sleep inside the store during the night, as long as they help her open the store in the morning. 

It's a nice grocery stop. Which is why Dick goes to it every other Thursday, the moment he gets his paycheck and pays his bills, to get groceries to last him until the next time he's paid. 

He didn't even realize he was in a pattern. That something about his life was predictable. It was just something he did without having to think about it. 

Every other Thursday was a shopping day. 

And unfortunately, it made him predictable. 

He doesn’t even realize how predictable until he notices a discreet, black car following him about a block away. Bruce always warns against predictability. It makes it easier for people to target you. And of course Dick's had to goof it up this time. 

He tries to keep towards the more crowded streets as he walks home, but the thing about Blüdhaven is that no one is out unless they really need to be. The entire span of road in front of his apartment complex is completely empty. The car pulls up besides him before he can even break into a run.

The side doors of the car swing open, and out walks two men dressed in dark suits and sunglasses. They have a classic american gangster vibe to them, but Dick has the feeling that these men have nothing to do with the gangs. Dick eyes the front of the car where another person sits at the steering wheel, unmoving. 

"Mr Grayson," one man speaks. 

"Look," Dick replies wearily, taking a cautious step back and holding his grand total of three bags of groceries closer to his chest. "I don't know who you people are, but whatever this is, I don't want any trouble."

"Of course not, Mr Grayson," the man replies. Dick watches wearily as the man steps aside from the back side door. "You must understand that we don't want any trouble either."

The gesture is clear. They want Dick to get in the car. He considers making a run for it, but then the man flicks the side of his jacket over, revealing a gun strapped to his hip. 

Dick swallows and approaches reluctantly. Here he is, thinking that the Dick Grayson kidnappings would have ended after he left Bruce and the manor behind. 

So much for that hope. 

The man takes Dick's groceries and shuffles further aside to let him into the car. The other man silently returns to his seat in the back of the car next to Dick, while the man who spoke earlier climbs into the passenger chair. The engine starts without another word. 

"Where are we going?" He asks, his nerves getting the best of him.

But before anyone answers, a hand is wrapped around his face and soon Dick's senses are overwhelmed by a sickening sweet smell. He tries to struggle, but he's easily overpowered, and soon enough, Dick's vision blacks out thanks to the chloroform.

When Dick wakes up, he's tied to a metal folding chair and placed in the center of a dark open space. Probably some sort of wearhouse. It's impossible to know for sure, because it's so dark and his head is spinning from the after effects of the drugs. 

He immediately tugs on the ropes that keep his wrists to his sides. He tries to kick out his legs as well, but nothing works. He's decently restrained. Well… they're definitely knots that he could probably loosen in just a few minutes, but well… he would have to be Nightwing. Dick Grayson? He's just some guy. 

"Well, well, well," says a voice in a very cliche manner. His head spins as he looks up to find who talked, but he manages to catch sight of the person as they walk into the light and stop in front of Dick, their hands folded across their chest. "If it isn't Nightwing."

-o-o-o-o-

"He knew your secret identity?" Clark asks, and he can't help but sound surprised. 

Dick nods, then bites his lip. "His name was Jesse Mullen."

One of the victims, Clark notes with grim realization. "What did he want with you?"

Dick sighs and avoids Clark's eyes. He stares down at the table like it's the only thing he's allowed to look at. "He knew I was Nightwing. He… used that to… God, Clark, it's gonna sound like I had a motive, and I promise I wouldn't-"

"Just tell me what happened, Dick," Clark says softer than what’s probably appropriate. Dick takes a deep breath and curls his fists once again. 

"Okay. He… he wanted me to work with them. Guard their illegal weapon shipments from the cops, clean up trails. He had pictures… proof that Dick Grayson was Nightwing, and he told me if I didn't do what he wanted or go to anyone for help he'd release the pictures and everyone would know who I am… and that Bruce is Batman."

Blackmail. Clark resists pinching the bridge of his nose.

Blackmail. A motive. 

"I couldn't just… I couldn't let our identities be outed, so I agreed," Dick continued, "I helped them. I decided to… treat it as an undercover mission you know? Find a way to take them out from the inside… I- I can give details on the shipments if you want?"

"I think we should talk about what led you to the scene of the crime," Clark offers, which he immediately regrets because Dick instantly shuts closed any doors he had open. 

"I told-"

"That you don't remember anything," Clark confirms. He sighs and gives Dick a level look. Dick looks tense. Upset. Like talking more will cause him physical pain. "Dick… I'm here because Bruce can't be. I need you to be open, and honest with me. Otherwise… Dick we'll be forced to send in someone else. Or J'onn."

Dick's eyes widen. "I know, I know it's just…" Dick pauses. Takes a deep breath. "Okay… okay. Um. So yesterday… Mullen sent me a message…"

-o-o-o-o-

"No shipments tonight, huh?" Dick huffs, dropping his phone down onto the coffee table. "Thank god. Then maybe I can figure out how I'm going to get out of this mess."

He leans back against his sofa, bringing his hands behind his neck so he can stare at the ceiling and think about how screwed he is. He can't even risk talking to anyone about his situation. Dick doesn't know where Mullen has put the photos he showed Dick… nor if anyone else has them. If he got Bruce or the others to help him take down Mullen and all his friends, there's no predicting how safe they'll be when the dust settles. People figuring out Dick's identity is a problem… but Bruce Wayne? People would go insane. 

No, Dick has to keep this to himself and find a way out of this on his own. He tries not to think about how the last time someone used his identity like this to blackmail him was Blockbuster… he tries not to think about how that one ended up. 

He stands up from his couch and looks back to his phone, an idea forming in his head. 

Maybe… while Mullen is busy doing whatever he does when he's not holding Dick's identity over him like a bone on a string, Dick can sneak into his office and find any clues on where his blackmail has spread to. 

Dick grabs his phone and rushes towards the closet where he keeps his Nightwing suit; soon enough Dick's swinging out into the night sky and landing right outside Mullen's office building. He's met here plenty of times in the past week to know exactly what floor and window belonged to Mullen's office. Unfortunately though, he's also been here enough times to know the window is bulletproof so he can't easily break in. He'll have to either go in from the floor or through the roof which, from Dick's current standing, is twelve stories above him. 

Through the front door it is. Or well, sneakily from the front door. He sticks to the shadows rather expertly if he says so himself.

There's a shocking lack of guards in the hallways. Mullen has hired thugs up the wahzoo. Every time Dick's been here in the past week, there's been guards practically in every hallway. In front of every door. 

Now it's just empty. 

Dick continues undeterred though. He's about two stories from Mullen's apartment now, and he can't worry about the lack of thugs when he's so close. 

He opens the door that leads to the next staircase leading another floor up and…

He wakes up. Rough hands grabbing his shoulders and tugging his wrists behind his back to be cuffed. He feels awful. He can't think. It's all he can do to get his feet below him as he's hefted up so he's standing. He blinks his eyes open, and looks at the scene before him with growing confusion. 

Blood. Everywhere. 

"You have the right to remain silent," the cop that had cuffed him snarls. Dick's heart pounds. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

-o-o-o-o-

"They took me to the Blüdhaven police department… tried to get me to confess to murder… they wouldn't listen when I said I didn't know what happened. One moment I was going through the halls and the next I'm being arrested… it's a good thing you guys showed up when you did… the detective was about to try and take off my mask." Dick paused to take a breath. "That's it. I swear, Clark, on my parents' graves, I didn't kill anyone. It's all just a huge misunderstanding."

Clark remains silent for a moment, trying to make sense of Dick's story. When the Justice League was notified of Nightwing's arrest… Clark couldn't believe it. They rushed towards the BCPD as quickly as they could to collect him before anything bad happened—seeing as the Justice League is responsible for dealing with its own members when it comes to things like this. Clark thought arresting Dick was as insane as the inmates in Arkham Asylum…

But then the police sent over the files they had on Dick's arrest. But then Bruce told Clark in secret about what Dick had almost succeeded in doing to the Joker. What Bruce suspected what happened to Blockbuster.

Bruce confirmed Dick, in extreme situations, had the potential to be lethal. The documents the police sent simply… confirmed it. 

"Dick, are you sure that's all you remember?" 

Dick nods his head. "I swear. I wouldn't- Clark you don't think I'd actually kill anyone? Would you?"

Five men. Each bludgeoned to death by what appeared to be Dick's escrima sticks. Electric burns littered their bodies. One's throat was sliced open with a wingding. Bruce doesn't want to believe Dick killed anyone, but he's forcing himself to. Clark doesn't think Dick could kill a human, but the evidence is there. 

Clark sighs, dreading the next order of business. He places a small device in the center of the table, right next to the recorder, and steals his nerves. 

"Dick, do you think you can explain this?"

The device hums to life, a blue LED flashes before a holographic screen appears midair, showing the surveillance footage of Jesse Mullen's office, where Nightwing barges in and leaves no one standing. Dick watches the footage with wide eyes, his skin losing more and more color the longer the video goes. As Dick watches, Clark can't help but try and find a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Maybe Dick was possessed? Or mind controlled? Or body snatched?

When they initially picked up Dick, J'onn had mentioned Dick not having any influence in his brain, but that couldn't have been anything more than a light reading. Maybe J'onn just needs a more in depth session with Dick's mind to find foulplay… 

Dick's heart wasn't lying when he told Clark his story.

Then again, most Bats know how to trick a super that can hear their heartbeats. 

The video ends with the police barging in to arrest Dick. Dick's eyes remain on the screen until the device flickers off. Then, ever so slowly, Dick's eyes trail towards Clark. 

"That…" Dick starts, his voice sounding rough and small. "It… couldn't have been me. I- I don't remember doing that. I wouldn't do that. Clark, please, you have to believe me."

"We're looking into it, the investigation is still-"

"Investigation?" Dick squeaks. "Is B- is Batman-?"

"Batman is locked out of the case because of his ties to you." Clark sighs when Dick's face pinches. "We're doing the best we can. Looking into every angle. All we ask is that you cooperate."

Dick nods his head, eyes still wide and skin still pale and heartbeat still honest. "I am, I promise, I'm telling the truth."

Honest heartbeat belonging to one of the most honest people he knows. 

Clark finds it in himself to try and offer a smile. He hopes it doesn't come off as tired. "Then, unless you have anything more to say, we can be done with this." Clark picks up the recording device and gives Dick an inviting look. Dick nods slowly, which invites Clark to stop the recording and stand up from his chair. "Just sit tight, someone will be over to take you to a holding cell for the time being. We'll…" Clark pauses, feeling unsure if he should say anything. He takes a deep breath. "We'll figure this out, Dick. If you're telling the truth, then I'll do everything in my power to find what really killed those men."

Hard resolve passes through Dick's face. He inhales and stares right at Clark with a fire in his eyes. "I'm telling the truth."

Clark finds himself nodding. "Then, I'll see you soon, Dick."

Clark turns from the table Dick's still cuffed to and opens the door to the interrogation room. With a single glance back, Clark shuts and locks the door behind him.

Clark will get to the bottom of this. For Dick's sake. And for his own. 

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Finding Your Heart - fic

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, bits of Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown Summary: This wasn’t the way he wanted to find Damian, after everything that happened between them. This wasn’t how he wanted Alfred and Dick to reunite with him either. A/N: Dick was driving the plane. Crane blew up the building on purpose to cover his tracks, and was the one to lock Damian in the lab after he and the nameless henchmen fought. The whole family comes home and basically all live in the cave/Damian’s room as he recovers, and they all have conversations with him about what he was doing, why etc. Damian didn’t kill the guy who stabbed him because he recognized the henchmen was no the problem, Crane was. He’s still a good boy in my book. Glossed over kind of plotholes because I didn’t care enough and it wasn’t the point of this story ok bye. Don’t forget my Pateron and shit!

~~

If Bruce was grateful for anything, it was the fact that no matter what he lost, save for his parents, it always came back.

Jason came back. Dick came back. Tim came back. Stephanie came back.

Alfred, now, came back too.

Damian…he came back. And then he left again.

It was in the back of his mind, as they celebrated Alfred’s return to life, and Dick’s return from amnesia. The fact that their returns were not through darkness, not through aliens, not through a multiverse crashing down around them and changing time.

It was magic. It was a miracle.

But Damian wasn’t here. And Bruce would never ever forget that. Not now, as they shared delivery pizza at the island in the manor’s spacious kitchen. Not in the days after, as things settled back into a semblance of the old normal, with new quirks here and there. Not in the weeks after either, as Alfred returned to being Penny-One, and Dick began to retrain himself to return to the Nightwing title soon.

Just as Bruce would never forget the tears in Dick’s eyes when he explained to him and Alfred what had happened to their youngest. His breakdown, and resolve in the violence. When he explained why.

“It’s not your fault.” Bruce promised, even as Alfred pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and silently dabbed his eyes. “It’s mine. I…I didn’t see his grief. I didn’t understand how badly he was taking your absences. I didn’t know.”

“But I would have.” Alfred had whispered, closing his eyes.

“We would have.” Dick corrected.

And he’d never forget the despair on grandfather and son alike, when Dick asked if Bruce had any idea where he was, and he had to tell them no.

Damian was a sore subject, to say the least, after that. No one spoke of him, though Bruce found everyone stopping near the case holding his old uniform every so often.

Not a memorial for the dead, this time. But a memorial for the child they failed.

His name was like a bad word, a sour taste, and Bruce never forgot that either.

Most of all, he never forgot it was his fault.

Even now, as he, Tim and Stephanie fought against a gang that he had yet to determine which super villain they associated with, he thought of his son. The one not there, the one he chased away.

How much he could use his help right now. How much he missed him.

God, if Jason knew, he’d be furious. Furious because he didn’t learn the first time around, with him.

The fight was in the streets, and it was becoming a stalemate. Not that he and his partners for the evening would give up. But he was looking for an opening, a moment to retreat, regroup, then reappear with a new attack plan.

But the moment never came, because suddenly one of their enemies shouted.

“Boss said it’s a go! She’s blowin’!”

Before any of them could comprehend the warning, a building down the block – a lab, if Bruce had his bearings right – shuddered in an explosion. Glass from windows spraying into the street, flames pushing out right after. Dust and ash came at them in a typhoon-like wave.

And the gang members in the street laughed.

“You’re fucked.” One nearby cackled. When he came back into view, he had a gasmask on. “You’re so fucked, Batman.”

Bruce punched him in the Adam’s apple, and let him drop to the ground unconscious.

“Something’s in that building.” Bruce said through the comms. “How dangerous?”

“Gotham Labs.” Tim’s voice crackled. Bruce still couldn’t see him in the floating dust. “No major projects that I know of. Or dangerous. Vegan cosmetics was the last big thing I heard about coming from there.”

“And now it’s all up in flames?” Stephanie sighed. “So much for stealing Batman’s credit card on its launch date.”

“Spoiler, please.” Tim snorted.

Before Bruce could scold them, tell them to focus, get them to get these thugs off the street, there was a shriek from the lab, and a shape running from the destroyed building.

“Take care of them.” Bruce ordered. “I’m going up ahead.”

Stephanie and Tim both gave their affirmatives, and jumped back into fighting the henchmen, now with a small element of surprise in the fog. As Bruce ran forward, he saw the shape was a woman in a lab coat.

“Help!” She was screaming. “Someone…anyone! Police! Ambulance! Help!”

“Ma’am.” Bruce called as he approached, careful not to scare her. She turned towards him with tears cascading down her face.

Bruce frowned. She…was clean. No ash, no burns. Her hair wasn’t even out of place. He glanced back towards the building, now smoking.

“Are you alright?”

“What? Oh, me? Yes. I’m fine. We’re all fine.” She sniffed, trying to wipe at her face. “But he’s not. He’s trapped and…and I don’t think there’s any vents in there, and we can’t-”

“He who?”

“I…” The woman paused. “I don’t know. He didn’t give a name. He just…he just appeared! Out of nowhere! Got us all out of the lab, shoved us in the bunker, told us to stay there until help arrived. Then…then the explosion happened, and when we came out to check, he was still in the lab, but…but Batman…”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“He was bleeding when we saw him.” The woman’s tears suddenly flowed harder. “But the canisters were all broken, we could see them.”

“What was in the canisters?”

“I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The woman cried. “He…he was paying for our other research, and…and he was blackmailing us. We didn’t have a choice.”

Bruce’s stomach dropped.

“Who paid you?” He demanded. “What was in the canisters?”

“Fear gas.” The woman whispered. “Jonathan Crane was forcing us to make it. Mass produce. The…the boy tonight, he saved us, but whatever happened, all the canisters are broken, and the gas is in the lab.”

The woman hid her face.

“And there’s a failsafe on the doors.” She wailed. “That…that fucking shit is dangerous. So if even only one canister malfunctioned, the lab would seal itself shut to contain it.”

“For how long?” Bruce asked. “How long does the lab seal for?”

“I don’t know!” The woman yelled. “Crane installed it! He never told us!” She stopped her foot and pointed from where she came. “But he’s in there, the gas is flooding the place, he’s hurt, I didn’t see him have a respirator, and we can’t get him out!”

Bruce nodded, shoving his own respirator onto his face. “Stay here.”

The woman, surprisingly listened, but shouted information after him. The lab was in the basement, and the remaining scientists were still trying to first reach one of the doors to the lab through the explosion wreckage, and second, try to figure out if they could even open the door.

“Red Robin, when you’re finished, I’ll need you inside.” Bruce called through his communicator as he burst through the doors and looked for a way down. Not hard, when there were various holes in the floor from the explosion. “And both of you, there’s a potential for fear gas in the area. Masks on, now.”

They both returned an affirmative, and Barbara was immediately on the line herself, relaying last known sightings of the Scarecrow.

As Bruce got to the lower levels, he began to follow the voices, the sounds of things being thrown, or pushed. After a few rounded corners, he found the gaggle of scientists, three pushing fallen shelving units and chairs away from a large metal door, and a fourth knelt in front of said door, typing wildly on a keypad.

“It’s…it’s not working!” The typer growled in frustration. “There’s…there’s nothing I can think of! Nothing is working!”

“Then keep thinking!” Another one spat as he threw a table over the heads of the other two assisting him. “That kid is a fucking goner if we don’t get him out of there!”

Unlike the woman outside, Bruce didn’t announce his presence, just silently moved forward. As he reached them, he glanced into one of the windows next to the door, just to see what he was going to be working with. Who he was, hopefully, going to save, and not have to watch die a slow and painful death.

Immediately, his knees went weak.

The lab wasn’t that big. Smaller than an average fast food joint, but bigger than a grocery store public bathroom. Even through the opaque green gas, Bruce could see canisters lining the floor underneath the tables that followed the walls of the room, where microscopes, liquid-filled vials and partially constructed containers sat.

Each canister had a sizable hole in the side, and Bruce could only guess – remote detonation.

But none of that was important, not now, as he tried to stop himself from collapsing to his knees. What was important was the boy in the middle, wearing a black body suit, similar to Nightwing’s, and a black cape with a hood and faded gold trim.

Damian.

“Jesus Christ, no.” He gasped. The scientists nearby jumped, having still not seen him.

Luckily, it was Gotham, and even scientists were disillusioned to the sudden appearance of a vigilante. “We’ve gotta get that kid out of there, Bats. Just one inhale of that crap will make you hallucinate. He’s been in there at least ten minutes, probably more, who knows what the effects could be.”

“Death, probably.” Another one said. The one who spoke slapped her on the arm. “What? I’m being honest! That’s why we don’t have to waste, here!”

Damian hadn’t moved at their ruckus. He was lying on the ground, eyes closed, half curled in on himself, hand clutching his side. There was blood on his fingers, and coming from his nose. Even through the gas, Damian looked dirty. Tired.

Bruce wondered where he’d been sleeping. Was he sleeping? Was he safe?

But then his heart stuttered again, as he noticed something else in the room. In the corner, by a door on the other side of the room. A man. A body.

A body that was, surprisingly, breathing. A body dressed like the gang members outside, that was wearing a respirator that looked suspiciously like one Bruce knew Damian used to carry, when he was Robin.

“…You all need to get out.” Bruce found himself croaking, as his surprise and heartache began to transform into action.

“What? No way. We need to get that kid out!” The one at the keyboard countered. “And…and maybe that other one, I don’t know if he’s even still…”

“I’ll handle it. Now go.” Bruce heard a click on his communicator, other chatter. Alfred it sounded like, to Barbara. Dick, too. He was at the cave with Alfred. The scientists didn’t move. “I said now!”

The four jumped again, and one by one began to slowly move. The last one, the man at the door, stopped on his way. “…You get that kid out, Batman, or so fucking help me.”

Bruce glared down at him. The man shrunk away and ran after his coworkers.

Bruce looked back into the room. The man in the corner was unconscious, he could tell that much. But still.

Bruce put his hand on the window. “…I don’t know what to call you.”

Damian twitched at the noise, and twisted his head to look at Bruce directly. His mask was still green, and it didn’t move as he frowned.

“Oh, great.” Damian sighed, dropping his head. “You.”

“I’m going to get you out, son.” Bruce said. “I promise.”

“Save it.” Damian huffed. But it was quick, and Bruce knew it was because he was trying not to breathe. “I’m not talking to you, Mother.”

Bruce blinked.

The gas. The hallucinations were your fears.

“It’s…it’s me.” Bruce tried instead. “Not your mother.”

Damian turned away, rolled with a groan to lay on his back. “My father doesn’t show up in real life, why would he show up in a fear-induced hallucination?”

Bruce almost smiled at his attitude. He was trying to fight the gas, like it was a sentient being. That was so like him.

God, Bruce missed it.

“I…Rob…” Bruce swallowed. “Da-”

“Do not say another word, Master Bruce.” Alfred scolded on the communicator. His voice was loud. “Focus on getting that door open.”

“I…right.” Bruce shook his head, and crouched, pulling out a code-breaking device from his utility belt.

“Tim will be in to help you in a few minutes.” Dick now, but he sounded distracted. “And we should be only a few minutes behind him.”

Bruce froze. “…What?”

“We’re coming.” Dick said plainly. “We’re coming to get Damian.”

“Wait, no.” Bruce growled. “Nightwing, you’re not recovered yet. A-Alfred, you’re…you are not to be in the field. It’s not safe-”

“And you will have your hands full with the other man in the chamber.” Alfred shot back. “Not to mention, you only have a respirator for yourself. From your cowl footage, it’s clear Damian gave his to that man. You know as soon as you get in there, he will be in the throws of the effects of the gas, and won’t recognize you. He doesn’t recognize you now. He will fight you, or flee, before you can get him any kind of help.”

“And we are not letting that happen.” Dick hissed. “We’re bringing Damian home, Bruce, or so help me-”

“It’s not safe.” Bruce snapped back, hitting buttons on his device. He could hear Damian babbling in the lab now. Talking about how he’s not scared of anything, least of all his father, or his judgment. Which, of course, Bruce knew, meant the complete opposite. He ignored the guilt in his heart, at least for a moment. “You are both to stay in the cave and wait for-”

“Bruce.” Alfred said coldly. “I am coming to get my grandson. Nightwing is coming to get his brother. And there is not a goddamn thing you can do to stop us.”

Bruce heard the distinct sound of a link click off.

“…So…” Stephanie chimed in after a moment. “Red’s on his way in and…I guess I’ll wait out here for Nightwing and, uh, Penny-One to arrive.”

Bruce frowned, squeezed the device in his hand a little too tightly, heard it creak in his grip. He continued to search through codes, the others be damned.

They didn’t know what he would do. Their beliefs were wrong. He wouldn’t worry about the man who clearly stabbed his son. He was unconscious and had a breather. He was fine. Tim could take him, whenever he got there.

No. Bruce would rush in, and he’d take his son into his arms. He’d put pressure on the wound, and hold his boy, no matter how hard Damian fought him, no matter how deep in the gas’s hallucinations he was.

He’d hold his son and this time, he was not letting go. For anything, or anyone.

He heard Tim arrive behind him, and glanced back into the chamber as Tim pulled a wire from his glove to plug into the keypad on the door. Damian was muttering to himself now. But more than that, he was trembling. Sweating. His eyes were wild behind the mask, darting back and forth, or trying to keep them closed, and failing.

He stood, put his hand on the thick glass. He wondered what Damian was seeing, hearing. “Son.” He called, and Damian twitched, curling deeper into himself. “Focus on my voice.”

“No.” Damian shot back.

“Batman, it’s not a good idea.” Tim offered, clicking away on his pad. “You know he’s hearing things. It’s not coming across as you.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t try.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t be construed into something else by the time he hears it.” Tim snapped. “You know that.”

“So you want him to lie in there and suffer?” Bruce shot back. He saw Tim tighten his jaw. “The least we can do is try.”

“The least we can do is focus on getting him out of there.” Tim countered. “So save your emotional vomit for later and help me.”

He huffed a frustrated breath, but…Tim was right. Of course Tim was right. So he pushed at the door, testing how tight it was, if the explosion had loosened it at all, and settled back in next to Red Robin to hack into the system.

The code was seven digits, and after they believed they figured out three, Bruce glanced over to make sure Tim had his respirator on. Glanced up at the unsteady building around them, that could theoretically collapse on them all at any moment. After four numbers, he glanced back to Damian. His trembles had manifested constant twitching now. Fingers, ankles, lips.

The gas seemed to be settling a little now, the room a little less green. That didn’t help, of course, since Damian was on the floor, where said gas was settling. But it would make containment easier. Wouldn’t reach the city, or any one who wasn’t in this room.

One less thing standing between he and his boy.

His heart fluttered when they hit the fifth digit. Hope, he could hope, he had hope. Damian had hope.

And when Tim’s device dinged for the sixth a moment later, Nightwing and Penny-One appeared in the doorway.

Dick was in his full Nightwing uniform, the one he hadn’t yet worn since before the amnesia. The one he was wearing when he was shot, Bruce realized, as he noticed the shadow of the large bloodstain on the costume’s neck.

Alfred was in black and dull green tactical gear, a black eye mask and a clear respirator adorning his face. He had a shotgun in hand, but Bruce saw at least one more handgun on his hip.

He forgot sometimes, Alfred used to be in the British army.

“Move.” Alfred demanded. Tim shifted to the side of the door, eyes still on his tablet. Bruce didn’t. “Batman, I won’t ask again.”

“He really won’t.” Nightwing mused as they walked forward. He was just finishing putting on his own rebreather. “Seriously, Bruce. Let us handle this.”

“He is my son.” Bruce countered, but his voice wasn’t right. It wasn’t as authoritative. It was almost whiny.

Almost scared.

“And you ran him off in the first place.” Alfred countered. “So the likelihood that you are the first one he’d want to see is almost zero.”

“Not to mention, there’s an asshole in there who, by the looks of it, stabbed him.” Nightwing added, glancing into the window. “So it’d probably be better if you took care of that guy than one of us because let me tell you, B. We’re already not happy.”

Alfred pumped his shotgun. “Indeed.”

“We’d also like some cover, if you don’t mind.” Dick said brightly. “There’s still been no sign of Crane. And if he or anyone else shows up while we’re trying to wrangle Damian, there could be trouble.” Dick looked over with a dark grin. “And we don’t want any more trouble, you know?”

And he did. Bruce did know. Bruce knew all of that, and on a normal case, he’d have already suggested and done all of it.

But, still. His heart was getting in the way. For once, his heart was overriding his head, and all he found himself saying was, “But he’s my son…”

For the first time that night, Alfred softened a little. He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “So let us help you get your son home safely.”

At that moment, Damian screamed. No words, just a loud sound as he dropped to his back, body bowing as his chest and hips lifted.

Dick swallowed. “Red.”

“I’m working on it!” Tim snapped, angrily punching buttons on his tablet. There was the sound of something falling across the room. “I think if I can just…”

The tablet beeped, and the door sighed as the seal broke.

Dick was at the door instantly, digging his fingers into the seam until the door shifted. Bruce grabbed it too, pulling it until the gap was wide enough for their bodies to slip through.

“Kid!” Dick was calling as he fell into the room first. Damian growled in response. Dick jumped across the room anyway, dropping to his knees. “I’ve got you.”

Tim got into the room next, and he silently went for Damian’s assailant. Then Alfred, who followed Dick. Bruce remained just inside the room.

“Can you hear me?” Dick asked quietly, running his hand over Damian’s hair. “Can you hear me, D?”

“Fuck off.” Damian gasped, pulling away from Dick’s hand and struggling to twist up onto his elbows. His cape twisted around his biceps. “F-fuck off, I don’t have to listen to you.”

“I know.” Dick said smoothly. He glanced at Alfred, who already had gauze out, and was trying to assess Damian’s injuries. “…Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“What, did Satan suddenly forget his own name?” Damian spat, waving his arm like he was swatting at a fly around his head. “We already had this conversation last time I was in Hell, you twat.”

Bruce felt himself twitch at the statement. But he didn’t get any more time to think about it, as Tim was calling, “Any time you feel like it, Batman!”

Bruce shook his head, running over to help Tim with the other man in the lab.

“So yes, I know your name. And I know what you’re going to say.” Damian droned as he slowly shifted to his knees. “I know my parents hate me. I know I’m worthless. I know it’s my fault everyone is dead. Or was there something else you’d like to add?”

“…Oh, my boy.” Alfred whispered, and Damian froze. His eyes went wide as he slowly sat back on his knees. “My boy, it’s alright.”

Damian blinked, and tears appeared in his eyes. Almost robotically, he turned his head towards Alfred. “No.”

Alfred smiled. “Yes, my dear. It’s me. I’m here.”

“No!” Damian wailed. He turned back towards the room, searching. Eventually his eyes landed on something above and behind Dick’s shoulder. “Get him out!”

Dick glanced behind him, just to make sure there was nothing, and even looked over towards Bruce and Tim. They both shrugged.

“Pennyworth does not belong in Hell.” Damian hissed. “You’ve stolen him, haven’t you. You’ve stolen him and you’ve trapped him here, you overgrown piece of shit. No wonder you were kicked out of Heaven, you absolute waste of space!”

Damian tried to lunge, but the slice in his side reacted to the movement, and he recoiled instantly, shoving his hand against it.

“I’ll duel you.” He decided. “I’ll duel you for his soul, and I’ll kill you. Then I’ll rule Hell, and I’ll be sure to get all the souls you’ve stolen out.”

“Damian.” Alfred tried softly. He passed the gauze to Dick. “My dear boy, I’m not in Hell.” He reached out and carefully took Damian’s hand between both of his. Damian’s eyes, impossibly, grew wider, as he turned to look at Alfred once more. “And neither are you.”

“I should be.” Damian breathed. “I should be for what I did to you.”

“You did nothing to me.” Alfred promised. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

It was mine. Bruce thought, as he rolled the man and pulled his arms together for Tim. It was mine, and I let Damian take the blame.

“I should have done something. I should have figured something else out.” Damian gasped, tears rolling down his face. He jerked, but didn’t take his eyes off Alfred, as Dick pressed the gauze to his side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Damian.” Alfred promised, squeezing Damian’s hand. “Absolutely nothing.”

“D, I need you to breathe.” Dick hummed. Damian jumped again, looked towards him. “Or, well, I need you to breathe slower. In and out.”

“I’m sorry.” Damian continued, eyes looking around the space, looking right through Dick. There was an accent in his voice now, and both Dick and Alfred knew too well that his accent only returned when their boy was at his lowest. “Pennyworth, I…I should have sacrificed myself. Bane would have happily killed me instead of you.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Alfred continued to try to soothe. “Damian, just focus on my voice, alright?”

“I should have let him kill me. I should have been there for Grayson.” Damian rambled. “I could have pushed him out of the way. Taken the bullet.” He tried to tug his hand from Alfred’s but the old man wouldn’t let go. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I belong here. I failed you, and I failed Grayson and I am worthless so of course I belong down here in this god forsaken pl-”

“Hey.” Dick whispered. Balancing holding the pressure against Damian’s wound in one hand, he reached for Damian’s free hand with the other. Damian’s fingers twitched in his grip, and he watched with almost glee as recognition hit Damian’s eyes. “Kiddo, you didn’t fail me.”

Damian’s tears fell faster.

“You have never failed me a day in your life.” Dick smiled. “And look, see? I’m right here. I’m fine.”

“G-Grayson?” Damian murmured hopefully.

“Right here, Damian.” Dick nodded. Damian blinked at him, then looked at Alfred, then back. Then his eyes seemed to roam the room, like he was seeing it for the first time. He even looked over to Bruce, Tim and the man in the corner. “I came home.”

“…I’m sorry.” Damian whispered, looking back towards Dick. “I should have been there.”

Dick kept his grin, and shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t have.” He glanced behind Damian, watched as Alfred let go of his hand to reach into one of his pockets. It reappeared with the extra respirator they had brought, and he silently held the back of Damian’s head as he pressed it to his face. Once again, Damian didn’t seem to notice the action, nor Alfred retaking his hand. “I’m frankly real damn glad you weren’t.”

“It’s my job to protect Batman. My Batman.” Damian continued, frantically trying to blink the tears from his eyes. He turned to Alfred. “It’s my job to protect my family.”

“It’s not.” Alfred smiled too. “Your job as always been to allow us to love you, and to come home safe at the end of the day.”

“Your job is to be a kid.” Dick added. “Right now, your job is to not bleed out on this floor. Think you can do that for me?”

But Damian was shaking his head. Damian was pulling his trembling hands from theirs and hiding his face behind them as he doubled over himself and pressed his head to his knees.

“I’m sorry.” He cried. “I’m so sorry.”

“…I don’t think he believes they’re real.” Tim whispered as he leaned back from the unconscious man.

Bruce shook his head. “He won’t until his system is free of the gas.”

“Or until he stops losing blood.” Tim hummed. “We’ve gotta get him back to the cave.”

“I’m so sorry.” Damian continued across the room. “Please forgive me. Please, please forgive me.”

“…I agree.” Bruce sighed. He watched as Alfred pulled Damian’s hand back into his, and ran the other along the back of his head. As Dick, keeping one hand against the injury, wrapped his arm around Damian’s back and leaned his cheek on his shaking spine. “We need to get him home.”

“Want me to deal with this guy while you go with them?” Tim asked, pushing himself onto his feet.

Bruce watched for a moment longer. Listened as Damian sobbed, as Damian hated himself. Watched as Dick closed his eyes in sorrow, as Alfred wiped away his own tears too.

“No, I’ll…I’ll stay. They have him.” Bruce admitted, despite how tight his heart felt. “The more of us finishing this up, the faster we can all get home and be with him.” Tim nodded and helped Bruce to his feet, then leaned over to haul the man up. “…Nightwing.”

Dick opened his eyes and glanced over. After a moment, he nodded and sat back up. “Alfie.”

Alfred nodded too, reaching into another pocket and pulling out a syringe. Dick gently rolled Damian to his side, which Damian surprisingly allowed, and carefully gathered the boy into his arms.

“P-Please forgive me.” Damian continued, still hiding his eyes behind his one hand. As soon as he was settled, Alfred leaned forward and plunged the needle into his throat.

Like everything else, the fear gas made it so Damian didn’t notice.

They were all silent as the effects took hold. As Damian’s cries slowed, and tapered off into slow, watery breathes. As his hand dropped from his face in unconsciousness.

It was like a funeral procession as they left the remnants of the lab. Dick first, Damian in his arms. Alfred right behind them. Tim and Bruce bringing up the rear with the nameless man between them.

On the street, the GCPD were already swarming, taking the rest of the gang into custody. The plane Alfred and Dick brought sat in the middle of the road not far away.

“Get him home.” Bruce murmured as he passed Dick. “Call with any updates. We should be back soon.”

“Take your time.” Dick hummed. “It’s going to take us a while to get him stable.”

Bruce nodded, and gave Dick’s shoulder a grateful squeeze. He nodded to Alfred, who gave him a grim smile, and then they parted ways. Bruce watched as they loaded into the plane, as it took off down the street.

He exhaled, and let himself smile, just a little.

He’d found him. He’d found his boy.

It was another two or so hours before the rest of them could clamor home, the city saved, the day won. They’d found Crane, and they each took an extra punch or two to him, in honor of Damian.

But when Bruce stepped out of the Batmobile in the cave, the first sound to greet his ears was Damian crying. Still.

He frowned as he moved up the stairs. Had the gas not worn off yet? Why hadn’t they given him an antidote?

But he stopped as the medbay came into view. Damian was hooked up to every machine available, injuries bandaged and Dick was lying next to him on the cot. Damian himself was sat up, and engulfed in the embrace of one Alfred Pennyworth.

“You’re alive.” He was wailing, clinging to Alfred’s torso. To Dick, who was rubbing his back, he cried, “You came back.” Then to both, even as Alfred tried to wipe at the boy’s eyes. “You’re both here.”

“Like we could ever stay away from you, kiddo.” Dick smirked.

But still, among the tears of relief and reunion, was the litany that wasn’t as influenced as the fear gas as they’d hoped.

“I’m sorry.” Damian whispered. Alfred just stroked at his hair. Dick just rolled over and wrapped his arms around his waist, careful of the now bandaged stab wound nearby. “I’m so sorry. For everything that’s happened. For everything I did. Everything I didn’t do.”

It was something they’d have to work on, all of them. And a confrontation was coming, Bruce knew. But that was okay. That was fine. It didn’t matter. There was only one thing that mattered. One thing that Bruce, and everyone, was grateful for.

Damian was home.

[theurbansquared]

Guide To Avoiding A Loser Brokerage

by James Hill | theurbansquared

Brokers can be bastards and some even get better at it while other brokers are legitimate life-changing business Sherpas

A broker is supposed to guide you through a career in real estate much like a coach or pimp - offering protection and how to understand a complicated system better and direct it to revenue  without getting your neck broke while playing the game. I created and ran the most well-reviewed, largest full-service brokerage in the fastest-growing city in America.  This gave me access to nearly ever broker and their broker's pay structure and innovations. I also got the agent's version of my same broker buddies brokerages when they eventually joined my brokerage; hovering anywhere from 20–60 agents. Trending insider chatter has blame going to real estate brokers of decades past (and current) and how they’ve managed their agents - - letting unsupervised  agents with no experience run wild on the streets practicing on the public wearing out Realtor love and making a need for all the Mountain Dew-made Zillow-y options that currently exist.

Brokers are out of touch more than ever with today’s current media load, having to understand and use social media platforms for their advertising (since the private Town & Country affair that real estate once was is forever over and the landscape is a bit more like a half Juggalo, half programmer flea market).

Let’s dive into some situations and tenets that most agents don’t consider when choosing a brokerage.

Sales Volume

This is a bit of negotiating psychology and due diligence. Simply ask how much sales they (the brokerage) did last year and how much they’re currently at. If they don’t know these numbers they’re goons. If they don’t give it, you guessed it - they’re hiding something; their lack of revenue. I’ve hired and fired hundreds of agents and in interviews so few ask this question but it’s one of the most important questions you can ask as an agent and you need the information. An agent that doesn’t ask this has already given a tell that they’re not a top producer since they’re not interested in the production capacity of the team they may join. No bueno. Creep the brokerage as well obvi -- reviews, FB & IG engagement and current running ads, and make sure the company Christmas Party isn’t catered by Chic-fil-a at a Burnet Road dive bar.

Office

40% of your learning and 350% of your work will be done at the office. Those numbers will make sense 90% of the time after a few years in real estate. The rest should be on the streets - your car, properties, driving 75 mph talking and sending out docs, gorging on breath mints. Office, home, tiny homes, motorhomes have all blended into one larger conversation where work/live ethos are all in re-definition.

But, when you do need a more savvy moment in any market when people talk about borrowing or selling something that’s over $100K they don’t want to hear some bullshit too loud pedantic conversation seated right next to them at Starbucks or the local kooky coffee shop. In real estate Murphy’s Law is always in effect. The super important listing sign off that has to go well and they want to hear you pitch again before deciding? There will be someone (at this super ‘caj’ coffee house meeting) there projectile vomiting, or throwing cats, or something else tiresome or bad that takes more calls.

Speech and body language are massive parts of sales so when the entire set is thrown because a barista is running through a whole Sublime album. You want the most inviting cool office you can ever pull off at any given moment in real estate . Was that ever a question? There's a balance  -- you can't afford that year one or three, but it’s called real estate for a reason. Sexy, exciting buildings is what the brochure said when I joined. Also, it’s about style not size.

If you haven’t lost business to coffee house back pressure you really haven’t failed at agency properly.

Social IQ

Social reach is the only conversation now. Many brokerages won’t make it as the lead generating aspects of the industry aren't powered by a private MLS anyone and the publicly-hated ‘Realtor’ designation have both brokers and agents guessing about tomorrow. Calendars, best practices and free shitty tips & templates are the du jour of the day for anyone trying to get an agent's eyes. You can Google and get all the ‘basic’ social media dance steps, but with everyone at the same happy hunting spot, you’re being covered up, which leaves all your new artistic efforts fruitless and also squandering winning time.

Traffic, leads and engagement are all separate areas that have to be fulfilled properly and even this is in flux with historic corporations and current start ups all on the same advertising playing field. Social reach and engagement is about going to the consumer direct and becoming their friend with soft bribes -- free food, gifts, prizes (trips, events tickets) or industry work tools. The great news is, real estate has always been mostly consumer direct - start up a convoy at the grocery store (bar, church, meetup) and you’re in the car that weekend looking for houses with a new client. While you, your brokerage and the world are figuring out their exact social media mix, you need to make sure a brokerage isn’t lost on social media since many won’t be able to stay in business in the next few short years. Your brokerage needs to have a plan and and at best some presence on social media. Plus, they should be running low-cost performative marketing ad campaigns to get a feel for what and if set user groups are responding to ads. Anyone can post on IG but people engage on IG when they become inspired. A brokerage should have some sort of inspiration and relationship tied in with the local allure of their city --  or heading that direction.

Mentoring

Much like a neurotic buyer chasing an interest rate for their home mortgage (and then never buying a house) agents too focused on commission may miss the essential career need for mentoring -- for their clients and career. I had a 5 deal minimum for my new agents before they were ever unsupervised and received more commission. I've had new agents with celeb clients in hand and celeb agents with no clients in hand. No one wants to do business with someone with absolutely has no, experience but they do it because they like you as a friend or fam. Your mentor is the person riding shotgun with you at the beginning of your career. On many levels you want to be this person since they embody the position and role. You're literally and figuratively are borrowing experience from them and they deserve to be paid for it. You always have to strengthen your brand outside of your brokerage but if you don’t have any experience your brand doesn’t have ‘strength’ you simply have a logo and a drag & drop website where you're possibly talking about yourself and love of unicorns or football shit but the big boat deals you dream about in bed aren’t gotten this way. Remember, no unicorn could ever throw a football good without a lot of practice and a good mentor.

Support

Support in a brokerage is really communication and solutions for small problems, and systems for managing bigger ones with people. Most of the annoying things in real estate happen outside of the deal - contracts, calls, emails, docs, signatures, more docs. You typically want a super admin, broker, or agent manager that you can call and they pick up the phone. It’s pretty simple. With a mentor, admin, or broker you’re going to have a n 8:30 PM question or deal that’s going down. You’ll need printer help. Real estate always happens now (this was one of the main mantras in my office). Printing, prequal, weekend support and constant post dinner shenanigans.

Training

Meet Frank Miller, David Mamet, the Sex Pistols, Tony Robbins, Wayne Dyer, Hendrix, Tom Hopkins, The World’s Greatest Detective and Conan The Barbarian. We had a lot of different inspirations for the style and ethos of our urban brokerage. The World’s Greatest Detective is Batman. It was a moniker that became popular in the seventies. We used this example about how important due diligence and proper Fact Finding techniques are for serving and closing deals for clients. (It’s almost essential to be inquisitive in real estate esp about property/development to have success). Training is largely your sales meeting(s). Although I don’t come from a car background I’ve mentored many car guys transferring to real estate (they typically are out of the industry within 2 years and are there only for boom markets). Car guys have meetings every morning 6 days a week and they’re not at 9 or 10 am. They’re already working.

free module: The Burger King Phenomena: Why Agents Do Less Working For Themselves Than If They Were Working At Burger King

Many brokerages have no training/meeting schedule (monthly doesn’t count -- that’s a meet and greet company pump and catch up meeting). If a brokerage doesn’t have training on a schedule then there is no training. You’ll possibly be thrown a 3-ring binder, or given some PDF’s, or links to old bizarre training videos or a soup sandwich of all three and sometimes even a bill for the training. An agent’s training/meetings and their attendance to them are the difference between an agent making it or not when you’re 24 months or less in the role as an agent especially in the fast turbulent waters of the current 2021 market where brokerage and agent purpose and pay are under attack. From my experience, new agents that hide die.

Media

Having a background as a creative director I’m aware with great detail of agency and brokerage media needs, the cost and time they extract, and the corresponding revenue they’re projected to bring back. Brokerages are looking for their purpose now as simply having a brokerage doesn’t bring in leads like it used to. This is fitting, since the digital dumbass brokers that that didn’t understand the importance of ‘the web’ rickshawed our MLS data and sold the agent/broker centric real estate system for their benefit while current agents are left with an empty greasy enough to-go box to curl up with. Brokerages were never media houses or ad agencies but now that consumer level graphic programs and website builders are ubiquitous and any agent after being licensed for 10 days can drag & drop a website up in 4 hours and make it look like a brokerage that’s been around for years. I know I’m going wide on the subject here but stay with me because this is the crux of where the industry and consumer are renegotiating roles.

A brokerage’s value proposition has changed drastically with the telecommute revolution that was only sped and strengthened by Covid. Also, generational knowledge base gaps in technology are more apparent than ever with technology as younger agents can often be more media savvy than their broker. The market is flooded with self appointed companies or gurus that are taking on the role of the classic ad agency (Mad Men) or media production house. Also beware of real estate coaches with little or no real estate experience offering to guide you in social media. Okay media can’t be used in apex situations (such as the luxury listings you’re after) and doesn’t draw apex listings. Beware of tapioca room temperature tips and general lists from companies that can appear informative but are really boilerplate low grade data to get your attention to ultimately upsell you on a paid service.

As an agent or a brokerage, consumer level graphic and website building programs can be a death ticket to your business as your competitors have the same tools and are cranking out the same type of style of messaging you are now. Now agents, principals, admins and in art class creating flyers. This has been done since the nineties as the valleys of dead agent careers is full of 2-day Microsoft Word (or any of their shitty office offerings) seshes to produce nasty flyers and presentations. These programs are fun and making bad flyers absolutely work related - the kind of work you don’t want’ related to your business because it’s adult crayon coloring. Activity does not equal production. Staying busy doing the wrong things doesn’t make money in real estate. Rather than spending agent winning time staying in the wrong lanes for way too long, get with a team or brokerage that are providing the most exceptional visual media you can find in your market. It used to be cool 2 years ago, now it’s the only thing that matters. Visual content.

free module: Better Agent Media, Less Agent Money (media tips and hacks).

Access

This is access to your broker. Brokers with families are typically less available. Your best bet as an agent is looking for a grinder broker who sleeps on the couch at their office. This person doesn’t have kids to build into so they’ll build into your career and you’ll get the most out of these brokers. Beware of cheesedick, apathetic, rich boy, bored brokers not around and more concerned with projects like a shitty vanity wine brand that their wife’s forced them to launch since she’s not living her best life anymore as an agent.

Style

What kind of style is your brokerage? Is there an opportunity to bring more style sophistication to the market -- standout in a smaller market? Or, are you in an ultra stylish market currently and butt hurt because you already have a little story about how you’re going to keep it real and be a Dockers wearing slob for eternity? The thing about style in agency is you always need to look like you can list a million dollar house. Oh, is it really that simple? Yes it is. You complicated it. Clients always care about their housing a little bit more than they care about your real estate career. They don’t have time to figure out why you’re wearing shoe styles from 7 years ago. Don’t make it hard for people to do business with you. If you’re ugly, even better. It can be a massive advantage. Everyone on the planet loves when someone who doesn’t fall into our general current ‘attractive’ spectrum doesn’t give af, looks great and puts themselves together in a stylish way that the viewer can understand (can I get away with Teen Wolf?). A great side benefit from this step in the right direction is it’s a great way to make someone who is conventionally attractive insecure.

You want to be in the same style as the people in your area but the secret is you need to lead that style pack if you can -- you always lead and dress apex. Years ago this was anecdotal but after over 100K hours in real estate a good suite (tailored) saved my ass and literally got me business. I listed the largest house in east Austin because of a suit (and got a front page story on the newspaper real estate section for free because the owner saw me walking into the next door neighbor’s house).

Offices, dress, logo, email signature are all elements of you and your brokerage’s style. Style in and of itself isn’t enough to be a top producer in real estate. I’ve had stylish and even celebrity agents that didn't do zilch, but style often is a fingerprint to something more.

Picking the right elements for your agent style is an art because you have to offer something from yourself that’s unique enough as well as something familiar (a bridge to your uniqueness). I have a background as a musician and also as a merchant sailor. Fortunately those are easy convo starters. You could be a philatelist and have some challenges, but regardless it absolutely will take a year or three to develop your own angle and style towards the market as you learn it and the agent role more.

Things that look attractive and familiar puts client’s psychologies at ease. So, if skinny jeans are in you better get in them (that’s like five years old now). You’re on stage. You don’t wear what the worker people behind the camera wear. If you want to wear boring shit get on the other side of the camera. If you want less leads saddle up to a forgettable brokerage. People have hard days. They want you to put an effort into your real estate agency role. Currently it’s a fried role so you’re dealing with that too. People love to be smiled at and sold and especially from someone who smells good. It doesn't ever get old. Don’t make them beg for your charm. Be a nice charming person with a shirt that fits good, it’s a powerful combo.

Get My Damn Paper

If you’ve never seen a werewolf in daylight mess with an agent’s commission after the deal’s done and funded. Admin? Who is the damn person who does the admin? (accounts payable is the icey pro word if you like). That person that you contact to get your commission check cut? If that person is a weirdo, or there’s an unfriendly or sketchy quality to the office or admin staff, do not go forward (don’t confuse this with new people or industry jitters). Grab some free coffee, leave the smarm and jet to the next brokerage blind date.

Software

CRM is an annoying conversation. Here’s the things with CRM’s - for all the work CRMs curtail, because of their complexity and existence and the work(time) they take to interact with you need to consider how much work you’re putting into operating the CRM software verses how much time it’s saving. Many times brokerages have expensive yearly subscriptions with per agent fees for their CRM which can make the brokerage have a zealot meth thing for the ‘team’ software and promise you can’t have a career without taking a bump too. To understand CRM better before it was a name, Client Relationship Management is what analog Proximity became. Let me explain -  being close to people in Church, bar, school, same building -- all give proximity. This becomes familiarity, then ease, then trust. People do business with people they trust & like. Once people disconnected physically and started using other means more contact attempts have to be made to work for or ‘prove’ worth.

Follow Up is a large component of most CRM’s and there are gobs of money for agents who follow up meticulously. Simply ask the broker what CRM they use and research it. Something to remember - unless you’re extremely busy with your career you don’t need a CRM. You can manage & database your clients & leads ‘by hand’ and strap it to the cloud with G-Suite/Google Sheets.

Brokerage Name

A small but important aside, if a brokerage have named themselves after a precious metal or a gem, or if it says elite in the name then it’s not elite. If it has the words prestige or worldwide or international it may not be any of those either. I know a handful of exceptions to this rule but this is a great dirty primer to use when choosing a brokerage that’s going to propel your career and have shrimp options at the Christmas Party.

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (2)

Bucky is woken one morning by a small girl hammering on his door and crying her eyes out. He takes her to Child Protective Services only to be called back and informed that he is in fact, the father, and the mother a murder victim from the night before. What happens when he now finds himself a father, and the daughter in question becomes inexplicably, irrevocably attached to his neighbor who lives across the hall?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder, war injuries.

A/N: Thank you for the tremendous response on this series! I’m so excited that so many people are enjoying it. Tags are open, let me know if you want to be added. I’d love to hear what you think!

“I'm glad you came, Buck. Everyone's been trying to get to know you better, and hopefully this will help. You need to get out of your apartment more.” Steve murmurs across the table to Bucky, leaving the boisterous collective conversation momentarily. Bucky doesn't know how he got roped into team lunch at the Barton farm, but here he is. Eating apple pie at the table that is meant to fit half the people it's currently accommodating, as some Christmas musical rerun plays in the background. If it weren't for Nate dancing in front of the TV and singing at the top of his little lungs, someone would have asked to turn it down or off already - it's not even Thanksgiving yet.

Grateful that Steve has stopped the mother-henning for now, Bucky turns back to the pie, and then to the other Avengers. Some of them, at least. Clint looks immeasurably happy as Nat discusses target practice with his daughter, Lila. On his other side, Laura and Sam are engaged in a fierce debate on the best sides for Thanksgiving meals. The Avengers with families of their own - Scott and Tony - are notably absent, spending free time with their children, making it seem as though Clint has taken in a collection of strays. 

He looks past the table and out the window, where the remaining few leaves are falling down in an early winter breeze. It's grey, but then, everything feels grey compared to Wakanda. Ironic coming from a man raised in the smog and fog of Brooklyn, he knows, but his life is just one color after the other. Phases passing like the seasons.

After Brooklyn, it was the trenches of the war, where Bucky knew nothing but brown for months on end. Then the sterile silver of Zola's equipment, followed by the consuming black of his cell. When he finally got out, the most dominant color was white. Agent Carter's perfect teeth, his cold knuckles around a rifle, the snow-clad mountains he fell between during that awful train-ride. Red followed - the bloody stump where his left arm used to be, the gunshot wounds that blossomed wherever he went, the star on his shoulder. His stupid fucking Henley, even the robe in green, green Wakanda. He's sick of red, longs for blue, now. 

That's the crux of his problem, at present. Those blue eyes from yesterday, glittering like the moon, distant, but ever present. And oh, so familiar. Unrecognizable, whenever he tries, and he doesn't think any of his memory lapses have frustrated him like this one. He should know where he's seen Nina's eyes before. He doesn't, though, cannot. Pressing his brain has yielded no answer, not as he saw her staring at him from the rearview mirror on the way to drop her off. Not when she started tearing up again when it was time to leave, not when she watched you as you reassured as she clung on to you. Not when she almost glared at him, as if for a betrayal, over the shoulder of  a social worker that carried her way. He thanks God that childcare workers have weekend shifts, because he wouldn't have known what to do with Nina for a second longer, with or without your help.

He had dropped you at your intended grocery store with too many thank-you's and awkward blushes and red stutters. Almost smacked himself in the forehead after you left the car for his total and utter inability to be coherent around you. He knows he isn't who he used to be, doesn't expect to be the ladies' man Steve tells him about, but he wishes he could at least put on a facade. At least appear sane and capable of basic human interaction. You never seem to mind, though, always offering a friendly giggle and gentle patience as he stumbles over his words. He wonders if that's a facade, too. If you're not as willing to put up with him as you appear to be, the way you were with Nina yesterday.

He could tell you were out of your depth, but you handled it like a champ. Handled her, rather. All his thought processes are circling back to Nina, and he doesn't understand it. One child, left alone on his doorstep in the dead of night. The mystery of it is most inconvenient. Bucky shakes all thought of it out, and decides to participate in the conversation at the table, and jumps, to find Wanda staring at him.

She smiles as if it's not an issue, as if she hasn't been watching him for who knows how long, and reaches for another piece of pie. 

"Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?" She asks when he doesn't stop looking at her and Steve looks over. Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the concern that immediately overtakes his features.

"Yeah, Buck, you look a little out of it. Everything alright?" Steve leans on his forearms, ready to do whatever is required to put Bucky at ease. The others start to get up as lunch is now over. Bucky begins to answer Steve as he makes his way past him with a plate to put away. 

"I'm fine, Stevie. Don't wor-" Ring. Saved by the bell. Bucky puts the plate down and pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the caller ID; it's an unsaved number. His teammates are bustling about, getting ready to settle down in the living room, and he mutters a generic excuse me and answers the call. While holding the phone to his ear, he accidentally presses the speaker button.

"Hello?" He says gruffly, standing in the foyer.

"Is this Sergeant Barnes?" A woman asks from the other end. The TV has been turned off, Nate's attention diverted. The four-year-old runs out of the room, barely missing Bucky's legs, and rushes up the stairs.

"Yeah, who's askin' ?" Everyone in the next room has gone quiet, and he - super senses and all - does not know it yet, back to the door, eyes on his socks scuffing against the worn floorboards, and ears on the professional, straight-cut voice on the phone.

"It's about the girl you brought in to our Brooklyn office yesterday morning. Nina?" Bucky holds his breath. He had given the CPS office his number to let him know when they found her parents. Something in him, maybe the forgotten big brother part that still holds on to Becca, feels a responsibility towards the girl. And he can't get rid of the niggling question that asks: why would someone go to all that trouble to leave her on his doorstep?

"Yeah? What about her?" He shifts his weight, tucks a hand in his pocket, clenches and opens his fist. "Have you found her parents?" 

"Sir, you're the father." Bucky's heart stops. He freezes, blood turning to stone and muscles to glass. The anger floods his cheeks red. Steve stands, cup of coffee neglected on the table.

"Is this some kinda joke? 'Cause I don't find it funny. That's impossible." He fumes, now pacing, assassin-silent stalk abandoned in favor of heavy treading across the planks. His hair curtains his face and he pushes it back as he listens closely to her response.

"Sir, we conducted a DNA test to see if there was a match in the system, and you are the father." Bucky ceases pacing when he meets Steve's eyes through the doorway, tunnel vision excluding the others' stares. 

"Did you find the mother?" He asks, hand no longer raking through his hair, but pulling at the strands.

"That's the second cause of concern, Sergeant Barnes. The mother was found murdered in Bushwick on Saturday morning." She replies, apology now saturating her tone. Bucky can taste the sympathy through the phone, and he doesn't know whether to swallow it up or vomit. 

"What's her name?" He manages.

"Irene Petrov." 

"What's going to happen to Nina?" Bucky asks, not accepting this result, but retaining some semblance of pragmatism. He doesn't have a daughter. He can't have a daughter. The name Irene rings no bells, and there's no way, even with his bruised, battered memory, that he would forget making a child with someone. The idea that she's dead sends a jolt to his gut, and he staggers. The nausea that comes with the gut feeling that something is not right tastes like metal and bile in his throat, and he heaves in deep breaths of clean country air in order to listen to the woman answer his question.

"You have custody, unless you decide to give it up, in which case she'll enter the foster system." Clint is now on his feet, too; Wanda's taken to biting her nails. 

"Okay. Okay, alright. Can you send me the results? I'll pick her up soon." Bucky wrings his free hand, asking for some sort of verification. He needs proof. Evidence. Something to hold onto as the world swims around him, buzzing ears barely perceiving the woman's promise to send him the documents, and subsequent good-bye. A headache builds between his eyes as he turns back to Steve, holding his phone like he doesn't know what it is, or what it does. 

"Buck? What was that all about?" Steve speaks first, walking up to him, audience forgotten. Bucky looks over his shoulder to realize they heard the entire conversation, but finds that he doesn't fully care. He told them about finding Nina earlier, and now they know everything. Just as well, he would have had to tell them anyway.

"You heard everything, Steve. Don't know what more there is to say." He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief at the phone in his hand. The phone buzzes, signaling an email. 

"These are the DNA test results. Got no idea how that's possible, but there you go." He shows Steve the phone screen, still shaking his head, unsure whether to laugh or scream. A daughter. 

An hour later sees him standing inside the reception he dropped Nina off at yesterday, not knowing that her mother was dead in a proverbial ditch a stone's throw away. Irene Petrov. The name means nothing to him, but he can't trust his mind, based on the events of late. 

Sam is standing on his right, and Steve to his left, both silent and in wait. After verification of the results through a quick phone call with F.R.I.D.A.Y., they had left Clint's house together in Sam's car. Both men had insisted on joining him, noticing his evident despair, and wanted to be by his side. A social worker holding Nina’s hand emerges from a hallway, and Bucky moves forward. It’s the same woman who coaxed Nina away yesterday when he dropped her off. 

“Sergeant Barnes. Nice to see you again.” She says, smiling, but Bucky suspects she’s disgusted. Suspects that he tried to abandon his daughter - his daughter? - and was found out. He forces a stiff nod in response.

“Hi.” He says, then looks at Nina, whose gaze is defiant, chin turned up. She’s angry, as angry as a child can be, anyhow. 

Before he can address her, however, the social worker gestures for him to follow her to a seating area nearby, still holding Nina’s hand. They sit, and she opens a slim manila folder, showing him the documents within. Rather, the alarming lack thereof.

“Nina has no record, Sergeant Barnes. No birth certificate, in the US or otherwise, as far as we can see. No passport, medical records, any official documents of registration. We’ve just registered her here, though, and it’s on the basis of that registration that we’ve made the papers assigning you to have her full custody. Please sign here.” She hands him a pen, turns the page towards him, and he reads through it. Lifts the paper to see copies of the DNA report underneath. After mere moments of deliberation - wasted moments, it’s not like he has a choice - he signs the fateful paper. Wipes his palms on his thighs anxiously, looks at Nina but talks to the social worker.

“Can we go now?” He asks, like a teenager excusing themselves from the dinner table. Nina’s watching him, curious, piercing blue eyes fixated on him. Perhaps he recognizes them because they’re her mother’s, who he doesn’t recall meeting, but his subconscious does. Is that why they’re so startingly familiar? He shakes the query out of his head, once again, and stands when the woman does. She nods, wishes him well, and hands Nina over, points out the car seat and backpack that has now been brought out. She waves goodbye, and Nina watches her go, patiently, unmoving. Bucky bends down, rests one knee on the beige carpet, and looks at her.

“Hey, Nina, remember me? I’m-”

“Bucky.” She blurts out, and he is taken aback. Didn’t expect her to remember his name, and he knows she only does because of the conversation between you and him on the way here. You had introduced him. This is my friend, Bucky. He’s nice. He smiles at Nina, nods, and holds out his hand out to shake hers. Almost withdraws it when her eyes widen, and he prays she doesn’t cry again. Calmer than yesterday, having had time to come to terms with this horrible predicament, she doesn’t cry. Instead she shakes his hand, and he releases the breath he was holding hostage in his chest, pressure from his lungs relieved but the pressure on his hand remains. She has a firm handshake.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be taking care of you. Is that okay?” He asks, fully aware of Steve and Sam’s stares burning into him. He can see a smirk and a dropped jaw from his peripherals, and feels like pumping a fist in the air just for Sam’s awestruck gaze. Internally thanks Steve for having more faith in him than he does himself. He’s not the only one, because it seems that Nina is starting to trust him, too. 

“Yes.” She says, voice a whisper, gliding around him. He stands, and holds out his hand. The feeling of her small fingers wrapping around his large, calloused ones is indescribable. Soft, warm, they fit in his perfectly, and unbelievably, inexplicably, Bucky’s heart soars. His stomach is still in knots, the thought of Irene Petrov doing somersaults in his abdomen, but for the first time since yesterday morning, he thinks something feels right. Her hand in his is comfortable, and he doesn’t want to let go. Stifling the smile, he finally gets to where Steve and Sam are.

“Nina, these are my friends.” She doesn’t respond, looks up at the men unimpressed, and he smiles again. “This is Steve, and this is Sam.” He says as each man kneels down to say hello.

“Where is the lady?” She asks, her r and l pronounced as w’s, and Bucky blanches. Thinks of you, doing more than you should have, kind mind and sound heart, helping him drop Nina off with your shy smile and glinting eyes. Wonders if you’ll understand his situation, even though he knows he has bigger fish to fry than worry about his chances at taking you on a date when he now has a girl, a whole person, to take care of. So he tells that girl the only thing that comes to mind.

“She was busy, honey, I’m sorry. Hey, do you want to get ice-cream on the way home?” He says, and changes the subject before she can react. She frowns, then perks up slightly, nods for ice-cream. Unfortunately- 

“Ice-cream in November, Buck? She’ll get sick before you’ve even brought her home” Steve points out, and she glares at him. Bucky very nearly laughs at the look on her face, and Sam grins.

“Okay, okay, ice-cream in November.” Steve actually laughs, holding his hands up in surrender, waving away the distrust on Nina’s tiny, chubby face. Bucky’s gaze goes to her little hands unclenching from the fists they were in.

“Alright, man, let’s go.” Sam says, picking up the car seat and patting Bucky on the shoulder as he leads them out. Bucky grins, if only for a moment, watches the beginnings of a smile on Nina’s face as they leave the building.

---

Kamenev holds two empty glass vials up to the flickering lightbulb suspended from the ceiling. One used to contain hairs belonging to the Fist of Hydra, proof of DNA just in case. The other held a fingerprint mold of the same man - biometric identity. He smashes the vials in a tissue, flushes it all down the toilet of another dirty motel bathroom. 

He’s sick of these dingy, disgusting places, knows he deserves better. He deserves the world at his feet, after his scientific accomplishment, the only evidence of which is the child itself. The child that has been slipping out of his grasp like sand through his fingers. She manages to evade him, even when her mother could not. However, he is sure he will find her soon. He must.

Taglist:  @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @captainchrisstan @mickmoon @notsomellowmushroom @alyxkbrl @mcueveryday @jennmurawski13 @hailqueenconquer @luckyfiction17 @veganfangirl5

[violetnotez]

Shopping Trip HC- Kirishima x Reader

@fxndxmxnxce​!:Hi! i just saw your blog but you already look so good😍 could i get a request where kirishima and his s/o go out to get groceries for cook dinner for their classmates? they goof off; riding around in carts, taking random samples of food, and even recite vines while they look for ingredients🥺 just a lot of tooth rotting fluff because why not :D bonus todoroki gives them endeavor’s card (in which he stole) to let them pay for the stuff tonight LMAOO thanks i love you🥰🥰🥰

ACK MY FIRST REQUEST THANK UUU! I love getting requests ngl :) I made this into a HC hope you dont mind!

Kirishima x reader

Genre: OVER LOAD of Fluff

Word Count:

Warnings: Choatic Energy throughout

(RULES | MASTERLIST COMING SOON| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

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

It was the week before exams and everyone was beginning to cram big time

Everyone was in the common room, every surface covered in textbooks and notes from the semester

Izuku, Ochaco, Iida, Froppy, Ojiro, and Toru  were on the training grounds practicing for the practical exams- Todoroki was studying on the couch

Momo was giving all of Bakusquad (including you) a huge study session that made all of your heads hurt (minus Bakugo- he wouldnt be caught dead studying with a bunch of ‘idiots’)

All of you were exhausted- you had been going at this since 9 in the morning at it was already close to dinner time

Kirishima had his head resting in your lap, you playing with his fire red hair as Momo rambled about Geometry, while Kaminari and Sero tried desperately to take notes as fast as Momo talked 

Mina had given up an hour ago and was now standing in front of the fridge

“Ughhhhh”, she whined, “we have no fooooooood.” 

“Cmon Mina we got like a hour to dinner you can wait!” Kaminari said while writing like his life depended on it (which it kinda did- he was borderline passing his classes as it was- if he failed these exams he was screwed)

“Oh be quiet Kaminari your the one who eats all the food half the time!” Mina yelled frustrated

When Mina’s hangry- she is HANGRY

“Dont blame this on me- my quirk isnt the one that depends on eating to work!”

“If your trying to imply Im the one who ate all the food then you are completely wrong!” Momo spat out at Kaminari, kinda looking hurt

“Can you all keep it down-Im trying to read,” Todoroki interjected calmly, not even looking up from his book

To be honest, all of you forgot Todorki was even in the room, so it kind of threw you all off

“Hey-why dont me and y/n just go pick up some food! The market’s not too far away” Kirishima sat up, his hair in odd angles from you combing it with your fingers

You knew what he was doing- he had zoned out too, and he just wanted a way to leave the study session, but he was too polite to actually leave it (for Momo’s sake- she got way too excited over study sessions)

You yawned, stretching from sitting for so long- “thatd be nice, Id like to stretch my legs a little.”

Kaminari shrugged, “Sure why not- not like were going anywhere, mind as well get some snacks-”

You started making a list of everything everybody wanted and it was long- Kaminari and Sero were shouting out everything fattening, from Takis to Twinkies to 2 liter sodas, Mina yelled she wanted a bunch of sweets like Pocky, Momo was a little healthier but she wanted more expensive things like sushi, and Kirishima wasnt helping since he wanted to buy everything for everybody

You two started adding up stuff in your head and you knew for sure there was no way you could pay for all this, even if everyone chipped in

You gave Kirishima a look, letting him know that this wasn't going to work- somebody had to help you two out or ask for a little less

He knew you hated to let your friends down, so he smiled, letting you know he had it under control

“Uh, guys, we cant get so much food- this is way too much and we cant buy all this- can we maybe take something off the list?” kirishima asked as Kaminari and Mina began to whine

To your surprise, Todoroki walked over and handed you something. You looked down at it seeing it was a credit card.

You gasped slightly- “No Todoroki we cant take this this is yours-”

“I dont care what you do with it or how much you charge on it,” he said calmly, “as long as it makes you all quiet.”

“Of course- thanks man, we owe you one!” Kirishima smiled, grabbing your hand, pulling you up and shuffling you out the door

“Well you were desperate to leave, huh Kiri?” you kidded as you cuddled closer to him as you both walked to the store

“Anything to spend some alone time with you princess,” he smiled, kissing the top of your head, “Also.... I think my head was starting to hurt from listening to Momo- what even is a Pythagorean theoreom?!”

Oh Kiri you poor baby

You both get to the supermarket and the cute lovey dovey Kirishima disappears

He instantly gets super excited because FOOD

And carts

“Cmon y/n they have kiddie carts!”

“Kirishima no those are for kids!” you laugh, taking the cart from him gently

“Ahhh cmon babe please!!!”

You kiss him on the cheeck- “No Kiri sorry!” (he pouts tho)

You get one of the normal carts and he instantly stands on the back and holds on to the wired basket, forcing you to push him around

You shake your head, smiling, because he looks so cute just standing there having the time of his life as you push him around

“A Thousand Miles” comes over the speakers and you both look at each other with the most shocked but happy faces ever

-30 seconds later-

Your now on the back, Kirishima is pushing your around like a maniac, has knocked you into 3 stands of food already, but you dont care because your both laughing trying to sing the lyrics

“IF I COULD FALL INTO THE SKY” Kirishima practically shouts, holding a can of whip cream like a microphone

“DO YOU THINK TIME COULD PASS ME BY!” you sing after

“BECAUSE I WOULD WALK A THOUSAND MILES JUST TO SEE YOU!” you both shout out, getting some dirty looks from a pair of old ladies at the meat section (which you could care less about)

You both look at each other and just start busting up, Kirishima taking you to the next aisle

You get to the candy section, where Kirishima is still laughing over the old ladies’ glares at you two

You kinda calmed down, going back to the task at hand, picking out all the candies Mina had asked you to get her

He then sees a bag of Life Savers

PLS TELL ME SOMEBODY REMEBERS THIS VINE

“Hey y/n-” he taps your shoulder, giggles barely being contained from him

You turn around, a grinning Kiri holding a bag of Life Savers

“Le-fes Sa-ve-airs”

You roll your eyes, giggling, “Oh my gosh Please Kiri no more vines!”

“Oh calm on vines are so awesome!” he exclaims, putting the bag of candy back in its original space

“Yes but I think we’ve annoyed enough people with our vine references”

“Only two old ladies!”

“Two old ladies that will probably get us kicked out” you laughed, giving him a kiss

“Lets just get the food so we can go back to the dorms- Im getting kind of hungry seeing all this food…”

“Wait, youre hungry?!?” he asks super concerned

“Just a little,” you shrug off, “its no big deal-”

“WAIT HERE” Kirishima practically yells, seemingly not hearing what you said and runs off

You shake your head, knowing your boyfriend too well- he could get impulsive sometimes

You got all the food and was waiting in the checkout line when you spotted Kirishima trying to balance a bunch of small, clear cups in his hands

“Are those--- samples?!” you asked, shocked that he went around the WHOLE store getting all those samples

“Yep!” he says super proud, happy he was helping his girlfriend

“Oh my gosh Kiri I love you, you know that, right?” you exclaim happily, your stomach growling as you began to eat out of one of the cups

KIRISHIMA.exe is BrOkEn

If he knew food would get you so happy he would have brought you WAY more food A LOOOOOOONG time ago

You got to the check out and the price- was- ALOT

You gulped, hoping the rumors of Todoroki being extremely rich were true

And thank the gods they were because you were able to pay for the food no problem

Then you realized- you had 10 bags full of food you had to lug back to the dorms

And it was close to a 15 minute walk

You started picking up bags, already feeling the weight of them after 3

“I got them, don't worry babe!” Kirishima gingerly took the bags from your hands and began to strap them across his arm

‘Wait Kiri no theres alot you can't hold all-”

Kirishima put a kiss on your cheek, instantly making your cheeks warm

“Its okay I can carry them!” He smiled, making your insides all fuzzy

How did you get such a cute boyfriend?

“At least let me hold 2!”

You literally had to claw two bags away from him because he refused to let you hold any because it wasnt “manly” for his girlfriend to have to hold a bunch of heavy bags by herself

The walk back was a breeze, Kirishima seemingly unbothered by the weight and you two both  enjoyed the sunset coming down against the mountains

When you finally got back, all your classmates were there, everyone in their pajamas and on the floor

All the notes and books had been replaced by pillows and blankets and everyone was in their lounge or sleep wear

“Oh hey ya two love birds, you got the food!” Kaminari yelled out happily, wearing pajamas with lightning bolts on them

“Hey Pikachu,” you laughed, “and yes, we got your food,” throwing him a bag of chips (which he devoured instantly like an animal)

“Why is everyone in their pajamas?” Kirishima asked, putting the bags on the kitchen counter

Mina came over and hugged you, so happy you got her snacks as Uraraka made a pillow float in the air

“We all decided were going to hang out and build a huge pillow fort and have a sleepover!” Uraraka exclaimed excitedly, Froppy and Momo helping her place the pillows inside the fort

“Awesome!” Kirishima shouted excitedly, “Cmon, y/n, lets go get changed!” 

He grabbed your hand, Kaminari and Sero making whistle sounds at you two as Kirishima pulled you up stairs

You shook your head, a blush coming on your cheeks

“When did they get so interested in us?” you asked, your face turning red from those dumb whistles

“Dont worry about them babe,” Kirishima said soflty, “their just jealous that i have somebody as amazing as you.”

                                                             BONUS

“So,” Ochaco asked, snacking on a cookie, “how were able to pay for all this food?!”

“Yeah, you guys must have spent a fortune,” Tsuyu added

“It was Todoroki,” you explained, “he was nice enough to let us pay for it on his credit card- again Todoroki, thank you for letting us pay for all this!”

Kirishima agreed, his hand wrapped around your waist, “We totally owe you a favor- if you ever need anything, come to us!”

Todoroki nodded in thanks

“Your all welcome”, he replied calmly, “but that credit card wasnt mine-”

“It was my father’s.”

You instantly choke on the soda you were sipping on, Kirishima patting your back to keep you from choking

“Wait-” you gasped out, “We SPENT 500 DOLLARS OF FOOD ON ENDEAVOR’S-PERSONAL-CREDIT CARD?!”

“WHY WOULD EVEN GIVE US THAT CARD IF IT WASN'T EVEN YOURS MAN?!” Kirishima shouts, fear evident in his voice

To say the least, the night just got 10 times more stressful as you and Kirishima were terrified that the #1 Hero was going to come and rip you to shreds for using his money to buy snacks

Requests open!!!!

[sadclearance]

red nail polish

pairing(s): mukuro ikusaba x female!reader, junko enoshima x female!reader

summary: y/n loves junko enoshima.

category: fluff(?) angst(?) idk what this is

warning(s): tiniest mention of blood and a knife

word count: 1691

voluminous pink hair covered y/n's vision as she blinked her eyes awake.

"junko," she smiled, pressing her face further into the strawberry blonde goodness. "waking up to you is the best."

"y/n! i told you not to mess with my hair! i'm the ultimate fashionista," junko sat up quickly and backed away, giving a dramatic pout to y/n.

"you never cared about your fashionista title before," y/n pouted but let her beloved have her space.

"we're adults now. we have to care," junko puffed up her cheeks and got out of bed. "it's how i bring in money!"

"i know, i know," y/n smiled, getting out of the bed with her. "and i appreciate all of the hard work you do."

y/n pressed her lips to junko's cheek before being abruptly pushed away.

"did i make you mad?" y/n frowned.

"no," junko sighed, pressing her own lips onto y/n's cheek. "but i'm running late! i have to get ready!"

"okay, okay," y/n laughed. "i won't interrupt you anymore. go get ready."

junko was in the bathroom before y/n could even finish her sentence, almost knocking over a white cabinet. y/n spotted the red nail polish stains. she'd have to search up how to get rid of that later.

"amazing how serious she's gotten," y/n smiled to herself as she prepared breakfast. "how much she's... changed..."

y/n tried to pinpoint when junko changed, but she couldn't remember. the more she tried to focus on the timeline of their relationship, the less of a grasp she had on time.

she didn't dislike the present junko. she liked how serious and motivated she was, especially about her career. before, y/n couldn't get junko to be passionate about anything no matter what. junko was always talking about how predictable everything was and how uninteresting the world had become. something about...

"i can't remember," y/n sighed as she turned down the heat of the stove. she licked her lips as she tried to focus on the task at hand but paused when she tasted something bitter and acidic.

she moved to the closest mirror and saw that the part of her lips that she hadn't licked look paler and beige than the part that she had.

"junko! did you fall asleep in your makeup again?" y/n giggled at the thought. she never would've imagined junko to be so careless. well, it just made her a thousand times cuter. "so even you have these clumsy sides..."

"yeah, yeah. my skin's too good to be affected by makeup," junko winked and posed with a peace sign as she stepped out of the bathroom.

"i know, i know. my lover's just too perfect," y/n said as she set down the plates. "your hair even dries super fast for how thick it is."

"it--it's a hairdryer, stupid. try it some time," junko stuck out her tongue childishly before digging into her meal. "thank you for the food!"

"it sure does feel nice being appreciated," y/n sighed exasperatedly as she took the seat across from her. "you used to not even look at the food i made for you!"

"... i must've been real stupid, then," junko said after another bite, "because this is the best food in the world."

"should we start up our own restaurant then?" y/n suggested playfully. "that way i won't have to be jealous of all the people that get to see you in your commercials."

"don't be silly," junko waved her hand exaggeratedly. "no way i'm cut out for restaurant work!"

"yeah, i guess that'll have to wait until you get old and wrinkly," y/n scrunched up her nose buoyantly.

"yeah, i guess," junko said, stuffing her mouth with the rest of the food on her plate. "i'm seriously running late!"

"don't choke!" y/n said as she took the plate from her.

"i'll be back later tonight!" junko waved quickly before running out the front door.

y/n smiled at her work ethic before washing the dishes.

"night, huh?" y/n pouted. "well, i guess i could get groceries."

she left the cozy apartment and walked to the local grocery store.

"what?" she frowned when she got to the place that she thought the store was supposed to be.

she was sure she had taken the correct route, so why was she standing in front of an apartment complex?

"did i walk in a circle? apartments look similar and all..." y/n tried walking around more, only to find more tall buildings, both for housing and for companies. it was nothing like the remote street that she was used to.

there were billboards and big lights, as if she was in some busy district.

"maybe i got lost in my thoughts and wandered off somewhere..."

everything about this place was unfamiliar.

"excuse me, where am i?"

"what do you mean?"

"where is this place?"

"you mean... tokyo?" the stranger looked at her with a confused expression.

"tokyo? no, that can't possibly be right," y/n shook her head.

"lunatic..." the stranger frowned before walking away.

y/n took a deep breath. there was no way that she had walked all the way from her mediocre town to tokyo.

"i can't believe that was banned."

"i know! it's already been two years. plus, it's not like junko enoshima's the one reaping the profits of the sales for her clothes, anyway! she's long gone. i don't see why it's such a big deal to wear her stuff."

"she was a terrible person, but she made the cutest things!"

two years? long gone?

what did all of these things mean?

and why were they saying such terrible things about her?

"they're probably just jealous since she's such a pretty model..." y/n shook her head, keeping herself from defending her lover. she was a celebrity, so of course junko was going to get hate. y/n shouldn't let it get to her.

she refocused on the problem at hand. she didn't understand how she was in tokyo.

"maybe if i try going back the way i came from..."

she eventually made it back to the door of her apartment. the building and hall didn't look familiar at all, the only thing she recognized being the door.

she cautiously turned the doorknob and peaked inside. it was indeed her apartment. she could see her kitchen and parts of her living room.

"home sweet home!" y/n sighed blissfully as she closed the door behind her. she didn't understand anything else that had happened, but seeing something familiar again made her feel better.

"y/n?! where were you?!" junko shrieked in a panic when she saw y/n.

"i wanted to get some groceries, but i couldn't find the store i always go to. i swear it was just there last week," y/n hummed.

"i told you. we have people to deliver that stuff for us," junko shook her head.

"well, it's boring not to have anything to do. i wanna be useful sometimes, too, you know?" y/n pouted. "and it's no fun being inside all the time."

"thanks for trying then," junko embraced y/n. "but don't go out like that again! you scared me!"

"yeah, i was scared, too," y/n shivered just remembering. "you won't believe the day i had! there was this crazy person who thought we were in tokyo! no way i could've walked all the way to tokyo. and, they looked at me like i was the crazy one."

"you're not crazy, baby," junko kissed y/n's forehead.

"i know, it was just a weird day," y/n sighed into junko's touch.

"you look tired. you should take a nap," junko ran her fingers through y/n's hair.

"that's a good idea," y/n agreed, closing her eyes and letting her weight fall onto junko.

"i didn't mean on me," junko rolled her eyes playfully.

"but i wanna," y/n whined.

junko bent down, snuck her arm behind y/n's knees, and used her other arm to carry y/n's back.

"well, this is new," y/n giggled. "i could get used to being carried like a princess."

"in your dreams," junko said, unable to hide her smile.

"i love you," y/n said as junko set her down on the bed.

junko's smile faltered, and the joy in her eyes was replaced by some indistinguishable faraway look. nonetheless, she whispered back, "i love you, too."

"join me in bed?" y/n asked.

"in a sec," junko promised as she went into the bathroom.

y/n kept her eyes open, waiting for junko to come back. as tired as she was, she wanted to wait until she could fall asleep in junko's warm embrace.

her eyes wandered to the dresser, where something red was dripping out of the white cabinet. she got up from the bed and pulled it, gasping to find a bloody knife.

"make-up is so... i hate... no, i have to--"

"junko!" y/n said as she threw open the bathroom door.

her mouth fell open to the sight of a woman with short black hair, rubbing vigorously at her face with a soaked cotton pad, revealing the soft brown freckles that were once hidden by foundation.

"jun... ko?" y/n stumbled.

"i took a real long time, huh? i'd be impatient, too, if i were you," the woman dropped her cotton pad. "c'mon, let's go to bed."

she took a hold of y/n's hand and pulled her to bed, putting her thin arms around y/n's frozen body.

"sorry for making you wait so long..." she sounded sad, even with her voice muffled by her face being buried in y/n's hair.

"don't sound so defeated," y/n pulled away to look at her in the eyes, voice soft and careful. "purple suits you..."

mukuro's eyes went wide with shock.

"after all, blue and red make purple[1], right? i love you no matter what color your eyes are, junko."

mukuro froze before letting a somber smile settle into place as y/n snuggled back closer, closing her eyes and falling asleep.

the bunched up abundance of strawberry blonde strands obscured y/n's vision as she slowly opened her eyes.

she smiled, pressing her face further into the nest of pink strands. "waking up to you is the best, junko."

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

[1] apparently junko's real eye color is red and she just wears blue contacts idk i haven't watched it since i stopped writing three years ago.

just another shitty work. i thought this would be a good idea, but i once again didn't know how to execute it.

i also wanna do one where it's the inverse as in junko pretends to be mukuro, but i might not since i'm discouraged by how shitty this one turned out. well, we'll see.

also i once again didn't know what to title this