#Plus going through my room some more and getting donations sorted

[masquenoire]

I’ll try and carry on with the rest of those memes in the morning.

[darkserenity24]

𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒔 - 𝑪𝒉. 6

Loki x Reader

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙠𝙞 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣.

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦-𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 🫡

𝙁𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙂𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 🃏

Tony had recently hired a live-in chef for the team, one whose services you certainly didn’t hesitate to take advantage of. 

Loki on the other hand did not seem to share in your enthusiasm as he stared blankly at the breakfast spread before him. 

You had all but dragged him from his room to sit out in the common area for breakfast. He made sure to vocalize his complaints and grumbled about as normal, but he still did as you requested.

As you ate through your sleepy haze, you barely noticed Loki’s attention had shifted onto you.

You paused in your eating, sending him a cautious look. “What? Is there something on my face?”

He shook his head negative but continued to eye you strangely. 

“I…” He hesitated, brows pinching together slightly as he observed you. “Are you well?”

You sat your fork down with a clink and cleared your throat before nodding. “Yeah. Why do you ask?” 

Leaning forward on the table, his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. “Something seems… different.”

You frowned, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately for some reason.  I’m sure I look kind of bad.”

“That isn’t it. I am used to your constant appearance of fatigue. The lines under your eyes are ever-growing.” He smirked at the look of disbelief growing on your face.

Your mouth dropped. “That is so mean!”

“Only the truth. However, there is something unusual. I simply cannot put a finger on it.” He hummed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You uttered. “But what I do know is that the team has been pretty satisfied with how our outings have been going so far.”

He stared at you for a moment before raising a skeptical brow. “Truly?”

You grinned, relieved he didn’t notice your swift subject change.

“Yes! They have been approving more and more outings for us which is very exciting.”

“Yes, very exciting indeed.” He muttered dryly.

“That’s the spirit! I’ve already started planning our next outing.”

“Which is?”

“We’ll be visiting the Men’s Covenant House of New York.” You grinned before taking another bite of your food.

His face screwed up in distaste. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a homeless shelter a few blocks away. Tony donates to them pretty regularly. I thought it���d be good for you to see what non-rich people or princes' lives look like.” You shrugged. “Plus, it’s always good to give back when you can. I know you don’t necessarily cook or anything like that, but maybe you can provide some sort of encouragement or conversation for them.”

The bewildered expression on his face was almost kodak worthy. He blinked rapidly before leaning forward slightly.

“Firstly, your planet does not house all of its inhabitants?” His pitch rose to a comical level. “And second, what could I possibly say to these pitiful humans? We are clearly not the same. Complete opposites if I must say.”

“Sadly, we do have a large homeless population here in the U.S. We’d rather spend money on destructive wars than help people in need.” You sighed. “And you do have something to share. You have your charm, your charisma, and your confidence. A lot of these people have been through so much and have lost their spark.” You smiled, placing a hand on his. This quickly grabbed his attention.

“If anyone can help them get it back, it’s you. Let’s put that silver tongue to good use for once.” You grinned.

He stared at you in contemplation for a moment before finally giving in with a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“If I must.” He obliged, sighing heavily.

You placed your fork down on your plate to do a little happy dance in your seat. You didn’t miss the subtle twitch of his lips as he watched on, attempting to hide his amusement with a steady look of annoyance.

Sam walked into the room, quickly greeting you with a quick fist bump. “Hey, missy,” 

“Hey, Sam.”

To your shock, he didn’t hesitate to acknowledge Loki as well. “What’s up, Loki.” He nodded politely.

“Samuel,” Loki remarked tensely, causing Sam to grimace.

“Please, not the government name, man. Just Sam. Or Wilson. Really, anything but that.” Sam pleaded while filling his plate with food before pausing.

“Wait, not anything… whatever. You know what I mean.” He rasped, shaking his head.

Loki only smirked. 

That little interaction made a smile grow on your face. You doubted those two would ever become the best of friends, but it was nice to know that there was a lot less tension in the air. 

Things were seeming to move forward in a positive direction. 

******

You fidgeted nervously as you sat upright on the examination table, the bright shine of the fluorescence above you making you feel a bit queasy.

You stared down at your hands, noticing how short your nails were getting. Nail biting was never your go to coping mechanism before, but lately, you’ve found yourself subconsciously doing it more and more.

A light knock sounded on the wood-colored door before it opened. Dr. Cho walked in. She greeted you with your name and a brief smile.

Glancing down at the clipboard in her hand, a look of stoicism was quickly shrouded upon her elegant features.  

“So we ran a few more tests with the fresh blood samples you provided us earlier and just received the results.”

You rubbed your sweaty palms against your pants, swallowing nervously. “And?”

She paused a beat before meeting your gaze. “I think it’s best if we upped your meds.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

“It shouldn’t be permanent. Just for now. We’ll continue to monitor your levels and will reduce your intake when they go back to a normal and safe looking position.”

You looked down at the floor with a hesitant nod. “Alright. I’m assuming this means that things aren’t improving like we wanted them to.” You felt defeated. You’ve been doing everything she instructed you to do, but you guess that didn’t matter much. 

“I’m sad to say so. Your vitamin deficiency has been spiking, and your red and white blood cells count is decreasing. Luckily it’s happening at a slow rate, which is good. It was almost undetectable, but since we’ve been keeping an extremely close eye on you, it sparked a bit of alarm for my team.” She sighed. “Have you started noticing any further symptoms?”

Unfortunately, you had. “Yes, a few more, but I mostly feel tired and worn out more than usual. A few coughing fits here and there but I think I have that under control.”

She nodded at that. “The best thing for you to do is take the new meds I’ll be prescribing you. Please be careful that you take them during their scheduled time, every time. Missing any one of these doses could make these symptoms increase.”

“I understand. Thanks, Dr. Cho.”

You hopped off of the table and began gathering your things while she lingered by the desk, still watching you with a tinge of concern mixed within her gaze.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t normally like to get so up close and personal with my patients, but like I said before you are quite special. I suppose I wanted to know if you have anyone um, waiting for you in the lobby?”

Your mouth thinned and you shook your head silently. 

Her disappointed look told you that was not what she wanted to hear. This was the fifth visit you’ve had with her in the span of two months, and you came alone each and every time. And each time she’d take note of the guarded look on your face that expressed your discomfort with talking about the others in regards to your health. Thankfully she hasn’t pushed you any further on it, remembering your previous conversation about doctor-patient confidentiality and discreteness when she first broke the unfortunate news to you.

“Thanks, again.” You said to her before exiting the room.

“Of course. Take care of yourself.” You heard her say before the door closed behind you.

*******

After receiving such grim news, you really needed a mood booster. 

Luckily for you, it was game night at the tower, or “family game time” as Tony liked to call it.

You found yourself on the other side of Loki’s door, asking him- no begging for him to attend. 

“Come on, it’ll be so much fun! I promise.” You sang while leaning against the other side of the apartment door. He hadn’t even had the decency to let you in but blamed yourself for that y since you texted him about your intentions beforehand. 

“I said no.” His semi-muffled voice repeated from the other side of the door. “I am fairly confident you understand what that word means. If not, I am happy to let this be an example for you.”

“I’ll be right by your side the whole time.” You insisted.

“I’d feel more at home in a room full of sharks than I would if I had to spend even one second in their presence. Especially if he will be in attendance.”

You raised a brow at his dramatics, knowing exactly who he was talking about. Yet, you didn’t give up on your task. 

“I know, but sharks may try to eat you. This’ll be different. It’ll just be a group of friends playing a few fun games together, not the Avengers.”

He went quiet on the other side for a moment, and you thought you had him. The door flew open and you were met with his critical stare. 

“Are those not the same people?” He questioned.

You tilted your head. “Well, yeah but-”

“Then no.”

You felt a strong gust of air rush past you as the door closed right in front of your face. 

Your smile dropped into an unamused frown. It was time to wave your white flag and admit defeat. At least you tried.

“Fine.” You grumbled to yourself. “I’d really like it if you would come by. You wouldn’t even have to stay the whole time unless you wanted to. But I’ll leave you be tonight. Maybe next time.”

You accepted your defeat and moved on, only to be pleasantly surprised when Loki shuffled into the game room an hour later with a strong look of disinterest on his face. 

He looked around the room, seeming to be searching for someone until his gaze met yours. You perked up and waved him over, and with what seemed to be a great amount of reluctance, he made his way over.

You were in the middle of playing a game of spades with Sam, Bucky, and Natasha who had yet to notice his presence until Loki stiffly sat in the empty seat next to you.

The group faltered in their movements only for a second when they registered who exactly it was who joined them, but to their credit, they continued on with the game. Sam even provided Loki with a friendly nod.

Loki didn’t nod back, but you did see him relax a little. The others were located in different sections of the room, deep into their own games. You noted that everyone was in attendance save for Tony and Steve, which was probably for the best. 

You noticed them glancing your way every now and again, Thor even sending Loki a friendly wave which in turn made you smile and Loki roll his eyes.

You leaned his way, nudging him lightly in the ribs. “See, not so scary after all.” You whispered. “Much better than sitting in a room with sharks.”

“We’ll see about that.” He retorted lowly.

As the night went on, you found that the team was being surprisingly cordial with Loki. Your mood picked up even more because of that. You knew that this wasn’t easy for anyone, but the fact that they were all trying was a great improvement.

You moved around the room to join in on the different games the others were playing. Loki was right by your side the whole time. If you moved, he moved. It seemed to be an unspoken rule, and you were just fine with that. 

Regardless of his unfamiliarity and slight discomfort with the situation, his face remained neutral, which was much better than the permanent scowl he tended to put on around others.

There were times where a look of mild uncertainty would cross his face if anyone spoke directly to him. He would look to you for directions on what to do and you’d give him a subtle nod in return. He didn’t speak or interact with the others much, but he didn’t straight up ignore them if spoken to. So much progress was being made, and you were feeling on cloud nine. Not once had your mind wandered to your earlier visit with Dr. Cho.

There was a point in the night where Loki became more vocal. Sometimes he would tease you about how bad you were doing at a game, and other times it would be him throwing semi-insulting remarks at Thor from across the table.

Having made it to the last game of the night without a fight, you were just about to call the night a success. Then Steve sauntered in.

He walked over to the large table where everyone sat, taking a seat next to Natasha before apologizing for his lateness. 

“Thought you were skipping out on me, punk,” Bucky remarked to him. 

“No, I just got caught up in a project. Tony’s still knees deep into it but I’ve had enough for the night.” Steve explained, adjusting in his seat.

“Oh yeah? I just assumed you didn’t feel like getting your ass handed to you in bingo yet again.” Bucky smirked.

You snorted in amusement, covering your mouth. Of course, they’d be competitive at the world’s most elderly game.

Your laugh caught Steve’s attention, and he glanced your way, only to freeze when his eyes caught onto someone else. The mirthful look in his eyes disappeared immediately.

He had finally noticed the outsider in the room. 

You felt Loki tense up next to you, and without thinking much about it, you carefully slid your hand atop his from underneath the table. A small smile formed on your lips when you felt him physically relax ever so slowly. 

Steve on the other hand still looked taken aback, his unwavering gaze directed at Loki. 

When his eyes connected with yours, you sent him a reassuring smile, yet he barely returned it, lips only twitching before sliding his gaze back to Loki.

By the way the conversation died down, it was obvious everyone else had noticed the tension in the room but were trying to not make it even more noticeable.

Sam leaned over to clap Steve on the back, breaking him out of his trance. 

“Glad you could join us, man.” He chimed. “We’re just getting started.”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded distractedly. “Me too.”

Then the game began. Time passed and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Steve was unusually quiet but had yet to say anything to Loki which you were grateful for. 

However, his eyes frequented your side of the table throughout the game more often than not. You paid it no mind, especially when it didn’t seem to phase Loki at all.

“How pitiful,” Loki remarked as you picked up a losing card. “Getting fired from one’s employment is no small feat. I’m afraid of what might happen to you next.” He smirked, giving you a suggestive look. “Jail, perhaps?”

You scowled at him and playfully pushed his shoulder. “Keep talking and I’ll flip your family’s car over.”

“Physical abuse and an intent to murder my tiny people? Well done, I am so proud of you! But unfortunately, imprisonment might be sooner than you think if you continue at this rate.” He grinned teasingly.

You shot him a look, shaking your head before turning back towards the board game. Your smile faltered when you saw Steve’s intense stare focused directly on you. You could practically feel his gaze burning into you as he studied you and Loki, eyes flitting between the both of you.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile before averting your eyes. You began to feel a slight sense of discomfort at his fierce observation. You understood that Steve was not a fan of Loki, but hoped he would work on moving past it just as everyone else. Even Loki himself was behaving much better than expected tonight.

Sadly, your hopes fell through the cracks when Steve loudly cleared his throat. You inwardly flinched when he said your name and your gaze hesitantly met his.

He sat back in his seat with his arms crossed, a curious (and very scrutinizing) look covering his face.

“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised you brought him along with you tonight.” He professed, nodding his head over at Loki. “Thought you’d keep him away from the rest of us as much as possible, considering the history he has with everyone at this table.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

That caught you completely off guard. You sent Steve a confused look before looking around the table.

The playful and competitive chatter between everyone completely stopped. No one said a word, but everyone looked pretty uncomfortable at Steve’s obvious but unnecessary observation.

But not Loki. He kept his attention on the board game in front of him with an intense focus. As if he hadn’t heard Steve utter a word.

“Um, y-yeah” you finally voiced. “I thought it would be good for everyone to be around each other. It is game night, after all. Everyone on the floor should be included. I don’t think anyone has a problem with that. Do you?”

You looked around in question and heads shook. 

“Nope. All is good.” Sam remarked before turning back to the game. “Now, where were we? I was just about to choose the righteous path of getting my college degree-” 

“Really?” Steve interrupted Sam’s clever attempt to move on. He looked around at everyone with a high brow, gaze narrowing. “Is that truly the case?

Your pulse increased slightly when you noticed Loki direct his gaze towards Steve from the corner of your eye. That was not a good sign at all.

“It appears as if you are the only one to have an issue with my presence, considering you are the only one constantly yapping about it.” He sneered.

Steve's gaze flitted back over to Loki, and a slow smile spread across his face. 

Your hand quickly found his underneath the table yet again. But, this time he didn’t relax. He was already on the defense, body rigid and expression firm as he met Steve’s gaze with fierce challenge. 

Seemingly triumphant in his goal of finally getting Loki to tick, Steve let out a wry chuckle, tilting his head to the side mockingly.

“You see, I find it really hard to believe that no one has a problem with you being here, sitting with the rest of us like we’re all just the best of friends.” 

“Steve-” you tried to interject but he went on.

“So what that the team as a whole decided to move past your most recent events? You got lucky this time around, but what about the personal attacks you made on us? Do you not remember throwing Stark straight through a window he could’ve possibly dropped 300 feet to his death? Or when you controlled Clint’s mind with that stupid scepter to turn him against us?” 

Clint shuffled uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of that. 

“I can’t even remember how many times you’ve tried to kill your own brother. You tried it with Bruce, and we all know how that went.” Steve snorted before pointing over at Natasha. 

“And when you said those disgusting things to Nat?” 

“Steve, not now,” Natasha warned, glaring at him from underneath her lashes. 

“What was that you called her? A mewling quim? How charming of you.” 

Your eyes widened in shock.

“Yet, here she is, forced to sit around a table with you, playing games like you never said those words to her.

“No one can force me to do anything I don’t want to do,” Nat stated, directing her glare at Steve. “And thank you for that, Steve,” she spat. “I'm sure everyone loves hearing their past mistakes replayed in front of an audience.” 

Steve frowned at her. “Mistakes? No, everything he did was intentional.” 

“If I recall, he was under the influence of Thanos, cap,” Sam muttered, yet Steve wasn't having it, waving his hand in a gesture of refusal. 

“That was his choice. All of it was. And now here he is sitting here like we’re like he didn't try to destroy our lives time and time again.” 

You sat forward, about to speak in Loki's defense, but Loki himself beat you to it. 

“You’re right.” he concurred, causing everyone, including Steve, to turn their attention to him.

“Your claims are true. I cannot deny any of those incidents, and I am sorry to anyone I have harmed in my previous path to power.” He assured carefully. You were surprised to find a note of honesty in his tone.

“I do not plan on repeating my past mistakes. Nevertheless, things have to move forward, yet you are the only one who cannot seem to get over it. The one person who I've barely laid a finger on.” 

You swallowed nervously trying to think of the best way to end this conversation before it spiraled out of control even more. 

“You, Captain America,” Loki mocked, “are an utter joke. Your whole existence stems from a foolish experiment, and since we seem to be in the mood of reminding each other of our respective pasts, do you recall being a five foot nothing fragile stick of a man that no one respected?” 

Steve’s expression darkened considerably and Loki grinned.

“Hey,” Bucky’s warning tone met your ears. “I think that’s enough.” 

Loki didn’t bother to spare him a glance, continuing his verbal assault on Steve.

“We are all aware that no one wants me here. I am used to not being wanted, but let me remind you that your own country did not want you. The country you still fight for today. You weren’t even good enough to fight for them until after they injected you with that pathetic serum.” He spat tauntingly. “With that being said, I would suggest you do as the others have done and get over yourself. I am disinterested in this petty grudge you continue to hold against me.”

You could tell that hit home at the sight of Steve's chest rising and falling rapidly. His jaw was clenched and his brows were lowered.

A tense and uncomfortable silence filled the air between them as they glared daggers into one another. 

You sat rigid in your seat, not really knowing what to do or say to make things better. It was probably too late at this point.

Bruce was the first to speak up. “Alright, that’s enough monopoly for the night, folks.” 

“We were playing the game of Life,” Sam weakly corrected him. 

“Same difference,” Bruce replied before getting up out of his seat with a quiet groan. 

Most everyone else followed, gathering their things and trailing out of the room. You stood up from your chair and placed a hand on Loki's shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s go,” you whispered, giving him an encouraging squeeze. 

Thankfully, he listened to you, finally tearing his fiery gaze away from Steve and rising gracefully from his chair. 

You walked Loki out, turning back to glance at Steve once more. He sat at the table alone, staring off into the distance with a dejected expression.

Story Masterlist

✦ 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰. 𝘙𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 ;)

✦ 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘒𝘰-𝘧𝘪 ✨: 𝘩𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘴://𝘬𝘰-𝘧𝘪.𝘤𝘰𝘮/𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺24

𝘛𝘢𝘨 𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵 (𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸): @aintnooooway @mischief2sarawr @talesofadragon @cass0419 @lcolumbia1988 @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @juliannarayvenne

[sturionic]

hey, you said your inbox is open and I was curious if you have any ideas for someone who can't get involved irl in things like protests and local antifa groups (physically disabled and incapacitatingly severe anxiety), and who can't get involved in online activism beyond reblogging stuff (personal reasons, difficult to explain)?

I've been considering trying to put together care packages for local unhoused people, but I'm poor and I'd have to convince someone to help me put everything together so idk how well that will go.

I don't want to sit around doing nothing.

Hey anon! I am very glad you reached out, and this is a question I get asked a lot by people IRL, so you are very much not alone here.

I think the first order of business is expanding your definition of activism. We have been done a great disservice by having activism framed for us as protests, charity, & singular heroes making speeches and changing hearts through celebrity. In reality, the smaller actions in your community have a much greater impact; and most of all, the things you personally have to offer make the greatest impact.

This diagram is specifically geared towards climate action, but really applies to all activism:

For you to be an effective activist/volunteer/community member, it's crucial to find the centre of that diagram, or else you're on a one-way ticket to burnout. Don't get caught up in trying to judge which is the most "important" activism, because that answer will be different for everyone. The most important thing you can do for the world is the thing you can do.

I've done lots of volunteering and volunteer management in multiple fields, and there really is lots of choice out there for things that suit you; anything from sorting files quietly in a back room to using computer knowledge (often VERY absent in community groups lol) to help with maintaining websites & promoting community events. One of my personal favourite volunteer shifts was acting as a helper to the organizers of a queer electronic music festival, running a "build your own synthesizer" workshop. Literally I was just ticking off names on a registration sheet and doing setup and fetching things, but it was one of the coolest things I've had the joy to be involved in.

The other plus here is that activists in a given city all usually have some social overlap. If you email, say, your local community centre, explain your interests & circumstances & skills, and ask what you could do - they might not have anything right that moment, but likely someone there will know a different group that needs something similar, or they'll have ideas for who you could try next. Even if you're not finding a lot online right away, have faith in the (slightly haphazard) offline community org social scene. Same deal if you get involved with something and realize it's not your thing after all - just be honest, and ask for help in finding something more suited to you. It's so, so common, and no one's going to get angry with you for wanting to help in ways you're better suited for.

Don't mistake me when I nudge you towards volunteering - there's a certain way that well-meaning (usually) liberals treat volunteering, like they're 'donating' their time as charity, and I am not advocating for that. I'm just saying that you really don't have to reinvent the wheel. There are structures in place run by people who know well how to do it. Part of the importance is the work itself; the file-sorting, the computer help, whatever. But another part is building connections with the people around you, and also letting those people benefit from the privilege of knowing you. And that will happen naturally over time. The muscle will grow as you use it more, even if you need to start with something that feels to you like it might not be enormously significant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe you move on to 'bigger' things, or maybe you gain new perspective and realize just how significant your contributions are after all.

[wirewitchviolet]

Random stuff I need to vent about while I’m still alive.

So I sincerely don’t think I’m going to manage to stay alive much longer, and I keep going back and forth on whether that’s something I should mention publicly, or just keep quiet and not bring the room down. Today I’m kinda feeling like I should say some things.

So first because I know people will be all curious if I don’t say why I think this is the end, a lot of things are just kinda converging and odds are one of them is going to do it.

- I really was just barely getting by on Patreon donations. Since getting kicked off Twitter those have been steadily drying up, and I don’t really have a plan to get new people donating at a rate that’ll outpace that, so basically I’m just at a point where I have to go around begging and hoping for some increasingly miraculous act of generosity from someone that lets me keep the lights on for one more month. That’s not sustainable, and when I can’t cover things, that’ll be it for me.

- I recently got a couple new diagnoses of really serious medical things. They’re both incurable, they both could kill me. I’m doing my best with treatments, but that mostly means I’m taking like 10 different medications, they have serious side effects, I’m basically asleep all the time now, and something could just take a turn whenever.

- I’m still a big ol’ nazi target and get regular violent threats. Who knows what’s going to happen there? Plus odds seem pretty good Biden’s going to just get the one term here and the entire Republican party seems to be running on a trans genocide platform. That’s not going to help things.

So right now I’m kinda just taking things a day at a time. Doing my best every day to just be really randomly nice to the handful of people who still talk to me, and trying to focus on how I’m like a good decade or so past the average life expectancy for trans people as is. But, you know, we all have bad days, and sometimes it’s hard not to dwell on like, the various people in your life who just randomly stuck knives in your back and how things would be different if that didn’t happen.

The one that’s really eating at me tonight is this one person I knew a few years ago and really thought was a friend who just threw me under the bus in such a shockingly savage way. I don’t even fully recall the context for this. Either it was when some totally random stranger I’d never even heard of decided out of the blue that I was her nemesis and started this giant smear campaign against me, or it was when a really close friend was going through a bad breakup and her ex was just going out of her way to spread every possible horrific rumor about her under the sun, and I was standing up for her. Might have even been both at once, these sorts of hate campaigns do tend to converge.

So anyway, that sort of thing was going on, and this person I considered a friend at the time decided of her own accord to publicly stand up for me, write a quick little thing about how I legitimately bore no animosity to whoever and just kinda putter around trying to do nice things for people. And then I don’t think even a full day later, she pulled that statement down, and replaced it with this huge thing about me basically being the devil and how I “took advantage of her autism to confuse her” which... wow that’s a hell of a thing to say about someone. Like, first of all, I’m not convinced that’s even a thing. I know quite a lot of people on the spectrum, and I’ve been told there’s a good chance I’m on it myself, and like... increased susceptibility to evil viziers or whatever isn’t something I’ve ever heard associated with it. Plus you know, like, this whole initial defense was something this person decided to do on her own just based on her observations of how witch hunts against random trans people were happening, as happens all too often.

And this happened again a few years later too. Another friend was dealing with some real horrific stuff, on the order of nazis threatening their spouse’s employer to get said spouse fired and showing up at their parents’ house with violent intent, and they gave me the details and asked me to write up a quick explanation while they kinda went off the grid for a few days for safety. So, I did that, people started passing that around, including the bus tosser here... and then a few days later my usual dangerous stalkers saw people were sharing somethng I wrote and started in on some weird line of attack where I was making this entire story about someone else fleeing their home due to a coordinated nazi attack which uh... was actually getting independent news coverage at this point as they were back on the internet and giving interviews, as a secret means of attacking... someone?

So of course once again, the bus-tosser about whom I’m rambling with this story retracted her endorsement of uh... my relaying things for a friend that were all being independently confirmed by reporters, and once again condemning me as a vile trickster who mislead her. Which is extra impressive because like, we hadn’t talked in years here.

So of course I can make an educated guess at what was really up with these incidents. The sort of weird stalkers who try to get trans people killed really go all in on cutting off any support, so presumably one or more of them approached this bus-tosser and made some pretty serious threats that she would be next if she didn’t walk things back, and being in a particularly vulnerable position, she decided to throw me under the bus to save her own skin... multiple times. And honestly I’m not even upset with her for that. I know her life’s a really precarious tightrope walk (and if it was unclear this is decidedly not a situation where I want anyone trying to guess who this was).

Really I’m just stuck on how she could have just never said anything to begin with. If you know you can’t deal with the heat of having someone’s stalkers start to come after you because you’re interrupting their attack on their primary target, you can just look the other way. I’m a big girl, and I can generally take care of myself pretty well with these situations. Hell I’m the sort who ends up in these situations because I absolutely will stick my neck out like this for other people when I know they’re the victim of some messed up bigoted hate campaign. So pretending not to know me, or to know what’s going on is absolutely a move she could have made. Nobody would go threatening her. I’d just be dealing with ridiculous slander that holds no water from random anonymous hatemongers. But... no, she had to go and involve herself, get scared, and throw serious fuel on the fire in order to back up. And you know put me through the trauma of watching someone I thought was a friend publicly tell some particularly messed up lies about me.

But yeah. I have a lot of stories like that one about various people I’ve known over the years. It’s hard not to think about them when staring death in the face. Just kinda feels like I’m the sacrificial victim everyone’s redirected their personal demons to attack to minimize how many people are getting gang-stalked and threatened or something. And I don’t even mind filling that role for people just... let me pull that aggro by choice by coming to your defense? Don’t throw me under the bus? I don’t feel like that’s a super unreasonable request.

[sasquapossum]

In case anyone's wondering why I've been so quiet...

Sunday morning, I started a trip from Massachusetts to Michigan to finish taking care of my mother's stuff. I arrived mid-afternoon yesterday, and immediately set to work. It's grueling, both physically and emotionally, but here's what I've managed to achieve.

Went through the storage area where we had very hurriedly stashed her stuff when she had to go to the nursing home several years ago, plus additional stuff moved from her room after she died, categorizing and prioritizing everything. That's about 150 square feet, stacked about four feet high on average.

Took three full car-loads of stuff to donate to charity or, failing that, to the recycling center. This freed up about a third of the storage area, which is enough to get the overflow out of my brother's garage before he gets in trouble with his condo association. He can park his car in there again too, but that's less of a concern now that winter's over.

Sorted through ten boxes or so of my mother's writing. To be clear: she has always written way more than I do, which is saying some, and AFAICT she printed out and saved everything. Fifty years' worth, often multiple copies, not organized in any way I can recognize, mixed in with everything from medical forms to records of legal battles to catalogs and printed-out receipts for everything she ever ordered online. Now I have two boxes of poetry, one of pictures, and a very small collection of other things that seemed important or interesting or useful.

Picked up what's left of her remains from the funeral home. Most of it is in a bamboo tube designed for scattering - not sure where yet. A very small amount is encased in glass orbs. She always loved ruby glass, so when this idea was presented we both immediately recognized it as the right physical form to remember her with. Everyone, meet my mom (with bad lighting but it's the best I can do right now).

I'm here for two and a bit more days. before I drive to far-western New York for my "vacation" and then from there back home. There are probably more recycling-center trips to come, and another ten boxes of random paper to go through. That's so emotionally draining. Some of her writings are about me, and not always in a good way. Some of them are sappy romantic. Some are graphically sexual. 😱 An awful lot are about the tremendous pain and alienation that she felt during much of her life. I haven't found "Hard Shelled Worms" yet, which is one of the more graphic descriptions of her headaches, but I suspect that I will. When all of this is done I hope to "publish" some of her work online. Seems like the least I could do.

[skloomdumpster]

saundreas + plus Sky falling asleep on Saul while Beatrix says she's Not Tired

guess i'm writing soft saundreas tonight

-

"I'm not tired" Beatrix says the moment Saul turns to look at her. She's sitting down on the couch of Andreas' chambers, watching the door that leads to her father's bedroom like a hawk. No powers and covered in bruises, but she is still acting like the one thing protecting Andreas from a possible threat is her.

It's beyond sobering and sweet.

Not as sobering as Sky stumbling out of Andreas room. His white face is blotched and red, the tears left marks on his cheeks despite having dried up a couple hours ago. Not only he went through the trauma of stabbing his father to death, but then through the emotional roller coaster of watching him come back to life a second time.

(at this point, Saul is convinced Andreas has nine lives)

And now, donating an entirely unhealthy amount of blood for the transfusion. Andreas is lying on the bed, shirtless and with IVs hooked to him and a healer fairy working. The poor woman's hands are shaking after how Rosalind yelled at her to do her job well or not bother coming to break the bad news.

Saul had almost snorted at the clear display of affection from Rosalind, but it had quickly vanished when he realized the only person whose blood was compatible with Andreas (and willing) was Sky.

His son, who had already endured so much, who'd endure more. His boy, who shouldered too much, whom he had taught to shoulder so much. His biggest pride, biggest regret.

"Hey" Saul reached in, planting a hand on Sky's neck. He expected some sort of refusal, Sky jerking away from him, but the boy was dead on his feet. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch.

He wasn't going anywhere, he had almost no fight left in him. Saul pulled him to the couch Beatrix was currently occupying and pushed him down gently, not without noticing how Sky's fingers curled on his sleeves, how his big blue eyes kept searching his face, how distraught he looked.

"You did good" Saul squeezes Sky's neck in affectionate manner, "get some rest."

Sky shook his head, tried to get up, only to fall back on the couch. He had minutes of energy left in him, nothing else.

"Yeah, you did a great fucking job killing my dad" Beatrix said bitterly and then kicked Sky's thigh. His head lolled, eyes squinted as he glared at her.

"My dad."

"Behave" Saul found himself saying, like these were his children, not young adults who were both deadly. He combed his fingers through Sky's hair, standing behind the couch, before quickly pulling back his hand as if it was burning. He waited for Sky to flinch, but only received the boy leaning on his touch.

Beatrix watched them, her eyes studying the interaction, her face still marked with anger. Saul's heart broke for this girl. He taught he had made a poor job of raising Sky without messing with his head, but it didn't compare to Andreas' tiny psychopath.

However... The little murderer sitting on the couch, watching them like a hawk and filled with fury, was just a seventeen year old. Just a kid, worried sick about her father. A father who clearly loved her enough to sacrifice himself.

They newspapers burning in a fire place, torn up pieces of stories turning to ashes, all grey.

Saul sighed, "you're not sleepy" he said, noticing Sky was. He had completely passed out under the soft hair petting, "but are you hungry? It'll be a long night, if you're going to keep watch."

Beatrix bit down at her lip, then glanced anxiously back at Andreas' bedroom door, before nodding, "I don't like tomatoes in my sandwich."

[cricketnationrise]

Congratulations on 200 followers, it’s well deserved!!!! 🎉🌟✨✨ For the ficlet fest: the Waffles (or any one of them), January 4, a bedroom or the living room in the haus please!!Your writing is incredible, and these little snapshot fics are always filled with so much emotion, even when that emotion is calm. Thank you!!!! 🧇🥧🏒❄️

some Waffles discussing their Christmases their freshman year for you my dear <3

_X_ _X_ _X_

Living Room, Jan. 4

Bully stretches out on the floor of the living room. Getting stuffed in the back of his parents’ car on the way back to campus after their short break between semesters is not his idea of a good time. 

Neither is sleeping on the floor of the Haus for a week, but needs must. The team has to be back so soon for games, and the dorms aren’t open yet, so he, Hops, and Louis are camping in the Haus for a whole week. (Even Chowder donating his room by staying at Farmer’s and Dex and Nursey bunking together again doesn’t free up enough bed space for everyone who still lives on campus).

The bonus of beating the other two back is that he gets to scope out the prime spot along the kitchen wall. It’s a nice wall, longer than the rest (a fucking must for his height), plus he’ll get all the residual heat from Bitty’s what-do-you-mean-of-course-I’m-on-track-with-my-thesis baking. (No one believes him, but with hockey season in full swing, no one is going to pretend to care too much right now.)

Plus, he won’t come into contact with the nastiest couch he’s ever encountered outside of a hoarder house on HGTV.

If it wasn’t integral to Chowder’s pre-game rituals, he’d be right behind Bitty in torching the damn thing. Even Bully isn’t brave enough to risk the wrath of pissed-off, scouted-his-freshman-year starting goalie.

So he dumps his stuff along the wall, inflates the air mattress, and keeps stretching. Back, quads, hamstrings, calves, shoulders, arms, wrists, ankles. He moves through his body joint by joint with a mix of warm up stretches curated from a decade of playing sports and yoga moves his aunt taught him when he started his growth spurts. He’s all the way through his routine and resting in corpse pose when he hears the front door open and the happy chatter of his fellow Waffles.

“Yo, Bul-lay!”

He grins and sits up, leaning on his hands. “Hey guys, how was your break?”

“Super s’wawesome,” Hops says, shrugging his backpack off in the far corner. “Wish it was a bit longer, but…” he trails off, rapping his knuckles on the coffee table. 

All of them are careful not to talk about it out loud, but even as freshmen they can feel the team buzzing. Everything is just clicking, and now that Nursey’s all healed, Bully can’t wait to see how it pushes them to be even better. He’ll take a short break for a really good chance to win the Frozen Four, no questions asked.

“Does your family do the thing where you have a big dinner on the twenty-fifth?” Louis asks. “Because watching everyone at Hops' house scramble to cook after presents was like watching a food tornado, man.”

“You certainly enjoyed the results from that food tornado, so watch your mouth or I won’t invite you next year,” says Hops.

“I’m just saying, it was stressful—”

“Nah," Bully interrupts with a grin. He really missed these two.

"We just make Monkey Bread before presents and then snack on like, cheese and crackers the rest of the day. We have the big meal on the twenty-sixth, so we don’t have to do more than move to the couch for movies after opening gifts.”

Louis turns to Hops triumphantly. “See?! That sounds much more reasonable.” He turns back to Bully, “Wait. What is Monkey Bread?”

“Shit we’ve been depriving you,” Hops says.

“I bet Bitty would make excellent Money Bread,” Bully says thoughtfully. “But it’s basically biscuit dough cut into bite size pieces and covered with butter and brown sugar and cinnamon and you stick it in a bundt pan and in the oven and everything merges together to be all gooey and warm and delicious.”

“Sort of like the inside bits of a cinnamon roll,” Hops chimes in.

“Where is Bitty anyway? Now I want to try it,��� pouts Louis.

“Went on a Murder run with Zimmermann to stock the fridge, they’ll be back in like half an hour, I think?”

“Have you always had the big fancy Christmas dinner the day after, Bully?” Hops asks.

He shakes his head. “We used to do it on Christmas Day, turkey, sides, the whole shebang, but I got the flu, like, really bad one year on Christmas Eve,” Bully says, moving to lean against the wall to face his friends better. 

“Oh shit,” says Hops.

“Yeah, I got super dehydrated and couldn’t keep anything down, not even water. My mom’s a volunteer EMT and was worried enough to take me to the hospital. We waited forever, because again, it’s Christmas Eve, the ER’s swamped. Finally I get seen – IV in my arm to get fluids in me without me throwing up again. That stabilized me enough that I was allowed to go home, but it was like three in the morning at that point, and Mom and I were exhausted so we ended up sleeping till almost noon. So we got done opening presents and no one really felt like cooking, plus I still felt medium like shit, so we just grazed the whole day. Ended up doing the big turkey dinner the next day.”

“That’s way more drama than I was expecting. So you just kept doing it?” Louis asks.

Bully laughs. “Yeah, the next year came around and my mom was like, ‘not that I want someone to get sick on Christmas Eve again, but it was so nice not having to cook turkey on Christmas Day.’ So we planned for it that time, just got a bunch of charcuterie and chips and stuff to snack on and made monkey bread for the morning. Turned out to be ideal for us, so.”

“Fully yikes for being that sick, but it sounds like it worked out,” says Louis.

“For sure.”

“Can we text Bitty and ask him to to make Monkey Bread?” asks Hops sheepishly.

“Dude, yes,” Bully says.

“Oh thank god,” says Louis.

_X_ _X_ _X_

want your own ficlet? details here! 💜

[lady-literature]

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette

Okay so,, I have this AU in my head, right? (not surprised) and I’m lacking any real direction for it (still not surprised) but it basically goes like this:

Marinette moves to Gotham.

She’s drawn there for whatever reason and the kwami are saying something about balance and being a Guardian and her sacred duty and something but Marinette isn’t really listening. She’s too busy trying to find a shop front where she can open a bakery without having to worry about getting mugged every time she steps outside.

Chloé comes with her, obviously, because they’re friends and Chloé has a business degree she puts to good use actually running Mari’s bakery and online boutique while Mari gets to bake and fuck around basically. Adrien, Luka and Kagami are not there, but that’s mostly because they travel too much to settle down and keeping an empty apartment in Gotham is just asking for trouble.

Kagami is a world-renowned fencer and Luka travels the world for his music company. Not touring, but soaking up cultures and ways of life so he can make soundtracks to movies and tv shows. Providing the background and life to a film is more his style than touring the world ala his father, Jagged Stone.

Adrien is having the time of his life being Kagami’s trophy husband. He has no pressing responsibilities he doesn’t take on for himself and he gets to fuck with the world’s elite with little to no consequences. He spends most of his days donating far too much money to charities and orphanages and then causing minor scandals that land him on the cover of magazines.

He has much the same kind of ‘dumbass with a heart of gold’ persona to the media as Bruce Wayne does, only without the playboy bits.

(There is a wall in the back of the bakery, where Chloé and Mari carefully cut out and frame every headline and ridiculous picture Adrien has. He is very much delighted when he learns about his ���wall of fame’.)

Anyway, Marinette finds herself with a bakery not overly far from crime alley, much to Chloé’s chagrin.

(“What do you mean it ‘just felt right’?! I swear to kwami, DC, you’re going to get us robbed and sold into slavery.”)

They do not get sold into salvery.

In fact, despite their less than stellar choice of locale, they do pretty well for themselves. The only problems they have (according to Chloé) is the army of children Marinette accidentally attracted.

When asked, Marinette tells everyone that it was an accident. Meanwhile, Chloé, standing behind her, will shake her head and insist there was literally never any other option for them the moment that first kid came in looking to nab some cash and a few pastries.

Mari lives by the phrases, ‘kindness breeds more kindness’ and ‘do unto others’ and all that other nice person shit. Chloé just lets Mari pseudo-adopt her strays and makes sure that they don’t steal anything too important in the time it takes her to gain their loyalty.

The kwami stay staunchly out of any arguments involving the kids (and eventually the homeless all along their street and every working girl in a five-block radius). They do so with a special brand of amusement that never means good things for either of them. (After all, the last time the kwami looked that amused, they moved to Gotham.)

The first kid is named Serrure, as Marinette comes to learn over the next month after he returns again and again, getting closer and closer like a feral cat. Other kids come during that time, all of them too small and too thin and too guarded for Mari's tastes. She wants to wrap them all up and tuck them into bed but she can’t. She has to be patient, has to be gentle. These kids are just as likely to bite her hand as they are to accept help.

Serrure becomes an almost permanent fixture at the bakery after that first month. Mari’s not quite sure what she did to get through to him, but she did, she supposes. He can’t be much older than eleven and looks nine, but after getting settled, she and Chloé discover this little slip of a boy is just as mischievous as Trixx and has all the dramatics of their favorite black cat.

The kwami, when talking about him, only refer to Serrure as Loki, even after Marinette scolds them for it. She eventually gives up trying to correct them, it’s not like Serrure talks to them anyway(yet)((that she knows of)).

There’s an apartment above the bakery, which is where Chloé and Mari and all her strays that grow to trust her enough live. It’s three bedrooms, and at first, Mari just buys as many bunk beds as she can fit into the spare room and calls it a day. The kids feel safe in her home, which isn’t too surprising. Everyone thinks the bakery feels safe, feels like home or comfort or whatever else eases their minds.

And Marinette should hopes so. She certainly put enough time and effort and magic and energy into the wards around this place for that to happen. To protect her and the children and all her strays that no one else will help.

But, she eventually amasses too many kids to fit into the one room. Chloé throws a fit about having to share with Mari again—“I had enough of that in university thank you very much”—but she relinquishes easily enough.

Mari buys more bunk beds, and Serrure has taken to sneaking into her room to curl up in her bed anyway, and sometimes the smaller kids who have nightmares will come in and pile on as well.

(There are only a few that Chloé will allow to do the same with her. It is considered a high honor and breeds a playful kind of jealousy that Chloé finds amusing. Mari scolds her for pitting the kids against each other.)

That only lasts them another two months.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Chloé tells her one day before the kids wake up. Mari is at the stove, cooking and baking for a small army while Chloé balances the books. “There’s not enough room for us all, DC, and the only reason someone hasn’t come barrelling down on us about the abundance of children is by the grace of your absurd amount of luck.”

“Well I can’t just kick them out, Queenie! What do you want from me?”

“Either we need to buy more real estate in this city—which I’d rather not do—or you open up the grimoire and start building pocket dimensions. I know you can. I’ve read the chapter.”

Marinette looks at her. “That is such a bad idea.”

They do the idea.

And then Mari adds about a thousand more wards to the bakery, carved into the wood and counter and anything that’s a permanent fixture. Doorways become particularly ward heavy, what with them being the entrances and exits to the hidden realms and children’s’ rooms.

The apartment above the bakery isn’t quite infinite but it gets pretty damn close some days.

This also means, of course, that all the kids definitely know about magic now. Some of them—Serrure—have known about it for a while she knows, but it’s different now. The kwami followed her around most of the time and she doesn’t keep them trapped in the Miracle Box like Fu did, but now that the kids know, they don’t bother staying hidden.

The children, at least, love them and the kwami adore them with all the ferocity a god can give. After Chloé gets over her ‘ew children’ phase, she throws herself into their education (on top of actually running the businesses Mari keeps, mind you). She has the help of the kwami, who act as personal tutors to the children, and it’s not long before the kids start to joke about her being the Principal.

(Some tried to call her Warden, but that joke didn’t last long.)

Marinette has also been telling the kids bedtime stories ever since this started. Old stories of the Guardian and Chosens who fought back the darkness, she shares all she knows of the Orders history with these kids and it’s not until Wayzz points it out to her does she realize what she’s doing.

“Ladybugs are known for renewal. It is no surprise that you are rebuilding what was lost.”

Rebuilding the Order using children was certainly not her intention but, well. She supposes there’s no place safer for her kids than what is shaping up to be the new Miracle Temple. It’s the only haven where they can learn to harness their Gifts and powers, it’s the only place where they can be surrounded by others like them without being thrust into superhero-dom.

Context: about a month into this whole circus, Marinette had realized there was a significant—almost all of them really—amount of metas and Gifted in her little hoard of strays. Which is… odd. Especially with how few metas there are in Gotham.

She had asked the kwami about it, and they have that amused look again. “You are their guardian.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re their guardian. True, you are the Guardian of us, of the ancient ways, but you are a guardian at your soul too. You protect what is yours, and they are yours whether you realise it or not. The children can sense that, so they flock to you.”

And, huh. She supposes that makes sense but that’s also really kind of strange and weird and she doesn't want to think about that anymore actually.

So things are… fine, Marinette supposes. The bakery is doing well, and she has about two dozen-plus helpers running around underfoot to help tend to the customers or run to the store or help in the back with the baking. And every kid of hers has new clothes, their street things thrown out for being too ragged and replaced with something fresh made by Marinette’s own hands.

She embroiders little fairy wings into the clothes normally, because that’s what her cloaked wards look like most times and the kids like it and its technically the logo for the bakery and there’s a million reasons she does it.

It is, perhaps, her first mistake.

(“It was certainly not your first,” Chloé will snark one dayin the future.)

Because now Marinette has an army of magical children learning to wield their powers and not fear them and they’re all wearing what can be considered her insignia and uh oh, it looks a lot like Mari is some sort of up and coming mob boss who uses kids and prostitutes and the homeless as runners. People on the street start calling her the Pixie, start referring to Chloé—her second in all things just as Chat had been her equal—as Wasp, as Yellowjacket, as the Unseelie.

(They cannot seem to pick a name for her, but Pixie is all but engraved in stone. Mari is not sure who coined it, and she doesn't think she wants to know.)

The first time the whole situation is brought to her attention, she punches the idiot who dared even imply such a thing so hard she knocks him out.

Because look. The kids are hers right? And she watches out for the people near her, makes sure the working girls are treated as well as they can be and offers the homeless extra food and a dry place to wait out the storm. She offers her hand and gives them all a place to rest, to eat, to exist without expectations or consequences.

She does that because she’s kind, because it hurts her to see people in need, to see them suffer, not because she’s hoping to gain something from it.

The fact that most of them repay her in gossip or information or bend her ear about the newest goings on in the corrupt elite or filthy underworld is strange, yes, but it’s nice to know what’s going on in the city, she supposes. And one time, Kathy, who works on the corner of Brookes and Gilmore, warned her of a drug raid that saved her an unnecessary trip to the police station so it’s not like it doesn't have it’s uses.

But mostly, Mari doesn't really think about all the information that’s unintentionally or otherwise passed onto her. She remembers it all, because it’s rude not to listen when people talk to her, but nothing comes of normally.

Not until Serrure—now twelve and well versed in the magic of illusions and glamors and knows almost as much about this city as her or the Bats—bursts into the bakery one day and grabs Mari away from the front counter right in the middle of a customer ordering. She should, perhaps, be a little angry at that but Tony, one of the older boys and just shy of sixteen, steps into her place almost immediately, so.

And then Serrure speaks and everything is pushed aside in favour of the next words to fall from his lips.

“Someone took Sophie,” he says and she nearly sees red.

After Serrure, Sophie has been here the longest. She is the youngest of them all, only seven, but oh so clever and kind and while she looks nothing like her, everyone calls her Mini-Mari. If Serrure is her beloved first son, Sophie is her treasured daughter.

She’s out the door in the next moment, storming her way to their base. She has Sophie and a handful of extra kids back by sunset, a little frightened, but no worse for wear. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, besides making sure that the idiots who dared cross her never do so again, but word gets out.

Soon, her kids and teens and adults begin giving her more than just information, they begin giving her problems. Ones she’s meant to fix because she’s Pixie. She’s safety, she’s protection, she’s the one the people start to turn to for help.

And enter stage left, one Jason Todd who’s all snark and charm and smiles wrapped up in a nice leather bow and tall enough that Mari likely could climb him like a tree. If that was something she wanted, she guesses.

(She wants. She just won’t admit.)

He becomes a regular at the bakery and befriends most of her kids.

Mari’s wary when he first takes an interest in them. They’ve been hurt and a lot of them are still adjusting to being safe and it doesn't matter that this man is hot enough to burn, if he steps even a toe out of line with her kids she’ll make him wish he was never even born.

But, she stops worrying eventually. The kwami like him well enough, but seem to think something’s odd about him—but its Gotham, who isn’t strange?—and both Serrure and Sophie take to him like ducks to water and they’re both good judges of character.

There’s a certain intuition they both have that reminds Marinette just a bit too much about herself and pure magic. Not for the first time does she wonder if they got such strong magic from their parents or if it cropped up in them randomly, fostered by fortune and chance and the magic that’s so deeply seeped into the bones of her bakery it’ll be here long after she’s gone.

And, okay, so she was a little right to be wary because Jason was mostly there to investigate her. Far too many people respect her and are loyal to her and she has a veritable orphanage in her pocket and also Harley and Ivy like her and it just- it doesn’t look good right?

But Jason’s a good detective and it doesn't take him long at all to see that Mari is just as sweet and kind and loving as she appears to be. Not long after that, Red Hood declares Pixie and all of hers, under his protection. She, of course, is more than capable of taking care of her and hers, and the underworld knows this, has seen it, but he does it anyway.

The news, of course, gets back to Mari and she is… confused. Why would the Red Hood do something like that? She’s heard talk of him being sweet on kids, but to claim her? They’ve never even met.

Bonus points for Jason being there when she’s told about it. He kind of raises his eyebrow at her because, huh, that was fast, and then spends the next few minutes talking up the Red Hood to her much to her utter bafflement.

He actually keeps doing that too, talking up the Red Hood. Mari thinks he has a crush on the man for the longest time because of it. Until he reveals he is Red Hood, then she just wants to punch his stupidly handsome face for being such an idiot.

Shit happens from there and things go down and the two spend a couple of months dancing around each other and intentionally and unintentionally ruling the criminal underworld and at one point Marinette definitely punches Bruce and Batman in the face—separately, much to Jason’s unending joy—and she also definitely adopts Duke/Signal as well because that poor boy needs to know he’s not alone.

And it’s just them being domestic and badass and lowkey raising an army of children and falling in love while the kwami and the kids and Chloé are all in the background just yelling at them to get together already!

Which, they do. Eventually. After all the secrets come out and Jason knows about the magic and Order and meets Mari’s other friends, ie Kagami, Luka and Adrien who are all intimidating for wildly different reasons. And Mari finds out that Jason died and came back (which earns him the nickname firebird btw) and that he was a Robin once upon a time but is now Red Hood and oh my kwami it all makes sense now.

Jason confesses like three times via classic Victorian romance novel quotes because he’s a fucking literature nerd but it’s not until he basically spells it out for Mari does she really understand. it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and then the pair duck into one of the empty pocket dimensions they have lying around and aren’t seen for three days.

(No one really goes to look for them tbh)

Chloé definitely teases them about early honeymoons and things but besides the two being even more ridiculously lovey-dovey than usual, life goes back to normal. Or as normal as it gets for them. 

And they all live happily ever after the end.

[parkersroses]

delicate. | harry styles.

summary: two lonely people find solace in each other for the night and something delicate blossoms from it. 

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k 

warning(s): fluff and smut (a first attempt at it) 

a/n: aaah i’m excited and nervous to post this. i guess it’s considered a Christmas fic because it’s set around that time. i do hope you guys enjoy this! i also wanna wish you all happy holidays! side note, i recently made a ko-fi account, so if you’re able to and like my writing, feel free to donate to it! anyways, enjoy! reblogs/feedbacks are very much appreciated! all my love and stay safe <3 (disclaimer: the gif rightfully belongs to @hampsteadharry​ )

He pushed through the door of the bar, jazz music filling up his ears as he wandered to get a seat. He sighed as he sat on a bar stool, waiting for someone to attend to him and possibly give him the strongest drink here if he felt like it. 

Harry felt tired. He’s been tired and exhausted for a while now. Tired from work. Tired from the glitz and glam. Tired of people getting close to him because of his name and status. Just mentally and physically exhausted. But that’s not to dismiss the fact that he still loves his job. He loves and enjoys making music and seeing his fans - who he declared as the best fans in the world - singing back his songs to him. 

Though, there comes a time where he doesn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he should lately. Being a well-known singer, songwriter and actor seemed pretty cool but no one knows how tiring and raining it could be. Always having to prove yourself and explaining yourself because of ridiculous rumours that articles make up. Always ending up hurt when you found out your friends were using you because of how well-known you were.

So, he announced that he’d be taking a break from all that. Of course, there was an uproar from his fans but in the end, they understood and sent him lovely messages about having to keep his mental health his main priority. 

So now, here he was, sitting at a bar, trying to drink away his emotions. Perhaps, he would find a girl that he could go home with to fill in the empty space of his bed for the night. His break was quite eye-opening to say the least. Harry realised how alone he felt. He thought it was just all in his head because how could he be lonely even when he still had few of his friends around? But he didn’t know that being alone and still feeling alone were different. 

And the irony of it nearly being Christmas, there wasn’t much magic or cheer going around for him at the moment. He’ll have to get his shit together before going back to visit his family for the holidays.

“What can I get ya?” a voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. A woman stood before him behind the bar, he realised it was one of the bartenders there. She wore a long sleeved black shirt, the sleeves rolled up until her elbows. Her long hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of hair framing around her face. He thought she was pretty. Beautiful, he would say.

Bartender lady snapped her fingers at his face, knocking him out of his thoughts once again. “Seemed to be far away there. Are you sure you’re good here? In a bar?” She said and she smirked at Harry. He felt the blood rushed to his cheeks, having been caught staring at the pretty bartender lady.

“S-Sorry. A whiskey for now will do,” he said softly. Pretty bartender lady smiled at him and nodded. “Alright, then,” she said, heading off to get his drink. 

Harry’s eyes followed her figure, almost like he was entranced by her. He was not sure why he did. Seconds later, she put his drink on a coaster in front of him. “Thanks,” he quietly said as he picked up his drink. 

“Don’t mention it. You seemed like you need it,” she said almost knowingly. He chuckled at her words. Well, she got that right. “Yeah, just trying to clear my head a bit,” he shrugged at her. 

Pretty bartender lady nodded. “Rough day?” She inquired. Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. He probably thought that she was trying to make a conversation other than cleaning shot glasses. He hesitated a little, thinking she might just be another fan and might spill whatever that comes out of his mouth to the nearest journalist. But then, he remembered that he’s already one drink down to probably getting drunk and his mind won’t really care even if he woke up hungover the next day.

So, he shrugged at her question. “Guess you could say that,” he said as he set down the empty shot glass. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a lot of things in my mind. And drinking does numb my emotions a bit. If that made sense,” he chose to say as he looked at her. 

She only giggled at his words. “That sounds quite deep. Should write a song about it,” she joked and for a second, Harry thought she knew about him. Because for once, he’d like to talk to someone who’s unaware of his celebrity status. Someone who’d talked to him with a sense of normalcy. Instead of talking to the famous Harry Styles. 

“Maybe I should. And I’ll credit you in it,” he joked. She laughed, throwing her head back as she did. “Oh gosh, I always wanted to be a famous songwriter,” she said dramatically. They both laughed at this. It was weird to Harry, this scene felt so normal, it felt as if he knew her for a while now. 

She nodded at his empty glass. “Want another?” She asked. Harry thought about it before asking. “Actually, what’s your favourite drink?” Pretty bartender lady was surprised to say the least, but smiled at Harry. “Why?” He only smiled back. “‘Cause I want another drink. And I want to treat you one too. I’ll even pay for yours, love,” 

She blushed at this, not expecting him to be so forward yet sweet. “Cheeky, aren’t you?” She said smiling at him, and she noticed a hint of blush on his cheeks. “My mum always taught me to be a gentleman,” he shrugged,

She chuckled at this. “Fine then. I’ll be right back,” she said, going to get whatever her favourite drink was for Harry. Harry smiled as she walked away. He couldn’t help but feel some sort of liking towards her, but not knowing why. Maybe because she was just a pretty bartender lady. 

She returned later with two glasses of her ‘favourite drink’ and set them in front of him. Harry was skeptical to see the strange colour of liquid, raising an eyebrow at her. She only smiled and raised her glass up. 

“Bottoms up,” she said as she drank from her glass. 

Harry sniffed the drink a bit before thinking he was being silly and drank it. As the sweet taste hit his taste buds, he chuckled as he shook his head. “Apple juice? Really?” He questioned. 

She laughed as she took another sip on her drink. “Well, you asked for my favourite drink and I gave it to you,” she said with a smirk in her face. “So, you don’t drink?” he asked curiously. She shrugged at him. “A bit sometimes. Just don’t prefer it unless I wanna get really drunk,” she let out a small laugh. Harry chuckled at her words, finding himself agreeing with her. 

Harry noticed how pretty of a smile she had. He didn’t know why a tiny detail like that stuck out to him. He found himself quite intrigued with the pretty bartender lady, which he realised he had been calling her that in his head without knowing her name. He stared into her eyes and found himself hypnotized by them. Suddenly, it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. Okay, stop. She’ll think you’re weird.

It was as if his mind took control over him and he found himself asking her, “When do you get off?” He asked, his eyes widening after realising the words that came out of his mouth.

What the fuck!?, he thought.

She was surprised, her mouth agape as she processed what he had just asked. But she seemed to compose herself quickly. “And why do you wanna know?” She asked nervously. 

Harry paused before choosing his next words carefully. “Because you seem really cool to talk too. And I’d like to talk to you more,” he said. He was nibbling on his bottom lip, a habit he had whenever he got nervous. He shrugged before he continued, “It’s nice to have a friend, you know?” 

Pretty bartender lady - and Harry swore he’ll get her name soon - nodded at him and smiled. Like she knew what he meant. “I’ll be off at 10,” she said. It was only 30 minutes until then. Harry was initially surprised at this, not thinking whether she would agree to - whatever he wanted to with her later. 

He nodded in response. “I’ll, uh, wait for you here, then,” he spoke nervously. She chuckled and took their glasses away so she could clean and attend to the other customers before her boss yelled at her. 

As she walked away, Harry called out to her. “Wait!” She turned around, eyes wide when he called her. “Um, what’s your name?” He asked. She smiled as her heart melted at the innocent question. 

“It’s Y/N,” she replied.

Harry nodded, a small timid smile appearing on his face. “I’m Harry,” he said. 

She smiled and nodded at his short introduction. Now, the pretty guy with forest green eyes had a name she could call him. “I’ll see you later, Harry,” she said as she returned to the back of the bar.

Harry sighed, seeming to be smitten already by her. “Yeah. See you later,” he said softly to himself.

❋

Now, Y/N was no idiot. She knew who Harry Styles was. 

She wasn’t like the biggest fan, but she appreciated his music and thought he was a lovely guy in general, according to the fan experiences she read. She didn’t know much about him, other than he was a former member of a very successful boyband and his music was just incredible. Plus, she thought he was pretty handsome.

And when she saw him walking through the doors of the bar, she had to take a double take to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. 

She usually took her job quite seriously, she was polite to all customers and made sure they were always satisfied with their drinks or snacks. It was usually because she wanted to get the tips she needed to pay her rent. So, when Harry sat down by the bar, she couldn’t help herself but go to him. 

But now, she was supposed to meet him after her shift. Which was strange to her because all she did was being nice to him and making up a conversation. Did he realise that she was pretending to not know him? Was this some sort of mind trick that was playing on her? Though, he mentioned how it was nice to have a friend. Maybe there was something behind that phrase that meant something deeper to him. 

It was already 10 PM. Y/N said goodbye to her coworkers as she grabbed her scarf and coat from her locker. Her heart was beating fast because she realised she was about to go on a little rendezvous with Harry Styles, well, that was what she thought. 

She wasn’t expecting anything. She honestly thought he might have just left, realising how silly it was to wait for a bartender friend he just made. 

But she walked towards the front of the bar and he was still sitting in his seat like he said he would, waiting for her. And she felt like her heart might burst.

❋

Harry didn’t think he’d find himself sitting at a 24-hour diner, eating some waffles with a pretty friend he just met at nearly 11 PM. He was starting to blame that one whiskey drink he asked for earlier as to be honest, he didn’t know what was happening. 

When he met Y/N in front of the bar after the shift, he was nervous, shifting on his feet in habit. When Y/N asked him what he had in mind, he froze because he realised he didn’t think this through. All he wanted was to talk to pretty bartender lady Y/N. The rest was all hazy to him. Luckily, Y/N just laughed at this and guided him to her favourite diner. 

They both ordered waffles with honey and blueberry toppings, courtesy of Y/N as she said they were the best waffles she ever had. Y/N got herself a chocolate smoothie while Harry just ordered a nice hot tea. It was a nice little meal. 

“So, Harry, what brings you here to LA?” Y/N asked him as she munched on her waffles. 

Harry sipped on his tea before clearing his throat. “Uh, I live here, mostly for work. But I’m on a break now,” he said, not giving out too much information. “Hmm. But you haven’t lived here long, I assume. Could tell by your accent,” she said knowingly.

He smiled at this. “Yeah? You like my accent, darlin’?” he teased her and pride filled himself as he saw her cheeks flaring up in the colour red. “Quite the flirt, are ya? But yes, your accent is cute,” she said as she ate. “Good to know,” he smiled and winked at her. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at him as she blushed. He seemed to be quite the flirt, teasing her and calling her pet names. If it were any other guy, she would’ve just left. She admitted that she might not have the best ways in maintaining a relationship. It was always whether she was too picky or bossy and her insecurities always got the best of her. She was used to feeling of being used for sex and her body even when she wanted to believe they wanted something more out of it. She closed herself off from love for a while now. While everyone said that her time will come, she just ignored them. Her main priority was herself and that was for sure.

But there was something about Harry that was pulling her in. He wasn’t far from what the papers write about him but at the same time, he was. He seemed somewhat closed off as she was. She didn’t want to pry, she’d never do that. It was like he was in this fish tank surrounded by spectators watching his every move. Maybe the life he has had somewhat prevented him from forming a real, honest attachment. Or maybe she was just making this all up. 

She sipped on her smoothie, her eyes focused on his. She realised how green his eyes were looking up close. “So, I have a question. And I want you to answer this as truthfully as possible,” she said, propping her head on the palms of her hands. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, chuckling a bit before nodding. “Alright, love. Lay it on me,” he said, leaning back on the booth. 

Y/N blushed at the pet name given and cleared her throat. “Why did you want to see me?”

It was silent between them. Harry should’ve known this question would come up. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer it, he was never one to make friends with a random person and go on a little rendezvous late at night. He shrugged at this, “Like I told you, it’s nice to have a friend,”

“That couldn’t be all,” Y/N smiled. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to befriend a bartender and go out with her for a late supper the same night,” Harry blushed at this and scratched the back of his ear with his finger. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to be spontaneous a bit,”

Y/N hummed at this, sipping on her drink. Harry’s eyes were trained on her and she somehow found that a bit intimidating. “I got off work just to clear my mind a bit,” he continued. “Sometimes, I’d go out with my friends, I’d meet some girls and spend the night with them, just to feel something. Just to not be alone,” This was the most Harry had opened up to someone in a while. 

“But you still feel alone,” Y/N spoke. Harry frowned at this, not quite sure what she meant. “You could be with someone, and still would feel alone. I get that,” she explained. 

Harry’s mouth was agape. “Y-Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled out. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,”

“You really don’t know me, do you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. She let out a small laugh. “I knew who you were the moment you stepped foot into that bar,” she said. Harry’s eyes widened. All this time, he was glad he thought Y/N didn’t know him but she treated him like any other normal person. But she knew all along. 

“That was.. Surprising,” he chuckled as he ran his hands through his curly locks. “But, you didn’t seem to look like y’know me. Treated me like a normal person,” She stifled a laugh. “Well, would you rather I’d treat you like royalty? Curtsey in front of you?” She joked. 

Harry laughed at this. “No, no. It was nice. It’s good t’just pretend your life is normal for once,” he nodded at her. “I’m sure you have some friends that treat you like you are just Harry,” she smiled. 

Harry only shrugged at this, “A few of them do. When you’re in the industry long enough, you’d know how to tell apart the few people that are honest and real with you and the many who just use you sometimes.” Y/N frowned at this but nodded. While she couldn’t connect to being in the same industry as him, she knew perfectly how it feels like to be used by people you allowed yourself to get close to. 

He brought his cup of tea to his lips, realising how cold it was getting. “You want some?” He offered his drink to her. Y/N nodded, taking the cup from him. “You like tea?” She asked.

“I do, but I prefer coffee,” he smiled at this random conversation. “Please tell me you don’t take your coffee black,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was daring him to admit it. Harry smirked and shrugged at her. “Sorry, love. It’s the best way to have coffee,”

“No, it’s not! It’s so bitter!” Y/N exclaimed and laughed at this. “I don’t think this would work out,” she pouted. Harry swore his heart beated a little faster, seeing her lips pout. He wondered how they’d feel against his. “What wouldn’t work out, love?” He smiled at her. 

Y/N blushed at this, looking down at her lap before she looked at him again. “Whatever you want this to be,”

They spent their time getting to know each other and by the time it was midnight, Harry ended up paying for their meals, ignoring her protests as he did. Y/N was tempted to wipe off that smug smile off his face. The December air howled as the night went on as the decorative holiday lights lit up the street they walked on. The two walked side by side, their hands brushing against each other’s. If Harry had the guts, he would intertwine their hands together. But he didn’t. Not yet, at least. 

“Random question, but do you prefer sunrises and sunsets?” she asked out of the blue. Harry thought for a moment before answering, “M’not sure, actually. Never really paid attention to them all that much.” Y/N nodded at his answer.

“Sometimes I like to wake up early just to see the sunrise,” Y/N spoke. Harry looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? You like sunrises?” he asked gently, the cold air making his breath visible to see. “I do. I like sunsets too. But no one ever stops to appreciate the sunrises,” she sighed.

“Maybe it’s because they can’t be bothered to wake up so early,” Harry joked, making her laugh. “Yeah. Well, I do that. My apartment has a nice view of it. It’s nice. The city is just beginning to wake up. The golden glow casted upon it,” 

Harry nodded at her. “Is this your way of inviting me over?” He teased. Y/N paused, her cheeks flaming up. It wasn’t her intention, but she might as well have done so. Harry was a nice company to keep and she liked him. She really did like him. “Maybe,” she mumbled. 

Harry smiled at her sudden shyness. It was something he liked about her. He really liked her. And he wanted her to take him back to her home, as pathetic as that made him seem. 

“Well, lead the way, darlin’,”

Y/N struggled to put her keys into the keyhole of her apartment. Nervous was an understatement for her. She had a really sweet and attractive man waiting behind her and she was about to invite him in. She was almost sweating at the thought and she didn’t know why.

She opened the door, letting the warm air of her small apartment flow through them. Harry found it quite cozy. There were plants placed in different corners of the room, he noticed a record player by the television. There was also an easel standing by it. It was small, unlike his luxurious houses, but homey.

“You paint?” He asked. Y/N blushed at this, she forgot to put away your paint and clean up. In her defense, she didn’t think you would have company tonight. “Yeah, s’just a hobby. And somewhat a side hustle,” she said, taking off her coat and putting in on the couch. Harry did the same, subtly wiping his sweaty palms against his dark jeans. 

“Uh, d-do you want something to drink?” she asked nervously. Idiot, you just had drinks. “Or, if y’want, I have some chocolate chip cookies. If you like chocolate chip cookies. I mean, y’don’t have to but-,” Y/N was cut off upon hearing Harry chuckling at her, his expression amused as he listened to her nervous rambling. 

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m good,” he said, smiling at her. She blushed again at the use of the pet name.

It was silence, the only thing that could be heard was their breathing as they looked at each other. Harry slowly walked over, Y/N’s breath hitched as he did so. She was nervous and she was scared, she hadn’t done this in a long time. His arm settled on her waist and it was the first time he touched her. His eyes, green as ever and filled with lust and passion, were focused on hers. She could feel his breath hitting her face due to the proximity between them. 

Y/N gently placed her hands on his chest, feeling it rising up and down as he breathed. His forehead was already pressing against hers, their noses slightly brushing against each other. “Can I kiss you?” Harry finally asked ever so softly. And Y/N couldn’t help but nod her head. “Please,”

His lips crashed into hers, gently at first, but she kissed him harder, making it more passionate. She could hear him moan into the kiss as their tongues battled for dominance. His hands travelled lower to her backside, she moaned aloud as he squeezed them. When they pulled away, they would instantly pull into another kiss again, wanting to be close. Harry lowered his hands further behind her thighs, signaling her to jump so he could hold her tightly against him. 

“Y/N, I won’t be able to stop,” he said, gasping for air. Y/N only kissed him again, replying as her lips were against his. “Then, don’t,”

Y/N wasn’t sure how they made it to her room, laying nearly naked on her bed. She just realised how many tattoos he had on his body. She traced over the art scattered over his skin delicately. “Harry,” she whimpered as she felt his hardened length grinding against her core. She could feel her arousal seeping through her underwear. She gasped as he pressed kisses down her neck onto her collarbones, her eyes rolling back when he sucked a sweet spot there. His fingers entangled themselves between hers, squeezing them tightly. 

“Harry, please,” 

“I got you, baby. Gonna take my time with you,” he said gently as he kissed her forehead.

Y/N could feel her heart beamed at the sweet gesture. She had one-night stands before, but none of them felt as intimate as with Harry. The way he kissed her, held her, it almost felt right. And she wondered if he felt it too. 

When they’re fully naked and Harry lined himself against her, he looked at her, as if he was asking if she was still sure of this; if she wanted this; if she wanted him. Her eyes were shining as the moonlight shone through her curtains, her hair sprawled against her pillow. She was beautiful and ethereal. He almost couldn’t believe it. 

A nod from her was all it took for him to push himself in, the two moaning in relief as pleasure shot through their bodies. He slowly thrusted, taking his time with her. The feeling of euphoria running through their bodies as they held each other close. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, wanting to keep his warm body close to her. “Harry, faster,” Y/N pleaded.

It was almost like a switch went off his head before Harry spreaded her legs further, thrusting harder and further into her. Moans and groans filled the room and the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. Harry had his head buried into the crook of her neck, breathing hard as he felt the pleasure burning at the bottom of his spine. He was close and he knew she was too from the way she was clenching around him. 

“You close, baby?” He breathed out as he looked at her. The bed was creaking with every movement they made. Y/N moaned in ecstasy as she nodded her head, trying to keep her eyes on him. She didn’t want to miss a thing with him.

Harry took her by surprise by pulling out, lifting her up so she sat on his lap. He guided himself into herself, groaning as she welcomed him in her. Y/N moaned loudly as she felt him hit deeper, feeling herself clenching around him. She quickly began to move against him, smiling as she saw Harry shut his eyes in pleasure, murmuring her name. “C-Close, Harry, fuck,” she groaned as she moved faster.

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as if it was possible. He thrusted his hips upwards against hers, adding to the euphoric pleasure that was coursing through them. “I know, baby. Fuck, y’feel so good around me,” he moaned out, looking at her with hooded eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their heavy breaths hitting each other’s faces. 

It was only a glance into his forest green eyes that triggered her high. She moaned out loud, her body shaking against him, and just the sight of her high triggered Harry’s. He groaned against her neck and cursed a string of profanities under his breath as he kept thrusting his hips into her, prolonging his orgasm. When they calmed down from their highs, they took deep breaths before pressing their lips together. Harry could hear a whimper from the beautiful woman above him. He was delirious with the bliss feeling. 

They laid on their sides, admiring each other’s glowing yet sweaty state. Harry closed his eyes and sighed as Y/N brushed her fingers through his hair. “Y’alright?” he murmured to her. She nodded and gave him a shy smile. He thought it was cute of her acting all shy after having done such an intimate and dirty activity with him. He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling as she scrunched it up. “You’re beautiful,” he admitted. 

Y/N let out a deep breath. There was no denying the attraction she felt for him. The setting was so intimate, far from what she thought it was going to be. She felt herself opening up to him, something she prevented herself from doing for a long time. She was scared of this, but she liked it at the same time. 

“Hold me?” she asked and Harry pulled her against his body without a second to waste. Their breathing was the only sound they paid attention to. Y/N nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, her finger tracing the tattoos on his chest. 

“Are you gonna stay?” she asked softly. She was not expecting anything, but she hoped he did stay. 

Harry smiled and pulled her closer. “Only if y’want me to,” he said. Y/N returned the smile, tracing out his lips with her finger, feeling how soft they were. 

“I’d like that,”

❋

When Harry woke up, he felt an empty cold space beside him. Confused at first, he sat up slowly, wondering where the pretty woman he liked was. He turned his head and there she was, sitting by her window looking out into the early morning. She was sipping on something from her mug and she was wearing his dark blue T-shirt from the night before. She looked absolutely breathtaking. 

“You’re up early,” he said, catching her by surprise at the sound of his voice. She smiled at him and made her way to sit on his lap, putting her mug on the bedside table. “You missed the sunrise.” She ran her fingers through his messy bed hair. He sighed, realising how much he liked her doing that simple yet intimate gesture. “Yeah? Was it pretty?” 

“Very,” she sighed as Harry laid his head on his shoulder. He held her tightly in his arms, similar to how he did when they slept. “Well, you’re prettier,” he said, planting kisses up her neck. She realised how deep and raspy his voice sounded in the morning, it sent shivers down her spine. “Well, you’re a charmer,” she murmured. 

Harry looked up at her, taking in her morning glow that she was emitting. “Your eyes are really pretty,” Y/N said softly as she admired his forest green eyes. “Yeah? Y’think so?” he said, playfully fluttering his eyes at her. She laughed at this, throwing her head back. Harry thought it was the sweetest sound. She traced the outline of his lips with her index finger, feeling how soft they were under her touch. Harry kept his mouth agape as she did so. 

“Can I kiss you?” Y/N whispered. He smiled at her, remembering his exact words from the night before, before nodding. “Please,”

The fluttering in his stomach intensified as their lips met. The thing that clouded Harry’s mind was how soft her lips were and how sweet they tasted. Their kiss almost made him feel dizzy for how much passion there was. When they pulled away, he looked at Y/N with hooded eyes, his breathing was heavy from the blissful sensation he felt. He gently wrapped his arms around her frame and it just felt right.

He pulled her into another kiss, a moan elicited from Y/N that sent blood rushing to his lower region. His hands travelled up his shirt she was wearing and he let out a groan, realising she had nothing underneath it. He felt drunk by her touch, her scent; everything. It was a delicate feeling he felt and he didn’t want to let go of it. He could get used to this, the feeling of her. For once in a long while, he didn’t feel alone anymore. 

It was no doubt that Y/N felt the same. 

It all just felt right. 

❋

The snow was covering the backyard, the trees and bushes were covered in white. Y/N watched as the snow fell while sipping on her hot chocolate. The house was decorated for the special wintery day. The tree was lit up and decorated with many ornaments as well as pictures on it, the presents laying closely below it. 

Voices snapped her out of her thoughts, she smiled as she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. She turned around to see her husband holding up a sleepy little girl in his large muscular arms, the little girl they were blessed with as their daughter. Harry was talking animatedly to Ruby, trying to wake her up in the Christmas spirit. 

He gasped and pointed his finger at you. “Look, Rue! It’s mummy! An early bird, isn’t she?” He said to Ruby as he bounced her gently in his arms. You rolled your eyes at his silliness. “Mama,” the little girl reached out to her mother as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. Y/N set her mug on the counter and grabbed lifted little Ruby in her arms. “Morning, Rue baby,” Y/N cooed softly at her, closing her mouth with the back of her hand when she yawned. 

“Think she’s a bit tired,” Harry chuckled at them. “Y’think? Who’s the idiot that woke her up early?” Y/N asked sarcastically at her husband. He only lifted his arms up in defense, a smug smile painted on his face. Ruby quietly giggled at her parents. He sipped on a mug of hot chocolate and she narrowed her eyes at her as he leaned back on the counter. 

“Are you really drinking my hot chocolate?” Harry paused for a bit before swallowing the warm drink. “I’ll make ya another one, love,” he rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N rolled her eyes at him before chuckling. “You better, Styles.” She felt Ruby shifting in her arms and gently bounced her. “Y’alright, bubs?” She pouted at her daughter. 

“Snow,” she said, pointing out the window where the snow was falling. “Yeah, bubs! It’s snowing!” Y/N exclaimed excitedly to her, making Ruby giggle. “Dada, snow!” she exclaimed to her father. 

Harry laughed at his daughter’s adorableness. “That’s right, Rue!” He agreed, stroking through her curly hair that she inherited from him. He placed a hand gently on Y/N’s clothed stomach. “And how’s bub number 2 doing?” He asked softly. Y/N smiled, her heart beaming at the gentleness of her husband. “They’re doing great in there,” she said, placing her hand over his above her two-month growing belly. 

Harry beamed at this, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, eliciting a small whimper from her. 

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. Even after all these years, she found his green eyes just as beautiful and hypnotizing.

“I love you, too,” she said and smiled at him as they broke away. 

Perhaps, Harry would consider himself lucky that his sad lonely self walked into the bar she previously worked at five years ago. Maybe if he hadn’t opened up to Y/N or went back to her apartment, he wouldn’t be able to have this little family he was blessed with. There was something so delicate and real he felt that night that he wanted to keep. So naturally, they both let their walls down and took a chance on each other. And perhaps because it was nearing Christmas that night, he would think of it as some Christmas miracle. 

“Wanna open the presents, Rue?” Y/N asked Ruby as bounced her in her arms. Ruby giggled, not even understanding what her mother said, and nodded. “Yeah? Wanna open presents with mummy and daddy?” Y/N said excitedly as she carried her into the living room. Harry chuckled at the precious sight of them as he followed them.

As they sat down in the living room, he took a moment to just admire his wife and his daughter. Y/N, though wearing one of his Christmas sweaters and sleep shorts, looked just as beautiful and ethereal as she did the night they met. She held little Ruby in her arms, who was busy tearing up the small present in front of her. His wife cheered at their daughter as she took out a little stuffed teddy bear, giggling as she waved it around with her small hands.

Y/N looked up at him and gave him a loving smile as she intertwined her fingers with him. Despite them being in such cold weather, her hands felt warm against his. He admired how they fit perfectly in his. Ruby babbled incoherently to her parents about her gift, in which they nodded like they understood what she said. Harry’s heart warmed up just thinking of how they’ll have another addition to their loving little family soon. 

His heart was full of love and happiness. He no longer felt alone. He had everything he wanted in that moment, his growing little family.

Everything was just right. 

[ghostofstudentspast]

Sunshine

This one was requested by my lovely mutual @wifi--witch who's been here since the start! Hopefully it's what you wanted (also it’s written in Neville’s perspective for a change which was fun!) - June x

When Neville bumps into the nicest girl he's ever had the pleasure of knowing, he's baffled to find out the truth about her house!

Word count: 1500 ish Warnings: None! It's a fluffy feel good fic x

Wandering through Diagon Alley the week before returning to Hogwarts was one of Neville's favourite things. Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley walked beside him pratteling on about anything and everything as the trio browsed for their school supplies and little treats. The summer sun was shining down on them and eerything felt right in Neville's world. Until... "Oof-" Neville felt all of the air being knocked out of his lungs as someone smacked into him.

In front of him stood the most beatiful girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. Your hair shone brightly under the sun and your eyes, which were wide with concern, he could have drowned in.

"Oh jeez, I am so sorry!" the girl in front of him looked up with concern, "I was just completely in my own world," you crouched down to pick up the bag Neville had dropped in shock.

"N-no, I-that's okay, I wasn't paying attention either," Neville managed to get out as you handed him the bag, hands briefly grazing against each other.

"Call it even then?" Her eyes sparkled with mirth as you held out her hand for him to shake, "I'm Y/N, by the way!" 

"Neville,” he took your soft hand in his own and the smile that broke out on your face was mesmirizing.

She smiles like sunshine, he thought.

“It was really nice to meet you Neville but I am already so late and I’d rather not be chewed out by my mother so I have to run!” you grinned up at him, “see you around Hogwarts?” you questioned

“Y-yeah, see you,” he trailed off as you bounded past him, hair flying behind you as you narrowly dodged a few more strangers.

He quickly rushed to catch up with his friends again who had stopped a few meters down the cobblestone street. Ginny was feigning interest in the book store they’d stopped in front of while Luna stared blatently at her friend.

“She was pretty,” Luna observed serenely.

“Yeah, I suppose she was,” Nevilles ears burned and he feared he may be as red as Ginny’s hair. The redhead in question was pressing her lips together to control the laughter he knew would soon come spilling out.

“I think you would make very attractive babies,” Luna said very seriously. Ginny lost it at this and Nevilles face only felt hotter.

“She’s not a Gryffindor is she?” He voiced after his friends had calmed down and started walking again.

“Nah, would’ve recognized her!” Ginny shook her head.

“She’s not in Ravenclaw either,” Luna chimed in as she strolled past a pet store and admired the lizards. “Lot of Nargles following her,” Luna shook her head sadly as if that explained everything. _______________________________

The first few weeks back at school went off without a hitch. No drama, no teachers yelling at him (yet) and best of all double block Herbology.Yet even surrounded by his friends, Neville found himself craning his head at mealtimes looking for a Y/H/C head of hair and that bright smile that haunted his dreams.

So when you strode into his Herbology class a week late, sporting an apologetic look he was all the more intruiged. You stopped at Professor Sprout to have an animated conversation and she offered a sympathetic smile.

“Who shows up a week late to Hogwarts,” Hermione sniffed from beside him where they were working at the same station.

“Y/L/N that’s who,” Lavender Brown hissed across the table shaking her head, “Her parents have donated as much money to this place as the Malfoys, maybe even more.”

Hermione huffed at this and returned to work but Neville’s eyes were glued to the back of your head. When you spun around to stride towards the empty spot across the room his eyes caught the glint of a silver and green tie perfectly knotted on your chest.

“She’s in Slytherin?” He voiced out loud to no one in particular as the Slytherin in question waltzed over to Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson with a wide grin, embracing them both.

“Duh,” Lavender rolled her eyes with a snort of laughter. As if he was meant to have known.

Neville must have been burning a hole in your head because your gaze snapped up to meet his, his ears turning red once again. Your lips spread into a wide smile as you offered him an excited little wave. Daphne whispered something in your ear at this and you smacked her on the arm good naturedly in response, attention diverted from him once more.

There was just no way that you could be THAT nice and in Slytherin of all houses.

________________________________________________________

No matter what he did, the rest of the day you occupied Neville’s mind. Your beautiful smile and that stupid green tie. He knew he should just shrug off this little crush he had on you and move on with his day becaue there was no way you would be into a Gryffindor right? Let alone Neville. 

Taking up a table in the back of the library he got to work on some of his more recent homework. Saving Herbology for last, he knew everything else would be abandonded once he got to the project Professor Sprout had assigned.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the castle for you,” a voice interrupted his train of thought, “Let me tell you, it is not easy to find one boy in this place. So many hiding places and you were in the library the whole time,” you rambled on as Neville stared at you with wide eyes.

“Me? You were looking for me?” His eyebrows were probably in his hairline by now.

“Yeah! Professor Sprout told me I should ask you to catch me up on the week of work I missed,” you smiled and sat down across the table from him. He felt a sneaking sense of dissapointment, of course it was about school. “She says you’re the most gifted herbologist in the year!”

Neville felt the urge to shrink back at the compliment and pulled out his Herbology notes silently to have something to do. He slid them across the table towards you with a small awkward smile.

“Oh, thank you, but I was actually hoping you could talk me through everything,” You slid the parchment back to him, “I wouldn’t want to just copy your notes, that feels wrong.”

“Oh,” Neville cleared his throat and tried to find words. Any words. “Well-um, yeah, I can do that,” He pulled his notes toward himself and looked over the topics quickly. “We started with the properties of Aconite and how it relates to the wolfsbane potion, since we’ll be covering that in Potions this term...”

Once Neville was on a roll about Herbology it was hard to slow him down. He kept rattling off facts he found interesting and pertinent to the class and was only encouraged when you slid your chair closer to him to read along with his notes over his shoulder.

“And then this week, I’m sure you already know, We’re covering Venomous Tentacula’s which means it’s going to be one hell of a double block,” he chuckled to himself and turned to look at you, only to find you already staring at him with interest. He had to swallow the lump in his throat as his cheeks flushed. You were closer than he’d thought.

“Sprout wasn’t kidding! You’re like some sort of Herbology prodigy,” You grinned and Neville’s blush only darkened at the compliment. “No chance you’d wanna be my partner for the upcoming project would you?” You almost seemed shy asking.

“Oh, um...yeah, I could, I mean yeah that’d be nice,” Neville managed to stutter out.

“Oh good,” you sighed in relief and relaxed against your chair, “I mean I really need all the help I can get in this class.” You let out a light laugh.

And there was that sinking dissapointment again. He had to remind himself you were here for help, not because you liked him.

“Plus, I mean, you seem really sweet,” You smiled over to him hesitantly, “I think I could really like you.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and looked away quickly, a blush of your own creeping onto your face.

“Y-you’re really sweet too,” Neville said finally, finding his voice again, “um the Hogsmeade weekend in a few weeks..would you want to go? With me I mean...as a date?” the words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He was almost regretting the word vomit when you turned your brillaint smile to him. He relaxed immediately and couldn’t help smile back at you.

“I would love to,” you leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly, “Thank you for asking,” You smiled and sat back in your seat. “Oh shoot I have to go!” You sprang up.

“See you tomorrow?” Neville asked hesitantly.

You nodded quickly, “Meet me here after lunch,” You smiled and turned to leave “See you tomorrow Neville!” You called over your shoulder as Madamme Pinch shushed you on your way out.

A date. Nevilled grinned and leaned back in his chair. He’d asked you on a date and you’d said yes. The girl who smiled like sunshine.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Treasure Hunter AU

I binged watch the Mummy trilogy while i had no wifi/internet for a while and I had an idea for a treasure hunter Mari with Daminette.

--------

Damian was bored.(age: 22-28 years old.)

At a gala party.

Meets Marinette who was equally bored.(abt the same age as D)

He finds out she was the finder of this famous artifact on display.

-----

Damian tugged at his collar, scanning the crowd. His father needed a plus one to show up with and everyone else were busy.

He grabbed a champagne flute and made his way to the edge of the room.

He found a woman in a black evening gown, looking as bored as he felt. short dark hair. Blue eyes.( I suck at describing people after the third time doing it. It feels overrated)

"Hello, stranger. You bored with mingling in with the assholes on their high horses?"

"Should I be offended?"

"We will see. Depends on you."

"How about you? A beautiful lady like you not kissing up their asses to climb the social ladder. That is strange."

She made a face. "Trust me. I don't want to be here but my friend wanted family time so I came in his place. What about you? Why are you here?"

"I am pretty sure my father wanted someone to get him out if the vultures came too close."

"Vultures, adept descriptions. I am glad no one realized who I am yet or i would be in their claws."

"Who are you representing, anyways?"

"Myself but Adrien or Kagami usually comes in my place but tonight, they have their son's play to go to."

"Adrien and Kagami. Aren't they the Agreste-Tsrungi?"

"Yep."

"You are the Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Globe trotting Treasure hunter and also world-class designer, MDC."

"Now you know. What's your name, handsome stranger?"

"You don't know?"

"Hey. Like you said globetrotting treasure hunter. I am not up-to-date on the news front. And when I am in Paris to do designer stuff, i am too busy to look at the news."

He gave her his hand, "Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne who is a billionaire and owns Wayne Enterprise."

She shook it.

"Pleased to meet you."

She stills design but like sent her designs to Adrien at least once every month, who had rebranded Gabriel to Miraculous Designs.

Some ppl thinks he did it to spite his father, who is in jail. Adrien and Mari has a partnership thing.

Mari also makes clothes but for a few months. And the rest of the time is spent travelling.

Exclusive designs from MDC are rare but the designs hand made by her are rarer so they are like a really big deal. They have the most amazing details. Really expensive and limited edition.

The rest of the time Mari spends finding Miraculouses (Miraculi ?) lost in the world so if she happens to find a few priceless artifacts that aren't the Miraculous. She donates it.

Alix helps and sometimes go find them with her.

She has Tikki and Plagg and maybe Wyazz all the time to look for curses and counter it.

She has also met John Constantine. They have an arrangement of sorts. A few magical artifacts that doesn't have to Miraculous business are given to him in exchange for any miraculous stuff he has or found.

Adrien funds her trips.

He is married to Kagami.

Kagami goes with Mari and Alix for a few months sometimes. Adrien likes being a stay at home dad.

Their kid is named Marin/Martin because it was Mari who got them together.

The few trips Mari dragged him on was enough to make him stay behind and run the business.

(Back to the story) Damian fangirled a little because Mari had been doing stuff like this since she was 18.

It was an amazing reputation she has.

She invites him to her next trip after questioning his skill sets.

------

"Are you good with heights, dark scary places and adventuring into the unknown?"

"Yes"

"You any good with guns, swords, knives, booby traps and keeping calm under pressure?"

"Yes. I have many experiences with them."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes. Why are you asking me this?"

"Wanna join me on my next trip to the jungle of China? There are myths about some hidden temple."

------

Damian was a little conflicted.

He hadn't have the chance to explore the world much. He had been somewhere else for a mission (for the League of Shadows or JL business) but never for pleasure.

Being a vigilante by night and working at Wayne Enterprise by day gets a little boring after some years.

His brothers had a chance to travel the world on their own for a while. Sure, for reasons other than sight-seeing and looking for something to break out of the rut he was in. But still.

This was an exciting opportunity but a tad suspicious.

-----

"Why me?"

She looked surprised at that.

"Oh. Well, my friends enjoy coming with me on my adventures, treasure hunting and all that every now and then except Adrien but they have other things in their life to come with me all the time. I can mostly survive on my own most of the time but it gets lonely travelling on my own and it's nice if someone is there to watch my back. I understand if you don't want to come. It's just that I enjoy your company and you aren't like those assholes on their high horses. My gut feeling says I can trust you. You are not after the treasure or see it as one big game. You are looking for an escape. You would definitely catch me if I fall. As you know from my choice of friends, i have a bad habit of pulling rich kids from their stuffy lifestyle and take them on potentially life-threatening adventures." She joked. Then she lowered her voice, "Besides, it might be handy having a former assassin around."

She said in Arabic.

His hand went to his hidden knife and found it not there.

"Looking for this?" She said, holding it.

"How much do you know?" He hissed back in the same language.

"Relax," she gave back the knife, "my mother was one and I have accidentally came across a few in my adventures. I know one when i see one. I took a stab in the dark with your middle-eastern background. Speaking of, you know Talia Al Ghul by any chance."

He narrowed his eyes.

"She's my mother. Why?"

"You look like her. Met her a few times. Nice lady but scary. Mine's Sabine Cheng, goes by the Blue Reaper." She said it so casually like their parents weren't dangerous deadly assassins and had normal jobs.

"You aren't normal, are you?"

"What gave it away?"

"That you willingly gave away blackmail material to me."

"Normal people don't have assassins for mothers. And you and me aren't exactly meeting the minimum standards for normal. Besides, I just told you a family secret that you would have found out anyways with a through background search and a little digging. So far all I know about you is that your parents are Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne-I wonder how an assassin got together with a billionaire-, you are a former League of Shadows assassin, you are great with weapons, keeping secrets and so far meeting the criteria for an adventure buddy. That's all I swear. And that you have some pets. A cat, maybe."

"How you know about my cat?!"

"Cat hair on your clothes." She was good. "If it will ease your mind about me, you can ask me 5 questions that I will truthfully answer. "

"So why are you doing this?"

"That's question 1. Well, I really want whatever this is between us to work. Partners, Friends, Companions, Comrades. Whatever you want to call it. Like I said, I get lonely sometimes and need some human interaction to at least keep myself sane. You looked like you want to be somewhere else and I thought this is perfect. I am not going to tell anyone about you or push you to join me. I swear on my mother's sword."

"Are we killing anybody?"

"Mostly I try to avoid that as much as possible. Sometimes I get into situations with no other alternative. " She looked away guiltily.

"Fair enough."

"Not judging me for that. That's a first for me."

"I am a former assassin and have killed before. I have no right to condemn you for your past."

"How much are you willing to tell me about this hidden temple?"

"That has to do with a secret. I would tell you more when there are less ears around. But this temple was said to hold a magic jewel that grants some powers and it is located really deep in the jungle. Getting there might take months."

"You forgot to mention that last one."

"Oh yeah. You think you can get away for some months. This kind of stuff usually takes a while. Like I said before, no pressure. Anyway, 2 questions left."

"What's my salary?"

"Aren't you a billionaire?"

"My father is. I have a trust fund and I get a salary for doing my job at the company. You are lucky that I just finished with most of my assigned projects so I might be able to come."

"I am so sorry about just assuming things about you. You can say no to the offer. The temple is said to hold some other treasures but I mainly want the jewel. We could auction off a few bits and pieces. I usually just donate them to museums and universities or sell them to those who really appreciate the history. I would also pay for the entire expenses for the trip."

"Can I think about this?"

"Sure. Here's my number. I leave on the 1st of next month. Gimme an answer a week before that so I can make the proper arrangements. It has been fun talking to you, Damian."

She walked away, going towards the buffet table.

------

Back in the car on the way home to the manor.

Bruce asked, "Who were you talking to for that long?"

"Who?"

"The one that gave you her number."

"Oh. MDC. She invited me to join her in China next month to find some hidden temple."

"She did?"

"Yes. Not only that she found out about mother and know what I did before I came here. She doesn't know about Batman, Robin or Crow. And she said she wasn't going to blackmail me but just wanted a companion to go with her. Ideally, it would be best to silence her before she digs any further into me but I trust her. I sincerely believe that she meant it when she said that she's not going to tell on me. And I am really tempted to take up on it."

"What do you want to do?"

"On one hand, i would be gone for months so there won't be Crow in Gotham for a while and I have a few projects I need to finish up. On the other hand. Father, I have been a vigilante for over 10 years now and I haven't really done much out besides that, school and now work. I have appreciated all you have done for me over the years. But I want to go with her. Do something that is not connected to Batman or Wayne or Al Ghul. Just a little something different for myself."

"You can go if you want. I am not going to stop you. I will make arrangements so the projects would be done by someone else. The others can cover your patrols. You are still young so it is understandable to want some fun every now and then."

"Thank you, Father."

Bruce put his hand on his shoulder.

"I am proud of you as Crow and as Damian Wayne. But if you want to go find some hidden temple in China just for a break from this life, to be just Damian, go for it. There are worse things you could do. Just tell me if you are going to go on any future trips like that." (I don't know DC much, sorry if that is a little OOC but I like good dad! Bruce.)

-------

Damian dialed the number on the card.

"Hello"

"I accept your offer, miss MDC."

"Damian? Right, text me your email address. I will sent you things you would need to pack and flight details. And can you come by to the Gotham Rose Hotel tomorrow? I will give more details on the temple."

-------

Damian comes by the hotel.

Marinette tells him of the kwamis and miraculous and makes him swear to not tell anyone unless they already know.

The hidden temple actually might have a miraculous.

Damian gets a little interested in the akuma situation she mentioned.

Mari doesn't say anything about it much.

When he got back, he goes to the Bat-computer and did some digging.

Ladybug looks a little familiar. Pulls up younger picture of Mari and look at that, she used to be a superhero.

Wonder Woman was kept informed of things and made sure no one goes to Paris without her knowing.

Zatanna helped capture the villain Hawkmoth and end his 2 year reign.

Fast forward, they are in Beijing now, sleeping off jetlag.

The next morning, They get out of the city somehow to the city limits and somewhere remote.

Mari uses Kalki and transports them to the jungle.

They set up camp. Cue Campfire stories.

-----

"I thought getting here would take months."

"No actually, finding the temple would. According to my research and the map I copied through less than legal means, it is somewhere in this general area. There used to a city around here too and the king or emperor pissed off some powerful priest or wizard, take your pick. There was a curse. The city crumbled down and the temple is the only thing standing because the king went there and prayed to the gods for protection. The one who answered his prayers and protected the temple in doing so the king was pressed into service of the god. The king did everything the god said for a while but later, he started to hate it and began disobeying the orders. The god cursed him for his disobedience. The temple he was protected in became his tomb and he was tasked to protect the chest inside the temple for the rest of eternity. Anyone who opens the chest would gain the ultimate power to rule the earth. Thankfully, we are not after the chest. Some powerful crack-head with a misused miraculous tried to find it and open the chest for more power. But he never returned. My theory is that the miraculous is still in the temple. As long as we don't wake up the king or go for the chest, we would be okay."

"What are the guns for? And How did you get them past security?"

"In case of emergencies, an army of undead was mentioned and guns are surprisingly good repellent. Well, most of the time. It's useless if there is a no weapons can kill 'it' rule. Then, it's just a stress reliever. I kept them in a pocket dimension. Makes it easier to get around."

Damian vowed to never let Marinette meet Jason. Judging by the pile of guns and occasional knives and other weapons she took out of the brown satchel which apparently holds a pocket dimension, Jason would adopt her. He wondered if that was all that was inside in.

-------

They packed up and started searching the jungle for hidden temple.

It was a month and a half before they found it.

They bonded a lot during that time.

They had a moment after drinking a little alcohol which Mari has in the pocket dimension. Or Drank a lot of alcohol and had sex.

It was awkward and they both agree to not talk about it again.

Soon after, they found the temple. But it is still a little far away.

But the temple is not the only thing they found. They also found a campsite with many people milling around. Some of them carried guns.

Somewhat rich bastard who overheard their conversation at the gala. Heard treasure and found out where Mari's next expedition is.

Had the help of some scholar who wants to be famous for the greatest find since King Tut.

They found the temple even though they had no magical help, they left 2 weeks before Mari did, so yeah.

Rich Bastard's name is 'Philip Anderson'(This sounds familiar to me for some reason and I can't find out why.) and Scholar is 'Harry Scott'

They have armed bodyguards and some 'hired' help to get the treasure.

Anderson is still rich but his company had been getting losses the past 2 years and this is a quick, easy get rich scheme.

Mari and Damian: "Rich asshole on his high horse."

Anderson doesn't know about the chest but Mari and Damian thinks he does and it was what he was after.

They set up camp a little further ahead of Anderson's

Unfortunately, they were found by Harry. Somehow.

-----

I am going to continue this when I am more awake.

[prozd]

Bones of the Forgotten

For those unaware, when I was 12 years old, I used to write very gritty Mario fanfiction.  The only reason this exists is because we hit a charity milestone for Extra Life (which by the way you can still donate to here: https://www.extra-life.org/participant/450294)

I decided to write the sort of fanfiction that 12 year old me would've enjoyed writing, so here is my love letter to my youth.

A question block can come in handy in a variety of ways.  You just gotta know how to scrap it down.  Easily done enough with a precision focus Fire Flower blowtorch.  The first thing you gotta do is realize there's nothing bringing that sonuvabitch down; those fuckers float in the air forever no matter how much you push or pull 'em.  Instead, you gotta carve off pieces from it as it's floating up there. Awkward at first, but by the fiftieth time, it's fucking clockwork.

Melt down the pieces and you've got the golden goo perfect for crafting all sorts of nasty tools.  A bat made from question block has just enough lightness for a easy swing, but just enough density to still effectively break a kneecap.  A blade still won't pierce, say, a Chain Chomp, but it can at least pierce most Koopa shells.  Plus, some people just like the gold color; they think it looks sick.

I personally think the best use of question block goo is making bullets out of it.  They're denser than most others and they maintain their speed for longer. The only downside is they stand out if you leave them in a body at a crime scene, but that's irrelevant as long as you're cleaning up your messes properly.  If anyone had the time and resources to search the bottom of the sea near Rogueport Docks, I imagine you'd find a glittering trove of golden bullets scattered among the bones of the forgotten.

One of those bullets dances idly through my fingers as I listen to one of my subordinates, a Craw with the quite frankly unfortunate name of Garf, lament about his recent mistreatment by the Syndicate.

"Ishnail, they just stomped the shit out of us!  Gus and I, we weren't doin' NOTHIN' and those leafy fucks attacked us.  Everyone knows the Plaza's neutral territory, we gotta DO somethin' about this."

Craws get a bad rap, in my opinion.  They get labeled as savage, but I've always found them to be much more thoughtful than people would assume.  Even in this moment, as my eyes gaze upon Garf's tattered, bloodied vest and bandana, and his curved beak squawks in rage, I notice the slightest trace of tears at the very edges of his eyes.  Aw.

"Let me ask you one question, Garf."  Out of respect, Garf immediately goes silent. Again, thoughtful.  "Were you and Gus carrying your spears?"

"I......I mean.....we have to, it's part of Craw culture...."

"I'm well aware, but Garf, I'm sure YOU'RE well aware that no weapons are allowed in the Plaza.  I mean, at the very least, keep a goddamn gun hidden in your pocket, don't wave a fucking SPEAR around.  You're just asking for the Piantas to give you a beating."

I get up from the dingy sofa I've been lounging on and dust myself off.  "But I can't have Don Pianta thinking it's okay to fuck up my guys.  I'll have to have a word with the ol' mustachioed fuck."  I pat Garf on the cheek and wipe a tear away with my thumb.  He nods in appreciation.

I motion to two of my subordinates, a scrappy looking Goomba named Goomfrey and a laidback Hammer Brother named Hamma.  We step outside HQ and into the bustling, grimy streets of Rogueport's east side.  

As long as I've lived in Rogueport, it's always carried the smell of the sea in the air.  It's a welcome scent to me, having grown up in the Seaside Kingdom.  My mom was a Bubblainian; she raised me when my deadbeat Koopa dad left us, and what she gave me was the snail shell on my back and a love for the water.  Merchants shouting and the occasional "STOP, THIEF!" ring out as my muscle and I make our way through the Plaza.  We pass the gallows where the Shadow Queen's corpse was supposedly hung from one thousand years ago.  Fittingly gruesome lore for a city filled with murderous rat-bastards.

A sickly sweet scent starts to mingle with the smell of the sea and garbage I'm used to. It's an indication that we're entering the west side of Rogueport. Sure, it's a much tidier area than where the Robbos and I live; there may be fancy-ass things like "flowers" and "benches," how hoity-toity.  You can put lipstick on a Li'l Oink, but it still smells like shit.

We walk into Westside Goods.  There's no need for the customary password; Peeka, the Boo shopkeeper, knows why I'm here.  She opens up the back door, and we walk up the stairs in the back alley to Don Pianta's office.

"Ishnail, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Don Pianta stands behind his desk; as much as I hate to admit it, his presence is overwhelming.  "And you brought friends, too?" he notes as he sees Goomfrey and Hamma.

If you want to live long in Rogueport, every time you enter a room, you have to mentally gauge 1. the quickest way to escape, 2. who you may need to disable and/or kill to escape, and 3. how easy that's all going to be.  Two giant yellow Pianta in suits stand guard at both sides of the Don's desk. A blue Pianta in a white suit, the Don's underboss Frankie, closes the door behind us.  

Piantas are not easy to injure, let alone kill; I know this from years of tangling with the Don's gang.  The little palm trees and skirts would make you think otherwise, but Piantas are naturally built like fucking dump trucks and hit just as hard.  Hamma's a Glitz Pit fighter, and I've seen what he can do with that hammer.  Goomfrey gets underestimated for his species, but his reputation precedes him; he has bitten off more fingers than your average Rogueportian.  Still, a fight against four Piantas, even with my question block bullets, would be brutal.  It's telling that you never see a Pianta with a weapon because nothing will kill you faster than simply their own fists.

"Your men attacked mine, Don.  And for what, carrying spears?  You and I both know that's bullshit."

"My men....have been on edge.  Your little Bandit friends have been scuttling around, picking too many pockets they shouldn't be.  Keep that shit on the East Side where it belongs, and we'll be fine."

As Don Pianta talks, he habitually cracks his knuckles.  Out of all the Piantas in the syndicate, Don Pianta is truly a mammoth; his muscles are barely contained by the suit he's wearing.  Honestly, if he wasn't my ultimate arch-nemesis in this town, shit, I'd fuck him.  I like my men beefy.

"Alright, Don.  I'll tell my boys to keep their weapons out of the plaza.  You and I both know no one benefits if we fight in the streets.  Bad business for both your establishments and mine.  Let's keep things quiet."

"Agreed," The Don extends a giant hand.  I shake it firmly.

I turn to leave with my muscle in tow.  As I open the door to leave, I hear a whisper.

"Get your slimy shell outta here, you fuck."

I pause.  I give Goomfrey the look, and he smirks.  Goomfrey's eyes quickly dart and I know he's already memorizing every little detail about the yellow Pianta who whispered the insult.  Without another word, I close the door behind me.

---

There's one more use for question block goo I forgot to mention.  It's perfect for weighing things down.  

I breathe in the salty seaport air; it's particularly sweet tonight.  The golden bullet dances between my fingers; I know it's a bad habit, but it's fun to fidget with.  It'll go to good use though.  I load it into my Fire Flower pistol with a few others and carefully attach the silencer.

"Now, listen, uh...what was his name again?"

"Paulie," says Goomfrey, standing to my side with a grin.

"That's right, Paulie.  I'm a pretty patient person, I think most people including your boss would agree, but I've got a real sore spot about the shell, ya know?  It's just, it reminds me of my dear old ma, and I love her to bits.  You understand, right?"

There is no response from Paulie due to his crushed windpipe courtesy of Hamma's hammer.  Quite frankly, I'm impressed he's still conscious from the pain.  He looks up at me from his crouching position eyes filled with hate, his hands and feet encased in reforged golden question blocks.  Piantas are heavy, so four blocks worth is safest.

"I did promise the dear Don that I'd keep things quiet, so let's cut to the chase." I point the gun at his forehead and before he can react, I fire three shots.  There's no need to prolong this shit; I'm not a sadist. Hamma and Goomfrey pick up the body and toss it off the port into the sea.

"For what it's worth, boss," says Hamma in a low, pleasant baritone.  "I like your shell.  Looks good on ya."

"Aww, thanks."

[quicksilversquared]

Superhero Salary

It all started with a joke. It ended with Ladybug and Chat Noir finally getting some of the compensation that they deserved.

After all, fame isn't going to pay the bills.

links in the reblog

It all started with a (mostly) joking comment from Chat Noir, blurted out in a moment of frustration.

"I hate it when that happens," he had grumbled after Ladybug knocked him free from the akuma's control. "Stupid, stupid mind-control akumas. Tell Hawkmoth that if he's going to insist on akumas like that, he's gonna have to pay for my therapy after this is all over!" he hollered after the akuma, who was clearly hopping mad about no longer having a superhero under his control. "A superhero salary doesn't exactly pay enough for it!"

He had been kidding, at least mostly. Kidding or not, though, the complaint was out there.

The moment had been picked up by the Ladyblog, of course, just as part of the bigger fight. But it wasn't long before it absolutely exploded over the internet.

Sure, maybe in comic books it was implied that superheroes always worked for free. But was that really fair? After all, Ladybug and Chat Noir were providing a service to the city. They were taking the time out of their normal lives to save Paris and put things back to rights, and they were doing it often. They had to come out whenever Hawkmoth sent out an akuma, not just when they had a spare bit of time that they could use to fight crime. Just like policemen and firefighters, they were putting themselves in danger by fighting on the front line. And if they were in jobs, or were in school- well, having to duck out regularly had to be affecting them, and not in a positive way.

If they had jobs, they could very well be on the edge of losing them because of all of the times they went missing. Even if they were self-employed- well, then they would still be losing out on some serious work time and having to work late into the night instead. And if they were in school...

Then they would be in danger of falling behind and need help to keep on top of their schoolwork. Tutors and online courses both cost money.

And on top of all of that, there was superhero merchandise being made using their colors and images, clothes and dolls and souvenirs and toys. Surely they should be getting a cut of the profit from that.

With only a few exceptions, Paris was soon in agreement: their superheroes needed to be earning a salary.

Marinette wasn't quite certain what to think of it all.

"Tikki, what do I say if the mayor decides to give us a salary?" she implored, slumping back in her chair. "I mean, even if it would be possible to safely get the money, I just don't know."

Part of her wanted to do the noble thing and say no to a salary. After all, she was Ladybug because she wanted to help! Plus, would public perception of them change if they were technically city employees? The mayor might think that he had the power to call them up on command, which would really stink.

But- well, Marinette was a teenager, and no sane teenager would turn down money, particularly when it was money for work that she had done. Even though she wasn't exactly struggling- she got an allowance, plus money from babysitting Manon and of course commission money, and besides she was a teenager and not an adult with a million living expenses- having more money in her account for fabric or design classes or her future career wasn't a bad thing.

"Well, Plagg and I could certainly set things up so that all of the money you get would be funneled through us and our magic," Tikki told her. "And we would be careful about not matching up the amounts or making them regular! There's ways that we can do it without attracting attention."

Marinette nodded. That was one question answered, but the other?

"As for if you should take the money..." Tikki considered that. "I mean, there's a lot to consider. But I'd like to point out that you don't know how long you'll be fighting Hawkmoth, or if there'll be any other threats after he's gone to deal with. That could interfere with you having a regular job. And if the akuma attacks keep disrupting your school day and you need to hire a tutor to help you keep up but you don't want your parents knowing, having the extra money could help. Or if you decide to sign up for an online school so that you can look up lessons that you missed in class, you could pay for that! But people might have strong opinions about superheroes taking money, too."

"That's a lot of positives and only one negative," Marinette pointed out. "I mean, it could be annoying to listen to people judging, but unless they're in the majority..."

Either way, it was going to be disheartening to hear people judging her for taking the money. But as long as they weren't in her face or spreading lies about her and Chat Noir now not being motivated to take down Hawkmoth because that would mean an end to the money or something ridiculous like that, she could probably ignore it. Maybe she could make some donations with the money she was getting to dispel those rumors.

Honestly, she'd probably do that anyway. There were so many organizations and people in need in Paris, and if Marinette was earning money then of course she would want to support them.

Of course, that all depended on if the officials even offered the salary in the first place, which was honestly looking really likely. It looked like public opinion was strongly in their favor, and the mayor was seriously easily waived by public opinion most of the time. And anything to do with the superheroes- well, it was publicity gold.

And in the end, it only took a week of deliberations- entirely about how much Ladybug and Chat Noir should be making, and puzzling out how much of the profit from sales of their merchandise they should be getting on top of their salary- before the announcement went out that the superheroes would be offered payment. A day after that, Ladybug and Chat Noir accepted their salary and gave the city's head payroll officer the information their kwamis had given them for the kwami bank accounts, so that they could get their paychecks without risking their secret identities.

"I didn't expect things to blow up like this when I said that, about not earning enough for therapy," Chat Noir admitted after they had left. He had seemed put-together and confident when they were in the office- which Ladybug had appreciated, because the sums that were being discussed were absolutely intimidating and having Chat Noir being so confident next to her helped her not get flustered. "I mean, yeah, down the road, I wouldn't be surprised if I get nightmares about fighting all the time and need to get help with that, but- well, I don't think I'd be able to, not unless I sign up as Chat Noir instead of my civilian self. And I don't know if I would necessarily want to do that, in case too much civilian stuff comes out."

Ladybug winced. Yeah, that was a real concern. And- well, she didn't ever admit it to anyone other than Tikki, but she sometimes had nightmares about the fights, too. And Chat Noir was right- a therapist could probably help.

But the identity concerns...

It was more than likely that some personal information would come out if they were talking to any sort of therapist, and that was dangerous. Maybe the chance of their therapists stumbling on their identities was low, but she still couldn't risk it.

Maybe they could go out of Paris to find someone, using the Horse to jump. Then their therapist would be even less likely to make the connection between Ladybug and Marinette, and with the distance from Paris, having the superheroes in their office might be less exciting than it would be for someone who saw the superheroes on a daily basis. But even that wouldn't really be a possibility until Hawkmoth was gone, when they actually got some semblance of free time back.

"I can't deny that the money could be helpful, though," Chat Noir added after a moment. "I mean, depending on how long the conflict drags on, or if we need anything that Tikki and Plagg can't provide to help us, or- well, when I get old enough to move out of my father's place, I want to. There's way too many people who think that they can just barge into my room without warning and poke around, and- well, it's not safe."

Ladybug glanced over at her partner again. He looked like he was her age- in fact, they had shared enough information inadvertently that she was positive that they were probably a year apart at most- which meant that he was facing years of people disregarding his privacy and potentially discovering his secret. "That's ages away, though."

"I know. I can't do much about it right now, though, besides just paying attention to where I'm detransforming." Chat Noir sighed. "I guess the money can't really help with that, not right now."

"Yeah. And that's not great." Ladybug tapped a rhythm against her leg, trying to come up with a solution and finding none. She just didn't have enough information about the situation to find places where they could do something. "I mean, the most I can come up with is a camera that you could connect to and move around to see if anyone is in there before going back in. And you could see if anyone is coming around and poking around that you don't know about. But- well, the problem is that cameras can be hard to hide, and if your father finds out and decides to review footage..."

"It could backfire on me, really fast." Chat Noir glanced around, then back at her. "Yeah, I know. I guess- well, for now, I won't change anything. Maybe something will come up in the future."

"Yeah, I'm not going to be changing much either, I think. But it's nice to have that money there in case I need it." It made her feel a little weird, honestly- after over a year of volunteer superheroing, accepting money for that was just strange- but maybe eventually, it would sink in that she was doing a job and deserved pay for it.

Chat Noir nodded. "Just in case. And, well- if we don't use it, it'll be a good start for my retirement account!"

Ladybug laughed at that, the awkwardness and concerns that she had had earlier flying away in an instant. "Teenagers with retirement accounts. Who would have thought?"

"Well, you can never be too prepared, right?"

Ladybug giggled again, imaging the looks on her parents' places if she sat down for dinner and started asking questions about retirement accounts and for their advice in setting one up. Maybe it wouldn't be completely out of left field- after all, unlike most of her classmates, Marinette did earn money with commissions, and enough that she would not be spending it all- but it was also a strange thing for a teenager to ask about.

Well. At least it wasn't a bad problem to have.

  A week later, Ladybug and Chat Noir officially received their first paychecks, with back payments pending. And by that time, the two of them had figured out where those payments were going.

Most of the money, of course, would be held in the kwami bank accounts until it could be trickled into their civilian bank accounts. How much, exactly, could be deposited without being noticed was still being decided- Ladybug could definitely get away with more than Chat Noir, though she figured that varying amounts and not at regular intervals would stick out less than regular payments. They were still trying to figure out how they might get retirement accounts going- even as much as they joked, it wasn't exactly a bad idea.

And then part of the money would go to charity. It was just a nice thing to do, after all, and since they had spare money- well, it would just be a good idea to help out a little bit more. They didn't want to make too big of a deal out of their donations, since it was very possible that people would judge where they were donating, how much they were donating, how often they were making their donations, and how their donations did or didn't change over time. There would no doubt be people petitioning the superheroes to support their favorite charities, which- well, maybe it would be a good way to learn about new causes, but it sounded like more stress than it would be worth. Besides, Ladybug and Chat Noir were private citizens behind the mask, and they deserved to have some privacy about their finances.

All they needed to tell the public was that they were donating anonymously and wouldn't be disclosing the places or amounts for those reasons. It was a simple answer, and should satisfy most of the population. There would no doubt be a few naysayers- there almost always were a few people who just had to be difficult- but it was a reasonable answer.

Thankfully, the person who had interviewed Ladybug and Chat Noir about what they were going to do with their first paychecks- a kind man from a mid-sized newspaper, who had earned the spot of first interview entirely because he hadn't been pushy about asking- had thought that their reasoning was plenty sound. They were hardly going to be millionaires, and so expecting them to donate large amounts on a regular (and frequent) basis was completely ridiculous. Keeping things private- well, that meant that people who were out of touch wouldn't be moaning about donations that they were perceiving as too small.

Just because Ladybug and Chat Noir were famous didn't mean that they were rich.

Marinette hummed quietly to herself as she skimmed the article that the reporter they had talked to had written. While the interview itself had taken place several days prior, the article had just been released that morning to coincide with both their first payment and the start of the month. It was very nicely written, and framed their reasoning in an even more clear and articulate light than they had managed themselves. She didn't doubt that it would get noticed soon, and then the speculation about whether or not Ladybug and Chat Noir would donate some of their earnings would be put to rest for once and for all-

"Wait, Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't donating any of their salary? That's so unlike them!"

-or maybe not.

"I was surprised too, they just completely brushed me off when I suggested that they donate part of their salaries," Lila told her audience as they swept into the room as a- well, as a flock, really, that was the only way to describe it. "It's what I would do if I was a superhero, of course, so I thought that they would feel the same! It's such a let-down, I really thought that they were better than that..."

"I would say that maybe it's because they've donated so much of their time to the city already, but I know I heard something at some point about backpayments to cover their time from the start," Alya commented, her eyebrows furrowed. "So that's not really donated time anymore, is it?"

"Maybe they have bills to pay," Rose piped up, clearly ever-hopeful. "And they need to get caught up with that first, of course. That would make sense!"

Of course, Lila was shaking her head as she headed up to her seat, with the rest of the group following not far behind to keep listening. "They're too young for bills. I met up with them again this morning and was trying to talk some sense into them because really, they could just do small donations, even a little bit helps- I would know, I've seen how far money can stretch and help in a charity! But even now that they have the money in their hands, they just want to keep it."

There were murmurs of disappointment all around the group gathered around Lila at that. Even though donations clearly weren't mandatory- well, they thought that the superheroes should be better role models than that! If they didn't have bills to pay, surely...

"And it's not like they're not getting enough to have both spending money and do a little charity," Lila said, shaking her head sadly. "Plenty of spending money, even! And I pointed that out, but they got really upset with me. I'd hate for our friendship to be destroyed over this really, but it's just- I feel like I don't know them at all now!"

Frankly, Marinette had heard enough. She wasn't going to let her reputation as Ladybug- or Chat Noir's reputation- get slandered by Lila's nonsense.

"Funny thing," Marinette commented in the most deadpan, disinterested voice that she could muster, not even taking her eyes off of her tablet as she talked. "You say that you met up with the superheroes this morning and they weren't interested in doing donations, and yet there's an article in La Trib this morning about an interview they did with the superheroes days ago that say otherwise. It says that donating was in their plan from the start."

The group in the back of the room went quiet.

"Marinette is correct," Markov commented after a moment, breaking the silence. "The article was posted one hour ago, though the paper copy presumably went out earlier. The superheroes stated that they have been looking at charities since they first heard that they might be getting money for their superhero work, as they wish to continue to help Paris. Their donations will be anonymous and private to protect their privacy and to prevent unwanted commentary on their choices."

Marinette glanced back. All eyes were slowly turning from Markov to Lila.

"There is also a video of the interview linked on the online version of the article," Markov added. "And the metadata confirms that it was filmed several days ago."

Several of the eyes pointed towards Lila were getting narrowed and suspicious.

"Oh, that- that's lovely!" Lila exclaimed, somewhat belatedly pressing her hand over her heart. "Maybe they were just trying to wind me up to tease me, then! And I misread the situation and took them seriously. Or they were trying to give me a pleasant surprise! It happens, sometimes- I'm not always great at catching sarcasm-"

This time, not everyone looked entirely convinced.

Smiling to herself, Marinette looked back at her tablet, closing out of the article and opening up their reading for Literature so that she could review it- or, well, finish reading it, because an akuma had interrupted her the previous night and it had been too late to pick it up again once the fight was over. If she hurried, she might be able to finish it before Ms. Bustier called for a start to class, and then she wouldn't get in trouble again for not doing her homework.

Honestly, if Lila's track record was anything to go by, she would probably wriggle her way out of the lie by the afternoon and the whole incident would be forgotten. But maybe this time would end up different- after all, Marinette had never seen that doubt before- and Lila's tower of lies would finally come toppling down. It was long overdue, really, but Marinette wasn't going to hold her breath.

If it happened...well, if their superhero salary was like a surprise cake, then a Lila downfall would be the cherry on top.

[urban-homesteading]

Hey do you know what kind of tools I should buy if I want to move into a house? It won't have a yard yet, but fingers crossed for the future. Thank you!

Congratulations on the new house! Since you said that there's no yard yet, I'm going to focus only on tools I use inside my house and ignore gardening and lawn maintenance.

What tools should you have around your house?

So here's a pretty simple list that will cover most minor problems you will encounter.

Hammer

Cordless power drill

Screwdriver set (grab one with the ten basic sockets)

Drill set

Adjustable wrench

Level (bubble works, but I upgraded to laser and it makes life so much simpler)

Tape measurer

Utility knife

Flashlight

Extension cord

Step stool

Spare batteries

Toolbox (or even a cardboard box, just make sure you have somewhere to return your tools or they will escape to the four winds)

So how to acquire these tools while maintaining zero waste?

1) Start with your research

If you are completely unfamiliar with tool brands and the features available on tools, do a little research. Visit the websites for Sears, The Home Depot, Lowe's, Menards, True Value, Ace Hardware or any retailer that sells tools, and take a look at their new selections. Most websites organize tools in a straightforward way so you can easily find what you're looking for.

Head to a local store to get a firsthand look – many tools will be on display and out of the box so you can actually pick them up. You'll see the most-recent models, from low-end to top-of-the-line. Make notes on the prices and available features (especially relating to safety). This is your base from which to work when evaluating prices.

The next step is to look at online auction sites, such as eBay, to get an idea of prices for used tools. This gets a bit tricky because you'll need to really look at the age and condition of the tools as described by the seller. But again, make notes for a range of features and prices. Don't try to list everything you see – just make a list of price ranges for the tools, with notes on the variances in relation to brand. For example, for circular saws that range in price from $30 to $60, jot down what separates the bottom-priced tool from the top.

Head over to pawnshops as well. Pawnshops only buy items they know they can turn around and sell, so they won't have tools that don't work (everything they purchase is tested), and a pawnshop won't carry poor-quality brands. Also, the prices will accurately reflect the current value of tools in the marketplace. Make sure you visit operations that are members of the National Pawnbrokers Association, as these businesses abide by a code of ethics established by the association.

2) Name Does Matter (For the more expensive tools)

Now that you have an idea of what you'll expect to pay, it's time to consider how you'll evaluate and decide what to buy.

It used to be that if a name brand was good, it was good.  But I have found that the ‘good’ name brands have been sold so many times that most manufacturers are coasting on their reputation and they are the same quality as the ‘cheap’ tools.  Even worse, manufacturers will have different quality tools that are sold by different stores.  For example, a DeWalt power drill sold at a Home Depot will be better quality than a DeWalt Power Drill sold at Walmart because DeWalt will have two different manufacturing plants and they will send the lower quality ones to Walmart, since Walmart demands that DeWalt sell them to them at a cheaper cost or else they won’t buy from them at all.

My personal rule of thumb is buy cheap for the first one, then if you use it so long or so much that it needs replaced, buy expensive quality the second time.  This prevents you from spending hundreds on tools you’re only going to use a couple of times.

3) Where To Buy

You can start your shopping by revisiting some of the places you accessed when doing your research. Clearly you'll save money on shipping if you go to a local operation or an individual. Remember to test and examine tools closely no matter where you shop.

Pawnshops As mentioned earlier, pawnshops are a good bet for buying tools. You're going to find better-known brands that are probably on the higher end of the quality and price spectrum. Although, you're going to have little to no negotiating room on price compared to if you were buying from an individual.

Thrift Stores A thrift store may be a little less reliable for quality, and you'll probably find a lot less availability, especially at a thrift store that obtains its wares through donation. However, those that aren't donation-based aren't going to want to develop a bad reputation by selling inferior items.

Live Auctions Check local notices for potential auctions in your area. You may have a good chance of finding quality tools, but “auction fever” may set in, and you could wind up overpaying if you are bid up. These may be a good source for large equipment.

Garage Sales You could score the best deal at a garage sale, as the seller may be less likely to know the value of the tools being sold. Sellers will also be more open to price negotiation, and you can offer a bundle price for several items. Quality is going to be your biggest concern, so look these tools over really well.

Flea Markets These are similar to garage sales when it comes to negotiating, but the seller at a flea market will probably be more knowledgeable on price. Some flea market vendors have access to surplus or closeout suppliers, so you could see a potential mix of newer and older tools that haven't sold well at retail.

Classifieds Search online or newspaper classifieds under the equipment and tools categories. You may see a set or combination of tools listed as one price, which can be a good deal. As with garage sales, look these tools over carefully.

Online Websites offering tools are almost too numerous to mention, but eBay is certainly one that comes to mind. Check the seller ratings and reviews when shopping on auction sites. You'll also want to take a look at Amazon, which offers a lot of items, both new and used. Overstock.com, for example, has surplus items and may be a good source for refurbished items. You can often get limited warranties.

Retail Speaking of refurbished items, you may do well by looking at the clearance aisles at hardware stores and home centers. Sometimes they will heavily discount tools that have been returned. Check the reason for the return because it can be merely cosmetic.

4) Be an Inspector

On corded power tools, examine the electrical and basic mechanics of the tool. Aside from plugging it in and turning it on, thoroughly inspect the cord. Look for any visible defects, such as a crimp (what looks like a big dent), or if the cord is bent at a severe angle. A thick wad of electrical tape will be a big tip-off that something might not be right. Also take a look at where the cord meets the tool to see if it's heavily worn or loose. Closely examine the prongs of the plug. A slight bend on one of the prongs isn't a big deal, but if the metal looks heavily worn at the bend, it may be close to failure. And don't forget to check out the switch to see if it is loose or cracked.

Cordless tools present their own challenge. If you've ever looked at the price of replacement batteries, you know they can be quite pricey. Some are very expensive in relation to the cost of a new tool and can be as much as half or more of the cost of a new tool. Plus, it's hard to tell if the battery will hold its charge for any length of time. Sure, it may work fine in the short time you test it, but it's difficult to determine if it will hold a charge for longer than a few minutes. Only opt for cordless tools that you know are at most a couple of years old. Refurbished units are your best bet here.

With both corded and cordless power tools, be sure all the parts and guards are there. It's a bonus if the case and operating manual are included (although you may be able to find a copy of the manual on a tool manufacturer's website). You can easily find replacement accessories, such as saw blades, for many tools because the standards for accessory sizes are pretty consistent.

While you can't exactly take a small screwdriver and dismantle a power tool to look at its inner workings, you can search for a few telltale signs that all may not be well. Be prepared to use all five senses.

Take at look at the motor vent area of the tool (which looks like little slits in the housing). Ideally, you want this to be free of any sort of dirt, grime or buildup – a tall order for a used tool, but a good indication of how well it has been maintained. While inspecting this area, look for any burn marks or smoke trails (take a peek at the switch area as well). These would be clear indications that there's been an electrical problem. But just in case the evidence of a fire has been cleaned up, give the vent area the old sniff test for odor of smoke.

Keep the focus on this area and turn on the tool. You don't want to see smoke or sparks emitting from the housing. Notice how the tool feels in your hand while it's running. Look for intermittent operation or jerkiness. Yes, a power tool will vibrate in your hand, but you should be able to control it. If it feels like the tool could jump right out of your hand, there could be issues. Listen to the tool. Is it making erratic sounds or grating noises? Think back to other tools of the same type you're inspecting. Does the used tool sound significantly different?

You can look for specific things such as the movement of the blade in a circular saw or table saw. With the tool off and unplugged, move the blade around to see if there is a significant wobble to its motion. An old blade may be the culprit, but the arbor (the metal rod on which the blade is attached to the saw) may be bent. It would be difficult to replace and not worth purchasing the tool.

These tools will be a pretty good head start and will enable you to repair most minor work around your home.  

[batfoonery]

Crafty Batkids

Literally. Just batkids doin' crafts. As someone who does..... way too many crafts to list here (I'll send a list if asked but just trust me) I feel like I've gotten a good feel for this.

Dick

My man grew up in a circus, regularly checking ropes and tensions....

Macrame. He's a pro at macrame. Maybe he doesn't do it often, but like. For his friends, he'll sometimes surprise them with lil gifts.

When any of his Titans buds move he makes them those fancy hanging macrame plant holders. Donna and Kori both love them, and have been known to fight over them during white elephant/dirty Santa type gift games.

Probably doesn't have the ability to sit still for long periods of time, so can't do anything that'll unravel if he puts it down. It takes him a long time to finish a project, so he really only buys materials as he starts a new one, and doesn't have any excess stuff lying around his apartment.

Jason

You cannot tell me he doesn't crochet to unwind. Like. Idk if he's any good at it, but he def angry crochets.

Probably has been working on one scarf for like five years

Never has consistent stitches

Likes touching all the yarns at the store

Probably just enjoys squishing the yarn in general tbh. It's slightly more satisfying than ever actually doing anything with the yarn.

Cass

One time Bruce took her to like. Silver Dollar City or somewhere else that had someone with a loom, and she was fascinated. She made him buy her a shawl and then made Tim put together a power point about why she should have a loom.

Bruce ended up caving and buying her one that's skinnier, for like table runners. It's great, because she's mostly fascinated with making gradients in her weaves.

She learned Swedish Weaving (it's a like an embroidery/weaving hybrid) so she could embellish her works.

Mostly gives them out as gifts. She gave one to Selina, who guards it possessively. Harley tried to borrow it once and about lost her fingers.

Probably also learned to make little tassles for the ends

Tim

Attention to detail? Obsession over the minutia? Oh. You know my boy is an epoxy resin artist.

Has a crafting station in his room that's meticulously organized. There's cubbies for pigments, flowers, glitters, bits of ribbons and strings, etc etc

Probably makes all kinds of thing tbh. Phone cases, trinkets, you name it. But pens are his favorites, because they're both simple and practical. There's like a whole army of pens that just... keeps growing in Titans Tower because he always forgets where he's put his.

None of his teammates realize he is the source of the pens. They (Kon, Cassie, Bart) just think the pens are an infestations and/or are pairing up and making baby pens. But Cassie and Bart love them bc ✨aesthetics✨

Probably has a tik tok or an insta where he posts videos of himself de-molding things to soothing lofi tracks. Literally just. All the vibes. It's gorgeous.

Steph

Also all the vibes. She is a bujo/stationary queen.

Her collection is much messier than Tim's, but has a surprising amount of overlap. Sometimes they borrow things from each other, and have collabed on their social accounts (he makes journal covers, she makes them into notebooks, he supplies her with pens, she uses them when making a weekly/monthly set up, etc)

Stickers and glitter everywhere

Probably sponsored.

Canonically draws cute little cartoons in the comics, they absolutely are a regular on her socials and in her bujos.

Duke

For some reason I don't peg him as being as craft-oriented as his closest-in-age sibs? He probably has less expensive coping mechanisms tbh

That being said I can see he would enjoy those stores where you go in and paint pottery and they kiln/glaze it for you? Like he isn't into sculpting it himself, but painting the little kitchenware pieces or statuettes is relaxing.

He paints mugs for all his sibs on their birthdays, and for Alfred.

Alfred probably has a whole army of custom mugs made for him by the kids, now that I'm thinking about it. Like half of them are from Duke, because he doesn't know what else to do with them. There are just so many because it's so simple.....

Kate Kane, Tatsu Yamashiro, and Jeff Pierce also all have mugs. Actually... Lowkey highkey I can see that Tatsu might have introduced Duke to this kind of stuff in the first place? I can see that she would enjoy something simple that you can do while trying to clear out your mind.

Damian

Well. Damian is a gifted artist, but this translates differently into actual crafts. It just does.

He's probably a good printmaker. Not only does this take advantage of his art skills and keen attention to details, but it's one of the oldest artforms still in practice today. Most printmakers develop their techniques by perfecting one of several forms of the art, which have been passed through generations, and have a really firm grip on art history. Those stories would appeal to Damian, in addition to the craft itself.

Damian is the most likely of his siblings to be able to sit still for prolonged periods of time and do a repetitive motion. In fact, it may actually be something he can enjoy if it means he can just zone out for a bit. So, he's probably actually decent at spinning yarn. If the sky is grey and rainy, he drags out a wheel and some pre-sorted rolags and spins yarn, exclusively for Cass, who then weaves it. He enjoys the progression of colors in the fibers as much as she does, and they bond over it.

The feeling of different fibers slipping through his fingers is also really soothing. Bad day? Time to spin some merino, because it slips like water through his touch. Need to feel grounded? Time to spin a cotton blend, because you have to be present enough not to chafe your hands on the rough fibers...

Probably also really good at embroidery, for the same reasons. Plus, it's really satisfying to feel and hear the pbt-psht, pbt-psht of the needle and thread pulling through the taut fabric.

Bruce

Obviously knows how to forge/metalwork. I like to imagine he's also dabbled in lost wax casting.

Probably has little trinkets he made when he was younger scattered around the house. Maybe he donated a few to charity auctions.

Has made rings/jewelry pieces. But doesn't talk about them. (One ring went to Selina, and a pair of earrings went to Talia)

Alfred

The all-talented, all-knowing. There's probably nothing he can't do. He already sews all their outfits. So I mean.

Sometimes it feels really good to have something to stab. I'm not saying he does needle felting, but I'm not saying he wouldn't.

Probably was the one who taught Bruce about lost wax, and the one who helps Damian research about printmakers.

Silently supplies all the kids with all the art things.

Has a chest in his room filled with all the things that he's been gifted with over the years. There's little uneven macrame hanging from when Dick was just getting the hang of it, lumpy scarves that are too short for anyone to realistically wear from Jason, linen sets made by Cass, various trinkets from Tim, handmade cards and notebooks from Steph, mugs from Duke, and old embroidery pieces from Damian in unevenly stained hoops.

[vangoghmusings]

watch me

“Hey princess, are you ready?”

It had been several months after the embarrassment that was the “you said his name” incident. You would’ve never thought that 5 months later Daichi would be your boyfriend who not only supported your cam-girl career, but assisted with it. As by primal instinct to claim his territory, Daichi asked for an ultimatum. As long as you’re a cam-girl, he has to be a part of it. It truly was a winning situation all around. Daichi found a way to pay off his student loan debt and got to spend more time with you, and you got to continue your growing career all while getting playful with your boyfriend every Thursday. Everything had fallen into place.

“Almost!” You chimed while entering your bedroom. On your bed sat Daichi, adjusting the camera, bitting his lip in concentration.

“This new lens is so cool! We should snap some pictures when we go on our date to the zoo on Saturday.”

You grinned and sat beside him. Daichi was always planning cute dates for the two of you and new things to do. For the coming Saturday, he promised a day at the zoo with a picnic over looking the lake that was near by. He really was a sappy romantic.

“I’m ready when you are, we just need our masks.”

Daichi nodded, grabbing your classic mask and his black ski mask that became a staple for his “Cherry Daddy” brand. As students wanting to form your own careers in your majors, you decided it would be best to continue keeping your identities a secret.

Once you both put your masks on and positioned yourselves on the bed, you began the live stream.

“Hey everyone! It’s Cherry Baby here!”

“And Daddy.”

“And we have an extra special show for you all today!”

After doing your usual introductions and thank you’s for donations, Daichi pulled out the long awaited ‘special surprise’.

A brand new pair of fluffy hand cuffs.

“These are your favorite color right?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how he always acted so considerate, even during a scene.

“Yes they are,” you answered with a smile.

Daichi nodded proudly and proceeded to cuff your hands to the metal post of your bed, the chain linking around. It was a comprising position and from the little ‘ka-ching’ noises coming from the computer, the viewers seemed to like it just as much as Daichi did.

You hummed patiently, waiting for your boyfriends next move.

“Now let’s get these off you, hm princess?”

With gentle fingers, Daichi slid off your underwear and tossed them to the floor. He adjusted himself, kneeling along side you. He moved one knee to press against your heat, slowly moving it. The friction caused the already inkling wetness to grow. While Daichi pressed his constantly shifting knee against you, he loomed over your body with hungry eyes while he unbuttoned his shirt. He always dressed fancier for the streams as a sort of uniform because “you always have cool outfits, I need my own”.

You hissed as your wetness grew. Daichi loved a slow burn and to push your desires. You on the other hand, could wait for him to fuck you senseless.

The second Daichi tossed his shirt to the ground and got down on his elbows, picking up your legs and setting one on his shoulder and pushing the other one back, giving the camera a glorious view of your gleaming pussy.

“Mm, you’re so dirty, princess. Soaking wet just from my knee touching you?”

You whimpered, practically begging for him to do something more than tease you, even if you loved it.

In one swift robotic movement that had been done many times, Daichi lifted the hem of his mask and settled it right at the bridge of his nose. With a firm grip on your pushed out thigh, he buried his face in between your legs.

He was well practiced with you, but that’s what having a cam-show will do. His nose brushed against your yearning clit while his tongue ran along your folds.

“Fuck,” Daichi groaned against you, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you, “you always taste so fucking good.”

Daichi was obsessed with going down on you. Any chance he got, he always wanted to wear your thighs as earmuffs.

Your breath hitched as Daichi got more aggressive, dipping his tongue in your tight wet hole. The noises were absolutely lewd, but you, Daichi, and the viewers loved them.

You felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten, as small moans and pleas fell from your mouth. Tighter and tighter, so close to snapping and so quickly denied as Daichi pulled away and smirked down at your pouting face. Your thighs begged to close together to grant you so form of relief, but Daichi’s python grip kept your legs apart, allowing the camera to see how needy and wet your quivering pussy was.

“I was so close!”

“Now now princess, keep complaining and I won’t let you cum at all tonight.”

You frowned and nodded, shutting your mouth.

Daichi stood up and leisurely rid himself of his pants and boxers. His cock sprung out and hard, nearly slapping his stomach in anticipation. Your mouth watered at the sight and by hungry instinct you opened your mouth.

“What a good girl, always knowing what daddy wants.”

Daichi placed his hard length against your lips and you happily took him in your mouth. Humming lowly, you sucked and bobbed your head in rhythm, causing low groan to come out of Daichi.

“S-so good princess,” he said while lovingly caressing your cheek.

You felt heat rise to your face. Even during a stream Daichi managed to show how much he loved you.

With his free hand, Daichi reached down, and with a sudden yelp ripping through your throat causing you to gag around him, you felt Daichi’s thick fingers curl inside you. Daichi smirked, beginning to fuck you with his fingers, making scissoring motions in your tightness, stretching you out. You whimpered against his cock and Daichi moaned in response.

“Fuck princess, just like that,” he mumbled while thrusting harder into your mouth and fucking your soaking cunt with his digits.

And there it was again, the coil beginning to tighten in your belly. You were begging for it, pleading with your eyes for permission to chase that release. But once again Daichi denied you but slipping his fingers out.

He smirked at his fingers, admiring the slick and covered them. You watched while sucking as he licked his fingers clean.

“Mm,” he hummed, pleased with the taste. He sighed and looked down at you, who had slowed the pace of your bobbing head.

“Princess, you want daddy to make you feel good?”

Daichi pulled his saliva covered cock out of your mouth, a loud “pop” filling the room. You kicked your lips and nodded up at him, wishing you weren’t cuffed so you could ride him into the next day.

“Please sir,” you whined, trying your best to show Daichi your impressive puppy dog face from underneath your mask.

A hungry smirk spread across Daichi’s face as he gave a simple nod. Making his way back between your legs, he positioned his cock at your entrance.

You huffed, he loved making you wait.

“Beg for it princess.”

You whimpered in humiliation. He had denied you twice already and you were in no position to let that happen a third time, plus you were cuffed tightly to your bed.

“Please, please sir! I was your cock inside me so bad! I want you to stuff me full of your cock- oh!”

You yelled at the unexpected stretch as Daichi began to push his length into your tightness. He noticed your shocked state and have you a loving smile- right before pushing his entire length in you.

A cry ripped from your chest as you struggled inside of the cuffs. You were dying to reach out and touch him; mark him, pull his hair, anything to help this pleasurable pain.

Your whimpers quickly turned to moans as Daichi began to thrust harshly into you. There was a rhythm, but it was quick and rough and his hard length was hitting at your cervix with punctuation.

He was so good. He was always so good.

Daichi’s head fell back, moans falling from his lips as he continued to relentlessly fuck you. Today’s goal was to fuck you absolutely stupid, and he was dying to see it.

“C’mon princess, tell daddy how good you feel?”

You cried out happily as Daichi lifted a leg of yours onto his shoulder, anchoring himself while continuing to fuck you senseless.

“So good, so good, fuck daddy!”

Those were the only coherent words that could be made out before you turned into a complete babbling mess. Daichi was hitting your g-spot with a possessive strength.

And finally, the coil began to tighten again. Hard and stronger than before, you could feel it come to it peak. You could tell Daichi was close too as he grunted and but his lip as a way to keep himself from cumming.

“Cum for me princess, cum with daddy.”

You cried out happily as the coil finally snapped, your orgasm hitting you like a massive wave, striking you with immense pleasure.

But Daichi hadn’t come yet.

No, he was still hanging on, planning on fucking you past your orgasm and into your next.

“N-no please sir, it’s too much-“

And just like that your second orgasm hit you just as hard as the first. You moaned in bliss as your eyes rolled back. The sight was enough to push Daichi over the edge, as he came hot ropes of cum inside of you. He eventually slowed his pace, allowing you to both ride out your highs.

Once he pulled out, he placed a loving kiss on your lips and went to look at the masterpiece the too of you had created.

“Fuck princess, that looks so sexy.”

Daichi was referencing to your pussy, dripping his cum and still pulsing from the intense stimulation. He quickly grabbed the camera from its stand and gave a close up to your cum-stuffed cunt.

“Isn’t she pretty?”

You giggled softly as the computer buzzed with so many ‘ka-chings’ it sounded like one continuous ring.

Daichi set the camera back on its stand and uncuffed you, helping you get up slowly to sit up and say good bye.

“Thanks again for joining us today.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled and nodded, still dazed from your intense orgasms.

Daichi chuckled and turned back to the camera.

“I’m going to get Cherry Baby all cleaned up now. Have a good night Cherry pickers!”

Daichi waved and signed off, the camera shutting down.

“Our fans have the weirdest name,” you mumbled and rubbed your thighs.

Daichi laughed softly removing both his and your masks and scooped you into his arms.

“How are you feeling? Up for a bath before we go to Kenma’s for sundaes?”

You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, we both need a bath. You did good job.”

Daichi smiled proudly and pecked your lips lovingly.

“So did you princess”

As Daichi carried you to the small bathroom of your apartment for hot shower, you could really only think of one think.

You really loved him.