#but it's a solid start that needs to be built upon as you move into secondary gradea

[bat-mom-writer]

Not Just A Mother

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: You married Bruce Wayne, not out of love, but because Bruce wanted a mother figure for his sons. But what happens when Bruce starts showing a more caring side?

Want a more angst and spicy arranged married come together? Check out Closet Confession.

(I do NOT own any DC characters)

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"Tim, did you finish your homework?" You called out, your footsteps echoing through the grand hallways of Wayne Manor as you made your way to your non biological son's room.

"I'll get it later," Tim's voice drifted back, a hint of procrastination in his tone.

"Not a chance, young man," you responded firmly, your heels clicking against the marble floor. "You know the rules. No gadgets or superhero shenanigans until your schoolwork is done. So get off the computer."

Tim sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving his computer. "Ten more minutes," he protested, his fingers typing away at lightning speed.

You signed but said nothing more upon stopping at the open door of Tim's room. You knew Bruce didn't appreciate you interference in nightly heroics, but you had your own way of managing the boys. Just as you was about to remind Tim of the consequences, a deep voice resonated from behind you.

"Listen to your mother, Tim."

You spun around to face Bruce, who had emerged from the shadows of the hallway. His gaze was stern but not unkind, the same look he often gave when you discussed the boys' schooling. You felt a small twinge of relief that he wasn't upset with your intervention.

Tim looked up from his computer, his eyes wide with surprise. He had never heard Bruce call you "mother" before. It was always Mrs. Wayne or by your name. The change in tone was subtle but significant, hinting at a shift in their relationship that none of them had anticipated.

Your cheeks flush under Bruce's eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You noticed the warmth in his smile and the way he held your gaze for a beat too long. You felt a strange mix of comfort and discomfort, the kind that comes with the sudden realization that the ground beneath you is not as solid as it once seemed.

Bruce gave a curt nod before turning to leave. His footsteps grew quieter as he moved away, the sound of his retreating figure leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his behavior. Was it the stress of their sham marriage finally getting to him? Or perhaps a genuine affection that had been buried beneath layers of duty and obligation?

Over the next few days, Bruce continued to act more affectionate towards you, slipping in gentle touches and kind words where there had once been a stoic distance. You felt torn between acknowledging the change and fearing it was just a temporary shift in mood. After all, their marriage was built on a foundation of convenience, not love. You're there to provide a stable home life for his sons, not to be the object of his affection.

One evening, as Bruce sat in his study, you gathered your courage and approached him, clutching a set of documents in your hands. "I need to talk to you about something," you began, your voice tentative. "It's about a new deal that's been offered to the company."

Bruce looked up from his paperwork, his eyes reflecting the glow of the computer screens. "What is it?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"It's about a new acquisition," you said, looking down at the papers. "The board thinks it's a good opportunity."

Bruce took the papers from you, his hands brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary. You felt a spark of electricity, and you quickly withdrew your hand, hoping he hadn't noticed. You watched as he skimmed through the pages, his brow furrowing slightly as he digested the information.

"What's your take on it?" he asked, his gaze still on the contract.

"I...I don't know if it's my...my place to say, Mr. Wayne" You stuttered, your heart racing. You had never been one to voice your opinions in matters like this.

Bruce's gaze lifted from the documents, his eyes locking with your. "Your opinion is important to me," he said firmly. "We're partners in this, remember?"

The words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken promise. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Well," you began, your voice stronger now, "I think it's....sketchy. There's something about the terms that doesn't sit right with me."

Bruce's eyes never left yours as he listened intently. His thumb traced the edge of the paper, the only sign of his contemplation. "Then tell them I'm not interested," he said abruptly, handing the contract back to you.

Your eyes widened in shock. You had expected him to disagree, to argue the merits of the deal and the importance of the board's suggestions. Instead, he had deferred to your judgment, something he had never done before. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"Absolutely," Bruce said, his voice firm. "If it doesn't feel right, then it's not worth pursuing."

You took the contract, your hand trembling slightly. "But the board…" your trailed off, unsure how to voice your concerns without overstepping your boundaries.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "The board's job is to make suggestions," he said. "My job is to make decisions. And if my… wife," he emphasized the word, "thinks something's off, then I trust her judgment."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. It was the first time he had ever called you his wife without it sounding like a mere formality. You held the contract, your mind racing. "Thank you," you murmured. "I'll handle it."

Bruce nodded, his gaze lingering on yours. "You're welcome."

You retreated from the study, your thoughts in a whirlwind. The weight of the contract in your hands felt heavier than ever before. As you walked, the echoes of their conversation seemed to follow you, whispering of a newfound partnership and trust. You paused outside your study, taking a moment to collect yourself before returning to work. The manor felt different, as if the very air had shifted to accommodate a burgeoning emotion you hadn't anticipated.

Over the next few weeks, Bruce's affection grew more pronounced. He would join you for dinner, engaging in conversations that delved beyond the superficial. They discussed books, art, and the future of Gotham, sharing smiles and laughter that felt genuine and unforced. You found yourself looking forward to these moments, the tension in the air charged with something you dared not name.

One evening, after the boys had retired to their rooms, Bruce found you in the dimly lit Batcave, your eyes reflecting the glow of the monitors as you reviewed the night's intel. He approached you slowly, his footsteps muffled by the rubber soles of his boots. "I thought I was the night owl around here," he said with a teasing smile.

You startled, spinning around in the chair. "Mr. Wayne," you gasped, hand flying to your chest. "I didn't hear you come in."

Bruce chuckled, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. "It's Bruce," he corrected gently. "And I can see you've got everything under control."

Your cheeks colored as you nodded. "Just keeping an eye on things," you said, your voice quieter than usual. You felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, unsure how to react to his sudden interest in your nightly routine.

"Mind if I join you?" Bruce asked, his tone casual, yet it held a hint of something more.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. You watched as he made his way over to you, his movements fluid and silent. He leaned against the console, his eyes on the screens, but you knew he was really watching you.

"You know, this isn't where I expected to find you on our anniversary," he said, his voice low and warm.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost forgotten about the date, lost in the whirlwind of their new dynamic. Your swiveled the chair to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Anniversary?" you echoed, trying to keep your voice even.

Bruce nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, it's been a year since we made this… arrangement." He paused, searching for the right word, and you felt the weight of the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

"I… I had no idea at how quickly the year went by," you murmured, your eyes flicking to the floor before meeting his gaze again. "So much has happened."

"Yes, it has," Bruce agreed, his expression softening. "But I think we've made it work, don't you?"

You nodded slowly, your eyes moving to the side of the floor. "We have," you conceded. "For the boys."

"For the boys," Bruce echoed, but there was a hint of something more in his voice. He reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt through you. "Dance with me."

You looked at him, bewildered. The Batcave was the last place you'd would have ever imagined sharing a dance with your husband, especially considering their relationship had been more of a business transaction than a romantic union.

"What?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and doubt. The cold metal and concrete walls of the Batcave didn't exactly scream romance.

But Bruce didn't seem to notice the oddness of his request. He held out his other hand, his eyes earnest. "Just one dance."

Your heart racing, placing your hand in his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He led you to the center of the Batcave, the place where so much strategy and planning took place. But now, it was just them, standing in the shadow of the Dark Knight's armor, the only music the hum of the computers and the distant echo of the city above.

He pulled you closer, his hand on your back while the other held your other hand. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, a stark contrast to the cool air of the underground lair. He was close enough that you could make out the scent of his cologne, the faint metallic scent of his suit mingling with it.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Let's pretend, just for a moment, that we're not Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne, but a couple who met under different circumstances."

Your pulse quickened. You knew the rules of your arrangement, knew that love had never been a part of the deal. Yet here you were, in the most unlikely of settings, with the potential for something you had never allowed yourself to imagine. Hesitating for only a moment, you stepped into the embrace, your body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there.

He began to sway gently, guiding you in a slow, rhythmic dance that seemed to defy the gravity of their situation. His hand rested on the small of your back, his other hand holding hers firmly, yet gently. You felt the muscles beneath the fabric of his suit, the strength and power of the man you had only ever known as your husband in name.

The sound of his deep, rich hum filled the cavernous space, a tune you didn't recognize but found oddly soothing. It was a moment of vulnerability you had never seen from him before, a side of Bruce Wayne that was as unguarded as the batcave was protected. As they danced, your head leaned into his chest, the steady beat of his heart echoing in your ears, mimicking the tempo of your own.

The tension between them grew palpable, a silent crescendo that seemed to vibrate in every atom of the room. You felt yout resolve wavering, the walls you had meticulously built to maintain the façade of your marriage threatening to crumble. You knew the truth – that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that had grown from a seed of respect and duty into a full-blown bouquet of love and longing.

"Bruce," you murmured, your voice shaky. "What are we doing?"

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "I'm just… trying to be a better husband to you."

The admission sent a tremor through you, and you pulled away slightly to look up at him. His eyes searched yours, a question and a plea melded into one. Your chest tightened as you read the hope and uncertainty in his gaze.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What changed?"

Bruce's expression grew serious, his eyes holding yours captive. "I've realized that life is too short to ignore what's right in front of us," he replied, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand. "I've watched you care for my sons, for this city, and for me. You've become more than just a part of this arrangement. You've become a part…of me."

The words hung in the air, a confession that resonated through the very foundation of the Batcave. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that he was just playing a part. But what you found was a vulnerability you had never seen before, a crack in the armor of the man who was both Bruce Wayne and Batman. You were speechless, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Leaning closer, his cheek brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered near your ear, the heat of his breath sending a rush of emotion through yours. "Please," he whispered, "give me a chance."

Your heart was a tumult of emotions – hope, fear, confusion. But you knew that you couldn't ignore the feelings that had been growing within you for so long. You nodded, the barest of movements, but it was enough.

Bruce's hand slid to your cheek, cupping it gently as he leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, filled with a year's worth of unspoken emotions. You melted into it, your arms slipping around his neck as you gave in to the warmth that had been building between them. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you could feel the tension in his body, the years of holding back finally released.

You broke apart, breathing in quite pants, your eyes locked. Your heart raced, your mind reeling with the implications of what was happening. "Bruce," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"My wife," Bruce said, the words sounding unfamiliar, yet right. He searched your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "You are my wife. I want to act like the husband I know you truly deserve."

"What about the boys?" You asked, your voice a soft murmur.

"They're our priority," Bruce assured you, his hand sliding from your cheek to your hand again. "We just now have… some extra perks to our partnership." He offered you a tentative smile, and you couldn't help but return it, feeling the weight of your situation lighten just a little.

For a moment, you two just stood there, holding onto each other, the reality of your feelings finally out in the open. The silence was comfortable, filled with the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling together.

[azrielbrainrot]

The Meaning of Devotion

Pairing: God!Eris x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Body Worship

Description: Your husband shows you just how much he loves you.

Warnings: Smut, lots of kissing and heavy touching all over, oral sex, a bit of exhibitionism

Word Count: ~1,3k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: I have another story I'm working on with God!Eris in my Folk Tales series (I promise I'm still writing them) so this could be seen as a sequel when they're already together even though the story isn't out yet. Hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

It's hard for you to wrap your head around how a simple, thoughtless comment had led you here. You had been happily sitting on your husband's lap just a few moments ago, listening to his warm, deep voice as he told you about one of his brothers' weddings, describing how the temples started adding motifs commemorating his wife as well, when you make the mistake of musing aloud how you wish you could have had that.

The minute his body tenses under yours you try to correct your mistake, reassuring him that you didn't need titles or statues, reminding him that, even after becoming immortal, you were still human, and there was no reason for others to treat you as a God. He wasn't listening to you at all it seems because in the blink of an eye you had been transported to what you soon recognize as one of his temples.

You had seen more than a few of the temples humans had built for him in the time you had been married, but this had to be one of the most luxurious ones by far. There was a giant statue at the top, overlooking the entire space, and you didn't want to linger on it too long but you were certain it had to be made of solid gold. Every corner was meticulously decorated in beautiful paintings, sculptures and even tapestries.

In fact, you were sitting on one right now. The beautifully crafted tapestry had been snatched from its place by the wall upon your arrival and stretched over the cold stone altar by Eris himself. Seeing how carefully he had smoothed it over the surface, it shouldn't have come as such a big surprise when he lifted you up and sat you over it, or maybe it should have, this had to be somewhat sacrilegious, even if it all belonged to him.

“Eris,” you call out to him, almost forgetting your next words when he smiles at you and pecks your lips at the sound of his name. “What are you doing?”

“I'm showing the priests that you are not just a human.”

He lays you down carefully, grabbing the back of your head so it doesn't collide with the covered stone. Not that he had ever been anything but gentle with you, but he was handling you as if one simple wrong move would break you now.

“The priests?”

Nodding, he kneels and grabs your foot, taking off your shoes one at a time. “Some humans are chosen to carry on the word of the Gods.”

“I know that but,” you start, breath hitching when his warm hand finds your knee, moving upwards, “what do you mean by showing them?”

“They have dreams of my orders or moments I allow them to see.”

His words make his intentions perfectly clear in your mind, and if they hadn't, his words certainly would as he started lifting your dress up towards your waist, baring your lower half to his enchanting eyes.

“Eris-”

“And tonight they will dream of their God's beautiful wife.”

He kisses you before you have a chance to say anything else, strong hands holding onto your waist, warm tongue coaxing yours, making you forget where you were for a moment. When he pulls away, looking down at you with so much love and adoration, you can't help but melt into him, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him down to your lips once again.

Mortal society no longer had any hold over your life and it was time you stopped acting like you were still human, if your husband wanted to fuck you in his temple and show his people that they should be singing your name next to his, then why would you ever think to stop him.

This was the only confirmation Eris needed, a knowing smile playing at his lips as his hands continued on their earlier path, slowly lifting your dress up and up, until he had to break the kiss to completely pull it off over your head. You expected him to resume the kiss, but instead he dropped a chaste kiss on your lips before kneeling, spreading your legs apart, and gazing at your naked body as if you were the Goddess in the room.

“There will be statues across every temple, created by the most skilled artisans, made of marble and gold,” he says, leaning and dropping a kiss to your bent knee, “but none will ever come close to your beauty, my love.”

Eris grabs your wrist next, kissing the back of your hand and continuing trailing a path up your wrist, up your arm until he reaches your shoulder. His hands were glued to your body, caressing every stretch of skin he came in contact with reverently as he moved over you and repeated the same action up your other arm.

“Eris,” you breathe out, not sure what you were even asking for.

He let out a hum and kissed your neck, lingering long enough to leave a mark on your skin, possessive as always. Your hand finds the back of his neck when he keeps leaving open mouthed kisses trailing down to your sternum, palming at one of your breasts as his mouth finds the other, softly licking and sucking your nipple while his thumb mimicked the same action on the other side.

Harsh breaths start turning into moans, sweet sounds of pleasure coming from deep in your chest at the attention your God is giving you. You could never call him anything but an attentive lover, but everything felt different in that moment - he truly was intent on showing you and the priest just how much he loved you.

Even though you were the one laying down, completely naked for all to see while he stood over you fully clothed, you didn't feel like you were relinquishing control even for a bit, not when he was worshiping you with every breath he took.

You were just about to start fully immersing yourself in the pleasure when he moved away from your chest, prompting a small whimper from you, and a “patience, my love” from him.

That wasn't what shut you up though, it the fact that his path led downward, where you truly needed him. If you were in a different, more sober state of mind, you would have noticed the way you were dripping on that ostentatious tapestry, possibly even would feel a bit embarrassed at the fact, but he had been kissing every inch of your skin for quite a while, and your sanity had abandoned you along the way.

His hands massage your thighs as he lays down, carefully positioning each of your legs over his shoulder before delicately pulling your folds apart so he could fully bare you to him, letting out an obscenely hungry moan at the sight.

Expecting him to finally give you what you craved for, you can't help the whine of his name from coming out when he kisses your thighs instead, meticulously going over the entire area, not wanting to leave even a bit of skin untouched. By the time his mouth hovers over your cunt once again, you were already melting into a pool of desire, seriously contemplating on flipping him over and just riding his face.

“Now,” he calls for your attention, kissing your lower tummy softly, “I just need you to lay back and keep calling out my name.” He smirks when your breath hitches, dropping an otherwise chaste kiss right on your clit. “Show them what a real prayer looks like.”

You obey his command as soon his tongue licks a broad stripe up your cunt stopping at the top and sucking your clit into his mouth, his name falling from your lips like it would bring you salvation, and you don't stop as he keeps going, letting him and the priests know just how good he's making you feel, your prayers echoing around the temple.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Hi! Is it possible you could do one shot about Andrew x reader having an intimate moment and him sharing his favorite poetry with her while they’re relaxing? Something sweet and fluffy (could possibly turn into something steamy totally up to you)

Please, please, please, send me more pictures, writing these ficlets is giving me life.

I kept this one fluffy. Enjoy!

The unhurried caress of gentle fingers slowly pulled you from your light slumber. You had not moved an inch in the time you had been gone, your head still resting against his chest, the steady drum of his heartbeat right next to your ear. The rest of your body lay safely secured between his legs, a blanket draped across the both of you to keep your joined heat close.

It seemed he also had not moved an inch, probably not to wake you, and the thought warmed your heart. You did not dare to stir in his arms either, afraid he might stop the absent-minded movement of his fingers in your hair. But your own body chose to betray you, the lure of his warm form underneath your own too tempting. And so you let your hand glide along his stomach and chest before it slid down to his side where it squeezed the pliable flesh affectionately.

“Welcome back, love,” he whispered, his lips finding the crown of your head in a tender kiss mere seconds later.

“Still deep in the Heaney, hm?” you deduced as, from the corner of your eye, you spotted the book that was sitting in his other hand. As it had been ever since the two of you had cuddled up on the sofa together.

He hummed in affirmation, the guttural sound rolling through his chest and spreading onto your drowsy form, as if you had needed to be soothed further. As if that was even possible.

“Will you read to me?”

There was no chance you could have seen the blissful smile on his face without moving, but you could hear it, loud and clear, in the fervent, “Yeah!” that followed your request promptly. He was always so happy to share his beloved poetry with you and you basked in his enthusiasm, his melodic voice and passionate recital. It was heaven.

But as his hand left its destined spot on your head to turn the pages, you almost regretted asking. An agonised whine broke from your lips upon the loss of contact and he could not help but chuckle at your antics, making his attempt to shush you not nearly half earnest.

“Sh, love, focus now. This is a beaut.”

“I can’t!” you protested. “Not as long as your hand is not back where it belongs.”

You knew he was shaking his head in amusement, still his fingers catered to your needs immediately and it was only then that you felt yourself relax against him again, ready to hang on every little word he would grace your ears with.

“Scaffolding, by Seamus Heaney,” he began, the heat of his breath wafting through your hair, and you were home.

“Masons, when they start upon a building, Are careful to test out the scaffolding;

Make sure that planks won't slip at busy points, Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

And yet all this comes down when the job’s done Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

So if, my dear, there sometimes seems to be Old bridges breaking between you and me

Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall Confident that we have built our wall.”

He paused for a moment to let the words sink in, but it did not take long for his enthusiasm to break loose.

“Isn’t that a lovely one?”

“It’s beautiful,” you confessed, feeling compelled to lift your head and glance up at him. The most genuine, heartwarming smile awaited you and his happiness about your approval was everything. How on earth you deserved this man was absolutely beyond you, but who were you to question his choice? All you really could do was enjoy every single moment the two of you were granted together. He must have thought the same, even if he did not tell you so. It was evident, written all over his face. In the softness of his eyes, the placid smile upon his lips, in the touch of his hand as it ever so gently cupped your cheek, the book lying abandoned somewhere on top of the blanket now.

“Come here,” he whispered, but he did not wait until you moved, his head already leaning down, eager to meet you halfway. Still, when his lips finally touched yours, there was no hurry in their movement. You had all the time in the world. And hidden within his sweet taste on your tongue, there was a truth so plain and yet so absolute, that whatever storms there were to come, the two of you had built your wall.

[rainbowsky]

I can't help it, I have to critique this.

Disclaimer: I'm about to rip this logo to shreds. If that's is going to offend you, don't read on. Especially don't read on and then get pissed off at me, because you will only have yourself to blame. 😅

I also want to start off by saying that this has absolutely nothing to do with who designed it (or didn't design it), or who it was designed for. I love GG and DD, but ultimately my reaction to this logo design has absolutely nothing to do with either of them.

I have to say it couldn't be more disappointed with this logo. I feel that it fails on every level. Here are a few of the reasons why:

It is devoid of any personality. I guess I've been spoiled by the cool panther logo that we have known and loved, but I would have preferred to see something with more street style to it. Something with more individuality - something connected to Yibo and his aesthetic. This doesn't scream 'Yibo' to me. It just looks very conservative, like something designed for a brand (which it was, I guess). That's not to say the illustration isn't well done, because it is, and it does do a decent job of bringing in some automobile elements into the snakehead design (the geometric scales, the flames under the eye), but no matter how well illustrated something is, it's not going to make a good logo just because it's pretty. Logo design is actually a complex process that requires a lot of skill and experience, and a solid background in communications and design. Being able to draw well is only a very small part of that skillset. In fact, there are some outstanding communication designers who can't draw very well at all.

It fails as a logo design. The number one thing any logo needs to do is communicate. This doesn't communicate anything at all. It doesn't even immediately read as a snake. In fact there's really very little snake-ish about it, and all of the coolest elements of a snake - its long winding body, its forked tongue, its glassy eyes - none of those features are incorporated here. It also doesn't read as an 85, it could be an 89. Terrible - a truly inexcusable error. For a racing logo, there's really nothing speedy or fast being communicated here at all. The snake looks like it's about to fall asleep. Even the kinetic energy that could have been communicated through the position of the snake's tail is wrong. The tail is pointing in the opposite direction it should be, and the snake does not look like it's moving forward, it looks like it's draped over the logo, exhausted, and like the entire snake is maybe 5" long.

The designer doesn't seem to have respected the spirit of the original design. They should have used that original design as a starting point and built upon it rather than go in their own direction and then paste what they did on top of the existing logo. As a result the overall look is disjointed and unharmonious. It just doesn't crackle with the exciting energy that comes from a well-designed, well-balanced, aesthetically strong logo design.

I really can't stand it. Yes, the snake itself is beautifully illustrated, and the illustrator is talented, but they have failed as a logo designer in this particular case.

I love the idea of the snake being incorporated into a racing logo, but everything that makes a snake cool, everything that makes a snake well aligned with a racing brand, everything that conveys speed and energy is just completely lacking here.

Just to give you an example of some more dynamic snake logos, here are a few just from Google image search (and I'll put the Evisu one here again so you can compare). I'm not saying that I love these designs, but they are much more energetic and dynamic than this logo:

And I find this one pretty inspiring simply because it gives me ideas about creating a snake with a tire tread underbelly, which would be so cool.

And if you look at the classic Ford Shelby logo, compare that with the Evisu one you can see how much more dynamic and unique and distinctive and exciting the snake is in this one, even though its position is more static and it's not as smoothly rendered. It has style.

There's a part of me that feels a little bit bad for ripping into Yibo's new logo, but I'm angry on his behalf, because I feel like he deserves a lot better than this.

And all the designer would have needed to do to make this a more exciting logo and one that communicates what it needs to communicate is to make the snake head a little bit smaller so it's not blocking the number 5, give it a more dynamic pose where its mouth is open and its fangs are showing and its tongue is sticking out, and expand its body so that its body is visible behind - or even winding around - the numbers, and where you can see the curls of its body, and its tail is facing in the correct direction to make the snake look like it's moving forward.

Edit: here's what I mean:

I still don't feel that the illustration style is compatible with the original logo design, but I could overlook it if it was actually making any effort at all at communicating a racing theme.

Just my two cents. It's possible I will warm up to it more when I see it on the car. Placement and context can make a big difference.

I think it's cool that Yibo wants to use that green bamboo snake for a logo, I just wish it had been better designed.

Edit: more on this here.

[kaelleid]

S02E08 Spoilers

Anyway I hated it lol

And this isn't just a "my little guy died" kind of thing. I've thought he was going to die all season; that was not a surprise to me. This is about how tacked on the ending felt.

Izzy spends his dying breaths comforting Ed and telling Ed the crew is his family and loves him. And then Ed immediately leaves the crew to be an innkeeper. Yeah, that was a great and meaningful use of screen time.

If the crew loved Ed and considered him family, I'd really like if they would have showed that instead of just telling us. Because what I saw this season was post-Kraken Ed having one conversation with Fang and that was pretty much it for positive crew interaction. But apparently they love him and they're family, okay.

Also RE: showing and not telling, Ed referring to Izzy as his family. I think I could count the positive interactions between Ed and Izzy across all seasons on Izzy's hoof. They've hardly spoken this season post-Kraken. Where is this coming from? It felt so forced and unearned.

It's frustrating how the scene seems to brush off all of Izzy's development this season, moving away from his toxic relationship with Ed and opening up after surviving a suicide attempt, to spend his last minutes focusing on Ed and saying that he wanted to die.

Anyway forget that, it's wedding time! And now forget that, let's have Ed and Stede run an inn with no prior onscreen discussion! The end!

I got into this fandom because I loved Ed/Stede so much. The potential for cracks in their relationship was there from the start; one of their first conversations together was Ed wanting out of piracy while Stede wanted in. I was really interested to see how this would be resolved, and how they'd move forward together. I don't think the resolution on this front was satisfyingly handled at all. But Ed read a letter and they kissed, so hooray I guess. Why would you ever need to talk anything through and build a solid foundation before living together? It's not like we saw this analog literally go up in flames a few episodes ago.

There was such an odd juxtaposition of spoon-feeding the audience with flashbacks to explain what was going on for obvious things, and then also expecting the audience to do all the legwork for important relationships. What's the relationship between Jim and Oluwande? What made Stede finally decide to leave piracy behind for Ed in S2E8 vs S2E7? Why, according to an interview, is Frenchie apparently captain now instead of Zheng Yi Sao or Oluwande? We're not going to write those conversations, figure it out yourself.

Also, Blackbeard the genius, and Zheng Yi Sao who conquered China's seas, apparently can't come up with a plan better than "Wear uniforms and then walk around with a hostage, whose gun we will not be taking." It just felt so meaningless.

The thing that really gets to me the most is how much I loved S2E1-7. I had some lingering issues, but they didn't bother me because I had faith they'd be resolved (at least, resolved to some extent, given a 3 season arc). And then the last 15 minutes of this episode destroyed that notion. I thought the writing was poor and inconsistent, and it threw everything before it into a completely different light. The things that I was waiting to be built upon were never actually in the blueprints. The cracks in the foundation were covered up with bubblegum. It didn't have good bones.

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT - 10 Months

So - the past few months have been interesting.

My arms and legs are now fully slime except for the bones, which are now mostly just floating around in the goo. I can push them around if I put my hand inside them, which is weird on a few levels, but also pretty neat. That has been a new experience, being able to stick things in and through my limbs, but i’ve also found it kinda useful - if I need to hold something, or keep something safe, I can just kinda put it in my arm, or leg and it’s there for when i need it… have gotten a few weird looks for that though, especially if I forget I’ve got like a pencil or something in my arm.

As I somewhat alluded to, the changes in my limbs weren’t all smooth sailing, in fact so far this period has been the most awkward. First of all, once more of my feet had turned to slime, I actually found I had some trouble with my balance - turns out not having a fully solid base on your body messes with your ability to stay upright - took me a while to readjust to the new squishier ends to my legs. 

At the same time, I had to manage a decrease in fine dexterity in my hands. Part of this has to do with not quite being used to my fingers kinda sticking together, so sometimes I all but lose a finger in its neighbour. The other part is that turns out goo isn’t quite as easy to manipulate, and moves and squishes a lot more, making some finer motions harder to perform/perform as fluidly (ironically). While I can still use a keyboard, I definitely make a few more spelling errors, and I can’t game quite as smoothly, and it’s become almost impossible to type on my phone touchscreen, which has continued to become less responsive as I’ve turned more and more gooey, and combined with the loss of dexterity kinda leaves me screwed.

While both of these issues were a pain at first, I’ve learnt to adapt, and can, on the whole, still live and operate as normal (sans phone). Fortunately the slow nature of the transition gives me plenty of time to work out new ways of doing things.

The next major hurdle after that was the morning I woke up and, upon trying to stand up, had my legs just kind of pool beneath me - as in, I didn’t have legs anymore, I just had a pool of slime underneath my body. On one hand, I was very happy - I’d kinda been looking forward to trying out the ‘pooled legs’ thing I’d seen in art, on the other hand however (and in the moment the more poignant emotion) I was panicking. Turns out after 20 odd years of legs, suddenly not having them makes it pretty hard to move. 

It took me a bit to calm down enough to feel out the slime enough to find control of it and work out moving around - it’s kind of like conveyor belt logic: you move some of the slime forward, which, if you do it right (took me a few tried to do so) pulls the rest of you behind it, and you just kind of move the slime like a circle to move yourself in the direction you want. 

I actually spent about half a day managing with that, since a) it took me a bit to work that out and then I spent some time playing around with that then b) it took me even longer to work out how to get my legs to reform, and even when I did manage that, they were nowhere near stable and strong enough to hold me, so I spent a while doing that and somewhat relearning how to walk. The worst part is that for about a week/week and a half it became a morning routine, standing up, only to fall into a pool of my own slime, and it wasn’t just in the morning - while I was usually good once I got started in the morning, my legs weren’t quite as stable as they were beforehand, and so I’d sometimes end up pooled once again. Honestly, when I wasn’t in public, I usually just moved around in a pool until I needed legs, but a lot of the outside world isn’t built for people with puddle-’legs’. On that note, having to form legs took a bunch of effort to start with. I felt like I was trying to lift my whole upper body, which I guess in some respects I was, but fortunately I began to get the hang of it, both the lifting, and forming legs. Nowadays I can pretty much freely switch between pool and legs when I want, although I tend to keep to legs at the moment, as going from legs to pool has already lost me a few bones, and while I may not really use them any more, apparently they’re worth keeping so your body can convert them to more slime mass. Unfortunately I think I may have lost a couple small toe bones over the course of that week/week and a half.

The other issue with the pooling, and more slime content generally, is that I pick up all kinds of random crap off the floor. On one hand my floors have never been cleaner, on the other, I constantly have to pick shit out of myself, which while generally satisfying, is kinda a pain after a while.

The small blessing from this is I’ve actually now gained a bit of control over the shape of my slime parts. While at the moment I can really only do small things with my arms/hands (which condensing my fingers a little has helped with recovering some of my fine dexterity), and go between legs and pool with my lower half, I’m hoping that soon I’ll be able to do more exciting things. One thing I have managed is being able to extend/shorten my limbs a little, which is useful for reaching things, although I can’t go super far since I don’t have the mass, although I did work out a neat work around: I can send a little bit of slime from one arm to the other through my ‘blood’ vessels in my body, to transfer mass between them - it’s not super fast though, so it’s still pretty limited, but hey it’s something!

The other thing to report on this entry is that showering is funky now. Since my limbs are less solid now, the water kind of penetrates a little into them, and I get little bubbles of water within. Have found that this does wonders for my thirst, and when I shower I can usually drink a more normal amount, for a human, without having issues, which is nice. Have had to watch the water pressure, so as not to wash any of my limbs away, or blast my bones out of my body though, so pros and cons, as ever.

Oh! Additional notes for this update: I no longer have hair growing on my arms and legs - for obvious reasons - and not having to shave those has been nice, and I can’t wait for the same on my face - it’s cheaper than laser. I’ve also stopped taking my ‘normal’ hrt, since the recommended application spots are now slime, although I did have to shoot off an email about the non-gel parts of that since I forgot to ask about those originally, and apparently I can stop those too, so.

All in all these past four months have been… and experience. Fortunately I’m coping, although I am a little worried about what else I’m gonna have to learn to cope with over the coming months, but so far it’s all been worth it, so hopefully it’ll stick that way. See ya in the next one! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First - Prev - Next

[teaberrii]

Chapter 5: City Meets Country

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

"...Pretending to date, you say?” The woman sitting across from the detective looked him in the eyes. “What a bold move you’re suggesting, Detective.”

“It’s just empty words that’ll get you an invitation. You want to prove your innocence, don’t you?”

“Is this your sense of justice talking, or…” There was a curious glint in her eyes. “...Are your personal feelings getting the best of you?”

The detective quietly scoffed. “I am here to do a job. They say you’re guilty, but you say you’re innocent. We need more evidence.”

“...Innocent until proven guilty, is that it?”

“It’s what I’d like to live by.”

A loud honk makes Welt stop. He quickly takes a step back upon seeing the red stoplight. He’d been so engrossed in thinking about his book’s latest scene that he almost walked onto a busy street. He didn’t know why, but since he saw you and Jing Yuan walk into the stone villa, Welt was hit with an idea. And, throughout his walk, he’s been fleshing out the details.

When Welt woke up this morning, Dan Heng was reading on the couch while Dan Feng was on the balcony, enjoying the fresh morning air. As soon as he stepped inside, Welt asked, “March still isn’t up?”

“She wasn’t in her room,” Dan Feng said. “Texted her a bunch of times, and she said she’s on her way back.” He looked at his watch. “She should be back in… 3… 2… 1…”

The door opened, and March walked inside. “You’ll never guess who I bumped into!”

As she said she’d met you and Jing Yuan at the pool, Welt's phone buzzed with a message.

Can you get it done in the next two months?

Welt’s shoulders fell upon reading the message from his editor.

“Welt?” Welt looked up and saw his friends looking at him. March glanced at his phone. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just some spam text,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

The light turns green, and as he crosses the street, he thinks back to the text. It’s been a few years since he changed from writing non-fiction to fiction, and it’s been a bumpy adventure. While he’d built a reputation writing non-fiction, writing fiction proved to be a challenge. There's no right or wrong in creativity or imagination, something that Welt finds exciting and frustrating. And while his book sales have marginally improved since he first started, it still feels like he's looking into a dark tunnel, one where no one has a solid answer of where to go. They just push him for deadlines. Can he outdo his last book? Will he succeed? Maybe his creativity just doesn't resonate with the market as much as he'd like.

He walks past a train station and sees you talking with a few tourists. By the time he walks up to you, the tourists are already leaving, and he can see the gears turning in your head.

“Hey.” You look up, surprised. He looks at the foreign tourists and back at you. “Were they asking for directions?”

“Nah. I was doing some research.”

“Research? Does that involve talking to random people?"

“Kind of. Sort of. Not really.”

“Well, I’d be interested in hearing more.”

As you and Welt walk down the street together, you tell him about the reason you're here. But so far, you’re still coming up a little empty.

“Some tourists have been wishing for more hotels,” you say. “It’s strange.”

“It's a good question, and it’s something I noticed, too.”

“Sounds like you have insights to share.”

“Nothing that I think would be useful,” Welt says with a sheepish grin. “You know who you should talk to?” The little smile on his face gives you a hunch. “Jing Yuan.”

And you’re right.

“...Because he grew up here?”

“That’s right. There’s no one better to ask.”

Well, you might as well make the most of his fake boyfriend status. But…

“How long have you known Jing Yuan?” you ask.

“We met when he was still getting the B&B off the ground. So, it’s been about eight years? But, the funny thing is, we went to the same grad school, and we never knew.”

Grad school… Now, you’re curious. What did Jing Yuan study? Was he already thinking about opening a bed and breakfast? Was he already married?

“Both of us were there on a scholarship,” Welt continues. “I don’t know if you know but he was a corporate guy before he started this business. Director of Operations at an IT company.”

“...I don’t know if I should call him crazy for leaving a cushy job or…”

“...Or admire him for his courage?”

“I think both.”

“They say crazy people create history.”

You remember Jing Yuan’s bold move to kiss your cheek. “...He truly is a man full of surprises.”

Welt chuckles. “Sounds like someone’s fond of him now.”

“That’s—”

A loud sob interrupts you, and then, “Yanqing hit me!”

You and Welt stop and look at each other upon hearing the familiar name. To your left, there’s an elementary school. Without thinking, you and Welt enter the front courtyard, and you see a small group of kids gathering around Yanqing and a young girl about his age. Her long white hair is in a ponytail, and her reddish-pink eyes look anxious and scared. Yanqing is standing in front of her but he’s facing a larger boy who’s crying.

“What’s going on?” a woman walks towards the children and the larger boy runs to her.

“Yanqing hit me!” he cries.

“I…” When Yanqing looks off to the side, he gasps. “Auntie! Welt!”

The woman looks at you just as you and Welt come up beside Yanqing. "And you are...?"

Before you can answer, the boy frowns and glares at you. "Yanqing should apologize!"

Ignoring him, you put a hand on Yanqing's shoulder. "Do you want to tell us what happened?”

“...He was bullying Clara.”

“Is that true, Clara?” the woman asks, looking at the girl behind Yanqing.

“I didn’t say anything wrong!” the boy insists.

"You were making fun of her!" You hold Yanqing's hand, and his shoulders slowly fall when he looks at you. "...I'm not a bad person."

You affectionately pat his head while the woman says, “Let’s go inside, shall we?” Then, she looks at you. “Are you his aunt?”

You and Welt glance at each other. “Um, well—”

“Yes,” Yanqing answers, and you look at him. Then, quietly, “...I don’t want Dad to get called in when he’s so busy.”

The woman leads all of you inside the school and into the empty classroom, away from the prying eyes of the other kids.

“...Clara, do you want to tell us what happened?” the woman asks.

Clara is fidgeting when she looks down. “...Yanqing didn’t hit him.” You see the intimidating gaze of the boy. So, you stand in front of him, blocking her from seeing him. “...But, he did push him.”

“See!” The boy steps in front of you.

Welt frowns. “Let her finish.”

Clara looks at the boy and says, “But it was because he was bothering me.”

“What did he say?” the woman asks.

“I didn’t—”

You shoot him a look, and the boy crosses his arms.

Clara was building a sandcastle in the sandpit when she felt someone behind her. She turned and saw a larger boy who was looking at her with a curious but distasteful look.

“Is it true that you have two moms and no dad?” Feeling uncomfortable, Clara stood, but before she could walk away, he quickly blocked her path. “It’s just a question.”

“...Leave me alone.”

The boy frowned. “What? Are you embarrassed because it’s true?” Yanqing, who was walking by to play on the swings, overheard the question. “Who’s your dad?”

“I don’t have one,” Clara said quietly.

“What? I couldn’t hear you.”

Yanqing stopped, noticing how uncomfortable Clara looked. Then, he looked at the boy. “Stop bugging her.”

He glared at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Yanqing glared back. “She’s uncomfortable!”

“I was just asking her a question.”

Yanqing walked toward Clara and extended his hand. “Let’s go play on the swings.”

“Hey!” The boy rudely forced Yanqing to look at him, and Yanqing acted on instinct.

Soon, the boy was on the ground, his palm scratched by the concrete.

The woman sighs. “Apologize to Clara.”

“Why?” he challenges. “It’s not like I did anything wrong.”

“But you did,” you say, frowning. “You made her feel uncomfortable.”

“Who asked you, old woman?”

Before you can say anything, the woman sternly says the boy’s name. “Apologize. Or, I’m calling your parents.”

The boy mutters, “Sorry,” without looking at you or Clara.

Once that's over and done with, you and Welt strike up a conversation with the woman who you now know as Yanqing's teacher. Turns out Yanqing's taking summer classes at the same elementary school Jing Yuan once went to. 

By the time you and Welt are ready to leave, a loud bell rings throughout the school, signalling the end of recess. The kids are filing in and heading toward their respective classrooms. You and Welt are standing outside the staff room with Yanqing and Clara.

The young girl shyly looks at Yanqing and says, “Um… Thank you for what you did.”

“We’re similar, so… I can kinda understand how you feel,” Yanqing says with a smile.

“Similar…? Ah…!” You can see the lightbulb in her head go off. “You’re the one with two dads…”

“It’s a good thing!” Yanqing has his fists clenched in front of him as if eager to communicate his point. Then, with a soft smile, he says, “It doesn’t matter as long as they care about you.”

“Yanqing! Clara! Time for class!”

Clara is the first to leave, though it looks like she wants to wait for Yanqing. But, he turns to you and Welt and makes a gesture for you to crouch.

“...Could you keep what happened today a secret?” he asks quietly. A sigh. “I know pushing is wrong…”

“You just don’t want Jing Yuan to lecture you,” Welt says.

“Maybe…”

“I don’t think you should keep it from him,” you say. "But… I know you feel uncomfortable. So, I’ll keep your secret.”

“Really?” Yanqing’s eyes are shining.

“He’ll find out either way,” Welt says. “Jing Yuan's quite perceptive.”

The boy’s shoulders fall, but before he can say anything else, you see the teacher peek out from the classroom.

“Go to class,” you say. "We won't say anything."

Yanqing pouts but gives you and Welt a quick hug, and then he runs off toward his classroom.

◆◆◆

“Yo.” Jing Yuan is on his lunch break in the restaurant downstairs of the stone villa when he hears a familiar voice. Dan Feng pulls out the chair in front of Jing Yuan and jokingly asks, “Seat taken?”

“You’re alone?”

“March ditched us. As for Dan Heng”—Dan Feng rolls his eyes—“he wants to relax and spend his time reading today.”

“And Welt?”

“Can’t reach him. He’s been gone for a while. But—”

The buzz of his phone interrupts him. Once he pulls it out of his pocket, Dan Feng chuckles. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Jing Yuan takes another bite of his noodles just as Dan Feng says your name, making Jing Yuan look up. “They’re together." Jing Yuan almost chokes and quickly leans back to compose himself. Dan Feng laughs. “They bumped into each other in town. That’s what I meant.”

A small cough. “I see.”

Dan Feng puts an elbow on the table and slightly leans closer. “What’s your relationship with her, anyway? What were you two talking about earlier today?”

“Someone’s curious,” Jing Yuan deadpans.

“Well, yeah! Is she a friend…? Or…?”

“Yes.” A small pause. “...And I’m helping her with some things.”

“...Some things? Like what?” When Jing Yuan goes back to eating, Dan Feng rolls his eyes. “What’s with the secrecy?”

Jing Yuan wipes his mouth with a napkin and puts it neatly to the side. Then, he puts his arms on the table. “Why are you so curious about her?”

“Because it looks like you’re interested in her, and it’s been a while since you showed interest in anyone. So, of course, I’m curious!” Dan Feng gently taps his phone on the table. “Plus, she’s kinda cute, too.”

Jing Yuan thinks back to when he first saw you protecting his cousin. He found you frustrating, even more so when you took his phone and demanded him to pay for the spoiled cake. But that was when he got a good look at you. Was it inappropriate that he found you physically attractive?

He never expected to meet you again at the restaurant that night.

The look on your face told him that something was weighing you down, which he later concluded was your ex. Jing Yuan thought about interfering when he saw your ex preventing you from closing the taxi door. But he weighed his options and decided to wait and see. Then, when he saw that look of exhaustion on your face in the taxi, it was like looking into a mirror.

He saw his old self.

“A bed and breakfast?”

Jing Yuan and his wife were sitting at the table for dinner that evening when he brought up the dream he’d had since graduate school. He’d never spoken about it to anyone, even his wife whom he’d known since college. This was his little secret, something personal that he didn’t want to share until he was sure he wanted to go through with it. And, after countless weeks of thinking, he didn’t want any regrets.

“Xianzhou’s been budding as a popular tourist destination,” Jing Yuan said. “...It would be great to go back and—”

“...But, there’s nothing there.” Jing Yuan–chopsticks in hand—was reaching for some food on a plate. But, he stopped and looked at his wife with mild confusion. “Don’t get me wrong, Jing Yuan. Xianzhou is beautiful, but… there’s really nothing there. No technological advancements. No flourishing economy… Why would you want to go back?”

Should Jing Yuan be surprised? Probably not. His wife had grown up in the city; she was a city girl who never showed any interest in the countryside besides a vacation to escape the busy city life. But living there? Out of the question. Jing Yuan should’ve known.

Jing Yuan put his chopsticks down. “I grew up there, and… I’ve always wanted to start a business.”

She put her hand on top of his. “...But, didn’t you promise me we’d be starting a family? Don’t tell me you’re going to run off and start your little business and leave me to take care of the baby.”

“No. Of course not. That’s not what—”

“You just got promoted too.” She sighed. “Let’s stick to what we planned.”

Jing Yuan knew his wife would be against the idea, but he’d been hoping for open communication. Instead, she wasn’t even looking at him anymore but at an article on her phone about preparing for your first baby.

And that was just the beginning.

“Hey.” Dan Feng taps the table. “You listening?”

Jing Yuan’s phone buzzes, and he quickly takes it out. After taking a glance at the work email, he slides it back into his pocket. Then, he looks at his friend and says, “It’s true I’m interested in her.”

Dan Feng lets out a low whistle. “Haven’t heard you been this direct in a while either. Kinda refreshing, if you ask me.”

“...But, we’ll see how things turn out.”

Dan Feng slowly nods as Jing Yuan finishes the rest of his food. “Keeping a level head as you pursue her, huh? A logical approach, as expected.”

Jing Yuan isn’t playing around, but he hasn't forgotten the pain of a broken heart. You’re a city girl, much like his ex-wife. Plus, he has Yanqing. That’s when it hits him. It’s been too long since he felt his heart race for somebody. He isn't thinking, and if not for this conversation with Dan Feng, he would not have realized that his head is off in the clouds.

“Oh, hey." Just as Jing Yuan neatly puts his chopsticks on top of his bowl, Dan Feng says, "Before you leave for your big boy meeting... We’re having a BBQ party tonight. If you’re not busy, come join us.” Then, with a little smile, he adds, “We’ll be sure to invite her, too.”

◆◆◆

You and Welt end up parting ways. With you looking to get more information, Welt had gone back to the bed and breakfast first.

“Hotels? Why would we want more of that here?”

That isn’t the response you’re expecting. You manage to strike up a conversation with some of the locals after ordering some food from a popular food stand. They are women in their forties or early fifties who run small businesses nearby.

“Seriously,” one of them says with an exasperated sigh. “All corporate people want to do is come in and control everything! If we let them in, they’ll be putting us out of business!”

“Right! Just like those punks a few years ago.”

Punks?

The women look at you. “Why are you asking such strange questions? Are you one of them?”

“Them? No, nothing like that,” you answer, even though you have no idea who they’re talking about. “I was just curious as it’s my first time here.”

A woman sighs. “We only need family businesses here. All of them corporate people and whatnot can stay the hell away.”

You know better than to generalize the opinion of just two locals, but the animosity is unexpectedly strong. 

You’re mulling over the interesting thought when someone says, “Bar Girl?”

You recognize the voice. When you turn, Blade and Luocha are walking towards you.

“It’s not Bar Girl,” Blade corrects his friend as the men stop in front of you. “Jing Yuan calls her Corporal.”

“Corporal…? Huh… Thought he’d go with Sweetheart like he does everyone else.”

Everyone else…? It’s somewhat of a petty thought, but does Jing Yuan call every girl Sweetheart?

Luocha sticks out his hand. “I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself last time. I’m Luocha, and I’m a physician here.”

“You’re a local?” you ask, surprised.

A small chuckle. “Born and raised. What? Do I look more like a city boy to you?” He nods toward a street. “I run a clinic just at the end here.”

You take his hand. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“I hear you’re staying at Jing Yuan’s B&B,” he says with a small smile. “How’s that going?”

“Am I supposed to say I hate it?” you ask sarcastically.

“We can keep a secret.” Luocha nudges Blade. ���Right?”

“This is Jing Yuan we’re talking about,” Blade says. “There’s no way he’ll provide anything less than excellence.”

“That’s quite a statement,” you say. “...But, so far… it is true.”

“Soundin’ a little glum, chum.”

“You’re thinking too much, Doc—ah!”

You almost stumble when someone pushes you while wrapping their arm around your shoulder. You aren't sure who to expect, but surely not March smiling at you.

“How’d you like the view this morning?” she asks.

“...View?”

She lightly pinches your cheek. “The view of a half-naked Jing Yuan.” Blade and Luocha glance at each other before looking at you as if looking for an explanation. March turns to them. “Jing Yuan graced us with his presence at the pool earlier today.”

“Sounds like a great time,” Luocha deadpans.

“You wish you were half the man he is.”

Luocha scoffs and puts a hand on his hip. “Someone sure is more talkative than usual.”

As March lets you go and continues bickering with Luocha, Blade sighs. “Here we go again.”

“Looks like all of you are close.”

“Close? I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“My, I wasn’t expecting to see so many familiar faces.”

March and Luocha stop bickering at the sound of a woman’s voice. You look past them and see a tall, slender woman with pale hair and red eyes. There’s an elegance in the way that she walks that tells you she’s a no-nonsense woman.

Then, you hear Blade say a name, one that you don’t recognize. But it’s what he says after that takes you off guard.

“...That’s Jing Yuan’s mentor.”

Chapter 6

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @immahuman @queencybow @grimreapersscythe @nqctre @winterpein

[hirsheyskisses]

My Fiery Roommate

Prologue.

EUSTASS KID x READER

A/N: I cut this off a bit short because it'll make starting the next chapter a bit easier.. but prologues are allowed to be weirdly cut so 😭

"301, 301.. ah, here."

You set your suit cases down and fumbled with your keys to find the key, unlocking the door and moving into the building.

Your gaze was met with empty, beyond a couch, TV, and a small kitchen with a microwave, sink, oven, and fridge. It was a decently high end apartment. According to the floor plan, the bathroom would be down the hall to the left, the larger room across from it, and the smallest bedroom at the end. You had chosen that one because of the better view- according to the lady who toured you, your roommate had chosen the bigger one, anyways. That was fine.

Lugging your bags to the small room, it was also, for the most part, empty. There was a box that held a desk your brother had bought you, and a bed in the corner. Pushing your cases by the bed, you flopped down, sighing. "So damn hot in the South.." you groaned, running a hand through your hair.

Having come from the North, you had decided that as you turned 21, you'd start a new life. There was so much.. you needed to leave behind. So you did. You'd saved up, you'd worked your ass off, and came to the South, a grand place where many successful people began. They had the best education, best work opportunities .. even if rumors had it that the people were a bit brash. Honestly though, the few people you'd had brief interactions with were absolute sweethearts, so you'd decided that rumor was a bunch of crap.

You laid there for a bit before beginning to unpack the first suitcase: clothes. You'd brought pants, shirts, and jackets (which you were beginning to think you didn't need) and the under-clothing essentials. Each piece got placed on a hook and hung on the clothing rack, save for again, the under garments, which got re-folded and placed back into the suitcase for privacy.

"Who the hell left the damn door unlocked?! Fuckin asking to get broken into."

The sound of loud footsteps broke you out of your unpacking trance, and you froze. That was a man's voice. Slowly you reached for the closest solid thing you could find, which happened to be a boot, and slowly walked over to your door.

"Consider it maybe that the other resident is here, Kid?" An exasperated, also masculine voice spoke up, and you slowly creaked open your door.

"It's a God damn safety hazard, I swear when I get my hands on him-"

You held the boot behind you as you stepped out of your room, leaving the door open in case you had to run back in. "Excuse me?" Your voice cracked, just a bit, upon realizing just how huge both men were. Both easily cleared 6' and were built like absolute tanks, and now had their full attention on you.

It seems you all were in shock, until the blonde spoke up, voice a mixture of light and gruff, "sorry. Who are you?" Bangs covered his eyes and he wore a black mask that covered the rest of his face, a polka-dot shirt and jeans being what he wore. "Im.. one of the residents. I have the papers to prove it. ...you are?"

"Fuck you mean, one of the residents?! Thought my roommate was supposed to have balls," the red haired man's voice was almost condescending. His hair held up by a red bandanna, he wore a black tank that hugged his large torso, jeans, with heavy duty looking boots. "Well I'm sorry, Jaggy, that I don't meet your expectations!" "The FUCK you call me?!"

That was a mistake. The man moved closer, clenching his fists, until he was almost right in front of you. In a moment of panic, you threw the boot you'd been holding right at his face, turned, and darted right back into your room, slamming rhe door shut and locking it.

"..YOU LITTLE SHIT!" that moment of silence was gone, with the man storming down the hall and banging his fist on your door. "Kid that's enough- you had that coming-"

You backed yourself against the bed, hand over your heart, holy shit, I just did that. HES GONNA KILL ME-

The pounding continued for a minute before you heard him storming off, slamming the door to what you assumed to be his room. A soft tap on your door caught your attention and, warily, you opened it just a crack. You were met by the blonde, who offered you your boot. Accepting it, you questiond,

"...is he gonna kill me-" your voice was barely a whisper, and the man hesitated before shaking his head. "He doesn't actually hit women unless they genuinely deserve it. Sorry about him. I'm Killer."

"...well that's not menacing at all. (Name.) I'm (Name)." You opened it a bit more to shake his hand, noting just how firm his grip was. Killer huffed, shaking his head as he pulled his hand away, "He's Eustass Kid, your actual roommate."

You hesitated for a moment before questioning, "I've heard students talking about you guys the other day on Campus."

"...we've got a bit of a reputation."

"... should I be worried?"

"No."

"KILLER GET YOUR ASS IN HERE! I can hear ya talking to that damn pipsqueak!" Killer tensed as Kid's voice, shrugging at you, "see ya around." Before retreating to Kids room to assist the man in unpacking.

You shut the door again, feeling relief that atleast Killer seemed decent. A deep breath, it's gonna be a long year...

You'd finished packing a few hours prior, and had been laying on your bed listening to music, watching as the sky grew darker and darker until you decided it was time to call it a night. Moving to the bathroom, you began to run hot water in the sink as you prepared your tooth brush, when the door opening had you shrinking.

"..move over." Was all the man said, holding what you recognized as the bathroom essentials- toothbrush, brush, ..was that lipstick? Actually getting a good look at him, you realized he wore red lipstick with dark eyeliner.

"Jeez. For all you know I coulda been taking a piss." You grumbled, moving over none the less, moving to brush your teeth. "You'd better fuckin lock the door when you do, then. Clearly you need a lesson in that." Kid growled, setting his stuff down and also readying his own toothbrush for use..

"Yeah yeah.. I left the front door unlocked so the next person wouldn't struggle so much getting their bags in." Your responded, voice a bit muffled by the teeth brusher, and he scoffed. "Bullshit. You forgot, Pipsqueak."

"Whatever makes you feel better, Jaggy." For a moment you both went about your business, you finishing up the teeth brushing and beginning to wash your face with the hot water.

"Hey. Your name." "What?" You glanced at Kid, who was currently glaring at you, "you heard me. Give me your name." He growled, and you, with a dripping wet face, responded, "(Name). It's (Name)."

"Eustass Kid." "I know, Killer told me." He scoffed, spitting into the sink as you dried your face, him moving to wash his makeup off. "Behind you," you stated, slipping behind him to reach the door, and Kid inched forward a bit, seeing as it was a cramped bathroom. He was clearly tired, so you were gonna assume that's why he was being nice.

"..in the living room, 8. Any class?" "No?" You replied, confuses, "good. Because if your ass ain't in the living room by then, I'm dragging your ass out of bed."

You tensed, arms crossing. "Mind fuckin' explainin'? Cuz I don't enjoy the idea of hanging out with you." Kid grabbed a towel and began to dry his now make-up less face, pulling down his headband so it rest around his neck. His hair looked better when it was down, you decided. "So we can go over the damn roommate rules. Killer told me it was a fuckin thing or something. It makes sense." That caught you by surprise, nodding your head in agreement. "Rule 1, dont drag me out of bed or ill twist your balls."

Kid froze, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head, and then, "..think I'd rather ya kick em."

"You don't get that blessing, I'm not an angel in the morning. Now if you'll excuse me, Jaggy, I need to get my beauty sleep."

As you turned you glanced back at him, "gnight." He was still scowling, teeth clenched, "tch." Kid clicked his tongue and moved to exit the bathroom, and you both made your way to your rooms for sleep.

[manetsgarden]

The Directioner to marketing exec pipeline

For my fellow 2012-2014 Tumblr obsessives. A heartfelt tribute to the band, the years spent together online, and the many wonderful friends and life I made along the way. /

A few weeks ago it was my friend’s birthday. Six years ago, almost to the day, she and I met at a cupcake cafe, and bonded over the years we spent on Tumblr and Twitter as ultimate 1D girlies while we ate our cupcakes. We laughed about how we got follows from celebrities, or replies from the band, and how we spent every waking moment online, obsessed by different YouTubers, bands, and TV shows.

When I think about the string that lead me to that cafe in Edinburgh, it starts with Harry Potter. I was six years old in Orlando, Florida, and my parents took us to see the Philosopher’s Stone. In the rest of the pictures of our holiday, I have gigantic, frizzy hair because I begged my mom to braid it every night so I could look like Hermione. Six years old, but I knew how to immediately decide to devote myself to obsession.

Less than ten years later, I was watching trailers of movies on YouTube. At that point, I already had accounts on Twitter and Tumblr, but I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to do with them. From the moment I clicked on the “What Makes You Beautiful” Youtube video, everything became second nature.

There was no call to action at the end of that video saying “now pick your favourite and love them forever.” There was no need: we watched it and knew immediately what our job was. I wasn’t even halfway through before I knew exactly which one was mine (and I’ve never wavered). Credit is due to the YouTube algorithm for filling my recommended videos with content from their X Factor days, because I spent the rest of that night watching the videos of them on the stairs, searching them on Tumblr, and falling down the 1D rabbit hole.

It was as easy as breathing! There was no ‘how-to’ guide, the word ‘stan’ didn’t even exist yet. The way the internet let us collectively fawn over anything from a band, to a character in a book, to a random person on YouTube felt like a brave new world. I followed One Direction online alongside girls from the UK, Brazil, the Philippines, everywhere. I started my deep dives into other worlds with Harry Potter, but it was as a One Direction fan that I became embedded in the globalisation of the internet. I went from One Direction, to Zoella, to Sherlock, to Doctor Who, to 5SOS, and eventually I graduated from high school and got a life. By the time I did that though, I knew, fundamentally, how the internet worked.

In 2013, I was there as the Mischacopolypse started. I saw those first few posts trickle in. Later that year, I watched the full 7 hour 1D Day livestream. Year after year, I waited for the new Zoella Vlogmas intro like it was the lighting of the Rockefeller tree. Online content, I learned, was addicting because it was the ultimate way to connect with people. I made friends with girls in Toronto, Vancouver, North Carolina, and England. Not just “internet friends” but real, solid, sweet hearted friendship. I still watch their lives unfold on the internet with pride.

By 18 I had built my own website on Wordpress; I knew how to optimise my blogs for SEO, and set up a tripod with a ring light. I knew how to edit on iMovie and MovieMaker, how to find the latest trends, and even how to search engine optimise on YouTube. And, I leveraged it. I had not only a blog and a YouTube channel, and I tried every new thing. I got my first brand deals, and by 21, I got my first job as a Social Media and Web Coordinator for the uni newspaper. When I graduated, there was only one place to go: the home of all my teenage obsessions, and the reason I was who I was, the UK.

Before moving, I debated between Brighton (home of Zoella) and Edinburgh (home of Harry Potter), and it was really just fate that made me choose the latter. Immediately upon moving, I went back to my roots and got a job as a Harry Potter tour guide. I started creating like you wouldn’t believe. I got invited to events, and even more brand deals.

By this point I knew what sold: the person, the story, the personal connection. People needed to feel like they knew me in order to be invested, so I mined my life for content. Within a year, I got a job as a marketing exec, pointing to my blog and my work as a content creator to get me in. Five years later, I have two degrees in history, but a big girl job in content marketing.

Last weekend that same friend and I were driving home together, listening to One Direction and laughing about how we both ended up in marketing. Both confident there was no reason for it other than our obsession with 1D in our teenage years. At the same time, on different sides of the ocean, we fell in love with One Direction, learned Wordpress, obsessed over Zoella, created Instagram personalities, built our “brands”, and eventually, settled for jobs big girl jobs in marketing.

More than our jobs, we have six years of friendship built (from my side) on the trust that because we both know what 2013 Twitter was like as a One Direction fan, we just get each other. We’ve shared countless jokes about the old days, (remember the pandemonium when the pictures of Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, and baby Lux in Central Park dropped??!!!!), and looking forward to when we’re old and there’s inevitably a reunion tour. This was the norm, until she messaged our groupchat at 11:30pm on her birthday, and I only knew it was serious because she wouldn’t be so dramatic if it wasn’t. A quick Google search confirming the truth, one of the most jarring, official endings to anything so far in my life.

When you hear ‘stans’ say they owe their lives to a band or a celebrity, they don’t always mean it in a parasocial or ‘this song saved me when I had serious mental health problems’ sort of way. I was never that intensely obsessed with One Direction, but I wouldn’t have my career, I wouldn’t have met my friend, my husband, I wouldn’t have my home, or, god forbid, my cat(!) if I hadn’t clicked play on that video fifteen years ago.

It feels like a personal loss not because I have a parasocial relationship with Liam Payne, but because in my life there was a clear world before, with him in it, and now a world after, without. It is as simple as saying: it is hard to come to terms with a world without someone who completely created the world that you live in.

Support this essay on substack: https://atmydesk.substack.com/p/the-directioner-to-marketing-exec

[mom1245789]

Stuck in a elevator (crosshair fanfic)

Started writing this in class so sorry if somethings aren't spelt right or make sens☹️💔

POV: you and crosshair get stuck in a elevator during a mission and have a heart to heart.

Makeout sesh, (panic attack?), Jedi x Crossy wossy , femme jedi

There had be tension between us of late. From the corner of my eye I could see him, he stood taller, his rifle in his hand and looking straight ahead. He hadn't looked my way since we left the briefing room.We headed down the hallway to go in the elevator to go to the bridge where the separatist general would be. Upon reaching the elevator, I disabled the cameras with the wires, Crosshair keeping watch. Once the wires were disabled I pressed the button of the elevator and we both entered the elevator.

Crosshair's POV:

We stood far apart from each other. Her on one end, and me on the other. My eyes found themselves looking down on Melody, my rifle. Melody had some scratches the could not be cleaned no matter how many times she was scrubbed which was irritating. Despite that she was clean seeing as though Crosshair spent 6 hours cleaning her before the mission last week and hasn't been able to clean her since. It was the worst his rifle has ever looked and he hated it. The rifle still carried all of the blood and dirt from their last mission and ever since then everything had been weird.

There was a halting stop to the elevator which alarmed both Crosshair and Y/N.

"What happened?" He asked and looked at her

"It appears we are stuck." She gave him a look that suggested annoyance

With a huff he replied "I know that, but what if they know we're here?"

"Well I wouldn't know that would I?"

"But you're a Jedi."She glared at him, it was the first time they ever looked at each other since leaving the post.

She was about to comment when a chime came from Crosshairs helmet.

"Crosshair both you and Y/N stopped moving, what happened?"

It was Tech, their was a slight edge to his voice.

"We're stuck in the elevator, and we don't know why."

"Oh, well that's no problem just have Y/N fix it."Crosshair looked at me and motioned to where the wires would be and she got to work.

Y/N POV

Some time had passed and they were still stuck. Y/N had been meticulously hot-wiring the wires back in hopes that I would restart the elevator. From the reflection of the mirror in front of us, I could see he was looking at Melody, his rifle. His long slender gloved fingers grazed upon his riffle picking at all of the grime built up from the last mission. Emotions of the day came back again, I felt the fear that engulfed me when it had happened and the pain and worried she faced in the coming days after the mission.

Ironically she was a Jedi, so why did she feel so strongly about what happened?

Panic began to rise within her, her throat tightening making it harder to breathe, and immediately she was taken back to that day. It was hazy, but she remember how it happened. Crosshair was there laying on the ground, and right near his heart, was gun wound. She was a Jedi, she had seen solider get shot on the battlefield and while it was sad to see, she had to keep going, for the Republic.

But this was different somehow, it wasn't just a soldier who had gotten shot, it was Crosshair. And she had realized it then, but he meant so much to her.

Immediately she was at his side regardless of what the mission was.

When they had back to Kamino he was in critical conditio. Days and days past of restlessness past until he had woken up.

"Hey." A distant voice came into focus and she was pulled back to reality. She was breathing heavy, sweat had began to form, upon looking at her hands she could see they were shaking.

"Are you okay?" Concern was filled in the voice. She lifted her face to see Crosshair staring back at her, his helmet at his side. She look at him, she did even need to read his emotions to see how concerned he was, his faced showed it.

"I'm fine." She shook off his hand from her shoulders and got back to work.

Though she couldn't do much seeing as though her hands were shaking so much. His hand gently grabbed her wrist from the wires taking the tool from her hand.

"I can do the rest."

"I said I'm fine just give me the tool and I can-"

"I said I'll do it, alright?"

Their was a tone to his voice that suggested this was not up for debate, so she gave him the gave him the tool and watched as he worked the wiring and she told him where to fix it.

Once that was finished he closed the lid back on and they waited in silence until the elevator started to work again.

After a long while he spoke.

"Why didn't you visit me when I woke up?"

Crosshair's POV

She gave him a quick glance before looking away, her cheeks became red and began fidgeting with her fingers, bouncing one feet to the other.

"I had to go report back to the temple." She said flatly

"You were back the next day and when I had woken up"

"Well I had paperwork to do." She spitted out with annoyance hoping he would drop the subject.

Agitated he took a couple steps towards her "Hunter does the paperwork."

"Well I told him I would do the paperwork this time-"

"I know you came to see me-"

"I just told you-"

"Hunter told me."

She paused and looked at him. He took a couple steps and he slowly began to speak.

"Hunter told me that you came to see me when I was asleep." He paused trying to find courage to speak the next part.

"I want-I want to know why you didn't come when I woke up."

There was hurt in his voice. A tone she had never heard before. He always spoke with sarcasm in his voice. With her he spoke in that same but there was an edge of softness when he spoke with her. But here, it's was deep hurt. Hurt that the person he cares for the most did not show up in his time where he needed her.

She looked at him then really looked at him and understood what he was asking but she hadn't been honest with herself, so how could she be honest with him?

She started to fidget now while he was waiting for her to say something.

"I......."

She looked away and walked away from him. He turned to look at her

"I can't say"

"Why not"

She didn't respond

"That was my first time being shot, you know." He stopped and took a couple steps towards her looking as though he was debating with himself.

"I'm always in the shadows that no one ever sees me. Wrecker for whatever is always getting shot at (he sighed), and he would also talk about how it's "not that bad." And I'm a trooper, I'm trained for combat and over time you build a tolerance for pain. So, when I got shot, the pain didn't come from the wound from my chest, it came from thinking I would leave this galaxy without telling you how I truly feel about you."

"Crosshair........"

"You don't have to say anything I just needed to tell you. You know, in case I ever get shot again."

She laughed at that. A soft smile formed, and he forced himself to remember every little detail about her laugh and smile.

She looked at him. The air in the room turned weary. The sense of duty and oaths that were taken seemed to blur into nothingness. She picked at the skin near her nails for she started to say.

"As a jedi-" he cut her off

"You don't have to say anything, I understand."

He uncrossed his hands and a hand cupped her cheek, his thumb grazing against her skin. His eyes started back and forth between her eyes and her lips. He tilted her head back just a bit. Bringing his thumb to her lips and touching them. Heat rose against her cheek. Slowly he brought his head down and gently his kissed her. Her breathing hitched and she brought her hands to his neck trying to bring him closer to her.

His hands traveled down to the sides of her waist pushing her to the back of the wall. She brought her hands to his hair and run her fingers through bringing a deep groan from him. His hands came back up to her breasts. Her breathing hitched, her mouth opening just a bit and in turn he bit her bottom lip slightly bringing one hand to her cheek his thumb bushing over her bottom lip.

"Crosshair-"

The elevator rumbled and the lights started to flicker before it started up again and they were moving.

Crosshair groaned bringing his head to lay onto of her hair. She laughed and dropped one hand from his neck and the other gently rubbing his cheek.

A sound came from Crosshairs wrist

"You guys are moving again, is the elevator back up?"

Crosshair sighed and pressed the button though not before giving a slight squeeze to her waists.

"Yes Tech obviously the elevator is working."

"Okay well me Hunter and Wrecker are done here so we'll meet you at the top once you done."

"Copy"

He was about to grab his helmet but she beat him to it. She handed him his helmet while saying

"Finish this later?"

There was mischief in her voice which made him smirk.

"If the lady so chooses."

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics With Titles That Start With L (4) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three

Lamb (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Phil goes to the house that has plagued him with nightmares for two decades

Lane Boy (ao3) - disloyalorderoftrash (orphan_account)

Summary: Dan is a bored law student who hates university. One weekend, he has a one night stand with some stranger in some bar. However, when he returns to university after the break, he meets this stranger again - as his new teacher. They take up a casual affair, but will they be able to keep it secret? Is it really just casual and meaningless? And will Dan finally find the courage to quit university and start following his dreams?

Lap It Up (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: Phil knows exactly what Dan needs

last disco (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Two ridiculously-dressed guys meet on a night out.

(An AU where Dan gets dragged to the club and meets Phil, who’s dressed as the world’s gayest cowboy.)

Last Fling (Before the Ring) (ao3) - phanetixs

Summary: "-some baldy McGee pushes me against some chair and starts you know- gyrating his hips in my face and it was all very traumatic.”

“That’s a lap dance, Philly.”

(Or the story of Dan and Phil, stag nights, and why Phil Lester absolutely cannot go clubbing alone)

Laundry & Taxes (ao3) - serendipnpipity

Summary: In the world of yazisnotonfire and AmazingFiona, Yazi Howell still doesn't know how to do her laundry.

laundry day (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: “Moving in?” Phil jokes mildly when he opens the door and sees the suitcase.

Lavender Lace (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: Dan absolutely loves it when dom!Phil gets rough with him. He especially loves it when he chokes him.

Law of Obligations: Contracts, Restitution, Tort (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: He can’t think, he can’t breathe, it’s all too much. He’s feeling too much. He’s feeling everything. It’s all too fucking much. God, it’s a terrible neurotic contrast to those grey patches of time where he can’t feel anything at all. He has no idea how to bear it.

A fic about panic attacks and academic stress.

leaned a bit too hard (ao3) - jailedmoonshine

Summary: Growing up, Phil resented her name. She already didn't care for dresses and heels, so it was even harder convincing people she was actually a girl. As the years pass and her styles change, she decides to stop for a pint at a pub along her drive, giving her body a chance to breathe from the chill that was coming in.

Hang on... is that a nun?

Legends of the Light of Heart (ao3) - serendipnpipity

Summary: “For being Your Royal Highness, you know, you’re a bit of a spoon.”

***

Once upon a time, when the land was still ruled by kings and queens, there lived a young prince named Daniel, heir to a dying land...

Let Me Help (ao3) - prettyelephant

Summary: Phil gets a cat hair in his eye while shooting for the calendar so naturally Dan helps him get it out.

let's laugh about it later (ao3) - NormaLamber

Summary: Dan thinks about what makes Phil Phil and also the importance of trust in a relationship.

lexicon of lip and fingertip (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Phil sinks against Dan.

“Oi, hold your own weight,” Dan teases him. “Tudor princess.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Phil retorts, licking Dan’s neck.

Like a Bowl of Oranges (ao3) - cloej88

Summary: Dan has built a solid career for himself as a ghostwriter. He safely hides behind other people’s words, crafting their tales and pocketing the cash without any threat of notoriety. But lately he has been working on a book of his own, itching for a change.

Phil is an indie filmmaker who happened into some huge breaks over the last few years. He wants to use his influence to uplift queer stories for the screen, so he puts out an open call for story submissions. At his agent’s behest, Dan submits his story.

The writer!Dan and director!Phil friends/co-workers to lovers AU that we never knew we needed.

Like Dreaming of Angels (ao3) - steddieornot

Summary: While he firmly believed everyone deserved love, in some shape or form, this was something else. The love he and Phil shared was otherworldly, impossible to contain. It was more than romantic in every feasible way. And somehow, fate had bestowed it upon him, just a guy from a small town in Reading. And deep down, he knew that even if fate rewrote his path, he would still have found Phil every time.

Like Fine Print (ao3) - totalincandescense

Summary: Every few weeks, Dan was given an unfriendly reminder of at least one of the many reasons why he never went outside.

The most frequently recurring thing on the list being the general existence of people.

But more specifically, the existence of people who flirted with Phil.

Lions and Candy (ao3) - Mysticallykai

Summary: Dan has to take his little brother trick or treating. He hates doing it, but that all changes when they get to the last stop of the night.

liquorice ice cream (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan and Phil go on a date to the zoo.

(Snapshots of their Swedish zoo date, September 2024. This fic is free from TIT show spoilers!)

look how far we've come now baby (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: It was days later, in a hotel bed with a view of the Portugal sky, that Phil had murmured into the darkness, “But yeah. Maybe grown-up queer prom would be nice.”

look how (the stars) shine for you (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: Two boys looking at the night sky together, 14 years apart.

Look who's inside again (ao3) - Frog910

Summary: Dan is struggling with dark thoughts, and Phil worries about him as he's gone without notice again.

Lost In Thought (ao3) - microwaveoven

Summary: Based on that one part in pizza mukbang 2 where DNP talk about why the hiatus started and how Phil felt lost for a while

loud heart (ao3) - phiclets

Summary: The orange heart reply was a cultural moment; this is my vision of what might have led up to Dan posting it.

Love you through it all (ao3) - Lesbianphan

Summary: A glimpse into Dan and Phil’s journey over the years, through dates/holidays and all the adventures they’ve embarked on together. Just some introspective fluff, featuring the many different stages of their relationship we’ve witnessed over the years

Loving His Ear (ao3) - Kim_Aurora_135

Summary: Appreciation literature

[zahri-melitor]

Okay, as I finish the era-defining runs on Robin, Nightwing, Birds of Prey and Batgirl that 2009 closed out, I had a solid think about who I really enjoyed writing these, because that’s like over 580 issues of material, annuals, minis and one shots included.

Reflections on best writers for runs of Tim’s Robin series:

Look we have to acknowledge Chuck Dixon. Nobody was doing it (writing 2/3 of the entire Bat office material simultaneously) like Dixon, for almost a decade. To ignore the impact of Dixon on Tim and Tim’s comics is to miss the foundation almost everything else is built upon. Love him or hate him, he’s all about the supporting casts and environments. Special shout outs to Robin I, Robin III, Robin #33, Robin #34, Robin #49-52 (look it contains Shiva), Brotherhood of the Fist, and Robin #67, among many others.

Adam Beechen. Gonna call it. This was a solid entertaining run. It also contains Bruce parenting Tim, which you know what? We all needed this. We DESERVED this. (Unfortunately the run is marred by Evil!Cass but there isn’t a single perfect run anywhere in Tim’s books). It has Robin #156. It has Robin #163.

Bill Willingham, #132-141. Yes, I am very specifically restricting this to a small chunk of Willingham, but this bit was genuinely interestingly written and contains the best material for Tim in Bludhaven.

I cannot be normal about Robin #183, thanks Fabian Nicieza. It’s just. Beautiful. Read Robin I, Robin #50-52, and Robin #183 back to back to back. I have, and clearly so did FabNic as he wrote it. This is what long form storytelling and callbacks are about. This is how you tie off a series after 18 years of material.

Reflections on best writers for runs of Birds of Prey:

Gail Simone. GAIL SIMONE. Queen. She turned the perfect pair (Babs and Dinah) into a trio (Babs, Dinah and Helena) and she gave the Barbara & Helena relationship the desperately needed work it deserved to progress it from a tangled bilateral deep dislike to allies to best friends. (I also loved them despising each other. Because the reasons on both sides were so meaty. But the progression of moving past that was equally good).

Chuck Dixon. Do you need inadvertently very queer stories about 007!Dinah and her handler, Barbara? Do you need Dick/Babs in your life? Do you want the queerest art anyone has ever drawn for Babs, probably drawn specifically as a fuck you to Chuck Dixon (Birds of Prey #21 my beloved)? You want Chuck Dixon.

They let some other people write this for fills but we all know it wasn’t the same.

Reflections on best writers for runs of Nightwing:

Peter Tomasi. There’s absolutely no question. The run respects Dick as the adult hero with connections across the community. It gives a Dick who has grown up enough to not just instinctively push assistance from Bruce away. It’s full of continuity nods. (I have to SCREAM about Dick catching the falling baby at the end of Freefall. Tomasi taking the falling/missed catches imagery and transforming it by: giving Dick the hobby of skydiving; AND letting Dick make the catch that haunts his nightmares? It’s a beautiful reframe)

Hello again, Chuck. Frequently heavy handed, repetitive in how much Dick wants his independence, but also full of Babs/Dick, teamwork, Dick & Tim moments, a properly rounded out supporting cast, and the origin of Dick’s escrima sticks. He wouldn’t be the same hero today without his now iconic weapons.

If I were going to nominate a third, I GUESS I’d pick out a few parts of Devin Grayson’s run, actually, and I give you #75-#83ish, #100, and #107-111. #75-#83 gives you the most interesting part of the Chief Redhorn downfall story and Blockbuster trying to take Dick’s life apart before everyone starts dying (and contains stand out issues #76 – Amy Rohrbach’s house being blown up – and #81 – Dick in hospital, Cass taking on Slade), #100 just does a lot of interesting retrospective work with Dick (even as it cements in Grayson’s Romani canon, and whether or not that’s good in your opinion is up to you), and I actually quite enjoyed the mob arc of #107-111? It’s silly, but also it’s not the worst way Dick’s ever punished himself.

Reflections on best writers for runs of Batgirl:

Kelley Puckett. Next question?

Oh you want me to elaborate? Puckett created our girl who can take on anyone and win. He made her vulnerable. He gave her her aesthetic. He developed her complex relationship with both David Cain and with Shiva. He gave her speech and friends and the vulnerability to desperately want to protect people and learn. Cass isn’t Cass without Puckett’s work.

Probably Dylan Horrocks? Horrocks is very good with emotional moments for Cass. He wrote the ‘loyalty to the Bat’ scene and ‘Soul’ and also the argument with Babs over reading, which I’m sorry, is still one of those moments in Batgirl that takes my breath away because it’s so in character for both Babs and Cass, even as it hurts.

[whyisthereacentaur]

Modern Monsters 7: Frankenstein’s Monster

Another inspired by @purrlockholmesbooks’s request!

Real life got VERY busy this week, plus my mind just kept spawning lore for this guy and his creator, so when I sat down to write it, the ideas were getting in each other’s way like the Three Stooges in a doorway. Then I sat down to put it all in order for a post last night and fell asleep. Sorry >_<

Onwards!

Having existed for over 200 years, and the vast majority of that with a much less vocal conscience than he first started out with, Victor (last name dependent on which alias he was using at the time) created more than one monster.

After his original Creature resurrected Victor Frankenstein, only to effectively say, “Dad, I’m sorry about all of that, but seriously - never contact me again,” the doctor was left alone and lonely. He argued with himself about the ethical implications of what he might be putting any new creation through, as well as what he might unleash upon the world with its birth, as his knowledge and technological capabilities had only grown since then.

That only lasted about ten minutes before he moved on and started on his next project anyway.

All told, over the years, Victor’s built quite a dynasty. Literally. He never remembers exactly how many children he has, even though each one from the second onwards lived with him for at least a few years before striking out on their own. Their cohabitation was necessary for him to collect data on the relative success of each experiment, requiring lots of physical and mental testing and direct, extensive comparison of each against their siblings, which he would usually record by dictation in his test subject’s presence.

Victor is never sure why his children don’t seem to want to speak to him much.

The only one currently in very regular contact is the youngest, who Victor sacrificed some of his own tissue to build. Egotist that Victor is, this one is his very best attempt at a superhuman (so far) - a bit of cloning, a dash of modern prosthetics principles, a lot of gene manipulation, and a solid base of Victor’s own techniques have created a passably human creature with some hidden talents.

Victor’s parenting, if it can be called that, has created a passably functioning young adult with severe anxiety, people-pleasing tendencies, and self-worth issues. All the stress does make a person a bit scatty - he’d forget his head if it wasn’t screwed on, so he tries not to switch that particular body part around too often.

He does share his father’s love of knowledge for its own sake, and so has spent several years in his chosen university. He has changed his mind on what, exactly, he should focus his research on almost as often as he has switched up his detachable body parts. And he’s done that often, since Victor sent him off with a variety to choose from. University and the internet have allowed him to gather a circle of like-minded close friends, who would all tell you he is such a sweetheart; the type to give you the shirt off his back, or a kidney, if he thought you had the slightest need. He hasn’t mentioned his ability to regenerate entire organs to them just yet, though.

He donates at the same university hospital his dad works at, since his dad’s dedicated shifty-business team can be trusted to keep his real medical records under wraps and his real name off any “posthumous” donations.

His dad liked the idea of naming at least one of his children Frankie Stone, what with the Frankenstein name being impossible to use openly and the bloodline being otherwise dead. However, university is a time to reinvent oneself, and our student prefers to go by his middle name now.

He’s just always liked the sound of Shelley as a nickname.

~~~

Organ donor cards, understandably, don’t usually have loyalty stamps. One of the nicer shifty-business nurses presented Shelley with the Frankensteinian organ donor register/cafe loyalty scheme card monstrosity pictured here.

It could just be a bad photo, but I do like the bit of trivia that the monster in the book actually had yellowed skin rather than the green we now think of as traditional, so if you feel like Shelley has a bit of a sallow tint, I leave it to you to decide.

This was a “simple” illustration that took forEVERRRRR to sort out. I’m still figuring out half the tools on this app. Just pretend he takes really good care of this card since I didn’t have the energy left to make it look appropriately weathered.

~~~

If you read this far: thank you and hope you enjoyed it! I have one more instalment planned featuring Shelley and his dad, which will hopefully go up sometime in the next few days.

Oíche Shamhna shona daiobh!

Happy Halloween!

~~~

Modern Monsters series

Modern Monsters 1: Dullahan

Modern Monsters 2: Kelpie

Modern Monsters 3: Kuchisake-onna

Modern Monsters 4: Cuca

Modern Monsters 5: Vampire

Modern Monsters 6: Dr Frankenstein

Modern Monsters 7: Frankenstein’s Monster

Modern Monsters bonus: Frankenstein, Monster

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Iron Man: Final Part

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (implicitly)

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You take off flying after Tony does, not missing the way Rhodey looks awestruck by this. 

"How do you think the Mark One chest piece is going to hold up?" Tony asks his computer system.

"The suit is at forty-eight percent power and falling, sir. That chest piece was never designed for sustained flight."

"Tony, I need you to be careful. Use me when you need me," you say.

Tony calls Pepper to let her know he's okay, and she answers the phone in a panic.

"Tony! Y/N! Are you two okay?"

"We're fine, Pepper," you answer.

"Obadiah has gone insane! He built a suit."

"Get out of there right now!" Tony shouts. 

Before she can answer, you hear commotion come from her end and a nastier version of Obadiah speaks.

"Where do you think you're going? Your services are no longer required."

Tony flies faster to the lab area where the gigantic arc reactor is. Obadiah and Pepper are outside the building and Tony sees red when he sees Pepper could be harmed by him. Tony's suit is big and built with solid metals, while Obadiah's suit is ten times more massive. His suit makes Tony look like a small child compared to an adult.

"Stane!" Tony yells.

Obadiah starts shooting at you and Tony but your friend doesn't let up. He crashes right into Obadiah just as Pepper gets out of the way of the imminent danger. They tumble away from Pepper and you fly down next to her to make sure she is unharmed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine but—"

"Good, get the hell out of here."

Tony and Obadiah have moved their fight over to the freeway where most of it is cleared. The cars remaining on the freeway have been cleared out so no one is in the line of fire. The scene you come upon can only be described as pure destruction. Cars are crushed, a semi-tractor trailer is toppled over, people are screaming in terror, and Tony and Obadiah are in the middle of it. The older man has a car lifted above his head with a screaming family still inside. 

Clearly, he doesn't care about casualties as long as he comes out on top.

Tony uses most of his power on his chest piece and he blasts Obadiah away, causing the car to fall back down to Earth. You stick both hands up and use your aerokinesis to keep the car afloat while you get them to safety. As soon as the car is on the ground, the family immediately speeds off.

You turn to Obadiah and stick both your hands out. Your right hand moves clockwise and your left moves counterclockwise, and a bright ball of fire starts to form between your palms. The flames grow hotter as the ball grows larger and you shoot that ball of fire at Obadiah as soon as you think it's hot enough to do some damage. Obadiah stumbles back but the flames don't work as well as you'd hope. The flames die out quicker than they do damage so you have to think of something else.

"For thirty years, I've been holding you up!" Obadiah yells. 

He grabs Tony and slams him to the ground. He stomps hard on his chest even though Tony's suit doesn't crush under the weight. He raises his leg to do more damage when you panic. Your aerokinesis and pyrokinesis work together to get Obadiah away from Tony. Your fire powers ignite the flames still on him which cause a small explosion, and your air powers flip him several hundred feet away from him. "

"Impressive! There's a lot more to you than I thought there was!" Obadiah laughs.

"You have no idea," you glare.

You and Tony fly up a hundred feet in the air and look down at Obadiah who you can only imagine is smirking underneath his suit.

"There's a lot more to me as well! I've made some upgrades of my own."

Obadiah has programmed his suit to have thrusters like Tony's does which means he can fly. That's fine. It will get the fight away from civilians. Plus, you know for a fact that he didn't account for ice build-up since he never tested it out, and you and Tony are going to make him regret following you into the sky.

"Sir, it appears that his suit can fly," Jarvis notes.

"Duly noted. Take me to maximum altitude."

"With only fifteen percent power, the odds of reaching that—"

"I know the math! Do it!" Tony yells.

Jarvis has no choice but to listen to him. As soon as you and Tony start heading for the atmosphere, Obadiah follows. He's not as fast as you and Tony during take off but the higher you fly, the faster he goes. Tony has the same idea as you and will take Obadiah as high as it takes for ice to reach his suit.

"Thirteen percent power, sir."

"Climb!"

"Eleven percent," Jarvis says the higher Tony got. 

"Keep going!"

"Seven percent power."

"Just leave it on the screen! Stop telling me!"

"Tony, keep going! I will keep the ice on there as long as I can."

You take a hard right while Tony keeps flying upward. Obadiah reaches your friend and grabs him by the shoulders angrily.

"You had a great idea, Tony, but my suit is more advanced in every way!"

"How'd you solve the icing problem?" Tony smirks as ice cracks on Obadiah's suit.

"Icing problem?"

"You might want to look into it."

Obadiah's suit shortens out much like what Tony's did when he first tested it out. You fly upward and jump onto the back of Obadiah and shove your hands onto his shoulders. Both hands turn ice white as the ice on the suit thickens.

"You're not getting away this time. If you wanted to kill us, then you should have been the one to pull the trigger," you say close to his ear.

"Two percent. We are now running on emergency backup power," Jarvis says. 

You look up and see Tony struggling to fly. Tony is and will always come first. You jump off Obadiah's back and shoot back into the sky to where Tony is, and you grab his hand to prevent him from falling.

"Thanks. Where is Stane?"

"Doesn't matter. You need to get out of this suit."

You flew the both of you back to his lab where the big arc reactor is. You land on the roof gently not caring where Obadiah is right now. There is no time to relax because the older man jumps out of the shadows and grabs you from behind. He tosses you off to the side like you're a piece of trash, and you crash into one of the air conditioning units with a hard thump.

"Fuck," you groan.

Obadiah grabs Tony and starts to squeeze him so hard that his suit crushes and the weapons break. If you don't do something, he is gonna kill Tony. You ignore the pain on your side and fly over to Obadiah. You jump onto his back and wrap your arms around his neck as if you're putting him in a chokehold. Both your arms erupt into flames with the hope that they will melt the metal. You can't be too hot otherwise you'd kill Tony so you do your best to try and subdue Obadiah.

He lets Tony go to yank you off him, and he throws you in the same direction as before. This gives Tony the opportunity to escape while the smoke is still thick in the air. He hides behind one of the larger air conditioning equipment while you're still stuck by the one you were thrown in. To keep Obadiah from seeing you, you manipulate the water molecules in the air to create a lot of steam. If he can't see you, then he can't hurt you.

"Very clever, Y/N. You're both getting good but not good enough, I'm afraid."

"Pepper?" Tony's voice comes over comms.

"Tony!"

"This isn't working. We're going to have to overload the reactor and blast the roof."

You groan and sit up to see a piece of metal sticking out of your thigh. You yank it out with a muffled cry so that Obadiah doesn't hear you. The wound will heal in seconds but the pain will linger for several minutes afterward. You get up and wobble your way over to where Tony is. He jumps when he sees a figure coming his way but relaxes when he sees it's you.

"How are you going to do that?" Pepper asks.

"You're going to do it. Go to the central console and open up all the circuits. When I get clear of the roof, I'll let you know. You're going to hit the master bypass button. It's going to fry everything up here."

"Okay. I'm going in now," Pepper agrees.

"Make sure you wait till I clear the roof. I'll buy you some time," he whispers.

"No," you declare once you found him. "We'll buy you some time. Come on."

You clear the mist enough for Tony to see where Obadiah is. He jumps on his back and starts yanking out wires from his neck.

"This looks important!"

The wires Tony is yanking out are connected to his vision so that Obadiah won't be able to see anything with the mask on. You throw fireballs at his weakest points to help take him down. Without his ability to see, Obadiah reaches for Tony and throws him onto the glass dome right above the arc reactor.

"Tony!" you yell and fly over to him.

His mask is off and in the hands of Obadiah who has his mask off so he can see.

"I never had a taste for this sort of thing but I must admit, I'm deeply enjoying the suit!" he laughs and crushes the mask before tossing it to you. "You finally outdid yourself, Tony! You'd have made your father proud!"

Pepper rushes the process and gets the arc reactor ready from down below. She looks up and sees you and Tony standing on the glass above her.

"It's ready, Tony! Y/N! Get off the roof!" Pepper yells.

Obadiah shoots a missile at you two but the targeting system is messed up because the missile lands outside of the glass dome. The shock from the explosion is enough to shatter the glass you stand on, raining shards of glass where Pepper stands.

"Tony!" she gasps and protects her face.

Tony falls through the middle of the glass dome but is able to catch himself before he falls into the arc reactor. He pushes himself up and holds onto the metal frame.

"How ironic, Tony! You're trying to rid the world of weapons and you gave it its best one ever! Now I'm going to kill you with it!"

"Pepper! Time to hit the button!" Tony shouts down below.

"No, you'll die," you gasp.

"You ripped out my targeting system! Stay still you little weasel." 

Obadiah sends another missile at Tony but misses once again. With each hit, the glass around you shatters and sends more down where Pepper is. You fly through and push Tony up to safety

"You told me not to!" Pepper yells back.

"Just do it!"

"You'll die!" she screams.

"Please get her out of here," Tony asks you.

"No, Tony, you won't stand a chance against him!"

"Get her out of here and push the damn button!" he yells.

Tony never does anything without reason, so you have to trust him he knows what he's doing. You leave him dangling from the rooftop and fly down to Pepper. You push the big red button and scoop Pepper in your arms before flying off. She gasps and holds onto you for dear life and calls out for Tony. She cares about him more than she thinks she does and it shows in the way she's crying for him. She shoves her head in your neck so she doesn't see what's happening so you'll look for her.

You reach several hundred yards away from the lab only to see it explode right before your eyes. You set Pepper on her feet and immediately take off into the sky toward the roof. Tony is lying on a broken piece of the metal frame but your own focus is getting him out of here alive. You scoop him into your arms and fly down to the ground where you can have the time to better check him out.

Pepper rushes over as soon as you set him down, and you lean down to check if he's breathing. He is. However, the light in his chest dies out as if he's dead. He's not, but he is dying if he doesn't get medical attention.

"Tony, wake up," you get tears for him.

"I need a drink," he groans painfully.

"My God, you scared us. Come on, we need to get out of here before the police show up."

Tony doesn't like doctors or receiving medicine but when Pepper threatened to leave her job, he took better care of himself. Rhodey put together a press conference the very next day since everyone will be wondering what the hell happened at Stark Industries. He kept the Air Force off your back when you were in the air and now he has to take care of the people on the ground. You, Pepper, Tony, and Phil Coulson are backstage getting ready while Rhodey is in front of dozens of reporters trying to get ahead of the story.

"You've all received the official statement of what occurred at Stark Industries last night. There have been unconfirmed reports that a robotic prototype malfunctioned and caused damage to the arc reactor. Fortunately, a member of Tony Stark's personal security staff—"

"'Iron Man and the Avatar'," Tony reads the headlines of today's paper. You look away from the TV and grab the paper. "That's kind of catchy. It's got a nice ring to it. I mean, it's not technically accurate. The suit's a gold-titanium alloy but it's kind of evocative. The imagery, anyway."

"Mine's technical. Well, apart from the shapeshifting," you chuckle.

Pepper dabs some makeup on Tony's face to conceal his wounds. It would look bad if he went out there with a beaten face and claim that he was never there.

"Here's your alibi," Phil says and hands you and Tony note cards. "You two were on your yacht. We have port papers that put you in Avalon all night and sworn statements from fifty of your guests."

"See, I was thinking maybe we should say it was just me and Pepper alone on that island," he smirks.

"That's what happened. Just read it, word for word."

"There's nothing about Obadiah here," you say.

"That's being handled. He's on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record."

"What about the whole cover story that it's a bodyguard? He's my... I mean, is that... That's kind of flimsy, don't you think?" Tony tries to find the right words to say.

"This isn't my first rodeo, Mr. Stark." Phil looks at you and you shake your head with a quiet chuckle. "Just stick to the official statement and soon, this will all be behind you. You've got ninety seconds."

Pepper grabs Tony's jacket and turns to him with a smile.

"Let's get this show on the road."

"You know, it's actually not that bad. Even I don't think I'm Iron Man."

He turns and she helps him put his jacket on.

"You're not Iron Man."

"Am so."

"You're not."

"Alright, suit yourself. You know, if I were Iron Man, I'd have this girlfriend who knew my true identity." Pepper finishes and he turns to face her. "She'd be a wreck because she'd always be worrying that I was gonna die yet so proud of the man I'd become. She'd be wildly conflicted, which would only make her more crazy about me. Tell me you never think about that night."

You stand off to the side and give them this moment for another sixty seconds. 

"What night?"

"You know."

She looks into his eyes and for a split second, she can see herself falling for him.

"Are you talking about the night we danced, went up on the roof, and then... you went back inside to get me a drink and left me there by myself? Is that the night you're talking about?"

She must be talking about the night they almost kissed, and you turn to hide your smirk.

"Yeah," he clears his throat.

"Okay, if you two are done flirting with each other, we have a press conference to get to," you say loudly, startling them. "That's what you were doing, right? You two were flirting?"

"Let's go," Tony changes the subject.

Pepper stays where she is while you and Tony walk down the long hallway to get to the main room.

"Are you really going to say what's on the cards?" you whisper to him just as you walk into the room.

"I don't know," he whispers back.

"Now, Mr. Stark and Ms. Y/L/N have prepared a statement. They will not be taking any questions," Rhodes says and steps aside. 

Tony takes the microphone while you stand next to him and smile tightly at the crowd.

"Thank you. It's been a while since I was in front of you. I figure I'll stick to the cards this time." A round of chuckles goes across the room. "There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Christine Everhart interrupts even though Rhodey says no questions, "but do you honestly expect us to believe that it was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared, despite the fact that you—"

"I know that it's confusing," Tony interrupts her. "It is one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations or insinuate that we're superheroes."

"I never said you two were superheroes," she smirks.

"You didn't? Well, good because that would be outlandish and fantastic. I'm just not the hero type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made, largely public—"

"Just stick to the cards, man," Rhodes whispers.

"Yeah, okay." Tony holds the cards out and reads over them quickly. "Yeah. The truth is... I am Iron Man."

"I am the Avatar," you confirm.

Every single reporter except for Christine stands up with millions of questions to ask. Rhodey looks at you two with a shocked look on his face. What can he expect when it comes to Tony Stark? 

If he's going to take the credit, then you may as well do it, too. They'll only be questioning why you can do the things you can do, and this way, you can give them an explanation.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[avontuurinaruba]

End of the workweek!

You read that title correctly! Due to "Hemelvaart" in Belgium and Holland, we have thursday and friday off! Today I will be going over Monday and Tuesday with you! On monday i came into the office and had my usual morning talk with Glennrick! We talked about the state of the printers and some more IT stuff! Once I was done I went to Dwayne to see if he had any tasks for me. He handed me an empty USB drive and asked me to make a bootable USB for windows 10 pro. So i started working on it. I ran into some issues so i couldn't finish my task by lunch, I also had to make an instructions manual for Adobe Acrobat reader, showing people how they could add a digital signature to their documents. At lunch, charees came to me and asked me if i wanted to go along with her to the Parlement of Aruba to watch a friend of hers give a presentation about child mistreatment. It was very nice to see the parlement from the inside. And i felt really good after the presentation because you could see the happines on clem's face, just because a few of us showed up to support her. There was a very big table where we all sat down. And being there with 2 ministers and a bunch of head's from department felt very important. A room filled with important people while i'm sitting there as a student was a little intimidating, yet very impressive. Once we were done there, we went back to the university. There weren't any tasks left for me to do, so I just worked on my blog a little. On tuesday morning there was a symposium in the aula which i sadly enough couldn't attend because of a few tasks. I finished the manual and went back to working on the bootable USB. Around 11AM, Glennrick told me to hop in the car because we were going somewhere. Francis, a student of SisSTEM needed help. He wanted a VOIP phone installed in his office. He got a dedicated office from the local hospital to do research on how AI Aerobics coaching affects your cardiovascular health. Upon reaching his office we instantly noticed he doesn't even have ports to install a phone. Francis explained some more about his research before we took off again. In the afternoon, Dwayne took me to the computerlab to label the computers and put them back in the right order. We also looked into bolting the desks to the ground so students couldnt move the desks and break the cables.

At the end of the day, we went out for dinner at Bugaloe, where I tried a surprisingly delicious sloppy joe. As the evening progressed, we encountered some friendly gentlemen from the United States who struck up a conversation with us. We danced and had a blast throughout the night. Before parting ways, we exchanged contact information. It turned out they were all members of the United States Army, and it was their last day before deployment. I expressed my gratitude for their service and mentioned that I wished we had met earlier. We promised to stay in touch, although they mentioned that communication might be limited during their upcoming three-week deployment. They assured me they would reach out once they were back. I will be eagerly awaiting their return.

On Wednesday, I headed straight to work with the task of creating a tutorial video on adding a digital signature to a PDF document. Unfortunately, the university's expensive microphone failed to connect, so I had to rely on the built-in microphone of a webcam. The sound quality was poor, but with some editing magic, I managed to make it sound decent at least. In the afternoon i was asked to prep a slim computer (very small computer that runs on the domain) for the VRES room, this one had a solid state drive instead of a regular hard drive, meaning it would go faster. At the end of the day, Glennrick wanted to have another mentor meeting with me to update me on my progress. I was satisfied to see the "good"box ticked almost everywhere. Next week I can give it my all and hopefully get to see a couple "excellent" boxes being ticked! In the evening, the rest of the group went out for drinks! I wasn't in the mood and decided to stay at the appartment to relax and blow of some steam for the upcoming long weekend! That wraps up my (brief) work week! Stay tuned for more updates coming soon! Signing off for now with love <3 Bon wiként!

This was my (short) work week! More updates coming soon! Signing off for now <3 Bon wiként!