#except that I can stare at her and analyze her to pieces

[mothidocandart]

ah yes, time to play the “is this type of attraction socially acceptable or am I a horrible awful person” game

[arjudy224]

Three Times the Batfamily has been disgusted by your love life...

Dating is hard... but dating in Gotham... Oh Brother... Here are all the times the Batfamily has been involved in your love life.

1st time: Valentines Day

I've really gotta stop going for nerdy guys. This never ends the way I want it to.

"You know Eddie. You could have bought me dinner..." I call out to the rambling rogue behind me, "Scratch that... I can list off a hundred different date ideas.... That DO NOT INVOLVE THE BATMAN."

From behind, there is a swift crack followed by a muffled cry.

"I like flowers... I'm sure there was a way you could incorporate a riddle with those."

Footsteps draw nearer.

"I honestly don't even think you are trying. What does a child make, but never see? Come on dude... Work on on yourself. Restraints are fun, but this is ridiculous."

Suddenly, my restraints loosen. Stumbling to my feet, I swiftly turn around to see Batman's foreboding gaze staring down at me while my boyfriend lies face down 3 feet away.

"Are you alright?" Batman questions carefully noting my lacy heart pj's on top my push up bra. My diamond question mark necklace glitters in the darkness.

"Uh... yeah... Guess I should probably find an apartment where the Riddler doesn't live next door."

Batman sighs before patting me on the back. I am weirdly comforted by the paternal look in his eyes.

"That would be for the best."

2nd time:

Nightwing raises a pointed eyebrow before covering Robin’s eyes. Robin smacks his gloved hand away.

“Come on…. Y/N…” Nightwing trails off.

I interrupt him before this can get anymore humiliating. Being left to be eaten by a man sized Venus Flytrap after a date is not how I imagined my night to go.

“I do not need a life lesson; I have work tomorrow.”

Robin dutifully unties my restraints. He carefully looks anywhere else except my green lingerie.

Nightwing clears his throat. Rummaging through fallen leaves, he asks

“Do you know where she might have left your clothes?”

I shake my head before I start searching the drawers to the left of the nightstand. My sweaty palms create some difficulty turning the knobs.

“You know…” Nightwing continues leaning against the wall, “If you ever wanted to go on a date with someone who wasn’t going to be sent to Arkham… I’ve got this brother.”

My heart starts pounding. This is not happening. Robin’s jaw drops in disbelief.

“Are you seriously trying to set up Red Hood right now?” He gasps incredulously.

Both vigilantes listen to something being said into their ear pieces.

“Well, Jaybird. She’s prettier than anyone you’ve been talking to lately.”

My mouth gasps silently like a fish. Robin finally looks me up and down. He nods before agreeing. This child did not just....

Trying to ignore the hot waves of embarrassment, I finally force words to come out.

“GET OUT! I’ll find them myself!”

3rd time:

“Okay… but this time was not my fault.” I explain raising my hands in surrender. “How was I supposed to know that Two Face’s favorite song would be ‘22’? I have to make a living somehow!”

Batgirl tries to keep a straight face, but when she glances back at Red Robin… they both burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry….” She says trying to be professional, “This isn’t funny.”

“Uh huh…” I respond narrowing my eyes at them.

Realizing my mortification, their laughter slowly dies down. The teenage vigilantes grow as serious as possible.

“So, Two Face took you captive after you dedicated 22 by Taylor Swift to him?” Robin questions analyzing the crime boss’s office.

“Yes, I work at the iceberg lounge as a singer.”

“Where you ever an associate of Harvey Dent before his accident?”

My face goes red. This is not how I wanted today to go. I hate adding fuel to their fire.

“Something like that. I made some mistakes early in college.”

Batgirl bites her quivering lip to avoid laughing before composing herself. She checks her clip board left by Gordon.

“We’ll make sure GCPD gets back your… 2 themed underwear that went missing?”

I fantasize about those birds that slam their head underground to avoid conflict.

“I just want my computer. He can… keep the rest. I’m sure he’d like wearing it more than me.” I awkwardly trail off wrapping the robe tighter around my body.

Red Robin nods before muttering something into his ear piece.

“Okay, we’ll be on the search for that. I’m sure Red Hood can drop it off when he raids the lair tonight."

I start laughing before taking a step back. Putting my hands up, I interrupt.

“I can pick it up at Gordon’s office tomorrow. There’s… no need for… any of that.”

The two teens share a glance.

“Are you sure?” Batgirl inquires with a knowing smile in my direction.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Leave me out of this. I do not need to end up dead in crime alley because you guys thought it would be a good idea to set me up with your brother.”

Laughter can be heard in their comms. I vaguely make out “She’s got a point” in Nightwing’s voice.

With a reluctant grin, Batgirl shrugs. Before the vigilante duo leave, Red Robin flashes me an ornery grin.

“See you later.”

I respectfully flip them both off. Laughter echoes down the hallway as they leave.

[musicfranchisetournament]

propaganda under the cut !!

paradox live :

ive seen my friends talk about it and also theres this really pretty girl i thibk her name is anne? i wanna kiss her mwah

The world is set in the future where the hip hop artists have these cool Phantom Metals that produce cool illusions as they perform with the downside of the performers reliving their worst trauma after using it. Every group has their own theme, aesthetic, and music style Every character has canon trauma which perfect for angst Found family It's still going on They do April Fools on the fandom every year (2024 being an ad for a cat game)

charisma house :

genuinely what the fuck. i don't think i've seen a song franchise as bonkers as charisma house and i doubt i ever will. it's so entertaining and the characters are all unhinged in the best way possible. none of them are 100% good people at the end of the day and i think this just makes the whole ordeal even funnier. are you kidding me you have some random 19 yo who invites people to go live in a random house one day and they just go. the songs are so so good (most of the time. stares at my two exceptions) and whenever it's a full group song? they're always parodies of another common popular song which is so funny to me every time i hear them. i love charisma house and will defend it to the days end

It's so silly and entertaining:) the songs are sick and super catchy . The visuals are super unique .. and the concept of these eccentric crazy guys all living in a house together with the power of charisma has some super hilarious interactions.  Also charisma is the power that can save the world.. and if these guys get too overpowered with their charisma they go through yugioh style transformations and break out into song... so there is that little detail<3

they're just ordinary guys. music part aside the story is funny until it gets serious and then it's funny AND heartwrenching. music part?? group songs are based on nursery rhymes and they fucking suck but also go so hard. their solo songs all have their own genres and they're so. Aodhajhfhdhfbd Stream viva la liberation. 

Funny gay people living in a house together and all their songs parody children's songs, and all their music videos are like Cocomelon on crack. They're funny and they have a lovely found family dynamic. Very silly guys, I'm so normal about them.

Never in my life have i seen a piece of media change me this much as a person while doing the bare minimum. Perhaps the fact that it is the bare minimum and i still fell for it regardless says more about its power than any words could ever begin to describe. So utterly ridiculous in the most perfect way possible and so weirdly deep in also the best way possible but without forgetting its still fucking ridiculous. The appeal of Charisma House is that its Charisma House, and that same thing manages to be both its strength and its weakness, but its weakness is so grand it ends up becoming a strength, and perhaps its biggest strength by far. Talking about Charisma House makes me feel insane emotions because you cant describe it as good but you still know fully well its not bad either despite that being the easiest way to describe it. Sooner than later after so many episodes you'll end up realizing you have fell in its trap. Once you start caring. Once you start analyzing the miniscule tid bits of plot. Once all of that starts occurring you will soon come to realize you have been another victim of the mystical power Charisma House has on every single person that watches it. Or perhaps you just dont fucking care after 5 episodes and you leave it at that. This is perhaps the best option for everyone in the world. I wouldn't recommend this to anyone but the fact that i still do from time to time is because i want everyone else in the world to experience the unknown horrors of this media project until each and every one of them realize they have fallen down a hole they will never be able to escape. also Awwwww ohsebso cute i like ohse aaawwwww so cute 😍

[yellowsugarwords]

“𝙎𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝘼 𝙇𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡”

「  TWDG: Clementine and Kenny  」

Summary: Reunited with Kenny once again, Clementine can feel like a scared child again, even if for a moment.

Words: 1.4k   [ ⏱︎ 9 mins ]

━━━━━━ ₊˚⊹

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

How long had it been? How long since Clementine heard those words? More importantly, how long had it been since she heard those words and knew the person saying them meant it? When it came to Kenny, there was no doubt, but the feeling was still foreign. Wrong, almost.

“Once those guys pack up and leave tomorrow, you can stay with us.”

Clementine snapped back to reality. Her head wobbled as if coming out of a daze, as she looked at Kenny across the table. The cabin crew had only arrived hours ago, and now she was faced with the idea of abandoning them altogether.

Was it worth it? Clementine didn’t know. On one hand, they’d already threatened to kill her, locked her in a shed to die, and constantly reiterated how little they trusted her. The only exception was Luke, and even then, if he was the only one standing on her side, she knew there wasn’t much hope for her to stay.

However, she had gotten them here - to safety within the ski lodge - and she felt hazy about whether she should abandon them when Matthew, Sarita, and Kenny sent them on their way.

“You’re always welcome here, Clementine,” Sarita assured, breaking into the conversation. Occasionally, Clementine would snap back into reality to catch a snippet, but she wasn’t paying attention. How could she? They were discussing change—even more of it. As if she hadn’t had enough of that over the last week.

Everything felt distant and foggy. How could so many options be swirling in front of her? How did she know who she could lean on? Rely on? Trust? If the cabin crew had done what they did to her before, could they do it again? Would they? Had they developed some form of trust, or was it one-sided? Did Clementine even fully trust them yet? How was she to know?

“She’s staying for good.”

Was Kenny trustworthy? Was he stable enough to remain trustworthy? Had anything changed in the years since they’d been separated? Since his life had been ripped away, and he was messily trying to reconstruct the pieces? Was there room in his broken soul for her to return there? Was it too damaged for her to seek refuge in?

“Right, Clem?”

Her name fully brought her back. Why was there so much happening all at once? Why couldn’t they let her catch her breath? Why couldn’t she breathe? Why couldn’t the world stop, for one evening, so she could feel like everything was ‘normal’ - whatever that meant.

Kenny furrowed his brow. He saw that her bottom lip was twitching. “Clem?” He asked, voice gentle. Luke turned, confused as to the sudden tone shift at the table behind him. While intuitive, Luke was nowhere near as keen on reading Clementine as Kenny was. Kenny could analyze Clementine like a book.

Clementine’s eyes, vulnerable and meek, met Kenny’s. His heart dropped. He switched topics, noting the shift in her demeanour. “After dinner, we’ll have to show you around the place. A proper tour.”

Sarita smiled. “I think you’d love to explore one of the storage closets we found. There are so many knick-knacks in there. I’m sure you can find something you’d want to keep.”

As Sarita and Matthew continued to rave about the safety and luxury the lodge provided, Kenny gave Clementine a tender stare. It was like he was silently squeezing her hand through a gaze - a way to tell her, ‘It’s okay’. That he understood, and that she could rely on him.

Kenny kept mostly silent, eyes fluttering between his excited housemates and the little girl who brought life back to his world. Clem’s eyes darted around the room on high alert. He wished he could hold her and convince her it was going to be fine. He wished he could hug her right then and there and assure her she was safe - that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. As of today, she had someone looking out for her best interest. Kenny just wished she could take her burdens off of her shoulders so she could believe it.

As time waned, little by little, the new bundle of housemates stood and wandered away, ready to wash dishes, set up cots, and lay out sleeping bags for the night.

As Luke turned, ready to see how Clementine was holding up, Kenny turned his full focus to the child. Not only to put Luke in his place but to genuinely see what was pestering Clem’s mind.

“Hey darlin’,” he began, “are you okay?”

Clementine’s gaze latched onto the table. She needed to keep it together. At least until she was alone. She could be weak then. She was allowed to be weak then.

“Clem?” He frowned. “You can talk to me, Clem. About anything.”

She finally glanced up, and his worried, wide eyes broke the last piece of wounded rope that was holding her together; the notion that she was all alone and had to be strong.

Her tears welled and Kenny leapt from his seat, moving to her side of the table. He placed both hands on her shoulders to guide her and helped her to her feet. “Come on,” he hushed.

Luke watched in dismay as the little girl - one he had grown protective over - was escorted away. Her head hung low, her shoulders sagged, and her hat cast shadows over her pained gaze.

Kenny had a firm hand on her shoulder, keeping her close as he pulled her away from the main room. They turned a corner, approaching a nearby storage room for privacy, when Clementine finally broke down.

Clementine sobbed, heaving as her breaths became laboured. She felt as though her lungs were collapsing, her world was spinning and crumbling, and there she was, frozen in time, helpless to stop it.

Kenny knelt to her level, speaking softly to not upset her further. “Darlin’, what’s wrong?”

“Kenny,” Clementine managed to whimper out, head low, too ashamed to make eye contact. “I’m so sorry, I’m trying to be strong. But,” she sobbed. “I’m so scared.”

Kenny felt a knife to the gut. Did he want her to be strong? Of course, but to survive. In front of him, right now, wasn’t a girl that was surviving; she was a girl who was broken.

“Clem—”

“It’s been so long since I’ve been somewhere safe,” she said softly, her voice desperate and pleading. “I’ve been all alone and on the run. I can’t make it alone—” Clementine couldn’t catch her breath. Every attempt to inhale caused her to choke, her throat closing in.

“Hey, hey,” Kenny placed a hand on either arm, holding her steady and secure. He didn’t want her crumbling to the floor. He needed to show her that he was there. That he was willing to hold her up. “It’s okay now, Clem. You’re safe here.”

“How do you know that?” She asked in a desperate, pleading whisper. Clementine already knew the answer. “What if something happens to you? Or to me?”

Kenny lifted a hand to the side of her face, brushing away a tear with one of his worn, rough thumbs. “I won’t let anything happen to you, darlin’.”

“What if I get locked in a shed again?”

Kenny’s jaw clenched. His stomach curled. “What?” It sounded like a statement rather than a question he was directing toward her.

The group that they had brought into the safety of their care had done what to his little girl? How fucking dare they.

“They thought I was bitten.” She whispered, voice shaking. While she was still afraid of what the future would hold, she didn’t want Kenny to utterly hate the cabin crew. They weren’t terrible people, just looking out for their own - just like Kenny always had.

Kenny could’ve killed them. He could’ve locked them outside and forbade them from being let back in - kick them and send them on their merry way - but, seeing Clementine’s lip wobble and her lower in disappointment, he knew he had bigger priorities.

“Hey,” Kenny hushed, bringing her in for a tight hold. He could feel her fingers cool around the fabric of his jacket, clinging, desperate for him to not let her go.

He placed one hand on the back of her head, keeping her sight hidden from the world, and the other hand wrapped around her back. He needed her to stay close. He needed to hold her together for just a moment. “You’re okay, darlin’. Nothing like that is ever going to happen again.”

As he held her, stroking the back of her head and trying to calm her breathing, he could hear a creak in the floorboards.

It was Luke. He poked his head around the corner, frowning at the sight before him. Kenny wanted nothing more than to glare - to shoot daggers given what his group put his Clementine through - but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he frowned, giving a solemn nod that he was taking care of it.

Luke gave a meek nod back, only briefly looking at Kenny before landing on the shattered girl in his arms.

Kenny held her a bit tighter, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. “I got you, darlin’. I’ll take care of you.”

Feeling her hands cling to his jacket and her head buried into his shoulder, for the first time in a long time, Kenny felt needed. Because he was.

Everything he did now, he did for Clementine. He would always do it for Clementine.

Until the very end, she would always be his reason.

━━━━━━

𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜!! ₊˚⊹ 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫   ♡    𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

[spacecasehobbit]

I find it hard to see interpretations of Oliver's story in Saltburn as tailored to any audience besides himself, because I don't think Oliver is actually speaking to any audience besides himself.

Yeah, he's got Elspeth's body there in the room and addresses her as though he's telling this story to her. However, everything about Oliver in that room reads to me like Elspeth's body is little more than a prop he can use to justify telling this story out loud, when the only person it's really for is himself. Elspeth is completely comatose, and I find it hard to read Oliver as a character who imagines an audience who isn't really there when he talks. Oliver is a very reserved person, and he tends to do best in one-on-one conversations where he can focus his attention on analyzing and tailoring his words to a single person at a time.

He's also a person who leans heavily on what people actively tell him out loud to supplement his understanding of their actions and motivations. And he's a people pleaser, one who is constantly seeking out instructions from other people on how to act and what kind of person to be.

At the end of Saltburn, Oliver has retreated from the world, just waiting almost in stasis for the chance to return to Saltburn. Since Elspeth is his greatest chance to get back, he banks on remaining the same person that she clung to in the wake of her children's deaths as his way of winning her over again. And it works!

Once Elspeth's illness has reached the point that she is no longer conscious, however, there is no one left for Oliver to act for. She has put him in her will to inherit Saltburn upon her death, which accomplishes the one goal Oliver has clung to since he was 20, of finding a way back to Saltburn permanently; he won't need to perform for the staff when he's the one they all work for.

Thus there is no one left for Oliver to please, no one left to seek instructions from on what sort of person he should be, except himself. The only important person Oliver has left to please is himself.

At this point, he sets himself up in Elspeth's room with her comatose body as a prop to justify his conversation with himself, and he goes about telling himself who he is, so that he can finally become a person who makes himself happy.

He's not keeping bits of Felix back from an imaginary viewer. Any pieces of Felix he keeps back are the ones he doesn't want to remember... and yet, in spite of his best efforts to convince himself that he wasn't in love with Felix, that he was a mastermind who only wanted Saltburn the whole time, the memories that stick and linger and dig themselves in all through the edges of his monologue tell a different story.

He can cast away details about Felix, the intimate conversations he can't bear to remember and the moments that made Felix human beyond Oliver's love, but he can't get rid of everything. All those dreamy, sun-drenched moments when he stared at Felix through the eyes of a lover, the flashes of time when Felix looked back like maybe he felt the same, like they were the only two people in the world - those are the moments that carved themselves most deeply into Oliver's heart, the moments that can't be excised entirely from his story no matter how much he might wish to cast them aside too when he steps into the last persona that he's finally created to tell himself that he's happy, that he's won.

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

Spider-Man x Spider!Reader

Summary: Despite it being the holidays, you find yourself sitting alone in tears. Until somebody comes by to make things all better.

Warnings: None, just really fluffy (I guess a little angsty but overall really cute, also kinda short). (Gender neutral reader). (Not proofread).

Your head lulled back, eyes gazing up at the dazzling stars above. The cold bit at your skin, each gentle breeze blowing snow across your face. It was end of December, nearing the holidays which most people enjoyed. It meant spending time with family, friends, and enjoying the coziness of your home. Except you’d be fighting crime and stopping thieves like the year before, and the one before that.

The Empire State Building was an excellent place to get away from the crowded city of Manhattan. The lights weren’t as blinding or as euphoric as that of the city. Instead they were dimmed by the distance, only bright enough to see the white puffs of air that slipped through your mask. This year would be your first without your Grandmother who had moved away from the city in order to be safer. Her involvement with you and your spider life had grown out of hand, she had become a target. Which meant she had to leave. At the time you had no issue with it, in fact you encouraged her to depart. But now that you looked back, you were alone in the city, fighting crime and living off of a crappy job. A long sigh flared your nostrils, the cool air fogging up at the change of temperature.

Maybe you should give her a call, see how she’s doing. Without a second thought you pulled your phone out, going into your contacts and gazing at your grandmothers name. And that’s when you felt them. The hot tears soaking your mask as you sniffled softly. You didn’t want to cry, but the tears had a force of their own. The hand with your phone went limp as your gaze returned to the sky, and your lip warbled with grief.

“Hey, you okay?” You jolted, lenses widening at the sudden appearance of Spider-Man. He stood crouched on the side of the building just below you, an inquisitive look on his face. “Fine.” You responded curtly as you adverted your gaze, a sniffle leaving you. This garnered a soft ‘right’ from the man. It wasn’t as though this was the first time the two have met. You two were actually fond of one another whenever you did meet. Which is why he was now making his way up the building side to take a seat beside you. “Stress?” He questioned as he situated himself.

“I guess you could say that.” You chuckled dimly, although his presence had managed to lighten your mood just a bit. “What about you? How come you’re up here?”

“Being your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man can be a tedious task.” He joked as he stared down at the city. “I believe you.” You gave a smile beneath your mask before rubbing at your arms.

“Cold?” You knew the question was rhetorical, but you couldn’t help but respond with a chuckle. “Heh, yeah..freezing tonight.” He only nodded in response, the red and blue of his suit shining in the moonlight. “Well, here. This was for a friend but, it seems like you need it more.” He picked up a box from beside him, handing it over to you. You accepted reluctantly, giving him a look of confusion before taking a peek at the rectangular red box. Carefully, you opened it, revealing the crumpled up pieces of tissue paper and carefully knitted scarf and hat. You pulled the pieces of clothing out, wrapping the scarf around your neck, and placing the hat on your head. Instantly you felt warmer, inside and out. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach swelled with butterflies. “It’s perfect.” You muttered as you analyzed the cream colored scarf. Then you took a glance at Spider-Man, then back at the scarf, then to him once more. You scooted closer, lifting the bottom half of your mask to place a gentle kiss on his cheek and mumbling a small ‘thank you’.

This reaction came as a surprise to Peter. Sure, he knew you would love the scarf and hat, but the kiss? For once he was gracious for the mask that he wore, for his face now burned with embarrassment. “Y..you’re welcome.” He uttered under his breath as his eyes searched yours, a comfortable yet tension filled silence ghosting by. And for that small moment you both questioned your friendship. But only for that moment. You were the first to break the silence, your hand patting his shoulder lightly as you stood from the buildings ledge. “You made my night a lot better Spidey. But the city needs saving, and we can’t both enjoy the snow. I’ll see you again!” You pounced from the building, diving down head first. The wind whisked across your face, cold and sharp, completely contrasting the feeling in your stomach. You shot a web at the nearest building and swung off into the hectic city, a smile gracing you beneath the mask. You’d certainly call your grandmother later to catch her up on the latest developments.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @ajpendragon

From @ajpendragon to @emtb319

Happy Holidays! 

Secret Santa

“John, what is this ‘Secret Santa’ that you have in your calendar? I know about Santa, but he is not a secret?”

John paused where he was buried headfirst in an electrical panel. “Secret Santa is a Christmas tradition we do. Each person is in charge of buying a present for someone else in the family, but no one else knows who is buying for whom. It’s a supposed to be a surprise, but we always try to guess who has your name.”

“Can I play too?”

“You’ll have to play fair. No peeking through emails or computers to see who has your name, no finding out and telling people who has them, no using the security cameras to watch everyone.”

“But I need to have access to the security cameras in case of emergency.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t use them. Just don’t use them to cheat.”

“Ok.” The AI sounded oddly offended that John would question her. 

“And no looking at search history or orders to figure out the gifts, no trying to analyze everyone to see who they have, no trying to figure anything out!”

“Ok, ok.” She huffed loudly. The familiarity of the sound was concerning, and John made a mental note to stop her hanging out with Gordon. He was clearly a bad influence. 

“I promise not to cheat.”

*****************************

They drew names for Secret Santa the next day. EOS managed to randomize the names, draw one for herself, and then print out the rest onto slips of paper, which Scott folded carefully and passed around. 

She observed them with interest, watching the way they barely glanced at the name before hiding it again. Gordon even went so far as to eat the piece of paper so no one could see who he had. They all sat lost in thought for a few minutes, clearly trying to think of gift ideas already. 

One by one, they excused themselves, each heading off back to their normal day. “John.” 

He turned back. “Yes?”

“I may require some assistance. Would it ruin the surprise if I required your hands at some point?”

“I think we can allow it. Let me know when you need me to help. I’ll be in my room for now, trying to come up with some good ideas.”

EOS waited in the lounge for a few minutes before tracking Scott’s signature. He was moving around in his room, but appeared to be on his way out for a run. She waited for a few more minutes to ensure he wasn’t coming back before switching to the camera inside his room. 

She had a vague idea of what to get him. She knew he liked old books, but which book in particular to get was the harder question. She stared at his shelf for a while, memorizing titles and comparing genres to figure out what he liked. And then she found the perfect one. The middle of a shelf was filled with a series, all beautifully bound and matching except for one paperback shoved in the middle. 

A quick glance at the title and brief internet search later, and she had found the perfect gift. It was fairly expensive, which was probably why Scott hadn’t bought it for himself, but it was nowhere near the price limit John had given her. 

The old bookstore that was selling it promised that it would arrive in plenty of time for Christmas, and so she ordered the book, and settled in to wait for its arrival. 

*******************************

When the package arrived, John was roped into wrapping it according to her specifications, which were extensive. John had to remind himself once again to talk to Gordon about their interactions, because he had clearly given her tips on wrapping. The original small package, about the size of a large book, was wrapped, put into a bigger box, wrapped, etc…

It ended up being the biggest package under the tree. EOS was incredibly proud of herself, and waited eagerly for Christmas morning. 

******************************

“Good morning, Scott Tracy.” EOS’ voice startled Scott, and his jump (that he would deny if anyone asked) splashed batter over the edge of the bowl. 

“Good morning, EOS.” Scott wiped the drips from the counter, and turned back to his mixing. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” The AI sounded excited, and Scott smiled. She had grown so much since they had first met her, and John had done well teaching her. It was almost like having a niece, although one he couldn’t see or touch. 

“What are you doing in the kitchen so early? You normally go for a run at this time.”

“It’s Christmas.” He replied, turning the griddle on to start pre-heating as he finished the batter. “We all do things a little differently on Christmas.”

“John told me about this. You call them traditions, right?”

“Yes. Try looking it up.”

EOS went silent for a few minutes, and he started pouring circles of batter onto the griddle. He had covered half of the cooktop before she spoke back up. 

“These all seem very interesting. But quite a few of them seem to conflict. How do you do all of them?”

Scott dropped blueberries onto half of the pancakes, and scooped up chocolate chips for the rest. “No one can do all of the Christmas traditions in the world. Each person or family choose which ones they want to follow, usually the same ones their parents or grandparents do, although sometimes people add new ones.”

He paused to flip the pancakes, then resumed his explanation. “We always do Secret Santa, which you already know about, and then we have pancakes for breakfast before we open presents. Dad used to make them, but since he’s gone, I make them now. Each person has their favorite flavor.”

EOS was silent for several minutes, and Scott focused on flipping the finished pancakes onto a plate and pouring new ones. 

“What do pancakes taste like?” She finally asked. 

“Uhhhhhhh…” He trailed off. “I’m not really sure how to answer that. They’re usually pretty fluffy. Some of them are sweet, if you put chocolate chips on them. They blueberry ones are a mix of sweet and sour. I don’t really know…”

He cut off as Virgil entered the kitchen. “Virgil, perfect! You’re good with words and uh…describing things. EOS wants to know what pancakes taste like.”

Virgil shot a glare at his older brother, who smiled smugly and went back to his pancake making, ignoring any attempts to draw him back into the conversation. 

*****************************

By the time Virgil had satisfactorily explained the taste of pancakes, breakfast was ready. Everyone gathered around the table, grabbing plates and helping themselves to the stacks of food, scooping fruit and whipped cream, pouring syrup, spreading butter and peanut butter. The table was quiet except for the sounds of eating. 

The pancakes that had taken nearly an hour to cook disappeared in less than twenty minutes. Plates were piled in the sink, but the rest of the cleanup was left for later as they all eagerly hurried to the lounge. 

Scott gave his gift first, a set of old star maps in perfect condition for John. Alan got tickets for a racing event he had been talking about for months from Virgil, and John built an incredible underwater camera for Gordon, allowing him to get amazing footage on his next dives. 

Gordon had drawn EOS. He had spent hours working on and coding a video of his best pranks, as well as compiling all the best videos off the internet. It would have been so much faster if he had asked John for his help, but he had insisted on doing it himself. 

She was delighted, downloading it as quickly as possible. John tried to protest, worried about the inevitable consequences of giving an incredibly powerful child access to so much potential for trouble. But before he could voice it, the download was complete, and EOS and Gordon were busily chattering away about what pranks they were going to try. 

John made another mental note, joining his long list that he really needed to start getting completed. No leaving his door unlocked for the foreseeable future, and no eating anything that Gordon gave him. 

The last of the gifts were passed out, but they all stayed in the lounge, enjoying the rare downtime and each other’s company. Gordon and EOS spent for too long plotting for anyone else’ comfort, Alan joining in eventually with a few ideas of his own, but the amount of joy they were finding was rare enough that no one had the heart to stop them. 

John, Virgil, and Scott retreated to the kitchen, watching their brothers and daughter/niece plan. “We’re going into hiding for the next few months, right?” 

Virgil and John nodded. “I’ll prep Two.” 

“Grab some supplies. Meet down there in twenty minutes.”

They split up quickly, the plotters in the lounge too busy to notice. John knew it wouldn’t last for long. EOS would notice as soon as Two took off, but at least they had a head start. 

They were going to need it!

[xknivesandpensx]

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 4

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

Draco kept himself hidden behind a shelf full of thickly bound books, unsure what exactly he was trying to accomplish. The smell of old paper gave off a musty scent, as the many volumes appearing aged and partly covered in dust. He skimmed the names just to give the impression of being busy. For himself it seemed. Almost every student currently sat in the Great Hall eating, except for a spare few he spotted on his way in. Otherwise, no one really paid him much mind.

Yet it felt as if the books themselves watched him. The quietness of the area made the thumping against his chest sound as fierce as a beating drum. Draco peered around, chastising himself for feeling rather stalkerish at the moment.

But there she sat. At the end of the table, the side closest to the window in her own secluded little space. Countless books were stacked to her right. Her eyes remained glued to the page she read, cutting off any outside disturbances.

He assumed her aim included research, yet the topic eluded him. They started lessons today and the professors rarely assigned homework, so whatever her investigation entailed it probably pertained to a personal matter or maybe she dove into her studies to avoid thinking about this morning.

He still, annoyingly enough, tolerated an irritating pang of guilt for laughing, but Draco seriously started to consider letting the sensation vex him until it faded.

Or else he’d have to talk to her and he knew he’d likely say something spiteful and therefore go through the very same sequence all over again. It was probably too late anyway since his emotions tended to bounce all over the place even without her in the room.

Only because – well, he didn’t quite care to analyze the situation. He hated Mudbloods and he stood by the prejudice. Right?

Draco hadn’t notice much of anything until a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face another Slytherin in his class, she held a near impatient look on her face, arms crossed almost as if she expected something from him.

“What do you want, Greengrass?” he asked, shifting so he no longer gave so much as an inkling of observing Hermione, which did him little good.

Daphne let out a breath. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. You’re in the way of the shelf. Some people actually come here to check out books, not stare at people from behind them. Why are you looking at her anyway? If it’s for a silly reason, such as going over there and making things worse, I think you’ve taunted her enough for one day.”

Glad for the misinterpretation of observation, he readily went along.

“Pansy’s the one who shoved her, not me,” Draco nearly snapped. He stepped aside, letting her brows the titles. “Since when do you care about other people getting laughed at anyway?”

Both Daphne and Astoria, her younger sister, were well acquainted with him by this point and therefore able to start easy conversations. While they usually kept to their own group of friends, it never bothered him to speak to either of the siblings, despite Astoria being in her second year.

“I don’t, not really,” she supplied, shrugging her shoulders. “I can’t understand the purpose of it all. You end up in detention or get points taken away.”

Draco scoffed, the whole thing coming off as nothing less than absurd. “What do points matter when Dumbledore’s only going to make up a random event to let Gryffindor win yet again. As if Potter needs a bigger ego.”

“They’ve beaten us three times in a row, but he was rather ambiguous about the additional points he added in our first year.” She came off nonchalant about it, as if not really caring one way or the other.

“What do you need a book of advanced charms for?” he questioned once Daphne pulled out the large hardcover. “From my understanding, you do rather well in Flitwick’s class.”

Daphne moved to the table, placing the heavy book down. “We both know Hermione Granger will be top student again and she probably already knows half the spells in here. I figured I’d practice a few of the more difficult ones anyway. I’m not competitive, I don’t want to beat her or anything. I do like a challenge though.”

“A lot of good that class does anyone,” Draco complained, leaning his back against the shelf. He ducked his head. “If not for the Triwizard Tournament this place would be as dull and boring as always. I suppose it’s worth not having any Quidditch games.”

He grew tired of Marcus Flint’s obnoxious bouts of yelling whenever they lost, usually blaming Draco for not catching the snitch. Maybe he taunted Harry too much while they played, even so the scolding almost made him threaten to leave and take back the brooms his father supplied. He enjoyed the sport and possessed a talent for it, so he stayed, aware the team would certainly suffer greatly if he decided to quit. And honestly, it gave him something to look forward to.

“If not for the age limit, do you think you’d put your name in?” she asked, absently flipping through a few pages. “It’s too chancy for my liking, but I’m sure that’s not the case for everyone.”

“Risk my life for 1,000 Galleons, no.” He had plenty of money and truthfully, Draco knew his level of abilities were lacking in the first place. “The glory bit Dumbledore went on about doesn’t really interest me either. So you win a few games, big deal.”

Being exempted from exams sounded great, given his grades, yet not enough to tempt him if possible.

“I’m surprised anyone considered bringing it back since so many people died in the past,” Daphne pointed out.

“My father told me all about it,” Draco said, knowing more than most. “Even after the mayhem during the Quidditch World Cup, it’s all about how the ministry’s going to benefit. Fudge wants the wizarding world to see him in a positive light. He thinks encouraging school relations will help improve his own image. If everything goes well, it just might.”

He remembered Harry and the others running into him during the chaotic night. He managed to play off the strange twist of concern over Hermione getting seen pretty well, not really sure why it mattered all the sudden.

And even beforehand while in front of Lucius, of course he acted as predictable as possible, despite the reprimanding words for boasting. He supposed the jab in the stomach made less of an impression to the passing crowd than what he usually received.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised. Anyway, I better get this checked out before class starts.” Daphne picked up her book, holding it in one arm.

“I know I don’t want to be late for double Divination,” he sardonically complained. “I think I’d rather gorge my eyes out than gaze into a crystal ball for three hours.”

Draco looked up in time to see Hermione walk past, her paces sped up as if in a rush. She didn’t appear to notice him, which sent a wave of relief because he sought to avoid any speculation about him following her, even if unintentionally done.

Hermione, on the other hand, had her thoughts on other matters. She did well ignoring those she passed in the hallway on her way to Arithmancy. Only some students pointed in her direction and remarked on the morning’s event, Pansy in particular commented rather loudly about it. But she went on walking as if not hearing a word.

By the time dinner came around the mentions ceased a great deal. Hermione barely noticed how hungry she became until an array of food set before her. She hesitated a moment before grabbing a roll, spreading a bit of butter on the inside.

“I see you’re eating again,” Ron stated, sitting across from her. He immediately dumped a bunch of food on his plate, not even waiting for a reply before he shoved a forkful in his mouth.

“Well, I figured there’s more effective ways to help the house-elves.” Plus, starving herself hardly seemed worth the effort when the meal was prepared whether she decided to partake or not. “Why are you so late?”

“Malfoy knocked over everything on our table,” Harry replied matter-of-factly, as if the occurrence happened daily. “He shoved past us and accidentally caught part of the leg with his foot or so he says. Professor Trelawney wouldn’t let us leave until we cleaned everything up.”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s obvious he’s probably annoyed about the homework.” Her tone turned more chastising as she continued. “Honestly, Ron, you shouldn’t make jokes like that.”

“How did you hear about it?” His brows furrowed before glancing over at Harry. “How did she find out? It happened ten minutes ago.”

Harry merely shrugged.

“Lavender told me on our way here. I don’t think she appreciated the comment very much.” Hermione took a couple more things and started to eat as quickly as possible. She already wasted enough time talking.

“Why don’t you slow down? The food’s not going anywhere,” Harry remarked. He noted, however, how she hardly took much to begin with and skipped the two prior meals.

Hermione paused to take a sip of her drink. “I have to get back to the library. There’re still things I need to look up. Of course, if either of you want to help, I might find what I need sooner.”

“The house-elves are fine.” An edge of irritation layered Ron’s speech, unable to understand why she cared so much. Not like he could persuade her otherwise; she’d merely harp on the matter more severely.

“They most certainly are not,” she countered, almost too sharply. “Harry, you’ll come, won’t you?” She really needed another set of eyes, maybe some company as well, though she left the last part out.

He glanced between his two friends, not too keen on ditching dinner. “As much as I’d enjoy spending hours searching through books, I’ve got loads of homework to do.”

“And who can we thank for that?” Draco asked, just joining the Slytherin table now. “How about next time you keep your wise cracks to yourself, Weasley.”

Hermione automatically stiffened. Although she had her back turned to him, he stood inches away. The unexpected sound of his voice made her heart leap in her chest. But he spoke no more and turned away from the trio. It lasted seconds. A measly two sentences managed to strike relentlessly.

“Well, it’s nice to see you take some initiative, Harry. See you both later.” Hermione got up in haste, ignoring Ginny’s glance, aware she’d ask questions later depending on how late she returned to the common room.

Hermione hated how easily he flustered her. A single breath and he caused her to dash from the room. It frustrated her greatly. If Draco found out, he’d probably fall into a hysteric uproar, unable to control his pleasure of poking fun. And all the while, relentlessly ridiculing her in bitter remarks about her so-called low stature in comparison to his pure-blood status.

Draco would be nothing less than appalled by a Muggle-born witch falling for him. He barely tolerated being in the same room. Hermione thought it better to keep reminding herself every chance he entered her thoughts.

A too often occurrence, frankly.

“I’ll be right back,” Harry uttered. He received no verbal response from Ron, so he rushed out of the Great Hall, calling out once in the hallway. Catching up with Hermione, who maintained a perplexed expression, a rush of embarrassment hit (the kind where he wasn’t quite sure how to structure his words and they kind of blurted out prior to any forethought). “I wanted to see if you’re doing okay. I mean, you left suddenly and… Malfoy hasn’t been bothering you, has he?”

“No. Of course, not. Why?” The pitch of her voice hit a bit higher than normal. And perhaps she underwent a sensation of feeling off balance and nervous as if a great swarm of butterflies were trapped under her ribs, but admitting Draco pestered her in the complete opposite way he supposed? She couldn’t.

Hermione tried to think of something else to say or do, anything than simply standing there and enduring an acute moment of awkwardness.

“I just noticed you tensed up is all.” Sitting right next to her, he witnessed the slight stall in movement, the way she practically froze. “He did leave lunch early, I thought maybe he said something.”

“He hasn’t. In fact, I haven’t seen him since.” Hermione offered her appreciation of his concern through a light smile. “You should probably get back to Ron. I’m fine, really,” she added, noting his uncertainty.

Harry nodded. “Maybe I can help out later, if I start my predictions for the month.” Which he’d probably make up anyway, as he typically did for Trelawney’s class . “I doubt I’ll be able to convince Ron, though Ginny might agree.” He left it there, returning to find Fred and George talking to their brother about Professor Moody.

Pansy noticed Harry come back and leaned forward, leaving her curiosity unmasked. “Do you think something’s going on between the two of them?”

A flare of anger flared through Draco’s body upon the question, not quite willing to acknowledge the resentful stir as jealousy, even if he recognized the impression from two years ago with Lockhart. He refused to think of that specific instant simply because he kept telling himself it didn’t matter.

Nor did it matter in this case.

“Potter and Granger? Why should I care?” Though he practically countered his statement by stabbing his fork rather violently into his pot pie, earning an odd look from not only Pansy but Crabbe and Goyle as well.

[ruki--mukami]

🍫 ♥️ ((couldn't resist omg 🏃🏼‍♀️✨✨✨✨✨))

(@bluebird-dolly-bride)

IT’S POCKY DAY! SEND MY MUSE A 🍫 TO SHARE A BOX WITH THEM.

Or, send ❤️ to have our muses play the Pocky Game.

"You really are quite troublesome, Cassandra. Don't tell me you've never once heard of the Pocky game...? Hm. Well, what better way to demonstrate than using this pack we have here? I do hope you like chocolate. Oh, who am I kidding—Halloween told me everything I need to know regarding your relationship with confectionery; I'm certain Pocky is no different. Who was the one begging to be fed? It wasn't me, that's for sure." A lighthearted, almost mocking chuckle left him as he reached for a pack of the cocoa-clad biscuit sticks his brother, Kou, brought home out of spiking curiosity. "Unlike you, I don't exactly have a penchant for sweets. Far from it, in fact. But I can tolerate a piece or two if it means properly educating you on the challenge at hand."

Blissful reminiscence of the blonde pretending to be a greedy trick-or-treater during Halloween flashed throughout Ruki's mind as he leaned down to place one end of the Pocky stick in her mouth, marveling at how her allure doubled so effortlessly. Fully aware of what would transpire as soon as the delectable treat disappeared between them along with their physical distance, the Vampire smiled playfully at Cassandra to encourage her in this game towards not victory or loss, but rather a stalemate of lips upon lips.

"Now, now. Don't flee from me. I haven't even explained the rules yet. The first person to break away loses the game. Simple, right? You just have to finish eating it first in order to win. Although I should warn you that there won't be any letup from me whatsoever."

A competitive spirit akin to the one he felt towards the Sakamakis flared in Ruki's stormy blue hues as he caged Cassandra in with his own body, preventing her from escape. Their foreheads nearly touched, his gaze softening deceitfully to lure her into false security. Before they knew it, the other end of the Pocky occupied his mouth, bridging the two in inevitable proximity. Content with their current position, his eyes narrowed and zeroed in on the sight of her mesial. A soft, luscious looking vermillion border yet to be touched by him. One slow, prolonged nibble later, and eventually their noses brushed together, close enough for the young woman to feel his frost breath.

"It looks like my victory is within my reach," he teased, hoping to provoke. "What will you do, Cassandra...? Truth be told, I actually abhor sweets... But that doesn't mean there aren't some exceptions I'm willing to make."

A pleased hum sounded from his slightly parted lips before leaning a bit closer, nibbling the biscuit and stopping short when his mouth dangerously encroached hers. Scrutinizing, searing, analyzing every movement she made, Ruki's stare was colder than that of a crushing avalanche as a chill of excitement crept on his nape. Deviously entertained by the Pocky challenge they issued, the Vampire tantalizingly laved his tongue on the underside of the chocolate, familiarizing himself with its lingering taste in mimicry of how he would with Cassandra's blood someday.

"Your lips must be lonely after the treatment I gave to your neck last time. Just like this Pocky, I intend to devour you whole. Let me be the first and only person with whom you'll ever play this game."

[bookwyrminspiration]

it is a staring off into space eating hot cheetos kind of day but also hey woah what the FUCK is this demon guy. i've gotten to uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. they JUST survived the old man in the maw (HELLO??? sitting here like OHHH A CHORUS OF DRAGONS. also the old vané hag is extremely cool and interesting and possibly a dragon and?????????) and kihrin just talked to taja (which btw SO cool--reminds me of a friend's design of the. face of luck in their oc universe? i canNOT find it rn but it was like it had two faces and it was abt the lack of dichotomy, lack of two things one bad and one good--it is just Both) but i am still thinking abt when he came across the demon w the long name starting with x that i cannot spell?? bc holy SHIT the way that scene was written. OUGH the fear. ough the helplessness. how shaken he was afterwards and yet how he had to carry on, too, but it staying with him. i love when things pick up in books w the timeline thing but i was N O T T expecting this one!!!! that scene was so well written it definitely is sticking in my brain. also i love ola as a character she is just so interesting and the way that she & kihrin interact is so fun to envision lmao... her and kihrin's dad forever trying to figure out how to parent.... ola thinking she's the cooler authoritative figure vs kihrin disobeying both of them With Ease hahaha???

also the discussion of morality in here is v interesting and i would look at it more if i could. maybe upon reread eventually bc if i try to analyze EVERYTHING we're staying in the first fifth of the book forever

!!! I am clapping with excitement irl rn. I don't even know what to comment on first because there's so much I cannot say, just imagine I'm staring at you excitedly over the counter or something rn. Like a cat who wants attention but won't ask for it so is trying to make you initiate

You put together the "a chorus of dragons" -> there are dragons that are important thing much faster than I did. I think I was like 3 books in before I went...wait a minute...maybe the several dragons who keep showing up...for which the series is named...are important...

And the old vané hag!! if you find her interesting let me just tell you. she only gets more interesting from here she's SO fascinating--especially in terms of right and wrong and what's moral and at what point can you no longer justify your actions for the greater good. Book 3 was a TIME for her. And Xaltorath! GOD its such a character. Which is pretty much all I can say except I'm very much looking forward to rereading that scene with the knowledge I have now. Keep an eye out for that demon it's real fucking important and also FULL of foreshadowing. I love how Kihrin's haunted by it, the tangibility of the encounter--it's not a trauma immediately overcome that he forces himself through, it takes genuine time and I love when stories do that.

Oh my god yeah, good luck to any and all parental figures in Kihrin's life </3. That kid is a menace and has the skills to actually implement his dumbassery. The threat of his impulsive reckless ideas can actually be realized. But my god do I love him to pieces <33

And yes!! Morality would be a great topic to analyze in a reread! I intend to look at a lot of things a lot closer the second time around because you're right, the first time is just such a wild ride you literally can't understand and analyze it the same.

You're making it very difficult to keep to my current TBR layout (finish hamlet, then magic of the unicorn, then sinf, then finish toa +tsats, etc) because I want to abandon it to join you <33

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Believe It: A Story on Boruto & His Father by sherrybaby7

Anime » Naruto Rated: K+, English, Family & Adventure, Naruto U., Boruto U., Words: 1k+, Favs: 27, Follows: 34, Published: Jun 7, 2015

14

Boruto was tired. Tired from training all day. He sat against an oak tree located on the outskirts of the Hidden Leaf Village while he stared at his sensei. 'Sasuke's so cool.' He thought.

'He's a little rough around the edges and I'm not sure if he likes me, but he's just so...mysterious.' He watched the way Sasuke calmly looked up at the sky.

'I wonder what he's thinking. Sasuke noticed the gaze from his pupil.

"You ready?"

"Whaaa? But it's only been like 5 minutes!"

"Well you aren't doing anything else. I'm here to train you and if you don't want to be trained then I can do better things with my time."

"I want to be trained! I have to! I've gotta become better than that dumb dad of mine and be the best shinobi ever."

"That's a lot of talk, too bad you can't back it up."

"Ugh! Well I would if you'd train m—oh I see what you're doing. Fine let's just get to training."

Sasuke nodded.

Naruto was busy. Busy as always. "Lord Hokage the Chuunin exams are approaching and we'd really need to decide between sticking with the forest of death or putting the students through the sand village's tomb of terror."

Naruto pulled his head up from a massive pile of papers. "I'll have to speak with Gaara. He's got some good ideas and—"

"Lord Hokage sir, I don't mean to be rude but the deadline is next week and I can see by how busy you are now that you've got other priorities."

"Hey don't worry about me. I'll get this stuff done no problem. You just work on analyzing those Genin. I want a fantastic report of their grades and strengths telling us who you consider to be Chuunin level, alright?"

"Yes sir! Sorry to bother you"

"It's fine. See you later!"

The ninja walked out of the office and shut the door. Naruto's head fell onto his desk full of papers. Well there's ANOTHER thing to add to the list. Ugh I haven't even spoken with Gaara. We'll just do the forest again—but that's what we did two years before. Some of the older students who didn't pass already will know what to expect. Okay can't think about this now. Gotta focus on choosing the new Jounins. But I'm so hungry! What time is it? 10:26! Good enough for me!

Naruto stood up and walked over to a small mini fridge next to the door to his office. He pulled out a brown bag and walked back to his desk. He stretched a little and then sat back down. He looked inside the brown bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it.

Dear Naruto,

Hope work is going well! Today I packed you some sushi from the store we went to the other day for lunch. The kind you really liked! Boruto is off training with Sasuke today and Himawari and I are going to register here for the academy. See you when you get home. I love you!

-Hinata

Naruto smiled. Hinata was too sweet. He never got tired of the cutesy messages, because he had always wanted that. Even now as the village's Hokage, Hinata always managed to acknowledge him in a way no one else could, and that's why he loved her. He looked up at his desk and saw the picture of team 7—Kakashi, Sakura, Sasuke and himself. It was besides another picture. This one of Hinata, Boruto, Himawari and himself. It was right after Himawari was born. It was a good time because, at this point, his Hokage duties hadn't gotten in the way of his family life. It didn't matter to Hinata that he had to work. She had always been so understanding. It was fro Himawari and Boruto that he felt a great amount of guilt for. Himawari was too young really to have seen his life before he got insanely busy, but Boruto on the other hand was not. God, Boruto and I were so close back then. In the picture everyone is looking at the camera except Boruto, who, being held by Hinata, is looking up and laughing at Naruto. Ha oh yeah I made a funny face or something that day and Boruto couldn't get enough of it! The kid could never sit still. He looked away from the picture. I just wish he understood now that it's not that I don't want to spend time with him. I just need more time in the day! He looked back down at his huge pile of papers. Well I'll never have time for anything if I don't get this done. So he swallowed the rest of his sushi and got back to work.

"That's good for today." Sasuke looked at the sunsetting. "There are some things I have to do."

Boruto laid on the ground huffing "Alright if you're sure, but I could keep going if you really wanted me to."

"I'm sure. See you later."

Sasuke vanished as Boruto laid in the grass. "How does he do that?" He started to sit up but all the fatigue from the day's training had finally caught up to him. Alright Boruto so you can't move and it's getting dark and you're in the woods and Sasuke left and you're here alone and alright lets try this again. He shoved his arms and torso up until he sat upright. He then leaned forward pressing his arms and chest to the ground and pushing his body up so his legs could get underneath him. He stood. Then he tried to step, but he couldn't walk fast, so he hobbled all the way home.

Hinata was worried. Himawari and her had gotten back from the long registration for the academy a little over an hour ago and Boruto still wasn't home. Usually she wouldn't worry when she knew he was with Sasuke but she knew that Sasuke had to leave before sunset to go on a mission. Then she heard the door open and she rushed to the living room. "Bo—Naruto!"

"Hey Hinata" He kissed her on the forehead. "Is Boruto not home yet?" She frowned and shook her head. "Ugh Sasuke had to leave early too so he should have been back by now."

"I know. I hope he's alright. Whenever he trains with Sasuke he's gets pretty beat up. I'm wondering if maybe he fell asleep." A few minutes passed. Naruto tapped his fingers against the table. "Okay I'm going to look for him."

Boruto was confused. I thought home was this way but I'm not so sure anymore. Why does everything look the same in the dark?! He was still hobbling and overtired. As he walked aimlessly in no specific direction, he was alarmed by a pair of approaching footsteps. Suddenly extremely alert and regenerized, Boruto burst over to a nearby bush and hid to analyze the situation. It was too dark to make out the figure of the person, but he could tell they were a ninja. Suddenly he felt exposed like the ninja was looking straight at him. Boruto stood in a defensive stance and waited for the ninja to make a move. Nothing happened. His tired body couldn't keep up with him anymore and suddenly he collapsed.

Naruto was tired. Tired from chasing after Boruto all night. Thankfully it was the weekend and he could sleep in a little. He got up in the morning and greeted Hinata, who's always up before him. "Sleep well?" She asked. "Ehhh." Naruto Groaned. Himawari was up too. "Hi daddy!"

"Good morning Hima!"

"Guess what daddy? I'm gonna be a ninja just like you, mommy and Boru! I signed up for the academy yesterday!"

"Well isn't that something! You're gonna make a great little ninja!" Naruto patted her head. Himawari smiled. He turned to Hinata.

"Is Boruto up yet?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Hmm. I'm gonna go check on him."

Naruto left the room and walked up the stairs to Boruto's room. The door was cracked and he peered in. Boruto was sitting up and holding his head.

"How ya doing?" Naruto asked.

Boruto looked away.

"Hey what's up with you? You had your mother and I scared to death that something had happened to you and then you don't say anything?"

Boruto continued to look away. Naruto walked towards him.

"Boruto I just want to know why you were in the forest of death last night. You know how dangerous that place is. I know you're strong but there are a lot of people, and things, out there that you're not ready for yet."

Boruto looked at him for a second and then away again.

"Ugh I didn't mean to be in the forest, I just—I just got lost okay!"

"That's what I figured, but where were you training with Sasuke yesterday?"

"It was right outside the village. The oak tree farm."

Naruto sat up straight.

"That's...strange."

Boruto looked at his father.

"What is?"

"The forest of death is on the other side of the village. You'd have to have been walking there all day to end up there."

Boruto frowned.

"Well I don't know I was just really tired and I kept on walking. The last thing I remember was seeing you while I was near a bush. Before I fell asleep"

Naruto's eyes widened.

"Stand up. Let me look at you."

"C'mon dad. I'm fine! It was you who was there in the woods right? It must have been because that's how I got back here, right?"

Naruto looked confused yet solemn.

"I did find you last night but you were already asleep and in an open field."

Boruto looked a little shaken up.

"But I'm sure you're fine I mean look at you! You ready for some breakfast? By the way I know that we were gonna have a sparring session today, but I've gotta actually meet with Gaara today about some business."

Boruto's look went from concerned to normal in an instant.

"Of course you have to work. You always do! Whatever! I don't even want to spar with you, you old fart!"

He stormed off and went downstairs. Naruto sighed, but at least he got Boruto to feel better. But he couldn't help but wonder, Who was it who was with his son last night and why did he drag him all the way out to the forest of death?

[someplace-darker]

32 f w matty boy pleaaaase

Absolutely i can do that. This one got away from me, it's over 800 words, my bad.

Send in a prompt and character from this list!

It had been years of pining, years of staring at him without worrying that he’d know, years of hello sweetheart. Every single time the four of you had met up for drinks, retelling college stories to Karen, he’d greet you just like that. A smile in your general direction, his voice dipped a bit lower than usual, tone warm and liquid sweet. It was a bit different this time around, instead of Josie’s or the office of Nelson, Murdock and Page, it was a wedding.

Foggy’s, to be exact- he had finally gotten around to asking Marci to marry him after toting around a ring for a year and a half, griping about how he had to find the right time. The wedding itself had been beautiful, chandeliers lining the ceiling between each arch, the crystals that dripped from them refracting white light that danced across the walls. Matt stood beside Foggy, bright smile etched across his face through the service, genuine joy written all over his features at listening to his best friend recite his vows shakily.

You felt a little bad though, most of your time had been spent looking at Matt, analyzing every detail of his groomsmen suit which did wonders for his ass (you made a mental note to thank Foggy later). At one point he had tilted his head towards you, like he knew that you were looking at him instead of the newlyweds, eyebrows raised playfully as if scolding you. “Don’t look at me like that murdock,” you had muttered under your breath with full knowledge that he would hear it, biting back a grin when he huffed out quietly.

Now the two of you are sat side by side at the reception, your heart thumping in time with whatever song was playing. You’re too focused on the fact that Matt is sitting so close to you that his thigh is currently pressed against yours to listen to the music, thoughts racing so quickly you almost don’t register that he had asked you something.

“What?” you breathe, finally looking away from the spot on the floor that you had been staring at for the past five minutes. Matt chuckles and inclines his head towards you, knee nudging into your own “I asked if you wanted to dance. I don’t think Foggy would forgive me if I didn’t ask you.”

That’s not what you were expecting. Your eyebrows shoot up in shock and you choke out a laugh, internally trying to get your heart to chill the fuck out because he can hear it, you idiot. Matt waits patiently for an answer, red glasses trained on your face and you can see how absolutely frazzled you look in their reflection.

It takes a moment for you to gather the thoughts that have scattered, finally able to piece them together enough to whisper a “Yes, please.” Matt wastes no time in grabbing your hand and standing, pulling you up with him before moving to grab the back of your elbow. He leans into you, breath fanning over your ear, and it’s a wonder that your legs don’t collapse underneath you “lead the way.”

Placing your hand over his you lead him out onto the dancefloor, lingering on the sidelines so no attention is drawn to the two of you, or to how red your cheeks are. Except for Karen, who you see on the other side of the venue, both thumbs up in the air in support while Foggy and Marci laugh beside her. You roll your eyes, smiling fondly- they truly were your biggest supporters.

Matt moves to stand in front of you, one hand sliding around your waist to rest on your lower back while the other takes your hand in his. It’s intimate and unlocks something deep within your chest, something you had buried long ago in an attempt to hide from your emotions. Your breath hitches and dammit, of course he catches it immediately, frown tugging at the corner of his lips, head tilting just the slightest. “Are you uncomfortable? We don’t have to dance,” he offers softly, tone concerned and sincere.

“Oh! No, no it’s not anything like that. I want to dance with you, trust me,” you step closer to him, chest pressed against his to ensure that your point gets across. It’s his turn to inhale sharply, the feel of you against his body consuming all of his senses. “You give me butterflies, that’s all,” it’s pushed out swiftly, your eyes closing in anticipation for some form of teasing that never comes. Instead, Matt’s nose nudges against yours until the air between you becomes shared, his smile dimpling his cheeks in a way that makes your stomach flip over once again.

His lips brush against yours and you lean into it, kissing him gently as the two of you sway to the long forgotten song, all the guests fading into the background for this one moment in time. Matt’s mouth moves against yours, the hand at the base of your spine pulling you in closer. You pull away to breathe and he chases your touch, thumb rubbing against the soft skin of your hand “you give me butterflies, too.”

[heliads]

Hi it is the previous anon from tasm Peter Parker’s avengers reader! I came up with a plot if u are still interested !!! How about tasm Peter Parker x tony stark’s daughter reader! Since they are a lot of mcu Peter Parker x stark reader!!! Thank u so much for this!!!! (Also I read the Thor and Loki’s sister one and it was amazing !!!) love u lots!!! 💚💚💚❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

thank you so much for rewriting the ask, i really appreciate it!

masterlist

Peter Parker is staring up at a news broadcast. It’s displaying grainy, surveillance camera-type footage of a girl about Peter’s age. She’s clad in some style of metal armor plates, complete with a holographic visor display blocking her face from recognition.

Usually, Peter would pay no attention to this. She’s yet another one of a long line of superhero hopefuls, who usually don’t do much for Peter except get the cops to investigate them instead of him, which he always appreciates.

However, this girl, which the press have affectionately (or perhaps suspiciously) nicknamed Mecha, is different. For one thing, he’s seen her. There was an incident last night when they both ran into each other on the rooftops, both trying to stop the same robbery. She’d gotten hit by a rogue blast from one of the thieves’ energy weapons, and a chunk of her armor had come off.

It’s sitting at the bottom of Peter’s backpack right now, nestled in a hoodie he hasn’t worn in years. Peter’s tried to study it, but all he’s been able to make out is that it’s comprised of intricate metalwork and complicated wiring, far more advanced than anyone with a home lab should be able to make.

Peter has brought it to school in the hopes of being able to analyze it, either to identify the owner or to figure out how it works. Mecha’s suit was fantastically built, and Peter would love to see it up close. It’s a shame that the best shot he’s got at that is the piece that broke off last night.

So, he’s staying after school today to go poke around in some of the Midtown science and engineering labs. Hopefully, he’ll find something worth noticing, or at least he can pretend he did so he feels better about himself.

The bell rings, and Peter speedwalks out of class and towards the labs. The teacher sponsor nods at him as he enters, pointing towards a door leading to the next room.

“You can get a lab introduction from Y/N Stark, she’s in there. She can tell you all the rules.”

The teacher shoots him a suspicious glance as Peter walks by, like she’s mentally deciding whether or not Peter seems the sort to actually follow these rules.

Peter opens the door cautiously, closing it behind him as he goes. There’s another student at the far end of the room, bent over an array of gears and wires, although she straightens up when she sees Peter enter.

Peter recognizes her face from a number of telecasts, several overexcited publications, and most importantly, the halls of Midtown High. This is Y/N Stark, daughter of Tony Stark, and yet another one of the resident geniuses here at Peter’s school.

She looks rather surprised to see Peter here. “This is supposed to be a solo lab slot. I think some of the other rooms are open if you want to work, though..”

Peter scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, I know. The teacher outside said I should go talk to you about the rules I need to learn.”

Y/N’s face clears. “Ah. That’s Ms. Brady, she pretends to be strict but I think she’s zoned out half the time, so you can basically do whatever. All you really need to know is that everyone typically books their lab spaces a couple weeks in advance to make sure they get the best rooms to themselves. Things get brutal around the time science fair starts. Oh, and if you break anything, you pay for it, but I assume that’s obvious. Basically, don’t do anything that might get the school sued for negligence.”

Peter flashes her a thumbs up. “Sounds good. Do you know what equipment we can use?”

Y/N nods, gesturing at the table behind her. “Just about everything in sight.”

Peter follows her movement with his eyes until he’s staring at the workspace still in use next to Y/N. It’s littered with small mechanical parts, although a lot of them look damaged from something, Peter can’t tell what. They might have been burned, and a lot of the pieces look as if they’ve been unhooked from some larger structure so Y/N can fix the broken edges. Some of them look as if they could have been from a plate-based system, something that was hit hard and maybe even shattered.

In fact, on closer look, Peter swears that he’s seen the exact same type of metal before. He wouldn’t know it unless he’d held it in his own hands, or unless-

Unless it’s currently weighing down his own backpack. Peter steps towards the table for a better look, and he just has enough time to confirm what he’s seeing before Y/N realizes what he’s doing and casually steps in between the table and him, blocking the metal from his view.

It’s too late to hide things, though, Peter already knows. The pieces of metal that Y/N is trying to fix are a dead match for Mecha’s armor, the stuff he’s seen both on the news and in person last night. If Y/N has Mecha’s armor, and is in a position where she can fix it because she’s likely the very same person who wears it every night and designed it in the first place, then it means-

Well, it means that Y/N Stark is Mecha. As in, Y/N Stark is the one in the metalloid suit who stalks the streets of the city every night to try and keep people safe, just like Peter. Honestly, Peter doesn’t know why he didn’t figure this out beforehand. Sure, the Mecha suit has a holographic visor to keep the owner’s face hidden, but she still moves like Y/N.

Looking back now, it’s obvious. However, it really shouldn’t be obvious to Peter Parker, someone who is definitely not Spider-Man. Thus, Peter has to hastily pretend as if he hasn’t just had the realization of a lifetime, as Y/N is starting to look at him strangely.

“Everything alright, Peter?” She asks, and Peter tries not to grin at the thought that she knows his name. He’s only half sure that he succeeds.

“Yeah, everything’s good. Thanks for helping me out with the lab stuff.”

She nods slowly, still regarding him with faint wariness. “Any time. See you later, I guess. I have to get going.”

Y/N starts to pack up her stuff, and Peter panics, because his best lead on the whole Mecha situation is literally walking out of his life as he watches. “Are you going to be in the labs tomorrow?”

Y/N glances back at him, surprised, then shakes her head. “Probably not. My dad’s been giving me crap about using school stuff instead of his labs, so I’ll have to start working there instead.”

This is bad, because if Y/N’s not coming to the labs, Peter doesn’t have any excuses to observe her for Mecha-like behavior. He casts about frantically for something he can say to make her stay for even a little longer. At last, just as her hand is reaching for the doorknob, something pops into his head.

“Does Tony know?”

Y/N stops moving, and turns to face Peter again. “Does Tony know what?”

Her tone is cold and questioning. Peter does his best to steady his nerves, and keeps going.

“Does Tony know that you’ve damaged your suit?”

Peter casts a meaningful look at the bag of armor fragments on Y/N’s arm, hoping she gets what he means. Y/N’s gaze shutters immediately, and she walks back towards him, tossing her backpack onto a chair. She pulls something out, some sort of device that beeps twice upon being pressed before glowing a bright LED green.

Y/N folds her arms across her chest, all hints of past friendliness forgotten. “The cameras won’t be recording any new footage for the next half hour. Spill.”

Peter gestures towards the device. “You had that ready pretty quickly. Have you been expecting to get caught?”

Or, perhaps worse, has she been wanting it? It must be stifling to live under Tony Stark’s empire every single day. As Mecha, she’s delightfully anonymous, but she won’t get the credit she deserves. Peter knows now, and some inner part of him tells him that this might do more to make Y/N his friend than anything else.

Y/N, however, still maintains an icy visage. “A part of my suit went missing, and until I track it down, I need to be alert. Can I assume that you have something to do with it?”

Peter nods, reaching into his backpack to carefully reveal the answering plates of metal. He holds it up, making sure Y/N can see it for what it is. “I just want to know why you started doing patrols in the city. Couldn’t you just join the Avengers if you wanted to fight crime?”

Y/N scoffs. “The Avengers are my dad’s dream. It doesn’t work for me.”

Peter can detect a fair amount of bitterness in her voice. Evidently, this has been a significant cause of strife in the past. “And doing solo patrols, that works for you?”

Y/N cocks her head to the side. “I assume you’ll be able to answer that for me, seeing as you apparently already know so much about what I want and what I do. I’ve got some questions, by the way. How did you get this?”

Peter carefully lays the armor fragment on the table in between them. Y/N doesn’t move for it, although he can see her eyes flicker back and forth between the metal and him, weighing her odds of grabbing it before he tries something.

Peter, on the other hand, is also contemplating a choice before him. At last, he sighs, does his best to bury his doubts, and reaches for something else in his backpack. When he puts this second item on the lab table, Y/N frowns at it in open curiosity.

“What’s that?”

Peter gestures towards it. “See for yourself.”

Y/N gives him one last suspicious look, then cautiously reaches out a hand to take the folded mass of red and blue cloth. She picks it up, and her eyes widen as she takes in the large white eyes on the mask, the black webbing design.

“My God, you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter can’t help but grin. “I’ll be honest, that is exactly the reaction I was hoping you’d have. I mean, surprised shouting and declarations of horror always work, but I like impressing people.”

Y/N snorts. “You’re insane.”

Peter smirks. “Maybe. What does that make you?”

Y/N looks back at him, and she’s smiling openly now. “Insane as well, I think. You’re really trusting me with this?”

Peter lifts a shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I? If you say a word, I’ve got a secret of my own, and I’m willing to bet that the press would be a lot more eager to hear about the double identity of a billionaire’s daughter than some kid from Queens.”

Y/N arches a brow. “They’re wrong for that, then. I’d be more interested in the Queens case.”

She tosses the mask back from him, using the opportunity to grab her broken piece of armor and put it back in the bag with the rest. “Why haven’t you sold me out, by the way? Mutually assured destruction can only take you so far. If you had information on Tony Stark’s kid, you could get whatever price you named.”

She says her father’s name with no small amount of spite. Peter, always emotionally savvy, takes this to mean that life in Stark Tower may not be the tech heaven he’s always glorified in his head.

“It would be an asshole thing to do, first of all. Also, I could always use a patrol partner, if you’re up for it. Besides, maybe I think you’re more than just Tony Stark’s kid. If I sold you out, I’d never get a chance to prove myself right.”

Y/N considers this, then smiles. “I like the sound of that. Not that I’m in the habit of giving people compliments, but I think being your partner would be an honor. It would certainly be nice to have someone in my corner.”

Peter grins. “Consider me fully in your corner, then. I’ll be the spider in your window whenever you’re feeling lonely. Follow any web to reach me.”

Y/N’s eyes shine. “That’s a very sweet thing to say, Peter.”

Peter shrugs. “I’m a very sweet guy. When I’m not trying to track down rogue armored heroes, of course.”

Y/N beams, and Peter thinks he could watch the way her entire form brightens forever. “I think I believe that.”

They have to part ways soon enough, of course, Y/N’s device will only block the cameras forever and she still has to get back to Stark Tower. That night, though, Peter turns up on the rooftops of New York City, and he isn’t alone. There’s a figure making her way towards him in the dark, and he can see the glow of her holographic visor even from across a few buildings. Looks like he’s got a chance after all.

marvel tag list: @namoreno,@thatfangirl42,  @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv-blog, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie

[justsomeclintasha]

(Inspired by @quietlyimplode, who is one of my favorite fanfic authors!)

Maybe she isn’t trying hard enough.

But this is temporary- a safe space for him to recover until they can leave. Natasha doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong anywhere.

Day turn into weeks and Clint settles in. Wednesdays are movie nights in the common room, Fridays they order pizza. He goes. She won’t. Can’t. A text chimes and she doesn’t read it.

This isn’t her family.

She has no family.

What’s one more night alone?

XXXXX

Steve tries to bond with her- asks her questions about what she likes and places she’s been. Soon she finds herself avoiding him. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.

He asks Clint, and the archer assures him she’s okay. Neither of them understand.

There’s no point ignoring the knock on her door.

“You’re not trying,” Clint tells her in frustration when she opens it. She slams it shut and picks up her phone.

XXXXX

Three days later she drops her duffel bag on the floor by the kitchen counter. It’s quiet. Just past three in the morning. She pulls an ice pack from the freezer and presses it to her jaw.

“You alright?”

“Fine.” Tony hesitates in the doorway. Like the rest of them, he has terrible sleeping habits. She doesn’t ask why he’s awake. She’s not a stranger to nightmares.

“You didn’t tell us you asked for a mission.”

She shrugs, and he presses on.

“Clint was worried about you. We all were.”

“I’m not a child. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly.” He’s gone before she can snap back.

Her face hurts and she has a headache.

XXXXX

It bothers her how Clint laughs with the others, like it’s natural and easy.

He catches her eye as she enters the kitchen. Concern flicks across his face for just a moment. She hasn’t covered the bruise.

Something else darkens his eyes and she realizes he’s pissed. Her stomach twists. She leaves without her tea.

There’s nothing personal in her room. She drops on the bed and stares at the duffel bag she hasn’t bothered to unpack.

XXXXX

Hours later, she hasn’t moved. The door clicks open. Without looking, she knows it’s him.

“I am trying,” she says to the pillow in her lap. Her fingers pick at a fuzz on the fabric.

“I know. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“I want to leave.”

“What’s stopping you?” She shakes her head, won’t say it. But he knows. Their arms brush as he sits next to her.

“You can have this- this family.”

“So can you.”

“It was just surveillance,” she says quietly, very much aware of the lie in her voice. His lips press lightly to the bruise on her face.

“Never again, Nat. I don’t trust someone else to have your back.”

There’s a lump in her throat. All she can do is nod and hide her face in his shoulder.

XXXXX

Baby steps, he told her. Half an hour, and if you’re not okay you can leave. She settles next to him on the couch, pressed closer against his side than she cares to analyze right now.

“You want some popcorn?” Steve offers, holding out the bowl. Kind. Friendly.

“Thanks.” She takes a few pieces and eats them one at a time, letting them melt in her mouth. Tony directs Jarvis to dim the lights. The opening scene of her favorite Bond movie flashes across the screen.

“Clint said this was your favorite.”

“We don’t have to-“

“We want to,” Tony confirms. Clint pulls a blanket over her lap and feels her relax. An hour later, her breathing has deepened and her eyes have closed.

He takes the time to really look.

She’s exhausted.

Natasha doesn’t fall asleep in front of anyone except him, but the circles under her eyes make him wonder if she’s slept at all the past few days.

He kisses her head and gets comfortable.

XXXXX

She wakes with a start and nearly elbows him in the nose. It takes her a moment to get her bearings. At some point they’ve laid down.

The room is dark and the movie is over.

They’re alone.

“You alright?”

“I’m sorry.” Her forehead presses against his chest and he’s fairly sure she’s crying. “I’m sorry,” she whispers again. Her voice cracks. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. It’s okay. Come here.”

He pulls her closer and she finally lets go.

She’s trying so hard.

It’s exhausting.

XXXXX

“I’m making breakfast,” she tells Steve as he walks in the kitchen. His smile is wide and genuine. Tony and Clint are already at the kitchen table, discussing new arrowhead prototypes.

“Awesome, I’m starving.”

“Done soon,” she promises, flipping the pancakes. He busies himself at the counter behind her.

“Milk and extra sugar in your tea, right?”

“You- thank you,” she stutters, not sure what to say. The fact that he’s paid attention enough to know surprises her. Maybe it shouldn’t. The tea is perfect.

He cares.

“You need help with anything, Nat?” Tony calls over from the table.

“Grab some plates, I’ll give her a hand.”

Clint touches her shoulder reassuringly as he moves past her to the fridge for some strawberries and whipped cream.

“I’m proud of you,” he says softly, so only she can hear.

Steve and Tony are laughing at the kitchen table. She reaches for Clint’s hand and squeezes.

“I got this.”

[nellycanwrite]

hello po ate! halos magkasing edad lang po tayo pero amazed po ako sa experience nyo po! any tips po for writing and drawing po? thank you!!!!

English translations provided for my non-Filipino audiences below.

Oh my god I am weak to people calling me ate NDBSHWHSHSUW 🥺🤲 HELLO THERE LANGGAAAA🥰💘 

For tips, well, there’s nothing much to say really except practice! It took me years to be at the level I am now. All I needed was a bit of patience, dedication, and discipline!

For starters (and a short disclaimer), I am by no means a professional artist nor am I a professional writer. Despite how people say I’m already good at what I do, I’m still studying to become better. 

I’ve already started drawing and writing since sixth grade. I practiced everyday until I could really say I’m good enough for my standards. My writing is initially for academic purposes (since I have been trained specifically for journalism, specifically radio broadcasting and news writing), but it somehow turned into a love for creative writing. I only started doing art again in 2020, so my methods might not be as effective for me as it is for you. My methods for improving on art and writing are the same, but I’ll go ahead and expound!

1. Find Works that Inspire You the Most and Study Them. 

For Writing: This doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll go ahead and do an academic study for each piece of literature that you find interesting (but it does help to do so!) I graduated as a Humanities and Social Studies student, so it was inevitable that I had to do an academic study on literature. I didn’t like it at first, but I soon found it extremely helpful in my writing! I came to love analyzing literary works and devices—particularly Edgar Allan Poe’s works—and binged read his pieces! Later on, I tried to emulate his style of writing with my own works until I found my own writing style that I quite liked! This doesn’t only apply to classic literature, reading works from your favorite authors, digital or otherwise, is just as effective too! I got inspired by @clichejoe‘s way of writing and really studied it first before I dived into my current fic! @breannaaiedail​‘s excellent weaving of emotion to their writing was most helpful as well to get an insight on how feelings intertwine with words.

For Drawing: My style of drawing is first inspired by anime, the splash art I see in games, and DnD artworks. I was addicted to RossDraws’ style and tried doing the things that he does. But as soon as I realized that my artstyle doesn’t really suit me as much, I tried to change it up and apply my own little tweaks on top of his own teachings. I don’t have much to say with my first stages of art because I just basically…went for it. I saw those Pinterest tutorials on anatomy and made my own style based on those foundations. I just kept drawing and drawing and drawing until it just became a part of me. After I decided to pursue art as a career, I went into a deep dive and visited the foundations of what art really is. That meant reading books about anatomy, color theory, composition, and shape language. I took a lot of my inspiration from my fellow artist friends and basically just picked up bits and pieces of my style and applied them to my works. Allan Becker’s character design prowess always appealed to me and I’m aiming to have Max Grecke’s style of rendering and shape language! Loish is where I find a better understanding of color and character simplification. If I need inspiration, I always go to @cheesy-cryptid‘s works and just stare at her amazing composition and colors! At one point, I wanted a semi-realistic style of art. But I just want to yoink her art skills and apply it to my own!

2. Practice. 

For Writing: You don’t become a good author overnight. I can’t even say that I’m a good enough author by my own standards yet. You might be wondering, how do I practice writing? Well, just start clicking away on your keyboard! Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases, so use that opportunity to start writing! You can write drabbles of the most fun ideas! You can search up a drabble list and start there! Remember, your imagination is limitless. Start practicing there and write everything that comes on top of your head no matter how weird it sounds! My method of practice is fairly simple: I find the most mundane thing I could find and make it sound interesting; 

The pen. It is mightier than the sword. Yet whose hand grips this mighty weapon? The just? The wicked, the pure? Or is it the harbinger of death whose tip holds the fate of heroes of the unknown?

For Drawing: Practice. Practice. PRACTICE. In art, there is no easy way in. There are no cheats, there are no artist hacks, it is the acquisition of skill through constant practice. A hard pill to swallow to some people is that they wouldn’t get better even with how much they tried despite not even trying to practice. Start off with knowing the fundamentals of drawing; anatomy, composition, and perspective. Even if you say you already know this stuff, trust me, you don’t. Do art studies, observe how everything interacts with another, and just start grabbing that pen or stylus and draw. Draw what you feel like you wanna draw at the moment. Draw that prompt you always liked. Draw your crush. Draw the plants in your house. Draw fanart of your favorite character even! Consistency makes quality work, and all you have to do is be patient with yourself. If that didn’t motivate you to practice, look at my art from 2020 to present. I did consistent practice every day and did studies, watched tutorials, and just had an “I’m going to improve by practicing” mindset. Now it led me here. Just practice, practice, practice! You won’t get better by just sitting and waiting on a miracle. You gotta do it yourself!

3. Don’t be Discouraged. 

For Writing: Like I said, you don’t become a good author overnight. It takes time, patience, and dedication. If you see someone write better than you, don’t be discouraged. Behind every excellence is a thousand failures. It takes trial and error to become a good creator. It doesn’t matter if you write bad or fail; everyone fails at some point! The most important thing is how you should get back up on your feet and continue your journey. Take your time, set your own pace. Don’t be discouraged.

For Drawing: Oh boy do I have an experience for you. I actually just started doing digital art last 2020. I had to stop drawing because of the usual “there’s no living in art” mentality, but here I am today and taking up BA Multimedia Arts in college despite my peers wanting me to become a lawyer. The struggle I had as a 17 year old artist at the time was that everyone was so much better than me. Even the 12 year old kiddoes are better at rendering than I am. But I used that feeling of envy as motivation: if they can produce banger art, then why can’t I? So I practiced and took inspiration from those instead of being discouraged! Just continue the grind and I’m sure you’ll improve!

This came out longer than I intended it to be, so I apologize for that SOBS. I just love talking about stuff like these! 

Translations:

The ask: Hello! We’re almost the same age but I’m already amazed at your experiences! Any tips for writing and drawing? Thank you!!! 

Ate (ah-teh) is used to refer to a girl or a woman older than you. The literal translation is "big sister". 

Langga (lang-gah) is used as a term of endearment for someone younger than you. It can used to refer to people platonically, in a familial sense, or in some cases, romantically. The tone used for this ask is platonic.

[howl-fantasies]

A/N - Oh dear, oh lord. That one is so sweet your eyes will get cavities. Be ready for fluff. Like BIG assassin's fluff. I'll continue to make Zsasz and Y/N roasting each other alive don't worry.

But we're all human here and need a break sometimes. So, I wanted to give Victor and Y/N a fictional cookie, and a sweet overdose.

Domesticity

One woman lazily slumped against the chest of a man laying as lazily under her, wasn't exactly an accurate description of a deadly assassin's duo. But here she was, drifting in and out consciousness, lulled by the old black and white movie Victor and her ranted for the night.

He, on the contrary looked exactly the same as usual, eyes opened wide and focused intensely on the TV. The only cues of his relaxing state were is bare forearms, one snaking around her hips, the other around her shoulders and his right hand buried in her hair, massaging her scalp slowly.

His tallies marks glowed with the faint light produced by the television and the woman found herself tracing it pensively. She remembered the first time she saw him injuring himself with his blade "Oh wow. What's next, are you gonna skin some kitties alive now, for Satan's glory? You need professional help dude. Much more than I anticipated" She had say to him with a blank face.

His face matched her at that time, and he explained her the "keeping tracks of the people he killed" thing. She just stared at him after that and blinked. Finally saying that he was at least sure to never lose it, unlike a record book or a piece of paper.

She snorts, earning a curious glance and a raise of one of his bald eyebrows. She didn't say anything though, only tilting her head to kiss the mark and focusing again on the film.

He was still looking at her, she could feel his so unique and cryptic gaze analyzing her every features. He told her once that she was quite fascinating. Difficult to read at first, but he was a master when it came to enter one person's mind.

He now knows exactly what was going on in her beautiful head. But what still keeps him on his toes was how she was going to react. Knowing what a person thinks of a situation or feels about it is one thing. Generally, you can deduct the way they'll react. Except for her.

She may laugh and be sassy, or she can also point the barrel of her gun on your forehead, or says nothing about it at first and make you pay ten times what you have done later. He never was 100% sure of which reaction he would get when pushing her buttons. And that's maybe why they clicked so well at the end of the day. He was kind of similar, unpredictable.

Some people would call it insanity. But she was certainly not insane, nor a fool. A bit crazy at times, like when she demolished the wall of the GCPD interrogation room with a rocket launcher, but a thoughtful craziness. So to speak.

Victor moved a bit, continuing to massage her hair and watching her like a hawk. She was intelligent, far more than people give her credit for, like Riddler once said. And he agrees. She has sharp eyes, as sharp as her silver tongue, and a very sharp mind too, which often helped her to be one or two steps ahead of her opponent. One of the reasons Nygma seemed to appreciate her in his petty way, without doubt. Same for Cobblepot. And even Gordon.

Y/N was no major rogue in the city, but if one was seeking information, contacts or even an advice, she was the right person to go to. How was she able to amass so much infos and details about Gotham and its main as well as minors actors was a mystery.

He knows practically nothing about how she became who she was now: used to be a kid from the Narrows, absorbing knowledge like a sponge and with a strong sense of survival. She made her way out of the mud, into the underworld and also succeeded to connect herself with the 'good side' of the city.

One of her wisest move, according to Don Falcone himself, as she placed herself in a sort of chaotic neutral position. Helping the police just enough to be considered a valuable asset and make them look twice before trying to send her to Black Gate if caught. Well, more Arkham than Black Gate he chuckled silently in his head. She was talented enough to play the insane card and escape the facility in a few weeks if needed.

And she wouldn't even need his help for that. One of the many reasons he was so attached - in his twisted way - to her, without doubt too. He remembered the meaning glances Falcone send them, when they started working together. The Don quickly understood that the fierce woman would become a constant in his life, like a string connecting him to the bit of humanity he may still have.

It sometimes feels like it, like tonight. When they were so domestically entangled on her sofa, not worrying about anything on surface. Other times, she feeds the dark blood thirsting beast he knew he was, assisting him in his most devious and horrible shenanigans. And sometimes, she kind of tames the beast, with a few wise words or strategic touches, sending it back to sleep until his next burst of rage. She was quite adaptable.

He finally noticed her steady breath on his chest and blinked like a lazy cat. Deep down he was still amazed by her trust in him to let her still breathing in the morning. Particularly, when she had witnessed all the atrocities his filthy hands were capable of.

That may be love. Or incredible stupidity. Now he was grinning like a wolf, knowing that if he asked her, she would probably prefer to call herself stupid than recognize the affection she has for him.

But it was ok. He didn't need to hear it. The simple fact that she doesn't try to repeatedly stab him when he gets on her nerves or that he never wants to torture her to her breaking point and add her to his tally collection were speaking volumes.

So, he decided to be incredibly stupid too and closed his eyes, joining her in her slumber. After all, a bit of domesticity never killed anyone.