#survey says: i forgot how to draw

[rafesteddy]

Is it possible if we could have any more dilf!rafe and milf!reader? Im literally obsessed with the family dynamic atm!!

Hi bb 💕💕💕 of course!! Thank you for your ask. This story is meant to be read either alone or with the rest of the au. Thank you for your ask!!

+18 -> smut | on prom night, a very protective rafe wrestles with old grudges, growing pains, and the realization that letting go might be the hardest part.

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: pet names, swearing, praise, dirty talk, fingering, cum tasting, older rafe, roughish, semi-public male oral <- in a car with tinted windows, he is driving, intentional texting errors, ⚠︎ smut cross-posted on my nhl account. ⚠︎

cameron kids= Max (18), Winnie (17), Rory + Poppy (4)

You’re standing out in the front yard with your camera, doing everything you can not to cry while your daughter twirls around in her prom dress—glowing, radiant, almost too beautiful to look at.

Her boyfriend’s got his arm around her waist, holding her like it’s second nature. They keep catching each other’s eyes and laughing over nothing, cheeks bumping, sneaking little kisses between whatever secret they’re whispering like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It’s sweet. It’s perfect. And honestly? It’s a little brutal. Because no matter how grown she looks, she’s still your baby.

Your husband’s next to you, taking pictures with his phone, but you can see it clear as day—he’s tense. His smile is forced, fingers stiff around the edges of his phone. He hasn’t said more than two words to JJ, who’s mere feet away. It’s awkward… painfully so. But what’s new between the two of them? Your husband never forgot how much he hated him. And now? Now that guy’s kid is dating his baby girl.

It’s hard to imagine this would be a bigger deal… And it would be, if the kid wasn’t a literal angel: polite, gentle, thoughtful, smart; a D1-bound quarterback. He’s good. But try telling Rafe that.

Your daughter squeals, adjusting her corsage, leaning into her boyfriend with the biggest grin on her face as the limos pull up. She gasps, eyes snapping to you. “Oh my God. Mom, I forgot my clutch!”

You look over at Rafe, lost in his own world as he looks between the young couple and his archenemy, going through his own existential crisis; jaw clenched, eyebrows drawn together like this is all somehow a personal attack on him. “Baby…”

“Mhmm…” He grunts as his eyes continue to survey the scene.

“… Baby?”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, meeting your eyes before drawing a deep, pensive breath.

“Just take a second. Take a breath… Get the purse.”

He gives you a look, lips drawing to the side, wanting to protest like he’s afraid if he lets his guard down for a moment the thoughts that he’s been stewing on will manifest. “Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, then turns and stomps toward the house.

You watch him disappear through the front door, then turn back to your daughter. The yard is buzzing with excitement, teens gathering their things as they wander toward the rented cars.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You look down at your phone, rolling your eyes as you see three back-to-back text messages coming in. “Where’s the purse, baby?” You mock his deep voice under your breath as you unlock your phone. Not surprised in the slightest that he’s stalling to prolong the inevitable.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The twins are bouncing with excitement, already changed into their pajamas, stuffed animals hugged tight.

Sarah’s in the kitchen grabbing snacks for movie night, laughing as your son climbs all over him like he’s part jungle gym, part superhero. Meanwhile, your daughter’s standing off to the side, arms crossed, Cameron-pout on full display—a full-blown daddy’s girl—not thrilled in the slightest about him leaving.

“C’mon now,” Rafe says, gently tugging her closer. “Be right back, princess. I’ll kiss you on the head when I get home, okay? I’ll be there in the mornin’ when you wake up.”

She narrows her little eyes at him, her buttoned-nose furrowed in frustration.

“I heard mommy’s makin’ blueberry pancakes for breakfast,” Rafe adds as he cocks an eyebrow, hoping for the best, his smile widening as her face lights up over something so simple.

“No way.”

“Way.”

“I am?” you ask through a laugh as you loop your arm through your purse, pulling it on your shoulder.

“She is,” Rafe confirms, shooting you a smile and wink. “Isn’t she the best?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as he kisses your daughter’s forehead and sends her off.

The you both step outside into the quiet; the cobblestone driveway glowing under soft light. Rafe reaches for your hand as the front door clicks shut behind you. You barely get a step down the private lot before he loops his finger under your dress and tugs the hem upward with a cocky smirk.

“Rafe!” You gasp, swatting his hand as your skirt falls back down, looking back toward the house with a smile.

“They didn’t see, pretty,” he murmurs, totally unbothered. “Besides I needed a distraction. My brain was spiraling again.”

“You’re not gonna lift my dress every time you start panicking about your daughter growing up.”

“I mean…” He steps a little closer, stuffing his hand in his pocket, the other draping around your shoulders as he dips down to press a kiss on your head. “I could just pull it down next time, get a glimpse of these,” he hums, reaching over to give your boob a playful squeeze, “for balance.” He lets out a sleazy little laugh as you giggle.

Rafe spins you around and pulls you in for a kiss: deep and sweet. The kind that says ‘sure, I might be losing my shit, but you’re my favorite way to come back down’. He opens the passenger door for you, still grinning as you slide into the car.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The two of you sit side by side at a table on the water. The twinkling lights strung from the patio of the Island Club swaying in the breeze. Dinner was delicious, drinks were flowing, and Rafe… was present.

You could see it in the way he stared out at the water for a second too long. The way he blinked back to you like he’d just remembered where he was, and even so he wasn’t deep in thought. Almost like he wasn’t clenching his fists or checking his phone every two seconds or trying to crack a joke to distract himself from the ache in his heart.

But even still, he was there with you. Holding your hand, letting you finish your wine without interruption. He ordered your favorite appetizer before you could, stole bites from your plate like it was his job, kissing you tenderly after every lingered glance.

At one point, you were both leaned back in your chairs, full and content, watching the last sliver of sun bleed into the horizon when he said, “She told me they’re headin’ to Lexi’s after prom.”

“She did?”

He nods, sipping his drink. “She didn’t need to tell me that… She’s seventeen. Fuck, baby, I mean I woulda lied for the hell of it. I sure as shit wouldn’t have told Ward where I was goin’. And she just told me—didn’t even need to ask.”

“Yeah, baby?” You hum as you tip your head on his shoulder; Rafe’s fingers twinning in yours. “What else did she say?”

“Bonfire, snacks; some movie, I don’t know.”

“What about Jackson? Are juniors and seniors gonna be there?” You question this time, feeling your own unease rise about her possibly mingling with upperclassmen.

“Just juniors. She said ‘he didn’t care… He just wanted to be with her.’”

“Sounds familiar,” you smile as you squeeze Rafe’s hand.

He gives you a look—the one he always does when he’s caught remembering being seventeen with you. “Hmm… Sounds about as much, sweetheart.”

“They’re sweet,” you say quietly as you snuggle in a little closer. “We raised a good one, Rafe.”

“She’s everything,” he breathes. “My stubbornness and your heart—”

“We get to do this all over again in a couple years.”

He groans like it hurt, but he smiles anyway. “Twins too… Better start stocking up on wine now.”

You glance down at your phone, thumb tapping the screen as you check the time. It’s late enough. The twins are definitely asleep by now—if not completely passed out in a pile of stuffies and blankets, at the very least curled up on the couch mid-movie with drool on Auntie Sarah’s shoulder.

You look at Rafe, swirling the last sip of his whiskey, that lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sees the twinkle in your eye; the man no doubt thinking about taking off the lingerie you teased him with earlier.

“So?” You ask, soft and suggestive as your foot brushes against his under the table.

“That time, huh?” He smiles as he pulls out his phone as well, checking it.

His brows furrow slightly. The smirk slips a little. Not in a full-blown way, just enough to make your stomach flip.

“What?” You ask as you lean in. “Did Sarah send something?” Rafe doesn’t answer right away. “What’s going on, baby?” You press again; still no answer.

You reach across the table and snatch the phone from his hand before he can stop you. Your eyes flick to the screen to check what’s going on, eyes widening on the screen as you see the flashing pin on a tracking app. And your daughter’s car, not where she said she’d be.

You stare down at his phone, then up at him. “Why are you tracking her, Rafe?”

“I don’t just track her, sweetheart. I track Max too… It’s a scary place out there, okay? Ya’ll are all I have,” he stammers. He takes a deep breath, blowing it out his nostrils as he tries his best to collect himself. “I’m trackin’ her because of this—”

“—Because she’s at the beach?” You question, letting your annoyance bleed through each word.

“She didn’t tell us she was going to the beach,” he says, voice tight. “So yeah, baby—that’s why I’m doin’ it.”

“Well, what now?”

Rafe tilts back in his chair, pushing out a shaky, uneven breath. “Guess we’re takin’ a trip to the beach—”

“Rafe…”

“If anything we’ll check and leave—”

“—Baby.”

“We will check. And, we will leave.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your purse. Rafe stands and tosses some cash on the table before looking down at you.

“Nothing more, baby. I swear. I’m not gonna enjoy my night if I don’t know that she’s safe. Just a piece of mind.”

“And what if you see something you don’t wanna see?”

He stops in his tracks looking at you like you just dropped a weight on his chest. “What do you mean by that?”

You arch a brow as you take his hand, rising to your feet. “I mean… you found a condom wrapper in her bathroom, Rafe. So again—I ask—what if you see something you don’t wanna see?”

Rafe runs a hand down his face, letting out a long, deep breath. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The two of you pull into the quiet parking lot, headlights cutting through the soft fog that’s rolled in off the water. It’s dark but not deserted—distant voices, the occasional pop of laughter, the soft flicker of firelight down by the shore.

Rafe leans forward, squinting out the windshield. “They’re probably hidin’ somewhere,” he mutters, tone edged with something sharp. “Thinkin’ he’s bein’ slick.”

“Mhmm…” You flick your hand lazily in their direction, spotting them almost instantly, right in plain sight.

The two of them are sat side by side in front of a small fire, shoes kicked off, a blanket pulled over both their legs. Winnie’s head tilted on Jackson’s shoulder.

Rafe exhales through his nose, and it’s not quite relief, but it’s not disappointment, either. And at that moment you realize he didn’t want to be right—he just didn’t want to be wrong either. You take out your phone, open your messages, and type:

You: Hope you’re having a good night sweetie. Be safe.

Barely ten seconds pass before your daughter’s phone lights up on the sand. You see her glance down at the screen, smile, and start typing back. Then your phone buzzes.

Winnie: we’re having a great night!

Winnie: we left the party because it got kinda crazy. Jax was worried it might get busted.

Winnie: we’re down to the beach

Another second later, she sends a selfie—her cheek pressed against Jackson’s, both of them grinning, firelight flickering. No red cups. No chaos. Just two kids who genuinely like each other, making a smart choice together.

Rafe’s jaw ticks as he looks at the photo. He leans back in his seat, sighing as the guilt hits him square in the chest.

“Goddamnit.”

“Mhmm…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just—I don’t know. This shit is hard,” he huffs.

You smile and reach over, lacing your fingers in his. “Why don’t we get out of here, baby… Go for a little drive on our way home.”

Rafe nods and pulls out of the lot, his jaw set, one hand tight on the wheel as the silence stretches between you. The engine hums low, but he doesn’t say a word.

He’s still wound up—his whole body carrying the weight of everything he’s been trying to hold back. The guilt, the stress, the slow ache of watching his little girl grow up. On top of that, work’s been brutal lately, you know it’s been eating at him, even if he won’t say it out loud.

You watch him quietly, the way the dim streetlights flicker across his profile: strong jaw, furrowed brow, tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up over his thick forearms you’ll never get tired of looking at.

Even tense like this, he’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—and all you can think about is how badly you want to help him relax.

He glances over at you, still high-strung, blue eyes heavy with thoughts he hasn’t shared quite yet. He shifts in his seat, spreading his thighs a little wider, fabric stretching over them—and your gaze drops without hesitation.

Your breath hitches. All you can think about is straddling him right there in the front seat, grinding against him with your skirt bunched around your waist, the windows fogging, and music muffling your moans—

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” He asks, voice low.

You turn to him slowly, letting your voice drop into something warm and wicked. “You.”

His eyes flick to yours in surprise. “You’re thinkin’ about me?” He says, almost like he doesn’t believe it himself, half-expecting to be in that doghouse you were talking about earlier.

You smile, reach for his hand resting on the console, and guide it toward you. He exhales sharply, shoulders finally starting to drop, the tension melting into something else entirely. “You’re not mad at me, princess?”

You shake your head. “No, baby. I like when you’re protective. Can’t fault you for that. Maybe just calm down a little… Just a little.”

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with want.

“Wanna help you forget all those thoughts distracting you from me…”

“Distracting me from you? My girl? Impossible… But, please,” he says with a smirk, “make me forget.”

You lift his hand from your thigh, slowly, and press a kiss to the top of it—light and teasing, just like he would.

Then, with your eyes still on him, you part your lips and slip two thick fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tips. Rafe’s breath catches. He flicks another glance at you, then another, making the car sway gently.

You reach over, trailing your hand down his chest, feeling the heat and tension thrumming through his body. Your nails drag lightly down his shirt’s crisp, white fabric until you hit his thigh, scratching just enough to earn a quiet exhale from him.

Your fingers graze over his bulge—growing thick and heavy beneath his designer pants—and he shifts again, jaw clenched tighter, not from stress, solely to keep his eyes on the road and avoid them rolling back.

You lean in closer, the scent of his rich cologne washing over you. Your fingers work open his belt. The metal clicks softly before you slide the zipper down. Your heart pounds with the bass, excitement swelling in your chest as he barrels through the night.

He shifts in his seat, lifting his hips so he can shove his pants and boxers down. “You sure, baby?” He asks through a crooked smile as you grip his thick dick in your fist—hardening fast in your palm, long, pulsing with need.

Your mouth waters as you stroke him slow, teasing, your thumb brushing over the head. “I need it… Is that alright?” You ask coyly. Rafe’s cock twitches in your grip, his breath stuttering as you swipe your thumb across his tip, rubbing in a bead of precum.

“Fuck,” he moans as his head rolls slightly.

“You like that?” You ask.

“Yeah… Yeah, fuck. Keep goin’,” he mumbles, his eyes on the road, but barely.

Rafe reaches over; fingers slipping under your dress. He groans at how wet you are, teasing your entrance, pushing just the tip of his fingers inside. The pace you set with your hand mirrors his—slow and purposeful, a shared rhythm that leaves you both panting.

Click.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide across the center console. Before he can even register what’s happening, next you take him into your mouth; his cock hot and heavy on your warm tongue.

Rafe’s whole body jerks. He draws his fingers from between your thighs, slicked with your wetness, and sucks them into his mouth, the corners of his lips curling into a smile at the taste.

“Jesus Christ, baby…” His voice is thick and hoarse. “You’re perfect. Too fuckin’ good to me.” His hand comes down hard on your ass, the sting sharp, and your moan vibrates around him as he spanks you.

A second later, his fingers knot in your hair, guiding you, controlling your pace. “Atta girl,” he groans, hips lifting gently. “Fuckin’ take it—so desperate, huh? Couldn’t wait ‘til we got home?”

You hum in response, lips and tongue working him while your hand strokes what your mouth can’t reach. His moans start spilling out, competing with the music in the car.

“Gonna make me lose it,” he pants. “That’s what you want, huh? Gonna swallow it all? Don’t wanna get dirty, baby—” he mumbles, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as his leg bounces beneath your hands, breath rough and ragged, chest rising faster now.

“Shit, baby… I’m gonna cum—” You suck him harder, throating his cock until he’s cursing and twitching, praising your name as he slams his big fist against the steering wheel, spilling down your throat.

His body unwinds in the seat and his hold loosens on your hair. You pull off slowly, watching his cock throb still as he tucks himself in the waistband of his dress pants, hissing in sensitivity as he zips back up his pants, covering himself slightly with his jacket. He shakes his head, unable to wipe that wide smile off his perfect lips.

You sit up and smooth your hair in the visor mirror, licking your lips, catching the last of him as you giggle dizzily. He chuckles, low and lazy, as he rolls his head on the headrest, locking eyes with you. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

And then just as you lean over to press one last kiss on his lips the car’s screen lights up with an incoming call.

Deputy Shoupe

Rafe fumbles and swears under his breath on his way to accept the call, already assuming the worst. “Shoupe? Everything okay?”

“Rafe. We got a little situation down at the yacht club. Someone called in a report—female screamin’. Thought it might be a domestic or worse. Turns out… Uh, well… We found your son and that Thornton girl entangled on your yacht.”

Rafe freezes; eyes beating a few times slow as he takes it all in. “Max?”

“Yes, sir. A bag of weed, a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle, and a pocket full of Magnums—”

“—Dude. You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me right now,” your son snips as he cuts the officer off. “You’re seriously cockblockin’ me? This is harassment. We’re on my boat. S’Private property. I can’t help it if we got a little loud, alright? That’s between me and her.”

“I’m fine… Obviously,” Topper’s daughter sasses as well, her Cali-girl, vocal fry that pours through the car speakers like nails on a chalkboard.

Rafe’s jaw is locked, one vein in his temple pulsing so hard you can practically hear it. Rafe stares straight ahead, dead silent.

“You gonna arrest us for lovin’ each other now? Is that where this country’s at? You people are fuckin’ sick—”

“Tell him to stop talkin’,” Rafe sneers.

“Want me to tase him a little?” Shoupe chuckles.

Rafe mutters something under his breath making Shoupe laugh. There’s a beat of silence as you stare at Rafe, your husband staring right back at you. His features soften—the man hit with yet another wave of guilt—he was so hyper focused on your daughter that everything else flew out the window.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper.

He shakes his head ‘no’ and rolls his eyes, tipping his head back against the headrest.

“What do you two want me to do about all this?” Shoupe asks through another amused laugh.

“Fuck… Bring ’em into the station. Take the weed if you have to,” Rafe adds. “Leave the bottle.” You raise your brows at him and he just shrugs. “Kid’s a pain in my ass but he’s got good taste,” he mumbles. “I’ll be there in two-three hours,” Rafe finishes. “Got some shit I need to handle first.”

“Copy that.”

Click.

“We’re not gonna go get him?” You ask through a laugh as you glance back at Rafe.

He smirks, letting his hand slide higher up your thigh. “He’ll survive, baby. Might even learn somethin’… Right now, I need to take care of my girl.”

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FOUR: WAY DOWN WE GO

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SUMMARY ↳ You make some major moves, risky major moves. “Yeah, I know. You’re not that easy.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and grasp his, lifting them off your hips. “Just like I know you’re trying to put a tracker on me.” You wretch the little device from his hands and crush it. “I’m not that easy either.”You pat his cheek. His expression doesn’t give anything away, but you know he’s annoyed his plans have been thwarted. “It was a good try though. You did your best.” You send a web to a nearby building, knowing that his eyes are scanning you to drink up every piece of information he can. You turn to him one last time before swinging away. “I’m just better.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: (attempted) bullying, you get a sword held at your neck (wonder whose fault that is), cursing wc: 6.5k

The next school day goes by in a blur of lectures you don’t pay attention to. The only thing on your mind is patrol and the looming task of getting back home.

Lunch is a brief respite from the busyness of the day. You sit alone to better hear your thoughts. You’ve long gotten used to your super hearing, but it’s still as loud as ever. The lunch is pretty good today, yet no match for your increased metabolism. You’re just grateful that your suit protects you from a lot. Super healing isn’t that useful when you’ve got no energy to heal with.

Your pencil moves in repeated strokes, steady. You’ve been putting your sketchbook to good use.

You hear footsteps approaching, and raise your head casually. You can’t help but widen your eyes when you see Damian walking to you.

He puts his tray down and sits, perfect posture and all. His eyes scan your drawings. “What is it?”

You blink, looking down at your drawings too. “It’s a… personal project.” You give your best winning smile. “I like to make things.”

You subtly turn the page so the one with all the formulas and equations is hidden away, only allowing Damian to see the sketches of what your new and improved nanite chamber would look like. “You’re hurting my feelings. What can I do to gain your trust?” It’s no subtle attempt to direct his attention from your drawings.

“Unnecessary. Forget about yesterday, it is in the past,” Damian says. Yeah, right. It’s obvious he’s playing nice in an attempt to lower your guard, but whatever. You can play along.

You pat his shoulder, smiling at his grimace. “You’re really bad at making friends. Don’t worry about it, first impressions aren’t everything.”

You lean back, crossing your arms. “So, now that we’re friends, tell me about yourself.”

“We are not friends.”

“We’re not enemies either.”

“That does not equate to us being friends,” he growls.

“But don’t you wanna know about me?” You lean in close. “Y’know, ‘cause you’re–” Your voice drops into a whisper. “Robin?”

He shoves you away, somehow in a gentlemanly manner. “Do not joke about that.”

You cackle. “I will tell you something about me in exchange for something about you.” At his glare you say, “it’s the fair thing to do.”

“I’ll go first.” You sit up straight. “I work part-time at Carrie’s Cafe, I live in East End and I occasionally dabble in photography.” Where you work and live is something he no doubt knows already, and photography is a useless fact. Still, he can’t admit that.

You gesture at him. “Your turn.”

You’re pleasantly surprised when he speaks. “I enjoy spending time with animals. I have various pets.”

“What kind of pets?”

“The rules of our deal do not require me to elaborate further.”

You roll your eyes. “The rules of conversation do.”

“I hardly want to converse with you.” God, you forgot how much of a brat Damian is. It’s easier to find it funny when you’re not the subject of his brat-ness. He can tell you’re getting a bit irked, if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

You survey your surroundings. People are looking at the two of you. You figure you must be a sight. The elusive heir of Bruce Wayne and the new kid. There’s a group of girls staring at you spitefully.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you speak to Damian, not taking your eyes off the girls. “Me, awesome mysterious super hot new kid, and you.” You don’t gas up Damian, but you figure he’s better off without a bigger ego.

Damian looks to where you're staring, his lips turning in thinly veiled disgust. “We are not a pair.” The girls giggle behind their hands and flutter their eyelashes at him. He looks away. You gasp as you are hit with an idea.

“I just had the best idea ever.” Pointedly ignoring his hum of doubt, you continue, “we are in the perfect set-up for a fake-dating situation. You, the popular bad boy who wants nothing to do with girls, and me, the one person who will never fall in love with you. We agree to fake-date to get the girls off your back, but we end up falling in love and we kiss in the rain–” you pause, staring at his face. It’s full of disgust, and you burst out laughing. “I’m afraid you’re too easy, my friend.”

Your hearing picks up on stomping from across the cafeteria. The leader of the girl's little posse is making her way over to you. She’s real pretty, you’ll give her that. She’s forgone the vest of her uniform to show off her slightly unbuttoned top. You’re not ashamed to admit you are looking hard .

“Damian!” She squeals, rounding up to your table. She ignores the seats and sits on the table itself. “Are they bothering you? I can see that you’re uncomfortable.”

You lean back and cross your arms, waiting to see what Damian will do. You would’ve thought he would be more of a recluse, liked by nobody. Perhaps this older Damian has more charm than the ones you’ve read about. Or maybe only the girls of the school like him.

Damian sends you a look that says do not leave me to the vultures.

You raise your eyebrows as if to say not friends, remember? This has nothing to do with me.

“Victoria,” Damian greets. Victoria’s face lights up in satisfaction at the fact he knows her name. Oof, girl, have some standards. “I am fine. You need not concern yourself.”

“Oh, but I can see it on your face, Damian. You don’t have to save face for someone like them ,” Victoria looks you up and down. There’s no doubt she means to isolate you because you’re not a rich heir like the rest of them.

Damian’s about to speak up (in your defense? You doubt it) when you lean forward, discreetly pulling down your own collar. “Victoria, was it? Can I call you Vicky? Where’d you get your nails done?”

Victoria brings her hands to her chest, rubbing her fingers over her nails. “Oh– um. My… cousin. My cousin does nails as a hobby.” Her eyes are flickering from your face to your chest. You reach forward and grab her hand delicately, humming as you look at her nails. “These look really good. How much were they?”

Your eyes are boring into hers as you await her answer. Her mouth is slightly agape. Her hand twitches in your grasp as you let a breath fall onto it. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before she finds herself. “It-It surely costs more than you can afford.” She yanks her hand back and it falls to her side. She looks at Damian before looking back at you, and turns around and walks off without another word.

A grin graces your face, satisfied with your results. Looking at Damian, you raise your brow in question. “Well? How’d I do?”

Damian is staring at you, like he is truly seeing you for the first time. He blinks and shakes himself out of whatever revelry he’s in (you hope you haven’t given too much away…) and answers you. “It’s no easy feat repelling Victoria. I commend you.”

“Is that a compliment? Oh my God, have I thawed your frozen heart, Elsa?” The bell rings and he walks away before you can say more.

You find out Victoria's in your ballet class. You feel her eyes on you the whole period.

You practice figure drawing in art. You ignore Damian’s stare on you the whole period.

It’s a cool night in Gotham. You’ve defended some homeless people being harassed, helped someone's cat out of a tree (you didn’t know that could actually happen) and helped an old lady home safely. It’s a pretty quiet night for Gotham, all things considered. The city moves on in spite of you, a maze of crime and corruption, but also of people worth saving.

You can’t help yourself and snap a couple of photos, for your eyes only. Anything that’ll make you feel like back home is good in your books.

watching behind you

You stand, straightening your shoulders. You’re sure the Bats know about your existence. Whoever it is, you’ll give them a scare first.

You lift your foot, letting it dangle off the ledge of the building. Their footsteps hasten to get to you. Gravity pulls you down. They’re running to you now. You spread your arms and fall.

A figure clad in black and red grasps the ledge, looking over, grappling hook in hand. They’re met with you, casually standing on the side of the building, defying gravity. “Looking for me?”

Robin makes room for you as you climb back up, crouching on the ledge once more. You stick out your hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet one of you guys. Big fan.”

Robin takes out his sword and holds it to your neck in one swift movement. “Tough crowd,” you mutter, clicking your tongue.

“Who are you and what business do you have in Gotham.” Straight to the point as always, Damian.

“My name is Spinnerette, nice to meet you!” You grab his hand before he can tug it out of your reach, shaking it. “And I thought it was pretty obvious, no? I’m in the saving people business, like you guys! That’s my business.”

“Children should not run around pretending to fight crime because they think it’s cool.”\

You huff. “Okay, one , the first robin was like, five. Two , how old do you think I am? Three , dude, I’ve been doing this for years.”

He tuts. “Is that right? How come I’ve never heard of you?”

You shrug. “I’m not from around here.” You’re not lying, that’s for sure.

The sword doesn’t move from your neck, and you sigh. Grabbing the sword makes an audible clink as it meets the metal of your suit. You slowly move it away from your neck, taking note of how Robin tries to meet your strength head-on, and failing to do so. Languidly moving, you invade his personal space. You throw your arms over his shoulders, making him sway side to side with you.

“You’re hurting my feelings, Rob,” you hum. You see his eyes squint through his mask. Dragging a claw down his cheek, you’re aware that you are completely indulging yourself right now. You should’ve swung away as soon as your senses alerted you to his presence.

Pretender, your brain whispers to you.

You will the thought away. “You know, some species of spiders eat birds,” you flirt.

“You have abhorrent ideas of flirting.”

“Cut me some slack, I’m rusty.”

“Some species also eat their mates,” he flirts back. Oh?

You grin, feral and hidden. “Ohoh, considering yourself my mate already, birdie?” His hands grasp your hips, pulling you closer. Chest to chest with him, you lean in, whispering “you like the idea of me eating you? Perv.”

“You jump to conclusions.” His cheek is against yours.

“Yeah, I know. You’re not that easy.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and grasp his, lifting them off your hips. “Just like I know you’re trying to put a tracker on me.” You wretch the little device from his hands and crush it. “I’m not that easy either.”

You pat his cheek. His expression doesn’t give anything away, but you know he’s annoyed his plans have been thwarted. “It was a good try though. You did your best.”

You send a web to a nearby building, knowing that his eyes are scanning you to drink up every piece of information he can. You turn to him one last time before swinging away.

“I’m just better.”

“They call themselves Spinnerette,” is what Damian says as he enters the Batcave.

Bruce only sighs. He really shouldn’t be so surprised Damian went after the new meta. He turns around in his chair, facing Damian. He makes a ‘go on’ gesture.

“Their suit is made of some kind of metal. It is high-grade, something I’m not familiar with. The eyes of their suit react, like they mimic their expression. They can stick to walls and webs come out from a device on their wrist. They are intelligent and were able to divert my intentions to put a tracker on them,” Damian huffs.

He moves to stand next to his father. “They say they have been acting as a vigilante for years. They are also not native to Gotham.”

Bruce nods, “that narrows it down a little.”

“They were insulted by my insinuation that they were a child, so I assume they are at least in high school.”

Bruce types all the information in the Batcomputer, fingers flying across the keyboard. The results narrow down. Several databases appear on screen.

“If they are your age they could very well attend the Academy,” Bruce hums, hand over his mouth in thought.

“I have someone in mind already, but I will be sure to evaluate all my peers.”

Bruce smiles. “I’m surprised to hear you call them your peers.”

Damian’s lips twitch, walking out of the cave without further word.

You’ve decided to put plans for the nanite chamber on hold for now in exchange for a far, more efficient use of your time. The battery will last you, you’re just being paranoid.

You’re going to pull a Tony Stark and create a new element.

Technically you’re just going to use the blueprints Tony put in your suit (thank you tony, we all say in unison) and follow them, but in this universe badassium isn’t a thing. 

A clean and powerful energy source, to power your way back home and for the world to use. You know what they say about leaving things better than when you found it.

You’ve changed your plans for one main reason; when Tony Stark made his new element, he also made a particle accelerator. 

It starts in your engineering class. You swipe as much material as you can, stuffing it into your backpack. Tony’s makeshift build took up his whole lab, and the one you found that landed you here was huge, so you’ll grab as much as you can.

Next is finding a place to work. Your apartment is a no-go, so you spend time off patrol to look for places. An abandoned warehouse could work in theory, but how many times has a villain used one for their operations? You’ll go without bumping into the Joker, thank you.

The problem is that you don’t know this city, so you make an impulsive decision. During classes, you spend time building a mini robot that will infiltrate and access the Batcomputer. You know Wayne Manor is equipped with state-of-the-art security, from reinforced structures to advanced alarm systems. It is very likely your little buddy will not make it out, but Karen only needs enough time to upload to the computer.

You spend your programming class calibrating Karen into W.E.B.B.E.R. (Karen comes up with the acronym, it stands for Wireless Enabled Bionic Bot for Exploration and Reconnaissance) instead of doing the assignment. You can easily do it later. If Damian notices how in your mind you’ve been lately, he doesn’t say anything. WEBBER is finished in three days. Now it’s up to you to get it past Wayne Manor's defenses and into the batcave.

You sit pondering on a rooftop during patrol. Damian is a hesitant option. You’re are certain he’ll notice if you stick a little spider robot on him. Red Hood probably doesn’t visit very often, for obvious reasons. You might be able to sneak it past Nightwing, but there aren't many places on that skin-tight suit for WEB to hide. Orphan is a hard no, nothing gets past Cassandra Cain. You groan into your hands. WEB’s little feet pat your mask.

“Perhaps it would be easier to infiltrate myself,” Karen suggests.

“There’s no way to get into the cave without authorized access, and that's if  WEB isn’t somehow destroyed as soon as it hits the property’s soil,” you sigh. “You could override its systems to get inside, but that’ll just put everyone on high alert.”

“Then perhaps we approach their civilian identities.” Karen pulls up security footage of a cafe that none other than Tim Drake likes to frequent. It’ll be risky, since Drake’s got a damn good keen eye. However, you’ll bank on the fact that that guy does not get as much sleep as he should, thus making him less aware.

“Thanks, K.” You hardly sleep that night.

You spend the weekend lingering at the mentioned cafe. After some hard thought, you’ve forgone a disguise. He’ll notice if you’re trying to hide your features, so you just have to hope and pray that you become another blurred face he sees.

“He’s walking your way, [Name].”

You take a deep breath as WEBBER crawls onto your shoulder. He’s wearing layers, so WEB will have an easier time staying hidden. The robot is light, you made sure. You walk towards him, keeping your gaze forward. If this doesn’t work, you’ll figure something out. You just… really hope it doesn’t come down to that.

As you get closer, you side-step out of his way and allow your shoulder to pass his, not touching, but almost. WEBBER hops onto him and scuttles into his breast pocket.

“I will make sure I am not seen.”

“I trust you, Karen.”

Tim Drake does not notice the little spider hidden in his clothes. He returns to Wayne Manor none the wiser. WEBBER clings to his back as he makes his way down to the Batcave. You watch through the little camera from your laptop. Your jaw drops.

Literally every Bat and Bird, former or current, is down there. Even Oracle herself is there. They’re all in civvies, so you suspect they’re just hanging out and chose the goddamn Batcave to do so.

“Just…” you sigh, already done with your spidey luck, “...keep going, K.”

WEBBER hops down from Tim’s back, scrambling across the floor. The mic you impulsively added picks up on conversation.

“I think you’re looking a little too hard into things, man.” It’s Duke Thomas.

“They just seem like the main character trying to find their way into the world. Rich dad sends his kid into adulthood all alone. They struggle to fit in under the guise that they have less money than their peers. ‘Woe is me’ type of stuff, y’know?” Stephanie Brown.

There’s a scoff. “They hold too much intelligence to have that kind of persona. They are able to direct less than welcome attention with careful words and persuasion. They do not pay attention in class, yet their grades are pristine. I’ve seen their drawings in their sketchbook when they are not looking, it’s filled with equations and ideas for ‘personal projects’.”

Is he talking about… you? That sneaky bastard, when did he peek at your notes!? Have you been that distracted at school?

“It says that their dad’s an inventor,” comes Barbara’s voice. She’s on the Batcomputer, WEBBER has been waiting for when she turns around or gets off to make its move. “They obviously get it from him, then. What, you think they’re building a world-ending weapon or something?”

“I think,” he grits out, “that they are a suspicious person, appearing at the same time our new spider friend did.”

Bruce hums. “It’s plausible.”

Goddammit.

Barbara turns around, and WEB scuttles around the back of the Batcomputer. “If they are Spinnerette, It’s not like they’re performing any unwelcome actions. They’re just doing what the rest of us do.”

“Yeah,” comes Dick Grayson, “Bruce is only irked ‘cause he hasn’t gotten the chance to adopt them yet.” A round of chuckles is heard.

WEBBER plugs into the Batcomputer, and an alert pops onto the screen immediately. Barbara whips around, fingers flying onto the keyboard.

“Someone’s hacking into the Batcomputer.” Her words put everyone in the room at attention.

“Trace it,” growls Bruce. It’s a remarkable thing to be able to switch into his Batman mode like that.

Barbara throws up countless defenses, but Karen is an AI made by Tony freakin’ Stark , and you are his protégé.

“They’re bypassing all my shields, they’re getting in!” Barbara growls.

Tim and Bruce race to begin helping her, but your superspeed allows you to type faster than all three geniuses.

They watch as files are opened and downloaded into Karen’s system as she uploads herself. Info about the city, criminals and heroes alike are getting into ‘enemy’ hands before they’re very eyes.

“I can’t track them,” grits Barbara.

The room is silent as Karen finishes her job. Gotham’s protectors are greeted with a single pop-up.

“THANK YOU.”

It taunts them. Bruce slams a hand onto the table. “They have everything .”

“Time to get the hell out of dodge, K.”

WEBBER unplugs from the Batcomputer and scuttles to a hiding spot.

“How is this possible? They were able to dodge and counter all of my firewalls like it was nothing. B, what do we do?” Barbara runs a hand through her hair, stressed. It seems like whenever she visits she can never catch a break.

“Keep trying to find their trace, we’ll find them eventually.” Bruce turns around to see his kiddos standing straight, ready for orders. He looks at Damian.

“Do you think they have the capacity to do this?” He’s talking about you.

“They have a computer programming class. I will observe them to see if it’s possible,” vows Damian. You’ll have to be more careful from now on.

“I’ll ask Selina to keep an eye on them. I owe her a favor.” A few faces twist in disgust at what exactly Selina could have done for him to owe her.

“Suit up, be extra vigilant today. They may try to enact whatever plans they have.”

Nodding, they scurry to change into their suits. WEBBER hitches a ride on Tim again as he exits the cave. The robot hops off as soon as he leaves the manor's grounds. That’s your cue to suit up.

You quickly hop across rooftops and swing to WEBBERs location. Arriving at its location, you cradle the bot gently in your hands, running a finger across its back. “Good job, Karen.”

“There are many old tunnels from previous subways, they may lead to your new lab. I’ve also left a backdoor should we ever need to access their database again.”

You nod, webbing a nearby building to swing away. The city passes under you, bright lights from cars blurring together. You perform flips and twirls, you’re in a pretty good mood, all things considered. People point at you in recognition as you rush by. The people of Gotham are becoming familiar with their new friendly neighborhood spider.

You hop down into the old tunnel. It’s covered in cobwebs and dust. Looking around, you see that the station has not seen life in ages. Footsteps echo as you start down the tracks. The station you’re in right now is accessible through a hole, so hopefully you can find one that is completely caved in.

You hope the team doesn't miss you too terribly. You wonder if you’re even being looked for, and then immediately shake the thought away. You are being looked for. You’re certain that Tony and Miguel are butting heads right now about how to best find you.

The tracks end with a bunch of rocks collapsed onto them. It takes minimal effort to move them out of the way, you just hope you don’t accidentally cause a mini rockslide, or something. You side step the pile, entering the large area of the abandoned station. The walls are littered with aged graffiti. The stairs that normally would lead out are collapsed in. There’s vegetation growing about, so you’ll probably get them something to drink in order to not invoke Poison Ivy’s wrath.

“I believe this will make quite the suitable hideout,” chimes Karen.

She’s right. With some decorating this could be a real cozy place. “A little Spider Den,” you whisper. Your new lab.

When you got home after finding the Den, you got rid of the monstrosity of cables from your gritty suit charger. If Selina Kyle is going to be poking around your apartment (because she’ll definitely do it while you’re gone) you want to appear as a normal person. You leave sketches of throwaway inventions, notes for class and random homework around the place.

May pipes up when she sees you leaving for work, “you look happy.”

You pause, thinking of your answer. “I… found what I was looking for.” It’s vague, but true.

“Since you’ve come here, you’ve always looked troubled,” hums May. “But lately you seem to be finding stable ground.”

You smile and nod, saying nothing as you walk out.

Sam greets you as you walk in. “How was your first week, scholar?”

You groan dramatically, “it’s terrible, save me oh great Sam,” you exaggerate. Sam opens their arms and you fall into them. “There, there,” they coo. “Was it that bad for real?”

“No.” Your voice is muffled in their arms. “I’m just really… bored.”

Sam bursts out laughing. “The little genius baby is stuck with their less than genius peers!” Sam’s voice has drawn out Carrie and Gar.

“Look who’s back! Thank God, kid. This place was falling apart without you,” Carrie says, grinning.

Gar crosses his arms. “Find your ‘rich future spouse’ yet?”

You chuckle, “not yet.”

The pair go off to get the cafe ready for opening, and you're still in Sam’s arms.

“I ever tell you about my own Sam back home?” You’re not sure why you’ve spoken up.

Sam raises a brow. “Don’t think so. You trying to share with the class now?”

Inside the dimly lit workshop at the Tower, you tinker away at Redwing as Sam stands over your shoulder.

“You’re hurting him.”

“He is fine, you big baby. I know what I’m doing.”

It amuses you how much Sam sees Redwing as a living thing. You’re told not to encourage it, but what’s the harm?

“The chip is just a little fried,” you say, angling so that Sam can see. “It’s an easy fix.”

Sam lays a hand on his chest, sighing in relief. “Thought we were gonna have to put him down.” You snort at his dramatics.

The workshop falls into silence as you tinker away. “What made you come up with Redwing?” you say, never one for quiet.

Sam’s face lights up. “I needed something that could give me an edge in the field without being too bulky. A mix of coolness and necessity, you know?” He pokes Redwings’ ‘nose’. “Plus, there’s that winning personality.”

“Personality, huh?” You think of Karen.

“Yeah, Redwings not a tool, he’s a partner.” There’s fondness in Sam’s voice. “He scouts, gathers intel, and watches my back.”

You hum in thought, realizing how similar Redwing and Karen are. “Sounds like the two of you are really close.”

“I like to think so.” The workshop is filled with chatter as the two of you work away the hours.

“Maybe another time,” you mutter, face squished into Sam’s chest. Sam drops the subject.

It’s another slow day at the cafe. You get that inkling that someone is watching you, but you see nobody. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian is spying on you from the next building over. At least the cafe plays good music over the speakers. You hum the lyrics as you clean the countertops.

The door chimes as someone walks in “Welcome to Carrie’s, how can I help you?”

“Hey, you.”

You look up, meeting the very blue eyes of one Jonathan Kent. You can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. “Hey, you!” you echo, smiling.

Jon brightens up at your smile. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you hum. “I’m really good.” You are. Once night time hits, you’ll go to the Den and finally start on your plans to recreate Tony’s badassium.

“In fact, I feel so good that I’m gonna ask you this; wanna go hang out at my place after I get off?” One might say you’re indulging yourself. You say you’re trying to seems as un-suspicious to Jon as possible. When Damian finds out you have ties to him, he’ll ask Jon everything he knows about you, and possibly even ask him to survey you. Hopefully your front as a regular ole highschooler keeps him from figuring you out.

Jon blinks in surprise, stuttering, “w-well, sure. Yeah. Totally, why not? Just…” he pauses, “...I still don’t know your name.”

You smile. “Shoot, yeah. Sorry about that.” You straighten your posture, sticking out a hand. “I’m [Name]. [Name] Stark.”

You see the little twitch of his brow. Ah, so Damian has already told him about you.

“Nice to meet you, [Name]. I’m Jonathan Kent. Keep calling me Jon, though,” Jon says, shaking your hand.

You pull away. “So, a small vanilla latte for you, not-stranger?”

“You remember,” he chuckles. You nod. You feel his eyes on you as you make his drink.

“So,” you say as you hand him the cup. “I get off at five, see you then?” you feign shyness.

He nods rapidly. “See you at five.”

You count down the minutes until you get off from work. You swear you see some blue blurs rush by in the sky and wonder if it’s Superboy. Wonder if this Batman is more lenient to others operating in Gotham.

The sun has only just begun its descent into the Earth when you step outside. Your bag is thrown over your shoulder. You look around, Jon isn’t there. You doubt he’s the type to bail, so you lean against the front of the building. You busy yourself with some more Crossy Road to pass the time. Five minutes pass, when you sigh. Maybe you were too hasty.

“[Name]!”

You turn, seeing Jon running to you. His appearance is ruffled, his shirt is inside out and his hair is all over the place. He was definitely Superboying around.

“Did you run all the way here?” you offer as an explanation for his appearance.

He claims it. “Yeah, sorry. I got caught up in some stuff.”

You can’t help yourself, and reach up to tame some of his hair. “Looks like you ran through a high powered fan, or something.”

He mindlessly tilts his head to let you do as you please, looking at you. You don’t dare meet his gaze. “Ok,” you say when you’re satisfied with his hair. “Let’s go.”

He offers his arm and you take it. “I wouldn’t think a Gothamite would tell me where they live on our second meeting,” he says.

“They probably wouldn’t,” you hum. “I’m not originally from Gotham, though.”

He blinks. “You’re not? I thought you were.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” It means you’ve done a good job at fitting it. “But no, I’m actually from Queens. New York.”

He hums. “I thought the accent was a little different.”

May greets you as you walk in, widening her eyes when she sees Jon. You ignore her wiggling brows as the two of you make your way up. Entering your apartment, nothing looks out of place, but your trained eye can see the way your papers have shifted from their original position. So Selina Kyle did end up snooping while you were gone.

“This is me,” you say, arms gesturing to the apartment. Nari rounds the corner, meowing for your attention. “And this,” you lift Nari into your arms, “is Nari.”

Jon pets Nari between his ears. “Hi, Nari.”

You put Nari in his arms, ignoring his small protests. Nari looks very content in Jon’s big arms. You snap a picture for yourself.

“My friend is actually a big fan of animals,” hums Jon, looking down at Nari.

“Yeah?” He’s talking about Damian. “The one that goes to GA?”

He nods. “His name is Damian. Damian Wayne. Have you met him?” His eyes bear into yours, switching into that hero interrogation mode. You wonder just how much Damian has told him.

“Yeah, I got a couple of classes with him.” You sit down on your couch, leaning back. “He’s got a real unique persona.” Jon chuckles in agreement, sitting down next to you. “How’d you become friends with a guy like that?”

“Our dads know each other.” Right.

“Well, he’s pretty cute. That’s all I got to say about him,” you say, looking over and snorting at Jon’s expression. His eyes are widened, no doubt wondering if he should leave out the fact that you just said that when he relays the info to Damian later.

“Well, I got some popcorn and some movies on my laptop. You down?” Jon nods.

You spend a couple hours sitting and chatting as you watch a couple of horror movies. Jon acted brave, but you could tell he was just a tiny bit freaked out.

Now, you swing to your new hideout, now equipped with cute fairy lights and cobweb hammocks. It wasn’t hard to get power working in the place, just tedious. Seriously, the amount of rubble you had to clear was atrocious.

You pull up the blueprints on a digital interface via your suit. “Alright, Karen. Let’s get to work."

When Miguel got an alert that you had been requesting assistance, he straightened up immediately. He had been running regular people errands, so he had to quickly stop by the HQ to suit up and get ready. From there he found out you had also contacted Peni, he started rushing. The other Spiderlings had caught wind of this, and demanded to tag along. Miguel and the kids entered a portal to your universe, and were immediately met with the large, inactive particle accelerator.

He hears Miles take a deep breath. It’s just like the one from his universe. You’re nowhere to be seen.

Lyla pops up next to him. “There’s been recent activity here. It was activated two times.”

“Two?” Miguel mutters.

He doesn’t get to dwell on it much, when some of the goddamn Avengers come barreling in. Iron Man, The Hulk (it’s just Bruce Banner right now, though) and Black Widow stand at the ready, looking at Miguel and the gang in apprehension.

“Oh, you’re my kids' little spider friends, right?” Tony’s voice is dry, feigning friendliness as if he isn’t pointing at them, ready to blast.

“We got an alert signal from [Name]’s suit,” Bruce explains, ignoring Tony’s betrayed stare.

“So did we,” says Hobie, analyzing the three.

Lyla tuts. “I’m not picking up their watch's signal.”

“[Name]’s tracker went offline, too.”

Miguel’s eyes scan his surroundings, settling on a pile of broken pieces on the floor. Broken watch pieces. He hears Pav and Gwen gasp as he kneels by it. “It’s their watch,” he explains to the Avengers, “the thing that allows them to multiversal travel.”

“Why is it broken.” Black Widow doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“Because someone must have broken it,” concludes Miguel. He straightens. “The watches are strong, it wasn’t an accident. Someone was here, with [Name].”

“Well now there’s nobody here, and [Name] is off the radar so where are they? ” growls Tony.

“The only plausible answer is that they’re in another universe.” Miguel looks at the particle accelerator. “Without a watch.”

The kids look sick to their stomachs. “Can’t we trace the signal from the accelerator?” questions Peni.

“Normally, I could,” chimes Lyla. “But… I can’t.”

“ Why not?” Miles questions.

“Okay, so you know that there are literally infinite universes out there. If each universe is a satellite and the watches, or the accelerator in this case, is a signal, then there’s only a certain ‘distance’ I can trace [Name]’s whereabouts.”

Gwen thinks she’s getting a headache. “So, what? She’s in a universe that’s ‘too far away’?”

Lyla nods. “In that sense, yes.”

“This is pointless,” huffs Tony, walking up to Miguel. “We are wasting time talking about technicalities, we should be looking for my kid.”

“Is there anyone you know who could’ve built this?” Miguel asks Tony.

“Nobody smart enough has it out that bad for [Name]. Unless it was another me or another [Name] there’s no one capable of doing this without someone noticing,” Tony pauses, looking at the spider variants before him.

Tony’s voice drops into a whisper, “could someone from another universe have done this?”

“If someone from another universe ended up in this one, why throw [Name] into a random one?” Bruce stresses. “They wouldn’t have any strife with Spinnerette.”

“Unless it’s a spidey villain.”

“What spidey villain is smart enough to do this? Doc Ock?”

“Maybe–”

Miguel interrupts, “it was activated twice, so one time was for [Name] entering it, and the other was for whoever broke their watch. They built this–” Miguel gestures to the giant machine, “–so they were obviously here for a while.”

“Only a fool would attempt a multiversal jump without certainty that they could get back home, so that means–”

“–they accidentally got stuck here,” finishes Tony, looking graver by the minute. 

“For who knows how long,” hums Hobie, now in thought.

“Trying to get back home, they build a particle accelerator–”

“–clearly their work is cut out for them, otherwise they would have come up with a much smaller design–”

“–they meet [Name], who would see this and automatically assume they’re a threat.”

“[Name] would try to shut it down, and our mystery guy gets desperate, because [Name]’s the one thing standing between them and their way back home.”

“The particle accelerator is already activated. They see the watch, recognize it as a multiversal travel tool and smash it–”

“–so that [Name] can’t find them–”

“–because they throw [Name] into another universe.”

“They go back home to their universe scott-free.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure how Black Widow’s unhappy with the development.

“In other news, I’ve got the trace of the other person who used the accelerator!” Lyla sings.

Miguel’s face scrunches. “If we don’t know which universe [Name] is in, I really doubt they do.”

“I’d still like a word with them,” Black Widow crosses her arms.

“Maybe later, right now–” Miguel turns to the Spiderlings. “–we should head back to HQ. We’ll send out an alert, every spider will look for [Name] when they can. We’ll search every universe if we have to.”

“Great, what do we do?” Tony asks, gesturing to his comrades.

“Miguel turns back to them. “You said [Name]’s got a tracker in the suit, right?” Tony nods. “We’ll need something that can latch onto its signal as soon as a Spider enters an Earth, no matter how far away they are. Can you build something like that? You can use tech from other universes if you need to.”

Tony nods, resolute. “You better get my kid back.”

Miguel nods. “We will.” A portal opens, swallowing Miguel and the Spiderlings.

“FRI, get the workshop ready and notify the others of the situation,” says Tony, turning around and making his way out of the warehouse. Nat and Bruce follow. “I want Strange and Wanda on this immediately.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tony mutters under his breath, “I’ll get my damn kid back, alright.”

notes: if you're female-identifying ur def vicky's gay awakening LOL

i'm not entirely sure is "badassium" is the canon name for tony's new element, i actually think i saw somewhere that it was the name fans gave it. either way "badassium" is what we rockin' with.

i hope my explanation as to why reader hasn't been found isn't too confusing. i didn't plan on having it kind of explained so soon but a group up spideys (who are all basically genius cuz they're SPIDERMAN) are bound to figure it out. also like that whole 'the spiders and the avenger' meeting scene was supposed to be in the last chapter but i forgot to add it LOL

also chatgpt came up with webbers acronym guys i am NOT smart enough for that.

damian: good job getting into their base of operations (apartment) now we can gather more info on them

jon, who just wanted to spend time w/ reader: oh yeah lol light work

[simp2537]

Project SS

a/n: I kinda forgot about out this for a little bit. 😮 my bad chat. But here yall go. Also ignore that Bucky is a man in the gif below. It’s just for aesthetics. Hope yall enjoy this.

Word Count: 1.3k

Series Trigger Warnings: Mentioned S/A on another character, depression, self-harm, anxiety, experimentation on children, abusing relationships, murder, blood, gore, unwilling amputations?

Chapter Two

It was strange, the grass, fresh air, the way my rest felt against the floor. The mask that would normally cover my face rested in the ground next to me. Along with the red lens goggles that would normally cover me.

I see clearly for the first time in my life. No bloody tint to the world. A perfectly clear and blue sky. Quiet steps made their way to me and without hesitation I pull my mask on. 

As the trees moved Clarke popped out. A serious look on her face and she motioned for me to follow. Like the fucking dog I am, I follow. I walk behind her silently as we move back to our broken drop ship. I watch her draw on whatever map she found 

I survey the area around us as I click goggle lens. They shift to a black shade, allowing me to see some color. The others around us run rampant. Wells comes over to talk to Clarke, I all but ignore him. 

“We got problems. The communications system is dead’. I went to the roof, a dozen panels are missing. Heat fried wires.” He informs.  I watch as Clarke sighs softly. 

“Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather.” She directs him to her map. As another kid walks behind them making a joke Wells pushes him back. I roll my eyes at Wells. Honestly I don’t understand his issue.

As a bigger group of boys comes to his aid Wells backs up. Trying to explain himself I roll my eyes.  Nice going Wells. Clarke looks up at me from where I sit in the broken down door. My sigh is exuded a bit loudly from my mask. 

“We’re on the ground. That not good enough for you?” The boy from before asks. He stands with Octavia and his eyes drift to me. I slowly drop down from where I sat and end up next to Clarke. 

“We need to find Mount Weather.” Wells says as he walks towards Bellamy. I groan and follow after Clarke who moves after Wells. For a girl who hated his guts, she sure does follow after him.

“You heard my father’s message. That has to be our priority.” Wells continues. I scoff softly at his words as I cross my arms. The fucking Chancellor might as well of been dead now. 

“Screw your father. What, you think you’re in charge here, You, your little princess and your guard dog?” I laugh quietly. There eyes turn to me. 

“Quite the mouth on you sunshine, remember who opened the door for you.” I answer with a smirk none of them could see.  I could all but feel Clarke’s scolding glare. 

“Do you think we care who’s in charge?” She paused. “We need to get to Mount Weather. Not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we’ll get and the harder this’ll be.”

I roll my shoulder, feeling the metals vibrate against one another. I stand behind her as she continues to speak.

“How long do you think we’ll last without those supplies? We’re looking at a twenty mile trek, okay. So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now.” 

“I got a better idea. You two go, find it for us. Let the privilege do the hard work for a change.” Bellamy voiced. Two? If I could still count right there were at least three of us on this Mount Weather side. 

All the others around quickly agreed and I honestly don’t blame them. Made perfect sense why they would think I that. But then again we were all in the ground now.

“You’re not listening. We all need to go.” Well’s attempted to explain. The moment I blinked the boy behind me pushed Wells. 

“Look at this, everybody the Chancellor of earth.” Everyone laughs to most of Wells announce. They grab onto Clarke and I quickly push them off her. I walk over to the pair about to brawl and grab onto the back of the angered boys shirt. 

Just as I grab him Finn jumps down from the pod’s roof. I watched him go between the two boys. 

“Kid’s got one leg. How about you wait until it’s a fair fight?” Finn asks with a charming smile. I let go of my grip on the angered boys shirt. He jolts against the ground. 

“Hey, spacewalker.” I turn to Octavia as she walks over to us. “Rescue me next.” She asks. A murmur of giggles and laughs echos the angered boy takes his friends away. Now that I get a good look at his face I know him.

John Murphy was his name. Clarke, Finn and I all end up at Wells side. I watch out of the corner of my eyes as Bellamy approaches his little sister. I watch him pull her away as I help Wells stands properly. 

…………………………..

I lean against a tree as Finn approaches us. Clarke is on the ground with Wells, attempting to fix his leg. 

“So Mount Weather. When do we leave?” He asks. His eyes drift over to me for a moment then go back to Clarke. 

“Right now. We’ll be back tomorrow with food.” Clarke turns and tells Wells. Wells’s eyes are sharp, angry even. 

“How are you two gonna carry enough food for a hundred.” I clear my throat and push of the tree.

“I could carry enough food for a hundred of us alone.” Finn nods his head and gives me a smirk. He turns around pulling two boys. The pair are the boys from before.

“Five of us. Can we go now?” Finn asks. 

“Sounds like a party. Make it six.” Octavia comes behind us. As Bellamy goes to interfere I walk into the drop ship. I comb my hands up the walls. Looking for any grove or dip that feels right. 

“What are you doing?” To my surprise it’s Bellamy’s voice I hear first. I find a grove with the litters W.S. engraved into it. Pushing in the grove a door opens and there it is. Black and just for me is my operations suit. I pull it out and drop it on a chair.

Before anyone can question me again I begin to pull off my clothes. I can hear a collective gasp when I pull my jacket. The jagged and ugly scaring on my arm on full display. I went to take off my shirt when I heard her.

“Turn around!” I heard the shuffling of feet and I pull my boots and pants off. I dressed quickly in the armored suit they left me. Once completely dressed in my operation uniform I push myself up the wall. I find a handle and begins to pull myself up.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hear Finn yell from bellow me. I look down for a moment as I drop down a large box. The whole groups is here. I jump down landing with a thud. I quickly open the box and assemble ass the weapons left to me.

I’m not surprised this place is load up for me. I ignore the screen with the Chancellor playing as I work. Finished putting away my weapon and clinking the finally lock on my assault gun I strap it to my back.

“What are we standing here for? Are we not going to go?” I ask. After a few quickly seconds Octavia leaves first. The rest of the ground soon follows after. 

I catch Bellamy’s eyes as I move past him. His arm shoot’s up and grab my forearm. I pause, slowly turning my head to his.

“Who the hell are you.” He doesn’t seem angry. More confused if anything.

“A nightmare.” I with I pull away and walk after the group.

[eliotlime]

November update post thing

Drawing of me watching short-form video content without sound vs one where I am lol

If you use short-form video platforms of any kind and would like to help me with my survey you can do so here! Though I'll probably be closing it sometime next week (2nd November 2024 ish) to collate the data for submission.

I've got a metric tonne of deadlines due next week but you know what it's blog update time!!

This is also not going to be scheduled to post because I usually write these on the 29th but I forgot! So it's getting posted now!!

💀 School..

Yeap as I've said I'm in school so that's still in progress, I have completely no idea what I'm doing everyday and as it turns out no time to worry about it either I got deadlines baby!!!

I mean in theory I understand but it's all a big question mark to me, like i need to be reassured like a nervous dog that I'm doing the right thing and what not

And because of that I'm real sorry about pushing the Abacelsus zine to the back burner, I actually got quite a lot of it done before I had to lock in for school of course.

And though I said I had a lot of sketches I didn't post well they were shittier than I liked them to be so I wanted to make it look nicer. Oh well dems the breaks.

Another screenie of my school work, they didn't really go into depth about how to specifically design stuff so it's basically me frankenstien-ing stuff I've seen existing and just trying my best lol

I mean.. overall it's funnnn... i guess... I do like projects but everyone in my class are adults with established jobs or goals. Even those who are around my age seem to know what they're aiming for too, feels like I'm an unemployed little sucker fumbling in the dark. Can be humiliating I won't lie, why is learning something new so embarrassing?

Aside from that I'm seeing people be so social online while studying too and it's almost mesmerizing, it's definitely survivor bias but those that can balance it are fascinating to me.

📖Anthology Update

Agh enough of that debbie downer bullshit, I'll tell you what I've also got due next week! That's right!! The drafts for my anthology!

Screenie of one of the panels I posted onto my ko-fi discord!

I'm not even half way done and it's due on the 6th of December. I'm beyond FUCKED. Anyway I can get it done by then but the school shit is sucking the life out of me through my ears.

☕ Ko-Fi Page

Deadlines aside I've also randomly launched my Ko-fi Membership page! I haven't quite had the time to properly promote it but it's there and I've been updating it every so often

I've got stuff up there already and comics of things that aren't polished (or sfw) enough for me to post. Especially if you're interested in my characters and would like to support me, here's a good hub to check all of it out!

The Ko-fi Discord updates the most frequently, basically every time I draw anything (Which is quite often!). The actual ko-fi gallery is only being updated every week to prevent spam.

Shout out to my one ko-fi member, wormfriend. Right now it's quite funny to have just the one but I definitely would like more so plz join!!! I promise I draw a lot!!!

🌯 Wrapping it up...

That's all I've got for you this month, real grind-y and uneventful but hey some moths are like that. I talked about opening my commissions again in December and I intend to keep that promise but as of yet the first week is not looking too hot haha. I'll consider it on the 7th but whuff it's real packed right now!

I don't have really anything else to say or add that isn't either

a) incredibly negative and self deprecating

or

b) cussing the shit out of disrespectful transphobic anonymous asks I've been getting

so I'm just going to end this hastily written blog update here and get back to work!

I leave you with this cool down drawing of a honda civic and my attempts at a motorcycle that can also hover in the air.

As always thank you so much for reading and I've been so busy I haven't even had time to work on my annual redraw that's been sitting in my folders gah! If you’d like to support me, here’s my ko-fi page again and my itchi.io & gumroad as well.

If you have any questions or just generally want to talk to me, my DMs and askbox is always open! Any professional enquires can be sent towards my email as well: eliotlime@gmail.com

XOXO, Stay weird!

-Eliot :)

[madou-dilou]

lord Viren as a Survey Corps commander because "offer our hearts for humanity" is just SO him, Soren, Rayla and Amaya coded. He keeps having this beef with commander Amaya since Sarai died retrieving his reckless ass and was devoured by a titan instead of him.

More than that, I've often been saying Viren feels like an AoT character unknowingly trapped in a Disney movie. He wishes he was Erwin. Heck, he is Erwin (without the charisma). He's a tragic utilitarian war strategist, shaped by moral erosion, politics, overthrowing governments, dilemmas, trauma, systemic collapse, and looming apocalyptic doom, while TDP is structured around didactic binaries and idealism somehow promoted by the one true king of divine right who is just oh-so-perfect and can speak to animals for some reason.

Viren's black clothing, baryton voice, magic mirror, dark magic, and role as the king's advisor cast him as Scar or Jafar, queer-coded, full of hubris, sadistic, sociopathic, and doomed by the narrative because he's a power-hungry monster. But in AOT, his pragmatism, though partly prompted by slightly selfish motives (as Erwin) would actually be part of the debate : he no longer believes in “good,” only in sacrifice, survival and necessity. He's lost his wife, his family, his legitimacy, and perhaps his soul — but he keeps fighting, no matter how many more people and parts of him he has to lose, because not going on would mean everything was meaningless. Broken, pragmatic, clinging to action as the last bulwark against despair, haunted by guilt and by everything he lost and forsake.

His actions make sense within his paradigm — it’s just that the narrative judges them by another paradigm.

For example : the scene where Viren gloats while imprisoning Ezran. Imprisoning him makes perfect sense politically. But gloating about it ? Trade with the devil or not, it makes no sense for Viren to gloat at the boy whose mom died saving him, whose dad he tried to sacrifice himself for two weeks ago, who spared his own kids from life imprisonment, and whom he watched growing up since birth. That's what Scar would do. Not someone as complicated as Viren had been established as.

And I'm sorry, but giving all the executive power to a child of eight, going so far as not reading any letters as long as he's still missing, all that while there is a goddamn dragon and human invasion happening, is just recipie for disaster. Imagine Erwin having to wait for the seal of approval of a missing Reiss child to defend the walls or evacuate citizens.

Anyway Viren as survey corps commander "offer your hearts" and that tridimensional gear is an absolute nightmare to draw I probably forgot a lot of elements but you get the idea

[lesmisletters-daily]

Madame Victurnien Expends Thirty Francs On Morality

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.5.8

When Fantine saw that she was making her living, she felt joyful for a moment. To live honestly by her own labor, what mercy from heaven! The taste for work had really returned to her. She bought a looking-glass, took pleasure in surveying in it her youth, her beautiful hair, her fine teeth; she forgot many things; she thought only of Cosette and of the possible future, and was almost happy. She hired a little room and furnished on credit on the strength of her future work—a lingering trace of her improvident ways. As she was not able to say that she was married she took good care, as we have seen, not to mention her little girl.

At first, as the reader has seen, she paid the Thénardiers promptly. As she only knew how to sign her name, she was obliged to write through a public letter-writer.

She wrote often, and this was noticed. It began to be said in an undertone, in the women’s workroom, that Fantine “wrote letters” and that “she had ways about her.”

There is no one for spying on people’s actions like those who are not concerned in them. Why does that gentleman never come except at nightfall? Why does Mr. So-and-So never hang his key on its nail on Tuesday? Why does he always take the narrow streets? Why does Madame always descend from her hackney-coach before reaching her house? Why does she send out to purchase six sheets of note paper, when she has a “whole stationer’s shop full of it?” etc. There exist beings who, for the sake of obtaining the key to these enigmas, which are, moreover, of no consequence whatever to them, spend more money, waste more time, take more trouble, than would be required for ten good actions, and that gratuitously, for their own pleasure, without receiving any other payment for their curiosity than curiosity. They will follow up such and such a man or woman for whole days; they will do sentry duty for hours at a time on the corners of the streets, under alley-way doors at night, in cold and rain; they will bribe errand-porters, they will make the drivers of hackney-coaches and lackeys tipsy, buy a waiting-maid, suborn a porter. Why? For no reason. A pure passion for seeing, knowing, and penetrating into things. A pure itch for talking. And often these secrets once known, these mysteries made public, these enigmas illuminated by the light of day, bring on catastrophies, duels, failures, the ruin of families, and broken lives, to the great joy of those who have “found out everything,” without any interest in the matter, and by pure instinct. A sad thing.

Certain persons are malicious solely through a necessity for talking. Their conversation, the chat of the drawing-room, gossip of the anteroom, is like those chimneys which consume wood rapidly; they need a great amount of combustibles; and their combustibles are furnished by their neighbors.

So Fantine was watched.

In addition, many a one was jealous of her golden hair and of her white teeth.

It was remarked that in the workroom she often turned aside, in the midst of the rest, to wipe away a tear. These were the moments when she was thinking of her child; perhaps, also, of the man whom she had loved.

Breaking the gloomy bonds of the past is a mournful task.

It was observed that she wrote twice a month at least, and that she paid the carriage on the letter. They managed to obtain the address: <i>Monsieur, Monsieur Thénardier, inn-keeper at Montfermeil</i>. The public writer, a good old man who could not fill his stomach with red wine without emptying his pocket of secrets, was made to talk in the wine-shop. In short, it was discovered that Fantine had a child. “She must be a pretty sort of a woman.” An old gossip was found, who made the trip to Montfermeil, talked to the Thénardiers, and said on her return: “For my five and thirty francs I have freed my mind. I have seen the child.”

The gossip who did this thing was a gorgon named Madame Victurnien, the guardian and door-keeper of every one’s virtue. Madame Victurnien was fifty-six, and re-enforced the mask of ugliness with the mask of age. A quavering voice, a whimsical mind. This old dame had once been young—astonishing fact! In her youth, in ’93, she had married a monk who had fled from his cloister in a red cap, and passed from the Bernardines to the Jacobins. She was dry, rough, peevish, sharp, captious, almost venomous; all this in memory of her monk, whose widow she was, and who had ruled over her masterfully and bent her to his will. She was a nettle in which the rustle of the cassock was visible. At the Restoration she had turned bigot, and that with so much energy that the priests had forgiven her her monk. She had a small property, which she bequeathed with much ostentation to a religious community. She was in high favor at the episcopal palace of Arras. So this Madame Victurnien went to Montfermeil, and returned with the remark, “I have seen the child.”

All this took time. Fantine had been at the factory for more than a year, when, one morning, the superintendent of the workroom handed her fifty francs from the mayor, told her that she was no longer employed in the shop, and requested her, in the mayor’s name, to leave the neighborhood.

This was the very month when the Thénardiers, after having demanded twelve francs instead of six, had just exacted fifteen francs instead of twelve.

Fantine was overwhelmed. She could not leave the neighborhood; she was in debt for her rent and furniture. Fifty francs was not sufficient to cancel this debt. She stammered a few supplicating words. The superintendent ordered her to leave the shop on the instant. Besides, Fantine was only a moderately good workwoman. Overcome with shame, even more than with despair, she quitted the shop, and returned to her room. So her fault was now known to every one.

She no longer felt strong enough to say a word. She was advised to see the mayor; she did not dare. The mayor had given her fifty francs because he was good, and had dismissed her because he was just. She bowed before the decision.

[kibblemaniac]

april thoughts

just a general "how ive been doing" mostly with my art sense my art is my life

.. i say art is my life, but i havent drawn at all in the past few days lolol. i havent been doing too great this year.

well, im a bit unhappy with the lack of responses the follower survey got, but i guess it makes sense. i promised it would be out in december and i didnt finish it until this month. people probably forgot about it like i did. idk how to lock the survey so if you read this and go look for the link you can still do it, but i probably wont be checking it often. i did get some good info like where most of my followers come from, how i should price my comms, etc etc. if i remember to ill make another one next year with more questions. a lot of people who took the survey said they wanted a discord server. id like to connect with you all but to be honest im a bit hesitant to make something like that because im not very active on discord and am very lazy.

i guess the reason why i havent drawn a lot this year, specifically illustrations, is cuz im lacking a lot of inspo. i just havent been too happy with my art and not really sure why. i figured if i had more inspo id be drawing more, but ive always had trouble paying attention to stuff like movies or shows or stuff like that. and i specify taking inspo from media like that bc i dont want to take too much inspo from other online artists. i think if you take too much inspo from your peers you end up just creating the same stuff over n over, you need a wide range of inspo to create something new. though, that lack of inspiration definitely isnt helped by my pinterest account getting deactivated for no reason! social media addiction is real, ive been having serious pinterest withdrawals lolol. but yeah i have a long list of things i want to read and stuff i want to watch that i havent even scrapped the surface of. will be a long long time b4 i finish that list, and by the time im done ill probably have another list of stuff ready to go.

on the topic of media, the last films i watched were colin armistead's "angelic kitty miracle-chan" and "enternet". armistead's filmwork reminds me of the phrase "art disturbs the comforted and comforts the disturbed". ive seen a lot of backlash for both his kitty film, as well as his previous film "bonehead". i do not agree with people who think mircale-chan is supposed to be "transphobic" or "mean spirited". i found myself in the main character of alex, as someone who enjoys anime and self isolates and is trans, and by the comments on the youtube upload a lot of other people did too. my only critique is that it just didnt live up to my expectations, that just not a lot happened in it. but its a 7 minute student film, so its a bit limited in what it can do anyways. i think if it had a longer run time and went more into depth about alex's life, it would have been much more compelling.

back to art, ive been thinking about it and i think i know why i wasnt able to finish raw!fruit or butterfly in flower garden. i have this tendency to overestimate what i can do, come up with a lot of cool ideas, but am not really great at executing those ideas. i take a while to draw, even doodles can take me like, at least a day or two, so when it comes to larger projects a lot of the time it takes so long i end up noticing flaws in my own work and those flaws make me feel too depressed to finish the damn thing. i think for my first venture into comic work, i should downsize into a oneshot. maybe even practice drawing single page comics before i work on something that requires multiple pages. and it should also be something pretty simple in concept. bifg was supposed to be simple, but i kept thinking of ideas and writing and stuff like that, that it became its own beast. hopefully one day.

on a more personal note, im a bit worried about my future. i made it a new years resolution to get a job this year, and i still havent gotten one 4 months in. i sorta lost interest.. ill try to get one for the summer cuz thats coming up soon, though to be honest idk if ill be able to survive it. i struggle a lot with loud/painful noises, bright lights, social interaction, etc etc... but ill try my best. i might try to do comms if i just cant do it. im graduating high school and turning 18 this year, 2 events im not really looking forward to. part of my brain stills think im a middle schooler, so being reminded that im not is like, idk shocking??? just dont really have much of a plan, not much hope, but ill live anyways.

uhh other stuff thats too small to have their own paragraphs uhhh. i started a new flightrising account, its toasterhair if you want to send a friend request. uhh ive been trying to exercise more, nothing too big just a little bit of cardio to keep my heart beating. i was somewhat more sociable at my last cooking class than i usually am, so yay me thats one of my goals to be more social. and uhh my grandma is gonna teach me how to sew soon hopefully and were gonna fix up this one sweater of mine that has a bunch of holes. thats really all i can think of, hope youre all doing well !

[suckitsurveys]

End of Year Survey

First things first, did you have a good year? It was the worst it’s been mentally but I did a lot of really really fun things this year.

How old did you turn this year? 35.

Do you feel your age? Not at all. It’s been kind of the main source of my extremely horrible mental health this year.

Did your appearance change in anyway? My hair changed a couple times and I got a new tattoo which I am now realizing I forgot in my count of them for a survey yesterday oops lol.

Post your favorite selfie. Nah.

If you traveled, where did you go? I went to Boston, NYC for the first time, New Orleans for the first time, Wisconsin Dells and Salt Lake City.

Which fashion trends did you love? I’m digging how much of the 90s style is coming back.

Which fashion trends did you hate? Crocs. I will always and forever hate Crocs.

What was your favorite article of clothing this year? Post a pic if possible? The SNL concert tee from the show I got into dress rehearsal for (the season 49 finale with Jake Gyllenhaal and Sabrina Carpenter).

What song sums up this year for you? Probably Birds Of A Feather by Billie Eilish.

What album came out and has been on heavy rotation since then? Only God Was Above Us - Vampire Weekend, Hit Me Hard And Soft - Billie Eilish, Short n Sweet - Sabrina Carpenter, with a little Tortured Poets Department - Taylor Swift thrown in there too.

What was your favorite movie of the year? Saturday Night probably.

Did an actor/actress catch your attention for the first time this year? Gabriel LaBelle and Emil Wakim.

Favorite new TV show? I am drawing a complete blank right now; I don’t think I watched any new TV shows except like Pop Culture Jeopardy hahaha. There are SO many shows I need to watch and it’s honestly so overwhelming.

Which new ship/fandom has taken over a lot of your time, attention, and tears? Not new, but 2024 strengthened my love/hate relationship with SNL haha.

What food did you try for the first time? Actual ramen, like from a restaurant with all the toppings and what not. I loved it.

Did you make any big permanent changes this year? I got a new position at work.

What was one nice thing you did for someone else? I do lots of little good deeds for people all the time like buy them dinner or coffee or pick something up for them.

What was one nice thing you did for yourself? I tried not to be so hard on myself and allowed myself to say no more often. Also buying the plane and concert tickets I did this year and letting myself have FUN.

Did you develop a new obsession? Making iced coffee every morning at work lol.

Did you vote? Yeah.

Did you move? No.

Did you get a job? I got a new position.

Did you get a pet? No.

Do you regret not doing anything? It’s so silly but I really regret not buying tickets to the Saturday show Vampire Weekend did instead of the Friday show. They played two of my favorite songs at that show AND it was Maya Rudolph’s birthday (her band opened for them) and at the end of the show they played the SNL goodnights music and then sang her happy birthday and I am still bitter I missed that live.

Do you regret doing something? Eh.

Have you done anything that scared you? Just not being in my head about stuff really.

Did anyone/thing make you so mad it stayed with you for days? Yup.

Did you lose anyone close to you? I didn’t.

Did you fall in love? I’ve been in love.

Did you fall out of love? No.

Did you start a new relationship? No.

Did you go through a break up? Nope.

Did you have to cut ties to someone? I ended up cutting ties with a friend I’ve known since I was a teenager. We’ve always had a weird friendship; I tried to be patient and kind to her but she would consistently push my boundaries. Our conversations were always only centered around whomever she was dating at the time. She was extremely childish and I know that’s not saying much because I definitely can be too but it was just over the top. I saw her last almost exactly a year ago and then we just stopped texting each other and one day when I was in NYC she blew my phone up with texts and I just never answered because I was literally running around the city and we just haven’t spoken since and she deleted me off all social media oh well.

Who was important to you this year but wasn’t important last year? I don’t want to say she wasn’t important the year before, but I’ve grown much closer to a twitter friend and she’s become a bigger part of my life this past year.

Who wasn’t as important to you this year as they were last year? That friend I mentioned cutting ties with.

If you could have a do over on one thing you did, would you take it? I would have picked the Saturday Vampire Weekend show lol.

What was the best moment of the year for you? Seeing SNL in person, hands down. Plus all the concerts I got to go to with the people I got to go to them with.

What was the worst? My overall mental health and the overwhelming bouts of feeling like I’m too old to be interested in the things i’m interested in and feeling pathetic about it.

Did anything happen that you were sure would change you as a person but it really didn’t? I can’t think of anything really.

Did anything happen to you that you were sure wouldn’t change you as a person but it did? I think just the traveling I did. I wouldn’t say it completely changed me, but it did make me realize that I am allowed to have fun and do things for me and just enjoy my life.

What are you most proud of accomplishing? My new job title and winning an award for it.

What have you learned about yourself this year that you didn’t know in the years prior? I’m allowed to be happy no matter what. I still have days where I can’t wrap my head around it but I am trying.

Did your opinion of anyone change for the better? Not really.

Did your opinion of anyone change for worse? Uh huh.

If you make resolutions, did you complete them this year? I didn’t make any for 2024.

If you make resolutions, what will your resolutions be for the coming year? This year I want to focus on focusing. I say this I am doing surveys when I should be working lol. But I want to try to stay off social media during the work days and only check it on my lunch breaks (this doesn’t count because I’m not on my phone ahahaha).

If you could go on an adventure during the remaining days of the year, where would you go and what would you do? Who would you go this? Too late! But I did have a nice little weekend adventure right before the new year where I went and saw two comedians back to back and I got to talk to one of them for like 10 minutes after the show.

What do you wish for others for the coming year? Happiness, whatever that looks like.

What do you wish for yourself? Happiness, whatever that looks like.

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #233

When was the last time you did clay work/pottery? Not since high school.

Do you like art, hate it or just not mind it? I love art.

If you had to choose would you prefer dull pain for 12 hours or sharp for 2? Dull, I think. This does kinda depend on where the pain is, though.

Do you know the words to the national anthem of your country? It's kinda nailed into you when you had to recite it every day in school, so...

Would you rather be a model, famous scientist, singer, or chef? The scientist.

Would you rather be a pilot, crime scene investigator, or estate agent? ugh

Does making others happy really make you feel happy? Yes.

Have you ever pricked your finger on holly or another "sharp" plant? Probably at some point.

What do you have a lot of faith in [note: can be anything]? What love is capable of.

Do you subconsciously hang out with those with the same star sign as you or as each other, perhaps due to certain personality traits? I don't believe in this shit.

Name five objects that you don’t have but would like right now? A desktop computer, a new camera with more megapixels, a final PVC cage build for Venus that is the appropriate adult length (4x2x2), a backlog of books in my possession so I wouldn't have to keep going to the library when I finish one in the series I'm reading, and working PS4 controllers so I can actually play the console that's in my house lol.

When you have children, would you like twins? I'm not having kids, but even in the situation where I'd want kids, I would very likely abort one. I cannot imagine a world for me where I can handle two kids of the same age at once.

If you were given the choice to choose your child’s gender, would you? Yes, again if I wanted kids, I'd very much favor a girl over a boy. Literally for no reason other than I strongly prefer the girl names I like over the boy names. That's literally it lmfao, such a dumb reason. Well actually no, I forgot, I'm uncomfortable with the circumcision situation. I don't know what I'd do as a parent to a cis boy. I've heard this and that about both ways, and ultimately I think I'd let Girt decide because I have never had a penis and don't think I have a lot of rightful say in what to do in a situation I absolutely cannot relate to, but. I would just very much rather have a cis girl (at birth I should probably add, I couldn't care less if my child came out as trans, other than worrying for their safety of course) and not even have to think about it.

What’s the scariest story/urban legend/creepypasta etc you heard? Ummmmm... I always found the Rake scary. Just waking up and some demon motherfucker staring at you from the foot of your bed. No thanks. Sleep paralysis-sounding stuff REALLY freaks me out, I'm thankful I've never experienced it and hope to high heaven I never do.

Do you miss someone currently? I do, I want to see Girt but I'm sick.

What personality trait does nearly everyone in your family seem to have? I don't know, I don't feel like going through a massive list of ideas to find one everyone matches.

How many tabs do you have open and what are they? At the time I'm answering this specific question, four YouTube tabs and one for Tumblr.

What browser do you prefer to use? I use Chrome, but I wouldn't call it a preference. I know Chrome has traits that are often critiqued. It's just what I'm used to.

What’re five random things on your desk besides any computer-related items? Two plushies, a planner, a sketchbook, and a small basket for things like my flash drive, iPod plug, etc.

What’re the items closest to you that’re red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, white, gray, brown, black, silver and gold? Red: featured on a blanket draped over the exercise bike seat. Orange: bag of chips I had. Yellow: featured in a plushie Girt got me on his vacation. Green: a plant in here. Blue: a pen. Purple: a pencil I use when I draw. Pink: a basket that's on a small shelf in here, I actually don't know what's in it. White: Girt's work schedule is printed on white paper. Gray: the outline of one of Cookie's beds. Brown: the cover of my sketchbook. Black: my pencil sharpener. Silver: the metal on the legs of my desk chair. Gold: there's gold flecks in the flower frame I use for a super cute picture of Roman.

Out of all the things you listed above, which is your favorite? The plush Girt got me while he was in Minnesota, I appreciated that he thought of me.

Are you excited for anything this month? Ryder's birthday party. The kids' bday parties stress me out to some degree, but it's always a nice change of pace in my days, too.

Is there anything special about today? No.

How’re you physically feeling right now? I have very symptomatic Covid. Guess lmfao.

How’re you emotionally feeling right now? I'm tired, haven't been able to sleep well. Feeling bleh.

Have you ever traveled outside of your home country? No, I wish.

Can you speak, read and/or write in another language besides English? I can read German rather easily (I hesitate on larger words sometimes, German words can get SO long), but I'm not fluent in understanding it all. I just understand how their spelling and pronunciation and stuff works.

What language course did you take in school, if any? I took Latin one semester and hated it. Following that, I took all four available German courses and did super well.

What language would you most like to learn? I want to be truly fluent in German.

What would you like to get a degree in? I don't think I want a degree. I want to pursue art (photography to be exact), and I've, in more recent times, become aware of just how flawed and unnecessary art school CAN be. Some people learn and grow in it, but it's a very overhyped and overly expensive thing for something unessential for success, from what I've heard from artist sources I trust.

What was you dream job when you were a little kid? Paleontologist was my first aspiration. I was OBSESSED with dinosaurs, and I still love them and find them so incredibly awe-inspiring. I desperately want to see a full fossil display one day, I might cry.

What happened to that dream? I don't want a career that requires frequent travel and also toiling in taxing conditions (like extreme heat).

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Once or twice.

What genre of books do you like to read? My all-time favorite is animal fantasy. Most books in this genre are for juveniles, but I don't care. I DO wish there were more adult-relevent series of this type, though... It's one of the things that encourages me to make a book out of the RP I take part it, but I just know I would not be dedicated enough to write a series, especially when I've already WRITTEN the scenes once, you know? Sure, I could just not rewrite a lot, but I'd be a shitty author to not reread and improve where I can, and that just doesn't interest me.

Do you prefer physical books or a Kindle, Nook or other e-reader? PHYSICAL BOOKS. I refuse to get a Kindle or anything similar, I NEED that escape from technology, my life is already consumed by it.

What types of magazines do you read? I don't read magazines.

Do you like video games based off of movies? I did as a kid.

Ever suffer from amnesia? Only when I woke up from a concussion. Initially I had almost no idea of anything and it REALLY distressed me, but still today I don't actually remember the moment I hit the floor.

What instrument do you prefer to play when playing Rock Band/Guitar Hero? I only ever play guitar.

Have you ever picked out a song to listen to on a jukebox? Possibly? Idr.

Have you ever eaten 3 meals from 3 different fast food places in one day? God no.

Favorite way to eat a potato? (i.e. french fries, mashed potatoes…) French fries.

Have you ever wished you could experience being the other gender? No, not really.

Have you ever cried in a movie theater? Yes. I specifically remember crying to Marley & Me, but I'm certain there's more, I cry easily.

When’s the last time you went out of state? It's been years.

Are the files in your computer well organized or all over the place? Well-organized.

Is there wallpaper on your bedroom walls? No.

What do you put on your hamburger? American cheese, ketchup, mustard, and pickles if available. I enjoy mayo, too, but I don't really seek it out.

Have you ever been described as shy? Is it true? Yes, I am excruciatingly shy.

When was the last time you saw rain? A few days back, we got some of Hurricane Debby.

What is one way someone could completely put you off on a first date? Say something racist or anti-LGBTQ+, act arrogantly, if we're out to dinner I'm fucking outie if you're rude to the waiters and stuff, be aggressive with me.

What about a way someone could make you like them more on a first date? Listen to me/just be attentive of me, be polite to those around you, make me laugh, don't be judgmental of my mental health stuff.

What was your first thought this morning? I was annoyed, Mom accidentally pointed her phone flashlight in my eyes at like 6AM and I couldn't fall back asleep after that.

Do or did you like school? School stressed me out, more than anything. It was too much pressure for me, especially college.

Have you ever sang in public? Yes, I was in the elementary school chorus and my childhood church choir. I also remember one church event where I was basically forced to sing a song I had to write with another girl. I was upset, I didn't want to sing with just ONE person doing it with me.

What do you like to listen to before you go to bed? I don't listen to things before bed specifically.

The videos that always make me laugh are… Vine-type videos. The quick, unexpected, stupid shit lmao

A trend I really love is… I've seen these videos going around of black men frolicking in fields and it is SO PURE and healthy masculinity as they laugh and have fun???????????????

My feelings about coconut flavor are… I hate coconut.

I think a good source of therapy is… Journaling.

Something helpful to lose weight is… Don't drink soda. If only I'd take that advice. Sure, I cut down IMMENSELY, but if I stopped entirely...

[am-i-the-asshole-2]

AITA for not drawing for a fandom fest because I felt jealous?

There are many different fandom festivals that require art and drawings in general. I participated several times, drawing for free because it's fun and all that stuff.

The story:

Recently, one of the participants of an upcoming fest messaged me, asking if I could draw something for them. For free, of course, because it's all for the fest. I agreed, the challenge was supposed to be fun.

But soon after I noticed that the person in question commissions a lot of other artists in our fandom.

I'm not a novice in drawing, I take commissions as well, yet I felt somewhat jealous. Am I not worthy to be paid by them? As if they just wanted to use me for free because I'm active in fandom.

I decided to ignore this feeling for some time and focus on something else. But I couldn't gather myself to draw for them anymore, especially after seeing how much they support all the other artists. I felt really jealous. After some time, I got busy with other stuff and forgot about the situation for a while. Until it was too late and I got some angry messages from them about me being incompetent and untrustworthy and all that stuff.

I am frustrated. Because of my jealousy I feel like I betrayed them, yet I can't help myself to do this anymore: I feel betrayed too for being just "some average artist who draws for free sometimes and you can use my skills" in someone's eyes.

[thunderousavery]

Make You Mine (Ghost x Soap) Pt. 2

CW: Blood, Slight (Is it even slight? Haha) Gore, Curse words

A/N: I forgot to mention that this is not canon-compliant (Because I reject everything that happened after MWII). Description: Johnny and Simon try to trudge carefully as the sniper from outside the building waits for their heads to pop out. Main Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish Word Count: 1.9k

Chapter 2 - ‘Cause I know that I am yours and you are mine. Doesn’t matter anyway.

To say he was fond of Simon sounded crazy in Johnny’s mind. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think of it, let alone when they met on their first mission together to apprehend the leader of Al-Qatala in Al Mazrah. The man was stoic, strict, and definitely showed no signs of nonsense in his actions and orders.

Johnny was different from him. He was a breed full of life who liked to see things from every perspective, a man built with confidence and compassion for his comrades. And when he knows something is wrong, he’s headstrong about it and follows his just principles to pursue the truth.

Maybe that’s why he faced disciplinary action years ago because he punched a military police officer and knocked him out. That man was an arse, and he believed he did the right thing even when he almost got a strike on his career for that.

Now, working in Task Force 141 alongside a Lieutenant named Simon “Ghost” Riley seemed like a nice change of pace. He’s dealt with strict men like him before, and he knew he could handle him as well.

But there’s this… vibe on him that he can’t put his finger on. Something that draws to him like no other.

“Ya good, Ghost? Keep up; we’re almost on the first floor.” Johnny spoke after they settled to another cover spot, particularly another pillar wall. He would be lying if he wasn’t concerned with the Brit, but he knew better than to make him feel like a liability after being shot like that. He knew how it felt to feel helpless in this aggravating situation.

“Don’t mind me,” Simon grumbled, his voice laced with irritation clearly at him and his shoulder wound.

Aye, he guessed he would just shut up now. There’s no need to make more noise aside from the car alarms from outside.

… Hold the fuck up.

The explosion. The loud noises from outside.

Fucking retard. Johnny thought as he looked for the laser tag again, sighing in annoyance as the sniper took a shot and barely missed his head when he popped out. Masking the sounds with car alarms was brilliant, but Johnny was disappointed when the sniper used their laser sight for accuracy. It’s just a straight line for a target on one end and the gun on the other.

He can track them down later and fuck them up.

When he surveyed the surroundings again and spotted the laser tag on the far right, Johnny knew they had to move. So, he led the Brit and sneaked towards another cover, then ran as fast as they could towards the staircase room down the first floor. Boots clicked on each step with haste as he tried to dodge any shot that would be fired.

They’re so close to getting out of here alive. So close to making that sniper’s life a living hell.

… Or not.

“… L.T.!”

Simon didn’t follow his Sergeant’s lead. He slumped back behind the latest cover they went through, clutching his shoulder in pain. His eyes were shut tight as he groaned in agony.

Johnny was on the verge of panicking. He can’t leave him behind. He definitely remembered Simon always said that no man should be left behind. That they’re a team, and they stick together. “Ghost, just… Fuck, hold on fer me. I’ll—”

“No!” A roar tore from Simon’s throat as he tried to stand back up. Red dripped from his arm and onto the floor. Brown eyes pierced against blue ones again.

Those eyes screamed, “Help me, Sergeant…” Johnny’s heart clenched in his chest.

But Simon’s gruff voice sounded otherwise as he leaned against the wall for a while, clutching his rifle with his uninjured arm. “I’m… Fuck, I’ll be right there with you.”

They were running out of time. Simon was running out of time. The laser tag was just right behind the edge of the wall where his head would pop out. One move, and he’s dead. Take too long, and he’ll bleed out.

And the Scot knew that. He could see that clearly, and he knows the sniper bastard knows it all too.

So, with a clear resolve and tactical training lessons remembered, Johnny took a step back and ran just to suddenly crouch down to slide back to Simon, his body smoothed against the floor. As expected, the sniper took a shot, missing instantaneously as the bullet seared against the floor.

There was a second before the sniper could shoot again. Johnny calculated it all too well.

“Johnny, what—”

“We don’t have time!” Johnny pulled him by his uninjured arm and ran as quickly as possible with his Lieutenant behind him. The sniper retook their shot, but it missed just right past Simon’s head after they got into the staircase room.

That was fucking close…

They tried to catch their breaths for a while and sat in the corner before Johnny looked at his Lieutenant with a soft smile. From here, they couldn’t hear the sounds of the car alarms anymore. He instantly got worried when he saw the Brit’s eyes drooping slightly behind the mask, so he moved closer and inspected his shoulder.

Then, a soft gasp failed to be unuttered from his throat. “… We have to shut yer wound close, L.T. Cannae have ye bleeding like that.”

Simon looked at him with half-lidded eyes behind his mask. “You mean…?” If he’s thinking what he’s thinking, then he knew it would hurt. And would leave an ugly scar. Again.

“Yeah.” Johnny sighed as he pulled out a throwing knife from his side pocket. “Got a light?”

“Fucking improvising shit…” Simon groaned as he weakly pulled a lighter from his pocket and handed it to him.

“Ya taught me that, remember?” Johnny chuckled as he untied the cloth around the Brit’s shoulder, only to frown as he finally slid it off him. “Yep. Just as I thought. It’s fucked, and needs to shut it close.”

“That bad, huh…” Simon sighed as he unbuckled his vest and struggled to take it off. “Are you just gonna stare, Sergeant? Goddammit…”

“A’ight, hang on.” Johnny helped him slide the vest off him carefully. Simon winced at the feeling of moving his injured shoulder through the process, revealing the bloodied combat shirt underneath due to the bleeding wound. “I’ll cut yer sleeve short. Hope it’s not yer favorite shirt.”

“Less shirt for me, I guess.” Both of them laughed softly at Simon’s attempt at humor. “Can you make a clean cut on it?”

“So it becomes yer fancy sleeveless shirt? I shoot guns and blow up bombs, L.T.”

“And you clean rooms, Soap.”

Johnny hummed in amusement; Simon remembered how he got the name ‘Soap.’

“Aye, but technically, I’m best with room clearance regarding combat.”

Johnny held the knife and carefully tore through the sleeve of the Brit’s shirt. Simon winced again whenever the blade touched near his wound, and Johnny tried his best to avoid it. It took a while, but his shoulder was finally bare, his biceps twitching slightly at the pain in his shoulder.

“This’ll hurt, L.T.,” Johnny warned as he prepared his hands for an amateur surgery badly needed for Simon to survive. “I’ll take the bullet out first. Then, I’ll heat up the knife and press it on yer wound.”

“You’re gonna… fucking dip your fingers inside me... How sweet…” Slightly slurred words and ragged breathing. Johnny needs to do this quick.

“I aim to please. Bite down on yer mask, L.T.” With that final warning, the Sergeant dug his fingers carefully into the bloody gunshot hole of Simon’s flesh.

“Nnnnggghhh!” Simon bit down hard on the fabric of his mask as calloused fingers dipped and nudged between his bleeding wound. The pain was a fucking agony, and he just simply wished to pass out from it. His heart thumped wildly, his mind was getting hazy, and he just kept bleeding out.

“‘m sorry, L.T.! Fuck, I’m trying to… Ah! There it is!” It took a while, but Johnny finally managed to get the base of the bullet between his fingers. It was slick with blood, but he knew how to get it out without letting it slip. “Taking it out now.”

True to his words, he quickly pulled the bullet out efficiently. And it was fucking indeed a .50 caliber. Simon was still biting down on his mask; screams were muffled, and tears of pain falling from his eyes. And Johnny wanted to throw up from making his Lieutenant suffer like this.

“Fuck, fuck… Ghost, we’re almost done. Just need to—”

“FUCKING HURRY UP!”

“A-Alright, alright!” Johnny almost panicked and dropped the knife to his lap but quickly picked it up. He heated the blade with the lighter until it was scorching and tinted with scarlet. Then, without further ado, he chunked the heated edge against the open flesh.

“GAAAHHH!” Simon finally screamed this time; the guttural sound from his throat was all throughout the room.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry, Ghost!” Truly, he was. He can’t bear to hear him scream in pain like this.

“G-Get over it! FUCK!” His left hand gripped his thigh tightly, almost even digging his fingers beneath the fabric of his trousers.

Johnny tried working quickly, but heating the blade and sticking it against the flesh was a repeated process. There’s no other safe way to seal the wound, and he’s not risking putting gunpowder on the flesh, either. He thought of that for a while but couldn’t risk the wound getting infected.

“Almost sealing it up, hold on.” Blood was beginning to stop pouring out of the flesh as it was sizzled and cauterized by the heated blade. Soon enough, the whole wound was sealed up, covered in scarlet and black altogether, like some black pudding.

Simon let out one final groan as he leaned against the wall after the end of the agony, panting and sweating beneath his mask before lifting it just up to his nose so he could breathe. “I-It’s… Is it… over…?”

“… Affirmative, L.T.. You’re gonna be okay.” Johnny slumped back beside him, dropping the bloodied and scorched knife on the floor. He looked at the Brit’s gloved hand, almost wanting to reach with his own and hold it to offer comfort. But he didn’t. Simon might push him away, so he didn’t act on his thoughts.

For now, Johnny sighed in relief after knowing his Lieutenant was gonna survive the night from bleeding out.

But the real danger was still present. The fucking sniper outside the building was just waiting for them to come out.

Johnny pulled his radio out and tried to contact Price, tuning and turning to find the correct frequency. They needed reinforcements, medevac, exfil, anything that could secure their safety and Simon’s recovery. “Bravo 6, this is 7-1. We need—”

“No one’s coming to save you, amerikanisch,” said a male voice behind the line before Johnny could finish his sentence.

… German. Price was not German. They don’t have a German in the task force.

“Surrender the intel, and we might let you live to see the daylight.” A dark chuckle was heard. “‘Course, if we assumed right that your partner’s dead, Soldat.”

“Who the fuck is this?!” The Scot growled as he clutched the radio tightly and moved to the nearest window. It’s good that his Lieutenant was behind a good cover for now.

“J-Johnny…?” Simon’s voice was laced with tiredness and confusion as his half-lidded eyes beneath the mask watched his Sergeant move to the nearest window. “What… What’s going on?”

“We got company, L.T.,” was all Johnny could say before he reached for his weapon with his other hand. “And I don’t think they’re friendly.”

A/N: I WUV U, MY SCOTTISH BOI

You're in Part 2

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4

[late-to-the-fandom]

Seven Snippets Tag

Thank you @lonsdalewrite for the tag from a couple of days ago. I still can't gain any real traction in my current WIP, so I've been self-indulgently re-reading my fics from this time last year. I miss when writing was easy. 😔

Tagging: @sam-glade @druidx @mysticstarlightduck @pancakewithamace @macabremoons @words-after-midnight @undertheestes

From Taking the Tremaculum

The Maw Walker was tired. People forgot she could be anything so mortal as tired as they piled task after task upon her, knowing she would never say no, certain she would succeed at whatever was asked. Renathal himself included. He winced at the thought. He lowered himself to the ashen ground beside her, close enough for his armored shoulder to brush hers. The Maw Walker's eyes flicked open, found his, and she smiled - of course, she always did - though this was not her customary, supercilious smile. It was a warm, living thing that grew as she drank in the sight of him. The idea that the Maw Walker could draw as much strength from his presence as he did from hers was a point of pride in Renathal from which he could never repent. "Well," he said casually, surveying the unending dark landscape in front of them, "in spite of the danger, I believe this has been a good bit of fun."

2. From An Ember Court to Remember

The Maw Walker gave him a chaste kiss on his sharp cheek by way of goodbye, but Renathal snaked an arm around her waist to stop her. With the promise of more to come, he could feel his good mood and dark humour returning. "Consider this part of your regular duties, then," he said with an arch smile, adopting her business-like tone of address. "After all, we are both very important, very put-upon leaders." He punctuated his words with a final kiss of his own, not quite so chaste, drawing out the time before he had to release her lips. "I believe our mutual satisfaction will prove quite important to the war effort."

3. From Keys for All Occasions: The Maw

"Is this real?" Renathal asked conversationally, watching their argument with distant interest. His head was still swimming, struggling to accept their existence. The creature blinked those glowing white-blue eyes once, then - “Here,” it said, and pressed two fingers to his forehead. It was like a light had been turned on inside Renathal's brain. Instantly, the world around him took on sharper focus. There were more varied shades to the greys and blacks of the Maw, and the being, too, looked more distinct, less a hazy purple glow and more a person. Renathal stood up straighter, inspecting it - her, he confirmed - more closely. Her skin was a light lavender, hair dark blue, almost black. But she had no wings, so she was not Kyrian. She was not any denizen of the Shadowlands he knew. Which could only mean - "You must be the Maw Walker," he said slowly. She gave him a small smile. "That’s what they're calling me."

4. From Lost Souls Renathal had no experience with pleasure that comforted, that soothed aches of the mind as well as the body. The Maw Walker could do it, of course. She always knew how to touch him in a way that drew out stress and despair like a harvester of his darkest emotions. But he was not as soft as she was. He was Venthyr, made of sharp points, hard angles, ragged edges. So Renathal had no idea what he was doing as he pressed kiss after fervent kiss against the inside of her wrist, the crook of her arm, the space just above her collarbone; anywhere he could feel a fluttering heartbeat beneath her dewy skin. But if the Maw Walker's response was any indication, he managed well enough.

5. From Keys for All Occasions: Rebellion "It was a doomed venture from the start." Renathal winced. The room in which he had chosen to tend his wounds was deep within the belly of Sinall, away from what was rapidly becoming the main thoroughfare above. It afforded a necessary privacy, but the echoes of Draven's voice reverberating off the dank stone did nothing for Renathal's massive headache. And the General's words did nothing for his still smarting ego. "That perspective," answered Renathal drily, attempting to fasten his shirt over his bandages without moving his left side, “would have been more useful yesterday."

6. From A Spilled Tea

The Duke whipped around at the ominous sound and lunged to save the contents from meeting a rocky demise. In the same moment, Renathal plucked the Maw Walker's cup from her hand, drained its contents in two long gulps, and replaced it smoothly. He met her stunned gaze with the smallest of winks, as Theotar straightened and rejoined them, patting his hair decorously. The dregs of annoyance left in his face cleared as he noticed the Maw Walker's empty cup. "Ah ha, I knew it!" He punctuated his exclamation with a little clap. "An exquisitely soothing flavour, I was sure you would enjoy. It is the clear choice, is it not?" "Oh, this is certainly my favourite so far." The glow from the Maw Walker's smile was almost blinding, but it was not the Duke at whom she aimed it. "Wouldn't you agree, Renathal?" "Absolutely," Renathal said, and he meant every syllable. The Ember Court would be infinitely more enjoyable for the way the taste of the tea reminded him of the Maw Walker's lips lingering over his name.

7. From Eternity

"Would you do me one other favour, Renathal?" Warmth pooled in Renathal's stomach at the way she said his name. As though there was a pleasure in pronouncing each syllable. "Anything," he said, and meant it. "Make the Kirin Tor leave for me." Renathal's smile grew fangs. "With pleasure."

[skykashi]

1st (and this is purely personal) for everything's sake, when you call customer service and you get a survey after the call, that survey is only to evaluate the advisor you just spoke to, not your entire experience of 20 years or whatever with whatever service or company that is, even if the survey asks you to give a number to the company, that number would only count on that one call, don't freggin' give a low score and then leave a comment saying "the advisor was fantastic and resolved an issue I've been having for months, kudos to the advisor but the company sucks" or "the advisor was so helpful and did a great job but I hate the company"... Dude I swear I hate the company more than you do, but I have to work because I need food!! That low score you left isn't hurting the company, it isn't going to let your voice be heard, no one will notice it or care except the poor bastard who just spent all that time on the call trying to help you, you're only hurting the one person who actually cared and resolved the issue you've been suffering with for that long, and I'm not even getting extra money or anything out of the good score either but the mangers find those low score surveys enough reason to harasse us, like "your performance is not good lately... You like to work early huh? So as a punishment until you get your performance back on track again you're going to work in the late shifts" no one reads your comment or care that you said the advisor was amazing and did a great job but I'm leaving a low score for the company because of my past experiences!! Just ducking evaluate the call only, all 3 questions are about this one call only, even if it's deceiving enough to ask you how much you're satisfied with the company itself, I swear, they are lying, leaving a low score on such a question will only hurt the person who helped you, not the company!!

Second (and I know I said that a million times before) I promise Kakashi and Obito are both 5.11 ft why do ppl insist on drawing them like this?

They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, why why why why do you guys not like Kakashi the way he is?!! This is so unfair, it would have been absolutely fine if they were canonically like this but when ppl insist on doing this even tho they are canonically the same height it makes me feel that they don't like Kakashi, they only like an imaginary version in their heads that isn't actually him and it's annoying me because it effects the entire fandom, especially because this is an old show that ended years ago so ppl don't remember how canon was anymore, they only see that fanwort and they genuinely believe that this is how they actually are and I find myself surrounded by this oc character who is impersonating Kakashi but isn't really him and it makes me miss Kakashi because I can't find him anymore, remember that filler episode that had fake Gai and Lee who were pretending to be them?

Imagine if these 2 imposters managed to actually take Gai and Lee's place forever and the real Gai and Lee can't be found anymore and most ppl forgot about the real Gai and Lee and believe that these are actually them, and you're the only one screaming to the world that no, this is not them, you guys, please don't forget the real Guy and Lee that we all love but no one is listening to you or can hear you... This is exactly how I feel about this and this is why it's annoying me so much because that fake OC fanon Kakashi took the real Kakashi's place and hardly anyone remembers him anymore and it hurts and I miss him and I'm trying not to care like everyone seems to be doing but unfortunately I can't stop myself from caring because we're not getting any more canon Kakashi content since the og story ended and all, and the fandom is all I have left now but the fandom is slowly replacing him with someone else that isn't him, and this is not just about his height or body, there are way too many misconceptions and claims about him that never happened too, like ppl denying good things he did or claiming that he did something that he didn't actually do and all of this hurts.

It's only 8 am and I'm so annoyed that I want to scream, and part of my annoyance is at myself because I'm not sure that I should be annoyed at stuff like that in the first place because most ppl seem fine with it but why can't I bw like most ppl?!! I'm so annoyed that I'm barely holding back the tears, too much annoyance to the point of feeling like I will explode... That's not a good start to my day, I hope it won't continue like this 😕

[emieclat]

what is she?

[korranguyen]

Random script findings that won’t get their own post, but are interesting enough to share

The Waterbending Master: The Sun Warriors aren't the only culture in ATLA drawing inspiration from the Mayans—the grandiose icy architecture of the NWT does too, described in the script as a blend between the Venice Canals and an ancient Mayan city.

Out of the mist, the NORTHERN WATER TRIBE is revealed. It is a giant ice city, several miles wide. Its architecture looks like a cross between an ancient Mayan city and the watery canals of Venice. Looming over the city are giant ICE CLIFFS from which the city was originally built. (STORYBOARD NOTE: The following sequence should visually pay off what the kids have been waiting to see all season.)

Tales of Ba Sing Se (A): Zuko telling Jin she has “quite the appetite for a girl” was . . . his attempt at cheering her up with a compliment. Very smooth.

Zuko instantly turns angry.

ZUKO (yelling): She is not my girlfriend!

The whole restaurant goes quiet. Everyone stares at Jin and Zuko's table. The waiter looks at Jin and rolls his eyes, then walks away. Zuko sees that Jin looks a little hurt so he tries to find something nice to say to make up for it.

ZUKO (cont'd): You have quite an appetite for a girl.

Tales of Ba Sing Se (B): The stage directions lend even more ambiguity on whether or not Jin truly knows how Zuko set off those fountain lights. She covers her eyes, “playfully peeks through her fingers”, then covers her eyes again? Does she peek again? Mysterious.

Jin leads Zuko towards a magnificent fountain, which sits on top of a hill overlooking the city. Zuko seems a bit more comfortable now that they are outside and alone.

JIN (cont'd): I can't believe it! They aren't lit.

Jin touches Zuko's arm. He can tell how disappointed she is, and for the first time all night he knows what he needs to do.

[some parts of the interaction I forgot to write down]

Jin covers her eyes but playfully peeks through her fingers.

She covers her eyes. Zuko quickly surveys the area to make sure that no one is around. Then he does a simple Firebending move and makes a sweeping motion. The lamps ignite sequentially like dominoes, creating the magical image Jin expected.

(Oh! Also, one more bonus; Zuko is more comfortable later on during his date with Jun specifically because they are outside and alone. The script also repeatedly describes Zuko as overwhelmed by his surroundings and the dating situation he is in. Autistic!Zuko headcanoners, make with that what you will.)

The Awakening: The script itself says Katara is triggered when Hakoda defends Aang's decision to leave.

HAKODA: Maybe that's his way of being brave.

This triggers something in Katara, and she BLOWS UP at her dad.

KATARA: It's not brave, it's selfish and stupid! We could be helping him. And I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him too? How could he just leave us behind?!

A long beat as the meaning of this sinks in for Hakoda. He looks down… feeling a great burden of guilt.

The Boiling Rock, Part 1 (A):Suki canonically panics when Sokka attempts to kiss her donning the garb of a Fire Nation guard. Does this say she didn't expect this type of interaction with a CO, or did Sokka set off her pre-existing trigger? Either way—that poor girl.

SUKI: What is it? Did I do something wrong?

SOKKA: (coy) You mean, you don't recognize me?

SUKI: (shrugs) You people all look the same to me.

SOKKA: Oh? Then maybe you'll recognize this…

Reminiscent of 2.12, Sokka leans in for a kiss, but Suki panics and punches him in the gut. Sokka rolls to the ground and his helmet falls off.

The Boiling Rock, Part 1 (B): The touch of Avatar physics hilarity where Chit Sang is too dumb to understand heat conduction was only added during production. Here's how he gets caught red-handed in the original script:

Chit Sang picks up the window and dips it into the water with a loud “PLOP”.

We go dramatically close to a cobra-bat resting on a guard tower. We hear the “plop” echo as the cobra-bat's huge ears FLAP open. It opens its eyes and CAWS loudly. Various tower guards now turn and see the fugitives in the water.

The Fortuneteller: In the moment where Katara makes the connection between Madame Wu's prophecy and Aang being “a powerful bender”, her thought process is purposefully ambiguous—it's unclear what she makes of this.

SOKKA: Nothing. Just that Aang is one powerful bender.

KATARA: I suppose he is.

She looks at Aang, possibly from a different perspective, for the first time. (Though it's unclear what she makes of this.)

[magnoliabloomfield]

It Happened in the Kitchen

Slivko x Maybelle from my fanfic Under Normal Circumstances.

Summary: it’s their anniversary and Slivko tries to make a cake. Emphasis on “tries”.

Requested by @whourfeyrac

Warnings: SFW but implied love making, fade to black. No cursing. Just domestic fluff.

🍰🎂🍰🎂

“What… happened?” Maybelle asked in a controlled tone as she stood at the threshold of the kitchen and surveyed the state it was in.

Slivko stood there with as much flour on him as was on the counters, much more than was in the mixing bowl at this point.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, feeling dry and gritty.

“Happy anniversary?” He said as his hand fell to his side and sent up a little white cloud.

Maybelle’s face took on that look, the one where he could hear the “awe!” she was holding in. She left foot prints across the kitchen tile when she came up to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She tried to give him a kiss but quickly pulled back, wiping flour off her lips with the back of her hand before she wiped his mouth off too and tried again.

“So… what were you going for?” She asked after she broke the kiss, still holding onto him.

“Chocolate cake- devil’s food because I know it’s your favorite,” he answered and watched her bite her bottom lip adorably. “But apparently I’m an idiot who-“

“You are not an idiot,” she said firmly, squeezing him a little tighter. “You, sir, learned how to fly a helicopter. There is no way you can be an idiot.”

All his frustration melted away at that and he wondered if she could see how pink he was blushing under the layers of flour. He couldn’t deny how happy being with Maybelle made him, she was always on his side and never allowed him to be too hard on himself. Even when she was correcting him she was on his side because her goal was always to draw them closer together and keep them together, rather than her ever just wanting to be “right”.

He grinned down at her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She gave him a smile before tucking her head under his chin and hugging him back. She took a deep breath, like she usually did during hugs like these, and was thrown into a sneezing fit by all the flour she inhaled.

“What seems to be giving you trouble?” She asked when she was finished sneezing.

He showed her the instructions, a little recipe card he’d gotten from Penny, and explained what he’d done. Maybelle didn’t tell him anything outright, but rather she asked him some leading questions. He liked that she just leaned on the counter, chin resting cutely on her hands as she watched him. He wanted to do this for her on his own, but it was still much more fun having her around.

After he put the cake in the oven they cleaned up the kitchen together. With a few minutes left on the timer, she turned on the radio and tuned it till she found something to dance to. Slivko smiled as her hand found his and pulled him closer in the middle of the kitchen. She loved to dance with him in the kitchen and he loved that about her.

It seemed like more than the oven was getting heated in there. Slivko almost forgot the cake entirely in favor of something else sweet as his hands strayed farther from normal dance positions. She watched him with a knowing look in her eye but didn’t stop him or say anything. He knew how to get an answer from her.

He spun her out and pulled her back in, her back to his chest with her arms wrapped around herself. Trapped in this gentle prison he leaned down and buried his face in her neck. It was her most ticklish spot and he found that if she allowed kisses there it meant she was up for more, but if she just giggled and turned into a turtle it wasn’t the time.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder so he went for it. He made little pink marks on her skin from her ear to her collar bone before he was interrupted by the timer.

She tried to step away but he held her fast.

“Slivie,” she giggled. “Let’s take the cake out and turn the oven off so we don’t burn the house down.”

He let her hands go but clung to her waist as she moved to get the oven mitts and then over to the stove to take out the cake. His body followed her motions even as she bent over to get the cake and he kissed her back through her shirt.

The cake was left in the pan, oven hastily turned off before she turned in his arms and started kissing him now. The first kiss she ever gave him, the first kiss she’d ever given anyone, had been simple and innocent. She’d learned a lot since then.

He pulled back from her eager lips to look into her eyes. Her pupils were large and he could swear he saw little hearts in them as she peered up at him.

“That’s one year down, Mrs. Slivko. Do you want to sign on for another?” He asked her, feeling her hands find the hem of his t-shirt.

“Aye aye captain,” she breathed as she tiptoed to reach his lips again.

He laughed. “That’s the navy,” he corrected.

“Would you complain if I told you you had permission to come aboard?” She asked.

“Aye aye captain,” he repeated as he scooped her up and carried her off for their personal anniversary celebration.

And afterwards there would be cake. Slivko didn’t think it could get any better than that.

“Remember your dream car?” She asked out of the blue when they were halfway to the bedroom.

“Uh huh,” he said though he could barely remember anything that wasn’t what he wanted to be doing right then.

“When we’re done,” she kissed him once more. “Look in the driveway.” She whisper the last bit in his ear before kissing his neck.

Yes, the fact that she had bought him a car, his dream car, and it was sitting in the driveway that very moment was exciting. But he didn’t need to see it just then. There could be a fleet of cars waiting out there for him, but all he wanted and all he cared about was already there in his arms and all he wanted to do was prove that to her.