#sure i love learning new languages but obviously not everyone can for loads of reasons

[luminal-space]

having live translation in mc is genius bc if it works there'll be no need for english as a middle language at all

#sure i love learning new languages but obviously not everyone can for loads of reasons #this has so much potential

[widow-maximov]

I'll be your knight

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Dealing with sexism is a real struggle but eventually a line is crossed and anger is unleashed.

A/n: This is my first time writing smut so hopefully it's good enough :3

Word count: 3.5k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Being an Avenger isn't easy, especially for any women that join the life style of a hero. You had to put up with sexist comments all the time, most of the time it didn't really bother you but the more you heard random men talking about your best friend like she was some toy, the more it annoyed you.

The comments towards you stopped when you were recruited by Tony Stark, there was some level respect for you and you kind of liked it.

You had some issues with opening up to the team but when Wanda, showed you they are harmless, you slowly opened up more and more as you knew that they were going to be your new family from now on.

Everyone on the team warned you about the one particular redhead but you didn't listen, you wanted to be her friend, she looked scary but is an actual softie, but only around you.

It took time for the Russian to even greet you when she saw you but for you it was worth it, you respected her and always been there for her when she had no one to turn to.

She warmed up to you as she saw the security you were offering her, and you never backed down from your offer, she wasn't keen on your presence but had to learn to accept it.

Even if she didn't trust you fully, that was okay. You trusted her with everything because you knew she was a human just like you and no doubt needed someone to lean on.

⸻⸻⋙☸Flashback☸⋘⸻⸻

You walked around, exploring the place that now it was your new home, you never saw anything more fancy than this place, the room you were staying in was more than enough for 4 people.

Your own tv along with your own big walk in closet and your own bathroom, literally a five star hotel, you didn't complain at all, you were just shocked at how spacious this all was.

Each room was bigger than the other and it was starting to get all confusing, when you left the room, you would get mixed up with the way you walked in.

You loved it but at the same time you hated it, you accidently bumped into the Russian, she looked sweaty in her work out clothes and you stared at her with awkwardness.

She eyed you and cleared her throat, attempting to walk past you and continue where she was going but you stopped her "I'm sorry to disturb you but I just want to know where I can find the gym"

You rubbed your neck awkwardly "I- um- I tried searching everywhere but I'm lost"

Usually when people stutter around Natasha, it meant they were obviously attracted to her but with how you stood and looked away from her just showed her that you were afraid of her.

She didn't smile or anything "Walk straight until you reach the end of the hall and turn left"

You looked at her but she was already on her way so you shouted "Thank you!"

You made your way with her instructions of where to go, she knew how to hide her emotions but it was totally shocking for you how she never had a smile across her lips.

This was your first real conversation, not the hello's or goodbye's. It was a proper conversation, well kind of a proper but it was a start and that's what made you happy.

Second encounter with the redhead was a lot better, the two of you actually had a normal conversation in the morning, you were barely awake so coffee was your way of helping with that.

Walking into the kitchen, not really expecting anyone up early this morning, but the sight of the yawning Russian met your eyes, you smiled at her the best you could as you turned to make yourself a coffee.

"You know there is a coffee maker here?" Her naturally raspy voice spoke which caused you to look at her.

"Yeah I seen it but I have no idea how to use it" You confessed, you weren't embarrassed, you just weren't that fancy to ever own one or even be around one.

She turned around without a word and pulled out a cup, placing it underneath the little nozzle and within seconds the coffee poured out, she took the cup and placed it down as she slid it towards you.

You looked at her and then back at the coffee "Thank you Natasha"

She nodded as she sipped on her own drink "Since you are the only person who is up right now, you mind taking a look at this report, I'm not really sure what it means"

You was taken back, she was asking you for help? Shouldn't she know all of the reports like the back of her hand? She noticed your silence "Or you don't have to, I'll probably figure-"

"No, no I have nothing to do today so I don't mind helping" You smiled and took the coffee with you as you followed her into the room where she had a loads of reports laid out.

You looked at all of them "You know you can work on two reports at a time?"

She nodded "I know but the more I do within a certain time, the less I have later on"

You nodded as you sipped your warm coffee, it was very different to what you were used to, but this was definitely easier to get used to. It was the first time Natasha spent more than 2 minutes with you and you were more than happy to accept that.

So from that time, the two of you worked every morning with each other on reports, you learnt so much from her and in some way she learnt more about you rather than from you, she was impressed by your calmness with her constant questions.

To be fair you wanted to open up to the Russian, she had that safety vibe coming of her and you knew that she would never betray you or your trust that you put in her.

The mornings spent on reports also turned into evenings and soon there was movies every other day, she loved horror movies but you on the other hand loved action movies, there was plenty of action as a hero of the world but it never was enough.

She started to show herself around you more often and you really liked how you could make her laugh with simply couple words. She loved how close she gotten to you and how you trusted her with everything.

She had some doubt but you were always to reassure her, she was thankful for it each time, so in return she would ask you questions about yourself and you never hesitated for a moment to tell her.

⸻⸻⋙☸End☸⋘⸻⸻

But the problem was that not everyone saw it like that, they saw her for her body but not for her heart which is one of many reasons to why she was slow at opening up.

It angered you that people didn't want to treat her like anyone else, just because she was gorgeous didn't automatically make her less of a human.

Today was one of those days where you were busy, like busy busy, overloaded with bunch of reports that needed to be sorted before the next day, so you spent your whole day in you room, you glared at the clock on the wall.

You was doing this for 6 hours straight, no breaks so you decided to just do that. You stood up and stretched out, walking out of your room without anyone around, it did ignite curiosity in you so you walked around cautiously to see what was the deal.

Three of your teammates with two random agents were placed on the couch in the living room, trapping Natasha in between them, from her body language she didn't want to be there.

Bruce and Bucky along with Steve seem to laugh at the agents jokes, you moved closer to the door as you listened to what they were saying.

"Come on Natasha, you should do that power pose and show off that body" One of the agents spoke up as they eyed the Russian.

The other agent tried to move closer to her but hesitated, knowing she could easily tackle him "You can't let that body go to waste"

The anger was raising as words spilled out of their mouths, why didn't Steve stop them? Did he really think that as well?

"I was near to tapping that ass but you know women" Bruce made a comment as he laughed along with the agents.

"If she dyed her hair blonde, the amount of jokes we could make then" Bucky smirked as he spoke loudly.

Natasha was just taking in all of the comments, you could see across her face that she didn't enjoy it at all, so she stood up and what they did next made you finally act.

They all looked at her ass and whistled "Romanoff, you should dance for us, show off those curves"

"I am a little hungry as well, you might as well move that pretty ass of yours and make us something to eat" One of the agents spoke up as he laughed.

You walked in as you raised your brows at the 5 men sitting and eyeing Natasha as a piece of meat, you pulled her into you causing her to jump a little but relax when she realised it was you.

They all looked at you and the other agent smirked "Are yous going to put on a lesbian show for us?"

Now you wasn't just unimpressed but also pissed, you pulled yourself away from the Russian as you stepped forwards in front of Natasha "Listen here you little dick, If I hear that you even looked at Natasha in any way, I will fucking haunt you and make sure you don't live to see tomorrow"

His friend was terrified, he gulped when you looked at him "As for you, I want you to go and make her a fucking five star meal and if it's not good, I swear to god you'll regret being born"

He shook his head so fast as he stood up but you stopped him with your powers "You want a show? I will fucking give you a show"

You gripped his face, squishing his cheeks very firmly, your hand started to glow blue as you made him hallucinate that he was in pain, from the fact that he couldn't move and he felt as if his skin was being peel off he only could scream.

You looked at the 4 men who looked very terrified of you, your eyes had flames and you wasn't going to go easy, on neither of them "If any of you ever comment anything sexist or inappropriate about any woman, including Natasha. I will make your life a living hell"

"Do yous understand?"

They shook their heads and scattered away from you as fast as they could, you let go of the dude in front of you, he looked weak but he gotten up so fast that you could swear he had powers as well.

You turned towards Natasha, worried "Are you okay? Did they touch you?"

You looked her up and down as you made your way towards her, she shook her head with a small smile. You pulled her into a hug as a single tear slid down Natasha's face.

You pulled away as you wiped that tear off with your thumb "Why didn't you act Nat?"

"What's the point? It wont stop them from saying what they want Y/n/n"

The pain in your heart was strong at the words, how could any woman not be scared of what could happen if they do protest against men.

You cupped her face as you looked into her eyes "Natasha Romanoff, I promise you that I will protect you from their filthy mouths"

She smiled, this time it met her eyes which caused you to smile. You crushed on Natasha for a long time and promised yourself that when the time was right you would tell her but each time it was harder to do so.

Her and Bruce at the time were something but when she decided to break it off, you were there for her you told her she didn't need to tell you the reason to why she decided that but reassured her that it was probably a good reason to do so.

Now you are holding her face as her eyes are locked with yours, you could feel those butterflies in your stomach raise up "I will be your knight in casual clothes because armour isn't my style"

She laughed with her whole heart, causing you to laugh as well "Gosh I love you.."

You froze at her words, and so did she, her eyes widen at her words but she knew there was no way out of this so she pulled her sleeve and started to fidget with it.

Your hands were on her face but dropped at those words, you stood still trying to understand what just happened, she continued as she looked down "I hope that's okay but I love you Y/n"

You couldn't believe your ears, the woman who always had trouble opening up, right now was vulnerable with her whole heart to you and you was stuck, frozen as you stared at her.

"I never had anyone stand up for me the way to did today, I started to realise that I had feelings that one day when you were near to death on that mission" She was still fidgeting with her sleeve.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way but you just needed to know.." She confessed, she was standing in front of you holding her heart out in her hands, offering you to take it.

You smiled whole heartily as you looked into her eyes when you pulled her face by her chin "It's more than okay Tasha"

Your hands dropped to her hips as you pulled her in closer to you "Because I love you too"

That look in her eyes, you could see that she had those butterflies too, her eyes locked with yours, she tilted her head slightly to the side and crashed her lips against yours.

Her hands were placed on the back of your neck pulling you deeper into her kiss, you slowly backed her into the wall and when her back hit the wall, she gasped which you used the opportunity to slide your tongue inside her mouth.

The kiss became heated real quick, forgetting that the two of you were still in the public place, only when someone cleared their throat, make the two of you look where the sound came from.

Natasha hid her face in the crook of your neck as she quietly laughed at how awkward that is, you pulled yourself away from her as you looked in the direction of Tony, who looked at you with pure disgust.

"As if you never done this, but sorry you had to witness..." You rolled your eyes at him at first but looked over at Natasha who was still leaning on the wall "This"

She smiled as she intertwined her hand with yours and tugged it to pull you out of the living room, the two of you made it to her room but it wasn't long before you reclaimed her lips with your own.

This time it was a little bit more gentle, you backed her up to the bed as the back of her leg hit the bed frame, before you pushed her back and claimed on top of her.

The only light was the moonlight that was shining through the blinds, you kissed her passionately and redirected your kisses down to her neck, she moved her face to the side giving you more access to her neck.

You left marks as you slightly stank your teeth in but sucked the spot right after, earning a few small moans from the redhead beneath you, she was slowly turning into a mess but she managed to slightly pull you away.

"Don't you have a lot of work?" She asked a little worried but lust was more visible.

"It can wait" You declared as you looked into her eyes "Are you sure you want this?"

She smiled at you being caring and asking for consent "I want this детка (baby)"

You smirked as you placed a soft kiss on her lips and returned to her neck, giving it a couple more kisses and slowly moving down, the only thing that stopped you was the material of her clothes.

She slightly lifted herself off as you pulled her shirt off, exposing her upper body, you looked at her in admiration, her eyes had slight doubt across them but you were quick to reassure her.

"You are beautiful Tasha" You meant every word that came out of your mouth.

There was a blush across her cheeks as she smiled at you, your hand reached for the back of her bra as you unhooked it and pulled it off her.

You took couple of seconds to admire the view before attaching your mouth to her nipple, she bit her bottom lip to prevent her from moaning.

Your free hand glued itself to the other breast, giving it the same amount of attention as your mouth did, you moved your lips to her ear as your hand kept playing with her now hard nipple.

"I want to hear you Natty" You whispered into her ear and with that Natasha moaned into your ear causing a small smirk to settle on your lips.

You continued to kiss down her body until you reached the bottom of her stomach, you looked up at her to see if she was okay, she nodded to give you the confirmation.

You pulled her shorts off along with her underwear, exposing the bottom half of her body, you could smell her arousal which only fuel you on.

You teased her as you kissed her inner thigh, leaving marks there as well, you would from time to time lock eyes with her. You moved closer to her pussy, teasing her with your tongue causing some frustrated moans to escape her mouth.

Her hips would buck as you would teasingly lick her wet folds, she looked down at you as her eyes were consumed with lust "Please Y/n! Just fuck me already"

That's all you needed to hear before you attached your mouth to her dripping pussy, giving her clit the attention first as the more louder moans escaped her mouth.

You gripped her with your hands as your tongue worked it's magic against her hard clit, she was gripping the bed sheets as moans were spilling out of her lips, not caring if anyone heard.

You moved one of your hands as you slipped one of your fingers inside her and without letting her adjust you started to thrust into her, the feeling of pleasure was building up quickly in the bottom of her stomach with each thrust.

"Oh god" Those were the only words she managed to choke out, she was soaked which stoked up your own arousal along with her moans.

Her hips were quick to match your pace as you thrusted, bringing her closer and closer, you pushed the second finger inside and this time you curled the two fingers, hitting her spot all over again.

One of her hands gripped your arm as her nails dug into your skin, the other hand was still tightly gripping the bedsheet, her head was thrown back as you came up to her face.

Your pace of your fingers never slowing down but thrusting harder and fast "Let me show you how you should be treated instead darling.."

You kissed her lips as she moaned, you moved back down as you felt her walls tighten, knowing she was about to cum. You pushed your fingers even deeper into her, her breathing was heavy letting out low and loud moans.

You watched as the orgasm consumed Natasha with your name falling freely from her lips, you slowed down your thrusts to let her ride out her orgasm, holding her steady pulling your fingers out of her as you licked her clean, and moved back up to her lips.

Kissing her as she slightly moaned at the taste of herself into the kiss, you pulled away from her as she was still breathing heavily, staring into your eyes with a smile.

"Now it's your turn" She spoke in between breathes.

You shook your head "Not today darling, today's focus is you.."

You stripped yourself naked as you pressed your warm body against Natasha, glaring at the marks you left and holding her tight in your arms as she slowly calmed down from her high.

You were sure in this moment that you wanted to hear her moan your name till the rest of your life, it was the music to your ears and you didn't want it any other way.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

If you want to join my tag list, click here and enjoy my future posts.

Tag-list: @diaryoflife,@wandanatblogs,@madamevirgo, @eilarch

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha fluff

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 2

Thank you so much for all your reactions to part 1! I hope you enjoy part two just as much :)

CW: mentions of past minor character death (incl. a pregnant woman)

7.3k - masterlist - ao3

--

Her first day of shooting isn’t great. It’s not bad by a long way, but it could have easily been better. They’re on location in a forest somewhere in the outskirts of Rifthold and she didn’t even know there were places in the city like this, she’d assumed it was all the sprawling metropolis of skyscrapers and crowded streets, but apparently not.

She’s cold. There’s a machine beating down torrents of fake rain on her and Fenrys where they stand opposite each other on the muddy path through the trees, they’re filming the scene where their characters first meet. Her feet are soggy inside the canvas trainers she’s wearing and they keep spraying water on her hair to keep the wet look running throughout all of the takes and she hates it. She’s uncomfortable and stiff but she comforts herself with the knowledge that Fenrys is the same if the frown he wears whenever the camera isn’t on him is anything to go by.

It helps, barely.

She keeps having to spit water out of her mouth between lines, she swears it never rains this heavily in real life but who is she to comment, and she watches Rowan’s lips twist in displeasure where he sits behind the camera every time she does it. Aelin’s not sure what else she’s supposed to do, he can sit there out of the line of the water all fine, but she can’t speak with her mouth full.

It can take time to fall into the natural rhythm of shooting a new project, even the shitty ones she’s done in the past have shown her that, but there’s something about the way Rowan watches her that prickles the back of her neck, his stare intense and heavy as he watches, that adds the pressure. She wants to show him that she can do this. She wants his approval.

She ignores the reasons why.

After they finish and Rowan has called cut she sulks back to her trailer, she’s only just managed to change out of her sodden clothes when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Fenrys, warm and dry now in his own change of clothes.

They’ve sort of become friends recently, after swapping numbers after the table read he had texted her first. The studio has put him in the same complex as her and they’ve shared a car back there a couple of times after some of their meetings. She likes him a lot actually, and while she knows his reputation of infamy with the ladies follows him around like a bad smell, she feels comfortable with him.

“That could have gone better,” he tells her as he flops down onto the two-seater sofa at the end of her trailer, the other half has a mound of clothes dumped on it that she hasn’t bothered to sort through yet.

She just shoots him a look that she hopes says tell me about it.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he tells her, reassuringly. He would know she supposes, he has far more experience than her.

“I hope so.”

“How’re you finding it so far, working with Rowan?” he asks, and she frowns, bristling at the fact that he somehow knows the worst question to ask already. Aelin doesn’t think she’s behaved weirdly around Rowan since the day at the table read, in fact she’s tried to avoid him where possible. Maybe that’s it.

“Fine,” she says, but that’s not quite true. It messes with her in a dangerous way every time she knows he’s watching her. She should be able to turn that part of her brain off during a scene, she trained for years to learn how to do that, but he gets to her. She’s working on it.

Fenrys laughs, seeing right through her.

“He’s not bad once you get to know him, the first time we worked together I thought he was a total dick.” She gives him the same look as before as she clears the clothes and sits down next to him.

“I swear he’s not that bad. He’s just-” Fenrys pauses, weighing her up with a look, and something that he takes in from the way she stands, gnawing on her lower lip with her hair still wet, has him saying; “He’s got a lot riding on this.”

“Why?”

It doesn’t feel like he has a lot riding on this, his last piece was nominated for the Oscars, how much higher than that can you get? It’s not like he’s in the same position as her, desperately clawing herself back to a place where she can be cast in a role and it not be followed by a stunned, oh?

She knows there were articles written when her casting was announced that were doubtful of her ability to do this movie, that questioned whether she’s up to the task and whether she’s good enough to be standing next to names like Fenrys and Rowan. Some of the articles were straight up mean, and she only knows that because she searched them up like a masochist when all the ones Elide sent over were far too nice.

A dark part of herself can’t help but fall prey to some of the headlines. The ones that throw around words like nepotism, the ones that question whether Aelin is talented enough to be where she is cut deeper than any knife, and only half of it is because she sometimes wonders the same. She should be better than that, but the reminder catches in her throat that she really does have a lot riding on this.

“It’s not really my place to say.”

That’s a load of shit, and she tells him so. He only shrugs, not willing to so openly gossip about their boss.

“How well do you know him exactly?” She’s fishing for any details, but it definitely could be passed off as casual curiosity.

“He directed my debut, we keep in touch every so often.” He’s nonchalant. “He asked me to audition for this.”

“Nice humble brag.”

Fenrys only flashes her his movie star grin, in combination with the wink he throws at her it’s almost an effort not to blush.

“He wanted you cast, you know?” That she didn’t know, but it’s nice to hear.

“Why? He doesn’t know me.”

“You’re hard work, you know?” He’s joking but it doesn’t sit quite right. She knows it’s true. “Come with us tonight. There's a group of us getting dinner, and you can ask him yourself.”

It’s an olive branch. She knows it’s obvious to everyone that she’s uncomfortable, still hasn’t quite found her feet on set after taking such a break, and it’s one that she’s grateful for. No matter how closed off she knows she still seems to them.

“Okay,” she says and Fenrys’ smile is genuine and a part of her lifts, it’s a start.

They share a car to the restaurant and he fills the journey with easy chatter. She appreciates it because she feels really fucking rusty. It’s been a while since she spoke to anyone outside of her immediate circle of friends and family, and it’s always been easy with them. This is different, but not unwelcome.

Sometimes she worries that, as much as they love her, Aedion, Lysandra and Elide are inclined to tread lightly around her. She’d like to think that she’s not that fragile, that she could take the full front of their humour and teasing like she used to, but then remembers when Fenrys’ joke fell flat for her in the trailer and she thinks again.

Either way, the cast and crew here don’t treat her like she’s broken, or even breakable, and it’s refreshing.

Fenrys leads the way into the restaurant, and there’s definitely paparazzi down the street snapping away at them as they cross the short distance from the car to the door. She tries to ignore it, she’ll text Elide once they’re done here, even though Elide will probably be overjoyed. It’s probably (definitely) easier to publicise your talent when she’s out there doing things with other famous people compared to staying inside her home alone.

Fenrys greets the staff on the door and they lead them through the restaurant to a staircase at the back of the room and it leads up to a private space with only one table. Right, privacy. Some of these guys are proper celebrities.

They’re the last ones there, and there’s two seats left at the table. Manon is here, so is Rowan and one of the executive producers who she thinks is called Gavriel.

“Alright guys, you all know Aelin,” Fenrys says and she smiles as they greet her.

Fenrys holds a chair out for her, the one next to Rowan, and she slides into it as he takes the one on her other side.

Rowan offers her a quirk of his lips, one she returns as she takes him in. He’s wearing short sleeves this time and she gets a good look at the tattoo snaking the whole way down his left arm. It’s in the Old Language and she can’t read it, even though her father had spent hours trying to teach her when she was a kid, but the lettering is beautiful and neat. She wants to reach out and touch, to trace the lines that roll down his golden skin.

She doesn’t. Obviously.

A waiter comes over to take their drink orders, Fenrys gets a beer, Manon and Gavriel opt for wine, but Rowan asks for an orange juice. He’s not drinking either and she wonders if it’s related to the reason he needs this movie to go well. So she’s nosy? So what?

She sits back and observes as the conversation flows, laughing along at the easy banter that flows between the three men and the sarcastic quips Manon throws in. Fenrys clearly understated his relationship with Rowan, they seem tight and have a clear fondness for one another. It’s easy to slot herself in as the night progresses, snarking with Manon and joining in with the general light-hearted mockery of Fenrys.

She thinks maybe so far she’s got Rowan wrong.

Tonight he’s quick-witted and charming, and he makes his best effort to include her in the conversation which she appreciates. It’s a contrast to the dark and teasing side of him she’s seen so far in the hallway and the table read. Maybe he’s decided to just start again, pretend they never met before she was cast, and she can do that too.

“So, Aelin.” Manon turns the spotlight to her after a while. “Tell us the scoop. I’ve not seen you in anything for a while.”

It’s not a nasty question, Aelin can just tell from the way she asks it, nothing more than genuine curiosity lies in her tone even if the phrasing is somewhat harsh. Manon might not be the bubbliest of characters, she’s blunt and doesn’t beat around the bush, but she’s not unkind, and Aelin doubts if she knew the truth she’d ask that question in such a way.

Elide managed to keep the worst of her… career break? One could phrase it more like breakdown, out of the limelight. She somehow managed to keep the worst of it hidden, and Aelin will owe her that for the rest of her life.

All the world knows is that Sam was murdered when they were both still newbies to their respective industries, neither of them had had their big break yet, and after that she took a break. For three years.

She remembers the headlines from the time, most were in smaller magazines, Sam wasn’t famous enough to make the front pages. Her mouth tastes like bile.

Singer-Songwriter Sam Cortland, 20, murdered in random street attack in Orynth, girlfriend Aelin Ashryver unharmed and working with police to identify suspect.

No one knows she knelt there in his blood begging for him to open his eyes, not even Aedion, or Lysandra or Elide, and she blinks back the image now. Her hands are curled into fists below the table and she forces herself to uncurl them and lay them flat against her jeans.

“Yeah,” she says after clearing her throat. “I took a break from it all for a few years, but I’m back now obviously and really excited for it.”

Manon nods and Gavriel raises a glass. He’s been nothing but kind to her all night. He kind of reminds her of her father, though he’s not that old, probably not even forty yet. He’s softly spoken and counters each snarky comment from Fenrys or Manon with something softer but no less amusing.

“Good to hear,” Fenrys says with a grin, clinking his glass against Gavriel’s.

The way Rowan watches her as he raises his own glass in a toast to her, careful and without speaking, tells her he knows. At least the basics about Sam, and it seems like maybe he did google her just like she joked back at the table read.

Their meals arrive then, mercifully taking the attention away from her. She needs to find a better way to deal with the attention than shutting down, especially if this film is going to be as big as everyone thinks it will be. She should call her therapist.

She will.

Eventually.

They leave the restaurant not long after, Fenrys covering the bill, emphasising that this was a celebration and an initiation for Aelin. She almost blushes for some unknown reason at his words, but she likes it. It sounds good. Like she really is back, or at least will be.

They each give her their numbers, and she likes the way he’s in her phone now as Rowan rather than Rowan Whitethorn, it feels like he’s not just someone from work. Not just her boss.

They each say goodbye and share a series of embraces, ignoring the small group of paparazzi that follow, desperate for any kind of incriminating image of any of the five of them. It’s clear that most of them are here for Fenrys, but she still makes sure to keep her expression clear and guarded as Rowan wraps her into a one-armed hug when they leave. It’s not just for the paparazzi.

Back in her apartment, when she’s tucked up in bed knowing she should be asleep, she can’t stop herself from googling him. She’s honestly surprised she’s lasted this long.

The first few news articles to come up are all about the movie and she scrolls past them, instead pulling up his Wikipedia page and scrolling straight to the personal life section. Maybe this is the weirdest way anyone’s ever got to know a friend, but she’s intrigued and still slightly flustered by him so it will do.

The section on his personal life is relatively bare, and it doesn’t surprise her. His Instagram account alone told her pretty explicitly that he’s a private kind of guy. She almost scrolls away after the first few lines, they don’t give her much information other than the college he went to and the languages he speaks, but she reads the final few lines of the section anyway.

In March 2018 Whitethorn’s fiance, Lyria Woods, passed away as the result of a road traffic accident. The driver of the other vehicle was found to be under the influence of alcohol at the time of the accident and was later sentenced to 6 years in prison for death by dangerous driving. Woods was 12 weeks pregnant with their child at the time of the accident.

Only a couple of weeks after the Oscars that she and Lysandra watched. She does the maths and realises this is his first film since then and thinks she knows what Fenrys meant.

Fucking shit.

Her second day of shooting goes better than the first, just as Fenrys said it would.

She’s more relaxed when she crosses the set from her trailer with a coffee in hand and she thinks she knows her place a little better now, even after only one night spent with the others.

She lies back while her make up is done, chatting to the make-up artist instead of sitting silently like the day before, and she’s almost ready for the discomfort that her wet hair will bring. The weather adds to the atmosphere of the film, dark and dreary and moody, and she gets why they’re doing it, but it still sucks.

Fenrys is ready when she gets there, and while she’s not avoiding Rowan today after finding out about his… past, she just finds it difficult to look him in the eye knowing what she does. He probably wouldn’t be surprised that she knew, if it’s on Wikipedia it’s public knowledge and they have made jokes about googling each other, but she feels weird in a way that she didn’t learn it from him. It feels intrusive, or invasive, to find out about something like that through Wikipedia.

But even though they bonded somewhat last night, and he greeted her this morning with an easy hey, they’re still not close. No matter that she thinks she might want them to be. She’s trying again to ignore the way she feels drawn to him, the way her eyes seek him out without her permission.

She knows she kills the take. Knows it from the high five Fenrys slaps against her palm once Rowan’s called cut and from the swift nod he offers her when she glances towards him.

There seem to be two Rowan’s too, there’s the award winning director Rowan Whitethorn, and then just Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn is cool and calculating and distant, quiet while he watches their scene from his place behind the camera, the big black headphones he uses pushed down around his neck. His eyes are as sharp as a hawk’s while he watches for all the minute details of their expressions and any improvements they could make. He doesn’t give her that many she’s pleased to note.

The way he instructs them is impressive, with clear directions and thoughtful analyses. She’s been here two days and she knows how he got the Oscar nomination, he’s scarily intelligent and seems to know exactly what’s off about a performance before she figures it out herself.

The other side to him, the side that is just Rowan is…

Just Rowan is the one she likes more.

She suspects the smile he gives her later, after they’ve nailed the bulk of the scene in one take and she’s being twirled around by Fenrys, comes from him.

She has two full days off in a row, and she decides the best use of her time is to go and stay with Aedion and Lysandra. Fenrys isn’t free, and the reason she is is that he has a load of solo scenes to shoot, and she doesn’t envy him at all.

Lysandra is ecstatic when she announces via a group text to her and Aedion that she’ll be at their house for lunchtime, and she loves it, but it makes her feel a little guilty. That she’s let it get to the point when her friend reacts like that at her promise of a visit is quite frankly appalling, but she finally feels as if she’s taken the first step. She’s on the bottom rung of the ladder, and it’s taken her a while, but she’s there now.

Aedion and Lysandra live in a disgustingly big house in a gated part of the suburbs, and she knows the house isn’t exactly what they would have chosen in an ideal world, it’s too big and garish and grey, but there are gates by the entrance and 24 hour security.

It still messes with her head that Aedion is that famous. Aedion. Her gangly cousin, always too tall for his own good, who used to pull her hair when they were kids and sneak her extra helpings of cake at family parties before her parents divorced. She doesn’t know that much about football, so little in fact that her dad and Aedion teased her relentlessly for years, but everyone tells her he’s good.

Like really good.

The salary he gets from the Ravens is more than enough proof.

She rings their front door bell and she can hear Lysandra’s quick steps before the big wooden door is pulled open.

Her friend is glowing. Her dark hair falls into waves near the end and her staggeringly beautiful face is free of any make-up and unblemished and dewy. She’s had time to get over the insecurities that come from being friends with Lysandra so it barely phases her as she wraps her arms around her friend.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers into Lysandra’s hair. It smells like coconut and citrus and just Lysandra.

“I missed you too. So much,” Lysandra sighs as she pulls back, dragging Aelin into the house and shutting the door.

Their hallway is grand and open but there’s a pile of their shoes by the wall and a rack of coats that make it feel more homely. There are framed photos carefully arranged on the sideboard in the entry way that show the two of them with their whole family and all of their friends.

There’s one on there of Aelin and Lysandra at eighteen, their arms thrown tightly around each other while they grin massive, excited smiles at the camera, or more likely Elide behind it. She remembers the day it was taken, Lysandra had signed to her first agency and arranged to move to Rifthold, and they had taken her out to celebrate.

It was around the same time she signed for her first movie, a tiny role with two lines and twenty seconds of screen time but it got the ball rolling with her first proper acting credit, and she’ll never forget it.

A head of golden hair pokes around the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall and she lets her cousin sweep her up into a hug, swinging her up and around so her feet dangle above the floor.

“Alien, we’ve missed you.”

A stupid nickname from when they were young, the kind of young where he thought it was hilarious to replace her name with an extraterrestrial, but it only makes her smile now, squeezing her cousin tight before he puts her back down.

“Yeah, I bet you’ve been lost without me.” She beams at them, taking a moment to soak in how it feels to be with them even as Aedion rolls his eyes. “I’ve missed you both too.”

“Lunch is ready, come on,” Aedion tells her as he takes her case and drags it through the house, leaving it by the bottom of the stairs. It’s then that she spots the frilly pink apron tied around his waist.

“Alright,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to try what the domestic goddess has in store for us.”

Peals of laughter burst out of Lysandra and she grins back at her, forever grateful that they managed to keep their relationship with each other from ever impacting on their relationship with Aelin. At first she had been worried that Aedion and Lysandra would become AedionAndLysandra and that she wouldn’t have a place left with them, but she needn’t have worried, and they worked too well together for Aelin to have ever wished for anything different.

“Gods, shut up,” he mutters, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the kitchen. “So annoying, both of you.”

She grins as she hears Lysandra smack an overly dramatic kiss to his cheek.

Aedion’s a surprisingly good cook, the lunch he’s made is tasty despite being carefully planned to fit into both his and Lysandra’s strict meal plans. If they’re the cost needed to be able to live in a house like this, Aelin doesn’t want it.

“So,” Aedion says after he’s finished chewing a mouthful. “How are things going?”

He asks it with a gentle kind of sensitivity that she understands what he’s really asking. She knows it’s code for are you still sober? but she also knows he hasn’t asked it because he doubts her. Aedion and Lysandra have always been in her corner, even in her darkest moments they were there.

She never wants to put them through anything like that ever again. Never wants them to experience anything as terrifying as the last night she ever touched a drug. That night, almost a year ago now, will forever be the bottom of her pit. She doesn’t remember much of it, other than the devastation on Aedion’s face as he carried her out of the men’s toilets of a seedy nightclub in Perranth. The way he’d bitten his lip as he picked her up off the sticky floor, pulling the hem of her dress down to cover her underwear where it had ridden up.

The thought makes her sick.

He’d had to skip a game, leading to a bollocking from his coach, but he’d done it for her. Had carried her out of the club and into a car, waiting to take them back to his house. Lysandra had stroked her hair where she lay on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor while Aedion called a doctor to the house. Even through his panic he had thought of her and how little she would want it publicised that she’d been pulled out of a club, off her fucking rocker on whatever substance she’d been given by the lowlives she had fallen in with. She’s really, really lucky that for once Aedion hadn’t been followed by paparazzi.

She takes a sip of her sparkling water before she answers, it feels like all she ever drinks these days and it tastes like shit but it’s worth it if she never reverts back to where she was.

“I’m good.” She’s almost surprised to find that it’s true. “I’m feeling much better.”

She can barely look at them, can barely take the level of subdued joy on their faces.

“We’re glad Aelin, really glad.” Lysandra’s voice is sincere.

“So, how’s the new project going?” Aedion asks her, sensing her discomfort almost immediately.

“That’s good too actually.” It is. It feels good to have something positive to focus on, something that she feels is productive and worth doing. “It’s nice to be back and be busy even if the morning shoots begin disgustingly early. It’s good to be on set, surrounded by it all again and to remember that I can actually do this.”

She stabs her fork through a piece of tomato a little aggressively as she finishes and the look Lysandra shoots her tells her she’s not impressed with the self-deprecation but that she’ll let it slide for now.

“And Fenrys Moonbeam, is he really that good looking in real life?”

Aelin laughs. “More actually, sometimes it's too much.”

“Nice,” Lysandra nods appreciatively.

“Is he alright though?” Ever the overprotective older brother figure, she expected some version of this question from Aedion.

“He’s great. He’s hilarious and it really helps on the long days,” she says before taking her next bite.

“And Rowan Whitethorn’s directing isn’t he? What’s he like?”

Aelin blinks and finishes chewing slowly. “He’s… fine.”

She knows she’s fucked it when Aedion and Lysandra share a look, matching smirks beginning on each of their faces.

“Fine,” Lysandra repeats. “What exactly does fine mean Aelin?”

She purses her lips. “He’s a great director.”

Lysandra rolls her eyes. “And?”

She could probably lie here, they’d probably let it slide if she said some bullshit about how they’ve not spoken much and how she barely knows him, but she honestly needs to talk to someone about this. You know, to set her straight.

“And he’s really hot.”

She’s blushing as Lysandra laughs and Aedion chuckles.

“You’ve got a crush,” Lysandra sing-songs, and when she doesn't respond she says, “Have you got a picture of him? I don’t think I actually know what he looks like.”

She can’t blame Lysandra for that, she’s still kicking herself for not recognising him that day in the hallway, but he was only on screen for a few seconds at the Oscars and it wasn’t long after Sam so it wasn’t like she was paying attention in that way. She still thinks she should have noticed.

She pulls her phone out to find the only picture she has on there with Rowan. She had only taken it this week when they were eating breakfast with Fenrys one morning, in one of the tents that had been set up for them to sit in between takes, and Fenrys had pulled his phone out to snap a photo of her for his Instagram story.

She’d been wrapped up in one of the huge parkas they’re given for the times in between scenes holding her croissant high up in the air when he’d taken it. He’d captioned it she could have dropped her croissant and tagged her, and she’d gained a good few thousand followers. She’s almost at a million and they’re only a couple of weeks into shooting.

She had taken one of him in response and then spun around to force Rowan into a selfie with her, he’d protested but she’d pouted until he relented, grumbling something about actors that she knew he didn’t mean. She didn’t post it anywhere, she kept it to herself and she can’t lie, she’s looked at it way too many times since.

She’s smiling a wide smile, cheeks stuffed full of her croissant and it’s really kind of gross, but the small smile on Rowan’s face makes it bearable. More than bearable, she has to resist the temptation to make it her lock screen because that would be weird.

She remembers the heat of his chest where he had stood behind her to lean down so their faces were level, the hand he rested on her shoulder to steady himself and the way his fingers had brushed against her neck in the lightest caress.

She hands the phone over to Lysandra and wants to pull it back almost immediately.

It’s not that she’s embarrassed or whatever, even if they think it’s a bad idea they’d let her down gently, it's just that their opinion matters to her a lot. And while they haven’t exactly approved of her string of random hookups in the years since Sam, they’ve never tried to comment on it other than to check she’s in a good place with it, but she knows they’re waiting for the next person she sees seriously.

There’s a fairly large part of her that thinks her first relationship since Sam shouldn’t be with her boss. And that fucks her up a bit, because since when was she considering a relationship with him?

“Oh yeah,” Lysandra says, scaring away the intrusive thought and raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “He’s hot alright.”

Aedion nods along, peering over Lysandra’s shoulder. Lysandra’s eyes are far too knowing when she looks back up at Aelin and passes the phone over. She doesn’t say a word before locking the phone and sliding it back into her pocket.

“You’ll have to invite us to set sometime.” Lysandra is sneaky but not subtle.

“I will,” she agrees.

The next week flies by, she shoots every single day but one, and she’s far too exhausted each night to do anything other than scrounge up a measly meal that can be pulled together from her cupboard basics and the limited vegetables in her fridge before falling straight asleep. They’ve made good progress so far, and she knows it's going to be good, but she’s tired.

She’s seen a lot more of the process outside of her own character by now too, and she’s amazed, but not surprised, when she persuades one of the crew to let her watch back one of Fenrys’ solo scenes from the previous week. He’s a phenomenal actor, that much is clear, but she had allowed herself to get caught up in Fenrys as her friend, the happy and funny guy she spends her time with, forgetting the talented and driven lead actor of their movie.

Not that she can forget it in the scenes they share, but she’s mostly concentrating on the emotions her character is going through, and responding to what Fenrys gives her. It almost feels too natural for him, and she forgets that it takes work.

His text meets her at lunchtime on the Sunday they both have off, when she’s still in her pyjamas on the couch, debating whether to start a new series or watch the latest cheesy rom-com that Netflix has released.

She auditioned for one of them a couple of years ago, and she’s far enough past the bitterness that comes with not getting the role that she could enjoy it. Maybe a little, cynical part of herself thinks she’s glad she didn’t get it. What she has now is far better. She’s being a snob, but she straight up doesn’t care. It’s not like anyone else is here to judge her.

Fancy coming to Rowan’s to watch the game? I’m leaving in 20 his text reads.

She didn’t plan on doing anything today, but the invitation sparks something in her, and she’s never been to Rowan’s place before. The studio put him in a house about thirty minutes from set, and she’s curious. How much luxury does the big name director get compared to what she and Fenrys have got? She’s lucky really, that Dorian managed to negotiate the same for her as they offered Fenrys.

rowan’s??? She replies, followed by what game????

She gets up off the couch, putting the lid on the tub of yoghurt she was tucking into with a spoon and walking through to the kitchen to throw it back into the fridge.

Tall, grumpy guy that bosses us around all the time comes through a minute later and she grins at her phone at the description. It’s followed up by Ravens v Panthers.

She taps out, getting changed will be ready in 15 and he replies with three smiling emojis.

She doesn’t think it will be anything fancy if her impromptu invitation is anything to go by so she only swaps her pyjama bottoms with tiny cartoon sheep down the legs for a pair of black leggings and throws a sweatshirt over her oversized t-shirt.

Manon is there when they get there, sprawled across the two seater sofa at the far side of Rowan’s living room, and she gives them both a wave when they enter the room. The house is a pretty modest, two-up two-down in a sweet neighbourhood and it’s cosy inside with relatively modern decor. She doesn’t know for sure whether or not that fits Rowan, but she feels like it does.

He doesn’t let them in, Fenrys swings the door open and marches in like it’s his own place and she wonders how much he and Rowan have hung out, or whether that’s just him. Rowan appears in the doorway about a minute after they come in, a bowl of snacks in his hand that she thinks could be popcorn and he puts it down before coming over to wrap Fenrys in a hug. They slap each other on the back in the way that guys do before pulling back.

Aelin stands at Fenrys’ side watching the exchange, unsure whether to greet Rowan or just take a seat, and once they’re done he seems to regard her with the same sort of uncertainty. Fenrys darts around Rowan to throw himself onto the other sofa and she doesn’t give herself long enough to doubt her decision before she opens her arms and steps towards him.

“Hey,” he says simply as he wraps her into a brief hug. “Thanks for coming.”

She wraps her arms around his own broad shoulders, and it feels nice. He’s warm and strong beneath her hands and the way his arms loop around her waist, so far his hands reach back around to her stomach, gets her in a way that she really doesn’t need to think about. It feels really good pressed up against him like that.

“Hey,” she breathes as he pulls back, and she knows he sees the blush on her cheeks. She’s not fifteen, she really needs to sort herself out. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course, make yourself at home.” He gives her another half smile, offering a flash of his straight, white teeth, and again she’s struck by him. That his place is behind the camera is a crime. “I’ve got more snacks and drinks in the kitchen if you want.”

“Beer?” Fenrys asks her, already heading to a door that she assumes leads to the kitchen.

She shakes her head, “do you have sparkling water?” She directs the question to Rowan who nods.

He doesn’t have to speak before Fenrys says “on it,” and leaves the room.

She assesses the seating choices left in the room, there’s a cream two-seater sofa opposite where Manon lies, and that’s probably her best bet, but Rowan has already taken his seat on it, an ankle crossed over a knee as he settles into the cushions. There’s plenty of room to sit by him and not touch, and she weighs it up against having to ask Manon to move.

She’s friendly with the girl, but still feels slightly intimidated by the calculating and sarcastic blonde despite the fact that she’s a few years younger than Aelin herself, so maybe Rowan is the safer choice.

Fenrys comes back into the room just as she takes her seat.

“Move your feet, Blackbeak,” he demands as he hands her a glass of sparkling water, it’s chilled with a couple of cubes of ice and she appreciates it.

Manon lifts her legs for Fenrys to sit, but plops her legs back down across his lap immediately and sticks her tongue out at him as she does. Aelin feels herself smile at the display, and the fact that she’s included in this circle of friends. She hasn’t really made an effort with anyone new since Sam, the only people she’s really spoken to are Elide, Lysandra and Aedion, and they were all there for her before Sam. It feels really damn good.

She really, really, doesn’t understand the rules of football, but it’s easy enough to cheer along when the others do and laugh at their outrage when something doesn’t go their way. It’s the most animated she’s seen Rowan so far, and she’s not quite sure which way their allegiances lie, but it’s probably with the Ravens being in Rifthold and all, and she knows her own is.

Everytime Aedion gets the ball or is shown on screen she can’t hold back the cheers. She’s proud of him and she knows how hard he works to be as good as he is, and even knowing as little as she does, it's special to watch him excel.

Rowan and Fenrys both seem a little starstruck that he’s her cousin, to her he’s just Aedion and they’re the real, scary celebrities, but they gush about him like starstruck little boys.

“And you were at his house last weekend?” Fenrys cries, almost outraged that this is the first he’s ever heard of it, but honestly? They’re both Ashryvers; it’s not like it's a secret.

“Yes,” she laughs. “He’s basically like my brother.”

“Gods, Aelin.” He sounds almost pained that she hasn’t brought this up before. “You've been holding out on us! Please give me his number or introduce me or something.”

“Sorry.” She laughs again and throws a smile to Rowan that he returns with another quirk of his lips. “Invite me earlier next time and I’ll ask him to sort a box for us at the stadium.”

“Seriously?” Even Rowan sounds awed now.

“Yeah, just let me know,” she says. “It’s no big deal.”

It really wouldn't be, Aedion has been telling her for years to invite any friends she wants to games, she would just need some friends outside of him, Lysandra and Elide first.

“It’s definitely a big deal,” he says, watching her with a smirk still playing on his lips.

She shrugs. “Just make sure you text me early next time.”

“Oh, I will,” he says, and she has to look away from him. The way his voice curves around the words, all low and intense, is definitely about more than just the game.

She tries to pass it off as just looking to where Fenrys is cheering loudly at the next play, but Manon is there again, looking at her with such a knowing expression that she immediately focuses back on the TV.

At half time she needs to use the bathroom and Rowan gives her a quick rundown of the layout of the house. She’s quick to do her thing and runs by the kitchen afterwards to grab a refill of her drink and find something to eat.

Rowan had told them all to help themselves, explaining that he felt they had as much right as he to poke through the cupboards in the only just filled rental property and she gets it. The places the studio rent out for them are nice enough, and she’s more than grateful that they do, but it’s never quite home. Even if her home is somewhat impersonal, it’s still home.

She’s on her tiptoes, scanning through the relatively well stocked cupboards on the hunt for anything chocolate, when someone enters the kitchen behind her.

“I know I said help yourselves, but you’re going to eat me out of house and home at this rate.”

It’s Rowan, and he leans against the doorframe as he watches her startle and spin to face him, his legs are crossed at the ankles and his arms are folded over his chest. The pose highlights his powerful arms that she wants to be wrapped up in again and he looks really good in the dim lighting of the kitchen. It bounces off the lines of his tattoo, shining and highlighting the swirls that she can barely look away. She wants to ask what it means.

Aelin scoffs and pushes the cupboard door shut gently, they’re not eating that much and if they are it’s definitely not her, Fenrys and Manon are another story.

“There’s nothing stopping you from kicking us all out,” she says and he laughs, shaking his head.

He tilts his head to the side, his gaze picking her apart by the second before he says “maybe not all of you.”

His words and the way he shifts in the doorway as his eyes run her up and down gives her the confidence to bite her lip and look up at him through her lashes. He pushes off the door frame and comes to lean against the counter by her side.

He opens a cupboard door on her other side and rummages through a shelf before handing her a foil packet.

“I have a feeling this is what you were after.”

She accepts the chocolate and tucks it onto the counter at her side as she mirrors him and leans against it too.

“Unsurprisingly, you’d be correct.”

He presses his lips together before his lips twist again, it’s the same expression from before that she knows means he wants to smile but he can’t quite commit, and she feels her body loosen like she wants to lean forward to press into him. She doesn’t though.

What she does instead is take a sharp breath and a step back. “Thanks.” She waves the bar of chocolate in the air before stepping around him and making her way back into the living room, forcing her steps to seem calm and collected as she feels his gaze heavy on her back.

“Anytime.” His words follow her out of the room, they’re a promise.

Luckily, Fenrys and Manon both ignore it when Rowan follows her and retakes his place next to her.

#rowaelin #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin au #ndilyd #nobody does it like you do #cw: minor character death

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 10

First

Previous

Grocery store trips were weird. Tim had never taken them before, and now here he was buying food for the three of them regularly. He’d thought it would be harder, for some reason. But, no, it was just boring.

Tim rolled his eyes as Damian pointed to the nearest brightly colored object -- a bag of Not Cheetos… holy shit they were called Fritos this wasn’t allowed he has never been so vehemently against anything in his life.

He sighed as the baby yelled at him for the bag. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have gone in the chip aisle.

He looked down at the kid in front of him with an apologetic smile.

“No, kiddo. See, I would love to get that for you but, unfortunately, Mari said I can’t buy you any more random sweets. Blame her, not me.”

Damian was, apparently, too smart for his tricks because he banged his fist on the front of the cart and babbled at him angrily.

Tim sighed and leaned forward until his forehead touched the cool metal of the cart, thinking.

And then he got back up and handed the kid the bag of chips. Damian didn't know that it was food, Tim was pretty sure, and he had nothing against… ‘Fritos’ (outside of their name, obviously). So, why not? He could eat them. It was better than dealing with a tantrum in the middle of a store, at least.

Damian lit up and hugged the bag to his chest as if it was a soft stuffed animal and not a plastic bag filled with air and maybe a few chips.

Tim smiled faintly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head and then continued on his way, scanning over the list idly.

Oh. Marinette had added something. He squinted down at her messy scrawl, bringing it close to his face as if he could will the words to make sense.

And it worked. Ha. Take that everyone who didn’t believe in him.

Okay. So, she needed ‘pads’.

Sure. No problem.

He walked over to the aisle.

Hm. Okay. There might be a tiny little problem.

Why were there so many different brands? And sizes?

He stared around at them all helplessly. Sure, he had glimpsed the box a few times but he certainly hadn’t paid it much mind -- it wasn’t for him, why would he?! But now he was standing in an entire aisle full of products and there were way too many of them. And why did they all look the same? Shit!

He looked at Damian, who was biting the edge of the chip bag and giggling about the crinkling noises it made. But, once Tim turned his gaze on him, he looked up at him with wide eyes, attentive.

“Any chance you know what type Mari uses?” Tim joked softly.

Damian popped off the chip bag so he could babble at him. It was very helpful.

He considered, very briefly, just standing there in the aisle with the same helpless expression until some kind-hearted person took pity on him and he could avoid the embarrassment of calling Marinette at work to ask what types of pads she used… but, no, the idea of asking some random person for help was way worse. He had to just suck it up and do it.

He pulled out his phone and called Marinette. He was pretty sure it was lunchtime for her, anyways.

She picked up within a few rings, voice slightly muffled as she answered with a simple: “Problem?”

Tim didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amused that her first thought when he called her was that something was wrong.

But he quickly alleviated her fears: “No, everything’s fine.”

He could hear the phone shift slightly as she assumedly went back to eating. “Right, then what is it?”

“Nothing bad, really…” Tim started awkwardly. His face reddened without his permission. “Just wanted to know what brand you used for, um, hygiene products.”

“... hyg --? Oh.” He heard her laugh at him and his face only reddened further. “What, the world's greatest detective couldn’t figure it out?”

“That’s my dad!” He mumbled a little huffily.

She snickered a little longer before finally saying: “I think the brand is called ‘Forever’ here.”

“See! You don’t even know!” He said even as he pulled down a box with the word written across it in elegant script.

“That’s because the name changed when --...” She seemed to remember she was at work -- or, at least, that there were other people around -- because she cut herself off suddenly before she could admit to being a dimension hopper in a world that likely wouldn’t even believe in the multiverse. “When… I switched brands! Yeah. Heh.”

(Tim swore he heard her mumble ‘technically not even a lie’ but he wasn’t quite sure.)

He started to put it in the basket but then he paused.

“There’s a lot of sizes.”

“Um… I think a four?”

“Yeah, no, they have letters here.”

“Fuck, right, hate that, um… D, I guess.”

He switched out the Cs he had gotten and smiled as Damian reached for him. He clearly wanted out of the cart -- Tim wondered, vaguely, if it was uncomfortable -- but that wasn’t going to happen so he decided to distract him:

“Want to talk to Mari, kiddo?”

The kid blinked up at him a few times before lighting up. “Mar-ree!”

He pressed the phone to Damian’s ear with one hand until the kid took it himself and then motioned for him to go ahead. “Takalam maeaha.”

“... marhaba?” Damian said, giving Tim a look that seemed to scream ‘you’re weird for making me talk into a box’.

Marinette must have said something back, because the kid’s eyes went wide. Damian looked around wildly for a few moments, clearly trying to figure out where Marinette was, before he realized that her voice was coming from the box. He gasped a little and pressed the phone against his ear even harder and started to ‘talk’ to her. It was a weird mix of Arabic and a few English syllables thrown together haphazardly, Tim was just glad he was learning.

Tim started on his way through the store again, sure he wasn’t going to get his phone back anytime soon.

He’d gotten all the necessities and they had money left in the weekly budget...

He headed to the kid’s aisle, head tipping from side to side as he considered what to get. Maybe a new book? Damian had taken a liking to them, though Tim was pretty sure that was more because he thought the English language sounded kind of funny rather than any real passion for stories.

He picked up a book about letters and looked down at Damian. He sounded annoyed now.

He looked at Tim with an annoyed expression and shook Tim’s poor phones a few times. “Mar-ree!”

Ah. She must have hung up because her break was over.

How was he supposed to explain how phones worked to a baby? Especially since he knew phones so intimately thanks to his time working on the model he was using.

He gently pulled the phone from the kid’s hands. “Mari’s at work. You can see her later.”

“Bu…” Damian pouted.

Damn it. How dare the kid be cute? Tim was about five seconds away from walking to Marinette’s job so the kid would smile again.

He hesitated before reaching behind himself and grabbing the first soft thing his hands landed on. He pulled it out and squinted at the stuffed cat. It was cute, he supposed, but he didn’t know why it was rainbow-colored.

Whatever.

He offered the plush to Damian and the kid seemed to instantly forget about the phone.

(And the chips. But the kid had put it in his mouth so it looked like Tim was buying that anyway.)

He pressed a kid to the top of his head and then continued on his way.

… and that was when he heard it:

Haha, someone got called a DILF.

… wait a minute… he was the only person with a kid around here…

His head whipped around so fast he would have gotten whiplash if he was old -- which he wasn’t -- to see two girls in their mid teens. And they were definitely looking at him. They even tried to hide behind the next aisle in order to avoid his gaze once they realized he had heard them.

Tim didn’t know what to do about this. Someone had actually called him...

He was 19! He couldn’t be that yet! How?! No!

And, sure, the logical part of him knew they were technically right. He was attractive (he hoped) and, when it came to the ‘dad’ thing… if Damian never got his memories back, then Tim would pretty much be the only dad that he had ever known. He would be a dad.

But, again, he was 19-years-old, he didn’t want to think about this.

So, to ward off the impending crisis, he looked around the aisle he was in wildly for some kind of ‘kid’ thing.

He found some marshmallow guns and grabbed two. Then he got some marshmallows because those weren’t included for some reason. Whatever.

He looked down at the basket, aware that he was now over budget, and eventually decided to put back the book. Who needs to learn?

(Besides, if Damian really wanted to just hear people talk, Tim could totally do that. He had so many random facts in his head thanks to random rabbit holes he had gone down while sleep-deprived, he could just rant about those if the kid wanted.)

So, he checked out, loaded up with all the bags and the baby, and started walking home.

… he was totally going to learn to drive. Even if Gotham streets were safer -- especially when he had a baby on him -- it was a pain to carry all the groceries even the few blocks to their apartment. Literally. The bags dug into his skin. He swore he could taste blood.

But he had an end goal in sight, so he went faster than usual that day.

He set up the guns, leaving Marinette’s on the kitchen table and then took a seat on the couch with Damian. They spent the few remaining hours playing games (Tim was pretty sure, he had absolutely no clue what Damian was saying but the kid seemed to have fun and that was all that mattered) and watching TV.

Tim heard his door click and looked up.

He quickly reached for the marshmallow gun and turned to point it at the door.

Damian watched him in silence, perfectly still as if he understood that this was something that they needed to be quiet for.

Usually, this kind of worried Tim. They always gave Damian to Kaalki and Tikki when they sparred, but Damian had always been… shockingly well-behaved? Not in the good way, either, he was far too still and quiet. Tim was starting to suspect that, at the very least, the kid remembered the first year of his life in the League. He hoped that the trauma would fade away with time. Kids forget things that they experienced as babies when they grew older, Tim himself couldn’t remember anything from before he was three, so hopefully this would be the same.

… but he really wanted to get Marinette with a marshmallow gun. So, he swallowed down the slight bit of anxiety rising in his chest and looked through the scope as Marinette finally managed to open the finicky door.

Damian’s eyes widened and he made a quiet ‘ah!’ sound.

Tim jumped at the sudden sound and pulled the trigger. The marshmallow gun made a fmpf sound as it fired off the shot.

The marshmallow bounced off of Marinette’s forehead harmlessly. Because, y’know, it was a marshmallow.

She blinked a few times and then knelt down to pick up the fallen marshmallow. She scanned it over a few times, eyes narrowed.

Tim hardly paid attention to her, looking over at Damian. The kid looked very confused, eyes darting between the gun and Marinette and the marshmallow on the floor repeatedly as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

And then he flopped back on the sofa with a quiet whimpering sound.

Marinette and Tim frowned at each other. He could see confusion and concern knitting her eyebrows together, meanwhile all he had was dread coiling itself in his gut. Because… what if Damian did remember his first year with the League? Or, even worse, what if he would slowly regain all his memories? No kid deserved that...

Tim felt something hit the side of his head, snapping him out of his daze. Oh. Marinette had grabbed the other gun and promptly gotten her revenge.

Damian didn’t see this, at least, just staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Marinette sat on Damian’s other side, gently picking him up and nuzzling her nose against his cheek. Then, she sat him back down between them, sidling close so the kid could curl into her side. Tim, after a few seconds, scooted closer as well.

“Want some marshmallows? They’re yummy,” she tried hesitantly.

She shot one into her hand and, after tearing it in half just in case, handed it to Damian.

The kid took a hesitant bite, still looking a little put out, but then he gasped a little. He happily chewed away at the marshmallow, the event easily wiped from his mind in favor of the yummy thing in his hand.

Tim sighed in relief, reaching behind himself for the marshmallow bag so they wouldn’t have to shoot any more. Just in case.

“Quick thinking,” he said, which was kind of a compliment if you squinted.

She smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s what I’m known for.”

There was a few seconds before she sighed just a little, gently combing her fingers through Damian’s hair. The kid reached out and gripped Tim’s shirt in his hand, surely getting it messed up thanks to the marshmallow on his hands but whatever, and tried to tug him closer. He obliged. Marinette rested her head on his shoulder absently.

“What would I do without you?” He mused.

“Probably starve on the streets,” she said bluntly.

He scoffed a little. “The minute this kid goes to sleep I’m going to shoot another marshmallow at you.”

“You can try. Only reason you even got me last time was ‘cause I didn’t know you were going to do it.”

“The element of surprise is a totally valid tactic!” He pretended to whine.

She grinned at him. “But it won’t work again.”

He wrapped an arm around her lazily. “We’ll see.”

~~~~~

Next

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

#pads..... of paper?? #nearly made tim go #do with this information what you will #into the unknown #maribat #tim drake #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #red robin #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug

[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt.3

I’m so sorry for the late post guys! I had the most hectic work load today. I’m taking too many goddamn classes this semester. ANYWAY here is my filthy part 3. I mean... they still haven’t fucked, but we’re getting there. I think this can be wrapped in a nice little 4 part bow, but I also kinda want 10 chapters of them together because I’m a slut for this dynamic. This is my FIRST TIME writing smut! So go easy on me. Thank you so much for reading! - Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3   Part 4

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, SMUT, ORAL (m receiving), FLUFF, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2300

It was a short ride to the compound, and y/n had a hard time keeping up with the fast walking team as they tried to explain little things along the way.

She hadn’t been outside in a decade. The grass was green and warm where it met her bare feet as she walked behind Sam and Steve. The rest of the team immediately left the quinjet, seeking the comfort of their showers and beds. Bucky was the last to leave, not feeling right about just disappearing from her, but keeping his distance.

Y/n was still so heartbroken. Hearing about her family’s death had really stung, and she knew if she dwelled on it, she’d cry about it for days. But all she really had time to be sad about was how cold her Soldat was towards her. It seemed very much like he didn’t want her around him.

Steve and Sam brought y/n inside the residential wing of the compound. They toured the common areas, kitchen, and showed her where everyone’s bedroom was. They finally got to a guest bedroom down the hall from Natasha, and left her to get cleaned up and comfortable.

Y/n looked around her new bedroom. It was barely decorated, but she had to admit, it was still much nicer than her room with the Men. She sat her yarn and needles down on a table and sat on the large bed. Her body instantly sank into it, the plush comforter conforming to her body in a way the single sheet never did on the twin bed she slept on.

But she couldn’t enjoy her new favorite place in the world for long because not 3 minutes later, she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened it, and much to her surprise, Bucky was standing there, with 2 pairs of sweatpants, and 3 t shirts in his arms.

“I figured you’d want some fresh clothes after you’re clean.” He said sheepishly, not making eye contact with her. “You can ask Nat about undergarments.”

That made her giggle the tiniest bit. “I’m not allowed to wear any undergarments.” But he should know that. She was trained to do things to please him, so wouldn’t he like her to not have on obstructing materials?

“Oh. Well, umm… you can now… If you want to. It’s up to you.” She could see the blush rise up his neck, coloring the bits of his face that weren’t blanketed by hair. She took in his attire. He obviously changed out of his tactical mission gear, in favor of the sweatpants he wore that looked almost identical to the ones in his arms. He also appeared to be freshly showered, his hair still damp, and if she looked close enough, she could see little wet patches on his shirt from where he didn’t dry himself completely.

“Are these your clothes?” She asked, taking the bundle from his arms and opening her door wider so he could enter her room.

“Yeah, Steve went a little overboard on the shopping when I first got here. They’ll be a little big, but the pants have a drawstring, so it should work for now. Until you get something better.” He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to put the sweatpants up to her face and inhale deeply. She just felt a primal urge to know what he smelled like. Gunpowder, wood, and something naturally male- Bucky. She couldn’t stop the moan low in her throat.

Bucky watched her as she did that. He felt his pants tighten just at the thought of her in his clothes, and the way she just smelled his pants and let out that sound of satisfaction, made him want to take her right there.

“Thank you, sir.” Y/n replied. Fully engulfed in her embarrassment.

“Y/n, you really don’t need to call me that. I’m just Bucky.” He reminded her. Honestly, he loved when she called him Sir- the authority it gave him, but it made an unholy amount of blood flow directly to his cock and he couldn’t think as clearly. Especially when she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

“Okay, Bucky.” She said, trying the name out on her tongue. He liked the way she said it. “If that makes you happy.” She risked a step closer to him.

“You need to do what makes you happy.” He took an equally measured step back, knowing he was close to giving in to her temptation.

“I’m working on it, Bucky. But I need your permission. I just wanna be good for you.” She said, quickly taking 3 more steps until she was about 6 inches from his face.

“This isn’t right, Y/n. You don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. Hydra wanted this. You don’t have to belong to me.” She craned her neck up to be closer to his lips, but he was determined to reason with her before he does something he can’t take back.

“But I want to belong to you. I thought about you every day for 10 years years, Bucky. And I hadn’t even seen you.” Bucky tilted his head down ever so slightly, their lips were just shy of touching. “Let me be good for you, Bucky. Let me make you happy.” She repeated.

“Okay.” Was all he said. He expected their lips to touch then, but she was already down in her knees. None of her videos showed passionate kissing. She wanted to please him in the way she read about in her studies.

On her knees, Y/n was able to see the thick outline of his erect cock very easily, and couldn’t stop the involuntary moan. Just as she did with his other sweatpants, Y/n pressed her face against the bulge and inhaled deeply. Between the smell that was just so him, and the warmth of his clothed cock rubbing on her face, she was starting to go feral for the man standing in front of her in complete shock.

Bucky hadn’t been with a woman since before the war, and they definitely weren’t like this. He watched as she was damn near purring while she rubbed her face on him. She reminded him of a kitten, the way she open-mouthed kissed the line of his cock through his sweatpants. Then she pulled them down, and he felt her wet tongue roll around the fat tip.

“Shit, Y/n, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do you want me to stop, Sir?” She said, taking another lick from base to tip.

“God no. Fuck.” he groaned as she started put his balls in her mouth and sucked, hard. “But if you keep working me like that this is definitely gonna stop.”

She moaned hearing him fall apart above him- finally fulfilling her destiny. Making her Soldat happy.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you’re so good at this. Where the fuck did you learn this?” He asked, more to himself than to her, seeing as she started bobbing and swiveling her head. He wanted to put his hands in her hair, but ultimately decided not too. If he was gonna let this happen, it had to be at her pace.

She had never seen a cock in person but she knew he must be above average, her tongue counting 3 thick veins running up the sides and bottom of it. Trying to remember everything she saw the women in the videos doing and all the descriptions she read in the erotic literature, she hollowed her mouth around him and flattened her tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Fucking hell, Babydoll you’re doing so well for me. Y/n, shit.” She felt his cock touch the back of her throat and gagged around the intrusion. Spit mixed with precum rolling down her chin. When she looked up at him, her big eyes meeting his, he lost it. She could feel his cock harden just a little bit more, and his balls tightened, right before he released his heavy load into her throat. She backed up a little so it wouldn’t go straight down, she wanted to feel him on her tongue and taste him. Once she was sure she got every drop, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue a little so he could see his cum sitting on it before she swallowed it all with a soft moan.

“Did I do good, Sir?” She said, still sitting in front of him, his cock softening in her face as she watched the anatomy work in fascination. She reached her hand out to touch it, really appreciating the feel and warmth of his skin. He groaned loudly at the overstimulation and the sound of her normally smooth voice, now rough from the number she did on him.

“Fuck, Y/n, you did so good, Babydoll. You’re such a good girl.”

And in that moment he felt like he could pass out. He wanted to vomit because he looked down at her face and saw the innocence still in her eyes. Good girl. He remembered saying those words to her before. So long ago. He saw a flash of a memory of rubbing a little girl’s head before knocking her out. Carrying her to her house and tucking her in her bed, before stroking her face one last time and leaving. He remembered how Hydra fried him so hard after that mission, they were afraid they killed him. She looked different, older, but it was the same eyes. Definitely her. And there that same girl was, on her knees for him, and just gave him the best blowjob of his life.

He tucked himself back into his sweatpants. Part of him wanted to run away. He was ashamed of himself. He knew that he should have turned her down and left before anything could happen. He took advantage of her. But he also knew that if he just left now with no explanation, he would be an even bigger asshole. Times like that made him miss the simplicity of not having control over his life.

“Y/n, you did such a good job for me.” He stood her up, pulling her in for a bone crushing hug. This confused her, because she never saw the aftermath in her videos. It was always brutal and then the woman was just left there. But he was so gentle with her as he tenderly stroked her hair and lowered his lips to hers for a kiss.

It was the absolute least he could do. He wanted to kiss her- he wanted to reciprocate and make her see stars, but his mind was racing. Debating if it was a good time to tell her about their previous encounter, wondering if she remembered him and was acting, or if she had no idea that he’s the reason she was kidnapped. And even though he didn’t kill them, the reason her family is dead. Selfishly, he decided that it would be best if he told her another time. He hadn’t experienced intimacy like this in so long, and Y/n’s lips felt amazing on his.

He finally broke the kiss to give her air, knowing she doesn’t have the lung capacity he has. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” He asked, not wanting to rush her into anything else. He knew he’d be going to hell for it, but he needed to be around her.

“I would love to, Sir.” She said with the biggest smile her face could muster. He swore he’d never get tired of seeing that smile. Feeling her tits press against his chest through the thin cotton layers of both of their clothes. Hearing how she moaned just a little when he stroked her jaw. He could feel his brain going fuzzy from just the intoxicating proximity of their embrace as they hugged, swaying slightly and exchanging sweet kisses in between longing looks.

“Call me, Bucky.” He gently reminded her. For his sake, really- his self control couldn’t handle her constant submissive nature. “I’m gonna let you take that shower, and in the meantime, I’ll go order some take out. Do you like chinese?” He asked, putting some distance between them, to prevent her from noticing how he was getting hard all over again and dropping to her knees for round two.

“Chinese people? I don’t know any, but I’m sure they’re lovely.” She replied, a little confused by his strange question.

Part of him liked that he wasn’t the most clueless person in the compound anymore. When it came to texting and pop culture, he was useless, but Y/n was held in captivity. She didn’t have takeout, or dinner dates, or freedom to shower with nobody watching her. He would be able to teach her those things, and he liked that. Someone needing him for more than violence. Someone to take care of.

“I’ll just go order the food. I’ll be back soon, Babydoll. There should be shampoo and conditioner in the shower with towels and all types of other stuff. Just look around a bit.” He said before he walked out of her room. She had never experienced moisture between her thighs like she was in that moment, so a shower was probably a good idea. 

Part 4

~

(if you wanna join my taglist, just let me know)

@austynparksandpizza @dracris33 @crzcorgi @musicheaux @little-moonbeam-666 @andydre4m @anakinravageme @hydrasbitches @bl4ckglitt3r @wondergirl556

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #stucky #the avengers #the avengers smut #steve rodgers smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter soldier smut #winter solider x reader

[wizkiddx]

two beautiful girls

someone asked for me to try dad!tom again so here's my humble attempt, I really really hope it doesn't disappoint but honestly I didn’t spend a lot of time on it before my brain turned to mush :) hope everyones okay... today seems to have felt particularly shitty for no real reason, but sending lots o love <3

dad!tomholland x reader

Summary: dealing with your daughter while tom’s away is tricky to say the least, but its all worth it when the three of u are reunited again // fluff (and maybe angst if u squint rlly hard)

(I can’t work out where this pic is from to credit but pls lmk if it’s yours/ u know)

Normally, hearing the door turn in the lock of your front door was one of the best sensations in the world. No matter how long Tom had been away for you would always be filled with such a sense of relief and warmth just by knowing he was there. Sometimes it’d be after he left only a couple of hours previous for a two hour meeting; or after a quick long weekend in New York for an event; ranging to a two and half month block of shooting across the globe. Especially since little Nova was born, your longing for Tom was only quadrupled because you also had a complete ‘daddy’s girl’ pining after him too. 

Tom had only been away for a couple of nights, yet your 18 month daughter seemed to think she’d been abandoned for months on end. She had slept for less than 6 hours each day and as much as you tried to appeal to her wise and intellectual side (which didnt really exist - she was only 18 months) that sleep would pass the time till his return ; she was having absolutely none of it. Nova kept you up for hours and hours, screaming, screeching and wailing because you weren’t as ‘funny’ as daddy or as soft as her daddy. And what does a sleep deprived baby lead to…? A grumpy baby. She refused to eat which was so awful because then you felt as if you were neglected your child. 

It just made you feel a bit of a failure, to be quite frank. The house was a mess - you’d tried almost every toy to cheer her up, which Nova had actually found great joy in launching back at your face in spite. You were a mess too - at one point, who knows when, you had tied your hair back but now flyaways were everywhere as it pulled itself out of the grasp of the too-loose scrunchie. Oh and then there was the babyfood Nova had kindly spat all over your shirt. 

It had been a really fun three days. 

It was therefore counter intuitive, the fact that Tom’s homecoming only filled you with dread. But you didnt want him to think your were a failure. You were supposed to be Novas mum after all, why must things be so hard when they’re supposed to be all natural and easy? She hadn’t even reached the terrible twos phase yet - that seemed like a far off hellish nightmare you were trying to avoid thinking of. Of course, you loved loved loved Nova - she was already growing up so fast that it actually hurt your heart a little, to think of how much in even a week she’d grown. 

But it was still fair to say she’d been a little devil this week. 

This evening you had finally managed to tempt her to sit in the high chair, she’d had about two mouthfuls when you heard Tom entering. Thats exactly what you needed, Tom to get her all over excited so she wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go down and wouldn’t let you rest. In the madness of it all, you hadn’t managed to even attempt to clean up the sea of toys either so Tom would immediately have all your failings before his eyes. Just bloody great. 

“Where are my two beautiful girls?” 

Like clockwork, he’d always say it and Nova would always gurgle out a “dada” just as she did today. Though this time she kicked her legs in desperation, momentarily looking at you with the kindest eyes she’d given you the week. It was only because she wanted something, you knew that, yet you still gave in. With a sigh you stood up and unclipped her from the high chair, even if this was the first time in a good few days she’d been happily eating her dinner. Or rather, had taken the single first bite. 

She had something to show her Dad though. When he’d left she still didnt have certain skills, capabilities that only now she had learnt. Nova was very proud of her knew ability to kick things - recently discovered when you were attempting to put her shoes on to go to the supermarket. Instead, after 5 attempts of her impressively booting them across the room you’d surrendered - Nova walked round the shops barefoot (probably a bit irresponsible on your part but desperation calls). 

So now she giggled whilst hurtling through the room, as Tom rounded the corner in grey joggers and a black hoodie. You watched his eyes light up, whilst he knelt down at the door way to welcome your curly haired princess into his arms. With all her force, she barrelled into him , her little arms wrapping as far around his broad chest as she could. Immediately Tom reciprocated, pulling her up into his arms and swaying slightly side to side. 

“Hey little one, I missed you!” He was positively grinning from ear to ear as he rose the two of them up , pressing a quick peck to her unruly locks. 

Only then did he look up and survey the surrounding situation, you saw him track his eyes through the mess of toys on the floor, over the counter top piled high with dishes you hadn’t got round to doing and the bin that was overflowing because you just had kept putting off taking it out. It was so embarrassing that you daren’t to even look at him, instead focusing completely on mixing the now lukewarm mush you’d made for Nova round the bowl. Tom slowly picked his way through the hazardous floor, inspecting you closely. It honestly made him feel a pang of guilt, the way you looked beyond exhausted and run down - the dark shadows under your eyes only testament to that. 

“Hey darling.” He spoke softly, keeping Nova pressed to his chest in one arm while the other went to rub your side. “You okay?” Not wanting to disappoint him, you momentarily collected yourself before looking up at him with the a small smile.

“Yeh I’m good. How was the flight?” You knew Tom already saw past your attempt of small talk, the was his eyebrows furrowed slightly being the tell. But before he could question you further Nova started wriggling round in his hold, making him arch back to look at her. 

“Have you been a good girl for mummy little one?” Given your defeated look, Tom was pretty sure he already knew the answer - Nova chose instead of confirming either way to just wriggle some more as she shouted Dada. 

“What you doing crazy?” He chuckled rhetorically, bending down to let her out of his hold, where she then dragged him across the room to the foam mini ball she had. With her still slightly uncoordinated gait, she focused her eyes completely on the ball, her tongue slightly poking out the left corner of her mouth. Then with a forceful yelp she smashed the ball upwards and across the room, flying into a closed cupboard door before bouncing down to the floor. Expectantly Nova’s hazel eyes immediately then searched for her Dad’s - a massive smirk on her face. 

“NO WAY NOVA!!!” He shrieked, running and scooping her up once again, this time spinning her round so her legs flew out- her giggles enough to warm even the coldest heart of stone. “Your right foot is better than Manes!” He laughed, though neither girl in the room getting the football reference- Tom had long since given up hope of you getting invested in football, no matter how hard he had tried. “You’re gonna be the best little footballer Kingston has ever seen!” 

Nova seemed more than fulfilled with his praise, laughing and settling down in his hold whilst he straightened up glancing back at you again. 

“She’s learning so fast.” You mumbled up at him and Tom nodding, taking a seat in the chair next to you. 

“She’s got a pretty impressive teacher!” He tried so hard to perk you up, nudging your side as his gaze felt as though he was boring holes into you. 

Not knowing how to reply to his compliment you left it and the room faded to silence briefly, the atmosphere feeling rather uncomfortable for your marital home. 

“Do you mind finishing off her dinner if I take a shower?” You muttered under your breath, wanting an escape. 

Naturally Tom agreed, even if he watched you walk out the room with a worrisome expression on his face. He knew his job wasn’t easy for you at all. It had been hard enough when it has just the two of you, the long periods apart bore longer on you. Over the time Tom had been acting, he’d become somewhat used to these long periods of absence, it had just become the usual. But for you? You working a normal job meant it was harder. You couldn’t go on double dates with your friends - half the time you boyfriend was across a sea from you. Now though, with Nova, you’d lost someone you grew to depend on. Yes, it might only be for briefer periods of time but it still didn’t feel any easier.  He was effectively leaving you to be a single mother and although his family obviously endeavoured to support you in every way possible. It just wasn’t the same. 

So whilst Nova babbled excitedly her mostly gibberish in the highchair, Tom spent the time sweeping round the kitchen/diner , collecting up the toys into their boxes, loading up the dishwasher and wiping clean the surfaces - all whilst entertaining Nova with brief ‘no reallys’?” And “what ! That’s unbelievable’ and “so what did you tell them?” In response to her baby language babble. His fiery daughter was distracted by the food and one sided chat for all of 20 minutes, letting him just about finish up before she grew impatient of some more attention. 

“So what did you get up to then little miss nuisance?” He asked while wiping her mouth which was now smeared with her tomatoey gloop.

“Went park. Mummy made cookies!!”

“Cookies? No way can I have one?” He did honestly fancy the sound of a cookie, and after lifting her out the seat and onto his lap he looked round the kitchen in search of the baked goods.

“No.” She giggled with a mischievous twinkle in her eye “all gone!!”

“What?!?”

“All gone! Mummy and me drawed too look!” She pointed out the multicoloured scribble of uncoordinated lines spiralling together that had been stuck on the fridge. 

“Oooh that’s beautiful darling what else did you do?”

“Mummy and me played paw patrol! Mummy was silly!” Nova laughed at the memory, Tom squeezing her up into his chest again loving how bloody precious she was. 

“Why was mummy silly?” 

“She did Ryders voice! Mummy voice is better than Daddy’s!” 

“WHAT?!?” Shrieking in offence, Tom tickled her belly until she was squirming on the top of his thighs in fits of laughter, making Tom laugh away too. 

He truly loved his beautiful daughter. 

It took you a good couple of hours to venture downstairs, feeling for some ludicrous reason that you had to pluck up the courage. When you went down, you assumed that Nova had already passed out or was about to - the house was serene and quiet. So in your joggers and one of Tom’s big tees, you crept back down the stairs. Entering the kitchen first to get yourself a water and Tom a beer ( he never didn’t want a beer, especially after a long flight). As you entered, your feet seemed to loose their connection with you body making you halt jerkily, seeing the almost sparkling kithchen. All the toys and general clutter was gone from the floor; the dishes magically vanished, revealing a counter that you’d almost forgotten had existed. What you had done to deserve Tom was beyond you, yet you were so grateful - and  felt a flutter inside your chest as you went back out and into the living room. 

Tom had Nova sat on his thighs, though she was more like slumped against his chest as he tried to lull her to sleep with his deep voice quietly reading one of her superhero books. It had been unavoidable - she’d been indoctrinated into the world of Marvel before she could even talk, Tom insisting on wanting her to know that ‘she could be a superhero too if she wanted to’. The Spiderman baby grow, the captain marvel water bottle- the subtle nods to his roles where impossible to avoid in your house. His warm eyes briefly flicked up when he noticed you standing at the doorway, he paused his sentence to give you a warm smile and nod you over to the sofa beside him.  Still feeling a little self conscious, you stared at the floor while rounding the table and plonking yourself down next to him - allowing just a little gap of space. 

“Thanks for sorting the kitchen, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t worry at all darling” He arched over to you and pressed a quick peck to your forehead before Nova mewled in annoyance of her story being interrupted. He lightly chuckled, bringing the one hand that wasn’t holding the book to brush her unruly curls back off her head. 

Tom kept reading in his soft voice and you let your eyes slip close, just enjoying the peace that you hadn’t experienced in what felt like a lifetime as Tom’s voice lightly hummed through your head. That was until Nova decieded to interrupt the calm just once more. She grumbled insistently and squirmed in her Dads lap, before heavily pulling her head up and blinking at you - holding her arms out expectantly. 

“Think she wants her mum” Tom whispered, already lifting her over to you as you sat slightly bemused by the whole situation. Tom was home, her daddy was home, why did she want you? Tom laughed at your quizzical face as Nova burrowed her nose into you neck, letting out a contented huff. “My girls huh?”

“I promise you this is the first time this weekend she’s acknowledged me as anything more than mrs truchbull!”

“Well she’s spent all evening telling me about how good you are at baking and how your paw patrol voices are better than mine.” He murmured his words lowly, so as not to disturb Nova who was already asleep on your chest.

“She did?”

“She loves her mum… almost as much as I do” Chuckling, Tom wrapped his arm round you, pulling the both of you down to his chest while you swore your heart was exploding. 

“I love you too Tommy” 

Safe to say you and Nova were both exhausted, so after an almost shamefully short time your head rested heavier and heavier on Tom’s shoulder whilst he aimlessly carded his fingers through the ends of your hair. You really were an exceptionally amazing mother, before Nova Tom assumed he couldn’t love you anymore and yet seeing you cuddled up to his baby girl - his feelings for you could only grow infinitely. Making the executive decision to not move either of you upstairs to bed, he instead reached over to grab the blanket. He draped it over himself and his two best girls, choosing to stay in that magical moment for as long as possible. 

He loved his beautiful family of three.

And tess … Tess too ;)

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #Tom Holland x y/n

[quicksilversquared]

A Very Jagged Take-Down Ch 1: Dissonant Chord

Marinette knows Jagged Stone, everyone knows that. She's his favorite niece, never mind the fact that they aren't actually related. And Jagged Stone is really famous, the exact kind of person that Lila loves claiming connections to.

That was never going to end the way Lila wanted it to.

(a collection of one-shots)

links in the reblog

Jagged Stone could admit that sometimes, he was a little bit oblivious to how other people were feeling. He was a little too boisterous, too distractible, too caught up in his own thoughts and ideas and plans. It caused problems, sometimes- Jagged had butted heads with more record managers than he cared to think about because his artistic vision differed from theirs, and sometimes he didn't come off particularly well in interviews because he was too busy thinking about other things to notice an interviewer trying to ask a different question- but he was working on it, and if he was oblivious to something, well, he did have Penny to clue him in.

Still, Jagged Stone had been trying to improve. Penny had been pretty stressed out on several occasions recently, and he had wanted to ease some of her load by being at least a little more observant. He had thought that he was doing really well.

Considering that he had apparently missed his niece's upset mood during his last visit to commission a stage outfit from her, he apparently wasn't doing as well as he wanted to.

"What do you mean, she was off?" Jagged Stone implored Penny again. "Penny, if I'm going to learn..."

"She was hiding it pretty well, to be fair," Penny assured him. "Especially when you were looking. But when your back was turned, she looked kind of stressed."

Jagged Stone frowned. That wasn't a good thing! Maybe he could help, though. "Do you know what she was upset about?"

"Do I- no, Jagged, I cannot figure out what people are upset about by looking at their body language!" Penny exclaimed, clearly exasperated. "And I didn't want to pry, not when she was trying to be professional with coming up with ideas for your commission."

Jagged Stone considered that. Then he perked up. "Do you think that you, just maybe, could sneakily bring it up with Marinette when you go over with my measurements tomorrow? If I can help my niece with anything, I want to!"

"Yes, yes, I can try," Penny promised, and then she sighed, rolling her eyes. "And we've talked about this, Jagged Stone. Marinette is not your niece."

"Who says that she isn't?" Jagged Stone demanded, planting his fists on his hips. "My niece in rock-n-roll! Her CD cover and glasses and the songs they inspired put me back at the top of the charts. I am an artist, she's an artist- family in actually kickass artistry!"

He didn't understand why Penny was rolling her eyes. Really.

  Penny returned the next day with several design sketches and barely hidden anger bubbling away under her professional demeanor. Jagged Stone picked up on it right away, ushering Penny into their room at the Grand Paris and getting her settled with a platter of her favorite chocolates.

He was rather proud of himself for that, really. He was learning! He hadn't missed Penny's stress!

"I found out what happened," Penny told him, inhaling a chocolate in one bite. She chewed angrily, then swallowed. "A week before we went over for brainstorming, Marinette got expelled from her school after getting framed for cheating, thief, and hurting another student. The other student walked back on her claims the next day," Penny added hastily before Jagged Stone could grab his guitar and storm over to Dupont to bash their blundering principal over the head. He hadn't been impressed by the man the one time- or was it two times, he really couldn't remember- that they had met, and clearly there was a reason for that. "And her expulsion was retracted. But she's still facing some skepticism from her teachers and classmates over the whole thing."

"Who would want to frame Marinette?" Jagged Stone demanded, thoroughly baffled. "Marinette is fantastic! They'd have to be a cruel, heartless soul to do such a thing."

"Yeah, well, that's kind of what this girl sounds like, honestly." Penny took another angry bite. "Marinette was telling me all about her. It's the daughter of a diplomat- or that's what she claims, at least- who keeps making up all of these stories about things she's done and people she's met. Marinette is one of the only people who doesn't believe a word she says, and the only one willing to call Lila out."

Jagged Stone nodded in approval. "Calling out bullies and liars is very rock and roll!"

"Less so when it gets her framed and expelled, but yes." Penny flopped back in her chair, then perked back up. "Something Marinette said- well, it sounded almost as though the liar girl was claiming connections to you. She stopped herself before I could get much more out of her, though."

He nearly exploded with indignation at that. "The liar girl is trying to use me to boost her status? How dare she! And going after my niece while she does-"

Penny sighed in exasperation. "No matter how often you say it, Marinette isn't actually your niece-"

"I'm going to put a stop to this nonsense," Jagged Stone announced, surging to his feet as a surge of energy hit him. Maybe he wasn't going to be in Paris for the next couple of weeks because he was on tour, but, well, that just gave him time to plan. "No liar will use my name to hurt Marinette! Now, if I can grab my computer-"

"We're meant to be heading to the train station to go to London in twenty minutes," Penny reminded him. "For a meeting in London with the new record company you were considering switching to."

"Of course! Penny, I would be lost without you." Jagged beamed at her, then dashed across the room. "I can bring my computer on the train! Plenty of time to think there, no problem. We have a private compartment, so I won't even be interrupted!"

Behind him, Penny could only sigh.

  It wasn't hard to find more information on the liar in Marinette's class. All it had taken was going to Marinette's social media, going to her Ladyblogger friend's page, and from there finding Alya's personal blog.

He felt a bit strange flipping through a teen girl's personal blog and it certainly wasn't something he would ever do normally, but Jagged Stone was on a mission and Alya's blog was a veritable treasure mine. Not even three minutes after he first found the blog, Jagged Stone had learned who the liar girl in question was and had found several of the claims that she had made, all so absolutely outrageous that Jagged Stone had to wonder how anyone believed them in the first place.

But outrageous or not, they had also given him an idea.

Lila had claimed that she had saved his cat, and that he had written a song for her in thanks. Now, he definitely wasn't going to be thanking her for anything, but he could certainly write a song about her.

It wasn't going to be flattering, and it wasn't going to call Lila out by name- Penny had helpfully informed him that doing so would probably land him in legal trouble, even before he had been able to voice the idea (which was super rock-n-roll, actually, that they were so much on the same wavelength!)- but the details that he was going to refer to, courtesy of the blog, would mean that anyone familiar with Lila would know exactly who he was referring to.

Jagged Stone already had some lyrics scribbled out on a sheet of paper and a couple bars of music to go with it, and it was going to be a banging song. Like, top-of-the-charts, definitely-on-the-radio, impossible-to-miss banging.

"The main problem I'm foreseeing here is that it takes time to release a song," Penny reminded Jagged as she bundled him and Fang into a town car and then got in herself. "You need at least seven songs usually in an album, and then there's the studio time, you know that, and-"

"So it'll get released as a single for now," Jagged Stone told her, because obviously he wasn't going to leave Marinette hanging for longer than he had to. What kind of uncle would he be if he did that? "Singles take less time! I can probably have a demo by the end of the week, and then if we can get a recording studio in any of the cities that we actually spend some time in, then I can get the tracks recorded and all ready for mixing and- oh!" Jagged froze, struck by the most perfect idea. "If we can get Marinette to do the cover art for the single, that would be perfect! Then she gets her bully taken down and some money besides- yes, I'll tell her about it right away and work around her schedule, Penny, I already know that- and I get some more awesome art!"

Penny rubbed her forehead, right between her eyebrows, but didn't protest further. "All right. But you know that if you want a cover that'll go along with the single, Marinette needs some direction. I just don't know how you'll keep it all a surprise."

"She can get the background demo tracks and a prompt list of words," Jagged Stone told her at once, because he had already considered that. He had been working on getting better at not leaving all of the thinking and planning up to Penny, too, even if she hadn't quite gotten used to that yet. "That will help her come up with a cover. And look, I've already started!"

"I...see that."

By the time they had boarded the train and were halfway to London, Jagged had gotten the main part of the song written down. The lyrics just needed tweaking, the drums could probably be shaken up, and he wanted to add a few more backing tracks and play with some effects, but he had been inspired and it showed.

"I'll check it against your other songs after the meeting and make sure that you're not accidentally borrowing from an old song," Penny told him as he enthusiastically tapped his pen against the seat of his chair, trying out different drum beats with the tune. "And then I suppose we can start work on demo tracks, if you're so determined to get this out fast."

Jagged Stone grinned. "That sounds perfect."

  In what was surely Jagged Stone's fastest turnaround time ever, he was ready. The song was written, the demo tracks had been polished up into the final tracks and had been professionally recorded and mixed, Marinette had gotten the single's art done (and it was amazing, of course, somehow absolutely perfectly fitting the song even though Marinette hadn't heard the lyrics yet), and everything was ready, all within a month's time.

(His new record company was none too thrilled that he hadn't given them time to promote it, but, well, he was big enough to drop a new single out of nowhere and have it succeed, so did it really matter?)

And then it dropped Monday morning. By mid-morning Paris time, it had exploded all over the radio and thousands of people had bought it already. His new record label was applauding it as a huge success, all of their complaints about the lack of promotion forgotten, critics were already praising both the song and the cover art-

-and Jagged Stone didn't care. He was more focused on if the song had done its work and had gotten rid of Marinette's liar problem.

"You are not allowed to call her up and beg to know what's going on," Penny instructed him sternly. "Marinette is in class right now, and you know that she'll reach out and keep you updated when she can. Now either sit down and stop pacing, or go give Fang a bath. Heaven knows that that will keep you busy."

"Oh, I suppose." Fang deserved a bath after putting up with their most recent bout of traveling, after all. Travel grime was ugh, even on a crocodile. "But let me know as soon as Marinette texts! I won't be able to check my phone, since my hands will be all wet, but I wanna know!"

"I promise. Now go, shoo- you're distracting me!"

Jagged shooed.

  Marinette had been a bit distracted all morning, and for once, it wasn't because of Adrien or her Guardian duties.

Ever since Jagged Stone had told her that he was going to be dropping a new single soon and asked her to do the art, Marinette had been looking forward to the song coming out. She didn't know what the song was about, exactly- Jagged Stone was being strangely cagey about getting any more specific about the lyrics- but he had sent along a basic demo track along with a few prompt words for her illustration and it sounded amazing. She could only imagine how awesome the final version- properly mixed, with all of the instruments ironed out and vocals and everything- would sound.

(And now it had some pretty awesome art to go along with it, if Marinette said so herself- dark, seething greens in the background stood in stark contrast to the trails of shimmery gold dust in the forefront. It was more abstract than some of her other covers, but Jagged Stone had proclaimed it the coolest thing ever and tossed her a bonus on top of the already-generous commission price, which was amazing.)

And then, right before lunch, Nino gave a shout of surprise.

"Jagged Stone just dropped a single!" Nino announced, waving his phone at everyone. "I didn't even know that he was thinking about releasing anything! Lila, did he tell you?"

"Well, yes, but he asked that I keep it secret," Lila said at once, pressing a hand to her chest. It was a common look on her, faux-humble in a sickly sweet way that made Marinette want to gag. "I even got to listen to it before it got released, and it's fantastic."

"This art is sick!" Nino exclaimed. Marinette peered over his shoulder, and- yup, Nino was already in the process of buying it. "'Not All That Glitters is Gold- man, I gotta get a poster of this art, I bet that the non-digital version actually does glitter!"

Marinette hid her smile. It did, actually.

"Yes, they're a fantastic artist, aren't they?" Lila bragged. "They're a very private person, but I introduced them to Jagged Stone- I thought that he might want a professional artist for this song."

All eyes shot to Marinette, waiting with bated breath to see her reaction. After a second, Lila gasped dramatically, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh! Not- not that there was anything wrong with the album cover you did, Marinette, just that-"

"It's funny that you say all of that," Marinette said, her voice icy-cold. "Because I did the cover art for Jagged's new song, and I have the art- with all of the layers, in case you want to claim that I just downloaded it- plus the in-progress demos that I sent to Jagged Stone, plus the invoice for that commission to prove it."

The class went silent.

"And you didn't introduce me to Jagged Stone, he reached out to me," Marinette added on. "And I have the emails for that, too. So you can cut it out with the lies now."

"Oh, silly me, I must have gotten the single mixed up with Jagged's next full album," Lila tittered hastily. "The professional that I recommended to him must be doing the full album, and I just misunderstood."

Marinette was pleased to see that this time, not everyone looked entirely convinced.

"Ms. Bustier, can we please listen to Jagged Stone's new song?" Nino asked as their teacher entered the classroom, shoving his hair up into the air. "Please? Marinette did the art, and Lila's already heard it because she's friends with Jagged!"

"Well, I suppose you can put it on while I get the lesson set up and collect the homework," Ms. Bustier said with a laugh. "That's so exciting, you two! Nino, you know how to connect to the room's speakers so that we can all hear it? At a reasonable volume," she added hastily as Nino got up. "If we get any more noise complaints, then we won't be allowed to have any music on for events for the rest of the school year."

"Got it, Ms. Bustier!"

"I can't believe that you got to do another cover for Jagged Stone!" Alya said excitedly as Nino hooked up his phone. "And you didn't say anything!"

"Of course not. Some of my commissions are secret-"

Marinette was cut off by the oh-so-familiar opening chords of Jagged's newest song, and she trailed off. The accompanying horns were new, and definitely attention-catching and fantastic. Marinette's breath caught in her throat, already blown away.

And then the lyrics started.

At first, Marinette didn't really hear anything out of place. Then she caught a mention of kittens on a runway and sat up straight. All around her, murmurs gave away that other people had heard the same thing and everybody sat up and listened as the song swung around into the chorus.

'Not all that glitters is gold! Hiding behind lies that were told

A dollar-store gem trying to pass herself off as a diamond!

Claims of connections abound, but none of her stories are sound

A liar, through and through!

Adrien spun around in his seat to look back at Marinette, just as Marinette realized what Jagged Stone had done and clapped her hands over her mouth in silent glee. He quirked an eyebrow at her, mouthing a silent did you ask him to do this? and Marinette shook her head.

No, she hadn't asked. She had mentioned Lila to Penny, though, after Penny had asked about why Marinette had been so down. Her parents had probably said more, if she was really being honest, and Penny had no doubt told Jagged Stone, who then came to the very logical and oh-so-Jagged conclusion that the best way to deal with the problem was by writing a call-out song. A call-out song that, by the sounds of it, included references to more than a few of Lila's lies, not just her ones concerning Jagged Stone, so there was no way to mistake who the song was referring to.

She definitely hadn't mentioned all of those to Penny.

In the back, Lila had gone white. More than a few classmates had turned around, sending her disgusted looks. Alya had frozen in her seat before whipping around, murder in her gaze. Even Ms. Bustier was looking incredibly suspicious as she made the connection between the lyrics and all of the stories that Lila had told over the months.

Lila's reign of lies had come to a very abrupt end, heralded by the sound of horns.

"You didn't even know that he was going to do that, did you?" Adrien asked her as soon as the song came to an end. "You looked so surprised!"

"He didn't let me hear the lyrics at all!" Marinette exclaimed, and wow, now she knew why. She was honestly starting to feel teary, because Jagged Stone had written this song for her, because she had been upset after Lila's expulsion attempt, and she knew just how much work went into making a song, and it- this was incredible. "Or really anything beyond vague prompt words. I knew that he knew about Lila, because Penny asked why I was feeling down and I told her, but this..."

Marinette would have assumed that just bursting into class would be more Jagged's style, over-the-top and impulsive and immediate, but maybe he had just been too inspired by the topic and the idea of a song to think of that. And whether or not that was the intention, the song was so catchy, so bound to be popular, there was no way that Lila would be able to escape it. She would be hearing it on the car radio, playing in the train station and on the bus and in the mall. If Lila was on her own, she could leave, or turn it off. But if she was with classmates, or her mom- assuming that her mom didn't actually know what Lila had been up to all this time- then Lila would have to sit and stew.

...maaaybe that wasn't a great thing if she was going to be staying in Paris, but with any luck, it would drive Lila so mad that she would leave.

"That's one heck of a call-out by Jagged!" Kim cackled loudly, breaking through the muted muttering. "Wow, how ticked off did you have to make him for him to go out of his way to write and produce a song calling you out?"

"No, it's not what it looks like- I swear, he's just, uh..." Lila was floundering. There really was no easy way to get out of this, but clearly she was going to try anyway. "You know not all song lyrics are literal! I did save his cat, and he did write a song for me, it's just that-"

"What's the name of the so-called song Jagged Stone wrote for you called, then?" Nino asked sarcastically. "'Clinging to the coattails of fame without any dignity'?"

Marinette choked on a laugh before hastily trying to hide it. Across the aisle, Chloe was far less subtle as she cackled in delight, clearly thrilled by Lila's messy downfall.

Marinette wasn't surprised. Chloe was far less impressed by connections and tall tales than a lot of their peers, but she was absolutely the sort of person to be bitter about how much attention Lila had been getting. It meant less attention on Chloe, and that just couldn't stand.

"Okay, class, please settle down!" Ms. Bustier implored. She was glancing around the classroom, clearly trying to figure out a path forward. "Ah, Lila, let's step out to talk to the principal and call your mom."

"No, but a song from a rock star is hardly considered any sort of reliable source, surely!" Lila cried, still not willing to give up and come quietly. "He's met thousands of people, why would everybody assume that he's talking about a real person? That he's talking about me?"

"Lila. Now."

Finally looking properly wilted, Lila gathered up all of her things in a rush, stuffing them roughly in her bag before heading out the door in front of Ms. Bustier. All around Marinette, whispers started up, some people comparing notes on stories Lila had told and finally (FINALLY) looking them up, others looking up the lyrics to the song. Marinette ignored them all, fumbling for her phone and pulling up Jagged Stone's contact number.

Seriously, how was she supposed to thank him? He had gone to so much work, gone so far out of his way, just for her. Because it was for her, Marinette knew that. Jagged Stone had plenty of over-eager fans that sometimes went overboard with things, and of course there were tabloids that loved to make up stories about him. Jagged Stone ignored all of them the best he could- well, until they got too intrusive, at least, like that one photographer- instead of slapping back. There was no reason for him to go out of his way just for Lila, when she looked at it that way. Lila and her lies wouldn't even appear on Jagged Stone's radar, if it weren't for Marinette. But that hadn't made a difference to Jagged.

Seriously. Best. Uncle. Ever.

(Well. Best not-technically-an-uncle ever. After all, Penny always insisted that Jagged Stone couldn't just adopt Marinette as his niece, no matter how much he wanted to.)

With shaky fingers and happy tears blurring her vision, Marinette texted a quick thank-you to Jagged, hoping that he could feel all of her gratitude through the few simple words that she managed to pull together. Without the constant threats from Lila hanging over her head- either because Lila would be gone or because she would be so thoroughly discredited by everyone that she would be powerless- and without having to constantly be at odds with most of her friends about Lila and her lies, Marinette's days at school would be much more enjoyable and relaxed.

  Penny glanced at Jagged Stone's phone for the fifty-seventh time in an hour and a half. His phone kept lighting up with all sorts of messages- from his new producers, from celebrity and non-celebrity friends alike, from his family members- and she had kept checking it, noting messages that needed to be responded to as she did.

It was exhausting, especially since Penny had her own correspondence to attend to- questions about integrating the new song into set lists, requests for interviews about the new song, and an ongoing back-and-forth with Jagged Stone's lawyer to make sure that he wasn't going to get in legal trouble for the song (since no names were mentioned, he was in the clear as long as he didn't call out Lila during any interviews, but she just wanted to be prepared). Frankly, Penny was tempted to put Jagged's phone on mute and just ignore it for a bit before checking to see if Marinette had reached out. After all, she would be in school right now, so the likelihood of Marinette and her classmates being able to listen to the song before lunch was, well, rather low-

Message from: Marinette Dupain-Cheng

-but Penny supposed that it wasn't entirely impossible.

"Message from Marinette!" Penny called out, and there was a yelp and a clatter as Jagged Stone dropped the broom he was using to scrub Fang to dash out to the main room and snatch up his phone. He grinned at the message, whooping in triumph.

"They listened to it in class and all of her classmates figured it out right away!" Jagged announced. "And the liar girl got carted off to the principal's office and her mother is being called, so she's dealt with. Score!"

"Yes, good job," Penny told him, resigned to hearing about it for the next month, at least. Jagged Stone was going to be too caught up in the euphoria of his success to be much use, so she would have to deal with all of the setting up appointments. "Your idea worked, Marinette's bully has been dealt with. Can you relax now?"

Jagged didn't seem to hear her. "You know what, I'm going to call up room service and we can all have a feast to celebrate! And- oh, I should text Marinette back, 'cause I wanna get any more updates! I just want to make sure that the little eel doesn't manage to slither out of punishment again. I doubt even she can get out of it now, but I gotta follow through!"

Penny could only sigh as Jagged Stone bounced away across the room. As he went, Penny could hear him singing under his breath.

Tea with a prince, talking about charity

She's too kind, too good to be

Working to save the world, she always tries

Except everything she says are self-serving lies!

Not all that glitters is gold! Hiding behind lies that were told

A dollar-store gem trying to pass herself off as a diamond-!

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #A Very Jagged Take-Down #Jagged Stone #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

[monstersandmaw]

So... things are looking a bit rough and bleak in the world right now, but I had some thoughts on self-isolation and thought I would share them here. I work at home under normal circumstances, so I thought I’d share some of my experiences from the last three years of doing that. Obviously these thoughts won’t be applicable to everyone’s situations, so remember to take them with a pinch of salt and to come up with your own strategies too.

First of all, you’re doing the right thing by staying home to slow the spread of this virus. It’s going to be tough, but we’ll get through. Keep that in mind, especially on rainy days when things look especially bleak.

Sleep and rest. You work hard in a frenetic world. You deserve some ‘you’ time to take a breath and recharge.

Take some time for yourself to decompress and process what’s happening. It’s a lot to take in, and it’s scary.

Reach out to people online and check in with family and friends that way while we’re advised not to travel or meet up in person.

Establish a routine as soon as possible, and make it realistic (i.e. if you’re not a morning person, don’t say ‘get up at 5am’ because you’re setting yourself up for failure, and you won’t feel good when you don’t make that 5am wakeup), and then stick to it. It takes about 30 days to establish a routine though, so go easy on yourself.

Schedule in some exercise, even if it’s only five minutes of stretching, and make sure it happens somewhere different from where you work, and from where you sleep. You can build up from those first few minutes as time goes by, but it’s important to move around if you can.

Keep hydrated. Staying regularly and properly hydrated can have an impact on the state of your mood [x].

Make lists. First make one of really big/major/long-term goals, then break that down into smaller tasks that you can manage on a more short term (daily/weekly) basis.

Do those chores you’ve been meaning to do. Start small - tidy that bookshelf; empty that waste paper bin; do that load of laundry. You can move on to larger projects once you get some traction.

Get changed in the morning - don’t spend all day in your PJs. You don’t have to wear fancy clothes, but it’ll help with a sense of routine if you’re not wearing the same thing all night and all day...

Speaking of... Keep up your personal hygiene - being confined at home is no reason to let yourself turn into a stinky goblin! For those of us with depression, if that seems overwhelming, even just using a cloth over your face can make a real difference to how you feel.

Take on a project with a larger scope: perhaps sort out and fold up old clothes or belongings and take them to a charity or clothes bank (or put them to one side until it’s safe to head outside). Clear out some space in your home, rearrange things to make them feel ‘new’. Declutter. A sense of order inside will help to combat the uncertainty outside.

Maybe catch up on that series that everyone was talking about but which you never got round to starting, or read a book that has been recommended to you. 

Learn a new skill from YouTube or the likes - there are so many free skill-sharing platforms. Could be a language, or that bit of maths that always confused you at school, or some home DIY or craft projects that you might have the stuff for, tucked away somewhere in a cupboard or in the garage...

Pick a period in history, or a part of the world, that you know nothing about, and spend some time on Wikipedia learning about it.

Treat yourself to a home spa afternoon

Learn yoga or meditation. In a world where we’re constantly faced with a barrage of external information and stimuli, you could use this as an opportunity to be still and look inwards for a few minutes every day.

Plant some seeds. You can order kits and pots online and can grow things like basil and other herbs in all sorts of vessels like teapots or buckets... get creative!

This is by no means an exhaustive list of things to occupy yourself in your spare hours during self-isolation. It was meant as a few personal musings, suggestions, and ideas, and if you have more, feel free to add to them!

Take care, stay home, and stay healthy.

Love Ghosti x

#self-isolation #self-employed #coronavirus #coronavirus lockdown #ghosti speaks #just some thoughts and ideas #ghosti's doodles #long post

[lickingyellowpaint]

Alright, because at least one anon was curious, here are some thoughts based on, admittedly, a very brief foray into the world of sales. I'll speak only to what made my gut instinct do a confused puppy head-tilt, and obviously this is opinion, from someone on tumblr, and therefore not the end-all, be-all of advice on this...

Red Flags of Possible Scam Employers and/or Services

1) The first red flag was that the company threw me into the internal chats - chock full of pep and others' successes - before I was actually physically at work and able to understand their utility. Perhaps it’s easier from a tech perspective to fling new employees into every digital system at once. And sure, there was useful information and good insight into how the company uses those chats - lots of newbies asking questions and getting relevant good answers whilst on the floor, which IS nice - and if you're like me and unfamiliar with the tech or apps being used, it's great practice.

For the most part, though, two of the main chats were just hyping up their salespeople as they met their goals. I suspect they want you to see how much money everyone's making, how they're meeting their goals, and make you want to succeed similarly. There was already a little too much constant enthusiasm bouncing around the place for my goth ass, but hey, can't say the culture was negative! Still somewhat a nefarious psychological move, though, imho. The intent is likely to boast, dazzle, entice, overwhelm and make you envious enough to be competitive, as much as it is to inspire and inform. Just a guess.

2) The second red flag was similar in nature. In a lot of the e-meeting training sessions, there was a LOT of time spent on praising the success of those present in video meetings, a LOT of time spent on explaining the tier system of salespeople, the incentives, the commission system, cool trips you can earn... and I get that, to a degree, okay, you have a job, you wanna know how much money you can really make. Fine!

But if as much or more time is spent on those types of things than the actual training on what you need to learn to do the job... hm. Hm! I suspect more headgaming. (And no, this wasn't an MLM targeting suburban moms to employ and get all their friends onboard. This is a big company with good stock and trusted affiliates.) Anyway, this is about when my gut started to do that quiet hrrrr-uff dogs do when they wanna bark but aren't sure about it yet.

3) Language and words are key. Obviously, most people are sharp enough to know that phrases like "no out-of-pocket upfront cost" is a codeword for We Can't Legally Say It's Free But Want You To Feel Like It Is, and means there'll be payment involved at some point. It's one thing to know that, and quite another to parrot the phrase at an elderly potential customer, or one whose grasp of English isn't quite perfect. Could you, in good conscience, do that for a commission and feel good about it? Turns out I couldn't.

And that's not necessarily indicative of a scam company altogether - sales is sales, and sales language has probably been a little deceptive by nature for as long as it's been around. But could you do that for a paycheck, while being new to the job, thus not being entirely sure what it's gonna cost that little old lady or that immigrant family down the line? Could you? You may not really know for sure until you hear yourself say it, and your gut starts barking in earnest, because you don't know what their next step - that you just convinced them to take - will be.

4) I didn't know, so I tried to find out. While my followers here know I was pretty diligent with my required training stuff, you can see from points 1 and 2 that those materials weren't really meaty and informative enough for me. I tried to seek further clarification not just on my tasks, but the next steps - could someone explain them to me better, in a way that assured me I wasn't pitching a scam? Could someone send me videos or content relevant to the next step in the process, just so I understand it better for my own edification and peace of mind?

Well... maybe they tried to. I was sent a link to a video of one of the next-step-in-the-process sales guys at work... only to be denied access to that video, and though I requested access, nothing in the system ever granted it to me. A glitch? Perhaps. But when I mentioned wanting access, wanting a few more questions answered until I felt right with things, most of what I heard was:

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that."

"Don't overcomplicate things for yourself."

"That's a little above your role. Keep things simple, say you don't know, and it'll add value to the expertise of the next-step sales guy!"

"We tend to save that for more advanced training, since not all of our new people have your emotional intelligence, and might not have as good a brain-to-mouth filter, and say more to the customer than they need to."

Well... I wasn't asking in order to answer a customer's questions, I was asking to answer mine. I won't speak to what I don't know to be true, and I won't sell what I'm not sure is legit, no matter how much I'm paid to do so. And that gut-dog? Now it's a pack of dogs, and at least one of them is starting to howl.

5) It's howling kind of loudly, actually, and my (delightful, friendly, funny) managers aren't helping me quiet it down. So if they can't answer my questions to my satisfaction, I have to seek answers elsewhere.

Arguably, obviously, I should have done this from the start, but - that's when I sought out customer reviews.

And I don't mean clicking Google Reviews and just reading those.

I mean spending most of an afternoon on a deep dive into the following search terms:

"[Company Name] reviews" "[CN] scam" "[CN] Better Business Bureau reviews" "[CN] reddit" "[CN] class action/lawsuit" "[CN] Yelp/any other well-known review site you can think of”/Twitter tag/FB search

You get the idea.

Now, of course some bad actors (rival companies, annoyed ex-employees) can write bad reviews to make the company look bad. Equally, anyone who felt like it could write good reviews to make the company look good. (I wasn't about to search every good reviewer's name in our email database to see if any matched up. But a couple did include words or phrases that might be included in customer-facing marketing and mission statements and thus parroted naturally, but were definitely included in internal training vids. Just a very slight few, but they popped out at me.) Another thing to keep in mind when wanting to take all reviews into account equally is that when people are happy with a product, they don't always remember to leave reviews, so most reviews are written by the vaguely-to-deeply dissatisfied to begin with, and may not be an accurate representation of what's really going on.

Let's be fair here. As a thought experiment, look up the reviews for a company/service/product you truly love, and see if the bad ones reflect a concern you can understand, or one you'd brush off, or one that just doesn't reflect your experience at all. What works for one person/locale/reason for another, might not for someone else, and that’s understandable.

Also ponder:

Out of, let's say, 200 reviews, how many would need to be positive to get you to buy something, especially if it was something you wanted? Would a lot of negative ones make you second-guess the product or service?

How would you gauge the seriousness of the problems presented in the negative ones?

Would a company responding to the bad reviews with apologies and customer service numbers, on that same forum where all could read their empathy and solutions, be enough to convince you that the company had handled the issue by the time you're reading them?

Ponder, ponder, ponder...

aaaand, moving on.

Let's say that out of 200 reviews from a plethora of sources, 40-50 are five-star happy with the company.

Another, eh, 30 or so are two- or three-star, because something went wrong, wrong enough to leave an iffy or downright bad taste in the reviewers' mouths.

The last 110-120? One-star reviews. With at least 10-20 of those saying they'd have left zero stars if the review forum allowed it.

Some of those one-stars may be several years old. Some may have since had their issue truly resolved, and never bothered to update their review or add to it. Some have issues that boil down to, "Okay, the customer clearly didn't understand the terms", or, "That's a crazy problem but I can't relate to caring about it because [insert personal preference/reason] here."

But if a whole load of those one-star reviews tend to speak up about the same types of problems, serious ones, ones you'd find bothersome or downright tragic, ones that would cost you money in some way or another, ones that make you further doubt the integrity of the company altogether, and many of them are as recent as the last few months...

Do I need to finish that sentence?

Hold up, BRB, I have to let the gut-dogs out, they're going absolutely batshit crazy. Must be a full moon!

Or just a disorganized, neglectful, or possibly purposely deceitful company.

The old saying says there’s a sucker born every minute.

Would your conscience be cool with being paid to be one, or to prey on them?

Advice:

My advice is pretty basic: before joining, signing, buying important things, do your diligent research and trust. your. gut.

I hope the above list of experiences helps guide you in doing both.

#if you wanna play it super-safe just ignore salespeople and don't go into sales to begin with lol

[lynnthekiristan]

✨ christmas fic because christmas is beautiful and kiribaku is beautiful

✨ if there's Katsuki there's language obviously so... be warned

✨ loads of fluffiness ahead, so get ready

...

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕤

Eijirou was one sucker for the whole Christmas package. The little shit was already over-excited the whole year round, but when his favorite holiday came around, he blew up like a glitter bomb. He wouldn't stop smiling for a second during Christmas Eve and Christmas day. He obviously loved it all, but the light in his eye would glimmer the brightest when giving gifts. Somehow he /always/ knew exactly what everybody wanted, and he fucking squeaked when he saw the happiness he caused just by giving a tiny thing.

Now, Katsuki? He never liked that whole Christmas thing. He certainly despised the whole caroling around - for some reason everytime Christmas came around people started thinking they could actually sing, which they didn't. He wasn't fond of the feast part as well, chicken wasn't really his food. And he hated having to pretend he liked those lame ass gifts he recieved from his family, as if a pale green button up shirt was something he'd ever wear. But the lights, he enjoyed them. Not those over the top decorations, that shine so bright you have to fucking squint to look at them. Those yellow tiny lights, hung in windows, always had him looking up with a faint smile on his face.

But that was before he started dating Kirishima. It had been what? A month since he had /finally/ gathered enough courage to confess to Eijirou, and almost died of surprise when learning that Eijirou liked him back. They were already more than best friends before, honestly, so for them to transition into boyfriends was fairly easy. Katsuki had never been happier.

And then Christmas came closer and closer and he could clearly see Eijirou blooming into the most adorable little enthusiast, everyday a new present piling up on the corner of their room, and normally the closer to Christmas it got, the more pissed Katsuki got, but just being close that shining Eijirou made it impossible for him to be grumpy.

And it was insane how good he was feeling on Christmas Eve. It wasn't much of a religious date in Japan, more of a second Valentines Day of sorts. And Katsuki usually hated the couples cuddling nonstop, like the fucking holiday meant they could go around and bother everyone around. Well, needless to say he wouldn't let go of Eijirou, pretending he had found a mistletoe every two seconds and kissing him softly. And it wasn't like he wasn't enjoying it, seeing that he would chuckle every time, saying how Katsuki was dishonoring a sacred holiday tradition, but would shortly kiss him once again.

The clock had ticked the so awaited midnight, but Eijirou - that impatient fucker - had already given the presents to everyone. /Almost/ everyone. It got to the point Katsuki even worried Eijirou had forgotten about him, but wasn't caring that much. Being able to kiss Ei the way he did, to sleep and cuddle with him every night, was enough of a present.

Of course he couldn't help the little pain that spiked in his heart. Ei always loved giving presents so much, why wouldn't he give one to his /boyfriend/. Modesty apart, he himself had given shitty hair an exclusive vintage Crimson Riot package.

He shouldn't think about it that much. It would only make him sad, and him sad would take a bit of Eijirou's bright happiness, and that would be a crime.

He left the noisy common room to take some air outside the dorms, feeling the cool breeze ruffle his hair and make his breath appear in little clouds.

He didn't notice the presence of the redhead until his built arms wrapped the blonde's waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Hey Kat"

"Hey shitty hair"

Katsuki felt his boyfriend's chuckle rumble through his chest and he couldn't help but smile.

"I bet you're panicking over not getting a present"

Katsuki froze. Was it /that/ easy to read him, after all?

"Shut the fuck up"

Once more, a laugh rumbled through his whole body, making it hard for Katsuki to stop the blush that was already creeping its way through his face. It got worse when Eijirou turned him around, his crimson eyes looking at Katsuki as he were the most important being in the whole world, their faces inches apart.

He was almost kissing the redhead when he pulled apart and smiled softly.

"I've been brainstorming for weeks to try and figure out what present I should give you. I've been through every All Might collectibles store in this city, every shop, every site with the title 'What to buy for your boyfriend this Christmas?', but I couldn't find anything good enough for you"

Katsuki could cry. Wait, he was already crying. Maybe he would care later, but right now the only thing he felt was an absurd love for his boyfriend, the fucking love of his life.

"So I thought I'd... Fuck it's so stupid. I'm giving myself to you"

"W- What?"

Eijirou chuckled nervously as he scratched his neck.

"Shit... I'm fucking it up. God... I should just do it"

Then, Eijirou did what Katsuki would have never thought he would. He dropped down in one knee and took a little ring box from his pocket.

"Bakugou Katsuki, I have been madly in love with you since the day I set eye on that angry beautiful blonde destroying the robots in the entrance exam. You make me feel special, and like I can be the hero I want to be, right beside you. We're super young, I'm not saying we'll marry now, but... But this is a promise Kat. A promise that I'll be with you forever. Sure, we can... Get married if you want to and stuff, but only after were both the best heroes this country has ever seen”

Inside the box, a beautiful silver ring worked as pendant for a chain of the same color.

Katsuki was fucking wordless. He didn't know what to say. His heart throbbed so much he thought it would explode, he /really/ wasn't expecting that. Eijirou must have misunderstood his processing silence for a incredulous one.

"Sh- Shit I'm so sorry Katsuki, I thought it would be a- a good idea, clearly..."

"Shut up and kiss me shitty hair"

Eijirou stopped in his tracks, leaving his mouth open as if he was still talking.

"What?"

"Fucking kiss me, Ei"

He didn't need to be told thrice. Eijirou was quick to be back on his feet, smashing Katsuki's lips with relief. Soon the kiss started tasting salty and Katsuki parted from Eijirou to see tears flooding down his eyes.

"The fuck you crying for hair-for-brains?"

The crying 5'7" man laughed softly, carefully taking a strand of blonde hair out of his partner's face.

"I just love you so much, Kat"

"I know"

He said, smirking, before resuming his kiss. After quite a night (and some of the best fucks of their lives, to be honest) the boyfriends cuddled under the warm blanket Eijirou has chosen as his backup gift.

"Ei"

"Mmm~?"

"You fucking better start thinking now if you want to top this year's present for the years to come"

~ the end

#kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bakushima #bnha #mha #my hero academia #fluff #christmas fluff #marriage proposal #uhh... unexpected Christmas gift I guess

[christopherwatsonbooks]

Covenant Spring, Chapter Three

Years went by. I worked a handful of jobs. Most aren’t worth talking about.

I moved out of the house as soon as I could afford it. I found a little apartment I could manage on my own. It had putty-colored walls and thin brown carpeting. The air conditioning carried the damp smell of everyone who had ever lived there, like a dirty refrigerator.

The day I moved out of the house, Dad presented me with a laminated wallet-sized card on which he’d carefully printed all the names and phone numbers he could think of, in case I was ever in an accident or needed help. He made me put the card into my wallet right then, even though I had most of the numbers in my phone contacts already. He kept talking as we loaded my stuff into the apartment, checking the smoke detectors and reminding me to lock the doors and windows when I was away, and to call him if I needed anything, even if he was at work. We made a date to go shopping for used furniture at the Goodwill store.

I walked him out to the car. He hugged me before he got in. I smelled his after shave, felt his soft middle-aged muscles beneath his store shirt. I was taller than he was now. It was the first time I had been close enough to him to really notice.

I sat on a box in my new apartment and cried. I wasn’t sure why.

. . .

I bought a used car, a crappy little oil-burning Toyota. I spent most of my spare cash on books, and read most of them. I hardly ever invited anyone over because I'm a dick.

I'm not trying to be funny. I know how I am around people. I'm not easy to get along with. I don't try to be a dick but there's just not that much that anyone has to say that interests me, most people anyway. Most of it is obvious or ignorant, or tedious social prattle, or just plain bullshit.

I find it all exceptionally difficult to tolerate. I suppose I could try, or try harder, but it’s not worth the effort to me. Inevitably, I’ll find myself having to say something meaningless just to be social or having to pretend that someone didn’t just say something stupendously asinine, just to be polite.

People think I'm arrogant because I don’t say much. It's easier to let them think that than it is to pretend to be friendly. When I attempt the required contortions, I wind up castrating my point, stumbling over my own attempted courtesy to the degree that I end up sounding like a moron.

The trouble with being nice for its own sake, with being courteous in the face of imbecility, is that the very people who require you to make the effort will mistake you for a pussy. Speak plain, and you’re a dick.

So I’m a dick. I don’t see that it’s my responsibility to coddle your delicate sensibilities or make you comfortable in your ignorance. I can’t help it if you jump when I slap my coins on the counter. Grow the fuck up.

There. I’m done.

It would’ve been nice to have had some company, though.

. . .

Dad I can talk to. We made it a point to have dinner together once a month. It's nice to buy dinner for your dad. He always offered to pay and sometimes I let him, when I saw he needed to. I would get the tip then.

“How is she?” I would ask. I didn’t have to say who.

“The same,” he would say. And we would move on, careful not to open that door too wide, easing it closed.

I felt I had to ask, to at least recognize that she was a part of things, if for no other reason than that she still took up space in our world, and so must be acknowledged.

. . .

Most of the time, though, I fantasized about women. I thought about them constantly. I imagined the feel of their smooth shoulders beneath my hands, the softness of them pressed against me, their warm scent. I ached for it.

I loved to watch women in bookstores, beautiful smart women opening book covers to feed their souls. Their slim fingers pulling their hair back, tucking it behind their ear, that perfect smooth curve of neck revealed.

You women, you moved through the world like goddesses to me. Do you know the power you had, cool and perfect so that it split my heart to see you. I never dared approach, because I would not have been able to bear had you turned away. But you being there gave me what hope I had. Like a dream of a kiss, better left sweet in sleep than spoiled by waking.

. . .

I'd had two girlfriends my whole life. The first was Leslie, in high school. She was plain, with clean, straight blonde hair and button-down blouses with khaki skirts and a little small mouth already trained in that smile some girls have, studied sweetness and insurmountable distance all projected with a twitch of dimple. We studied in the library, and sometimes we went to movies together. Leslie always called her parents right after we got there and just before we left to go home.

Hanging with Leslie was like eating vanilla ice cream. It wasn't as good as chocolate or strawberry but it was better than no ice cream at all.

She sent me a happy graduation card, signed “Love, Leslie.” She might as well have written any word in the language, for all the meaning it had. Love was just a word, something girls like her dispensed like heart-shaped candies, to be nice.

Leslie went to Rutgers on a scholarship, to study psychology. I saw her at the mall a few years later, on the other side of the promenade. She looked precisely the same, as if she’d been in storage since we last saw one another. I thought about going over to say hi, but I didn’t. I’d still be precisely what I’d been to her when we’d shared time together. A stranger.

Dear Leslie. I hope you’re doing well. Love, Danny.

. . .

The other woman was Cheryl. She was twelve years older than me and sold advertising for a local newspaper. I met her at the pet store where I worked for a while.

Working at the pet store taught me why so many women rescue strays and work in animal shelters. I saw them at the store all the time. They were either fat and wearing sweat clothes or heroin thin, with old faces, like books abandoned open to the elements.

Nadine was a bus driver, she came in every week and bought forty pounds of kibble and a big box of biscuits. She had seven dogs. When she told me, I said how it must be a handful to have so many. Nadine said better dog shit on the rug than a drunk asshole with no job on the couch.

Pow. I don't laugh at dog and cat people now like I used to. Just the obviously crazy ones.

Cheryl had an orange tomcat tabby named Rusty, neutered. I learned to remember the difference between neutered and spayed because neuter and nuts begin with the same letter. You use whatever works.

Cheryl wasn't a fat cat person. She dressed in business suits and had auburn hair. She wore lots of makeup that looked like she'd spent an hour on it, like the porn star anchors on cable TV news.

Cheryl made it easy to flirt. Cheryl taught me that I could say certain things to certain women in a certain way without fear that I’d be taken seriously. I said things to Cheryl that would have had Leslie calling her dad in a panic.

One afternoon, Cheryl asked if I'd ever thought about having sex with her. She said it was okay if I had.

I was twenty-two when I lost my virginity. Maybe you think that’s late. I don’t think it matters. Once you do it, you’re doing it. The rest is just practice.

All Cheryl and I did was have sex. It was all she wanted, and I couldn’t find reason to object. She showed me what to do and let me know when I got it right. She didn’t have a headboard on her bed, so sometimes the top of her head would thump against the wall, bump-bump-bump. Whenever I was on top I put a pillow between her head and the wall. I was a considerate lover. It's funny as hell now, to think about it.

Sometimes Rusty would jump up on the bed while we were at it. “Rusty, go!” Cheryl would say, her head thumping against the wall. And Rusty would obediently jump off of the bed. He’d curl around Cheryl’s bare ankles when she showed me to the door. “Isn’t he a good kitty?” Cheryl would say, and then tell me good-bye, and close the door in my face.

Cheryl would never come to my apartment. She let me buy her dinner, once. We'd been doing whatever we were doing for six weeks. At the restaurant she was nervous. She didn't say much and hardly ate. She tried to pay when we were done and became angry when I insisted on paying instead.

We didn't have sex that night. She said she was tired and I left her at the curb in front of her apartment and watched her click-clack up the paved walk and disappear inside without a glance behind her.

I called Cheryl the next day and left a message, but she never called back. She never came back to the pet store. At least not while I was there.

I drove by her apartment a while later. Her car was there, the light was on. I didn’t stop. I didn’t know what I would say.

Maybe if I'd been more like Rusty.

. . .

Here is the most remarkable thing I remember from those years. The one single most memorable thing.

I was standing beneath a shop awning one afternoon in the summer, on the little main street in our town. It had begun pouring rain, out of nowhere.

I'm deciding whether to wait or make a run for my car, when I see her. She's approaching from my right, walking like there's no rain. She doesn't have an umbrella and she doesn't care.

She's soaked to the skin, her blouse is sticking to her, her wet hair is pulled back from her forehead.

She stops by a car parked at the curb and applies lipstick in the side-view mirror, in the rain. The tops of her breasts glisten, the dark space between them opens as she bends over.

I see her as I write this. I can smell the wet asphalt, and the rain. There she is, in her astonishing glory.

I have constructed entire conversations we might have had, entire lives.

She looks up, and there I am before her. I say what I say, just the perfect thing to make her fresh-painted lips smile, to make her wonder if I might be worth some of her time.

From that moment, that space in the heartbeat slowing of the world around you as you await the next, the rest proceeds.

That's all you need, if you can get it. That alone can make up for everything else. You won't need a map to make yourself real.

I hadn't met CeeCee then.

. . .

The pet store closed, driven out of business by a big-box discount chain that opened a half-mile away. I had thirty days to find a new job.

[pyxel-spree]

ultimate back to school masterpost

it has come…the witching hour…the time of doom is now upon us…okay so obviously ignore me, i’m a huge nerd. but if you’re like me, going back to school is a terrible, nerve-wracking experience. so here are some tips to help you survive this.

1. Do. Your. Summer. Work. If you haven’t started on it now, turn off whatever device you’re reading this on and start working. Many teachers will test you on whatever summer work you were assigned, and occasionally it can count for a significant portion of your first semester grade. Seriously, don’t put it off until the last minute, because then you really won’t want to do it. Plus, then you’ll have more time to focus on binge-watching Netflix uninterrupted. 

2. Whether you’re moving to an entirely new school or just a new grade, things will change this year in some way. You have to be ready for it. And you-yes, you-can be one of those things. It’s never too late to reinvent yourself. Want to dye your hair? Try a new extracurricular? Break a bad habit? Learn a new language? Go for it. 

3. Push yourself, but not at the expense of your mental health. No test or project is worth breaking down over. That being said, procrastination is the enemy of progress. You won’t do it later-and if you do, you won’t do it as well as you could have. 

4. Make time for your friends and yourself. Don’t let school take over your life. Self care and having fun are important too. 

5. Wherever you are, whenever you are, people are going to judge you. It’s how we’re wired-we’re a judgmental species. There’s really no point in worrying about how other people perceive you because you can’t please everyone. You could be an actual saint canonized by the pope AND cure cancer AND negotiate an armistice between the forces of good and the rabid radioactive alien wolves sworn to destroy all humanity and still some people are going to call you “bitchy,” “fake,” “weird,” “trying too hard,” et cetera, et cetera. Be unabashedly you. 

6. You are smart. Really really smart. So what if you don’t have perfect grades or the best ACT score? If you’re trying your best-really, really your best-no one can fault you for it. 

7. People who are confident in the knowledge of their own intelligence don’t: 

play the “grade game” i.e. “whadja get??? i’m sure you did great…seriously whadja get tho?? c’mon show me, i won’t tell anyone.” (u know these kids) 

loudly complain about getting an A minus/B plus when they know other people didn’t do as well as them

say they “didn’t study” every time there’s a test

cheat

lecture people when they didn’t ask for it

brag about their grades/scholarships/other opportunities 

compare themselves to/compete with other students constantly

condescend to others

talk about how much “busier” they are than other students all the time

put others down whenever they talk about successes (”i’ve won loads of those; it’s not that hard to do.” “you do know everyone who applied for science olympiad got in, right?”) *the last one someone actually said to me-and it was a blatant lie so double wtf?? 

lie about accomplishments when asked (just say you don’t want to talk about it its? not? that? hard?)

make fun of people who don’t do as well as you

Bottom line: Be honest with yourself-do you do any of these things? If so, why? The truth is, if you view your academic life as this crazy competition, you’re not going to have any fun, you’re going to lose friends over it, and people aren’t going to see you as a role model to emulate, they’re going to think you’re well…an arrogant, self-centered tool. Everyone loves that you care about school, and everyone can see that you’re really smart and driven. You have nothing to prove, and everything to lose. If you want to do well for yourself, that’s great. But if it’s all about one-upping other people, it’s not worth it. Like in writing, show, don’t tell, how competitive of a student you are. 

8. Good friends don’t: 

put you down

exclude you

stifle you 

use you as an emotional dumping ground 

stop supporting you 

tell people your secrets

gaslight you 

manipulate you 

make you feel unsafe

abuse you in any capacity

threaten to rescind their friendship for small offenses

make jokes that you find offensive 

ignore you/give you the silent treatment without telling you what’s wrong

pressure you into doing things you don’t want to

only hang out with you when their “best friends” aren’t around

talk about themselves all the time but never ask you about yourself

mooch off you 

stop talking to you for no reason

refuse to stick up for you when people are being jerks

Bottom line-if you feel like you come in second, if you feel like you’re the one that has to do all the work in the friendship, you have to ask yourself why you’re trying so hard. Having healthy friendships is as important as having healthy romantic relationships. Of course, there are degrees to how toxic friendships can be. I’ve been in some fairly awful ones that I had to cut off completely, but I’ve managed to reconnect with other people who I didn’t have good friendships with (i’m always careful never to get too close to those people though.) If you’re being abused or manipulated by a friend, you need to CUT THAT PERSON OFF. You deserve friends who treat you with respect. If your friends don’t, you’re better off alone (at least until you’ve found some real friends.) 

9. No significant other or crush is more important than your grades, your extracurriculars, or your mental health. If your relationship is taking over your life, take a step back and ask, “Where do I see this going?” Don’t waste time with people who don’t treat you right or people who aren’t interested. When the right person comes along (and they will!), you won’t have to feel nervous or awkward around them. 

10. Study smarter, not harder. Use abbreviations in your notes and find shortcuts to difficult math problems. Of course, do all your homework. It’ll cost you big time in the long run. 

11. Buy some clothes that you actually want to wear, and get rid of the ones that you hate. It’ll make getting up in the morning that much better if you feel confident about how you look. Dress for yourself-you are not “slutty” or “trying too hard” for wanting to look good. 

12. Find your textbooks online so you don’t have to lug them back and forth every day. Don’t wait to buy your supplies-buy them now so you can get good deals and won’t end up scouring every office supply store for that particular brand of pencil. 

13. Participate. Seriously. I didn’t realize what a difference this made until I got to high school. Even if you feel like you’re going to get the question wrong, even if you feel like you’re not smart enough to add anything interesting to the class discussion, say something. Not only does it make the teacher notice you-which in a big class is super important-it’ll show that you’re paying attention and that you want to learn. If you participate, teachers will be more likely to remember you and you’ll feel more confident about yourself, as well as less tempted to doze off or talk to your friends. Do this in all your classes-even the ones you’re not as good at-and you will see better grades-guaranteed (especially if they grade on participation). 

14. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. You’re not stupid if you don’t understand something. If you can, ask someone to tutor you if you’re struggling. Ask the teacher for extra practice on what you struggle with. If no one is asking your question for you in class, you have to ask it yourself, otherwise you’re never going to learn. 

15. Hard test? Start studying 3-4 days in advance. One day review notes and material; the others do practice exercises or quiz yourself. If possible, study with friends-as long as they don’t distract you. Take 5-10 minute breaks in between sessions so you don’t burn out. 

16. Make a studying playlist and a motivational playlist. You’ll be amazed at how much better you feel about studying. Only do extracurriculars you actually enjoy-not ones you just do because you think it will look good on some application or the other. Don’t load up on these activities either or your grades will start to dip. 

17. Know the dates and times of any big standardized tests you’re taking (SAT, ACT, PSAT, AP tests, IB tests, IGSE, GCSE, SAT Subject Tests, etc.). Plan to start reviewing for these at least a month before the exam. (and a month before only if you know you’re really good at that kind of test-taking.)  

18. Edit your essays, once by yourself and once with a friend. Know the format your teacher wants so you don’t have to waste time googling “MLA in-text citation” every time you have an essay due. 

19. This may come as a surprise to you, but you are not the center of the universe. So before you go on long rants about how hard your life is, remember, you have no idea what the person you’re sitting next to might be going through. You are not the only person ever who’s had to juggle hard classes, extracurriculars, a job, and family problems at the same time. Other people are also struggling-what you’re going through is not more difficult or more meaningful than what anyone else is dealing with. This year, make a resolution to ask people questions about themselves, to listen to others, instead of making everything about you. You will be surprised at how much more people will trust you and how many more friends you will make. Also, guess what? Bad days happen to everyone-so stop taking out your frustrations on people that you care about. It’s petty, it’s stupid, it’s not fair, and it’s the quickest way to make your bad day a little worse. 

20. Regardless of whatever happens this year, you will graduate, you will get a job that makes you happy, and you will be a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful, successful human being. If you get nothing else out of this post, take this-don’t get yourself so taken in by that weird, hive-mind-toxic culture that school perpetuates that you lose the ability to deal with the people who are truly important to you. At the end of the day, you want to say that you came out of this school year a happier, wiser person than you entered it. 

#studyblr #masterpost #mine #tips #important #self care #love yourself #first day of school #back to school #lookstudyblr #emmastudies

[deadlyunicornsofspace]

My Podcast Idea: take 2

okay, so this is the second post I’ve made about it, because my first was all over the place and I missed a bunch of stuff. a few points to make first though so the rest is easier to read.

1) I won’t cover everything I’ve figured out in case I ever do make this into a real thing, and I don’t want to tell you guys everything that happens right now

2) I'm going to call humans two different things, humans (obviously) and deathworlders. the reason for this is that Aliens don’t refer to humans as humans, simply because that is not what they named them. Aliens refer to this insane species as “deathworlders”

3) I am going to refer to the main human character as TH (tiny human)

Okay now that I’ve covered that, time to talk about the rest of it.

Premise

So basically, the first idea I had was just this human being raised by these aliens who don’t know that this kid is a human, and humans are some mythical creature in that universe. obviously a lot has changed since then.

First off, I have TH actually living on this spaceship for most their life (Specific age isn’t hugely important, but I've decided that they've been on it since they were about four) and they can’t remember anything from before they were on the ship. 

The spaceship basically has the entire internet on it (Minus all the viruses I guess) up until the ship was sent into space. (So like when Tumblr has already loaded a whole bunch of posts, but then your internet crashes and you can look at all the already loaded posts but not any new ones) So TH knows a whole bunch about earth, they’ve seen tv shows, read books etc etc. so they know they’re human and a lot about earth. (However of course their perspective is skewed of course because they learned everything from the internet)

So I have no idea how spending all this time with no other humans around is going to affect this kid (obviously they’re going to be fucked up from lack of human contact) then I decided I didn’t want this kid to be completely alone (Because come on, the podcast doesn’t even start until they're fourteen, that’s like ten years alone) so I gave them robots. the robots are on the ship with them, they take care of stuff, but they also have AIs so TH can sort of talk to them, but still not the same as having real humans around. 

On that note, if you know anything about psychology and how this might effect them, please message me or something, I don’t want to mess it up I’d love to talk to someone who knows what they’re talking about

okay, so next event is first contact. so TH lands on this planet. (I can’t decide if it’s a crash landing or not, because it seems weird not to have it be able to land, but I’m also pretty sure they were expecting it to be flown by someone trained to do this you know?) So anyway TH is on the planet and is found by this pair of aliens.

time for the Obvious Problem.

communication. because, don’t get me wrong, whilst I love Voltron, the whole meeting aliens and of course they speak English, why wouldn’t they? is kind of ridiculous. I can only assume that the castle has a translator (Which does raise the question of why English would be in their data base, or any human language for that matter, but that is a long post for another time and on my main account.) so I need to figure out this language barrier quick

So after a long time of pondering, I figured it out. All aliens have translators, because while the optimal world would be where everyone spoke everyone’s language, it’s not happening. so when they meet this strange species they’ve never seen before they open up their translator and try to translate what they’re saying, and it works, TH seems to speaking a strange variant of an archaic language that they cannot identify the planet of (Yes I realise this is shady af, but I'm going to have an explanation for it, but not in this post.) So they’re just about barely able to communicate the bare essentials. 

so they manage to get across that they’re friendly, and that they’re going to going to help fix their ship etc. the issue is that they seem to have a really old version of English, so they use the ships data base to update their translator. now do you remember what I said earlier about the internet not being the best way to learn stuff. these aliens cannot tell fact from fiction, they do not know the difference between slang and not. 

So that’s gonna be a real wild ride

Anyways, back to plot

So TH is going to stay with Aliens while they fix up ship and figure out what’s going on with them

At one point I think they’ll be telling TH about deathworlders, maybe TH will be telling them about horror stories and stuff like that and they jus, “Oh, you mean like deathworlders?” and they just, “What the heck is a deathworlder?” and there I could have a spooky campfire stories sort of scene.

They start talking about what they want to do

TH says they want to find other humans and figure out where they came from

Aliens want to explore space

anyway long story short they find this map with a whole bunch of places marked down

they cross reference it with a map of all the planets they know of and some of the marked places are planets, both inhabited and not, and some are in unrecorded territory

Long story short they go fuck it, and leave in TH’s spaceship to explore the cosmos. Idk if they’ll pick up others to join their crew along the way

I definitely want them to have a person on their crew that is a human conspiracist. like how we have conspiracies about aliens, they have conspiracies that deathworlders exist

anyway along the journey they’re gradually going to piece together that TH is a deathworlder. theres gonna be a whole bunch of little bits that Ima put under another section.

“The real conspiracy was the friends you made along the way”

Anyway that’s pretty much all I've got for plot to share with you, so

TH is a deathworlder?

early clues:

TH has an astounding pain threshold. Like they injure themselves and it sounds excruciatingly painful and like they should see a doctor if what they say is anything to go by, but insist on just walking it off

Their ability to multitask is astounding, like they’re doing three things at once while also consuming their daily required nutrients

TH threw a piece of paper into a bin while not looking and acted like it was no big deal WHAT THE ACTUAL

As they start to question it: 

“Dude, you said deathworlders digest poison to build an immunity and weed out the weak”

“YOU HAVE PEPPERS GROWING IN YOUR GARDEN!”

“They’re for flavour.”

“THEY’RE POISONOUS!”

“I thought you said that deathworlders are so eager to fight they even fight their own genetics”

“PUNCHING THINGS AND SPRINTING IS NOT SOMETHING YOUR SPECIES SHOULD BE CAPABLE OF”

“and?”

“YOU HAVE ENTIRE RITUALS AND CEREMONIES DEDICATED TO THEM”

About the world

so basically whenever what I am going to refer to as the alien government (AG)discovers a likely place for an inhabitable planet to be they send out an exploration squad to see is there is one, they then send another group to go visit the planet and speak to them and ask if they wish to join their big group of planets, idk what to call it.

Nobody ever refuses, because why would they? 

Communication and transport is established and they are now a part of their clique. 

so all of the aliens are very peaceful

so the priority in tech is communication, transport, and exploration. 

there isn’t really anything in the way of weapons

it’s hard to get clearance to explore

Well more specifically it’s hard to get clearance for an exploration ship. TH’s spaceship is a loophole, because they aren’t a part of their government so they can't stop them.

which is why the aliens wanted to explore so bad, because no proper exploring is really done, it’s all just science and there should be a planet here, check it out.

you can get little ships for singular planet use about as easily as a car, but they’re effectively just used as cars because that’s the kind of thing they’re made for. you can also get ships for interplanetary travel, but only through established routes. that’s kind of the equivalent of getting an airplane.

That’s all I can think of to put in this post, I’d love to hear back from you guys with your thoughts, as I said, if you know anything about psychology and how TH might be affected by their situation please message me or something, I need help. also just feel free to message me, about this, about anything to do with my whole blog, or anything at all. or if you just want to talk. 

see you guys next time! And hey,

you’re beautiful

#humanity #aliens #Alien #humans #human #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are crazy #humans are space orcs #HUMANS ARE THE WEIRD ONES #humans are space australians #earth is space australia #weird #space #spaceship #spaceships #space travel #Space Ship #universe #future #futuristic #conspiracies #conspiracy #mine #podcast idea #podcast #my podcast idea #writing #story #story ideas

[tanginae]

Modern!Tropang Nerds Headcannons, Part III

part I / II / IV

MAKARAIG

His friends got him a #RichBitch muscle tee that he wears to sleep

It never fails to make him laugh, though. He doesn’t mind at all

He's loaded as fuck, and nobody knows if it's because his parents still support him or he got his inheritance years early

Taller than most of the people in their tropa, with the exception of Sandoval

Has ridiculously clear skin, the saints and 75% of the student body are jealous

The students are sure Makaraig's human because of the sole fact that he still gets eyebags; which stand out clearly against his fair skin

Nobody has ever seen him pissed, not even his closest comrades. Theyre beginning to doubt whether he actually feels anger or not

Apart from Placido, Makaraig also has perfect eyebrows in addition to his chocolate brown, perpetually sparkling eyes

His eyes get all crinkly when he laughs

The second oldest in their friend group

Probably goes to the gym despite studying law

Dad friend in the streets, sugar daddy in the sheets

Dresses in button-downs, sweatshirts, and folded jeans. Also owns at least three pairs of patent leather shoes, a handful of topsiders, and a shit ton of loafers

The only time he wears sneakers is when he goes out for a jog (fine. He also has one pair of white converses, but that's it)

Looks like your typical Filipino anak-ng-senador rich boy, but his attitude is hardly anything like them

He tries his best to educate himself on issues concerning the masses before he forms an opinion

Tries to see both sides of the issue and doesn’t really want to offend anyone

Lets his classmates borrow his books for photocopying because he knows those things are expensive and they can't all afford it

A natural-born leader; he's got the charm, the skills, the emotional intelligence, the money, and the affluence to be one

Really caring, both towards his friends and his constituents

Would tell his friends to text him when they get home; he does not give two shits that they're all fully-grown men who can defend themselves perfectly when the need arises. He doesn't give a fuck what people say, he needs to know the people he cares about are safe

Teachers and students alike love him

Sandoval is probably his right-hand man

Despite his squeaky-clean image, he's actually pretty sneaky and will resort to questionable means to get himself out of sticky situations

His connections and his money makes doing exactly just that pretty easy

His survival instinct does not include other people; he can get pretty selfish when his ass gets compromised

But, other than that, he'll try to put other people first before himself

Will get shit done and will not let anything or anyone get in the way of what he wants to do. He'll find new ways to get his plans to work

Became student council president both in high school and college

Looks ridiculously good in suits, with his hair slicked back

Wants to work at the Public Attorney's Office before setting up his own firm

He's that type of person who pays attention to the one person in the group who's constantly getting talked over so they don't feel bad. He actually listens to them and encourages them to continue, might even tell the other members of the discussion to listen

A health nut

The only one in their friend group who has facial hair: his sideburns make him look even better, plus he's tried growing a beard and often goes back to it once the summer season's over

SANDOVAL

The tallest, because he won the genetic lottery due to his Nationality

Came to the Philippines when he was younger, fell in love with the country, came back as soon he got a decent amount of money and decided to finish his studies here

The oldest in their friend group

Met the others through Makaraig

His eyes are gorgeous: they're so light they border on being green; framed by thick eyelashes. He has a sharp nose, full lips, and skin so clear and immaculate everyone who's seen him wept. His Spanish roots are clearly manifested in his physical looks, people don't have trouble guessing that he's a foreigner. When he speaks, he takes them all completely by surprise because

He speaks in perfect Tagalog. He can also speak Spanish and English, bu he prefers to use the language of the people he's mingling with. He actually put in the time and effort to learn it during his first few years, and that makes him pretty lovable to everyone he meets

He, however, never got rid of his accent

His voice is heavenly, which is a huge reason everyone wants to listen to him talk. His diction is amazing

He's always being asked to emcee school events

Won several speech and declamation contests. He's shit at spoken word, though

He tried once, and it was a train wreck. Isagani could still remember the secondhand embarrassment

He and Isagani are best bros because they share the same points of view most of the time

He's ridiculously privileged, though

He's probably got a lot of flak for running his mouth, voicing his opinions which mean well but does not show a full understanding of what the common people are going through

He often receives the "you're a foreigner, why are you even meddling in issues like this?" argument and it drives him nuts

Doesn’t take well to criticism

Hates being interrupted

Raises valid points, but sometimes his arguments sound like it obviously came from someone living the high life

There are just some things he can't understand about the Filipino culture; like their distrust in the government

But other than that he adjusted fairly well because hey, we borrowed a lot of stuff from them

Gets shit done together with Makaraig

Was once a member of the debate team

He can bullshit he shit he says and you won't even know

A huge persuasive speaker

Loses his temper quickly in a discourse/argument but uses this anger as a springboard to get his point across more clearly

Is probably already taking his master's degree

Eats a fuck ton but never gets fat at all

Tried balut once, got creeped out by the baby chick, had to take a few drinks to actually stomach the stuff. Actually liked it

The Loud Drunk

Wants people to Fight Him but almost cries when they do

Another angry crier

His cooking is heavenly, he often gets the gang together after big exams so they could indulge in healthy, home-cooked meals after binging on junk

Doesn't really give a fuck about social media sites

#el nolibusterismo #hello #idk fam i think the others need mor luv #i love makaraig for some reason #makaraig #sandoval

[padmidala]

Entre Nous Et Le Ciel

request: anakin x reader, he has a nightmare about joining the dark side and hurting the people he loves so he goes in reader's room for comfort and she sings him to sleep(something he told the reader that shmi did for him when he was younger) and just really soft kisses and loads of fluff? thank youuuuuuu and **about the anakin x reader where he has a nightmare, could reader sing to him in her native tongue (because i’m french and french ballads are very soft and nice?? if you want to,“ je l'aime à mourir” is one of my favorites)

a/n: Not to be that person and return after months of absence with an excuse, but I’m going to be that person right now and say: school has absolutely kicked my butt this year! It took me a little bit by surprise because last year was a lot easier for me, and given how much school I’ve missed for personal reasons I’ve been pretty consistently behind throughout the whole year. I haven’t forgotten about this blog, though; I’ve been thinking about it a lot, I’ve just been really strapped for time. But with the new semester, I’ve managed to get a handle on my work and decided that I would work on some imagines tonight! Thanks for sticking around, guys, and I hope you enjoy the new content! - Eliza

the title translates to “between us and heaven” 

It wasn’t too late when Anakin walked into your shared quarters, but it wasn’t early, either. You had already finished supper and watched R2 roll into his charging station by the time he arrive. The door sliding open alerted you to your husband’s presence, the sight of him causing you to set your datapad to the side; he looked exhausted and upset. You stood up and went over to him, pulling him into your embrace. “Long day?”

He let out a long, soft sigh, his arms circling you loosely. “You have no idea.”

“Here,” you took his robe from him and herded him into a chair. “I’ll heat up some supper for you and then we can try to rest.”

He smiled appreciatively at you and watched in silence as you pulled some of your leftovers out and began to warm them up. Once they were done, you handed a steaming bowl and a spoon to Anakin. He didn’t seem to care about how hot it was, and you couldn’t help your little smile at the way his nose scrunched up as he began shovelling the food into his mouth. It was gone in minutes.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Anakin said, sitting back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to go get ready for bed.”

“Alright. I’ll clean this up,” you returned his grateful smile and began washing the bowl out as he excused himself to the fresher to get washed up before bed.

By the time he came out, you had already put away his dish and slipped into bed. You were scrolling through news on your datapad while you waited for him, but set that to the side when the bed dipped down under his weight. “Thanks again for supper,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek. You smiled softly.

“Do you want to talk about your day?” You often found that it took some goading to get any actual information out of Anakin, especially when he was tired and stressed, but on occasion you caught him in the mood to actually share his feelings with you.

“It was just more issues with the Jedi council,” he shrugged off your question and pulled you down into his embrace, snuggling warmly into the covers. You reached out to turn the light off and then settled into his arms. You didn’t want to push the subject, so you just nodded in understanding and wiggled a little closer to him.

“Well, if you decide you want to talk about it, I’m always here.”

“I know. And I love you for it,” with that, he pressed a small kiss to the back of your neck. With each passing moment, you could feel him relaxing into you more and more, until finally, his breathing deepened and he was asleep.

Sleep beckoned you, too, pulling on your eyelids and fogging up your brain until you joined Anakin in a peaceful rest.

***

Unfortunately, your sleep that night wasn’t meant to remain peaceful. You were jolted awake by Anakin’s arms tightening around you, his breathing shallow and interspersed with muttered, angry speech. For a few moments you laid still, feeling disoriented and sluggish with sleep. After a minute or so, however, you realized that the only thing coming out of Anakin’s mouth was the word ‘no’. Over and over again until it made your stomach churn. He seemed to be getting more desperate until, finally, he jolted upright, chest heaving with effort and emotion.

You rolled over and let him adjust to his surroundings before sitting up and putting a hand on his shoulder. He tensed under you, turning his head quickly, and the sight of him made your heart jump into your throat - eyes wild and darting back and forth like a cornered animal, lips parted, breathing short and shallow. “Hey,” you murmured, reaching out with your other hand to press it against his cheek. “Hey, you’re alright. Anakin, you’re fine.”

It took some time - how much, you weren’t sure - before he calmed down and relaxed into your touch. He sagged down as though some invisible weight had been lifted, and you watched with concern as his breathing finally slowed and he leaned into you like he normally would. There was a brief second of calm before his lip began to quiver and his eyebrows creased. “Ani,” you used the nickname he’d had as a child in hopes of pulling him out of this state, but all it did was make his chest start heaving again. “Anakin, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong. Please. Let me help you.”

“I -” his throat was raw and his voice broke around the word, so you pulled him in, deciding that the contact you’d already established clearly wasn’t enough to provide any real comfort. He leaned in to you as you wrapped one arm around his shoulders and used the other hand to tousle through his hair. It was knotted from sleep, so you worked out the tangles as he sobbed dryly into your neck. Eventually, his breathing evened out and you were beginning to wonder if he’d fallen asleep when he began to speak. “It was just a bad dream.”

You almost laughed at that; there were certain things you would brush off and let him explain in his own time, but this was not one of those things. “Anakin, I’m not going to let you shrug this off. Obviously, it was a little more than a bad dream. You’ve been hysterical since you woke up. What happened in the dream?”

“My eyes were red,” the pause he took after this statement was enough to make you wonder if that was all he was going to tell you, but you didn’t dare speak and risk interrupting whatever thought process was going through his head. Eventually, he continued. “So was my lightsaber. Everything was red. It was so angry, and violent, and cruel.

“And then… I was in the temple, staring down at the Jedi younglings, and they were looking back at me with such fear. And I realized, distantly, somehow, that everyone else was dead. The Jedi. And…” he stopped, and pushed away from you. You were tempted to follow, to chase him down; you suddenly felt cold without him so close to you. But then he met your eyes for a split second, and the look in them was enough to make you pull back. There was devastation, anger, exhaustion, all fighting for dominance right there in front of you. But then his eyes flickered away, down to his hands sitting limply in his lap. “I killed them.”

You bit back… something. A sharp inhale, maybe, or a noise of disbelief. You didn’t dare interrupt him now. If you said even the slightest wrong thing, he would recede back inside of himself and blow you off. So you sat, silent and waiting. “All of them. And then the temple was burning and they were all just… dead. Every last Jedi. I went to a planet, and there was more red. I think it was lava.

“I was standing on a platform, like a military base, and a ship landed and you were there. And you… you were pregnant.” His voice cracked, and he seemed to be biting back sobs. “We got into an argument and I was so angry I choked you and you just fell to the ground and -” with that, it was like a dam broke. He sobbed so loudly you found tears welling in your own eyes. You weren’t sure whether you should touch him or not, but then decided that you couldn’t leave him alone, adrift in his own emotions.

So you sat up on your knees and reached out to wipe the tears off his face, drawing him into you once again and letting him cry into your shoulder until it seemed he had no more tears left. Finally, when he had quieted down, you spoke. “It was just a dream, Anakin. You would never do any of that. Is there anything I can do to help you fall back asleep?”

He was quiet for a moment. And then, “my mother used to sing to me when I was young.”

You nodded. “Then I’ll sing.”

He laid down on his back and pulled you with him. You situated yourself so you were propped up on his chest, looking down at him. Once he had settled in, you began to sing. It was a song you had learned years ago, a gentle love ballad in a language you’d almost forgotten by now.

It only took a few verses before Anakin was drifting off again, his face almost deceptively peaceful. If someone were to walk in now, it would look like he’d never awoken. With him asleep, you had time to ruminate on the dream. It didn’t sit right with you, especially the detail about you being pregnant, but he didn’t need to know about that.

And he especially didn’t need to know about your suspicions that that detail was more accurate than he might have thought.

#star wars imagines #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader

[michaelamwrites]

Unity Days 2017: Eliza Taylor on Clarke’s Journey

(A little background-- I wrote this post for the website I write for, but the editor doesn’t like it and his notes consisted essentially of “make it better,” so I a) sent an application to Talk Nerdy With Us because I’ve had enough of his over-controlling self and b) am posting this here, because I’m really happy with it, and the editor doesn’t pay me, so I’m not gonna kiss up and make my writing lower-quality.

So, with that out of the way, here we go!)

"I think there comes a certain time in anyone’s life when something really, really tragic or awful happens, and you can kind of choose to let it define you, or you can rise above it and put it to good use," says Eliza Taylor of Clarke's mourning of Lexa. "And I think that's what she's doing."

Eliza, who plays Clarke Griffin in the CW's hit post-apocalyptic series The 100, attended Unity Events Canada's very first convention, Unity Days 2017 on Saturday, January 14th, and shared a little (spoiler-free, of course) info on Clarke's journey in season 4, which premieres on Wednesday, February 1st at 9/8c on the CW.

I was able to attend Unity Days, and had such a fun time connecting with the cast, fans, and other press members! We'll be posting loads of articles about our time there (edit: I’m not sure how much I’ll post on this tumblr--it depends on when I hear back from TNWU), split up by character and actor—so without further ado, here's what Eliza Taylor had to say about season 4 of  The 100! Panels were moderated by Jo Garfein, the creator of the charity Cancer Gets LOST, who did a spectacular job making sure everything went smoothly, and that everyone was listened to.

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First up, let's talk relationships!

An audience member asked Eliza how she and Alycia Debnam-Carey prepared for the scene in the City of Light where Clarke and Lexa reunite, and asked if they improvised anything. Eliza answered that she and Alycia are very close friends, and it was a wonderful surprise to have her back. "We didn’t really prepare anything, we just did what we always do, which is work well together," she continued. They improvised some, but Eliza isn't certain if any of it made it into the final cut, as the producers like to stick with the script. "We've got a chemistry, and she's a delight to work with," she finished.

Clarke is notorious for not grieving very long, and just swallowing down her pain (see: Wells and Finn), so Jo asked if we'll see Clarke grieving Lexa at all in season 4. "Yeah. That's always a shade of her now," Eliza said. "She'll always be grieving. It was the love of her life."

[At this point Jess Harmon, who plays Niylah (who Clarke hooked up with in the season 3 premiere) walked onto the stage (wearing a Jarod Joseph shirt) and yelled, “The love of your LIFE?!?!?” to much laughter. Eliza asked if they could talk about it later, babe, but no, "Niylah" was too upset to have this discussion in private.]

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Now, Lexa isn't the only one Clarke has lost. She's also lost Jake, Wells, and Finn, to name a few. An audience member asked if we would see Clarke grieving her other losses. "Yes," Eliza confirmed. "She feels grief and guilt."

Another member of the audience said, “So, obviously there’s been a lot of focus on Clarke’s relationships throughout the seasons. In season 4, do we get to see more of Clarke growing individually, outside of any relationship?” Eliza confirmed that we definitely will, adding, "Which I like, you know, she’s an independent woman!"

An audience member mentioned that "Clarke’s kind of got a bad track record with keeping her romantic partners alive" and asked if, if there's a new romance for her in season 4— “Will they live?” Eliza interjected. "That’s yet to be seen. I can’t answer! But yeah, I’ve really gotta stop killing the people I love. Not that I’M killing them, it’s like I’m cursed or something.”

Jessica Harmon wasn't the only person to crash Eliza's panel. The panel was supposed to be the "Princess Mechanic" panel, but Lindsey got called in to film more stuff for episode 4x11, so it became the Princess panel, or the Wanheda panel, or just the Eliza Taylor panel. Eliza told her castmates to crash her panel, so it wouldn't just be her up there all the time, so Ty Olsson (Nyko) dropped by for a visit. Ty had initially been booked as a guest for Unity Days, but had to cancel. He showed up after all, and got to visit with the fans.

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Jo asked Eliza and Ty if they ever had any scenes together, and Eliza reminded us of a scene in episode 2x07, Long Into An Abyss. Lincoln was dying from withdrawal from the reaper drug (Eliza mimed his seizures) and Ty tried to end his suffering. "I was like, 'Babe. Whoa. I think I know what to do,'" Eliza finished.

“What’s your favorite phrase in Grounder?” Jo asked, bringing on some complaints from Eliza about the difficulty of learning lines in the language. The question really never got answered, but Ty told us that despite playing a grounder, he hasn't had to speak much of the Grounder language.

Jo brought up Clarke's age, so Eliza broke down the timeline to try and figure out just how old our hero is: "So, in the pilot, I won’t turn 18 for another month. And I think we’re about 8 months in at this point. Lookin’ good, youngster!" (Eliza Taylor, for comparison, is 27.)

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Eliza concurred with Jo's summary of the theme for season 4: "Can we survive today, let alone survive the next crisis?" She told us that the season is "about…finding hope, I suppose, in a hopeless place." (Yes, she did start singing.) The major enemy in season 4 isn't the grounders, or the Mountain Men, or ALIE—it's going to be a war against nature. "People are basically either giving up, or fighting till the very end. It’s going to be interesting to see which characters fall into the ‘I’m sick of surviving’ category, and who fall into the ‘I’m gonna make something happen and save the human race’ category." You can probably guess which one Clarke chooses.

We learned that Eliza disliked being separated from the "adventure squad" or "Scooby gang" (or whatever you like to call the delinquents) in season 3, and enjoyed having the gang back together for season 4. We'll also see a return to the co-leadership of Bellamy and Clarke. Clarke's relationship with Bellamy isn't the only relationship we'll be seeing more of—Eliza and Paige (Abby Griffin) worked together more this season, and Clarke and Kane (Henry Ian Cusick) will have some adventures in figuring out their leadership roles. Speaking of Kane and Abby, we'll also get to see how Clarke reacts to her mother's new relationship with Kane. And there will be more of a mutual respect between the adults and the youngsters this season.

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Jo asked about the physicality of season 4 as compared to season 3, and Eliza shared that she had been training a bunch, then learned that Clarke's role this season is more political. "I do have a lot of crazy stunts, but they’re very sporadic. In this season, she’s almost like a politician; she’s just trying to delegate and keep everyone together. So I love that there’s a lot less fighting for me and a lot more trying to use my words."

According to Eliza, “Clarke is influenced by her parents in the best way possible.” She gets her more emotional, compassionate side from her dad, and her stronger, more diplomatic side from her mom.

A particularly good—and well-thought-out—question from the audience was this: "Monty shared some of the blame with Clarke for Mount Weather—do you think Raven will share the blame for her role in destroying the City of Light in a similar way, and do you think Clarke and Raven will bond over that?"

We could tell that this won't happen, by Eliza's sheepish laughter when she said "That's a really good story point." Guess the writers missed that one. "I think there’s a lot of collateral damage after the City of Light is destroyed, for both of us," Eliza continued. "You do see us kind of connect, but maybe in more of a surprising way than you would imagine."

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It seems that Clarke and Luna have a lot of scenes together this season, and Eliza loves that. “She’s like my soul sister, honestly," she says of Nadia Hilker, who portrays Luna. "Like, the second we met, we were like, ‘Oh, you’re my people.’ We are gonna be friends forever. I adore her, and working with her is a treat."

@ElizasBabyBlues on Twitter sent Jo a question for Eliza: “What do you think Clarke’s greatest strength is and what is her greatest weakness? And what are yours?” Eliza's response was, “Clarke’s greatest strength and weakness are her empathy and compassion. My greatest strength is not letting criticism get me down. I love acting. My greatest weakness is chocolate or champagne.That’s my perfect Friday night.”

A woman dressed in a season 1 Clarke cosplay asked Eliza what her favorite outfit of Clarke's is. Eliza excitedly told her that her favorite outfit is Clarke's season 1 outfit, the same one the woman was wearing, saying, "It felt most like Clarke."

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The trait of Clarke's that resonates most with Eliza is her resilience. Her favorite line of Clarke's is, "Life should be about more than just surviving."

“When you play a character, it’s 80% you, and 20% what’s on the page,” she shared.

The cast and crew of The 100 was just finishing filming the season 4 finale when Eliza was at Unity Days (in fact, we heard that the reason she and Bob Morley were only there for one day was that they had to finish filming the finale the next day). Eliza tried to give us some teasers without spoiling anything, saying, "It’s been hell! The things they put us through in our season finales! It’s crazy; you’re gonna love it. A lot of crazy sh*t goes on."

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“It’s like last year on crack," she continued. "We’re doing so much. I can’t really say much about it because it would ruin leading up to it for you, so I’m not gonna go on about what happens. But it’s really different, for us--it takes a real turn. There’s a huge twist, and I can’t wait for you to see it!”

Don't miss the season 4 premiere, entitled, "Echoes," Wednesday, February 1st at 9/8c on the CW, and stay tuned for more Unity Days coverage*!

*Possibly, depending on how this is received!

@unityeventscanada

#the 100 #the 100 spoilers #the 100 season 4 #unity days 2017 #eliza taylor