#learn camera types and effects

[helenapsent]

Not too long ago, I got into AI generation…..

I know that there are two teams with different opinions about artificial intelligence, some in favor and others against. I can refer myself to the first group, but with one condition, AI is good only for creating references So, I had an idea to see what my OS would look like in this very “generation”. We have a local network, which well perceives my native language and more or less accurately generates images according to the description (even literary), and, in fact, the result of this action you can see before your eyes! The generation process was quite hard and difficult, I had to change phrases and lighting parameters, there were quite a lot of attempts, but personally I like this one. The picture turned out to be close to what I hoped to see. Of course, it's still not what I had in my head, but it looks good and I'm quite happy with this reference!

[ilkkawhat]

[senipsenipsenip]

Dipper sighed as he felt another pen crack between his molars. Great, Mabel was definitely going to make fun of him for the ink stains on his mouth when she got home. He could hear it now, Wow Dipper, I knew you were a nerd, but I didn't know if I left you alone you'd start kissing your homework.

Dipper sighed and threw the pen into the trash with the other three he'd already snapped. It wasn't fair - he spent the whole summer fighting monsters and saving the world, why did he have to learn the stupid Great Depression's effect on American Literature or whatever. He glanced at the calendar. Only a little over a month until winter break. Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford had promised to try and make it back to Gravity Falls so they could host the twins for the holidays. Sure, they had only been on the open ocean for a couple of months, but the two of them decided it would probably be best to start with a shorter trip then build up from there. After all, despite their age, they were still rookies. Besides, there was nothing on the sea that would help jog Stan's memory other than Great Uncle Ford's questioning. Being on home soil would hopefully bring back some more of Stan's forgotten past.

Dipper's phone pinged. He frowned. That shouldn't happen. He had his phone on Do Not Disturb so he could finish studying. The only alerts that would still pass through were texts from Mabel, Grunkle Stan, or Great Uncle Ford. Mabel never texted when she was out with her friends, and it's not like there was a lot of cell reception out at sea. Curiosity peaked, Dipper unlocked his phone.

It was Stan. More specifically, Stan's boots on the deck of the boat. It was a video, and before Dipper could press play, three little dots appeared indicating Stan was typing. Dipper sat back and waited. It usually took Grunkle Stan awhile to type out his messages. He always blamed the too small phone screen, saying it wasn't designed for fat fingers and cataracts.

What does this mean?

Dipper frowned at the message. Was he asking Dipper to decode a message? Why wouldn't he just ask Great Uncle Ford? Unless...oh gosh was Great Uncle Ford in danger? Did they need help? Why wouldn't he call? Dipper turned his volume up as high as he could, pressing play with a sweaty thumb.

The video started on Stan's boots, but quickly shifted as Stan started pointing his phone at something on the...oh. The wooden planks Dipper had seen Stan standing on weren't the planks of the boat deck, they were floorboards for an outdoor patio. A patio that was full of people speaking...some sort of language. Something Nordic maybe. Geez, weren't they freezing? Maybe not because...Nordic.

The camera was pointed at the door separating the bar from the patio, specifically, the top right corner where a set of speakers had been hung. Oh, Dipper realized. He's trying to record the music. Dipper held the phone to his ear. Maybe Stan was trying to figure out a secret code in the lyrics? He was pretty sure he had told Stan all about that day when they saved Wendy from Robbie's horrible music. This sounded a lot different than Robbie's music though. It was way more upbeat and -

...comin' through, that girl is youuuu...

"Oh my God," Dipper groaned, letting his head fall to his desk. Of course. Of course that's what would be playing. Of course a Nordic bar would be blasting Icelandic Pop Sensation BABBA.

Now Stan's message made sense. He had heard the song and felt "The Itching". That's what Stan had taken to calling it when he could feel himself starting to remember something, but needed a little extra help making it make sense. Stan said it was because it felt like an itching in the back of his brain. Dipper was pretty sure he called it that because if he announced he had "an itch that needs scratching" it was always a fifty-fifty toss up as to whether he needed help with a memory or literally wanted someone to help him scratch himself. Sometimes it was both. Either away, Stan got a kick out of how many times he could trick Ford.

Dipper grimaced. Maybe he could get out of this one. After all, Stan doesn't need all of his memories...right? He could forget some of the more embarrassing ones.

It's a song by BABBA. He typed. It's called "Disco Girl." There. The fact Stan's going to know that Dipper can identify the song is embarrassing enough, he doesn't need to remember The Incident.

The three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Oh. OK.

Dipper sat his phone down. There. That was that. He didn't need to feel guilty about how Stan somehow managed to sound disappointed with two words. Besides, he had homework to do. He was a busy guy. Yep, not gonna think about it.

His phone pinged.

Made me think of you.

Okay. Starting to feel guilty now. Dipper sighed. Even over text message, he could hear the tone of voice Stan would say it in. That tone where he would say something like it was just a careless aside so that you wouldn't think he was taking something seriously, so then you wouldn't take it seriously, so that he could tell himself you didn't take it seriously because you thought he wasn't taking it seriously and not because you don't take him seriously or care about him seriously or -

Dipper frowned. Maybe these English classes were doing something after all. Apparently all of that fictional character analysis made him better at analyzing his uncle.

He could picture Stan now, having already sat his phone face-down on the table, wondering why there was some memory of Dipper that Dipper didn't want to share with him. Oh man, he probably thinks Dipper's tired of helping out with his memories or something.

That's because you heard me sing it once. Dipper wrote. That should be enough to jog Stan's memory a bit.

The three dots. Heard or saw?

Dipper groaned. Maybe Stan was just messing with him. He probably remembered the whole thing and was just trying to get Dipper to regale him with the story again so he could laugh at him.

Whatever. Dipper would be the bigger man.

Both. You walked in on me after I got out of the shower. You really need to learn how to knock, man.

There. That should be enough. Hopefully Stan and Ford will get back on the boat and see a giant Kraken or something equally as awesome so Stan forgets all about this conversation.

He exited out of their message thread and opened up his thread with Great Uncle Ford. Whatever "clever" joke Stan wanted to make at his expense would probably take forever to write. Might as well take advantage of the good cell service while he knows they have it.

Hey! Are you with Grunkle Stan?

Three bubbled appeared. Dipper didn't have to wait long. Ford was a surprisingly quick texter.

Yes, we're exploring the town together. I take it you're the one he's been texting?

Yeah. He had an itch. Nothing crazy, just a song he heard this summer he couldn't remember the name of. Okay, he probably could have told Ford. Especially after learning about the whole Kiss-Bot incident, Dipper's BABBA incident definitely didn't come close. But c'mon, wasn't Dipper allowed to have at least one family member who thought he had a shred of dignity left?

He smiled. Probably not. After all, he was a Pines.

Ah, that explains his behavior then.

Dipper frowned. Behavior? Is he okay?

Oh yes, of course. My apologies if my language was alarming, Stanley says I tend to word things "dramatically". He's simply trying to ask the table next to us if there are any music stores nearby. I didn't realize children still used physical CDs.

Wait. Stan is looking for a music store? Why specifically mention children? Dipper typed slowly, wording his questions as discretely as he could.

Oh? Is Stan looking for a CD?

The bubbles appeared. Then disappeared. Dipper frowned. They reappeared.

Disregard my earlier message.

Oh they were definitely up to something. Two could play at that game. You don't live with a professional con man all summer and not learn how to get what you want out of someone.

Okay. Hey, Grunkle Stan showed me a bit of the patio. Can you send a video too? Would be interested in seeing where you are.

Of course. One moment, please.

Dipper sat his phone on his desk while he waited. Realistically, he should be working on his homework while he waits. It's not like he'll be able to focus on anything when Mabel gets home. But, it's not like he can focus on anything now, mind buzzing as much as it is.

After three minutes and fifty-three seconds, Dipper's phone pinged. He grinned and pressed play.

The video started pointing toward the other side of the patio. Made sense, Ford was probably sitting across from Stan at their table. Stan was nowhere to be seen though. He must have stood up to speak to the table next to him. Dipper could see townsfolk sat at their tables in heavy winter coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. Everyone was wrapped up in their own conversations, and while Ford panned slowly across the porch, Dipper recognized another BABBA song playing faintly in the background. The owner must have had a playlist going. There were fairy lights strung up across the porch, street lamps helping illuminate the night. Wherever they were must have been in the middle of some small town, probably no bigger than Gravity Falls.

"Ford!" Grunkle Stan's voice rang out. Dipper quickly held the phone up to his ear again. There was a loud metallic grating sound - probably Grunkle Stan pulling out his chair to sit down again.

"You're never gonna believe it!" Stan sounded excited about something.

"A moment, please, Stan," Ford murmured.

"We don't have to go to the music store! Those people didn't speak English but the guy who runs this place does a little. That internet translator did the rest."

"Google, Stanley."

"Whatever. Anyway, he said he'd sell me the CD he's playing right now when he closes up for the night."

"That's great Stan. Hold on a moment I'm just trying to film this for -"

"Dipper's gonna love this! I think. It's sort of coming back to me. I think that memory he helped me with, I think..."

Stan trailed off. Dipper pulled the phone away from his ear to see if the video had ended, but Ford was still dutifully scanning their surroundings with the camera. It looked like Ford had stood up, holding the phone high above his head to show Dipper the coastline beyond the porch railings.

"I think I told him I was proud of him that day." Stan's confession was quiet. But Stan quiet. Which meant loud enough to be picked up on Ford's camera.

Ford's movement stopped. "You did? Why?"

"Well. I sorta did. I think. He was tryna prove he was 'a man' or whatever, so I told him he was. He stood up for what was right even though no one else agreed with him. And then I think I uh...ripped my shirt off and showed him my chest hair. Maybe I should get him to fill in some of those blanks there."

Ford laughed. "I don't remember it taking much to get you to take your shirt off."

"I'm a gross, old man now, Ford. We'd all prefer if it stayed on."

Ford hummed. "So how much is the CD?"

"Eh, he wants like 500 Kroner."

"Seems overpriced."

"Well it's gonna be free."

Ford sighed. "Stanley..."

"What?" Stan cried indignantly. "He's obviously tryna scam me anyway! Besides, it's worth it. Dipper will love it! It's a CD of a band he likes from Iceland stolen from Iceland. Trust me it'll be worth the -"

All sound stopped. The video had ended. Dipper sat at his desk, a small smile on his face. He had been so worried about Stan remembering one of his more embarrassing moments but...Stan remembered it as a day that Dipper made him proud. Huh.

He exited the video and saw that Ford had sent him another message only a minute after sending the video.

Please disregard that video. Terrible audio quality, I have to retake it.

As Dipper began to type a reply, he saw three bubbles appear. He waited.

I'm going to infer that the delay in your response is because you didn't see my message in time and already viewed the video. My apologies, I forget how strong the audio quality of phone cameras are.

Three more bubbles.

Please act surprised.

Ah well. Dipper had omitted the truth a couple of times tonight. What was one more? He started to type.

Sorry, I was working on my homework while I waited for an answer. Guess I got distracted. Should I not watch the video?

Three bubbles. Ah, I see. Yes, that would be for the best. I'll take another video for you now. In the meantime, keep up the good work!

Dipper sat his phone back down on the table and picked up another pen. Might as well do a little more homework so he wasn't totally lying. But first...

He opened his message thread with Stan.

Need help with anything else?

Nope. Go to bed.

Dipper laughed. There it was. The curmudgeon was back, trying to hide the fact he was a big softie underneath.

It's earlier here you know. If anyone should be in bed, it should be you.

I'm old. I do what I want.

Okay old man. Love you!

Sap.

Dipper snorted and sat down his phone. A moment later, it pinged again. He glanced at the screen and saw it was another message from Stan. It was only two words, but they knocked together like flint and steel, lighting something warm in Dipper's chest.

You too.

AN: A continuation of this! I kind of just want to write a bunch of one shots going with this. Some ideas are brewing!

[vintagecandy]

Now for the 1920s reimagining of Jonathan Crane ! sorry this explanation is even longer lmao

As everyone's been saying, I should do the rest of the Dork Squad to match 1920s Jervis, and so here is my Jonathan! Easily the hardest to draw out of the three-- but I must say! Despite being outside my expertise, I'm a little surprised how much it looks exactly like I was imagining! Even if it took me ages but that's just procrastination lmao.

Anyways! What is his deal? Well, for one, design wise I did go a more drastically different direction from his usual look by doing a literal scareCROW. He's much more bird like, with a plague doctor mask being common imagery in steampunk, but he's still very southern themed with his messy broken overall strap and patchwork coat. Even his wings are rustic. ( he can't fly just glide btw lol ) Also! I leaned hard into the color orange instead of his usual green gas because it..... bugs me that both Crane and Nygma have a bright green in their color palette. I just want them to have distinct colors if they're going to be a trio. And look how vintage halloweeny he looks !!

So why is he so well dressed out of costume? Well! This Jonathan Crane is not a psychologist at all, here he is the very successful grandfather of horror movies in the silent film era. ( An illustrious origin, i hope canon Crane would be proud lmao ). This is referenced in how his face looks, he's wearing white powder and black makeup that's usually meant to emphasize key features on blurry film like his upper lip and around his eyes. And yes, he just keeps his makeup on during most events, and people just accept he's a little on the... eccentric side.

To me, the archetype of the mad artist fits Jonathan's vibe perfectly. When it comes to striking fear, he's a perfectionist, a trait that drove him to learn every single skill necessary himself, from costume design to props to making his own cameras to mechanical engineering, to.... a "fear gas" that was supposed to gently encourage immersion in the audience but ended up becoming a dangerous chemical weapon.

For his origin crime I am thinking !! Full blown Scooby Doo style monster mystery!! With some nuance! Crane, as a first impression, gives off an immediate air of pompous, aggressively impatient, pretentious director type. His presence is big and dramatic, but its distinctly not southern-- in fact, he seems to play up something between a hollywood accent and a thespian one. But this is all to cover for his farm hick background that he was once very ashamed of.

As a child of a failing farmhand during an infamously dry and dusty era, Jonathan developed an extreme resentment for his country existence from both the bullying of other children for all his strange quirks and the severe verbal and physical abuse of his father, driven to alcoholism by the stress of poverty and the loss of his wife. Originally offering his artistic ideas as a means to help them, he grows sick of their closed mindedness and berating and runs away to learn about the emerging potential of film in Gotham City.

Its been many years, Jonathan now in his early 30s, he finds himself surrounded by the shallow, champagne aristocrats that reflect his childhood bullies. Feeling wrong in his own skin, he develops a sightly unhealthy obsession with the escapism he finds in performing as the monsters in his movies.

But upon discovering that the corrupt rich of Gotham plan to push legislation that would negatively effect farmers like his own history, and that they expected him to be amongst those who support it, his irritation with the shallowness of society reaches its limits. In day, he would feign support for their behavior to cover his tracks, but at night he would don the mask of the Scarecrow, rumored to be the vengeful spirit of a farmer who was hanged, and who he believes to be a more freeing expression of himself than his true face, targeting not just the rich but striking fear in their laborers to scare them off land. And it works. So, he tries bending the will of society more.

Is he doing this out of any moral conviction or just spite and a love for the role? It's... hard to say.

As the Scarecrow, his methods are so effective he's near uncatchable, even by Batman. Its only by solving the mystery of who is under the mask are they able to catch him. They surprise him during one of his screenings, jump him in the dark, and prove his subtle use of fear gas in the theater to the police once he's cornered. Instead of being angry, he goes to the mad house applauding Batman's performance.

What an interesting character they play. He's very inspired.

[vasito-de-leche]

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS ROMANCE - "keep looking at me, all of me"

Romance Saja x Reader 2.6 words hurt/comfort, fluff Love is capricious; you've come to learn this the hard way after falling in love with the embodiment of romance itself, who loves to keep you at arms length while loudly yearning for your presence like a lovesick dog. So when he asks to meet you for a long due talk in the middle of the night, you rush to his side.

finally got a break from artfight to work on this hehehoho. I'm still trying to get a proper grip on how I wanna write romance specifically, but I'm very happy with how this turned out! I think it's funnier if he's also the self sabotaging type but shit just works out in the end for him lmfao

this is part of a series of oneshots, all thanks to this prompt over here!

[10:21pm] <<Hey. Can you come over?>> [10:45pm] <<Pretty please??>> [10:53pm] <<We need to talk.>> This message has been deleted. [10:55pm] <<I have to tell you something important.>> [10:56pm] <<It can’t be through text or call. It has to be face to face.>> [11:03pm] <<And it can’t wait until tomorrow, either!!>>

The phone flops unceremoniously onto the bed and Romance follows suit, attempting to sink deeper into the mattress as if it could swallow him whole, along with his feelings. The only thing keeping him company in the darkness of his bedroom is the light coming from his phone screen, displaying a candid picture of you smiling at a passing dog. 

And, of course, the glowing vivid purple of his patterns, pulsating with a violent rhythm that matches the erratic heartbeat in his chest.

It’s hard to remember what unsettled him so─or rather, he refuses to dwell on it─but the effects linger; there is a clear disconnect between the petty bitterness building in his chest and his expression of indifference, too tired to spend a single ounce of energy into being angry. The negativity eats him from inside, but Romance doesn’t let it show. 

This is what centuries of grief have done to him. Romance clings onto the illusion of control that this numbness offers, sweeping all the dust and the dirt under a rug, left to rot out of sight and out of mind. It cannot hurt him if he doesn’t pay attention to it, he convinces himself of this on the daily, rubbing at his own patterns as if determination could wipe them away. 

The rubbing turns into scratching. The scratching into clawing. 

Stubbornly, the patterns remain on his person despite his efforts and he picks up the phone in protest. It’s hard to navigate such a small device with those sharp, protruding claws, but soon enough he finds the front camera and Romance meets his own reflection─sickly colored skin, sickly colored eyes, all sharp edges and an outfit to match his miserable existence as an omen of death. No trace of the beautiful façade he tries so desperately to maintain. He can’t even have control of his own feelings in this second life, let alone of his own appearance. What is the point of it all?

But he does have control of one thing. The need for something to change settles in his stomach─no, it makes itself known once more. The impulse to force change, if only to forget how helpless he feels at the moment. 

Having spent enough time in the human world, it’s easy to figure out the different ways people cope with this sort of turmoil. They cut and dye their hair, they make impromptu plans to travel, they text all the people they once cut off from their lives, post nonsensical walls of text driven by nothing but raw emotion─anything and everything to serve as the catalyst for change in their stagnant lives. Part of him revels in this, to be able to share something so vile and human, despite his lack of humanity. 

Romance takes a deep breath, but this does nothing to lessen the knot lodged in his throat and the pressure in his lungs, nor it calms the sea of voices in the back of his mind, recalling each and every one of his crimes in his first life. 

He’s going to reveal himself to you and utterly ruin this relationship. 

If he closes his eyes, he can see it so clearly; your face stricken with horror, no longer looking at him with that soft and gentle glint he’s grown to love, stepping away as if repulsed by his very own existence. The idea alone brings him a painful catharsis, but catharsis nonetheless. It’s not like any of this─this beautiful experience between the two of you that he refuses to put a name to─was meant to last anyway, and he’d rather shatter the perfect illusion he’s built with his own hands than allow you to find out the truth through someone else. 

Yes, this is the better outcome. Of course! He’s doing you a favour, to help you cope with all the eventual heartbreak in your life after he leaves!

He bites and claws at his own pillows, repeating these affirmations over and over in his head. There’s a knock on the door, and all the courage leaves his body in an instant. Before you can even enter, Romance has already hidden under the covers.

“Hey, Rommie?” It’s your voice, he curls up into himself upon hearing the way you gently call out his name. Then, there’s the click of the door closing behind you. “I came as soon as I could, you weren’t picking up my calls so Mystery let me in.”

The sound of your steps approaching make Romance freeze in his spot, like a small animal hoping not to be noticed. He can feel you standing by the edge of the bed, knowing that if he pulls down the covers, he’ll be met with the full force of your worried gaze.   

“Hey, you’re not asleep, are you? I can hear you whining. Here, let me turn on the lights─”

“No!” Without realizing, Roma seizes your hand through the safety of his blankets. He must look ridiculous, an oversized sheet ghost pulling at your arm like a child. “You can’t, I’m─I look like, like a mess right now!” 

You have the audacity to chuckle at this. “I’ve seen you wailing and sobbing during movie nights, Romance. It’s fine if your eyeliner got ruined, we’ll just clean it up.”

“Okay, it only happened one time, and it wasn’t my fault anyway! I thought we were going to watch a fun romcom, not whatever that depressing thing was! But that’s not the point, just don’t turn on the lights! I don’t … I don’t want … to see myself right now.”   

A moment of silence passes, but your free hand finds his cheek in the dark, a familiar warmth permeates the soft fabric of the blanket and Romance finds himself unconsciously leaning into it. “Okay, okay. No lights, but no blanket either. How’s that sound?” Frankly, it sounds pathetic─for a demon like him to cower like this─but he shakes his head. His patterns continue to glow, and the longer you continue to mess both his heart and mind, chipping away at his determination, they’ll only continue to shine brighter in protest. 

“No lights, no blankets and I close my eyes. But this is my last offer before I tug this whole thing off.” 

It’s an empty thread, and Romance knows this because you’re climbing onto the bed with him as you say this, no intention of uncovering him but to hold him close. As he shifts, now sitting with his back against the wall, he can feel your weight on him, your smaller form flanked by both of his legs while your head rests right over where his heart should be. He really shouldn’t be doing this, he should be direct and straightforward about his intentions, and yet … 

“Do you promise to keep them closed?”

“Mhm,” tentatively, Romance slips off the covers, putting away the thin layer that separated him from your full presence. When the purple glow lights up the room, you say nothing. Your eyes are closed shut and now, he has the perfect view of your content expression, enjoying the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. “Your heart is beating really fast. Is … the thing you wanna tell me something bad?”

Oh, it’s downright vile.

Romance has to keep himself from letting out a sardonic snort, glaring at the patterns and the claws and everything about himself, just barely visible in the dim light. But you keep talking before he can do anything else. 

“Like, is it something bad about us or, you know, me? Maybe? I know it’s your thing to play the sensitive romantic type and all for the camera, all drama and emotion but I dunno. You didn’t sound like yourself in those messages.” He has to remind himself that you’re only being this careless with your affections precisely because you don’t know a thing about the real him.

Now it’s your turn to shift, the back of your hand grazes his shoulder and his arm as it travels downwards to find his palm, sliding to intertwine your fingers with his─he doesn’t move, keeping his sharp claws just out of reach. 

For a moment, you flinch at the contact. “Fuck, Roma, you’re freezing! Are you sick, is that what’s going on?” 

There it is. An opening. Swallowing his hesitation, he whispers, “Are your eyes still closed?”

“Yes, but─”

“What if you opened them and saw something horrible?” 

“Come on, you’re overreacti─” 

“Cold hands, cold skin, too cold for someone who should technically be alive.”

“Don’t forget cold feet. It’s a pain whenever we sleep in the same bed.” 

He calls out your name, with a tone you’ve never heard him use. “I’m serious. And this? What about this, then?” He allows his claws to dig into your skin for a moment, and you jump on instinct, as if a thousand needles had suddenly pierced you. “Knives for nails, razor sharp and deadly. Hard as diamond, cutting through anything with ease.” 

“Romance, I don’t … understand? What’s going on?” 

He moves both of your hands to cup his face, directing your fingers towards the protruding fangs of his mouth─while Romance may not have tusks as noticeable as most demons, he knows this isn’t the type of teeth a human should have either. 

He’s trying to scare you, to get you to react exactly the way he imagined, but as he allows you to take all of his monstrous self in, your thumb finds his lower lip. A gentle tug and he complies, opening his mouth ever so slightly in surprise and anticipation─are you checking if the lower row of teeth are just as sharp? His mouth feels dry, and his tongue darts out unconsciously to wet his lips, accidentally brushing against your curious thumb. You don’t react; instead, you lean closer to him, now fully pressing the pad of your thumb atop of his tongue. The stimulus causes it to wrap fully around your finger. 

Mystery may hold the spot for biggest tusks in their group, but Romance’s forked tongue is easily the longest. Surely this would be the last straw, right?

“Oh?” His eyes dart to your face in panic, flushing a vibrant pink when he finds you smiling, yet attentive to anything your hands could figure out about him. Embarrassment creeps all the way to his ears when he hears the delight in your voice. “This is new. I sure don’t remember your tongue being … this lively whenever we kissed. Is this … Romance, are you a vampire?! No, waiwaitwaitwaitt, we ate that spicy garlic bread the other day! Don’t tell me, I can figure it out!” 

By the time Romance gathers what’s left of his composure, you’re practically straddling him, petting and patting your way through his face in an attempt to find out exactly what type of creature he is─your eyes remain closed the entire time, like a fun game privy only for the two of you.

So much for a dramatic breakup. He lays there, unable to look away and unwilling to stop basking in your undivided attention as you find your next lead; right there, a spot on his neck where you can clearly feel his heartbeat, his most sensible spot, glowing the brighter when you sweep your thumb across it. Not only it sends an electric pulse through his body, but you feel this magnetic pulse as well, now following along his patterns and the energy they emit, all because of you. 

“Scars? No, the texture is wrong. Are these tattoos? Mmmmagical tattoos…? Oh, they go pretty far. Do they cover your entire body, Roma? I thought I felt something weirdly static when I touched your face earlier, but I thought that was just me.” He shakes his head and nods along with your questions obediently, forgetting that you can’t see him. Out of the blue, he feels you pull back and it’s hard to hold back a whine at your absence.

“...Why did you stop? Didn’t you want to figure me out?” 

“Yeah, but … It’s really hard with just my hands. I want to see you. Can I?” Your power might as well rival Gwi-ma’s─these honeyed words you speak so casually keep tugging at Romance’s heartstrings, tempting him further and further to indulge in your endearing antics, and he folds immediately. 

All you need is a hum of affirmation to open your eyes. 

Your smile drops for a second, replaced with a more contemplative look he cannot decipher. Romance prides himself in his acting skills, able to read anyone like an open book, to communicate just the right amount of pressure and gentleness through his gaze to make any of their fans swoon, but right now he’s bracing himself for your reaction; it’s one thing to touch and play, but to see him at his most vulnerable is another.

What is going on through your mind? Does he actually want to know? Where did your smile go? Don’t you like him anymore? Why did you make him believe there was any hope for him? 

“Demon, I’m a demon. The patterns give us away, that’s why I didn’t want you to see.”

“That makes sense,” you accept this too easily compared to the centuries he’s needed to come to terms with everything. You always adapt and play off his moods without a problem, as if loving him was the easiest thing in the world.

It's crystal clear in the way you look at him; you love the Romance that bawls his eyes out during sad movies, the Romance that adapts to any persona needed on stage, the Romance that does anything in his power to make you laugh and fall for him, the Romance that gets upset over the smallest things. The Romance that deserves no mercy and no pity from the world.

It’s almost infuriating. And this small little thing grows tenfold in the clutches of his demonic nature, amplifying every negative feeling to it’s most extreme.

“I did horrible things, you know? And this is the end result, you can thank eternal damnation for this face,” there it is again, that self-sabotaging streak within Romance that does not allow him to have a fairy tale ending in which he gets everything that he wants. The whispers return, reminding him of all of his transgressions.“I’m not a good person, I’m barely a person as it is. I can give you my body, heart and mind, but never my soul─all of me. Aren’t I the worst type of lover? Lying to you all this time.”

You kiss the top of his head, gently moving away a strand of pink hair. “But you called me over to tell me, right?”

He nods, breath caught up in his throat. You kiss his forehead this time. “It must’ve been scary to carry all of this on your own. But I’m happy you told me, really.”

He nods again, feeling his eyes hot with tears. You kiss the tip of his nose and wipe them away. “Thank you for trusting me with this, with the patterns─with all of you.” 

There’s no other voices in his head, none except yours. For a split second, Romance wholeheartedly believes that you could bring his soul back from the depths and right where it belongs: safe and sound in your hands.

[unholyhelbig]

Part three of loan shark natty

Title: The Oversight [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 3465

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, guns, blood, death, sort of dark nat if you squint, horrible grammar

[A/n: If you guys haven't picked up on it yet, this will be slow-burn. Also, thank you so much for the positive response to this story, it means so much!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

It had been two weeks since the incident that you had deemed ‘the business proposal’, though, if you were being honest, you knew exactly what it was. The bruising against the side of your face, fading from a deep dark purple to an ugly muddy brown reminded you of the encounter. The faster you healed, the more your nerves started to prickle dangerously.

Each time the brass bell above the diner’s door would ring, your eyes would flick to the entrance. With bated breath, you’d study the tired businessman, the English major running on nothing but burnt coffee, or the single mother just looking for some reprieve. Much like yourself.

Clint Barton was the last person you expected and wanted to see. He was certainly the last person you wanted to see, despite the sheepish smile on his face. There was shame etched into his features and a strange softness to his eyes that starkly contrasted the man who had nearly broken your jaw.

His hair was sprinkled with droplets of water, a sweatshirt dotted from the persistent drizzle that seemed to plague the city. He dutifully wiped his feet on the mat and made his way over to you. Instead of his usual booth, Clint sat on the last stool and scratched the stubble on his chin.

He glanced at the menu as if he were going to order something different than his usual. Maybe he wouldn’t order anything at all. But, you had a feeling you weren’t going to escape the conversation at the tip of his tongue, nor the obscenities at the tip of yours.

You poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him without being asked. Clint could swallow down a whole pot of extra caffeinated without a second thought. For now, you urged him to pace himself silently.

“You got a couple of minutes?” He asked behind the rim of his cup.

The diner was mostly empty. It was the middle of the workday and had been a slow four hours thus far. There was only so many times you could wiped down the same table and replace the salt in the shakers.

The cook made eye contact with you as he poured alcohol from his flask into off-brand orange soda. You got a short shrug in response. Otherwise, the place was empty. Clint had timed his arrival perfectly.

“Sure. You’re not going to beat the shit out of me again, are you? Those cameras aren’t hooked up, but this is still a public place.”

“Look, I wanted to apologize for that. Bad information breeds bad reactions. I was doing what I was told. You’ll learn that that’s the only way to get anywhere in this practice.”

He stated it plainly as if you weren’t silently inducted into a criminal ring. You weren’t exactly sure what they did but if it was half as bad as what they’d done to you, it was trouble. Clint could sense your unease. He placed his mug down and lifted a bandaged eyebrow.

“Hold your grudge, y/n. I sure would. Natasha simply told me to collect you after your shift. So, you can sit here and glower at me like a grumpy little monster or you can make conversation and we can become friends.”

You hated how good the second suggestion sounded. He was charming in an annoying type of way. You’d never clicked with anyone in the diner before, certainly not the only other employee that stood behind the grill.

Clint was staring at you like he knew you’d already folded. He covered his smirk with another sip of coffee. You wanted to wipe the cocky grin off his face. He had effectively taken a shot at you, that much was true, but you had crumbled just as easily under Natasha’s wishes.

“Friends is a stretch.” You sounded out.

“Acquaintances, then.”

You conceded with a small nod and Clint smiled in a way that could only be genuine. He swallowed off the rest of his coffee and made small talk with you as you hustled around the restaurant. There was a small rush after classes at the community college let out. But you were able to carry on a conversation, learning a little more about him.

He’d been friends with Natasha for a long time. That much was clear by the way his eyes crinkled along the edges when he’d recall memories that stretched past their current affairs and into childhood.  

“We met when we were twelve. I’d just moved to town and was this scrawny, awkward mess of puberty and acne. An easy target is what I’m saying. A lot of neighborhood boys would target me, but I was faster than them. It usually worked in my favor, but there was one day when it had just snowed and it was impossible for me to get any headway.”

Clint regaled you as you filled up his mug for the third time. You lingered behind the counter, chin on your hand as you listened intently.  

“Six of them cornered me at a construction site. I didn’t even know how to begin to fight back. I was beaten close to death and then I heard Nat. She ran head-first into danger, tried to take on every single one of them. Of course, she got the shit kicked out of her too, she was just a kid there was no way for her to win. But that didn’t’ matter because she got back up every single time. Eventually they got cold, or bored, probably both.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were impressed. “Shit, that’s quite the meeting.”

“She’s tough, y/n. Not someone you want to fuck with.”

“So, this is a warning, then?” You smiled.

He shrugged his shoulders “A cautionary tale.”

He drove a 1970 Dodge challenger that smelled like cherry leather polish. It was the nicest car you had ever seen, that is, until he pulled up the iron-gated mansion on the outskirts of the city. There was a brilliant view of the harbor, the water a deep and dark blue that seemed endless, an orange sun casting delicious shadows against the docks.

The house was brick, built in a southern style with a large wrap around porch and a stone fountain in the center of a circular gravel drive. It was three stories of decadence, surrounded by large oak trees and the deepest green grass. This was the home of a Politian, or of someone who had one under their thumb.

Three black SUVs were parked in tandem outside. An equally pitch Corvette Stingray was parked directly in front of the steps. You struggled to muffle the thoughts of Natasha in the front seat. The vehicle suited her, and while you most certainly were not a car person, you knew the value of a ride like that.

Clint squirmed with pride, that same smile on his face. It was one that often accompanied him, you’d learn. He took the steps two at a time and waited to open the doors until you’d caught up. He removed his jacket and draped it over the coat rack just by entryway. You, however, were preoccupied by the elegance of the home.

The floor was a checkered black and white, stretching all the way down a corridor to open storm doors, letting in a crisp spring warmth. Light danced against art that cost more than your entire apartment building. White stairs clung to the wall and curved to the second floor. To your left, a dining room. To your right, a living area that had the softest white carpet, and a cream grand piano that your fingers twitched to run over.

There was a sour scent of bleach that reached your nose, and it was only then, did you realize the blood. It was distilled, a quiet pink color, that had been diluted by diligent scrubbing. The girl, the one that was often at Clint’s side herself, was on her knees a few feet away.

She held a scrub brush that looked like the ones used to clean the grout at the diner. Her forehead was damp with sweat, a few stray strands of dark hair falling into stormy gray eyes. The front of her shirt was stained in the majority of the blood. You failed to see how she would have much to clean from the floor. Yet, the bucket of water next to her was a frothy mess of red.

“An hour,” Clint tsked, shaking his head “I left you alone for an hour. I specifically said that I was coming back with a guest, and it was imperative not to freak her out.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

You were absolutely freaked out. But you were quick to realize whose home you were in. The scrubbing of a crime scene was startling, and you wanted to turn tail and run. However, you had seen worse before and your life had been spared once. You weren’t going to get squeamish now.

“You sound freaked out.” Clint turned his attention back to the girl “And its bad manners. If I were the police?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten through the gate.” She stood, dropping the brush into the bucket with a defiant splash. She was taller than you thought, the deep red of her collar harsh against her skin. There was a smile on her lips, and she reached out a hand to you. “I’m Kate.”

“This is y/n and she’s not going to shake that.” Clint batted Kate’s hand away “Who was this?”

Kate rolled her eyes. It was an action that you yourself would never do. Clint may be a bit aloof, but you had seen him in action. Namely when he was three seconds from snapping the bones in your face. She had no fear of him, though. There was a cockiness, a charming attention, to her stance. He didn’t’ seem to mind, or he had gotten so used to her attitude that seeped into him instead.

“I don’t know. Yelena brought them in. If you’re so concerned about the mess, maybe you should take it up with her.” There was a grin that mirrored Clints. She knew she’d won. “I can go get her if you want.”

“No need. Where’s Nat?”

“Out back by the pool. It’s a lovely day.” She leaned close to you, smelling of cleaner, of tin and of the slightest bit of chewed mint. “It’s great to meet you, y/n.”

You were careful not to lose your footing on the slick floors. Clint nudged the bucket with his toe as he walked by, sloshing about the soiled water. Kate cut him a look that only you saw, but it was one that was almost playful. She shook her head and went back to her task.

There were two things you had picked up from the conversation; Clint was afraid of Yelena, and there was somewhere soundproof in this house that she had taken someone that had lost a lot of blood. You shoved both thoughts to the back of your mind when you exited onto the back porch.

Natasha was stretched out like a cat in the sun. She wore a black bikini that left very little to the imagination. You could feel the blush against your cheeks as you averted your eyes to anywhere else, though, you swore she arched her back from the chair at the sound of your footsteps.

Her hair, still slightly damp, was cascading down her shoulders. She wore a pair of sunglasses, a book that was marked halfway through rested on the table next to her. She had clearly given up on reading, instead fully devoting herself to the sun.

Clint didn’t acknowledge her current state, nor did he have an adverse reaction to it. Your mouth was dry, and you shoved your hands into your jeans to keep them from trembling. It was a mix of fear and attraction that caught you off guard on a mostly empty stomach.

She moved her glasses down the expanse of her nose as you approached. Her stare was a startling green, raking across your form. She quirked an eyebrow. The specter of a smile on her face. Clint had noticed something you didn’t, his body language changing into something unreadable.

“y/n,” Natasha purred your name. You fought back a shiver. “You’ve healed nicely.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ma’am? What manners you have. That’s severely lacking around here.”

Clint rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. You did the same, partly out of fear. But mostly, you were distracted by the scars against her stomach, on her arms and down her back. It wasn’t something you had noticed at first, nor did you permit yourself to stare. Whatever had been done to you when they’d first taken you was nothing compared to what Natasha had been through. Her body told a story, one that you longed to learn.

“Hey sharpshooter,” She turned her attention to Clint “I think Yelena might need your help downstairs. Y/n. Stay.”

It was a clear dismissal, and one that he didn’t’ take lightly. He patted you on the shoulder before entering the house once more. You listened to his footfalls for a few moments, holding your breath until you started to feel your vision falter.

You’d been alone with Natasha before. But this felt different. Heavier. The questions that you’d had these last two weeks were meant to be answered. She gestured for you to sit on the opposite chair, which you did carefully, body tightened to make yourself as small as possible. She removed her glasses entirely, a strand of russet hair falling into her gaze.

“You’re going to quit your job at the diner.” She said.

“I can’t do that,” Your response was automatic.

Natasha sat up, placing her bare feet adjacent to yours. Her knees were pressed against your own. She easily could have pushed your own open and she stared at you as if she contemplated the fact herself. Instead, she lilted her head and peered at you.

“What I mean, ma’am, is that’s my livelihood.”

“Oh, I understand. I wasn’t perfectly clear. You work for me, now. You’re on my payroll. I’m sure it’ll be quite an upgrade.” She leaned closer. “Do you know what I do, y/n?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. There was an inkling. But it was just speculation. Someone with a home like this had a good handle on business. Natasha certainly conveyed fear, and commanded respect. So did the people who worked for her, willing to take a bullet in moment’s notice.

You weren’t there yet, but you were sure with a little persuasion, you would be. Part of you had felt slighted. They’d pulled you from your life, from your daughter, and threw you into this without any type of explanation.

“The harbor behind you is a center of trade. Whoever controls the harbor controls the city, and for generations my family has had a monopoly when it comes to what comes in and out. There is not a single freight that can dock here without getting past me. Recently, that’s been threatened.”

She sighed and worked a hand through her hair. Her stare flicked past your shoulder, focused on the expanse of water that had been a staple in your life. You’d walk along the docks, chat with the vendors on the way to work. It seemed like a friendly place.

“There are two prominent families in this city, Y/n. The Romanov’s and Danver’s. For the past three years they’ve been pushing back against the real leadership, getting creative. Looking for change. But we simply can’t allow that to happen. Things work as they are.”

You had a feeling that this was the core of her beliefs. Things how they were weren’t so bad. Each person had their own struggles but when it came to integral crime on the streets, in the boroughs, you hadn’t noticed anything and that was the way you liked it. Ignorant, maybe. But it was none of your concern. Not until now.

“A lot of people work for me, but my numbers are dwindling. It’s hard to find good help anymore. You know how it is.”

You didn’t.

“There’s something… in you that I admire. A perseverance to live and protect and you’re going to do exactly that for me.” Natasha stated this plainly. “The Winter Soldier will be predisposed. Not permanently. But I would like you to replace him.” 

There must have been disbelief written across your features because Natasha laughed, actually laughed, as your jaw fell open. It was a lovely sound; you must admit. Bucky was well known in the neighborhood. Even without being knee deep in mafia sludge, you had heard of him. You feared him. And the thought of stirring the same reaction seemed unattainable.

“I… what about Clint?” You asked dumbly. He seemed like the natural choice.

“He’s got his hands full with an heiress who, I’m sure you can tell, is a bit aloof. But extremely valuable. Much like yourself.” She quirked an eyebrow “if it’s experience, you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ll train you myself.”

She stood and tapped your leg with her fingers, arousal shooting straight to your core at the slight contact. Your body almost refused to move, but you were quick to snap out of it when she smiled wolfishly down at you. “Now, have you ever killed anyone?”

Your voice was pinched. “No.”

“We’ll have to change that, darling.” She started to saunter away, grabbing her silk cover-up from the back of a nearby chair. She slid it over her shoulders, and it hugged her form with just enough ferocity as the bathing suit. “Come, dear. I have just the person in mind.”

The basement was significantly cooler than the rest of the house, bathed by the sun. As you descended the stone steps, you fought the urge to smooth your fingers over your skin to quell the frigid air.

Natasha seemed unbothered. She led you into a large room that you assumed was soundproof. It was a fairly empty room, lit with artificial bulbs that reminded you much of the warehouse they’d kept you in for the weekend. This seemed more malicious though. Not something to extract information exactly. A form of punishment.

A man was strung up from a low hanging rafter, his feet barely touching the ground. Rope was tied around his wrists, his hands above his head. Blood dripped like syrup from his lips, from a wound against his side. His left knee looked unnatural and broken.

You fought back a groan at the sight, at the smell of him. One eye was swollen shut, his fingers curling when he noticed Natasha’s presence.

Clint’s back was to you, his fingers dancing over an array of tools. He hummed a Metallica song, stopping at a pair of pliers. Yelena had her arms crossed over her chest, walking a slow, predatory circle around the man.

“No,” Yelena took the pliers from Clint “He will need his teeth to talk.”

Your throat tightened. This was the same woman who had sat next to your daughter in the diner. The one who had complimented her art and your job at raising her. She was easy to have conversations with, charming in the purest sense.

She turned towards both of you. “Natasha, you shouldn’t wear open toed shoes here. It is unsanitary.”

The woman next to you was not admonished in the slightest. Not by the cold or the harsh words of Yelena. Instead, she studied the man in front of you. He was in rough shape. If he hadn’t talked yet, he wasn’t going to. That much was clear.

This felt like the first time you served without following around an older, more experienced waitress. Your fingers were trembling and there was a wild nervousness that was in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, you learned, and it was second nature. You wondered if that’s what Natasha wanted. For you to learn not to cringe away from things like this. Just like the Winter Soldier.

As if to prove your thought process, Natasha said “Which one of you has your gun?”

They both pulled them out of various places at the same time, without hesitation, to the question. It made sense that Natasha didn’t have a weapon on her, not with the outfit that she walked around in. The cover-up was too tight against her skin, too revealing.

Yelena was closer, so Natasha grabbed the weapon from her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

“I have.”

Your second foster father was a deputy sheriff in Minnesota. On half-frozen nights, he’d return home from the local bar reeking of sour alcohol and sweat. The door to your bedroom would creak open and he’d drag you from bed, barefoot and in your pajamas.

Most of the time, he had cans set up on an old picnic table that had rotted through. At first, it was your job to set the cans back up and fight off hypothermia. But after three or four sleepless nights, he taught you how to shoot. His body was warm against your back and the first time the gun kicked you had nearly broken your nose.

You considered yourself a good shot when it came to cans, wild turkeys, and even the occasional buck. This was different. This was a human being that was taking in heaving breathes and fighting to pull himself up to give his bad knee a break.

“Do you know how to aim?” Natasha asked.

“It’s been years.”

“Okay,” She breathed.

You flinched when she moved behind you. Her warmth was all encapsulating. She smelled of sunscreen, and vaguely of the salt of the ocean. Natasha’s fingers pressed against your hip, giving you a small squeeze, signaling for you to take a step back.

Her other hand dropped the pistol into yours, heavy and warm. Her hand trailed up your arms, giving you goosebumps, fingers tightening around your own until you held the gun towards the man. The stranger.

Natasha’s chin was on your shoulder, her breathe hot against your cheek. Her voice came out in a whisper. “Right there. When you’re ready.”

She’d aimed the tip of the gun directly between his eyes. You could hear your heartbeat in both ears, vibrating through your body. It wasn’t hesitation, exactly. In this moment, it was his life or yours. Clint and Yelena watched you carefully, with intent.

You took a deep, shaking, breath and clenched your eyes before pulling the trigger. You expected some sort of blow-back. The same throbbing pain that you recalled from shooting at the cans. The scent of gunpowder mixing with cold.

None of those came.

Instead, there was a small click. The safety was on, and though you had squeezed the trigger with the intention to kill, it simply did not fire. You inadvertently slumped back into Natasha and the hand on your hip snaked around your middle, holding you close.

“You won’t have to kill often,” Natasha explained “But it’s good to know you’d do it without question if I tell you to.”

“Oh, Natasha, do not play with her. It is not nice.”

Smoothly, Natasha worked the gun from your hand and switched the safety off before you could blink. She fired two shots in succession, not releasing her hold on you. Your ear was ringing and the man in front of you slumped in his bindings.

“Okay. Very effective. You owe me bullets.” Yelena took her weapon back. “You are cleaning this up.”

“That means I’m cleaning this up.” Clint said.

Natasha hummed in agreement, finally pulling herself away from you. “I think this a job for two, don’t you, y/n?”

There wasn’t room to disagree with her. Not when you could only hear out of one ear, your skin still buzzing from her lingering touch. You could have sworn you felt her own heartbeat against your shoulder blade.

 But you’d never bring that up.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos]

[agerefandomstuff]

Hello! If your taking requests, could you please write some cg!soldier boy headcannons? Particularly for a babyspace regressor? I know he doesnt seem like the cg type, but hes my comfort character lol!

Tysm, your awesome!!!!

Cg!Soldier Boy for Babyspace!Reader

A/N: Have I ever said how much I love grumpy old men? They make good caregivers with all their teasing and hard exterior.

–“It shouldn't be that hard. What did babies do anyhow besides shit, piss, and sleep?”

–He learns it's a lot more fun to look after a baby regressor than he ever thought.

–Laughs when you repeat or babble cuss words he says.

–Puts a little rum on your pacifier when you're being fussy. “What? It's what my old man did.”

–He's clearly not a responsible adult but he’s keeping you. And you're stuck with him. No one can keep you safer than him.

–Plays his movies with you in his lap and spends the whole time talking. But it doesn't matter because you don't understand any of it anyway. You just like the moving pictures. 

–He bought you a fancy handcrafted crib with his Vought salary but does he put you in it often? No. You're cuddling with him in bed. 

Unless he has gals over. Then it's cuddle time with your blankies/stuffed animals/whatever it is you showed a passing interest in.

-he bought you them while complaining about it. “You like this crap? Seriously?”

-He might definitely use you to pick up ladies. Babies can be a chick magnet.

–Will take you everywhere without shame. 

Photoshoots? You're there. Filming? Your right off camera. Walking the streets? You're on his hip. Driving in a military jeep to god knows where? He’ll put earmuffs on you so you don't cry over the loud noises and keep you in his lap the whole time. The meetings out in tattered tents in war zones? He sits you down beside him and lets you play in the dirt. He's as much tethered to you as you are him. 

Is he supposed to be taking you to some of these places? No. but he’s the original supe. He's Soldier Boy. He can do what he wants. 

-"The fuck you lookin at, punk? Babies need the constant attention. And I’m not about to leave em in the hands of some weakass babysitter.”

-You've gotten used to cigar smoke in your face and gruff, angry voices as a side effect of always being around him.

–Generally a grumpy old man who will lie straight through his teeth about how much he loves and adores you so he doesn't seem vulnerable. also because it's funny.

-“This little shithead? Pfft. no. they're just riding my coattails.” buying you everything that reminds him of you. “Can't get em to leave my ass alone.” actively holding you on his hip. “I’m just protecting the useless little fart because they can't do it themselves.” bouncing you on his knees while at an interview on live television.

–He’ll swat you if you've been naughty but how naughty can babies actually be?

-If you cry he may internally rethink the idea of spanking but externally will tell you to man up.

–he plays up the dramatics if he has to change diapers. There's a good chance that if he pays for any kind of support from other people; it would be mainly to change diapers.

–Feeds you anything he's eating, or he can get you to eat. Should babies be having burgers and fries instead of.. Whatever else are they supposed to eat? He doesn't know. Or care. It started out as him being lazy but now it's just because it makes you and him happy when he’s hand feeding you things off his plate. 

-he will feed you bottles though. If someone has already pre-mixed and put them in the fridge for him. 

-that's a part of the bedtime cuddle routine. You laying over his lap, head against his shoulder, sleepily suckling away while he watches his movies or chats away with his soldier buddies/guests/gals.

–Frequently “forgets” to bring a diaper bag with him to most places because while toting his baby around is no big deal, being seen with what he thinks is a “woman’s item” is apparently too far.

-yeah that gets him in some sticky places sometimes. but plenty of fans (and overworked interns) are ready to help their favorite number one hero!

If we’re in modern day 

–he makes a lot of passive aggressive comments about how “you better not get any ideas from my first failed seed.” or “if Homelander had me like you do he wouldn't have turned out the way he did. So you better feel lucky.”

–will watch modern cartoons with you with extreme confusion and plenty of complaints. (man nearly cost Butcher a new tv when he had to watch Trolls. You spent the time giggling at him because you knew his “violence” and “anger” towards the movie wasn't actually a real threat. Hughie didnt though. That poor guy was clinging to his geiger counter, nearly wetting himself.)

–"Well.. at least one thing didn't change...” he’ll murmur fondly while running his fingers over your face as you sleep. 

–you help give him something to focus on when things aren't going well. You're a good anchor for him and he might admit that he does respect and appreciate what you do for him. Even though all you have to do is let him take care of you. 

Extra: “You can't give a baby a weapon!” “They’re my baby and I can do what I damn well please– for christ sake… dont fucking chew on– take it out of your mouth right now!”

[g1rlsp1ckins]

𝓢MOSH 𝓓R ✶ 𝓘NTRODUCTION

𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾'𝓂 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂.

INTRODUCING DAHLIA RAE RUTHERFORD -

[Dahlia Rae Rutherford has an effortlessly cool, artsy vibe—like she just walked out of an indie film. Her aesthetic is a mix of vintage academia, film photography, and modern minimalism, with a touch of quiet luxury. She’s the type of person who always has a book tucked under her arm (probably The Secret History), a film camera hanging from her shoulder, and a perfectly curated playlist for every mood.]

・・・・・✶・・・・・

Dahlia Rae Rutherford was never the loudest in the room, but she was always the one noticing everything. Growing up in a small town with not much to do, she found her escape in film, books, and photography. She was the kid who spent hours editing together random footage on an old laptop, teaching herself everything she could about visual storytelling. She wasn’t just consuming stories—she was crafting them, one frame at a time.

Her love for editing became her superpower. In high school, she was the one making moody, cinematic short films for class projects while everyone else was scrambling to put together a PowerPoint. She had an eye for details, knowing exactly where to cut a scene to make a joke land perfectly or when to let a quiet moment linger.

College wasn’t really her thing—she tried film school for a while but found herself learning more from YouTube tutorials and hands-on experience. She started freelancing, editing music videos and short films, all while documenting her own life through film photography and grainy, nostalgic vlogs.

Then came Smosh. She started as an editor, working behind the scenes, shaping the humor and energy of the videos without ever stepping in front of the camera. She was the quiet backbone of the team, the one who could take hours of chaotic footage and turn it into something hilarious and sharp. But the more time she spent with the cast, the more they saw her dry humor, her effortless delivery, the way she could throw out a line that would have everyone breaking character.

It started small—maybe she filled in for a sketch, played a side character, or got caught in the background making an unintentional reaction that was too funny to cut. But the fans noticed. They wanted more. And slowly, Dahlia found herself in front of the camera as much as she was behind it.

Now, she’s a full-fledged Smosh cast member, still bringing her signature cool-girl energy, but with a warmth that makes her feel like the friend you wish you had. She still edits from time to time, still romanticizes the world through her camera lens, but now she’s part of the chaos instead of just shaping it.

・・・・・✶・・・・・

If Smosh was a sitcom, Angela Giarratana would be the fan-favorite character—the one bursting into every scene with too much energy, delivering the most dramatic one-liners, and somehow making even the most ridiculous moments feel iconic. She’s loud, she’s theatrical, and she commits hard to every bit, no matter how unhinged it gets.

Angela is, at her core, a theater kid who never outgrew the impulse to give every moment main-character energy. Whether she’s belting out a musical number mid-sketch, dramatically flopping onto a couch for comedic effect, or throwing herself into improv with zero hesitation, she brings a level of intensity that somehow makes everything funnier.

Angela will never half-ass a joke. If she’s playing a character, she is that character. If she’s doing a ridiculous challenge, she’s going all in. No fear. No hesitation.

She makes everyone funnier. Whether she’s bouncing off Shayne’s high-energy comedy, going toe-to-toe with Damien’s dramatic deliveries, or forcing Dahlia out of her deadpan comfort zone, she has this rare ability to elevate every moment.

Angela Giarratana is a force. She’s the embodiment of go big or go home, the kind of performer who makes everything feel like an event. Whether she’s singing, acting, or just being a complete gremlin in a Smosh Games video, she makes every moment hers.

・・・・・✶・・・・・

Dahlia and Angela’s relationship was always electric—one of those rare, magnetic friendships that felt like it had its own gravitational pull. From the moment they met at Smosh, they just clicked. Angela, all big energy and fearless commitment to the bit, and Dahlia, the effortlessly cool, deadpan observer who somehow made everything funnier with just a well-timed look. They were opposites in the best way, the kind of duo that felt like they’d known each other for years, even when they were just starting out.

At first, it was just an easy friendship—messing around in Smosh videos, roasting each other in Smosh Games, and hyping each other up off-camera. Angela was one of Dahlia’s biggest champions, always pushing her to step out of the background and take up space. Dahlia, in turn, kept Angela grounded, always knowing exactly when to pull her out of a spiral or give her the reassurance she didn’t even know she needed.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

It wasn’t some big dramatic realization. It was a collection of small moments—Angela leaning into Dahlia’s space a little more than usual, Dahlia watching Angela’s hands when she talked, Angela catching herself staring at Dahlia when she thought no one was looking.

Maybe it was a late-night Smosh filming session, when they were the last two in the editing bay, laughing over a bit that wasn’t even that funny anymore but somehow felt hilarious in the moment. Or maybe it was during a Smosh Pit challenge when Angela instinctively grabbed Dahlia’s hand, and neither of them let go right away. Or maybe it was that one Smosh Games video where they were sitting just a little too close, their knees brushing, and suddenly, the game didn’t seem so important anymore.

The fans definitely noticed first. The way Dahlia would smile just a little softer around Angela. The way Angela, who was usually all over the place, seemed to focus a little more when Dahlia was next to her. Edits started popping up, comments speculating, but they ignored it—because what was there to acknowledge? They were just them. Right?

Neither of them wanted to be the first to say it. They danced around it for months, staying up too late sending voice notes, making excuses to hang out even outside of Smosh. Angela started picking up on Dahlia’s little habits—how she tapped her fingers when she was thinking, how she always carried film cameras like they were an extension of herself. Dahlia started noticing how Angela’s energy wasn’t just loud—it was warm, like sunlight after a long night.

It wasn’t some grand confession. It was one of those quiet, in-between moments—maybe sitting in Angela’s car after grabbing late-night food, or walking through a nearly empty city street after a long filming day. A simple, almost hesitant “Hey… have you ever thought about… us?” from Angela, followed by Dahlia’s usual smirk and a soft, knowing “Yeah. I have.”

From there, it was easy. Natural. Because they had always been something, even before they had the words for it.

Now? They’re Just… Them.

They don’t make a big deal about it—because for them, it isn’t a big deal. It just is. They still roast each other constantly, still make each other break character in Smosh videos, still team up in Smosh Games to ruthlessly destroy everyone else. The only difference now is that Angela will casually reach for Dahlia’s hand in the middle of a chaotic challenge, and Dahlia will lean against Angela without thinking twice.

They still play it cool in public—Dahlia because that’s just who she is, Angela because she loves teasing the fans. But behind the scenes? They’re inseparable. If Dahlia stays up late editing, Angela is curled up next to her, half-asleep but refusing to leave. If Angela has a big improv bit she’s nervous about, Dahlia is the first person she runs it by.

They were always best friends first. The romance was just a natural evolution of what they already were. And now, they get to keep making people laugh, together—only now, there’s an extra layer of quiet understanding, of secret smiles shared just off-camera.

Because at the end of the day, it’s still just them. And that’s all it ever needed to be.

・・・・・✶・・・・・

hey, so me and the loml are making smosh drs, and we're so excited!!

made by @g1rlsp1ckins

[hwnglx]

wonyoung's real personality behind the scenes

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

shuffled song: 28 reasons by seulgi

+ so unsurprisingly, this girl is a professional through and through. very common pattern for people who entered the industry at an early age. hard work in the entertainment business comes to them astoundingly easy. (something i saw for ni-ki previously)

she's just as polished and sophisticated off cam, as she is on cam. very focused on maintaining a clean image even behind the scenes, she's aware that's what can make or break a public figure. quite a few idols put on an angel act when cameras are on them, but allow themselves to be reckless beyond closed doors. wonyoung knows people talk, there's this sense of a continuously cautious “trust nobody” in her. this is something that sets her apart from many others. wonyoung is very aware that things will get out eventually, so she's incredibly eager to withhold a flawless reputation even behind the scenes. she's also extremely protective of what is hers, whether that's her material possessions (money, expensive or cherished items), the image she's worked hard on maintaining, her loved ones and cherished relationships. wonyoung puts a lot of value into keeping them in check, making sure they're taken care of.

i looked up her mars sign and immediately went “aaah” as soon as i saw it's in virgo, because she seems to be outstanding at planning. wonyoung is very calculated, everything she does she's fully aware of. she always acts while exactly knowing the effects it has on, not only herself, but the people around her. this is also a quality she doesn't only use for her own good, but many people around her seem to appreciate. since she's incredibly intuitive, she can combine those two qualities, which makes for a person who's great at identifying and reading situations, and wisely acting according to this profuse intuition. for example, if someone she's close to is telling her about their struggles, she not only is great at making them feel cared about and listened to, offering them emotional understanding and support, but also excellent at grasping the problem and conflict, and providing the person with helpful solutions on how to act. random thought, but i could see her being a pretty good psychologist, or lawyer. (did she ever talk about wanting to work in medicine or law if she wasn't an idol?)

wonyoung is very smart. not only emotionally intelligent, but also very eloquent. great at speaking and finding the right words at the right time. there's also a lot of drive in this girl, like so much. she has a very determined attitude, which can be contagious to the people around her. amazing at pulling people out of situations that seem hopeless, and giving them courage to move forward. a very good team player, she's capable of adjusting to her co-workers and compromising, finding a middle-ground for the sake of the team. i can see many people truly enjoying to work with her, because she doesn't only have such a profound understanding of what she's doing, but is also considerate of the people around her.

lastly, this girl literally pulls the strings, has most people at the palm of her hands with ease. especially in a romantic manner, if any men mess with wonyoung.. make no mistake, she will not be played by them but instead play them swiftly, probably without them even noticing until later. the type to smile at you and hug you while stabbing an injection with your own poison in your back, knowing you did this to yourself. type to beat you at your own game while smiling politely.

she will not allow anyone to trick her, make a fool out of her. she reads and understands behaviorial patterns very well, so it just isn't easy to mislead her. however! best believe she only does this to people who do her wrong first. people who deserve it. it's giving “i'm sweet and respectful to everyone but, you better know not to mess with me, because that's when you'll get to see a different side to me” as i mentioned, i can see her being pretty cut-throat when it comes to men. especially in the industry. many weird ass men in there, wonyoung does not allow them to put themselves above her, just because of their bizarre gender superiority complex. (i remember this spiting some male idols in my reputation reading lmao well..) there's this thing of her always remaining crazy polite though, and doing just enough for payback. in this smart manner in which she can't be blamed or faulted for it.

- i hate to say this, but wonyoung can have her entitled princess tendencies. it's kinda giving spoiled rich girl who not only expects the best treatment, but is also so selective over who she calls her friends, depending on their status. not sure if she grew up in a rich household, but this seems like something that comes very naturally to her. she's very very meticulous, very very picky and perfectionistic. even if she doesn't always express it in a mean or aggressive way, it can just rub people the wrong way since it can give off pick me energy. i can see her being all “hmmm no” about some potentially beneficial things in her career like jobs or opportunities, just because she can feel superior to them. like she's above them. very much boss energy and it again, is incredibly smart in several ways, but sometimes it can be off putting, she isn't always right in her judgement without fail.

she's so invested in closely managing people's image of her, that she can quickly drive herself crazy over trivial details. there seems to be a lot of fear when it comes to letting go of this obsession and control over her reputation, as well as making herself vulnerable. wonyoung seems to have a lot of trust issues. this comes up everytime i read for her.. there's this constant feeling like everyone is out to get her somehow. i think she's seen a lot of shit happen in the industry, people in the business can be cruel and cold. just like the public, they can often look at and treat idols as these emotionless dolls. due to this, wonyoung can easily get mistrustful of people with pure and good intentions. she protects her heart in a very fierce manner. (this could for sure go up to the green flags but her immense trust issues seem to potentially stand in the way of her forming genuine and healthy connections too)

she's so scared of appearing easy to attack, easy to hurt or easy to access and weak. she hates crying in front of people, and always puts on a perfect mask she hides all her inner struggles behind. she's scared of baring her true soul to people because she doesn't like the thought of them seeing her as a flawed person. wonyoung sets herself up to skyhigh standards, because she believes she's lacking and unworthy of praise if she doesn't meet those expectations. she feels like she needs to be perfect for people to like her, which is sad and ironic, because.. they literally go on hating on her for appearing so perfect. people need to calm the hell down, shut the hell up and realize their words are making her put on even more of an act, hide herself even further, since she's actually so easily hurt. her heart is much softer than people realize, and much softer than she herself would like it to be.

[hey-itsdollie]

Dear your honor, I love your work and made a decision to create an account just to make a small request. 🫶

I notice that you are willing to do various fandoms like vtubers. I know you did not specifically mention who but I was wondering,,, if you can do my king Kaelix Debonair. 👉👈

Perhaps a silly scenario where we are both agents—except he’s works in the tech department. However, due to some unexpected reasons, we are understaffed and he had to participate in the mission in person. And though we successfully made it through the mission, he was super nervous and made several mistakes. (He does not do well under pressure and I find it so cute.)

So during the mission, there would be several incidents where the reader would find him adorable but had to keep a straight demeanor for the mission.

Or you can do any scenarios,,, I just like seeing Kaelix working under pressure. 👍

(THANK YOUUU of course you do not have to do it. It is just a humble request 🫶)

Under Pressure.ᐟ.ᐟ

yes yes of course, i hope you enjoy<3

‧₊˚ ┊ In which your mission partner is feeling the after effects.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » Kaelix Debonair

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ fluff/comfort, fem reader, friends to ???

You let out a relieved sigh, the mission was a success. It was rather difficult in a stressing kind of way rather than a life threatening way. The tension in your body was there but slowly leaving as you put your equipment away.

Unlike you, your stand-in mission partner was quite the opposite. His body was racked in antsy twitches, his breath shuddering as he shakily put his own equipment away. Softly cursing when he would accidentally place them in the wrong spots.

Your mission partner wasn’t your usual partner. He wasn’t trained as well as you in your field of work at the company. He was normally working on computers, using his brain to break codes and hack into cameras or systems. He wasn’t the hands on type like you were.

So you could only imagine the amount of stress he felt throughout the mission. The foreign rules he had to keep up with–one mistake could lead to a failed mission after all.

You thought back from earlier that night and remembered most of the times when you had to correct his movement patterns, or quiet him down from his nervous ramblings.

It was cute… just not the time necessarily?

At least you learned one thing, that being Mr. Debonair did NOT work well under pressure. You’d have to remember that the next time you had a mission to take on and the company was understaffed–specifically your department.

“I’m so sorry I don’t know why it took me so long to find the matching answers in the book…” Kaelix groaned, obviously still reliving the mission in his mind. You waved him off, “No worries, it’s in the past now.”

The white-haired agent sat down, leaning over as his head was placed in his hands. “I know… but still I could’ve easily screwed up the mission. I probably would have if you weren’t there. I just made your job harder–and I’m so sorry for that…”

You sweat dropped staring down at him, listening to him begin to nervously ramble… again.

“Mr. Debonair, you did well–better than I thought considering it was your first mission. Thank you for even agreeing to come, when you knew the risks.” You waved your hand, leaning against the wall as Kaelix raised his head to meet your eyes.

A switch flipped in him as a smile came to his face, “You really think so?” He asked, watching you nod your head. “Yay! That is so cool. I’ll totally help out again… I’ll make sure to train more just in case!”

Kaelix followed you out of the equipment room, his energy completely opposite to how he was originally acting. “Yeah… Hopefully there won’t have to be a next time.”

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[theamityelf]

Descendants Characters: What Type of ASMR They Make

(This post was supposed to be a fun joke and then I just kept adding to it. Make it stop.)

Uma: A lot of cooking and dishwashing content. She's not setting aside time in her day just for recording; she's knocking out two birds with one stone, recording while doing her chores. Her early videos are very much in the realm of "Teaching You to Cook", and "You Didn't Wash the Dishes". Always positioning herself as an authority over the listener, stern but never cruel. The vibe is usually, "You did something wrong, but I'll show you how to fix it." (It's probably cathartic for her, since her mom is not forgiving of mistakes and she herself has to be pretty firm with people a lot of the time.)

The sound effects, obviously, are things like chopping ingredients, scrubbing dishes, etc. She talks intermittently, usually to give instructions, occasionally making small observations. She shows her face on-camera pretty matter-of-factly, and the lighting isn't good. (This causes commenters to frequently have the exchange, "STOP, you're so pretty!" "We literally can't see her." "Adjust your brightness.")

When she gains a following, she starts to do lightly-scripted videos where she pretends the listener has come to her with a problem and she talks them through it. Still in the context of doing her kitchen work while talking. And maybe some sleep aid, but people really like it when she's telling them what to do. A lot of them comment that they genuinely learned something. But also, because she's very opinionated and makes no attempts to tone that down for her audience, there are a lot of ethical debates in her comment sections. But it pretty quickly gets to the point where people who complain about her beliefs get responses like "You must be new here," from her fans.

Harry: "Nemesis Shows You His Knives Roleplay", "Villain's Ransom Call to Your Parents Roleplay," just really indulging in the theatre of villainy and raking in listeners who find it hot. It's all talking; no sound effects, really, except incidental sounds from his props. Improvised/unscripted. And he's also the kind of ASMRist who shows his face, though he never dresses in any special way for it. His hair isn't even combed.

His ASMR persona is very dom, which is a big reason people love seeing his comments on Uma's ASMR, where he's just jarringly subby. (If his viewers reply to his comments on Uma's videos, he's immediately dom again. Like, "Hush up, pet.")

Gil: His focus is on a diverse range of sounds and quiet rambling. He'll be talking at length about anything and everything while gently shaking a glass full of ice cubes. A lot of the stuff he talks about are incorrect things his dad told him, which get a lot of comments from his fans. He might have an accidental catchphrase, because he keeps saying, "Is that true?" or "My dad's kinda wrong a lot..."

Mal: "Making a _ Potion ASMR". "Reversing a _ Curse ASMR". She deliberately does not use real potion instructions. She'll describe a few real ingredients, in passing, but never accurately dictate the ingredients and steps for an existing potion. Also, her videos are faceless; she draws the art for them herself. And she frequently gets comments about that. "Who drew the art??" "I did." "Oh my gods, you're so talented!!"

She's emotionally detached from the listener, both in and out of her videos. Probably the thing she feels most strongly about, regarding her platform, is faerie culture; while she's not giving accurate information about how particular potions or spells are performed (except maybe the curse reversals), she often goes out of her way to debunk myths about how faeries interact with nature and magic. People learn things from her.

Evie: Studying/going over notes roleplay, where she just reads her actual notes from school, talking them over like she's in a study group with the listener. (A lot of rustling paper and pencil tapping sounds.) She's playing a character version of herself, though; she'll ask questions and then answer herself as if the listener has explained something to her, or she'll explain things to the listener. Much like Uma and Mal, she gets comments saying how she genuinely taught them something.

She also does arts and crafts ASMR. Sewing, cutting fabric, ribbon stuff. Sometimes she peppers in politics, but always very subtly.

She does a lot of collabs. She's probably the only person who everyone is willing to collab with.

She shows her face, and early on she always makes sure that her hair and makeup are "perfect". Maybe as she grows more worldly and self-possessed, that won't be as much of a priority for her. Or maybe it will.

Jay: A lot of boyfriend roleplay, a lot of crush roleplay, some big brother stuff. A lot of him teasing the listener. Some villain roleplay, but more in the realm of "lovable scamp" than "arch-nemesis". He and Harry occasionally throw references/jabs at each other, in their videos and comments. It's all in good fun, but the question of which of them a person listens to basically becomes a personality test.

They both have very devoted followings.

Carlos: He uses ASMR as a way to infodump about stuff he likes, so it'll be "Explaining Different Types of Circuits ASMR", or "Deciding on a Dog Breed ASMR". He isn't trying to build a rapport with his listeners, particularly; it just happens because his intelligence and interest in each subject really shines.

He appears on camera, but either he wears a mask or he only films from the mouth down. Very much because he's scared of his mother finding his channel, at first.

Ben: Oh boy, maybe he doesn't get an ASMR channel, lol.

Audrey: "Helping You Through Your Breakup." "Helping You Through Your Parents' Divorce." "Bad Grades Comfort." "Doing Each Others' Nails." Just a lot of positioning herself as the benevolent friend. The kind of friend a princess is expected to be. Mostly scripted, but she ad-libs when it feels natural. Sometimes on-camera, sometimes faceless; she keeps to an upload schedule, so it really just depends on whether she feels she looks camera ready. When she has time, she'll record a bunch of on-camera videos in one day, but when she doesn't have time, she'll just record faceless ones. In the faceless videos, her background is a thematically-relevant stock photo that she has purchased and added ambient filters to.

After a few collabs with Evie, she starts branching out to different kinds of roleplay, tentatively taking on less friendly roles. She finds she really enjoys doing "Mean Girl ASMR", and Evie gladly joins her. They try to convince others to get in on it with them, and sometimes they do, but the series is really an Audrevie-specific collab that sometimes features other people. It's very popular.

Jane: Pretty much just tapping and brushing and other sound effects. When her voice comes in, it's just to introduce the next sound. Her hands are on camera, but her face isn't.

Chad: He finds boyfriend roleplay scripts on Reddit. Faceless, because he only wants people to know he's doing this if his channel blows up.

Doug: He might do sound editing for the others.

[matherofdragons]

Translating all Endo's comments from the SxF movie booklet part 1

Q1: Do you prefer black coffee like Loid or do you like straight black tea?

A: Straight style. Milk is only added when your stomach hurts

Q2: How does Loid spends his holidays?

A: He doesn't have holidays.

Q3: How does Loid appear bigger, or rather how does he changes his body shape?

A:"Nightfall" essentially follows "Twilight" that's why I chose it

A: In simpleton terms, make up and costume skills. They can create an optical illusion. For example stuffing cotton in your mouth and clothes to make them look bigger. If you the time and information you can apply special make-up to your body.

Q4: About Fiona's code name Nightfall

Q5: Tell me about Loid's recent worries

A: He's always worried about everything and trying to think of the best choice.

Q6: Can you speak any foreign language?

A: Once you have learned enough, you will be able to speak most of the languages required for your mission.

Q7: What vehicles can Loid operate?

A: Once you have learned enough, you will be able to drive most of the vehicles required for any mission.

Q8: Anya has no interest in clothes, but I would like to ask who chooses her outfits

A: MAINLY LOID! In order to maintain the image of a daughter from a a good family in front of the neighbours and avoid suspicion from them, elegant clothes are chosen. But Anya doesn't know that and gets them dirty quickly.

Q9: What's the of the Robot?

A: Mr. Robot

Q10: What's Anya's dream for the future?

A: What I say changes every day. (It's not set in stone)

Q11: What does Yor usually have for lunch?

A: She goes to the cafeteria in the City hall, or goes to eat nearby.

Sometimes she has Loid make her a lunch box. (It's hard to eat lunch because Camilla and Milly stare at her)

Q12: What does Yor think of her own cooking? Does she like it?

A: I don't think she finds it delicious. I am in a state where I don't know the correct answer..

Q13: Has Yor partaken in any cooking challenge?

A: Cracking the egg shelves clearly (as in clean crack? Idk how to say it). It's difficult to adjust.

Q14: Bond once smelled the food Yor had cooked and fainted after taking a sip, but his nose may have become insensitive.

A: I think his nose is as effective, or even better than regular dog's. Yor's sweets(snacks) smelled "safe"

Q15 what type of dog does Bond like?

A: One that haa a beautiful coat. Smells good. The bridge of his nose is sharp. It seems that the child who is reflected in the camera is a little weak.

Q16 What does Bond do when the family is out during weekdays?

A: He hangs around and sometimes plays with Frankie.Although he and Penguin have reconciled, their relationship is still a bit strained, so he doesn't get close to Anya's room when she's not around

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Why do you think they don't show Marinette comforting other characters? It's always been a weird writing decision to me, and I sometimes wondered if I was legit just erasing all the times it happened out of my memory or smth. Like the first character trait established for her is she struggles to say no to people, she is a people-pleaser. And there isn't a better way to make ur mc lovable than showing how they effect the people around them. AND it would make her breakdowns genuinely heartbreaking, because she keeps giving and giving and it's a genuine flaw. Like, she rushed off to comfort Ivan in Origins, right? We should have had more of that. I'm reminded of that one Lady Wifi (i think?) scene where Ladybug is smiling at her adoring fans and the camera while Chat Noir is in the background actually comforting a child lmao. It just feels so weird, because I think Marinette IS actually supposed to be someone who does that, who provides that comfort to her loved ones all the time (even at the cost of her own mental health, boom, an actual thing she can work towards). But we just keep getting the reverse instead. She just kinda feels like a shit friend? Showing that emotional labor would also make her exhaustion work because like, what does the guardian even DO? Tell not show, but they ain't telling shit.

One of the things that drew me to Miraculous is the fact that the show tends to write the characters in non-standard gender roles, so I actually like the fact that Marinette tends to be more of a fixer than a comforter. She drives people to action and wants to solve problems and is very good at taking the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she kind of sucks at emotional vulnerability and comforting people. It's genuinely a good flaw for her character and a lovely thing to see in a show aimed at girls. No, we don't all need to be stereotypically maternal figures. Women can be just as bad as men stereotypically are when it comes to emotions!

The problem is that the show is obsessed with Marinette holding every important role in the story, meaning that we don't get a more emotionally aware character or characters to balance her out. Nor do we get to see her learn that this is a flaw of hers and either improve or just own that she's bad at this and learn to trust someone else with these types of issues. (This is one of the many things I think Adrien should have been allowed to do, btw. Ladybug is the brains, Chat Noir should be the heart.) We also don't get a true sense of Marinette's struggles because the show's formulaic nature rarely allows for those types of problems.

The Lila thing is a good example. Lila says that she's going to destroy Marinette's friendships, but she literally can't do that because that would mean changing the way the characters relate on a massive scale and formula shows can't do that. So instead of seeing Marinette struggle as Lila lies and manipulates everyone into hating Marinette, we get extremely annoying episodes where Lila lies and everyone believes her, but no one gets all that upset at Marinette's constant accusations. They just treat it as a minor quibble which is actually more aggravating than Lila changing the status quo in my opinion.

There's also the issue that you brought up: we don't see Marinette truly struggling to be the guardian, so her new role doesn't feel like a big deal. Not much changes for her save for the kwamis being around now. We don't even know what her relationship with Master Fu was really like because he was barely ever on screen so we really don't feel her loss.

All of this is just another problem to lay at the feat of our ever-present issue: Miraculous does not have the right conflicts and characters for a formula show. Formula shows thrive off of things being lighthearted and the heroes lacking major flaws. Miraculous chose to make things somewhat serious and give everyone flaws that are just begging to be address, but that can't be because this is the wrong format for that type of thing.

In a team show where character arcs were a thing or even just one where character dynamics were a thing and Marinette was allowed to share the screen in a more balanced manner, then everything about her would work fine. She's set up perfectly for that kind of show. She is not set up for a formula show where she's basically the only character that matters outside of the villains. If that's what they wanted to write, then Marinette needed to be limited to minor flaws that never last more than an episode or at least limited to flaws that are purely situational such as being stubborn or the classic sudo-flaw of being clumsy that the show already embraces.

[almostthirty-diaries]

YOU NEED TO GET A HOBBY.

A list of all my hobbies to inspire you to get yourself one too.

Journalling - This is something that is so integrated within my daily routine these days that, I don't even really class it as a hobby anymore. It's more a thing I need to do within the day. But that's because, I'm an obsessive person, and it makes my little brain feel like the sparkle emoji, any time I know I have written a little something for myself. But a normal person can enjoy journalling too. It comes in many forms, and is so personal to the individual that, you really can make it anything you want it to be. 

Photography - I've enjoyed taking photographs ever since I was old enough to understand how a camera worked. I remember going on holidays when I was younger and being the dedicated 'holiday photographer' with a little cheap disposable camera. Digicams are making a comeback and so is physical media, so there's no better time really to pick this up as a hobby. Make it whatever you want it to be. Go and see the world through a lens. Take a picture of your pet. Photograph the sunset. Enjoy everything. 

Videography - On a similar note to the photography hobby, videography is a fun one too. These don't have to be shared anywhere but can be as an extra element if that is something you would like to do. Ive made videos on and off for over 10 years (ish) now. I'm obsessed with the home movie feeling. The nostalgia of being able to watch everything back. And between old media and new, it's fun to find an edit that brings both together when creating a video. 

Sudoku - I used to never say I enjoyed these but now, I don't care. I LOVE DOING SUDOKU PUZZLES!!! I know these are not for everyone but anything you can close your mind off to technology is a good hobby to incorporate into your life. And I am very competitive with a sudoku puzzle. Not with anyone else, just myself. There's something so lightweight and self rewarding about finishing a puzzle. 

Reading - One of my biggest and most prominent hobbies within my life. And I'm sure a lot of people already have this as one of their hobbies too. People go wrong seeing reading as a blanket where everyone is under the same one. No. Reading is very individual. Yes the act of reading is all the same but, what you read, how you read and when you read, will be very personal to you. And once you find the reading routine that works for you, it's unstoppable. 

Writing - Another hobby that is very individual. But even if you never share a single word with someone else, writing is such an effective hobby. You can be writing something completely make believe and out there but, it will stimulate and help you mentally. Even writing this post is making me feel like I'm getting something out, and off of my chest. Even though I'm not really. And you do not have to share your writing. Keep it to yourself. But write, and see what happens. 

Gaming - A fun one for all. And one that you can definitely make into whatever you want it to be. There are such a wide range of games out there that you can choose from and have fun with. This is the type of hobby that will pass time on very quickly and allow you to experience a little bit of escapism. The one thing I would say about this hobby is not letting it over run everything else. It can become very addictive and that can become unhealthy. 

Drawing - I feel like drawing is something that everyone can enjoy but not many people do because they are expecting too much from themselves. And I myself have been guilty of that before, too. If you are drawing for a hobby, which is the intended purpose here, your drawings don't have to be anything special. They can be literally scribbles on paper. But they are for you and whatever you want them to be. This is also a nice hobby that you can use if you are wanting to learn a new skill. Some artists are just born but all artist come from practice. Everyone has to learn, and that could be you. If not, you can just keep the scribbles simple. But have fun. 

Puzzles - I wanted to add this to the end of the list because, even though a couple varieties have been mentioned by me already, there are so many more puzzle varieties out there and I just wanted to be able to say this. Doing puzzles are not only a good way to pass time, and a good  hobby to have but they are also stimulating for the mind. Some examples include: wordle, mini crosswords, Rubik's cubes and so many more. These can be physical or digital. You can even find little brain teaser puzzles in many shops and online. There are so many different ways you can use this hobby to your own personal advantage.

[inhurtandincomfort]

Character Whump Interview: Lukas and Kieran

From this ask game, but @/whumpawaydarling and @/holidayinhell did it interview style and I thought it was really fun, so I'm trying it myself!

This is not canon, but the answers are canon compliant. It's a bit of fun is all..

Read Eldwin's Version here!

[In the small, cosy living room of a forest cabin. It looks to be a casual scene. Two men sit together on a couch, both young adults, with brown skin, Lukas with brown eyes and short brown hair, Kieran with black hair and light green eyes. Lukas has his arm around Kieran's shoulder, pulling him close. Kieran looks nervous. There is a camera poised at them, behind which a young woman asks questions sent from regular viewers.]

1: Would you rather - Rope or Chains?

L: "Rope."

K: "Uh... chains, if I had to choose...?"

2: If Whumpee had multiple whumpers, who is their favourite? For whumpers, which whumpee was your favourite?

K: "Do I- have to answer? With them here? Okay, it- it's Lukas." His voice turns small, and he barely chokes out the name. He is not looking at the camera.

L: "Kieran, of course. Everyone else is just a means to an end."

3: In your opinion, what is the best way to train a pet?

K: "With positive reinforcement? I've only ever had one dog, but we trained her with treats an-" He flinches as Lukas puts a hand on his head, playing with his hair.

L: "You're cute. I can't say it's my area of expertise, but I'd be strict with them. Make them afraid to step out of line."

4: Broken ribs or bullet wound? 

L: He hums. "Broken ribs. Guns are too loud and messy."

K: "Yeah, broken ribs... I guess... I've never been shot, so I can't really say."

5: Preferred type of gag? 

L: "I like a basic cleave gag. Not very effective, but it doesn't need to be here. It looks appealing."

K: "Just duct tape is fine, it's easy..."

L: "Easy to get off, you mean. But it is a nice one too. Popular in movies."

6: Burned or stabbed?

L: "Burned. You get a lot more for less effort."

K: "I haven't been stabbed, so.. I don't know. I think maybe it would be better?"

L: "Eh, it's always better from the other side."

7: Favourite stress position? 

L: "I don't really do that much. I just make them kneel down or stand up so they can't hide."

K: "Yeah I don't really have an answer for that..."

8: Have you given or received any Brands? What do they signify?

L: "No, but we should. What do you think it should be, Angel?"

K: He closes his eyes. "I don't know. Why are you asking me these things?"

L: "Hmm. We'll think about it."

9: Broken arm or broken leg? 

L: "I like to break their legs when they try to escape. They always do. Each one seems to think they're different, that they'll be the one to make it. They never are."

K: "Ah... I- broken arm? I like... being able to walk..." He trails off, like he was spooked by something. He seems... afraid. Somehow more than he was before.

10: How did you get here? Why are you the way that you are?

L: "Kieran left me." His grip on Kieran's shoulder tightens. "We're here because he let that bitch infect him with her vile lies. He doesn't know what's best for him, so drastic measures had to be taken. Isn't that right Angel?"

K: He lets out a whimper, squirming against Lukas' hold. "Yes."

11: What is your biggest regret?

L: "Nothing that matters anymore."

K: "Not being able to say goodbye."

12: Is there a line you won’t cross? For whumpee, what do you most fear whumper might do?

K: "I... I don't know, I-" He stares into his lap, his fists clenched tightly. "He sometimes talks about... about finding Abigail. Or my sisters. I don't want them to get caught up in all this."

L: "Aw, Angel. You know I won't do anything I don't have to."

13: What lessons have you taken away from your experience?

L: "That no one can be trusted. If I give people freedom, they'll run. They'll leave. You wanna know what lessons I've learned? No one cares. So you need to make them care."

K: "That sometimes it's best to just stay quiet. To not seek anything more."

14: Whip or cane?

L: "Whip, easy."

K: "Cane, I suppose. Doesn't really matter though."

15: Drugged or coherent?

L: "Coherent."

K: "...Drugged. It's easier."

16: What are your true, honest feelings about each other? Is there some part of you that cares for the other at all?

L: "Of course I care. That's why I'm doing this."

K: "Yes. Lukas is good to me. I couldn't find anyone better." His brief smile doesn't reach his eyes.

17: What is your favourite thing about the other? A personality trait, a physical feature, anything

L: "Oh, that's hard. I like how sweet he is. To the point of naivete." He idly twirls Kieran's hair in his fingers. "I like his hair, it's soft. But his eyes are the most beautiful colour I've ever seen. Nothing can compare to that."

K: He takes a moment to answer. When he does, he sounds distant, like he's trying to separate himself from what he's saying. "His willingness to forgive. I don't deserve his forgiveness."

18: Do you have relationships outside of each other? Friends, family - if yes, do they know about whumpee? Do they care? 

K: "Well... no. Not anymore. I did but they're not important now." He bites his lip, blinking rapidly.

L: His expression turns sour. "Next question."

19: What other hobbies do/did you have?

L: "I like photography, and filming. I like cooking, too."

K: "I liked photography, too. And I was getting into reading. A- I was trying out some video games, I played pokemon as kid. And studying movies... I was keeping myself busy."

20: For whumper, is there any chance you’ll let whumpee go? For whumpee, have you ever thought about life after you’re free?

L: "After all the effort I went to bring him back? And let him turn me in to the cops? Do you think I'm stupid?" He snaps, taking a deep breath. His voice turns deadly calm. "No, he's not going anywhere."

K: His breath hitches. "All the time. I wonder... how can I come back from this?" He sounds like he's about to cry. "How could I look anyone in the eyes, after everything that's happened?"

L: He pulls Kieran into his chest, soothingly stroking his hair. "It's okay. You won't need to worry about any of that."

[The camera goes black.]

[emeraldsfanfics]

Can you do 1012 leo x introverted detective/creep reader who likes stalking ppl, taking pictures and notes bc they suck at actually socializing and is better at being creepy and stuff?

Your Image In My Mind

□A 2012Leonardo x detective!stalker!Reader□

I absolutely love this idea and is an interesting twist to what I normally see, thank you for the request Artist! <3

You can request too here!

Socialization; the process of learning to behave in a way that is acceptable to society.

For some damn reason, this had never been something you never unraveled. Even with your clever instincts and intelligence level, you'd always been the odd one out. So, with your intelligence, you've done the only thing to do in your spare time.

Observing others. Analyzing the person of interest as if you'd been assigned to them by a federal organization. No. You were simply fascinated.

Some part of you knew, this was cruel and unnerving. You figured if they don't know, it wouldn't hurt them. Weird thinking for an incredibly clever individual. But things have always been hard for others to understand.

This strange habbit only escalated when you've seen the turtle in blue. Who you learned his name, Leonardo Hamato. You done some research to better understand.

First, seeing him at night, when you were walking back him. Then you heard his adorable voice. He was so leading and organized. He seemed like the most logical one.

"Come on guys, we have to be stealth ninjas. Ninjas are quiet and listen to their leader."

Obvious his brothers don't pay much attention or care for his leadership. Other mutant turtles. Who you soon learned are named, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo.

You wanted to understand him, figure him out. To know every single thing about him, and him not know a single thing about you. It was better than way, a way you couldn't be hurt. It was better.

During this time, you began to keep a journal (GF anyone??) all about him. Everything about him you could find on your own. You wrote it down. His eye color, what he is, favorite color, height, prefered weapon, personality type, speed, stamina, strength, what he watches, ect.

Whatever you found you knew.

You admired his courage and desire to protect those he has responsibility over. You almost sympathize with him, it seemed like he never got a break. No matter how smart you were, how much work you did to climb up the latter in the detective and forensic industry. And at such a young age. No one cared about you.

What you would give to simply hug him, but you know better than that

After one of the battles with the Kraang you always went around. Searching for any DNA to keep to yourself. His spit. His blood. Anything. Saving it as if it was gold. But to you it is.Running it through DNA tests to further expand your knowledge about him.

There was a time you had almost been caught. It was when you made a risky move and they were in a battle with more mutants. But you were so deprived of Leo you needed to go.

Climbing the rooftop, you watching with your camera and journal ready. Impatiently waiting for a clear shot. That is, until, he seen you. His blue eyes staring straight at you. An eyebrow raised.

You panicked, rushing down. You'd been caught! Jumping down the latter and sprinting off into the darkness. Holding your breath, you hear him.

"I see this person, these e/c eyes. I don't know, but they went this way!"

"Leo these are common effects of stress, let's go back."

It happened, he was right there, beside you. Looking for you. He was cute, his curious and paranoid eyes wondering around. Obviously anxious too. You tried your best to stay silent. Then... he left.

"Who knows maybe your going mental, more than you already are."

You're convinced you've been mental your whole life.

It started to become a bigger obsession. He's all you wanted to know more about. It drove you crazier down into the ground. You felt addicted to knowing more about Leo.

When you decide to take a forensic photography course in your school, it just fed your eagerness. You took every picture you can, as accurately as possible. Different fighting poses, facial expressions. Everything.

It didn't help that you started a criminal sketching class. You practically knew how to redraw him from memory.

"Hey-you're Y/n right?" You heard a male voice say to you.

You jumped, surprised, "y-yup! I'm sure that's me." You were so anxious.

"I noticed the someone mentioning something about your remarkable IQ and forensics experience." He said sheepishly.

"Okay? Gotta have those REALLY long study times pay off right?" You tried joking, "I mean, I can always kill-wait u meant know a person in that amount of time I've worked."

"...right. So what are you drawing?"

You almost jumped, "is that a turtle or a lizard?" Well, that was rude. He looks way better than him, you thought.

"Nope." You popped the p, "just....a turtle, human, turtle... but why are we talking about that yknow-" you cleared your throat, "that- what's happening you...."

"Mark." He said bluntly.

"Mark!" You made your hand snap, "I thought I've heard of you before. I mean-that not- not that I knew."

"Oh. On second thought I have somewhere to be." He shrugged and left.

You wanted to punch yourself, but at least you have Leo to look foward to. It was your life. All you wanted to know.

Only loving him through your eyes.

I'm SO sorry this was so short :( but I'm glad you even requested, I've had sm fun writing this!