#sticking it with common cellophane

[evelynnleerose]

I made this gif today, from the zoetrope the teacher made us make

The zoetrope btw

I do have video file of it moving, but it's so bad that I animated it on procreate isntead

[writersmorgue]

asking bnha characters their pronouns on live (pt. 2)

DENKI

"ALRIGHT GAMERZ!!!" Chargebolt screeches, almost knocking their Pikachu headphones off in their excitement. "WELCOME TO THE LIVE! As always I'm your host, Denki Kaminari- aka Chargebolt- aka lord spamton- aka underpaid to the point of desperation!" They grin wickedly at the camera and crack their knuckles, "Let's get started." Chargebolt spins in their chair, grabbing their keyboard and sliding it front and center on their desk. "As always, while we wait for this to set up, we're gonna answer some Q's!" They scan the chat, "Do I dye my hair! Great first question from letmeplugyou, as I've said before on this stream NO I do not! I get it from my mom, and if you've seen her in action before you would know." They pause, squinting, "If you guys keep calling my mom a milf I'm shutting down the stream." They snort at the moderators flooding chat to block people. "creammesquidward wants to know my pronouns! Ah, that's a good one. I like he/they. Honestly, I'm good with she too. Whatever you find yourself using is fine with me. I'm not picky," They wink at the camera before promptly turning their attention to their monitor when it lights up, "Alright!! Let's fight some demons!"

SERO

"Mr. Cellophane, Sir! We're live with Protagonist Mag, can we ask a few questions? " The camera pans to Sero as he makes his way down the red carpet in dark green, skin-tight slacks, and a matching shirt tied together by a harness that straps across his chest and neck. His dark eyes pan across the paparazzi lining the walkway before he makes eye contact with the man who'd called for him. "Hello!" He grins, snake bites glinting in the sharp light, "How are you doing?" The interviewer blushes and stammers an 'okay' to which Sero beams, "Glad to hear it! Can I answer some questions for you folks?" The interviewer nods, fumbling with his notes before clearing his throat and beginning.

"So, these are some questions our viewers picked for us to ask you. Erm, first up is Emi who asks 'what the tape,' referring to your quirk, 'feels like.'" He looks to Cellophane expectantly.

"Ah, a good question, Emi, it feels like- you know when there's a hair stuck in your mouth and you pull it out?" The interviewer nods, "It's like that, but on a larger scale, and the feeling is somewhat dull."

"Ah! How interesting! What a unique comparison, Mr. Cellophane. Next, Kai asks, 'what are your pronouns?' of course you just had a shoot with Mode Japan, a famously female modeling agency. Many speculate there are changes in your gender identity!"

Cellophane frowns, "Well, my pronouns are he/him, so no changes from what I keep updated on my socials. Though as for the correlation to my shoot, the purpose of that issue was to actually promote awareness of so-called 'gendered' clothing. Frankly, I and many others believe the gender norms associated with items such as dresses and suits should be rid of and diversity among trends in fashion for boys, girls, and people alike to be promoted. I appreciate the question about my pronouns but if I was only asked because I wore a dress then I believe you all should rethink your priorities." He smiles at the camera and looks back to the interviewer, "Shall we move on?"

IIDA

"Hello All, on this week's episode of Fast Talk I will be taking questions from you, my faithful audience!" Ingenium adjusts his glasses as he skims through his chat, "Yes you can ask anything, there is no set topic, however, I request that you keep this civil and classy." He bristles as some not-so-safe-for-work questions come in, eyes zipping around to find a suitable first topic. "Ah! One of you would like to know how much orange juice I consume in a day. Of course, it is common knowledge that my quirk runs on orange juice. I tend to drink upwards of four cups when i plan on using my quirk, and stick to one glass in the morning when I'm off for the day." He grins at the camera, "One never knows when they may be called into work as a Pro Hero!" He scans the comments again, taking a sip of his mug full of... well, probably orange juice. "What are my pronouns? He/him. I appreciate your request for the information," He raises his arm up, "It is the courteous thing to do, especially when meeting new people." He swipes it down to his lap, "No, my blood is not orange-scented."

YAOMOMO AND JIROU

"Hello Lovelies! Welcome to The Gay Agenda, an in-depth dive into the realm of sexuality. I'm one of your hosts, Yaomomo!"

"And I'm your other host! Kyouka!! Love, why don't you tell our wonderful listeners what we'll be doing today!" Earphone Jack rustles in the mic, turning towards their co-host.

"Of course! Well, as regulars here know, we normally pre-record this podcast to upload every Sunday, but today we have a special LIVE segment!" She claps excitedly and types on her keyboard to pull up their discord, distracting herself.

Jirou snorts, "Yes well I'll finish for you then, we asked you all to tune in on this fine Tuesday to send us some questions! Of course you all won't hear this until we post it in a few days but it's neat that we get to be live with you in some way!" Their grin is audible through the mic as their girlfriend mumbles in thought. "Right, Momo?"

"Er- yes!" Creati clears her throat, "And to start off we have a question in from Arm of Poland who asks 'big fan! what was being a closeted gay couple at UA like?'

"Well, Arm," Jirou huffs into their mic at the name, "It was honestly pretty uneventful. Of course, we weren't the first out couple, that being Present Mic and Eraserhead who are married. It was strange being the only lesbians in the class, though. We couldn't relate much to any of the gay couples in class, but it was nice to know we weren't alone!"

"I agree, Kyouka, there was definitely a rift between us and, say, Shoto and Izuku. I believe we were, erm, sexualized more heavily as well, that ending when a specific ex-classmate of ours was expelled."

Jirou hums in agreement, "Yeah thank Nezu for that. Next question from Ponyo Powerwasher who asks, 'could we have a clarification on your current pronouns, please! I know you tend to switch it up and twitter is all over the place. Hope this question doesn't get annoying. Love you both!' Of course!! Always game to answer this question, never feel like it's a bother to ask for pronouns. My current pronouns are they/he, but I still prefer identifying as a lesbian, and i like the term girlfriend." They lean into the mic, "If you misgender me I'll bust your kneecaps."

Creati giggles, "Mine are just she/her. But I'll make them a sledge hammer anytime so don't be afraid to publicly tag us on socials if you'd like to never walk again!!" She quips sweetly.

[petri808]

Hauntober prompt Moth

Nalu requested by @I-taisho29

Frat parties at the Lambda Fairy Psi house were already legendary, and this Halloween was shaping up to do the same. They were known for heavy booze, loud music, and the occasional brawls that rarely ended badly. But what set their parties apart from other fraternities was the ‘by invite only’ status, set a few years ago by the college because their parties had grown too popular. If anything it only made getting a coveted ticket all the more desirable.

Junior Natsu Dragneel and the rest of the frat brothers made it a game to invite the hottest girls and the most interesting guys that they hoped would make the party an epic one... with the least amount of damage by the end of the evening. They’d start passing out the invites at the beginning of October and would usually run out a week before the big day. But in the end, it was all about having a good time.

And the night was starting off well as costumed guests streamed into the building. Food and kegs were set up, the DJ was playing the latest crazes, disco lighting was all you really had to see by, and everyone was having a blast. Natsu stationed himself near the entrance, curious to see who the others had invited this year. He was all about the partying, but really just loved making new friends and expanding his circle.

As he chats with a fellow frat member, his eyes catch a glimpse of an interesting costume. At first glance he thought it was a common angel or maybe even a fairy because of the wings, but when he looks closer, the blonde woman was dressed like a moth. Well, that’s certainly different. It was a cute moth costume on one hot blonde body!

“That’s Levy’s friend,” Natsu’s friend Gray points out. “I gave them both tickets. Never caught her name though.”

Okay, he knew who Levy was because the trio had a class together, but who was this friend of hers?! “Then time to find out,” Natsu snickers, leaving his buddy behind to introduce himself. He was by no means a player like some of his brothers, but he wasn’t shy with the ladies.

“Hey Levy!” He smile beaming, “who’s your friend?”

“Oh hey, Natsu,” she chirps back. “She’s our newest sorority sister. Lucy Heartfilia.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Natsu takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “Welcome to our party.”

“An—d I’m out,” Levy pats his chest. “I’ll leave you two to become more acquainted. Don’t worry, Natsu’s harmless, but stay away from Loke,” she tells her friend before sauntering away.

A few awkward seconds pass till Lucy breaks the silence. “How ironic,” the girl giggles and touches his costume. “A moth and a flame.”

“Huh? Oh,” he looks down at what he’s wearing and laughs, “yeah. I kinda have a thing for fire.” Natsu had taken fake cellophane flames and stuck it all over a black t-shirt. It wasn’t exactly creative, but an amazing costume was the least of his objectives this evening.

“It’s cute Natsu. Very lively.”

“I like your costume too, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like it before.”

“Thanks,” she blushes, “ I was over wearing stuff like, I don’t know, sexy nurse costumes or something.”

“I think you could be in a burlap bag and still be sexy.”

“Oh geez, please don’t tell me you’re a playboy.”

“I’m not,” he holds up his hands with a smirk, “I just tell it like I see it.”

“Uh-huh,” her brow raises, but there’s no irritation in her tone. “Well then flirt boy, how about you point me to a drink.”

Natsu grins again and sticks out a crooked arm. “Tis my honor to escort you milady.”

Lucy weaves her arm through with a giggle at the handsome man’s gestures, “guess now we really are a cliche.”

“How’s that?”

“The moth has been attracted to the flame.”

[junietc]

ink flows well when drawing flowers (adriennette)

adriennette x flower shop and tattoo artist au

pairing: adrien x marinette

word count: 4489

warning: none, just an immense load of fluff

summary: marinette often finds herself spending time at a certain blonde boy’s flower shop 

a/n: it felt only fitting that i made marinette the tattoo artist since she was super into drawing and adrien is just adorable as fuck as flower shop owner. also, happy five year anniversary miraculous! thought i would celebrate with this fluffy one-shot

feel free to leave some requests and hope you enjoy ~

~~~~~~~~

Dupois road was known for its multitude of shops and variety of small cafes that adorned the streets; but what it wasn’t known for was its little flower shop that stood at the end of the road. It was small and not all that well known, but those who went there always left a good review and frequently returned as regular customers.

Though Marinette Dupain Cheng was not one of those customers, she did find herself drawn to the quaint little shop and quite fond of its owner, Adrien Agreste.

No matter the day, she always seemed to find time to stop by the small shop. The large windows allowed for a bountiful stream of light to illuminate the store and the sun seemed to only rival the warmth of the smile that Adrien would give her as she walked in.

“Back again already?” Adrien’s voice was obviously teasing but inviting, nonetheless.

“It’s my lunch break and I’d much rather spend it here than stuck third wheeling Alya and Nino.” She took her usual seat across from him near the end of the counter. “Besides, it’s not as if I’m harassing your customers. If I vividly recall, plenty of your costumers find me absolutely charming.”

Marinette smiled goofily in attempt to poke fun at the blonde. It had been merely a week ago that a customer had walked in when Adrien was feeling slightly agitated and reacted more abrasively than usual. So, Marinette tried to assuage the situation by being her cheerful self and was thereafter deemed “absolutely charming”.

Marinette giggled, taking out her sketchbook as Adrien rolled his eyes at the girl before joining her, resting his elbows on the counter-top. “Remind me why you keep coming in here?”

“I’m offended, Sunshine, I always thought you enjoyed my company.” The two shared a laugh before she went back to her doodling and responded properly. “I suppose flowers are a common request, so practice is always helpful.”

Marinette worked at the tattoo parlor just a couple stores down from the flower shop and was one of their most popular artists. Though she herself wasn’t adorned in tattoos like some of her coworkers were, she did have a couple scattered across her body. There was one of a ladybug on the inside of her ankle done by her best friend Alya and another of a cluster of macrons on the side of her rib-cage in honor of her parents’ bakery opening up its second store in London. There were various other little ones that she might’ve given herself with a stick and poke on late nights where there was nothing else to do, though those held less of a significance.

Moving away from the counter and into the back-storage, Adrien’s voice rang with a question. “Well then, what flower do you need for today’s practice?”

Marinette thought for a moment, eyes trailing around the shop, looking at the various arrays of plants that adorned the walls and clusters of flowers placed in vases. The store smelt fresh and the floral perfumes eased her nose after being cooped up in a room with somebody for at least an hour. “You choose for me this time,” she finally responded, eager to see what he would pick out for her.

“Are you sure?” she heard him ask. She hummed a yes in response and flipped to a new page in her drawing book. “Alright, then. A white gardenia for you, Ms. Marinette.” He walked back in holding a white flower in his hand. “White gardenias symbolize purity and trust and are given to convey the message that the recipient of these flowers is lovely.”

“Is this your way of telling me that you find me lovely, Agreste?”

“Quite the flirt, aren’t you?” he rolled his eyes as she smirked taking the flower from his hand and examining it. It was a beautiful flower and Marinette was delighted to understand what it had meant. This was something that she looked forward to every time she entered the shop. Learning what each flower meant was a joy because it meant that she could give her friends and family flowers not only for the beauty of them, but with a secret message.

Placing the flower down in front of her, she sketched out the basic shape of the flower in pencil, later adding the petals and smaller details. Once she felt confident enough in her design, she changed to her pen and drew a replica. Adrien watched her draw, fascinated by her precision and focus. His eyes were glued to her paper and were only interrupted by the sudden ringing of the chimes above the entrance door.

The sound alerted Adrien as he stepped away from Marinette and smiled at the customer. “Welcome! Can I help you with a flower arrangement or are you just browsing?” It was his usual greeting that Marinette had grown accustomed to hearing after popping into the store every so often. The lady that had walked in smiled at him before speaking.

“Hi! I’m looking to buy some flowers for my girlfriend. She’s coming home after being gone for a year working abroad so I’m picking her up from the airport.” She looked excited; her eyes filled with a sense of joy that caused Adrien to smile.

He nodded and thought for a moment before quickly dashing to the storage room once again. He came out with a pair of flowers: a pink lily and a white orchid. “Here, star gazer lilies and white orchards are both ways of conveying ‘I miss you’ but I think that considering she is your girlfriend, the lilies would be better suited. They symbolize admiration and missing another, so I think they’ll work out well.” He handed her the flowers and she inhaled its scent before smiling brightly.

“They’re perfect. I’ll take a bouquet please?” Adrien nodded before starting to build the arrangement. Marinette watched him carefully take the flowers and wrap them up in cellophane, his fingers folding the plastic gently and taping the ends with a sticker. As he handed her the flowers, she thanked him, paying for them before heading off with a smile evident on her face.

He waved goodbye before returning to Marinette who was still drawing and tapping her on the shoulder. “Coffee?” The smile on her face was enough of a response for her to slam her sketchbook shut and stand up.

“Sounds perfect.”

-----

Adrien was growing accustomed to hearing the tinkling of chimes at noon signaling Marinette’s lunch break. So, when he noticed it was already 1:31 and Marinette had yet to make an appearance, it was safe to say that he was slightly alarmed.

The bells suddenly chimed, and Adrien would be lying if he were to say he wasn’t the tiniest bit disappointed when his best friend Nino appeared through the doorway instead of the bluenette. “Nino! Surprised to see you here.” An automatic smile made its way to Adrien’s face as he and the bespectacled boy exchanged a hug. “I assume you’re here for some flowers?”

“Yeah, I need to pick up some flowers for Alya actually.” He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It’s our six-month anniversary today and I forgot to buy some so here I am. At the best flower shop in all of Paris.”

Adrien chuckled at his forgetful friend before picking up a couple of roses in the back and creating a bouquet. “If it makes you feel any better, Alya came in this morning before her shift.” Nino’s eyes widened in surprise before laughing and taking the roses from the blonde. “You two really are perfect for each other,” he teased as Nino paid for the flowers.

“I suppose we are.” A heartfelt smile rested on the boy as he grinned at Adrien. “I noticed you looked disappointed when I walked in. You weren’t expecting a certain tattoo artist, now were you?”

Though he refused to admit it, his felt his cheeks tinge pink as the words left his best friend’s lips. “I – she usually comes in much earlier, so I was concerned alright. It’s nothing like that.” He was reassuring Nino but at the same time if felt as though he were trying to reassure himself. He didn’t like Marinette, did he?

“I didn’t mention any names.” Adrien’s cheeks turned a more violent shade of red as his friend laughed. Nino made no further mention of the girl but something about the smug smile that tugged on his lips made Adrien think otherwise.

After his friend left, Adrien went back to work, rearranging the bouquets or sweeping any loose petals that were scattered across the wooden floor. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen had passed before the doors to his store opened again. His back was still turned away as he tried to reshelf some flowers, so he responded with his typical greeting, “Welcome! If you need any help with an arrangement, I’ll be with in a just a second and but if you’re just browsing go right –”

“Didn’t you just switch up those flowers yesterday Sunshine?” a knowing voice teased him, causing him to turn around.

“I reckoned you were finally going to show up. I suppose the shop was getting a bit too quiet for my taste,” he joked as the girl made her way to the counter. “Don’t you have a shift right now?”

Marinette clucked her tongue before dropping off her things on the counter top. “Alya’s watching for me. She owes me a shift anyways considering how many times I’ve taken hers because of an impromptu date with her boyfriend,” she walked over to where Adrien was, holding up a couple of the flowers that he was moving. “Need any help?”

“What? No practice today?” Adrien took the flowers from her hand and placed them into a vase, moving the flowers around for the prettiest arrangement. “Could you pass me those roses? The red ones,” Marinette nodded, reaching over to grab the flowers but as she was trying to pass them to him, her foot tripped over the broom that Adrien had left leaning against the wall. Before she could face-splat against the floor, Adrien quickly discarded his flowers and caught her, arm slipping around her waist.

“Agh!” Marinette squealed as he held her upright. His arm was snaked around her waist, supporting her balance and their faces were close to the other. The room was quiet and all that could be heard were the sounds of their hearts beating rapidly. A blush tinged both of their cheeks as they stared into the other’s eyes.

Adrien was quicker to react, apologizing profusely; “are you alright? Sorry I really should have put that broom away earlier I just wasn’t expecting –” before another word could be spoken Marinette stopped him with her own apologizing.

“You’re sorry? I should be sorry! I was being careless and clumsy, and I should’ve watched where I was going before –” Marinette rambled, only to be cut off by somebody clearing their throat. The two looked behind them to see a man who couldn’t have been all that much older than them with a grin.

“Though I apologize for interrupting the two of you I was wondering if I could get some help with a bouquet?” the two young adults both blushed at the reminder and immediately separated. Adrien was quick to clean up before aiding the man in his needs.

Marinette went back to her spot at the counter and tied her hair up in a bun, trying to avoid contact with either males in the room, doodling in her sketchbook. From what she had gathered this was the man’s first date and he wanted it to be perfect. She smiled at the thought of being gifted flowers, her pen quickly sketching the scene in front of her.

From her spot at the end of the counter she watched as he wrapped the peonies he had selected into a bouquet and handed them the man at the other side of the register. Her lips tugged into a smile as she watched him graciously converse about the man’s upcoming date and how excited he was. Something about watching Adrien easily talk to all his clients always made Marinette filled to the brim with happiness. Looking down at the drawing in front of her, she traced over the lines on his arms of the still image of him handing the flowers to the man.

“What’cha drawing now?” his voice had suddenly rung as Marinette jumped in surprise.

“Adrien! I didn’t see you there,” she quickly squealed, slamming her sketchbook shut as he leaned over her shoulder. She turned around, eyes meeting the blonde. She was startled by how close he was to her yet again. Her eyes seemed to travel down his face, admiring his features as the sunlight hit them. In attempts to diverge the conversation and hide her now rosy cheeks, Marinette motioned towards the shelf; “do you need any more help with cleaning up? I’m here for the rest of the hour.”

Adrien looked over at the small mess that they had made before nodding.

“That would be perfect.”

-----

The tattoo parlor that Marinette worked at had a drastically different aesthetic than the little flower shop Adrien was used to. The walls were a dark grey colour that contrasted with the white designs that decorated the walls. There were shelves placed around the parlor that were filled with knick knacks and various other decorations. On the walls were also different framed artworks and photographs of tattoos or drawings and most of the light came from the pot lights that were sporadically placed above him.

He made note of how the shop was always playing music as he walked in, waving hello to Alya who was leaning against the table that stood in the front of the parlor.

Her eyebrows raised upon seeing the ex-model as she faked surprise. “Agreste? What are you doing here? Ooh lemme guess, here to pick up Marinette for your first date?” the auburn-haired girl teased.

“Haha, very funny Alya,” Marinette walked in, a smile appearing on her face when she saw Adrien. “You ready for your first tattoo?” How Marinette had convinced Adrien to get his first tattoo he knew not. But he was still eager and excited for the experience and it didn’t hurt the he would get to be around Marinette some more.

Alya’s face contorted to one of shock. “A tattoo? If somewhere to tell me that the Adrien Agreste were getting a tattoo, I would’ve never believed it.”

“Well a lot of people didn’t believe I quit my father’s modeling agency and opened up a store but here we are,” the three laughed at his response before Marinette made signal for him to follow her into the area in the back of the parlor.

She motioned for him to take a seat on the large longue chair in front of him and disappeared for moment, returning with a booklet. She handed it to him and opened the book. “You can look through here if you want any ideas but considering this is your first tattoo, I would recommend going for something simpler than the designs that are in the back of the book.” Adrien thought for a moment flipping through the contents of the book, stopping at certain designs, contemplating them before continuing to look through the rest of them. “Nothing catching your eye?” she asked.

“Actually, I was thinking of doing a flower, but I still don’t know which one,” Marinette smiled. Of course, he would want a flower, he does work in a flower shop after all. “I thought it would be only fitting since you practice drawing flowers in my shop all the time.”

“A flower by yours truly? I suppose it is rather fitting,” she smiled and thought of the varieties of flowers that he could choose from. “What flower are you thinking of? A rose? That one’s popular. Perhaps a lily? You always liked those. Maybe a –”

“You pick for me,” the confidence in his voice took Marinette by surprise. Though she was touched by the trust that he had in her for choosing a reasonable tattoo, she was still taken a back that he wanted her to choose his first tattoo.

“Are you sure? But this – I mean, this is your first tattoo you know?”

“I know.”

“Then why would you want me to –”

“Because I want the tattoo to mean something to me.”

“You work in a flower shop and yet none of those flowers mean anything to you?” Marinette deadpanned, ignoring the cheeky grin that appeared on the blonde’s face.

“The one you choose will,” he said it with pure confidence as he smiled. It would be a blatant lie to say that Marinette’s face had not turned bright red at his remark.

Curse how smooth he was.

She tried to smother her blush as she pondered. What would be the best choice for Sunshine boy himself? An idea clicked through her mind as she smiled excitedly. “How about a sunflower? The only flower that could rival with you, sunshine boy.”

The smile on Adrien’s face was more than enough to know that Marinette’s choice was a perfect one.

After ten minutes of coming up with initial design and chatting with Adrien, Marinette settled on a smaller, simple design, very minimalistic and Adrien decided on placing it on his left upper arm, near the shoulder. After prepping the design and cleaning the area where the tattoo was going to go, Marinette was ready to get started.

Adrien was surprisingly good with the pain and remained still throughout the process. The two talked for nearly the entirety of the time, catching up about life and just gossiping about their friends.

“What’s your favourite flower Marinette?” he winced slightly, due to the pain. Though she was used to him pestering her with questions, she still wondered how many questions the green-eyed boy had in him.

Marinette thought for a moment, eyes trailing over his exposed arm before settling on an answer. “I suppose it’s always been a cherry blossom. Call me corny but they remind me of spring and it’s just always so beautiful to see them,” she paused from her work and pulled down slightly on her t-shirt, showcasing her collarbone. “I got it done when I had just turned twenty. Probably my most painful one but I love it nonetheless,” on the skin underneath her collarbone was a cherry blossom branch that reached out to her shoulder. It was pink and delicate looking and somehow Adrien found himself staring at its beauty for much longer than he’d anticipated.

“You say it as if you haven’t been twenty in ages. You’re only twenty-one Marinette,” he mentioned with a provoking smile.

“And you’re only twenty-two. So, don’t try and act like you’re so much wiser than me Sunshine,” she teased him before going back to her work.

Adrien leaned back into the chair and thought of his life a couple years ago before he had decided to open his shop, how his father would react to such ludicrous idea. Not only is he “tarnishing” his skin but the idea that his first tattoo would be of a sunflower? He would have been thrown out of the house if he were still living there.

They continued to talk, somehow stumbling across the topic of dating. “How did it go with that one guy you went out with?” though he didn’t show it, Adrien was tinged with jealousy. He wasn’t quite sure why though, just the feeling, perhaps the idea of Marinette being close with somebody else made him upset. It was probably just that he was afraid she wouldn’t pop into the store as often. Yeah, that seemed like a suitable response.

“Kim? We didn’t go out. We’re just friends, have been since we were in middle school,” the idea of dating her swimmer friend was one that Marinette refused to think of. Though she was confused as to why Adrien thought it was a date. “Though he did say that he had a friend who was potentially interested. I think his name was Luka, I’m going to be meeting with him in a couple days.”

An exasperated sigh slipped out of his mouth. Though he didn’t wish to intrude on her love life, he still felt compelled to tell her that going on date might’ve been a bad idea. Why? He had yet to find an excuse suitable enough to tell her because based on what he had read in books and in movies, “I don’t know”, was a bullshit answer. “Oh?” he managed to respond.

“You holding up alright?” she asked him sincerely. Her words seemed to be laced in concerned after seeing the blonde close his eyes in pain. He nodded his head and before she went back to work. There wasn’t much more left to do, just a couple touch ups and details and before they knew it, Marinette was done.

Standing up she handed him a mirror to look at the final product. “And we’re done! Wasn’t so bad now was it,” she gave herself a little pat on the back for her work. Adrien examined the tattoo and smiled upon seeing it.

“It looks perfect! What do you think?” the flower was beautiful, and Adrien couldn’t have been more ecstatic about the results. His eyes looked up to meet Marinette’s and she flashed him a grin.

“Almost as bright as you, Sunshine boy.”

-----

Call it fate, call it not wanting to spend an hour stuck in the tattoo parlor where her coworkers were complaining about how their boss wasn’t letting them break for the weekend, whatever it was, it caused Marinette to spend another one of her lunch breaks at Adrien’s flower shop.

“I’ve got a pot of pansies for you to practice drawing, their sitting in your usual spot,” Adrien responded, currently on the phone. Marinette looked over to see a fresh pot of purple pansies and smiled. She took a seat and started to draw, waiting for Adrien to get off the phone.  

Her eyes were focused on the drawing in front of her. The ink of her pen slowly running out especially considering how long she’d had it for. She included a beautiful intricate design engraved into the pansies and went over the lines in ink, shading where she felt like made sense.

She felt his figure watching her process from behind the counter and met his eyes. “Thoughts?” she asked him, curious to know what he thought of the drawing. She turned her sketchbook so that it would face him, and he looked at it eagerly.

“It’s gorgeous as always,” he grinned at her, lightly tracing over the drawing with his finger. “You know, pansies were actually used in the Victorian Era for secret courting. They mean loving thoughts or that you are thinking of the other,” he continued to ramble on about the flower and Marinette watched him, finding it adorable how nerdy he would get about flowers and what they meant.

Not that she would admit that to anyone.

Marinette inhaled the sweet scent of the pansies and played with its petals. “I had no idea that these were such romantic flowers,” she had to admit that hanging around Adrien had opened her eyes to how many other flowers there were. Before their encounter she could probably name only a couple flowers but now her floral vocabulary consisted of at least twenty. “You know I had a client ask me for a tattoo of a gardenia and they looked so excited when I knew what they were. What would I do if you didn’t have your little flower shop?”

“I’m sure you could find another flower shop to practice at,” Adrien chuckled, heading to the back to start on another arrangement order.

But none of those flower shops would have an owner as charming as you. Marinette thought watching him come up with a cluster of pink and red roses. The two sat in a comfortable silence, Adrien messing around with an array of flowers at the counter as Marinette sat on the opposite side, now practicing drawing the bouquet of hyacinths that Adrien had given her after the pansies were done. Her pen moved along the paper, eyes shifting from up to look at the flowers to back down.

Fiddling with the rose in his hand he asked her a question. “How did your date with the Luka boy go?” His voice seemed quieter than usual, as though he had been nervous to ask. Shrugging her shoulders, she kept her eyes on the piece in front of her.

“It was alright,” she hummed, fingers outlining the corners of the paper. “But we both agreed that we would be better off as friends.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Adrien set down the roses. “Well if you’re any interested, my friend thinks you’re cute,”

Marinette didn’t look up from her drawing but snorted in response, “What friend?”

“Me,” swallowing whatever pride he might’ve had left, he confessed. “I’m the friend.”

His voice seemed nonchalant and a smug smile rested on his lips as the words escaped his mouth but the rapid beating of his heart in his chest was a dead giveaway that the boy was nervous. The pen in Marinette’s hand nearly dropped in surprise. “Oh? You should’ve told me earlier. I think your friend is quite adorable himself,” she let out a laugh as her eyes finally met his.

“Really?”

“I mean, it’s hard to resist a ball of sunshine,” Adrien snorted at her comment as he leaned closer to her from across the counter. His face was much closer to hers than it had ever been, his green eyes more vibrant than usual. Marinette smiled, moving closer as well, leaving a smaller space between the two, a heavy blush marking her cheeks.

“Is it now?”

Adrien sealed the space between their lips, a smile forming as they kissed. It was soft and delicate, the smells of the roses he had left on the table filling the air. After they parted, a pair of lovesick smiles were prominently displayed on their faces.

“And it’s even harder to resist when that ball of sunshine is as good of a kisser as you are,” she teased once more, causing him to roll his eyes before locking their lips once again.

[adenei]

The Mix Tape Mishap

6th year, AU; Hermione is home for Christmas holidays and uses [modern] muggle music to cope with the heartbreak she continues to suffer from her falling out with Ron and his current relationship with Lavender. What will happen when the mixed CD she made for herself ends up in Ron's hands on Christmas morning?

This is still set in the normal time period (1996), but I've taken the creative liberty to pretend that the albums I've referenced were also released during that year (adding to the AU label), instead of when they were actually produced (which is anywhere between 10-20 years later).

This is the first chapter. Chapter 2 is up on AO3 and FFN

Hermione was studying in the library a couple nights before the Christmas holidays. She found herself in the library more often than not to avoid the snogfest production given by Ron and Lavender in the common room each night, and the subsequent wrenching of her heart that she still couldn’t seem to shake. She’d tried so hard to forget him, to move on, and to give up on any chance of reconciling their friendship, let alone something more.

Instead of accomplishing any homework, she’d shifted her focus to her Christmas gift checklist. Her mum had written to her this morning to let Hermione know she had gotten the muggle items she’d requested for gifts. Hermione knew Ginny was into wizard rock, and thought she’d like some muggle music, so that was the theme of her gift this year. Hermione’s mum had picked up the newest Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco CDs for Ginny, along with a Sony Walkman player, batteries and headphones for Ginny to experience it with. Of course, Hermione had assumed she’d be at the Burrow for Christmas so she could help Ginny with the muggle technology, but that wouldn’t be happening now that she and Ron weren’t speaking. Ginny did tell her she was still welcome at the Burrow, but Hermione couldn’t stomach the thought of being in the same house as Ron while not speaking to him. Ron had made his decision clear when he’d chosen Lavender over her.

“There you are!” Hermione heard a familiar voice and saw Ginny approaching the table. She quickly hid the list as Ginny sat down. “You can’t honestly tell me you still have work to do? We leave for hols in two days!”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t revise,” said Hermione, unwilling to give away the real reason she was there.

“Have you thought anymore about still coming to the Burrow?” Ginny asked.

“Ginny, you know I wouldn’t be welcome there by Ron. It would be too awkward. I just...not this year, okay?” Hermione said.

Ginny could tell how hurt Hermione was by the whole Lavender fiasco, and knew that she was partly to blame. She hadn’t told Hermione what happened after quidditch practice that night, but was still trying to make up for the guilt she felt at seeing how hurt her best friend was. “Okay, maybe not for Christmas, but why not for New Years? We can hide out in my room if you want and not have to worry about seeing my git of a brother. I’ll even see if Fred and George can smuggle me the good champagne and we can get good and pissed and forget about boys!”

Hermione eyed her and wondered why she was being so pushy on the subject. She wondered if something was wrong with her relationship with Dean. “Maybe that might work,” she indulged her. “Why do you want me to visit so badly anyways?”

“It’s way more fun when you’re around. When it’s just Harry and Ron they shut me out and I’m always so bored! That or mum sticks me with even more chores because I don’t seem ‘busy,’” Ginny air quoted the last word.

Hermione laughed, “Alright, if it means that much to you, I’ll ask when I get home. Just- just don’t tell anyone, except for your mum of course. I wouldn’t want to show up unannounced, but I absolutely do not want the boys to know.”

“My lips are sealed,” Ginny promised, making a mental note not to blow it this time.

* * *

The following Monday found Hermione in her bedroom, reading and relaxing while her parents were at work for the day. Christmas was still two days away, but her shopping was done, and she was putting off the wrapping. Mrs. Granger had surprised Hermione with a new walkman and CDs of her own when she got home on Saturday, so she was spending a lot of her time listening to those instead.

Hermione had forgotten how much she enjoyed listening to music, and the albums her mum had picked up had been perfect for helping her cope with everything she was going through with Ron. She’d received the newest Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran albums (1989 and X), which had been playing on repeat. Always one to pay attention to the words, Hermione had found the lyrics to be overly relatable to her current heartbroken situation.

She wasn’t sure what led her to pull out the pen and paper at her desk, but as she listened through each album she wrote down the title of each song and a few lines that resonated with her. Writing it down and listening to those songs on repeat were bringing her more comfort than she’d felt over the past six weeks.

Attempt #36 to get over him

I’m a Mess “I can’t work it out. How? Goin’ through the motions, goin’ through us I’ve known it for the longest time, and all my hope, All my words are all over..”

Photograph “I keep this love in a photograph We make these memories for ourselves..”

Tenerife Sea “You’ve got the kind of look in your eyes That says nobody knows anything but us…” “All that you are is all that I’ll ever need”

All You Had To Do Was Stay “Had me in the palm of your hand Why’d you have to go and lock me out When I let you in”

I Wish You Would “Wish you knew that I miss you too much to be mad anymore”

Wildest Dreams “Nothing lasts forever But this is gonna take me down “He’s so tall and handsome as hell..”

How you Get the Girl “I want you for worse or for better I would wait forever and ever”

This Love “Your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees”

I know Places “And you know for me, it’s always been you”

There, Hermione thought to herself, that was oddly satisfying. Who knew listening to music and writing the lyrics could make me feel better? Hermione walked over to the new computer her parents had purchased while she was at Hogwarts. She followed the steps her dad had shown her to turn it on and open up the music player. He’d shown Hermione how to upload music and burn a CD with some of the music she thought Harry might like from Ginny’s CDs. Even though she’d already gotten Harry a gift, Hermione wanted to take advantage of sharing the music with him, too. She knew both Harry and Ginny had the same taste in music, and just in case Ginny didn’t want to share her CDs, he could have a mixed version of his own, and Hermione could let him borrow her Walkman.

Hermione set out to upload all four of her new CDs, and made two separate playlists, one labelled ‘Harry - Christmas 1996’ and the other labeled ‘RW Bad Blood.’ She thought that was clever even though she wasn’t even including the song on her mix. She took two blank CDs and figured out how to make the new copies with her playlists. She labelled the blank envelopes, and placed the CDs in the appropriate slots once finished. Hermione also slid the paper she’d written on earlier in the ‘Bad Blood’ envelope. She’d hide it in her desk drawer later.

She walked back to her room and used magic to put the cellophane wrapping back on the CDs for Ginny. Hermione was sure Ginny wouldn’t have minded her opening them to share the music with Harry, but she still wanted them to look new and unopened for her. Thank goodness for being of age, Hermione thought to herself. Hermione went on to wrap Ginny’s present in the magical wrapping paper, including a note saying she’d see her on New Year’s Eve. She also added the request for her to give Harry the envelope with his name on it. As she set the presents with the other magically wrapped presents to be delivered Christmas morning at the Burrow, she heard her parents call to her. Hermione left everything on the pile, including the mix she’d made to help her cope with losing Ron...

[rubyvroom]

Tens

I had kind of a tough 2019 and did not have the will/energy to write about most of the things that happened or the things I did. It was a Soldier Through And Hopefully Come Out The Other Side kind of year. 

I can at least come up with some end of year lists though, and mention some of the things I never got around to posting here. Unless stated otherwise these lists are in order of preference but I did not sweat that order very much, so left them unnumbered.

Movies from 2019 that I recommend: (This is without a doubt my worst list, I did not see many movies this year. When I get caught up this list will be probably entirely different)

US

Little Women

Knives Out

Captain Marvel

IT Part 2

Velvet Buzzsaw

Toy Story 4

Endgame

Rocketman

Ten strongest albums from 2019 

Sharon Van Etten - Remind Me Tomorrow

Ladytron - Ladytron

Carly Rae Jepsen - Dedicated

Tyler, the Creator - IGOR

Weyes Blood - Titanic Rising

Sigrid - Sucker Punch

Jamila Woods - Legacy! Legacy!

Sleater-Kinney - The Center Won’t Hold

Clairo - Immunity

Lana Del Rey - Norman Fucking Rockwell

Ten songs I loved in 2019 (that were not on the above albums)

King Princess - Prophet

Big Thief - Not / Cattails (a tie)

Billie Ellish - Bury A Friend

The National - Light Years

Aly & AJ - Church

Dua Lipa - Don’t Start Now

Ohmme - Give Me Back My Man

FKA Twigs - Cellophane

HAIM - Summer Girl

Hatchie - Stay With Me

Ten TV Shows I loved in 2019

Fleabag

Russian Doll

Watchmen (note: I am only on episode 2 but I am confidently placing it at Number 3 right now, to my UTTER SHOCK as I didnt even want this to exist)

The Expanse

The Good Place

Schitt’s Creek

Good Omens

True Detective

Los Espookys

Umbrella Academy

Also: His Dark Materials, Stranger Things, Dark, One Day at a Time

Ten bands I saw live in 2019:

Spiritualized (Wilbur Theater)

The National (Agannis Arena)

James Blake (House of Blues)

Hot Chip (Royale)

Carly Rae Jepsen (House of Blues)

Ladytron (Royale)

Mitski (Boston Calling Festival)

CHVRCHES (Boston Calling Festival)

King Princess (Boston Calling Festival)

Christine and the Queens (Boston Calling Festival)

also: Superorganism, Anderson Paak, Yaeji, Tame Impala, Hozier, Adia Victoria

Ten Amazing Sci-Fi/Fantasy authors I discovered in 2019 because I went on a rampage (not all of these books came out this year but they came out recently) 

Martha Wells : The Murderbot Diaries (All Systems Red / Artificial Condition / Rogue Protocol / Exit Strategy)

Seanan McGuire : Wayward Children series (Every Heart a Doorway / Down Amongst the Sticks and Bones / Beneath the Sugar Sky / In an Absent Dream)

S. A Chakraborty : The Daevabad Triology (The City of Brass / The Kingdom of Copper)

Catherynne M. Valente: Space Opera / Radiance

Becky Chambers : A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet / A Closed and Common Orbit / Record of a Spaceborn Few

Liu Cixin : The Three-Body Problem / The Dark Forest / Death’s End

Mary Robinette Kowal : The Lady Astronaut Series (The Calculating Stars / The Fated Sky)

Ken Liu : The Grace of Kings / The Wall of Storms

(On deck for reading are Tender by Sofia Samatar, Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee, and The Only Harmless Great Thing by Brooke Bolande so the rampage continues)

Comics Series I am Actually Following in 2019 

The Wicked and The Divine (rip)

Die

Once and Future

Ginseng Roots 

Love and Rockets

My Solo Exchange Diary

The Way of the House Husband

X-Men / House of X / Powers of X

The Immortal Hulk

Finder

Favorite Graphic Novels of 2019

Tillie Walden : Are You Listening?

Colleen AF Venable and Ellen T. Crenshaw : Kiss Number 8

Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O'Connell: Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me   

Maia Kobabe: Genderqueer

Jen Wang : Stargazing

Jaime Hernandez : Is This How You See Me?

Brian McDonald and Les McClaine : Old Souls

Lucy Knisley : Kid Gloves

Jim Rugg : Street Angel - Deadliest Girl Alive

Podcasts I listen to regularly in 2019 but none of them are cool or anything

How Did This Get Made

Pop Culture Happy Hour

This Is Actually Happening

Judge John Hodgeman

Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend

Sawbones

How to Be a Girl

Dear Prudence

Beautiful / Anonymous

Unspooled

Video Games I logged the most time playing in 2019 (in the order I played them. In order of preference, RDR2 is #1 followed closely by Sekiro)

Spiderman (PS4 version)

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

Red Dead Redemption II

Death Stranding

The fact that there are only 4 listed here should tell you how absorbed I was by all four of these. Next on deck: the Outer Worlds

And that was my year. I also traveled to Barcelona and Rome, got a big promotion, subsequently was left holding the bag when everything fell apart at work, a family member died fairly badly, was depressed, had a lot of writers block, also wrote more than I ever have, turned 40, and a whole lot of other stuff that is kind of a blur and other stuff too personal to get into, but it was A Lot. Here’s hoping 2020 is Not As Much, or at least I handle it better. 

[mattzerella-sticks]

Let’s Play - Batflash Week Day 2: Parents are Alive AU & Jealousy

One night, the Wayne family decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway. Unknowingly a mugger was waiting in the shadows, and because of this fateful run-in their lives were changed forever.

By a stroke of luck all three Waynes escaped with their lives. But, fearful of the dangers of the world, Thomas and Martha decide it's better to lock their canaries up than let them soar free. When being under the constant watchful eye of bodyguards becomes too much, Bruce finds freedom with the strangest boy who won't shut up.

“...and it’s actually really amazing what the artist did, using the canvas to tell a story pushed forward with each minimal stroke of the brush…” The guide carries on with his explanation of the painting, Bruce squinting at it while racking up a list of criticisms. Sitting on top, his largest complaint had nothing to do with the art on display. Instead his parents shared the number one spot. Baffling how they could entertain the meaningless blather coming from their guide.

He tugs on his father’s sleeve drawing Thomas closer. “Can we leave?” he whispers.

Thomas frowns at him. “No,” he says, “and please stop asking, Bruce.”

“But I’m bored .”

“We’re guests ,” Thomas hisses, “it would be rude.”

Returning to full height, his father leaves Bruce to stew in his increasingly horrible mood. His mother pays no mind to their conversation, giving her full attention to the guide. Even though Bruce can tell her mind wanders like his, lips stretched thin like cellophane when she pretends to listen. It’s a common feature during galas and gallery opens, like this one.

Why his parents continue attending these events Bruce will never know. What made it worse was how they were miles away from their home, stuck in Missouri until tomorrow.

“The artist is truly grateful that you all came and showed your support,” the guide finishes, leading them away from the painting and the collection as a whole. Bruce’s spirits pick up, trembling at the possibility presented. He imagines the thin-stick man slipping through a stray crack in the floor, freeing them from the torturous tour. Or a door opening and blowing him across the room, crowd piling through the exit without care.

Unfortunately neither of these happen. Instead the guide brings the crowd to a small room off to the side of the wing cluttered with tables, waiters bustling between them.

“And we here at the museum want to show our gratitude, too, with a lovely banquet in the artist’s honor,” he says, “Please find your seats and enjoy the food. In an hour the artist will give a speech, but before and after that he’ll be walking around, fielding questions.” He left then, mission accomplished.

Their group dispersed. Martha and Thomas tried leaving, but Bruce barely budged.

Glancing behind at the statue of his son, Thomas sighed. “Bruce…”

“I want to go .”

“Please, Bruce, we’re almost done here,” Martha says, running gentle fingers through his hair, “All we need to do is listen to the artist and then we’ll go back to the hotel room.”

“Can’t we skip the hotel and head straight for Gotham?”

“You know we can’t,” she frowns, “your father has a very important dinner meeting with a few investors. First thing in the morning, though…”

Bruce groans, uncaring to the wry stares he draws. His parents squirm under the attention, shuffling him closer to the shadows.

“Please, Bruce,” Thomas asks him, “your mother and I would rather be in Gotham, too. But this is one of those situations grown ups find themselves in where they make obligations and need to see them through. Now do you want to be a grown up?”

Two answers present themselves - the one Bruce wants to pick and the other his parents want to hear. “Yes,” he relents, tucking his chin to his chest. Thomas squeezes his shoulders, saying how proud they are of how mature he is. That with a full plate he’ll hardly notice time flying by. They try and leave again, only a sudden idea hits Bruce that very moment. “Wait!” he says, stopping them, “I… have to go to the bathroom.”

Martha and Thomas look at each other, brows furrowed.

Bruce carries on, adding to his lie. “We passed one on our way here, it won’t take long. I promise -  I promise .”

He pouts, using every dirty trick he has to earn a few minutes of reprieve.

It works. His parents waved him off, telling him to be quick. “And don’t forget to take Willoughsby with you,” Martha says, “in case anything happens.”

The plan sours as the guard in question steps up, bald head shiny under the harsh lighting. Willoughsby nods at Thomas, ushering Bruce over to the bathrooms. “Right this way, Master Wayne.”

Bruce sneaks a final peek at his parents conversing with the others on their security team until they’re blocked by the door. Out of the room Bruce shrugs Willoughby off. “I can walk fine on my own.” The guard stays stone-faced, curtly huffing as he paces towards the nearest bathroom. Bruce walks three steps behind, glaring at the guard.

All it took was one mugging for his world to upend. Not as dangerously as it could have, the mugger inexperienced and oafish. He aimed his gun at his mother and fired only for nothing to erupt. With nothing on him but an unloaded gun, Thomas made quick work of their attacker. Tied him up with his shoelaces until the police arrived.

His parents were alive and well, but the night’s events left them shook. Immediately they placed feelers within their community of socialites and entrepreneurs, asking for references on building a team of security guards. To protect them in case of another wrong turn down a dark alley.

Once they assembled the perfect team, the guards never left their family’s side. They hung about the house like the paintings in the gallery, serving a purpose that needn’t be filled. Assembled because a mind was allowed to run wild.

Bruce entered that alleyway a child, but left an adult. Shoulders burdened with the heavy responsibility someone his age shouldn’t know. Unable to break free from the chains of fear or the watchful gaze of his bodyguards.

That didn’t stop him from trying, though. Especially with Willoughsby, Bruce’s personal guard. Strictest of all the others, with as much of a concept for boundaries like a squirrel.“What do you think you’re doing?” Bruce asks.

Willougshby had one hand on the bathroom door, pushing it open halfway. He cranes his neck to answer, “Going to the bathroom.”

“Do you have to go?”

“No, but you do.”

“I can go perfectly well on my own.”

“It doesn’t matter if you can or cannot,” Willoughsby answers, frowning, “my job is to protect you -”

“Which you can do from out here,” Bruce tells him, pushing past and entering the other room. Pausing halfway through the entrance, he mimics his mother from earlier. The smile as asphyxiating as it is sweet. “It doesn’t make much of a difference, right? Good. Won’t be long!”

He shuts the door. Advancing halfway, he waits for Willoughsby to enter after him. When the door doesn’t budge, he relaxes his fist. Bypassing the stalls he shuffles towards the mirrors. Stares at his reflection like it could jump out and take his place for him. So Bruce can remain hidden in the bathroom, alone.

But not totally. A flush echoes, startling him. In the mirror Bruce sees a boy around his age leave the middle stall, bouncing over to the sink beside him. He dresses opposite Bruce, shorts and t-shirt making Bruce feel uncomfortable in his tiny suit. Tugging at his tie, he rakes his gaze over the collection of buttons decorating his backpack. A few he recognizes from the comics his classmates pour over during lunch and the moments between classes.

“Yeah, they’re cool aren’t they?”

Bruce looks to the boy, finished washing his hands and now facing him. Blushing, Bruce shrugs and runs his hands under the faucet. “Really cool,” he mumbles.

“My name’s Barry,” the other boy continues, grinning madly, “It’s short for Bartholomew - that’s my grandfather’s name. But I don’t like being called Bartholomew because it’s so long and usually whenever my mom uses my full name it means I’m in trouble. So I go by Barry - which sounds like berry and I like blueberries, but not strawberries. Raspberries, I’m on the fence with. What’s your name and favorite type of fruit?”

He reels from the seventy turns Barry forced him through during that one sentence, water pouring from the faucet and dampening his cuffs. Blinking, Bruce snaps his jaw shut. “Bruce,” he says, “And I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what your favorite fruit is?”

“Never thought about it.”

“Really?” Barry squints, leaning closer than comfortable, “Usually when someone asks about favorites a thought immediately pops into their heads. It’s not something you need to think about, it should just be. Unless you don’t have any favorites, which is cool I guess. I don’t have a favorite vegetable. Or maybe you have too many ! Like, my bag!” Barry spins, showing off his backpack again. “There are just too many cool heroes to choose from so I put all of these on my bag. My mom helped me with each one ‘cause the first time I tried I kept stabbing myself with the pin…”

Bruce watches the boy ramble with amazing speed, frighteningly intelligible. Like breathing was a suggestion and not a necessity. Instead of focusing on what Barry says, Bruce instead drifts to wonder about the boy and his willingness to talk to a stranger. How, if Bruce had tried the same approach anywhere else, he’d be shunted away by Willoughsby and his bodyguards and his parents. To protect him from shadows that exist in alleyways after movies.

He hates Barry a little bit for the ease of his life.

“Hey,” Barry shakes him, “are you okay? You look like Molly Dorchester in math class?”

“What?”

“Molly Dorchester,” he says, “she’s this girl in my grade who thinks it’s funny to take my lunch and throw it in the trash. Anyway, whenever the teacher switches over from history to math her eyes kind of lose focus and sometimes she drools a little. One time I pointed this out and she had Kyle Dombrowski and Manny Ortiz pants me during recess but… yeah…” Barry steps back, finally red-faced, “Was I like math class right now?”

The kernel of jealousy explodes at the way Barry shifts to mask his energy, inspiring some of it to rouse Bruce into wakefulness. “No,” Bruce says, “I… I was having trouble following along.”

“I get that a lot,” Barry tells him, “Every year on my report cards my teachers say that I do really well, but I could learn something from slowing down. My mom says I shouldn’t have to slow down, though. There’s nothing wrong with running at your own pace!”

Bruce matches his timid smile. “She sounds great.”

“She is!” Barry jumps, enthusiasm returning, “She’s waiting for me right now, actually. We were on our way to the park when I had to go to the bathroom. Since this is right across the street we stopped in here because I don’t like going to the public bathrooms in the park, they’re really gross, y’know?”

He wouldn’t, but Bruce nods all the same.

“What about you?” Barry asks, “What are you doing here?”

His question, innocent in theory, reminds Bruce of what’s waiting for him on the other side of the door. He sighs, hunching over. “Stuck at this event my parents forced me to go to,” he says, “and I’m bored .”

“And they won’t let you leave?”

“No…”

“That’s awful!”

Bruce looks up at Barry’s sympathetic frown. He feels a fresh gust of air fill his lungs, except he knew he didn’t breathe. The shiny blue of Barry’s eyes were the cause, glinting with concern at the injustice of his situation.

It forces a giggle from Bruce, the first in a long while. Barry grins again, joining him.

“I know,” Bruce says, “I wish I could just… get out of here.”

“Why not?”

“I’m… under a lot of supervision right now.”

Barry tilts his head to the side. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

Bruce frowns, “No, but my parents… they’re afraid that I might get into it.”

Nodding, Barry’s eyebrows furrow over his eyes. Lightning crackles in the sea of his eyes, stoking the fires of Bruce’s curiosity. Like a switch Barry’s levity floats the brows high again, disappearing under his baseball cap. “Don’t worry!” Barry says, “You won’t get into any trouble with me!”

“What?” Barry latches onto Bruce’s hands, dragging him towards the exit. Bruce digs his heels in, panicking. “What are you doing?”

“We’re gonna find your parents and tell ‘em we’re gonna go play!” Barry says, “I’m very hard to say no to.”

“I… That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why’s that?”

Bruce rushes for an answer, the simplest explanation waiting on the other side of the door. “Someone is waiting for me, just outside. The second I leave the bathroom he’s gonna drag me back to my parents. I doubt he’ll let you follow - he’s mean .”

Barry pouts, but doesn’t let go. Instead he squeezes tighter while he thinks, storm clouds reappearing. They erupt with an idea that booms in the small space.

Letting go, Barry zips his bag open and digs around. Bruce waits, wondering exactly he looks for. Blanching when the other boy finds it and tosses it at Bruce.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a hoodie!” Barry says, slipping his shoes off, “Put it on, and switch shoes with me!” Bruce does so, stuffing his feet into the dirty Sketchers. The hoodie smothers him in warmth, smelling so different from anything he’s ever smelt. Instead of the rich jasmine Alfred uses, it smells like a cheap soap that cloys at his nose. Still he finds it refreshing.

Barry rubs at his chin, scanning him. “Almost perfect…” He pulls his cap from his head, freeing his unruly blond locks, and stuffs it onto Bruce’s head. “There!” Barry says, “You look really cool .”

Bruce blushes, fiddling with the hoodie strings. “Really?”

Nodding, Barry reaches forward and eases the hood over his head to obscure more of his features. “Yeah. It’s not hard to look cool in red - it’s the coolest color. But you’re making it even better! How do you do that?”

“...I’m not sure.”

Shrugging, Barry grabs at Bruce’s hand again. “Doesn’t matter. We’re wasting valuable play time !”

Time plays out slowly in the seconds they leave the bathroom. Bruce tucks his head into his chest, wincing, ready for Willoughsby to spot him and yell. However all he hears is the squeaking of Barry’s shoes against the linoleum and the swinging of the bathroom door. The farther they get from the bathroom the softer his heart beats.

Risking everything, Bruce glances behind him at Willoughsby. The bodyguard watches the door, back rigid.

He floats after Barry, riding a sugar rush of freedom. Only crashing when he hears someone clearing their throat.

“Barry?” an older woman asks, tone suspicious, “Who is this?”

“This is my new friend Bruce!” Barry introduces him, “Bruce, this is the mom I was telling you about. Her name’s Mom.” He turns to his mom, “He and I are gonna play in the park together.”

“Are you?” she asks, looking at Bruce. “Bruce? Do your parents know about yours and Barry’s plans?”

Wide-eyed, Bruce nods. Not trusting his own voice. He expects Barry’s mother to drag them back where they came from and ruin their plans. However, glancing between him and Barry, her features softened.

“Okay,” she says, “as long as they said it’s okay.”

Bruce keeps silent. Barry groans though, hand not in Bruce’s to tug on her jacket. “Mom! I wanna go play.”

She chuckles, taking his hand and guiding them out of the museum. “Patience, sweetie. We’ll be at the park in a few minutes. Then you and Bruce can have your fun.”

Barry turns to Bruce, beaming. “You’re gonna like it, we just got this new jungle gym. It’s pirate-themed !”

Bruce finds himself excited the more Barry describes the game of make-believe they’ll play.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Thomas knows he looks insane, puffing and shouting his son’s name like an animal. Except it’s all he can do besides break down into tears. Martha busied herself with her terror by firing their bodyguards and driving with Alfred to the police station while Thomas stayed behind to scour the area.

All hope seems lost, and visions of the alleyway flash into awareness. The glinting of the gun as the mugger raised it, ready to fire if necessary. How Bruce clung to his leg with a fear no boy should ever know. Remembers the prayers he said, hoping that a miracle would appear in the moment between the man stopping them in the alley and him demanding for Martha’s pearls. Pearls she doesn’t have anymore. That she donated after spending too many nights staring at them with half a glass of scotch in her hand because she couldn’t sleep.

He shakes the foggy tendrils of the nightmares away, sure that if they clawed their way in finding Bruce would be impossible. Instead he waits for the light to change then dashes across the street.

Staggering, he readies himself to find the nearest phone booth to call Martha at the police station. Except he hears a shrill laughter that echoes in his heart, and another boy yelling, “Bruce!”

Thomas follows the sounds towards a playground, spying the familiar dark curls as they chase a blond boy around a grounded pirate ship.

“Bruce,” he breathes, shuffling over. The closer he gets the reassuring feeling of seeing Bruce safe gets corrupted by the anger of realizing nothing happened to Bruce. A thought creeps into mind, that he ran away knowing full well how his parents might react. His son’s name readies itself in his mouth again, sharper than before, only for a hand on his shoulder to interrupt.

“Hi,” a woman stops him, “Are you Bruce’s dad?”

Startled, his plans fall apart. “Uh - yes… I - I am.”

She smiles, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nora, your son is playing with mine.”

“...I see,” he says, following her gaze over to the boys, “They seem to be having fun .”

“Yeah,” Nora nods, “it’d be a shame to interrupt them, wouldn’t it?”

He whips around to stare at her, Nora remaining calm. Thomas glares, “I don’t know. Considering all the worry he put me and his mother through, playtime is far from over.”

“Figured he was lying when he said you were okay with this.”

“And you still allowed him to come here?”

She shrugs. “My son is a whirlwind. He wanted to play with your boy and… well, Barry doesn’t have many friends. So maybe I was a little selfish.” Nora faces him, finally, smiling in the sad way only a parent can. “Sue me.”

Thomas raises a wry brow, lips stretching thin. “If you knew who I was you wouldn’t be joking around with the ‘sue’ word.”

“Maybe not, but I can tell that your suit probably costs more than my lemon of a car,” she says, “C’mon, a bench just opened up. Let’s grab a seat and chat.” Nora walks away, leaving Thomas with no other option but to follow. They sit with their children still in view. Barry swings an invisible sword in the air, Bruce shaking his fist from below.

“So,” she starts, “what were you and your family doing at the museum?”

He crosses his legs, sinking against the cold wood as his body gives into the tremors of exhaustion coursing within. “We were invited to an artist’s gallery opening, someone who benefited from a grant we created a few years back. Although after what I saw I wish my wife never suggested it.”

“Art is subjective.”

“If you’d suffered through his explanation on how a squiggle represents the unknown possibility of his future since his parents’ evicted him from their house you’d become pretty objective.”

Nora laughs loudly, head tossed back in joy. “I’ll take your word for it.”

They hear a shout and a slam, both turning to see the cause. Thomas’s heart seizes at Bruce crumpled on the ground, tiny hands wrapped around his knee. Standing above him, Nora’s boy gapes with worry.

Thomas readies to stand, except Nora’s grip keeps him tethered to the bench. “Excuse me,” he grows, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Bruce is fine.”

“He’s not fine, he’s hurt .”

“It’s a skinned knee,” she says, “Barry gets them all the time, mostly because he always forgets to tie his shoes. He’ll know what to do.” Nora gestures to their kids, Bruce joined by Barry who hopped down from the ship. Digging around in his bag, he searches for something. It becomes obvious to Thomas exactly what it is when Barry fiddles with Bruce’s knee. He relaxes in the bench as Barry finishes patching his son up, dropping a kiss on the wound for extra measure. “I taught him what to do after the fifth time,” she says, “for when he falls and I’m not around to help.”

“But you are here,” Thomas argues, “And I’m here. Shouldn’t we go and help our children when they need us.”

Nora agrees. “But I don’t think they need us now, do you?”

Bruce stands as if he didn’t tumble, the only evidence being the tear in his suit pants. Barry shoves him and runs away, Bruce chasing after with the wildness of youth.

“Kids are kids,” Nora continues, “They’re going to get hurt. But they’ll pick themselves up and keep going… it’s inspiring really. The older we get the easier it is to be afraid. To live our lives like whatever’s waiting around the corner can smash us into a million little pieces. I was like that, for some time.”

Thomas watches Nora slip into the past, a far away gleam dancing in her eyes. “I got home a little earlier than planned and the door was unlocked. Figured Barry left it open, as usual. So I thought nothing of it and walked in - only to see a man standing in the middle of my living room with a knife . Neither of us expected the other to be there. I rushed for the phone only he… he grabbed me. Grappled me to the floor and held the knife up to my throat. He was going to kill me and if… if Barry hadn’t come home just then I…” She breathes deeply, wiping at a few stray tears. Thomas reaches across and squeezes her hand. Nora smiles at the gesture, thanking him. “Anyway, he hesitated for a moment. That’s all I needed. I kneed him in the groin, flipped him over, and thanked every self-defense class my parents forced on me as I held the knife to his neck while telling Barry to go call the cops.”

“And the after?” Thomas asked, “What happened after?”

“We moved on with our lives.”

“... How ?”

“It wasn’t easy at first,” Nora admits, “I was scared. That the breeze behind me was the man breathing down my neck, ready to finish me off. I’d wake up screaming in my husband’s arms because I thought ht was someone else. I could barely eat, I wasn’t as present as I was with my family.”

“But then Barry…” she smiles, returning to the present to watch her boy, “one day I was sitting on the couch, letting the TV play while I was somewhere else… he climbed up beside me and laid down on my lap. I was nervous, asked him what he was doing. He said that he was spending time with me… that all I ever seem to do anymore is sit in the living room and watch TV. So if that’s what I liked than it’s what he wanted to do, too, because it meant we could spend time together like we used to.”

Thomas reflects on the past year since the attempted mugging. A montage of family dinners where his family stretched away from him, growing more distant with each day. Blocked from view by bodyguard after bodyguard. Bruce’s excitement never returned since that fateful night watching Zorro, but since he was safe it hadn’t occurred to either him or Martha that it meant anything was wrong.

They went to bed each night thankful that Bruce was safe and their family was together. When in reality the mugging shattered their family and the shards of what was continued to hurt.

“Barry gave me the push I needed to turn things around,” Nora tells him, “I went to therapy… joined a support group. Over time I felt like my old self again, doing the same things I used to with the people I love. Because I wasn’t going to let that bastard steal me away from my boy. I might not always be around to patch up a scraped knee or a paper cut, but when Barry really needs me… I’ll be there.”

Thomas clears his throat, unable to say anything with enough gravity to compare with the unburdened trauma Nora presented him. A few words string together, though, after staring at Bruce playing with Barry. “It’s been awhile since my boy’s been a… well - a boy. We, him, my wife, and I, we actually suffered a similar circumstance. Martha and I might have… overreacted . Put a bandaid over a gouging wound… I never considered Bruce wasn’t happy.”

“But he looks it now?”

“Very happy.”

“So does Barry,” Nora smiles, “I meant what I said about him not having that many friends… he always had trouble finding kids who wanted to stick around. It’s disheartening watching your kid get turned down again and again, left alone by everyone else.” She slips her hand free from Thomas, blushing. “I really am sorry about taking Bruce. I ignored every good instinct I had just to give Barry an hour or two of having a friend.”

“Parents will do anything for their kids,” Thomas shrugs, “Even if it’s not the best decision.”

“Exactly.”

A few more minutes pass contedly of Bruce and Barry running around, playing. Thomas and Nora sit together in silence, wind blowing between them.

“You’re not from around here are you?”

He hums. “Afraid not.”

Nora chuckles, shifting in her seat. “I figured things were too good to be true.”

“But,” Thomas says, “I’ll be spending more of my time here in Central City, especially if this new deal I’m working on pulls through. And maybe on my visits Bruce will come along… and he won’t want to be stuck with me all day long in meetings. Better he has someone his own age to play with, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I definitely agree,” Nora says. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Mr…?”

“Wayne. Thomas Wayne.”

“Do you always introduce yourself like you’re James Bond?” “Unfortunately I’m the furthest thing from a spy, but if you need a doctor…”

“No kidding, my husband is a heart surgeon.”

“Really? Small world…���

They talk while their kids tucker each other out, playing to their heart’s content. Of the four of them, no one is whole. But they’re all healing. Growing past the trauma inflicted, building something new, magnificent, and strong.

Thomas incorporates all this into his toast, sniffing past the tears as he congratulates Bruce and Barry on their wedding. After the clapping he sits in his seat beside Nora, watching Bruce guide his husband onto the dance floor.

“That was a touching speech,” she starts, sipping at her wine glass, “I see you decided against embarrassing him.”

“Figured you’re better at that, Nora,” he says.

“I mean I had a few memories picked out,” she said, “About how I stumbled on them practicing kissing with each other when they were thirteen, or Bruce flying over to throw Barry his own dance when he wasn’t asked to his. Maybe the summer after high school graduation where they were arrested for nudity… Although who can compete with your speech.”

Martha chuckles, sliding her hand into Thomas’s. “I told him to go easy but he wouldn’t listen.”

“It’s okay,” Nora says, “it just means he owes me. Which I’ll collect on when they have their first child named after me.” The joke tickles everyone, both the Waynes and Allens laughing. Thomas sighs and grabs for his glass, drinking. Over the rim of his wine he sees Barry whispering to Bruce, causing the smile on his son’s face to grow wider.

Barry Allen is the best thing that ever happened to his boy, even if he almost caused Thomas to experience his first heart attack.

[tarithenurse]

New Years Eve

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Avenger!Reader Content: Pining, fluff, lemons. Don’t read if you’re not old enough. A/N: Refound the draft for this which I must have started back in December 2017. Thought it was about time to finish it...even if it’s not really NY Eve soon. And still...didn’t do proper proof reading. Sorry.

”The party of the year”, had been the way Tony described it when he secured your attendance for his New Years bash more than two months ago. Since then, you’d only heard rumours about the plans, and you’d been too preoccupied about getting through your solo-mission to spare a thought. That’s why you’d more than happily accepted when Wanda and Natasha had offered to sort whatever was needed that night.

Leaning back in the car seat, you really hope your two friends and co-Avengers have kept their end of the promise, whatever it might entail. No texts or calls have come your way which had been rather relaxing. For a while. Now not so much. Both Wanda and Nat are perfectly capable of being reasonable adult with common sense, but sometimes they end up in a mood where they wind each other up. Add Clint to the mix and the result will be disastrous, yet brilliant, pranking. For all you know, you might be on the way back to a cellophane covered room and a New Year’s outfit suitable for disguising the wearer as a flamingo.

...

Even after very careful inspection of your rooms, you’ve not been able to find any pranks lurking. And the outfit? It couldn’t have been better which is good because a few hours from arrival to party-start wouldn’t have left you with a whole lot of option. Why not re-use a dress or something? That’s what you normally would, but in usual Stark style the party has to be themed and this time it’s “animals” – hence the worry about the flamingo. But you’re in luck and the outfit is perfect.

More than perfect, you admit to yourself as you smooth a hand over the tightfitting number you’ve wriggled into. Tiny, faux scales in an oily-black shade is covering your body, only broken by the plunging cleavage and daring slit at along the thigh and a series of red accents that shimmer like fire across you chest and hips. Unfortunately, it does little to steel your nerves. It’s too…too…little! You feel exposed, naked.

A knock on the door barely precedes Natasha and Wanda who come barging in. They’re ready to go (one as a tiger and the other representing her alias’ namesake) and are here to put the last touches to their plan.

…

“I feel…like someone else!”

The woman staring back at you from the mirror is perfect. Dark makeup compliments the outfit (normally you’d only go as wild as mascara), and the usually unruly hair has been tamed into a surprisingly long, sleek braid that on its own looks like the snake you symbolize.

“You don’t like it?” Wanda cocks her head, causing the plushy tiger-ears to wobble endearingly.

You frown at the mirror. “I…I do! It’s just so…not how I normally look…” Do you? “That there,” you gesture helplessly, “she’s…I mean…hot and I’m not.”

“Jeez, good thing we got you sorted then.” Natasha’s adjusting the red/black corset one last time but spares a glance in your direction. “It’s about time you see what everyone else sees.”

Everyone? There’s no room in your head to consider the possible implications of that, so you try to ignore the hot bubble of nerves in your stomach. It’s just Nat and Wanda saying it. They’re your friends. Supportive, sweet, honest…but not objective. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of the guys would claim you were pretty either. Like Tony, he compliments anyone he meets on their outfits or whatnot (even if there’s nothing new about it), and Thor and Steve are the biggest sweetheart although one is quiet and the other is boisterous about it. Yeah, but what about Sam. And there you go, thinking exactly what you didn’t want to.

Sam used to be your friend. A buddy you hung out with and who showed you the ropes when you joined the Avengers. You still try to do that, but each moment around him is close to painful because you don’t see him as a casual friend anymore. You should because that’s what you guys are…but it’s not enough. What you feel for him is so much more. Trusting him with your life would be the easiest thing. And there’s no limit to what you’d do for him both in the field and outside to make sure he is safe and happy. Fuck.

“Hey! Viper, where you at?” Nat’s voice reaches through the swirling thoughts.

Both ladies are waiting at the open door, ready to head out. Mumbling an apology, you hurry after them, hoping they don’t notice your quickened breath and pulse.

“Why a black snake?” Standing in the elevator, it’s only now that it strikes you as odd. “I mean…as Viper it would make sense to use that for the animal tonight.”

“People might get suspicious,” Wanda shrugs, busy inspecting her nails.

Nat’s busy looking for something in her tiny purse but manages to talk past a thin knife: “Bwe’ide, ‘omeone elwe claimed it.”

…

You’d been lucky that there already were plenty people at the venue, meaning you could snake in between the other guests and head straight for the bar (ditching your friends at the same time).

“Gin ‘n tonic, please.”

Waiting for the drink, you look around the place. It’s busy, both at the bar running the length of the ball room, but also at the place in general. Hundreds of people are milling about, snatching canapés from trays carried by various birds (not actual birds, but waiters dressed as flamingos, cranes and so on). Huge tables with champagne pyramids is the only “classic” New Year’s theme while the place has been invaded by what appears to be an entire jungle. Lush green plants and exotic flowers create section in the large area while trees and hanging plants mingle above the heads of the guests, infiltrating the chandeliers to the point where you don’t think they will ever get free again.

“There y’are!” Nat’s smoky voice curls around you together with your arm. “Found the others by the palm trees. Steve’s a cat with yarn and all.”

It’s impossible not to take than bait, so you let her lead the way as soon as you got the cool drink in hand. They’re a sight to behold. Not just Steve the Kitten, but also Tony the Unicorn (sporting a long horn with which he attempts to skewer hors d’oeuvres when Pepper the Peacock isn’t looking) and well, probably everyone, but of course your mind is being silly and making sure to get stuck on the sight of the one person you shouldn’t watch.

Hot damn. Green scales glitter in the light as they adorn Sam’s suit, making it looks as if a viper’s curling around his body in a way you wouldn’t mind mimicking. No! I shouldn’t think that. At least he hasn’t noticed you because he’s too busy examining the rear end of Tony.

“You installed cooling?” His warm voice muffled by the fake tail hanging down.

“Wha’?! He’s got air-con?!” An edge of betrayal is powering Rhodes’ disbelief. “Man, you said I couldn’t get my exo cooled!” Hurrying over to take a look through Stark’s rear, he pushes Sam aside.

“Hey! Wa–” But Sam never gets further.

His eyes are scorching your skin but it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Out of sheer nervousness, you fidget with the metal straw in the drink, almost inhaling the clear liquid. Suddenly, the dress is too revealing, causing your guts to clench in a desperate plea for hiding, but the moment you try to move to get a bit behind Nat and Bucky, you feel the air breeze through the slit. Shit. Heat is rushing through your body.

“You’re looking good.” It’s Steve. “Like what Wanda and Nat have done, sticking with the venomous snake theme.” His friendly chuckle helps you soften up a bit as memories of your old life flashes by.

Growing up in the slums in the biggest city in South America had taught you a lot – even more so during the hardest periods where you stole away to survive in the jungle instead, figuring it was safer than being near the gangs and drug cartels. In hindsight, neither option could’ve been considered safe, but that was at least you learned enough to eventually take up the fight. Try to protect innocent people from the violent crime lords. That’s how you’d gotten onto the Avengers’ radar. Why they came to capture you. It was a good thing Clint had been there on that trip because he convinced the others to bring you back.

“Thanks. Feels odd not to wear something more…practical.”

A broad smile flashes. “I get it. Penguin suits are fine, but they aren’t made for moving.”

“That too.” Need to get away. “’Scuse me.”

Slipping away between the myriad of guests, you circle the room once while pretending to admire the decorations. In reality, you’re scoping the place for quiet corners and easy escape routes. But soon enough your feet are carrying you back to the bar for a refill. From there it’s possible to see most of the room…including the random flashes of a familiar green. My colour.

…

How can it not be near midnight?! It’s never been this awkward hanging out with the team. Sure, the chatting and fun is still going on…it’s just you that finds it hard to feel comfortable in your own skin as long as your near Sam. You’d tried talking to him, pretending everything’s fine. Normal. No unrequited love tearing you up from the inside, making it feel like someone has dripped your old venoms straight into your heart.

So you try to spend your time on the dance floor where no one expects you to carry on a conversation as you can lose yourself in the rhythms. Otherwise it’s the bar that calls, luring you with cold G&Ts until your head is buzzing comfortably. Not drunk…because you never know what can happen. 4th of July was bad, you remember, pushing the ice cubes around in the tall glass.

A delicate but strong hand clamps onto your shoulder, startling you.

“Relax, hon, just me.” The redhead takes a seat beside you. “Do you want me to ask or are you just gonna talk?”

“’Bout what?”

You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s rolling the eyes. “Why you moping.”

“Oh.” The straw clinks against your teeth. She’s bluffing. “Ask away. Doesn’t mean I got anything to tell.”

Somehow managing not to spill the martini, Nat whips around to face you. “Right, of course not. ‘Cause it’s not like you’ve been harbouring a huge crush on a special gentleman.” Your glare doesn’t discourage her. “Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly.” And with that she floats away, drink in one hand and hips swaying elegantly to the music.

…

Dancing with Steve is an interesting experience: as physically gifted as he may be, this is one thing he has a hard time getting the hang on although he does his best to follow your instructions while both of you are grinning like fools, the ending of the song still brings a certain relief. Until you turn around straight into Sam’s arms. For a second, he seems just as baffled as you do, but then his trademark crooked grin lights up his face.

“Guess there’s no way about it now…wanna dance?” A warm hand is already skimming along your hip although the other waits for your decision.

It’s odd how perfectly his fingers fit around yours, how his arms seem to create a bubble of calmness that seeps into you until your breath is even and your heartbeat follows an unheard rhythm. Fingers with blood-red nails slither across venomous-green faux scales until coming to a rest on Sam’s shoulder.

“Didn’t know you liked that colour.” It looks amazing on him. “You should use it in your uniform.”

They’re playing an old Frank Sinatra song that you’ve heard a million times, allowing your brain to switch off and Sam to lead you effortlessly.

“I’ve thought about it…didn’t wanna to steal from you, tho’.”

He twirls you in his arms before dipping you, causing your heart to pound rapidly against the ribs so hard he might hear it (especially considering how close to your cleavage his ear is). Not like you haven’t stolen anything already.

“Oh, is that so?” Pulling you back up, chest against chest, it’s evident that you must have spoken your thoughts. “What’d I steal, babe?”

Babe. Sure, he’s used nicknames before. He’s the master of thinking up witty monikers for everyone on the team and failing that there’s always the classical endearments which he freely uses for everyone. This time, though, it’s spoken in a soft purr that makes it sound anything like the usual banter. You can’t take your eyes off him as your try to kick your brain back into action. A quick sweep of the tongue to get your mouth working brings back the taste of lipstick and G&T, brings Sam’s focus onto the red colour adorning your lips and his eyes darken momentarily.

Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly. Nat’s words echo in your mind and small details that you’ve never really given much thought start to fall into place. The way Sam always makes sure there’s a spot on the couch on movie nights, or how he somehow checks in a bit more frequently on missions than with the others. He even knows how you like your tea and coffee, despite the fact that you aren’t sure yourself.

“Sam…” you bite your bottom lip, still nervous.

“[Y/N]?”

Somewhere outside the bubble he’s created, the music is still playing, and people are getting closer to the new year, but inside, it’s just the two of you standing closer than humanly possible, allowing your lips to brush easily over his. Maybe the soft sigh is from him, it doesn’t matter. Just the fact that he recaptures your lips to deepen the kiss is important. His hand travels up the back to cradle your neck, the other arm drawing you closer.

…

The party is far away across town when the new year approaches. Clothes are discarded around the familiar room as Sam looks at you from under heavy lips. His hand is resting on your head that bobs slowly in unison with your hand. Each time the tip of your tongue twirls around the crown of his cock he hums in approval and you can feel his muscles work under the free hand you’re supporting yourself with partially.

His erection twitches as moans become groans, maybe spurred on at the quiet laughter you can’t hold back. It’s exhilarating to have such power over him, but next moment it’s gone as he pulls your away. Sam’s got you on your back quicker than you’d anticipated, lips trailing hot over the goosebumps covering your body and then…then he’s the one in control as mouth, tongue and fingers play you like an instrument, coaxing sounds from you that increasingly sound like his name. Sound like begging.

Your limbs are shaking when he pulls you onto his lap. Hands on your hips, the gorgeous man allows you to set the pace after he has aligned the throbbing cock with your wet core, and as you finally glide down the shaft, as he fills you up more than anyone has before, both of you cling on.

Open mouths breathing hard. Sweat glistening on skin. Moans. Strangled cries of pleasure. Partially suspended above your arching body, your name tumbles from Sam’s lips while his hips rock into you. Harder, faster. Your legs are on the verge of cramping from the iron hold around his waist, ankles locking behind his backs while your nails are digging into his shoulder blades.

Outside the window, fireworks light up the night sky, their explosions nearly drowned out by his name as you both tumble over the edge and into the hazy sea of bliss.

[imagine-loki]

Wedded Bliss

TITLE: Wedded Bliss CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 27 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Odin determined to find Loki a wife in a misguided, though somewhat well-intentioned attempt to ‘mellow him’. … RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Eyy guess who survived the new year! XD

I’d like to credit SweetSigyn over at AO3 (dunno if they have a tumblr) for giving me a direction to go in. I mean, I had a vague plan for the start and end of this chapter but the middle of it was very much a handwave-y ‘I’ll think of something eventually’ kind of deal. Which… is basically how 95% of my writing goes, but shh.

________________________

    Edith excused herself about an hour later, thinking that she’d let Loki have enough fun in the other lab, and went to look for him, feeling much better about where she and Bruce stood. He was, she decided, a very likable man, and seeing how well he stayed in control of his… less sociable side up close now that they were not under threat helped her be more comfortable.

    She walked by an open door and suddenly felt herself be yanked into the room. Her instincts immediately kicked in and she turned and threw a punch up to where she figured her attacker’s face would be; instead she found that her ‘attacker’ was actually Loki and her punch had connected squarely with his throat.

    “Dude; the fuck!” she cried as he coughed and gasped, trying to get his breath back, “Don’t do that! Did you forget I was literally trained by an assassin?”

    “Duly noted,” Loki managed a tad hoarsely, massaging his neck.

    “You okay?”

    He cleared his throat. “Fine; though I certainly will not be trying that again.”

    “Good! What even made you think that was a good idea?”

    “Well, I didn’t think you would punch me!”

    “Dude, you are lucky I didn’t have anything to stab you with, or we’d be having a very different conversation. Never sneak up on me.”

    Loki frowned for a moment then sighed. “I suppose I cannot fault you your reflexes, given they keep you alive. I apologise.”

    “It’s fine. Sorry I throat punched you,” she replied, trying to stifle a laugh, “Though in my defence, I was aiming for your face; not my fault you’re so damn tall.”

    “This no longer feels like an apology.”

    Edith waved him off. “Anyway, I have to go sit on Clint now.”

    “Beg pardon?” Surely he’d misheard.

    “Well, he’s probably awake by now, which means he’s probably doing something he shouldn’t be, which means I have to go stop him.”

    “And you intend to accomplish this by sitting on him?”

     “Well, not literally…” she said then tilted her head a bit in thought, “Probably… It has been known to happen, though…”

    Loki stared at her, trying to gauge her honesty, then shook his head in disbelief. “You midgardians are so strange.”

    Edith chuckled softly. “Oh, sweetie. You have no idea. Remind me to introduce you to the wonders of duct tape and cellophane.”

    Loki eyed her dubiously but said nothing, simply gestured for her to precede him out the door. If she really did intend to sit on the archer; he very much wanted to bear witness to it.

****

    She did, in fact, intend to sit on the archer.

    As predicted, Clint was awake and working out in the recently refurbished gym despite very clear instructions that he was not to even set foot in there until a doctor cleared him; causing Edith to mutter that she was going to have some words with JARVIS for having allowed him entry. Edith gave Clint one chance to stop that he tried to wave off before quite literally tackling him onto the mat covering the floor, being mindful of his head of course, then proceeded to sit on his chest, all the while berating him like an errant child for his carelessness. The whole thing made Loki laugh so hard he had to sit down.

    Once Clint had dutifully accepted his scolding and apologised - twice - they left the gym to find something to pass the time, somehow ending up in one of Tony’s personal labs rigging up a rather elaborate trap that would, in theory, end with him getting sprayed by the fire extinguishers.

    “You know there’s a running joke online that you spend most of your time in vents?” Edith called up to Clint, hands on the ladder he stood on to steady it for him as he fiddled with a wire in one such vent.

    Clint groaned in annoyance. “Don’t remind me. Where do people even get that from? I don’t think I’ve ever even been in a vent.”

    “No idea,” Edith shrugged even though he couldn’t actually see it, “Blame Tony; that’s usually a safe bet.”

    Clint grunted in response then hopped down from the ladder. “That should do it.” He looked up towards one of the cameras in the room. “Alright, JARVIS, we’re counting on you here; no telling Tony and definitely no deleting the footage after.”

    “I have determined the possibility for injury from this trap to be very minimal, and the result could provide needed stress relief, both for Sir and the rest of the team; so, yes, you may ‘count on me’.”

    “You are absolutely certain that machine is not sentient?” Loki asked with a raised eyebrow, “Because that sounded remarkably like genuine amusement.”

    “Honestly? Sometimes I wonder,” Edith replied then grinned, “Good thing he’s on our side, just in case, eh?”

    “He’s also right about the stress relief,” Clint added then looked at them with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “What do you guys say we, ah… help the rest of the team out?”

    Edith and Loki exchanged a look then turned to Clint with equally troublesome grins.

****

    “They are never going to leave us alone in the tower again,” Edith remarked, receiving solemn nods from the men around her.

    After the plan had been decided, they had roped Bruce along and proceeded with the shenanigans. The scientist had been a bit reluctant at first, still not quite sure of his place in the tower, but before long relaxed enough to not only participate, but actually provide some ideas they ended up using. The result was a tower rigged with all manner of pranks; not all of them were expected to work, of course, particularly the ones meant for Natasha, but they had enough traps and back-ups to cause quite a bit of harmless chaos indeed.

    They sat in the common room, a dozen boxes of pizza on the coffee table before them, waiting for the rest of the team to return, which wouldn’t take long by JARVIS’ report. After a while of eating and chatting idly, Loki felt eyes on him and turned to find Clint staring at him rather intently, prompting a questioning look.

    “I’m just wondering where all of that’s going,” Clint said, gesturing to the slice in Loki’s hand and the mostly empty box - one of three, so far - before him.

    “Wow, Clint; rude,” Edith chimed.

    “What? It’s a serious question!”

    Loki chuckled, waving it away unconcernedly. “Asgardians have a much higher metabolism than humans, that is all. Be happy it’s just me and not Thor, or worst, Volstagg; you would never get a single morsel with those two around.”

    “I’ll take your word for it,” Clint replied then half turned to Edith and teased, “Gotta say, though; I never thought I’d meet someone who eats more than Edie does, and we live with a super soldier.”

    “Kiss my ass, Barton!” Edith retorted as the others laughed.

    “She does have a rather surprising appetite for one so small, doesn’t she?” Loki added with mock seriousness.

    “Oh. Oh, that’s how it is, then? You’re just going to gang up on me, then?” Edith huffed with a surprisingly genuine looking offended expression, “Fine! I don’t need you anyways,” she stood from the couch and moved to the one on the other side of the table, pulling a pizza box closer to her, “I got all I need right here.”

    By the time the rest of the team arrived the conversation had devolved further into a swapping of embarrassing stories that had the three nearly breathless with laughter, which of course was only a prelude to what ensued when the pranks they had set up were triggered. Surprisingly, even Natasha fell victim to one (or pretended to; it was hard to tell with her), though the look on her face promised a swift and terrible revenge.

    Loki walked Edith to her bedroom door after it was all said and done, as he did every night; and as every night, Edith didn’t let him go without a few (dozen) kisses. Not that he was complaining, mind. When the elevator opened onto her floor, Loki found himself face to face with Tony, and gave him a respectful nod before stepping into the car beside him.

    “You and I need to talk,” Tony spoke up after the doors closed and they began moving up.

    “Do we?” Loki asked curiously, “Regarding?”

    “The future. Specifically, your future.” He turned to face Loki. “I need to know how long you’re planning to stick around.”

    “Are you asking me to leave, Stark?”

    “Nope. I’m offering you a job.”

[matamisin]

Internship Part 1

TW: DARK THEMES

“Kirishima!” A loud, ecstatic voice rang out, sounding as its owner ran down the halls and approached towards the common room of 1-A’s dormitories. “Guys, turn the tv onto the news!”

The red head, turning his head from Kaminari, reached for the remote on the table, and flipped it on, waiting for the screen to broadcast the channel it was left on.

“What’s up, Kaminari, why do you want news?” A softer voice asked, sitting up on the couches to face the blonde. Ashido, shifted slightly in her spot, moving to make space for Kaminari to sit on.

Kaminari sat, hunching forward with his elbows on knees as his legs bounced up and down restlessly, and his eyes glued to the screen as he watched Kirishima flip through the channels to reach the news.

“You haven’t heard yet? You know how Sero’s at an internship with Kamui Woods?”

Other voices, now that everyone else also had their attention caught by Kaminari, all recalled. They nodded, they hummed, further curious about what was going on.

“Guys, they’re fighting a Nomu!” Kaminari exclaimed, as the tv just so happened to have finally turned to the right channel.

Sounds of shock, surprise, excitement, all that, filled the room as everyone watched the scene unfolding on the screen.

A news broadcaster was reporting live on the case, in a helicopter that was quite a distance from the battle, but the intense scene was still visible from the background as three heroes and a Nomu were all focused on each other.

“We’re back, and the fight still rages on as pro hero Kamui Woods and who seem to be his interns are caught up fighting a beast that suddenly appeared,” she informed, taking glimpses back to the havoc. “Like other cases, it’s believed that this is linked to the League of Villains.”

“See? It’s another Nomu!” Kaminari said, pointing to the screen when the camera panned to get a small glance at the creature.

Midoriya sat up, trying to get a closer look at the fight that blurred on screen. He furrowed an eyebrow, raising a hand to rub his chin. “It is! But, it looks different, doesn’t it? That Nomu looks smaller than all the others I’ve ever seen.”

Yaoyorozu, standing behind the couch, nodded in agreement. “That’s true. Though, I do think it doesn’t make it weaker, look,” she pointed towards the screen, “it has got quite the speed with its small size, and its quirks themselves seem powerful already.”

A look to the screen again, the students all watched in anticipation as the camera tried to catch the battle as best as it could.

There was small-scale destruction, some building were smashed in here and there, and poles were collapsed probably from being hit. The Nomu sprang around, broken pieces of tape covering parts of it and fluttering in the wind. Suddenly, another shot of tape flew at its face, sticking on and blocking out it’s vision.

The camera panned to the teen, who swung from pole to pole before landing on top of a building.

“Yeah! There’s our guy!” The others cheered back at the dorms.

“Ah,” Ashido started. She tilted her head slightly, pointing to the screen. “Who’s that? That guy next to Sero?”

“Hmm, it’s not Kamui Woods- he was running around on the ground earlier,” Ojiro remarked, recalling seeing the pro hero being in closer range of the Nomu.

Kirishima held a hand up, “Ah, that guy? Sero told me he was interning at the same time as another dude- I bet that’s him!”

“Oh! Man this is so exciting!” Hagakure cheered, plopping down onto the couch. “We get to watch Sero in real action!”

Kaminari gave a small chuckle. “Haha, yeah, yeah, you’re right! This is gonna be great!”

The class murmured as they all sat, as their veins filled with adrenaline to watch the fight unfold.

---

Teachers' Lounge

“They’re fairing well, don’t you think, Aizawa?”

“Hmm,” the man with messy hair nodded. He crossed his arms, leaned back in his seat. “They are, for a Nomu of that kind.”

“Young Sero seems to be finding more and more ways to use his quirk in this situation,” All Might stated, taking a sip from his coffee before setting it back down onto the table. “Of course, I already knew he had a lot of potential in a fight like that- he just had to find them once he was placed in the heat of the moment.”

---

Sero dodged the Nomu’s indiscriminate attacks as it fired debris around. He jumped from poles, using his tape to latch onto another object to swing into better space.

“Remember, you two!” Kamui’s voice called from Sero's helmet. “Keep your distance from it, I’ll handle things down here while you two back me and civilians up from behind until the scene is cleared!”

“Got it!” Sero answered, still swinging from a pole to a building before seeing a big hunk of debris being hurled towards Kamui.

“Woah, watch out, sir!”

Sero immediately took his free arm and shot out tape, catching the piece in it’s tracks and pulling back before cutting the tape, watching as the debris fell straight down and smashing into the ground.

“Ah- thank you, Sero!”

“No prob- augh-!” Sero tried to answer, before his path of swinging was construed from his action, and instead of landing nicely onto the building, he hit the end, rolling and scraping onto the surface before he skidded himself to a stop. “No problem, sir! I gotchu!” He hacked out, catching his breath.

---

Back at the dorms, a sigh filled the air from everyone’s relief. No damage, he was doing alright. Though they couldn’t any of their words, they could tell that their classmate was strong, collected, and was smiling through the rush of the fight against a dangerous creature.

---

Sero picked himself up, on his knees, as he tried to shake off the impact. Another person came along, rushing to his side.

“Are you alright, Cellophane?”

“Ah yeah, I’m good, Moji, I’m good!” The black haired boy repeated, “just scrapes.”

The other teen, Moji, held out a hand to Sero, and pulled him to his feet when he grabbed on.

“Good, ah but, take your helmet off real quick. I think you might have gotten an injury from your slip judging from your.. Lack of balance.”

“I’m fine, it’s just a little dizziness but it’ll go away.”

“Please, I just want to make sure, Sero.”

---

“Mm, it seems they’re having slight difficulties, huh Midoriya?” Iida’s voice asked, looking to the green-haired boy.

“Yeah I think. They’re holding the Nomu off well to minimalize the damage, but.. all their quirks are harder to mix in this situation.”

Kirishima turned his head, rubbing a hand on the nape of his neck. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Kamui’s quirk is good for capture and some mid-range attacks, but the Nomu has strength over him and can break free easy. Plus, he's still trying to evacuate the civilians,” he pointed out one finger. “And Sero’s tape is good for capture too and to stop damage, but it looks like he’s staying far from the Nomu. He can use it to create weapons to fight with, but again, he’s not getting close.” He pointed out another finger. “And, the other intern’s quirk- do you know what it is?”

“It’s strings.”

Another voice entered. Midoriya leaned forward, peeking past Kirishima, and seeing Bakugou. With his arms crossed, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He can use strings to manipulate objects.”

Midoriya nodded his head slowly. “I see. It’s similar to Sero then? Though, I think he’d have other ways of using it.”

“What the!!- holy shit, what is he doing?!” Kaminari’s voice cried all of a sudden as he jumped up from his seat, hands grabbing onto locks of his hair.

Everyone snapped their eyes to the screen, listening closely to the voice that reported.

“Ah, what’s this? One of Kamui’s interns is going against orders- he’s rushing towards the Nomu!”

“Sero, what are you doing?!” Kamui called from the ground, one hand busy from keeping a building from collapsing as the last few people evacuated.

He pulled his free hand forward, reaching towards the Nomu and his intern. His hand quickly shifted and phased into wildly growing wood and roots as it flew through the air to try to prevent the two from colliding by forming a wall, but was stopped as the Nomu grabbed onto him, crushing the wood between it’s grasps, and used it as a launch pad to continue towards the teen.

“Oh my god, Sero!” His peers cried from the dorms, all out of their seats and hearts beating furiously.

Bakugou grinded his teeth at the scene as his fists gripped in front of him tightly- he couldn’t believe what was happening!

Suddenly, he dropped his furious stare, watching his classmate jumping into the danger. His eyes widened.

It was unclear due to the camera’s distance, but it was there. He definitely saw it and there was no doubt about it.

At the teachers’ lounge, Toshinori and Aizawa watched, as well as the other teachers who have come along. Eyes all shocked, sweat dripping from their foreheads.

On screen, the cameras caught the brutal scene of the Nomu and Sero clashing, the Nomu immediately grabbing him, in a crushing grip and throwing him at high velocity towards a collapsing building, sending him to break through the walls and deep into the structure. In a matter of seconds, the middle gave out and the building came crumbling down.

“Turn the cameras off, turn them off!”

And suddenly, the screen cut off, as static filled it and a high-pitched beep filled the ears of viewers.

[ruizvilladsen32]

When individuals think about somebody who is beautiful, often times it is founded on interior elegance and also outside elegance. Both these situations are with your manage to modify. You really need to have the two to look your very best. Here are some tips to help you started out on your own personalized elegance journey.

Use Vaseline to your ft . every evening. Once you get up in the morning, your toes will probably be incredibly smooth. Begin rubbing your feet every night prior to going to bed. Utilize your Vaseline liberally then move on your stockings because they could keep it on your own feet and away from your sheets! Locate a concealer palette that accompanies two diverse tones of concealer. This lets you mix a perfectly tailored color that will dissolve thoroughly to your pores and skin. Use small dabbing and patting motions to make use of the concealer around red-colored locations, broken capillaries, as well as any other spots or stained areas. Keep the eyes gel inside your fridge. This can help soothe swollen view or darker sectors around the eyes. Awesome eyesight gel really can help make your eyeballs look rejuvenated right after a very long particular date. Just apply it as you may generally would to find out effects which are instant and can final all day long. Use product to the eye every single night. The skin all around the eyes is sensitive, rather than as heavy as being the epidermis elsewhere on your own encounter. This makes the facial skin about your eyes quite likely going to be lined and dry. Maintaining your skin wet is a straightforward means to fix that splendor issue. To enhance much healthier pores and skin, try using a gentle, dried up clean on the skin before showering, which energizes sebaceous glands helping make your skin area hydrated. Start on your toes and, inside a round trend, job up-wards to your scalp. When you continuously get acne only on a single side of the experience, it can be due to your cellular phone. Be sure you nice and clean your cellular phone routinely to take out debris and essential oil. You can even consider transitioning sides each time you talk on the telephone to offer the pimples-vulnerable part of your own experience a rest. If you want to dress in bogus eyelashes, you really do not need to discover you may have allergic reaction for the eyelash stick. Analyze it on your own left arm very first. Use a coating of plaster atop that, then permit be for the day. Should you not develop a allergy, you happen to be not allergic. To produce red-colored lipstick keep going longer, implement natural powder and lip liner for your lips before you apply the lip stick. Initially, natural powder your lips with the common experience powder. Following, bring a collection close to your lip area and fill them in with a red lip liner. Finally, apply the reddish lip stick on top of the powder and liner, blotting having a tissues to take out any excessive lipstick. Nearly all women can be surprised to know that the common female devotes a lot more than 60 time of her existence towards the ordeal of shaving and waxing. Hair laser removal, whilst somewhat expensive, could save you a lot of time as well as nicks on your thighs, underarm, experience, and bikini location. Build a trendy, modern day nail style by using scrapbooking scissors with scalloped, zig-zag or another sides. Laser Removal Treatment Calgary may lower typical cellophane adhesive tape with the scissors and put them on your nails well before artwork to produce fantastic lines, two-strengthen effects, or some other exciting designs. Use flat polishes alongside glossy kinds for the multiple-textured effect. A wonderful way to accentuate the top lash collection rather than make an excessively spidery fringe is to apply a strip of your untrue lashes that can be used as your lower lashes. Utilize from spot to area and as they are reduced than normal falsies, they may thicken the lash line instead of lead to abnormal elongation. To open up up your pores and have any spots eliminated, steaming is an excellent choice. Put your skin more than a pan of steaming very hot water using a dried out cloth added to you head. Do that as long as you can getting very careful to not burn up on your own. When you have possessed adequate splash your facial skin with cool h2o to close the skin pores to make your epidermis more organization. Produce a funky, present day nail style by using scrapbooking scissors with scalloped, zig-zag or some other edges. You may lower normal cellophane tape using the scissors and place them on the nails before piece of art to produce fantastic stripes, two-color consequences, or some other interesting models. Try using flat polishes beside glossy ones for any multiple-textured effect. Are you prepared to art a fresh beauty routine? Really feel willing to start? Are you currently aware of what items you can utilize and what is going to job? If you have a response now, you have recognized the ideas organized right here and might get beauty to work for you.

[luke-shears-art-blog]

Litter and Sustainability

These statistics are from a survey carried out by Keep Britain Tidy, an environmental charity, where they looked at and categorised the most common types of litter found in England. This survey is from 2017-2018 and has been presented not only on keepbritaintidy.org but gov.uk as well.

The statistics that are most useful for my project are: 

Confectionery packs - sweet/chocolate wrappers, ice lollipop/lollipop sticks, chewing gum wrappers.

Non-alcoholic drinks-related -  cans, bottles, cartons, bottle tops and ring pulls all of which are related to a non alcoholic drink.

Packaging - Cardboard boxes, cellophane wrap, plastic wrap and anything which is used to cover and [protect an object.

Snack packs - Crisp packets, biscuit packets, cake wrappers and anything that covers pre-baked/pre-prepared foods.

Plastic is the most common type of packaging in the world because it is cheap and easy to produce which is why 78 million metric tons of plastic packaging are produced globally each year but only 14% is recycled, the rest are littered or ends up in landfills. 

Non recyclable and unsustainable products being littered is problematic because it means that it can’t be reused and it can’t break down naturally so it will continue to build up and pose a problem for life in that area. That's why making more products that are recyclable or reusable will mean that the product can be used again and again and if it is littered it can be taken to somewhere where they can repurpose it instead of it ending up in a landfill. Furthermore, sustainable packaging that is compostable or biodegradable means that it can benefit the environment even if it is littered.

Companies like Nestle in 2018 produced 1.7 million metric tons of plastic but by 2025 they are aiming to make 100% of their products recyclable or reusable.

It is important to tackle the issue of sustainability and littering because The Ellen MacArthur Foundation has estimated that there will be more plastic than fish in the ocean by 2050 if companies do not change from using plastic.

[stationerspk]

Affordable Gift Packing DIY Ideas For Birthdays 

Giving gifts on birthdays is an interestingly complex and essential medium of human interaction, which helps to define their relationships and strengthen bonds with loved ones. Every birthday gift that we give to someone shows our love and appreciation towards them. If we move from standard wrapping choices towards DIY supplies, it will benefit us and the environment.

[docholligay]

Pharmercy, time between first and second OW. They can't spend it together this year because of work or some other reason. Maybe Angela wasn't too bothered by it until she talked to Winston or Lena. I would love a more melancholy feel to it, but you do what you want.

HI DO YOU WANT MORE THAN 2,000 WORDS ABOUT PHARAH AND MERCY’S FIRST VALENTINE’S YOU SURE DO. If you’re unfamiliar with my OW universe, it’s all here.  I may add this in, I may not, WE SHALL SEE

Mercy had spent a good many of her Valentine’s Days alone, and it had never much mattered. She was too busy for relationships, always too young for anyone in her classes to take notice of her, and spent so much time learning the in and outs of the human body when she was young that she did not quite begin to notice that she needed some instruction in human social skills until she was in her twenties, possessed of great empathy but little practical knowledge, feeling awkward and odd among her peers.

And so it should not have bothered her, who dated so little, to spend Valentine’s Day alone. It was no different from any other. And yet, as she crossed Harvard Yard, fresh from a special lecture, the red brick of the buildings seemed to reflect every beating cartoon heart she had seen on the cards lining the drugstore where she got her shampoo. She noticed every student’s hard that was clasped in another’s, noticed their smiles and giggles and the words that passed between them, even the most common of them peppered with the special lilt of a word from a lover’s lips.

And in instead of bringing her joy, it brought her an empty ache.

Because she was lying, of course, and this Valentine’s was very different from any other before it.

This Valentine’s Day, she was missing Fareeha Amari.

She chided herself. She was lucky, blessed even, to have a woman like Pharah in her life, someone who was handsome and intelligent and gallant, who listened so closely and carefully when Mercy talked that Mercy swore she was taking notes, who brought her flowers and held her coat over Mercy’s head in the rain, the kind of woman Mercy had never assumed was even real, but laid next to her in her tiny Cambridge apartment whenever Tracer flew over.

She hadn’t had the courage to tell Pharah she had given Tracer a not-insignificant amount of money for fuel.

“I am knowing that you do not have so much money, Lena, and I thought–”

Tracer waggled her eyebrows. “It me you’re so anxious to see then, love? Missing me something terrible, you are, can’t ‘ave anything to do with–”

Mercy blushed and shoved the check at her and mumbled uncomfortably, turning away from Tracer.

Tracer’s face softened. ‘I’s only ‘aving a go, Ang, you know ‘ow I am. I’ll say nothing more about it.”

And, to Tracer’s credit, she had not. Oh, Mercy was certain she’d told Winston the day it happened–Mercy wasn’t even sure she was capable of keeping a secret from him, but Winston was very kind, and would never mention such a thing.

With all these blessings in her life: A job where she was respected, a girlfriend who loved her, a rekindled relationship with her friends, it seemed very petty and selfish indeed to be sad that Pharah couldn’t be here.

And she had wanted to be, hadn’t she? Mercy considered as she sat on the train. Yes, she had to work for Helix, and she had been so apologetic, and besides any of that, Tracer wasn’t making a trip, so Pharah would have had to buy her own plane ticket, and that would have been very silly for one insignificant day on the calendar that said nothing about their love. She had told Pharah it meant nothing, that she would see her soon, and she understood how important Helix’s work was.

But it would have been their first, and Mercy looked over at the couple across from her, canoodling, and wished that she was here, wishing she could take Pharah to the restaurant she’d been saving for this day, the fine food and romantic low light.

She got off the train and wandered back to her apartment, stopping at her favorite Chinese place along the way for a giant carton of noodles and a bottle of wine, procured at the liquor store, trying to ignore the red cellophane wrapping of the champagne bottles.

Mercy had spent the bulk of her life alone, and yet she had rarely ever felt as lonely as she did right in this moment. Loneliness, she thought, was not so much in being alone but in knowing the shape of the hole inside you, and not being able to fill it.

She unlocked the small door at the back of the house, divided into an apartment  long ago. She had never thought of her apartment as sad, though it was a small afterthought to the rest of the house–one tiny bedroom, a scattered closet here and there, a little alcove that functioned as a kitchen, inasmuch as Mercy ever needed one. Windows that skirted the line of legality brought faint strains of rapidly fading light into the living room, with her mismatched furniture all purchased from Craigslist the week she moved in looking shabby in the long grey shadows.

Mercy shook her head. She was being childish. She was a grown woman, a doctor, a professor at Harvard Medical, for God’s sake, and here she was, pining over her girlfriend because of some words on a calendar. If she was lonely, she should do something to make herself less lonely. Mercy determined her own future, didn’t she? Winston would be alone, too, with Tracer not visiting, and maybe she would take her bottle of wine and her noodles and head over there, or they could order a pizza. She had a fascinating new journal to show him, and she had an idea for an article for them to collaborate on, the biological and technological effects of being unpinned from time. They’d have to ask Tracer’s permission, of course, there would be no way of keeping her anonymous, but Tracer was generally very good-natured about her condition–Yes, Mercy thought, I’ll do that.

She dialed Winston on the video phone, looking at the cool grey of the wait screen, the alert ringing again and again, until Winston’s face popped onscreen.

“Hello, this is Dr. Winston–”

“Winston! I think we are both fin–”

“I will be in London, England, from February 12th to February–”

Mercy shut off the phone. Of course he was in London. If Tracer didn’t come to him, he would go to her.

But if Helix had to work, why is Lena not working? Maybe it’s just that Fareeha was not interested in coming to be with you. That’s all.

The thought haunted Mercy. Maybe Pharah was tired of her, maybe she was tired of the distance, maybe being with Mercy was just too much work. Pharah was so wonderful, Mercy could only imagine that it would be nothing for her to find someone else, someone beautiful and witty and not the kind of person who sat alone in her apartment with a book and a box of noodles.

She changed in the living room, not even caring that she was just tossing her clothes to the side, and threw on her slouchy t-shirt from her staff orientation and a pair of flannel pants, sweeping her hair into a messy topknot as she plopped into her favorite chair, worn and ugly and terribly comfortable.

Pharah didn’t want to spend it with her. Why would she, Pharah was so collected and together and Valentine’s Day was so silly and so fake and Pharah was beyond all of that. It was foolish of her to have been dreaming of a candlelit dinner, of flowers and a box of chocolates and all those trappings that Pharah would have been much too practical for.

She burned with shame, remembering the flowery and goopy card she had sent Pharah, imagining how childish she would find it, how she would look at the scarf Mercy had knit while watching a lecture series from Zurich and wonder if she were dating a 12 year old.

“ANG!” Tracer’s voice burst through the living room as the video phone lit up, “ANGIIIIEEEEEEEE ZIEGLEEERRRRR!”

Tracer must be having a very festive Valentine’s Day.

She thought about rejecting the call, about sticking to her noodles and her book.

“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, LOVE!”

“Lena, you don’t know that.” Winston’s measured rumbling softness came over the speaker.

“I do, though. Where the bloody ‘ell else would she be, WIn, she doesn’t properly go anywh–oh God she can ‘ear me, I LOVE YOU ANG!”

Mercy laughed, in spite of herself, and for a moment she felt the gloom lift as she hit the accept button across the room.

Tracer scowled at Winston. “I TOLD you,” she grinned brightly and waved, nearly knocking over her drink in the process. “Hi Ang!!! ‘Appy Valentine’s Day!” She gave Winston a hug, and Mercy felt the sad melancholy of loneliness return.

Tracer and Winston would never, as long as the other was alive, truly know what it was to be lonely. They would always love each other, they would always have each other, they would always have a Valentine, even if it was a Palentine.

They would never know what it was to be her. She was lucky enough they thought to call.

Tracer rubbed the corduroy of her pants and smiled happily. “Been out and about tonight, a bit, though all we ended up coming ‘ome with was each other,” she laughed brightly and ran her hand through her hair, rocking back on the edge of the couch a little too far, Winston placing a hand behind her back and pushing her up, “Think I’m a bit pissed, truth be known.”

Winston chuckled. “It’s a possibility.”

Tracer laughed again, barreling into Winston’s shoulder and bouncing back just as quickly, delighted with the mere fact of her own existence in this moment.

It would be catching, if it didn’t remind Mercy of how quiet and still her own apartment was.

“Any’ow, just wanted to say, ‘ello, and wish you well, didn’t mean to bother you, I mean, I did, I rang you, but only for a bit, I don’t think that’s too much–”

“Lena.” Winston shook his head.

“Wait,” Mercy looked at the two of them, “Lena, if you would not mind…”

Tracer’s face grew serious. “What is it, love?”

“Why did you not have to work? For Helix? Fareeha…” She shrugged.

Tracer jumped forward, nearly shoving the camera in the process. “Oh Ang, I don’t properly work for ‘elix, I’m a…consultant, rather, is all, you must ‘ave a bit of faith in Fareeha, she’s a commander and all that, she gets all the bleeding knobs in ‘er office morning, noon and night, doesn’t she? Don’t feel as if, you know in fact—” she considered a moment. “Trust ‘er, is all. We ought to be off, Ang. Don’t fret about it.”

Mercy nodded. “Of course. Happy Valentine’s Day, to you both.”

They waved her goodbye, and the room was quiet once more, filled with the sounds of nothing and no one, and Mercy popped open the bottle of wine, pouring it into a mug declaring her to be ‘#1 Doctor’ and sipping it as her perched in her chair. She wasn’t even interested in the noodles anymore.Tracer was many things, but she was not given to lie, and if she thought Pharah was trustworthy on this, she must reasonably believe it was true.

But Tracer also had a tendency to believe the best of people, even if it wasn’t quite deserved.

She barely read her book, sitting and thinking and trying not to think, and she wasn’t sure how long it had been when the video phone rang again.

Pharah.

A sudden panic ran through her, as she looked down at her sloppy t-shirt, that she had also managed to get a spot of red wine on, and felt up at the unkempt topknot on her head. She thought about dashing to the bedroom, putting on something more attractive, but then she would miss Pharah’s call. She froze in panic, not knowing what to do, until, quite against her own will, she hit the accept button.

“Angela.” Pharah sat at a table, candles lit in front of her, a linen cloth and a bouquet out in front of her, and there was a knock at the door.

“I–”

“No, please. Go answer.” She motioned gently.

Mercy got up and walked to the door, not knowing what to expect, only to find a man holding a bag out in front of him.

“Dr. Angela Ziegler?” He looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe it.

She nodded wordlessly, and he put the bag into her hands. “It’s paid for. You have a nice night, ma’am.”

She closed the door behind her, and went back into the living room where Pharah waited on the screen. Mercy allowed herself a moment to really look at her. It must be 3 am in Egypt, but her hair was smooth and styled, a blue suit jacket on over a black button up shirt, looking for all the world as if she was not as tired as she must be.

And wearing Mercy’s handknit scarf. 

Pharah nodded. “I hope you will excuse the presumption of ordering for you.” She fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “I wished for this to be a surprise. I wished–I wished to have dinner, with you, for Valentine’s Day.”

Mercy took the meal out of the bag, a lovely pasta dish very much like the things Mercy ordered every time they went out together, because of course she knew. Of course she paid attention.

She wiped a tear from her eye. “I am sorry I look such–”

“You are beautiful as you are. You are,” she nodded, looking at Mercy, “Always beautiful.”

“Fareeha…”

“I will give you a better Valentine’s, someday. This is my promise to you.” 

Mercy shook her head. “This is the best Valentine’s I will have ever had.” She gave a tearful laugh. “I have been wanting to tell you the silliest story, about Tracer, and how she is able to be coming over so often. You will laugh at me.” 

Pharah leaned in, listening intently, and Mercy felt the ghosts of loneliness dissipate into the night, the light of a streetlight piercing through the dark. 

[ultra-maha-us]

How to Make Customized Candle Gifts From Normal Candles

If you are buying a enjoyment gift to produce for any special occasion, then personalized candle creating might be anything you wish to consider. There are many methods to produce personalized candles, depending on how enough time and income you are prepared to spend. With somewhat more time and work, you can make a personalized candle out of a normally common candle gift that the happy individual can love.

1. The easiest way to create a personalized candle is obtain a usual candle at your local candle store. Actually normal shops like Walmart sometimes have candles for sale. Candles come in all forms and shapes, but almost any candle may be personalized.

2. Anything smaller when compared to a tea gentle is likely to be difficult to personalize. For tea gentle candles, you can generally purchase a large case for a minimal price. These candles are great as favors for guests at a marriage or baby shower. The easiest way to customize is to utilize sometimes an artwork plan on your computer or a word processor. We'll stick to the Word processor since it is easier. First, pull a circle the same measurements while the cover on the tea gentle, or even better make use of a circular label sheet. Then select a wonderful font, like cursive script or Corsiva. You can enter then names and time of the function in to the circle. Print out a sample on plain report to make sure the appearance and measurement is right. When you have the specified result, you can printing your tea gentle label stickers. Eventually, apply the label onto the top of the tea light.

3. For container candles, you can create a square-shaped personalized label. Since you have significantly more region to utilize, you can acquire free graphics from the Internet. Search the web for "free clipart" and acquire the photos you want. Yet again printing out a sample on plain report and then printing the label. If there isn't a shade printer, you can go to a regional copier and they are able to make a great label for you. Stick the label on the jar. So you have developed a unusual gift personalized just for that unique person.

4. For large pillar candles, you can get these engraved at an engraving shop (look in the phone book below engravers). The artwork and text may come in various colors. If you are imaginative, you can even buy candle-engraving systems online and get it done yourself.

5. How about these 1oz votive candles? For an expert seeking gift, get cellophane bags and shaded ribbon. Wrap the candle in the cello case and tie it down with the ribbon. Then LIMITED EDITION - SURYA UDAY (सूर्य उदय) attach a personalized tag to the ribbon. These candles can be engraved.

6. If you can make candles, then you can find limitless possibilities. You should use various fragrances oils to produce soy candles. You should use embeds for decoration. Dessert cutters and conforms are also helpful for designing the right shape.

In conclusion, you can get a regular store candle and allow it to be a really unique gift with only a bit more effort. Friends and family and loved ones can cherish these presents for a long time to come.