#we are pencil sketching today.. just a little bit…..

[forecast0ctopus]

the biology of vulcans….

[motthe]

hiii !! just read like ,, a BUNCH of ur lumen au stuff ,,,, truly i am brainrotted now because i'm just thinking of so many different scenarios involving the lumens and i am just . EXCITED !!! its SUCHHHH a good concept im a big big sucker for soulmate stuff ,,,,

i was just wondering how you feel about jayvik x reader ,,,, TWO lumens ,,,,,,,, idk if you write for anything poly or not, but id love to hear your thoughts on it !!! either through headcanons or a ficlet, whichever you feel like :]

my first viktor x reader x jayce piece i’ve ever written… wait is this my first poly drabble?? it might be actually! i hope it’s fun to read ♥️

warnings: fem!reader, slight negative feelings of not being good enough, but overall fluff!!!

The scientific jargon that came with having not one but both of your fated being inventors was overwhelming. The words they tossed around became an entire other language since you’d all gotten closer. It left you feeling unbearably empty-headed, wondering why the universe would bond you to such intelligent men.

They were already changing an entire city with their ideas, and you would bet the world would soon bear their mark as well. In comparison, you were a meager artist making ends meet at festivals and street corners. Sure, maybe your work could be seen on a few shop signs or covering a wall or two in a cafe, but that was as famous as you’d ever be—a stranger to the passing eye.

“We need to widen the cylindrical chamber, maybe add an exhaust pipe to help with the cooldown.”

Jayce’s voice slipped through your head, smooth and confident and making no sense. You’d gotten rather good and tuning out the meat of the conversations, only recognizing the tones and emotions.

The heavy, warm accent of Viktor’s replied, swirling in the back of your mind as your pencil swiped over the heavy parchment against your thighs.

Recently, they’d begun inviting you to their lab to spend your free time in their company. There were two desks to choose from, though they were usually piled high with blueprints or notes. Jayce had moved a couch into the space for your comfort, placed in the corner and under a window, well away from any dangerous work they had their hands on, though they usually took anything too precarious into another portion of the building.

Their assistant, Sky, was in and out, always double-checking if you needed anything. She was a kind young woman, curly hair and glasses and a smile that made anyone feel at home. She brought you your own coffee and snacks, promising it was no trouble since she was already bringing them to Viktor and Jayce, anyway.

“You actually eat them,” she chuckled. “Jayce will if he notices they’re there, but it’s a long shot most days.”

You understood what she meant, seeing how focused the men became on their gadgets and studies. You’re sure if you got up and left they wouldn’t notice for a good, long while.

Today was one of those days, though there was peace in your private little corner as you sketched away. You squinted over the top of your sketchbook, skimming the outline of Viktor’s goggles pressed into his thick, winding hair and quickly adding the little licks of tresses to the paper before he was moving again.

You switched targets, taking in Jayce’s side profile and adding a bit more depth to his eyebrow and under eye.

Taking a moment to look between both drawings, you were hit with their beauty once more.

Jayce was deemed the academy’s “pretty boy,” with his strong jaw and perfect smile. He was a clean cut handsome, peak health and built with broad shoulders. He knew how to use those looks to his advantage.

On the other end was Viktor. He was a haunting beauty, sleek and angular. If he had the same charisma with speaking to the masses as Jayce did, that accent would gain him more than a fair share of admirers, but his confidence and skills lied elsewhere. He had a sharp eye and wore his emotions rather loudly on his face.

Where Jayce had faint lines from how much he smiled, Viktor had a feather soft crease between his brows from how often he furrowed them. Where the golden boy’s hands were always warm, his partner’s was cold. They made such gorgeous opposites, yet they held so many comparisons in mannerisms when it came to their shared hobbies and passions.

It was safe to say you adored them and their intricacies.

Taking a slow, deep breath you checked both shoulders before moving the tuft of black in your periphery into your hand. Gold shimmered between the dark mass that made up Jayce’s lumen, settling deeper into your palm as you raised your arms and stretched.

When you moved your drawing pad to the side, you spotted Viktor’s wedged between the apex of your thighs. Swallowing your gasp, you scooped it up, praying it hadn’t been smushed the entire time.

“When did you get there?” you whispered, rubbing your pointer finger into the tawny fuzz of his light. His lumen had always had a bit more give to it, leaving it to wedge itself under your leg or your shirt collar. Viktor’s preferred to be as close as possible to you, even if it left his lumen squished.

Jayce’s lumen was firmer, still soft but in a velveteen sort of sensation. It was bigger, taking up a good portion of your palm. Now your second month with it, you’d learned if it wasn’t on one of your shoulders, it was likely circling your head. His never went far either.

You wondered if you’d received Jayce’s lumen first, if it would have more of an attachment to you. As it stood, you’d had Viktor’s since you were young while he’d held Jayce’s and Jayce yours. The three of you being tied together had become quite the story as there went many outward poly fateds in Piltover, but luckily the gawking had passed after the first handful of weeks.

It was only a few days ago that Viktor confessed he’d been rather confused when he’d met Jayce and the lumens had flashed against one another.

“There were no similarities,” he’d explained, holding up one long, thin finger for your lumen to rest on as it hovered in front of him. The three of you were cozied up in your lackluster apartment—a studio more than a bedroom but it had a nice pullout couch and plenty of blankets to rest on in front of your heater. “Jayce was ecstatic, of course, but I was ruminating over your lumen when we first met.”

“I thought he hated me,” Jayce had murmured, breath warm against your ear as you laughed.

“I did not hate you,” huffed Viktor on your other side, rolling his eyes as he dropped his hand, your lumen resting within. “I wasn’t aware we had a third, yet—it was puzzling.”

“I had to explain it to him,” Jayce chuckled. “One of my old friends was in a poly.”

“And, then, he was even more ecstatic,” Viktor sighed but there was affection in it. “I thought you’d follow him home some nights.”

“And leave you all by yourself?” You laid your head on his shoulder, grinning as his eyes fled. It was still so early into the relationship, and he grew flustered with physical affection whereas Jayce sought it every chance. “I’d never.”

“It’s better now, we’re all together,” Jayce hummed, lowering to lay his head in your lap. You brushed your hand through his hair, smiling as his lumen lit up in Viktor’s lap.

“Yes,” Viktor had agreed, careful as he laid his head against yours. “It all feels…complete.”

Your chest warmed at the memory as you held both of their lumens in your hands, giving a fleeting kiss to each. Viktor’s snuggled happily into your palm while Jayce’s pulsed a happy gold before flying off, likely to check in with Viktor.

As your eyes lifted to follow its journey, you jumped when you found Jayce smiling from a few feet away by his desk. He seemed to be shuffling through some papers. Your lumen floated just nice his head, twinkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows behind you.

“Didn’t see you there,” you said, stretching your legs out before standing. Viktor’s lumen left your hand, keeping close to your neck.

“I hope you’re not bored.” He opened an arm up and you approached. You still grew giddy with any chance to be wrapped in his embrace, quick to accept the invitation.

“I like spending time here with you both,” you assured, giggling as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “Gives me plenty of practice.”

His eyes lit up, one of those dark eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”

“I know what you’re about to ask—”

“Please?” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist. “I wanna see.”

“They’re just rough sketches!” you laughed, pushing against his chest.

“C’mon, I bet they’re great! I’m sure Viktor wants to see them, too.”

You shook your head, a mess of giggles as he wrapped both arms around you and slowly edged his way towards the couch.

“Did someone call my name?” asked Viktor, turning from the machine he was working on. A torch was in his hand but luckily still off for the time being. Jayce’s lumen was sitting on his knee.

“Viktor tell her you want to see her art!” Jayce goaded.

“Tell him he needs to wait for a real piece,” you threw back, wrinkling your nose at him as he stuck his tongue out.

“You’ve been drawing us?” Viktor’s voice seeped with awe and innocent curiosity. “May we see?”

Jayce bounced his eyebrows at you, all too smug. “Told you.”

“Fine—fine!” you sighed, throwing your hands up and wiggling out of his hold as you went to grab your canvas notebook. “Don’t gripe when you see your half-finished faces.”

The tap of Viktor’s crutch intermingled with Jayce’s footsteps as they met you by the couch. As you handed over your work, Viktor was the one to accept it as Jace stood over him. Both their eyes went wide at the current page and your hand went straight to your arm as you shuffled in place.

“Those are just warmups, so…”

“Warmups?” Jayce breathed, looking up from the notebook. “These are amazing!”

“I have to agree, the detail is astounding,” Viktor hummed, looking to turn back a page. He caught your eyes before he did. “Is this all right? Tell us if we’re overstepping.”

“No, it’s okay! I’m used to people watching me draw on the street, it’s just… I don’t know.” You shrugged, bringing a hand up as Viktor’s lumen rubbed against your neck. Jayce’s was just settling on your shoulder again. “I care about what you guys think. It’s not anything big like you do, but…”

“Big?” Jayce echoed, both of their sights set on you.

“Well, it’s not as important as what you both do is what I mean.”

“Of course it’s important,” Viktor argued, expression stern.

“But it’s art!” you laughed, waving off the sudden seriousness growing from them. “It’s helping a bunch of people like your creations do. That’s much more important.”

“Art is just as, if not more, important,” he continued, passing the notebook to Jayce. “We are helping people in different ways, but do not do yourself the disservice and think what you create is anything less than what we do.”

“He’s right,” Jayce agreed, holding up your work. “This? This speaks to people. Your work can bring life to a room and lets people save a special moment in time.”

“Okay, don’t butter me up so much or I’ll melt!” you squeaked, too embarrassed to look at them as they chuckled and continued flipping through your sketches. It wasn’t long before the three of you were on the couch, both of them pointing out their favorites.

“Is my hair truly that messy?” Viktor grumbled, raising a hand to it. “Perhaps I should cut it.”

“No, I like it,” you said, grabbing his wrist. “You twirl it when you’re thinking! It’s so sweet.”

He blinked at you. “I do?”

Jayce whistled and you turned and gasped, completely forgetting the drawing you’d done of him in the forge. It was more from memory so your imagination had left it a bit more detailed than the rest.

“Okay, that’s enough!”

You swiped for the book, shutting it as Jayce laughed. Viktor rolled his eyes, smirking as he nudged your shoulder.

“Should I be worried of any scandalous pieces of me in there?”

You pouted, holding the notebook tighter to your chest.

“Oh?” Jayce breathed. “She didn’t say no!”

“You two are the worst!” you groaned, unable to help yourself from smiling as they both laughed in tandem.

[bigmacari]

Hi!!

Can I request a romantic oneshot/ request (choose whatever you like) for Donnie 2012 where the reader who never showed their abilities suddenly showed themself to be incredibly smart one day. Like, how will Donnie react to the fact that his s/o turns out to be much smarter than him? the reader does the things that take Donnie hours to do (like writing code or drawing a blueprint) in a couple of minutes… will he be suspicious of them, or maybe fall in love even more… or maybe even get jealous

No pressure at all, of course! If this doesn’t inspire you, that’s totally okay! But if that’s the case, could you please let me know?

Hope you’re doing well, and thank you so much for your work 🫶🫶♥️

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹𓆉

2012! Donnie x Reader

☆Donnie finds out that his S/O is secretly smart.

☆Warning(s) None

☆AuthorNote(s) Ahhh, you are so sweet! I'm hoping you're doing good as well. Please excuse my writing of smart people as I'm pretty average brained lmao. Sorry if it's a bit short. I hope you enjoy! ❤❤

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹𓆉

It's late, later than it should be and Donnie doesn't even realize it. His brothers are fast asleep and the only light in the lair is coming from the lab. Where you are sitting on a stool, half asleep, with your hand supporting your head.

Donnie was currently working some blueprints for the Shellraiser. After various injuries to the vehicle, he finally decided some defense upgrades were needed. Donnie needs to find out a way to still keep the speed of the Shellraiser while increasing the overall armor of it. This would be easy, if most of the material he uses wasn't from the dumpster.

They don't usually have high grade titanium you know?

Which leads to now, with Donnie glaring at a piece of paper, twirling a mechanical pencil in his hand. He let's out a deep exhale and crumbles up the paper, throwing it behind his shoulder. This action was loud enough to snap you put of your sleep dazed state, and make you look up at him.

He watches you sit up and stretch your arms behind your back. Your back pops a few times, making you let out a small noise of contentment.

"Your still working on the blueprints?" You say, clearing your throat of the thickness built up from dozing off.

Donnies face cringes a little hearing the tiredness in your voice, "Yea... BUT I think I'm getting somewhere! I just need a few more hours."

Your shoulders fall a bit, face crestfallen. Honesty, you really just want to go to bed with your turtle boyfriend. Between school and the missions, you haven't been able to spend the night or hangout much.

And the particular mission today wore everyone out, including you. There was quite a lot of Krang in the area and the boys were trying to figure out why. This eventually led to you getting roped into it, as the turtles got overwhelmed and needed help. You all got out of it unharmed, destroying the Krangs plain once again. In the end, all there was left was scraps.

...

"Hey Don? Hand me a piece of paper would you?"

Donnie raises an eyebrow but complies, sliding the paper to where you are sitting. He watches as you pick up a pencil that was laying next to you, and start scribbling something down. Wanting to see, he strains his neck to look at what your doing.

Within minutes, a sketch comes to life, it looks like the Shellraiser but with a couple added parts to it and little diagrams with arrows surrounding it.

"What-" Donnie begins, but you cut him off with a hushed 'hold on!'

Another minute passes and you drop the pencil, pick up the paper and look at with your arms stretch in front of you. With a nod, you slide the paper back to him with a grin. He picks it up and scans it. Then his face drops in surprise, showing the gab in his teeth.

"The krang have a bunch of otherworldly technology right?" You begin, " We've had to blow up some of the machines they've built to destroy them. So why don't we add some of that material to the Shellraiser?"

Donnie looks up at you, then down at the paper, then back to you again. "Thats...Why didn't I think of that earlier! This is perfect. Of course we'll have to be careful not to alert the Krang when taking the parts but we could use it for so many things!"

Well, he might not go to bed for another couple hours now that you introduced to so many possibilities, but at least he's back to his inspired self.

･ﾟ:*࿔❀𓆉︎❀ ࿔*:･ﾟ

☆ At first he's way to fascinated with the ideas you've presented to really think about the fact that your smart as hell.

☆ When he calms down a bit though, he just like, 'wait how'd you do that' and starts asking questions. I mean, he didn't think you were dumb or anything, just not THIS smart.

☆Donnies definitely gets jealous sometimes. But only because he's insecure that he's not useful outside of his scientific work. If he's not good at that, what does he have?

☆ 'I could've figured that out!' Goes to 'Why didn't I figure that out...' pretty fast.

☆If you ask to work in the lab with him, he'll definitely try to mansplain stuff you already know. Which just ends up making him look a little stupid. Cause like, you already drew up the blueprint or built the invention by the time he's done.

☆After he gets over himself, he starts to enjoy you working in the lab with him. You slowly start opening up new ideas for him and lessening the work load. Which makes it so you guys can spend more time together.

☆Whenever he gets discouraged, Donnie asks for your help. Soon, he finds that having two perspectives helps when thinking about problems. Which should be common sense, but he's not use to working with someone and has a ' I can do it by myself' mentality.

☆This grows your relationship quite a lot. Donnie admires your smartness and creativity, which makes him fall for you even more.

☆Sometimes you'll catch Donnie staring at you with a starstruck look on his face when you get excited about science and inventing. When its late, you two will take turns making coffee to be sure your both awake to finish a big project. Most nights, you both will end up on the couch in his lab, asleep and cuddling eachother close.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･₊ ⊹𓆉

[hannahssimblr]

May. 

The sun’s hot on the window. It beams into the centre, onto the side of my face. The birds must be singing—making a racket in the trees, the leaves of which I can only see the impression of, blurred through patterned glass. I lift one side of my headset to hear them, but any sound of burgeoning summer is drowned out by the cacophony of voices and the clacking of a dozen keyboards.

The call connects with a soft chime, and I straighten up.

“Good afternoon. You’re through to support. My name is Jude. How can I help you?” 

“Okay, where the fuck is my iPhone?”

Feel a thin smile on my lips. I will have quit this job by next week. 

“I understand that’s really frustrating. Let me take a look for you.”

The man—surely all head and no neck by the sound of his voice—barks me through the sequence of digits that is his order number, while I stare at the Freundlichkeit ist oberstes Gebot im Kundenkontakt sign pinned to the cubicle above my computer. Friendliness is the top priority in customer interaction. Feel a bit indignant looking at it—the one-sidedness of it. Like a little peasant, I rattle obliging phrases down the phone at this man who, according to my personal rules outside this place, is not allowed to speak to me like this. 

On this phone, however, he can say whatever he wants. 

“So it’s lost then?” he snarls once I’ve pulled up his order. “Who lost it? Who the fuck lost my phone?”

Take a breath. “I completely understand your frustration. I will raise a ticket with our logistics team to investigate, and if it has been confirmed missing, we will send a replacement or issue a refund. Whichever you prefer.”

“I’d prefer to have my iPhone now, like I was supposed to.”

“Thanks. Your feedback helps us improve. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

He hangs up. 

I take my headset off and pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. I forgot to use his name on the call. The team lead flagged me for that last week, saying customers like to feel human, as though the entire system wasn’t designed to the contrary. 

Thirty seconds of reprieve before the next call hits. Just enough time to remember I’m a person.

Slide my phone from my pocket, and the home screen reveals one new message. 

Evie. 

Eagerly awaiting your lunch update, pls.  Trying a bubble tea atm. Tastes like nothing. 

A picture of her cup against the backdrop of South William Street. Red brick buildings. Cracking sun. It makes me feel depressed. Forty-three minutes until I’m allowed to access my sad sandwich in the company fridge. I’ll spare her a picture.

Start to type something back. 

Grim. Always thought those looked good, in a kind of freaky frogspawn way tbh. There’s a place–

Chime. A call connects. 

Phone back in the pocket. Headset back on. 

“Good afternoon. You’re through to support. My name is Jude. How can I help you?” 

In the evening, after escaping the call center, I sit with Astrid outside a bar in Mitte. Her long, bare legs are stretched out in the golden light. The garlic-slick remains of her prawn tapas sit in a dish on the table, and I, pencil to paper, sketch, for the hundredth time, a diagram of a clay sculpture. 

“You’re allowed to stop working,” she drawls, following several minutes of silence. “It is possible to enjoy a Friday evening if you put your mind to it.”

“Mm, I know,” paw for my glass of wine and drink some without looking up from the page. “Just with everything... the job’s killing me this week. Can’t wait for next week when I can finally… you know, quit.”

“Well, not everything you deliver has to be perfect. Your assignments don’t matter so much in second year.”

“I’d rather have something to show at the end of the semester. You see where I’m coming from?” I gesture to the page, the drawing of a head, my head maybe, though it will probably be a decision based on time once I get into the sculpture studio. 

She sighs, heavy and hassled, and adjusts her sunglasses on her nose. “If a genie granted me one wish, it would be that you could just relax and enjoy your life.”

“Thanks, that’s nice,” I say, not knowing whether she intended it to be or not. Too busy to care. 

A mask, I think. Yes, the head should have a mask on it. Kind of halfway off. Scrawl a note to find a book about that in the university library on Monday. 

“There she is,” Astrid says, no excitement in her voice, and I look up as Mia crosses the plaza. Jeans and a t-shirt, hair sticking out from her ponytail in a halo of frizz, and a blush from the vigour of her walk across her cheeks and nose. Same flat expression she wore at Christmas.

Astrid doesn’t stand to greet her, but cocks her head to the side, peering up at her sister through her shades. “Hello,” she says. “How are you?”

“Fine,” says Mia. “I like your top.” 

Astrid just smiles. Shows no teeth. 

To me, then: “Hello, Jude.”

I tuck my sketchbook onto my lap and gesture towards the empty seat. “Hey, good to see you again. Sit down. Do you want to look at the wine menu?”

“Ah,” she slumps into the chair, brushes bits of her hair away from her forehead. “No, I’m not drinking alcohol. Not before performing.” Takes the menu anyway, perusing it while Astrid swishes pinot noir around her glass. 

“And the rehearsals?” She says. “They were fine?”

“Yes, they went well,” Mia flips to the cocktail page. “I’ve been finding Rachmaninoff emotionally consuming. It’s probably the most demanding concerto I have had to perform, so I’m feeling tired.”

Astrid nods. 

“What about it is so demanding?” I say, and hope their perception of my intelligence isn’t hinging on my knowledge of Rachmaninoff and his concertos, or whatever. “Is it like, you know, long, or something?”

“Mm, thirty minutes, approximately. It’s more about the endurance needed.”

“Right, right.”

She peers at me. “You’re coming to the concert?”

“Tomorrow, yeah. With my mom and sister. They’re actually flying in tomorrow morning, so yeah. They’re excited. My sister mostly, but my mom too. She sort of has an idea of the kind of person who listens to classical music and likes to play the part. If you know what I mean.” 

Mia nods. “Yes, I do.”

Wipe my hands on the sides of my jeans. “Hey, did you mean it, what you said at Christmas? About letting Ivy backstage and stuff? No pressure if you can’t, but I did want to ask.”

She hesitates. “I–”

“Oh, Mia is too busy for that,” Astrid says quickly. “Already going through so many long rehearsals, and then bringing a child around? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Mia looks at her but says nothing. Heat crawls up my cheeks and into my forehead. “Okay, well, Ivy is not just some random kid. She’s my sister.”

Astrid shrugs. “Yes, but it’s a professional concert, and she’s still a child.”

“She’s a really great person.”

She just sips her drink.

I adjust my chair. “Well, I’m meeting them tomorrow at their hotel. They got one near the concert hall. It’s their first time in Berlin, so… we’ll make a day of it. Ivy’s apparently been listening to the concert programme on YouTube non-stop. She’s like, obsessed with the music.”

Nobody says anything. 

“Glad we’re all excited,” I mutter. 

Mia glances up. “I’m glad she’s coming.”

I’m not sure if she means it, or if she’s just being polite. Regardless, the conversation moves on. Something about a person they both know, or knew, and I turn my sketchbook over in my lap. Stare at the unfinished face. Mine or not mine. The mask sits crookedly on his brow. 

I scribble over it and close the page.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[bruisedboys]

HI MAL <3 congrats on 6k

could i please request a gingerbread house with peeta and the prompt “ you feel like home to me” from the first list i believe? tysm congrats again and happy holidays!!!!!!

I feel the need to explain myself .. this request and blurb are from a year and a half ago oops. so sorry lovely requester, ily and enjoy this 15 month old blurb x

peeta mellark x fem!reader

Peeta bakes you something new every week. An old scone recipe from a family cookbook, a half remembered cherry pie from when he was a kid, cheese buns that he used to make batches and batches of to make a living when he was younger. You love everything he makes. You love tasting those little bits of his younger years, getting to know his parents through their recipes and the things they used to make. You know he doesn’t want to talk about them much, but you think it’s his way of remembering. And you’re so, so happy he wants to share that with you.

Today he’s made a sourdough loaf as big as your head. It’s really, really good. You sit on the porch with him and slather soft butter over huge slices of it. You make tea and he brings his sketchbook and you sit in your lovely, small, peaceful corner of the world, limbs heavy with the warmth of the day.

You don’t know what brings your question on. You suppose it makes you sad that Peeta doesn’t talk much about how he used to live. You don’t want to press. You just want to know, so you can know and love him anyway.

“Do you ever think about home?” You ask him, over the old, worn novel you’re reading. You’re borrowing it from Annie, who’s had it since she was a little girl. It’s wonderful.

Peeta looks up at you from his sketchbook. You wonder what he’s drawing. Most likely a portrait of you. Most of his books are full of them — you laughing in the kitchen, your hands holding a bunch of your favourite flowers, your smile, the freckles scattered on your back, your eyes and how they look in the sun.

“What do you mean?” He asks you.

“I mean, home. Like, District Twelve,” you explain. “How we used to live?”

Peeta gets a thoughtful look on his face. He turns back to his book and sketches for a few more moments before shrugging. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess.”

“When you make your mother’s recipes?”

“Yeah. And when I feed the pigs the way my father taught me. When I see the weeds in garden that used to grow on our farm.”

You hum. You’d guessed enough. Still, “Do you ever miss it?”

Peeta puts his pencil down and looks at you. He’s really quite handsome. You feel stunned by it suddenly, and not for the first time. Sandy golden hair, pretty eyes, broad shoulders. You feel like you were made to love him.

“No, not really,” he tells you. “I miss my family, but never really my home.” He reaches out across your shared table, picks up your hand in one of his. His fingers have been calloused by time and roughened by pain. Still, he’s never anything but achingly gentle with you. He pressed his thumb to your wrist and looks at you with those lovely, kind eyes. “You feel like home to me.”

What a striking thing to say. You sit and look at your joined hands, wondering if you might cry. You could. You feel so in love with him it makes your chest ache.

“Really?” You ask softly.

Peeta smiles at you, all things soft. It never fails to surprise you how someone so kind could emerge, scathed but kind all the same, from such a cruel place.

“Of course. Wherever you are is home, you know?”

You do know. You feel the same for him, though you could never put it so sweetly. You’re not good with words, you never have been. You don’t have to be either, not when you’ve got Peeta.

You nod. “Yeah. I know.”

Peeta’s smile grows. His takes your hand and presses it to his smile. Heat prickles along your skin like burning stars, his kiss like a flame. “I’m glad, sweetheart. Do you like the bread? We should take some to Katniss, don’t you think?”

And there he goes again, with his heart of gold. You don’t think you could possibly love him more.

[bullet-prooflove]

Summer School: Daniel LaRusso x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kiwiwatermelonsuger @sadgenderfluidmaniac @junghwansy2k 

Daniel meets you because of a summer arts program. Him and Amanda have been divorced over a year and they’ve been trying to figure out a way to prise Anthony away from his screen. It’s gotten worse since the split, his son has retreated entirely into the world of video games.  

Daniel can’t help but feel responsible for that. He was the one that told Amanda he was unhappy, the one that made her realise that she was unhappy too. In the beginning he thought maybe if he’d kept his mouth shut they could have persevered but time has given him clarity, they were friends more than lovers and Daniel, he wants passion, he wants romance. He deserves that and so does Amanda.

It's Amanda that finds the program, it allows students to try out different art forms over a six week period. Painting, pottery, metal work. Anthony protests at first but they present a united front, if he doesn’t attend he spends the entire summer without any screen time at all.

The first week Anthony complains relentlessly. Painting is very much not his thing and Daniel happens to agree, he’s all for self-expression but Anthony’s work, it’s beyond terrible.

The same goes for pottery, he comes home with a bowl that’s slanted to one side with weird, wonky edges. Daniel takes it into work and uses it to hold his paperclips.

By the time week three rolls around Daniel expects more of the same, he’s used to Anthony’s sullen moods, he’s been sulking ever since summer school started. Today however when he gets into Daniel’s car, it’s the most animated he’s seen him in years. His eyes are bright, he’s excited. He shows Daniel the motorcycle he’s made out of nuts bolts and wrenches and he’s completely blown away.

“Jak’s been giving me tips on making my own designs.” He tells his father proudly. “We need to hit the art supply store so I can get a sketch book and some pencils.”

That night Daniel calls Amanda after dinner.

“It’s like he’s a completely different kid. I don’t know who this Jak guy is but he’s worked wonders on him. He hasn’t looked at a screen all night.” He tells her as he watches Anthony sketching out design ideas on the kitchen table. “I feel like we should be gifting him a car.”

“Maybe we go smaller.” She says thoughtfully. “Start with some beers from that microbrewery you like. We don’t wanna scare him off by coming on a little too strong.”

“Yea I think I have a six pack somewhere, I’ll drop it off tomorrow morning.” Daniel murmurs, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “I’ll ask if he does classes outside of the summer school. I’d like to keep the momentum going.”

He drops Anthony off a little early the next morning so he can pop in and meet the man who has managed to engage his son. He has the six pack of mixed microbrews tucked under his arm when he raps his knuckles on the door and pokes his head inside.

“Hey, I’m looking for Jak.” He says to the woman sorting through the cardboard box of random metal bits and pieces.

“You’ve found her.” You say looking up from your task.

“You’re Jak?” He asks, his dark eyebrows raising as he drinks you in.

You are the furthest thing from metalwork artist that he ever expected. You’re breathtaking for starters, he means that literally, the oxygen catches in his throat when he looks at you.

“You were expecting a man.” You say in an amused tone before gesturing towards the box of beers. “Starting a little early.”

“Ah no.” Daniel says his cheeks colouring just a little as he sets them on the desk beside him. “They’re for you, a thank you for the work you’re doing with Anthony. It’s the first time I’ve seen him engaged with anything other than a video game since the divorce.”

He watches as you approach, his mouth going dry. There’s a sensuality to your movements, a gracefulness and it sends heat flushing through Daniel as he watches your fingertips caress the glass of each of the bottles as you study the flavours.

“A nice variation.” You say before slotting them back in the cardboard. “You’ve picked some of my favourites Mr LaRusso.”

“Danny.” He asserts and the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile.

Something blossoms in his chest and it feels like he’s seeing the sun rise for the very first time. This is what he was missing with Amanda, this passion, this fire.

“Ok Danny.” You say and he loves the way his name rolls off his lips. “What can I help you with?”

“I wanted to know if you do sessions like this after the summer? Anthony, he’s really excited about working with you. My ex-wife and I would really like to keep the momentum going if we can, make sure he has a creative outlet.” Danny tells you as you lean back against the desk.

“I run sessions out of my studio in Santa Monica. Each student works on their own project, they start with their own concept and then develop it, I’m there to show them the techniques, help them make it a reality and they take those skills into the next project.” You inform Danny as he settles beside you. Your perfume floods his senses, something floral with citrus notes, it reminds him of the first days of spring. “The stuff we’re learning in class this week is very basic and Anthony has taken to it really well. I think his interest in mechanics and the way things work definitely helps.”

“Mechanics?” Daniel repeats, crossing his arms over his chest. This is the first time he’s hearing anything about Anthony taking after him in that respect.

“Not the traditional concept like cars and engines, I mean more like cause and effect." You explain as you tuck your hands into the pockets of the cobalt blue blazer you’re wearing. “It’s why he’s so interested in games like Minecraft, he likes to see the effect that one thing has on another, kinda like Mousetrap. He’s trying to figure out how to make things move in his sculpture work.”

“I honestly had no idea he was into any of this stuff.” Daniel says rubbing his palm over the back of his neck.

“Kids don’t really share a lot with their parents at this age.” You reassure him before picking up a post it note and scribbling on it. “Why don’t you come by my studio, get a feel for what I do?”

You hand him the post it note and he studies the address, this thumb tracing lightly over the writing.

“I’ll do that.” He tells you as the bell rings, signalling the start of class. "I’ll try to stop by tonight.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sparks-and-smoke]

Chapter 2: Unknown Faces (rewritten)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (refered to as Petal) Word Count: 3240 Summary: After your run in at the museum the two of you start having interesting dreams. This is a soulmate AU, just so we are all aware. Warnings/tropes: smut, oral (male receiving), grief, loss, angst, mental health, conspiracy theories, stalking if you squint. Submissive Steve which is a TW all to himself. Soulmate AU. A/N: I had some things I wanted to add, so enjoy my attempt #2. the next chapter will finally be new. Also, my first attempt at smut. Give me some grace. Beta read by the ever lovely. @voice-of-velhart

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Nothing was worse than a muggy day in Brooklyn. And today was the hottest day of that August. In a time before the modern marvel of climate control with little more then an electric fan to move the stagnant air around the room. It felt like they were drowning, and they were both attempting to push that simple fact to the back of their minds.

Steve sat in their bed with his sketch book in his lap, trying to capture the pigeons that sat on the roof of the building across the alley. If for nothing else then for distraction. Since the record Petal had put on wasn't doing the trick. Besides, he really needed to work on adding motion in his drawings so drawing birds in flight seemed like a good way to spend his time. 

Petal lay across the foot of the bed. Trying to read the novel Honey lent her, but kept sighing from the heat, such a dramatic little thing. Neither one of them was wearing much of anything, Petal in just a slip and Steve in an undershirt and boxers. It was too damn hot to wear anything else. And every time Petal would sigh and roll to try and get comfortable her slip would ride up. It was the most distracting thing in the damn world. 

“Hey Pet. Can you stop? You’re driving me up the wall babydoll.” He shook his head watching her wiggle again.

“It’s hot and the fan isn’t helping.” she whined with a pout. She didn’t have any makeup on. And her smooth delicate skin was glistening in the heat in a way that made Steve’s skin feel too tight. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the book in his lap. 

“I wish I could fix the weather for you, Pet. Believe me I’m not exactly having a gas over here.” 

A few moments pass in comfortable silence, with only Sterling Young and the scratch of his pencil to fill the silence. Petal trying to concentrate on her damn book but who could she when her favorite pass time was lounging on the other side of their bed. She glanced over at Steve. His brows knit together in concentration as he glanced back up at the birds.  He really was so beautiful, the light from the window bathed him in golden glow, highlighting the sharp angles and lithe musculature of his body. He reminded her of Puck, or some other form of eternally youthful fae creature. Built to tempt her with his wiry frame and beautiful eyes. And she couldn’t help it, her man was too pretty. She needed to touch him. 

Setting her book down she crawled up the bed. Her hand sliding up his legs. “Stevie, I am dreadfully bored…” 

Steve bit his lip and tried to focus on getting his shading right, “I’m sorry Pet.” he said offhandedly. Only to hear her sigh, then the gentle press of lips to his hip bone. And a soft hand pushing up his shirt. The pad of her fingers tracing along the lithe lines of his frame. “Petal…” he warned, with no real heat behind the words. "I need to get this done."

“Steven...” she mocks, her voice quiet and airy as her mouth followed her hands. Up, up. Peppering kisses over his rib cage, tongue flickering to the spaces between where she could feel his breath mounting. He sighed through his nose, eyes falling shut as she claimed his full attention. 

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the way her fingertip slid over his skin with gentle reverence. His hand slipped into her curls, grateful for a lack of pins and ribbons as he tugged her head back, looking down into her eyes glittering with mischief. She took her bottom lip between her teeth, the pink cushion of her mouth growing red under the bite and he groaned. Tugging her up to taste that lip himself. 

 'Your gonna be my ruin.”

Petal hummed sliding down along his jaw, lips finding his pulse and sucking on it. His heart picking up in response, like it was answering her call. “Oh hush… I don't think you'll be complaining in a moment."

Steve stared up at the ceiling as if it may give him an ounce of willpower. He found none, instead he found his hands sliding under the nylon of her slip. His breath shuttered as he felt all that soft perfect skin under his palms, his hand flatting agaist the curves of her body that he had long since memorized.

Most days he still couldn’t believe that she was his. That he was the man that had the privilege of holding her hand and keeping her warm at night. Let alone be the person that gets to sink into her body, his name tumbling from her lips when she finds the pleasure she so desperately deserves. Surely letting this goddess house the other half of his soul had been a comic mistake, but the red ink on her collarbone said otherwise. Marked her as this from birth just waiting to claim and be claimed. A piece of himself held apart by flesh and bone that would always seek out his companionship and love. Constantly rumbling back together like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly aligned and made to fit.

He ran the pad of his finger over the letters. S.G.R. Scrawled in a artistic script in blood red ink that mark her as his soulmate. As his birthright. And he thanked god with every breath that she had found him when he hadn't even been trying to look.

“Hmm, no definitely my ruin, my downfall…” he whispers, pulling her slip up over her hips, his hands kneading at the supple flesh he finds with every inch. “I never said I wouldn't accept it."

She smiles, humming in appreciation as he gives in despite the heat, despite being busy. He is always weak to her advances, pretty putty in her hands. And she let him pull the offending garment over her head. Revealing nothing underneath but shimmering skin.

“Good boy,” she whispers and pushes him down. Hands tugging at his shirt to get it off, sliding between his legs to pull off his boxers that are doing nothing to hide how much he loves her attention. “Always so eager, my sweet perfect man…” 

He preens under the praise, trying not to squirm when her breath ghosts over his cock. Steve knows he is none of those things save for eager. But being under her hands, her breath on his skin and sweet voice in his ears it’s the closest he has ever felt to perfection. He can deny her nothing. “Pet.. babydoll I..”

“Is it too warm cause I can-”

“No.” he bucks his hips. He didn't give a damn how warm it was, he needed her too much now. The temperature of the air was nothing compared to the heat in his veins and it flowed southward and away from his brain. “No please.”

He hears her giggle and he can’t help but flush at the way his cock twitches in response to the sound. She had him so fully, and he would give her anything, accept whatever she gave just to be with her like this again and again.

“Yeah I thought so.” She smirks and dips her head down to kiss at his tip, hand messaging over his balls making him groan. His thighs tense as he watches her with a heavy gaze.

Steve can hear the triumph in her voice as she kisses at the base of him, sending electricity down his thighs. She knows she has him so totally wrapped around her finger. All it took was a few littered kisses and he was willing to drop everything. It was always like this with them. From the first moment, he had been willing to walk through fire just to hear her say thank you…

He had never been good at holding still. Not even when told to, and with her mouth so close to him, his body already pent up in the summer air he can’t help the groan and roll of his hips as she plays with him. She grins, a rush of power rolling through her as he shows his first signs of desperation. He always makes her feel this way. Like she is offering him everything and it's all he can do not to thank her for the chance.

“You keep moving like that and I'm gonna have to hold you down. Maybe I'll just sit on you and make you ask for it politely.” she threatens, a flat warm tongue darting out to lick a hot stripe up the bottom of his length. He gasps, hands twisting into the sheets as she teases him. Face twisting in frustration as he wills his lips not to moan, his voice not to beg.

“Whatever you want, Pet.” 

“That's what I like to hear, always so good for me Stevie." she grabs his base giving him a slow stroke, precum pooling on her thumb as she drags it over his tip. Looking up at him through heavy lashes as she sucks the shining slick off her thumb with a hum. Steve’s stomach does a flip, as the air is pushed from his lungs. And he stifles a whimper with a bobbing throat. He knows she can tell how bad he wants this. Needs it now that it's been offered. And he will appease his gorgeous girl however she wants to get her to continue. To bring him the bliss he knows that sugar coated mouth is offering. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Steve sucks air through his teeth, one slender hand flying into the silken strains of her hair wrapping the locks around his fingers as words tumble forth. “I want that luscious mouth on my cock Petal, please. I need that soft heat on me baby. You always look so good down there. You make me feel so good, Pet…”

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delight. “Well since you asked so sweetly…” Her mouth sunk onto him and the sigh of relief he made had her humming as she relaxed her throat and pushed him deeper. 

“Oh f-fuck Pet I...” he gasped as his hips itched to move. But her soft persistent hands held him in place. Her tongue swirling around his tip as she pulled off, only to suck him back in with hollow cheeks. “Oh baby.. Yes yes please just like that.”  

Her hands wander. Pulling him closer to her as his back arches. Flat palms sliding over his hips and spine to hold him close to her. He really was so pretty. Graceful in a way she has never seen in a bigger man, and she adores him. Loves the way he can’t hold still, can't stay quiet, his deep voice telling her how much he loves this. Loves her, with every stroke of her mouth. Every hum of approval from her vibrates through him and takes him higher. 

She gets lost in it, holding her lover to her as she pulled him into her till her nose brushed the bronze curls at his base, “Pet… Petal I’m gonna, baby p-please. I’m gonna. I’m gonna, can I…”

You opened your eyes with a groan, pulling the covers over your head as you woke up before your alarm yet again. This was the third time this week. And just when your dream was getting good. 

You don’t know when you started dreaming about that man. The one with the soft sky blue eyes and crooked smile. You’ve never seen that face before, at least not to your knowledge but it haunted your dreams as of late.

You have read somewhere that the mind can’t make up faces on its own. That's why you always dream about people you know, or celebrities and public figures. Even the unknown faces you see in your dreams are people you’ve rode the train with or passed by at a supermarket. So you must have seen your mystery man at least once in passing but you swear you would have remembered eyes like that. A voice that is deep and smooth…

With a groan in frustration your thighs tingle again. The pressure in your gut surmounting in an uncomfortable feeling you were going to need to fix before going to work. With a sigh you roll over and rifle through your bedside table. Finding your favorite toy and turning it on before closing your eyes and letting yourself finish that little scene.

Steve almost threw his alarm across the god damn room. A frustrated snarl ripping out of his chest. Painfully hard with an ache in his bones that bordered on pain he pressed his palms to his eyes. Hot wet tears leaked out beneath his hands and into his hairline as he forced out a shaky breath. He couldn't keep living like this, couldn’t function knowing she was in this fucking city and not there beside him. Warming his bed and breathing his air. Her sweet voice asking if he was OK, holding him like he knew she would if only she was here…

In the privacy of the darkness he let a sob slip. Wrecking through his chest with a violent shake. He needed her back. His body ached to hold his girl, his soul rebelled at the absence of her. His heart had felt like it was beating against the confines of his body every second since he had left the museum yesterday. Like it could somehow by sheer force make him go and find her. As if he was staying away on purpose. Instead of trying to be smart and staying away and not acting like a total obsessed creep.

Which he would be. If he had followed his instincts and followed her home. Found her address. Found her work. Hit his knees and begged the universe to fix whatever had broken them.

He could never. And knowing she was so close yet so, so far away made him want to burn down everything in his path till he figured out what had caused this and how to fix it. How did she not remember the man who had worshiped the ground she walked on. The man who would move the heavens for her if only he was able. He loved her. He still loves her and the way he cried like a child was only a testimony to that.

He pushed open his half of their bond. The highway that connected him to Petal, trying yet again to let her hear him. I miss you, Please, I know you are there. Baby, I can't do this alone. He launched the plea down the empty connection like it may do some good. Might bring her back to him but he knew it was in vain. There was nothing on the other end. Or at least nothing that was open to him anyway. Like the door was locked and barred just to leave him isolated on the other side. 

If he could he would slam his hands against that parabolic door, pound against it until his hands bled. Make her feel him. Call out to her, beg her to find him. Plead and grovel. But that was not an option at the moment, and even if it was it would scare her. And that is the one thing Steve, even in his desperation, couldn’t bring himself to do. Scare his girl? He’d rather die.

"Listen, I've heard a lot of crazy things in this job. But, the girl I saw at a glance in the Smithsonian is my long lost soulmate from 1945 is a new one." Nat quipped. Giving him a look like he might actually be going crazy. Which he was, technically. He felt down right insane but he knew he was right. "Are you getting dementia gramps."

"Nat." His voice was flat, broking no argument. "I know it sounds ridiculous but I know Petal. It was her. Just help me out here. Look her up. I know you can."

Nat's job was to know things. Shoot people and know things, it was like half her job description. And Steve was not taking no for an answer. If anyone could help him find her again. Figure out what the hell was going on it was Romanoff.

"What makes you think I can find her. Hmm? No one has been able to find her for decades. And believe me people have looked…"

"I know people have looked!" He all but snapped at her. His hands slamming on the desktop. He had too much energy in him. Too much anxiety buzzing through his body like live wire. "I have looked. Exhausted every asset at my disposal. But she was there Natasha. She was in that museum and I need to know how."

Nat stared to Steve's steely eyes. His gaze as intense, if not more so than she had seen him on any mission. He was practically vibrating with tension as he leaned over her. "This really means that much to you."

"Wouldn't it to you."

Nat sighed. She wouldn't know. She didn't have a soul mark. Part of the 40% of the population that didn't have a soulmate. Whole souls, they were called in passing. People who were complete on their own. Some people considered it a blessing, others a curse. But it had been one of the requirements to be in the red room. No soulmates meant no ties. No one you could hold more important then mission or country. And looking at Roger's right now she could understand why.

He looked as if he was ready to go on a warpath. Wage a siege just to get this girls name, her address, Hell, her shoe size. Anything that proved she was real. That could lead him back to her.

She sighed and turned to her console, pulling up surveillance footage from the museum. "When were you there?"

"Last Thursday, 1100 hours." He rattled off, as if it was the easiest information in the world. Nat raised a brow but filed through the camera and pulled up the footage of the letter display. There was Steve, looking pissed as all get out. Nat's eyes scanned the crowd. Landing on the three girls to Steve's left.

"The redhead or the tall one?" She asked.

"Neither. Her. In the middle." Steve pointed at you. Your back turned to the camera.

Nat scrolled ahead until she could get a somewhat clear image of the girls face. "Oh she's cute."

Steve huffed. They weren't here to check out his wife. "Yes she is, stay focused.

"Touchy." Nat put the imagine in sheild's data base and cross referenced it with faces they had flagged. Nothing. So she tried a more general search. A ping this time. Leaning forward she scanned the info. Her brows furrowing.

"This can't be right."

Steve head snapped up. Rounding the desk to read over her shoulder. There was your name, your maiden name and birth date though the year was wrong, but your SSN was the same. He started to scan your info and instantly say what she was refusing too. "How has shield not flagged this…"

None of your info added up. At first glance you would think you were a petty criminal or a scammer. Or an undercover agent with a shitty identity forger. Because your social was clearly from the 1920s, Ans you had no school records, no criminal history passed a speeding ticket in March of 2011. But you had an up to date license. And a small apartment in the east end and a job at the VA… how did you even get hired with no birth certificate?

"Can you print this off for me?" Nat gave him a look that said she thought that was a bad idea. But did it anyway.

"What are you planning Cap?"

Steve took out the page as soon as it was out of the machine. Still hot in his hand. "Gonna go get my girl."

Tag List: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers, @delilah-hey @tldrthor @littlestxli You don't have to read obviously, just wanna make sure you're tagged in the up to date versions. <3

[cherrrydragon]

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

CHAPTER FOUR: WAY DOWN WE GO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We are not friends.”

“We’re not enemies either.”

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

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

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

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

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

You gesture at him. “Your turn.”

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

“What kind of pets?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

watching behind you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pretender, your brain whispers to you.

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

“You have abhorrent ideas of flirting.”

“Cut me some slack, I’m rusty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s walking your way, [Name].”

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

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

“I will make sure I am not seen.”

“I trust you, Karen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce hums. “It’s plausible.”

Goddammit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t track them,” grits Barbara.

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

“THANK YOU.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, “not yet.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re hurting him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Personality, huh?” You think of Karen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods rapidly. “See you at five.”

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

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

“[Name]!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our dads know each other.” Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Two?” Miguel mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

“[Name]’s tracker went offline, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ Why not?” Miles questions.

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

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

Lyla nods. “In that sense, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Unless it’s a spidey villain.”

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

“Maybe–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“–so that [Name] can’t find them–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Certainly, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[frokenkeke]

Making of Today Forever

Well, it finally happened. After much toiling I managed to finish Today Forever, the follow-up to last year's Ashes to Ashley. Like last time, I also want to talk a little bit about where it came from. By all means, check out Making of Ashes to Ashley as well for full context if you haven't already, as a lot of the points brought up there still apply to this new comic.

Today Forever continues the day after Ashes to Ashley. It is a story about what happens after your great coming out, when everything is new but life still moves on in its familiar mundanity. Despite the elation of last night, Ashley has trouble fully letting go of the past. The loss of the Ride shirt becomes a symbol for the jarring and complicated emotions of reconstructing yourself. It is a story about the nature of happiness, it is an awkward romance, it is somehow also about the 90s band Ride.

While writing Today Forever I gave extra thought to the idea of sequels, in particular the second installment of a story. You do something once and it is the whole of itself, you do it twice and it's a mirror reflection of contrasts, you do it any more than this and it's simply "another one". I always intended Ashes to Ashley to be an episodic series with self-contained adventures. The original comic may be complete, starting and ending satisfyingly; it doesn't need to continue, but nevertheless I wanted it to. I don't want there to be just one story, or even two stories. I want "another one" to be in the majority. Yet despite how much you iterate on something, the second entry will always be the domain of contrasts; number two reveals what was unique about number one. In the differences and similarities we establish the boundaries and understand how the story will both change and remain familiar from here on out.

With this in mind, Today Forever is intended to be the polar opposite of Ashes to Ashley. I selectively reuse only the parts that are most crucial. We still follow Ashley, she's on tour with her band, she's rediscovering herself through a trans lens, the tone is cute and lighthearted, everything is drawn on paper with an old worn down Bic mechanical pencil and digitally colored with an ugly sponge brush built into Photoshop. However, this time we go somewhere new, with outdoor scenes in broad daylight, everyone is enjoying their leisure, they're all wearing different clothes, some characters are more prominent while others are less, shoegaze remains a crucial central theme but no one ever picks up an instrument. These points both expand what Ashes to Ashley can be while simultaneously reinforcing its core. The audience understands the story more clearly. Heck, the author probably also understands the story more clearly.

These were the first preliminary character sketches I made for Today Forever, including the cover art concept which remained more or less intact until the end. I went for a "first day of summer" motif to signify everyone being on their day off. I can't remember why, but it's explicitly written in the script that Gabriel and Miki change outfits somewhere after the breakfast scene. This was probably not that necessary, but it is admittedly funny that Miki puts on her Lush T-shirt (featuring the lemon from the Split album cover!) while Ashley is mourning the Ride shirt. Is Miki teasing Ashley?!

It should be noted that the script and story didn't arrive fully formed in my head! Today Forever went through some pretty drastic revisions, and I kept changing around elements until the very end. Above is the beginning of the first draft, you can see how parts were both cut and reshuffled, while a few remain unchanged. In the first version of the story Ashley actually spent the entire day moping in the van. The intent was to focus on her dynamic with Kate, as Kate was the least featured character in the previous story. To reinforce this, I wrote the rest of the cast out of the plot by sending them off to an amusement park. It was a scattered mess of ideas, quite miserable. I felt lost with the whole thing until my girlfriend Alicia took one look at the draft and asked a simple but crucial question; Why doesn't Ashley go to the amusement park? This practically saved the entire comic, giving me a fun central theme to work with. The ideas wrote themselves, the tone got lighter, the initial story became a bookend for the gang running off to the fireworks factory.

Here are the initial panel layouts for the "final" script. Somehow 32 pages became 37.

Today Forever commits the fatal writing cliché of starting with the protagonist waking up in their bed. This was to immediately connect it with the ending of Ashes to Ashley, to the degree where Ashley is wearing the exact same getup, complete with smudged makeup and loose tights. Rules are made to be broken!

The band's van is bigger on the inside for the sheer writing convenience of having a spacious motorhome. This was inspired by the comic Tank Girl where a throw-away panel blurb states that "the tank is bigger on the inside like the TARDIS". No more explanations necessary.

Debbie getting awkwardly up-close and casual with half-naked Ashley is one of my favorite gags. It's goofy while also suggesting a lot about the characters. I like that Ashley feels comfortable enough with her friends to wear nothing but underwear in front of them.

Floppy Park was initially named Playland as one of several Ride references, subtly alluding to the 1990 Play EP. I ended up changing this because it sounded like a playpen for toddlers.

The panel where Ashley is admiring herself in the mirror is another one of my favorites. She has so much self-love! Also, her face looks funny when pressed on a flat circle.

I was worried about having sufficient space for the breakfast scene, but luckily I fit it all on one page without too many compromises. My biggest dilemma was having choose how Ashley would respond to her day off; either with a puzzled "Hmm...? Free day?" or an understated "Wow". Both felt in line with her personality, but there was only room for one. Looking at it now I'm still conflicted on which to choose. The wow line is still funny to me.

Debbie truly is the ultimate romantic foil to Ashley. While Ashley is painfully clueless and uncharacteristically slow for a bunny, Debbie is kind to a fault, accepting the smallest suggestion with full sincerity. Debbie assumes Ashley understands everything about the situation, Ashley doesn't even parse that there is a situation. Ashley's cluelessness is based on myself, I suspect I unwittingly live every moment like Ashley.

Drawing angry Ashley was heaps of fun. I played around with doodling a full-on "aaugh!" Peanuts pastiche, which evolved into other monstrosities like the Ashley blob and the big eyed Ashley I used to represent myself in the Transparency Aquanaut's Holiday video.

Having the cast argue about the number one shoegaze band was among the most crucial pages to me, remaining intact from the very first draft. I'm just really into shoegaze and have no other outlets for this! I get excited whenever someone tells me they actually sat down and listened to one of the mentioned bands. They're all important to me.

I absolutely love the panel of overly melodramatic Ashley sitting in front of the stereo blasting Seagull (she didn't even pick a sad Ride song, she just literally put on the Nowhere album!). Her graceful theatrical display of sorrow contrasts the scene towards the end where she cries for real. Happiness is one of the core themes of Today Forever. Ashley encounters it as a conflict. She declares today the best day and the worst day with equal hyperbole as she flip-flops between emotions. Sadness is a comfort, sometimes sadness is easier, eventually happiness makes her sad, happiness seems forbidden, yet happiness doesn't declare its presence. In the end happiness always finds her again.

Every now and then I needed to do some warm-up sketches, usually after a longer absence from drawing. At some point I drew old pre-transition Ash again out of curiosity.

The scenes at Floppy Park take direct inspiration from my own amusement park memories. In particular, the setting is based on Gröna lund, the local amusement park in Stockholm where I live and grew up. Just like in the comic, their fun house Lustiga huset is accessed through a cumbersome staircase, has a zigzag hallway and ends in a carpet ride slide. Conversely, the hall of mirrors is in a separate building, and there's no Escher Relatively room.

Like with the fun house, the ghost train is inspired by Blå tåget at Gröna lund, a ride where you sit in blue carts while ghastly horrors jump out at you. I went through a bunch of different ideas for the monster that spooks Debbie so much she exists the comic panel, but ultimately a simple jaw creature with dark shading did the job. The burning scarecrows are of course a reference to the Sonic Youth album Bad Moon Rising.

In hindsight, I probably should've cut the claw game scene for brevity, since it's similar enough to the shooting gallery. If I could revise it I would have Ashley fail the game, for contrast and drama. But whatever, I'll let her have this one. Several of the plushies in the claw machine are old comic characters of mine, they live on as commodified kitsch in Ashley's world.

Returning to the rest of the gang in the Ferris wheel for a crucial shipping report and some cocky evil Ashley's on top. Ashley gets a power boost whenever her femininity is verbally reaffirmed, like when Um Jammer Lammy hears "dojo, casino, it's all in the mind".

The rollercoaster is the big climactic payoff to the amusement park setting. The moment Ashley says "ugh... rollercoasters..." we know she'll inevitably end up riding one! The name Grasshopper is taken from the Ride track of the same name, it's a lengthy instrumental piece which features screams that sound like people riding a rollercoaster, the choice was clear from the beginning. Drawing terrified Ashley was a blast, Ashley's soul slipping from her dead body in sheer terror is an obscenely exaggerated visual. I did not use it because it posed too many theological questions.

The shooting gallery scene was conceived by Alicia, she loved the idea of Debbie posing with a gun. It gave Debbie some depth and a slightly rustic lean. Somehow I find Debbie's marksman skills more believable than Ashley's claw game luck.

As Ashley states, the shark plush is a reference to the cover of Ride's Today Forever EP, which is where this comic got its name. However, it is obviously also modeled after IKEA's stuffed toy Blåhaj, whose blue-pink-white color scheme made it a trans icon.

Ashley and Debbie sit down at the end to emphasize the emotional core of the story. Ashley is peculiar, but in a special way. Ashley finally thanks Debbie for what we can presume are years of patient kindness. They have the perfect romantic moment, yet are both too shy to bring it any further. Theirs is not a "will they-won't they" relationship, it's a "please just do it now god damnit" relationship.

The two pages where Ashley cries and the rest of the gang shows up were late additions to the comic. I felt a lack of emotional punch and a too abrupt cut to the next scene where everyone is walking back home. As the sort of "day after" story this is, Ashley is expressing the feelings I felt shortly after I began my transitioning. Just sheer shock at the realization of how sad I had been for my entire life. Like someone flipped a switch to turn on the lights. That the darkness was so overwhelming I hadn't ever noticed it.

In case the young folks were wondering, Kate is working with screenprinting here. A technique in which one covers a mounted net with a special coating that can be manipulated by burning a monotone motif onto it. Essentially you convert a picture into a shadow that preserves the holes in the net. Stroke a batch of paint across the net and you've got a print!

I had immense troubles drawing the ending scene. For whatever reason I had crammed it onto one page in the script, giving it no breathing room and an abrupt ending. Eventually I just spread it out across two pages to spare me continued pain. I'm not quite sure what "makeshift karaoke" entails, but I imagine the reader will come up with their own funny conclusion.

The last two pages to be drawn were the ones where the gang arrive at the park and Kate's phone conversation with Floyd. These were primarily shoehorned in to make every double page spread satisfying and cohesive. They were seeds of ideas that had been cut because they weren't fully necessary, however they ultimately contribute some last minute additions to the story. The park getting a big establishing panel creates breathing room among pages that are otherwise quite cramped, I also get to elaborate Ashley and Rachel's buddy dynamic. In the same vein, Kate yelling at Floyd was important for her redemption, to truly show that she DOES care and will stand up for her convictions.

While I had a clear concept for the cover from day one, I ended up having a lot of troubles with the finer details. Like how the first comic's cover paraphrases Loveless, I wanted Today Forever to paraphrase the early Ride covers for the Ride EP, Play EP and Smile compilation, which feature framed monochrome beds of flowers. Ashley and Debbie were supposed to be superimposed on top of this, but I wasn't fully in the clear on what they would do, how they would pose, what expressions they would wear. I ended up drawing a bunch of different ideas until I ended on the double blushed side-eyes.

On top of a cover, I also wanted a quick recap of the previous comic, as it had almost been a full year since I made it. I ended up with pulpy mugshots of the cast, taking inspiration from the recap pages in the Dragon Ball manga volumes I read as a kid. The mugshot of Ashley accidentally lacks her ear fluff, oops!

I am glad people enjoy Today Forever as much as Ashes to Ashley. I am still partial to the first one. I do have my problems with the new comic. There are parts that didn't quite come together like I had wanted, it's probably a bit too long, I feel the tone may be too juvenile at points. Mostly I felt frustrated going from one month to make the first story to an entire year for the second one. The last comic is strategically set in vaguely defined void rooms while this one keeps having to establish new locations and props. There are more panels of all the characters hanging out together. There was simply more to draw and less time to do it. Somewhere along the way I got lost in being more careful and meticulous about the clean-up and coloring as well. However, it doesn't matter now that it's all out, from here on out it's in your hands either way.

I will have to think over what I learned from Today Forever and keep that in mind while working on the third comic. Hopefully I can balance it all out. Maybe next time I figure out how long Rachel's ears are supposed to be!

/Kiki

[otakusheep15]

Flufftober Day 12 - Painting

Content includes: Kalim x reader, reader has a crush on Kalim (implied to be requited), reader is a painter, reader is called Prefect, maybe a little OOC

It has been a long time since you’ve had some peace and quiet. There’s always someone with a problem you’re forced to fix, and you never have any time for yourself anymore. 

But, finally, you have a break. Ace and Deuce have (begrudgingly) offered to babysit Grim for the day, and Riddle had followed up by saying he’d keep an eye on them as well. Normally, you wouldn’t trust those three together, but since Riddle is watching them, you’re sure they’ll be fine. 

Now here you are, alone and at peace. You can actually focus on things you want to do, like painting. 

You’ve always considered yourself a creative person. Painting is a hobby you picked up at an early age, and it’s something you still enjoy to this day. With how busy you’ve been lately, you haven’t been able to work on any projects, so you’re glad to finally have this opportunity. 

Today was a nice, cool day, so you decided the best thing would be to paint outside. You had no classes today, so most students were off campus, either doing something on the island or visiting home, so the school was rather quiet. A couple students lingered around, but no one bothered you as you sat beneath a large tree. 

That was until you heard a voice shouting right behind you, causing you to jump and drop the supplies you were just holding. When you turn around, you’re met with the bright smile of Kalim, and any anger you might have felt instantly melts away. 

“Hi Prefect, Whatcha doing?” He sits down beside you without even asking, but you would have offered anyway, so you don’t mind. You tell him about your plans for the day, and his eyes light up. 

“You paint? That’s amazing! We have a lot of really talented painters back home…” You nod along as he continues talking. If this were anyone else, you would have been annoyed immediately. 

However, you really like Kalim. He’s a good friend, and he’s always very sweet. He can be a bit loud sometimes, but so is everyone else around you, so you’ve gotten used to it. 

While he continues to talk, you organize your supplies, making sure all of it is easily within reach. Your sketchbook sits comfortably in your lap, and you turn to the next clean page. 

When Kalim sees what you’re doing, he quiets down, seemingly entranced by your movements. You pay no mind, a bit happy to be back to the quiet. 

You pick up your pencil first, making a rough outline to start. Kalim watches your hand move, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him be this quiet for this long. It’s a bit jarring, but you try not to focus on it. 

Time seems to fly after your initial conversation, and your sketching eventually turns into painting. You didn’t have much inspiration initially, but after spending some time sketching, you figured something out. 

You turned away from Kalim as you started painting, feeling a bit embarrassed at having someone watch you work. Kalim seemed to sense this and didn’t mind, turning away and messing around on his phone.

After a couple hours, you’re officially satisfied with your painting, and you place your brush down. You can feel your hand start to cramp, and you stretch it out. Kalim, noticing your movements, turns to look at you, placing down his phone. 

“Are you finished?” You nod at his question. “Can I see it?”

That makes you pause. He asked with such sincerity, but you don’t know if you want to show him. Kalim is so sweet, but he might judge you for your art. You know deep down that it’s just your insecurity talking, but you can’t help it. 

Kalim senses your hesitation, and his smile turns from bright curiosity to more tame and comforting. 

“I didn’t mean that to pressure you. If you don’t wanna show me, that’s alright!” He gently pats your arm, and you can’t help but smile at him. 

You tell him that you’re not really confident in your abilities right now, but maybe you’ll show him one day when you are. Kalim nods, understanding. 

“Well, I should probably get going. I’m sure Jamil is running around looking for me. I may have snuck off while he wasn’t looking.” Of course. You wave as he stands up, and he waves right back before turning around and wandering off. 

You sigh, picking up your sketchbook, which you had placed down earlier. Your painting stares up at you, and you smile fondly as you look at it. 

Kalim’s painted face stares back up at you, almost as bright as the real deal. Maybe one day you’ll be confident enough to show him.

[lmfaohader]

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. Same as always. A little mouse standing under a light post. It's snowing, and he's always carrying an umbrella."

"Did he say anything to you in this one?"

"No. He just seemed very scared, and a little sad."

"Well give me the details and I'll add it to the drawing"

I retrieved my sketch book from my bag and turned to the ever familiar page I had been working on for a couple of days. In the middle of the page, a mouse. Oversized yellow clogs, red linen pants, and large black ears on the top of his head. Just as my friend, Jo, always described him. Cheery eyes that she normally described as "oddly sad for such a happy little mouse" and rosy plump cheeks. Beside him, a lamp post, that once I can get to painting (and get the right color), burning with a bright orange light. A pile of snow settled at its base. I took out my pencils, erasers, and blending stump as Jo described the mouse with more details. Today, his umbrella was black but seemingly used very often and the snow glittered when the moon rose above it.

Joanna is an extremely vivid dreamer. I've known her essentially my whole life and have listened to every dream she could ever recount, but lately they've been more and more life-like. It's almost as if she actually goes to wherever it is she's dreaming. Maybe it's her younger mind trying to escape from our reality. We are from the same town in London, and when my parents were called to defend our nation, Jo's mother offered to take me in until they returned. Things only got worse from there. The air raids and constant threats kept flooding into the city. After some time, Jo's mom believed that the city was no longer safe for us. She called upon an old college professor who she had remained in friendly contact with over the years who lived far off in the countryside. He gladly took us in. Jo was extremely upset about leaving, so to help her keep going I told her I would draw whatever she wanted. Now, I have half of a sketchbook filled with her dreams. They're always in immense detail, and are only finished when Jo gives it a seal of approval. They started off really normal. Her house, the view outside of the train window, a field of wildflowers, but the longer we're here the more she dreams of his made up land. A land where a talking lion is supposed to rule, but is being hunted and thwarted by an evil, ice witch. A little mouse who hides from the secret wolf police. A winter that has lasted for over a hundred years. That's the part of it that feels like she actually goes there, she knows some of the history. How the people are waiting for a prophecy to be fulfilled to end the long lasting winter and to find the lion who once ruled over the land.

I looked up to see the sun lowering over the countryside. Jo sat on the tree limb above me. Watching as the colors of the sky change.

"That's it" she said softly

"That's what?" I tried to follow her eyeline to see what she was seeing

"That's the color orange"

She was right. As the sun dipped below, the sky became a bright, burning orange. I tried to think of the time to try and return to this hour tomorrow to mix paints as Jo climbed down from the tree and sat beside me. She scanned my drawing. Ensuring that every detail matched precisely. I lifted the drawing a bit more so she could see.

"How's it looking?" I asked as eraser shavings fell off into the lawn

"It looks good. I think you've perfectly drawn him." she placed her hands against the ground and raised to her feet. "I'm excited to see this one painted. I think it'll be your best yet."

"My best yet huh?"

I closed the book and gathered my materials as we both made our way inside. It was always so quiet in the mansion. As big as it is, the only inhabitants are us, Ms. Macready, and Professor Kirke. It wasn't exactly kid friendly. The halls were lined with perfectly polished artifacts and antiques. An expensive seeming painting hung from nearly every wall. Precisely placed hall runners covering much of the hardwood surface. As soon as we came inside, we took off our shoes and made our way to our room. There were so many doors, and we didn't know what was inside most of them. We were only certain of where our room was and where the Professor's office was.

Professor Kirke was a kind man. Mostly enthusiastic, and extremely excited to have visitors. On the first few days we were here, he noticed our sadness and brought us into his office to tell us some stories from his youth about him and a friend. They seemed to cheer up Jo, for the most part. I just enjoy shutting my brain off and sitting in the comfort of his company. For whatever reason, Ms. Macready (Professor Kirke's housemaid) refuses to let us speak to him without being specifically requested. She says that his work is extremely important and he cannot be disrupted. So, the times we have gotten to speak to him have been scarce.

As we were approaching our room, a stern voice called to us.

"Girls, Professor Kirke would like to see you"

Appearing, seemingly out of nowhere, Ms. Macready stood at the top of the stairs leading to our room. Jo and I traded a knowing look, thanked her and made our way to the Professor's office. Upon arrival, I knocked on the door as Jo waited patiently behind me.

"Oh! Come in! It's open!"

We pushed open the door and entered the pristinely kept office. Neatly dusted, books alphabetized, pencils sharpened in their cup, leather chair shining from a real good polish. Professor Kirke smiled as we entered and gestured for us to take a seat in the brown plush chairs in front of his desk.

"I hope I have not disturbed your evening" he said as he closed the book he was studying and pushed it back into its spot. "But I had some news that pertained to the both of you since you bot-"

His sentence was cut short as his eyes landed on the sketchbook in my arms. I could feel my face get a bit hot. I had never really shown an adult my drawings. Only Jo had seen the contents of these pages before.

"Oh my, it seems we have an artist on our hands. May I?"

"Oh, yes you may" I spoke through a knot in my throat as I placed the book into his outstretched hand and felt suddenly as if my stomach plummeted.

Professor Kirke smiled gently at me as he placed the book onto his desk. He flipped to the first page. He studied it for a moment, then nodded and flipped onwards. With every page his smile grew. You could feel the child-like giddy as he moved onwards. My nervousness seemed to fade and become replaced with pride. I thought they were good, but it was really nice to see it written on someone's face.

"Lacey, these drawings ar-"

Professor Kirke's voice stopped abruptly. There was a sudden shift in his demeanor. The always happy and smiling professor was replaced with a shell. His eyes filled with a mixture of fear and sadness. His mouth slightly agape, as if frozen in place from speaking to me before. My mind raced to think of what drawing could possibly cause this reaction, but they were mostly buildings and scenescapes. He turned the book towards us and pushed it to where we could see it.

"How do you know of this place?" He asked as he pointed to a scenescape of a dark, frozen castle, covered in snow with icicles dripping from every ledge and a pack of wolves surrounding the drawbridge. Sculptures of animals made of ice sat right inside the front gate.

"Jo dreamed of it. She said it was the castle of the evil, ice witch. Right?" I looked to her for an explanation as Professor Kirke's head snapped in her direction.

"Elsa the White Witch" Jo responded, bringing the page closer to her, "she created the everlasting winter. She is their self proclaimed ruler, but they're just waiting for the prophecy to happen."

"You never said she had a name" I wracked my brain for any mention of this name before, but came up with nothing.

"I didn't learn it until recently," Jo shrugged and followed very matter of factly. "Or you would've"

"Did you say you learned this recently?" The Professor asked

"Yeah. Maybe a few nights ago."

"But where?"

"I go there in my dreams. That world needs help, and I've been trying to understand what's going on so that maybe I can help." she explained as she flipped through the sketchbook. "Lacey's drawings help me remember so I'm really starting to put it together now"

"How can you help a dreamland Jo?" I asked

"Don't sell her so short" Professor Kirke responded softly as he poured over the drawing. His sadness seemed to grow as he did.

"Just because you've never seen it doesn't mean it isn't real," Jo said. "I don't just make things up you know"

"I didn't mean it that way" I announced as I closed the book and took it back in my arms. "I don't think you make things up, but you yourself have to admit that it is extremely far-fetched."

"I don't admit anything" Jo snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I know what's real and what isn't Lacey. That place is real. I can feel it."

"She does explain it with great detail" the Professor chimed in motioning towards the book in my arms. "Otherwise you could not have such detailed drawings. Down to the color of the ice sculptures and the way the stars align in the sky."

I stared blankly at him. He spoke with confidence. Almost as if he understood her.

"Professor Kirke," I said, "do you believe this land exists?"

He stared back at me. His round spectacles dramatize his very determined look. I could see the spark in his eyes. As if hearing a call to action. He looked down at the sketchbook once more then shook his head slightly as if to awaken himself from whatever came over him. Jo sighed and I could feel her disappointment from the response. I sighed as well and began to rise from my seat to leave when Professor Kirke spoke again.

"There is another family coming to stay with us until everything in London calms down"

"Another family?" Jo asked, seeming to pep up a bit from her disappointment.

"Yes Jo" he replied, "Four children. Two older siblings more Lacey's age, and two younger children more your age. They should be here within the next few days. Perhaps, you both could make a friend or two."

I nodded to him, and then left for Jo and I's room. It wasn't much. Two twin beds, decorated with the same bland sheets. Jo's books sat on her bedside table, and a desk under the window overlooking the front of the mansion held many different colors of paint along with a couple of pencils and a clock. How else was I to make the color of the sky if I couldn't look at it? I slammed down into the chair and flipped through the sketchbook. Hoping anything would seem to line up. To tell a story. To help me understand what was going on. But I could find nothing in these scenescapes to give me answers. If only I could draw people, I thought to myself, maybe it'd be easier to understand. Maybe I could see what they see. After minutes of examining every page, every rock, every stream, every flake of snow I closed the book defeated. I looked out to the sky made navy blue in the light of the moon. Almost, like the sky above that little mouse.

-Lacey

You can find the rest of this story on my Wattpad @ stfumendes it’s titled Disnia. There will be three books and love interest for both boys. 💕

[heyitsme1040]

Winter's Soldier [b.b]

summary : When it came to the cold, Bucky hated it. Before the train he tolerated it, understood why people enjoyed winter. But ever since he fell from the train, he despised the cold. Once winter fully set in, he became antsy and didn’t want to be too far from you. It wasn’t until he returned from a hard mission that he finally opened up about his dislike of the cold to you.

pairings : Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings : None, talk of Bucky losing his arm (if I missed anything please let me know!)

word count : 1,200

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day four of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘warmth’. So this one turned into a comfort/angst/comfort sandwich. But still, I really like how this one turned out. You can also tell I’ve mentally lingered on what it would’ve been like for Bucky after falling before being found. This is an idea I’ve lingered on for years, and here’s a glimpse into that thought process. Also I wanted the ending to be really cheesy and fluffy, so sorry if that isn’t your cup of tea. 

You weren’t expecting much when you entered your apartment after running errands. Bucky was gone on a mission, due to return soon, but you weren’t quite sure when. Closing the door behind you, you toed off your shoes by the door before pulling off your coat. As soon as you removed your coat, you were pleasantly surprised by how cozy the apartment was. Walking into the living room, you couldn’t help the startled yelp that escaped you when you realized the pile of blankets on the couch was your boyfriend. 

“Hi doll,” Bucky tiredly greeted. 

“Bucky, hi! When did you get back?” You walked toward him. 

“Just a little bit ago. I was about to call you, I just got out of the shower then turned on the heater. How was your day?” 

As you got closer to him he held his arms out, opening up the cocoon of blankets he’d wrapped himself in. He was quick to tug you into his lap and wrap the both of you back into his blankets. He held you tightly, nuzzling himself against you as close as possible. 

“It was fine. I finished that prototype in the lab today. Then I went to the mall to see what they were putting out for christmas. I know it’s only November, but I don’t want to wait until the last minute again to get gifts for everyone. I feel like everyone knew I’d put off doing it until it was almost too late,” you kissed his cheek.

“Nah, everyone loved your gifts. Steve’s honestly upset that he’s almost worn down every pencil from that sketch kit you chose and bought three more of those sketch books since. Sam wears the watch every day, Tony cherishes the little robot friend you made and keeps it on his workbench, and Nat keeps the knives you’d got customized sharp. There’s no way they have any idea you’d done it all the week before,” Bucky reassures. 

You shrug, pleased they all still enjoyed the things you’d gotten them. “Still, I feel guilty. But how are you? How’d the mission go, I know you had to leave suddenly.”

“The mission itself was successful. However, I hated being in Europe again. I swear it’s just gotten colder since the forties. I hated it, there was so much snow when we got there. It just continued snowing every day too, so there wasn’t any way we could avoid it,” Bucky grumbled. 

You felt Bucky shiver harshly. Despite the cozy temperature he had the apartment at, the four blankets on the two of you, and the fact he was radiating heat it was like he couldn’t be warm enough. You carefully slipped your hand from the cocoon of blankets and stroked his cheek. He turned to kiss your palm quickly before using his own hand to pull yours back into the warmth around the two of you. You couldn’t tell if the reason Bucky was a little tense was due to him feeling cold or if there was something else going on. 

“Yeah, the cold can be pretty bad sometimes. I like the cooler weather at the start of fall, but once it’s winter time I can’t stand it. It’s just too much with all the snow. The way it first lands is mesmerizing, sure, but then it melts into slush before more snow falls. Then everything is just an icy, damp, cold mess,” you admit. 

“It used to not be so bad,” Bucky quietly whispers against you. “The cold was horrible, but the way New York looked and came to life in the winter was breathtaking. I loved the way the snow fell and made everything look so different. And my sister was always so excited when the snow fell. But after everything, I can’t stand the cold nor the snow anymore.”

“Oh Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that.”

“It’s alright, doll. At first it wasn’t too bad. I’d just fallen, and landed in this deep pile of snow. The coldness actually made everything numb at first. I tried to move, to sit up, but I couldn’t. That was the moment I first saw my arm wasn’t–” Bucky shook his head as he choked up. “I tried to yell for help, but knew it was useless. Despite this, I shouted until my voice was gone. The cold had moved from providing a numbness to painful. I felt myself slowly slipping into something. I’m not sure if it was just unconsciousness or if those were meant to be my final moments. I’d finally heard the crunching of snow and ice as people approached. I thought that it was Steve, that they’d gotten Zola and he’d somehow found me again. But I was so wrong. I was roughly yanked from the snow before the unconsciousness took over. The next time I woke up was in a lab with Zola over me.”

Bucky harshly blinked, and you could tell he was refusing to let the memory take any more from him. You held onto him tightly, gently promising him you’d never let him go cold again. He slowly relaxed into you. 

“I’m sorry,” he sheepishly breaks the comforting silence. “That’s why I’ve been so weird about the apartment recently. I just, I keep thinking about what it’s like to truly be cold. So now, when the weather is chilly I feel this prickling under my skin. I do everything possible to make sure it isn’t cold here, that you won’t be able to feel the cold. Because it wasn’t bad at first, and now I can’t stand the idea of the cold. It’s just that, I know it isn’t cold in here but I can’t stop from thinking about how cold it is outside. And how easily the cold can just get colder to the point it feels like you’re burning up. And that thought just won’t go away.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I understand, and your feelings are more than valid Buck,” you reassure. “I am more than happy to stay cuddled up with you all winter if that will bring you some comfort.”

Bucky slinks an arm under your knees and supports your back as he stands, “In that case,” he smirks while walking to your shared bed. “I think a change of scenery is due.”

You smile at your sweet boyfriend, the one that so many think is cold. They couldn’t be any more wrong about this sweet, caring, protective man. He laid on the bed, pulling you onto his chest before covering the two of you up again. You bury your face into the warmth of him, lightly rubbing his side in aimless patterns. Doing anything you can think of to remind him he’s far away from the snowy mountains of 1945. Gradually, Bucky’s body grows more and more lax under your touch. His breathing feels the steadiest it’s been since the cold weather came in. 

“You're my warmth,” he tenderly swears. 

“And you’re mine,” you kiss his lips for a long moment. “You don’t have to worry about the cold ever again. Winter’s a battle that you’ve won, Soldier.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky rolls his eyes, chuckling at your cheesy declaration.

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[prettypei]

hii i enjoy your writing! may i request fluff drabbles for gojo, choso, yuta, noritoshi (kamo from the kyoto school) and hajime (aka kashimo the turquoise haired pikachu) please? like he's in an established relationship with reader and they're out on a cute date, being domestic and behaving like an old married couple. some ideas: ikea, grocery shopping, aquarium, art gallery, science museum/observatory etc

bonus if there are sweet romantic moments~ i'm fine with either fem or gender neutral reader, thank you i hope you'll consider my request! i just need something comforting to read bc shibuya arc has started in the anime while the manga is kinda at a tensed climax rn and i feel stressed lmao

plot: cute dates/domestic couple thingys with them!; fluff

reader: gn! Reader

characters: gojo, yuuta, choso, kashimo, kamo

warnings: yuutas kinda mean in this (but in a yuuta way)

(a/n): first req!!!!!! Hi hello anon I hope u like it 💪💪💪 gojo’s bento is very stereotypical Japanese LOL…KAMO IS SRSLY UNDERRATED!!!! Erm I also have like zero knowledge of flowers so sorry if it’s inaccurate, KAMOS IS SUPER CHEESY ENDING GBHBHJHHJHJH

✰CHOSO

Choso loves art. But he doesn’t only love art, he also loves you. So when you suggested to take him to the art museum for a date, he was overjoyed by the thought. But… he was embarrassed that you would see his drawings of you, so he hid it discreetly in his bag when you went to the museum. Yes, he paints you. Sketches you, even. But he’s way too shy to admit it, because god, he could never capture the way your eyes glinted or the way your smile stood out or the expression of pure bliss when he kissed you… he tries to avoid drawing you, but he can’t. You’re in every thought of his. And now, he’s trying to hide his notebook from you. He’s hugging it close to his chest, hiding it under his book bag as he mimicked the painting in front of him. It was a simple one, really…but it looked like it was missing something. He thought for a minute and his brain clicked. It was missing you. You would fit perfectly into it, since your eye color would stand out splendidly. He just finished drawing your face before… “whatcha doing?” He stumbles and knocks over his collection of colored pencils over the bench he was sitting on. “Nothing.” “Are you drawing something? Can I see it?” You ask excitedly. And honestly, could he ever say no to you? He mumbled a bit as he gave the book to you and started picking up the colored pencils, and you were surprised to see your own face staring back at you. “Is-is this me?” You smile. You flip through the book, and you noticed how your face was on almost every page. Choso looks up with a flustered face. “I-well-kinda? Yeah?” You drop down to the floor and hug him. “You’re so cute.” You mumble with a grin on your face. If he had known this would’ve made you like this he would’ve shown you this ages ago.

✰YUUTA

You and yuuta were at the grocery store, the second time this week, because food was running out again, since yuuta always insists on "buying just enough for both of us so we don't waste any food". If you didn't lie, you thought he quite enjoyed your silly little trips to the groceries. Even though the walk was short, you and yuuta often point out interesting things that cross your path. Last week you saw a dog wearing a fur coat, and just yesterday yuuta heard a construction worker whistle out the tune to "From the start" by Laufey. It's those simple things that quickly become inside jokes for the both of you. Upon arriving at the store, you usually follow yuuta as he shops for suitable groceries for today's lunch and dinner. But...after going shopping with him 3 times when you were dating, you noticed yuuta had a habit of looking at food labels. For a really long time. As yuuta examines the ingredients for the canned pineapples (why would you even need to do that? It's literally just pineapples!) you whine about how he's taking so long that you've started getting wrinkles. He then proceeds to give you a chuckle and a "wait a minute, love." and continue to read the can's contents. "(name)." He calls out your name in the most serious tone you've ever heard him in. "what?" He reaches into the cart and takes out a can of "grilled takoyaki balls: freshly made" and gives you a disgusted look. You shrug sheepishly.

✰GOJO

"(NAME)!!! (NAMEEEE)!!!" A tic almost forms at your forehead when you hear that sound, and, lo and behold, it is your husband once again embarrassing you in front of your co-workers. You walk over to him while crossing your arms. "What are you doing?" You hiss as the women (and men) all around you give you jealous looks. "Can't I surprise my darlin' at work once in a while?" He grins while holding up a bento box. Your eyes soften as you look at the homemade bento. Yeah, it probably tastes like shit cuz Gojo really can't cook, but...it's nice to see him put in an effort once in a while. "I wanna see your reaction when you eat it." He says stubbornly as he pulls your hand into the office building. "Oh boy." You think when Gojo shrugs off the security guard and waves to everyone as he waltzes into the lunch break room like he owns the place. He pulls a chair down for you and sits down in another one. "Open it, open it!" He smiles. You roll your eyes with a chuckle, and you're expecting to see some unidentified gunk, but to your surprise, it's a cute bento with sausages shaped like squid, egg rolls tucked in nicely next to the fried rice, and meat balls on a stick. “I made it four times, did you like it? And, well, I may or may have not made our kitchen a mess but it’s worth-“ You shut him up with a kiss.

✰KAMO

“Kamo, love?” “Yes, dear?” “Look at how gorgeous these Daffodils are!” You pick up a potted plant of them as Kamo miles at you. Going on dates to flower shops had become a routine for you and Kamo, since you both would do it weekly. “Yes, darling, they are beautiful. Not as beautiful as you though.” “Shut up.” You scoff as you roll your eyes and shove him playfully. Kamo has a wide knowledge about flowers, knowing what each of them symbolize and what they represent. Before dating Kamo, you would’ve never known that red, white and pink carnations had different meanings, or that white Hyacinths stood for loveliness. Most of the time on these dates you would stroll through each aisles, pointing out flowers or plants that you thought were cute. Kamo would then proceed to tell you the meaning. On the surface, it may seem like a repetitive action, but with Kamo, everything feels new and interesting. He may tell you a story about what this plant reminds him of, or about how this flower wilts to your beauty. At the end of every date (usually the shopkeeper has to kick you both out) Kamo buys you a bouquet of flowers, each symbolizing something about your relationship with one another. Even though sometimes the flowers wilt and you have to throw them away, he knows that his love for you never will.

✰KASHIMO

"Kashi! You look just like it!" Kashimo hums as he opens one eye to see you holding up a cat. You both are at a cat cafe, since you really do love cats and, well, Kashimo doesn't mind cats, really. But when he met you (a certified-cat-lover) his love for them had grown. Now, whenever he sees a stray cat on the street, he takes a picture and shows it to you. "Do I? Its hair's not green." He points out. "Well, it doesn't have to be! You and him both give off the same vibes! I just saw him standing on top of the bookshelf, thought it looked lonely." "You think I'm lonely?" He teases, getting down from his seat to sit on the floor with you. “Nah. You’re never lonely with me.” You grin. “Say hi to it!” “Hello.” He says with a deadpan face. “You have to be friendly with it!” “Hello.” He smiles an obviously forced grin. “😐” “I love you.” “Okay.” “C’mon, baby don’t be like that.” He smirks as he scoots in closer with you. You roll your eyes as you start playing with the cat. Kashimo’s eyes narrow as he snatch’s the cat away from your arms. “Hey!” “If you keep on playing with it more than me, I’m gonna think you were wishing you were dating it.” He ruffles its hair as he lets it go. “You’re so mean. It’s cute! Unlike you.” “Who exactly is the mean one?” You giggle and poke his cheek. “I’m joking, joking. I love you.” There’s a moment of silence as he takes in the words. “Well, I love you more. If this is a competition, I’m definitely gonna win.”

[mapofyourstars]

What if Erik was scarred and traumatized, but Emma convinces him to volunteer as a model for an art class, without informing him its nude modeling?

And what if Charles gets roped into attending a drawing class by him roommate, and ends up sketching Erik?

What then?

what then indeed :)

(cross-posted to ao3)

"You can't stay in your room forever, Erik," Emma hollers from the other side of Erik's bedroom door, locked out by his abilities. "You need to get back on your feet, grab the guy by the dick, so to speak."

Face-first into his pillow, Erik groans. "Emma, that is not the phrase." He digs his hands underneath the pillow, wrapping it over his ears. "Besides, I told you that I'm off men forever."

"Oh, please," Emma sighs, and Erik can hear her eye-roll. "I don't need to dip into your mind to know that's a lie. You just had a tough break, that's all. I mean, what did you expect to happen with a guy named Logan?"

"Emma..." Erik whines, most of the oomph behind it being lost in the pillow.

Emma jiggles the door handle. "C'mon, I signed you up for something, and it starts in thirty minutes. It's very artsy, very cool – you're gonna love it. And there's no commitment." Erik makes a muffled noise, remembering his last conversation that involved the word 'commitment'; and Emma backtracks. "Sorry, sorry, bad word choice. But after today, you can quit and never go back, I promise. And you quite literally just have to sit there. You're gonna love it, and you're gonna get your confidence back doing it. You're hot, you're smart, and you deserve some joy after everything that happened."

Erik can't see Emma's mischievous smile behind the door, nor can he tell entirely if Emma manipulated him to get to the art building. But Erik finds himself sitting on a stool in the middle of class room surrounded by other college students, each one of them staring directly at him with wide eyes because he's naked. Emma signed him up to be a nude model for an art class, and Erik's going to kill her. He might be two hundred dollars richer – paid before he even took his clothes off – but he's still gonna kill her.

Class starts, and the professor directs Erik to stand naturally on the side of the stool. Erik minds everyone's prying eyes and rests his hand on top of the stool, trying to look as comfortable as possible. But suddenly, he's hyper-aware of how his feet are a little crooked and his arm is twisted in a funny way and his shoulders are a little too hunched. He adjusts himself, receiving a smile from the professor, and the art students begin sketching, trying very hard to not look Erik in his eyes.

He returns the favor until the classroom door squeaks open, and two male students come in, shutting the door quickly behind them. The professor scoffs them for being late as they grab a sketchpad and pencils by the door. Erik watches the one student with curly brown hair and a firm ass scurry behind his friend as they take a seat.

With the room quite from concentration, Erik overhears the cute one say to his friend, "Why did you rope me into coming to your class if today's lesson involved nudity?"

Erik suppresses a small laugh, and the brown-haired guy looks up, making eye-contact with Erik. Erik holds the stare, cataloging the bright blue of his eyes, but the student breaks first, his cheeks faintly blushing. He fumbles with his pencil, and Erik holds his head a little higher, not ashamed at peacocking just a bit. Emma is right – he is smart and he is hot and he will grab life by the dick again.

The silence in the room immediately breaks by the cutie seeming to choke on air, coughing quietly. Erik senses another presence as if they are right next to him, and if he didn't have Emma for a friend, he wouldn't know what he was feeling. But Erik recognizes it right away and pinches his lips together to hold back his wide grin.

Catching bits of my thoughts, are we? Erik projects out, familiar with the ways to communicate with telepaths.

In his chair, the telepath freezes, his eyes shooting up to Erik's immediately. Holy shit, I'm so sorry. It was just a lot coming in here, and I let myself relax a bit too much. I mean, you're literally just naked. I don't even... His eyes wander down Erik's torso and land on his waist, licking and biting his lip in the process.

You know, Erik projects playfully, my eyes are up here.

The same flush from before floods his face, and he resets his eyes again. I'm sorry.

Erik smirks. My name's Erik.

Blue-eyes gives Erik the biggest doe eyes he's ever seen. Charles.

How about you draw me now and then I'll draw you later back at my place?

Charles flushes again, and suddenly, ocean blue and rosy pink are Erik's favorite colors.

[corvus--rex]

Lance and Keith started dating early in high school, even before Keith came out and started his transition, and it's now just after college and they're engaged. They've been with Lance's family for the day, Sylvio and Nadia included.

The kids are 6 and 4 and have known Keith literally their entire lives. They were too young during various stages to understand what was going on, but they both know Keith's trans.

Needing a break, Keith is curled up against Lance in the living room, while Sylvio and Nadia are sprawled on the floor with a book each. Nadia's only just learning to read, but she already loves books. She's turning the pages, mostly looking at the pictures, when she looks up, interrupting Keith and Lance's quiet conversation.

"Tío Keef, why aren't there families in my stories like ours?"

It's been about 15 years since he's read a kids' book and doesn't understand where's she's going with this. "What do you mean, munchkin?"

Nadia puts her book down, turning to face him in all the seriousness a 4 year old can muster. "They all have a mami and a papi, but not - not -" her face scrunches as she tries to find the right word.

She doesn't need to find the right word, the realization of what she's asking hits him at full force. He sits up, leaning forward to meet her eyes. "You wanna know why there isn't anyone like me?"

She nods. "It's not fair."

It's an innocent question, but she asked it with such naive sincerity, genuinely upset that she didn't see her own family in her favorite books. It gave Keith an idea. He had a new sketchbook in the backseat of his car, a very recent art degree, and the few creative writing classes he'd taken.

Nadia's books didn't have her family in their pages, but maybe they could.

"Y'know what? I'll be right back."

He ran out to his car and back with the sketchbook, plus the mechanical pencil and ballpoint pen from his bag, and sat down on the floor with her, meeting Lance's confused look asking what the hell he was doing with one that said "trust me".

"Ok, munchkin," he said to Nadia, "If your stories don't have our family in them, how about we make a new story?"

Nadia's face lit up. "We can make a new one? With our kind of family in it?"

"We can, but I'll need your help."

Sylvio was pretending to read his own book, but Lance could see him listening in and sneaking looks at the rough sketches. That didn't last long, the book quickly forgotten in favor of throwing out wilder and wilder ideas for the story with Keith gently reeling him in. Sylvio was not one to be reeled in, and Lance soon joined them on the floor to help wrangle the kids' enthusiasm. They stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, neither one wanting to leave when their parents came to tell them it was time to go. They only stopped fighting it when Keith promised them they'd work on the story again.

He kept that promise, taking the kids out every few weeks, showing them what he'd done in between when he had time, and them continuing the story and illustrations.

After it was finished, he left it for a while, not forgotten, but resting. Eventually, he pulled the illustrations and their companion sheets of text from the shoebox-like storage box he'd gotten just for this, matching art to words.

Lance came home from work to their apartment that evening to find Keith on the living room floor, bristol board and printer paper in an organized chaos around him.

"Think it's really done?" Lance asked.

Keith sighed and leaned back against the sofa. There was one thing about the book he hadn't told anyone yet, but after the email he'd gotten earlier in the day, he finally could.

"Yeah I do." He paused and looked up, a little bit guilty, but mostly trying to contain excitement. "I found a publisher for it. They're a queer-owned company. I actually sent it off about a month ago and I finally heard back today. They love it."

It had started as a picture book, but evolved since then into something a little bigger. Nadia wanted cats - all different colors, and not little kitties, no she wanted lions. And the lions had to have knights to ride on them. Sylvio was the one to insist on a princess and that she had to be their honorary Tía Allura. Gradually, all of the knights and princess ended up based on people the kids knew, Keith and Lance included. It made sense and Keith loved it and the idea of family including the one you make for yourself.

When it came time for a name for this story of found family and adventures, Sylvio yelled "Defenders of the UNIVERSE!" at the top of his lungs in the middle of the park. Nadia had been taking a break from the playground, sitting next to Keith with her coloring pad. She'd drawn the lions from their story, facing out in a vaguely star shape, their tails meeting in the middle.

Keith asked for her opinion on a story name and also what she was drawing and without looking up from her coloring, she said "Its name is Voltron."

Keith put the two together, and when the book was published, its cover was the lions Nadia had drawn that day, only by Keith's hand this time, framed on top and bottom by the book's name: Defenders of The Universe, a Voltron story.

No one had seen the dedication, not until Keith got the advance copies, giving one each to Sylvio and Nadia in the same living room the story had started in. Nadia climbed into Keith's lap with it, Sylvio squeezing himself in between Keith and Lance on the sofa.

Looking over Sylvio's shoulder, Lance read it aloud.

"For Sylvio and Nadia, the original Defenders, this book wouldn't exist without you. Don't stop reading or dreaming."

[britt-kageryuu]

A bit of a trigger warning for some mental health talk.~~

A stream has been on Mikeys Starting Soon graphics for a few minutes. Mikeys screen shows him in his Graffiti Gear, looking over his shoulder at the stream, and the area he 'working on' says "Experimenting with Art Today!". The chat box is in a 'light beam' next to the 'work'.

The chat is spamming MikeyHeart! emotes, while trying to guess what it means by Art Experiments.

The scene switches over to Mikeys model in the same Graffiti Gear on top of a Art Studio background.

"Hey Guys! Okay I can see many are wondering what we're doing today~" He says all sing songy, "Well I found this amazing YouTube channel where they do traditional art, and I wanted to try some of their challenges. Though since traditional stuff means physical media that means~" Mikey trails off as he switches to a different scene.

The new scene was an overhead shot of a work table with lots of pencils, pens, papers, and other crafty stuff. His model is off to the side with a 'desk' infront of it.

The chat goes nuts with 'Mandarin Hand Reveal!' and similar reactions emotes.

"Before you guys get too excited, it took me a while to get custom arm sleeve gloves for this idea." Mikey explains while bringing his hand into the camera range. The hand has green three fingers with black paint splattered wraps going a little above the elbow.

"Okay, what I'm going to do is try coloring with some Copics, give me a sec." Mikey move a drawing of himself in summer clothes, "I have the most colors picked out, but from what I've seen Copics can be a bit tricky with bleeding and blending, so wish me luck!"

Mikey moves a stack of nice looking paper, and multiple boxes of pens. The top of his head unintentionally gets into frame, but all anyone can see is a orange paint stained bandana covering most of his hair, though a couple braids with multiple colored beads swing beside his head.

A good number of people are asking about the gloves, with some asking if they're uncomfortable to wear.

"Hmm?" Mikeys model turns following him to look at the chat, "The glove? They're not that uncomfortable, you just have to get used to having your fingers. Well separated into 2 fingers with a thumb."

He demonstrates by wiggling his fingers in the gloves. With a slight awkwardness to the movement.

"Now, I have a couple sketches that I don't mind testing this on," He slides a drawing of a little kid Leo, and a drawing of little kid Mikey, "These still look good, but I got the proportions off, and that's annoying me. So they with be my test subjects!"

Mikey spent a good chunk of time testing on a spare paper before moving onto the actual drawings.

"Fun fact, well depending on how you look at it, our Dad didn't really notice when Blue announced he was a boy. He just walked into living room where we were looking at different names to fit our name pattern," Mikey pauses his story to grab a white Copic to fix a spot on Leo's picture, "And Blue picked his new name, Dad just went with it. We think he wasn't in a really awake state to care."

Mikey goes a bit quiet, his model looks sadly contemplative.

"A bit of a warning, our Dad had a hard time mentally when we were younger," He pauses to take a deep breath, "He got custody of us shortly after a bad breakup, and well he gained alot of weight, and had bad dysmorphia all the way up 'til recently."

Mikey gives a slight cough, "Well it definitely helped push me more into my Psychology studies. Because that man refused to get therapy!" The audience can hear a mumbled 'Stupid stereotypical Japanese stubbornness.' picked up by the mic, "He's gotten better, but we practically dragged him to every session he had."

After a topic change and watching Mikey do a fairly good job of coloring with the pens, he grabbed a big sheet of paper and asked the chat for little things to draw, within reason.

Mikey explained that he was going to submit it to a charity auction for school art programs. Though he wasn't going to say which place he was going to submit it to just yet.

This got the chat hyped, and they attempted to make a nice work, but a few were planning to find the piece to try buying it themselves. Mikey just told them "Good Luck with that!"

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

Masterpost

The Splinter part was a very last minute addition to this.